OF A
FRIEND’S AMOUR.
“Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
And sweet affection prove the spring of woe.”
Home.
[The hero and heroine of this little mournful poem, were Robert Burns and Jean Armour. “This was a most melancholy affair,” says the poet in his letter to Moore, “which I cannot yet bear to reflect on, and had very nearly given me one or two of the principal qualifications for a place among those who have lost the chart and mistaken the reckoning of rationality.” Hogg and Motherwell, with an ignorance which is easier to laugh at than account for, say this Poem was “written on the occasion of Alexander Cunningham’s darling sweetheart alighting him and marrying another:—she acted a wise part.” With what care they had read the great poet whom they jointly edited in is needless to say: and how they could read the last two lines of the third verse and commend the lady’s wisdom for slighting her lover, seems a problem which defies definition. This mistake was pointed out by a friend, and corrected in a second issue of the volume.]
I.
O thou pale orb, that silent shines, While care-untroubled mortals sleep! Thou seest a wretch who inly pines, And wanders here to wail and weep! With woe I nightly vigils keep, Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam, And mourn, in lamentation deep, How life and love are all a dream.
II.
A joyless view thy rays adorn
The faintly marked distant hill:
I joyless view thy trembling horn,
Reflected in the gurgling rill:
My fondly-fluttering heart, be still:
Thou busy pow’r, Remembrance, cease!
Ah! must the agonizing thrill
For ever bar returning peace!