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L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grflce d la g6n6rosit6 de l'6tabiissement prdteur suivant : Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul ciichd sont filmdes d partir de I'angle 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 CANADA NATIONAL LIBRARY BIBLIOTHEaUE NATIONALE III Gift of Offert par Miss Florence E. MacDou,^all > I !,' » 5'' ■^1 J RHYMES. at ALEXANDER .aLENDINNIlSTGh SOMETIME IN ESKDALEMUIR, DUMFRIESSHIRE, SCOTLAND. i 4 " 1 nm forib xrf ^hsntf ." VOLUME I. LONDON, ONT. : PEINTED BY THE FREE PRESS PRINTING CO., RICHMOND ST. 1871. L 7/// 7 I Z7f ^i^^i^B y^A ^ 17S6 TO JOHN ALEXA^NIDER MXE^Y, AS ^ c^nrh x)f Sirtttxt S^unUhi^, THE AUTHOR DEDICATES THIS VOLUME. Hi I'- PREFACE. -00- When a person comes before the public, he is expected to give a reason for doing so. I can only say, that writing Ehymes has been my hobby ever since I was a schoolboy. During the long forenights of my first winter in Canada, I had seldom any com- pany excepting little children, and I used to write hymes to keep me from wearying. I wrote for my own amusement, and it is not unreasonable to sup- pose that what has amused oneself may amuse others. To upwards of five hundred and fifty subscribers I have to return my hearty thanks. They have shown goodwill; and for their sakes I would say of this work — " Would it were worthier !" ALEX. GLENDINNING. Aberlock, near Gait, Nov., 1871. (. CONTENTS. -00- " ■ ■ Tago Epistle to the Reader 9 Adieu, Bonnie Eskdale 13 The Aux Saublo's Banks 16 " Epistle to Mr. John Bell 21 To the Gallants of Eskdalemuir 32 Awa' wi' Scarboro's Muddy Creeks 39 Tibbie Bell's Address to her Auld House 42 Epistle to the Laird of Davington 44 And is not this a Wondrous Age .. 59 Epistle to Rob o' the Corner 64 To a Bug 68 Annaiidale Farming 72 Mrs. Bitters 75 Think 77 Wake, ye that Sleep 79 On the Death of a Friend 82 The Rowan Tree 84 Battle of Yonge Street, 1837 91 A Word to the Finnigans 94 The Division Court 96 On a Newfoundland Dog 101 A Temperance Ode 106 Awa', Awa', Auld Widower 110 The Shingle Weaver. . . 112 The Hon. M C at Pino Hill 114 viii • CONTENTS. Page The Moderates' Garland 117 The Gallant Ship 119 Lambton Election, 1867 121 Recollections 125 To Jenny Bell 132 To a Young Friend Newly Married 138 To a Friend 141 To Maggie 147 A Sigh 152 We Loved 1 54 'Tis Christmas Eve 156 To Mary Anne 158 The Motherless Bairns 161 To a Friend in Scotland 163 The Organ Question 167 The Psalms that Gude King David Sang 172 A Story of the Old Burial Ground of Kirkconnel 175 Verses Written on Seeing a Human Skull 184 The Pedlar 186 Extract of a Report of the General Assembly at Quebec, June, 1871 205 ToE 212 Verses for the New Year, 1868 215 Verses on a Sermon by Rev. W. M. Punshon 217 Whow ! that Drink 222 Lines Written at the Time of the Franco-Prussian War ; 225 What News Afloat 227 A Monody 230 Benedicite 233 A New-made Grave 237 Margaret de Graeme 238 "if (Epistle to the pcaber. Gude verse twangs like a fiddlestring, The bad creaks like a padlock rusted ; This language is a stubborn thing, When into rhyme you go to twist it : Stringing your cramp, hard words together Is much like plaiting a hair tether. Just figure to yourself a Bard, With paper, pens and ink before hini- He cannot write a single word Unless Apollo's watching o'er him : He sighs, and cries to all the muses, Who all begin to make excuses. X EPISTLE TO THE READER. Good Clio cannot lielp liim now, She's helping some new-fledged Macanlay To write a history in Hindoo Of Tippo Saib and Hyder Ali ; And Polyhymnia daily teaches Our M.P.P.'s to cramp their speeches. \h 4 . Terpsicore has work on hand 'Mong Paris beaux and Paris beauties ; Entei'pe bids him understand Slie's busy now with other duties ; And — what d'ye call her ? — Miss Calliope Has some old manuscripts to copy. In vain he pleads with all the nine ; ^ Each would be happy to befriend him, Eut, busy in another line, She rej^lly cannot now attend him. ,,«*. EPISTLE TO THE READER. Has not our Bard sufficient reason To wait till a more fitting season ? 6 He mounts his Pegasus again, And, mindful of his late mischanter, With whip and spurs, and bit and rein, He tries to urge him to a canter ; But your dull, long-ear'd beast— confound him !- Won't mend his pace howe'er you pound him xi .^ « RHYMES. -00- Adieu, Bonnie Eskdale ! Adieu, bonuie Eskdale I muir, mountain and wild-wood, Be peace in the cottage and joy in the ha' ; Adieu to the hearth and the home of my childliood — Friends, comrades and kinsmen ! farewell to ye a'. How oft, wi' light footstep, in life's early morning, Hae I ran by Glendairg and the Midkipple lea ; To scenes of my youth the glad spring is returning, But winter, dull winter, is gathering on me. I' )' I h • \ 14 JRHYMES. Far up in Tamluecher the bleater is crooning, The lark sings his sang on the Bonnieknowe brae ; In Fushie the blackbird his whistle is tuning, But his notes o' langsyne make me weary and wae. Nae mair, never mair, shall I climb the brown moun- tain, To gaze on my native vale stretching beneath ;• Nae mair in the correi I'll sit by the fountain And muse on my hirsel wdde spread on the heath. The years shall loll on, and my name be forgotten, The st "^er shall won in the Caldron's wild glen ; But I'll never forget, till life's last tie is broken, The friends o' langsyne and the braes o' the Pen. KHYMES, 15 Adieu, bonnie Eskdale ! muir, mountain and wild-wood; Be peace in tlie cottage and joy in the ha' ; Adieu to the hearth and the home of my childhood — Friends, comrades and kinsmen ! farewell to ye a'. , ■ I 16 RHYMES. The Aux Sauble's Banks. The Aux Saiil)le's banks, how fresh and fair, When Summer days flew hy ; The forest wihl-rose blossom'd tliere, And flowers of many a dye. ill - M The little birds sang pleasant tunes, The bees were humming thranj?, Where grew the vine in gay festoons, And grapes in clusters hang. MlJi Now through the Aux Sauble's leafless woods Eude Winter raves again; > Before the blast the snaw-shower scuds, And spreads alang the plain. tiHYMi:s. *- 4 The distant sun has dimly set Pine Hills pale summit o'er ; I hear Lake Huron cliafe and fret, And lash his icy shore. 11 The dark'ning night and gathering storm Bid wanderers beware ; But our log-hut is snug and warm — Come in and take a chair. A clean hearthstane, an ingle bright, ; The friends we love around, Yield to the heart more pure delight ^ Than aught on earth that's found. i ill W 18 RHYMES. And yet the very joys we boast, The smiling faces by, They bring to mind the friends we lost, - And wake the hidden* sigh. 8 We think upon our childhood, spent In Scotland, far away : Ah me ! how many ties are rent Since we were young like they ! 9 "We think upon our father's hearth — Where is that group to-day ? Or scattered to the ends of the earth, Or mouldering in the clay ? *■ BMBI RHYMES. 10 We mind, too — how can we forget ?- Scenes of more recent date — Our own lov'd home, left desolate Beneath the stroke of fate. 11 Still mem'ry lingers with the dead, As loth to say adieu ; And still the heart is doom'd to bleed Afresh at each review. 19 12 But let us pause : the tears we shed The past can ne'er recall ; Our su,nny spring-time youth has fled. Our life is in its fall. ¥ ( 1' 2(1 t^HYMES. 13 The clouds upon our lot that lower, In Language darkly drest, Iiemiiid us every day and hour That this is not our rest ; 14 That joy and sorrow liere below, And care and toil are vain ; That soon the scenes that know us now Shall know us not again. 11 ! +t ( 15 Time speeds its course ; the passing hours Sum up our days and years : We go to those we mourn, and ours Give place to other tears. E:i S! KIIYMES. 21 Epistle to Mr. John Bell, DAVINGTON, E8KDALEMUIR, DUMrRIESSIIIRE, SCOTLAND. Dear Sik — 1 I have long been your debtor For a very kind letter, But I hope in the future I'll try to do better. How are ye, your sel' ? And hosv's Mrs. Bell ? And the dear little youngsters, I hope tliey are ^vell ? 1 still have a vrish to cross over the sea, And drop in upon ye some evening at tea ; But money's a-wanting, the times have been bad here ; That fighting in Yankee land crippled our trade here ; ^Il I I i' I r ' f : ! r 22 RHYMES. For the last few years back, too, the crops we have had here Were a failure : in short, there's been little thing made here. And that is the sole reason why I have staid here. If once I could clutch Keady money as much As would make me to go without any man's crutch, I'd pop into a rail-car, be off like a streak, And cast up on the top of the Pen in a week. 'Tis really amazing how fast people travel now ; That big snorting iron-horse goes like the divvel now. Nor minds staps and styles ; A few hundred miles. When his dander is up, and your teamsters run races, Are thought of no more than a few hundred paces. RHYMES. 23 A smasli-up ! — never mind In'oken heads, broken faces, Or a leg, or an arm, or a neck, as tlie case is — These are trifles, you know, in your steam steeplechases. As to crossing the sea. It is only, dear me. Like a trip 'tween Port Patrick and Donaghadee : But there's nae use in talking Of riding or walking — Fell poverty still keeps my purposes balking ; Her heavy ^v'llip-hand, the grand crook in my lot, Drove me here, and then tethered me fast to the spot. 4 I am happy to say, On this twcB^tieth day Of November, we are all in our usual way ! >>i If 24 RHYMES. f!).; |i ! ! i j 1 1 i i 1- But the ALL, when applied to this household of mine, Means but a small numl)er compared wi' langsyne : There's Archie, and Mag, and myself, your obedient, The others went off when they found it expedient. Perhaps T had better, To fill uj) this letter, Give account of my family. Dear me, hov/ they scatter I There's Mary (keep count, now), and Archie, and Jean, And Janet comes next, and next's Wilhelmine ; Then there's Mag and Georgina — but to count the whole crew of them. You must add live grandchildren, which makes quite a slew of them ! 6 , . , • Dear me ! it's bewilder! u' ■*• ■ i ' To think of grandchildren ; . 'Tis a very strong proof that a man's getting eldrin, RHYMES. 25 When around his arm-cliair little folks with "bright liair" Come to loolc at grandpa. How they gape and they stare ! What idea they form of your paterfr fnilias Is a rather deep subject — a question wliich really is Beyond my explaining. I'll just let it he — I like to see them, and they like to see me ! The title " papa," by the way, I may state, May depend on ourselves, at least so one supposes ; But the Turkish prefix comes upon us like fate, They make us grandpas in spite of our noses. Let them go it and welcome ; though every new heir I hear tell o', my beard counts another grey hair. 8 I may state, by the bye, 'tis the custom in Canada, ^ Brought in, I should think, by some go-a-liead Yankee, C 1\ i ; •[I j J i 'V 1 1 ■ i , i , p : 1 f 26 RHYMES. For children to run off and leave ye just any day ; They clear like Sam Hill, and they never say thankee. 'Tis a free country this, And young IMr. and Miss, , If ye curb tliem at all, take it liighly amiss : What care they for your schools, Or your ethical rules ; They see very distinctly old folks are old fools, And as mad 's they can skip, They go it full rip, Like a duck wanting the head, or a rudderless ship, Till, l)ronght up with a jerk on some shin -breaking boidder, They find they're no wiser than folks that are older. d • The terrible wars . 'Mong the Stripes and the Stars Are over, and the combatants look to their scars. RHYMES. 27 Men may talk as they may, It is clear as noonday That the cause was of Heaven, to sweep slav'ry away : The blood drawn witli rigour From the back of the nigger Is avenged with the bowie knife, bayonet and trigger ; The tyrants who trod on the neck of the slave. With their weapons of war have gone down to the grave. 10 The sick'ning detail That came daily by mail Of battle and blood had a horrid finale In the murder of Abe — honest Abe ! — a great name. They robb'd him of life, but they hurt not his fame ; With Aristides just, with Miltiades brave — With Socrates wise, with Melancthon most kind — Stern foe to Oppression, warm friend of the Slave, Old Abe, I'm afraid, leaves few equals behind ; 28 RHYMES. But Booth met his fate too — the venomous elf — It was richly deserved ; I'd have shot him myself I fii '1 'V ' if I 1( 11 The "Great Eastern" came out, bent to hitch Paddy's oivn land, Lest it float o'er to France, to the coast of Newfound- land ; But tlie fixings gave way, . And went down in the sjoray, Eleven hundred miles west of Valencia bay ; 'Tis thought that she'll manage the matter next May. There will be such a cjabble When the magical cable Brings countries together like friends at a table. Then Seward and Eussell May whittle and whustle. Each at home in his own easy chair, and discuss all ■ ' ' ' ' , * . - ' ' Their knotty affairs, speaking each in his turn. Like you and the Laird across Davington burn. RHYMES. 29 12 Tis a wonderful age : 1 believe there will soon Be a telegraph wire between this and the moon. They might hitch just at once to old pale-beard's big toe, And send him a message next morning just so — " Waken up, ye old Lunatic ! ho, so, hilloa ! Long life to your honor ! Your friends of the earth, Taking into account your uncommon high worth. Send their warmest respects, and they, too, in com- pliance With the spirit of the age, wish a closer alliance For extension of trade and the furtherance of science : They purpose to build, if your highness sees meet, A railroad from this to that country of yours. With plant, rolling-stock, all the fixings complete. And cars to run through in a very few hours. At their own special cost, if the man of the moon Will give ground for a terminus free of all rents ; 30 RHYMES. The best engineers say the work can he done, 'Tis merely a matter of dollars and cents ; And John Bull, the great banker, knows how to keep count of them; His name 's good below here for any amount of them." " Bring my spectacles, Cynthia. What's that racket below ? What the deuce is the matter with this here big toe ?'* 13 I guess yell be thinking this Poem's a haver For an auld man to write ; I maun try to be graver ; But what mair can I say ? We're just toiling away. Hoping still to be rich at some no distant day ; The date comes for certain, for Time tarries never ; But we are as far frae the riches as ever. RHYxMES. 