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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont filmdes A partir de Tangle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 Po Ur\ ' (\ (t^jJ/f'^ / Poems and Songs ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, BY WILLIAM BANNATYNE. Leeze me on rhyme, it's aye a treasure, My chief — amaist my only pleasure ; At hame, a-fiel', at wark or leisure. My Muse, kind hizzie. Tho' rough and raplock be her measure. Is seldom lazy."— I^urns. TORONTO: JAMES CAMPBELL & SON, 1875- 68784 i . PRESBYTERIAN PRINTING OFFICR, TORONTO. PREFACE. The Author of this volume, in oft'ering it to the public, indulges the fond hope of its being favour- ably received by the generality of those readers who have already been familiar with his verses ; appearing as they have from time to time, in the pages of a variety of our local provincial journals and other periodicals, as well as in several in the United States, to which publications he has for many years been a contributor. Finding that his popularity accorded him a certain ascendency among his contemporary rhymers ; he has been in- duced to make the present effort of appearing in the Hterary arena in book form ; and being (so truly poet-like) as purseless as that loneliest of all desert birds, the Pelican^ he has adopted the present size, style, and mode of publication. In order to suit the limits of the work, as well as to avoid all subj ects of a directly personal nature, that might prove tantalizing to individual feelings, llie has, in consultation with several friends, made a careful selection of pieces, for the most part, in lyrical form, so as to introduce as much variety of sentiment as possible ; and, having the elevation of [the human intellect always in view, there will be , \ ,'fMt:. iv Preface. nothing found therein of a harshly grating satirical nature ; nor in any way deleterious to, or at variance with sound moral, and social principles ; whilst the leaden-eyed Daenien of dulness will be found to wave his shadowy wing with so light an effect, as to preclude all chances of leaving a haggard ghost behind. To those gentlemen and friends, by whose coun- sel and assistance he has been enabled to make this offering to the public, he gratefully dedicates the volume ; whilst its contents, whatever their merits may be, he leaves for the tastes and judg- ments of his readers. WILLIAM BANNATYNE. AsHFiELD, Ontario, May, 1875. \%* » ■ — 1 ' - ' ■'■'4 atirical ■ / -, iriaiicc ^B list the 1 • .1 f - und to H •■ :t, as to H CONTEN rS. ~ / I ghost H - / e coun- H PHILOSOPHIC SUBJECTS. ^ S D make H PAGE ;dicates H Is Mind Immortal? . . . ■ 9 ir their 9 Detraction — an Ode, . . II Tlie Auld Chapel Green, . . •■ 13 * d judg- 9 Fear Not to Die, We are never Alone, Upward and Onward, . . 15 ..16 18 • ^NE. 1 To a Cage 1 Lark, on Setting it at Liberty, Stanzas on Providence, .. 19 21 -. The Approach of Winter, . . .. 23 There is Nothing so Holy as Love, . . 25 The Poet's Common Lot, . . .. 27 Ode to Spring, . . 32 • Early Genius — an Ode, •• 33 Ode to a Snowdrop, . , , . . . . . . 36 Dirge of the Mariner's Widow, . . •• 37 \ The Stream that Turns the Mill, 39 A Peasant Minstrel's Plea, ..41 A Psalm of Future Life, 44 The City of the Dead, .. .. 48 My Last Will, 51 A Dying Husband's Address to his Wife, ..52 Stanzas, . . 55 ; ■■ Elegy for the Late Thomas McQueen, . . .. .. 58 . ^^H Epitaph, 62 ^H Stanzas on the Death of a Favourite Child, .. ..63 October— a Sketch * 65 ^ VI Contents. \ DIDACTIC AND GENERAL SENTIMENT. Acrostic, A Tribute to the Memory of the Ettrick Shepherd, ^ong The Gowan in America, The Wee Ballad Singer's Complaint, To a Skylark, . . ^^ong, Elegy to my Auld Coat, Poverty Section, A Bard's Gratitude, Wintry Sentiments — an Ode, Song, Song, The Bonnie Wee Star, Out on the Ocean, . . The Birdies and Me, . . Scotia's Famous Robin, . . A Nursery Rhyme to a New Tune, . . Song of the Axe, . . NATIONAL AND HEROIC SENTIMENT Our Future Home, . . A Hieland Haggis, St. Andrew's Day, . . Canadian volunteer's Camp Song, Donaghadee, .The Call of the Bards, Bonnie Lochgair, . . Beneath the Rose, Our Own Broad Lake, A Celtic Chieftain's Address to his Clay Heatherbells, Song, Substitute Laureate's Ode, No. i, Caledonia, more. PACJE 69 70 73 75 77 79 81 82 86 90 92 93 95 96 97 99 100 102 103 105 ^1 Braes 107 H It no B The \ 114 ■ The ^ 116 B The I 117 B I'm m 119 B Jeanie 121 BMy A 1^3 B '1 he C '25 ^p Synip I3» B ^^'^"g 133 B '^^^ ^ 134 Bwiu c 137 ^■Love'> Contents. Vll ■ PACK r^'X. H The Auld Hills at Ilame, .. 139 ^H Claven Glen, 140 A Substitute Laureate's Oc'.e, No. 2, .. 141 70 ■ Song to Ireland, 144 73 ■ Torryburn, . . . . 146 77 1 79 H MISCELLAN '^.OUS PIECES— PATHETIC AND ^^^H HUMOROUS. 82 1 An Auld Maid's Remonstrance, . . .. 1-49 .. 86 H My Ain Guidman, 151 90 H Avoca, .. 152 92 1 Tlie Harp of Love, • - >54 93 ■ IJessie Roy, . . . . . , , . . . . . .. 155 • • 95 1 f !auld Gloomy Felierwar, 157 96 1 The Age of Horse Flesh — a Satire, .. 158 97 1 Nellie Adair, 161 99 1 A Love Lyric, . . 162 100 H Sic a Wife as Willie had, 163 102 H Down in yon Woodland, . . .. 166 103 1 The Smut Machine, 167 H I am Somebody Noo, .. 17c H Mary of Strathconnan, 172 KNT. H Hey Donald ! how Donald ! ■• 173 105 H Braes 0' the Tyne, 175 107 ■ It 's an 111 Win' that Blaws Naebody Good, . . .. 176 iio H The Wanderer, . . 178 114 ■ The Spring at the Foot of the Hill, .. 180 116 ■ The Lown Glen, 181 117 1 I'm no the Queer Fallow I've been, .. 183 119 ■ Jeanie Lowe, 184 121 B My Auld Fiddle, .. 186 123 ■ '1 he Clackitt Street Coo, 188 •25 ■ Symptoms of Good Weather, . . 190 131 ■ Long Ago, 192 133 I My Ain Land, .... .. 194 134 1 Will 0' the Wood, 195 137 I Love's Confidence, .. 196 <»r«wiWB""-PT"'*ww l'^'- Fragra Some 1 Live, s Here \ And vi Here, Of stei Unshie In blig B PHILOSOPHIC SUBJECTS. IS MIND IMMORTAL? ^S there a world beyond the one Whereon our mortal course we run, This subhinary, care-fraught sphere Of passion, turmoil, vice and fear? Where fitful Nature's light or shade Paints but the living and the dead ; This transient round of joy and sorrow. Where smiles to-day from Hope we borrow, To point Despair's dark pangs to-morrow ? Here Mind, whate'er its magnitude, Is but a flower in Spring's weak bud ; A nurseling at the breast of nxture, Unweaned by time, whate'er its stature, And ne'er can reach perfection's bloom. If there 's no world beyond the tomb Where its expanding folds may shed Fragrance, to endless verdure wed ; Some realm, where life, and light, and bliss, Live, shine, and charm, unknown to this ! Here virtue seems a desert flower. And vice, a weed in palace bower ; Here, virtue on the withering blast Of stern adversity seems cast, Unshielded on the barren wild, In blight and bloom alike exiled. B ! 16 Poems and Songs. ii i- Meanwhile, in fortune's golden beams, Vice lives, and basks, dnd breathes, and teems, Big with a load of prosperous years, Unpierced by want, unstained by tears ; Till tottering age resigns its load Of garnished guilt in death's abode. What merit, then, can virtue have If being ceases with the grave ? Or what hath vice itself to fear. If both have fixed their limit here ? How vain were wisdom's rules ordained ! How vain are passion's powers restrained ! How vain were honesty and worth ! How vain each talent prized on earth ! How vain affection's every tie ! How vain devotion breathed on high ! How vain were reason's gifts designed. To charm and cheat a dying mind ! How vain prophetic Hope was given, To mock us with a visioned heaven ! How vain were all we hear and see. And think, and feel ourselves to be ! If midst the wreck of death-chill'd fires Man's intellect with life expires ! But no — a voice beyond the tomb Bursts through its silence and its gloom ; — From Calvary's mount o'er every clime It thrills with cadence more sublime Than aught e'er charmed the ear of time. It tells us that oblivion's tide Can only earth-sprung vapours hide : ■"'.'hat death can only chain our dust : Mind lives, beyond corruption's rust ! ' ' Beam of that cloudless, quenchless light That shone ere day awoke from night ! Ray of that pure celestial flame • Whence all created radiance came ! . Poems and Songs. ft Spark of that sun-creating fire That burns while suns and stars expire. Immortal mind ! destined to be The tenant of eternity ! Be then my lot the lowly one, Ne'er fired by false ambition's sun ; Mine the meek path, where virtue treads To purer bliss than fortune sheds ; That Paradise whose dawn-beam throws A halo round lips direst woes ; Unlike the retrospective heaven From fortune sordid votaries riven, As grasping at fates brink, they fall, Wrapp'd in doubt's dark cimmerian pall. DETRACTION.— AN ODE. I. I Judas' spirit dark and dire, Swelled by rancour's foulest fire, Mystic saws of hellish lore, Learned thy midnight vigils o'er. Slanders thousand pointed tongue Steep'd in malice sharp and strong. Envy's dagger poison — whetted, Clogg'd in soul-blood, still unsated, Shielded 'neath religion's wing, — Whither art thou journeying? Thine, the sanctimonious mien ; Thine, the jaundiced eye of spleen, I Oiving colours of its own I Unto all it looks upon ; Thine, the syren tongue that says 12 Poems and Songs. Every thing in virtue's praise ; Like the reptile that doth sing To the prey it means to sting ; Like the fabled vampyre's art, Soothing, while it sucks the heart ; Like the Upas' breath that bears Poison to the subtile airs. Foster nurse of jealousy From what carnage dost thou hie ? From wliat banquet hast thou sped ? On what victim hast thou fed ? Gorged from many a bleeding wound, Busy demon, whither bound? I am II. From where'er the winds have birth, 'Neath the sky, and o'er the earth ; * From where'er the sunbeams play, Or the moon omits a ray — Wheresoever night or day Hath an ear, or hath an eye, Round the world, and 'neath the sky ! From where'er is found a tongue With the nerves of rancour strung 1 have been— where have I not? — At the farm and at the cot ; Thro' the mead, and up the steep, Where the rustic tends his sheep ; At the parsonage, and in Other scenes of pious din; '"; For with devotion I am kin. In the squires and baron's hall, \\\ the assembl}^, at the ball ; And where titled galls get vent In a mimic parliament. I have basked in royal smiles .•/' ! 1 Poems and Songs. 13 Brightest in the British isles. I have worn a royal crown ; I have sat on empire's throne. Jl have fed on viands good ; IVirtue's tears, and groans, and blood, jWarmly gushing from a heart Gorged by many a hidden dart ; I have left a havoc rare ! Never victim half as fair! * I am ranked the mightiest one r Mongst the fiends of Acheron. THE AULD CHAPEL GREEN. O'er the happy scenes o' childhood's years. My fancy loves to pore, 'And the sunny joys that filled life's dream, In the sweet days o' yore. [The birds, the butterflies and bees — The meadow and the fell, Whar I pu'd the modest gowan And the blushing heather-bell. They be joys I never could forget Wharever I hae been ; [The gowden joys o' childhood's years, By yon auld chapel green. How dear ! when rosy May bedeck'd Each landscape far and wide. And the mountain brows were mirrored In the dreamy breast o' Clyde, When the blithesome Merle and Thrastle sang, The woodlan' echoes woke, Lady Flora Hastings. 14 Poems and Songs. And the Cuckoo's welcome cadence rang Frae yon auld ivied oak. Ee'n the auld vva-hauntin' baukie bird, I chased sae oft in een, Eecalls my thoughts to childhood's years, And yon a-.ild chapel green. Afar o'er ocean's distant waves, I've roam'd on foreign strand, Whar nature pours her choicest stores To gem the tyrant's land : Whar endless summer's gowden smiles O'er stream and mountain play. And every flow'r but freedom springs Beneath the partial ray. But aye, my thoughts and dreams returned Amidst each glowing scene. To revel in life's morning bow'rs By yon auld chapel green. 'Tis not that infancy to age Such pleasure can impart, As fills my heart in after years Wi' day dreams o' the heart. But there were spells o' fonder pow'r To manhood's feeling dear, Bright beamy hopes like beacon stars Whose haloes pointed here. Truth's living light that 'lumed life's path, Tho' clouds might rise between, And led my spirit back again To yon auld chapel green. May never ruthless vandal's han' Assail that sacred spot, Where rest in peace, frae age to age, The bones o' mony a Scot. Poems and uongs. 15 The patroit mind must still revere Each ancient hoary fane, That tells in silent eloquence The tales o' ages gane. Then leeze me wi' the soothin' thocht When death shall close my e'en, ril sleep wi' those I lov'd the best, Neath yon auld chapel green. FEAR NOT TO DIE. Fear not to die ! The fleeting vapour breath Could never prove the patriot's greatest care ; The traitor, tyrant, coward, shrinks from death ; The true, the wise, the virtuous ne'er despair. Ftar not to die ! If rectitude of heart Hath borne thee bravely thro' the strifes of tim.% If pure integrity hath been thy chart, And life's aftections free from lust and crime. Fear not to die ! The bonds of human love Are often reft more rudely than by death ; Ah ! sure when purer spirits plead above, Man might renounce his doubt to seal his faith. Fear not to die 1 The sordid miser quakes, As prone at Mammon's glittering shrine he kneels The upright heart no earthly idol makes, To it no brooding terrors death reveals. i6 Poems and Sonss. Fear not to die ! Who art or has't no slave Yoked in oppression's litter, blood-stained bond ; Let crouching serf and despot dread the grave ; The brave, the truly great have joys beyond. Fear not to die ! Would'st thou on earth be free. To nature's God thy spirit's homage lend ; Time is but the threshhold of eternity. And life begins where mortal sufferings end. . Fear not to die ! And haughtiest human pow'r, Tho' poised by creed and sword, on loftiest throne. Will in thy presence awed and crest-fallen cower. Whilst thou serene, erect, will stoop to none. Fear not to die ! Inflexible in faith. Steadfast in principle, in conscience clear, Sublimely o'er the imputed glooms of death, Thy soul may soar to its immortal sphere. Th< Or WE ARE NEVER ALONE. We are never alone in the journey of life, Tho' desert and dreary we oftentimes seem, We are never alone — our companions are rife ; Be they real, ideal, or seen in a dream : — In varied profusion our p hway is strewn ; Let us roam when we may, we are never alone. There never was solitude yet upon earth, In its deepest recesses Society rules : Poems and Songs. 17 We are links of its chain from the hour of our birth, ' And all who esteem themselves hermits are fools : To tropical desert or far frigid zone, Let us tread where we will, we are never alone. There are thousands around us, — the volatile air Is pregnant with voices familiar and dear. Or harshly discordant, or broken by care. Or gifted with melodies glowing to hear ; And they speak to our souls about all we have known. They may gladden or grieve, but we are not alone. Fell envy, and malice, and falsehood, and fear, In direful array 'gainst our peace may conspire j We may claim from the world scarce a sigh or a tear. And seek from its rudeness afar to retire : What cavern so tranquil, such solace can own ? Whilst self remains present, we are not alone. Old memories, S)'mpathies, fancies and forms. Blend former, and present, and future in one ; We must live in their midst, be they horrors or charms. In the gloom of despair, or the blaze of hope's sun ; All space teems with being, all silence with tone, For our bane, or our bliss we are never alone. We are never alone thro' creation afar. The life-giving spirit of nature doth sway, As full, as supreme, in a stone as a star : — Presides o'er all changes, but owns not decay ; Oblivion exists not — no vacuum is known ; God is present in all, — we are never alone. •r a i8 Poems and Songs. All our wanderings He marks, all our joys and our woes, And all to our vices and virtues allied : — Ao secret so deep but His eye can disclose. In our crimes, in our errors, our thoughts and our pride ; All is full in His sight — there is nothing unknown, In life or in death, we are never alone. UPWARD AND ONWARD. Upward and onward forever ; That's the true maxim of mind : Our souls are afloat on life's river, To combat with tide and the wind. Forward ! by skilfully steering. The quicksands and reefs we may clear : Thro' adversity's tempests careering. Let us quail not, the slaves of our fear. « Upward and onward, unceasing ; That's the true tenor of life : 'Tis no airy phantom we're chasing, And why should we lag in the strife ? Upward! tho' midway the mountain, The scar and the avalanche frown ; Let our spirits drink freely hope's fountain. But never despairing sink down. ig. Sterner and firmer resolving That's the true lever of power ; Remember, life's wheel, while revolving, Obstructions may meet every hour ; What, tho' thrown down by its lumb'ring At times, we may grope in the dust ; Poems and Songs. 19 Ne'er let vicissitudes cumbering Fetter our souls with mistrust. « • Discard every cynical notion ; — Sophist and cynic are blind ; 'Tis integrity, love, and devotion That burnish the axis of mind : Landward, or seaward, undaunted Stem the jagg'd wild, or the wave ; The heart by weak cowardice haunted. Befits but the breast of a slave. Higher and prouder careering, Poised on the pinions of faith. Like eagles, when danger is nearing, Let us soar in defiance of death : Upward and onward forever, Toiling while yet it is day, Trusting in Providence ever, You'll find " with a will there's a way." TO A CAGED LARK, ON SETTING IT AT LIBERTY. What robs thy bosom's peace, what mars thy joy? All day on restless pinion fluttering round. And tapping with thy little tender bill Upon the wiry gratings of thy cage ! I've placed fresh seed within thy well-cleaned crib, And fill'd thy crystal horn with beverage new ; A green, soft sod I've placed beneath thee too^, And giv'n thee moss, and straw, and downy wool, To nestle in, and be at happy rest ! Still, still incessant fluttering to be free ! i«lpp II ! 20 Poems and Songs. And loathing at the good things of this life, Thou seem'st a peevish, carping malcontent ; Unlike thy kindred minstrels of the wild, Who having neither home nor friendly aid To foster them, beyond their own devoir. Nor well-ribb'd tenement to guard their lives From ruthless talons of devouring hawk. Yet prone upon the airy summit poised Of fleecy cloud, make glad the volant air. With wild sweet rush of rapturous melody ! Whence comes their joyance? whence thy strong disgust ? Their lays elated, tell of love and bliss ! But thine, the dissonance of dark despair ! Has Nature, in her wide, free field of flight. Charms more congenial to thy throbbing breast — Which now thou peck'st — than favoured haunts of man ? Man ! the proud lord of wide creation's range ! Who culls the harvest of each golden field, Where'er the sun sheds light or earth drinks dew ; Who spans old ocean with his iron rule. And chains the lightning to the veriest point. Subservient to his use ! — ah yes ! methinks In Nature's air I hear thy warm appeal, In guileless, ardent, strong remonstrance, strike This touchmg, strong conviction on my soul : — " Man ! thou usurper of a right divine ; " Vain, callous, selfish, arrogant, severe, " Monopolist of titles and of power ; " Tyrant, and ingrate to thy being's laws, *' Who dreadest liberty eveji in a lark! *' Whence is thy sovereignty, proud giddy fly, *' That buzzest only thy brief summer day " In dreamy majesty? — ambition's sport ! *' Whom? but a passing breath called into being 1 *' Whom ? but a passing breath as quick destroys ! Poems and Songs. 