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Poem
May 27, 1801
The Providence Journal, And Town And Country Advertiser
Providence, Providence County, Rhode Island
What is this article about?
A fragment poem addressed to James Currie on his edition of Robert Burns' works to benefit Burns' widow and orphans. It laments Burns' death, evoking Scottish landscapes, his poetic inspiration, and calls for sympathy for his family.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
Selected Poetry.
Addressed to James Currie, M. D. F. R. S. of Liverpool, on his edition of the Works of Robert Burns, for the benefit of the Widow and Orphan Family of that immortal Bard.
A FRAGMENT.
SEE, Peace and Labour recline in the soft leafy shade,
As the light breeze sweeps gently along;
How beauteous the landscape, when Summer is drest
Where the red-breast awakes his sweet song;
But ah! when shall Scotia with pleasure be blest,
With a cestus of roses so gay;
Expands not thy breast when the sounds of delight
Since her Burns sleeps so cold in the clay!
When the villagers sport by the moon's silver light,
Are heard at the still hour of eve;
His too was the rapture such scenes could impart,
The day's wasting cares to relieve?
For benevolence strung the fine cords of his heart--
As the rustic maids chanted his lay,
From his country's blue hills, while the sun's golden beam
But that heart now lies cold in the clay!
Or through her long glen winds the serpentine stream,
Gives life to all nature around,
Shall the voice of the poet resound;
When love with light heart steals unseen to the bower,
For his spirit shall reign in that dear blissful hour,
His trains shall fresh transport convey;
Fancy wove the rich web of his visions divine
Though his body lies cold in the clay!
His path nature strew'd with her wild flowers so fine--
With the rays of the soft blushing morn;
The painted trout leap'd from the smooth-gliding Ayr,
And the dew, trembling, hung on the thorn;
While his lyre breath'd the notes that his soul could ensnare
The lambkins danc'd sporting away,
And still o'er the mountain, and through the deep vale,
But now he lies cold in the clay!
Want hung by his footsteps, to tell her sad tale,
As he sung of his Scotia so dear,
For his Jane and his offspring were near;
Ye fathers who feel, and ye sons who can love,
And with Currie's warm heart your kind sympathy prove,
Your regard to his orphans display;
Since the Minstrel sleeps cold in the clay.
Addressed to James Currie, M. D. F. R. S. of Liverpool, on his edition of the Works of Robert Burns, for the benefit of the Widow and Orphan Family of that immortal Bard.
A FRAGMENT.
SEE, Peace and Labour recline in the soft leafy shade,
As the light breeze sweeps gently along;
How beauteous the landscape, when Summer is drest
Where the red-breast awakes his sweet song;
But ah! when shall Scotia with pleasure be blest,
With a cestus of roses so gay;
Expands not thy breast when the sounds of delight
Since her Burns sleeps so cold in the clay!
When the villagers sport by the moon's silver light,
Are heard at the still hour of eve;
His too was the rapture such scenes could impart,
The day's wasting cares to relieve?
For benevolence strung the fine cords of his heart--
As the rustic maids chanted his lay,
From his country's blue hills, while the sun's golden beam
But that heart now lies cold in the clay!
Or through her long glen winds the serpentine stream,
Gives life to all nature around,
Shall the voice of the poet resound;
When love with light heart steals unseen to the bower,
For his spirit shall reign in that dear blissful hour,
His trains shall fresh transport convey;
Fancy wove the rich web of his visions divine
Though his body lies cold in the clay!
His path nature strew'd with her wild flowers so fine--
With the rays of the soft blushing morn;
The painted trout leap'd from the smooth-gliding Ayr,
And the dew, trembling, hung on the thorn;
While his lyre breath'd the notes that his soul could ensnare
The lambkins danc'd sporting away,
And still o'er the mountain, and through the deep vale,
But now he lies cold in the clay!
Want hung by his footsteps, to tell her sad tale,
As he sung of his Scotia so dear,
For his Jane and his offspring were near;
Ye fathers who feel, and ye sons who can love,
And with Currie's warm heart your kind sympathy prove,
Your regard to his orphans display;
Since the Minstrel sleeps cold in the clay.
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Patriotism
What keywords are associated?
Robert Burns
James Currie
Scotia
Elegy
Mourning
Poet
Widow Orphans
Benevolence
Poem Details
Title
Addressed To James Currie, M. D. F. R. S. Of Liverpool, On His Edition Of The Works Of Robert Burns, For The Benefit Of The Widow And Orphan Family Of That Immortal Bard.
Subject
On His Edition Of The Works Of Robert Burns, For The Benefit Of The Widow And Orphan Family Of That Immortal Bard
Form / Style
Rhymed Stanzas With Refrain
Key Lines
But Ah! When Shall Scotia With Pleasure Be Blest,
Since Her Burns Sleeps So Cold In The Clay!
But That Heart Now Lies Cold In The Clay!
Though His Body Lies Cold In The Clay!
But Now He Lies Cold In The Clay!
Since The Minstrel Sleeps Cold In The Clay.