THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A LITTLE CLOUD. A little i loud rose in the west, No other cloud was there ; Like a tiny bark on a waveless sea, It sailed through the viewless air. Tho' the face of that littlo cloud was black, It was lined with silver blight ; Darkness had covered the silent earth, But that littlo cloud had light. That little cloud with its face so dark, And its lining of silver hue ; May fall on the earth in a storm of hail, Or descend in soft rain like dew. Like that little cloud our lives appear, A speck on the ocean of time ; Darkened with sine of a varied hue, Or bright with good deeds sublime. A little deed when kindly done, Like a ray of sunshino bright ; Dispells the clouds of dark despair That obscure our mental sight. A little word, like a little spark, May shine like a star of night, Or light a flame that we cannot quench, Nor banish from our sight. A little love, like a tiny seed, May grow and expand like a flower, To adorn the humble cottage home, Or deck a fair lady's bower. A little pride, like a noxious weed, Poisons the richest ground ; Eating the sap that nourish tho flowers, That die where pride is found. A little bud contained the fruit That tempted Eve to sin ; Like her if we love that deadly fruit, It will poison our soul within. Let our lives bo like that littlo cloud, That rose in the western sky ; Tho' darkness may cloud our face at times, Behind us bright sunshine l ; e. Jamks TnoMsON. N O R T II UMBRIA THK C APTIYK CHI EF AND OTHER POEMS BY JAMES THOMSON Cljirti (Coition— (Cnlnrjyco ALNWICK: H. H. BLAIR i i ?K teei DEDICATED B1 PK KM I ssl ON TO LADY FA I I! 1'A X. HAVING SERVED Mil: I UDTSHIP G FATHER AND QBANDFATHEB IN THE CAPACITY OF A SERVANT i Hi \i i HOB FEELS THAT Hi: is PLACING C1)iss Little Holume UNDER THE PBO N OK i>NK \vh<» TAKKS AN INTEREST IN ITS SUCCESS. 911 PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. In the preface to the first edition of my little volume, I said that "] ma by a working man had ceased to be a novelty." If this was the case ten years ago, it may be safely affirmed thai the number of versifiers like myself have increased during that time twenty- fold. The motives that lead many to try their hand at e making are no doubt as varied as the individuals themselves. Win n I lir-t tried m\ own hand al versifying, I had no thought of ever making a book; that was an after-thought, prompted by a desire to gather together all my stra\ pieces : in doing this 1 found thai several of them had been lost. I was not requested and pressed by friends and advisers to "print; hut when I did nothing gave me greater pleasure and satisfaction than Vlll PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. the kindly criticisms passed upon my little volume. I trust that the same kind indulgence will be extended to this, my third and enlarged edition, which I now place in the hands of my friends and the public. JAMES THOMSON. Shawdon, June I, 1881. PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. "Poems by a working man" have ceased to be a Dovelty. A professor of the divine art of poesy, at a public meeting some years ago, gave the world a rough estimate of the number of imitators of the heaven-born ait in Greal Britain. The number was so astounding that 1 felt a sort of guilty criminality for ever having scribbled verses. Under this feeling I am constrained to make all due apology to those thai have the spirit, and '• are senl to prophesy." To the public 1 offer no apology ; for do nol they in greal numbers huy plated goods, and vile prints thai would shock the taste of "cultivated minds"? To the small portion of the public which includes my personal friends and acquaintances, I give my besl thanks for their confi- dence and generosity in so liherally subscribing towards my little 1 k before they saw its size or contents. If they find any pleasure in its perusal, 1 shall feel a X PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. satisfaction that is perhaps only felt by those that make a book. " Some rhyme a neighbour's name to lash, Some rhyme, vain thought, for needful cash, Some rhyme to raise the country clash." The last-named motive is perhaps the most potent with rhymers like myself — and why not 1 The most illiterate may have a yearning after that immortality that is only granted to " the gods ; " for have we not eyes 1 have we not ears 1 and have we not a heart that can feel and love, although it cannot express its emotions in language measured by the rules of art 1 Are such to hold their tongues, " even from good words " 1 An old bookmaker has said, " What your hand findeth to do, do it with diligence." Acting upon this precept, I launch my little volume upon the ocean, to sink or swim. JAMES THOMSON. Shawdon, July 28, 1 87 1. i- n NT i:\Ts. NOETHl HBBIA . 1 hi: OAK i\ i: CHIEF \i rUMN i.k.w i - A I Ti M\ BEBBIE8 i hi: fisherman's h a LINES TO A CHILD ON HEB KIK.-T BIETHD LINES TO A CAGES l AUK Tin: 0HBIS1 HAS I THE LAST NIGHT 0' mi: 1 BAB . LINES TO Mlt. AND MBS. OLD7P . WOBK, BBOTHEBS, WORK ! . n m: thi: BABP BPI8TLB TO JOHN lin B : w nn i im;iia.m IN MEMOBIAM .... A OHBISTHAS BONG (FOB LITTLE CHILDREN I . 1 1 r 8PBINQ [VAL) THE i P08T M\ WEB I i.i I itk BTOOL job's raven .... w 3 21 3> 33 35 33 4° 42 44 48 5i 53 55 5S 61 63 66 68 7- 7" 79 Xll CONTENTS. LINES READ AT THE BURNS ANNIVERSARY, ALNWICK IN MEMORIAM OF THE LATE LORD RAVENSWORTH ALONE MY LITTLE PRIMROSE FLOWER LINES WRITTEN ON A VISIT TO SPEYSIDE . BLIND HECTOR AND HIS DOG LINES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ., RUTHRIE . AUTUMN in memory of the late mrs ibbotson . time, like a river, rolls along ! . the blind man's dream ' heart memories the exile's return haste to the bridal bell the cat: a christmas tale for little children "the kail brose o' auld scotland" lines written on the field of culloden love and friendship earl Percy's wedding-day my own fireside lines written on the top of benrinnes lament, written on reading of the death of the late earl of fife the try'sting-tree to my robin redbreast to the snowdrop "THERE'S A PRETTY WEE HOUSIE PKOVIDIN' FOR ME " A CHRISTMAS GREETING TO (.MY FRIEND) ANTHONY OLIVER GARDENER THE TOOM MEAL-KIST WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF THE YEAR 1 85 5 CON! I.n l 3. Xlll LINKS LN80BIBED r> 9AUNDBBS U'GBBOOB OT in i ii: B08EB1 D A 0HBIS1 mas BONG \ 3BOOND BPIBTLE TO BAUNDEBS M'GBEGOB rn MV at I.I) PIKE BTAFF, .... iiii: i i M'KNAKV OF silt WALTBB BOOT! I ; DOES is DEAD EPISTLE I'K'iM K. n. . ANSWBB CO E. D. . 1 66 170 172 '71 '77 1 So 183 185 1S9 NOETHUMBEIA A POEM. Northumberland, I scarce can tell Why all thy scenes I love so well ; For in thy limits every hill, Each lonely cairn and rushing rill, Each sheltered strip of stunted wood, Thy quiet nooks of solitude, Thy liquid fountains gushing clear, All on my memory linger dear. Nor less do I delight to trace, On hill and dale, each noted place Connected with a former age, That glows upon thy storied page." — Robert White. NOETHUM I'.IMA A POEM. Northumbr] \. be thou my theme ; Thy bills, thy vrales, and every stream That winds through rocky glens their way. Where busy mankind seldom .