ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
W. Jos. Walter, "Verses on seeing the Grave of Burns in January last" The Star (15 April 1814).
1786: Henry Mackenzie
1787: J. B.
1787: Helen Maria Williams
1787: William Cowper
1787: Anna Seward
1788: Gavin Turnbull
1788: J. J-n
1788: J. R-d
1788: James Maxwell
1788: James Macaulay
1789: Rev. Thomas Blacklock
1791: William Gifford
1791 ca.: James Graham
1791: Thomas Scotus
1791: Helen Maria Williams
1792: Samuel Thomson
1793: William Yates
1794: Rev. James Grahame
1796: William Roscoe
1796 ca.: Charlotte Smith
1796: J. H.
1796: Alexander Balfour
1796: W. B.
1796: E. Hyslop
1796: A Lady
1796: An Auld Fifeshire Ploughman
1797: A. W.
1797: William Hamilton Reid
1797: Edward Rushton
1797: William Roscoe
1797: A Mourner
1797: Thomas Mounsey Cunningham
1798: John Struthers
1798: David Crawford
1800: Charles Lamb
1800: William Roscoe
1800: J. F. D.
1800: Thomas Sanderson
1802: Leigh Hunt
1802: James Pace
1803: William Wordsworth
1804: David Irving
1805: Rev. Henry Boyd
1805: A. M. A.
1805: J. G. Bagshaw
1805: Thomas Stott
1806: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1806: John Struthers
1806: Alexander Wilson
1806: H. C.
1806: Hamilton Paul
1807: William Wordsworth
1807: Lady Anne Hamilton
1807: Robert Tannahill
1807: A. M. P.
1808: John-Henry Kenney
1808: A Young Lady of Sixteen
1809: A Caledonian
1810: Robert Tannahill
1812: George Dyer
1812: A. Kyne
1813: Mary Russell Mitford
1813: Lord Byron
1814: Earl of Buchan
1814: W. Jos. Walter
1815: William Henry Ireland
1816: George Colman the Younger
1816: Thomas Campbell
1816: John Mayne
1816: T. W. Lake
1816: An English Lady
1817: Hugh Campbell
1818: John Keats
1818: Charles Lamb
1818: John Keats
1818: S. A. N.
1818: A Lowland Laddie
1818: Richard Hatt
1819: John Wilson
1819: James Thomson of London
1819: A Literary Gentleman
1819: John Gibson Lockhart
1820: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1820: James Montgomery
1820: Nicholas Toms Carrington
1820: James Boswell the Younger
1820: W. G.
1821: Mary Leman Rede
1821: Anne Powell
1822: Fitz-Greene Halleck
1822: James B. Sheys
1822: J. D. C.
1823: Rev. William Gillespie
1824: William Hazlitt
1824: Allan Cunningham
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1825 ca.: Henry Mackenzie
1825: James B. Sheys
1825: Allan Cunningham
1826: Herbert Barton
1826: Richard Ryan
1827: Sir Walter Scott
1828: Walter Savage Landor
1828: Thomas Carlyle
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1829: J. S.
1830 ca.: Rev. Henry Francis Cary
1830: Rev. George Barrell Cheever
1831: John Wilson
1832: James Hogg
1833: James Montgomery
1836: L. L.
1840: Thomas Carlyle
1842: Robert Story
1842: C. H. Timperley
1843: John Holland
1844: John Wilson
1844: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1851: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1866: Bryan Waller Procter
1880: John Service
1882: Epes Sargent
W. Jos. Walter:
1814: Robert Burns
Sweet Bard of Nature! one who oft has hung
Entranc'd in rapture o'er thy artless lay,
And lingering to the music of the song,
Beguil'd full many a listless hour away—
From Arun's banks — a stream in song unblest—
A southern stream — beheld a stranger come
To view the spot where thy cold relics rest,
And pay his humble tribute at thy tomb.
How hush'd and solemn is this evening hour!
No sounds are heard to break the calm profound,
Save the chill breeze that sighs thro' yonder tower,
And the lorn owl that hovering streams around.
How clear the sharp-horn'd moon is seen to stream
Her cloudless lustre through the frozen air!
And mark where Nith reflects her living beam,
Upon his icy mirror pictur'd fair.
Emblem of thee! in summer's smiling reign
With wanton wave he kiss'd the bending trees,
And sparkling bythesome through the laughing plain,
Flung his wild music to the listening breeze.
But when her floods declining Autumn pour'd,
High swell'd his stream, impatient of controul,
And down the vale with headlong torrent roar'd—
Strong as the wayward passions of thy soul.
Now chill'd he lies, in icy fetters bound,
Powerless like thee! his wonted skill unknown,
That charmed his vale, and woke the echoes round—
Hush'd all his music, all his rage foregone.
Yet Nith again shall burst his icy band,
Well pleased that storms no more his course arrest;
And fondly lingering upon yonder strand,
Murmur a requiem to thy dreams of rest.
What though no sculpture marks this hallowed ground,
To point the spot, and deck thy lowly bed,
Though rude thy grave, and with no herbage crown'd,
Wither'd each flowret, and its lustre dead.
Yet when the zephyrs breathe through soften'd skies,
And spring returns to wake the purple year,
The daisy here in gratitude shall rise,
And weep upon thy grave her early tear.
But while memorials rise to mark the spot
Where sleep the vain, the worthless, and the proud,
Shall he, the pride of Scotland, be forgot,
Nor claim the meed to titled fools allow'd?
He who with pious thrift threw in his mite,
To deck the ashes of his brother Bard;
No kindred feelings shall his fate excite,
Nor Coila's Poet claim a like reward?
O hapless BURNS! will none around display
The bright example, and with pious zeal
Teach every lover of the lowland lay,
The same enthusiastic warmth to feel?
Yes, there are those with virtuous grief inspir'd,
To see thy bones unhonour'd and unblest;
Whom long the stranger's keen reproach has fir'd,
To rouse a kindred flame in Scotia's breast.
And soon that stranger's eye shall joy to view,
By Taste design'd a fond memorial rise,
To pay his injur'd shade the honours due,
And mark the spot where buried Genius lies.
Sweet Bard! farewell! Though narrow is thy bed,
And strait the space that Kings, like thee, must fill;
Yet though the world thy deathless fame shall spread,
Expand with years, and bloom and flourish still.
When Scottish hearts shall lose the power to own
The magic charms of heaven-taught poesy,
Then, when the muse shall sing to ears of stone,
But not till then, thy memory shall die.
No! long as Nith shall view these banks of green,
And kiss the pebbles on her gentle shore;
Long as the Clouden's wizzard stream is seen
Through birken braes her sister wave to pour:
Long as on Cristle's giant height sublime
Thy favourite star shall hang her lamp at eve—
So long, superior to the range of time,
Nor yet less brilliant, shall thy memory live!