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Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties lors d'une res^auration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lo'£*"',-fs ■. RHYMES OF A RED COAT. PUBLISHED FOR THB BENEFIT OF THE INDIA RELIEF FUK3. QUEBEC: PRINTED BY MIDDLETON & DAWSON, LOWER TOWK. - 18¥"8. -% ps^437 699S7 -.nf'.-' R 'ft ■•»»:-^- ■::: 1- M r'Thc * 1 ci. cl.J, -J y .. Cj»- ;%* /Q- Ji' %^ t .1 1' 'S'{« / ' I TO THE TROOPS IN THE GARRISON OP QUEBEC, THE RHYMES OF A BED COAT MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BT ^m: Their most obedient Humble Servant, THE AUTHOR. -^ , I 1 ., // ) f \ t* J^ .^ ^» ■:; '; t. T 1 ) < • / ( > '» '■ ■•■1^ .' %:r.t ■■ .1':. : /■■■'/ .■■V ^ ^-^ ■!■■«♦. PREFACE. '^^-i :-: -iV.-'^ *x^-rv* vv^ wv^v »*v •■• -%^ w *r* *"«/v»-v * ■. .- . ■ ■■■'■■ , ■ ;> T' • '■■■ ■ :.V ■'*j ■ .;^! f )k} ., , ''. A, V (•■;->i' .-i {■. > > : ■ ,HW ' M This being the first, and in all probability the last time, in which the author of this little work will appear before the public in the character of a book-maker, and not supposing that his tiny vo- lume will attract much attention, it would be absurd for him to make any frivolous or obsequious apologies for the purpose of deprecating criticism. It may, however, be necessary to state, that he has no wish to derive either praise or profit from its pub- lication. The former is an unprofitable coin on which he now sets little value, and his age and limited education debar him from making any efforts to obtain a share of the latter through the literary bantlings of his brain. In the present instance, the sole object he has in view, in so- liciting the patronage of his friends and the public, is simply this.— Not doubting that a liberal portion of the " India Relief Fund" will be set apart for the benefit ot the widows and orphans of those brave men who have fallen, or who may fall, in the san- guinary struggle still going on in that unhappy and benighted land, he is extremely anxious to contribute hiu mite to that great work of charity ; but not being able to spare any part of his own small income, for that purpose, without doing an injuBtice to a large family, he, after much hesitation, and at the suggestion ot a few friends, decided on making this appeal, in the hope that he might thereby be enabled to gratify this wish. And he has a Ihcpeful presentiment that he will succeed ; for some, no doubt, Iwill buy the book to aid his good intention, some as being bit Ipersoual friends, and some from motives of mere curiosity. .^ Tl. PR B F A C B . !k i I Most of the fugitive pieces it contains, though nerer before pablished, were written many years ago ; some with, and others without an aim, save that of indulging an idle propensity. In point of morality they are not what ho would now wish them to be ; but even on that score, he trusts they express nothing objec- tionable. They are, as the title page intimates, the productions of a soldier ; one who, though far advanced in years, is still in the military service of his country, into which he entered before he had attained his fourteenth year. In that service he did, for for several years, occupy a much loftier position than he does now, but he was raised to that position under peculiar circum- Btances, such as he trusts will never more occur in the country of his adoption ; and though he may have some cause to complain at being obliged, by no fault of his own, to descend from a higher to a lower grade in his profession, he does not pretend to possess greater abilities than the generality of his present comrades, nor to have received a better education. In truth, many, very many of them, young men too, have a decided advantage over him in these respects ; and with the opportunities that are now afforded them, if they could be induced, by any means, to cultivate the ta- lents which God has given them, and devote those leisure hours, that, he regrets to say, are too frequently wasted in idleness and dissipation, to the improvement of their minds, and the acquisi- tion of useful knowledge, the Army would send many soldiers back to their early friends, and the homes of their childhood, on the expiration of their ten years service, who would afterwards become, not only useful members of society, but a comfort and blessing to their aged parents, and an honor to the place of their I nativity ; whose example would reflect credit on their former profession — increase its popularity, and attract more recruits to ! its ranks, than all the vicious lures of former years— the antici- pated spoils of such cities as Delhi, or the more honorable ambi- 1 tion of gaining rewards and promotion, and winning, by deeds of valor, the proud distinction of being decorated with the Victoria cross of honor, by the hands of Her Most Gracious Majesty, orj her Buccessora. . PBI r A s . ▼IL er before ad others aaity. la li tbem to ing objec- rodoctionfl is Btlll in red beiore e did, for a he does ar clrcum- couatry of } complain 3m a higher 1 to possess nrades, nor , very many [>yer him in low afforded ivate the ta- isure hours, dlencss and the acquis! - a,ny soldiers lildhood, on afterwards comfort and >lace of their their former e recruits to —the antici- lorable ambi- , by deeds of the Victoria Majesty, or Mnch has been done of late years to improye the locial con- dition of the lower grades of the service, and increase their bodily comforts in times of peace ; but of all tlie benefits conferred on them, none will tend so much to elevate their moral and intel- lectual character as the new '^ School Regulations," and the es* tablishment of Lecture and Reading Rooms. The ultimate good they may reap from these no one can possibly foretel, but their first fruits will not be long in malcing their appearance. Indeed, unmistakeable symptoms of a growing desire to participate in the blessings that flow from education, are already manifesting themselves in the little garrison of Quebec, and this desire, no doubt, is felt, or soon will be felt, in every garrison — home or co- lonial — throughout the wide extent of the British empire. Much, however, depends on the encouragement they may re- eeiye from their officers. They, in general, are highly educated gentlemen, and with them rests the power, aided by their non- commissioned officers, to forward or retard the progress of this new movement. They need be under no apprehension that edu- cation will ever lessen the courage of British soldiers in the field, lor render them less docile or tractable in camp or quarters. Let them consult the criminal records of their regiments — the courts martial and defaulters' books— they will learn from them that the ignorant and uninstructed are ever foremost in creating mischief and discontent among their comrades, and are themselves the most obnoxious to insubordination and breaches of military dis- cipline. Let them, therefore, for their own sakes, encourage this legitimate and commendable thirst for learning. Let them bear in mind that the present and future welfar? of 200.000 of their fellow creatures, even in this life, and in all probability for many years to come, depends in a great measure on their example and voluntary assistance. Let them remember also, that, under the " ten years' act," a tithe of this great number will return to ci- vil life every year, and as they have been trained, so will they become peaceable or turbulent citizens — a credit or a disgrace to their kindred and their former profession, and a blessing or a curse to society. O I let them not therefore say, either in publlo 1^ vni. P R E F A C fi . or private— In joke or In earnest—that they know nothing, and care nothing about the moral character of their men, if they but do their duty correctly aa soldiers ! Lot them place no faith in the thoughtless assertions of those who foolishly say that tho greatest blackguards are the most daring and brave in the day of battle ! But, above all, let them not stigmatise this new move- ment as a " great bore,"— an education mania l^ at will not last — and exclaim : 'Tis all bosh I all humbug ! Few know how keenly private soldiers feel the force of ridicule. There, indeed, they are frequently cowards. Many a man who climbed tho fiery heights at Alma with a courageous cheer, and faced without flinching, the deadly showers of grape and musketry from the Russian batteries, has been known to abandon his firm resolve to become a better man, by overhearing tho witty, but wicked sar- casms of his superiors ; and many others, far less excusable, have been driven from their stern purposes of amendment by the coarse gibes, rude remarks, and ironical taunts of their barrack room companions. Having ventured to hint this much to young officers, the au- thor must not neglect to remind his young comrades of the deep debt of gratitude they owe to his Royal Highness, the Command- er-in-Chief, the present right honorable the Secretary of State for war — and all those who take so lively an interest in their wel- fare. Soldiers ol the present day are not worried and tormented with tight clothing and starched ruffles, pipe clay and polished firelocks, heel balls, hair powder and opthalmia ; as were those of preceding generations, and this they know ; but they enjoy other immunities, privileges, and advantages, of which they do not appear to be altogether aware, or at least fully to appreciate ; he will, therefore, at the risk of being accused of tautology, re- publish a letter written by him on this subject, which the pro- prietor of the " Quebec Gazette^^ very kindly inserted in the columns of that long established and popular journal. It is as follows : — , ; : ^ Sir,— As I was an eye-witness to the high honor conferred on Sergeant Smith of the 17th Regiment, last Saturday morning, and the kind and impressive manner in which the Major General PR B r A C R IX. eommanding, with his own bands, placed the Victoria cross of honor on that gallant soldier's breast, I can vouch for the cor- rectness of the account you gave of the proceedings on that in- teresting occasion ; bui, as I am a very old soldier myself, aud cannot agree with all your preliminary observations, will you permit me, if it be not trespassing too far on your valuable space, to make a few additional remarks, as contrasted with the present improved condition of the British soldier, to show the advantages he has over his comrade of former years ; and as I have been in- timately acquainted with his habits and character for nearly half a century, to hazard an opinion on the further benefits *hc service may expect to derive from this new system of granting rcwardti for good conduct, and not trusting altogether to the dread uf punishment lor the repression of crime. I recollect the time well, a great many years ago, it is truo, when the private soldier had few advantages to boast of. With the exception of a chance step of promotion to the rank of Cor- poral or Company Sergeant, (there were no Color Sergeants then,) he had no other reward or promotion to hope for, however highly be might have been educated, or however exemplary his charac- ter might be. He was little cared for by his countryman in those duys ; scantily supplied in barracks with the comforts and conve- niences of life ; irregularly and indifferently fed ; unprovided with anv places of instruction or amusement, except the canteen ; and with a long and dreary prospect of unlimited service before him, living under the continual dread of a cruel and dingraceful punishment for the slightest breach of military discipline. Now, notwithstanding all the hardships, privations, sutforings aud dan- gers that have fallen to his lot within the last two or three years, Tand I confess they have not been few,) how different is th(5 con- dition of the soldier of the present day? His period of service h limited. He is well fed and comfortably clothed ; att'orded means and opportunities of acquiring education almost to any extent : limply provided in barracks with comforts, conveniences ana amusements ; eligible for promotion, even to the highest rank in his profession, if qualified for such; eutilled to numerous annui- ties, gratuities, pensions, additional pay, and badges of distinc- tion for good conduct, long service, and meritorious actions ; en- joys ihe sympathy and admiration of his fellow countrymen, and whai, perhaps, is better than all, he is seldom called to witness the painful spectacle of a comrade soldier quivering under the lash I Very seldom, indeed, for that slave-like punishment — to use no harsher epithet — which I have frequently seen inflicted two or three times in one week, and to the extent of from 100 to 900 blows, is now restricted to 60, and should I live a few years long- er, I sincerely hope to see it blotted altogether from the articles of war. z. PREFACE. H'i in Yes, Sir, most assuredly, a liberal distribution of these re- wards — if free from favoritism — by creating a spirit of emulation among the men, will do more to eradicate that degrading vice which has been so long a standing reproach to the British soldier, and, in truth, the principal cause of all his crimes, than the most severe punishments that could be inflicted ; and though recent events ha> e shewn that they can scarcely add to his bravery in the field, will, I trust, in a few years, by the blessing of divine providence, raise his moral and intellectual character to that standard of respectability which it appears to be the unanimous wish of the nation it should attain to. You may well believe that the writer of this devoutly prays for so desirable a consumma- tion. lam, Sir, Your most obedient A ll / ^, ■i-iif.f^* ti^-'i'-^Tv'T Humble servEint, '\'%fti|jti;VJ*y'¥i?'>'''j4!;-- t''-^-«:':.'r:Jf^'*^ VETERAN. : Quebec, 6th August, 1857. In the foregoing address, the author has carefully endeavored to avoid saying anything that might give offence ; yet he fears there may be some who will deem him presumptuous, or even impertinent, in thus obtruding his crude opinions on the public in so familiar and monitory a style. If, unfortunately, he shall incur the displeasure of any such, he can only plead in extenua- tion of his fault the privileged garrulity of old age and long service, and the strong feeling he entertains in favor of educating yoang soldiers ; those who, at the imperative calls of duty, go cheerfully forth to the uttermost parts of the earth— to the most pestilential climes under the sun — there to encounter danger, disease and death, in defence of the just rights of their country and the crown, and pour forth their blood freely, as their comrades are now doing, to preserve inviolate the prestige of their own irvincibility and the great and glorious conquests of their forefathers. Surely such men are worthy of a nation's care and gratitude. .^ , > ■, . . , '»..,♦ One word to this already protracted and somewhat egotistical preface, and he has done. ^J,.* j :^ ^ > .