31 Each day brings a struggle, like four-treadle weaving ; We have to kill oursels nearly to keep oursels living. After beating the air half a century or near it, I begin to conclude, with a writer of merit, 'Tis vanity all and vexation of spirit. Now, write right away, it needs but a beginnijig. And oblige your old friend, Alexander Glendinnixg. 32 RHYMES. :!|:; I 1! To the Gallants of Eskdalemuir, ON READING IN A LANGHOLM NEWSPAPER THAT THEY HAD BEATEN THE UUTTON GALLANTS AT THE FOOT BA'. Weel done ! weel done ! my hearty cocks, Young heroes ane and a' ; Weel done, to meet the Hutton folks, x\nd beat them at the ba' ! ■m Poor though I be, upon my word I'd rather lost a cow, Than here in Canada I'd heard That they had beaten you. i RHYMES. 3 Sic ployes bring back my boyish days ; I mind, maist like yestreen, The shirremuirs we used to raise ' On Davington school green. 88 y And ance a year, at Candlemas, We met the nether school ; Dick Bell our worthy teacher w^as, And they had Mr. Yool. Our trysting place was Johnston holm. Beside the Waterfoot ; Thougli forty years since then have flown, I mind those meetings yet. '^ 34 RHYMES. 6 " Gude day," quo' they. " Gude day," we cried And each the other scann'd, Then flang our jackets to a side, And mustered band to band. 7 Up flew the ba', the strife began, 'Twas hee gae to and hee; 0, there was mony an anxious man That day on Johnston lea. 8 Now north, now south, the hubbub sways ; They're at it tooth and nail; And we, with all our energies, : Are pressing on the hale.. "^m tmmm RHYMES. 9 0, mony a doughty deed was done, And feat reniember'd lang ; Mony a weel-windit race was run, The ha' got mony a bang ; 35 1^^ 10 And there was mony a heel flew hie, And mony a kickit shin ; The heroes of Thermopyke Stack never better in. 11 My heart warms o'er each gallant feat ; I scarce can think it true That I am speaking of a date As auld as Waterloo. !i;i ■' I 36 RHYMES. 12 Where, now, are a' my comrades fell ? Moiiy a glide chiel's away ; Upon the rest lang simmers tell Their beards, like mine, are gray. I I Ki 13 And we are severed far and wide ; I'm on the Aiix Sauble's blutf, And Christie's on the world's backside,* The place where folks jump oft'. I m .14 Some wandered westward many miles Ayont the Cariboos, And some are in the Australian isles Among the kangaroos. * New Zealand. EHYMES. 15 37 Will Eiddell, like a decent chap, Clung to his place of birth ; He pounds the stithie rap for rap Beside his father's hearth. n ] H ■ i ■• * I 16 We've a' Imd mony a tug, I wot, And inuclde toil and strife ; And mony a tumble we hae got In the rough game of life. 17 But this I'll say, whae'er would win, Let stakes be grit or sma', The patent virtue's sticking in. We learn'd it at the ba'. ■■/ ' I 38 RHYMES. 18 But I maun stop. Now, boys, be sure, When next ye play a spiel, For honor o' auld Eskdalemuir, Let's see ye manage weel. 19 Let Westerkirk and Hutton baith Bring on tlieir bag o' tricks ; Wh^t need I talk ? Ill take my aith Ye're into them like bricks. -.1 ' ' i i i i 20 My blessings on your heads, dear lads ; It does me good to ken That ye are worthy o' your dads, And they were famous men. mi -9i n RHYMES. 39 Awa wi' Scarboro's Muddy Creeks. Awa wi' Scarboro's muddy creeks, And Scarboro's fields o' pine ; Your land o' ^^ beat's a goodly land, But yet it isna-mine. ilil The heathy hill, the grassie dale. The daisie-spangled lea, The trottin' burn and craggie lin, Auld Scotland's glens gie me. 0, I wad like to hear again The lark on Tinnis Hill, And see the wee bit gowanie That bldoris beside the riU. 40 RHYMES. (I i Like banish'd Swiss, who views afar His Alps wi' langin' ee, I look imto the morning star, He shines on my countrie. Nae mair I'll won by Eskclale Pen, And Pentland's craggy cone ; The days can ne'er come back again Of twenty years agone. But fancy oft, at midnight hour, Will steal across the sea ; Yestreen, amid a pleasing dream, I saw the auld countrie. ! j : I 1' I El Each well-known scene that met my view Brought childhood's joys to min' ; RHYMES. 41 The, blackbird sang in Fushie lin The sang he sang langsyne. 8 But, like a dream, time flees away ; Again the morning came, And I awoke in Canada, Four thousand miles frae hame. i> 4a EHYMES. Tibbie Bell's Address to her Auld House. So I maun leave thee, my auld house — Thou'rt now a thing of little use ; The tear and wear of thirty simmers Hae wrought sad havoc on thy timmers. Through mony a chink the wind is whistling. Through mony a bore the rats are rustling : Joist, coupling, rafter, roof-tree, shingle. They're good for naething but the ingle ; The callant's coming wi' a light To burn thy rubbish out o' sight. I've built another house, a better Than ever thou wert, but what matter ? What boot gay mansion, furnish'd fine. To a lone, widowed heart like mine ? RHYMES. 43 In my new home I cannot see The happy days I've spent in thee ; Many a pleasing recollection, Many a theme for deep reflection — Scene of joy and scene of sorrow, Hope to-day and doubt to-moirow — All that to mem'ry's ken appears Along the waste of thirty years, Gathers around my swelling heart: Thus, dearest friends, the lothest part. iSi n t |):i 44 RHYMES. ! 1 ?!, ^ B i Epistle to the Laird of Davington & Mr, W. Eliott, Kirkhope. Gentlemen, you sent compliments across the Atlantic ; in return, I send you this Poem. There lived, langsyne, by Eskdale Pen, A shepherd callant, Sandy Gleu ; If some auld comrade wants to keu What's now word o' him. The Laird can easily take him ben, And read this poem. But, like enough, naebody cares How Sandy fends or haw he fares — Whether he lives on wheat or tares, Sitting secure in His log-built hut, or hunting bears On bluffs of Huron. RHYMES. 46 Poor fellow ! his was a sad case ; Hard fortune bufT'd him back and face, And sent him frae his native place As poor as Job, To scraffle on a wild goose chase Half round the globe ! O whowe ! atweel and weel, I ween At mony a strange townend he's been, And mony an unco face he's seen Since that wae day Frae Eskdale's bonny hills o' green He turn'd away. Ye wha in parlor warm and snug, Wi' taes spread on yer ain hearth-rug, And at yer hand a sonsie jug Wi' a wee drappie, Sit chatting by the chimney lug At hame and happy, if . 46 RHYMES. I Here's to your health, and joy he wi'e,. .Ye little dream what they maun dree Wha leave their hames and put to sea ; But, gentlemen, Tis just as weel, 'tween you and me, Ye dinna ken. Ye thinkna of poor luckless wretches In a ship's hold and under hatches 'Mang twa three hunder lowsie bitches,. Brood of blue ruin ! These, as the vessel rolls and pitches,, , Cursin' and spuein'. Lang in the Atlantic sea we plash'd, Now up we clomb, now down we dash'd ; But our auld ship, tho' sair distress'd, Still struggled through, And aye the white wave boil'd and swash'd Beneath her prow. RHYMES. Still to the west our bowsprit stood, And still we bang'd the blustering flood ; At length a sailor from the shroud Sung, " Land, ahoy !" We started up at news so good, And danc'd for joy. All hail ! Columbia's forests green ; All hail ! New York, of cities queen ; All hail ! to Jonathan, our frien* ; But, lovel me ! What curious coons ! how lank, how lean Them Yankees be ! 47 Bare-faced, din, thin, cadaverous sights 1 They look as if they'd lien for nights Deep underneath Carlanrick heights. Or Borthwick wa's, Then bolted up for mortal frights To scare the crawls. 48 RHYMES. J, It " i Si ; t I These are the freemen — these the fellows Who boast that they can buy and sell us ! They whip John Bull ! and John, the\ tell us, Whips every nation ; Eut they're as windy as the bellows, They lee like station ! They whip the British ! they, the knaves ! The maist they w^hip 's three million slaves — 'Twa-thirds black niggers, and the laves Their ain py'd rout, Bred up and driven to fairs, Gude sa>'e'8 ! Like sheep and nowt. Hilloa ! the steamer s off full skiver ! We're splashin' up the Hudson river; Them Yankees guess the coons are clever ; For a' the talk, They make her go it now or never, ^ " And that's a fact ! HIIYMES. What though a boiler now and then Burst, and spang-whew kens what of men ! Before ye'll cry how, where or when, They fix't up clever, Blaw up the steam, and off again As fast as ever ! i?till steering en a northern tack, We pass'd the Catskill mountain tract, And thence to Albany, where back Our steamer turn'd. While up the vale of the Mohawk Westward we journ'd. But should I mention every stage We pass'd on this our pilgrimage. Instead of one small letter page, Or single column, Their very titles, I'll engage, Would fill a volume. 49 w 60 RHYMES. We pass'd — no matter where we pass'd — We cross'd Ontario Lake at last, To Scarboro', where our lot was cast For several years, Which place we found — you know the rest — A place of tears. Now on the Aux Sauble river's bluff Here sits my Bardship sure enough ; My toil's too hard, my couch too rough, To dream of wealth. And yet I really think I'll threuch If I keep health. When I came in fall was a year. The light o' day scarce glimmer'd here — A dark look-out, but never fear : We started chopping — We've now some dozen acres clear. And a bit crop in. RHYMES. I whiles look down my cloutit breeks, Tlie crutch just now wants twa three steeks ; But what care I for Fortune's freaks ? They need nae jacket Wha hae nought else to do for weeks But trees to whack at. I'll e'en stick in ; how gaes the sang, " There's braw days coming," or its lang — The world has gien me mony a bang, And stepdame skyte. But I'll get through amid the thrang, And a' gang right. 51 Many sugar trees and fields o' w^heat. There's little fear we want our meat ; And really we've a right to eat. For gudness kens 'Tis here we have to spend our sweeCb And ply our tens. f % 1 \' 52 RHYMES. This clearing land 's a rough concern For nae poor feckless body's bairn ; Were each backsprint o' steel or aim, Logging, I tak' it, 'Till frae ye're e'en flees mony a stern, Wad sprain or rack it. You muirland blades would laugh to see A band o' loggers at a bee — Smart chiels wi' liandspakes working free In shirt and breeches, And teamsters, loud wi' ha and gee, Twirling blue beeches. Still Canada, say what they will on't, For my part, I can say nae ill on't : There's mony a gudc-gaun' busy mill in't, And weel-fiird ark, And every man gets bread and yill in't *^ That likes to wark. ■■ KHYMES. A stout young chap, that can begin And drive a-head through thick and thin, May safe enough leave kith and kin And cross the water ; Wi' common sense 'tis ten to ane He'll meiid the mattei*. But for your pingeing, poor half-bucks, Wha canna wield the woodman's axe, And haena sense to drive an ox, This much is clear, They had better stay 'niang their ain folks- Thev are useless here. 53 Gie my respects to ane and a' 'Tween Black Eskmouth and Bodsbeck law ; I could like weel to gi'e a ca' Some winter night, And crack t'ye about Canada, And tell ye right. 64 RHYMES. Belike there's few that I wad ken, Boys, since I left, hae grown to men ; And doughty carles, wha figured then In manhood's prime, I think I see their haffits wan And bejirds o' rime. Ilk crown has got a wee bit bare on't ; I'm certain yours has little hair on't ; I'm thinking there was nought to spare on't When I came out, And seven years hae shaven mair, There's little doubt. j ^1^ i Not one in fifty lasts for aye — I daresay I'm gaun' down the brae j Although my beard is not quite gray, My cheeks are thinner, And their complexion, truth to say, A trifle dinner. RHYMES. I canna rin frae dawn till dark ; I'm stiffen'd even a wee for wark ; But set me down wi' knife and fork, I'm fail ma never ; And I can talk 'bout State and Kirk As fast as ever. Mind me to Violet, Tom your brother, John Bell o' Fingland, John's kind mother. And Sandy Welsh, and every other « Auld friend about : That Heaven may bless ye a' together, 'S my prayer devout. The Cassock folks — of course that's hame — Jamie ne'er writes me, 'tis a shame ; He'll rather mind some grand kirk scheme. Or tout a trumpet. Denouncing the redoubted dame, , The Eoman strumpet. i -iff ll 56 RHYMES. 1 heard that, through deep calculation, He counted down frae the creation When every empire, state and nation Arose and fell — Things far ayont my numeration — . I couldna tell. He kens the horns o' Daniel's cattle, The field of what d'ye ca' the battle, And he's found out the date that's fatal To Papal Eome, When down like to dry banes shall rattle St. Peter's dome. Whow, sirs, tJiis learning F.ook and see ! Just think o' coofs like you and me, Wha scarce can count that twa and three Make six or seven, While to a philosophic e'e All odds are even. *^ RHYMES. Tell Moodlaw Fni weel pleased to hear His tups still famous far and near ; I noticed in the prints last year An orra lot Brought fourteen hundred sovereigns clear Plight on the spot. 1 clapt my hands for iialf an hour, And shouted, " Weel done, Eskdalemuir 1" Ten pund apiece for seven score 0* clippit hogs Beats a' I've ever heard afore 'Mang herds and dogs. WT Gude sheep they are — well fed, well fleeced ; Tell him when libbing time comes neist He should n a geld a single beast, But keep and sell them,. There twa stane heavier at the least — Kow mind to tell liim.. a §8 ^ RHYMES. But 111 stop short, and say gude bye, , To you and yours health, peace and joy, And gude upon your sheep and kye, Croft and kailyard ; And I am yours respectfully, Your friend the Bard. P.S.~-l lift my pen again to say Ye'll mind to write me some wet day.: I lookna for a lengthy lay ^ Like this o' mine — The news just in a hamely way Will please me fine. An' Wattie Elliot, here's to you ; Lang may ye climb the Midhill brow ; Lang may ye drive a good fat ewe Off Andrawhinnie, ----■■■■■■■• » ■ And every year ye aulder grow ' Still making money. RirTMES. 59 And is not this a Wondrous Age? \ And is uot this a wondrous age ? — Wondrous in all that you can mention ? 'Twill shine on the historian's page Era of every great invention — Railcars, steam shovels, this strange wire ; Men ride and dig and write by fire. Could Solomon, who was by far The wisest of the sons of Heber, Have seen an iron ship of war Come sweeping up by Eziongaber, He'd conn'd the passage when he mentions Men have found out some wild inventions. 60 RHYMES. 