IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 / 
 
 O 
 
 C^/ 
 
 ;V. 
 
 V 
 
 A 
 
 4. M-) ^ ///// 
 
 
 (/. 
 
 
 1.0 [ifi^ 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 1^ 
 
 2.5 
 2.2 
 
 lifi I 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 1-4 IIIIII.6 
 
 V] 
 
 7 
 
 
 ^^ ;;> 
 
 
 7 
 
 /A 
 
 d^ 
 
 4^ 
 
 (V 
 
 
 
 A- 
 
 '<^>. ' ^'^ 
 
 .^ 
 
 f^ 
 
 V 
 
 '^ 
 
 1^ 
 
iV 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Microfiche 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 1980 
 
 : 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available for filming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliographically unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usual method of filming, are checked below. 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exempiaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exempiaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du 
 point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la m6thode normals de filmage 
 sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. 
 
 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 I I Covers damaged/ 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 D 
 D 
 D 
 
 n 
 
 D 
 
 Couverture endommagde 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul6e 
 
 Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes g6ographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Reli6 avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge int6rieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 appear v^i;.'.in the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have bee^^ omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas 6t6 fiimdes. 
 
 □ Coloured pages/ 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 I I Pages damaged/ 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 Pages endommag6es 
 
 Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restauries et/ou pellicui^es 
 
 □ Pages discoloured, at.'isined or foxed/ 
 Pages d6color6es, tachetdes ou piqu^es 
 
 □ Pages detached/ 
 Pages d6tach6es 
 
 Showthroughy 
 Transparence 
 
 Quality of prir 
 
 Quality indgale de I'impression 
 
 Includes supplementary materif 
 Comprend du materiel supplementaire 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 r~l\ Showthrough/ 
 
 I I Quality of print varies/ 
 
 I I Includes supplementary material/ 
 
 I I Only edition available/ 
 
 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., hjve been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont 6ti& ulmdes d nouveau de fapon d 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 U 
 
 ~i Additional comments:/ 
 
 Commentaires suppldmentaires: 
 
 x/ 
 
 10X 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 
 
 14X 18X 22X 
 
 26X 
 
 30X 
 
 \/ 
 
 12X 
 
 1«X 
 
 20X 
 
 24X 
 
 28X 
 
 32X 
 
The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 Izaak Walton Killam Memorial Library 
 Dalhousie University 
 
 L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grSce d la 
 g6n6rosit6 de: 
 
 Izaak Walton Killam Memorial Library 
 Dalhousie University 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol —•^- (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED '), or the symbol V (meaning "END '), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprim^e sont filmds en commerivant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit car la 
 dernidre page qui comporte une emrreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autrr.s exemplaires 
 originaux sont film6s en commen^ant par la 
 premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — »- signifie "A SUIVRE", le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre 
 filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
 reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir 
 de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mdthode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
PR 
 
 5372 
 
Utj^ .,.h> 
 
 <-o^ 
 
 1Dull)au£iic Collciic fiilivani 
 
 I i 
 
 ii 
 
 JOHN JAMES STEWART 
 COLLECTION 
 
 t. 
 
 ■ ■ , * 
 
 „..A,^ - *. 
 
 ;.. ., w V 
 
 /. 
 
ir^ 
 
 W 
 
 'i\ 
 
 ><i 
 
 ■wp 
 
 BY 
 
 ALBYN. ps^'A. 
 
 Ay^cir 
 
 
 sv;e\i- 
 
 I am like a child 
 Tired of the playthings in the afternoon 
 That in the morning made him wild with joy. 
 
 Page 5. 
 
 HALIFAX, N. S. 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM MACNAB, 11 PRINCE ST. 
 
 1869. 
 
■*^jf 
 
 46/7 
 
 I I 
 
 \u/vU Z.7 
 
 ^a 
 
 % 
 
LETTER TO ELIZA. 
 
 From that commanding eminence between 
 The three-score years and ten, and four-score years, 
 Whilst pausing in our earthly pilgrimage 
 And looking back, or haply turning o'er 
 Such incidents as may observance claim ; 
 Amoi J the notes upon our tablets seen. 
 Like leaves promisucously in Autumn strcw'd, 
 And left around this hermitage of mine ; 
 Tho' not the best, nor yet the latest made ; 
 Are found some lessons by experience taught 
 Which in life's index have no place assign'd, 
 And with propriety might bear the name 
 
 Of miscellaneous on i. title page 
 
 As axioms, maxims, inferences ;— few, 
 
 But in the generations past and gone, 
 
 Would have been treasur'd ; in the present day 
 
 Wharf, store or cargo, next to ready cash 
 
 Or politics alone attention claim 
 
 And take precedence of all else beside. 
 
 The scatter'd fragments lie so wide apart, 
 Some out of reach, and some more out of place. 
 Or what is worse, perhaps would be no aid 
 
 e?' 
 
 A 
 
 '/ 
 
 
: ^ 
 
 ! ^ 
 
 I- . 
 
 In garlanding this souvenir of ours. 
 Not for amusoment we daguerreotype, 
 But waiving what may seem too dimly traced, 
 Nor anxious from oblivion to retrieve 
 From what is valid venture to rehearse, 
 Or, more correctly, venture to discuss 
 What does appear at variance in our creed 
 Or prejudice ; if not a better phrase, 
 Will natively be better understood, 
 V/hich Albyn and Eliza,— both to blame, 
 Uncatechised, adopted as their own. 
 Pliant, or stubborn, as occasion serves. 
 To act, as the ingredients it contains 
 Advises urgency, or asks restraint ; 
 And hence, amidst some chastisement severe. 
 May, peradveuture, in a solemn hour. 
 On reconsideration, eye to eye 
 See, that all doubtful disputations are 
 Upon the list of the exemptions made 
 When christian character is in review. 
 And by analogy cannot be less 
 In what it is forbidden we should know. 
 Envy to me is only known by name, 
 And fretfulness has never been my guest. 
 Yet in a length of days is much to chafe 
 And irritate the meekest of mankind. 
 It does not shock the poet's nerves to hear 
 That exclamation wrung out of the soul 
 So full of pathos in the Psalmist's song 
 
When wanting wings wlierewitli to fly away 
 To some far wilderness, and be at rest. 
 
 Not thus, Eliza, must our feelings flow, 
 Tho' not less plaintive if they flow in verse, 
 But, blending choice with duty, calmly wait 
 The time appointed ; I am like a child, 
 Tired of the playthings in the afternoon 
 That in the morning made him wild with joy. 
 And more than half a convert have become 
 Unto that axiom Israel's Monarch penn'd 
 When he review'd the labours of his life — 
 That vanity of vanities is the refrain 
 Of all the noblest hymns of humankind. 
 And all man's pleasures terminate at last 
 In the vexation that his spirit feels. 
 So often cheated, and himself the dupe 
 Of ev'ry shadow that his fancy weaves. 
 As one by one, they vanish out of sight. 
 
 This truth grates harshly on the youthful ear, 
 Nor farther entrance is to it allow'd. 
 Nor less astounding, oft in after years 
 Uutil experience, or some startling stroke 
 Of Providence, divides the gloom around, 
 And lets a ray of heav'nly sunshine in ; 
 Then, not till then, we too like Solomon 
 Look on disgusted, and like him exclaim 
 That all is vanity beneath the sun. 
 
