n on the death of robert riddell
of glenriddell and friars&039; carse
no ore, ye warblers of the wood! no ore;
nor pour your descant gratg on y ul;
thou young-eyed sprg! gay thy verdant stole,
ore wele were to gri ter&039;s wildest roar
how can ye char, ye flowers, with all your dyes?
ye blow upon the d that wraps y friend!
how can i to the tuneful stra attend?
that stra flows round the untily tob where riddell lies
yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe,
and othe the virtues weepg o&039;er his bier:
the an of worth—and hath not left his peer!
is his “narrow hoe,” for ever darkly low
thee, sprg! aga with joy shall others greet;
, ory of y loss will only et
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