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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529230" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode to the Memory of Burns</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soul of the Poet ! wheresoe'er,<br>Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume<br>Her wings of immortality ;<br>Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,<br>And with thine influence illume<br>The gladness of our jubilee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And fly like fiends from secret spell,<br>Discord and Strife, at Burn's name,<br>Exorcised by his memory ;<br>For he was chief of bards that swell<br>The heart with songs of social flame,<br>And high delicious revelry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Love's own strain to him was given,<br>To warble all its ecstacies<br>With Pythian words unsought, unwilled,—<br>Love, the surviving gift of Heaven<br>The choicest sweet of Paradise,<br>In life's else bitter cup distilled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who that has melted o'er his lay<br>To Mary's soul, in Heaven above ,<br>But pictured sees, in fancy strong,<br>The landscape and the livelong day<br>That smiled upon their mutual love ?<br>Who that has felt forgets the song ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor skilled one flame alone to fan:<br>His country's high-souled peasantry<br>What patriot-pride he taught !—how much<br>To weigh the inborn worth of man !<br>And rustic life and poverty<br>Grow beautiful beneath his touch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Him, in his clay-built cot, the Muse<br>Entranced, and showed him all the forms,<br>Of fairy-light and wizard gloom,<br>(That only gifted Poet views,)<br>The Genii of the floods and storms,<br>And martial shades from Glory's tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On Bannock-field what thoughts arouse<br>The swain whom Burns's song inspires !<br>Beat not his Caledonian veins,<br>As o'er the heroic turf he ploughs,<br>With all the spirit of his sires,<br>And all their scorn of death and chains ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And see the Scottish exile, tanned<br>By many a far and foreign clime,<br>Bend o'er his home-born verse, and weep<br>In memory of his native land,<br>With love that scorns the lapse of time,<br>And ties that stretch beyond the deep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Encamped by Indian rivers wild,<br>The soldier resting on his arms,<br>In Burns's carol sweet recalls<br>The scenes that blessed him when a child,<br>And glows and gladdens at the charms<br>Of Scotia's woods and waterfalls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O deem not, 'midst this worldly strife,<br>An idle art the Poet brings:<br>Let high Philosophy control,<br>And sages calm the stream of life,<br>'T is he refines its fountain-springs,<br>The nobler passions of the soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the muse that consecrates <br>The native banner of the brave, <br>Unfurling, at the trumpet's breath, <br>Rose, thistle, harp ; 't is she elates</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To sweep the field or ride the wave, <br>A sunburst in the storm of death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou, young hero , when thy pall<br>Is crossed with mournful sword and plume,<br>When public grief begins to fade,<br>And only tears of kindred fall,<br>Who but the bard shall dress thy tomb,<br>And greet with fame thy gallant shade ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such was the soldier—Burns, forgive<br>That sorrows of mine own intrude<br>In strains to thy great memory due.<br>In verse like thine, oh ! Could he live,<br>The friend I mourned—the brave—the good<br>Edward that died at Waterloo !*</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell, high chief of Scottish song !<br>That couldst alternately impart<br>Wisdom and rapture in thy page,<br>And brand each vice with satire strong,<br>Whose lines are mottoes of the heart?<br>Whose truths electrify the sage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell ! and ne'er may Envy dare<br>To wring one baleful poison drop<br>From the crushed laurels of thy bust ;<br>But while the lark sings sweet in air,<br>Still may the grateful pilgrim stop,<br>To bless the spot that holds thy dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Campbell">Thomas Campbell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529230" data-title="Ode to the Memory of Burns de Thomas Campbell" data-description="Soul of the Poet ! wheresoe'er,
Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume
Her wings of immortality ;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume
The gladness of our jubilee.

And fly like fiends from secret spell,
Discord and ..."></div>
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