 Beyond the halo that a good name gives, 
 (That gem a world of rubies cannot buy) 
 
 m 
 
I itl 
 
 ! 1 
 
 
 No appetite for earthly things is mine, 
 I loathe the verbiage, faahion'd tho' it bo 
 To suit the taste of would-be amateurs, 
 Tagg'd to the title that the Muse bestows, 
 And sometimes surreptitiously obtain' d. 
 No envious longings lodge within my breast 
 To stand upon ambition's dizzy height, 
 And look contemptuously on all below, 
 And watch the attitude Despair may take 
 AVhen disappointment meets them by the way, 
 And certifies them that the end is near ; 
 Or, leaving little more than shaking hands, 
 Hands scarcely less prophetical than those 
 The King of Terrors always with him brings; 
 Then in the city of the Dead partake, 
 Such leasehold as to each may appertain. 
 
 Eliza, scion of a fruitful vine. 
 In other days, that Albyn call'd his own- 
 Drooping, and wilted by a chilling blast, 
 (Altho' transplanted in a genial sphere,) 
 That found thee like a houscplant fondly nursed, 
 Too early to the garden plot transferr'd, 
 And the first bud amongst the leaflets seen, 
 So promising and pleasant to behold. 
 Abruptly swept from the maternal stem. 
 Less of the poet, than the parent now, 
 
 Tho' apposite such similies may seem, 
 
 Commingle with the thoughts to which our pen 
 Is giving shape and fashion ; do not deem 
 
 i I 
 
These lines are pencill'd with a stoic's hand, 
 Tho' void of flavour to a critic's taste. 
 ITo leisure ours to harmonize their tones, 
 Or modulate tho syllables severe, 
 Like thine, Eliza; ruthlessly unsoal'd, 
 With us affection's fountain overflows ; 
 And lavish of our gladness as our grief, — 
 Though we rejoice with them that do rejoice, 
 No shame is ours to weep with them that weep. 
 
 By some expressions of tho crudest kind, 
 When reason's atmosphere was overcast, 
 And faith bewildered in a wreath of mist, 
 Nor distant from the precincts sceptics claim 
 As their possession, often diapossess'd. 
 And never certain whether right or wrong ; 
 Nor are their landmarks over- well defined. 
 We are admonish'd (not quite free of pain) 
 By some unguarded utterances made, 
 Which in the anguish of a mother's heart 
 The harrow of bereavement prostrate leaves, 
 Bleeding and stupified with deep distress, 
 * rhaps may palliate, but will not excuse 
 Such hopelessness as Christians must condemn, 
 Nor should have entrance into pious minds. 
 
 With such ideas immediately in view. 
 We ask attention to no idle tales. 
 But consolation that the Gospel gives, 
 Suggestive of our acquiescence now, 
 In wisdom infinite, and far beyond 
 
 'J 
 
 
 IR: 
 
8 
 
 What sinful, erring creatures comprehend ; 
 And through a glass is only darkly seen. 
 
 Ah ! why indulge in questionings, or worse 
 Keep vascilating between yea ai ' nay, 
 Certain in part, but more to doubang prone. 
 If in the spirit land departed friends 
 Have knowledge still of what is said and done 
 Amongst us — their companions left behind. 
 
 Are we not in the Sacred volume told, 
 And is it not unchallenged on record ? 
 That a great cloud of witnesses are ours, 
 The best and earnest of the human race, 
 Were compassing the Hebrew saints about 
 In Apostolic days, say then, why not 
 For us a similar employment find. 
 And tho' not always visible, oft times 
 Are we made conscious of a presence near 
 That has a hallowing influence on our souls 
 And makes the atmosphere around us sweet. 
 
 Deem not such witnesses can ever be 
 Spectators idle, or without an aim ; 
 Could Abel, Enoch, Noah, or God's friend, 
 The faithful Abr'ham, or those shining ones, 
 Famous when living, and illustrious dead. 
 Without some special purpose tarry there — 
 But not the tottering of earthly thrones, 
 Or empires perilous, or sceptres lost, 
 Or sickly dynasties would them entice, 
 To visit worlds of sordidness and sin. 
 
Only to blush,— if souls departed can 
 
 Blush, for the wickedness they would behold. 
 
 With all the scholarship St. Paul possessed, 
 And none his education will dispute. 
 He does not undertake to say what size, 
 Or to his vision, how the cloud appeared ; 
 But mark the language that he has employ'd 
 " So great a cloud!" and all of witnesses. 
 How full of meaning is that little word, 
 That "so" in our salvation overflows, 
 ind how soothing to the sinful soul 
 in that amazing passage where we read 
 That God "so" loved the world, He gave His Son 
 To be a ransom for a ruin'd race. 
 
 What do they witness ? trembling on the lips 
 
 Of many a childless mother may be now 
 
 'Twixt hope and fear unutterable found, 
 
 Lest ev'n what hope they have be swepl away ; 
 
 Or that their fears, unwelcome as they are 
 
 In the response more amplitude assume. 
 
 But in their bosoms, hidden tho' they be. 
 
 Anxieties and longings find a place, 
 
 To know if all in mem'ry held so dear, 
 
 Perhaps a fav'rite or a first-born child, 
 
 Vssurance safely might be entertain'd 
 'hat in their anguish, altho' unaware, 
 gulf impassable is fixed between 
 3 filial effluence when death's signet's set 
 all the love within a mother's heart. 
 
 #:i 
 
!~ 
 
 10 
 
 How do they witness ? Some fond mother's sob 
 Forbidding utterance to her lips, enquires. 
 Tlie weeping eyes in sympathy sincere, 
 Without reluctance seconds the demand ; 
 An empty cradle, or perhaps the toys 
 Piled in the corner of a little crib, 
 Tho' mute, become interpreters and there 
 Considerations favourable claim, 
 And tho' disposed to pathos, yet how strange 
 The tremor that arrests the poet's hand. 
 And in a pause, the pencil seems to own, 
 Or caligraphs where sorrowing is seen. 
 
 Why do they witness ? Ah, that heartfelt throb 
 Does touch a tender spot, and from repose 
 Awakes emotions that we ill can hide, 
 That overleap the barrier time has set 
 And distance has been wanting to make void. 
 Lo ! what resistless eloquence is in 
 The tears of sorrow by a mother- shed. 
 As still some token of the past recalls 
 The recollections of her buried babe. 
 Unchanged to her imagination now 
 As when it fell beneath the spoiler's shaft, 
 Tho' dust for years, has anto dust return'd. 
 
 Of knowledge less desirous, than evade 
 Too keen observance, o'er and o'er again 
 With little variance, is the query made. 
 Why do they witness ? and for what intent. 
 Do they as spies and sentinels become 
 

 11 
 
 On our department ? over curious more 
 Than requisite, has prompted the demand, 
 Nor haply is unanswerable found, 
 Nor in the present instance is unapt 
 And pencill'd down unstudied as it comes. 
 In Holy Writ, where revelation ends 
 Enquiry is no further to be made — 
 No rash assertions can acceptance fir d 
 Among the theories we entertain ; 
 But, void of violence to common sense. 
 Nor wanting reverence we may suppose 
 If inaccessible our thoughts be found 
 At least our actions open to them lie 
 And what indulgence, or denials share 
 As we are passing through this vale of tears. 
 
