Rev. James Grahame

Allan Cunningham, "Epitaph on James Grahame, Author of The Sabbath, Georgics, &c." Scots Magazine 73 (November 1811) 855.

All ye who o'er the fall of Genius weep,
Unseen of man, when thoughtless thousands sleep,
Who ever sighed, when to cold earth consigned,
A graceful form, that held a noble mind.
Who ever throbbed, as moved the corpse along,
That charmed the world with witchery of song;
Or mourned when mute that mind by Heaven upwrought,
With matchless throbbings of Immortal thought,
O! mourn again, for here lies quenched the flame,
Extinct for ever, in the hearse of Grahame.
Let husbandmen mourn in their evening walk,
When seed rejoicing shoots its silver stalk,
Or on the ridge of harvest wipe the tear,
While o'er his bright hook hangs the golden ear;
Or when grim winter sheets with ice the sward,
Let the warm tears freeze o'er his hoary beard;
For he is gone who gave the rustic claim,
To "local habitation and a name."
Bend at his tomb all sad and woe-begone,
While your big tears bright tremble on the stone;
Let foot unholy quiver at the porch,
Its shoe put off, and hesitate approach.
With thoughtless tears I would not see thee stained,
With thoughtless knees thy grassy grave prophaned.
The noblest hearts may o'er thine ashes kneel,
Nor blush for whom they weep, for whom they feel;
The greatest minds that e'er the world did see,
Had been as honoured by a tear from thee.
London, 26th September.