And when his Spring, alas, how soon! Had been by care subverted, His Summer, like a god repulsed, Had from his gates departed; Beneath the evening star, once more, Star of his morn and even! To thee his suppliant hands he spread, And hailed his love “in heaven.” V. And if his spirit in “a waste Of shame” too oft was squandered, And if too oft his feet ill-starred In ways erroneous wandered; Yet still his spirit’s spirit bathed In purity eternal; And all fair things through thee retained For him their aspect vernal. VI. Nor less that tenderness remained Thy favouring love implanted; Compunctious pity, yearnings vague For love to earth not granted; Reserve with freedom, female grace Well matched with manly vigour, In songs where fancy twined her wreaths Round judgment’s stalwart rigour. VII. A mute but strong appeal was made To him by feeblest creatures; In his large heart had each a part That part had found in Nature’s. The wildered sheep, sagacious dog, Old horse reduced and crazy, The field-mouse by the plough upturned, And violated daisy. VIII. In him there burned that passionate glow, All Nature’s soul and savour, Which gives its hue to every flower, To every fruit its flavour. Nor less the kindred power he felt, That love of all things human, Whereof the fiery centre is The love man bears to woman. IX. He sang the dignity of man, Sang woman’s grace and goodness; Passed by the world’s half-truths, her lies Pierced through with lance-like shrewdness. Upon life’s broad highways he stood, And aped nor Greek nor Roman; But snatched from heaven Promethean fire To glorify things common. X. He sang of youth, he sang of age, Their joys, their griefs, their labours; Felt with, not for, the people; hailed All Scotland’s sons his neighbours: And therefore all repeat his verse— Hot youth, or graybeard steady, The boat-man on Loch Etive’s wave, The shepherd on Ben Ledi. XI.