 Go faithless one, and unbelieving, still 
 Eliza mine, and wander forth alone 
 At twilight hour to some secluded spot. 
 None more secluded than the groves of green 
 That mantle o'er the Dartmouth heights and holms. 
 Nay, do not ask, 'tis useless to enquire 
 
 In what direction should the stroll begin, 
 
 It is not possible to go astray ; 
 
 But if your steps should east or southward tend, 
 
 It will be vain to linger long beside 
 
 That pile on the triangle left between 
 
 The thoroughfares that pass it either way. 
 
 On this and that side. Priest and Levite-like ; 
 
 Enough for them that it is there, alone, 
 
 jif! 
 
 
 i 
 
 If! 
 
 m 
 

 '-fe 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 51 
 
 12 
 
 Half stupified at least, if not half dead, 
 By addiiig to, more than by taking from — 
 A thing- divided parentage can boast 
 In dubious pedigree between them placed, 
 Waiting some good Samaritan to shew, 
 If not his love, another sister grace 
 Perhaps bestow,— Oh, charitable deed, 
 Even tho' but fastened like fig-leaves, pro tern, 
 Some appellation on it, worth two pence. 
 No extra exercise that can fatigue 
 Needs to be levied on your limbs, before 
 Another orphanage of humbler aim 
 May claim attention, but does not invite ; 
 Morose in countenance, tho' not unkind. 
 And in appearance, of a beauish caste. 
 When pass'd forgotten, nothing intervenes 
 Until a " clearing " may the eye arrest 
 
 Where the " Belle Cottage," stands in plebian pride 
 
 Upon a rising, not aspiring height — 
 
 And more pretending in its equipage 
 
 Set vis-a-vis conspicuous, the " Wolfs den," 
 
 A habitation of a hopeful kind. 
 
 But like a Dutchman's garden, more for use 
 
 Than ornanient, it has no vacant space 
 
 Whereon to rest or rusticate a while. 
 
 There apathy no longer holds the sway 
 
 But interest more ardently leads on, 
 
 Till unawares, your footsteps may be found 
 
 On Mount Amelia at the close of day 
 
13 
 
 As the last sunbeams on " Chebuct^ " shine ; 
 Where the Recluse and Amateur alike 
 In the diversities that each require 
 Can have their longings gratified for once. 
 However high their expectations rise, 
 Beyond them all the promise is fulfilled 
 The primal features of creation's face 
 There suffers little from the touch of time, 
 Save where disfigured by the hand of man. 
 
 The fowler's feet forbidden there to tread, 
 His avocation no beginning finds 
 In slaughtering the denizens of song. 
 But ev'ry vested privilege is theirs 
 By right divine, confirra'd by special grace, 
 Not terrified, when visitors advance, 
 Nor fly away, but folding up their wings 
 To chirp a cheerful salutation, wait 
 Or serenade them with a native ode. 
 
 More reticent, the rambling Rabbit starts 
 As you approach, and opens up her eyes 
 Like, hesitating, if you come too near, 
 To what results the interview may lead. 
 The coward creature always is found shy 
 To cultivate acquaintanceship so close. 
 And hops aside a little to look round, ' 
 Or in a quest'ning attitude enquires 
 If a reception safely she may risk ; 
 And when not satisfied, more distance still 
 May place between her frontispiece and yours. 
 
 ):(' 
 
If 
 
 I I 
 
 14 
 
 Or out of sight into the covert crouch. 
 
 A thriving colony of friendly squirrels 
 Among the rabbit family reside, 
 Versed in the modes of rural ettiquette 
 On strangers thro' the sylvan suburbs tend 
 And chatt'ring loud, officiously polite 
 Court observation by their quaint address. 
 Some compliments that never have an end, 
 And quenchless curiosity is theirs 
 Like Frenchmen, equally both tongue and hands 
 Accouchers in their comedies are made. 
 
 Or, by the margin of the '' Maynard Lake," 
 A polish'd mirror, of the purest plate 
 For photographs in Nature's studio set 
 Where likenesses are taken day and night. 
 But, what to you more interesting still 
 Balmy, and bright, and beautiful, the nurse . 
 Of half the folly that bear's Albyn's name. 
 
 Or, should your loiterings to the " Brookhouse " lead 
 Instruction there is giv'n without a fee, 
 Instruction fitted to remind the old 
 But more emphatically warn the young 
 How transitory their sojourn is here. 
 There modesty and meekness, strangers both, 
 Would count upon the super extra list 
 As out of place, if they should chance to call, 
 Not mingle, in the revelry and mirth, 
 Or be spectators of the orgies there 
 A silent, solitary, sad abode. 
 
A foundling brook of questionable birth 
 Jf filiated ; North and South might claim 
 To each related, and by each disown'd ; 
 A wretched swamp, obliging to them both, 
 As foster-mother, feeds it for a while, 
 Bonn' I to the task by favour less than force. 
 And when the outcast wanders forth alone, 
 Feeble and fretful even when at play, 
 A dwarfish thing, that did not care to grow, 
 Disposed to sulk and idle half the time, 
 Nor void of viciousness when more mature ; 
 It swept a trench inta the bank above 
 And diligent, or desp'rate at the task 
 Ere ugliness donn'd in the picturesque 
 Became a Boscage, such as Nature owns. 
 In that the vagrant vixen disappear'd. 
 And where it brawl'd a lively laughing stream, 
 Was in a costume of another caste 
 Seen through the shrubb'ry in amusing moods. 
 Flaunting in ev'ry fascinating form 
 The most imposing. Rapids and Cascades ; 
 Or flush of fun, would skip from rock to rock 
 Restless and rogueish, in its matchless airs 
 And not averse to share mischievous deeds 
 When floods and freshets flung them in the way. 
 No prude, — vivacious, violent at times, . 
 Agile in motion, —in adventure bold, 
 And entertaining unto curious crowds. 
 Affronted by some innovations made, 
 
 
 15 ;: 
 
 f 
 
 i' 
 
 > 
 
 .!?■ 
 
 "^i^i: 
 
!> 
 
 16 
 
 Upon the liberty the' a long enjoyed ; 
 
 And of all pristine honours dispossess'd, 
 
 In the coarse garb of servitude attir'd, 
 
 Lately the charmer vanish'd out of view, 
 
 And left the " Brookhouse " in the pouts behind. 
 
 Divided from it by a narrow lane, 
 That narrow lane upon the public palm'd, 
 As the broad street that tith'd the Province chest 
 May be mistaken for an ill-maue drain, 
 Unfinish'd left on the contractor's hands, 
 And destitute of engineering skill. 
 
 Behind a hedge-row scantily esconsced 
 Beside that lane the monument is seen, 
 Where Elegance was murder'd long ago. 
 A humpback'd hovel once did mark the spot ; 
 A cottage that became, and it is now 
 Something, (to aggravate the murder more,) 
 Without resemblance to aught else on earth. 
 Some crude ideas the situation shews, 
 Some aspirations adverse fate controls ; 
 Nothing original, except the style, 
 Ornate in front, all else an olio seems — 
 As some atonement for the reckless deed 
 (The reckless deed can not be all atoned). 
 Content is seen domesticated there, 
 Rejoicing in the term of " Sunnyside." 
 