-^f^i^-^ PREFACE XX' these re- emulatioa ding vice ah soldier, a the most gh receat bravery in of divine er to that unanimous lelieve that sonsumma- ITERAN. endeavored ^et he fears js, or even the public [j, he shall n extenua- te and long f educating )f duty, go the most ter danger, (Cir country as their restige of |onquests of .tion's caro Although it is no vain wish to be accounted a clever fellow, that brings him before the public — no juvenile aspiration to gloat over his productions in print, nor a morbid hankering after notoriety — he nevertheless has an idea that those who honor bis little book with their noticCj will not lise from its perusal with dissatisfaction, nor cast it aside with a feeling of contempt and disappointment. In conclusion, he begs leave to remind his friends once more, that however urgent he may be in soliciting their favors, it is for no selfish or unworthy purpose ; nor is he a candidate for fame, either present or posthumous ; for, whatever fanciful notions of ambition he may have nourished in bygone years, he is now so far advanced on the march of life, that he mf y dally expect, in the course of cature, to reach " That bourne from whence no traveller returns,'' I and enter on a higher, and he tremblingly hupos, a better im- I mortality than that of an author. Courteous reader, farewell I May health and happiness be {your constant attendants throughout the year that is just begun ; and that He who is the author of peace and lover of concord, may crown our arms with success, and speedily restore these iineetimable blessings to every part of Her Majesty's dominions, lis the sincere and fervent prayer of THE AUTHOR. Quebec, 1st January, 1858. egotistical . • J*- ■ • IH iiU'^k An ^-i: K..)-)-:; '% if THE COMMUTED PENSIONER; A TALE OF OTHER YEARS. FOUNDED ON FACTS. [This metrical tale was written before the eleemosynary allow- mce of 4^d. per diem was granted to the commuted pensioners ; Lnd at a time when many of these poor fellows were in a most leplorable state of destitution.] \i Adieu 1 fair autumn, wither'd all and dead, Wild whirling in November's surly squalls, . In leafy showers rustling around my head, Thy many-colour'd foliage thickly falls. Oft have I lingered in thy greenwood hall, Inhaling health from ev'ry balmy breeze, While airy shapes — at retrospection's call — Would spring to life, and people all thy trees Ith forms of long lost friends and scenes beyond the seas. "xc- 'M i'.i 11 II ! ■\ 14 A MILITARY MITE TO THE ; ,t Sweet season of the west, farewell a while ; Ere the revolving year once more can meet The mellow softness of thy sunny smile, '^ How many beating hearts must cease to beat ? V How many must exchange th' eivjoyment sweet Of happiness and hope for grief and woe ? % : Disease, mischance and deatli, with footsteps fleet, ^^ Pursue health, love and life, where'er they go, To strike, when least prepared, th' unexpected blow. Now, commerce has curtaiPd her summer train, And groups of idlers to the taverns flee . \ To spend — till urged by want to toil again — Their hard-earn'd gains in reckless mirth and glee. Now the rude raftsman's chorus, " Don't you see The snow is coming ? — time for us to go," — Foretells the fate of many an aged tree, //^ Crackling and crashing 'neath each sturdy blow, That, like the whirlwind's breath, lays leagues of forest 1om| Now, winter drear, slow hirpling from the north, With cold, unwelcome breath, begins to blow ; Yet, in my youth, oft have I sallied forth To hail, with rapture, his first fall of snow. Oft danc'd with joy, when he, o'er all below, His hoary mantle spread ; and, with much grace. Hung fleecy garlands on each leafless bough ; Crept, with congealing touch, from place to place, Xlll IKi'l/lt, re, dormant, lay lock'd in his stern embrace. '\ :-. U MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 15 And still, with gladness, I can see and hear Gay, happy gronps, in youth and beauty's pride, With merry sleigh-bells, tinkling far and near. Athwart his ice-bound waters, swiftly glide ; Or wand'ring forth at eve, when storms subside, / And stillness reigns around, how grand to view The parting clouds roll backward, far and wide ; The opening sky, in splendour, bursting throuL'li, rray'd in dazzling sheen, with silver, gold and blue. ■"■■■■■,_ I * ' - The midnight hour, clear as the noon of day, Myriads of stars, in many a brilliant wreath ; The moon, refulgent, holding regal sway. O'er azure realms, where winds no longer breathe ; Sparkling with diamond, seems the snow-clad heatli, The borealis, dancing through the sky, A robe of spotless purity beneath f ^ The glorious canopy of heaven on high, ^ hile nature's mirrors broad like sleeping oceans lie. Nor lacks he pastimes for the city crowd : , s The festive board and fascinating ball, Music and mirth, song, tale and converse loud. Shorten his longest nights in hut and hall ; But scenes like these my unskilPd muse recall Uack to her humble theme — the veteran's wail ; More lofty strains from higher harps must fall. For, sooth to say, her's is a simple tale, - -^ truth may touch the heart when weii-wrought fictions fail. iill 16 A MILITARY MITE TO THE ill i| ! :ilii III The night was dark, and, with a piercing sweep. The angry storm howPd round the dismal scene j Untrodden lay the snow, half fathom deep, The ancients of the land — wise men, I ween — Declar'd a night more wild had never been Known to themselves, or noted by their sires, Than this, whereon my muse contrived to glean The history of the man whose fate inspires A reed of Scotia's growth to cope with costly lyres. \ ■ »'* -**' ' ' ' • " f ■ ■, ■ ..' I But lamps were burning brightly in one hall, And shouts of merriment were heard within. The storm, unheeded, roared around the wall. Drowned^ by the unchecked revelry and din That eve^ (November's last,) to welcome in ; Assembled were a brave and hardy band, T' uphold the customs of their absent kin , // Invoke a blessing on their sweethearts, and Their own, their lately left, their much-lov'd fatherland. ' ■ ' \ ' Of rank obscure, for they were lowly born, Yet was their bearing graceful, bold and free ; Each ruddy cheek and manly limb, unworn By time or toil ; hearts, frank and full of glee ; Such men as gentle dames delight to see ; , Such men as Britain's foes with terror view, But to their country dear, and dear to me, * Dear as their tartans and their bonnets blue, The emblems of a land v/here life's first breath I drew. Il ! MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 17 A land that I may never, never see ; All, never more, save in the midnight dream That bears ray sleepless spirit o*er the sea, Companionship with by-gone years to claim, To gaze on glowing landscapes ; still the same As erst they were when I, with rapt'rous joy, Rov'd like the wild deer round my native hame ; An unrestrained, light-hearted, happy boy, phat quafiTd life's sparkling cup, nor deemed 't woild ever cloy. '• The wimplinburn, the bonnie broomy knowe, - The heath-clad hill and dearest glen on o-arth, Where hawthorn sweet and honeysuckles grow Aroimd the white-washed cot that gave me birth To see the fair-haired lassies tripping forth. My playmates bounding o'er the heather blue ( To hear, or seem to hear, their very mirth, The blithesome skirl, the exulting, wild, halloo, .s butterfly or bee they eagerly pursue. *' Home, home, sweet home," the load-star of our love. While reason reigns we see thee ever clear ; While life's short taper burns, wliere'er we rove, 'Mid crowded cities, or through forests dreai*, Our hearts still turn to tliee ; for thee we cheer The glowing hope that kindles at thy name ; But that, alas ! recedes, year after year. Until the once brifrht and f^thpreal flame v ^^^ Letnrns to yonder heaven, whence its first radiance came, 18 A MILITARY MITE TO THE ,!!i i " Home, home, sweet home," there's music in that word. A thrilling tone that makes the absent start. And wakes to joy each patriotic chord, Entwined by nature round the human heart. Some part to meet again, but others part Full of high hope, who never more shall meet, Pursuing fortune through the world's wide mart ; Until, too late, they find their weary feet ^ Doom'd, in some foreign land, to weave their winding sheet] I.'" ' ' ■ ■■ ■ ■ ."' ■ _,•■"" ■■"■ ;•;■.■• i( ** The land we live in," is a grateful toast ; i ** The land we came from," makes our heart's blood boil] The earth has many a bleak and fertile coast. Old ocean many a fair and barren isle ; .The sons of all forced from their native soil, The southern slave a galling chain to wear, The free-born of the north to seek for toil, ^' Alike the fever of home sickness share. And pine beneath the bonds that hopeless exiles bear. ■:.-■'-'.':.''' -r ■"■■>-•■.■,;;■ ^ .■ The feast was spread, and from that happy corps :^ Cheers, loud and loyal, echoed round the room ; Thoughts on the future — that will sometimes o'er Man's brightest moments cast a shade of gloom — ■ Were banish'd from the breasts of those to whom ; All in this opening world seemed rich and rare ; No battle-fields where deadly bullets boom— *o No dissipation deep nor other care — Had come, as yet, to cloud their prospects fresh and faii| MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 19 Song, tale, and just went round the merry ring, The circling goblet's speed none there could blame ; Too oft, alas, convivial banquets bring On hearts of kindest mould, remorse and shame . The gallant soldier, o'er the field of fame, With crimson hand and callous heart must go ; But when the victory 's won, he hastes to claim The kindlier task to soothe a comrade's woe, , h tends with anxious care, his fall'n and bleeding foe. But by intemperance his life is curs'd, Though punishment, disease, and death outstretch Their threatening arms, to warn him of the worst, He cannot shun the fiend's alluring fetch. Mark the result — a poor, half-perish'd wretch,'- Stands shivering on the floor, speechless and pale ; His miserable plight I may not sketch, Nor his unseemly raggedness unveil ; loo oft, alas, we meet such mis'ry in detail. ;% it " O God, give us this day our daily bread, And keep us from temptation" — so we pray- And he who has no-where to lay his head — No morsel for his mouth — amen may say. t- And such was he, the hero of my lay ; Sneer not — ^read on — and you from him may leujii That thousands win, who never wear, the bay ; While others wear, who yet are doom'd to yearn ntil they sleep, unknown, beneath some naaieless cairn. ^f 20 A MILITARY MITE TO THI? No vile, unmannered mendicant was he, With sloth-created woe, and canting tone ; Albeit his plight 'twas pitiful to see, Much self-reproach was mingled with his moan. Not always had he been a thing so lone — Not often had he quail'd to storm or strife — Man and the elements to him were known, In all their wildest moods, with ruin rife — Ere sad experience drugged the cup of his young life. '. .-T ', . ■ ., ^ ' . , - - . ■ ■ • ■» ; .-.(-■"'. . I ' - '■''*,■-" " ," ■ ■ *' • -■■■ His sunken eye had seen proud foes advance ; His dull ear heard contending chiefs renew Th' inspiring shouts, charge, Britain ! forward, France Oft had his steel gleamed in the red review. Green is the tree where his last laurel grew, Its roots are nourished in a nation's grave — The grave of those who yet were passing true, / And nobly fell for him they could not save — When Albion's sons subdued the bravest of the brave. \ , ! ■■IKiM But life, to retrospective age appears ? ; .. Far different from youth's panoramic to}- — Unsepulclire a few forgotten years. Then cast a look on yonder lovely boy — How many visions fraught with future joy For him, the first and last she ever bore, His watchful mother's anxious thoughts employ. Till God's command is broken, bending o'er The idol that she loves to worship and adore. /^, MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 21 Can mental eye the least resemblance trace, In lineament or line, between this wild — TVtis withered aspect — and that blooming face — This abject wretch — and that exulting child ; And yet the clay of both has but defil'd One soul immortal ; but a weight of woe By folly, war, time and micfortune piled, Has crush'd that spirit *s tenement so low ^hat she who gave him birth, her offspring would not Iviiow. I But where is she ? does she no longer feel That love which oft outlives all other love ? Or weeps she for the woe she fain would heal, But lacks the means and med'cine to remove ? Alas I her gentle spirit was inwove So closely with the worldly weal of his, That, when young passion sent him forth to rov She sank beneath bereavement's parting kiss — fhe canker worm that wastes love's flow'ry beds of bliss. Humbly she bent beneath the Chastener's rod,» i And paid the penalty fond mortals pay, ; Whose warm affections wean their souls from Goil, To worship fair created things of clay. Calm as a cloudless eve she pass'd away. And, when his much-loved partner was no more, The sterner parent made no lengthened stay ; 'Twas well ordained ; they lived not to deplore 'he wreck of their fond hopes, thus spurn'd from door to door. di A MIUTART MITI TO THE cbarity ! thou heaven-descended maid ! How oft * i-cari^*«a)infr cloak we see Wor» Viy / p^ ^risy, who l<^nds her aid To hMe the hollow heart — for such has he — The modern egotistic Pharisee, Wiii^>«» deeds are blazoiVd forth in places high, But nfiit, )n uuobtrosive povertf , Known by tbe silent tear, and deep-drawn sigh, Scarce deigns to cast a glance of his contemptuous eye. Hypocrisy 1 thou schooPst the human heart (Not hard the task, when men for evil train,) « To play in public, Enoch's pious part ; In private, to outdo the deeds of Cain. He who sojourns in camps can seldom gain Experience in thy double-dealing school ; Yet, evil as thou art, he hugs the chain Of demons worse than thou, who^v, iron rule Ends not until he dies, a poor degraded fool. 1^4 WM m Such was the fate that on this vet'ran fell. Though now he rests where grief is felt no more. Let me ecall him thence, that he may tell Of love and war ; for much he saw, and bore, Whilst aiding nations struggling i o restore ' ^^ To Europe's hands the balance of her power , When France and Spain were fertilised with gore. And Egyi^ '■? heaviest plague became their dow'r ; The gift of hin ? o.s n^me made lesser despot cower. UOtTNTAIN OF LITERATT'RE. How changed since then : crashed, spiritless and weak ; Within that hall he stood like griin lespair. The soldiers chafd his pale and clay cold check, And shook the storm flakes from hi.