Robert Burns

A Young Lady of Sixteen, "Tribute to the Genius of Robert Burns" Scots Magazine 70 (August 1808) 608.

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 gen'rous heart
With freedom, and with fancy glow'd:
And native strains, untaught by art,
Spontaneous flow'd.

Oh, BURNS! to ev'ry feeling breast,
To ev'ry gentle mind, sincere;
By love and tender pity blest,
Thy song is dear!

Sweet bard! 'twas thine to soar on high,
With inspiration, and the muse!
To claim from beauty's radiant eye,
Compassion's dews!

To raise the smile of social glee;
The patriot's manly heart to fire;
Or wake the rear of sympathy,
With plaintive lyre!

Sweet bard! for thee the muses mourn;
In melting lays they sing thy name;
And twine, to deck thy sacred urn,
The wreath of fame!