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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd 6 partir de I'angle sup6rieur 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 BJ H «• »• 4i / 7.r THE BARD OF CLUTHA AND OTHER POEMS, BY HOPE MACNIYEN, ESQ., INGERSOLL, ONT. O, freedom is a holy thing, And patriot's arm is strong, Thus, still the muse delights to siiig The love of country's song. >"«• INGERSOLL : J. S. OURNITT, PRINTER, "CHRONICLH" OFFICE, THAMB"! STREET. 1878. 4:' ut pi lie pu eatn< ustly hicli onfeBi ever &( T [only I [life to LOSt "BLJUT r i " iW iil n' i jir jr TO THE READER. The story of Wallace is a theme which, with- out presumpoion, can only be approached in [he pure spirit of respectful awe. The inherent reatness and force of character of the man may be [ustiy inferred from the hatred and dread with rhich his bold, daring, inspired Edward the First, confessedly the most accomplished warrior 'that [ever sat on the English throne. The grandeur of that ambition which desired [only his country's freedom, the devotion of a whole |life to that single purpose, under circumstances the Lost discouraging, and the sublime spectacle of his *• IV. PREFACE. martyr death, rank him as one of the nobll Cath benefactors of human liberty. Alas ! the giflfce-Pre ones who could have done justice to this gr<|ich m; len c iside subject ha 76 been silent, and are gone. The love of the marvellous in the vulgar mi has produced pictures of distorted exaggerate and through the rose colored hues that perva Miss Jane Porter^s fascinating pages in vain look for that stem Hero, the Knight of EUerslef^®^^®' cGra\ essioi Sh€ blic copy Th jecti olve< arse Thus, I hope that I may be pardoned for t faint outline sketch that I have attempted Scotland's greatest champion, the Wallace wigh And yet, dear, indulgent reader, one word more the apologetic strair. Regarding the nation anthem, some may think that another version w uncalled for, an authorized one having already beeftmila initiated. Well, this reason may appear cogen^ndrc enough, and if I am to be condemned as a culprit, trust I may be allowed the melancholy satisf actio of declaring my confession why I became so. I the year 1837, I was residing in the then village o PREFACE. V. ^gar mi iggerati * perva I vain ® nobll Catharines. I had the honor that season to be *^® gi^jje President of the St. Andrew's Society, of ^ fich my late lamented friend, Francis Hall, Esq., en chief engineer on the Welland Canal) was sident. On the occasion of Her Majesty's ession to the throne being formally proclaimed, Sheriff of the County was entertained at a blic dinner, at which both Mr, Hall and I Ellerslei*®^^®^* After the toast of the Queen, Major ed for i-it^^^^^y ^^ *^^ Lancers, sang the national anthem, mpted J^^Py ^^ which he had cut from an English paper. The second stanza struck me as being highlj- jectionable. * The solemn invocation which it olved seemed very much misplaced beside the arse doggerel that followed. Mr. Hall being acly beeftmilarly impressed, and as the festival of St. ** cogenj^ndrew was just at hand, it was agreed that after ulprit, isfactioi so. h illage oj ce wigh i more nation •sion w, *0 Lord our God arise, Scatter her enemies ; Confound their politics, And all their knavish tricks, God save the Queen. VI. PREFACE. the first toaat there sb^mZZT, ~ J Pterin., however I fei* "'"'«• ^^ ^ ^-irc„^t.nce;„/l;::;[-;'^-'>ie^ -o-rch Who had ascended t^e 2 "" "*' *1 Peculiarly interesting that ll V '*' ^*" j of "-y countryxnen w;„ld 7 '"' ^""^ ^«H '-then.„3e. sth 1?::;:'"'"'^''"^^^ feelings which pron>ptL7. "''''"'°''**«'««« J -'^^^ I an. the mirr^'^r*"^-'^ -tron^desire of n.y heart J^trrr" "^'^ together the national 1^1^ '^^'""n -^-ulate a generous riva,.y<;2a,,e7 H ^hen intensified into J./ ^' ""^^'i '^^^ prove to be t ^7^"" ""'""• -""^^^ •defence, and the securest r "' """"^ securest support of the throne. For the first tim6 the sunultaneoHsly at St. Gather ''*"''"' ""*' '""« *ho 30th Kov., 1837. andThTtT """^ ^ kno^gthat it wal^l . «™tification of w« afterward sung, with n,uch PREFACE. VIL husiasm, among tho band of volunteers stretched ng the f rontier, who, in that exciting time of rm and danger, so nobly responded to their untry^s call. HOPE MACNIVEN. IngersoU, Ontario, Dec, 1873. 'HE BARD OF CLUTHA.* ■o- INTRODUCTI0N. Ic is sweet in every varied tone Nature's voice, by mountain, stream or lea ; O ! methinks 'tis by the sea beach lone '^here wakes its glorious, noblest minstrelsey ; >'er the billowy chords of Ocean's main ^limely swells, the wild, deep-sounding strain. it hath softer notes, this ocean harp, that flow [n strains so dulcet, sirens only sing [Ibw ' gloaming hour, when winds are whispering [And waves o'er peb'led sands are murmuring ; Cluthft— the Qaelic for Clyde, one of the principal rivers of »tland. 