-tray. There sweet Nature Loves to dwell And bloom unseen in many a dell, 'Mid rocks, and boulders piled on hi In ( tothic grandeur to the sky ; There russet moss ami lichens rare Their colours blend in tints as fair As the bright rainbow in the -K ;, , That spans the Cheviot tops on high. The wild thyme hangs in festoons there, Its perfume scents the mountain air, Wafted "ii ih'- balmy ; It brings from far the toiling be< NORTHDMBRIA. From flower to flower on tireless wing, They sip its sweets, and joyous sing. The harebell, tinted like the sky, Waves o'er yon beetling cliff on high, There the starling takes her rest, And the martin builds her nest. And when the evening shadows close, The cuckoo there takes short repose ; Keady at dawn to trim her wing, And hail anew the joyous spring ; Swift skimming through the ferny dell, She wakes up Echo in his cell. Her ringing wild notes, rich and clear, The wandering shepherd stops to hear : It tells him that the time is near — To every shepherd's heart so dear — When he shall see his lambkins play Around their dams, on hill and brae. Stretched on the grass beside them there, He'll soon forget his toils and care, And note with joy around him rise, And spread their beauty to the skies, Day by day he sees unrolled, The tender ferns, bronzed like gold. Thus Nature springs at God's command. And clothes anew a barren land. Stirred by the breath of genial spring, These barren hills rejoice and sing ; NORTHUMBR] \. The tender grass beneath our feet I- gemmed with many a wild flower sweet. Thus Nature's ever-bounteous hand i Ipens wide at Eis command : Thai mountain ash stood Leafless thi With blossoms now il the air ; Ami that tall foxglove on the rock Ai Nature's call to life awoke, And like a pennon waves on high Its flower-clad banner to the sky. By mountain Btreams, that ceaseless flow, The graceful ladj ferns grow, There weeping birch and alders green Spread o'er their heads a leafy screen ; lien,' in many a sylvan spot, There M as tin' sweet forget-me-nol : Like some dear memory fed by 1- It takes its hue from heaven above, And blooms unseen to mortal eve, But blooms, alas ! to fade and die Thus cruel ilrat it at last destroys < >ur brightest hopes, our loves and joys ; ,\d vernal sun, nor spring, nor rain, Will stir them into lit'.' again. How sweet amidst these hills to stray And Bpend the lengthened summer 'lav. Far from the tumult and the strife, The ceaseless din of city 1 NORTHUMBRIA. JSo discord here, no jarring sound To break the peaceful calm around. The murmuring stream, the rushing rill That leaps in cascades down the hill, In fitful music breaks the calm, That rise and falls like some sAveet psalm That soothes to rest the wear}' heart, That makes the tear unconscious start. Amidst such scenes we feel a peace That to these lonely hills we trace. Upon that wide expanding waste A death-like silence seems to rest ; The cloud that crowns yon towering hill Is resting there so calm and still ; Though distant far, it seems so near That we expect a voice to hear — The same as when the Almighty spoke To men from Sinai's toAvering rock, And rolling thunders rent the sky, And Israel felt. that God Avas nigh. AVhile through these nigged hills I climb, My thoughts dwell on a bygone time, AVhen the polecat, Avolf, and fox Lived undisturbed amidst these rocks, In ancient times here lived a race, AVhose footsteps in these wilds we trace. NORTH! MBR1 \. Beneath yon cairn piled on high, The bones of some great chieftain lie, Who spent his rude and barbarous I Amidst wild scenes of savage strife. That pathway leading through the glen "Was trodden by a rare of men, Who Ballied forth at dawn of day To seek their food like beasts of prey : These savage men in ambush lay Where Coquet winds his devious way, There they watched the milk-white steei I lescend to drink the water clear. Unconscious that his foes are oigh, II- drinks, and rears Ins head on high ; Then quick he sniffs the tainted air That tells his deadly foes are there : Then thick as hailstones from the sky Their Bpears and arrows round him fly : Soon vanquished in the unequal strife, The noble beast yields up his life, Falls like a bra], of driven Bnow That winter wind- together Mow. Q lick from his limbs the skin they tear. And home the flesh in triumph bear To their dark den and dwelling-place, Whose rude foundation here we trai • On Greenahaw Bill, between Linnopand Hartside, tfaefoun- NOIITHUMBIUA. Where the morning meal is spread, And there the wretched inmates fed On sodden flesh torn from the bone AVith their rude knives of flinty stone ; There, hidden from the light of day, These savage men devoured their prey. The naked children crawling round ; Mix with the dogs upon the ground, With greedy eyes the fire they watch, And from its embers quickly snatch The broiling flesh from off the bone, Then fly with it to be alone, Like some greedy beast of prey That hates to feed in open day. Thus lived our Pictish sires of old In misery, nakedness, and cold ; In holes and dens, like beast of prey, They spent their lives from day to day ; In mental darkness black as night, Their souls without one ray of light ; dations of British towns can be distinctly traced ; and a road or trackway, the work of the same people, leads from the prin- cipal town down to the Breamish, and on to the hills beyond, towards the head of the Coquet. There can be little doubt but that along this track the savage people carried home the wild animals killed in the forests around the base of the Cheviots ; and there can be as little doubt that amongst them were the predecessors of the now celebrated wild cattle of Chillingham. NORTHUMBRJ \. The Btarry heavens above their head, They Looked upon with fear and dread. When n ' I the midnight sky, In terror to their gods they cry, To shield them from the demon's ire That feeds in heaven the quenchless fire, Whose flickering flame is seen to play In the far north at close of clay ; Be who, when his anger burns, The light of day to darkness turns; Comes thundering forth in cloudy car, Its rolling wheels are heard afar; The trembling earth beneath them shakes, And birds and beasts in terror quake. Like flaming arrows through the sky, Bis dreadful lightnings quickly tly ; They strike and rend the solid rock, And tare to shreds the mighty oak, And lay its spreading branches low, ( Jlothed with the sacml mistletoe. Struck by a fiery bolt from heaven, Their sacred oak is rem and riven ; At the dread sighl they prostrate fall, And to their gods in terror call. They call in vain, no god draws near, With helping hand, nor voice to cheer. At length a human voice they hear, A man in sable garb draws near ; 10 NORTHUMBRIAN With hands uplifted to the sky, He fervent prayed to God on high That he, a sinful man and weak, Might wisely to the people speak Words of wisdom, power, and might, Blessed by the Spirit's heavenly light. Thus prayed Paulinus, while he stood Surrounded by the heathen crowd. Then aloud he cried : " Draw near, All ye that sit in darkness hear : To me, people, words are given To tell you from the God of heaven, Who, sent His Son from heaven above, To tell men of His matchless love. The gods you worship are no gods at all, They cannot see you prostrate fall ; They have no ears, nor eyes to see You worship 'neath that spreading tree ; But God, with His all-seeing eye, Sees you kneel, and hears you cry. To Him, sinful people, pray That He may wash your sins away, And ere your wretched lives are done Reveal to you His Messed Son. All you that now before Him stand, Are made and fashioned by His hand ; He made the sun so dazzling bright, A in! you rejoice to see His light. NOBTHUMBRIA. I I 1 . • moon and Btara He Likewise made, That Bparkle nightly o'bt your head. Look to yonder distant sh Where foaming billows toss and roar: ( rod made the Bea, at Hi- command I • •.' i\ i break harmless on the sand. I [e made the beasts, and birds of The spreading trees, and flowi I lir ; He -in, Is the snow and summer rain, And clothes these hills in green again. Though we His presence cannot Yet He is near to yon and me. To mo, people, the mission's given To tell you of the < rod of heaven, Whose blessed Son came from above To tell men (if their Father's Love ; 1 1- came the Saviour of men to be, And Lived and died for you and me ; He wandered Ear o'er hill and glen, To preach and speak to sinful men ; The words Ik- .