 As there is no seclusion there, delay 
 Must be forbidden at this early stage, 
 Nor listen when indulgence would persuade ; 
 
 \ 
 
 : 
 
 . 1 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 tm 
 
 m 
 
 
It 
 
 If southwardly, the walk be lengthened out, 
 And all around is hush'd,— it may be well 
 To loiter slowly passing thro' " Beechgrove," 
 And note the mansion in the quiet copse ; 
 The very index of the owner's taste, 
 So quaint without, and classical within. 
 A nest,— from capital to quoin unique,— 
 There is no room for criticism left, 
 In such a haunt might happiness be made 
 A daily guest, if not a bosom friend. 
 
 Arriving at an opening in the woods 
 Upon the left, turn up the crooked path 
 Tortuous, and twisting thro' among the trees 
 Unto "Balmoral;" buried out of sight. 
 Strange paradox, tho' planted on a hill' 
 Almost forgotten that it had a name. 
 Care and tranquility, divided long, 
 There in companionship are closely bound ; 
 Comfort and kindness, amiable pair, 
 Like sister-twins, attendants on them wait 
 Nor needs a wish to be repeated twice, 
 A lonely lodge for meditation meet, 
 And wake the soul to commune with itself. 
 
 Or less retired to wander o'er " Woodeide " 
 Woodside I we pen it with a solemn sigh— ' 
 Woodside I not now to us the Woodside when 
 It gave US welcome in departed days 
 The very fields have lost their laughing look, 
 And all the forest sighs in mournful tone 
 
 If 
 
 il 
 
H 
 
 18 
 
 If 
 
 No monument there vanity requires, 
 No pillar to commemorate its time ; 
 The residue of baubles that have been 
 Those decoys fatal to enthusiast souls, 
 That promise more than ever was enjoy'd ; 
 The pride of life in ruins flung aside, 
 The brevity of earthly bliss denotes, 
 And written on them legible is seen. 
 Emphatic more than eloquence can aid 
 An useful lesson, though not often conn*d ; 
 Even when transferr'd unto the poet's page, 
 There read in vain, — if ever read at all. 
 
 Amused, perhaps admonish'd by the way 
 The mind, of some embarrassment set free. 
 Allows the eyes more leisure for a glance. 
 When wending homeward in the twilight hour, — 
 Or by the moonlight streaming thro' the trees, — 
 A passing glimpse of " ?ernwood " may be got ; 
 A passing glimpse exhausts the glories there. 
 Nor leaves one relic to remembrance dear. 
 
 Above *' Mount Pleasant " now the stars do shine. 
 But only shew what shadows on it rest. 
 What pleasures there are to the name confined, 
 Nor does it now so prepossessing seem 
 As to our youthful fancy long ago. 
 Yet from the poet friendship claims a tear, 
 The tribute trifling, but sincerely paid. 
 Yes, friendship once with Henry Mott was mine, 
 And intimate insensibly became, 
 
 
 ( ' 
 
it 
 
 
 19 
 
 Nor in it over had ajar been felt 
 That could disquiet for an hour create 
 Ere envious death dissolved the fragile tie 
 And made another loved illusion void. 
 
 What strange sensations fluctuate between 
 Our sympathies and admiration when 
 We reach the precincts compassing around 
 The sacred edifice that crowns "Mount Hope." 
 
 How adoration flutters in the soul, 
 Extensive more than language can express. 
 Instinctively our aspirations rise, 
 Grateful and glowing, up before the throne 
 Of Him in whom we live, and move, and breathe 
 That Reason, estimable beyond price, 
 Insulted often, and with anguish wrung. 
 Or wantonly abused, without remorse 
 In instances innumerable : — still 
 We are permitted to enjoy the gift, . ., 
 All gifts so ill-deserving to enjoy. . ;; 
 
 deprivation, sad in the extreme 
 To have the guardian of the soul made dim, 
 Or underneath a cloud of darkness hid, 
 And wander blindfold in a world of ill 1 
 How rich the recompense shall be to them 
 Who will alleviate such distress as theirs. 
 How many bland associations might 
 Commingle with your meditations there, 
 But, the " Insane Asylum " is no place 
 To tarry now Eliza ; when 'tis night 
 
 
20 
 
 !* 
 
 I.. 
 
 Much to make glad, exhilarate, delight, 
 And from the languid listlessness discard. 
 Admits postponement till a happier hour. 
 
 Thee is tMt watch-tower by the waters' edge, 
 A homestead and a hermitage in one. 
 Two-fold the title unto it belongs 
 Erst " Babcock's Folly," — " Woodburn Cottage," now 
 Provisionally that, and this conferr'd 
 Nor more euphonious, but imposing more, 
 Allows the upper crust to loom at large 
 Where pride and prudence have their feud forgot 
 And in love's fetters, bride and bridegroom-like, 
 A neve-rwaning honeymoon enjoy. 
 
 Besides, en passant by the way-side sown 
 There is a hamlet of a hybrid type, 
 The partly cabin, partly cottage mould, 
 Like half a village, just at random flung. 
 But parley not with passengers who share, 
 The stillness of a summer's ev'ning stroll, 
 fUntil a structure bathed in the moonlight, 
 iFrom peak to pedestal in silver shines ; 
 Where the spectator, — in amazement lost, — 
 Weil'd in the gothic and grotesque, beholds " 
 Another version there of ** Sunnyside," 
 Which, if secluded, 'tis seclusion meet, i 
 
 To pamper pride, more than refresh the mind. 
 
 Or should the North more apposite be deem'd, 
 ^ome pleasring walks are in the presincts found, 
 The air delidoua if the hills be high. . • • 
 
SI 
 
 But do avoid the " Dovirs Elbow bridge," 
 Nor be found near " Gorrillaville " alone, 
 (Altho' the demon has been dispossess'd ;) 
 That fit receptacle of filth and froth, 
 Excusable the absence of all else, — 
 All else polluted that would palter there. 
 
 Diverging westward where the lane allows, 
 (A lane in Dartmouth passes for a street,) 
 Could witchcraft be, this were a witching scene j 
 The adopted Daughter of the Dartmouth Lake, 
 Before you cradled in the naked copse, 
 Starts from its slumbers as the playful breeze 
 Stoops down and leaves upon the placid cheek 
 A loving kiss, acknowledged in a smile, 
 That o'er the fair face quivers with delight : 
 Nor does a sigh disturb the stillness there. 
 
 Upon the zephyrs from Rose Cottage, now 
 Commingled with the falling dew, is borne 
 Odors soft, breathing o'er the sloping bank — 
 Nameless — as the twin domiciles that muta 
 Beside the margin of the woods are set, 
 Where both utility and taste for once, 
 Tho' oft discarded from the Dartmouth hills, 
 Have found the welcome of familiar friends, 
 And countenanced, if not consulted too. 
 
 Nor less the fragrance in the " Avenue," — 
 That Avenue a " Vallambrosa shade," 
 Small the edition, but in faultless form, — 
 Sacred to friendship, and to Tempest's name ; 
 

 I I 
 
 22 
 
 How long unchanged amidst forgetfulness, 
 
 In memory that dear retreat abides. 
 
 For us delight was ever waiting there 
 
 So cool, so calm, invigorating, sweet. 
 