*^ )ioary Luir ; Hoary, bnt not with years, for griof and care, Thoae harpies foul, that feed on man d decay, More than the hand of time, hod helped U bare And bleach the uncombed siker locks that lay Loniid that devoter^ b ad, in tangles thin and grey. No c^:;irla a* they who follow war's wild art, I'hr \ scenes of woe familiar are to sach ; Of what the} had, they freely offered part. What matters it how little or how much ? The means must mete the gift of pity, which To low as well as high yields pure delight ; The ostentatious offerings of the rich Are not so pleasing as the widow's mite to Him who sees and reads man's moral acts aright. But I forget, and like most unfledged bards, Enraptur'd with my rhapsody, still chime On man and morals, punishments, rewards, Love, hate, life, death, eternity or time, Aucrht thpt .vill jingle to his doggrel rhyme ; The teeming tyro of Parnassus learns Regardless or ridiculous, or sublime, To coin within his brain nntil it tnms, 'hen — deems himself at least an embryo Scott or Burns. n A MILITARY MITE TO THB Xow for my theme, haply too long delayed—' But I have lov'd and liv'd with those whose lot Was hard and hazardous — a life unstaid, Girt with temptations great^ yet would I not Attempt to screen the glaring stains that blot The brilliant records of their deathless fame — No 1 rather let me point to each dark spot, To warn the future warrior that Lis aim Should ever be to shun his coffined comrades^ shame. Soon as returning life repaid their care, The soldiers saw their guest with much surprise — Albeit their proffered cup he would not share— ^ Gaze on their garb with wet and wistful eyes, As if their proud profession he could prize. But knew full well the snares around it spread ; And when they learned, though now in tattered guij That he by haughty chieftains had been led — And in his country's cause had bravely fought and bled] They press'd him much his cause of grief to tell. He raised his feeble arm — he had but one — To stay the tear-drops that began to swell, And down their deep and care-worn channels ran He leant his brow upon his staff to scan, Th' events of other years — his wayward fate — Then slowly raised his head, and thus began His touching tale of sorrows to relate, While all within that hall in list'ning silence sate. ?-■« MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 25 THE VETBRAN^S TALE. PART FIRST. How blest is he who, fearing God, Glides calmly through this vale of tears, Ketreads the paths he oft has trod, Nor murmurs at his length of years. t Scarce forty tell my age and youth, — Nay, smile not — though you well may deem This furrowed cheek and shape uncouth, Lifers ripest year but ill beseem. Woe^s me I nor time, nor toil can bow So soon the strong man's vigorous frame, ^ Nor plow so deep the polish'd brow * As self-wrought grief, remorse, and shame. Beset with these the livelong day, * Friendless and poor this world I tread, ^ Uncertain where at night to lay ^^ My wearied limbs and aching head. A hapless wretch by folly thrown g^ . Far from the land I dearly prize, In this strange clime to sigh and moan Till some strange hand shall close mine Oh, death I why leave thy lawful prey. Pale misery's care-worn haggard race. Sweet budding beauty, childhood gay, i And blooming infancy to chase. , '^: i U eyes. 26 A MILITARY MITE TO THE Lifers summer mom flew o^er me fast ; Slow, slow, its winter night creeps on With darkening clouds of woe overcast ; Would that my dream of life were done I An impious wish — but not a vain — For o'er the veteran's peaceful grave, Ere autumn gilds the ripening grain, Wild birds will sing and sweet flowers wave. 11 To you, brave boys, my thanks are due, Alas ! what else have we to give, Who rank among the wretched few That cannot die, yet scarcely live ; May honor guide you in the field, And crown you with a bright reward ; But ! where'er your arms you wield, May prudence still your footsteps guard. i-i 1 I iiii rill liiiliiH And when your bay'nets wildly sweep O'er fields of blood in needless wrath, Blush not if you at times should weep, For mis'ry oft will cross your path. * What mercy dictates never blame. And still this maxim bear in mind. Compassion's tear ne'er sullied fame — The truly brave are ever kind. ^ MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 27 TS wave. To Scotland's sons this day is dear, To every bosom, e'en to mine, That echoes back each loyal cheer, But in its joys no more can join ; For gentle luring will soon restore To fields and flowers their wonted bloom But ah I the withered heart no more Its former freshness can resume. And mine was sear'd by groans and sighs, E 3 manhood's prime had o'er it passed, Aiid sever'd from all kindred ties That early^ life around it cast ; Those silken bands sent from above To bind the sons of men together, Friendship, society, and love, All, all, are torn from me forever ! "f Nor wine nor mirth can gladden me, Untasted now the cup I pass ; Yet marvel not why this should be. For I have drain'd the deadly glass Till fancy filled with fearful things, My sleepless, wild, and burning brain For mad intemp'rance ever brings Unearthly punishment and pain. !'>■ Ill illl I 111 III 28 A UILITAltY MITE TO THS With deeds of war your songs are rife ; In that wild game I've played a part : This breast, that scarcely beats with life, Once held a light and dauntless heart. That oft has met, at break of day, With many a warrior, proud and high, Who, long ere sunset, lifeless lay, Without a shelter, save the sky. Not willingly would I relate Whatever IVe felt, or yet may feel, A tale that might in aught abate The patriot's glow or soldier's zeal. Ah, no 1 while one red drop remains Within this lonely heart to spill. That latest drop my country claims-^ The wretched outcast loves her stiU. But those who go where glory leads. For many perils must prepare, Ere they achieve those woud'rous deeds That captivate the young and fair. All honor give to those who fan Your native fire with their effusions — But ever blameless hold that man Who warns you 'gainst their vain delusions MOUNTAIN OF LITEBATURE. 29 Impressions that young minds receive, Too soon to be erased by time ; Their tales are day-dreams that deceive, Bat stern realities were mine. Those hardships dire that oft impart, When war's dark veil aside is torn, Thoughts to the young and careless heart Held until then in utter scorn. The bivouac, 'mid frost and snow. Or burning sands 'neath skies of flame, • With ague fit and fever throe, Can well the wildest spirits tame. Long vigils, toil, and lack of food, When cannons, from the compassed wall, Send forth, in eager quest of blood, Their hurtling showers of grajpe and ball. The weary march, o'er hostile plains, With blister'd feet and burning thirst ; To lag is death or prison chains — An earthquake welcome meets the first ; From bomb and ball and bristling steel, While pressing on in proud array, Oft has it been my lot to feel The pomp and pain of such a day. u M 80 A MILTTABY MITE TO THE ft I On lurid plains with life-blood wet, 'Mid clouds of smoke, and peals of thander, When countless hosts contending met, And heaven and earth seemed riven asunder But day would dawn ere I could tell What deeds were done, what ills endur'd, When o'er the breach with conquering yell Unbridled rage and rapine pour'd. 11 ;! . !'l 1 ill spare, land of the fair and free I One tear-drop for the fate of those Who, long and well, from thine and thee. Averted such heart-rending woes. In peaceful years, save when he's sent To guard some pestilential isle. The soldier's life in comfort spent^ May seem to mock the peasant's toiL But, who can tell that soundly sleep, ^ow much we suffer for their sakes. Who guard the land, or plough the deepy When war from years of slumber wakes. Believe me, bays but seldom grow. Unless bedew'd with tears or blood ; And oft when won, they clasp a brow Where cank'ring care ^nd sprrow brood. i;ii. u l:-ir,:i! IIOUKTAII^ OF LITERATURE. Of all who climb with frantic rage, The thorny steep where laurels bloom, How few can history^s living page Rescue from dull oblivtbn's tomb. But restless man, his cobweb plans Of fancied greatness spins with care ; Fame, pomp, and power, with envy scans, For these to him seem wondrous fair. 31 H With efforts vain, he strains his eye, And fain the future would disclose ; But that he lives, and soon must die, Is all he ever surely knows. The mighty schemes, the worldly cares. O'er which he frets and toils and grieves. Are not less fleeting than the snares The persevering spider weaves. Great Caesar's triumphs scarce could mock Napoleon's in fame and splendour : His vacant grave and prison rock, A moral point to gore-built grandeur. Yet some, whose glory ne'er will fade. The world's applause have justly won ; But these drew freedom's faultless blade, And sheath'd it when their task was done. ii li if illii I ■;:M(! 82 A MILITARY MITE TO THE In this pare band, tho' not the first, With lasting fame and honor crowned, Stands Erin's son ; the chief who burst The bonds that prostrate Europe bound. Nor least, Columbia's darling child, Who first her starry flag unfurFd, And fearless trod her forests wild, The Wallace of this western world. // Should war again his trumpet sound, And gentle peace once more take wing, May your bright deeds like theirs be found Fit themes for patriot bards to sing. But while the joys of youth you taste, I shorten not their dubious length. For sloth will rust, and riot waste. Exuberant health and manly strength. t While glory's footsteps you pursue. Beware of pleasure's tempting snare ; Be active, brave, but temp'rate too, Then you may win, and well may wear, The crown of fame ; a costly gem, Which high and mighty princes prize, Beyond the sparkling diadem, That oft has dimm'd a nation's eyes. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 38 Yet this prond wreath, I shame to say, Was oft disgraced, when dearly wod, By such as you who hear my lay, When all their daring deeds were done. They met with boundless flow of soul, To pledge, and quaff, and shout and sing And drown their laurels in the bowl. To them, alas, th' accursed thing. Pernicious poison ! soldiers feel ; Feel and confess the power is far More potent than their foemen^s steel, Or all the other ills of war. But thy career draws to a close. The glorious work is well begun ; O ! then, what self-inflicted woes, And deadly sins, will soldiers shun. The ruined health, the dungeon drear, The nerve unstrung, the bitter breath Of scorn and shame ; the constant fear Of what to them is worse than death. For O I the lash that tears the back, Though most in silence bear the smart. Still turns the soul from honor's track. And petrines the glowing heart ; 84 A milhart mitb to the Oft goads men on to desperate deeds, To discontent and mnrmnring ; Those ever rank and fraitful seeds, Whence mntinies and murders spring. It oft confirms, but checks no crime ; Reforming none, it hardens all ; Yet this foul torture — God of mine ! Men laud in legislation's hall. * SECOND PART. Allur'd by tales — a wish to roam — '. To see the world and fame to win — Too soon I changed a peaceful home And mother's care tor martial din ; . And left a father's guiding hand, Who st ove, with kind parental sway, ^ To check my youthful follies, and To lead my thoughts the heavenward way. But wayward boys are prone to sin, Their wavering fancies hard to train ; Ere time had usher'd manhood in, To curb my vagrant wish was vain ; Yet long did I that wish conceal, And to my parents feared to speak The secret that began to steal The bloom of boyhood from my cheek. * This was written before the virtual abolition of corporal pu jshment. ni^ii ! ,11 MOUNTAIN or LITERATURE. 85 When first I told my rash intent, The fields were green, and flowers and trees, With infant fruit and blossoms blent, Seem'd all alive with birds and bees : But ere I left the land I love, Nor bird nor insect sheltered there, The winds of heaven had room to rove, For fields were bleak and forests bare. When hill and vale are clad with snow, Cold is thy clime, my native land ; When summer breezes round thee blow, Arabians breath is not so bland. Yet, Caledonia ! then as now. Dear, dear thou wert, and art to me, Though in my youth it seemed not so, For I, thy shore was fain to flee. D of corporal pu And once again, in manhood^s prime, I madly rushed to meet my doom. To this inhospitable clime, i.nd left thy hills in beauty's bloom. And now the hopeless prayer I urge, Is, that thy voice in any tones. In any mood, may sing the dirge Above the clay that clasps my bones. "i iKi I m •Ml ijllli I !| !l!i li .'^♦) ▲ MILITARY MITE TO THE The haughtiest heart will heave a sigh— The firmest falter and despond — And tears will dim the brightest eye — When first men break affection's bond. Farewells at best, in any stage , Of this short life, are mournful notes — But what can woman's grief assuage When left by those on whom she dotes. k :^n ♦♦t The hour arrived ; my mother's moan And choking sigh 'twas sad to hear ; My father tried, in husky tone, Her breaking heart to soothe and cheer, And deigned to beg, in accents mild, The wilful boy to change his bent ; But all in vain, for I was wild With nameless hopes by fancy lent. tv- 4' i\ I /'i Whate'er I felt was known to few — For pride suppress'd the rising flood — And spoken was my first adieu In seeming. light and careless mood. / Of all my friends — and many came To bid the wand'ring boy good-bye — Save one who owned a dearer name, ^ None saw the tear-drop in mine eye. HOITKTAIK or LITIRATimi. Yet I did weep, as I have said, O'er one whose tears subdued my pride ; And only those whose vows are made With false intent, will me deride. * For who can leave his best beloved, ^ Whose ruby lip he oft huth pressed, * And calmly mark, with heart unmoved, Her pallid cheek and heaving breast ? n 0, love is like young freedom's tree, Which planted once, ne'er fails to grow But gathers strength most rapidly When angry storms around it blow, > Or like a river broad and deep, Whose current scarcely seems to glide. Which yet will foam and boil and leap. When aught impedes its mighty tide.: - 1- Such love was ours, of childhood's growth A feeble spark without a name ; That which smoulder'd in the breasts of both, Till parting fann'd it into flame. Yes, I did weep o'er one dear maid, Who oft had on my bosom leant, And shar'd my little tartan plaid, Ere we could tell what love tales meant. D I'f!!! .mill! rm m ,.i 1 in (■■11)1 it !: ill! Hi I 38 V' A MILITARY MITE TO THE Her trembling hand on mine she laid. Then fixed on mine her watery eye : j "And must you leave this land," she said, ** Where a' your young endearments lie ; ^ " Your Mary^s love, your parents' care, ** Your kindred, and your country's claim ; '* Our bonnie glens, and mountains fair, " In sickly climes to seek for fame ? h^ t ■..! .,Vv. " And will you, can you then forget, ' " The scenes so dear to you and me ; *' The gowany glade, where oft we met, " The hawthorn bush, and hollow tree : " Our frequent bield, to sit and mock r ) The summer storm around as roaring, And hear the speats adown the rock, *' Their wild and drumlie waters pouring ? I u n " i!io more unseen in yonder dell, *' Where rose and woodbine sweetly mingle, *' My foolish heart will fondly swell, - • *' To near the voice that gar'd it tingle ; ' *' For love's like the lint- white lintie's sang, " When blithely beats each lover's heart ; '' But like the howlet's boding clang, , " WVion mnnrnfn' Invorc tyioo+. fn norf . I The warning bugles' brazen throats Poured forth the blasts that make men n. Ambition's wildly thrilling notes. And broke her lamentation sad. I've suffered hardships, want and pain, But never felt so keen a pang As darted through my wilder'd brain, When o'er the hills their echoes rang. She turned and saw the distant bay, Her lip and cheeks grew deadly pale For, like a sea-bird on the spray> With pennon blue, and flapping sail, Our transport sat unmoor'd and free, To brave the elemental strife ; 'Twas then love sorely tempted me To choose the vile deserter's life. » MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 41' But honor came, with timely cjue, * To warn me Against so great a sin ; And whispered in my ear '' beware, " '' Nor bring disgrace on all your kin. '* Whatever wrongs you do or see, " Or suffer on the land or wave, ^^^w : ^' 0, never from your colors flee, '^ To fill a perjur'd coward's grave." ^ »* Our sails were spread the gale to woo, I saw her lovely form receding ; ■(( And speechless waved a fond adieu, To her and home, while onward speeding. The swelling breeze came fresh and fair. Our bark flew swiftly o'er the main ; ^ But much I saw and suffer'd ere ■ 3fy Mary's face I saw again. 