ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Anonymous, "Stanzas, to the Memory of Robert Burns" The Monthly Magazine 3 (January 1797) 53-54.
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
Portentous sigh'd the hallow blast,
Which, sorrow-freighted, southward pass'd;
I heard the sound, and stood aghast
In solemn dread:
The mournful truth is told at last,
And BURNS is dead!
Ah! sweetest minstrel, nature's child,
Could not thy "native woodnotes wild,"
Thy manly sense, thy manners mild,
And sprightly glee,
The ghastly tyrant have beguil'd
To set thee free?
Unfriended, desolate, and young,
Misfortune o'er thy cradle hung;
And penury had check'd thy song,
But check'd in vain;
Till Death, resistless in his wrong,
Has clos'd the strain!
Thus, 'midst the cold of winter's snows,
The unprotected snow-drop blows;
Awhile in native beauty glows,
And charms the eyes;
Till past some ruthless spoiler goes,
And crops the prize!
But not for thee, O bard, the lot,
In cold oblivion's shade to rot;
Like those, unhonour'd, and forgot,
Th' unfeeling great,
Who knew thy worth, but hasten'd not
To sooth thy fate.
Whilst love to beauty pours the sigh,
Whilst genius shall with nature vie,
Whilst pity from the melting eye
Shall claim regard;
Thy honour'd name shall never die,
But oft, as winter o'er the plain
Shall pour at eve the beating rain,
The hind shall call his little train
Around the fire,
To listen to some thrilling strain
Of thy lov'd lyre.
Whether to Heav'n's eternal King
Thou strike the deep-resounding string,
Whilst, rising on devotion's wing,
Hope soars above,
To happier realms of endless spring,
And boundless love;
Or whether lighter themes beguile
The moments of relaxing toil,
Bidding, on labour's front, the smile
Of pleasure sit;
The roof re-echoing all the while
To genuine wit;
Or if wild fancy seize the rein,
Whilst horror thrills thro' ev'ry vein,
And sprites and elves, an awful train,
Their orgies keep;
And warlocks o'er the frighted plain
At midnight sweep:
As works the spell, the list'ning band
Aghast in mute attention stand;
Again thou wav'st thy magic wand,
Of pow'r so rare,
And all the scene, by Fancy plann'd,
Dissolves in air.
Thine too the charm of social hearts,
Where wit its vivid light'ning darts,
And Converse keen to age imparts
The fire of youth,
Whilst, from the fierce concussion, starts
The spark of truth.
What tho' thy wild untutor'd strain
The Critic's pedant laws disdain,
Not all the wire-cag'd minion train
E'er pour'd a note
So sweet, as echoing o'er the plain
The woodlark's throat.
Old Coila, first whose brakes among,
Thy infant hands the wild harp strung,
Shall flourish in thy deathless song
With lasting fame;
And Ayr shall henceforth roll along,
A classic stream.
But thou, O Bard, in silence laid—
Ah! what shall sooth thy pensive shade,
For worth and genius ill repaid,
With bounty scant;
And hours of sorrow unallay'd,
And toil and want?
See o'er thy song, as loud it swells,
The lordly Thane delighted dwells;
Or to his fair his rapture tells,
By thee inspir'd;
His bosom, as the strain impels,
Or thaw'd or fir'd.
Around him, see, to guard his state,
A train of pamper'd minions wait;
And see, to form his daily treat,
Each climate join;
While Iceland's frost, and Asia's heat,
Their gifts combine.
Yet, whilst he revels unconfin'd
Thro' all the treasures of thy mind,
No gen'rous boon, to thee consign'd,
Relieves thy care;
To Folly or to Vice assign'd
What Pomp can spare!
For rights withheld, or freedom sold,
Corruption asks the promis'd gold;
Or, in licentious splendour bold,
Some titled Dame
Squanders, in riot uncontroll'd,
What Worth should claim!
From hill to hill, from plain to plain,
Wide spreads the Chieftain's proud domain,
That, half a desert, asks in vain
For culture due;
Whilst cold inaction chills thy vein,
And rusts thy plough.
Meanwhile thy youthful vigour flies,
The storms of life unpitying rise,
And wounded Superstition tries
To thwart thy way;
And loath'd Dependance ambush'd lies,
To seize her prey.
Yet high above thy reptile foes
Thy tow'ring soul unconquer'd rose—
Love and the Muse their charms disclose—
The hags retire;
And thy expanded bosom glows
With heav'nly fire.
Go, Builder of a deathless name!
Thy Country's glory, and her shame!
Go, and th' immortal guerdon claim,
To Genius due;
Whilst rolling centuries thy fame
Shall still renew!