 On to the " Brae " the bashfulest beguiles ; 
 
 The " Brae !" how soft it sounds in Albyn's ear 
 
 As if some echo of the past awoke 
 
 Like lightning flashing o'er the Poet's soul 
 
 Into a moment had an age coraprest — 
 
 The " Brae !'' that picture of domestic bliss 
 
 A rural villa, on a splendid site. 
 
 Secure the partridge o'er her infant brood 
 In the surrounding thicket nestles down, 
 Or fearless, (in her fond pursuit) of ill, 
 She leads them out at eve to take a stroll. 
 
 But shoulc her eye detect the felon hawk 
 Poised in the air, preparing for a pounce, 
 A smother'd click and trailing wings make known 
 Such peril nigh, the picture is reversed 
 Like falling rarn the little feet are heard 
 Tripping in haste to hide among the leaves. 
 The maple leaves that seem to plume themselves 
 Less on the patronage that they possess 
 Than in the manner it can be applied ; 
 No bye and byes that may enhance the boon 
 Is requisite to prompt a gen'rous act, 
 But pleased to aid the puny protegees 
 Drop round about them, motionless and mute. 
 
 ii n 
 
23 
 
 And earliest of the visitors in spring 
 The " Robin " always comes to get his lunch, 
 Nor ever is his confidence misplaced, 
 Among the feather'd tribes there not one shares 
 A kinder welcome than the robin greets. 
 
 There too, the " Woodcock " shy as he appears. 
 Has made acquaintance with the poultry pen — 
 Without a dial, knows the feeding hour 
 And from his ambush in the neighb'ring brake 
 Ooraes uninvited, bides his time, and then 
 Slips in among the chickens for his crumb. 
 
 But pleasing as this portrait may appear, 
 'Tis not the Eden once, ere birthright ours 
 A dark vignette upon the obverse side 
 The universal "bubblyjock" displays. 
 But, in an alter'd form ; A large black " dog," 
 Fierce, and unmuzzled, prowling up and down 
 About the premises by day and night, 
 Whether of mastiff, or, of mingled breed, 
 Alike the terror of both ill and good, 
 The sleepless despot does his duty well. 
 
 Something less tangible has often made 
 In Scotland's ballad days, and even now 
 Between the Cheviot and the Vale of Tweed 
 A good foundation, whereon to begin 
 A fabl'ous creature of the devil-kind 
 And in some neighbourhoods, say up the Jed 
 On Oxnaras', or the banks of Cale, it might 
 Among the simple peasantry become 
 
 '.'It 
 
 ■' III 
 
 I 
 
if- 
 
 ii 
 
 24 
 
 By oft repeating- o'er his acts and deeds 
 A prodigy of fearful size and shape ; 
 Perhaps be furnish'd with more heads than odo^ 
 And dignified with horns, the eyes of fire, 
 A foaming mouth, and teeth to correspond ; 
 The colour countenancing the idea^ — 
 Besides, his rash, and rufl5an-iike address 
 The newest version of the Scottish " Deil" 
 
 In beautiful and calm repose is seen 
 A lovely Landscape stretching from the " Brae 
 Th' enthusiast's eye untiring travels o'er, 
 Made luminous as the departing glance 
 Of sunlight shines on mount and minaret, 
 On pediments, and pinnacles and spires. 
 On churches, chapels, cupolas, chateaus 
 And humble dwellings dotting all around. 
 Ashamed to own what soubriquits they bear. 
 Or incognitas, veil'd in various forms, 
 Yet not indifferent unto disregard, 
 BuiU to the manor, but unmaner'd yet 
 As is an Indian wigwam in the woods 
 All in this brief biography comprised. 
 It is some place^ wherein some person lives. 
 
 Distinguishable from the cliffs and crags 
 So dimly seen along the distant coast, 
 Bristling above the billows high and hoar. 
 Beyond the Falkland village proudly placed 
 Britannia's bulwark, towers on Camperdown^ 
 Stript of its shadow ev'ry day at noon 
 
 <»^ 
 
 't ' 
 If 
 
25 
 
 It still the tidings from afar unfolds 
 
 With eyes when open like the lightning's glare, 
 
 And in a tone, loud as a thunder peal 
 
 Of questionable Characters, demands 
 
 The import of their errands, ere they dare 
 
 Presumptively to touch our sacred soil. 
 
 The sacred soil that Nova Scotian's tread, 
 
 The sacred soil of England's sacred Queen. 
 
 Verse fails to furnish all the rapture felt 
 When gazing onward where the ocean rolls 
 Far out at sea, just visible— not more, 
 Against the horizon a cloud appears, 
 To curl in darker or in lighter shades 
 Is the unerring telegram that tells 
 Of a Cunarder crushing thro' the waves 
 Like a live creature of a curious mould 
 And longing for the cheer greets her return. 
 An outward bound is in the oflSng seen 
 To court the breeze with all her canvas spread, 
 God speed the voyage, leaps up from the heart 
 Nor waits for words to waft the pray'r on high 
 Ere from the lips unconsciously it 'scapes 
 Tho' ev'ry hour the spectacle be new. 
 
 Upon an arm between the sea and land 
 Thrown naked o'er Chebucto's throbbing breast. 
 Like a huge hogshead tumbled upon end, 
 A darkish, dwarfish, shapeless looking thing ; 
 And squat in attitude the Lighthouse stands, 
 Its value not to comeliness confined. 
 
 ;<i 
 
 ill 
 
 
■ 
 
 I '::• 
 
 r :} 
 
 26 
 
 A precious gem in a rough casket set, 
 There oft the mariner, when tempest toss'd, 
 Looks for salvation from a wat'ry grave. 
 But how suggestive, why should Albyn say ? 
 
 More cherish'd feelings in the bosom stir 
 Nor is the charm of an Ephem'ral kind, 
 Altho' from us no worship they have won 
 Yet do they merit much of our regard, 
 What time their summer ornaments are on 
 Those islands, folded in Chebucto's arms 
 " St. George's " — like a baby hush'd asleep, 
 But when awake can shew Britannia's breed. 
 The charming child is all forgotten then, 
 "McNab's" — more of the matron than the maid, 
 Simple, sedate, and sisterly in mien. 
 Inclined to negligence in the attire 
 With some attention to the present st^le 
 Chignon, and plumes, and parasol of green. 
 Albeit the dress is awkwardly design' d 
 The tidy skirt not dragging in the dust 
 (A fav'rite philter with the modern belles 
 Where depth in mud their claim to caste defines) 
 And shows whoe'er is implicated there 
 Extravagance has not the artiste been. 
 
 Bold in address— tho' bashful to begin. 
 And partly termagant when rudely touch' d 
 Nor waives redress when it is requisite 
 Until forbearance criminal become. 
 But, as a pleasant, unpretending dame 
 
 * 
 
I 
 
 ^1 
 
 21 
 
 For quiet more than quarrellir:*- disposed,. 
 Concealment seeks behind the bluff whereon 
 "Fort Clarence,'' quite a vet'ran volunteer, 
 With aspect stern, stands guardian o'er them both. 
 
 Uncertain what reception they might find 
 A flock of curlews quiv'ring on the wing 
 Between them huddled in confusion fly, 
 As if selecting some auspicious spot 
 Wherein in secrecy they might descend 
 And rest their pinions for a little while. 
 One moment lagging, weary like and low, 
 Preparing on the landwash to alight ; 
 Another — hov'ring higher in the air 
 Till a more careful scrutiny is made 
 As if aware some stratagem unseen 
 The fowlers there have for their ruin hid 
 Disastrously accomplishing the end 
 As oft the few that fly away confess. 
 Nor less the evidence they leave behind 
 In dead and dying strew'd along the strand. 
 
