Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/66



Where sleep the brave on Java strand,
 * Thy ardent spirit, Leyden! fled;

And Fame with cypress shades the land,
 * Where Genius fell, and Valour bled.

When triumph's tale is westward borne,
 * On Border-Hills no joys shall gleam;

And thy lov'd Teviot long shall mourn
 * The youthful minstrel of her stream.

Near Jura's rocks the Mermaid's strain
 * Shall change from glad to solemn lay;

For he is gone, the youthful swain,
 * Who sung the Maid of Colonsay.

The hardy Tar, Britannia's pride.
 * Shall hang his manly head in woe;

The Bard who told how Nelson died.
 * With harp unstrung, in earth lies low.

I see a weeping band arise,
 * I hear sad music on the gale;

Thy dirge is sung from Scotia's skies.
 * Her mountain sons their loss bewail.

The Minstrel of thy native North
 * Pours all his soul into the song;

It bursts from near the winding Forth,
 * And Highland rocks the notes prolong.