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104
stanzas.
But proudly, nobly shall he bear him up
The sterile paths—Parnassian heights embrace;
Though to the dregs he'll drain the bitter cup,
Malignant censure fills for all his race;
Yet triumph, triumph crowns his brow at last—
His fame, emblazon'd, beams from sphere to sphere;
A brilliant star, he glitters in the past,
Which nations gaze on, honour, and revere.

So Time unfolded to the muses view
The mystic annals of long future years;
So did the Bard the maze of song pursue,
With lyre, awaking ecstacy and tears.
"And who," cries Scotia in exulting tone,
"E'er from the wild harp struck such burning strains
As did the mighty Burns we call our own,
Whose memory brilliance with Time's lapses gains?"

Peculiar favourite of the tuneful Nine!
Thy just renown is lauded o'er the earth;
Atlantic cities, with home isles, combine
To hold the centenary of thy birth;
The distant tasters of Castalian streams,
With solemn rapture, trace thy lofty flight
Through Thought's vast regions, till the far up beams
Invest thee with a garb of dazzling light;
The humbler lovers of the melting strain,
In silent worship, bring to Genius' shrine
That deep-felt homage thrilling every vein—
The tribute due, great Burns, to worth like thine.