21 (( '* Impious imposter ! can thy vaunted rule Avert the simplest law which Nature's God " Ordained, to guide the circling Universe ? " The Power that planned the spheres hath also " Called the lark into existence ! The green earth, " With its diversity of healthful herbs, " The roaming clouds that wreath the giant hills, " The scented zephyrs, and the gleaming dews, " The home, the food, the atmosphere of song, " Created as the free-born sphere of life, " Wherein its lot uncircumscribed should be." Minstrel of liber./, and sunny love ! Go to thy native element, sweet bird ! Call back the glad sensations of life's morn ; Sport with the downy clouds ; and cull iresh joy From healthful atmosphere and flow'ry sod ! Nature hath charnio revivifying still : Tho' thy shorn wings, and cruel prison bars. Have long restrained the freedom of thy flight, And chilled the raptures of thy heaven-born strain. Drink fresh again the fountain of thy life; And teach frail man the virtue of thy freedom In songs ; more proud of being thus set free ! So perish bondage whereso'er it reigns ! STANZAS ON PKOVIDENCE. A SPECIAL kindly providence Sits, ever up above, With eye of steadfast vigilance And smile of heavenly love, It never slumbers night or day ; Nor flags with toil o'er wrought, But guides from errors tempting way The mind with virtue fraught. \% rnrrrP^ 22 Poems and Songs. It never scorns at indigence As selfish powers of earth ; For well it knows, the lust of pride Would tread our humble worth ; The humble mind, the honest aim, The truthful heart and tongue, It warms with inspiration's flame And clothes in light and song. It soars above the furrow'd field Where toils the weary hind, And gently fans his sweaty brow With cooling zeyphrs kind ; It whispers to his soul the charm Of home's pure sympathies ; And strengthens more his brawny arm To guard those sacred ties. Its halo gilds the drapery ■ Of summer's tranquil sky ; Where sings the lark in July's dawn Its heaven-tuned rhapsody ; The shepherd panting up the steep In grateful homage kneels And deems a world's ambition cheap To half the joy he feels. Above the tented battle field When duty calls, to save From rebel ire, or spoiler's brand . The birthright of the brave; It hovers round the soldier's rest Bright visions to impart ; Till many an humble ungemmed breast Reveals a hero's heart. It rides above the bursting spray Of ocean's boisterous tides ; Poems and Songs. •y And saves the sailor's trusty ship Whilst tempest lash her sides ; By whirlpool, reef and crested shoal ! Along life's treacherous main, It guides him to the hoped for good ; And still he trusts again. O'er feigned friendship's enmities, Dark treachery and wrong, It poises high the ardent soul Of each true child of song I Tho' barr'd on earth from every bliss. To baser spirits given, Triumphant o'er life's wretchedness He sings his way to Heaven. THE APPROACH OF WINTER. Now cold November's gurly gale Comes blustering down the Boreal way, And Nature, with a rueful mein. Beholds her sweetest charms decay. No more the glancing streamlet's hymn, In happy tinklings cheers the dell ; Each fitful voice in glen and grove. Seems sighing out the year's farewell. No more, on glittering billow's borne, The stately bark in grande glides, But roaring waves, in turbid foam. Fierce combat wage with Huron's tides ; No more its banks in leafy pride Through bowery shades invite to stray ; No more their sylvan echoes ring Responsive to the stock-dove's lay. K'i 24 Poems and Songs. I For Winter, in his threatening ire, Hath cast abroad his bHghting frown, And scattered all the glowing joys That gemm'd fair summer's vernal crown ; High piled along the wave-lash'd strand, He rears his jagged icy wall. The rampart of his ruthless reign To hold the gelid lioods in thrall. Far-veiled behind yon murky zone Of sable clouds, that denser lower, The pallid sunbeams southward fare. Too faint to pierce its ebon power. How wild each sound, how chill each scene How sad ilie mind's presaging dread ; How hope recoils, how misery pines ! How penury shrinks with drooping head. The plumy tribes of grove or lake. To more congenial scenes have flown ; The reptile to his dormant rest, The wild beast to his den hath gone \ But whither can misfortunes child, Evade the woes that round him loom ? What home can shield the outcast's head, Or guard him from a wretch's doom ? Perchance e'en now the haggard eye Of famine — grisly tyrant — peers Where humble worth unfriended groans, , And stay less virtue hides her tears ; Perchance some widow'd victim strains Her famish'd infants to her breast, While anguish chills its vital tide, By sickness, cold and hunger press'd. Awake ye souls, that wrapp'd in dreams By fortune's partial bounties given, Poems and Soiigs. as [Awhile your festial joys refrain, Nor deem that earth is all a heaven : Let Sympathy's diviner toils To want and Vvoe direct your care : Go soothe the pangs, and dry the tears, I And smooth the brow of wan despair THERE IS NOTHING SO HOLY AS LOVE. xCEFLECTiNG afar on the science of life : It's duties, affections, and vanities rife ; What history may teach, or tradition imply ; Since the first starry birth of the universe sprung, And the seraphim choir's raptured melody rang Thro' the echoing vault of the sky. What worth, or what glory, or grandeur displays : AVhat genius conceives, or what sentiment sways, Within, or around, or above : In the holiest depths of the holiest hearts. Where the well-spring of virtue its treasures imparts, There is nothing so holy as love. r' We count on the wonders which science unfolds ; What the earth, what the air, what the vast ocean holds In its deep and mysterious cells ! » ' - We gaze in mute awe, or we shudder with dread, At the relics sublime of those ages that sped, Long ere aught of man's origin tells ! From structures stupendous, by Tigris, or Nile, Our reason shrinks back with a fearful recoil, And hangs o'er the ne&t of the dove : Meet emblem — proverbial of purity's reign ! How free from ambition, and riot's foul stain 1 There is nothing so holy as love, c >.:.-' 26 Poems and Songs. As we pour o'er the records of history's page ; And the names it transmits us, from age unto age, Of the heroes whose deeds have ennobled our race : The warriors who bled in their loved country's cause ; And gloried to die for those rights, and those laws Which tyrants had dared to deface : The patriots brave of the eloquent tongue. The martyrs that suffer'd, the bards who have sung With fervor inspired from above ! Tho' proudly we render the homage they claim ; And feed our ambition with yearnings for fame, There is nothing so holy as love. Behold when the infant enfolded at rest. Lies nestling its form in its mother's warm breast, And radiantly smiles in its happy repose ! Unconscious of life's looming dangers, it clings To the fold of her heart, from whose rich welling springs ' Its nuturing element flows. And mark when the cares and the sorrows of years Assail its first path, in the valley of tears. With thorny perplexities wove, What toil, what devotion, what courage and skill Directs its young footsteps, to ward them from ill ! There is nothing so holy as love. Aloft on the mountains ; away in the vales Mid the tints of the morn ; and the balm of its gales. And the chorus that rings from the clouds and the brake, Where glows the fair landscape with forest and mead; And the flocks gaily sport, or contentedly feed On the soft verdant brink of the lake. Poems and Son^s. 27 The fancy may roam with unsated delight 'Till her vision is veiled by the curtain of night : And the song'spirit sleeps in the grove ; But the shrine of the heart, nought of light can divest : While affection's soft current throbs warm in the breast : There is nothing so holy as love. love! — whatsoever thy form or thy sphere, Without thee, how rude would creation appear ! How cold and how dark, and distractedly wild! What horrible instincts would ravage and waste ! No impulsive benignant — no refuge nor rest : No altar of truth undefiled ! Thine all the fair fabric of Nature's vast fold, From the simplest of forms that have birth in earth's mould To the heaven of heavens above ! The God of omnipotence bends from his throne ; And bids us to hallow thy name as his own ! There is nothing so holy as love. THE POET'S COMMON LOT. Brother Minstrel sit by me : I will share this crust with thee. Tough, and mouldy tho' it prove, -^'e'll munch it just for kindred love ; 'Tis the food the gods design thee, Never at their gifts repine thee. And for counsel which I owe thee Merits high reward I'll show thee : Glorious fate for thee in store, — Just as poets prov'd of yore : f"T 38 Poems and Songs, Bounteous meed I mean ) shew thee ; — Great good may the prospect do thee ! Thou and I — and all the same Who inherit hopes of flame, Trace them back to Noah's time — Every age, and every clime Prove the impress of that law Whence our heritage we draw ; Every poet since the flood Sat, like thee, in maundering mood, Pondering — plaguing much, his brains What could so ill reward his pains, Wondering what the cause could be That linked him to adversity : Fooled, and foiled in every aim ; Robb'd of life to purchase fame. Well thou knowest the adage old, — Mean't for beastly consolation, Worthy being framed in gold — Some quaint wits good lucubration : Coachman, groom, or ploughman hind, — What his station never mind. Since sympathy and moral sense Are not the fruits of high pretence : — And wisdom saw true work to scan Is — " Mark the maxim, not the man." He was no dunse, wherever born, Who said, " live horse and you'll get corn ! " . Quote the proverb — note it down ! Trust me, brother, 'tis a true one ; But, if stale thou deem'st it grown. From it let us frame a new one ; Let go the horse ! he's but a brute. And thou wilt stand his substitute ; Public right in thee unaltered Holds thee to its service haltered, V Toiling, thinking for the throng, Poems and Songs. 29 All the golden thoughts of scng, Check bit by oppression's rein Yoked to penury and pain ! Caprice, whim, and folly's drudge. Not of thine own wants a judge! Malice, scorn, and crested spleen 'Gainst thy peace must all convene ; Earthly status, wealth, or favor. Thou obtain them ; — never ! never ! Hop'st thou good ? — chameleon's food Dainty slops of thinest air! Are the poet's surest food : — Just think how nice thou'lt chew thy cud \ Gall'd by many a bitter feeling. Barbed, beyond a Bard's revealing! Whatever else thy soul may crave Is garner'd t' other side the grave ; Whence our adage let us frame, "Die, poor Bard, and thou'lt get.fame!" Would'st thou quell with rigorous scorn Every base and vicious passion ; Would'st thou show where lurks'the thorn In the vernal flowers of fashion ? Would'st thou probe corruption's vein, Show mankind vice's stain, Expose pride's every knavish wile, Or rend aside the mask of guile. Dash from its aim keen rancour's dart, > And show the leper in the heart ; Tear off the sanctimonious guise, The clack that hides from mortal eyes The hypocritic arts, and plots Of pander priests, and courtly sots ; Peer thro' each loop-hole of deceit, Forewarn the dupe, and paint the cheat ; Expect not — that for this thy pains Thou'lt need a clerk to count thy gains ! ^ / 30 Poems ard Songs. i 1; I !ii That gratitude on tiptoe, loud Will twang her trumpet to the crowd, And cj'oivn luith bays, and laud, and praise thee, An' high, to honour's summit raise thee. That richest wines, and viands rare. Will henceforth be thy daily fare ! That high and low will all regard thee, And love and luxury reward thee ! Reverse the picture — mark thyself Forsook by friend, and mums pelf ! Blotch'd envy, with her wry phizz'd throng In fulsome slander lairs thy song, The gaping crowd, with eager ear Devours the clamorous rancid jeer! Whil'st on thy heart, thou'lt bear the gash Of many a coxcomb-critic's lash ; Wreathless thy brow, save lines which care And painful thoughts have furrow'd there ! Thy honors, base detraction's mark, Basely inflicted in the dark ! Thy board bespread with morsels stale Of blood-tax' d bread, a?id moofi-struck ale. Whil'st love and luxury, may be Such wits as leer and scoff at thee, Yet, relinquish not thy aim : " Poet die ! and thou'lt have fame ! " Tho' thy life it cost to win it, Sure thy ghost may fatten on it! But if thou can'st, with mean grimace, Chaunt servile odes to fools in place, And basely, suppliant bow thy head And ply the menial pander's trade ; Fawningly cour to self-poised knave. Like hungry dog, or mindless slave ! Crouching with low debasing zeal To kiss the rude unsparing heel . ' * W^hich wanton cruelty or ire Poems and Songs. 31 Hath raised to tread thee in the mire ! Perchance — a Laureate's wreath may twine Its degradation to the nine! " Hence ! spaniel thought, abhorr'd and vile ! "Thou meanest in a world of guile! "Base nursling of the soulless breast *' By virtue's sunlight never blest ! ** Can truth — can intellectual worth, "The moral majesty of earth ; " Can Genius with the radiant eye " Lit by the hand of Deity ! " Can aught to Bard or nature dear " So far degrade thee from thy sphere ? " As thus, to don the weeds of shame, ** Whine for a crust, and barter fame? Discard the thought, nor yield to shrink, Whil'st thou art fit to toil and think ; Pursue thro' life thy nobler toil, With conscience free from innate broil, Light, if thou can'st with virtue's rays, The erring heart that blindly strays ; Teach selfish iron-crested pride How Ho7ner lived — how Herod died ! Tho' sage and fool, may fail to prize thee, Tho' knave and bigot both despise thee ; Tho' calumny and mean distrust Should grind thy merits in the dust ; Still, foe to faction, schism and plot. Bear every genuine poet's lot : — Since each the others much resembles. Despise the cringing wretch who trembles. And, while Pegasus owns a wing. And while Apollo reigns thy King, Be Homer's lot and thine the same \ Poet die! and thou'lt have fame ! I 3* Poems and Songs. lif iiiiii If ODE TO SPRING. Thou art coming, gentle spring, With thy zephyrs soft and sweet ; Through the wood, and o'er the mountain. Whispering pleasure everywhere : Thou art coming, gentle spring, Now to garnish each retreat, By shady glade and fountain, With thy wreaths and pearlings rare : Clothed in dews and light thou rt comin<^ ; I can trace thee everywhere. Thou art coming, lovely spring. With thy incense and thy light, And the balmy inspirations Which thy vernal presence yields : Thou art coming, cheerful spring, With thy train of glorious bright, And thy sacred scintillations To the forests and the fields ; And the song-birds hail thy coming 'Vo the forests and the fields. Thou art coming, happy spring, With thy melody and mirth ; All vocal is the wild wood With thy welcome back again : Thou art coming, happy spring. With thy gladness back to earth ; And the gems, and joys of childhood, Rici:ly sparkling in thy train : ' , How joyous rings the wild wood With thy welcome back again. , , Thou art near us, blissful spring, With thy bounty-speaking smiles, Poems and Songs. 33 And thy hope-inspiring radiance, Fresh from nature's fountain drawn : Thou art near us, blissful spring ; Hark ! the peasant, as he toils, Joins the universal cadence, As he tills the fertile lawn : How he swells the rapturous cadence, As he tills the teeming lawn. Thou art with us, hea\ nly spring, Full of promise, full of love ; Ever bright'ning, ever blessing, Is the progress of thy reign : Thou art with us, heavenly spring. From the angel-realms above, With thy rays of giory chasing Each fell shade of doubt and pain, — Thou type of life immortal. That shall burst from death again. EARLY GENIUS. AN ODE. See ! where roams yon gentle child Beside the rippling stream, Disporting 'mongst the blossoms wild. That on its margin gleam : How dear to him those sunny hours, Unmarr'd by sorrow's shade ; Life's pathways all seem spent with flowers, Bright gems that ne'er can fade : How rapt he views, with glistening eyes, The lustre of their bloom, liipli 34 Poems and Songs. Ill m Their various forms, their varied dyes, And wooes their fresh perfume : Time's young halo round his heart, Its blissful radiance doth impart. Beauty, meekness, scent, and sound, Wreathe their fairy spells around ; Ever warming, ever charming, Ever brighter seem the hours, Around him, o'er him, all before him, Earth seems robed in fairy bowers ! Now behold him, wandering still Thro' the wild wood's shadowy glade. Where, with emulating thrill, Nature's songsters charm the shade : He feels — how like a sylvan king, The grove his regal hall ; His throne is by the rock-born spring ; His courtiers minstrels all : Unknown to him the wiles of art, Or fashion's tinsell'd show, 'Tis nature's morning fills his heart With pure and primal glow ; As up his roaming vision turns, A latent spark within him burns, — A thought — a throbbing sentiment — A wish — though now in durance pent — That yet in living words shall breathe, And yield that brow a deathless wreath, — Ever bright'ning, ever heightening, Kindling ardours proud and young, — Trembling — gushing — upward rushing, ^ Seeking numbers from his tongue ! Now yon mountain-track he keeps, '' Bounding 'mongst the heather-bells ; Clambering o'er the rocky steeps, Where the echoes tune their knells : Poems and Songs, 35 More dazzling scenes, but still as pure From vice's base alloy, To loftier march doth now allure The fond, romantic boy : Proudly he bends his straining sight Where Alpine glories reign. And panting with sublime delight, He leaves the tranquil plain : See ! how boldly up he climbs, Where the dashing torrent chimes, Where, with wild impetuous din. Loud it sounds o'er ledge and lynn, Ever ringing, ever singing. Quaint responses to his glee, As he chants the lay of his upward way, In a heaven-taught minstrelsy ! How rapturous ! pure in breath and brain, Wakes the weird light of fancy's morn ; Before the galling barb of pain The vision-web of life hath torn ; While hope-buds, yet in embryo fold, Their rankling thorns conceal ; And the sanguine heart deems all is gold, • AVhich glittering hues reveal : The hallow'd springtide joy of mind, Unmarr'd by venal pain. Like the incense of a summer wind O'er a fertile, flowery plain. Buoyant through his heart is rushing, — All his fears in transport hushing. And its glowing tribute fraught With the germs of noblest thought, Ever spreading, ever shedding, ^ To the broad, big noon of Time, A heaven-bom light, that may own no night, Till its latest bell shall chime. !■• • nl 3« Poems and Songs. There's a feeling in his breast, Ever young, and ever growing ; A sacred passion, unexpressed. In proud and tameless ardour glowing : Deep it beats, and high it swells, And it never more may rest, Though 'gainst it every fate rebels, While a life-pulse stirs his breast : 'Tis ambition's wakening fire, F'aming higher, ever higher. Ever buxi'ing, ever yearning, With unquenchable desire : Noi penury, nor pain, Nor detraction's demon breath. May quell that flame again. Till beyond the pale of death. On the scroll of endless fame. Be inscribed another name. < 1 1 IIHI ODE TO A SNOWDROP. Hail, pretty little wildling gem ! First offering of the year ; Pure as the hoarfrost around thy stem. Thy si'':en folds appear. Thy grassy home in greenwood glen, Beside the brawling stream. Uncultured by the hands of men, Scarce greets the solar beam. Fain would I sing thy graceful life, Like love, in humble guise. In scenes obscure — mid hardship rife, 'Neath frowning wintry skies ; fl Foems and Songs. 37 Not wintry fate — detractions bane, Nor penury's blighting sway, Nor scorn, neglect, nor barbed pain . The vital germ can stay. Each little birc, whose cowering wing, Chill winter's langour bound, Cheered by the promised glow of Spring, A welcome perch hath found ; And ere the tardy frozen snow Has left the budding sprny. Seems to forget his carping woe, And trills a jocund lay. Meek, lovely nursling of the snow ! Deep in thy mossy bed, — What power propitious, there below. Thy tender being fed ? Thou claim'st no tithe of Orient hues. Or mellower sun- bow dyes ; No nectar draught from April dews. No warmth from April skies ! First born of beauty ! — thro' the wild, I love to trace thy bell ; Emblem of virtue, reconciled In humble sphere to dwell ! Deep graven on the human heart, Should be thy sinless dower ; Hope's blessings wake where'er thou art. Fair, modest, prophet flower ! DIRGE OF THE MARINER'S WIDOW. He left me at morn on the shore, His bark was afloat on the stream, Ii!i 38 Poems and Songs. W\ lill ■ I I And graceful, and gallant and grand She glided away like a gleam ! I stood on the shore, till his sail . ■ Sank far o'er the billows so blue ; And I joyed in the favouring gale Tho' it wafted him far from my view. A sigh, which I could not suppress, I heaved, as I turned from the shore ; And a prayer for the loved one's success To the heavenly watchers it bore, With slow and meandering pace I turned to the village again, But oft-times my steps would retrace To cast a long look on the main ! I sank me that night to repose. And in vision recall 'd him again ; For I dream'd that a tempest arose And wrecked his fair bark on the main. The lightrings were hissing around, The tliunder's hoarse tumult was near; And piercing, and frantic, the sound Of his death-cry was dash'd on my ear. Presentiment, — scoff not its power ; Existence is more than a dream, There are bale clouds, that over us low'r, Revealed in the omen of dreams ! I groaned, and I pray'd and 1 wept ; And my anguish was bitter and long. But whether I wakened or slept The peace of my spirit was gone ! Dark bodings it solace denies As daily I ponder in pain ; And nightly ghast phantoms arise Midst the chaos that sickens my brain. Poems atid Songs. 39 I sleep — but my slumbers are toil, I wake — but my fancies are dread ; Stern misery makes peace to recoil ; And hope, the fair syren, hath fled. Tho' oft with devotion I turn To the soothings of friendship and love, In the desert alone I would mourn Like the hapless reft mate of the dove. I hear the light laugh of the gay, A.nd its rapture is hateful to me : Oh, I wish I were with him, away In the measureless depths of the sea. THE STREAM THAT TURNS THE MILL. INSCRIBED TO T. HAWKINS, ESQ., PORT ALBERT, BY WM. BANNATYNE. 