10 BARD OF CLUTHA. Thrice blessed spell ! that steeps in dreams of bliss — The exile's yearnings and his loneliness. Hail Caledonia ! o'er the deep blue sea That heaves between me and my native land — On Fancy's wing, let me revisit thee ; My spirit glad'ning as thy much lov'd strand Nears to the sight, its crags of hoary grey, Where sea birds nestle o'er the surge-torn spray. Lo ! Time's memorials hallow this rude coast, When lust of conquest the dread Cseser fired — When Rome's proud eagles, 'mong a steel-clad host [inspir'd. Wav'd o'er tried prowess and fresh hope Land of my fathers ! from each hill and glen, In savage guise, rushed forth thy warriors then. Indignant, bold, they leapt into the wave And madly grappl'd with their mailed foe. Unequal contest ! when the fencelees brave Dy'd the bright waters to a crimson glow. Blest blood of freemen ! 'twas not shed in vain, Thy sons, triumphant, never own'd a chain. BARD OF CLUTHA. 11 The mom is young, while joyously and free The western breeze lifts gently up the veil Of lazy mists, that slumber o'er the sea. Before the Orient dawn they slowly steal ; While yet some silvery tresses lingering dwell Round Arran's furrow'd brow, stem, time-worn sentinel. With screaming joy the balmy air now teems, As noisy gulls, impatient of repose, Stretch their white pinions bath^ in golden beams t From roseate couch, whereon Aurora glows ; And Ailsa's crag, round which they sportive fly, Abrupt, from Ocean's bed, blends with the morning sky. Nor yet we pause o'er Rothsay's lovely bay. Or where Loch Fine, among the heath'ry hills Bears her bright waves, that there complacently Drink the soft murmurs of the Highland rills. But bounding o'er, where ocean's onward tide Strains to her breast, her fairest daughter, Clyde. 12 BARD OF CLUTHA. O ! Clutha, stream of streams, renown'd of old! When Mor veil's Harp was strung by Ossian's] hand, When his wild, wond'rous tale was truly told, Bold aa the Torrent, as the Streamlet, bland, As FingaPs spirit led the rushing fight. Or fair Malvina mov'd, lone beam of purest light !| The sun is set, and gloaming's mellow'd light Sheds o'er the scene a soft bewitching charm, Suffusing o'er the heart a calm delight Which daylight's cares, perplexing, all disarm.] ^Wake, Harp of Cluiha ! let such placid hour Own as of old, thy spell of melting pow'r. Nor is the ancient spirit yet quite gone, Haply some Bard still lingers by thy shore, Whose kindred Muse revives the slumbering! tone That tells of other days and deeds of yore ; While visions of dim Eld entwine his tuneful! lays, Clings to the shadowy past, amid improvement'sj blaze. BARD OF CLLTHA. 13 tud lo ! a Minstrel 'neath yon aged tree Attunes his Harp to solemn plaintive air. /are more than Time has tam'd his ecstacy, Silver'd and thin'd his once bright golden hair, Vom the Braedalbane line maternal sprung, lU Celtic is his heart, tho' Lowland be his tongue. '=3i^i:^^^^^^^^^^^'' And o'er the bright and cloudless skies Their colum'd vapors spread. . 'Mid elements of fearful strife. That mock man's feeble pow'r, Hope springs triumphant into life, Cradl'd in horror's bow'r. O'er writhing clouds of vexed spray, All lovely and serene, The peace^Youchsafed rainbows lay To glorify the scene. But, O ! that scene of might sublime^ What mortal may express ] As issues forth the voice of time. From the lone wilderness. List, list ! the blackbird's mellow note; In richest warblings fall. To where, o'er Clutha, as they float, The wand'rer's thoughts recall. BARD OP CLUTHA. 19 My dear, dear loveJ native land, My heart aye clings to thee, And ne'er wast thou on dist^,nt strand Forgotten yet by me. Like dews that fill the moss-rose oup^ And its sweet odors spread. The Past, refreshing visions drop On mem'iy's drooping head. I think me of that glorious time, When Scotia's annals told Of heroes in her early prime, Who fought her battles bold. When Gathelas from Egypt camo^ And Scota, his fair queen, For Scotia, still, to that dear name Traces her origin. Many a hardy Carle arose, From that time-honored stock. i ! 20 BARD OF CLUTHA. i Who bravely fac'd her combin'd foes In battlers rudest shock. From Roman powV inviolate, They held their mountains free ; Of Danish and Norwegian hate They foiFd the tyranny. When good Achais filled the throne, And his brave brother's lance Gained for^her high and bright renown, With Charlemagne in France. Then first her standard, so endeared ! Showed on its ample fold The rampant lion, red, upreared, Upon a field of gold. And nobly hath that banner wav'd O'er many a fierce uay, When freedom's brand, in hand iron-glaiv'd, Bore victory away. BARD OP CLUTHA. 21 A cloud comes o'er my vision'd sight, Alack ! that waefu' day. When cruel tyranny had might And spread around dismay. When, on that hapless day of fate, The rhymer's wierd proved true, And over Scotland desolate, A fell wind fiercely blew. When third of Alexander's name Fell from his horse and died ; No son to emulate h's fame, Or guard his throne of pride. When craven Baliol-j^meanest thing- XJsurp'd the royal sway. And nine long years without a king. My bleeding country lay. A blush is on my burning cheek, I feel its fever'd glow ; 22 BARD OF CLUTHA. 