-aid I now tell you, 1 f you believe you'll find them true." While on a rock Paulinus stood,* 1 [e Lifted high the holy ro "1 Paulinus, the first missionary to the pagan Northumbri whose aarne is associated with many of th< streams ami hol\ T 2 NORTHUMBRIA. (The cross-bar was taken from the tree Whereon Christ died in agony) ; The upright shaft of polished oak He planted firmly on the rock. The people saw with wondering eyes The first cross in Northumbria rise, And flocked in crowds from far and near The story of the cross to hear. As Christ's forerunner did of old, The sainted man the story told — How Christ, the blessed Lamb of God, In human form the earth He trode. " Look to that cross ! " Paulmus cried ; " Thereon your Saviour bled and died ; Now on a throne He sits in heaven, And unto Him all power is given." It was thus Paulinus did unfold, And to crowds the story told ; O'er many a wild and rugged way He wandered far, to preach and pray. Through danger, misery, and strife lie held aloft the lamp of life — wells in the North, was obliged, A.D. 633, to leave the country. After the death of Edwin, slain in the battle of Hatfield, near Doncaster, he took with him into Kent the widow and children of the fallen king. There he ended his long and useful life as Bishop of Rochester. NORTHUMBR] \. The lamp divine, the heavenly light, That chase away the shades of night Quenched quickly like a beacon fire, I [e saw the heavenly lighl expire. With Edwin slain on Hatfield moor, Nbrthumbria saw Its darkest hour. From the Trent to winding Forth The heathen triumphed o'er the North ; Blood and rapine raged around, The Cross of Christ cast to the ground, The power- of evil ruled once more, " The Man of God" fled from the si In distant Kent he ne'er ceased to pray For loved Northumbria far away, Thai ( rod would quell the heathen's And give Christ hack His herita It was in his country's darkesl hour Thai Oswald came, in might and power; ( Iswald — no more glorious name In dark Northumbrian history -learn.* * AJterthe death of Edwin the people relapsed into idolatry again, until Oswald, another of Ethelfrith'a .-ens, slew the murderous Cadwalla, at Hevenfield, near Hexham. Amongst his Brat was to send to [ona for a bishop to re-tor,, the I Ihristian reli in the land. There he had himself, when in exil . received a 14 NORTHUMBRIA. Like the shining star so bright, That ushers in the morning light, His heart aglow with holy fire, To mighty deeds he did aspire. On Hevenfield that glorious day, Pierced by his spear, Cadwalla lay. For this glorious victory given, He knelt before the God of heaven, And vowed, if he was granted life, To put an end to war and strife — Raise up the fallen cross again, That trampled in the dust had lain. To aid his holy work the while, There came from lone Iona's isle Aidan, that Christ-like man— The holy work again began. Like the beloved John of old, In loving words he did unfold The mystery of redeeming love, Vouchsafed to man from heaven above. knowledge of the Christian faith. The authorities of that place sent him an austere man, Corinan by name, who failed in his mission. On his return to Iona, Aidan remarked: "Brother, by thy own showing thou hast gone the wrong way to work ; thou hast given the children strong meat instead of milk." Aidan appeared the right man for the great work, and he will- ingly lfft his quiet life in Iona for the troubled career of a Northumbrian bishop. N0RTH1 Mi:i:i A. The people wondered, and adored, And benl the knee, before the Lord. The image of the mighty Thor Th( y burned upon the Bandy shore, Woden'a temples to the ground, And Btrewed the sacred fire around. No more to him they benl the knee, In terror, 'neath the Bacred tree ; To I rod beneath the azure skies They offered prayer, as sacrifice. The sainted Aidan, worn with toil, Turned his thoughts to Fame [ale; Ee longed to build a temple there, And end his life in fast and praj No temple yet was situ to rise Beneath Northumbrian wide-spread ski No holy altar to the Lord, Where Bis name might be adored. Like the Israelites of old, A willing people gave theii gold ; The poorest did an offering brin . And laid it down before the king. ( Iswald took their offering mi And laid it at Aidan's feet, Therewith to build unto the Lord A house, where lie mighl be adored. Then quickly at the king's command Messengers went through the kind, 1 6 NORTHUMBRIA. To tell the people all to pray Upon the great Ascension Day ; For on that day, on Fame Isle, They meant to found a holy pile. That morning rose, bright and fair, A balmy fragrance filled the air ; The dew o'er all the landscape lay, And sparkled in the sunny ray. On Cheviot-top a fleecy cloud Lay glittering, like a silver shroud ; Peace seemed brooding o'er the deep, The troubled waves were hushed in sleep The noisy sea-birds ceased to scream, And on its bosom seemed to dream. From the green earth there did arise A fragrant incense to the skies ; From every vale and upland glen Went, seaward, troops of savage men • All their thoughts are turned the while, To meet their king on Fame Isle. King Oswald at the dawn of day Left Bamborough castle grey ; He bade his boatmen, with a smile, Kow him hence to Fame Isle. The people saw their king draw near, And hailed him with a lusty cheer; As soon as he had touched the land, Aidan took him by the hand, N0RTH1 IfBRIA. 17 And led liini through the motley crowd ; T while a psalm h<' chanted loud, Until he reached the chosen ground, With all the chiefs assembled round. The holy stone, prepared with care, Suspended hung already there. The king a silver trowel took, Then raised to heaven a silent look : < >n bended knees, with arms bare, He laid thf corner-stone with care; Then with his spear he struck the ground, And spoke to those assembled round : '• Ymu, my loving people, witness he This day between the Lord and me, That I to God this island give, Efis saints may ever live, And ever in His presence stand, And pray for this beloved land.'' "0 God of heaven," Aidan said, "This holy work vouchsafe to aid ; .May here until time's latest day, Thy servants never cease to pray. We take in trust this gift for heaven, hi , l I king, so freely given ; And at this shrine, by night and day, For thee, o king, we'll ever pray." God on the hdy work did smile. And quickly rose the sacred pile — 1 8 NORTHUMBRIA. So quickly, that the people said That unseen hands had given aid To carve and shape so quaint and fair That arch suspended in the air ; The massive columns, cut in stone, Must be the work of gods alone. Above the arch-encircled door A richly-carved figure bore A polished cross of marble stone, That brightly like a mirror shone. To see this house so fair and meet, Pilgrims came with weary feet ; The rudest felt an holy awe When this glorious shrine they saw ; "With feet unshod they entered there, And knelt to God in heartfelt prayer, And sought within this holy place The pardon of their sins, and grace. There the holy Aidan vigils kept — Prayed to God while others slept, That lie would vengeance quickly bring Upon the slayers of his king. Within these walls St. Cuthbert prayed,* And here his holy bones were laid, * The name of St. Cuthbert is so identified with the early history of the Christian Church of Northumberland that every N0RTH1 MM.! \. ]<) Exempt, it ia Baid, from that decay That turn- the mortal frame to clay. Alas ! thy glories now are gone, Time's fingers waste thy carved stone ; I nstead of solemn chanl and prayer, The rude winds sing a requiem there. Long may thy mouldering ruins stand, Safe from the spoiler's ruthless hand. schoolboy ought to know how much they owe to the great and g 1 men who first taught the heathen people of Northumbria the Gospel of Christ. Although much that is legendary is interwoven with the history of St. Cuthbert, enough remains t.> testify that he was no ordinary man. The Venerable Bede tells us that from his very childhood he was inflamed with the desire t" devote his life to the glory of God. He heard with the orrow that he had been unanimously elected to be a bishop. He would have rather Bpent the last days < »f his life in solitude and prayer. There is no more interesting episode in the whole history of the early Church in Britain than the disinterring of the body of St. Cuthbert by the Bishop and monks of Lindisfarne, and flying with it from place to pi: to escape the bloodj Danes who had pilla country. Bede informs us that the saint's body was found "like one asleep; even the vestments of the bod} were fresh, and had their glo a upon th< m." There is little doubt but that man) of the early churches in Northumberland w< re built upon spots where thi acred body of St. Cuthbert rested. Along with his body they carried the mangled head of St. wald, who fell in battle, .