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In Memory Of Mr. James Bremner
by [?]


Sing to his shade a solemn strain,
Let music’s notes complain;
Let echo tell from shore to shore,
The swain of Schuylkill is no more.

Air.

From Scotia’s land he came,
And brought the pleasing art
To raise the sacred flame
That warms a feeling heart.

The magic pow’rs of sound,
Obey at his command,
And spread sweet influence round,
Wak’d by his skilful hand.

Oh! sanctify the ground,
The ground where he is laid;
Plant roses all around,
Nor let those roses fade.

Let none his tomb pass by,
Without a gen’rous tear,
Or sigh—-and let that sigh,
Be like himself sincere.