41 1 I i III'! ill . \0 :' Sbama on the dastard nobles weak, Who faiVd to strike the blow ! Like vulture foul, from nest obscene, The southern tyrant flew, And over Scotland's prostrate sheen, Fierce gloated on the view. The lecords of her ancient state. That breathed of freedom's clime. Supplied his soul with envious hate, O ! meanest theft of time. He filch'd her crown and sceptre bright. That graced her throne of old. And venal lord and recreant knight. Bribed with accursed gold. ! yet from this dark, dismal cloud. That deepened on her woes. Like gleam that heralds thunder loud, A glorious light arose. BARD OP CLUTHA. 23 Of stalwart frame, yet mightier aoul, A freeman stood erect. Who bravely dar*d, from base control, His country to protect. The fire that kindUd in his eye Was light direct from heaven, Prompting to thought and purpose high, Alone to patriot giv'n. His spear was of the native oak. His twin-edged sword was keen. Few e*er from its unerring stroke Kemained unscathed, I ween. His bugle had a potent charm, As thro* the woods it rang. Moving each kindred heart and arm That to their leader sprang. ! need, I say, to Scotsman born, Who was this son of might — , HI I- * ' i li V. t .* i 24 BARD OF CLUTHA. His country's hope, when most forlorn 1 It was the "Wallace Wight I ! dear, dear loved, honored name ! Embalmed in Scottish heart. The germ of patriotic flame That never can depart. Th' inspiring wish of glory's fame— Of dazzling renown. Or laureird wreath of victor's name, — Did ne'er his bosom own. Unselfish was the mighty love He bore his countiy's weal Endurance rare did nobly prove His passion pure and leal. To guard the hearths of Scotia dear From proud, insulting foe, Was the ambition of his spear — The aim of every blow ! BARD OF CLUTHA. 25 The blessing of tlie aged sire — The matron by her wheel, Like incense, fed the sacred fire Of his untiring zeal. The Laverock's note was nae mair clear, The morning lift that rang, Than voice o* Scottish maiden fair. That prais'd him in her sang. She bless*d him in her bosom's sigh. As o'er the heath'ry brae, Wi' milking pail she sought the kye — Her lover to the fray. m \r.* m With bounding glee, like foa»ning rills, Descending to the plain, The shepherds left their native hills To swell the hero's train. From such proud source lie sped his course, Like mountain swoll'n river ; 26 BARD OF CLUTHA. .- ■ i ''II tl il What tyrant pow'r could stem its force, Or those blent streamlets sever? September's* sun shone brightly o'er The mazy winding Forth, Whose mystic links, seemM proud to store,] The fountains of the North. But never, sure, her bosom pure, Reflected such a siojht, *S when twenty thousand freemen there Were gathered for the fight. Full fifty thousand warriors lay Along the southern shore, Who, proudly, in their stern army, The flag of Engbmd bore. The polish'd helm, tlie glittering spear. The archer's deathfu' bow. *The battle of Sterling was fought 11th September, 1297. The English forces were commanded by Lord Surrey, Earl of Warene. BARD OF CLUTHA. 2T The prancing steed, with burnished gear, Gleamed in the stream below. ''I And ! it was a g**ilant sight To see that host move on, All clad in shining armor bright, With gay caparison. With boastful jeer they scorned the foe On whom they did advance. Elate with the proud conscious glow, Of laurels gain'd in France. Right steady marched that mailed ridge. As haughty Cressingham, Along old Stirling's ancient bridge. Impetuous led the van. * And onward, still, in horrid gleam, Th* 'nvading thousands pour. Wild hteaving like the lava stream, Of rain's burning showV, I"' III 28 BARD OP CLUTHA. r i\ 'I; nil O ! freedom is a holy thing, And patriot's aim is strong Thus, still, the muse delights to sing The love of country's song. The patriot's firm await the shock, Their speais in phalanx form Seem'd stable as the rifted rock, That braves the lolling storm. And, onwaid roll'd that mighty surge, By pride and fury borne, As fiercely rushed the plunging charge Of Warene's horse that mom. The winged arrows dimm'd the air, "Wild rose the onset yell ; The closing ranks recoil and rear Like Ocean's troubled swell. The mountain pipe's soul-stirring sound- Rose o'er the carnage I'oar, BARD OF CLUTHA. 29 As clansmen brave, together bound With targe anl bread claymore. Like lion roused from his lair, The chief of chiefs was seen ; You'd ken*d him by his gowden hair, His dauntless, noble mein. *Twas a bright moment in his life. His soul rose in its might ; Stern joy bade welcome to the strife Of this decisive fight. His country's wrong shone in his eye, With vengeance soul-let glow, As like a bolt frae wrathfu' sky He daslied upon the foe. His men-at-arms, baith bauld and stout. Fought bravely by his side. Braid was their track 'mid dying shout Through battles bluidy tide. H 30 BARD OF CLUTHA. ;f i! i4 h i i ■ u ■ i' I I Proud Cressingham, fierce fighting fell, Beneath the avenging steel ; Bold Surrey's host, in stricken spell, Disordered 'gan to reel. Thro' cloven helms, the red gore gushed, A Wallace ! was the cry, As on the Scots victorious rush'd And saw their foemen fly. In Vildcr'd haste, the routed ranks, To reach the river strave, "While Forth, atow'r her crowded banks Gap'd a wide yawning grave. O ! wha be there the ire wad dare Of Edward's frowning face. As breathing in his madden'd ear, The tidings of disgrace ; B'^ "^ki^lixg banners trodden down, 11:3 ci'c>'ted warriors loiJv, BARD OP CLUTHA. 