\n. 642, fighting against t! kin • Pi nda, the last pagan king of the North, who was drowned in a Bwollen river II" ill" I;' • d-. 2 NORTHUMBRIA. "lis not for me in rustic verse Thy by-past glories to rehearse ; The ruin that upon thee fell, The mournful page of history tell : With musing thoughts I turn the while, And, lingering, leave the Holy Isle. Till: CAPTIVE CHIKF. 21 THE CAPTIVE (IN EF: A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD. Behind the Cheviots sank the sun Ere Flodden's fatal G done, And night's dark curtain gently fell'"'' ( in such a scene as none can tell. Scotland's brave host that morn a: Burning to meet their Southern fo I eve, beside meand'ring Till, That warlike host in death lay still: Like autumn leaves cast t" the ground, There lay the dead and dying round, Thick as tin' grain from sower's hand Lies scattered o'er the fui land : * This in- morable battle, bo disastrous to Scotland, was fought mi tlu- portray by pen or pencil the scene thai presented itself t>> the eyes of those who saw the ••fatal i ,.1, the morning after this memorable and bloody battle. 24 THE CAPTIVE CHIEF. Calm as a sleeping child lie lay, But tlien anon "was heard to pray : " God save our country ; shield our king, Spread o'er his head Thy sheltering wing. For him we'll spend our "blood and breath, On — on to victory or to death ! " His broken spear he reared on high, And shouted loud his gathering cry ; Quick o'er his frame a shudder passed, The broken spear fell from his grasp. Branxton the scene in silence eyed. " Faddon, help here ! " he sharply cried. A mounted horn that loosely hung Quick from his belt the chief unslimg, Then loosed the dying warrior's casque, And pressed to 's lips the gen'rous flask. He felt the wine his strength renew, A laboured breath at length he drew, And gazed on chief in mute surprise, As one that doth from trance arise. Then quick and soft the warrior spoke, His voice in Celtic accents broke : "Tell me if ye be friend or foe? Have we the vict'ry % — ay or no % No ! — Is our king safe, or is he slain ? Slain ! — Then, God ! all hope is vain. THE OAPTIVE CHIEF. 25 oli ! welcome death I I long I" die, And be with those thai round me lie. My country ! oh, 1 weep I'"!' thee ! My mountain home no more I'll Bui home 'a qo1 home if slaves we be : Then welcome death and grave to □ A sigli of sorrow heaved his brea And to his heart the cross he prest. Upon crossed spears they placed a shield, And bore the chieftain from the field To where the stolen horses stood, And placed him on a litter rude ; A martial cloak they round bim threw, To shield bim from the midnight dew. Laden with spoil, the Bloody Band Drew from the fiel 1 his savage band ; By Langleyford they took their way, Long ere the Cheviots smiled in day. They halted at the noontide hour Where Linhope's waters downward pour. Loml was the noise, and wild the din, Thai ech 1 in the rocky linn : Drunk with the spoil of otfo i •■' woe, The ribald s mg and wine did How ; The beacon blazed on Simond's height Long ere they baited foi the night. 26 THE CAPTIVE CHIEF. At last they reached lone Coquet-side ; There for the night they meant to bide. Their watch-fire cast its lurid gleam On tangled brake and winding stream ; The night-birds rose in wild dismay, And, screaming, took their flight away. "Worn with the toils of night and day, Soon on the earth each dalesman lay ; Some 'mong the brackens made their bed, Some sought the pine-tree's darker shade. Their captive lay as in a dream Still-listening to the Avarbling stream. At last he slept in calm repose, ( )blivious of his wounds and woes, Till startled by a bugle sound That echoed from the rocks around. At that sharp sound each dalesman rose, All prompt to meet their chasing foes. The blast was but the warder's call That paced Harbottle's dark-grey wall.* * Harbottle Castle, now in ruins, stands on a commanding eminence above the river Coquet. We read that it was given by William the Conqueror, in the tenth year of his reign, to Robert de Umfranville, Knight, Lord of Tours ami Vian, to keep and to hold, by defending that part of the country for ever from enemies and wolves, with the sword which the said King Wil- THE CAPTIVE < HIBP. 27 1 quick they mustered man and beast, And Left the place in Bpeedy haste ; The captive chief they left behind, Like some lost garment oul of mind. 1 mscious of their flight he lay Till dawn had I ned into day ; Then round the scene a look he i And wished thai it mighl be his last. He thought of his dear Highland home, Wii a boy, lie used to roam, Dreaming of war and high renown ; — But all those airy dreams have flown. Rose of Coquet chanced to stray Past where the wounded chieftain lay; liftTn had by his side when he entered Northumberland. In the reign of King Henry II. this castle was taken by the Scots, but wassoonreco ain. [t was used as a stronghold or prison For all depredators taken within the Middle March It was a] in this castle that the widowed Queen of James 1 V. (kill ■] a1 Floddi d), about a year after this event, married Archibald Douglas, Marl of Angus, by whom shi had a beautiful daughter, Margaret, horn in 1516 at Sarbottle I terwards married to M it. Earl of Lennox, mother t> Henry Lord Darnley, husband of Marj Qu en of Scots, and fath James VI., first BLing oi I ad and Scotland. The Bcenerj in the neighbourhood of Harbottleand I [olystone i> lovely and romantic, and has many features in common with the Highland scenery of Scotland. 28 THE CAPTIVE CHIEF. "Warder, her fleet and noble hound, Sprang on the chief with savage hound. " Down, Warder, down ! " the maiden cried, And quick her order was obeyed. " Whom have we here?" she softly said, While rising blush her face o'erspread. The chieftain met her wondering gaze Dumb with surprise and strange amaze ; He thought some angel from the skies Looked down on him with pitying eyes. A golden fillet bound her hair, That reached her waist in tresses fair ; Her eyes appeared of liquid blue, And sparkled like the morning dew ; Her ungloved hand, so small and fair, Held in its grasp a volume rare ; She stood in all her queenly grace, Fair as the Naiad of the place. The chieftain told his mournful tale, And saw a tear unconscious steal From her sweet eyes ; it seemed to flow In pity at his tale of woe. " You are my captive now" she said, "And in my dungeon must be laid." Straight back to castle then she went, And six strong yeomen quickly sent To bring the chief, with speed and care, i hi: i \ j- 1 1 \ i: ' iiiki'. 29 To tli'- west tower, and place him there, I □ Eai 1 < lilbert's damask bed, Where that great warrior's spirit fled. From autumn till sweet flowery May The chief in that lone chamber lay. Many a dull and dreary hour lie ,-|',iii in that great western tower, Nought save the convent's tolling bell To break the silence of the delL But oft at eve a sound more sweet His longing heart and ears would greet, A sound that made his heart to glow With a sweet joy that few can know. A maiden struck the trembling string Of her sweet harp, and then would sing A song of sorrow and of v. That made the tears unconscious flow — A 1 ing of love and lover lost, Ta'en captive by the Sar'cen host; Then she would strike a martial .