0' a' tlia waters in the warld. Let ithers chant at will, Gie me the haly humble stream That turns the gristin' mill : Frae prince to peasant, wha but owns His heart with pL asure thrill Wi' the merry music o' the brook That turns the gristing mill ? Tho' nature's, seeming partial, hand Ne'er busk'd its brink wi' flow'rs , Ne'er crown'd its banks wi' sylvan shades. Cool grots . lOr fairy bow'rs ; Tho' Beauty there wi' gaudy dower Ne'er deign'd to show her skill, Yet, wha but lo'es the merry stream - That turns the gristin' mill ? . 40 Poems and Songs. !lll'l ill!! •jf Fu' mony strains o' venal ])raise To ither streams are sung, Since wild romance, on waverin' wing, Her spells hath roun' them flung ! Or, commerce, wi' its thousand keels Floats there, at wealth's proud will — Forgetfu' o' the lowly stream That turns the gristin' mill. Nae classic grandeur marks its course ; Nae towers o' lordly pride ; Nae sculptured arcfies span its breast ; Nae galleys stem its tide ! But bickerin' down some silent holm, It wends — a nameless rill: Whilst, fraught wi' blessings to mankind, It turns the gristin' mill. Oh ! mony a weary pilgrim wight On penury's barren way, It cheers wi' hope's inspiring glow, By the magic of its lay. And mony a portly, pamper'd wame Wad own but sairlie fill, If 'twerena for the thrifty stream That turns the gristin' mill. The simple gifts o' Providence, Ah ! why should men despise — Why scorn its meek realities, And phantom treasures prize? Or, why should bards on unkent streams Exhaust their tunefu' skill, And pass, unsung, the canty brook That turns the gristin' mill? O I leeze me wi' the coulhie clack 0' yon big plashin' wheel I . Poems and Songs. 41 For dear I prize the dinsome gear That grinds our crowdie meal. May gratitude for nature's gifts (3ur bosoms ever fill. And aye we'll bless the merry stream Thai turns the crristin' mill. A PEASANT MINSTREL'S PLEA. To toil for classic lore is vain To clothe a poet's tongue ; Where slept the pedant's flossy strain, When blind old Homer sung ? 'Tis not for bookworms measured phrase The glowing rapture sprung, That graced the grand heroic lays Which Celtic Ossian sung. The harp that loudest rings on earth, And sweetest sounds by far, Was strung by one of peasant birth 'Neath penury's frigid star! It soothes the lovers teasing dream ; It lulls despair's alarm ; It wakens mirth — it lights Hope's beam, And nerves the warrior's arm. What mortal artist's tutored hand Could mould the flow'rets fair That spring spontaneous o'er the land, Afar from culture's care ? What master's nice euphonic skill, Inspires the raptures loud, That fire the lark's ecstaUc thrill, Above the morning cloud ? D Hi 42 Poans and Songs ^ The ornate tropes of verbal phrase May charm the puerile sphere, Where flatt'ry strums its lukewarm lays In fashion's toy-toned err : As vocal chords shook by the wind No sentiment impart, They own no heritage of mind — No melody of heart ! Oh ! tame had been the minstrel's tire And cold the human heart, If none had tuned the vocal lyre Without the lore of art : Not by scholastic rule is given : The soul's harmonious zest : True eloquence is born of Heaven, And nursed at Nature's breast. What marvel then if Nature's glow A peasant's breast should warm ; And the rapt gifts of song bestow To music's loftiest charm ? What marvel, if his rustic art Life's noblest flames should fan, And teach, still ffiore, the human heart The digjiity of man ? " (( Let me enjoy the wide free range Of mountain, grove and dell ; Where rural beauty girds the grange, And love and merit dwell : The cataract dashing o'er the steep ! The wierd old echoing caves, The sylvan glens, and valleys deep, Where scented foliage waves. The warriors' mounds — the martyrs' cairns. The fane's dismantled walls, , • - Poems and Songs. 4^ The stately ruins, grey and stem, Of ancient feudal halls ; To rhyme their various legends o'er, Amidst their ivy shades ; And tell, how crumbling pride, of yore, Our modern pride upbraids ! For since I was a tiny child 1 loved, in musing mood, To roam the rough and pathless wild, And thread the mazy wood ; To ramble o'er the verdant plain, And on the shingly shore, To gaze upon the heaving main And hear its billows roar ! To climb at morn the dizzy scaur When mists the vale did fill, And watch the golden solar car Wheel up the eastern hill ! Or, when the twilight's changing hues Their fitful gambols play'd, To sit and court the rustic muse In broom or hazel glade. In summer's calm — in winter's storms, By land or foaming sea ; Oh ! nature, all thy wild free forms Are beautiful to me ! rhine is the reign of lofty thought : — The pure Castalian spring. Whence flows the soul inspiring draught Which tunes thy bards to sing ! I envy not nor much esteem . ' The pampered hireling's bays, Who strums his soulless Idyl theme In sycophantic phrase ; .i^ ll 44 Poems and Songs. The servile task my soul would tire : Ev'n midst th' applauding throng, I could not wake a Laureate's lyre And lack a freeman's song. But give me life's congenial charms . ■ The proudest boons I prize ; The hearts which social virtue warms With gen'rous sympathies : Th' souls whose bright celestial beams No despot's frown can tame ; I ask, on earth, no loftier themes To sing my way to fame. A / A PSALM OF FUTURE LIFE. ] There 's a happy country far away beyond the waves of Time, Beyond the flight of sun and stars — a pure and cloudless clime ; Its fields of never fading bloom are always warm and fair. And no corrupt or noxious weed e'er shows its ■ presence there. i I Its fountains are of clearest sheen by earthly sHme (' untinged, '; In lambent glory rippling on, with deathless ver- / dure fringed, / Thro' bowery beauty's chastest scenes forever on \ they stream, \ Secure from Winter's gelid breath, the Summer's 1 scorching beam. Poems and Songs. 45 __j J, ' Its groves are all of spicy trees with fruits of stary ray, That glisten with inviting smiles from every scented spray ; The feather'd songsters 'midst their boughs are .' « nesting free from dread, For no marauding raven there its wings shall ever spread. Its pathways lead thro' fragrant vales by fresh'ning zephyrs fann'd. O'er flow'ry meads extending far, and mountain prospects grand ; No dangerous pitfalls hidden there — no craggy stone to wound, Nor snake to bite the pilgrims' heel, in ambush there is found. On every summit's azure height there stands a beauteous shrine. With dome of brighter gold than e'er was dug from earthly mine ; Where anthems of celestial love, and songs of grateful joy, In rapturous peans ring, from tongues unstained by earth's alloy. 'Tis always spring in that pure clime — 'tis always noontide fair. No tempest ire can blight its bloom — no night cloud gather there ; Its dwellers' duties, all are praise, no racking toils they prove, . [bounded love I Their high reward thie precious meed of God's un- J Eternal youth illumes each face— each brow is / smooth and fair, - No furrow'd cheek — no age dimm'd eye — no time- scathed form is there ; 46 Poems and Sons's. I ! iilli!' Hi. Mm/ ■'!' i llli'i'iii I'll i The fount of health and vigorous spring wells up in every heart, And pours its salutary tides thro' every vital part. No dwelling rear'd by mortal hand need -they , wherein to rest, ^ I Nor care nor cold which mortals feel shpJl e'er their homes infest ; No galling stripe from tyrants' rod — nor hunger, pain nor fear, Nor semblance of the slightest woe which mortals suffer here. , No spirit clogg'd by Mammon's rust — no conscience scar'd by sin, No heart array'd in traitor's guise shall access have therein ; . - No base seducer's syren wile — nor dark detractor's lore Shall triumph o'er a victim's heart or probe its bleedings more. No self-debasing pander wretch who gloats a despot's will, ' And plies the satrap's masked blade a brother's blood to spill ; . Who heaps his burden on the weak, or mocks the ^ stricken mind, [grind. Nor he who lifts his iron heel the lowly poor to ■ Who never shields from misery's storm the helpless outcast's head, Who robs the widow of her mite — the orphan of > its bread ; Who fattens on his neighbour's wreck or hoards the spoils of crime — [clime. Shall never have inheritance in yonder sinless I'oems and Songs. 47 The soul relieved by penitence from Error's vicious sway, By earnest vigils back restored to Virtue's sacred way; Or tiiey whom sublunary lust hath never yet de- filed— The faithful priests of Nature's law, the patriot and the child. The salt of earth, the meek, the true, the generous and the wise. Who never swerve from dutv's call whatever lures entice ; Such only, in yon realms of bliss, shall shout tri- umphantly, " Where is thy sting, O Death, and where, O Grave, thy victory ? " Come spirit sick of earth's dark ways, its poignant cares and toils. Its passions — venoms, that beset like adders from their coils ! Lay down thy martyr'd fleshly load with unreluct int faith, - And praise Thee for yon happy realm beyond the gates of death. There kindred spirits on the shore, all jubilant shall throng, To hail another child of light, with joyous shout and song ; Their forms in stainless vesture clothed, of radiant tissue wove. The chosen and redeem'd of God, and fostered on his love ? \ 1 i I'fTjJT It 48 Poems and Songs. THE CITY OF THE DEAD. There is a city, down yon vale, Wlierc balmy fragrance scents the gale, Where first the dewy crocus springs. And first the homely redbreast sings, Where first the pearly tints of morn Fall twinkling on the flowery thorn, And the wild rose, with simplest grace. Folds in the bower-tree's close embrace ; Where, 'neath the yew's umbrageous gloom, The daisy, meek, — and primrose bloom; And where the thrifty spider weaves Its web among the burdock leaves ; Where first the bee his rapture tells Within the honeyed foxglove bells ; Where sweet at noontide sings the wren. As, safe within her briery den, She views with pride her tender brood, Secure from hawk, or magpie rude ; Whilst to the brook that murmurs by Faint echoes yield a quaint reply ; And sweetly pensive breathes the gale O'er yonder city in the vale. Who are the citizens, whose homes Comprise those rows of grassy domes ? Who, whilst without the vital world In passion's vortex vast is whirl'd ; Whilst commerce, science, art, and creed The ire of rival factions feed ; Whilst rapine, riot, lust, and crime Deface the chronicles of time ; Who, whilst in jubilation loud, Exultant shouts the giddy crowd, In hero-homage, round the car That bears the demigod of war ; I'l;''" Poems and Son^^s. 49 Unmoved by all the mad acclaim, Heed not the blatant trump of fame ; And all unconscious of the blast, See not the pageant hurrying past ; Who, whilst in sorrow's wild alarm Oer vanquished Freedom's mangled form, When her brave banner, soiled and riven, No more can woo the breeze of heaven, And trampled midst a nation's gore, Can lead the patriot forth no more ; Whilst rending moan and frantic pray'r Swell the dire tumult of despair. Till nature, in her caves below, Reverberates with excess of woe; All unmoved, respond no wail, In ♦hat city down the vale ! *' What are they?" Inquirer know, In tl'^at city, still and low, Stand memorials old and new ; Some are false and some are true ; Graven there, on stone or brass ; Note each record as you pass : Each brief legend will repeat " There the past and future meet :" What the pasf ? it boots not now ; They, perchance, have been as thou : What the future ? none may say. Till the final judgment day : Note ihe present, as we tread Round that city of the dead : How still ! oh, how serenely still ! No ring of anvil, clack of mill ; No strain of pipe or harp they hear, No ciarion-crow of chanticleer. No din of trade's tumultuous crowd, No thrill of "war's fell clangour loud, I'Iff 50 Poems and Son^s. No jar of wealth's proud chariot wheel, No hissing storm, no thunder peal, No shriek, no groan, no yell of strife. No sound that shakes the halls of life, No voice of dissonance or wail Disturbs that city in the vale ! No selfish want, no wild desire. No scowl of ruthless tyrant's ire, No festering wound by malice given, No sigh from hearts by treachery riven. No galling probe of mental pain. No grief that battens on the brain, Nor penury's accursed form. Nor fell remorse's canker-worm, Nor vile seducer's dastard art, Can there profane the human heart : Vain fashion's fluctuating whim. The wretched miser's sordid dream, The lecher's lust, the coward's fear, The coxcomb's vaunt, the scoffer's sneer, The slanderer's dart, the grin of hate, The blight of scorn, the gossip's prate. The hapless maniac's frenzied gaze, The mad blasphemer's reckless phrase, The conscience-smitten murderer's stare, 'Hie haggard aspect of despair, ^aunt superstition's goblin train Can never haunt their homes again ; Free from mortal fear and ail, In that city down the vale ! Let howling storms the forest tear. And bellowing thunders rend the air, Let prone magnetic billows roll, And shake the earth from pole to pole, Let rude ambition's impious aim Life's holiest altars wrap in flame, i ilii:ii.iii!i; Poems and Songs. 5» Let fierce contending factions rage, And wreck the world from age to age ; III tiiat city down the vale Throbs no pulse of mortal bale : Done life's conflict, toil, and dread ; Each within his silent bed, ,^ Luil'd in nature's dreamless rest, Wrongs, nor cares, nor fears molest : Oh, how tranquil ! how sublime ! O'er them glides the stream of time ! Where, with passion's banner furl'd, And at truce with all tlie world, In the womb of mother earth, Calmly they wait their second birth I fi I i MY LAST WILL. When life's teasing dream is o'er, Every busy pulse at rest, And its cares and pains no more Can affect my brain or breast ; When my heart, in silence deep, Freezes in its chilly sleep, And my rigid fo.m lies hid 'Neath the darksome coffin lid, " Every throb of joy or sorrow Ne'er to greet a fresh to-morrow, Bear me to some tranquil glen, Where, beneath the twining bushes, Far remote from selfish men. Some. pure, nameless streamlet gushes ; Where the robin, merle, and wren Chant their happy, simple songs. Grateful that each shelt'ring den Proves a shield from craven wrongs ; 52 Poems and Songs. Where the modest, little flowers, Twinkling in their mossy bowers, Tinged with nature's chastest hues, Freshened by her purest dews, Strown to bless the wilds of earth, Claim from spring the earliest birth ; Far frc fortune's cultured care, Types of worth in humble sphere ; Where no yew nor cypress' gloom, Shading sculptured marble tomb, Tells where titled dust lies pent, 'Neath its storied monument : Where the slanderer may not come, Where the scoffer's voice is dumb, Where detraction's cloven tongue. Though to syren sweetness strung, May not charge one sacred cell Where the holy echoes dwell : Dig me there my lonely grave. Lay me down with honest care, 'Tis the only rite I crave : " Carve me no mementos there ; Pile the mould, and smooth the sod ; Sigh, and leave the rest with God : Back in mother nature's breast, Oh, how soundly I shall rest ! " A DYING HUSBAND'S ADDRESS TO HIS WIFE. O Jean IE, spread my pillow doon, And tie my aching brow ; I've meikle need o' kindly han's To lift and lay me now ; Poems and Songs, 53 I've meikle need my weary e'en To steek in peacefu' rest : place thy a'e han' on my back, The ither on my breast. Fu mony a lang and dreary scene 0' life I've journeyed thro' ; And mony a daurg o' painfu toil My brain's been doom'd to do ; But licht to me ilk burthen seem'd, Whilst health and strength I kept, And poortith's cauld unhallow'd scowl Ne'er owre our hallan swept. And, Jeanie, tho' misfortune's ban Hung owre our lowly bield, And haggard want, wi sunken e'e, Its gaistly form revealed ; 1 never heard your murmuring word, But aye your cheerfu smile, Fra mirkiest broodings o' despair My spirit back could while. I've strave against the waes o' fate In many a shaded hour; The' lang, alas ! the rankling thorn Lay pent within the flower ; And simple tho' my nature seem'd. And humble tho' my claim, I scorn'd to be a tyrant's tool, Or earn the bread o' shame. Now lay me down, my gentle Jean, And press my throbbin brain ; And place a'e saft han on my heart, That aft has sooth'd its pain ; But dinna sab, nor wauk the bairns ; I've kissed them whaur they sleep. 54 Poems and Songs. And ca'd the angels doon fra heiv'n, Kind watch owre them to keep. I couldna bide to see them greet, Owre soon the warst they'll ken, The struggle o' this cauld rude warl, And craft o' selfish men ; The snares o' vice that hidden lie On a' the paths o' life ; The cankering wounds o' hopes deferred, And passions fell and rife. And you maun strive, \/hen I am deid, And teach our wee anes a' To trust in providence divine. And act by honour s law ; The bite that's stown, however sweet. Turns bitter in the end ; A conscience pure is aye at least The soul's most faitnfu friend. You maunna fret, you maunna pine, Nor wail when I am gane ; You'll dootless hae a heavy care, And want's a weary train ; 15ut stievly stan' wi honest thrift, And let the bairnies ken To lean on earth's cauld charity Is no the gate to fen. Now fare thee weel, my gentle Jean, " You aye were kin' and true ;" And tho' I lang to be at rest, I'm laith to part wi' you ! You'll come gin spring to yon kirkyard, Whar dark-leav'd boortrees wave. And bring the bairns, wi sweet wee flow'rs. To busk their father's grave. Poems ami Songs. 55 STANZAS, Suggested by ihe calamitous circum.-.tance coiincctf a sweetie thou can crumble : — • Pussie will get nane ! Haud your liandies oot, lassie ! Stap wi' 'tither foot, lassie : — Dinna keek about, lassie ! Craw and cythe to me ; Dinna thraw rhy bonnie lippie ! Floorie isna very slippy : — ' There my thoombies, take a grippie — Noo ! thou'st on mv knee. Here's yer sweetie noo, lassie ! Put it in thy mou', lassie ! Thou'st thy daddies doo, lassie, Aye sae blythe and fain ; Thy wee face sae fair and glossy, Nestlin' kindly in my bosie, Wi' its glintin' smiles sae cosie, Lauch awa its pain. Clap thy daddie's cheek, lassie — - Tho' thou canna speak, lassie, . . Ilka merry freak, lassie, • . r. Tells me a' ye mean ; — Tho' my face isfrau Sind freUy,'^ * Old Doric phrase for brown and withered. Poems and Songs. 103 Thae sweet looks -my bonnie pettie, Tell me that ye think me prettie : — Blessin's on yer een ! Loup and frisk, my wee lassie, Nane daur spoil yer glee, lassie, Ilka fling ye gie, lassie, Makes me loe thee mair ! Caprin brisk to daddie's jingle, Gars his heart wi' pleasure tingle ; Thou was sent to bliss our ingle, My wee dawtie fair ! Mony a paughty loor, lassie, Wha on dad looks doon, lassie — Some that wear a croon, lassie, Half their wealth wad gie, Just for ae wee tigmaleerie ; Ae wee ruddy dainty dearie, A' their ain — like thee sae cherrie, Dancin' on their knee. SONG OF THE AXE. AIR — " THE BRAVE OLD OAK. A SONG for the axe ! the woodman's axe ! With its edge so keen and bright ! For the proudest halls that grace our land Have been reared by the axe's might. From the primal hut in the forest wild. To the modern regal tower, From the rude canoe to the war-ship huge, All progress owns its power. A song for the axe, etc. 104 Poems and !jongs. Then sing to the axe, the woodman's axe ! That stretches the forest low, That clears the tract for the ploughshare broad, And the sunbeam's fostering glow, Till the graceful corn with the golden ear Waves over the fertile soil ; And the garden blooms in the wilderness. Rewarding the woodman's toil ! Then sing to the axe, etc. Sing for the axe, with the iron crown, And its edge of shining steel ! In the hands of the hardy pioneer, How it makes the forest reel ! The palace towers, and the temple spires, And the thundering engine's frame, And the plashing wheel, and the trusty keel, From its conquering labours came ! Then sing for the axe, etc. Sing to the axe, the gleaming axe ! That swings with the sounding sweep ! And scares the wild beast from his lair, ' Whilst the lofty cumberers leap ! Hurrah for the axe ! tis the king of tools ! May its conquests never cease ; 'Twas our father's blade in the feuds of yore; 'Tis ours in the reign of peace. Then sing tf the axe, the gleaming axe ! That swings with the sounding sweep ! And scares the wild beast from his lair Whilst the lofty cumberers leap. What Vic Thou Ab NATIONAL AND HEROIC SENTIMENT. OUR FUTURE HOME. AIR — "fllLDEROY." {Cdfllpbeirs Sctt.) All. land of many woods and streams! The far-born exile's home, Thy dawning prestige proudly beams Where'er the mind can roam. From iron-girdled Labrador To far Columbia's strand, From Erie's bank to Hudson's shore, Hail freedom's future land ! Though densely dark thy forests wave O'er many a pathless wild ; And thousand nameless rivers lave Where seldom sunbeam smiled. Tho' savage tribes in barbarous horde Still shout in vengeful fray ; A holier charm than sjjear or sword Shall soon their ire allay. What though thy fairest prospects own Vicissitude and toil, Though high the snow-king jjiles his throne Above thy icebound soil, — H I W I io6 Poems and Sarins. When spring, with soft relaxing breath, Dissolves his boreal reign, Hope, song, and verdure charm each path, And plenty crowns each plain. Let neighbouring nations in their pride War's gory flag display, O'er our loved land may jjeace jjreside Witii pure transcendent sway. While manly indei)endence glows In every patriot breast. May every virtue freedom knows, Make all thy children blest. Come heavenly justice, poise thy hand, Thy trusty balance wield ; In every council in our land Thy throne and altar build. Wherever culture tills the soil, Or commerce cleaves the main, — The skilful brain, the arm of toil, Do thou its right sustain. Oh hasten, heaven ! the hallowed reign Of unity and love, When worth and wealth o'er hill and i)lain In kindred band shall move ! When man to man, o'er each broad clime. Shall friend and brother be ; And science, with her light sublime, Shall 'lume from sea to sea. V 'Na( Wet An( : m *2 Poems and Songs. to: A HI ELAND HAGGIS. A SKNl'IMKNTAL DISH FOR MORAL EPICURKS. I dinna' care how many ken' my nation or my breeding : The scoff o' country, name or race, is scarcely worthy heeding ; • - I've known some chiefs were born in caves, — the brood o' tinkler randies — VVha own'd mair worth and common sense than palace fondled dandies. \ Chorus — "I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, And this my greatest brag is : Let him wha scorns a Hielan' name Just taste a Hielan' haggis." My faither was nae vaunty duke, my mither was nae duchess, They lived and fen'd by honest toil, and never glaum'd at riches ; They pang'd my feet in hose and brogues, as soon's I learned to toddle ; A plilabeg my hainches deck't, a bonnet blue my noddle. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. Nae sloppy jaups o' scaldin' tea, nae flimsy foreign wastry ; . . " Were ever down my gullet cramm'd, nae sugar'd plum-bake pastry ; Guid barley barmocks, whangs o' cheese wi' butter stuck thegither. And crovvdy steep'd in creamy milk I aye got frae my mither. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. Pi io8 Poems and Songs. I They trained me soon to hate deceit, and every practice knavish, To scorn ilk Jewish Judas tricks, and every feeling slavish : \ To speak and act with due respect to folk in every station, [or nation. And rev'rence every honest man, whate'er his creed I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. My mither strave wi' pious zeal to fortify my con- science 'Gainst a' the fause besetting wiles o' folly, vice and nonsense. My faither too wi' counsel grave in glowing tones advised me. To brand hypocrisy and cant, nae matter wha des- pised me. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. They sent me early to the schule to learn some lallan reading. Where soon I push'd in dolties den, some bairns in richer clieding, I learn'd to spell and scribble too, without much kind palaver, [shaver. Till half by nature, half by force, I grew a tacty I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. So thus prepared, with ardent trust, on wide per- ambulation, I've trod the soil o' many climes, in many an oc- cupation ; By manual art, or mental poise, with moral pride to guide it, I've ate the bread and (^uaff 'd the draught by in- dustry provided. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. .♦ Poems and Songs. 109 With ready will I change my craft — and don the garb that suits it : For which I thank my native wit, and carena wha disputes it, I never ply the flatterer's fraise — ne'er beg, and seldom borrow [to-morrow. What providence withholds to-day, it may supply I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. I've mix'd the choir o' social life in many a jovial quarter. And hob-a-nobb'd wi' better cheils than oft wore star or garter ! The proffer'd draught frae honour's hand, wi' honest pride I've drank it. But ne'er was muzzled for a bore, nor tossed in folly's blanket ! I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. I've piped my strains on hills and plains, where gleesome flocks were friskin, I've measured lines wi' learned divines, and strode in sock and buskin ! I've toil'd mid civic smoke and din, I've tugg'd on briny Ocean, [war's commotion. And borne my country's banner up 'midst gory I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. My cousins south o' Tweed and Tyne : when foreign loons would skelp them, I ne'er was laith in heart or hand, wi' dirk or gun to help them : Tho' aft wi' rude ungratefu' jeer, in turn, they whiles . might daunt me ; I just forgave their silly spite — their bombast could- na daunt me. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. no Poems and Songs. To season out my country's dish, the relish strength and size o't, I'll add another grain o' spice, that epicures may prize it ; A Hielan'man adores his hame, and if he's forced to shield it ; A claymore, frae a parritch-stick, he'll aye ken how to wield it. I'm just as Hielan' as the hills, etc. ST. ANDREW'S DAY. Respectfully addressed to the brethren of St. Andrew's Society, Kincardine, at their Anniversary for 1873. Old November bleak and hoary, Casts aside to-night his crown ; Doffs his dappled regal vesture, Lays his sword and sceptre down. Vanquished in the stormy conflict, Bravely, 'mid the strife he fell : Let us pay him loyal homage, Ere we toll his dying knell. Like a stem, but duteous father Who his children's merits knew ; Like a king who prized his subjects For their fealty ever true ; Grateful for our meek submission To his brief but rigid sway, He, as dy j gift, bequeath'd us Good St. Andrew's natal day, ' ^ He, the Baptist's early convert ; ' . Earliest chosen of our Lord ! Poems and Songs. iif Brother of thai stern Apostle Who for Christ could draw his sword. Good St. Andrew, whom the abbot Brought embalmed, across the sea, From his tomb in far Jiyzantium, • Scotia's patron saint to be ! He — the saint whose sacred teachings . Earliest shook the Pagan shrine, Burst the folds of heathen darkness, Shedding Christian light divine. Not a pompous mitred i)relate. Armed with Rome's presumptive pride ; But the fisher of Bethsaida — He at Patra crucified. We, though for from where his relics Lie entomb'd in Scottish mould, Still his birthday rites can cherish, As our fathers did of old. Time and distance, land and ocean, Toil and grief may interpose ; But the legends of our fathers Let our memories never lose ! We are Scots, and Scotsmen's offspring, Sons of patriotic sires — Sires whose deeds of noble daring Sound from Freedom's loftiest lyres ! As to-night we roam in spirit O'er yon hallowed land afar. Let us prize their honoured footmarks Bravely stamp'd in peace or war. Scotia's scenes are all historic; — From her dells where coo's the dove To her peaks, where screams the eagle ; — Link'd to themes of awe and Love ! 113 Poems and Songs. tiii Far and wide, as thought, or vision O'er her record pores at will, Proud memorials of her valour. Power and geniu'- greet us still. Met to-night in bond fraternal Sacred pledges to renew. Many a hallowed retrospection Opens to our mental view ! Fill your horns at memory's fountain ! Scotia's fame a bumper craves ; Though her soil we ne'er may tread on, 'Tis her banner o'er us waves ! Pledge the heathery glens of Albyn Where the circling corrie leaps ! Where the deathless songs of Ossian Echo thro' the rocky steeps ! There the pibroch's martial numbers Roused the kilted clans of yore, Up to Liberty's dread battle, Armed with targe and broad claymore I Pledge her bens where Celtic bravery Kept at bay the power of Rome ; Where the ruthless Norse invader Sought a throne, and found a tomb ! Boldly midst the strife of ages O'er the clouds, their summits tow'r ! Freedom's stronghold's built by Nature, Types of grandeur and of power ! Pledge the fair far-spreading Lowlands, Where the Doric muses rove O'er the go wan-spangled meadow. Thro' the cool resounding grove ! There the field where mighty Wallace Quelled the vaunt of Southron pride ! .'i Poents and Sengs. iij Fields where Bruce, her rights defending, Scotia's Freedom ratified 1 Pledge the rural scenes of. Coila, Hallow'd by her ploughman's fame ! And the "busky braes" of Ettrick With her minstrel Shepherd's name ! Stanley Shaw, and Green (ileniffer, Where in chaste melodious thrill. Flowed affection's sweetest ditties In the strains of Tannahill ! Bonnie Tweedsdale, nch m story. Rich in bravery and in song ; And the weird old haughs of Yarrow ; Oh ! what spells to them belong ! Not what Fancy robes in fiction, Deeds sublimer far I wot ; Stir us in the lyre of Leyden, Charm us in the lays of Scott ! Scotia, land of bard and hero ! Land of martyr, saint and sage ! Towering high in moral grandeur, Proudest realm on History's page ! Pledge her ancient hoary landmarks. Shrines of early power, and faith ! Gracing still her matchless landscapes, Braving Time's corrosive breath ! Pledge her treasured old traditions — Fruitful source of Minstrel's song ! And her modern social status — Purest earth's proud realms among ! Pledge the high-toned independence Of her sons and daughters leal — Moral virtue, lore and genius, Mental power, and Christian zeal I 11 1J4 foems and Songs. Raise our anthem ! — " Rule Ikittaniu," Swell the vocal torrent high I Let our theme be British Union, Freedom, Love, and Loyalty ! Unity by time unshaken ! — Freedom that lets n:en be men ! — Love by selfishness unsullied, Loyalty to Virtue's reign ! By these emblems on our banner, By that motto stern and brave, Let us shield our country's honour AVhilst its folds above us wave ! Swell the patriotic chorus Till Ontario's wildwoods thrill ! — Let each birthday of St. Andrew Tell we're Scots and Britons still ! CANADIAN VOLUNTEER'S CAMP SONG. Arouse *ye sons of British sires,' Heroes famed in ancient story ; Wake again those inborn fires That lit of yore their path to glory ; Up ! her holy cause again. Freedom calls us to sustain. Come ! for o'er yon border tide Band on band our foeman mustbr ; Panther-like their legions hide, Couch'd within each brakey cluster ! Hungering, thirsting for their spoil : . Brave Canadians guard your soil. Our broad land of wood and lake : ' " i Our dear won soil of Independence 1 Cha: \^ Sons Fd loetns ami Songs. »i5 Our homes, our altars are at stake To gloat the ire of ruftian vengeance ; Our hopes, our heritage to shield ; On 1 Celt and Saxon, to the field. ** Who that bears a Briton's name — '* Who that owns a Briton's spirit : " Justly proud of Britain's Fame, " Moral worth, and noblest merit ; " Would not brave in danger's hour, *' Britain's foeman's deadliest pow'r? " We are Britain's eldest born — Should we to her cause prove traitors, History's page would link, in scorn. Our names with frenzied conspirators, And brand us with the ingrate's blot Who shared his love, but own'd it not 1 Lo ! the squire his dame forsakes. Scorning pride and dalliant trifle ; Lo ! the woodman drops his axe. And in lieu takes up his rifle ; Fast they move in valour's art. When all are heroes at the heart. Mount the cc irser, bare the brand. Swell the trumpet's brazen volume ! — Vandal hordes menance our land : — Quickly form in martial column, Wave the banner, roll the drum, Citizen and peasant come ! _ Charge the rifle, couch the lance. Waft the cannon to the border ; Sons of Albion, Erin, France, Forward march ! in martial order : ■ ■■', T ii6 Poems and Son^s, Forth frcm hut, and forth from hall, Patriot men are brothers all. liCt them como if come they must, Britain's sons will ne'er degrade her ; True to all a mother's trust We'll repel each fierce invader ; Or give as erst our fathers gave, Alike a gibbet or a grave. . When the clang of hostile fray J -oud o'er flood and forest rattles, Highest midst the stern array Shall wave our " flag of many battles ! " The banner which our fathers bore Unsoiled, as in the fields of yore. DONAGHADEE. AIR- -" DIRGE OF CARO'aN." .f' i.!S Whkrever my home in the wild world may be, My heart's in old Ireland, away o'er the sea, 'Mong the green sunny hills that look down on the stream, And the soft dewy valleys that gladden'd youth's dreams ; Where shelter'd in peace in the deep willow glen I've listen'd the notes of the wild, merry )vreii, And thought, in my fondness it warbled to me " Sing beauty, sing love, and sing Donaghadee ! " My breast has an aching — I cannot tell how, But it felt not in boyhood the way it feels now : Poems and Songs. 117 And my brain too, has throbbings as well as my breast, Which the wealth of an em})ire could ill set at rest. There's a winter iu Nature, that falls on my heart, Ere the hopes of the spring-tide can fairly depart ; And I still hear a small bird that whispers to me — *' Sing beauty, sing love, and sing Donaghadee ! " Ah, me ! shall I never return, o'er the main, To my home, in the north of old Ireland again? Where the cot of my fathers for ages hath stood Unstained by dishonour — unravaged by feud ; Where she — my fliir Nora, my life's i)roudest joy, 'Neath the green mossy turf of the valley doth lie, 'Mongst the wild pretty How'rs where she often with me "Sang beauty, sang love, and sang Donaghadee 1" I love thee, my country ! how fondly and true. No realm in the wide world, so dearly as you, Tho' tyrants oppress thee, and cowards beguile, And the star of thy freedom seems clouded the while; Yet, deep in my bosom, one solace I own, Tis the hope that thy day of misfortune hath tlown. And a little bird near me, proud-perch'd on a tree "Sings beauty, sings love, and sings Donaghadee." i i THx. CALL OF THE BARDS. A song fur the hundredth birthday of Robert Bums. — Not written for a prize of fifty pounds. AIR- (( HAIL TO THE CHIEF. , V Sing Brothers, sing, of the Minstrel of Coila, Loud be your songs in the life of his fame ! 'M ii8 Poems and Songs. Hie with your harps to the shrine of his glory, Where Scotia invites, to exult in his name. Hie to the banks of Doon, Where many a sylvan tune. Breathed from his lyre, on the echoes langsyne, , Down where the winding Ayr, First claimed his muse's care ; Hie with your song gifts to hallow his shrine. Ye who with breasts fraught with fond emulation, Toil for such meed as awaits him to-day ; Join in the might of your soul's approbation, The homage that genius demands us to pay. Come from your heathy Bens, Bards of the Highland Clans ! Lowlanders, Saxons and Cambrians, all : Druids of Erin green, Hasten to grace the scene ; String high your Clarshcchs and hie to the call. Tho' sever'd afar from thy bosom maternal, Thy sons Caledonia, the wide world may roam, They can joy in that joy with the feeling faternal, That swells in the hearts of thy children at home. What Caledonian child, Worth loving tho' exiled, . ' • , Roams not in spirit to Coila to-day, Deep lodged in pathless wood, ' Haggard with solitude? • Home visions sacred, his musings can sway. Far in the East where their battle din's roaring ; Far in the South where they're mining for gold ; Far in the North, icy regions exploring; Far in the West midst the forest's dark fold. Woo'd by his social song, Charm'd by his wit so strong ; MKIV Poems and Songs. 119 Sooth'd by his kindly theme — stirred by his ire, Proudly they breathe his name — Nought may gainsay his fame : World wide his honours raise, Lord of tlie Lyre ! His was no pander muse, venal or craven, Flush'dby the smiles of Pride, chill'd by his frown, Sternest adversity's baleclouds while braving, The meed of the servile he learned to disown. Down in a flowery dell, Love with its warmest spell, Led him at gloaming to hymn in its praise ; Friendship and Freedom's joys. Nobly his soul could poise. Warm midst the social choir, sounded his lays. Patriots ! his song be your watchword for ages, Bold bard and brave ! — to Humanity dear ; Time pampered Tyranny quails o'er his pages, For time but reveals him the Bard and the Seer. Born 'neath yon roof straw, Tme priest of Nature's law, Tremble ye strongholds of Prelate and King, Quake whilst with loud acclaim. Earth shouts in Robin's fame ! Nature's far shore with his Birth anthem ring. BONNIE LOCHGAIR. Ah, I wish I were over by bonnie Lochgair, Mang scenes where I fear I maun wander nae mair, Mang the heather clad fells and the green bracken dens, And the sylvan delights 0' the wild Hielan' glens. 120 Poems and Songs. i' i.- Whar the eagle soars high to the welkin sae blue, And the wee lav'rock nestles amang the clear dew, Whar the rude shelvin' rock guards the deer in his lair, Mang the stern native wildwoods by bonnie Loch- gair. But far, far away o'er the foam bursting tide O' the dreary Atlantic, sae deep and sae wide ; "Midst the lane dreary forests that shadow the West, 1 maun pine wi' this Strang love o' hame in my breast ; I maun lie down by nicht on my pillow o' pain, And wake to fresh anguish at morning again ; Nae kindred endearments to saften my care, Sae far frae the hame-haunts o' bonnie Lochgair. I hear nae the sound o' the pibroch at e'en. And I see nae the gowans that glanced on the green, I hear nae the roar o' the steep waterfa', Nor the corn-craik that waken'd the morn wi' his ca' ; Hut hatefu' and eerie the grey howlet screams, And the scowl o' a nichtmare aye burdens my dreams ; To me nocht on earth can gie joy ony mair, Sae far frae the lov'd haunts o' bonnie Lochgair. Oh had I the art o' the happy sc?.-gul), By times I wad soar and by times J wad scull, Wi' pinions sae Strang the fierce tempest I'd brave, Or perch me to rest on the high rolling wave ; Wi' eye proudly fix'd on the gate o' the dawn, I'd skim o'er the ocean and strain for the Ian', Till soul-draughts o' freedom wi' Nature I'd share Mang lier stey mountain glories by bonnie Lochgair. Pottns and Songs. 121 BENEATH THE ROSE. There's room enough in Canada, for men o' ony size ! Altho' their feet were acre braid, their heads as heich's the skies ! There's rowth o' wood and water baith to cook their bread and brose. But there's something still a wantin' in't, that " lies beneath the Rose." There are bonnie birds in Canada, as bonnie's earth can own, Wi' plumes o' rainbow loveliness, and notes o' sil- lery tone ; But they canna sing like British birds, and why ! wad ye suppose ? There's something absent frae their hearts, that " lies beneath the Rose," I, jrave, I, share chgair. There are winsome dames in Canada, leal, sonsie, brisk and braw, VVhase smiles might thowe an avalanche o' Green- land's cauldest snaw, They've fouth o' bloom and hiunied looks — Guid sen' them honest Joes ; ' But their's aye some grace they might improve, that " lies beneath the Rose." There are Patriot Bards in Canada, but tame, t:cme are their lays, Shorn o' inspired sublimity, like dulcets in a haze ; Some chord is wanting on the lyre, 'tis hence the discord flows — It wants the bauld heroic thrill that rings *' beneath the Rose. ' 122 Poems and Songs, There are guid men in Canada, o' ilka craft we ken, To guide the helm o' Kirk or State, or wield the plough or pen, To swing the axe, or ply the spade, or fecht our braggart foes. But there's something still a wanting in't that " lies beneath the Rose." There are braw braid fields in Canada, if they o' stumps were free. And till'd like ither nation's fields, and fenced as they should be. There's rovvth o' heat and moisture too, to foster a' that grows, But there's something aye a wanting here, that " lies beneath the Rose." There are braw braid lakes in Canada, wi' river links between, Where commerce wi' increasing sails frae year to year is seen ; Heaven prosper long her peacefu' coast, and ward invasion s blows ; There is meikle, meikle wanting there that " lies beneath the Rose." Now note the moral o' my sang — gin ye wad thrive at hame, Ne'er scoff ye'r wise auld minnie's rule, nor o' her care think shame ; Ye yet may need her helping han', how sune no prophet knows. But there's aye maist smeddum in the heart that beats " beneath the Rose." Poems and Songs. 123 " OUR OWN BROAD LAKE. Long pent in wintry gloom so drear, When neither sight nor sound could cheer ; I've sigh'd to greet the spring-tide hours, When leaves and blooms rebusk the bow'rs To hear the cheerful matin lay Of birds that mount the early spray, Or mark what golden glories shake 'I'heir radiance o'er " Our own broad Lake/' To feel the genial western breeze. To list the hum of happy bees ; To trace the flow'ret's early birth When sunbeams dance in twinkling mirth ; ICach shady fold, each verdant scene, Each dimpling brook's umbrageous screen With all the varied joys that wake In concert by '' Our own broad Lake." It comes ! the sun ascends our zone ! May, sparkling, mounts her glcciming throne On every hand the groves resound, And vernal grandeur peers around ; Earth's teeming vision throbs in bloom A.nd every Zephyr breathes perfume. Whilst gladsome lambs, in fold or brake, Sport gaily by ** Our own broad Lake." Lo ! Huron free from winter's chain Hursts gently on its shore again ! , ' Its limpid wavelets tinkling clear Delight the eye and charm the ear ! Its tressell'd banks in foliage green, With light and shade enhance each scene, And rustling murmurs quaintly make Sweet music by " Our own broad Lake.'' 124 Poems and Sdngs. Hark ! as the woodman's vigorous blow Fast lays the cumb'rous forest low, . The crack'ling log-pile's towering blaze .