31 His boasted chivalry overthrown By scorn-contemned foe] The sounds of joy frae ilka dell In grateful accents rose, The Hero's name the echoes tell Who crushed his country's foes. Auld Scotia's heart then on her sword, Ance mair did freely breathe, And freedom to her rights restored Smil'd on her native heath. 1 had it been as then it was Wi' that united host, One spirit brave, to fire its mass Falkirk had ne'er been lost. I 18 Ci Yet as it was by envy rent On that disastrous day. The Wallace band remained unbent, Unbroken its array. Mi i\ -1 32 BARD OP CLUTHA. The traitor, Comyn, basely fled, The Stewart, rash, was slain, While his braw Forresters were spread, Like leaves upon the plain. Now Edward, whet thy thirsty sword, Now is the longed for hour. See now thy foeman most abhor'd, Hem'd in unto thy pow'r. But wary was that doughty chief. In pressure o' mishap, With skill he seiz'd the moments brief. To stem the fearful gap. m fclJ With schiltrons formed in circles strong. He held the foe at bay, In slow retreat then mov'd along. And Edward miss'd his prey. O where be now those traitors dire. Who urg'd th* unequal fight ? BARD OF CLUTHA. 33 Their taunting jeers bespoke the ire Of their malicious spite. The patriot's soul was all too pure For jealousy to rate, The glory they could ill endure, They could not emulate. I ! 11 Indign?Tit at the envious crew, Whose shame was his renown, He, from the Regency, vrithdrew, And laid its truncheon down. Now, whither shall the wanderer go, With soul on sorrow's rack ; Alone, deserted, and the foe. With bloodhounds, on his track. 'Twas then the heart that ne'er knew fear, Utter'd its plaint of woe ; *' Alas I my bleeding country dear, v How can I serve thee moe." 11 ill m W i i ilii u BARD OP CUTTHA. . Wierd blaws the wind 'mang mountains Erie its wailing moan : [bare, Low soughing thro' the midnight air, 'Ere bursts the tempest's tone. Mirk was the night, the lain fell fast, As wrapt in plaid of grey, The fug'tive thro' the fur'ous blast Wended his dreary way. He earth'd himself in secret cave, 'Mid roar of thunder's din, Where blended with the el'ments' rave, The voice of Cora Linn. The levin red, with fitful glare, . Lit up the cavern dark. Ah ! me — Auld Scotland's freedom — there Rested thine only ark ! The stratas of the heart's deep core Tell where the tides have been, BARD OP CLUTHA. 35 Of feelings strong that trace a score, Not soon removed, I ween. >T? Ere he slept on his flinty bed. As thronging thoughts rose fast, *Twas thus, as memory's stores outspread. He mused upon the past : ** Welcome, wild storm, that cracks the lift No dread dost thou engage, There's meicy in thy sheltering drift From man's pursuing rage. *' I'm hunted like a beast of prey In mine own native land ; The tyrant fell, who could not slay, Hath plao'd the outlaw's brand, ^' But little 'tis I reck of him. His hati^d, or his pow'r, My faith's strong hope owns still a gleam To gild this darksome hour. T If 86 BARD OP CLUTHA. " The love of freedom in ray heart 'Twas God who planted there, In life or death, howe'er opprest, ril never know despaii. " To guard the rights of this dear land, I hold as heaven's high trust ; Though left alone, this trusty brand. The Holy One is just. " Yet ! a throe^ of moital woe. Creeps o'er this stricken heart, 'Tis not the triumph of the foe, Or traitor^s baser part. " The joy of Joy, without alloy. This bosom's fond excess. Ah, dastard wretch, that dar'd destroy Such helpless loveliness ! " My soul-lov'd, newly- wedded mate, O ! costlv sacrifice, BARD OF CLUTHA. 37 To glut the deep, relentless hate Of Scotland's enemies.^ K <* And, yet, anotlier link is snapped That bound this yearning frame, The friend in whom my soul was wrapped — My more than brother — Graham, t " Yet well he fell on glory's bed — The field he died to save — Near where the bravest's blood was shed, IVe smoothed the hero's grave. " The glory of a deathless fame Shall consecrate the spot. While records of unseemly shame The tyrant's name will blot. " Now, Edward, o'er his wine will boast Of triumph he hath won, ^ Wallace was married to the heireu of Lammington, who [was brutally murdered by Haielrigg the Sheriff of .Lanark. t Sir John Graham of Dundaff. »8 BARD OF CLUTHA. By prowess of that mighty host Whose banners pal'd the sun. *^ But there's a sound mars festival And turns his visage wan ; He dreads ths^t writing on tho wall, The name of one lone man. " The sable ghost of guilty fear Glides through his g\iarded state ; Vain is the hope for bosom cheer Of him unjustly great. ! t: ; kK' " O folly sad ! tliat some have said I woo'd the royal gem, A martyr's crown, on patriot's head, Were worthier diadem. " Yea, I shall earn that glorious crown, Amid desertion's shame. And on the stream of time send down The unction of a name. BARD OP CLUTHA. 