1 - To say my heart was lightly glad * Would be to tell a tale untrue ; Nor less untrue to say 'twas sad, •' For, ! the bright and boundless blue That spread around, above, below, Gave wings to my young fancy free, ' And caused my breast with thoughts to glow, Too dee^^ to be defined b^ me. 42 s A MILITARY MITE TO THE \ ■ Few lessons, then, in mimic war, Were deemed sufficient to impart .^f To rustics, gathered near and far, ^i ^ The rudiments of that vast art ; v^> For Britain wept o^er many woes ; * Her martial arm had failed in turning * The tide of war against her foes, And many were the weeds of mourning. '■^, Some few but happy days we spent On England's gay and cheerful soil ; And some, in reckless merriment, On Erin's mirth-inspiring isle ; And haply left, on either strand, Some dim eyes gazing o'er the main, For beauty's heart and friendship's hand The youthful soldier soon can gain. 1^' '.\ ■T * ■ Sweet sister lands, with men as free And maids as fair as Scotia's bairns, — Cold, cold that Briton's heart must be, Who, home returning, first discerns f Your chalky cUflfs or mountains blue, ' And hails them not with grateful tears, Nor joins the patriotic crew , . In three times three true British cheers. 4 ■^j^^A MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 48 Now rides our bark on Biscay's swell : ,. Hark I did you hear that roar ? ^ "V 'Tis sounding many a soldier's knell On Spain's ensanguined shore, c; Yon heights are crown'd with men and steel, War's light'nings round them flashing ; The bay beneath bears many a keel Well armed, and shoreward dashing. From Albion's isle in haste they come j Blow, fav'ring breezes, blow, To waft the wounded Lion from The eagle, wolf and crow. Hope springs aloft as on they fly, To cheer the wistful gaze . : ^> Of many a weary warrior's eye That death, ere night, will glaze. r-' .' ■"♦ For mad revenge is urging on Their foe with fiendish glee ; Nor will his efforts cease till yon Pale cresset meets the sea. List how the chosen bands of France, In columns dark and strong, All eager for the fierce advance, - ? Their battle-shouts prolonsr, k ;*'. \ I rm_ u k MILITARY MITE TO THE -^ ^» Dalmatia's Duke, unused to speak^ Save in the vietor^s tone — Stalks in their front with bloodless cheek, But converse holds with none. Yet think not he, though void of prate, * Will long remain inert : The bitter gall of baffled hate Is rankling in his heart. •*»r Hi '> V Haste, then, ere he has time to mark The weakness of your band ; Retire and gain the sheltering bark, v And leave this fatal land. The foremost ranks have reached the shore The sternmost ship is near : Ha 1 see yon flash — the foe once more Is thundering on your rear. ^ '1 Halt ! re-form line ; prepare to charge ; Charge home ; on, on they dash. O, how the greedy wolves will gorge ^ The relics of that crash. ^ / But what avails this waste of life ? ^ Retire and gain the shore : 7^ ' Your chieftain, foremost in the strife, ^ Is mllen to rise no more. V" -^ I I J MOUNTAIN OF UTEBATURE. M What mortaPs could, his arm has done — Your banners yet are free — ; . ^ His heart's blood has their safety won : . Go, bear them o'er the sea. ' And should the tongue of slander dare His memory to defame, Point to the broider'd silks that bear Corunna's tragic name. With shattered frame, and feelings dull — Chill blood that soon must cease to flow- I little deemed that I could still, With aught like martial ardour glow ; But when my spirit backward stLiys, And battle-fields athwart it gleam, The joys and pains of other days Crowd round it like a troubled dream. Such was my welcome to that land For deeds of crime and valour known — When first I joined that dauntless band Who shed such lustre on their own. When I recalPd that pleasant spot. Where nought was heard but nature's voice, Then pondered on my future lot, Perchance I cursed my luckless choice. i " i''m I I! if ' ■ill i"!i!ij|i:;i|r li PP m 46 ^., \ A milTART lOTB TO THE Like streamlets clear, that calmly glide Through flowery meadows, murmuring on, Bv'n so until it met the tide ■ • ^ ^ ^ ^ ■ Of busy life, my life had run ; But then it changed its fearful course, ' ' And — ^like Niagara's rapid flood — With headlong and resistless force, RolPd on for years, imbued with blood. Could I once more but climb the hill ^ '^■ Where I was born, and fain would die, ^"^ ' O, I could sit and tell — until v,^ - -^h t The sun would span a summer sky — > ^'^ Of war and wassail, damsels fair — ? * # Bright eyes and witching smiles, I ween, - More dangerous than the cannon's glare ; For love that's light has ever been. And ever will be leagued with death : What marvel, then, that we resign The maxims wise our sires bequeath, Lured thus by beauty, war and wine ; But other bards, on hill and dale. Have woven these in many a song ; ^ ^ -' '^ And I must haste my selfish tale, ^, Lest I should mar your mirth too lono'. ' ' j^l MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. It When first he joins the wild affray, And knows not how to play his part, War^s havoc, sad and stern array, Oft daunts the brave but feeling b«» vrt. He sees red slaughter ramping mad On hill and vale, in wood and glen ; The mountain ridge with cannon clad, The plain with fiercely-fighting men. He hears the conflict raging round, And strives his shaken nerves to steel ; While shouts and dying groans are drown'd 'Mid din that makes his young head reel. Wan was my cheek whan first I saw The purple stream beneath my feet ; But custom conquers nature's law, And soon I learned with pride to meet The haughty foe, beneath whose fire In after years I firmly stood, 'Mong scenes of woe, and horrors dire, No more to blench at sight of blood. My own has wet the grass that grew, On many a well-contested plain ; Some praise I won at Waterloo, But left mvarm amon^ the slain. ill!! 'I ,)'■ II '! II m m m 48 A MILITARY MITE TO THI P<\RT THIRD And now from toil and danger freed, Once more I trod my native land, Contented with the scanty meed My country paid with sparing hand. ' But deadly war will man deface, And schools for vice ambition rears ; In outward form and inward grace. How changed was I in seven short years. Doubts and forebodings, dark and strange, Crept o'er me as I onward trod Beneath the Grampian hills that range Around my childhood's blest abode. A watch-dog's voice broke on mine ear, For night was gathering o'er the glen ; .^ . 0, how my bosom beat to hear S, That well-remember'd voice again. I hurried on, though faint and lame, - '^ Anticipating nought but joy ; Ah I comrades, no fond parents came To welcome home their crippled boy. ^ Six years had passed, that very morn, \p Such was the tale a stranger told, ^ ^; Since they were to the church-yard borne, And laid beneath its sacred mould, v^^ ^^ i ! i: MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 49 ** So fade the brightest hopes," I said, ** She, too, perchance, and mine the blame, " Who lov'd me once, with them is laid, " Or living, bears another's name." Lonely and sad 1 sought her cot : Though maim'd and scarr'd by ball and brand, She recognis'd me, scorn'd me not, * But laid in mine her plightful hand. That hour repaid the toil of years : I saw her face, and heard her speak, And felt, once more, the welcome tears Fast trickling o'er my burning cheek ; When she, dear m^id, with feelings warm, Entwin'd her arms around my neck, And sobb'd to see my alter'd form, As if her gentle heart would break. Some ills, on man, so deeply press. That heaven alone can smooth their furrows But artless woman's warm caress ' / Soon dries the flood of filial sorrows. Sweet friendship's voice his grief may calm. Yet fail the rankling wound to cure : The only earthly priceless balm i ■ Is woman's love, when deeo and Dure. 50 A MILITARY MITE TO THE Such love I found in Mary, dear, Unchanged and changeless, free from pride, That brighter glowed year after year Till quenched beneath th' Atlantic wide. How swiftly flew those years of grace. Fraught with a happiness divine, v, t That decked with smiles her lovely face. And kindled hope and joy in mine. .:'■[ ' I've courted pleasure's wanton smile, And braved the darkest frowns of fate ; I've wander'd many a weary mile v • , . < In lands replete \7ith love and hate. Of life's wild scenes and prospects fair — '^'H Privations, perils, madness, mirth. Love, friendship, hope, grief, and despair — I've had my portion on this earth. :ii !!l!l|i|!llllli ll!l!i And I must now, with candour, own < The joys of wine, light-love or strife, ■ With all the pride of high renown, Weigh lightly 'gainst a peaceful life ; Thrice bless'd is he w hose days are spent Beneath some humble cottage roof ; Who dwells with virtue and content, i^ And dies as he has lived — fame proof. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. Health, peace and competence were ours, Light hearts and lovely children three ; No gloom to cloud our sunny hours, While thrift and temp'rance guided me. Our cottage seemed like Eden's bowV, A place of innocence and bliss ; My own free will, like Adam's pow'r, Brought death into that paradise : f)! For, vainly proud of mortal strength, With heart presumptuously elate, I deemed myself secure at length, And scorned to shun temptations great ; But friendship's bond, when early sealed, Is scarce less strong than that of love 'Twixt those who, over flood and field, With careless hearts together rove. And when they meet with comrades true, 'Mid peaceful scenes, in life's decline, They cast their years, and act anew The orgies wild of auld langsyne ; And thus, once more, the wish to roam — With dissipation — crept on me : 'Twas then I barter'd peace and home — For what ? a errave bevond the sea. ij ;!| ;^:'!l !! til It;; I !!!'i i fmiiami.n, mm 'iliiliniiliil ■!i;lilll!!; 52 \, A MILITARY MITE TO THE Ye ruling men, 'twas wrong of you To let improvidence ensnare - A war-worn, maim'd, and helpless few, Unable to contend with care ; Unused to aught, save warlike broil, Or social mirth and converse rude : 0, how unfit for forest toil. In deep sequestered solitude. '■f-Tt'' There was a time when bugles sang, f And carnage, from his crimson lair / ' With shouts of fiendish laughter sprang, To gorge himself on gallant fare. When adverse banners waved on high. And fiery squadrons spurned the ground ; While rattling volleys rent the sky, And thirsty sabres gleamed around ; And heavy columns shook the earth, As, rank on rank, they onward rolled. Ah I then you recognised their worth. And prized them more than paltry gold ; 4.nd cheerfully supplied each want r < With willing hearts and open hands, 'Till peace brought economic cant To grudge them bread, and slight their braii(| MOUNrAIN OP LITERATURE. 53 No common fame for you they won ; Can hist'ry point to flood or field, From Waterloo to Marathon, Where freedom found a firmer shield ? Yet I confess — however brave Beneath war^s stern, unbending rules — Those heroes who escaped the grave, Were, after all, poor thoughtless fools*. But, was it wise, or was it just. To send them, like convicted bands. To earn a poor, precarious crust, 'Mong bears and wolves, in savage lands Ah, no I 'twas wrong ; that mournful day Has cast a shade o'er Britain's fame, That saw them wand'ri)>g far away To end their days in grief and shame. When first I left my native gleu, My spirit dwelt on visions bright ; When folly drove me forth again, Hope fled, and left it dark as night. Whilst gazing on her fading strand. The very seabirds seemed to cry : Look long on Scotia's mountains grand ; They never more will meet yonr eve. I Mm ill! I i III II I 1; .flllllllljll iiiiiiiili' II : I fi mmw m^m I. i iiii |li! (I'll iiii! 54 A^ A MILITARY MITE TO THE Poor Mary wept, but seldom spoke — ^ For me, 'tis meet that I confess -' ' I bore the drunkard's galling yoke. Till madness sprang from wild excess : The time or distance that we passed, I never knew nor cared to know, But retribution came at last — ^'-'^^^ < Just heaven I that vision haunts me now. The sudden gloom around us cast, -'''i i (Oh ! my poor head, be still, be still,) ^ The howling wind — ^the groaning mast — The vivid flash — the awful peal — ' The storm — the rock — ^the reeling bark — Great God, my brain from madness keep ; 0, what a night? hark I comrades hark ! 'Tis Mary shrieking in the deep. Hush, hush ; 'tis gone ; sit, comrades, sit ; Start not at such ideal things : Bear with my grief — ^'tis but a fit Of wand'ring that from weakness springs It will not last — 'tis over now, A little water let me crave ' ■'# i To sprinkle o'er my burning brow. •MTrr -aT./>TiQ/i lipg or>(j throat to lave. iviy parcaea iij .*. -. MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. And briefly, then, will I rehearse — For little, now, remains to tell — Should time permit, ere you disperse, The other ills that me befel. How I escaped I ne'er could learn, Nor yet how long I senseless lay ; I only knew I woke to yearn > And hate the brightness of the day. ^■ For, since that hour, relentless fate Pursues me with unswerving wrath ; Heaps on my head misfortunes great, And strewf h thorns my dreary path Nor years of ^ouury and pain, With all the ills that man betide, Have yet effaced the mark of Cain From the repentant homicide. My darling child ffor all were sav'd) All but the one most dear to me, When storms around our dwelling rav'd, Was crushed beneath a falling tree. Sweet girl, the first with me to share The love of her whose stamp she bore ; Her soft blue eye and ringlets fair Oft soothed mv bosom's ranklins: sore. "'iiil ii, ii Linn /. 50 { ■ t i^. s A MILITARY HITS TO THE '.*?' l'- My elder boy, must needs go row One stormy day, a little skiff Athwart the rapid waves that flow Above the cataract's roaring cliff : But, ah, resistless war their sweep ; I saw iny boy with oroken oar i Plunged in the whirlpool dark and deep Alas ! T never saw him more, o - ^ \P: ■4 Destruction came in whirlwind haste, '■ And heavily each blow let fall ; *T My cot was burned, my land laid waste, And blighted was my little all. 