3 A shrewd old cliap was Solouion In his own day and generation ; Btit now-a-days he's quite undone, Beaten by those who beat creation. Your ancient sage was but a noodle Compared to modern Yankeedoodle, • : 4- Poor fellow ! he was in the dark : What knew he of smart Yankee notions '( What knew he of the electric spark, Carr}'ing o'er continents and oceans The news, as near as can be reckoned, Ten times earth's circuit in a second. What knew he of the power of steam, The force of '' villainous saltpetre T RHYMES. He never saw, even in a dream, Friend Sam's breech-loading eight i'ei)eater ; He never thought about such trifles As Armstrong guns and Woolwich rifles. Petroleum, he knew nought of that ; No chimney'd lampstack grac'd his table ; There was a kind of gummy fat, Found somewhere near the tower of Babel, But then, did that contain one particle Of what is call'd the genuine article ? 61 But 1 digress. I meant to say The present age will long be noted Science makes progress every day. The last great wonder to be quoted Is that of hitching Paddy's ouni land, Lest it float off first to Nev/foundland. 62 RHYMES. 8 Now we can, through a simple wire, Wrapt up in hemp or percha gutta. By heating Peter- a-Dick, inquire For friends in Canton or Calcutta, And get an answer promptly, duly, They are quite well — they thank us truly. \ 9 Old Andy, that ere tailor chap, Who lives out west, and our John Kussell, Now^ time about can give a tap Each on his counter, and discuss all Their knotty politics quite handy, Though the wide sea parts John and Andy. What next upon the Aux Sauble's banks I saw last week— I thought I'd found it- ■■/" BHYMES. A thing of levers, wheels and cranks, And a few knowing chaps around it : A new steam engine 'tis, whose force is Fifteen large Liverpool dray horses. 63 11 And there it is morn, even and noon, Puffing and pounding hard (by jimney !) ; 'Twill either dig an oil hole soon, Or bump the bolts down Vulcan's chimney Pound, pound away, boys ; twirl the cable — A good oil well will help the Aux Sauble. 64 KIIYMICS. Epistle to Rob o' the Corner. Glide e'en t'ye, liob ; and how's a' we'e the night ^ How's a' our gude, kind friends at Cummingsville ? The first time I come o'er uy Nelson height, I'll ca' and see and get a drink o' yill. Gi'e my respects to each ; meanwhile, I write This sage epistle to inquire if still Ye feel inclin'd — now that the wheat's secure in Tlie barn — to eat a herring on Lake Huron ? The load is lang, but ye care nought for that ; Bang up some Monday morning by daylight, And doff your beard and don your Sunday hat, 'Tis good to be respectably bedight ; RHYMES. Mixke save your breakfast — gif ye ask I'ur what, Belike ye'll liglit on little niair till night. IV'll them ye go to explore the Huron track, ThoY neeclna look for ve till ve come back I 3 Hand yont through Beverly, and in by Gait, Alang the Brig, and up by Ferric's mill And Aberdeen, where, if ye choose to halt, 1 canna say but ye deserve a gill. ( -a' in and get a toothfu' o' the malt, "I'is better for ye than a blash o' yill ; But dinna drink o'er muckle that same whiskey Oars 1 you and me play mony a foolish pliskey. 65 i 111 .i % Away ye go then west, and farther west, Through Stratford-upon-AVon, not the same "Where Shakespeare dwelt, but likely the next beet ; It has, at least, a kind of second-hand fame. I 66 RHYMES. Thg land around is good, but 'tis confess'd Some swamps here make the scenery look tame The Avon's a small creek tLat joins the Thames, The lieges here are fond of sounding names. But it is scarcely possible to fill up « A verse with names such as you meet with here : There's Ellice, Logan, Mitchell and McKillop — The last at least sounds oddly on the ear. All these you leave behind, and you go still up The road to Goderich, until you come near Van Egmond's mills, when you turn left about, And ask for big Will Scott, you'll easily find him out. 6 Tell where ye come frae, and, for auld langsyne, He'll give you welcome to your heart's content, And show vou all the lots along the ne : h Fjich lot costs fifteen dollars yearly rent, RHYMES. 67 And I could like ye took one near to mine — We'd help each other in the settlement. I'm sure, if you are pleas'd with the locality, You'll find the soil of very first quality. > I m KHYMES. ii To a Bug. Bad luck light on thy crookit face. Vile chick of a proscribit race ! I'll hae ye, tho' I keep up the chase Till braid daylight : I'll hunt thee to thy hiding-place, Thou ugly sight ! I've lain a' night 'niang jumpin' fleas, 'Mang kades wi' queer rough kittlin' taes ; And T line been M^here gallant greys Their lyke ^^ake keepit — A' bad enough, yet even 'mang these I aye got sleepit. ->s' RHYMES. But now, when tir'd wi' pleucli or ditcli, My weary banes T scarce can stretch, Till those comes stinking like a fetch Right by my nose ; The olfactory nerve gets sic a twitch My e'en neler close. Get I thy bugship by the thrapple, I'll treat thee to a friendly grapple ; I'll snap thy sprint like a pipe stapple. Ha ! now I have thee ! The Sultan of Constantinople Could hardly save thee. m I I Take that, and that ; there goes another ! Lie thou alang beside thy brother ; Ua ! yonder their big-wan'd auld mother Starts off full brattle. Vile pest ! shame take ye a' together, Baith big and little! 70 RHYMES. Help, fellow-townsmen ! list the ca*, Ye doctors learn'd in district law, I'm a gude queensman like ye a', Sae hear my story — A picture of the case I'll draw, And lay't before ye. Poor folks, hard set for meat and claes. We left aiild Scotland's craggie braes. And after mony toils and waes We landed here In this wild land o' bugs and fieas — dear, dear ! ^i i- 1 Now, ye make rules for rabid dogs. And acts to reach fence-breaking hoTS ; Can ye no legislate on bugs Some odd twa hours. In pity to your ain hearth-rugs ' As weel as ours ? r ■J f r RHYMES. Stand up wi' dignified decision, And pass an act this very season To find their impudence high treason, And so have at them — Their hides and horns by escheat and seiz'n To them wha caught them. So may your fame to future ages Go down on history's faithful pages, As honest men who earn'd their wages. Yon odds and ends Ye voted to pay cabs and stages, And treat your friends. And haply after many days, Lang after yon pine stump decays, When my poor verse Oblivion lays His hand upon it, Some Bard may rise to sing your praise In some new sonnit. 71 n RITYMES. Annandale Farming. 1 Please read the pleasures of a Farmer's life, Arranged and classed in this sage document. Dead sheep, daft bargains, a tea-drinking wife ; Dull markets, partial payments, a long rent ; Debts and a purse (but here begins a strife Tween my tvva keekers which shall most lament .Their owner's fortunes ; well, I say a purse), Smit with consumption, Aveak, and getting wors(3. t M Four or live liorses, leaning gainst their stalls, Eight calvers, high of bone and hard of skin ; Some forty porkers, making hideous squawls, Through lack of murphies, pitifully thin, With savage snouts they undermine the walls; Soon shall tlic half-rotten roof-tree tnniblo in -f*-' e>4 RHYMES. 73 And crack their rigbones, pound their hams and flitches, And put a finisher upon the wretches. These are the outlines but of each disaster * That haps the Farmer ; the particulars Would puzzle a much abler poetaster ; So many evils take him unawares, So many, go he slow or travel faster, He can't get quit of these malicious stars That seem to take the management of fortune- Deem him, in short, a subject to make sport on. Ye happy few, ye owners of the soil, Who feed upon the fat and drink the sweet, Ju5t look and see how your poor tenants toil. And, after a', have hardly bread to eat : , 'r 74 RHYMES. Let down your rents, live and let live the while, And we will be your servants, as 'tis meet ; We'll gang and buy oursels new coats and breeks, And never speak a word on politicks. And you, my friends, be " aisy ;" in old time There liv'd philosophers, wise men, no doubt, Who met both good and ill with a sublime Indifference ; " for," quoth they, " v/e can't dispute With Fate ; 'tis better cheerfully to chime In with her freaks than stubbornly stand out." So said the school of Zeno, so say I ; It may be hard to practice, but we'll try. RHYMES. 76 Mrs. Bitters. Pass by, go not near to the door of her house — It is infamous, infamous, infamous. In her courts are the spoil and the blood of the slain ; The simple go there, but return not again. I look'd through my casement, from my window I spied A youth ; he lack'd knowledge, he w\inted a guide. Passing on through the street, and at twilight's still hour. He turn'd near her corner, the way to her door ; She met him, she caught him ; straightway like an ox To the slaughter he goes, or a fool to the stocks ; Till a dart strike his liver, like a bird to the snare He hastens, and knows not destruction is there. 76 KUYMES. Flee, lice, ye youth ! lest your feet go astray In her path, and your hearts turn aside to her way. Many young have been wounded, many strong have been slain ; They perish'd unpitied, their goods were her gain ; Her house is a licU ; there are snares on her path ; And lior footsteps go down to the chambers of Death. UUYMEB. 77 Think ! While posting on from stage to stage Along the path of life — A path to childhood, youth and age, With snares and dangers rife — m Amid the drift of time and tide, We whiles should halt a blink, And, stepping from the world aside, Turn to ourselves and Think ! Beflection breaks wild passion's power ; It cudgels down our pride. And helps us in the evil hour The ills of life to bide. 78 RHYMES. But all ! when heated in the race' For honors, riches, fame, 'Tis hard to slack to sober pace. And calmly view our aim. How soon we rise, how late we lair. How little time is found To ask the questions, what we are, And whither are we bound ? 6 Go slow, go slow ; the reckless rua Blindfold on ruin's brink ; The prudent, who would dangers shun. Will pause at times and — Think !. RHYMES. 79 Wake, ye that Sleep ! I Wake, ye that sleep ! Awake, arise ! Why fold the hands and close the eyes ? Had they whose dwelling is with death — Whose bound is set in endless wrath — Kad they the offer Mercy now, With earnest accent, makes to you, Would they lift up a listless ear ? He that can hearken, let him hear. M ■ Wake, ye that sleep life's little day ! The day of mercy hastes away : Here is no halt, no tarrying still — Each moment tells for good or ill ; %'. ■MV. 80 RHYMES. Each step leads on to life or death, Unending joy or endless wrath. Time past ! Where is it ? Ever gone ? Time future ! What ? A world unknown ! • Past, Present, Future time to you Centres in one ' nphatic now ! Now is the accepted day of grace ; Now you have One to plead your case — A powerful Advocate on high : Turn ye, turn ! Why will ye die ? Wake, ye that sleep ! the hour is near When ye, indeed, shall wake, shall hear — Hear, through tlie tempest and the cloud, Mount Sinai's thunders pealing loud — Hear the dread Herald at the <]:aie Announce the Messenger of Fate KHYMES. 81 Then ye shall wake, no more to sleep- Then ye shall wake, to wail, to weep- To join in the despairing cry Of those who, dying, never die * The summer's past, the harvest gone, And we to saving grace unknown. i 'HfS 82 IlIIYM^:S. On the Death of a Friend. The storm is hush'd : the living wheel, O'er-burthen'd, broken, moves no more ; The feeling heart has ceas'd to feel — All, all is o'er. For ever hush'd the long-drawn sigh, The hollow moan, the rattling breath. The prayer poiir'd forth in agony — And this is death. 3 An aged mother, dark in tears, Clasps the cold hand and dewy brow- A widow she of many years. And childless now. RHYMES. 83 And heaving a still deeper sigh, Her loss the new-made widow weeps ; The little children wonder why Their father sleeps. Years had not bow'd his manly form ; His head was neither bald nor gray ; The sun went down behind the storm While yet 'twas day. 'Tis hard to part with those we love — To watch beside the bowing head — To mark the cold earth close above The lowly bed ; u \ And dark to sense the long, long night, That spreads its shadows o'er the tomb. Nature will fail, but Faith's pure light Shines through the gloom. 84 RHYMES. The Rowan Tree. The Bard sings weel o' the " Auld Ash Tree,"* Sac stately, sae stalwart, sae comely to see ; It bields his hut frae the winter storm, And he lies in its shade when the sun gets warm : 'Twas the shield of his youth, 'tis the stay of his years ; It hath wdtness'd his smiles, it hath witness'd hLs tears ;" And now that its foliage is fading away. And his ain dark locks are mingled wi' gray, He sees they maun part, and he cons a sang To the trusty friend he has ken'd sae lang. He sings the Ash ; now listen to me, And ye'll hear a sang o' tlie Rowan Tree. * This Rhyme was written after reading an address to the " Auld Ash Tree," by William Park, EskdMlemuir. nilYMES. 85 I may mention liere, lest the reader mistake, That I mean not to slight the majestic Aik : Ye may search in vain through the woodland green For a statelier form or a nobler mien : How manly he looks in time of a storm, When dauding his arms to keep himsel' warm ! And squaring his nieves at the angry blast, As it tumbles down frae the wild nor'wast : He's a faithful and fearless sentinel, GuardiniT the bounds of the forest well. 3 The auld grey Thorn is a bounie tree, And its hoary head I like weel to see ; But the Hawthorn and Birk are in every lay, 111 sov nac mair about them to-da^. The spreading Lime and the leafy Beech Deserve a sonnet both and each, i m 86 RHYMES. But I'll leave them a\ as I promia'd ye : Look through the woodland, look o'er the lea. Look ye for heauty or symmetry, There's none like the sonsie Rowan Tree. Wi' a Rowan Tree bush at ilk door cheek, Nae carlin' daur through your window keek ; The auld black kist and the gust o' meal Hae a better guard than a bolt o' steel ; The kye i' the loan and the horse i' the pleuch, Need neither grow feckless nor fa' in a seuch ; They are safe frae the glint o' her ringled e'e, She kens the smell o' the Rowan Tree. Twa douce auld farmers, I ken'd them weel, They had rowth o' money and rowth o' meal ; Gude luck gaed wi' them, whatever they tried. And their kye w^ere the best i' the country side ; RHYMES. 87 They had thirteen three-grain'd switches, d'ye see, Frae the weathershins side o' the Eowan Tree, On the byre wa* head, sticking a' in a raw. And there wasna a wife durst look near ava. The twa donee bodies, for a' their thrift. By a new-fangled factor are-turn'd adrift. And a spruce young chap came in i' their stead. But losh ! how he leuch at the b}^Te wa' head — He leuch at the wukkers, and pou'd them down, But frae that day forward luck left the town : He learn'd a lesson ; I'll guarantee He'll middle na mair wi' the Rowan Tree. »l , • I '* 31 '-.