-train, Such as we ne'er shall hear again, Of 1 din and wild turmoil. That made the hi 1 to dance and boil. The wounded chief longed for the hour And strength to leave his prison-tower. Ri tored at last, he sought the hall, And for his captor fair did call. 30 THE CAPTIVE CHIEF. She came with all her wonted grace, A smile lit up her beaming face ; But when she caught the chieftain's eyes A mantling blush began to rise. The chief bowed low, then, faltering, said : " I come to thank you, gen'rous maid ; Your slave and servant I must be, My life, my all, I owe to thee." " My captive, then, I set you free From all allegiance due to me ; You're free from this, at any hour, To leave Harbottle's ancient tower. Go to your home and clansmen brave, Where the brown heath and tartans wave, And seek no more our Border strife, Where men so cheaply sell their life." But ere he left the Coquet-side, Its fairest flower bloomed as his bride ; He wed fair Ros'mond with that ring, The gift of his beloved king ; And long she lived to bless the clay That she by Coquet-side did stray, And found a wounded chieftain there,— Her husband long, — the great St. Clair. A I TUMN i.i:a\ i>. AUTUMN LEAVES. In early Bpring we love to see The budding leaves on hedge and tree, As day by day before our eyes They spread their beauty to the ski Fair as when the Almighty spoke, And trees and flowers to life awoke ; The beauteous earth, like some fair queen, That day appeared all clothed in green. As each successive seas >n Hies, New wonders pass before our eyes ; The woodlands, once so bright and green, Now hastening to decay are seen. I i'er corn fields and leafy glade Sere autumn's mantle now is spread, A varied landscape lies unrolled Harmonious mixed, with green and gold. As through the woods I musing sti The falling leaves bestrew my way — AUTUMN LEAVES. Tossed by September's fitful blast, Like spray of ocean landward cast, Upon a wild and trackless shore, To vanish, and be seen no more ; The summer leaves once bright and green Drop earthward, and are no more seen. Short and changeful as an autumn day, Like leaves of summer men decay ; In life's bright spring his heart is light, Hope cheers him on with visions bright, Happy if in life's swift advancing years A cloudless sun his pathway cheers, Lighting him onward to a changeless clime Unmeasured by the lapse of time. AL 1T.MN BEIUUE8. J i AUTUMN BERRIES. Autumn berries all aglow, Some like gold and some like snow, Some like diamonds brightly shin'', Some like rubiea in the mine. Where the gossamer loves to play, And stretch his threads across the way, Then- bright rosy hips are seen, Eawberries shining out between. There, trailing low upon the ground, Brambleberries black are found ; Bright as coal dug from the scam, In the autumn sun they gleam. II' iv the schoolboy loves to stray, When home at eve he wends his wa\ ; Nature for him spreads here a fi That pampered children never taste. In after-years will memory turn To some such spot beside the burn, 34 AUTUMN BERRIES. Where with companions free and wild We roamed 'mid Nature, Nature's child, Free as the scented autumn breeze That shook the acorns from the trees, Strewed the ground with yellow leaves That smelt as sweet as harvest sheaves. Then home we bore, with joy and glee, The rich wild fruit from bush and tree ; Crabs and nuts, with jet-black sloes, Hips shining brighter than the rose. Snowberries whiter than the snow, Around our caps in wreaths did glow ; We made the woodlands ring with joy, That told our hearts had no alloy. THE I I HI I K.MAN B WIR 35 THE FISHEBMAN'S WIFE ■■ Raise me higher, mother dear, And open wide the door, That I may see his boat come in And land upon the -hore. ' Nell, my lass,' he said to me When first he brought me hame, ' The new boat that's to win our bread, Mu.-t bear your ain sweet name. " 'To-morrow you must christen her, Before she gans to sea — The boat that bears my Nelly's name Will bring great luck to me.' But now, alas ! 1 canna gang To push her from the shore, Nor help my man to land his boat, As oft I've done before. •• Bui rai $e me higher, mother dear, And prop my weary head ; 36 THE FISHERMANS WIFE. Let ray last look be on the sea Where Aleck wins his bread. God guard my honest fisherman Upon the mighty deep ; There hard he toils to win his bread, While thousands soundly sleep. " My sight is growing dim, mother, I canna see the shore ; But I can hear it's Aleck's foot That now comes to the door. Take my hand in yours, Aleck, And speak my name once more, Just as you used to wdiisper it When we walked on the shore. " When I am dead and gone, Aleck, You'll sometimes think of me, As you toil through the weary night Upon the stormy sea. God bring you aye safe to the shore. And keep you till you die ; Then, Aleck dear, we'll meet again In a home beyon' the sky." When Aleck's boat is far at sea, And the stars shine o'er his head, i m: i [Sherman's wife. He looks up in them longingly, And thinks of hei that's dead ; When the waves arc tossed by angry wind-. And the loud tempests roar, Then Aleck's heart longs for thai re Where Helen's gone before, 57 $S LTNES TO A CHILD ON HER FIRST BIRTHDAY. LIXES TO A CHILD OX HER FIRST BIRTHDAY. Dear child, on this your natal day In heartfelt words for yon I pray, That each succeeding year you see May happier than the bygone be. When infant years are passed away, And you in happy girlhood play, Gathering daisies sweet and fair, To wreathe them in your flowing hair, May your heart, like that sweet flower, Expand and bloom in sunny bower, Sheltered from the storms and strife That spoil our joys and cloud our life. When you reach your maiden prime, And taste the bliss of that sweet time, May you from heaven direction seek, For in our strength we are but weak. From all the snares that round you lie, God guard you with His watchful eye — Give you true wisdom from above, And fill your heart with heavenly love. LINES K) \ ' mi. I' ON in:i; I IRE D BIR1 HDAY, If heaven grant yon e'er to know The Bweetesl bliss of earth below, — Domestic joys, with that maternal love, That have their source in heaven above (These, like tender, fragile flowers, That only lil".. in in sunny bowers), — Be it yours to tend with lovii Those tender flowers, so sweet and fair; Thai tii''. may shed their sweet perfume Like gatb red roses in a room. Ajs summer follows after spring, Ami autumn golden ti bring, May each successive season bring to you Eeavenly blessings, like the dew : That, when the final call is given, It finds j ••; ripe, and meet for heaven. 40 LINES TO A CAGED LARK. LINES TO A CAGED LARK. Minstrel of early spring, bird of the skies ! "With feelings sad I hear your song arise ; In this dark, wretched alley, named a street, Your heaven-tuned notes rise high and sweet ; Even here kind Nature stirs within your breast A song of joy that cannot be repressed, — Caged like a felon, yet you murmur not, Xor pine in sorrow at your hapless lot. Sweet bird, I long to set you free, That you might spread your wings and flee To meadows green, where early daisies spring And birds fly free on lightsome wing. Caged in this noisome alley, dark and drear, Your song perchance some weary heart may cheer- Some longing heart that ne'er again will see The daisied sward nor leaf-clad tree. Dear bird, it stirs my heart to hear Your song in sweet notes trilling clear, LINB8 TO a I \-.i D I ai:K. ; I lli;_r]i o'er the ceaselet i tiu moil and the din, The seething flood of strife and sin. Amongst the surging crowd that floats alon Some pause and listen to your song ; And as they listen, memories Bweet arise, ( )f country Bcenes ami cloudless skies. In yonder wretched garret there is laid The \\ reck of what was once a maid ; She tries, alas ! but tries in vain, to pray ; Her thoughts are wandering far away — Amongst green fields, where cowslips spri Where oft she heard the sweel lark sing; She lifts her weary head to hear again STour matchless sun;.', a heaven-taught strain. It wafts her thoughts back to that home Where she in youth was wont to roam ; There, beneath the apple-blossomed tree, She strung bright cowslips from the lea. Pure as the white flower on the thorn, She trod the dew at early morn; Ami like thai flower plucked from the spray, As soon as faded cast away. 42 THE CHRISTMAS ROSE. THE CHRISTMAS EOSE. Pale flower, thou hang-'st thy drooping head Like a lone widow mourning o'er the dead ; Bereft of all the sweet and lovely flowers, That deck gay summer's leafy bowers : The fallen leaves of autumn round thee lie, To rot beneath chill winter's leaden sky ; You bloom alone, a solitary flower, And know no summer sun nor shower. In dark and evil days your lot is cast, Unsheltered you must bear the blast ; Like some lone spirit in life's darkened hour, You bend beneath the blast, sweet tender flower Men heedless pass you in their way, And at thy shrine no rapturous homage pay, But kneel to some frail and fleeting