39 ** My wrongs shall rouse my country*s soul, Oppression dark shall flee ; Nor tyrant e'er shall hold control Of Scotland's liberty ! " My heart now saddens with my tale O'er whose contin'ous flow No thought or feeling can prevail Save undeserving woe. ! need I say 'twas treachery That crown'd the tyrant's plan, Who bound by vilest perfidy, This stern, unconquer'd man 1 Ay, there was pomp of royal state In Westminster's proud hall, As justice on the judgment seat Sat rob'd in mockrey's palL As mists that would blot out the light Of the great orb of day, i _ -If 40 BARD OF CLUTHA. : Reveal his glory still more bright As shamed they shrink away ; The calmness of that brow serene, Reproved all scornful mood, And harmless fell the force of spleen On spirit unsubdued. The cliarge of traitor falsely serv'd A pretext for his life. Insatiate hate that never swerv'd Prepared the torture — knife. Twas gall unto the tyrant^s ire. To think his vengeance fail'd. When mid revolting suffering dire, The hero never quaiFd. And ! 'twas strange, the change came o'er That melancholy face, A radiant glow ne'er seen before Did every feature trace. BARD OF CLUTHA. 41 A vision seem*d to fill his eye, As if Heaven on him shone, While beckoning from yon bright sky Was long lost Lammington. ' '♦J Then rose all grateful to the skies, As 'round the altar flowed Of liberty, fit saci ifice, Earth's noblest patriot's blood ! ■0- OONCLUSION. The shadows of five hundred years, Adown time's annals fall, Scotland hath dried up her tears, Nor e'er ovvn'd tyrant's thrall. From Erin's harp, strains, gently sweet, O'er the blue waters float. In loyal unison to greet The pibroch swelling note. It V'>S 42 BARD OF CLUTHA. Hail ! to the Queen of these blest Isles, Long may she blithely roam, As bright'ning with her sunny smiles. Her dear lov'd Highland home. And hail dear land of Wallace brave ! Thy last reproach is gone, As now thou dost his name engrave, On monumental stone. High o'er the scene he hallowed, Sublimelv it shall stand, To where true homage shall be paid, By worth of every land. And much to me of Wallace widit, IVe liv'd the joy to earn, To add by sympathetic mite One stone unto his cairn ! LINES Written to a young friend in Edinhurghy who was complaining of dyspepsia, occcnipanied with a present of Glasgow brose meal. How sweet is the perfume Of the pea field in bloom, As the warm summer day decays, When softly from the seas, The mild wanton breeze, *Mong the sweet scented blossoms plays. Yet tho' this is sweet As the bosom retreat, , Where young love would fondly repose, Yet what is even love To the glorious stove. That ascends from odorous brose. 44 LINES TO A FRIEND. I know you think that bliss Dwells alone in a kiss, O ! how fondly your bosom glows ! That bright eye tha' r.^ ks, And then those rosy cheeks, But have you e'er tasted my brose ? .'.ill.-; . At the twinge of stomach a 'Tis then you'd yield the palm, To the rich soothing balm. Of a dose ot real Glasgow brose. Edinburgh, 1823. -. t.. hroes 1 ! (i TERSES On hearing of the death of Lord Byron at Missolonghiy in Greece, I824» Nsenia^ ! thy sad harp awake, Deep let its numbers flow ; Ye sighing winds, the cypress shake, At the dire tale of woe I Whence is that lurid, dismal gloom, That darkens o'er thy brow, Lofty Parnassus'? Where the bloora Of thy fair valleys now '] Ah I solitary are thy shades. Sad now the happy mount, ^Mupo of funeral songs. J; i ii i 4 46 DEATH OF LORD BYHON» And the tears of thy heav'nly maids, Swell the Catitalian fount ! EratOjt O loveliest muse 1 Grieve o*er thy rosy throne, Its sable shadows hang profuse, For ah I thy Byron's gone 1 And mourn thou, too, Calliope, | For thy heroic strain Plow'd from his harp, while liberty GlowVl in each manly vein* His was the independent soul, Free as the eagle*s flight, Soaring above the dark control. Of tyrant^s frowning might 1 For freedom's sacred cause he burn'd, And nobly lent his aid fMuse of love songs. IHerioo muse. DEATH OP LORD BYRON. 47 To sons of freedom, who have mourned, Long *neath oppression's shade. Heroic spirits of a mighty land ! Whose names will ever shine, His spirit joins your glorious band, His fame with yours shall twine. Thither in the far distant days, The pilgrims hence shall come, Tlieir kindred sympathies to raise, 'Round his mausoleum. And thither shall Erato come, When cease the warblers lav, When the tints of tlie dying sun Are lost in twilight grey. Naenia ! strike thine harp again, Deep let its numbers flow, While Britons swell the deep refrain, Of thy sad song of woe. I- »» ■ ii ii i. h i i "-^-il LINES To my friend, Mr. David Murdoch,"^ of GlaS' goto, on the occasion of his marriage. Is life a dream ? and do we pass away- Like mists that vaDish at the dawn of day ] Yes, at its close, the retrospect will seem, As evanescent as the meteor's gleam. But ah ! poor mortals deem it not so brief, Fiet at the present, dread the future grief. The hours that pass seem sad and heavy too, And o'er life's waste how dreary is the view. But is there naught to chase the gloom away, And cheer the path o'er which we lonely stray 1| yes ! on earth heav'ns purest blessings shine, When mutual love the warm, true-hearted join.! ^Afterward the Rev. Dr. Murdoch, Elmira, State of Nev] York, and deceased several years ago. LINES TO A FRIEND. 