Books and other items printed in Gaelic from 1801 to 1840 > Poems in English, Scotch, and Gaelic, on various subjects

6
Let no contagion seize our vital pow'rs,
No passion rise to gall our peaceful hours,
Nor luxury her pois'nous bane infuse,
To blast the glory of the hopeful Muse.
LINES INSCRIBED ON THE TOMB-STONE, OF A CHILD
OF THE AUTHOR, IN LUSS CHURCH-YARD
'TwAS when the primrose hail'd the infant year.
When all was eye, and all was list'ning ear,
My sweet rose bud reclined his weary head.
And here he lies among the silent dead.
Uncertain life, how transient is thy show !
How high thy projects, and thy end how low!
This day in health, a country's pride and boast-
Perhaps to morrow mingling with the dust.