flower That blooms and dies within an hour, And needs the sun's bright sinning ray To paint their transient colours gay : To them the poet tunes his sweetest lays, And rapturous crowds prolong their praise. THE CHRISTMAS BOSK. 1 I Swot, lonely flower, you're ever dear to me, In thy pale bloom I more than beauty see — A type, an emblem of the Child that lay Cradled in a manger on this blessed day. ected by the crowd that thru:. md, But by the heaven-directed found ; That like the Bhepherds come to • Their heartfelt homage on thy natal day, And like the wise men Erom the E Who at Thy feet their offerings place 1, They humbly ,u r iv<' thee praise and pray Their heart 1 - they offer there. Emblem of Eim, sweet humble flower, Sou come to cheer life's darkest hour. The rose of Sharon and the lily fair, With thee, sweet flower, cannot compar Faint emblem thou of the dear Child That in the manger sweetly smiled, — N'n flower more dear to me that blows, q thou, pale, lonely Christmas ro 44 THE LAST NIGHT o' THE YEAR — 1 874. THE LAST NIGHT 0' THE YEAR 1874. As I sat musing in the neuk The last night 0' the year, My dear, loved wife, wi' busy hands, Laid out our New Year's cheer. When seated round our humble board, I briefly said the grace : As I handed round the cheese and cake, My wife looked in my face. I read the thoughts within her heart, Though ne'er a word she spoke ; The Christmas holly on the walls Old memories dear awoke. Her thoughts were on a New Year's eve, Just thirty years ago, — The first we spent, as man and wife, Beside our ingle low. Since that night time's ruthless hand Has changed our yellow hair ; mi: I \31 NIGHT O' THE J BAB 1 87 }. |- Hi- finger prints are on out face, That once was Bmooth and fair. Though time lias changed our outward form, Our hearts are still the same; There brightly burns love's quenchless fire, Not p lesion's fitful flame. The setting sun oft clearest shines When linking in the west ; A halo brighl surrounds the spot Where he has Buni fco rest. So may it be, my dear, loved wife, When our few years are run ; May we drop peacefully to rest, Clear as the setting sun. These thoughts had passed across my mind, When on my ears there fell A solemn, mournful sound to me, The midnight passing bell. A- 1 listened to its litful sound, Deep thoughts passed through my heart ; When, lo ! a knock came tu the door, That made me quickly start. In haste 1 ran, unlatched the door, And set it to the wa', When in then- Btepped the sweetest child My eyea yet ever saw ; 46 THE LAST NIGHT o' THE YEAR — I S 7 4. A snow-white robe was o'er her thrown, Stars sparkled on it bright, An azure wreath bound up her hair, Where shone the Queen of night. "God hattd you hale," I said, "sweet child, You are right welcome here ; Be seated by our humble board, And taste our Xew Year's cheer." When, smiling, she looked in my face, I saw her features clear ; I in a moment bent my knee Before the infant year. " Be pleased," I said, " to bless our home With peace and sweet content, And grant us each a thankful heart For every blessing sent. If in your hand you bring the cup Of sorrow or of loss, Let us not grumble at our fate, But patient bear our cross. " And for my country, dear to me, I humbly hope you bring Heaven's choicest blessing in your hand, To make us joyful sing 'lin: i LBT NIGHT o' THE J BAB -1874. 47 The praise of Him whose mighty hand Rules all things here below ; His powei exalteth nations high, Bis nod can lay them low." 4S TO MR. AND MRS. CUFF. TO ME. AXD MRS. CLIFF, ON THEIR GOLDEN WEDDING D A V. I beg in humble verse to say, On this your Golden Wedding day, That from my heart I wish you joy, Your peace and hope let nought destroy ; May your remaining years he blest, And peaceful as the sea at rest ; That with calm thought you may survey The fifty years that have passed away Since you fulfilled that great command, In mutual faith joined hand in hand. Though brief those years may now appear. To you their memory must be dear, For heaven has spared you both to see Three generations smile upon your knee. In these degenerate days of man, The longest life is but a span ; They are few indeed, and far between. That live to see what you have seen. Blest with wealth a goodly store, And like the patriarchs of yore, TO mi:, and HB8. CLIFF. J<) You have "ii- and daughters fair to And goodly aa the cedar-tree ; Sweet buda of promise you have ! Nipped by death's ontimely frost, And one fair form, a fruitful I Alas ! no more on earth we'll A 1"\ ing heart, a cultured mind, Eer motives high, her actions kind : By voice and deed she tried to draw Her kind to study Nature's law; To make their homes that pure abode, And dedicate their lives to I tod. I • ep in your heart you felt the blow That all untimely laid her low, But now your thoughts will often ri To her bright home beyond the si Friends on earth we love to meet, Their names are dear, their presence sweet; But alas ! as years flow swiftly oil, To 'i i\ they are here, to morrow gone, But in our hearts their memories dwi !1. I >eeper far than tongue can tell. To pen to you on such a happy day, These lines may seem a cheerless lay. But life is not a tideless bi i, It has its .-tonus for you and me ; But when they are past, how clear and bright The moon breaks through the cloud of night ! D 50 TO MR. AND MRS. CLIFF. Your sorrows I have felt and seen, And in your joys a sharer I have been, When round your hearth with joy and glee, The children hailed the Christmas tree ; The air rang with their joyous shout, "When round you dealt the golden fruit. Life to them was bright and fair, They felt no sorrow, knew no care, When sheltered in that sacred spot, Their early home that never is forgot. Now at that festive time of year, Their children come your hearts to cheer, And while they climb upon your knee, Your early life renewed you see. To taste such joys long may you live, The fruits that wedded life can give, Is the wish and prayer of him who writes The simple lines that gratitude indites. WORK, BR0THER8, WORK. $1 WOBK, BEOTHEES, WOEK ! Rise up liko men and work and toil, The world is a field Thai must be tilled before we sow, Ere it a harvest yield. Eold lmt youi hand when dark clouds lower, They may quickly pass away; If we neglect to sow in spring, We'll have no harvest day. Then rise like men, lay to your hand, There h work for all to do ; \i you Btand by with folded hands, Y"U arc no Britons true. ( >ur country is in danger great, But not from foreign fi e ; Vile factions will usurp the state, And lay our nation low. Then In- true men, and conquer self, No gr< ater work is done By patriot great, or hero hra\ e, Beneath the glorious sun. 52 WORK, BROTHERS, WORK. When every man this conquest makes, The "good time" is begun, Then brotherhood and love will reign Till time its course has run. Rise up like men, strong, brave, and true, "Work not for self alone, — Work for your country and your kind, They'll reap when you are gone. God worketh on both night and day To carry out His plan — To nlake this world a happier place, A paradise for man. Work, brothers, while it is the day, The night is coming fast, And when our sun in darkness sets, The time to work is past. Then we will render up our work Into the Master's hand ; Oh, may it be approved by Him, And in His presence stand ! TUNE THE HARP. 53 TUNE THE HARP. WRITTEN A.FTER HEARING MISS KENNEDY SING " THE FOUR MARIES." Tune the harp, the sweet-toned harp, And softly touch the string; The melody I loved in youth I'll try once more to sing. Years have fled, and she is gone That joined her voice with mine To sing that song, so sad with woe, That stirred our hearts langsyne. When dark clouds of sorrow hide The sunshine from my heart, The mem'ry of my Mary's form Makes liars of sorrow start. 1 think upon the happy time, Hit hand held fast in mine, We joined our voices in that song We loved to sing langsyne. 