49 The sigh expires, stem'd is the tide of woe, And thro' life's channels streams of pleasure flow : Such joy is yours, may it never cease, And may your hearts be still the seat of peace. That welcome visitant, O happy guest ! That soothes and calms the sorrows of the breast, may your spirits and your prayers be one, As oft you kneel before your Father's throne. Your hopes above, let earth beneath you bend, And all its woes, for God himselfs your friend. I ft If] If IP £ It Thus may your moments fly on wings of bliss, May distant years ne'er flnd their vigor less ! While 'round you twines the sacred plant of love, That buds on earth, but blooms in heaven above. ate of Nevf EYENING -A SIMILE. i The setting sun, far o'er the western wave, Reflecting back, unto the mountain's, gave A parting smile, as if he lov'd to rest His lingering glory on their verdant breast. Softly the whisper of the vesper breeze, Breath'd a low murmur o'er the azure seas ; The rip'ling waves bewail'd the close of day. As to the shore they bore the dying ray. The bleating flocks were mute upon the hill, Thio' the deep groves the last sweet note was still, [grieve, The flowerets drooped, as if they seem'd to While 'round them clos'd the sable robes of eve. EVENING! A SIMILE. 61 So Nature mourns, when from his course so bright, The king of day descends to shades of night ; So mourn the friends belov'd who watch the faint, And the last breathings of the dying saint ! Edinburgh, 1825. N '.i It A REMINISCENCE. I ■ >ve to wander by the lonely coast, [ray When in the west, slow sinks the fading That faintly gilds the wave where it is lost, And gloaming spreads around her cloak of gray ; When all is silent, save the ceaseless flow Of rip'ling waves that murmur soft and low. *Twas Autumn, and the moon rose to the view^ In full orb'd glory, on night's azure throne, (While stars were sparkling in the waters blue) And her wide halo was the horizon ; Soft o'er my soul I felt its secret pow'r. The spirit of the contemplative hour. "t» '1 A REMINISCENCE. 58 The jutting rocks bent o'er the tranquil flaoi, That trembrd 'neath their awful nod below, The solemn mountains, still in graver mood, lUumin'd by the moonbeam's yellow glow, Reposed their shadows on the heaving breast Of the pure waves that lulFd them into rest. ! 'twas a stilly moment, and my soul Was hush'd in Nature's silence, but the dream Of early days, unconscious o'er it stole, A wak'ning there a melancholy theme ; Hope's buoyant wing, that dar'd the flight sublime. Now tir'd and broken by the shafts of time. M Hush ! list ! the dream is o'er, the vision's gone, What sounds are those that break night's solitude ? ' Like a fair sprite, a maiden all alone, [wood Rush'd from the covert of a neighboring 54 A REMINISCENCE. With faltering steps, while her disheverd hair In unbound tresses floated on the aii. Wild shone her eye, yet lovely was its ray, The brightest star that flutters in the sky, With burning wing, as if it could not stay In its fixed place, was naught to that bright eye ! It was a living beam of light that stole From the fierce ardor of a frensi'd soul ! She gaz'd on Heav'n, methought there was a smile, Which for a moment dwelt on her pale face, Then on the water^s brink she paused awhile, I rush'd, but she was lock'd in the embrace Of her repentant love, who flew to save. Nor yet too late, his victim ftom the wave! Edinburgh, 1825. i^d hair ray, be sky, stay t bright e I! J was a ale face, awhile, embrace 3 wave ! . SONG. Air — " Banks of the Devon,'' ! fresh as the breeze the quiet waters curling Is the pure rosy bloom o' my Nannie sae sweet, Her voice it is saft as the wave gently purling, To yon verdant bank the young flowerets to greet. At eve as I wander, on Vesper I gaze, The first and the loveliest star o' the night, With tender emotion I watch its mild rays. For I think on the eye o' my lassie so bright- But O when that eye, its sweet beauty re- vealing, 56 SONG. Shines floating in lustre, sae lucid and pure, How wild is the beat of this heart's ardent feelings [can cure. Which naught but the smile o' my lassie And ! she smiles^^ sweetly, for kind is her bosom, [on thee ; And 0, my fond soul ! she smiles sweetly Til live on that smile like the bee on the bloosom. For O ! it is dearer than life unto me^! Glasgow, 1832. i pure, ardent 1 cure. lassie is her . thee ; weetly )n the ^l HOPE. 4 Deep in the breast of man thou dwel^st alone, And o'er his darkened spiiit shed'st a ray Of halloVd light, to cheer and guide him on, Thro' the dull mazes of life's gloomy way, 'Tis Hope, that e'en o'er ruin's dismal cell, Spreads the bright halo of her