horne, in that hermitage of song--
Langhorne, a pastor, and a poet too![81]
He, in retirement's literary bower,
Oft wooed the Sisters of the sacred well,
Harmonious: nor pass on without a prayer
For her, associate of his early fame, 216
Accomplished, eloquent, and pious More,[82]
Who now, with slow and gentle decadence,
In the same vale, with look upraised to heaven,
Waits meekly at the gate of paradise, 220
Smiling at time!
But, hark! there comes a song,
Of Scotland's lakes and hills--Auld Robin Gray!
Tweed, or the winding Tay, ne'er echoed words
More sadly soothing; but the melody,[83]
Like some sweet melody of olden times,
A ditty of past days, rose from those woods.
Oh! could I hear it, as I heard it once--
Sung by a maiden[84] of the south, whose look
(Although her song be sweet), whose look, and life, 230
Are sweeter than her song--no minstrel gray,
Like Donald and "the Lady of the Lake,"
But would lay down his harp, and when the song
Was ended, raise his lighted eyes, and smile,
To thank that maiden, with a strain like this:--

Oh! when I hear thee sing of "Jamie far away,"
Of "father and of mother," and of "Auld Robin Gray,"
I listen till I think it is Jeanie's self I hear,
And I look in thy face with a blessing and a tear.

"I look in thy face," for my heart it is not cold,[85] 240
Though winter's frost is stealing on, and I am growing old;
Those tones I shall remember as long as I live, 242
And a blessing and a tear shall be the thanks I give.

The tear it is for summers that so blithesome have been,
For the flowers that all are faded, and the days that I have seen;
The blessing, lassie, is for thee, whose song, so sadly sweet,
Recalls the music of "Lang Syne," to which my heart has beat.

PART FIFTH.

LANG SYNE--VISION OF THE DELUGE--CONCLUSION

The music of "Lang Syne!" Oh! long ago
It died away--died, and was heard no more!
And where those hills that skirt the level vale,
On to the left, the prospect intercept,
I would not, could not look, were they removed;
I _would_ not, _could_ not look, lest I should see
The sunshine on that spot of all the world,
Where, starting from the dream of youth, I gazed
Long since, on the cold, clouded world