“Ergo Quinctilium perpetuus sopor
Urget!” – CAR. I. 24.
WHAT man or minister ‘ill dare
Haud oot his haund, an’ cry Forbear!
This wild, this waefu’ sorrow spare;
It’s Nature’s debt?
But I will baund an’ weepers wear
For Andro yet!
–
O for the wail o’ Autumn wun’s,
An’ trees, an’ seas, an’ settin’ suns,
An’ melancholy muirlan’ whuns,
An’ hillside sadness!
O for the greetin’ voice that runs
Thro’ Nature’s gladness!
–
So Andro’s gane! the last lang sleep
Has fa’en upon him, an’ he’s deep!
An’ noo he doesna hear a cheep
O’ a’ we’re talkin’;
An’ we in vain a watch wad keep
For him to wauken.
–
It’s no’ the stroke, tho’ fell an’ grim,
The bosom cauld, the moveless limb,
That melt an’ mak oor een sae dim,
Oor hert sae sair –
But oh! what virtues sleep wi’ him
That’s lyin’ there!
–
He was sae modest an’ sae true –
Truth was engraven on his broo!
Strict wi’ himsel’, an’ slack wi’ you,
An’ even-mindit –
His peer, search a’ the warl’ thro’,
Ye wadna find it!
–
An’ noo he’s gane! he’s crost the mark
Atween us an’ that ocean dark,
Whauron some day oor ain frail bark
Maun sink or sail;
But here nae mair we’ll hear or hark
His kindly hail.