golden wing, That shrinks from the abode where demons dwell, Still o'er her native earth fond lingering ! Sweet harbinger of joy, that bears it to the skies, [and dies ! And fluttering 'round Heav'n's glory, melts Glasgow, 1834. NATIONAL ANTHEM Sons of the free and brave, Freedom's high banner wave, Proclaim our Queen. May she be blest, as fair, Long may she, live to share, Britannia's waraiest pray'r. God save the Queen ! Oppression's clouds may low'r, Despots their hoides may pour, But all in vain ; 'Round England's fairest rose, Erin's green shamrock grows, * While Scotia's thistle knows No tyrant's chain. NATIONAL ANTHEM. Victoria, all hall ! The gallant ne'er will fail To guard thy reign ; May Peace, the brightest gem, Be of thy diadem ; Loud swell the bold anthem, God save the Queen ! 59 SONG FOR ST. ANDREW'S DAY- Air — ^'^ Kelvin Grovel Kerens to thee, and auld lang syne, Bonnie lassie 0, In this land of forest pine, Bonnie lassie O ; And if thy breast should sigh. For the days sae lang gane bye, Then my minstrel harp 141 try, Bonnie lassie I Theresa a spirit hov'ring near, Bonnie lassie O I Our inmost soul to cheer, Bonnie lassie O ! For old Scotia's sons this day, ST. Andrew's day. 61 To St. Andrew tune their lay, And own its magic sway, Bonnie lassie O ! O ! the deeds of other times, Bonnie lassie ! Mingle nobly wi* their chimes, Bonnie lassie ! "When the heathei^s bloom was stained, Wi' the Hero's blood it drained, When our country's cause was gained, Bonnie lassie ! Yet there's beauty in this land, , Bonnie lassie O ! Wi' its lakes and streams sae grand, Bonnie lassie ! "Where the rainbows love to lay. On their couch o' snow white spray* O'er Niag'ras madden'd play, Bonnie lassie ! 62 ST. ANDREW S DAY. And the billowy wave o* g' 68 LORD Clyde's return prom india. ♦ A hundred figrhts, now, 'round his patriot truth, The fame of their glory have thrown. Dark, Dark was the fringe of that death- belching cloud, That hung over Alma's grim brow, And oh ! the green wave of the tartan rose proud, That dash'd back the might of the foe. Attack or defence, it was ever the same With the chief of the strong rolling stream, Balaklava's red line, emerging to flame, Was the lightning of victory's gleam. When fiends leagu'd in hordes, in the East's golden clime. Where our fair and their innocents fell. The hero sped swift to the scene of foul crime. The blood-besmear'd demons to quell. LORD CLYDE^S RETURN PROM INI>IA. 69 0*er Lucknow*s relief, feat, brilliant yet brief, His genius resplendently shone ; [chief, Now warm hearts are hailing their veteran Rejoicing to call him their own. Then hurrah for Campbell, the gallant and brave. Hurrah ! for the bold Baron Clyde, Whose fame shall endure while Clutha's proud wave Rolls high on the breast of her tide ! ^ Ingersoll, 10th Aug., 1860. Ui m LDfES ON THE EXPECTED ARRIVAL OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. Hail scion of royalty ! son of a Queen Enthroned on a brave people^s love, [green, Young Canada's heart, 'neath the maple leaf Her loyalty fondly shall prove. We welcome our Prince to this great forest land, Where the shade of the red man retires, Or haply more blessed, at Heaven's command, Adds truth to the faith of his sires. Our rivers flow far from their sources of pride, While the land's rich products they bear In swift floating vessels that over them glide, With Union Jack pendant on air! LINES TO THE PRINCE OP WALES. 71 Our forests are deep, but the sons of hard toil Sweet homes and fair clearings have made, Where strong industry's arm hath reared o'er the soil, Independency's glorious shade. And ! there aie hearts of the old British mould, Firm planted those elearings among, Whose love of dear Fatherland never grows cold, [strong. But glows through their children's veins Then come where the inland sea-mirrors are spread, The sky's bright serene devouring ; O, come, where Niag'ra in glory and dread, His wild stream ever is pouring ! The cataract's tone, that ascends to Heav'n's dome. Is like the bold voice of the free. 72 LINES TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. Whose swelling hearts raise, for their old parent home, A song of wild jubilant glee. Then hail to Victoria ! the Queen whom we love, O, long may her truth-loving reign ; Extend over freemen, whose stout hearts will prove How nobly her rule they'll maintain ! IngersoU, August 20th, 1860. ODE FOR THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY. The might of the monarch 's the might of the lauds Where the spirit of freedom resides, On ocean's green Isles Britannia stands, Secure, 'mid the roar of her tides. No servile acclaim from the sons of the free, E'er shall tarnish the gleam of the throne, But dear to their hearts the bright emblem shall be, Of power that reflects back their own. All hail to Victoria ! our dear loved Queen, Whose virtues inherent and rare Have added a gem to the diadem's sheen, Far purer than aught that glows there* ^ 74 ODE FOR THE QUEEN*S BIRTHDAY. Long, long may time usher tlie blest natal day That peels forth the clear, ringing cheer Of loyalty's heart, that exults in the sway Of Ruler — whom freemen revere. tip, sons of bold freedom ! a haze o'er the sky Is darkening from tyranny's cave, [high, While despots are raising their standard on Up, up with the flag of the brave ! 