'Twas then I sought, compelled by want, The proud man's door, to beg for bread \nd keenly felt each bitter taunt, < > Unfeelingly heaped on my head \ By those from whom instinctive flows y The surly or sarcastic sneer. Who never shed for other's woes One warm or sympathetic tear. * , Still one sweet boy, my spirit bound To bear those ills with earthly hope ; A fearful pestilence raging round, Seized on his frame with deadlv scone. MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 57 My task is done, my tale is told ; k t The only Ij^mb that fortune left, ? Tlie last of all xiiy little fold, Death from my widowed bosom reft. I scooped his grave, then knelt and raised My arm and prayed, as now I pray : Gcd's will be' done, his name be praised, 'Tis He that gives and takes away. CONCLUSION. He closed his tale, and bowed his head , Deep silence reigned around ; /i So deep, the sportive kitten's tread y Was heard upon the ground. «^ He rose, and gasp'd his breath to catch, By speech and grief overcome ; The bugles blew the second watch, To call the soldiers home. They soon regained, amid the stprm, Their wonted mirth and glee ; He, too, poor wretch, ere dawn of morn, From'pain and grief was free. A resting place — how unmeet — That fearful night he found ; A snow-drift for his winding-sheet, His bed the frozen ground. 'I ; ! 58 ) I A MILITARY MITE TO THE ? U\\ Vet slept he well, as those th-it lie ?* In marble tombs, I ween ; ^) V* The April sun was in the sky, y. 4 «v ■ Before his corse was seen. 4i ^' * ""''■- They laid him in the stranger's ground, ^ A cold and dreary spot ; :.*. ''< 'Twas strangers bore him to that mound ' With little grief I wot. '^y \l:r No lengthened train of comrades dear, By martial music led — "^ -- ' ' : Marched pensively behind the bier ^^ With slow and solemn tread. '< No musket rang his parting knell, • The requiem of the brave ; No sacred drops of pity fell Above his lonely grave. *^ "hi " No frail memorial'' marks the spot, Where lies that vet'ran's head — But like his sorrows now forgot, He sleeps among the dead. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 59 ,' r t . '.'St s- THE FATAL DUEL* ;y.:i- ^■s-'^K.*^' ii Prohibited by the laws, duelling has now found a refuge in customs of society, and, by them, is supported against the . Thus backed and sustained, duelling is one of the greatest mities of our epoch ! ! "—Chambers. Young Oscar came, and wooed and won A faultless maid, and fair ; For love had lent to Oscar Graeme A winning tongue and air. In sooth, he was a manly boy. Endowed, beyond his race, With art and nature's envied gifts Of gallantry and grace. Written on reading an account of the duel betwen Colonel and his brother-in-law, Lieutenant , in which the ler was killed. ' ' '^ i 60 v» i\ A MILITARY MITA TO Tllfi <^ , ;iii;iiiii:!i.i !!■■ '.:. ^ Uiibouiidcd wealth — a uobic name — And lineage long were his — And now the nuptial morn was come To crown his earthly bliss. I saw him when the dusky shades Of night and morn were blending, Leap from his couch to hail, with joy, The morning sun ascending, S'/ 1 Short-sighted youth ! — I heard him chldo ( The rising God of light ; . ^ .:. For love expectant deems old time > ■- -?> A laggard in his flight. ' '^ ' ' ;? Ah I little wist th' impatient boy, ^' So handsome, young, and brave, How soon that glorious orb would gild The green roof o^er his^grave. ,!',(,. J;l',„;:,i I saw in his — at noontide hour y The small and trembling hand. Of one whose face and form were deem'd The loveliest in the land, - , .■- ^-y With fairy feet that fell unheard, - ^^'' The sacred aisle she trod, To seal the bond of love beside The altar of their God. ■ ■* 1' 5 ' . * MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 61 And never, since the god-like pair From paradise were driven, i- Has maiden's vow more fond and pure Been registered in heaven : Ah I little wist that gentle bride. So artless, young and fair, How soon her star of hope would set In darkness and despair. ii » f I si AV them in the banquet hall, ' Where happiness abounded ; With courtly dames, of high degree, And gallant men surrounded ; A flood of rich and mellow light From roof and wall was streaming, O'er nr any a brilliant eye beneath With lovj and laughter beaming. For music, beauty, fashion, wit, And chivalry, were come To welcome Oscar's lovely bride Within her future home. Her home I alas I they little wist How soon the deep-toned bell That rang their merry marriage peal, Would toll their fun'ral knell. m 1 mm !. till m iiii 62 A MILITARY MITE TO THE 'Tis morn — the marriage feast is o^er, Music and mirth are heard no more ; The banquet hall, that lately shone With borrowed glare and beauty's own, Is now deserted, dark and lone. -^■"Vi*'' '^ r: ,v, -it' vAr ■" -lii. ly^u f-; .i^r. ' - .. 'Tis morn — for chanticleer hath thrice Proclaimed the tale in treble voice ; And, looming through their hazy screen, The distant hills are dimly seen, Outpeering through their misty shrouds, Like giant forms above the clouds, Or genii tall of Anak's race : Such as children love to trace When fancy's wing is strong, And woven with such wond'rous grace In many a tale and song. \ Beneath, and all between, is gray, More dim and indistinct than they. Save yonder spire, that seems to be 7 ' A beacon rising from the sea ; ' Fantastic wreaths around it whirling — Like airy mariners upfurling " ' The vapours o'er that landscape cm'ling. ■■ : t': » >i^ '' MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 63 At the earliest streak of dawn, On the dew-besprinkled lawn, ^^ -^ ^ Scarcely fathoms six apart — Fevered both in brain and heart — Two fiery youths are seen. Deadly hate their present mood — Thirsting for each other^s blood — Yet had they, for many a year, Been to one another dear ; Loving with a love that few, Save fond woman, ever knew ; Friends in weal and friends in woe, Such they were some hours ago ; — How alter'd now I ween. But to them, and them alone. Is their cause of hatred known ; None can tell, nor ever knew, How their sudden quarrel grew. Haply, some unguarded word. Lightly spoken, darkly heard. Or silly jest, ^mid social cheer, Whisper'd in some villain^s ear ; Who a microscope can draw O'er the slightest blot or flaw ; And with fiendish pleasure spreads Calumny on guileless heads ; Wounding, with suspicion's darts, Warm and unsuspecting hearts ; Making harmless words appear Tales of mystery and fear : mm ' :ill: lilililU'll IP'''''" fill vl •■■> '.]-, ' 64 A MIUTARY MITE TO THE Such men were, are, and will be — • Such, ev^n now, are known to me — Men who, from a slanderous tongue, r I'oison pour, that oft has wrung Tears and blood from old and young. Such, perchance, the fatal spell That on Oscar^s spirit fell, When he met, in mortal strife, Him who once was dear as life To his bosom. Now they stand — Side to side — with outstretched hand- Not their friendship to renew, — Both such craven thoughts eschew,— But to take, or eke to deal, Ghastly wounds no leech can heal — Waiting for a single word To stain with blood the spotless sward That brief word may send, when giv^n. One or both, we hope, to heav'n — If such sins can be forgiven. Hark I the deadly bullets sing, Whistling through the hollow glen ; * And the twin report takes wing » Over meadow, field, and fen : Faint and fainter, on it goes, Round each vale and hill ; * Now its dying echoes close, ' And all again is still. ^J'\ When man meets man, in halcyon days, At honoris false behest, And sends unshriven to the tomb, The friend his heart loves best. If, in the sad survivor's breast, One spark of feeling lies, Bemorse mast be his constant guest , . im iM ■,»■'»'■ That worm that never dies. \L '■i'jh. o // But see, the sun ascends on high, ^r ^ And half dispels the gloom That death's unwelcome trappings throw Around yon lofty room. Where lie the beautiful and brave. Beneath one ample pall : Oh I what a change, contrasted with The decorated hall, :iiilll!! I '■■i: fill Where they were seen, but yester ev'n, The gayest of the gay, ^^ ^. Unweeting that the morrow's sun Would see them clasp'd in clay. ■ And what a sight ! contrasted with The altar scene at noon. When holy rites confirmed the bond That death has broke so soon. ^ ■i ■ ii ■ MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 61 Pale are those lips, so rosy when c . ? ; The vows of love were spoken ; And cold the glowing hearts they joined,^ One bleeding and one broken. _. Poor victims of a law, that few Th« courage have to break; ^ Sleep on liitil th' archangePs trump Shall buried worlds awake. ii W' If * •'■jr<.?-S •!)(->• ■ r • 1 -' ci'i •• ^Ift' Ifi- -Mnk: ii-ii ^;t V-. ''il-c-i**'^''^^'^''' .•v-> \.^ n U ;S-'-- y";-^ii?.;':^i -V'v % ..V-^<,;i? iillili!;;: !• 'm. (.1; Nil In • |ii! .,nii:iiii;iiil! r r'!:; 1 ,: , i mi ! i 68 A MILITARY MITE TO THE :t>:''il>; LINES WKITTEN ^..f. ON THE tft:f (■'.-;;.,:'•< SECOXD ARRIVAL OF THE 79Tfl HlGHLAIDi IN CANADA. I , At the close of the day, when its cares were forgot, While pensive I sat in my lone little cot,* The voice of a maiden, melodious and clear, — Like the notes of a nightingale, — ^broke on mine ear And her song had a burden, so simple and sooth, It carried me back to the scenes of my youth : For oft m the days of my boyhood it rang, And here is the la" that this pretty maid sang. * The author and his family occupied the lone little cot wards of six years. It stood in the rampart ditch between Sal Lewis and John's gate ; close to the spot where a wife was craf ly murdered by her husband in cold blood. The foul deed committed many years ago ; but the skeletons of the murdeil and his victim are still preserved in the militaFy museum attacj ed to the garrison hospital at Quebec. V ^ \ c ' '^ "'"•'' ir ^i . < r. IN 'i V MOUNTAIN OF LITErATURr. CO 111 the " Garb of old Gaul," o'er the foam-crested wave — jFrom a far-distant fortress — the gallant and brave Arc come to re-visit our country once more, I And a welcome we'll give, as we gave them of yore ; For what, to the eye or the heart, is more dear (Than the garb and the glance of a young mountaineer ; lOr to love and to friendship, O, who are more true Than the bonnie Scotch lads, with their bonnets of blue. "I rere forgot, 3ar, — on mine ear ;| nd sooth, routh : ng, d sang. one little cot ;ch between Sail a wife was craj he foul deed J of the murden f museam attaci From the steep rock that frowns o'er the African main, ^rom the wiles of the half-moorish maidens of Spain, — ^rom the dark-troubl'd ocean and wild stormy gales, — 'hey are welcome, cnce more, to our own happy vales ; ?o the homes and the hearts of the fair and the free, lS welcome as spring is to flow'ret and tree, ^or, to love and to friendship, 0, who are more true ?han the bonnie Scotch lads, with their bonnets of blue. [ail, scion of loyalty sprung from Panmure,* name that misfortune no more shall obscure : [ay the star of your house, o'er your dear native hind, fhine bright as the fame of the corps you command ; [•ill each patriot sire, in his circlet of love, fhall breathe a fond pray'r that his children may prove, Po their Queen and their country as steadfast and true lS the sons of Panmure and the bonnets of blue. ino nonouraoie Liauaeraaie Mauie, iieuieutiut-coiouei com- Iding the 79th Highlanders. ^m- Ill ll'i: ■:! ' ji ' ■':ili';.i;vi ,"■' '< V TO A MILITARY MITE TO THE Let the wild thrilling strains of your pibroch go forth On our soft westlin breezes, brave sons of the north ; While broider^d in gold, on your banners of green- All radiant with glory — your trophies are seen ; For, where was the foeman, or where was the field, When Europe and freedom 'neath tyranny reePd, From Egypt's red plains to the fam'd Waterloo, That e'er saw a stain on your bonnets of blue ? // O, dearly we love them ; and love, for their sakes, Their mist-3hrouded mountains and clear crystal lakes] Their lone glens and valleys, where blossom unseen, The heath-bell of Scotland and thistle so green. That land, should their war-slogan peal from our shoij Shall ring with their deeds when the conflict is o'er For a spot on their standard no mortal shall view, While dance the dark plumes o'er their bonnets of blJ )/■ i/.. ! ' vill!!]l i:iini!iiii :Billiili!l ,;;!il:i„; MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 71 ;li go fortli ihe north ; )f green — 1 5 ■■ mma to the 79th Highlanders, On their Seeond Departure from Canada. Late I saw, one evening fair, Where Cape Diamond, sternly grand, Like a warrior arm'd with care, Guards this fair and fertile land j Where the flag of Britain flies High o'er Wolfe's immortal cove, One whose tears and choking sighs Told a tale of sever'd love. Graceful was she, fair and young, Clustering curls of golden hair In neglected tresses hung. Round a face of beauty rare. But her large blue eyes when raised Prom the rippling stream below, On whose breast intent she gaz'd, , Tokens gave of love-iorn woe. il«i :.| '.m ' J' nn #'■ .sV A MILITARY MITE TO THE Yet, ill sooth, around I\er lay, Smi'iutr all in summ^T sheen, Scenes 'uit might have wiled away Grief than hers more deep and keen. Stretching far as eye oould reach, Scem'd the whole a fairy-land, From the mountains to the beach, RaisM by some enchi^ nter's waiid. i roiJi the wav- &s that wash'd her feet, Tow^rin^ tVor '}C co'iiiaent tide, Fara'd Quebct rose street on street, Spiv^kling like a royal bride. Ships in hundreds, lovely things, LaT below on watery, blue ; While, ]ike birds with snowy wings, Countless skiffs athwart them flew. On her right, with rapid sweep, Where her conqu'ring hero fell, lloli'd St. Lawrence, broad and deep, Onward ocean's breast to swell. On her left, a river gay, Winding flow'ry banks between, Like a silver serpent lay, Basking amo/ _ meadows green. St -m\ MOUNTAIN or LITERATURK. tft Far beyond the distant hills, ' ' Purpling deep the glowing skies, Slowly sank that orb which fills Heaven and earth with harmonies Clustered round each glittering spire, Clilded by his lingering beams^ Ilaijlet'^ lay as if to fire • * I*aiuter's eye, or poefs dreams. feip* Shallow streams and rivers deep, Water-falls and tinkling rills, ^ Lowing cattle, bleating sheep, Quiet lakes and noisy mills ; Peaceful villas, warlike towers, Gardens, groves, and orchards sweet ; Sunny glades and shady bowers, Lay beneath or round her feet. w I * Battle-field?? where men once brav'd Death, to win a victor's crown Monuments whereon are graved Heroes' names of high renown : Wood and water, hill and lale. Church an'' ottage, iieVl Gud fiirin, Scattered oaT that lovely vale, Lent the landscape many a charm. u A MIUTART MITE TO THE Ye who roam from land to land, - Fam'd for wealth and works of art, Hither come and take yonr stand Ere July^s bright days depart. .^. Here look round, and witness bear , Wheresoever your feet have trod, That on earth no spot more fair * ; Homage owes to nature's God. I ll ■■■...■ '■ lp„. , ':i:'i' Little car'd this maid to mark Aught of beauty there, I deem, Save one broad and regal bark, ;] Riding on that rapid stream. Twice three hundred warriors, good, — Sons of Scotland, — stood around On the deck, in joyful mood, For that bark was homeward bound. Heart and eye of hers were there. Nor had she recalPd the last, When on cheek and ringlet fair. Twilight dews were falling fast. Deepening shades of darkness hung Over river, rock, and dell, When she rather sighed than sung To the winds this fond farewell. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. t5 4 '-■-'-'■ '^^ '-^ SONG. ^^^■■V'i^-'* "- ' Sweet hope nae mair my heart can cheer, Nor ease my bosom's pain, ^^ .- Since those wha wear the tartans dear, ^ I ne'er shall see again. , ' But ere they gang, I'll sing a sang, . A fareweel sang to a', For sake o' ane frae me that's gane, An' stown my heart awa. Blaw fresh an' fair, ye winds that roar Abnne the saut sea faem, And land them safe on Scotland's shore, Their ain dear native hame. An' Scotia, busk your bairns braw To greet your bonnets blue ; ^ Fcr kind an' cantie are they a', Light-hearted, leal, and true. They're aye the first in freedom's cause The braes o' fame to speel, An' hoo to win a lassie's heart They ken the way richt weel. In lady's bow'r or battle fray, They foremost aye hae been : Nae bonnie lass or Iiirdly fae E'er daunten'd .uwm, I ween. «• |A»^ 76 A MIUTABY MITE TO THE Then bid your sons bring laurel wreaths, Around their brows to twine ; Your daughters fair to welcome them, „ WP sweeter sangs than mine, v , . An' Scotia, till th.) i -ir lAdiv backs, An' flee before tLou laes, Ise ne'er forget your wimplin bums, ., An' flow'17 banks an' braes. 'i'.-f ' l^;'.l While (iread Niag'ra downward pours His deavin', dinsome tide. The love I bear for you and yours ; *. In my heart's core shall bide. - *% I Fareweel, my first an' happy hame, ' r; A lang fareweel to you ; :>• An' fareweel to the gallant lads ' That wear the bonnets blue. '. ^i ■Ui %! .f :l / I '• :-^ -J \ \ ') 7 MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. n LINES WRITTEN ON THE CELEBRATION OP THE \.r MNCE OF WALES' BIHTH-DAY, AT PlIILIPSBURG. MISSISQUOI BAY, IN FEBKUARY, 18^2. :«;- Ti.r/j v^v The bonfire is bright On the ice-covered bay ; The flag gleams wi^ light On the tap o* yon brae. ; The fire-balls are blaziu' : An' happy hea. ts raisin' A triumphant shout For the Prince o' the day. ♦ i ! ; 'X i^Jj / ,::. ifl !,. : . '!! I - VN -»i 78 A MILITART MITE TO THE Huzza for the baimie That's heir to the croon, His mither an' faither, An' a' his freens roon. ^ / i His health an' lang reign V We will pledge once again ; An' wha winna do't Is a renegade loon. The men o' Missisquoi, ^ Stout-hearted an' leal, ' Wha aft rin the risk o' The match an' the steel,* Hae sworn by the past , ^ , That they'll no' be the last To welcome thy comm', An' fecht for thy weal. The heart o' ilk lassie Is loupin wi' glee As she keeks in the glass That she kens winna lee. 1/ She sees a face smilin', Sae witchin an' wilin', * She canna withdraw frae it > ' Her bonnie bricht e'e. * Alluding to the nocturnal deeds of the American sympad sers alias filibusters, during the insurrection in Canada. H nights passed, on which & house or bam was not set on firej these incendiaries on the frontier. HOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 79 Qcrican sympati in Canada. H aot set on fire But hark, there's a strain That will coax her awa ; T^is saft music playin* In the ball-room sae braw. '' Then haste at the warnin', Join hands until moruin', Wi' mirth, fun, and frolic, In Philipsburg ha\ . »• ■.< . .1'; {'f\. Noo, God bless the bairnie That^s heir to the croon, His mither an' faither, " An' a' his freens roon. His health an' lang reign We will pledge oace again ; An' wha winna do't Is a renegade loon. r,, ;v-:'.';.i.-,y .*?v- iW M\,,- -.'^ li. :f:t<- 'V'^-^'i-' -*:■' ;■''. ■■■ • '"■■"■" '• ■ 1 -■ ' •'(,; ;* : .1 ..•V-.-.,4-:4.,'.'^-, .-■ • - . .i/:'„'/i ■ ' i'l ^^: * ■ ' 'H/ . . . j, ■ i : ■ "iS , ■■.,: -^ - ,■ " '-i^v.'-Tj :• i ■•■1 \ ~iW'% • . .:::0^-: ^'i^fi^a^'-^f' 'u'^i -rm0- -,-^,- ^; ■:- li'i ' ' ' . Mi \ 1 A MILITARY MITE TO THE / THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.* The thousand isles, the thousand isles, ' How calm is the lake of the thousand isles, When nature lies breathless 'neath summer's bright smiles, O, beautiful then are the thousand isles. * After passing this unrivalled group of islands, on a down ward trip, the writer of these lines was an eye-witness to one the most daring and hazardoub exploits, on the part of a soldieil of the 79th Highlanders, that ever came under his notice. WhllJ running down the Longue Sault rapid, one of the mostdangerou in the river St. Lawrence, a soldier's wife, with a child in heil arms, from giddiness, excitement or some other cause, threw m self over board from the Durham boat. Colin Dunlop— for tM name is worthy of being recorded — seized one end of a coil oj small rope lying at his feet, twisted it round his wrist, and with) out the slightest hesitation, plunged after tlmm into the boiliD| torrent. Fortunately, another soldier, with equal promptitudJ and presence of mind, caught hold of the other end of the oil before it was all unwound, and notwithstanding the great straiii held on till otuer» came to his asdstance, when, by great exep MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 81 What lake iu this world, can such beauties unfold, Here sable with silver, and emerald with gold, CommingPd, expanded and dazzling the eye, Are sleeping serenely beneath the blue sky. For there is not a breeze on the land or the lake To stir the green leaves, or the waters to wake ; Not a bird on the spray, nor a bee on the rose, Disturbs nature^s mid-day and death-like repose. Yet still from each lone little isle that we pass, Where a single tree grows, or a tuft of green grass, Like the soft voice of childhood, when lisping a, pray'r, A low grateful murmur ascends through the air. Row gently, row gently, and guide well your helm, Till we reach yon green aiaple, and wide-spread elm, Whose wide-woven branches rude Phoebus defy, To kiss the pure waters that under them lie. liou, DuDiop and the child were safely dragg(3d ou beard amid Ihe acclamations of the boatmen and soldiers. The woman Bank ind was seen no more. Those only who have seen thif* frightful lapid can form any idea of the danger the soldier incurred, or the llinost miraculous manner in which he and the child were ren- lued from the rushing and angry waters. The fabled leap of ^chiller's page into tne Maelstrom, after the golden cup, was iot more perilous. Poor fellow, he was promoted by the com- lianding ofllcer, and the Humane Society in England awarded lira a medal for his gallantry, but he dJed of cholera, before it Ncbed Quebec. \ ) H ■\ A MILITARY MITE TO THE Beneath their cool shade we will rest for a while, Till the noontide is past, then resuming our toil, To thee, God of nature, we'll raise and prolong, With voices united, our thanksgiving song. ' 1 1 J .?■'■ And whilst on this scene of enchantment we gaze, Our loud-swelling anthem of rapturous praise ^Over lake and through forest shall echo for milee, To Him who created these thousand bright isles. ■f ij *.■■ # :h^.^. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 83 ■ I \ ■* '■ y CANADIAN BOAT SONG. HR. — First of the first part of Canadian Quadrille*. Pull my lads, the light'nings are glancing, Hear ye not the tempest on high ? See ye not the white waters dancing ? Pall my lads, the rapids are nigh. Wild the rocks that lie before us, Wilder waves around them flash ; Dark the gloom that's gathering o'er us, Fearless still we forward dash. H/^ :\ lit-;!*- A MILITAItT MITE TO THE Pull my lads, the pines are bending, Now the rain begins to pour ; And the thunder's voice is blending . With the wave and whirlwind's roar. Now are those we fondly dote on, Gazing on the angry skies, Breathing prayers that angels note, on Bended knees, with brimful eyes, f .u •iiiiii,. Pull my lads, their fears are groundless. Soon our wearied arms we'll thi'ow Round their necks, with love as boundless As the heart of man can know. Dismal crags their crests are rearing, Threat'ning all our skill to foil ; As with bird-like speed we're nearing Where the waters whirl and boil. Pull my lads, the pale-faced stranger Grov'ling o'er inglorious rest, Deems our life a life of danger. And his own supremely blest. But my lads, the heart that's fearful, Ne'er can feel such joys as we ; , Now with bosoms light and cheerful, Down the foaming rapids we flee. MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURi;. SONG. THE YOUNG LASSIFS LAMENT. Will naebody bid for my heart ? Will naebody bid for my ban' ? Wae's me tliat a lassie sae weelfar^d an' smart, Maun pino sae lang for a gudeman ! How blithely ilk bonnie bird sings, To cheer the fond mate by his side ; But luve only gies me a glint of his wings ; Dear ! dear ! will I ne'er be a bride ? Will naebody, &c. Braw lads at the bughtin, I ken, Aye ca' me their bonnie wee thing, And roose me till aft my y^^ung heart gies a stcn j But— nane o' them speaks o' a ring I Will naebody, &c. G ! !■ i m fi6 v\ tt.- A MILITARY MITE TO THE I . ;r,'i': I could I but wale my ain doo, ■ , I ken wha Fd tak for my jo ; But speer me wha will, since I daurna gae woo. I'll scarce hae the heart to say no. » Will naebody, &c. Come Jocky, come Jamie, to me — I'll take the first offer I can — 1 carena hoo bonnie or brown he may be, Gin I can but get a gudeman. 1 Till naebody bid for my heart ? Will naebody bid for my han' ? Wae's me that a lassie, sae weelfar'd an' smart, Maun pine sae lang for a gudeman ! ....|!li MOCNTAI?f OP UTERATURB. St . -V ■ : . --I- ; .' < ' SONG HERE'S TO THE LASSES. Pass the love-inspiring wine ! * Fill high your glasses ! To pledge this glorious toast of mine, — Here's to the lasses ! Who can nature's laws contemn ? Who the course of true love stem ? What would life be, wanting them — The dear darling lasses ? * Teetotallers can substitute '* Pass the sparklinc: water me. >? ,xV A MILITARY MITE TO ITHfl^ Clothed in rude or rich attire, High or low in classes ; Who can see and not admire The blithe bonnie lasses I Ocean hides no gems so fair — Earth no flowers so sweet can bear- Angels only can compare With kind-hearted lasses I Still they wield that witching sway- Cunning are the lasses I Man first felt in Eden's day, Among the flow'ry grasses. But no trembling slaves are we — Bending low with servile knee — Tis with willing hearts and free We adore the lasses 1 :■' 'i .».:'-'31 Let us, then, with one accord. Drain dry our glasses. To prove that we, in deed and word, Dearly love the lasses ! High your empty goblets fling — Round and round the social ring — While with glowing nexrts we sing, God bless the lasses I ■ ■■ ■ uy- ^. '- MOUNTAIN OP lit: VTCRE. 89 SONG. i'l ' ' ' , ■ ■- I.,' THE AUTHOR TO HIS WIFE, IN THE DAYS OP THEIR COURTSHIP. Come, meet me with an eye bright And beaming, like the morning sun ; Bat let it be by twilight, My bosom's queen, my bonnie Ann. 1 1 I'll woo thee in as fond a strain As ever met a maiden's ear ; And tell thee, o'er and o'er again, That life to me is not so dear. Then meet me, &c. 62 ; V • ..'<:', ':m !i i :}'[\^''i ;||P Midi iiiiniiiii 90 A MILITARY MITK TO THE The wind is still, the evening's fair, There's music sweet in ev'ry grove ; And nature, throu^a ihc balmy air, Still humti her grateful hymns of love. Then meet me, &c. Sweet spring with verdure decks the plain ; All life delights in summer's bloom ; And autumn gives her golden grain To cheer the weary winter's gloom. Then meet me, &c. But were the sweets they all can pour In nature's lap compress'd in one, A smile froni tbee would glad me more, / My love- m)' life — my darling Ann. Then meet me with an eye, bright And beaming like the morning sun : But let it be by twilight, — That hour when hearts are lost and won. ' MOUNTAIN or LITERATURE. 91 ''*» SONG. THE LASSIE THATS DEAREST I i lore } on. , »■.? ^ .t ■•> 3' an ; md won. ' I what need I care for the pleasures that wealth Or a high sounding title can gie, Whilst I can enjoy the sweet blessings of health, And the fondest of raptures when meeting by stealth Wi^ the lassie that's dearest to me. To praise her, and say she outrivals the rose, And the lily that blooms on the lea, Might paint her in part, but would fail to disclose The dear winning charm of enchantment that glows In the glance of her dark hazel ee. But even that charm is enhanced by the tale She tells underneath the green tree, When gloamin is gathering her dews for the dale, The rosy cloud sailing o'er mountain and vale, And the sun hid behind the blue sea. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 1^ ■ 50 |2i . I|g£ m m 1^ m Vi lU u 1. I. Muu ^ IE 11^^ \)^ 1111== ^s Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872 4S03 ^ K^ ^. ■i I 11" !::.■'; ■'MfSSt^^^^' ' ' iHB''^' ImiliiBj;;!! ^^^^^■iil' niraHHHfl] 104 v\ // t ; A MILITARY MITE TO THE .-i'V . ■ jr>'' ■a¥ iu,- ,;- a. '.1 ..».,,' ■ '■ ■ ^ > ,.(7 V ; ■ _ . - SONG; TH '••■ft' ''iA K.,.-" THE PARTING KISS. :•"• :i Air. — ^Neil Gow's Farewell to Whiskey. HE. One kiss, dear girl, and then good bye ; One parting kiss, for I must hie Where glory calls to do or die, Far, far from thee and Scotia. ' And hark ! I hear the bagpipers wail ; Its gathering notes are on the gale ; , * Her best and bravest foes may quail, To hear that sound from Scotia. \ 1' 1 MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 106 U: SHE. ''■{'■^■'k ■f:^ il Ah ! wKat avails this warm embrace When my sad soul so well can trace The daily dangers thou must face, - Far, far from me and Scotia ! But, oh I when thou art far away. And meet^st with maids more light and gay, Remember her who oft will pray For thy return to Scotia. ;,. is ; ] ; - ,-4 ■ " . Yes, yes ; my heart, where'er I rove. Will homeward turn, like Noah's dove, ,>: To seek thy ark of peace and love Within the glens of Scotia I - .^ , . And now, dear girl, since I must hie Where wild winds blow and waves roll high. One last fond kiss, and then good-bye, ^^ , ,», Till I return to Scotia! v,> ^ n.,, . , , ; fCJ-^L ,*Mf^<7- ■•{^f <)f??7' :Ji;' '^rj,, J^.1 ■ tpC'j'fi .'t'ifry 7^ NEW YEAE'S ADDRESS. 184 8. ■ ,^1. • \~^i' ■-<:;-'-,,*f; -Y ..!,-. 5- I. t '. '^'/^■■';ri v;:^ [Written at the request of Mr. MroDLETON, editor and part proprietor of the *' Morning Chronicle," for the Carrier Boys.] 1 .** . >; 1 To the goal that she started from twelve months ago, This world, my kind patrons, once more has gone round, With her history of weal intermingled with woe, — For such in her annual will ever be found — May the former be yours unaccompanied by aught — To shade from your bosoms enjoyment^s bright rays ; ]VIay your children and kindred, with happiness fraught. | Enliven your hearts and your homesteads to-day. May all sad forebodings of evil to come, With the bitter remembrance of those that have past- While kind hospitality brightens each home — >.. Be banished afar from the social repast : : ^^ : ^ And when spirits congenial encircle each hall. To welcome with gladness the offspring of time, Permit me to offer, to each and to all, ^''■'"^■' ^ '^ A wreath I have culled from the wild flowei^ of rhyme iJK i'itwm MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. lot All hail 1 Forty-Eight; — ^thou art welcome, I ween, 'f Though cradled in snow-'' 'fts and rocked by the gale : For thy sire wept o'er pesti ace, famine and spleen, ^ i But hope whispers thou shalt be jocund and hale : For plenty triumphantly points to her horn, : i And pours forth her gifts with munificent hand ; While peace, gentle maiden, celestially born, With her wide-spreading olive overshadows our land. Tis true, our bright prospects are slightly overcast - By a few passing clouds of political strife ; But these, like the storms, when their rage they exhaust, May leave a long calm o'er the clear sky of life. 0, Canada 1 Canada I sad were thy doom, r ; If torn from the bosom that loves thee so well ; But, avaunt, ye dark shadows and visions of gloom. With the false-hearted seers who such fate would foretell ! ! [With armies and navies, the favourites of fate ; Institutions requiring but little reform ; , [Wise statesmen to govern the vessel of state, i And a pilot undaunted to weather each storm : [With the fragrance of summer our senses to charm, When the landscapes of nature are lovely and green ; I And the sunshine of beauty and friendship to warm ^ Oar hearts, when hoar winter envelopes the scene. iil'.'