shone;
At his conjuration, demons
Issued from their darkness drear;
Hovering round on silver pinions,
Angels stoop'd his songs to hear;
Bow'd the Passions to his bidding,
Terror gaunt, and Pity calm;
Like the organ pour'd his thunder,
Like the lute his fairy psalm.

IV.

Lo, when clover-swathes lay round him,
Or his feet the furrow press'd,
He could mourn the sever'd daisy,
Or the mouse's ruin'd nest;
Woven of gloom and glory, visions
Haunting throng'd his twilight hour;
Birds enthrall'd him with sweet music,
Tempests with their tones of power;
Eagle-wing'd his mounting spirit
Custom's rusty fetters spurn'd;
Tasso-like, for Jean he melted
Wallace-like, for Scotland burn'd!

V.

Scotland!--dear to him was Scotland,
In her sons and in her daughters,
In her Highlands,--Lowlands,--Islands,--
Regal woods, and rushing waters;--
In the glory of her story,
When her tartans fired the field,--
Scotland! oft betray'd--beleagur'd--
Scotland! never known to yield!
Dear to him her Doric language,--
Thrill'd his heart-strings at her name;--
And he left her more than rubies,
In the riches of his fame.

VI.

Sons of England!--Sons of Erin!
Ye who, journeying from afar,
Throng with us the shire of Coila,
Led by Burns's guiding star--
Proud we greet you--ye will join us,
As, on this triumphant day,
To the champions of his genius
Grateful thanks we duly pay--
Currie--Chambers--Lockhart--Wilson--
Carlyle--who his bones to save
From the wolfish fiend, Detraction,
Couch'd like lions round his grave.

VII.

Daughter of the poet's mother!
Here we hail thee with delight;
Shower'd be every earthly blessing
On thy locks of silver white!--
Sons of Burns, a hearty welcome,
Welcome home from India's strand,
To a heart-loved land far dearer,
Since your glorious Father's land:--
Words are worthless--look around you--
Labour'd tomes far less could say
To the sons of such a father,
Than the sight of such a day!

VIII.

Judge not ye, whose thoughts are fingers,
Of the hands that witch the lyre--
Greenland has its mountain icebergs,
AEtna has its heart of fire;
Calculation has its plummet;
Self-control its iron rules;
Genius has its sparkl