'Tis the brave, time-worn flag, known over the seas The dread of Britannia's foes ; [breeze, Let the emblems united still float to the The Shamrock, the Thistle and Eose. Should hostile invasion e'er surge on our shore, For Liberty's home once again [yore, Let the old British might that tiiumphed of Be felt o'er the land and the main. Let them come, let them come ! 'twere better by far ODE FOB THE QUEEK S BIRTHDAY. 75 ti over breeze, ^o the shore, [yore, bed of better They struck at the pt-triot's right. Where truth's giant form hath bar*d for the war A right arm of terrible might.* The genius of Love, thro' freedom's great heart. Hath shot her electrical fires, [men start, Equip'd 'round their Qrreen, twenty thousand Stern pledge of a nation's desires. Dunedinf basks bravely in royalty's sight, As 'round her fam'd palace of old Of Saxon and Gael, the dreaded in fight, Are marshall'd the gallant and bold. Brave first-fruit, free oflfering of native defence, Whose bulwark yet mighty shall be ; Where Liberty glows thro' a power so intense, Safe, safe are the homes of the free ! IngersoU, 24th May, 1861. ♦Alluding to the volunteer movement. tCeltlc name for Edhiburglv, M CONFEDERATION. Hail! youthful Dominion, Pow'r Confederate ; Be concord and union The base of thy state. tui ■ '- '■ > On Tinith's firm foundations Build holy thy cause, That justice, the nations May read in thy laws. Of ambition's dread snare, Repel the approach. And, O ! Liberty fair. Guard pure from its touch. CONFEDERATION. 77 Thy soil, it is teeming With treasure untold ; Thy mines, they are gleaming With minerals and gold. Around labor and toil Are badges of worth, Then, Kstout sons of the soil Come lustily forth. From industry's blossom A harvest shall grow. The land's ample bosom With wealth shall overflow. Should war's cloud e'er lower, Then bold from the soil. Be a patriot power Aggression's best foil. Great was thy parentage, Bless'd be thy dower, 78 CONFEDERATION. Maternal love ena;age Thy life'H latest hour. . Britannia's fond pray'r Is breathed for thy peace, O ! may Heaven's lov*d care, Thy stature increase. Undaunted thy mood, May'st thou ever be The abode of the good. The home of the free. IngersoU, July 1, 1867. \To the J JBeloV JThe sj Preco' Inrii 'Gain m MEMORIAM. \To the Memory of my late vd/e, who died 26th Jtme, 1865. Belov'd by those, who from close contact saw [The spirit brave, the fragile form illume,. Precoc'ous thought, fledg'd her muse early, and In riper years, a bold protest she sung 'Qainst man's foul outrage to the hapless slave. TO WILLIAM MUREAY, ESQ., HAM- ILTON, ONTARIO. y^,^ Bear William, fond term, and of thee, most true ; Sweet were the warblings of thy gentle muse That lately sang in tones so heartfelt deep. The dear lov*d memories of thy Highland home. And new full-fledg*d, on stronger pinion borne, Scaring, aloft, hast struck a holy chord That vibrates to the soul of melody. And waken the echoes of the heavenly land. Full well thy kindred aspirations blend With theme ecstatic, love of God to man — The bleedhig Lamb, accepted sacrifice. Be thy souVs stay, hence, yea for evermore I Pild B Hee T Fro I In ] I? An ( ,flAM. ee, most tie muse deep, ad home* pinion rd y land, id lan — LINES Addressed to the Right Honorable W, E. Glad- stone on the coT^miencement of the Franco- German war. Pilot, some say thou art afraid to steer Britannia's barque amid this vexed sea. Heed not the envious taunt, malignant jeer, Thy country knows thy worth and trusteth thee. From courts polite, v here courtesy profuse But veird the rancor of their mutual hate, In maniac form war's demon is let loose, Nature's fair breast atrain to desolate. ermore I And if the foul contagion spread its breath O'er States where fear or avarice hath pow'r, 82 TO HON. W. E. GT ADSTONE. O be tlioii raartyr-like, firm to the death, Endurance brave, gild peril *s darkest hour And what if felon nations should combine To pour their hordes on Britain^s sacred shore ; A three-fold cord these sea-girt Isles entwine, There are in\aders* graves, and room for more. And O 1 tiie deep revered, grand old land, Grander as time and distance intervene ; Bold, loyal hearts on this Canadian strand, Will ne^er deseii; their country and lov'd Queen. hour sacred itwineJ >m fori and, ene ; 'and, i JovVJl INDEX. Page. The Bard of Clutha 9 Lines to a Young Friend 48 Verses on the death of Lord By f on ..... 45 Lines to a Glasgow Friend 48 Evening — A Simile 50 A Reminiscence 5^ Song 55 Hope 57 National Anthem 58 Song for St. Andrew's Day 60 Song of Canada 63 The Advent 65 On Lord Clyde's Return from India 67 Lines on the Prince of Wales 70 Ode for the Queen's Birthday 73 Confederation 76 In Memoriam. 79 To William Murray, Esq 80 Lines to the Right Hon. W. G. Gladstoo^. 81