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WRITTEN AFTER PERUSING A PARAGRAPH RESPECT
ING THE MONUMENT RECENTLY ERECTED TO THE
MEMORY OF BURNS.
It is a well-known fact, that bards have ever,
From Homer downwards, lived upon their wits; And though, no doubt, they always have been clever
At brandishing their knives and forks, tid bits Of calipash or venison have never
Or seldom been reserved for them; and spits With good roast joints not often have been turning For them, men deem the beacon-lights of learning.
Their's have been fame and flattery alone,
(But pudding is more nourishing than praise); They ’ve asked for bread, and oft received
Living, have passed unheeded through the maze Of a cold-hearted world :-their deaths once known,
The titled fool hath forward pressed to raise Tombs o'er their ashes, that he thus might claim One leaf of laurel for his paltry name.
Shades of the mighty dead ! arise and say
The proud, who deem nobility of birth
Cherish the weak delusion, but to worth
Match me among the Magnates of the world
Those things of splendid nothingness - bright
Who, when the roll of glory is unfurled,
Upon posterity can shew such claims As Milton, Shakspeare, Spenser. Those have
hurled Some fellow despots from their thrones, their aims Still purchased but with blood; and they have made, Their worship of the shadow of a shade ;
But these, the Muses' sons, have toiled to gain Renown which could not profit them ;—through
years Of unregarded poverty and pain,
Slaves to their wild and passionate hopes and fears, Oh! how intensely did they strive to attain
Fame that should be immortal; and the tears Of blood their hearts have wept, have been repaid With wreaths of laurel that can never fade!
The glassy splendour of her eye
Yes, in her eye there lived until the last,