SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ANNE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON .

Why sounds the plain with sad complaint?
Why hides the sun his beams?
Why sighs the wind sae black and cauld?
Why mourn the swelling streams?

Wail on, ye heights! ye glens, complain!
Sun, wear thy cloudy veil!
Sigh, winds, frae frozen caves of snaw!
Clyde, mourn the rueful tale!

She 's dead! — the beauteous Anna 's dead! —
All nature wears a gloom:
Alas! the comely budding flower
Is faded in the bloom.

Clos'd in the weeping marble vault,
Now cauld and blae she lies;
Nae mair the smiles adorn her cheek,
Nae mair she lifts her eyes.

Too soon, O sweetest, fairest, best,
Young parent, lovely mate,
Thou leaves thy lord and infant-son,
To weep thy early fate.

But let thy cheerfu' marriage-day
Give gladness all around;
But late in thee the youthful chief
A heaven of blessings found.

His bosom swells, for much he lov'd;
Words fail to paint his grief:
He starts in dreams, and grasps thy shade,
The day brings nae relief.

The fair illusion skims away,
And grief again returns;
Life's pleasures make a vain attempt,
Disconsolate he mourns.

He mourns his loss, a nation's loss,
It claims a flood of tears,
When sic a lov'd illustrious star
Sae quickly disappears.

With roses and the lily buds,
Ye nymphs, her grave adorn,
And weeping tell — thus sweet she was,
Thus early from us torn.

To silent twilight shades retire,
Ye melancholy swains,
In melting notes repeat her praise,
In sighing vent your pains.

But haste, calm reason, to our aid,
And paining thoughts subdue,
By placing of the pious Fair
In a mair pleasing view:

Whose white immortal mind now shines,
And shall for ever, bright,
Above th' insult of death and pain,
By the First Spring of Light.

There joins the high melodious thrang,
That strike eternal strings:
In presence of Omnipotence
She now a seraph sings.

Then cease, great James, thy flowing tears,
Nor rent thy soul in vain:
Frae bowers of bliss she 'll ne'er return
To thy kind arms again.

With goodness still adorn thy mind,
True greatness still improve;
Be still a patriot just and brave,
And meet thy saint above.