James Thomson

Thomas Trotter, "Eden Streams. To the Memory of Thomson" 1788; Scots Magazine 54 (March 1792) 137.

Ye youths that haunt the Tiviot's side,
Or sport along the silver Tweed,
What vales delight, what fates divide,
What charms awake my Jamie's reed!
To Ettrick Braes perhaps he's fled,
'Midst forest flowers his laurel beams;
Or haply stretch'd by sylvan Jed,
He pipes no more by Eden's Streams.

To Leader-houghs I'll gladly stray,
If chance he roves through Cowden-knows,
Though sweet their broom, and haughs so gay,
I'll lead him back where Eden flows.
Or like the maid on Yarrow's side,
I'll seek my love in frantic dreams;
Her's was the Yarrow's early pride,
And mine the boast of Eden's Streams.

Then mourn, thou dear deserted flood,
Go murmur to thy banks along;
And sigh, soft Echo of the wood,
For thou no more shalt hear his song.
Those sweets are fled that loiter'd here,
The Season's face in sorrow seems;
Those notes he warbled smooth and clear
Are heard no more on Eden's Streams.

Yet oft in these neglected shades,
That nurs'd the Poet of the year,
Shall Fancy, led by Sylvan Maids,
And meek-ey'd Memory, shed the tear:
While glides the wave with willows crown'd,
Beneath pale Cynthia's evening beams,
Gay youths and genii, hovering round,
Shall deck his bower on Eden's Streams.
Kelso, Sept. 1788.