■A-' 6 A cannie wife gaed to kirn the kirn. And it cost her mony a pech and girn ; She had beekit it weel, as she us'd to do. She had plotit the kirn and tlie kirnstaff too ; ■m 88 liHYMES. Had the milk been witcli'd ? had the cow taen a weed ? But what think ye came into her head ? Wi' a Eowan Tree stick she stirr'd it about, And then great lumps o' butter came out. I If ye want a cure that will never fail For an elf-shot cow, ye maun row her tail Wi' a nievefu' soot in a scarlet clout, And a scarlet tliread maun be ty'd about ; And yet it's no worth a rigmaree Without a twig o' the Rowan Tree. 8 Auld Dick, the smith, had a crummie cow ; She gaed a warang, she turn'd far o'er fou' ; Now Dick was a doctor, and Dick had skill. He try'd her wi' follin' grass boil'd amang yill, RHYMES. 89 Wi' soap o' Castile and alderbark broo, And wi' jalap at last, but a' wadna do, He never could budge her ; I'll tell the worst, She died o'ernight — she died i' the bourst. 9 Auld Dick, the smith, got another cow, She gaed a warang, she turn'd far o'er fou ; A council was held, a' the neebours came out. And ilk ane prescribit a cure for the brute. Young Ned o' the Kirkton — sly coon I — was returning Frae, he wadna say where, in tlie grey o' the morning — He saw, he w^as certain, a great muckle hare Loupin' roun' about crummie, at rest on her lair ; It skrieved round and round, syne stood up on its phud, And it spat in her face and ran off to the wood : m 90 RHYMES. It was truth, every word, or he'd forfeit his lug — He was sure it was auld Mary Fawcett incog. I diuna ken how far his logic was fetch'd, It prov'd at least that the beast was witch'd. " I dread it," quo Dick ; " I ken what to do now," And he keppit a bottlefu' warm frae the cow. And, instead of a cork, got a Rowan Tree pin. And he took up his nieve and he yerkit it in — " I'll pinch her," quo Dick, " the big lump o' sin !" I 1 10 Tis needless to say, on that very night How luckie drew up in an unco plight — How crummie got better and a gaed right. Gude day t'ye, reader, and luck bo wi'e, I have sung ye a sang o' the Rowan Tree. ! RHYMES. 91 Battle of Yonge Street, 1837. (parody on hohenlinden.) On Yonge street, ere the sun arose. Stood the Queen's forces and her foes, With many a pale and bloodless nose, And clieeks as chill as charity. 4 But Yonge street saw another sight. When loyal Scarboro's men of fight. With Torrance swearing all his might, March'd up against the enemy. . t. Tantarara ! the trumpet bray'd. Thump went gun and carronade ; The rebel rout, asham'd, dismay'd, To right about wheel'd cleverly. liMs M ?^.^a! IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 116 1^8 1 2.5 1^ 12.2 iS. 12.0 1.8 LA. mil 1.6 Va /a 1% > ^'^J '> /a > > //a "W '/ iV '^ ^9>' The Law of the Land ! the Law of the Land I * Submit to the powers that be ; " . Let talk who please of the Kirk and the Keys^ The Law of the Land for me. Has the Kirk the power, in the trying hour, The stipend and glebe to save, Since she dares retort on the Civil Court, And its goodliest edicts brave ? ^ ■.-.oi^v^ -,:;-;:: J:. -■--■-«-,■ ..•.,..;-;„,:. ,.-.,_;; Strathbogie can tell, the Seven know well, That she has no weapons to draw — That to bind or to loose, to ordain or depose. Belongs to the Civil Law. 1 w i i\'f. 118 RHYMES. 4 Give CaBsar his due. Can we cancel our vow To be loyal ? — to honor the king ? Can we lift up our hand 'gainst the law of the land, While we snugly sit under its wing ? Ye rebels, take heed ! your doom is decreed ; Ye shall wince on the wheel and the rack ; But we who obe; shall read, preach and pray, With the Law of the Land at our back. 6 The Law of the Land ! the Law of the Land ! Submit to the powers that be ; Let talk who please of the Kirk and the Keys, The Law of the Land for me ! ^ RHYMES. 119 d, The Gallant Ship. The gallant ship sweeps down the bay. With canvass spread and pennons gay ; She's bound for Scotland, far away, 'Tis lang till she come back again. Young Anna climb'd a til iff to see, The starting teardrop fill'd her e'e ; Her ain dear Jamie's gane to sea, 'Tis lang till he come back again. O, Jamie ! mind your plighted vow 1 Your Anna's heart beats true to you : O, take her wi'e ! turn, take her^now, For fear ye ne'er come back again ! mmmmmmmmmm 120 RHYMES. There's beauty on the braes o' Clyde, Bright eyes and cheeks wi' roses dy'd ; Young fancy whiles will turn aside — I'm fear'd ye'll no come back again. ji When time had turn'd a year and day. The gallant ship sail'd up the bay ; The first that landit on the quay Was Anna's Jamie, back again. Come, tune the lute to social glee ; Baith young and auld may sing wi' me : The teardrop's dried in Anna's e'e. She's got her Jamie back again. RHYMES. 121 Lambton Election, 1867. • ■ {At the close of the poll, the Sarnia Observer published an extra headed with the picture of a rooster rampant. ) Long live the Queen and Gemmill's bantam cock ! The election's over and McKenzie's in ; Vidal, poor soul ! is nowhere, Eae dead broke, Pardee retain'd. Ha ! ha ! they laugh who win. Was such a hot calshancjie ever seen As this in Lambtonshire ? Long live the Queen ! Tories, Clear Grits, Conservatives and Whigs, Spurring, came on, all bent to do their best ; Whiskey and ale and forty dollar pigs Into the service of the Queen are prest. . Start not, kind reader ! now the election's o'er. Pork is no dearer than it was before. 122 RHYMES. Was this corruption ? It was no such thing. Surely a man who has a pig to sell May fairly pocket what the beast will bring, And thank his stars if he has sold it well : Your buyer ought to know what stock is worth Better than any other man on earth. I . So now Confederation is a fact, And we are settled in our new Dominion, I hear a deal of folks begin to talk (But this may be mere matter of opinion) About expensive government. John A. Spends money rather foolishly, they say. George Brown is out ; George Brown were better in ; George is a shrewd, clear-headed lowland Scot ; RHYMES. 123 ; .' There's not a man among can begin To count the dimes till George is on the spot ; And in statistics he is all their daddies, A full-grown man — the lave are only laddies. 6 McDougall, Rowland, Blair, are slip'ry Jacks, Who live by turning somersaults. Gude faith. They'll jump and tumble till they break their necks. And where (if one may ask) would be the skaith ? Can they na learn a lesson from Sam Patch, An awful jumper, but a luckless wretch ? D'Arcy McGee's* the cleverest of them a' ; He'll beat at blarney any man alive : A rebel 6nce, he ran from British law ; . Now, none more wishes our good Queen to thrive; * This verae, of course, was wi'itten before the lamentable deatb of D'Arcy McGee. if 124 RHYMES. Still he reminds you of a baby's whittle Without baoksprint, and not too genuine metal. 8 •ft. But there's nae use in talking, I can see ; The scamps will do exactly as they please : They care nae mair for folks like you and me, .. As we were pyets chattering on the trees. There's one thing makes me aye as mad's a viper- Dance when they will, we have to pay the piper. RHYMES. 125 Recollections. The sun has risen, the sun has set On many a dry day, many a wet ; Many a cold blast and wintry shower ' Have swept the hills of Eskdalemuir Since eighteen hunder and twenty -four. i Jii:. m I was a shepherd callant then. And light of foot and lithe of limb ; When " Tally-ho !" rang through the glen, How few with me could skale the Pen, Or up Craigmichen's correis climb ; But forty years have pass'd away, And left their stamp upon my brow : A sober pace is mine to-day. And I am far from Scotland now ; 126 RHYMES. ! 5 Yet I like weel, on winter nights, When seated by my quiet hearth, To follow fancy in her flights Back to the country of my birth. it does me good thus to recall, ' Ere they are gone for good and all. The sunny scenes that scattered lie Far down the tract of memory. 3 In fancy still I climb the Pen To look adown my native glen — To trace the Esk, like silver thread, Winding along by dale and mead — To look afar o'er Solway Frith, Lochmaben lochs and holms of Nith. Far distant Skiddaw meets my view, And Criffel, in his coif of blue ; And, stretching to the west away. The dark-green hills of Galloway. !'! RHYMES. Look to the east ; yon ridge afar Is Cheviot, famed in border war ; And Euber's Law and Penchrist Pen, And Eldon Hill, once riven in twain By Michael Scott, of Oakwood tower, A swatch of a wight wizard's power. 127 Here let me pause, and o'er the scene Muse on what is and what has been. 'Tis a broad field that lies before me ; Each glen and hill is fam'd in story ; O'er that same field has often crossed The usurping Southron's savage host ; While from each rocky glen rush'd forth Th' impetuous clansmen of the North, Eeady alike to live or die For Scotland and for Liberty ! ' [i i >fl 1 '■ M i \ !■ •Uv '1 4- I :' If jl ill m m 128 RnYMES. In later times, Prelatic pride With darker deeds that land had dy'd ; The hungry bloodhound, fierce and fell,. Urged on by Claverhouse and hell, On that same field had hunted down The witness for Messiah's crown. The mart3rr's tomb is on the heath, But here there's victory in death ;, His name, the first on history's page. Shall live renown'd from age to age,. While all unpitied down shall fall The bloody house of Wester Hall,. And Clavers' hated memory lie In everlasting infamy. I n RHYMES. 129 But now the Border raids are o'er. The sword is left to rust ; The conquer'd and the conqueror Alike are in the dust ; And persecution's fires are out, Upon old shelves her relics lie — The wedge, the thumbkin and the boot — Memorials of days long gone by. -\' : 8 Old traveller Time holds on his track, With Change still following at his back. To crush beneath his iron car All things that shall be, all that are : O'er all he rushes like a river, Save the strong hills — they last for ever ! The Pen still stands where erst it stood ; Dobscraig still guards the Stockshaw wood ; 130 RHYMES. The Caldron burn, with ceaseless din, Still tumbles down the Buzzard linn ; Glendarg, the Stepps, the Mitchell Hill- — I see them in their places still. The rowting syke, the sunnaer cleuch. The Peakit knowes, the Drifty heuch, Greatbrow, the Barrs, Tamleuchar brae. Are a' as plain as A, B, C ; And Fushie linn, and Topping's crook, t see them baith as in a book. 10 But where are now the happy throng Who ran with me these hills among ? — My comrades in life's early day — Kinsman and friend — where now are they ? Far from the country of their birth, They wander broadcast o'er the earth ; Or, tir'd and worn, they sank to rest. Like children on a mother's breast. RHYMES. 131 .__^.,^.. — li-i Sound sleep they where the long grass waves, Or old Watcairick's field of graves, Each moss-grey stone a sentinel Guarding their humble dwellings well. 11 Reader ! 'tis strange that you and I, And all of human birth, Shall, when a few short years are by, Be swept from off the earth. The tens of millions of mankind — The rich, the poor, the lame, the blind, The prince and prelate, they who live On dunghills — the conservative. And he who plans reforms — All in whose nostrils is the breath Of life — shall be mown down by Death, A banquet for his worms ! I, !«?f lli m 1,1 m (.1 it!; ■I 132 RHYMES. To Jenny Bell. Luck be about us, Jenny Bell ! I canna understan' How it has come that Jenny Bell Has never got a man. Did ye no like your fayther's folk ? Did naebody like you ? Or did ye bogle at the yoke, And wadna venture through ? If yell come out to Canada — Whist ! hearken ! dinna tell — If ye'U come out to Canada, I'll marry ye mysel'. I biggit on the Aux Sauble's bluff ; A snug bit simmer shiel ; In Canada there's room enough, And we may do fu' weel. i( KHYMES. I'm getting auld, the truth to own, But ye're no young yersel' ; There's mony a simmer sun gane down Sin' I ken'd Jenny Bell. Wee white head, todlin' but and ben, I think I see her yet ; I was a cow-herd callant then About the Barburnfit. From time long past we turn to this ; Our dearest friends are gane. And in the world's wide wilderness We wander a' alane. . We wander a' alane, ladye, And that's what shouldna be ; We'll toiter on in company, If ye'll come o'er the sea. 133 I aaagi 134 RHYMES. D'ye say it's far to Canada ? That plea's no worth the while ; ~ 'Tis but a healthsome trip, dear heart — 'Tis but four thousand mile ; And crossing the wide sea is now, Sin' steamers' got sae rife, like stepping on the ferry-boat And sailing o'er to Fife. Up, up ! and come to Canada ; Ye'll be, upon my life, If ye stay thare three towmonds mair, A Davington auld wyfe — A Davington auld wyfe, d'ye see, ' And that's fag-end o' a' ; Ye had better hae a man like me ; Than get nae man ava. ■t - I ), RHYMES. : I lookit, and I thought ye leuch ; I thought I heard ye say : " Think we the body's wice enough To talk in sic away." I'm no — although I say it mysel' — Sae daft as ye wad think (But crackit, like a cattle bell, That gives a curious clink) ; I'm just about as wice the day As ever in my life ; Ye mauna ca' a body fey^ Because he wants a wife. 135 • I! ' ''■ When Adam in his bower wak'd up, A spruce, weel-titled laird, What signified his goodly cup Wi' naebody to share't ? 136 RHYMES. Earth's living races every one In couples came around ; He look'd, and look'd, but there was none In his own likeness found. :m No upright form, no soul-lit eye, In all that group was seen ; He stood in lonely dignity, A king without a queen. Heaven gave him all its gifts to crown, A help-mate young and fair ; Yon sun, now old, has ne'er look down Upon a happier pair. But, somehow, matters went aglee, I canna tell ye how ; Mankind are born to misery. And toil and trouble now. RHYMES. The road we have to travel now Is fu' o' pits and snares ; T still think they get better through Wha take the road in pairs. Up, up ! and come to Canada, You, the said Jenny Bell ; If yee'l come out to Canada, I'll marry ye mysel*. 137 138 RHYMES. To a Young Friend Newly Married. Weel, Geordie, man, I wish ye joy, . And a' the luck that's gatin ; What think ye o' the war! now, . When ye're a married man ? Is't no an unco strange affair, A very curious thing. That folks should run avow^edly Into a loopit string ? That bipeds of the virile class, By a blind boy inbroke, Should, like the patient bovine race. Come snooving 'neath the yoke ? RHYMES. 