. u 108 A MILITARY MITE TO THE With a country we love, and a Queen we revere ; A God whose beneficent influence we feel, • ^' **- ^ Pervading all time through the swift rolling year. All space wheresoever his worshippers kneel : Endowed with such blessings, ah, who would not join The chorus each circle this evening will raise, When the patriarch utters, in accents sublime, mM Let us worship our Maker by singing his praise ! At the close of some anthem harmoniously sung. That soothes like the tone of a Sabbath-day bell, When the hearts of all hearers, both aged and young, Are grateful and happy, 'tis then I would tell How oft through the storm, though my years are but few, Undismayed by its rage I have still waded on ; Ever patiently plodding to gladden for you V The long, dreary hours of the year that has gone. '# Or when memory is busy, and fondly recalls The friendships of youth, with the days of lang syne, And a tear for the past imperceptibly falls, /.i' > Let me hasten to claim that soft moment as mine,— To remind you how oft to your doors I have brought A sweet relaxation, your minds to beguile From lassitude, sickness, or overstrained thought, When your spirits were faint from reflection or toil. MOUNTAIN OP LTTERATURE. 109 ire ; ear, not join le, '» raise I <■? When the whirlwind was howling aronnd the white rock, And nought could be seen but the fast falling snow, How oft you have welcomed the Carrier-boy^s knock, As shivering he stood on your threshold below. Yet think not that I of these duties complain ; Ah, no ! ever cheerful my task I'll renew, Content should my zeal a small guerdon obtain. Whilst with wishes once more I propitiate you. ing, ^'iU ybell, ^ bud young, tell 3 are but few, ion; as gone. May numberless blessings, the purest and best i That bountiful heaven vouchsafes to bestow, Descend on your heads, till your hearts are impressed With the peace of religion and gratitude's glow ! May cheerful contentment on wedlock attend, And hymen to languishing lovers reveal That pearl beyond purchase, — a true bosom friend, With all the fond bliss parents only can feel I •(i'K.-*'lf .?» f lang syne, as mine,— ) brought e lought, •1 ion or xou. And when love's gentle arms are entwined round each neck, And dear little prattlers surrounding each knee. When the gush of affection flows on without check, 0, spare one small drop of its sweetness for me I Inexperienced in flattery, I fear to annoy. Yet fain would I ask for the gift of the year ; |0, pass not unnoticed your Carrier-boy ; No courtier is he, for his words are sincere. \\ 110 f iitm-- D. .yi^' A wish-burst; :'^r^r:-r:'i- -.•Iff :•;!}. O that I might buried be Where the wild birds sing, When my soul from bondage free Heayenward spreads its wing I Far fi'om all the beaten paths And busy haunts of jaen, 'Mid the gnarled oaks and elms, In some romantic glen ; r Or where the patriarchal pines Their giant shadows fling O^er some lonely greenwood glade, For there the wild birds sing I * Alexander Wilson, the celebrated ornithologist, freqaentljl expf6S36u a T7ish that he might be buried " where ihe wild birdil sing J) \ w MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. HI Where — like rills of molten gold — The flickering sunbeams creep Through the foliage of the trees Within some woodland deep ; O, how calmly could I rest 1 For there the wild birds sing Through the long, long night of death, 'Till heaven's Eternal King (He whom ocean, earth, and air, With all therein, adore,) Bid me rise to sing his praise. And sleep in death no more. I ( t ,'i* :'■% .::-'-^ t^'i .:^i^m^ A .^■:%. ii-yfp. %^^ ^'JKr.H^: 0?^: aw' "^tl^A^i :^i^.ri'--t '' '.•;»'" -,-1 . r •■ '?'"■■■ -"l^? 1:^^" 'd,i .:i.i:i 71. ^v iM-l 112 V A MILITABY MITE TO TBK 'v\,V. •». '•i---^ , i . ■ V 4 * t ift'|i9f'*!i vA-'-i- ,;,^i ;^:i4ai.<«>Vi ii*4 ife" ■ •|,.1^^5 ' S^^^i t-i 'j;i-ii.; ■ SONG .' >;^0 ' ■■'^i; /cm )m4^ .,*;., II ^ ?J Air. — ^LucY Neil. ,^ r ^v* a^;.',lt4 tiJi': ■if,: <-''i';-'i J:-?*! f. fir" '-•■;: ii:?;ir'3W3i // Last year, my dear young Harry Of all our swains the pride, AUur'd by false deluding fame, Sought glory for his guide. Chorus. — 0, be still, be still, My beating heart, be still ; - For ah I no more can hope or joy > My lonely bosom fill. War^s red clouds, dark and lowering, Were seen afar when he, ^ With twice ten thousand gallant hearts, Sailed o'er the deep blue sea. , ''P. MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 113 Eyes, hi^iii with pleasure beaming, ^tv Were dimmM that day with tears ; And many a lovely cheek grew pale When rose their parting cheers. I strove my own deep sorrow To hide within my breast ; * rO But pangs of grief are felt the most , ; When they are least expressed. ~n'^ ■'. .1.1 ., ,' Oft, when I sought my pillow, If sleep mine eyes did seal, Strange dreams of strife and battle-fields Would o'er my spirit steal. :;f;.;i • ' And, aye, when mingled tidings Of death and victory came, >«:;> -r ■!. More frequent would these visions be ; But still these scenes the same, v: j I f And oft I saw my Harry, >^ - His arm in triumph wave ; Then onward lead a daring band, The bravest of the brave. -;..• ■ I 2 w a it ,' I- I 114 A MILITART ICTTB TO THB The first among the foremost I saw his bright sword gleam ; When thousands climbed the deadly heights Near Alma's fatal stream, IT ^■iiA5;i:.t/i mm- ' I 'v^ Vs In Balaklava's valley, On gory Inkermann ; But, ah 1 the vision changed when he ^ Was storming the Redan. .v», 'V, Thick darkness closed around him, A^ And, like a funeral knell, ^ '^ A hollow voice sigh'd in mine ear, " Farewell, my love ; farewell 1" \^ ti w I- .. .> ':1 ■ m \'-k ■■•' ■ ^I'lfejEITIMI PF^»' A death-like chill came o'er me ; '> *^ * ^ I woke in terror great ; ^ ^ ^ For well I knew that boding voice Foretold my Harry's fate I f / •^ •>.■: - And soon his last love-token ' ^^ Was borne across the brine ; '^ Brought home by one who lov'd him well, But not with love like mine I '.-■■ *. 3*'- 'mm'i MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 116 Yet spoke he soft and sadly ; My beautiful, my brave, He said he saw, with hundreds more, Laid in a soldier's grave I ,* ^ J 'ft' ■^tC-i' i *k. 'ft L •' ,v"tY' *',n ' •' i- ^ ",'" tr ^ * fl ?^.\hty.^^::i \.l •* \ } *;;;., 2- -««r^ ^ - M . V '< ^ ^', ..-.-' ,f f^ > - i ■* * ' •■ >:• »■»+ T--, •-,>'_ ■ ;, • ' -''•': .fx'O'"'- i , • h I 116 A UIUTARY MITE TO TUfi ■V;rP i m: ::' I'ri'. :?■ ^' Hiiii V. tai %Hfx i :»:♦*, i:iU)#*.jK'-',, WOLFFS MONUMENT.* Stop, passenger, and read ; Brief is the tale of fame ; Here Wolfe, in victory^s last embrace, Died for a deathless name. While yet in manhood^s prime, His spirit winged its flight From scenes of woe to realms of bliss And everlasting light. Around their dying chief Here stood a mournful band. To mark and bear his last bequest Back to his native land. No lingering pains were his ; A soldier^s death he found, When shouts of triumph rent the b^j And shook this battle-ground ; 1 * These irL>. ^ - ^ra written beaide the old broken monument | which bore tke aLr.j«le inscriiiioa: •'•' Here Wolfe died,^^ > -J if k \ MOUNTAIN OP LlTtllVTURE. Pause, then, and ponder here ; But ah, do not deface This simple column, pointing out The consecrated place. Four score and eight loiig years Old time hath numbered o'er, Since the rude stone beneath its base Was hallow'd by his gore. 117 race. ^liss These tranquil fields beheld, On that eventful day, The flower of Europe^s chivalry A desperate war-game play ; And many a weapon dire The rival gamesters bore ; Here sank the ruthless tomahawk Beneath the good claymore. 't : ist 3 bkv )ken monument | Mi*Cvr. For those who erst were foes, Here banded were together j The victor and the vanquished from Culloden's blood-s+ained heather. Here, too, alas I was seen, By christian leaders led, With murd'rous heart and frenzied eye The 9a\ agiMlarkly red. .-. m pi I \ 1 118 A MILITARY MITE TO THE 1 Here, France, thy hero fell ; Montcalm, the proud and brave : A nobler chief thy empire ne^er Laid in a soldier's grave. ._ ^ Here shout and volley rang, • ' From river down to river ; While swiftly flew the bolts of fate. '. » Life's fragile thread to sever. ',1 4 Hush'd now is all around ; - A sabbath stillness reigns Unbroken, save by rural sounds O'er Abram's peaceful plains ; For since the day which saw That game of glory done, Britannia guards the noble prize -V- So well but dearly won. s Land of the maple green. The fair, the brave, and free, Loose not the ties that bind thee to The Empress of the sea. So may'st thou long remain Beneath her fost'ring hand ; O, never more to see or feel ^ War's desolating brand. .-■* MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 119 NEW YEASTS ADDRESS. 184 9. [Written at the request of Mr. Middleton, editor and part proprietor of the " Morning Chronicle," for the Carrier Boys,] Hark ! 'tis the midnight bell, Last of a dying year. Whose strange events and startling deeds, Have filled the world with fear ; A nd sent the fair and brave, In youth and beauty's bloom, Unwarn'd and haply unprepared, To glut the yawning tomb, Each measured stroke of time. Tolls like a fun'ral knell ; Yet soon from every church and tower, A merry peal will swell ; And men with men will meet, Glad compliments to pay. Unmindful how the year may mar The wish-bursts of the day. *.. j i*i' M» n ' i' t f '. f 120 A MILITARY MITE TO THE I would, my patrons dear, That T could sing anew, As blithe a song of peace and hope, As last I sung' for you ; Or weave with heart as light, As gladly then I wove, My simple wreath of poesy. To win your gifts of love. i. K f f Alas ! dark visions rise. Dim hov'ring in the sky, O'er many fair and fertile lands, Where'er I turn mine eye ; Disclosing omens strange. Portending aught but good : The harbingers of grief and woe. Plague, famine, war and blood, Crush'd nations in their wrath, O'erturned mighty thrones. And strewing Europe's fields once more, With homicidal bones ; Pale discontent and want, Wide spreading, far and near, The cause of many a widow's moan, , And many an orphan's tear. UOCTNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 121 Oh 1 *tis a sad, sad time, ' For infant, maid and mother ; When sire and son as foemen meet, And brother wars with brother I Grant, Heaven, my fervent prayer, Stretch forth thy saving hand, And keep the curse of civil war Far from our native land. A happy new year ! a happy new year ! The merry church bells are ringing, As if they deem'd my lay mistimed, And mocked my doleful singing. Now, words and wishes, kindly meant. Will burst from every tongue ; And why should not the Carrier Boy These joyful notes prolong ? A happy new year to all my friends, And eke to all my foes ; Good-will and peace I send to these, Unaltered love to those ; To bachelor, to benedict,^ To widow, wife and maiden ; To those whose hearts are ever light, And those with cares overladen. K h'-i 'I :i\'. 122 A MILITARY MITE TO THE I. V t ^' I ' "I To rich and poor, to bond and free, If slaves can happy be, No land can bound my wish to-day : 'Tis broader than the sea. , . , , And were I gifted with the power, To back my wish and will, Unbounded happiness this year The world^s wide round should filL i>' '^i Ul A happy new year, from a heart sincere. My kind and constant patrons ; v May twofold blessings light on you, Your darlings, and your matrons ; On old and young, on grave and gay, From Grandpapa to Johnny, — The dear wee pet, with curly locks, And eyes so blue and bonny. May peace preside in every hall. And plenty fill each store. Until your daily cups of bliss * , Are full and flowing o^er ; Till every knee Ije humbly bent. And every voice shall quiver. With grateful prayers and songs of praise. To glorify the Giver. MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 123 .'^i'-'.-A And when the light of hope and love Illumes your halls and bowers, Remember him who oft has cheered Your dark and moody hours ; And grudge not from your ample stores To set one mite apart, To please your little Carrier Boy, ^ And gladden his young heart. ©r V IT I- i^^..-i'^ ■:; i, .;-.,• \ I ivl -t raise, .-*;• SI M "§ Bl 124 A MILITARY MITE TO THS •-^ * ^ :.,r 'i THE FIRST RELIEF OF LUCKNOW, I-- » 9 BT THE FORCE UNDER GENERAL HAVELOCK, OP WHICH THE *lSlE HIGHLANDERS FORMED A PART. I [Versified from the letter of a lady— one of the rescued partj -— giving a singular and graphic account of the manner in which the inmates of the Residency became aware of the coming suc- cor, on the 26th September, 1857.} By those who knew best they were warned that the worst Sad fate which can woman befal, Awaited them soon ; for the demons accursed, With hands red with blood, on the morrow would bui'st O'er the doom-d fortress' close-leaffuer^d wall. V KNOW, OF WHICH MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 125 But fear was unknown to this brave little band, For they vow'd, in that hour of despair, While a life-drop remained in their veins to withstand - The truculent " Nana," with red ruthless hand, And all his black myrmidons there. And nobly the spirit of woman did soar, Though horror sat pale on her cheek ; From batt'ry to battery fresh strength to restore The juice of the berry of Mocha she bore To the weary, the wounded, and weak. 5 rescued party inner in which ,e coming bqc- Among them was one — ^though of lowly degree — « Whose name in this wreath I'll entwine ; For a maid bore that name, who was once dear to me, In the home of my childhood, beyond the blue sea,— In the bright sunny days of lang syne. , hat the worst I, ^ould bm'st I wall O'erwearied with watching, with hunger and toil. The head of young Jessie was laid On the lap of her lady to sleep for a while, And dream of her friends on a far distant isle — In the land of the bonnet and plaid. E 2 h. 126 A MILITARY MITB TO THE ^ And she sobbed and she murmurM, in tones soft and low, And oft sweetly smiled in her dream ; -i 'Till sudden she sprang, like the shaft from a bow, - And in shrill piercing accents of gladness — ^not woe — " We are sav'd, we are sav'd," she did scream. 0, true was the ear of poor Jessie that day, When she cried, " 'Tis the bagpipe's loud swell ; ** We are sav'd, dearest lady ; O, kneel down and prav ** To God, who has heard and will lead us away > *' Frae the fangs o' thae savages fell." 