\scending dims the noontide rays ; The ploughman, shouting, guides his team, The lowing heifer wades the stream, iVnd art and industry awake Their hum around " Our own broad Lake." And lo ! where o'er its breast serene, Shines forth yon visionary scene ! * Yon phantom landscape, changing still. Ignoring arts descriptive skill ! Tow'rs hamlets, cities, streams and woods, All limned on the mirror clouds, Romance's fav'rite haunt do make The bosom of " Our own broad Lake." C( re te re Fi] Thus placid oft at night's still noon. It sleeps beneath the cloudless moon, Till envious of its dreamy rest, Some power electric probes its breast ; Then, wildly surging heave its waves, And hoarse its voice of fury raves ; And lightnings flash, and thunders quake Sublimely o'er "Our own broad Lake."t Hail Huron ! queen of beauteous floods ! Thy fertile banks and echoing woods ; In neace, thy cities fair arise. And white-sailed commerce o'er thee plies ! The bending keel — the dipping prow Thy noble ])rcstige can avow; . , And future bards thy theme shall take And proudly sing " Our own broad Lake." Hi Fa Yoi Cai A Mirage. t A Majjnatic storm. Poems and Son^s. 125 A CELTIC CHIEFTAIN'S ADDRESS TO HIS CLAYMORE. ' As every stanza bears reference to some well-known and well-authenticated episode in Scottish history, the author begs leave to inform the reader that the pane};yric on his country's glorious old war-blade is not the offspring of a romantic fancy, but a condensed picture of its widely-scat- tered conquests long ago, endorsed by the most enlightened readers of the present as well as bygone ages. Come forth from thy scabbard, broad sword of the north ! ril tell of thy deeds in the wars of the brave, Since the rude Scandinavian sea-hordey came forth, Our sires and our country of yore to enslave. First, then, may story tell how the invader fell Ghastly and grim on the strand of the heath, Ever victorious, never inglorious. Proudly I pluck thee again from thy sheath, Claymore of Albyn ! High on those hills with their summits of blue ; Deep in those glens where the swift torrent rages ; Far 'neath yon billows where screams the sea mew ; Pent in the mute murky silence of ages ; Down with the nameless dead, stretch'd by thy gleaming blade, Sank in their pride the tall chiefs of the sea ; Still here thy hilt I touch : leap forth to greet my clutch ! ' Life's battle's o'er with them — not so with fthee, Claymore of Albyn I Yon green isle of spears, when the peace of its shore, By the war-cloud of Lochlin was darkened of old, Can tell of thy prowess, when Fingal went o'er With his heroes of Morven, the stalwart and bold; f^:f 126 Poems and Songs. i Dark rolled the gory flood, thick as by tempest stievv'd, Proud forms and haughty lay stiff on the plain ; Bright brand, by Ossian grasp'd, thus in my hand when clasp'd. Despots may quail, as thou gleamest again, Claymore of Albyn 1 When haughty Romagna her '^agle displayed. And earth's proudest dyi aes crouch'd to her laws, Nor bribery, nor cowaidice tarnish 'd thy blade ; 'Twas fashioned for freedom, and true to its cause; Flashing from heathy ben, dashing from brakey glen, Prone as a meteor tliy message was sped ; Strong walls from sea to sea, tell how Rome dreaded thee ; Patriot wea])on 1 to glory thou'rt wed ! Claymore of Albyn ! When the Saxon usurper, with stealthier pace, O'er Anglia strode in his gory career. Indignantly scorning the weight of his mace, The tramp of his courser, the thrust of his spear; Blazing Crantara's light, rousing the clansmen's might, Shook thy broad flash from each summit of flame ; Freedom's staunch battle-brand, then in stark Ken- neth's hand, . : « Gavest thou to Scotland a crown and a name, Claymore of Albyn ! When savage in purpose and lawless and stern, The chiefs of the Isles in their fury came o'er, By conquest a regal Domi'^-'on to earn. Infesting each stronghold from centre to shore ; Poems and Son^s. 127 Fast forth from glen and scar burst Alpine's clans to war, Swift as their native floods rush to the sea, Sweeping their ruthless foes down with such lusty blows As no war-blade bestows equal to thee, Claymore of Albyn ! Fron his lairs in the south, o'er the Tweed and the Tyne, In his regal maraudings the lion oft prowled ; But our hardy old fathers as oft made him whine By a feint of thy edge, wheresoever he growled ; What thougn by Carronside Graeme and stout Stuart died. Guarding those rights a Monteith crouch 'd to sell; ^obly our Wallace brave, poising his mighty glaive. Righted our wrongs by thy foe-dreaded spell. Claymore of Albyn ! Chieftain of EUerslie ! Martyr of Liberty ! Wallace, the noble, the gifted and strong ! Where beats the patriot-heart, thrills not at name of thee ? . Shield of thy Caledon ! pride of her song ! Dragged to a traitor's doom — emblemless dark thy tomb — Who would not kiss the broad brand thou didst wave ? Come forth thou cherished steel ; here at thy hilt I kneel ! Ward of our heritage ! sword of the brave ! Claymore of Albyn ! Wild rode red ruin athwart our reft soil. Where jealousy captioned and tyranny trode, '■tW. 128 Poems and Sengs. AVhilst the chiefs of the south raged like wolves on their spoil, Profaning the altars of freedom and God ! Till Frissel uplifting thee, Sword of Heaven's gifting 1 To Roslyn, the trusty of Caledon led ; Burst bars of tower and keep : one wild tumultuous leap Wreathed thee in trophies that never can fade, Claymore of Albyn ! Bleeding, but unsubdued, wreck'd oft by local strife. Taunted by insolent Anglican pride, Hoodwinked by traitor's guile, bartering our nation's Dashed by adversity's pitiless tide. [life, Loudly our country's voice rose in her leader's choice; Promptly responding the chief sought the field : Southern vaunt back to turn — waved thee at Ban- nockburn, Liberty's harvest, when Bruce did thee wield, Claymore of Albyn ! Densely o'er Flodden the pall of the past Hath rolled its dark shadow, unscattered by time, When nation to nation the gauntlet had cast, And both to the field brought their valour and prime ; Hero with hero grasp'd — dead but yet firmer clasp'd, Sword crossed with sword lay encrusted in gore; Ruin stood umpire by, grinning remorselessly. Claiming the field when the conflict was o'er, Claymore of Albyn ! Long though the yew-tree hath shaded the tomb. And long though the green cairn hath studded the plain, Lo, Unity's day-star awakes from the gloom, And love, light and liberty triumph again ! Poems and Songs. 129 Here rose a Percy's grave — there sleeps a Douglas brave ! Roses and thistles may bourgeon between : Friendship of chivalry, virtue and bravery, O'er thy achievements enraptured I lean. Claymore of Albyn ! Sword of my country ! though ages of dread Have swept o'er the dynasties form'd by thy power, In war, never dastard could sully thy blade, In peace, never heart that could trust thee need cow'r ; Langside, where Celtic blood freely for Mary flowed; Shows where each phalanx the onslaught sus- tained. Warding her queenly fame — guarding her diadem, Bravely our fathers thy prestage maintained. Claymore of Albyn ! These caves, which were temples, and altars those hills. When red persecution our fathers did chase ; These rocks that now echo the songs of the rills Bear etchings of thine which time may ne'er efface. Faith's valiant martyrs there, vigil-worn, kept thee bare ; Bible and broadsword their bulwark and tower ; Bilboa and scabbard light, well might grace Carpet Knight— Thou worest no muffling in danger's dark hour, Claymore of Albyn ! Cleaver of helmets and shatterer of lances, Thou need'st no fiction to heighten thy fame ! For loftiest deeds ever told in romances With thine if compared were ignoble and tame. :^^, w ' ^m ijo Poems and Songs. What though in conflict rude oft urged by local feud, Dire seem the traces that dapple thy story ; Swung by a patriot's arm, nerved by the pibroch's charm, Where speaks the base deed that e'er dimm'd thy glory ? Claymore of Albyn I Firm as the pine en the crags of Ben Lomond Stands wiiile the tempest around it doth rair, So stands Clan Gregor the shock of the foeman, With might that can conquer and heart that can spare. History restores a name long cancelled by defame; Worth has a life-germ no blight can destroy ; Inversnaid's talisman ! reft chief and suftering clan Woke thy renown in the hand of Rob Roy, Claymore of Albyn ! Peerless in courage, in purpose oft erring. Our monarchs their claim oft asserted by thee ; Till bloodthirsty Cumberland's mission unsparing, Entombed their last hope on CuUoden's red lea. Still to lost royalty clinging with loyalty Long and devotedly wander'd our sires, Sharing the exiles' lot, spurning each craven plot, Giving thy fame to earth's loftiest lyres. Claymore of Albyn ! Guardian of human rights ! O'er the deep waves, Wherever oppression would rear his dark throne, Thy flash, striking terror to tyrants and slaves, Reveal thy high mission to earth's, farthest zone. Where fiery Gallia's breath, where sterner Russia's wrath, Where mad Hispania's torch fires the war-flame, Poems ami Son^s. »3i Where Ind or Turcoman shout in aggression's van, There art tliou ready their rapine to tame, Claymore of Albyn ! Loudly thecannon's mouth belch":s its thunders forth; Cities and citadels crumble to dust ; Who mounts the yawn'ng breach, firm while the rocking earth Reels with the war surge from centre to crust ? They, Albyn's conquering band, far from their native land, Fearless and foremost — each waving his steel ; Death's missiles — shell and shot — thick as hail stay them not Saving thy spoils for humanity's weal, Claymore of Albyn ! Moulder of empires! may wisdom direct thee ; Framer of laws ! be pure justice thy aim ; Tamer of tyrants ! let monarchs respect thee, And peace, love, and commerce increase with thy fame ; Who with malignant taunt ; who with bravado vaunt. Dares to impugn the proud cause thou wouldst guard ? Glea ming in ire how grand, swayed by a patriot's hand. Worth still can wreathe thee in glory's reward, Claymore of Albyn ! HEATHERBELLS. Heatherbells ! heatherbells ! They're the flow'rs I lang to see ; A' the bloom o' foreign dells, Wi' my fancy winna gree. 132 Poems and Soncs. Gie me Caledonia's flow'rs, Cilist'ning on her mountain tovvr's, A' the sweets o' foreign bow'rs, Tame and tasteless blaw to me. Heatherbells ! Heatherbells ! Wavin' ovvre the craigie steeps, Danglin' frae the dizzy fells VVhaur the earn his vigil keeps. Twinin' roun' the wild aik tree, ^Vhaur the rose wad pine and dee ; Smilin' in their simple glee, VVhaur the foamin' torrent leaps. *■ Heatherbells ! heatherbells ! Rustlin' down the sylvan dens, Whaur the echoes frae their cells Wauken to the shepherd's strains, Whaur the tumblin' burnie roams, Whaur it sleeps, and whaur it foams, By the peacefu' Hielan' homes, Shelter'd deep in Freedom's glens. Heatherbells ! heatherbells ! Every charm o' life's young day Binds my heart wi' weirdlike spells. Time can never chase away Far, on fancy's pinions free, ^V'afted owre the braid deep sea. Roams my spirit, in its glee, Whaur the heatherbells do play. Heatherbells ! heatherbells ! Mountain gems o' glorious bloom ; Mony a patriot legend tells How you've graced the hero's plume- Nodded high on kingly crest, Shimmer'd sweet on queenly breast, Poems and Songs. ^ZZ Faulded saft in lane lown rest, ^ . Holy martyr in his tomb. \\ Heatherbells ! heatherbells ! Vainly search I bank and broo ; No' the simplest token tells Any spot whereon ye grew. Ither Caledonian flow'rs Whiles may glint in biels and bow'rs, But thro' life's remaining hours Never mair I'll gaze on you. SONG. AIR — "my AULD GUID WIFE." Tho' fair and fertile are the plains, The woodlands green and grand ; And bright the sparkling lakes and streams Of proud Ontario's land. Tho' wealth and pleasure crown each toil, And all her soil is free, There lies a land beyond the main. That's dearer far to me. Chorus- -My native isle, my sea-girt isle ! Weird realm of boyhood's glee ; With deathless love, where'er I rove, I sigh and sing for thee. Lnnd of the towering mountain peaks That mock the tempest's ire, And wear their snowy wreaths in June, Despite the sclar tire. 1 I .J 134 Poems and Songs. Land of the heathy bens and braes, . And deep resounding vales, That ring response to winter's storms And summer's glowing gales. Chorus — My native isle, etc. Land of the frowning rocky scars, The pine and hazel glades, Where modest worth and patriot love Are fostered in their shades ; Where castled craigs, and caimy plains Their silent records bear. Of deeds which history fails to tell. And what our fathers were. Chorus — My native isle, etc. Brave Albion ! land of many spells. The simple and the wild, in dreams of thee I still can joy. As when I was a child. The blight of years may scathe my form. And press my heart with care, But ne'er can break one filial tie, . Entwined in childhood there. Chorus — My native isle, etc. No. L SUBSTITUTE LAUREATE'S ODE FOR THE INAUOU RATION OF THE NEW DOMINION OF CANADA. I. Lift high the nation's song-charg'd voice ; , Our glorious advent proudly hail. With loud acclaim let all rejoice, Till rapture sounds on every gale ; Poems and Songs. 135 From city, forest, lake and river. Let jubilation shouts ascend — Britannia's hand hath sealed forever, Th' J)ond, no nation's power can rend. II. Up ! sons of freeman : heirs of worth ! Ours the broad land of wood and stream Lo, earlier favour'd realms of earth, Shrink 'neath its star's ascendent gleam : Its lines to light and love are given. Its prestige with the nobly free ; Fair fostering in the smiles of heaven. Its fields expand from sea to sea. III. Unroll the banner of our sires. The standard of the truly brave. Whose fame is wed to loftiest lyres, O'er every clime and every wave. . On citadel, and tow'r and temple. High the lov'd gonfalon raise; Beneath its folds so pure and ample, Wake all our hopes of future days. IV. To-day an empire vast and fair, Transmits its name to history's page. Which, nobly and enduring there. Must rise in fame from age to age ; Kver in power and worth increasing. Secure from dark despotic sway, Adorn'd by every earthly blessing, 'Lumed by religion's brightest ray. di^^::;! i!-| 136 Poems and Songs. V. Whilst tyrant dynasties of earth, In gory ruin, tottering fall, Lo, our Dominion leaps to birth ; 'Tis her's the crown, and their's the pall. Call forth the joy of patriot bosoms, Wake the full choir of minstrel song, Whilst summer wreathes earth's brow with blossoms, And echo shouts her cells among. VI. Ours be the reign of love and peace. Our weapons not with carnage stained, We triumph o'er no martyr'd race. Nor waste the blood of tribes enchained ; The bloodless war which virtue wages, Is not with deadly sword or spear, Yet fast the gloom of babarous ages Before its face must disappear. VII. Call forth the city ! wake the wild ! Let wealth and labour join the train : Let grandame hoar, and lisping child. Commingling swell the festal strain. Sliout ye dense woodlands ! till Vancouver Responds to rugged Labrador, Audi " Rule Britannia ! rule forever " Rings from the Pole to Erie's shore. Poems and Songs. 137 CALEDONIA. When Nature first rear'd Caledonia's hills, Wi' their stie tow'ring taps and their clear streaming rills, She sought, 'mang the gems that to Flora belang, For a wreath that should always be sacred in sang ; Nae saft downy lillies, nor bower roses vain, Nae tame tender nurslings o' garden or plain But she chose tlT« Strang heather, The hardy, wild heather. The purple-bell'd heather. That waves on the bens. The beauty, majestic in form and in hue, .Sublimely, her spells round their steep summits threw, 1'he rainbow's rath tints, and the clouds rolling gloom, And the mirage thatlloats o'er the vale's misty womb, Wi' a' the stern grandeur o' shadow and ray. That fancy could wish for her story or lay. Amang the Strang heather, . ';; The blooming wild heather. The purple-bell'd heather That waves on the bens. ' / Then liberty came on her wind-wafted car, Wi' her patriot train, and her weapons of war ; And she built on the steeps where the cataracts fa', The tow'rs o' her strength, and the shrines o' her law, She roved in the chase, happy, fearless and free ; And she piped to rock-ringing echoes her glee, — Amang the brown heather, The bonnie wild heather. The purple-bell'd i.jather That waves on the bens. 138 Foems and Songs. Then honour came down frae the regions above, Wi' her kindred companions, leal, friendship and love ; And chose the retreats o' the dingle and glen, In the lown biels o' peace ayont tyranny's ken, VVhar they nourish'd their offspring, the trus*-y and brave, Wha ne'er bent to despot, the knee o' a slave, Amang the Strang heather. Their native brown heather, . The purple-beU'd heather, That waves on the bens. Lang ages hae pass'd ; — but the proud hills arc there. Still tow'ring in glory aloft in the air, Wi' their mantles unsullied, in bloom o' their prime, A.nd their birthright o' freedom unshaken by time : They boast o' a future as well as a yore — For valour still poises her mighty claymore. Amang the Strang heather, , ■ The tough Hielan' heather, The purple-beU'd heather That waves on the bens. Tho' lang — Caledonia — far o'er the sea, A way-farer weary, I've wandered frae thee, Not a' the allurements o' nature or art, Could cancel thy claims as the home o' my heart ; And till death still its beatings, aye, sacred thou'lt be, ^ For my soul's sweetest visions are centred in theo. Amang the brown heather. The wild blooming heather. The purple-bell'd heather 'J'hat waves on thy bens. lllli Poems and Songs. 139 heart ; thou'U in thco. THE AULD HILLS AT HAME. C^ME join in my sang o' the aiild hill's at hame, For wha but feels proud o' their grandeur and f:mie ? '' '-?r the high rolling clouds 'yo^d the force o' the storm, How daring in aspect ! how lofty in form ! They tow'r till their taps in the blue lift they hide, In a realm where the earn his bauld pinions ne'er tried. He's nae honest Scot, and deserves na the name, That loes na to sing o' the auld hills at hame. Stout warders o' freedom, how stalwart they stand, The grace and the glory of Albion's land ; Wi' their wild dizzy clifts whaur the young eagle screams, And their deep furrow'd glens whaur the loud tor- rent streams, Wi' their girdles o' heather and garlands of broom. That wave o'er the cairnies their tassels o' bloom ; Wha thinks on langsyne and his forbearers fame, But justly feels proud o' the auld hills at hame? In the lown o* their valleys where nature hath spread A' her mingled attractions o' beauty and dread, They shelter a race which in valour and worth Has seldom been rivall'd by ony on earth. Let history vaunt what its Spartans hae been. But frae brave Fingal's days, till the days we hae seen, Nae birthplace o' heroes the wide world can claim Like that o' our clansmen, the auld hills at hame. Since the rude Scandinavian rovers o' yore For plunder or conquest invaded her shore. 140 Poems and Songs. Ilk strife-loving despot hath battled in vain The freedom of Albion's sons to enchain ; They came frae the east in their galleys o' pride, And they came frae the south, o'er the Tweed and the Clyde, And they came frae the west, her proud prestige to tame, But they aye failed to speil o'er the auld hills at hame. And lang as the gleid o' our patriot fires Can glow into flame at the deeds o' our sires, And lang as the heather its red bells may shake, 'Mongst the crags where the pibroch the echoes can wake ; Ay ! long as the cataracts foam down their steeps, And prone thro' the valley the wild corrie sweeps, Sae lang ilk true Scot may exult in their fame. And joy in the sang o' the auld hills at hame. iA:\ CLAVEN GLEN. AIR "CRAIGIE LEA." I lo'e the canly l)ul)bling burn, That wimples down the rushie lea. For in its sang there's aye a turn, That mak's its music dear to me. ' ' ♦ I've paidlet in its silver tide. When childhood's cloudless hours were mine ; And pu'd the blossoms from its side. To busk my lassie's brow langsyne. The bonnie burn, the wimplin' burn. That sings in Claven's woody glen ; Nae ither stream could soothe life's dream, Like that sweet burn in Claven glen. Poems and Songs. 