139 Na how it comes nae man can say, It never will be ken'd ; But just it has been aye the way, And will be to the end. 5 And ye maun gie my best respects To your dear better half ; Long may she grace your fireside. Long may she live and laugh. I I'll warrant ye she's a bonnie wife As ever yet was seen ; She'll be the comfort o' yer life— D'ye ca' her Kate or Jean ? H! iif ' I 140 RHYMES. And is she short or is she tall ? And has she coal-black hair ? Or does she wear the " lintwhite locks," Like the belle o' Moffat fair ? 1-' 8 I wish ye great felicity : May blessings come in showers ; A Bard's best henedicite Be aye on you and yours ! ! T^ RHYMEe. 141 t. To a Friend. 1 Daylight sits winking in the west. The grave, the wise, retire to rest ; The young, the gay, the idle, Together meet — a motley rout — To sigh to the lascivious lute. And caper to the fiddle. I 1^ Let greybeard Wisdom snore away, And Folly frolic while he may ; I by my lonely ingle Have sat me down, with pen in hand, To con, at Friendship's high command, A doggrel hame-mado jingle. 142 RHYMES. 8 for Uterpe's tuneful tongue 1 Erato's love-sweet voice of song, And Polyhymnia's fire I • The pathos of Melpomene, Calliope's glad minstrel glee, • Thalia's magic lyre ! — My verse should, like the lark's shrill lay On Scottish hill at break of day, Flow onward, fair and free, , Or streamlet sighing now and then. As todling down some craigie glen Far in my ain countrie. But, lack-a-day ! there's naething here A poet's pensive soul to cheer — f* h RHYMES. All mute the pine-tree grove ; No linnet warbles on the spray ; No mavis sings, at close of day, A ditty to his love. 143 The crickets' chirp, the cattle-bell, The bull-frogs' croak, the paddock's yeU, Grate on the listening ear : Pox on your Canada for me I There never was, there ne'er will be, A genuine poet here. H But I forget. I meant to say. It did me good the other day To meet, in London town, A kinsman from New Brunswick's shore, A chap I had never seen before, A namesake of my own. 144 RHYMES. 8 The auld Scotch proverb says that blood Is thicker thau the mountain flood ; Clansmen ken ane another — Nae wonder I was glad to see A grandson of old Dunabie, My father's favourite brother. 9 Willie Glendinning ! — how the name Makes me look back and think o' hame- I knew him long ago, jod a chiel as e'er was seen — A man who never fail'd a frien' And never fear'd a foe. And how's a* wi'e, my worthy frien' ? How are ye now ? how have ye been ? RUYMKS. And, think ye, can live in This place of great fresh water seas. Land of long rivers and big trees, Green earth and cloudless heaven ? 145 11 'Tis a good country : here, at least, There's plenty both for man and beast- Wheat (bin-fulls), new and old ; Squashes, big pumpkins and what net ; But then, the summer's rather hot, The winter's much too cold. 12 Belike ye're longing to go back to Your own lov'd home in Eichibucto, Once more to get a snuil Of the fresh breeze that comes at mom Along the gulf of Laurie's burn, When his mg tides are rough. 11 146 RHYMES. 13 Farewell ! and in whatever spot Of this Y ^de world may be your lot. May Heaven still guide ye here — Living, may yours be well-earn'd fame. That, dying, you may leave a name Which good men shall revere ! li RHYMES. 147 To Maggie. Weel, Maggie, thou hast got a man, . And that's nae little merit ; There's mony ane did a' they can AVha never yet came near it. 'M Daft gawks, wha, in their sunny morn, At lads wad laugh and jeer, ! Now ail aback and weather- w^orn, They sit and sigh, oh dear, ! Take ane auld queen frae 'mang the rest, And look at her manoeuvres — She's thinking o' good chances miss'd. And her discarded lovers. \ N 148 KHYMES. 4 Her face, that ance was bright wi' smiles. Is now no unco bonnie ; In vain are a' her thousand wiles To catch some simple Johnnie. Puir body ! naebody looks near To soothe her in her sorrow ; Her winter nights are lang and drear, And lanesome is her morrow. I 6 But Maggie, now thous't got thy swing (Love makes young folks delirious), Do ye na think this marrying . Is something rather serious ? RHYMES. It seems to me a curious speck — 'Gainst reason a' together — For freeborn folks to run their neck Into a loopit tether. . 149 8 I hear ye asking, " What d'ye mean ?" Now stop there, like a woman, And take a look on what has been — A thought on what is coming. A housefu' bairns, fvae morn to night A* crying, " Mither, mither !" To keep the restless bevy right, 'Tis surely muckle bother. 150 RHYMES. Ye shake your head and stamp your fit, And look as black as thunder; A sharper measure's wanted yet To keep the urchins under. 11 In vain ye curb the hopefu' sprigs, And shore them to be quiet ; Hard nipping tawse and hazel twigs Alone can quell the riot. 12 And a' your comfort in the case, !N"ae comfort can be colder. The wretches, like todlowrie's race. Get worse as they grow older. RHYMES. 13 151 , Joking apart, I wish ye joy, And pray that Heaven may bless ye ; Yell never need to draw a sigh if ye're as weel's I wish ye ! '■ if. ?§ / 162 KUYMES. A Sigh. And maun we never see again Auld Scotland's hills sae hie ? And maun we never hear again The lark's shrill melodie ? By Langholm woods and Wauchope wa'wS We spent our youthfu' days ; But we are far frae Wauchope dale And Langholm's bonnie braes. 3 A hunder leagues o' trackless land, * A thousand leagues o' sea, Are a' between us and our hame 'Mang Scotland's hills sae hie. • -♦ RHYMES. 4 163 There's bread enough in Canada, A working man may eat ; But oh ! the winter's w^earisome, And fierce the summer heat. 6 And hacking at the muckle trees Gars auld herd-bodies blaw ; The logging's but a roughsome job, The stumping worst o' a'. in Our beards grow lang, our cheeks get thin, 'Tis plain as plain can be ; We had better liv'd on haver brose 'Mang Scotland's hills sae hie. m il m *'■. i St I 164 RHYMES. We Loved. We lov'd ; and fondly did we deem Our path with flowers was strown ; Joy flU'd our home, and Hope's bright beam Around our footsteps shone ; But wak'ning from life's morning dream. We found ourselves alone. I And oh ! the band is hard to break That heart to hand has bound ; The severing blow, the parting stroke, Leaves an unhealing wound. 3 The sun shines fair on the fresh green earth, The wep birds for gladness sing ; But the desolate heart, by its lonely hearth, Mindsna the voice of spring. RHYMES. 155 Summer is bright, and gay and green Forest and field appear ; The desolate heart from the living scene Turns to the leaf that is sere. ■ ,1. Autumn, deck'd with the reaper's wreath, Eejoices in harvest home ; The desolate heart has its reaper Death, His garner the hollow tomb. 6 Chill Winter wastes in earth and air The wealth that Autumn gave ; The desolate heart finds an emblem there Of the winter of the grave. ■m i •ttmmmtmmm'iltglmmim^ •^^mm^ 156 RHYMES. m Tis Christmas Eve. 1 •Tifl Christmas Eve, when neighbours meet, And every face is cheerie ; Ilk kind gudeman sits by his dame, Ilk lad beside his dearie. I canna join your mirth ava, Your music canna cheer me ; They mind me aye o' other days, And make me wae and weary. I, too, aince felt the gentle glow . My young heart stealing over My Peggy was baith fair and leal. And I as leal a lover. .*U '•■>. RHYMES. 157 I saw her bloom a bonnie bride, Young husband ne'er was fonder ; But ah ! the band sae fondly ty'd Too soon was torn asunder. The summer found me glad and gay, I thought not of to-morrow ; But autumn came wi' yellow leaf, ^ And turn'd my joy to sorrow. I The snaw lies deep on Scarboro' lea, The winter scene looks dreary ; My wee bit cottage by the burn Is lanesome now and eerie. 158 RHYMES. To Mary Anne. You ask a song, Miss Mary Anne — A note of joy or sorrow, whether ( Make sure a song, Miss Mary Anne — Here, take the poet altogether. I lov'd : alas ! the dream has flown, ' And through the world I wander lonely ; Lay this lone heart beside thine own, And I will love thee, and thee only. In Eden, when the new-made sun Look'd down on bov/ers, all freshly bloom- ing, Twas not for man to be alone — Heaven gave a helpmate, lovely woman. RHYMES. 169 And now, as 'neatli a load of toil He wipes his brow at eve and morrow, There is no balm like woman's smile, The soft, sweet soother of his sorrow. That smile can cheer his saddest hours, Can light the present, gild the future ; Sweet woman, ah ! this world of ours Would be a dreary world without her ( 6 Her eye is like the orient beam At our Pine Hill's fair summit glancing ; Her voice like music in a dream, That sets the sleeper's heart a-dancing. ■^mif 160 RHYMES. Her form — my similies are done — That form's the fairest form in nature ; There's naething underneath the sun To liken to the lovely creature. 8 It is not good to be alone ; On life's rough waste the heart grows weary ; It wants a rest to lean upon — •True love can make the journey cheerie. But why should idle song of mine Steal on the ear of youth, beauty ? 'Twas she, the loveliest of her line, Who bade me sing — I've done my duty. RHYMES. 161 The Motherless Bairns. Be good to the poor little motherless bairns, And tent them and guide them in a' their concerns : Their sarks are a* duddy, their frocks are in wings — Be good to the poor little motherless things. A kind eye watch'd o'er them, a warm hand caress'd, As they lay in the cradle and hung on the breast ; But that kind eye is clos'd, and that warm hand is cold; Their mamma, poor mamma ! lies under the mould. Worn down with long watching and sickness severe, When she felt that her hour for departing was near, She look'd on her little ones weeping around. For the parting with these was her heart's sorest wound. Mn^^ering up her last strength, lier thin fingers she laid On the head of the youngest, and earnestly pray'd — " May the God of all mercy, the God of all grace, The God of my fathers, be the God of their race." ff. ■1' 162 RHYxMES. *Ti8 enough ; it is past ; 'twas her last long farewell ; From the head of her darling the thin fingers fell ; She sank back on her couch, gave a sigh and no more Poor mamma ! 'Tis finish'd ; her sorrows are o'er ! «' :il i I- RHYMES. 163 To a Friend in Scotland. Accept, dear sir, this offering from the hand Of a lone wanderer in the woody West : Although long parted from my native land, Glendarg's wild steps and Pentland's craigie crest, Fond memory oft, as with a wizard's wand, Calls up sweet home, in summer sunshine drest. And each dear friend, each old acquaintance, seems An actor in the drama of my dreams. A joyous group, the comrades of my youth. Still in the fancies of the night I see ; But morn returning brings to light the truth, That time and change have set their mark on me. 164 RHYMES. And they — where are they ? East, West, North and South— Toss'd far and wide on life's tumultuous sea, Or, wreck'd and stranded, they have reach'd the shore, Which they who visit thence return no more. 'Tis strange how fast a lifetime wears away ; Weeks, months and years upon our footsteps steal Late I was boy too, thoughtless and too gay To mark the speed of Time's unstaying wheel. In manhood's prime I stood but t'other day ; Now age comes like an incubus ; I feel The rigid fibre and the stiff'ning limb ; Grey hairs are here and there on Ephraim. Like traveller journeying on a waste of snow. Who, having gain'd some little height, looks back To trace his footsteps on the plain below. mm RHYMES. So I, life's traveller, tir'd with my long walk, Turn to look back on scenes past long ago, And start astonish'd at my tortuous track, As from the height of five and forty years I view my wanderings in the vale of tears. 165 Forward I look, but there's no sunshine here ; Thick-gathering clouds beat back my eager sight ; The path which I must tread is lone and drear, And leading onward to a long dark night. The natural eye looks on in doubt and fear ; The eye of faith thinks it perceives a light, And treasures to itself the cheering truth, That man, by dying, but renews his youth. 6 The Winter landscape, barren and ice-bound, i Leaps into life at the return of Spring ; The seed the husbandman casts in the ground 166 RHYMES. Starts up afresh, and fails not fruit to bring ; Even Man himself, as oft as morn comes round, Wakes up anew to action. Everything Around us teaches that the Great First Cause Brings Life from Death. God said-Light be ; Light was ! V RHYMES. 167 The Organ Question. 1 An Organ ! No : it cannot work Within a Presbyterian Kirk ; If once you hear a single note From outfits deep, sonorous throat. The Kirk is there, the lime and stane. But Presbyterianism is e^ane. Our fathers thought the human voice Was, of all instruments, the choice That simple melody of heart Wants little of the pomp of art. But that's all chang'd. The moderns say 'Tis cheaper, better every way. To praise (if such it seem to be) Their Maker by machinery. m «-; 168 RHYMES. > An Organ ! Why, if all are willing, Let every man put in a shilling ; There may come out an instrument To play on to their hearts' content. And keep their voices whole to praise The Queen, and shout on holidays. Israel flung in their trinkets thus, And forth came a Bucephalus ; And then, in honor of the day. They ate and drank, and rose to play. A happy people ! — dancing, drinking, Sav'd them the fash of sober thinking. The auld arch-enemy of man, The devil, tries every mortal plan. And plies his crotchets night and day To train men off the good old way ; Worship, he kens he canna stop it. His only chance is to corrupt it ; . RHYMES. 169 Tliere's naetliing gies him heartsick quahns Like hearing converts singing psalms. He whispers — " Try a Paraphrase, 'Twill answer better now-a-days ; They are sung on Sundays by your preachers, Ye'll surely follow your ain teachers ; But your weak voices, crack'd and riven, Can never reach the ear of heaven ; Good music's the best medium found — The Organ has a pleasing sound. >> 'Tis good to praise, at morn and even. The Maker of thq. earth and heaven :; Praise Him not only with the mouth — Praise Him in spirit and in truth — Praise Him with heart and soul and mind,. The Maker, Saviour, of mankind. V r~ 170 RHYMES. An Organ's but an instrument ; There's neither soul nor spirit in't — A tinklinr cymbal, sounding brass, Its highest treWe, deepest bass, Amount to noise, and noise alone — Meet praise for gods of wood and stone ! An Organ ! What would auld John Knox Have said to such a whistle-box ? Could Henderson and Rutherford Have seen the Popish tool restor'd, They had posted up on each kiriv road A board, and written, " Ichabod !" The Scottish wortliies well withstood Corruption, striving unto blood ; Theirs was a barbarous age, 'tis true — We manage matters smoothly now ; ' ; ; RHYMES. 