SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON
| Strong Son of
Fergus, with thy latest breath Thou hast lent a joy unto the funeral knell, Welcoming with thy whispered "All is well!" The awful aspect of the Angel Death. As, strong in life, thou couldst not brook to shun The heat and burthen of the fiery day, Fronting defeat with stalwart undismay, And wearing meekly honours stoutly won. Pure lips, pure hands, pure heart were thine, as aye Erin demanded from her bards of old, And, therefore, on thy harpstrings of pure gold Has waked once more her high heroic lay. What shoulders now shall match the mighty fold Of Ossian's mantle? Thou hast passed away. |