54 TUNE THE HARP. That melody through years has been Like some sweet dream to me ; I've heard its music in the breeze That stirs the leafy tree ; I've heard it in the song of birds, At morning dawn so fair ; I've heard its sound within my ear, "When no voice was there. To my old heart that melody Comes like the breath of spring ; It wakens memories in my heart That nothing else will bring. My native land is rich in song, And sweet old minstrelsy, But that the song my Mary loved Is dearest still to me. BPISTLB TO JolIN BICK80N. 55 EPISTLE TO JOHN BICKSON, Thanks, my friend, for youi kind letter, ['ve Beldom n .'1 .1 sermon You paint our lives in every feature With skill and art, And strike thai chord in human nature That stirs ili" heart. 5Tou speak of years now long gone by, When we were young, and hope was high, And every <>l v I the eye, Tinged like the ro All vanished now, we'll let them lie In dark repose. Though they arc gone we'll not repine, There's many a blessing— yours and mine ; Around our hearth doth brightly shine The lamp of love, Fed by hands we hold divine As those above. 56 EPISTLE TO JOHN HICKSON. From the cold world we gladly turn, And all its empty pleasures spurn ; To where the lamp of love doth burn So bright and clear ; To home our spirits gladly turn, For hope and cheer. Without a home, to you and me This world a desert bleak would be, — A dark and troubled, trackless sea, Without a shore ; A land where neither flower nor tree Grew round our door. Upon the hearth we love so dear, Long may the yule-log burn clear, With friends around, our hearts to cheer, At Christmas time ; And laughing plenty ever near To ring the chime. o When round the festive board we sit With smiling face and harmless wit, Amidst our mirth we'll not forget The needy poor, For many foodless, tireless sit At this bright hour. KrisTi.i: TO JOHN HICK80N. 57 As years in dark oblivion sink, It's well, my friend, that we should think That we draw daily near the brink Of death's dark stream, At thought of which we backward shrink As in a dream. Many a dear, loved friend we mourn, Bas crossed that stream, ne'er to return ; Their memory in our hearts will burn A quenchless fire, Till we ourselves have crossed that bourn, And life expire. These thoughts, my friend, T send in rhyme, An offering at this Christmas time; Though neither great, nor yet sublime, They yet rehearse My passing thoughts just at this time In simple verse. 5 8 THE VALE OF WHITTINGHAM. THE VALE OF WHITTINGHAM. The autumn sun had ushered in the day, And through reft clouds sent forth a ray That fell on Thrunton's rugged height ; The cold grey rocks sent back the light Like some faint and waning star Sinking in the distance far ; No sound is heard from field or hill, All Nature sleeps in silence still ; The morning is the day of rest Of all the seven to man the best. Now silence reigns in forge and hill, And busy commerce' hand is still ; And toiling man is free to walk abroad, And hold communion with his God. Outlined against the morning sky, The Cheviot Hills around me lie ; Some draped in purple, some in green, With many a sylvan glade between. A grey cold mist along the valleys lie, That hides their beauty from the eye ; mm: \ am; OP Willi riNGHAM. 59 When, lo I the misty vapours gn Pass like a morning cloud away, — The sun unclouded, clear and bright, Fills all these vales with glorious light. 'Mid pastures rich, and meadows green, Browsing herds may now be Been ; Where Aln winds its devious way, The fleecy flocks in thousands .-tray ; In sweet confusion now are seen The fields alternate gold and green. : id stubble-fields, like maps unrolled, Shine in the dew like sheets of gold; The leaves thai clothed the hawthorn spray. Full now in showers along the way. From many a homestead to the skies The spiral smoke in columns rise — From hearths where busy hands pre] The morning meal of homely fare. But hark ! 1 hear the joyous knell, The sweet sound of the Sabbath bell ; At that sound what memories start, Ai.d sweet emotions till the heart : i Jold i- the heart, and dull that i That all unmoved that sound ran hi It brings to mind that joyous morn, When to the church our bride was borne ; It Bpeaketh of a sad and mournful day, When loved ones in the dust we lay ; 6o THE VALE OP WHITTINGHAM. Its tones remind us of a time When this fair vale was stained with crime- A time when no sweet Sabbath bell Upon men's ears like music fell, Ere yon grey steeple reared its head Amidst the dwellings of the dead. But now we hear in every knell A voice of joy, that seems to tell That darkness now is passed away, Like morning mist at dawn of day. IN MBMORIAM. 6l 1 N M KM OKI AM Of the late Mrs. Davidson, wife of Andrew Davidson, gardener, Newton-on-the-Moor, near Alnwick, who died on the 9th September 1873, aged 45 years. Mrs. Davidson was the author of two small volumes of poems, that show how highly she- was gifted with a deep poetic feeling. Many of her best piec written to further the cause of tempi r- anoe and political freedom; but it is in thus,' poems that portray her home and heart affections that we admire hi t most: in them we see the loving wife, the tender mother, and affectionate friend. Deab sister, round thy narrow bed Affection's tears will long be shed : Thy widowed husband there will weep And wail for thee iii sorrow deep. Oft there at twilight's peaceful hour Be'll rumc, his heartfelt grief to pour; There linger till the close of day — Then homeward, musing, take his way. Thy loving children there will bi The sweetest flowers of early spring— The primrose sweet, and snowdrop fair, Thy once Loved daisy will < re ; 62 IN MEMORIAM. Their mingled fragrance there to shed As incense o'er thy narrow bed ; And he who pens this heartfelt lay A tear of memory yet will pay. Where moulders thy once loving heart, So free from guile in every part, There the poetic fire did burning glow — That heavenly flame that few can know. But quenched for ever is that fire, The heavenly thought, and high desire ; But still we feel the warmth it gave, Though thou art silent 'in the grave. \ I KRISTMA8 BONG. 63 A CHRISTMAS SOXG. FOB LITTLE CHILDREN. ChildreNj loud your voio In a song of thankful prais< This is your Saviour's natal morn, — • i jus on this day was born. Think of the place where Ee was laid, A manger was His cradle-bed ; And noi in lordly gilded hall, Bui with the tenants of the stall. It was thus His infant life began — Tin' Son of God became a man ; II life was humble here below, A life of suffering and <>f woe. "o ••Away with llim!" His brethren cried, An 1 their Prince they crucifii d ; •• We'll have no King so vilely born!" And they rejected Him with scorn 64 A CHRISTMAS SOXG. But had He come in earthly state, A mighty Conqueror, styled " The Great "- Great in deeds of blood and strife, Great in taking human life — Men to Him had bowed the knee, And thronged so great a King to sec ; And given all to aid His cause, And hailed His name with loud applause. Our Lord came void of earthly state, Yet He was the truly great ; For His friends He came to die, And gain for them a home on high. Now in heaven He sits a King, And seraph hosts His praises sing ; Come, Lord, quickly to this earth again. And subject all to Thy blest reign. They watch in vain, the scoffers say, For a second Advent day ; All things continue as before, Christ to earth will come no more. Children dear, such thoughts are vain, Our Lord will surely come again — A > HRJ81 HAS BONG. 65 < !ome Be will, in mighl and power, So watch for thai dread final hour. When you deck your home this day "With the holly and the bay, Think where your infant Lord was laid— Tn a manger cradle-bed. Then be like Ilim a loving child, Good, obedient, kind, and mild; All your crosses patient b And Christ, your Saviour, love and fear. 66 COME, GENTLE SPRING. COME, GENTLE SPRING. Come, gentle spring, with all tliy train, Unloose cold winter's icy chain, And with thy life-reviving hreath Wake Nature from the sleep of death. Come with sunshine and with shower, And stir to life the sleeping flower ; And to our hearts new pleasure bring, "With all the joys of early spring. Come with all your feathered throng, That fill our woods with joyous song ; Wake up again the dormant bee, And clothe anew the leafless tree. The meadows now so bleak and bare, Clothe with grass and daisies fair ; The naked hedgerows brown and sear, Array in greenery bright and clear. We long to hear the cuckoo's cry, The soaring lark sing in the sky — I OMB, GEM 1.1: BPRING. 