171 Our modem watchmen, easy going, Against the current faintly rowin«r> Meet and discuss the Organ question, With pro and con, hint and suggestion The end 'tis easy to foresee ; Touch, taste not ; he who on his knee Dandles a Babylonisli lady, His virtue's well-nigli gone already. 6 An Organ ! Yes, it will be here Through a* our Kirks in twa three year. Unless some wife, like Jenny Geddes, The heroine of Scottish ladies, Wi' three-legg'd currie fire a shot And knock the squeaking thing to pot. 172 RHYMES. The Psalms. The Psalms that gude King David sang. And many a saint reveres, That fill'd with praise the house of God For near three thousand years — A light to the believer's feet, A lamp unto his path, His rod and staif and comforter Even in the vale of death— The Psalms are little thought o* now, The age grows so refin'd ; They are getting old, and pass away Before the march of mind. RHYMES. 4 The Psalms that gude King David saner Remind us o' langsyne ; We heard them from a mother's lips. Who taught us line on line. 5 They bring before our memory still The dearest spot on earth ; We heard them every night and morn Around our father's hearth ; 173 We heard them on the Sabbath days ; We would travel many a mile ^^ ^^^^ ^hem, as we heard them then. Ring through the auld kirk aisle. I -:. is ■I. I i iLi i mit i i imL.uj i jiw SXS' * ! 174 KIIYMES. The Psalms are getting of use 'Cross a kirk tlireshoid now ; Ye are sure to hear a Paraplirase And some new tillylioo — 8 A milk and water Paraphrase, A thing quite out of place ; The Organ will he here forthwith, And next conies Chevy Chase. The Psalms that gude King David sang Are little thought o' now ; They are getting auld and out o' date — a A pity 'tis 'tis true. >> RHYMES. 175 A Story of the Old Burial Ground of Kirkconnel.''* In Dumfriessliiro, Scotland, some forty years Lack, There was no little stir and a great deal of talk *Bout a class just tlien rising, 'yclept resurrection men, Who poach'd your kirkyard to supply your dissection men. * Tliia ludicrous Btory was current in the pRrish of Mickllehie, Dumfiit-sshire, Scotland, tbiity ytais o|;o. Tlie writer luard it related by a respcctiible farm< r then livi g in tlie i lei^diboui hood, who sei nud to be well acquainted with the circumstances, aid who had no douhta »8 to ita trutli. Andrew Irving, who a | eara as piincipal actor, wi i a shoemaker who Lved at the vi lage of Eaglo.-tieM, quite a character in hisi dav, and fully qualified to act the part ascribed to him in the narrative. Kirkconnel, famous as the resting-place : ' "Fair Heln" and her faithful lover, is situated on the hft bank of the bniall river Kirtle, at a short distance from Springkell, the bamnial uiansi n of the Maxweirs, Although in a populous i eighbourhood, yet, owing to its low situation and being surrounded by plantations, this dwelling-place of the dead f annot be f;een from an\ habitation of the living. A titter place for the doings of the resurrection man ca^ not well be imagined. That it was occasionally a field for that branch of industry cannot rea. Bonably be doub ed, A washerwoman in the village of \\ aterbeck having lisen very early one morning, had occasion to cross the stieet to her work, ano m doing so saw a peison aj^proaching from the east. She was soon inside the house ; she held the door ajar that she might i! F Ml 11' tfj m m n1 XV ^ ■Rlii 176 RHYMES. At the time we have stated Our story is dated ; We give it to you as we heard it related On a winter foresupper by one Robert Farish, Quite a 'sponsible man and the clerk of the parish. A person had died — so our author begins — In the Galloway district, somewhere in the Ehins, A man of some note, of the name of McDonnel, Whom they buried deep, deep in the lea of Kirkconnel, And, the body to save From the mound-digging knave, Two men were engaged to watch nightly the grave, Bee distinctly what was passinj?. The solitary traveller she recognized as a man who bore the nickname of " Old Pot Metal." He had a lorwi, which appeared white, hanging down over his back ; the woman had nearly fainted. It was believed that the load ho carried was the body of a young woman who had died a short while previously, and was buried at Kirkconnel — that he had been observed making the best o£ his way to his cart. The writer rt^members the said "Old Pot Metal" (what his re 1 name was he either never knew or has forgotten ; the nicVname must have arisen from the fact that he went through the country with a cart collecting oM iron). He bore a very bad character— the children were all afraid of him. RHYMES. 177 With guns loaded up to make sure of a clearance When the first resurrection-man made his appearance. lb , Kirkconnel — long famous the wide world over For the grave of " Fair Helen" and Fleming her lover- Lies low on a link on the Kirtle's left bank. Surrounded by forest trees leafy and dank. In midst of that lone, lowly place of the dead, Stands an old mouldy vault, a small room overhead ; To the latter our watchmen walk'd up every night. And there mounted guard till return of daylight : Like trusty good fellows, they stood to their posts 'Midst the hooting of owls and the sighing of ghosts. 4 In a clachan hard by liv'd an odd sort of fellow, Andrew Irving by name, and a souter by trade ; The neighbours said Andrew was apt to get mellow. But nobody ever saw Andrew afraid. !-' I ': ■hf ,1- 178 RHYMES. One day he went down To the old borongli town, Told his wife he'd be home about mid afternoon ; Got through with his business, bought leather and bristles, Tlie merchant and he merely wetting their whistles, And took to the road again, wannel and stark. For aince he bade fair to be up to the mark ; But, as ill luck would have it, when near Kirtle brig, He met wi' Bill Thomson and Jock o' the Eigg ; They couldna part thirsty, it was not in nature. So the trio went in for a drop o' the creature. The gillstoup kept clinking, Our wortliies kept drinking Till twelve o' the clock, when douce folks should be winking. Andrew bolted upright. Bade his comrades gudenight, From Boniface borrowed a bowit for light, RHYMES. 170 And put through the fields by a footpath and stile That led right by Kirkconnel, tVad save him a mile. Away he went singing, " March, march in good order, For a' the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border." He reacli'd the old graveyard, and now made a halt To run off the first brash of an overdose of malt. Here a volley was fir'd o' powder and lead, That waken'd the echoes around Kir tie head ; The herons and howlets got siccan a friglit, They flew up and could hardly tell wliere to alight. Andrew snodged away hame, but his dander was up, His pride had been hurt, 'twas absurd, 'twas abrupt ; What business had they, under any pretence. To make fun to themselves at their neighbors' expense ? — ^i:! I umn iiwiiaRavBRBaanxm I i ^^' « 180 RHYMES. They may langh if tliey will — let tlicm laugh at their leisure ; They may find (blast their buicks !) that a souter can measure. 7 Next day, Andrew Irving popp'd o'er to Springkell, The servants and he were acquainted quite well — Got the key of the vault from the footman, Bill Dobie, And an old bugle-horn that hung up in the lobby ; And that very same night, when our watchmen repair to Their post at Kirkconnel, Andrew Irving was there too. In sapping and mining the topmost's at fault — They were watching upstairs, Andrew dow^n in the vault. 8 All was silent as death ; Andrew's thought whispered, " Now !" And a low moaning note on the bugle he blew, And listen'd; his friends started up and stood still — But they spoke not at all ; not a word, good or ill. RHYMES. 181 The next sullen boom rose a full octave higher ; They bolted (who'd blame them ?), and then ran like fire. A third awful blast sounded louder than ever, A parting salute as they splash'd through tlie river. I It. 'd. On a hasty review, Andrew found that his wit had well Gain'd him the outposts, now turn'd to the citadel ; So, stepping upstairs, He took all prudent cares Lest the enemy should fall on his flank unawares. They were beaten, 'tis true, But he did not pursue — They might turn — who could tell ? — and the conflict renew. 10 When the last horrid clang died aw^ay on their ears. And a rash of the spirit of manhood took place of it, li % \V: is ill; .: H i I i ! I 182 lUIYMES. They might stop to consider the cause of their fears. And ask, How the Dickens they made such a race of it ? But they stopp'd not at all ; they had gone once for all away — Ta'en the road like lamplighters — the nearest to Gal- loway. \ 11 Andrew found 'mang the spoil a gude new shepherd's plaid, Some cheese and bread too, and a bottle of brandy; The last did not get very far, I'm afraid, The place was so damp and the thing came so handy. The plaid he took home, and for many a year . At kirk and at market he constantly wore it — Told its story, and said sliould an owner appear He was ready and "\\ illing at once to restore it : But nobody ever appear'd as a claimant, So Andrew fell heir to that fine piece of raiment — 'Twas a black and wliite plaid, with P. B. for a name on't. KlIYMES. 183 THE M E A L. Our story is ended ; and now for the moral. He who would get peaceably througli tliis ill worl'. Let him mind his own business, let others alone ; Never rouse sleeping dogs, never throw the first stone; When he travels, be sure to be home wi' daylight. And keep away from kirkyards in the ho we of the night. -#*■ i -^-J . -I , ! ii • M 184 RHYMES. Verses WBITTEN ON SEEING A HUMAN SKULL HANGING ON A NAIL IN A RAILWAY 8MITHIE NEAR THE RIVER AUX BAUBLB. Let me alone : cannot the dead Be left till earth gives up its trust ? Why should the bald and scalpless head Be torn from out its kindred dust, And hung, like harness, on the wall, Before the gaze of one and all ? I. X, That skull on which thou look'st held once A spirit. Where is that spirit flown ? Those holes thou see'st held eyes whose glance Show'd human passion like thine own. Here was a cheek ; a thousand years Back in the past 'twas bath'd in tears. I RIIYMKS. 3 185 Look on tlie iiiiii Death has wrouglit — Tlien turn to thine own self, and know That liaughty brow shall yet bo brought Bcneatli the march of life's grim foe, And t]iat proud heart, now beating warm. Become a bantjuet for the worm. Yon sun is liastcning to his place, Emblem of Time's unstaying speed- How soon shall all the human race Be rank'd with the forgotten dead ? A little while, and thine and thou And all shall be as I am now ! N ^> ^r^:^^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) h A :/. V. 'v. 1.0 I.I 1^ b£ 12.0 lyi iJA 111.6 V] ^ o /a ej '^ ^> ^^'^ V >^ '^^ ^v- r^ >y ... w ;\ i * ■ 1 I I i m I i 186 RHYMES. The Pedlar. In the fall of the year — the last year of the reign Of the good old King George, of that title the third (Attention to dates makes the narrative plain, And this tale of the Pedlar is truth every word) — Two travellers were seen passing through Eskdalemuir — A middle-aged man and a lad in his teens : The first was a Connaught boy, newly come o'er, A dealer in ballads, and needles, and preens : He was little of stature, And dark in each feature — A rather low type of corrupt human nature. Pockpitted w^as he. And blind of an e'e. He had a sinister look wi' the one that could see ; And moreover he stutter'd Every sentence he utter'd ; A mair henspeckjp body there couldna weel be. KHYMES. 187 His comrade a lad from near Hexham-on-Tyne — He had fled a harsh stepmother, begging his bread, Till he now made a start in the mercantile line. And little by little began to succeed. He bore on his back. In a small pedlar's pack. Pencils, thimbles and seals, this and 'tother nick-nack ; But his business was still on a moderate scale ; Thirty shillings wad bought all he carried for sale :. He was feeble of body and weak in the mind too — Such a one as the world is not often kind to. Our travellers far'd on from one house to another. Trudging on, talking kindly like brother and brother^ Till they reach 'd Upper Cassock — where's that ? !£.' you ask, ^ 'Tis the uppermost farm on the course of the Esk.. A kind little girl hero, pitying the sinners. Took them into the kitchen and gave them their diit- ners. Ifl ' >ji li !i 188 KHYMES. " And this will make me strong for crossing to Etterick ; And this will make you strong for crossing to Etterick," Were the sage-like remarks of the son of St. Patrick. Perhaps it were meet I should here introduce To the reader the worthy gudeman of the house — A man of strong sense and a quick, watchful eye : He came in, took a look at his guests, and passed hy. The sequel will show that to every time-server He's a dangerous neighbour, an accura.te observer. The dinner discuss'd, at a hint from tlie Gael, His comrade drew near to his pack to unlock it- Gave the girl a picture (a print of De Stael), And, closing the box, put the key in his pocket — A circumstance afterward press'd by the crow'ner. He who carries the key of a box is the owner. RHYMES. 189 *» The reader, perhaps, Has heard tell of the steps Of Glendarg, which mean, literally, one of the gaps In that high range of hills, high and misty indeed. That divides Etterick Forest from Esdalemuirhead : Folr the steps of Glendarg, then, our travellers set out- Tis a long, dreary road, but they'll find it, no doubt. 6 Now the time must be shifted twelve days after date. And the scene to the wilds we have mentioned of late. On a dark, misty day, in the month of November, A shepherd was going his rounds, When he found (such a scene one were apt to remember) A body all cover d with wounds ; There it lay in full view, with its face to the sky, As if making appeal to the All-seeing eye ; 190 RHYMES. The sleet and the rain Had striven in vain To wash from that visage the dark, bloody staiiL The right arm, which fail'd in the last evil day The assassin's rude hand to arrest, Was stretch'd at full length, as if pointing the way To a land where the weary shall rest — The left lay across on the breast. The corpse to the nearest farm-house was convey'd, The same which we spoke of a few stanzas back ; And the same little girl came forward and said — " That's the boy who pass'd here lately, carrying a pack, That gave me the picture." These words, like a lamp, Threw light on the subject ; 'twas he, without doubt, And his travelling companion, the horrible scamp, Had murdered his victim, and robb'd him to boot. RHYMES. 