141 'Twas no' that lordly taste had there, Begemm'd the soil wi' culture's skill ; Nor rear'd the glittering palace fair, To grace the greenwood skirted hill. A prouder charm, a holier band, A grace which wealth could ne'er impart ; Was woven there by Nature's hand. And twined forever 'round my heart. The bonnie burn, the wimplin' burn, etc. Its mossy margin saft and green. Its primrose banks so sweetly braw ; Its elfin shades o' wildwood screen, Still haunt my memory far awa'. The robin's carol trembling clear. The blackbird louder in his glee ; The scented hawthorn, birk and brier. That formed loves' earliest bield to me. The bonnie burn, the wimplin' burn, etc. Oh, happy youth ! ilk kindly tie, Ilk sacred spell by glen and brae ; Within my bosom still defy, The envious blight o' time or wae ! Afar o'er many a distant scene. Beyond the ocean's heaving tide, I've sigh'd and sung wi' tear-filled e'e ; My native haunts, my bow'ry Clyde. And aye the burn, etc. No. 2. . A SUBSTITUTE LAUREATE'S ODE. We now hae reason to be proud, and glad at heart, and a' that : [sing, and a' that, To toss our hats and cheer aloud, and leap and II 111^ -' il ' M i#» Pot'ins and Sengs. And a' that, and a" that, and nuicklc niair than a* that; . Frac Britain's shore they've sent us o'er some dainty news, and a" tliat. Ye ken we king hae been abused, ])inip-ri Iden, scoff'd and a' that. And just like helpless step-bairns used, it w.isna nice ava that : K'en a' that, and a' that, and sometimes waur than a' that. Some menseless loons in soiuhron toons, our herit- age wad claw that. Our moral star seem'd on the wane, our social state, and a' that ; Designing tools and arrani fools wrought waste ^nd want, and a' that, And a' that, and a' that — our trade and trust, and a' that. In ruin's maw, for guid and a', seem'd swailow'd up and a' that. 'I'ho' many a sage prophetic chiel, wi' warning voice, and a" that, •Toil'd lan,,f and sair to haud us leal in loyalty, and a' thai. For a' that, and a' that, there seem'd sma' hope for a' that. For Yankee-doodle's didling arts hoodwink'd us aye, for a' that. > . , He tauld us that our British ties were slavish chains, and a' that ; .That Canada could never rise whilst link'd to crowns and a' that, Poans and Son^s. '43 And a' that, and a' that, to tides, thrones an" a' that ; An' fostered up rebelHous ixe to open strife, an' ti' that. By many deep laid dastard wiles in friendly guise, and a' that. He strave to lair us in his toils, and eke by force, and a' that, pyen a' that, and a' that, our commerce crush'd, and a' that. Gave guns and swords to Fenian hordes, to shoot and hack us sma' that. But spite his frothy Hoss and spleen, hyjjocrisy, and a' that,- His bullying brag, and knavery mean, detraction, hes, and a' that. And a' that, and a' that, tho' hard he tugg'd wi' a' diat, To rax us ower was past his jjow'r : we're Britons yet, for a' that. We've now obtained a nations height, we're christ- ened too, and a' that. And diel a stroke we had to fight, it came by na- ture's law that ; , And a' that, and a' that, a kingdom too, and a' that, But, what will Vankee-doodle say when he's con- vinced o' a' that ? We'll hae a monarch — king or (jueen, a sceptre, throne, and a' that, And dukes, and earls, and knights I ween, and titles, mair than a' that, Than a' that, and a' that, an army great, and a' that, A navy Strang, our foes to bang, on ocean, lake, and a' that. ■1 !%l '' ■"' Vi'^ „'■' \"'^3 144 Poeyns and Songs. Then high auld Britain's banner raise, loud peal your bells, and a' that. Let bonfires blaze on a' your braes, and cannons roar, and a' that, And a' that, and a' thfit, triumi)hant shout, and a' that. Afar let fame the deed proclaim, and loud htr trumpet blavv that. •S()N(i TO IRKLAXD. O Erin, dear, beyond the sea, Fair country of my sires, My fancy wrapt in dreams of thee. Still glows with youth's fond fires ? For restless Memory's daring flight, Where'er my sojourn be, With untired ardor, morn and night. Devoutly turns to thee. Land of my early childhood's home, Where first, by grove and stream, With ardent glee I learned to roam, And list the song-bird's theme ; Where happiest, on the old scliool green I pranced in merriest ^jlays, — Oh ! would my life had always been As bright as schoolboy days ! O Erin, dear ! where tenderest love First warm'd my youthful breast ; Where first, in hallow'd green -wood grove. Its passion I confessed ; Poems and Son^s. M5 Lid peal cannons , and a' Dud htr Tho' fortune lured me from thy shore, To climes beyond the sea, Still dearly in its warmest core, My bosom yearns for thee. Land of the fertile flowery ])lains, And steep green sunny hills, Where beauty's loftiest grandeur reigns. And freedom's harp yet thrills— For tho' 'tis hushed in Tara's hall, - And mute in Connor's tow'r. The spell that holds its voice in thrall * Is weakening every hour. Loved Erin! land of sweetest song And eloquence sublime. Of martial genius, skill'd and strong, Renown'd in every clime ; For thine are Goldsmith's matchless lays, And classic Grattan's fire. Thine glorious Wellington, whose praise Hath graced earth's loftiest lyre. Fair Erin, dear ! from 'yond the sea, A moan comes on the gale — As if a nation, grand like thee, In Slavery's bonds did wail ; If thraldom's virus thee enslaves. Why foster bigot zeal ? If Albion's banner o'er thee waves, ^ It waves to guard thy weal. ' Green realm of legends wild and strange, And thrilling songs of yore. How often doth my spirit range Thy scenes, from shore to shore ! 146 Poems and So/ims. Vty ruins grim, and caverns hoar, In quaint tradition shrined; To revel 'midst the marvel lore That charm'd my youthful mind. Hut, oh, my country ! if thy wrongs, > A sure redress demand, I .et moral valour burst the thongs, — Oh, sheathe the rebel's brand ! Shake from thy fold the vampire throng That sucks thy vital spring. And soon shall liberty's proud song Thro' all thy echoes ring ! l! u; TORRYBURN. Tdrryburn's a bonnie place ! Were ye e'er in Torryburn ? Mony a tie tae mem'ry dear Binds my heart to Torryburn. \\'i' fortune's rovin', random train, ' I've travell'd far, o'er land an' main. But aye my fancy turns again Tae couthie, dear, auld Torryburn. No a stream Ontario owns. Clearer rins than Torryburn ; Ne'er a rural glen is there wSae green's the glen o' Torryburn. There lauchin' Spring, wi' fairy han'. In daintiest flow'r gems busks the Ian' ; There first the laverock lits at dawn, Abune the dells 0' Torryburn. J\h'/jis and Songs. 147 Brawly bloom the simmer braes Roun' the Links o' Torryburn. Dear tae love 's the plantin' shades An' brakey holms o' Torryburn. Ten thousand dangers wad I brave, On mountain waste or briny wave, My weary feet ance mair tae lave In blythsome, pure, :uild Torryburn. Richly harvest's gowden corn Cleids the straths o' Torryburn ; Gaily rings the shearers' sang Amang the rigs by Torryburn. Fair scenes o' peace an' pure content, VVhaur a' my happiest days were spent, Tae mad ambition's wiles unkent ; How dear tae m£ was Torryburn ! Cauld tho' wintc's driftin' snaw • Wreathes the fells by Torryburn, Caulder far's the stranger's hearth, Far awa frae Torryburn. Nae mair I'd share ilk merry scene, At Beltane tide or Hallowe'en ; At Yule, when a' in glee convene, They'll miss me sair in Torryburn. Fickle fortune ! — 'twas for thee I forsook fair Torryburn, Kith an' kin, an' a' I lo'ed Dear as life, at Torryburn. Oh ! grant ae wish — the last I'll crave- Tae bear me o'er the Atlantic wave, An' lay my banes in some lone grave, Beside my sires at Torryburn. ^: K i i ili! it •^ o MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, PATHETIC AND HUMOROUS. AN /ULD MAID'S REMONSTRANCE. AIR — " RUSTIC FELICITY." HAT can a lane body, what can a leal body, What can an auld body do for a man? Nae charms to commend her, nae kin to be- friend her, ^ Her ringlets turned lyart, her baffets turn'd wan. Oh, dreary's the prospect that tends an auld maiden ; Its cauld and its lanesomeness troubles fane sair, As weel as the scaith and the callous up- i bradin' A O gilpies I've nursed wi' a mitherly care. T What can a lane body, etc. Oh, dool on the wiles and the cantrips o' Hishion, That fetter the younkers afore they can fen ; And mak' them the slaves o' a' fancifu' passion, A ban on the credit o' twascore and ten. What can a lane body, etc. iC' < W , 150 Poems and Soni^s. My mither aye taught me, wi' counsel maist zealous, To scorn a' the airts o' the giddy and vain, To shun a' the lures o' the coaxin' young fellows ; Her maxim was aye, ^^gef a douce a?ie or na7iey ' What can a lane body, etc. I've wrought a' my days at the spinnin' and shearin', And thrave by my thrift 'twixt the woo' and the corn: And aye, when a laddie my price cam a speerin', I bade him refrain till his beard could be shorn. What can a lane body, etc. A' my auld cronies, my sisters and cousins, Afore ane-and- twenty contrived to get wed ; But tho' I could reckon my offers by dozens. At twa score and tvva Fm a lanesome auld maid. .. What can a lane body, etc. When the rude storms o' the winter come roarin', Whirlin' the drift to my wee ingle cheek, Sadly I hurkle in sorrow despairin', » Comfort or kindliness whaur can I seek ? What can a lane body, etc. Honest Mess John and his deacons sae pious, Tho' aye interested in bodies like me, Its just for the wee pickle gear we've laid by us, To glaum't for the session as sune as we de«. What can a lane body, etc. .\ften I wish — tho' I'd modestly speak o't — 'I o make a life bargain wi' some honest jo ; For love I am sure he'd hae a' he could seek o't, And goupings o' gowd that wad mak' his heart glow. What can a lane body, etc. Poems and Songs. 151 Mightna some leal fallow, tho' ayont fifty, Tired, like mysel, o' his livin' alane, Marrow his lot wi' a lass that's been thrifty. His credit to prop ere her bairn-time be gone What can a lane body, etc MY AIN GUIDMAN. AIR — THE RANTIN' ROARIN' HEILANMAX, Chorus — O se:. ' me hame my ain guidman, My leal guidman, my fain guidman ; This wearv war 's a woful ban, That twines the heart ands oul frae me. dool upo' the menseless pride- That stains the warl' wi' gory war, And bids deep oceans, roarin' wide. To sever lovin' hearts sae far; For what to me is a' the gain Ambition claims ayont the main, If a' the comforts ance my ain Are reft to prop its lofty plea ? Chorus — O send me hame, etc When I bethink me o' the days, Sae dearly prized, sae early ganc, When Kenmure's haughs and bonnie braes Held a' I proudly ca'd my ain ; 1 scarce can quell an angry pray'r ; '• I canna hide my besom's care ; It dings me maisdy to despair, To listen e'en the lintie's glee ! Chorus — O send me hame, etc. i'52 Poems ivid Som^s. Wi' Jamie's plaid and aikcn crooks Upo' the liills his flocks I tend ; , • And mony a lang and ruesome look, Out o'er the foamin Solway send ; But tho' I strain my aching sight, Frae morn's pale daw' till dowie night, Across its billows foamin' white, Nae bark brings Jamie back to me. • Chorus — O send me hame, etc. I sit me by the auld grey cairn Whaurfirst his love to me he tauld, And hug our ae sweet laddie bairn Close to my heart in couthie fauld ; And gazin' in his dimplin' face, " ' Wi' a' a mother's pride 1 trace, Ilk loesome line o' manly grace, That made his dad sae dear to mei Chorus — O send me hame, etc. Thou kindly power, wha's will can stay The war-cloud, and the ragin' wave, - Oh! hasten roun' the peacefu' day. That yields me back my lo'ed and brave ! Ilk fauld and fell by hamely ken Shall ring wi' mony a gratefu' strain, • And ne'er may war's rude call again, Gar him forsake his native lea. Chorus — O send me hame, etc. AVOCA. AvocA, again in thv calm sheltered valley, I woo the retreats by thy wild winding stream, Poems and Songs. 153 \Vhere the fair summer flowers deck each rural alley, As mellowed in soft tints of twilight they gleam. On the verge of the forest the pale aspen miver; The dark-mantled cedar still shadows l -^ dell ; The meek-scented birch droops its folds o'er the river, Whose banks bear the moss-pink and lovely blue- bell. 'Twashere — when the sun o'er broad Huron retiring, In hues of rich grandeur embellish'd the grove, Whilst nature's gay charms round my pathway ad- miring, I first owned the power and presence of love. 'Twas here — where love's star from the blue zenith beaming, First hallowed our tryst in the vine-tressel'd glade. As with valour and truth in his warm bosom teeming. Young Henry first proffered his vows in the shade. How sad now each scene, of his presence forsaken, Thy echoes are mute, or they sigh but in pain ; His sweet voice no more shall their rapture awaken. His foot shall ne'er press thy green valley again. For far 'mid the tumult of war's fell commotion. He sank where the bravest in battle did fall ; They gave him a grave in the depths of the ocean. The winds sang his requiem,the waves were his pall. But still, dear Avoca! thy stream in its wand'rings Can murmur response to my soul-cherished pain ; I'll oft trace our haunts by its fitful meanderings, As oft sigh his name to thy zephyrs again. I'll sit by the fountain and twine the green willow : His form my rapt fancy shall often restore ; Till calmly I'll sleep with thy moss for my pillow, Whence nature shall wake me to anguish no more. ii ri 154 Poems and Songs. THE HARP OF LOVE. They bid me cease to sing o' iove, They ca't an outworn theme, Unworthy o' the minstrel's lay : — A fause and fading dream ! But na — their notions a' are vain ; And cauld their hearts maun prove That dinna beat the holy flame O' deathless heaven-born love. I wadna hae my life bereft O' love's e'en simplest string, Tho' wealth and fame as bribes they'd gie Life's venal lays to sing. In fortune's circles proud and gay Let laurell'd hirelings prate ; I can despise their tinsell'd strains, And scorn their servile state, Ciie me the woodlands derri and wild, The wide and blooming lea, The craggy mountain's steep and stern, The clear streams rowing free ! The heathy fells, the ferny knowes, The lavrock's joy above — A freeman's rank — a peasant's hame — A rustic lyre and love ! When Nature first my lyre bequeathed, ' To love's saft notes 'twas strung ; And fondly beat my glowing heart, As o'er its tones I hung. Wi' it I sought the echoin' dells. And found response was there, And streams and flowers in wildest scenes Hae l/fichten'd to its air. Poems and Songs. 155 Altho' some desert cave unknown My destined hame should be ; VVhar mortal ear might never list My hermit minstrelsy ; In nature's ear the theme I'd pour Whilk first she bade me sing, And yield her back in death her lyre, Love tuned in every string. BESSIE ROY. AIR "WILLIE WAS A WANTON WAG." Near Avoca blooms a maiden, Sweet as summer's fairest flow'r, Tinged with morning's purest dewdrops. Nursed in beauty's softest bow'r. In her eye the beam of dawnlight, On her lip the smile of joy, Meek and mirthful play the dimples On the cheek of Bessie Roy. Bonnie blooming Bessie Roy, Winsome, happy Bessie Roy, Meek and mirthful play the dimples, On the cheek of Bessie Roy. By yon streamlet blooms the lily. Chastest flow'r that decks the grove ; But a chaster flow'r than Bessie Never graced the path of love. Like a pearl in downy casket, Free from every base alloy, Wi (| . .1 1 1 m I 156 Poems and Songs. Virtue's ;;^ure unsullied treasure Gems the breast of Bessie Roy. Bonnie blooming Bessie Roy, Winsome, happy Bessie Roy, Virtue's pure unsullied treasure Gems the breast of Bessie Roy. Fashion's gay voluptuous minions Proudly flaunt in art's display, Gilded moths that haunt the sunshine — Changing hues in every ray. Oh ! how vain their transient lustre ! Time their toil and art their toy ; Native charms with grace enduring, Gem the life of Bessie Roy. Bonnie blooming Bessie Roy, Winsome, happy Bessie Roy, Nature's bloom and native pleasures Gem the life of Bessie Roy. Down Avoca's pleasant valley — Free from fretful city strife. Where the swain could not feel happy With sweet Bessie for his wife ? Sculptured halls and pencilled graces Never could his rest annoy : Blest by sweet Avoca's river, Folding lovely Bessie Roy. Bonnie blooming Bessie Roy, Winsome, happy Bessie Roy ; Blest e'en should he live forever. Folding lovely Bessie Roy. 1 r ii s 1 I I T A Poems and Songs. 157 CAULD GLOOMY FEBERWAR. Of the following verses, the first four lines and the f ur last, are the production of Robert Tannahill ; beinj,' all that remains of the original. I hav2 taken the liberty of supply- ing the other stanzas, in the hope of carrying out A'hat I suppose to be sentiments intended for filling up the outline. The air is "Neii. Gow's Strathsi'ly." Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar : O gin thou wert awa ! I'm wae to hear thy souchin' wins, I'm wae to see thy snaw : I'm wae for a' the bieldless birds That chirp aroun' the lee : They scarce can flap their dowie wings, And ken na whaur to flee. Thou snell scowlin' Feberwar ; * What gars ye Hnger here ? There's nae music in thy voice, A lanely heart to cheer : There's nocht of sunshine in thy sky, • • To woo the lark to rove Up amang the gouden clouds, To chant her lay o' love. Thou grim growlin' Feberwar ! • ' Thou gar'st me pine and greet ; Thy gaze has frozen ilka burn That wont to ng so sweet. I lang for spring, wi' glowing rays. To cheer the woods forlorn ; And wauk gowan's dewy e'e Wi' pearly glance at morn. 158 Poems and Songs. Thou stem, ruthless Feberwar ! An thou wert fairly gane, What hopes and joys wad Nature bring, To mak' my bosom fain ! For my bonnie, braw young Hielander ; The lad I loe sae dear, Has vow'd to come and wed me, In the spring time o' the year. .1 • 7^ THE AGE OF HORSE FLESH. A Satire. AIR — "THE BRAES O GLENORCHY. >, Since time, ow're in Eden, his circuit began, He has measured by ages the progress o' man : There were ages o' aim, and o' copper and lead, C brass and o' siller, and goud, it is said ! When ae age wore out, he aye brocht roun' afresh — And the ane we hae noo, is the ^^age 0' horseflesh;'^ Depend on this maxim, and keep it in force — Gif ye'd rise to distinction, you maun hae a horse. A man may be thrifty — hae wisdom and airt, Hae fouth o' guid lear, and a sound honest heart ; His merits and virtues a' free fiae defect j But, wantin' a horse, he can hae nae respect. He may claw wi' his fingers, and scart wi' his taes, For his wifie and his bairns to get vittels and claes : His toils a' rin' thrawart — frae bad aye to worse ; But there's nane cares a fig, cause he ha'es na' a horse. Poems and Songs. »59 There are chiels that hae horses, wha ought tu liae nana — They do ither folks wark, and mislippen their ain : 'I'hey're far too obleegin' when needy folk ca', And ken na the vakie o' horse flesh ava ; In spring time they plew and harrow their soil, And ncer charge a cent for their fother nor moil ; They leuk on sic acts as on duties, of course ; But I'd no be sae simple gif I had a horse. (iif I had a horse, oh ! how proud I wad be ! The bouk o' my spirit the warl' soon wad see ; Nae mair on s/iank's nai^ie I'd paidle the mire, Nor count mysel' second to nabob or squire ! I'd sit on a saddle, saft pachit \vi' woo', As stie as a general equipped for review ; VVi' braw tinsel trimmings weel fitted, of course, I'd ride to some purpose gif I had a horse. Gif I had a horse and a buggy sae neat, Ye wad never fin' space in't for poverty's seat, Nae lean draigled vagrant should sit by my side; For wha wad keep horses that beggars might ride? 1 ne'er deemed it proper to troke wi' the poor ; There's nae profit in't, and sma' credit I'm sure ; This worthy auld maxim I'd always indorse — '* Let charity whitle^ gif I had a horse." »: Gif I had a horse, Oh ! sic knowledge I'd hae, There wad nane contradict me in ought I wad say; A' my words wad be wit, a' my notic ns correct, And the grist o' my judgement there's nane wad suspect. I'd revel in friendship, and wallow in fame. And hae some grand title affixed to my name ! But barren o' gumption, and credit of course, I maun ever remain gif I haena' a horse. %\ is I I 1 60 Poems and Songs. Humpbackit King Richard, wha fought for a crown, When at Bos worth defeated he fain \vould hae flown ; In his tumult o' terror, distraction and rage, Whilst he pranced like a panther enclosed in a cage ; He bode a guid price for a naig on that day, To bear his gnarled carcass awa' frae the fray; He proffered his kingdom — 'twas England ^ of course. Which proves the high value he placed on a horse ! There's a substance which some thought a fable langsyne ; But its turned out a fact> and its truth I'll define : Ye've heard o' the famous "philosopher's stane" For which men o' science sic search^n' have ha'en ; It wad turn into goud ilka thing that it touched ; And some swapp'd their souls io be with it enrich'd. What fools they, auld Beelzybub's bonds to indorse ; I'd prove you I'd found it, gif I had a horse. The chiel wi' the horse, a' mankind count as brither, And if he own ane he may soon own anithe^ ; He's born to success, by reciprocal rule ; For we're a' prone to basting the belly that's full. Yon auld simple j)roverb, there's truth in't ye'll fin'. That " ae touch 0' nature mak's a the warrd km ;" And " a touch o' horse flesh," will the sequel en- force — I'd be up 'mang the great ones gif 1 had a horse. 