 Advent'rous vessels flitting to and fro 
 Like winged insects of a larger type, — 
 The "Beach " whereon the lazy Indians lounge, 
 Their sluggard lair too far off in the bush. 
 One frail canoe — the only that moves 
 
 Beside them stranding on the shelving shore 
 
 The jutting headlands, and the creeks and coves 
 Where the papooses lave their naked limbs. 
 Unto the picture gives a pleasing grace, 
 And almost audibly breathes this is home. 
 
 '4: 
 
 ft 
 
28 
 
 .■.. ■! 
 
 
 Adjacent stands, embosom'd in the wood, 
 A little structure of the simplest kind, 
 There calls for rev'rence, and commands respect ; 
 Where Afric's sons and daughters may be seen, 
 Of ev'ry shade, between the two extremes 
 Of dark and light, upon the Sabbath day, 
 Pious and prayerful, fervently engaged 
 In solemn worship, with an earnestness 
 That might create confusion in the minds 
 And make more favoured Christians blush with shame. 
 Nor is their " Bethel " less the house of God 
 And gate of heav'n, than where the Patriarch slept 
 And made his pillow witness to his vow ; 
 When Angels (what a lesson to mankind. 
 On us Eliza let it not be lost), 
 A retinue from glory — sentinels 
 (How low in our esteem) kept watch by night 
 O'er Jacob's couch, that couch the naked ground. 
 
 Returning thence, when tempted on so far, 
 If wearied by the walk, and night's dim shades 
 Begin to gather ; rest beside the " Rill," 
 That from an op'ning in the mountainet 
 (Unknown to fame the title that it bears 
 Or only known — its native nome de plume) 
 Comes down at leizure creeping through the glade 
 Silent and sluggish in its youthful mood ; 
 Almost too lazy to keep lagging on, 
 And at the best to idleness inclined. 
 It gives no promise what it will become. 
 
29 
 
 A nameless urchin, till it gushes out 
 Limpid an' I lavish on the highway side : 
 Childlike and charming in its sportive glee ; 
 No girl so graceful in her teens can boast 
 One-half the tribute to her beauty pa\d, 
 And universally admitted just. 
 Cheerful and chatty, as a modern belle, 
 And quite as void of bashfulness it smiles 
 Unveil'd, the vestal admiration asks, 
 And whilst it captivates the careless eye, 
 The little Coquette runs away to hide 
 Beneath the foliage of the fleecy ferns. 
 
 Exten nvo as the invitation seems 
 The choice could be extended further still, 
 As on a map, correct in some details. 
 The prominent are only pointed out, 
 And vacancies for filling in are left. 
 For lesser local illustrations there. 
 The beautiful, the picturesque and all, 
 Those features finest in the artist's eyes. 
 Cannot be in a small edition set. 
 So in this outline rapidly run o'er 
 The narrow compass that we travel in 
 Allows no finished touches to be seen. 
 
 Yes, go Eliza, errands such as yours 
 No guide requires, much less loquacious friend ; 
 Officious kindness is far out of place 
 When Silence slumbers in the summer eve. 
 And not a breath the aspen leaflet stirs 
 
 'i ,« j < 
 
 ■■•'*: 
 
 1 t'>i i t 
 
 II 
 
80 
 
 
 
 
 Not to recall the sorrows of the past, 
 Nor nurse the anguish in your bosom hid ; 
 But with a heart attuned to solemn thought 
 Upon the dispensations that have been 
 By Providence apportioned to your lot, 
 Tranquil or adverse as they may appear, 
 Gracious alike in chastisement or love. 
 By an unerring Benefactor given. 
 
 0, is there not in such a blissful hour, 
 If such an hour you ever have enjoy'd. 
 Some indescribable sensations felt, — 
 Something mysterious, and not all of earth 
 And scarcely dubious if it be of heaven ? 
 Do we not then in some etherial way 
 Unmeet for utterance to mortal men 
 At least, unmeet to be repeated now 
 Bring back impressions of a purer kind 
 Than what to natures such as ours belong. 
 
 Ah 1 none can tell how thin the film may be 
 That separates the seen from the unseen. 
 Or unto what extent the unclothed are 
 Familiar with our ev'ry day pursuits. 
 Or, if the souls removed from hence possess 
 More attributes than when sojourning here ; 
 Or, when divested of their earthly house 
 If more commanding faculties they share ; 
 Or what attention it is theirs to give 
 The loved associates that remain behind. 
 
11 
 
 81 
 
 Is it all fancy, or a waking dream, 
 Those breathings heard, almost to silence hush'd, 
 A mother's ear has startled when alone, 
 As if the voice, nay, more, the very tone, 
 And in an accent unto her so dear 
 Had at her knee " mamma," in whispers said. 
 Perhaps such ear, Eliza, was thine own ; 
 Aye, and the whispers audible to you 
 Have been the lisping of your lovely boy. 
 And who can tell how frequently in tears 
 Such audience of your Henry is enjoy 'd. 
 
 On me persuasion would be flung away 
 That no communion with that cloud may be — 
 Nor overshadowing; frequently intense 
 Creating longings in this soul of mine ; 
 From that " great cloud of witnesses" arise 
 And who can tell how eflScacious still 
 Amidst life's trials and vicissitudes. 
 That such a clause in our poetic creed 
 May stimulate to action, — or restrain. 
 To some this may a fruitful topic seem 
 Where ample scope is found to revel in, 
 Th' impious, and the ignorant, who dare, 
 And more than both, the infidels presume 
 In wantonness the Scriptures to construe, 
 And to their own destruction give them shape : 
 Such shape as ill-becomes a sacred theme. 
 In our belief there is no vacant space 
 Where superstition may concealment find, 
 
 ;^;li 
 
K 
 J 
 
 
 I' 
 
 ij 
 
 1^ i ;•■ 
 
 82 
 
 Nor welcome in our countenance is seen 
 For apparitions, ghosts, or spectres wan ; 
 Or any of that legendary horde 
 Of visitants that poets feign return 
 From the abodes of misery and bliss, 
 Or some imaginary tract between : 
 In a locality that has no bounds, 
 Where only the unpurified have place ; 
 And without license wander up and down. 
 Restless, malevolent, and cursed, besides 
 Designing ill and sometimes even more ; 
 Accomplishing it, too, when darkness reigns, 
 As ignorance or error gives them scope, 
 And for a recompense they bear the blame 
 That often should to recklessness belong. 
 
 The time has been, nor is it quite forgot. 
 When verse enthusiasts in their vag'ries wove 
 Such airy fantasies, and gave them haunts 
 Unpeopled, else in lone sequester'd spots 
 In crumbling castles, and in Border Keeps, 
 Dilapidated camps, and ruin'd towers ; 
 Or not unfrequently a battle-field, 
 Or old church-yard they occupied by night ; 
 Forsaken mansions of the feudal chiefs ; 
 Or solitary mounds o'er martyrs raised. 
 Nor could a ripple, or a running brook 
 Be found without a fancied guardian's care. 
 Nor were they of a habitation choice, 
 As not a glen, or cairn, or crag, or cleugh, 
 
 
88 
 
 But by posseaaion was become their own, 
 Wherein to rusticate, what time the moon 
 Delights to flirt among the fleecy clouds. 
 Or to the landscape in the autumn eve 
 Gives loveliness, as light and shadow blend 
 And cataracts made hoarse with boistrous glee 
 From close confinement prodigal become, 
 The echoes startle out of calm repose 
 To join the chorus in the hymn of night. 
 
