To eastern minstrels strains like thine to tell;
Till saddening memory all our haunts restore,
The wild-wood walks by Esk's romantic shore,
The circled hearth, which ne'er was wont to fail
In cheerful joke, or legendary tale,
Thy mind, whose fearless frankness nought could move,
Thy friendship, like an elder brother's love,
While from each scene of early life I part,
True to the beatings of this ardent heart,
When, half-deceased, with half the world between,