He carried so much and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more—so was carried at last;
For the liquor he drank being too much for one,
He could not carry off;—so he's now carri-on.
[First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 106.]
A VERSION OF OSSIAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
FROM THE POEM "CARTHON."
O Thou! who rollest in yon azure field,
Round as the orb of my forefather's shield,
Whence are thy beams? From what eternal store
Dost thou, O Sun! thy vast effulgence pour?
In awful grandeur, when thou movest on high,
The stars start back and hide them in the sky;
The pale Moon sickens in thy brightening blaze,
And in the western wave avoids thy gaze.
Alone thou shinest forth—for who can rise
Companion of thy splendour in the skies!
The mountain oaks are seen to fall away—
Mountains themselves by length of years decay—
With ebbs and flows is the rough Ocean tost;
In heaven the Moon is for a season lost,
But thou, amidst the fullness of thy joy,
The same art ever, blazing in the sky!
When tempests wrap the world from pole to pole,
When vivid lightnings flash and thunders roll,
Thou far above their utmost fury borne,
Look'st forth in beauty, laughing them to scorn.
But vainly now on me thy beauties blaze—