 Various their grades, and various their employ 
 As special labours, special agents claim, 
 But all illusive, melting out of sight 
 Like wreathes of mist before a fervent sun, 
 Those wreathes of mist we have so oft admired 
 Which in the fond embrace of Silence wrapt 
 Lie hush'd asleep on Mount Amelia's breast. 
 Until awaken'd by the kiss of mom. 
 When blushing to be openly exposed 
 Wait not to share the smile of coming day. 
 But courts concealment from the leafy trees 
 Or fainting fall in dewdrops all around. 
 
 Such the originals from whence have sprung 
 
 Those gross absurdities of fiendish type 
 
 Poetic splendour only can allow 
 
 And banishment their most becoming meed 
 
 Ther 'wake discordance in the sweetest lines 
 
 That Scottish minstrelsy has ever breath'd. 
 
 Who is he now their services car. boast 
 
 Since '' Abbotflford '' was desol ite, and none 
 8 
 
 
 I 
 
34 
 
 t: 
 
 hi 1 
 
 :. 
 
 At " Altrive Lake " to praise their labouvs, left, 
 
 Or bid such myths in border ballads live ? 
 
 Drunkards and dastards at the midnight hour 
 
 Most frequently have their acquaintance made, 
 
 But hitherto has noonday kept between 
 
 Your Poet's vision in his walking dreams, . 
 
 And demons so diminutive i\,B these, 
 
 Hence unfamiliar with the vagrant brood, 
 
 And careless of the company they keep, 
 
 We're not at /lome for once if they should call. /' 
 
 'Mongst the recesses where such hives are hatched, 
 None may precedence claim of Richerscleugh, 
 (Tho' less a genii than a gipsey haunt) 
 More fear'd than fameous in the goblin days, 
 Albeit in fiction it has found no place • • , , 
 
 Quite wanting in extravagance and age i 
 
 Essential both to make a monstrous lie 
 Tho' the Maelstrom on the Norwegian coast .... 
 Could never give the mariners more dread 
 Than travellers by Richerscleugh have felt 
 Where fifteen generations the Kame-burn 
 (A tributary of the Sylvan Jed) i • 
 
 Has worn a passage through the rocky soil, i . 
 
 Forbidding, dangerous, and dark and deep, 
 Where not a sunbeam pierces thro* the gloom. 
 And ere a stormj terrifically strong ' 
 
 Is heard a volume of unceasing sounds ; - . • 
 
 In ev'ry cadence, and of ev'ry kind <:. ,, • . . /' 
 From treble clef, down to the lowest bass, '■ • ' -i'.- 
 
 
i 
 
 86 
 
 With all tlio notes and semi-tones between 
 And all at once in fiendish fury poal'd, 
 As the wild waters leap from lin to lin, 
 Or in distraction dash against the crags, 
 Fretted, and foaming in their haste to find 
 The shapeless masses choking up their path, 
 That daily topple from the bleeding se^ms, 
 Kept desolate as when asunder cleft. 
 Or when the thunder shakes the rain-cloud loose, 
 And bids it roll in ripples down the hills 
 Until the "biirn^" that in the summer brawls, 
 Becomes a river redolent of wrath 
 Demanding of the niggard gorge more room, 
 And dashing onward furiously and fast. 
 Leaves desolation as it drives along 
 In triumph, bearing to the banks of Jed 
 The leafy honours that adorn'd the cleugh. 
 
 Or when the currents chafe with long delay 
 In creeping through the crevices between 
 The broken boulders in their pathway piled, 
 Are plowing the foundation placed below, 
 Or, as a cauldron of capacious size 
 Boils up and bubbles into steam and spray. 
 The gath'ring rills that form the uplands gush 
 Pour'd o'er, or splashing down the precipice 
 In cataracts collect, and crushing on 
 From ledge to ledge, relentless, rugged, rash, 
 Hurl rocks and rubbish thro' the rough ravine. 
 And in derision fling them side by side. 
 
 .1 
 
 :fj 
 
 '* 
 ' 
 
1^1 1 
 
 *■;■ i 
 
 fc,V 
 
 Kl "V 
 
 U 
 
 36 
 
 Where gloom and grandeur, lost in loveliness, 
 Half cavern and half copse, allows them leave 
 (Necessity might influence the plea) 
 To wait the coming of another flood. 
 
 Out of the chasm with hazels overhung 
 Oft fancied conversations can be heard, 
 And not a shepherd, from the Carterfell 
 To Brundenlaws, or ev'n to Plenderleath, 
 But can unriddle the enigmas there. 
 And their denouements tho' in symbols wrapt, 
 Could in the language of their eyes be read, 
 But held disastrous if the human voice 
 Should audibly a syllable pronounce, 
 The wierd prognostications might unfold. 
 
 No similie can aid us in the task, 
 Tho* unsolicited, we have assumed 
 Of introducing to Eliza's ear 
 (Tho* fifty years familiar to our own) 
 The endless uproar in that horrid den, 
 Or what sensations there unbidden come. 
 
 If Photograph'd in minatuie by ** Chase '* 
 The shadow of a scimitar would give 
 A negative of faultless lineaments 
 Except the hilt, if finish'd with a gem 
 And extra gashes in the yawning gap — 
 But all the hissing, howling, horrid din, 
 No fitting representative would find. 
 Too cunning these to cross the Atlantic waves, 
 And dumb before the transfet could be made, 
 
 1 1- ';..'!! 
 I If ■■ 
 
* 
 
 3t 
 
 Or lose their prestige on the passage out 
 And have the "Institution" for a coop, 
 Or, at Mount Hope a habitation find, 
 
 Still, after nightfall carefully 'tis shunn'd. 
 As the abode of demons in disguise, 
 Men that did nev^r cringe tp human pride. 
 Stern and vindictive to the lastt ^egreo, 
 Were not quite strangers qnto certain rites^ 
 Would from Eliza summon up a smile 
 Lest their displeasure might have been incurr'd ' 
 And once a native ventured to assert 
 That when the moon was hid behind a cloud 
 He saw a fairy sitting on a bank 
 And impudently laughing in his face. 
 
 To such a place and such a parentage. 
 Wherever Scotland has a gloomy glen. 
 The Panthean of the peasants may be traced. 
 Some of their Demi-Deities are bold, 
 Or sullenly and savagely disposed, 
 Untameable, and treacherous, whilst some 
 To be domesticated seem inclined. 
 And show a kind of friendship of their own. 
 Even comprehend what obligations mean. 
 Nay, when in peril, it has been supposed 
 Malignity awhile was laid aside. 
 And sometimes favours delicately done 
 As unexpected, as kept unexplain'd 
 Acceptable to simple innocence. 
 Nor could such nucleus for a rude romance 
 
M 
 
 M 
 
 38 
 
 I. « 
 
 t, 
 
 !1 
 
 Be found so fitting for the mountaineers 
 
 And always pleasing, if not always new, 
 
 The beau ideal of the Border tales 
 
 Among the rustic cottagers became, 
 
 Nursed by repeating into shapes mature 
 
 And oft rehearsed, their actions like themselves 
 
 Wf^re multiplied as the narrator felt 
 
 How much the crowds that listened could digest. 
 