'm ' „ But the soldiers were silent — ^the lady looked sad, — And their chieftain in doubt shook his head ; For all deem'd that Jessie was raving or mad From the sufiPrings she bore, and the terror she had At the yells of the mutineers' dread. But again she scream'd, shrilly ; *' Noo black be their fa';| "0, dinna ye hear it again ? *' 'Tis the pibroch of Greg'rah, the best o' them a', " Fu' aft has it rang through my forefathers' ha' ; , *' 0, weel that wild slogan I ken." > / MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 121 '.„<-'• '' And now Jiartial music, in strains grave or gay, Was heard through the musketry's roar : On — onward it came, ever seeming to say — " Remember, ye dastards, that sad, fearful day " That dawn'd on the well in Cawupore." " We are hoardmg the locks of a lady that's dead, *' Who foully was murder'd by you ; " And have sworn, for each hair of that innocent head, " A forfeit of mutinous blood shall be paid, " And a life from your cowardly crew." Then the weary and war-worn ceased to repine, And women and children to wail, For^" the Campbells are coming," and " auld lang syne," From the right to the left of that listening line, Were heard on the orient gale. But who may describe the full joy that was there— By language, or picture, or pen — When those who had spoken farewell in despair — The mother and infant, the brave and the fair — Embraced one another a^ain ? 3 ■ 1 'V^?? W '-i \^ 128 A MILITARY MITE TO THE Not the shepherds of Bethlehem, watching with care — On the night of that hallowed morn — Could have felt more of rapture, or gladness more rare, When the bright herald angels proclaimed through the air, That the Saviour of mankind was born. And now let us echo the peals that arose — When the heroes of Havelock were seen — From the sons of the Thistle, the Shamrock, and Rose, As they hurl'd their contempt at their dastardly foes, . By shouting "God save our good Queen I" \ MOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. TH FRAGMENTS FROM A REJECTED ADDRESS. i'fl' Nor this great land must I forget ; A brilliant future waits her yet. Now that her lethargy is broken, And fame her destiny bespoken , Who that within her boands reside, Can mark her progress without pride ? Proud may her sons be of their soil ; It well repays their care and toil. Proud of their own dear native land, Her splendid lakes and forests grand ; Her inexhaustible resources < Of mineral wealth and water courses, That, unexplored and hidden, lie Unseen — as yet — by mortal eye ; Her bracing climate, pure and clear — Her cities rising far and near ; — Her seats and villas for retirements, — ': "i ; \\ 130 A MILITARY MITE TO THB f:' Ml Iler scientiEc new acquirements ; — Tugs, railways, docks^ and ocean steamers, The wonder of her ancient dreamers ; Her harbors, bays, and noble rivers ; Her cataract, where nature quivew And trembles at the awful sound, For more than thirty miles around, ■ As if an earthquake shook the ground ; He who can look upon that flood, And calmly say there is no God, May well th^ Almighty's anger brave, For he no soul has got to save. Ye poor, oppress'd or toil-worn strangers. To whom her snows and wintry dangers Are magnified by idle tales, Come here and view her fertile vales, If competence be your desire, Or liberty your bosom's fire : You'll find, when to her shores you come. An independent, happy home. ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^* ^^ ^^ ^^ *^ And now I'll take my promised flight On fancy's wings, to some great height In other skies, from us afar, Where Phoebus mounts his morning car ; Where I, unseen, and free from skaith, May watch the busy world beneath. While hov'ring high on airy pinions. O'er empires, kingdoms, and dominions, And o'er that lovely little isle,— \^ liOUNTAIN OF LITERATURE. 131 lers, ve. mgers, L come, b jight [g car ; th, 1. Dions, Still blest by fortune's fav'ring smile, — Where rest the a.sht > of our fathers, And where a nut ion round her gathers Her bravest sons — when peace is flown — To guard their country and the throne, Or sends them fort ii, in hostile bands, With cheerful hearts and willing hands, — Where desolating war is seen, — To serve a dear, a much-lov'd Queen ; To curb ambition's mad career. And free the world from slavish fear ; Or quell the perjur'd rebel brood, Who loathe the hands that gave them food- Exult in woman's dying groans, In savage and terrific tones — And purple half the Ganges' flood With women's and with children's blood. Such deeds to heaven for vengeance cry On murder and idolatry. Tis come : a stern, unflinching band Of heroes from our fatherland Will soon their ruthless pow'r annul : The measure of their sins is full. And men will yet that region see Th^ abode of Christianity, — Land of fair women and brave men, Who dare gainsay our loud amen ? ******** When rising liberty's bright rays — Forth bursting with a noontide blaze — :*. 132 A MILITARY MITE TO THE -^Kimil Shine from the Baltic's rocky shores, To where the Urars stream outpours, And from the Black sea to the White, 'Neath freedom's banners all unite ; , When Russian serfs become free men, In city, forest, steppe and glen. And to their sons that name bequeath ; — Then Europe may her sabre sheath : But while the northern despot waves His truncheon o'er a million slaves, All furnish'd well with warlike gear, 0, let her keep her bright sword bare ; Her pow'rs and potentates cemented ; ^ Her hardy sons well arm'd and tented : Then, should the grisly monster dare — As late he did — t' o'erleap his lair, — Though rank on rank should fall, once more, Upon the wild Crimean shore, mil death the purple current drains From ev'ry freeborn soldier's veins, — He'll meet the Russian bear again, And hurl him backward to his den ! I, > v^ Eire ; ted : le more, MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. 138 Oi\ THE DEATH OF 6EIEBAL HAVELOCK. " Yesterday, in honor of the marriage of the Princefls Royal, the bells of the English Cathedral rang out a merry peal at noon. Yesterday evening, on receipt of intelligence of the death of Gen. Havelock, the English cathedral bells rang a muffled peal." — J^ewspaper paragraph. God save the young Princess, Britannia's pride — The rose-bud of England fair — And her consort, the prince of dominions wide ; God bless the young bridegroom and beautiful bride, And prosper the Royal pair. il The merry bells rang this peal at noon day ; But, long ere that day was done, Sad tidings of woe, from a land far away, Came, borne by the breeze, o'er the salt sea spray. And the merry bells chang'd their tone ; And slowly, solemnly, muffled, and deep. Went toll— toll— toll. Kneel with thy children, Britannia, and weep. For Havelock is erone to his last loner sleep, — His spirit has reached its goal. :'(•■ -V- tv 134 A MILITARY MITE TO THE And slowly, solemnly, muffled, and deep, Toll—toll— toll- Rang in mine ears, 'till I lay down to sleep ; ^ When Time, in a vision, before me did sweep, And seemed to chime over this scroll : — THE DIRGE OF TIME. Time travelleth night and day, Sweeping away All that man's heart holds dear, Year after year, » Love, friendship, youth and age ; ^^, Simple and sage ; - - King, conqueror, slave, base men and men of note,— Peasant and peer, — All, all on life's swift stream — like snow-falls — float, Then disappear. Fraught is the orient gale With sounds of wail, ' , Borne from Britannia's breast, O'er ocean's crest, To lands that own her sway, ■ And ever may ; While in her children's hearts as brightly burns The patriot's glow, »•' ' As erst it did in his for whom she mourns, '^ ■ ■ -A With deep-felt woe. • ■' f < . ■. ^ i MOUNTATN OP LITERATURE. 135 Death, thy unerring dart, Hath reached a heart — Brave, generous, wise and good — That long withstood Dark fiends with murd'rous hands. Ye loyal bands, That to your Queen and laws still firmly cling, Well may you weep. And pledge his memory round the mournful ring, In silence deep. The toils and cares of life, ■■' Or soldiers' strife. Can break his rest no more ; The breast that bore. Or should have borne, a star And gifts of war. Earth claims and covers ; reptiles round it creep. Think this not hard. For his immortal part hath risen to reap Virtue's reward. The ways of God to man Try not to scan ; Give sceptic doubts no scope-— Let faith and hope Cheer on life's weary way ; And when the day Of thy departure from this world shall come. Then may be given A crown of glory and a happy home, With him in heaven. N i if; 136 A MILITARY MITE TO THE ■^:,-^:,' . {. ./-y.!. -\ •--■ .if/ SONG. ^.jkn-^ L • 1 ; •' * ■'i.-y^' ■,-'vTt''J.'~ ,U- »/» . ! I '■^■if-? '; I ■■*.- v..'-jl3r Air. — Good night, and jot be with you all. -■;- '..,1.'^ I' >■ Farewell, my friends and comrades dear ; No more can I these strains prolong : On my rude harp oft falls a tear — 'Tis now unmeet for mirthful song ; For I am as the withered leaf That hangs on yonder tree alone, And seems, like me, to droop with grief. O'er kindred leaflets, dead and gone. i vi:l ' ki.f When spring returns, that tree will bear And blossom, as it did before ; * ^. But is there aught in nature fair / Can my lost ones to me restore ? ; No ! no ! but there's a world above, A land where nought e'er fades or dies : There we, through our Redeemer's love^ Shall meet once more, beyond the skies. f.' H MOUNTAIN OP LITERATURE. m fi* r ^;l:' ^ Then let me, ^till life's sun shall set, No more of heaven's decrees complain ; For why should I lost friends regret ? Tears will not bring them back again. The few I've yet, to me are dear. And none on earth my foes I call ; So I may sing, with heart sincere : ** Good night, and joy be with you all." > i ■!J r ALL. ^r; > • *, f^-,: \m :ii lef, e. FINIS >ear : } ' dies : )ve^ skies. 'i^- :. • \ ! -i' / ■■■ ■ '-V / 1 . f ' ■ * ■ .1 ■ "1.) •• : .■•. 1 * * - > \ 1 "l. 1 Ab Ae Al Aii An Am Au Au d An Aw Ba Ba Bit Bh Bo Br Br Bu \ Bu Cc GLOSSARY OP SCOTTISH WORDS. t, A\ all. Aboon, above. Ae, one. Aftf oft. Ain, owu. An\ and ; if. A.mang, among. Auld, old. Auld lang syne, olden time ; days of other years. Ane, one. Awa'i away. B Bairitf child. Baith, both. JBieM. shelter. ^/atO| blow. Bonnie, handsome ; beautiful. Brae, slope of a hill. Braw, fine ; handsome. Bughtin, collecting the sheep in the pens. Buirdly, stout made ; broad built. To busk, to dress. C Ca\ call. Cauld, cold. Cairn, a rustic monument Cantie, cheerful j merry. Carl, an old man. To deed, to clothe. Cmi/, or coof, a blockhead. Co;etc, snug, comfortable. Croon, crown. Daddie, father. Dearie, diminutive of dear. Deavin, deafening. Dinna, do not. T)aurna, dare not. L'ool, sorrow. Doo, dove, pigeon. Drumlie, muddy. Dawtie, dear, pet. E Ee, eye. Eerie, gloomy, frightel. F Fa, fall, lot, fate. Faes, foes. Faem, foam of the sea. Fecht, fight. JFVae, from. Freen, friend. Fu' full. Faither, father. > G 6rar, make. Gang, to go, to walk. Gear, riches. CHe, give. Gm, if, against. Glaive, sword. Glint, peep. Gloamin, twilight. Gowany, covered with daisies. Gowd, gold. Guidman, husband. i:l ' w uo GLOSSARY. m H m/-^ ■* s'-^ r ; . ;i J; I t //a' hall. Kac, have. Hame, home. /f«n', hand. Hecht, promised. Horn^B, spoon made of horn. Howlet, owl. //A;, each. /«ef, I shall. K Ken, know, i^in, kindred. Kriowe, knoll, hillock. Laddie, diminutive of lad. Lammie, diminutive of lamb. Lang, long. Leal, loydA. Lintie, linnet. Loon, ragamuffin. Loup, jump, leap. M Mair, more. Maist, most. Mak, make. ^Mang, 'mong. Maun, must. . JlfeW, to be intimate Tritli. Mither, mother. Mony, many. N J^aebody, nobody. ' JVane, none. 0', of. O i ) I Pibroch, a martial air on the bagpipes. Poortith, poverty. R J?m, run. ' 2\) i2oo»e, to praise. S Sae, so. Saft, soft. ' ' '. j', Sair, sore. ' I' jSaMf, salt. * (ScatYA, injury, damage. ■ Skirl, to scream shrilly. ' Speat, a sweeping torrent. Speel, climb. Speer, ask. Stalwart, stately, strong, stout. Sf^fw, to leap suddenly. ^^ S/0WW, stolen. Tak, take, Tajj, top. W ^ae, woe. ' ' rrcc, little. _ ,> , W^ce/, well. I Vimplin, meandring. Winsome, gay, handsome. Woo, to court, to make love to. Winna, will not. Wale, choose. Wha, who. WTi'with. , ! v •i ■» iv u CONTENTS. air oa the Dage. irilly. torrent. strong, stout, enly. ring, andsome. » make love to. I I « it it (( it u n tl ' T.v- ; Preface Commuted Pensioner Introduction. . . . Veteran's tale.. . Second part Third part Conclusion Fatal Duel On the arrival of the 79th Highlanders Farewell to the 79th Highlanders On the celebration of the Prince of Wales' birthday. . Thousand Islands Canadian Boat Song. Young Lassie's Lament Here's to the Lasses The Author to his Wife Lassie that's dearest to me Canadian National Song Family Jars The Author to his little Daughter , . . . . The Lassie of Dundee My Annie dear •.*• .•••.*••••.•*•*• Parting Kiss New Year's Address, 1848 , . A Wish-burst My Dear Young Harry Wolfe's Monument New Year's Address, 1849 First Relief of Lucknow Fragments from a Rejected Address Death of General Havelock The Author's Farewell • • > • • t Page 5 13 25 34 48 67 59 68 71 77 80 83 85 87 89 91 93 95 98 lOO 102 104 106 110 112 116 119 124 129 133 136 !*!• w 1 .'' / J * \\ INDEX Page Adieu, fair Autumn, withered all aud dead 13 How blest is he, who fearing God 25 Allured by tales, a wish to roam 34 And now from toil and danger freed 48 He closed his tale, and bowed his head 57 Young Oscar came, and wooed and won 59 At the close of the day, when its cares were forgot. ... 68 Late I saw, one evening fair 7l! The bon-fire is bright on the ice-covered bay 77 The thousand isles, the thousand isles 80 Pull my lads, the lightnings are glancing 83 Will naebody bid for my heart 85 Pass the love-inspiring wine 87 Come meet me with an eye bright 89 O what need I care for the pleasures that wealth 91 Dear Canada, fain in thy cause would I enter 93 Down goes the sugar bowl — now the tea caddy 95 What song shall I sing for my dear little Mattie 98 O bring me back that hour when 1 100 Cheer up, cheer up, my Annie dear 102 One kiss, dear girl, and then good-bye 104 To the goal that she started from twelve months ago. 106 O that I might buried be 110 Last year my dear young Harry 112 Stop passenger and read 116 Hark, 'tis the midnight bell 119 By those who knew best, they were warned that the worst 124 Nor this great land must I forget 129 God save the young Frincessj Britannia's pride 133 Farewell my friends and comrades dear 136 ■■ ■' ' ■ '"^v. t f 1 . V P A O B . 1 • • 13 • • 25 • • 34 > • • 48 • • 57 • • • 59 • • • 68 Page • • • 71 9 « • • 77 80 w • • • 83 33 • • • 85 37 , . • • 38 • • • 87 89 • • • • 91 40 • • • • 93 42 • • • • 95 46 • • • • 98 47 a • • • 81 • • • • 100 94 • • • • 102 120 • • • • 104 ago. 106 • • • « 110 • • • • 112 116 k • • • * 119 t the ' i 124 129 133 136 \ ll \ K R R A T A . Line. 7 For a few remarks contrasted with, &c., read a few remarks on the past as contrasted &fe. 10 For the read thy. 19 Erase which. 21 ^ov " Love's like the lintwhite lintk," read Lovers is like the Untie- s sang. 10 For men read men mad. 8 For were read wore. 5 For fearful read peaceful. 4 For daunts read daunt. 15 For wide read wild. 10 For truth read ruth. 18 For overturned read overturning.