What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that, For a' that, and a' that, 5 10 YE banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There sinner first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. 40 10 15 5 Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu' tender; And, pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But oh fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly! And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly! 20 25 Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget? Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? 5 ΙΟ Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, As streams their channels deeper wear 15 20 25 Where is thy place of blissful rest? 30 Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? CHAPTER XV OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, 1809-1894 "Long may he live to make broader the face of our care-ridden generation, and to realize for himself the truth of the wise man's declaration, that 'a merry heart is a continual feast.'"- JOHN G. Whittier. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, one of the wittiest and wisest of American authors, was born in Cambridge, Mass., in 1809. He graduated at Harvard College in 1829. He began to study law, but soon gave up the idea for the study of medicine. After several years of study, both at home and abroad, he began the practice of medicine in Boston. He was chosen professor of anatomy and physiology in Dartmouth College in 1838, and was called to the same chair in Harvard Medical College in 1847. His first literary effort of any note was a poem delivered at Harvard College in 1836. The warm praise with which this poem was received doubtless stimulated the young physician to other literary work. His first volume of collected poems was published in 1836. For over fifty years Dr. Holmes made every year a great variety of contributions to our literature, poems, novels, essays, and medical writings. When the Atlantic Monthly was founded in 1857, Dr. Holmes began a series of papers called "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," which did much to increase |