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A TRIBUTE
TO THE GENIUS OF ROBERT BURNS.
As in the lone sequester'd grove,
The woodlark on the bending spray,
Attunes to liberty and love
The sportive lay:
'Twas thus in mountain scenes retir'd,
That Scotia's minstrel, nature's child,
Would sing, by ardent genius fir'd,
His carol wild.
In poverty his generous heart,
With freedom and with fancy glow'd;
And native strains untaught by art,
Spontaneous flow'd.