191 Here the man of the house, without further advisement. Sat down and wrote out the subjoin'd advertisement : — {( NOTICE. 8 " Be it known to all men, That in a wild glen^ Near the steps of Glendarg, and one mile from the Pen, There was found a dead body this day, and the same Proves that of a Pedlar, John Elliot by name, A lad from near Hexham. Moreover and further. The evidence points to a terrible murther. The Pedlar lay there asxold as a stone. But the purse and the pack of the Pedlar were gone. When last the said Pedlar was seen on the tramp, He was travelling northward from Eskdale to Etterick, Along with James Gordon, an ill-looking scamp From the county of Mayo and land of St. Patrick. 192 RHYMES. Said Gordon's a man five feet five inches high, Much mark'd with the smallpox and blind of an eye. And stammers in speech. He wh.o happens to find him Will just have the goodness to catch him and hind him, And send him direct to some justice of peace. Or to A. Young, P.F., of the town of Dumfries. Upper Cassock, November the thirtieth day, In the year eighteen twenty (and signed) A. G,"' Twelve days had gone by, When a fierce hue and cry Started after a rascal with only one eye : . The writer remembers — he long will remember — On a cold, drifty morn, 'twas the first of December^ He was raised long ere day. And huiTied away ii RHYMES. 19a With a note to Lord Napier, at Thirlstone House, Every bush that he past Seem'd a pedlar's ghost. Till daylight returning reformed the abuse* 10 Bumbailiffs are running in every direction, Like beagles let loose on the trail of a fox ; The scent had grown cold, yet, with careful collection. They managed to hunt up the following facts : — A man had been seen, answering well the description. Coming down from the wilderness, carrying a box. Selling goods at half-price, without stint or restriction^ Singing sangs to the lassies and cracking his jokes. He passed Broadgairhill, stopp'd at Kirkhope o'ernight. Took the road in the morning with laugh nd guffaw. Got his dinner at Thirls tane, turn'd to the right, And cross'd Etterick water aboon Tushielaw. 194 RHYMES. 11 Up Eankleburn now Sweeps the hunter's halloo, But the chorus stopp'd short in a linn at Buccleugh ; At the foot of the rocks Lay a pedlar's box, And after the box there was no further clue. 12 Some weeks pass'd away, When the news came one day Of a man caught in Lanark, and there lodged in thrall ; But, as matters turn'd out. It was prov'd, beyond doubt, That the Lanark man was not the fellow at all. 13 It has often been said Blood cannot be laid — RHYMES. 195 That Providence points to the murderer's track : Be that as it may, 'Tis our duty to-day ft To state what appears a remarkable fact. 14 As a farmer far north, in the county of Nairn, Was reading a handbill stuck up on a wall, There came to liis elbow " a shag-headed kern," Begging coppers, and blessing his honor withal. He read on the bill — " Five feet five inches high, Much mark'd with the smallpox and blind of an eye ; And stammer'd when speaking." He look'd on the creature. And finding the picture drawn true in each feature, ad so ended the matter. Popp' gaol, 15 There was then no such thing as a telegraph wire ; Men had not the art yet of writing by fire — 196 HHYMES. No lightning express running past on a rail — A coach and four carried his majesty's mail. When the stage from the north reach'd the town of Dumfries, This message was brought to the chief of police : — " A man is arrested, suspected of murder Committed in Eskdale, somewhere on the border ; He is lodged in Nairn gaol, and aw^aiting your order." 16 A respectable farmer, Will Graham o' the Cote (The house which our travellers had last spent the night in), Was posted to Nairn to identify Pat, Who swore on the book that that one was the right one ; So Pat (with a guard, wlio look'd well to his prize, is) Sent down to Dumfries to await the assizes. » RHYMES. 17 197 'Tis court day; the couit-liouse is full to the door; The stwii, wiggy lords on the beiicli liave sat down, The lawyers are bustling below on the floor ; The court is just open'd in name of the crown. But where is the prisoner ? Hush ! hush ! he is there. Just entering the box — how the multitude stare ! This case has been mark'd v»^ith peculiar atrocity ; We look in that face for the lines of ferocity, And what is before us ? no fierce Mamaluke, But a very small man, with a sinister look. The usual question is put by the board — " Are you guilty or not ?" " >Tot guilty, my lord ;" And the plea of " not guilty" is placed on record. 18 ^-s It would tire the writer as well as his reader To question the witnesses, follow the pleaders ; i 198 RHYMES. We will merely relate, with remarks interwoven, A few of the principal facts that were proven ; Or, if you would rather, we'll here lay before ye The gist of the judge's address to the jury : — 19 " Gentlemen of the jury, you see in the box A man charg'd with murder and robbery both ; 'Tis your duty with care to examine the facts ; In rendering a verdict remember your oath. That the man at the bar, it is clear as daylight, Was seen travelling along with the pedlar now dead — That they stopt at a place call'd the ' Cote' overnight, And started next morning for Eskdalemuirliead ; — That they reach'd Upper Cassock sometime about noon. Took dinner together ; when dinner was done. The lad, as the evidence bears, on a hint From the man at the bar, gave a girl a print ; KUYMES. 199 (lit, Said girl saw the lad lift the box and unlock it, And close it again, put the key in his pocket. In view of these facts, there*s no doubt, not the least, That the box and its bearings belong'd to deceased. The travellers then left ; we can trace them no further. But we follow in thought to the scene of the murther. The Stellbushedgend and the Summercleuch-head Bore witness that day to a horrible deed. The prisoner awhile disappears from our sight, But we find him again the same day toward night Coming down on the Selkirkshire side of the height ; He is travelling alone, with a box on his back. And he comes not at all by the regular track ; But he comes from the Caldrons, a wild, mossy glen. Halfway 'tween the steps of Glendarg and the Pen. We can fancy each crag and grey cairn, as a meddler, From the skirts of the mist asking, * Where was the Pedlar V !■■ 200 RHYMES. 20 " 'Tis gloaming ; tlie inmates of Kirkliope farm house Hear a desperate' noise, and the reason is plain — All the collies about, like a kennel broke loose, Are attacking a man at the foot of the lane ; The collies are quash'd, and the travel-worn wight Is brought into the kitchen and lodged for the night. Next day the new packman is cheapening his wares ; Just now he is selling remarkably low ; He wishes to ' live and let live,' he declares — The goods were bought cheap ; lightly come, lightly go. .21 " 'Tis needless to follovr through all its details The track of the prisoner ; we merely report. As a rather unlook'd-for result of his sales, The articles sold found their way into court, RHYMES. 201 And were prov'd to be goods — several samples, at least — Which a stationer in Langholm had sold to deceas'd ; And the box which was found in the linn at Buccleugh Was the Pedlar's own box ; and these facts, put together, Do prove, beyond doubt, that the indictment is true, But proven or not, 'tis for you to say whether." • - « 22 When his lordship had finished, the jury withdrew j The court is all silent, the prisoner looks blue ; The verdict is " guilty," the charge is found true. His lordship resumed (fitting on the black hood), Yet pitying in heart the foul shedder of blood : — " James Gordon, the court has establish'd your guilt ; The law claims your blood for the blood you have spilt. Can you show any cause, in this hour of your need, Why the sentence of death should not fall on your head ?" o 202 RHYMES. " My lord, please your lordship, whoever roay doubt it. This murder, Heaven knows, I know nothing about it." " Heaven witnesses now both the false and the true ; Heaven's law, and not man, lays this sentence on you : That you now be remov'd from that bar to the same Lone criminal cell whence this morning you came ; That you there be confin'd, fed on water and bread. Till noon on the sixth day of June next ensuing, Thence brought to the gallows and liang'd till you are dead — And may Heaven in its grace save your spirit from ruin. And now I beseech you, thus nearing the goal Of your earthly career, seek the peace of your soul. And, confessing your sin, cry for mercy to Heaven, Where alone by Man's blood can man's blood be for- given." 23 'Tis the sixth day of June ; All the folks about town. RHYMES. 203 All the folks in the country, for many miles roun* The old town of Dumfries, are in front of the gaol. Assembled to witness the prisoner's finale. With the hour came the men ; priest and prisoner are there ; The priest, having cross'd himself, mutters a prayer To the Virgin to help in this hour of despair ; When Calcraft steps in and takes charge of the affair. Fits the rope, and before you'd say " Paddy, take care," Draws the bolt, and prisoner is dangling in air. 24 At this moment a flash and a loud peal of thunder Strike the hearts of the gazers with terror and wonder ; Another bright flash, And another loud crash, And the rain falls in torrents ; the huge living mass Ts off helter skelter To the houses for shelter, And the murderer is left all alone in a halter. m 204 RHYMES. 25 What became of the body I never have heard — The doctors would hack it to bits, I suppose. When brought into the house, it was stretch'd on a board, And a galvanic battery applied to its nose, When it started instanter to kick and make faces ; These doctors — well, well, they are pretty hard cases I [ »i ii RHYMES. 205 Extract of a' Report of the General Assembly at Quebec, June, 1871. London Kirk Session, well aware That preaching's but a dull affair, Cold moral lectures, prosy, plain, Told off in a monotonous strain — The same thing o'er and o'er again. Such prosing they take no delight in, London wants something more exciting, And therefore they petition humbly The (Ecumenical Assembly To give them leave to introduce A fiddle to their preaching-house — A fiddle ! — yes, a grindstone fiddle, ^' To make their elbucks jink and diddle." 206 KHYMES. They think, by entertaining fiddlers^ To catch the loafers and the idlers ; And this, to their clear comprehension, Seems the best mode of chiircli extension. Now let us follow to Quebec, And see how the Assembly act ; And, by the bye, if genuine worth May be found anywhere on earth. Might we not seek it here 'mong these Kev. MA.'s and learn'd D.D.'s, Men tutor'd from their early youth, And set for the defence of truth ? Smith's (Bowmanville) first proposition Is to receive the said petition. And after a long peroration *Bout woi-ship of the Jewish nation. RHYMES. 207 New moons and trumpets, slips in sideling, An argument for Sunday fiddling. Fifes, fiddles, organs, all or none ; After long arguing, pro and con. Manoeuvring, scheming, engineering, Willis bolts up and claims a hearing. Said Eev. Dr. us'd to be The prop and stay of Presbytery, Who many a stormy day withstood Corruption coming like a flood. And many a worthy speech made he 'Gainst worship by machinery ; But flesh is frail. whow ! whow ! He's a wersh Presbyterian now ; To-day all briskly up he bristles In favour of the kest and whistles. 208 ill RHYMES. 6 Wilson, of Kingston (seconded By Ross, of Bni ceil eld), rose and said — " Let this petition be rejected, And notice given to all connected." The seconder and mover each Delivered an effective speech, Explaining lucidly the use Of worship, also its abuse ; Maintaining that we had no call For instruments in Kirk at all ; For such the Christian code, though ample, pave neither precept nor example ; And furthermore, we should beware Of novelties in this affair ; Nadab and Abihu are still Like beacons set upon a hill — RHYMES. Vain men, who, of their own accord, Offered strange fire before the Lord, And by the altar, in the ire Of Heaven, they fell, struck down by fire. Uzza, too, died beneath the rod ; Foul hands, touch not the Ark of God ! 209 Cochrane brings up a motion now. Endorsed by Cowan, Waterloo ; Moves, without caveat or condition. To grant the prayer of the petition ; That London burghers, being free, Are perfectly at liberty To do just as they have a mind to. Fiddle or not as they're inclin'd to ; As well strike up at Kirk on Sunday As fiddle at their homes on Monday ; it ' jir,i 210 RHYMES. Liberal enough, and carried through By sixty-one to thirty-two. 8 And so the Organ's coming in As sure as death, as sure as sin ; May we not look for lively times 'Tween fiddle tunes and Eanter rhymes ? And who can tell but we may yet Be call'd upon to dance a bit To jigs like " Push about the Jorum" And the old " Keel of TuUochgorum ?" Our fathers us'd to fast and pray — That sort of thing is done away ; We eat and drink and rise to play. The case looks dark, still there's a few Old Presbyterians, staunch and true, RHYMES. Contending for the good old way — The landmarks of a bettor day. Borne down, they may be like their sires Beneath fierce persecution's fires ; The witnesses may even be slain, 'Tis promis'd they will rise again, A promise tliat can never fail — The truth is great and will prevail. 211 1 1 ri :.i 'V I 212 RHYMES. To E 1 I travell'd east the other week, From Kirkwall to the twelve mile Creek ; Trudging afoot mile after mile Through Frielton, Flamboro' and Carlisle, I felt my heart begin to fill When I drew near to Cummiugsville. 2 I thought o' Tibbie, your kind mother — I thought of Kob, your generous brother, Who on the threshold us'd to meet me, And wi' a kindly welcome greet me ; I thought, as I came down the hill, There's a sad change in Cummiugsville. Tibbie and Rob, the night of death Has settled down upon them baith ; RHYMES. Their graves I know are on yon hill, And yet I think I see them still — I think I see them beck'ning me To follow to a far coiintrie. 