The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

CONCLUSION.
Go forth, my Song, upon thy venturous way;
Go boldly forth; nor yet thy master blame,
Who chose no patron for his humble lay,
And graced thy numbers with no friendly name,
Whose partial zeal might smooth thy path to
fame.
There was-and 0! how many sorrows crowd
Into these two brief words!-there was a claim
By generous friendship given-had fate allow'd,
It well had bid thee rank the proudest of the
proud!
All angel now-yet little less than all,
While still a pilgrim in our world below!
What'vails it us that patience to recall,
Which hid its own to soothe all other woe;
What'vails to tell, how Virtue's purest glow
Shone yet more lovely in a form so fair: 1
1 [The reader is referred to Mr. Hogg's "Pilgrims of the
Sun " for some beaultiful lines, and a highly interesting note,
on the death of the Duchess of Buccleuch. See ante, p. 7.]