Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1827-06-13

The annexed ode to the memory Of Robe
Burns, is from the pen Of Thomas Campbell
the poet, and editor Of the New Monthly Ma.
azine. The ode is creditable to his g cd tas'
and good feelings, and will be read with SAITH
faction, by all the admirers Of Scotia's unit,
tored, unlettered and self taught bard.
Soul Of the Poet! wheresoe'er
Reclsim'd from earth thy genius plume
Her wings Of immortality;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume
The gladness Of our Jubilee.
And fly like fiends from secret spell,
Discord and strife, ut Burns name,
Exorcis'd by his memory;
For he was chef Of bards that swell
The heart with songs Of social flame,
And high delicious revelry.
On Loves own strain to whom was given
To warble all its extacies,
With Pythian words unsought, unwlled,
Love, the surviving gift Of Heaven,
The choicest sweet of Paradise,
in li!es else bitter cup distilled.
Who .ha; has melted o'cr his lay
10 Mary's soul in lie iven above,
TJt pictured sees in fancy strong,
Thc landscape and the livelong day
That smiled upon their mutual love-
Who that has felt forgcis the song!
20. sSilled on flame alone TO fan
His country's high-souled pcasantry
What patriot-pride, he taught!-how much
To weigh the inborn heart Of man!
And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
Him, in his clay-built cot, the muse
Entranced, and Showed him all the forms
OF fairy light and wizard gloom,
(That only gifted Poet views,)
The Genii Of the floods and storms,
And martial shades from glory's tomb.
On Banno ck-feld what thoughts arouse
The Swain whom Burns's song inspires
Beat not his Calodonian veins,
As over the heroic turf he ploughs,
With all the spirit of his sres,
And all their scorn Of death and chains'
And sec the Scottish exile, tanned
BY many a far and foreign cline,
Bend over his homeborn verse and weep,
In memory Of his native land,
With love that scorns the lapse of time,
And ties that stretch beyond the deep.
Encamped by Indian rivers wild
The soldier resting on his arms,
In Burns's carol sweet recalls
The scenes that blest him when child,
And glows and gladdens at the charms
OF Scotia's woods end waterfalls.
o deem not amidst this worldly strife,
And idle art the Poet brings;
Let high Philosophy control
And sages calm the stream of life,
IT'S he refnes its fountain springs,
The nobler passions Of the soul.
It is the muse that concentrates,
The native banner Of the brave,
Unfurling at the trumpet's breath,
Rose, thistle, harp; tits she elates
To sweep the field or ride the wave,
A sunburst in the storm Of death.
And thou, young hero, when thy pail
IL cross'd with mournful sword and plume,
When public grief begins to fade,
And only tears Of kindred fall,
Who but the bard can dress thy tomb,
And greet with fame thy gallant shade'
Such was the soldier Burns forgive
That sorrows such as mine intrude,
In strains TO thy great memory due!
In verse like thine, oh! could he i've,
Tho friend mourn'd--the brave, the good
Edward that died at waterlooi
Farewell high chief of Scottish song,
That could'st alternately impar
wisdom and rapture in thy page,
And brand each vice with satire strong,