213 We see around us day by day Comrade and kinsman pass away ; Our dearest friends, o'er whom wg sigh, " Sicken for us, for us they die." Heaven teaches thus the truth severe, That we have no strong city here — Reminds us of our last long home. And points us to a world to come. How strange the thought that you and I, And all that live, shall surely die I The eye that overlooks this scroll, Now the bright index of the soul. 214 RHYMES. Shall, when a few more years have run. Be clos'd on all beneath the sun ; This hand, now servant to the will. Tracing each line with accurate skill. At length grown faithless to its trust. Shall pause and crumble into dust ; This heart, now warm, shall soon be cold. And low beneath the churchyard mould. Where parted friends in silence meet ; We go to our long last retreat. And the mourners go about the street. 6 Happy is he to whom 'tis given To walk on earth in light of Heaven- He who can, with the eye of faith. Look calmly down the vale of death. And see beyond a cheering ray Bright'ning to everlasting day I RHYMES. 215 Verses for the New Year, 1868. Time flees : 'tis strange to think how fast The present hastes to join the past ; One moment, and one moment more — The first no magic can restore ; Yet each swift moment fleeting by Spreads a new scene before the eye. Another year has pass'd away ; Old Sixty-seven is gone for aye, And Sixty-eight comes apace, Eager to run his twelvemonth's race. In the beginning of the year, 'Twere well to pause in our career. And, stepping from the world apart. Hold converse each with his own heart. Stand still — consider — look around I What are we ? Whither are we bound ? 216 RHYMES. t Wi We start to life, continue here A little while, and disappear ; But whence w^e come, and where we go, We only guess, we do not know. Backward wfe look — how like a dream ! Childhood and youth and manhood seem Before us in a dark'ning cloud. Shaping its form into a shroud ; Around us friend and kinsman fall, Teaching this truth to us, to all. That soon we, too, must come beneath The march of the pale horseman. Death I Happy is he who, through the gloom Of the dark night that shrouds the tomb, Can view with eye of faith afar The brightness of Bethlehem's star — That star which shines to guide the wise On to the gate of Paradise ! RHYMES. 217 i!|f Verses I* SUGGESTED BY READING, IN THE TOEONTO " GLOBE," AN EX'rEACT FROM A SERMON BY THE REV. W. M. PUNSHON. AMONG OTHER THINGS, MR. PUNSHON WAS REPORTED TO HAVE SAID :— "THERE WAS NO GRACE IN THE BEGINNING, FOR THERE WAS NO SIN." There was no Grace in former days, Ere man had sinn'd ; so Punshon says — A rather curious creed, say I — A swatch of strange theology. What ! Did the Grace of God begin When man first stretch'd his hand to sin ? Was man not rather under Grace In Eden, his first dwelling-place ? Its gifts were neither few nor small To Adam, eie he sinn'd at all. wgsSSSSSSm 218 RHYMES. Through all the works of God we trace The footprints of a God of Grace : Grace plann'd a world ere time began ; Grace form'd and gave that world to man- A goodly gift, a dwelling meet For Heaven's especial favourite. And there was Grace in forming Adam In the image of the God who made him — In giving him more " knowledge fair" Than beasts of earth or fowls of air ; And there was Grace without restriction In the Edenic benediction : God blessed them and said — " Go forth, Be fruitful, and replenish earth ; RHYMES. Subdue it, for to you are given All beasts of earth and fowls of heaven ; And every fruit tree yielding seed To you is given for daily bread ;" All, save one solitary tree, Keserv'd as landlord's property — One tree reserv'd to teach our sire Though he was high, his God was higher. 219 But Adam fell. What next ? He found That Grace did then much more abound ; Like a lost sheep, man went astray, And tried from Grace to get away ; Grace followed, pleading earnestly — " Turn ye, turn, why will be die ?" Grace had enrolFd his name above, And drew him with the cords of love ; ^^smsssssi 220 RHYMES. Grace found him wand'ring ou the wold. And led him back into the fold : Adam this day is in his place, A living monument of Grace. Why should the teachers of our youth Keep back a portion of the truth ? Why circumscribe the Grace of God ? Tis like His law, exceeding broad. Paul, speaking in the Christian cause. Tells us Grace made him what he was — A simple truth. I think we all Accept as such these words of Paul. True in a moral point of view. And also physically true ; They might have come with equal truth On his first morn from Adam's mouth ; RHYMES. 221 And they would certainly be true If us'd by an archangel now. The last depends as much on Grace As the least child of Adam's race ; Grace rais'd him high in strength and might— A chief among the sons of light ; Grace kept him when his comrades fell ;] Grace keeps him now and guards him well This truth is sure— the Grace of God Is over all His works abroad. 6 Yes ! there was Grace in the beginning, Long before Adam took to sinning ; Grace worketh now, and Grace will be Man's song throughout eternity ; The Grace of God's the grand foundation And copestone of the whole creation. i 'i 222 RHYMES. Whow, That Drink ! wliow ! that drink, that sparkling drink. So tempting to the e'e ! Young man beware, 'tis Satan's snare ; He baits for you and me. whow ! that drink, that generous drink I When o'er our cups we meet, And heart frae heart is loth to part, We think our joy complete. O whow ! that drink, that hitter drink I Bitter enough next day ; We fancied this the road to bliss, But found we miss'd the way. RHYMES. 223 whow ! that drink, that sitbth drink ! O'ercome in evil hour, Once and again many strong men Have bow'd beneath its power. whow ! that drink, that raging drink ! They who strong drink pursue May find, ;pro tern., delirium trem., And devils black and blue. whow 1 that drink, that fatal drink !- Fatal to great and small — Its trophies wave o'er many a grave Beside the old kirk wall. m 224 RHYMES. whow ! that drink, that doleful drink ! On every hand we hear The oft-told tale, the widows' wail, The helpless orphans' tear. 8 whow ! that drink, that sparkliyig drink ! So beautiful to see ! Eeader, beware ! 'tis Satan's snare ; '. He baits for you and me ! RHYMES. 225 Lines Written at the Time of the Franco-Prussian War. The clang of arms through Europe rings ; France challenges the world agen, And Eussia into battle brings Eight hundred thousand chosen men. " Let the young men arise and play Before us," spake Napoleon Third ;" " Let them arise without delay," Answers King William at a word ; And bounding to the battle-field Come Teuton fierce and fiery Gaul- The Teuton yet untaught to yield, The Frank to conquer or to fall. 226 RHYMES. The cannon shakes the solid earth ; The cLassepot and needle-gun Their fiery missives vomit forth, And smoke-clouds shroud the blazing sun. Heaven from the dust call'd man to life, And man turns man to dust again ; Whence come the tumult and the strife ? Has Heaven indeed made man in vain ? 6 No ! but we know not the decree Of Him who rules by His own will — Who makes the raging enemy To praise Him, and brings good from ill. RHYMES. 227 What News Afloat ? (written on the BBEAKING out of the last AMERICAN WAR.) What news afloat ? These Yankee wars Keep all our quidnunc's in qui vive. The point is, Can the Stripes and Stars Beat down the power of Jeffer. Davy ? It would appear that old Abe Lincoln Has more on hand than he is thinking. 2 The North may beat the South. What then ? A nation beaten is not conquer'd ; The tree cut down will sprout again ; The wound will fester that has canker'd ; It costs a deal of blood and thunder To keep a nation's spirit under. 228 RHYMES. This much is plain — who runs may read — That Heaven the negro's cause is pleading ; Long doom'd beneath the lash to bleed, His rude oppressors now are bleeding ; Wrong unrepented, unforgiven, Brings down on earth the rod of Heaven. " Let Israel go." Heaven's claim of right Was scoff'd at by the impious Pharoah, And death's dread angel on that night Look'd down on Zoan, Noph and Cairo ; And the elite of Pharoah's forces Were in the morning all dead corpses. What of the night ? Say, watchman, say O'er Italy the morn is breaking, RHYMES. And in the blowing of the day- Old Pio Nono's throne is shaking ; A few more such shrewd brushes must Bring Pio's triple crown to dust. 229 The Poles! how I wish the Poles Would beard that bloody Russian bruin ! But ah ! their patriot zeal (poor souls !) Will prove their deeper ruin, And forge afresh and rivet faster The bonds of their barbaric master. II n '?JL:vUi-v,i*ium lMi ; i.l, l« .^. I 'l ^ ir'.' j Ki ■ 230 RHYMES. A Monody. I dinna like to see Mag gaun away ; I dinna like to see Mag gaun away ; I have likeit lier weel this mony a day. And I dinna like to see Mag gaun away. She came amang us a blythe young wife As ye wad hae seen in the neighborhood roun' But little we ken wliat's before us in life — The blythe young wife was a widow soon. I saw a tear on her faded cheek, As her fatherless baby she press'd to her heart; Of the anguish that lay on that spirit meek, I wish'd I could only have borne a part. JIHYMES. 231 My heart fill'd full as that teardrop fell ; I thought of my own dark, cloudy day ; I thought of one I had long lov'd well, Now long asleep on a couch of clay. 'Tis hard to part with those we hold dear— To watch beside the bowing head- To follow the sad, slow-moving bier Down the churchyard path to the place of the dead. But why should we fret ? 'Twas our Father's hand ; He took but away what His goodness gave. To turn our thoughts to that better land Beyond this world and beyond the grave. «- k « m ir m. 232 RHYMES. At every stage of our journey here The trophies of Death around us lie ; Lover and friend and kinsman dear — " For us they sicken, for us they die." 8 The transient scene of our earthly career Is thus before us continually set. Lest we say in our heart it is good to be here. And forget our end — we are prone to forget. 9 I dinna like to see Mag ^faun away ; I dinna like to see Mag gaun away ; May the widows' Shield and the orphans' Stay Be a friend to JMag when she's far away ! RHYMES. 233 Benedicite. 1 Oood on your head, Maria, dear ! To you I wish a gude new year. Many returns of Hogmanay, And many a happy new year's day ! Good on your head, for now I feel Jt does me good to wish ye weel ; Thus even goodwiU, experience teUs, Comes back in blessings on oursel's. Good on you head ! May Heaven in showers Pour its best gifts on you and yours ! I wonder did ye ever see As great a gomeril as me ? A crazy, auld, grey-bearded carl, Midway 'tween this and 'tother warl'. 234 RHYMES. In love wi' you, nae fine young lady. But a half-worn, tough-looking body, Ogling through double converse lenses. Love's the most strange of human frenzies ; It seems to me that such a passion Might well put sparking out o* fashion ; But then, 'tis a free country this ; An angler for connubial bliss May hook a widder or a miss ; No man has reason to complain If he but let the wives alane. Love's a fine thing ; indeed, 'tis charming. And to a sad, lone heart most w^arming : Love's a first principle, from whence Spring all sorts of benevolence ; Love softens selfishness ; just now I think of little else but you ; RHYMES. At morn and noon and night I miss ye. And daily plead wi' Heaven to bless ye ! Facts such as these go far to prove That mine at least is genuine love Nae holplang callant's fickle notion. But a true yeoman's deep devotion- Homage of heart and soul and might, And how can'st thou that homage sli^^ht ? 235 It matters not ; the date to-day Tells us that time flees fast away Tells us that in a few years more Our love and hate will both be o*er. On threshold of another year Let's us pause and look around. And ask ourselves, with hearts sincere, What are we ? what's our mission here ? And whither we are bound ? 236 RHYMES. 6 Yon sun, now hastening on his track Adown the western sky, Though bright as now, a few years back Shone not on yon and I. A little while ago, and we Had here nor name nor place- No place in human history, "No name 'mong Adam's race. A few years hence, and we shall be As we had never been — Asleep beneath the willow tree Upon the auld kirk green. Are these things so ? Then I would say- Let's love each other in our day, We will not pass again this way ! RHYMES. 237 A New-made Grave. Another new-made mound is seen In Thamesford, on the kirkyard green ; Upon a neat, new-lettered stone, Ts written Agnes Paterson. My early friends, long lov'd, long tried, In their last home sleep side by side. Why should I mourn ? God's time is best ; His saints must enter into rest ; Living, they gain'd life's highest aim. And dying, left a spotless name. * While sterling truth and genuine worth Are valued among men on earth. Descending down from sire to son Shall live the name of Paterson. 238 RHYMES. Margaret de Graeme. [In the Summer of 1871, the Poet was introduced to a Mi^. Graeme, a widow lady, still young and still beautiful. His Bardahip, as usual, fell desperately in Ir ve, and wrote the foUewing :— ] A blythe little woman, a kind little woman, A good little woman, was Margaret de Graeme ; A manner so cheering, a smile so endearing, Shed sunshine around her wherever she came. But ah ! those soft glances, more dangerou' "^han lances, Sparkling right, sparkling left, s*- ^j' hearts in • a flame ; Young gallants are sighing, stout yeomen are dying, Struck down by a glance of fair Margaret de Graeme. * iiitt The preacher last meeting his task was repeating — " Friends, look at your end, whence you are, whence you came ; RHYMES. 239 The prize is before ye ;" but the thread of his story, He lost it wi' looking at Margaret de Graeme. The Poet, poor fellow ! half mad and half mellow, Makes tracks through the moonlight a-muttering her name ; He swears on the 'Vangels the houris and angels Are darkies, compare them wi' Margaret de Graeme. If I were Belshazzer or Nebuchadnezzer, Or Sardinapalus, or Brian O'Breame, I'd quit court and palace, brush boots at an ale-house. And live in a cell and love Margaret de GraBme. But I'm a poor digger, I work like a nigger. Grubbing stumps on a bluff of the sixteen mile stream ; 240 RHYMES. I'm gley'd of an e'e, too, and hamely to see, too. I canna expect to gain Margaret de Gr»me. But though I'm discardit, my suit disregarded And bootless for ever my fancy's fond dream. My daily employment, my highest enjoyment. Is singing of love and fair Margaret de Gr^me. THE END.