5:r -«s ;l Poems and Songs. i6i NELLIE ADAIR. AIR — "harper of mull." Far away fr'>m the turmoil of life's busy throng, The sweet fa.oured home haunts of boyhood among ; How prone is my fancy to visit each scene, Where my bosom's first raptures awakened have been ! Every flower on the mead — every bush in the glen, Hath a charm for my heart, as endearing as then ; Every spell that erst hallow'd my hope dreamings there, ' - • When I strung pearly garlands for Nelly Adair, Pure joy, robed in sunlight, danced gay o'er our path, As together we roamed o'er the bloom-purpled strath ! Whilst the bee's tiny bugle, and ourn's rushing sound. The musical magic of love shed around. Cold fate could not harm us — we lived but to be Of each other a part, in a realm full of glee, Where no echoes responded the murmurs of care, As I strung flo' ery song wreaths for Nelly Adair, I gazed on her fair face — I braided her brow. On the burn's sloping brink, where the primroses blow; And the wealth of my soul was the truth of her ^^east, As, warm in its throbbmgs, to mine it was pres't. l62 I'oems and Sofigs. ^'- \ Long, long years have passed o'er the sweet homely vale, Since our Eden was scatter'd'by Death's blighting gale, Still my fancy, in dreamings, fond converse can share With my soul's earliest treasure, fair Nelly Adair. Ye are dear to my bosom, ye green haunts of yore ! That back to their altar youth's feelings restore, When beauty's warm spell, round my fond ravish'd heart, Sheds the love-hallow'd incense that ne'er may depart. Away ye gay baubles, proud fortune and fame ! Your grandeur and glory alike I disdain ; Come, fancy — all peerless — with thee let me share One life-long love-vision with Nelly Adair. A LOVE LYRIC. AIR — "THE LASS OF ARRANTEENIE. Now winter's surly reign is o'er, The snow has left the mountains ; Fair spring unfolds her vernal store ; And sunshine gilds the fountains : Adown the woodland's winding glade, My Mary, let us wander, And share the joys by nature spread, In wild, sweet, simple grandeur. By racing burn and hazel screen The April flow'rs are springing, And song-birds gay thro' every scene Their lays of lo' are singing. Poems and Songs. 163 There, far from fashion's faithless show, Its cares and fruitless pining, We'll share love's fond endearing glow. Beyond proud wealth's divining. Let mad ambition climb to i)ow'r, Give pride its tinsell'd grandtur, (jive sordid minds their golden dow'r, And fashion halls of splendor ; Give me Monstuart's leafy grove, And thee, my Mary, by me. To roam at will and talk of love, Ev'n monarchs might envy me. We'll stray till night in starry pride, Reveal's its beaming glories ; Truth-hallow'd love our hearts shall guide. And hope dance light before us. Enfolded to this ardent breast. With faith that ne'er can vary, In pure devotion fondly press'd, I'll bless my blue-eyed Mary. SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. Willie Wanless lived on Jed, A bickermaker bould and slee, As greedy as the rav'nous gled, And crafty as a fox was he, He had a wife o' gipsey kin, A cave-bred carlin' swart and thin : The neebors ca'd her cut-i/ic-unn ; A kittle dame I trow was she. Chorus — **0' sic a wife as Willie had !" As Willie had, as Willie had ! Had horned Belzie been her dad, n viler pest she couldna be. nv ft'' K i 164 Poems a7id Songs. She was a sprout o' spaewife breed, That round the borders bore the gree ; And glamour'd a' the youth o' Tweed, Wi' mony a cmel sinfu' lee. She was the get o' Judith Faa, They hang'd langsyne on Berwick Law For steaHn' gentle bairns awa, To gain a heavy ransom fee. - - O sic a wife, etc. Her form was tall, her shouthers braid, Her black hair matted on her bree, Her dark een sunken in her head. Aye gleamin' fou o' fiendish glee. She swam the river like an eel ; The tallest tree like cat she'd speel ; And ne'er could maukin cross a fell, And jouk sae gleg o' limb as she. O sic a wife, etc. At a' the trysts, at a' the fairs, Frae Kelso to the banks o' Dee, She duly trogg'd wi' Willie's wares ; And dreaded far and near was she. She wadna cowe for priest or laird — For gentles she had nae regard, 'Tween belted knight and smutty caird Nae 'difference could the randy see. O sic a wife, etc. For how she fenn'd wi' her guidman, It needsna trouble you nor me ; Nae doots he reckon'd her a swan. And she thocht him a hinnie bee I For tho' they baith gat steamin' fou, And fought like ither randy crew. Foems and Songs. 165 They aye had rovvth to fry and stew, And meal and maut to mak them gree. O sic a wife, etc. The fattest hens 'tween Tyne and Tweed, The brawest bleachings on the lea They'd stown, wi' siccan dexterous speed, As aye defied the tentiest e'e. If hemm'd to bear her booty aff, She weel could swing a yeddart staff — And fell the beagle, like a cauf, Wha'd daur to curb her liberty. O sic a wife, etc. Ae day she gae'd to Kelso tryst A wauly load o' bickers wi' \ The sodgers had come there to list, Wi' fife and drum and martial glee, Wi' mony a wild unhallowed aith. She swore they'd come her trade to scath \ And bann'd wi' sic disloyal breath, She fairly set their craft ajee. , O sic a wife, etc. They dragged her to the auld Tol booth. But just as weel they'd ler her be — She charg'd the jailor, claw and tooth, And fley'd him till he set her free ! Then doon she bang'd him in the mire. And lap and leugh wi' vengfu' ire, Syne set the auld tolbooth on fire. And owre the meadows hame did flee ! O sic a wife, etc. To Yetholm kirk they raucht her ance, Some gospel benison to pree ; i ¥: 'I" i66 Poems and Songs. She straight began to shout and dance, When Bangor woke his haly glee ! Mess John he graned wi' pious dread, He daur'd na preach — he daur'd na read : She cuist her bauchels at his head, And skipp'd and flang to wild degree ! O sic a wife, etc. For civil law or moral rule. She didna care a single flea : The scoff o' branks or cutty stool. Just left her as she wont to be. At length, ae year, some secret fate, Sent down the famous Hawick spate, And bore her aff, a wee o'er late. To feed the partans in the sea ! O sic a wife, etc. DOWN IN YON WOODLAND. Down in yon woodland among the green boughs. By the clear winding river, that sings as it flows, On a soft mossy bank, where the bluebells are spring- ing 5 . And the merle its sweet c rol to evening is singing ; A counting the moments though swiftly they flee, My lov'd one, my true one is waiting for me ! A counting the moments, etc. I fancy I hear his fond sigh on the breeze, As he whispers my name to the flowers and the trees. And the soft flowing tones of his melody wander. Thro' every reft scene where the echoes meander ; Whilst low in yon dell, 'neath the great linden tree. My lov'd one, my true one is 'aiting for me. Whilst low in yon dell, etc. 'Poems and Soiigs. 167 The stock dove is calling his mate to his side, To tell her his love in the calm eventide — Lo ! scorning all dangers around and aboN e her, How fondly she speeds to the bow'r of her lover ! Even so would I haste, had I wings such as she, Where my lov'd one, my true one is waiting for me. Even so would I speed, etc. How feeble — inconstant — how fleeting and cold. Seems the love that is based on an altar of gold ! O ! shield me ye shades from itslurements forever! And grant me a cot by this dear rolling river ! My life's love to share 'neatii yon green Imden tree, With the lov'd one, the true one that's waiting for me. My life's love to share, etc. THE SMUT MACHINE. AIR- (( THE TINKLERS WEDDING. Attend a' ye whom it concerns, — A' ye wha' hae got wives and bairns : An honest miller frae the Mearns Has crossed the sea to be our freen ; He 's bigg'd a mill in Habbie's hole, And, tho' it sounds a wee thought droll, He winna charge a raxin' toll, Nor use a filthy smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine. The menseiess thievin' smut machine; Its greedy maw ye ne'er can sta', The roguish, rievin' smut machine. m\ i68 Poems and Son^s, An honest miller ! Farmers a', Come, cast your grumblin' thrums avva' ; Tho' lang we've grudg' our melders sma*, And lichter than they should hae been ; Nae mair guid wives need scauld and greet, Nor bairns get stinted o' their meat; We now can shun the wily cheat, The plaguey, pilf'rin smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. The knave who first devised the plan Could scarce deserve the name o' man j His conscience aye 'neath poortiths ban, Must many a dolefu' fleg have gien, For while he cleaned his neighbour's meal, 'Twas plain his ain he meant to bccal ; He could nae gleger serve the de'il, Than make a pilferin smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. A miller aye has sonsie hens, And hogs sae fat they burst their pens, But what they thrive on nae ane kens ; Their rowthiest dish is seldom seen ; Hut mony a puir wee hungry chiel Maun toil around the farmer's fiel, Sair scrimpit o' his crowdie meal. To glut a greedy smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. I;S~ Last spring was backward, cauld and wet. The summer dry, and scarthin* het ; And craps by vermin sae beset, The like o't seldom has been seen ; Neist cam the hair'st wi' boist'rous brash And wreck'd our fiel's wi' wild stramash — Poems and Songs. 169 \^% We had but little left to thrash, Far less to gie a smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. For ten lang days my flail I flang, And thrash'd my sheaves \vi' birrfu' bang ; But tho' ilk day was ten hours lang, I scarce could make a peck bedeen. I sent a hunner to the mill, But, thanks to pawky Meldrum's skill, Just forty punds came hame to Will, The lave went wi' the smut machine. Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. At first I trow'd 'twas some mistak', Or that some hole was in the sack. But nae; the eighth comman' was brak, And 'twadna mend it to complain, But rather wad I ply my flail To thrash the clouds, and eat the hail, Or feed on browse or sourock kail. Than trust a roguish smut machine Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. Fate lang has to our pray'rs been deaf. Now, Guid be praised, we've got relief; The knaves that thrive by sic mischief Will soon reform, or fast get lean ; When Nature winds up earth's concerns. And Belzie comes to claim his bairns, » He '11 leave the miller frae the Mearns, Because he used nae smut machine. ■■ Chorus — O, weary fa' the smut machine, etc. • s-< M I k ^mk ill 170 Poems and Songs. ... I AM SOMEBODY NOO. AIR — "TODLIN' butt AND TODLIN* BEN." Come hither, my davvtie, and join in my sang ; Ne'er fash how the cauld blasts o' winter may bang, Let's mak' our hearts blythe o'er what comforts we share, And the langer we leeve aye be lookin' for mair. I ance was as puir as a frog in a stane ; Scarce och't of the man save the skin and the bane; I was naebody then, and respeckit by few, But, praise be to fortune, I'm somebody noo. Chorus — I'm somebody noo, I'm somebody noo, O praise be to fortune, I'm somebody noo. I toil'd late and early for mony a year, For I thocht honest labor wud thrive in the rear. But the langer I strave aye the puirer I fen'd, Till povereesed conscience na mair could contend ; She counsell'd me firmly to alter my creed, And eagerly I to her counsel gave heed ; 'Twas lucky I did, lass, as weel you may trow. For you see I'm leukt up to, as somebody noo. As somebody noo, as somebody noo, etc. I aye had a notion to leuk like a laird, To ha'e a fine palace and bonnie flow'r yaird, Wi' rowth o' braw flunkies to rin at my ca', And a watch dog to scare a' mean vagrants awa'; So I set mysel' out for to cheet and to lee, And to mak' my companions o' folks that were hie; I dealt in lang credits^ and togg'd like a Jew. And I flatter'd and fawn'd till I'm somebody noo. I'm somebody noo, I'm somebody noo, etc. Poems and Son^s. 171 The lawyer comes here wi* his pate fu' o' skill, And the doctor attends tho' 'tis no wi' his bill, 'I'he justice, the scjuire, and his revrence Mess John, Wi' a britherly kindness our dignity own. There are few o' our betters upon us leuk doon, And we'll sune be as hie as the folks in the moon; Tho' it teuk some hard grubin' sic heicht to win to, (iif conscience keeps mum, I am somebody noo. I am somebody noo, I am somebody noo, etc. I neir liked a beggar since e'er I was born, Wha howffs wi' the humble earns little but scorn, What matter how honesty seasons his plea. It's the smile o' my betters brings profit to me. The man wha in life to position wad rise, That mean scaur-craw puirtith maun learn to despise, I've lang held the maxim, apd thrave by it too, Till by aye leuken upwards, I'm somebody noo. I'm somebody noo, I'm somebody noo, etc. Tho' lang, lass, you've yaup'd like a hen in the pook. You may yet be a duchess, gif I be a duke. You'll own as braw triggin' as mony a queen. In your gilt coach by day, and your sofa at e'en ; We'll hae fine damask carpets to spread 'neath our feet, And our table sail grane wi' a' dainties that's sweet, Wi' eggs fried in gravy, and rare chicken stew, An' a greybeard to croon't, since I'm somebody noo. I'm somebody noo, I'm somebody noo, etc. Tho' neebors may whiles say I'm loopy and vain, And speel on a ladder that is na my ain. As lang's I can sprattle still upwards I'll aim, Gif the Shirras yell-nowte dinna fasten his claim. •v I' i i k '• 1 i -> w ? "i: 'i rli- ■ '■V J E V i 1 '"!'f' ■ ^1 ■f. y - 1 ' '' 'If 1 172 Poems and Songs. A wee grip o' greatness may heeze me to mair; Come honest, come l;mse, wliat the diel need we care ! It's grand to be great, lass, I trow you'll allow, Whae'er pays the piper, I'm somebody noo. I'm somebody noo, I'm somebody noo, Whae'er pays the i)iper, I'm somebody noo. It ll ^ ■ s '(■' is 'f ■ ;i i). 1 ! I 1 MARY OF STRATHCONNAN. AIR — "AFTON water." By Huron's calm tide, when the sun's in the west, And his rays kiss the wavelets that glide o'er its breast. When the loud choral din of the forest declines, And the smoke of the hamlet is wreathing the pines, Strathconnan's green arbors, how dear is their shade. As eve's ling'ring haloes still gleam through the glade, Where love's tryst I hold 'neath yon sweet linden tree, With Mary, the pride of Strathconnan's green lea. Tho' humble her life in her rural abode, Where the stream to the flowers chants it sweet fitful ode, In rustic simplicity's matchless array, As queen of the sylvans she's throned in my lay ; But wider her empire than song can impart, I've built her a shrine in the core of my heart, Where its proudest emotions her homage shall be, Fair Mary, the pride of Strathconnan's green lea. Poems and Songs. ^3 ! had I the treasures of earth's richest zone : Its mightiest sceptre, its loftiest throne, With all its high honors and garniture vain. If shared not with Mary, to me all were pain; I'd pine from the dawn till the night's darksome tide, O'er my vision-wreck'd Hincy again should preside, If fate my soul s ({ueen-gift denied her to be, Fair Mary, the pride of Strathconnan's green lea. Go, cull me the flower with the blue drooping bell, That blooms where the water winds down the soft dell. And gather yon rose from its wild thorny spray, And the violet that gladdens the holm with its ray. The meak meadow pink with its blushes of love. And all the chaste flower-gems of valley and grove, I'll twine them together a garland to be ^ For Mary, the pride of Strathconnan's green lea. 1 woo not the music that swells in proud domes, Where the soul in a lab'rynth of melody roams, While the phantoms of fashion in soulless display. Affectedly breathe forth the meaningless lay, But give me the strains that are fresh from the heart. The groves holy cadence, untutored by art, I'll pour their vvild raptures and pure simple glee, To Mary, the pride of Strathconnan's green lea. HEY DONALD! HOW DONALD! The first verse and chorus of the following song are the fragment of an unfinished song by Robt. Tannahill. Now summer smiles on bank and brae. And nature bids the heart be gay, ! ■/■■'. ;t! Mi 174 - Poems and Songs. But, a' the joys o' flow'ry May, ' "' Wi' pleasure canna move me. Hey Donald ! how Donald ! Think upon your vow, Donald, Mind the heathery knovve, Donald, Whar' ye )w'd to love me ! Now lane 's my time since thou'rt awa', Perchance 'mang fiaes, afar, to fa' r , ' I weary roam by glen and shaw, Whar' wild-flow'r wreathes you wove me ; Hey Donald ! how Donald, etc, Ilk gaudy charm o' summer bloom, Wears to my e'e some lint o' gloom ; The birdies whistling 'mang the broom Wi' painful feelings move me. Hey Donald, how Donald, etc. My mother bids me dicht my e'e. My faither frets and frowns on me ; And for that love I've plighted thee, They ear' and late reprove me. ^ Hey Donald ! how Donald, etc. They bid me spin, they bid me sing. They try a' airts my faith to ding ; They've hid from me thy token ring, The pledge you gave to love me. Hey Donald ! how Donald, etc. But wharsoe'er, by land or sea. My sodger love thy lot may be. Thy truth shall ne'er be wranged by mc, I swear by a' above me. Hey Donald ! how Donald, etc. (I**-- Poems and Songs. 175 BRAES O' THK TYNE. Lassie, I loe thee, aft hae 1 tauld the How dowie my life in thy absence would be, Close to this bosom again let me fauld thee, Fondly and truly it beats but for thee ; Here in the dell, where the birk and the rowan tree Close wi' the hazel and slaethorn entwine, While our flocks peacefully graze on thegowan lee, Dearest ! come niffer thy life plight wi' mine. Gracefu' and bonnie the wee flow'rs are springing. Clearly the stream mingles doon thro' the glen ; The mavis and linwhite are cantily singing ; The sun's setting halo yet gleams on the ben. A' the bright joys o' the summer gay flow'ry prime Roun' our wee love-biel in sweetness shall vie : Beauty and song mak' our love haunt a bowry clime. Chaster and purer as e'enin' draws nigh. Sma' are my riches and lowly my dwellin', And humble the lot I can proffer to thee ; Nae title hae I to a proud garnished maihn ; The tow'rs or the tinsel o' lofty degree. Down on yon strath, whar the sunlicht sae bonnie glows, i/tands my wee cot on the braes o' the Tyne, Three score and ten — a' my warld's wealth o' bonnie yowes : Lass, can you lo'e me, and a' shall be thine ? Gaily the lark sings at dawn o'er the shealing. Waking his love frae the gowansprent lea ; And a' the fresh joys o' the summer revealing, Kind nature at noontide shall open for thee ; 176 Poems ana Sonss. And vvher. the e'ening shades ca' hame the roaming bee, Laden wi' sweets to his saft mossy den ; While tlie hoarse ryecraik is carping his gloamin' glee,. Swiftly I'll hie to thee, lassie, again. Purely our lives, as the tide o' the burnie. Shall glide like its waters that hum to the flow'rs, And peace, love and truth, to the end o' our journey, Far mair than the palace can boast — shall be ours. Lassie, T lo e thee — long, long I've sigh'd for thee, A' this fond heart can gie, love shall be thine, Want ne'er shall be thy fa' — rowth I'll provide for thee ; Come ! bless my wee cot on the braes o' the Tyne. IT'S AN' ILL WIN' THAT BLAWS NAEBODY GOOD. As I sit by my ingle and smoke at my weed, While the snawstorm is crakin' the rufe ow're my head, And the cauld wheelin' drift thro' ilk cranm blaws ben, 'Till it's piled up and fruize' at the very fire en' ; I whiles grudge the comforts the wealthy enjoy, ' In their warm couthie ha's, free frae care's cauld alloy, 'Till conscience cries hooly — indulge na sic mood, " Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." This pithy auld proverb I lenrn'd in my youth, And often my solace I fand in its truth : For e'en when my loss prov'd some ither chiel's gain, I said — " We hae nocht we can weel ca' our ain." Poems and Songs. 177 A conscience that's clear o' the carpins o' crime, Is the treasures unshaken by tempest or time : We ne'er can be reft o't — blavv civil or rude, — *• Its an ill win' that blavvs naebody good," Frae the hour o' our birth till the hour that v/e dee, To the great law o'change we aye subject maun be ; There's nae settled nick whar its wheel may stan' still. It keeps rowin' forever in spite o' our skill : And aft as we loup at the goal o' our hope. We tapple and fa' mid disasters to grope. But the wreck o' one's fa' gies a score aft their food : " Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." Yon Laird has his palace and bonnie estate, And a dozen mean flunkies his ca' to await. He has wealth on the Ian, he has wealth on the sea, But wifeless and heirless he's fated to be ; His friens he discards them — tho' shamefu to tell, He wants e'en the saul to enjoy it himsel : That the parish will heir him 'tis weel understood : " Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." The fre?iks o' dame fortune may puzzle us sair, Her highways, and byeways, 'tween hope and despair ; Sic uphih^ and downhills she jogs us thro' life. Midst brightness and darkness, and concord and strife ! Some purpose o' Providence orders it sae, And tho* whiles our prospect seems blirtie and wae, We neer should sit down o'er our sorrows to brood : "Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." I aften hae thocht, as I santer'd alane. To ponder o'er pages o' time that had gane, i \' (| \ i Mi ■^ ^vS V ■«' JHh' fe '91' ''vv" '«s^' isHi ii '!