. A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain, br Nor of the setting sun's pathetic light br Engendered, hangs o'er Eildon's triple height: br Spirits of Power, assembled there, complain br For kindred Power departing from their sight; br While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain, br Saddens his voice again, and yet again. br Lift up your hearts, ye Mourners! for the might br Of the whole world's good wishes with him goes; br Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue br Than sceptred king or laurelled conqueror knows, br Follow this wondrous Potentate.