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phy. To an accurate knowledge of the Latin and Greek classics, he added a correct acquaintance with many of the modern languages. He found consolation on his deathbed, by perusing the Scriptures in the original tongues. He died in fervent hope, and with Christian resignation. FOOTNOTES: [12] See "Minstrel," vol. iv. p. 1. LAMENT OF WALLACE.[13] No more by thy margin, dark Carron, Shall Wallace in solitude, wander, When tranquil the moon shines afar on Thy heart-stirring wildness and grandeur. For lost are to me Thy beauties for ever, Since fallen in thee Lie the faithful and free, To waken, ah, never! And I, thus defeated, must suffer My country's reproach; yet, forsaken, A home to me nature may offer Among her green forests of braken. But home who can find For heart-rending sorrow? The wound who can bind When thus pierced is the mind By fate's ruthless arrow? 'Tis death that alone ever frees us Of woes too profound to be spoken, And nought but the grave ever eases The pangs of a heart that is broken. Then, oh! that my blood In Carron's dark water Had mix'd with the flood Of the warriors' shed 'Mid torrents of slaughter. For woe to the day when desponding I read in thine aspect the story Of those that were slain when defending Their homes and their mountains of glory. And curst be the guile Of treacherous knavery That throws o'er our isle In its tyranny vile The mantle of slavery. FOOTNOTES: [13] Composed in the author's fourteenth year. OH! WHAT IS IN THIS FLAUNTING TOWN?[14] Oh! what is in this flaunting town That pleasure can impart, When native hills and native glens Are imaged on the heart, And fancy hears the ceaseless roar Of cataracts sublime, Where I have paused and ponder'd o'er The awful works of time? What, what is all the city din? What all the bustling crowd That throngs these ways from morn to night Array'd in trappings proud? While fancy's eye still sees the scenes Around my mountain home, Oh! what 's to me yon turret high. And what yon splendid dome? Ah! what except a mockery vain Of nature free
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