To dream of thee alone.
'Till life's last ebbing blood be run,
'Till life itself depart,
And death eclipse my setting sun,
I'll bear thee on my heart.
Un autre morceau, par lequel nous terminerons nos extraits des effusions poétiques de l'hospice d'Edinbourg, porte un cachet remarquable de monomanie mélancolique:—
Sweet sunset, sweet sunset, that beams from the west,
And lights the dark shades of the green forest tree,
Where the wild flowers bloom fresh o'er the earth's vernal breast,
Those flowers of my childhood, the dearest to me: