XI.
Every out-lying creature,
How sinew'd soe'er,
Seeks the refuge of shelter;
The race of the antler
They snort and they falter,
A-cold in their lair;
And the fawns they are wasting
Since their kin is afar.
XII.
Such the songs that are saddest
And dreariest of all;
I ever am eerie
In the morning to hear ye!
When foddering, to cheer the
Poor herd in the stall—
While each creature is moaning,
And sickening in thrall.
DIRGE FOR IAN MACECHAN.
A FRAGMENT.
Mackay was entertained by Macechan, who was a respectable store-farmer, from his earliest life to his marriage. According to his reverend biographer,[94] the last lines of the elegy, of which the following is a translation, were much approved.
I see the wretch of high degree,
Though poverty has struck his race,
Pass with a darkness on his face
That door of hospitality.
I see the widow in her tears,
Dark as her woe—I see her boy—
From both, want reaves the dregs of joy;
The flash of youth through rags appears.