Youth's griefs are loud, but are not long; But thine with life itself shall last; And age will feel each sorrow strong, When all its morning joys are past. 'Twas thine her infant mind to mould, And leave the copy all thou art ; And sure the wide world does not hold A warmer or a purer heart !", I cannot weep, yet I can feel ****, The pangs that rend a parent's breast; Macdiarmid. LINES ADDRESSED TO A LADY. Written after a Battle. Oh, Lady! breathe no sigh for those, And let no tear be shed, Who rest in battle-field their head, And sleep, amid their country's foes, The slumbers of the dead. Thy pearly tears may stream around Thy loved one's aching pillow, Or weep some darling soul who found As fairy hands could twine, A sigh more pure than thine; And let no tear be shed, Who rest in battle-field their head, And sleep, amid their country's foes, The slumbers of the dead. For, oh! the warrior's fate may claim A brighter meed, a higher fame: He in the fields of glory fell, And thundering cannon rung his knell. For him there is a holier sigh In every wind that passes by; And heaven more precious tears shall shed Anon. END OF VOLUME SECOND. 1839 THE POETICAL MELANG E. • The enjoyment of poetry demands no laborious intellectual intensity. It is upon the hours of our pleasure she descende, it is our recreation she exalts, Thus, she makes our relaxations become the most dignified moments of our existence.' Rev. C. Wolfe. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. EDINBURGH: PUBLISHED BY GEORGE A. DOUGLAS, 19. CASTLE STREET ; AND SOLD BY CHARLES TILT, LONDON; AND W. CURRY JUN. AND COMPANY, DUBLIN MDCCCXXVIII. |