 Or audiences more courteous might require 
 
 Till " Riehercleughs " were by the peasants held 
 
 As vast and various as the Scottish clans. 
 
 If obligation to apologize 
 For this digression (long we must allow, 
 
 Besides its being almost out of place) 
 
 Eliza, seldom critical, desire, 
 
 The simple truth will suit the purpose best, 
 
 Nor difficult in verse like ours to tell. 
 
 Much less enamour'd of the Kelpie cleugh 
 
 Than of its rich associations fond 
 
 As in a cemetery — where the dead 
 
 Have their remembrance chisell'd on the stones. 
 
 And lest the living should their freaks forget 
 
 Laconic legends, coupled with their names 
 
 Or some device, or epitaph is charged 
 
 Tn after times to publish their exploits. 
 
 We may revisit in remoter years 
 
 And as the tablets one by one are read. 
 
 The loved associates of our youthful days 
 
 Are still our playmates as in long ago. 
 
39 
 
 Peculiar, something unto each pertainr , 
 
 Delays departure, to another step ■ .::\-: 
 
 That pro\^es still more attractive than the last, 
 
 And has some token to invite us, where 
 
 Another school-boy, or another girl. 
 
 Perhaps the first we over blushed to meet : . . -. , 
 
 And deeper when presumptuously we dared, .: . 
 
 With trembling lips, to leave upon her cheek, 
 
 Her crimson cheek, 0, sweet precious dream I 
 
 The futile frenzy of a beardless boy — 
 
 Or half a village, copied from Camptown, 
 
 Before us stands in pardonable pride. 
 
 Nor is one vestige or a visage marr'd 
 
 Tho' in the dross of mem'ry kept conceaPd— 
 
 Hope, crush'd to death, and friendship in the grave 
 
 Love, strangled in the bosom gave it birth 
 
 And flush ambition, fallen, alas how low ! 
 
 The over-studious scholar there entomb'd ; 
 
 Mournful, and musing on the records left, 
 
 0, deem not strange such reminiscences might 
 
 To Albyn still be fascinating found ; 
 
 But fascinating more those filial ties 
 
 The best afiections of the heart do \^eave. 
 
 Investing all the sanctities of home. 
 
 Nor are digressions destitute of aim, . 
 And in a poem have their parts assign' d : 
 As Valets of a confidential class 
 They have a licence to retreat— advance— 
 Or if more opportune, create a pause— 
 
 ■Hi 
 
 V 
 
\\t. I'i 
 
 40 
 
 U f 
 
 ib 
 
 ii ' >: 
 
 Meantime the subject i» proceeding on. 
 The' unto you like useless episodes, 
 Even whilst, as in the present instance seen 
 (Tho' not perceptible in every line) 
 Illustrating the narrative ;-— still more 
 Leads to the closing paragraph in oura. 
 
 Our sympathies do not with theirs accord 
 Who desecrate what is to man reveard, 
 Or prodigally puff it all away, 
 As something useless for the present age, 
 Or far above our comprehension set. 
 And not adapted to our daily walk. 
 To verse like ours, tho* oft familiar made, 
 Forbidden as a subject too abstruse ; 
 But, if not terrified, at least we're stunn'd 
 By the prophetic ruin that is theirs, 
 Who make additions to the word of God, 
 Or with devices of their own pollute 
 The hallow'd volume of eternal truth ; 
 And in defiance of the doom pronouuced 
 Kefuse to hear, and criminally bold 
 Egregious folly on its pages pile. 
 
 Nor less those plagues shall in their mission fail, 
 Without condition threaten'd unto them 
 That in perdition claim a higher caste, 
 Nor to its inside limits keep confined. 
 The over-wise, audaciously profane. 
 Who lop away with sacrilegious hand 
 What unto them superfluous may appear, 
 
 I? i:j.- 
 
K^^l 
 
 41 
 
 And mutilate the oracles Divine. 
 
 Were this a poem, it might finish here, 
 Or if a sermon it would be too brief; 
 As it is neither, and yet part of each, 
 Let me for once be fashionable found. 
 And as the ladies their epistles write. 
 Leave what is most important to the last. 
 Then in a postscript add, as half forgot. 
 
 God is our witness ; this assertion asks 
 No proof, nor of an argument admits. 
 And since it is without restriction made 
 Of course is universal in its scope. 
 Let us be careful how our days are spent, 
 And have our walk and conversation so 
 That our position be apart from those 
 Who by divergence in the path of life 
 Seem to forget the latitude of heaven. 
 And make no due observance of the line 
 That lies between the broad and narrow way : 
 Indiflferent if trampled out of sight, 
 In search of shadows far beyond it seen, 
 Which vanish swifter than is the pursuit ; 
 Who sit with scorners in the scorner's seat, 
 
 Or at the shrine of mammon sacrifice, 
 
 What slender hopes of happiness was theirs. 
 
 Or crush out conscience with a weight of gold. 
 
 Or do dishonour to ?. parent's name 
 
 To gratify a fiendish appetite ; 
 
 As if for them hell were not hot enough, 
 
 I ' 
 
 'N 
 
 1 ; 
 
HPBM 
 
 42 
 
 fe V 
 
 k A 
 
 Calumniate innocence to heat it more, 
 Besides the curses that are mingled in 
 Their children's prajers— if they ever pray — 
 (Nor can the retribution be condemn'd) — 
 Will in perdition sink them deeper down, 
 And in the presence of assembled worlds, 
 Instead of approbation from the Judge, 
 Shall have contempt and everlasting shame. 
 
 We rest here now, — a patent legal : hrase, 
 But suits our purpose at the present time, — 
 And looking o'er how we have been employed. 
 It seems as if a Citizen in June 
 Had on a jaunt into the country gone 
 To rusticate some idle afternoon. 
 And accidental, more than by design. 
 Had found the way into some flow'ry field, 
 A flow'ry field, but more of weeds than flow'rs, 
 And tore up right and left whatever came 
 The readiest to his hand, — no connoiseur, 
 No Flor, Botan, nor Horticultral-is^, — 
 Stranger alike to dahlias, fushias, ferns, 
 And all the tribe of fashionable names ; 
 Or flower or weed, to him was all the same, 
 Only he knew — or rather he had heard 
 Of what sweet odours from the roses came, 
 And what perfumes were in the open fields, 
 So with a bundle in his kerchief bound 
 Returned delighted with his glorious cruise. 
 Even so the labour of our love has been 
 
43 
 
 Quite unacquainted with the classic modes 
 Of wreathing verse in dactyles or spondees, 
 Or how to fashion by the critic's ken- 
 All the outlandish and factitious terms 
 That constitute an epic, or an ode. 
 To gaudy boquets we make no pretence : 
 This simple posey the Pierian maids 
 One day when visiting, with Albyn left 
 Their office is the daring to adorn 
 Rather, to soothe the sorrowing be ours. 
 
 Dartmouth, April 5, 1869. 
 
 ALBYN. 
 
 !') 
 
 i t