■'. fll' :' ■ all ' Ai 178 Poems and Songs. How lucky the lot o' some fellows might be, Had they studied auld Nature's designments like me: ' How purely impartial she ettles to rule ; How nane should be tyrant, and nane should be snool, 'Twad save meikle bickerin', and heartbreak, and fued : — " Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." Thank heav'n for a biel and wee bit o' soil ; A head that can think, and a han' that can toil ; A sonsie kin' spouse and some blythe ruddy bairns, Wi' the brats and the brose that leal industry earns : The menseless and fretfu may caption for gear, And girn at a' blasts that sweep o'er the year : This saw for my maxim aye tem[)ers my mood : — " Its an ill win' that blaws naebody good." THE WANDERER. Far away o'er land and sen, wheresoe'er thy wander- ings be, In ([uest of fame or fortune, prone apart from me to roam ; Dost thou e'er thou rambler ! fancy, that the spirit of thy Nancy Is with weary watchings, worn and woe, 'Lorn pining here at home ? * While ambition's dazzling star o'er the gory -field of war Inspires thy breast to prowess bold thro' danger's wild career Poems and Songs. 179 Whilst battle's bolts are gleaming and glory's pennon streaming, Can soft sad thoughts of home and love Recal thy spirit here ? In the dewy twilight shade, of the leafy woodland glade — While the ring dove's plaintive murmuring floats sweetly on the wind : — Where the tinkling streamlet gushes 'mongst the fragrant flow'rs and bushes, Wilt thou e'er thou wanderer meet again With her you've left behind ? . — Oh ! that weary bauble gold ! what hearts are bought and sold By the bright ensnaring witcheries that sparkle round its shrine ! What false, false words are spoken ! what fond ties rudely broken ! . What chilling anguish preys on breasts As prone to trust as mine ! Sweet hope ! thy smiles impart to my sadly beating heart ; Give visions dear to truth sincere and joy for years to come ! When free from bloody danger, from the land of foe and stranger, Kind peace and honest-hearted love Shall call my wanderer home. m i8o Poems and Songs, ,' -I i I THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. * ' By the brink of yon crystaline spring . That flows at the foot of the hill, Where the dark-waving cedars to fling Their shadows o'er meadow and rill, — There's z bow'r where the woodbine and wild trail- ing vine In the folds of affection enchantingly twine ; Where far from the city I often recline By that spring at the foot of the hill. When the stillness of ev'ning descends, There's a magical test in the air. Unknown to the discord that blends Midst the hum and the bustle of care. How my fancy delights in that hour, To wander along by the rill ; While the zephyr in fragrance is bathing its wing Midst the wild simple flowers in the valley that spring; And the robin his sweet vesper-carol doth sin''^ By the spring at the foot of the hill. There's a maiden who dwells in the dale — A comely fresh flower of the wild ; I saw her one eve' with her pail, Which she dipp'd in the fountain and fill'd. Oh ! beauty transcendant ! thy spell From that moment my bosom did fill ; For the fairest of forms and the sweetest of looks Ever seen in my visions, or read of in books, Were hers whom I saw in that Eden of nooks, By the spring at the foot of the hill. PI Poems and )ngs. i8i THE d trail- tving y tliat How I love of that water to drink ! From its fountain fresh sparkling amain ; And oft as I rise from its brink I am tempted to taste it again. In that region the spirit of love Doth surely his nectar distil ; And willing that mortals his relish should prove Hath scoop'd out that well in the bow'ry alcove, And bade that fair nymph with the ])ail often rove By the spring at the foot of the hill. In my soul I have treasured her form, So entrancingly artless and fair, That the city no longer can charm - With its pomp and its false-fleeting glare. Away from the din of its crowd, Be my lot still to revel at will. Midst rural delights and serenity blest. With the maiden whose image is shrined in my breast, [carest, Oh ! how hallow'd my hours in her fond smiles By the spring at the foot of the hill. !^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 u& ^ I.I 11.25 1^ Hi Uk us 2.5 2.2 UUi. 111= 1-4 11.6 y / // A O i i86 Poems and Songs. But we little thought what dreary ye«trs Should part us, till we'd die ! We little dream'd that rash farewell Should wring our memories now ; Or my jarring harpstrings wake to tell Of my long-lost Jeanie Lowe. . MY AULD FIDDLE. Aye, that's my auld fiddle that hangs in the neuk : And my heart whiles feels dowie when on it I look ; Sae mony auld memories and sympathies rise, Frae the mist o' past/ ears wi' their griefs and their joys. 'Twas far far away, owre the braid foamin' main. In a land whar my feet ne'er may travel again ; In the land o' brave hearts — in the days o' langsyne, Where I first learned to tune that auld fiddle o' mine. I then was a laddie untramel'd by care, Wi' a spirit as free as my ain mountain air ; A bosom wi' hamely affections imbued, And a sprinkling o' social desire in my blood ; I played to the bairns in the calm summer e'en. As they frisked wi' delight on the lown village green, 'Till the auld folk wad aft wi' the younkers combine, And skip to that couthie auld fiddle o' mine. I've tuned in bothies 'mang swains and their jo's, 'Till they cuist aff their hobnails and spankt in their hose ! [the reel, 'Till they whirl'd in the jig, and they dash'd through Cut high upon tiptae, and stamped wi' the heel ! Poems and Songs. 187 While rafter and ruiftree, and e'en the stain wa', Or concord or discord, aft threatened to fa' ; And down ilk brown cheek stream'd the warm sweaty brine, As they bobb'd to that canty auld fiddle o' mine. In the farmer's blyth spence, in the baron's proud hall, At kirn, and at bridal, and holiday ball, Nae guest o' the party, nor humble nor high. Could brag o' a kindlier reception than I ; For my mellow-voiced fiddle had magic they said, And the wale o' their feast was the music it made ; The sangs aye grew sweeter — the dancin' mair fine, When led by that dainty auld fiddle o' mine. I've waked its sweet spirit on land and on sea ! I've tuned it to sorrow, 'Ive tuned it to glee, I've screwed up its strings to the cadence o' love,— To the thrill o' the lavroc — the wail o' the dove 1 I've raised its bauld tones to the patriot's lay In the clime o' my birth, and in climes far away : And many memorials o' hallow'd langsyne, Are wreathed roun' that friendly auld fiddle o' mine. 'Twas the gift o' a cronie, true-hearted and leal. And he taught me the method to play on't as weel ; Thro' guid and ill-fortune it's aye been my plea, That nae profifer could wile the auld keepsake frae me; Tho' many the jostles and flegs we hae gat — We are baith o' us Scotch and the better for that ; So as lang as I'm leevin' I'll never resign, That long-treasured faithfu' auld fiddle o' mine. 1 88 Poems and Songs. THE CLACKITT STREET COO. BY A CLACKITT STREET POLICEMAN. Perhaps ye'll hae heard o' the Clackitt street coo ; If no yeVe a chance for to hear o' her noo : Nae cow in the loanin wi' her could compare, Sae rowth Avas her milk and its virtues sae rare ! The brute grew sae famous, that gang whar ye micht, Frae the grey dawn o' morn till the mirk hour o' nicht, The theme o' ilk gossip the neighbourhood thro', Was aye sure to turn on the Clackitt street coo. 'Twas said, by some crone wha' pretended to skill, That her milk was a cure for amaist every ill, And folk that were simple and eithly deceived, . The wonderfu statement as deftly believed ! They a' ran to buy it wi' credulous haste, When ony mishanter their health wad molest. Till the craft o' the doctor a failure sune grew. Thro' the wonderfu' milk o' th 'lackitt street coo! Besides, it had ither peculiar charms Which I '11 strive to rehearse in poetical terms : 'Twas said that auld spinsters, and bachelors too. By drinkin' o't freely, their youth could renew ! That it banish'd the freckles and furrows o' time ! Restored a' the ardour and hues o' life's prime I Made wedlock aye certain, and spouses aye true, The wonderfu' milk o' the Clackitt street coo ! Gif a lassie were dwarfish, ill-featured and dun, And nae Jo's affections were likely to win ; Gif she ettled the han o' some chiel to attain, And plied a' her force o' attractions in vain ; , Poems atid Songs. 189 COO. N. reet coo; o : )are, ". rare ! ye micht, k hour o' »d thro', :t coo. d to skill, ^ni, eived, . d! )lest, grew, treet coo ! terms : elors too, enew ! o' time ! prime ! aye true, t coo ! d dun, ttain, , ain; Though big as a giant and proud as a duke, As firm as a gudgeon he'd stick on her hook, Gif she in his tea but ae thimblefu" threw C the wonderfu' milk o' the Clackitt street coo ! The Templars wha ne\ er encourage a vice, On their meeting-nights quat^t'd it, imd vow'd it was nice ; It serv'd them to fang Ideality's spring, Made fluent their tongues, and inspired them to sing ! It strengthened their lungs, and it meilow'd their throats, Till their cadence outrivall'd the bleating of goats; And fifty mair virtues, forbye these I trow, They found in the milk o' the Clackitt street coo. The milliner used it for starchin' her frills — The apothecar' used it to glozen his pills ! The minister quaffed it to help him to preach ! The dominie drank o't to help him to teach ! His soiled paper collars he spung'd ^v^'t, they say, For the lad was too frugal to throw them away — And shampoon'd his ringlets — as some folks allow, Wi' the rich creamy milk o' the Clackitt street coo. Be't fact or be't fable — I've heard too of late, C a laird and his lady, o' heirless estate, Wha advised by the spaewife,ae eeni'n stepp'd owre, Resolved for to test its miraculous power ! They drank o't wi' freedom and syne slippit hame — And in nine short months after just wot ye what came ; Ye may guess 'twas an heir — but I tell ye 'twas two, Thro' the wonderfu' milk o' the Clackitt street coo. Nae doubt o't — a coo o' sic virtues as she. Wad sune turn a mark for ilk covetous e'e : II jiij' 190 Poems and Sotigs, Nae wonder gif envy in friendly disguise Soon fell on a project to seize sic a prize ! They slandered the owner and glamour'd his wife, And bred sic a storm o' connubial strife, As a' their domestic arrangments o'erthrew, Resolv'd to get baud o' the Clackitt street coo ! At length — to evade a bit crook in the law, She was made a mock sale o' to Eppie McCraw, Wha teuk the de'il's coonsel her conscience to hush- That ".i bird hi the hati' was icort/i twa in the bushy Quo' she — "here nae langer in puirtith I'll grane, This coo 's just as gude's the philosopher's stane, On the strength o' her milk and her butter, I trow, I'll sune speel to wealth wi' the Clackitt street coo." But the loftiest castle we bigg in the air, However sae Strang and however sae fair — The first sweeping surge o' adversity's storm, To the chaos o* vapours will scatter its form ! Sae fared the grand structure o' Eppie McCraw, Deceitfully based on her neebour's doonfa : — May honour aye cling just whar honour is due, .And the right ovMierhae the Clackitt street coo. SYMPTOMS OF GOOD WEATHER. Stern winter, inclement and tardy. Is off to his boreal home ; And spring has come forth in her beauty, Thro' meadow and woodland to roam ; The ice-spell is broke from the fountains. How gladsome their freedom they sing Foems and Songs. 191 his wife, : coo ! cCraw, to hush-- the bushy '11 grane, r's stane, ^r, I trow^ eet coo." »rm ! xCraw, a: — s due, et coo. lER. Oh ! who would not join in their anthems. To welcome the advent of spring ? The gnats o'er the marshes are buzzing, They 're playing at April fools ! And the bullfrogs in ecstacy babbling, Hold carnival tic'- in the pools ; O'er the greenswara, ,■ j lambkii s are frisking, The partridges drum in the brake, The catkins are silvering the willows, And bees from their torpor awake. The blue bird is shouting his rapture, . The cushat is wooing his bride, And the heron sits watching the troutlets As thro' the clear water they glide, The grasshopper chants 'mong the stubble, The walls with the cricket resound ; And the tone of the humming bird's bugle. Comes pleasantly floating around. The ploughman is turning his furrows. So gladsome he whistles or sings ; And the zephyrs each other are chasing. With music of joy on their wings ; The leaves of the forest are budding. The mavis is piping his lay, And the dewdrops are brilliantly twinkling Like opals on every spray. The sunbeams in sparkling grandeur. Are shedding the holiest gleams ; And the lovely, fresh features of nature Are mirror'd again in the streams : The fields are resuming their verdure, The snow-drops and lillies appear, And the daisies have opened their petals To gem the young breast of t'le year, f\ 192 Poems and Songs. Oh ! how sweet are the spring's ruddy glories, What melody reigns in her voice ; As she breathes o'er the earth's teeming bosom, And bids her pure spirits rejoice ! Like the visions of hope in life's morning, In promise so holily pure, Unsoiled by adversity's bligh tings ; Oh ! would they could always endure. LONG AGO. "Long ago " — those are the words that in hours of reflection, The sweetest or saddest remembrance impart : The beams of delight, or the clouds of dejection, With all the emotions that spring in the heart. When Memory, with hermit devotion, retraces The paths we have trod on Hfe's journey below. Say, — where beats the heart that not only confesses A soul-binding spell in the words — "Long ago?" Long ago was the time when paternal affection First moulded our natures to feelings of love, When with Virtue's reward, or with Vice's correc- tion, The dawn-dreams of childhood were all interwove. When the young eye of hope, thro' the gay future peering, Saw peace, love, and beauty, untainted by woe; As away on delight's glancing wavelets careering, The heart's proudest joys we have shared long ago. . ■hm Poems and Songs, 193 es, >som, \ hours of impart : jection, - heart, races y below, confesses ng ago?" action f love, ;'s correc- interwove. gay future d by woe ; areering, ared long Long ago I when our footsteps by woodland or mountain, Pursued the swift flight of the song-bird or bee, Or strolled by the banks of some clear native foun- tain That sang on it's course through the green rushy lea, With the song of the lark, to the clo\idlet's ascending, The balm of the flowers that around us did blow, In harmony, perfume and beauty all blending, No Eden seemed sweeter than our's long ago. Long ago ! who but minds the enraptured eni'^tion That stirred the fond breast in love's first glow- ing kiss? As heart pressed to heart, in its ardent devotion. Revealed by its throbbings the depth of its bliss, Tho' the fell breath of falsehood hope's garland hath blighted, And wreathed in its stead the dark cypress of woe, — As we mourn over vows that too rashly were plighted. Don't they still bind our souls to the sweet long ago? Even now — tho' the breast in the toils of ambition May pant for the future — it's gifts or it's praise; As we seek from our cares a brief moment's re- mission. How sure retrospection her curtain must raise! Away ! ye who Lethe's dark waters preferring. Your vices in shades of oblivion would throw; Oh ! give me remembrance, thy fountain, unsparing, The bliss-hallowed waves of the sweet long ago. : J" ' W '" mmr 194 Poems and Songs. MY AIN LAND. V ' '1 1^ 1 \ (< AIR— "JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. I WADNA gie my ain land for many lands I've seen, Although they may hae hills as high, and vales as fresh and green ; The' history's page, and minstrel's sang, may reach them high to fame, I canna loe them wi' sich pride, nor count them as my hame. There's something in my ain land that nowhere else is found, A holier charm by far than e'er by ither lands was own'd, — It twined like music round my heart, in childhood's march sublime, And still it stirs its loftiest joys, unmarr'd by chance or time. I dearly lo'e my ain land, altho' its far awa, Tho' nigged are its mountain steeps, and clad in June wi' snaw; Tho' snell its Norland tempests rage, and white its torrents foam, The grandeur o' its wild free spells can charm wher':'er I roam. The waves that gird my ain land, and lave its rocky coast, Have many a Strang invader's bones aneath their surges toss't; And many a cave in nameless glen, where history scarce can pry, Has echoed back the foeman's wail in ages lang gone by. Poems and Songs. 195 I've seen, i vales as nay reach It them as where else lands was hildhood's . by chance There's wealth within my ain land nae mines of goud excel, — A wealth marauder ne'er could reave, nor wily traitor sell ; The Hero's mound, the Martyr's grave, and Truth's enduring shrine, Where bravery, faith, and moral worth their lasting proofs combine. Ye winds that fan my ain land, and o'er the ocean sweep, Oh! waft to soothe a wanderer's mind, some whisperings o'er the deep: Come laden wi' the sacred strains which patriot'^ chaunt wi' pride. And incense frae yon stern auld hills where nana but freemen bide. va, ad clad in id white its can charm ,^6 its rocky ineath their lere history n ages lang WILL O' THE WOOD. Thro' the wide forest the zephyrs o' simmer Roam, fraught wi' the cadence o' Nature's gay sang, And the eye-beams o' May thro' the green leaflets glimmer, Or sport wi' delight the tall shadows amang. Beautiful flowers through the pathway are peering, , Like pearl-gems at random neglectfully strew'd, In meek decorations sae artless endearing. The sylvan retirement o' Will o' the Wood. See whar yon cot, frae its bowery seclusion, Peeps forth frae its archway o' boughs wavin' green; f' f 96 Poems and lSni!;s, Half seemin' to hide frae the warl's pert intrusion, Nae proud sculptured emblems enrichen the scene, But peace, love, and virtue, the purest o' treasures, Wi^ health and content's holy blessings imbued, Endorseth the beauty, enhanceih the pleasures, Knnobleth the dwellin' o' Will o' the Wood. Tho' simple the s icture o' Will's habitation, . And few are the fields o' his earthly domain, Cauld penury ne'er hauds his heart in prostration, — He sings as he toils, and he toils not \\\ vain. He shares wi' the needy the fruits o' his labour, And ne'er to the wayfaring outcast is rude ; A warm-feeling friend, and a kind honest neighbo'r, Wi' merits untauld is leal Will o' the Wood. The minion o' pride in his stey chiselled palace, May scan the low cottage o' Will wi' disdain, While slave to his passions, mean, sordid, and jealous. His pomp and his pastime how futile and vain ! Flush'd vice 'mang the faulds o' voluptuous grandeur. The barb o' remorse there by fits may elude. May gambol wi' wantonness, revel in splendor, — Life's joys are endurin' wi' Will o' the Wood. LOVE'S CONFIDENCE. My heart is on the waves to-night, far, far away at sea, Where, like the sea-gull on its flight, my Harry's bark scuds free ; :il! Poems and Smigs. 197 rusion, len the easures, nbued, ires, lod. )n, . lain, ation, — vain. bour, le; eighbo'r, )od. alace, idain, did, and id vain ! grandeur, ilude, idor, — ^ood. ir away at y Harry's Where boundless skies in starry sheen o'erarch ilie waters blue, And orbs, that ne'er on land are seen, rise hourly on his view. iMethinks I hear the rushing gales that charm the weary tars. That tautly fill the ample sails, and bend the lofty spars. The chevlsh'd hum of ditties gay, which watchmen on the deep Oft sing, to while dull time away, whilst weary mess- mates sleep. My Harry's firm and measured pace along the deck I hear ; I note his call to man each brace, and tell what course to steer. And swift as forth the dolphin hastes, the stately vessel hies, Till ocean's dark and briny wastes in silvery furrovv^s rise. May every power that favours love, and tends its due reward, In steady vigil wait above, my sailor's life to guard ; From crested rocks, that hidden cower in ambush 'neath the wave, From adverse storms, and lightning's power, his gallant vessel save. My Harry's practis'd eye can scan all dangers near or far ; He never shrinks from duty's van, in tempest nor in war ; - ,. , , 198 J^oems and Songs. In shipwreck as in battle prone, no laggard coward he; . , And while his heart is bravery's throne, it teems with love for me. My heart is on the waves to-night, and if I wake or sleep His manly form shall fill my sight, far straining o'er the deep ; I'll watch by day each distant sail, that rises o'er the main, And pray to every favoring gale that wafts him home again. [ coward it teems I wake ning o'er ises o'er ^afts him r- Mv r fir — Tii! To Authors. fAS. Campbell 8r Son, Publishers of the Canadian Prize Sunday School Books, the National Series of Readers, and other School and Misal- lafieous Books, are prepared to FURNISH ESTIMATES TO AUTHORS for the publication of their MSS., and may be constilted personally or by letter. They will engage to have proofs care- fully revised while passing through the press, if required. The facilities possessed by /as. 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