44
poems.
THE DEATH OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Weep, Scotia, weep! his star is set
Mid the rich tints of glorious fame.
Nor ever can thy sons forget
The peerless glories of his name.
Mid the rich tints of glorious fame.
Nor ever can thy sons forget
The peerless glories of his name.
Full many a jewel thou shalt give,
In memory's diadem to shine,
Whose name on history's page shall live,
So loved, so honored, Scott, as thine?
In memory's diadem to shine,
Whose name on history's page shall live,
So loved, so honored, Scott, as thine?
Nor can the glory of thy name,
Be to thy native land confined.
In every nation, it shall claim
The homage due from mind to mind.
Be to thy native land confined.
In every nation, it shall claim
The homage due from mind to mind.
Thy resting place shall Genius seek;
Thine shall its glowing tribute be;
While Love in low-breathed tones, shall speak
Its incense to thy memory.
Thine shall its glowing tribute be;
While Love in low-breathed tones, shall speak
Its incense to thy memory.
Woman her grateful meed shall bring,
Devotion shed its holiest tear;
The poet's lay his praises sing,
Whose matchless worth all hearts revere.
Devotion shed its holiest tear;
The poet's lay his praises sing,
Whose matchless worth all hearts revere.
It is a guerdon pure and bright,—
The guerdon of immortal fame.
Ah! who shall say her glorious light
Is but the pageant of a name?
The guerdon of immortal fame.
Ah! who shall say her glorious light
Is but the pageant of a name?
