Robert Pollok (1798 – 1827)
Scottish poet best known for The Course of Time, published the year of his death.
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He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane,"
And played familiar with his hoary locks.
With one hand he put
A penny in the urn of poverty,
And with the other took a shilling out.
Sorrows remembered sweeten present joy.
He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced,
As some vast river of unfailing source,
Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed
And opened new fountains in the human heart.
And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still,
Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused
With many tears, and closed without a cloud.
They set as sets the morning star, which goes
Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides
Obscured among the tempests of the sky,
But melts away into the light of heaven.
Most wondrous book! bright candle of the Lord!
Star of Eternity! The only star
By which the bark of man could navigate
The sea of life and gain the coast of bliss
Securely.
He was a man
Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven
To serve the Devil in.
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