Page:Two original poems.pdf/7

(7) VII.

The tumbling torrents boiling roar, The winter-fhrouded lifelefs trees. The nipping frofts mildewing hoar. My fad defponding fancy pleafe.

VIII.

Joy’s mortal'bane, faife womankind! For you on Avon’s banks I’ll mourn; Nor footiling folace hope to find, But in the filent peaceful urn.

VERSES WRITTEN IN THE HIGH CHURCH YARD, GLASGOW, WHERE THE AUTHOR NOW LIES.

I.

GRIEVE not ye wife, though in this yard Some hundred thoufands lie; The juft inherit their reward, Are happieft when they die.

II.

When wicked men to graves defeend No more they’ll plague mankind; On earth that life fhould never end Was ne’er by heaven defign’d.