67 Rising high on tireless wing To welcome bach the joyous spring With all her sweel and vernal train — The evening dew and gentle rain, < Ipening buds and primrose flowers, To deck again our woodland bowers. Come, gentle spring, chase far away Hoar winter in his mantle grey Back to the frozen North again, There to hold his court and reign. Come, sweet spring, we long for thee And all thy train so fair to see ; With thankful hearts we'll gladly sing A song df praise to thee, sweet spring. 68 A BALLAD. A BALLAD Written upon the Great Masonic Festival, given at Alnwick Castle, upon the 8th of October 1878, by the Provincial Grand Master, Earl Percy, M.P. In ancient times, at Percy's call Came Northmen staunch and true, man, And with good sword and twanging bow His bidding they did do, man ; With many a clout, and mighty shout, They made his foes to fly, man ; They mowed them down like thistle-tops When " A Percy " was the cry, man. Put times arc changed since Percy ranged From Tyne to Berwick Law, man; ( >ur present Earl — Ave proudly say't — No foes has he at a', man. The other day he deigned to say — Come brethren ane and a', man, And dine with me in the Guest Hall, And smoke your pipe and a', man. A B \l.l AH. 69 Seven hundred gui down to feast In the great hall thai day, man, An 1 such a feast before ua placed Was never seen before, man ; When grace v. the Earl said — Yuu are welcome ane and a', man ; In Alnwick Castle feast this day, Tin- I 'ukc invites you a', man. Then to our feel we all did start And hailed him with a cheer, man, That shook the 1 f-tree o'er our he They heard it far and uear, man. A hearty, honest, manly cheer We Hi" chief that day, man ; From our hearts that cheer came forth, I honestly can say, man. When every man had feasted well, Just like a lord that day, man, From Brother I "avis in his place ( !ame, " » >rder, brethren " a', man. Thru r\ cry \ oice was hushed and .-till In the greal hall that day. man ; ( Mir noble Master rose and said — Let ns toast our Queen this day, man. 70 A BALLAD. Then such a shout rang through the hall For our heloved Queen, man ; That we were loyal, staunch, and true Could easily he seen, man. Then next he gave our Ancient Craft, And he was pleased to say, man, That it gave him pleasure in his heart To meet us all that day, man. Then Brother Cockcroft rose, and said Thus to his brethren a', man — We'll drink our noble Master's health, May he live long and a', man, To grace our Mystic Craft, and fill His ancient seat and a', man ; We'll drink our noble Master's health - We'll drink it, hip hurrah, man. The noble Duke and Duchess' health, And Lady Percy's too, man, We drank in such a hearty way — You should been there to see, man. We waved our 'kerchiefs in the air, And gave them three times three, man ; That some sat down for want of breath, I very plain could see, man. \ BALLAD. Should any Ameer or Muscovite ( rive insult to our Queen, man, We'll follow Percy to the rout, And pul her foes to shame, man. If any craven loon at har rate our Master's name, man, We'll make his quarrel all our own, — I' bis justly we can claim, man. 72 THE FINGER-POST. THE FINGER-POST. A TALE OF ALNWICK MOOR. Beyond the town of Alnwick, by the highway side, There stands a finger-post, the traveller's guide ; With boards atop to tell the distance and the way, But to what place they do not seem to say. One board points to the north, and has a finger left ; Another southward, that is of every sign bereft : A wretched board hangs at right angles to the post ; The one that told where Wooler lies is lost. About this finger-post I have a tale to tell, And this is how the thing to Willie Todd befell : Returning from Alnwick rather late one night, He felt not altogether just quite right ; He thought a glass or two of Peggy's " very best" Would put some strength within his breast ; But alas ! as he began to cross the moor It thundered loud, and rain began to pour ; Then all at once the night became so black That Bill saw neither moor, nor road, nor track. Tin: FINOBB POST. 73 Be often fell, but with fresh com At last upon a post he struck hie no •■ C infound it !" quoth Bill, "folk '11 think I'm .hunk." The words were hardly said when down he .sunk, Spenl with Fatigue and Loss of hi 1 (Bui declared it was for want of food). About the dawning of the day Bill wakened up, And railed for something hot and strong'to sup: " But I see," said he, " I'll not get served hi I am at home, that is plain and clear ; I hear them snoring sound asleep in bed, While I am sluVring by the fireside laid." Bill started up, began to dull' his coat and vi Thi D lay down, as he supposed, to n t. Joe Prendwick with his skin cart soon passed by, And saw beside the finger-post a half-clad body lie. He thought al first the wretched man was dead, And gently raised poor Willie's aching head. Bill wakened op, and gave a heavy groan, And called out fur God's sake to be left alone. Quoth Joe, "This is a very, very awkward case; 1 cannot leave him helpless in this wretched place ; — I have it now : I'll wrap him in a sheep's-skin warm ; Till I come back he'll take but little harm." Then from hi. cart he took a great tup'- skin, And snugly wrapped the wretched man within. 74 THE FINGER-POST. There, like a horned sheep, our drunken hero lay, Until Jack the shepherd chanced to stray. He thought he saw beside the finger-post, laid fast asleep, One of the freemen's black-faced sheep. He hound his dog to drive the hungry beast away ; The dog gave mouth and bit, but still it lay. At length poor Bill gave forth a mighty roar, Such as no sheep was ever heard to give before. Quoth the shepherd, "I'll gan doon the gait and see What sort o' beast such ugly roars can gie ; Nae doot the beastie's starvit for want o' meat, Or aiblins deein' frae the extraordnar' heat." To paint the astonished wonder and surprise That spoke from both the shepherd's eyes, There lay no sheep, but just a great tup's skin, With something struggling hard within. At length poor Bill popped out his greasy head, And asked how long he had been dead. " Dead 1" quoth the shepherd ; "your alive as yet, But for death or life I fear you are unfit." Then from his shoulders he unwound his plaid, Then in its folds the wretched man he laid, And carried him to good Tom Dixon's door, That has opened Avide to many a knight before, Belated on the wild and trackless moor, Where winter winds in tempest pour. mm: iim,i:i; POST. 75 Even now at times when Bound asleep Bill -ays he dreams of homed sheep, An. I feels his hearl to quake within When he thinks upon the auld tup's skin. Within its folds he dreamed a dream Thai he dare not tell for very shame; Since from his back the skin was ca '. I [e .-lands a man revealed at I 76 MY WEB CRBEPIE STOOL. MY WEE CEEEPIE STOOL.* What memories surround thee, my wee creepie stool, Linked to my childhood with its joy and dool ; When I first left the care of kind mother's knee, My wee creepie stool, I sate proudly on thee. There my mother would stroke my wee flaxen head- I'll mind her soft touch till the day that I'm dead ; While a tear often stood in her clear sparkling e'e, And I knew that my mother was praying for me. From her lips I first heard of our Father above, That His Son came to earth to teach men to love ; Then humbly I knelt by my Avee creepie stool, And said, " Father in heaven, thy child keep and rule." * A low, four-legged stool, common around the fireside in Scottish cottages. MY w u: I 1:1 i )ii: - L. 77 When the ihorl day was done and the oil lamp was lit. Entranced by tin' Bre, on my wee Btool I'd .-it ; In tin' glowing red embers I saw strange thii arise — Men, . and mountains, and dded .-Ides. Ami strange fairs I '• beard on my wee creepie stool, So Btrange and unearthly they made my Mood cool; Of ghosts, and of fairies, and dead candle-lights, And of the vile spirits that ride on dark nights. With fear then 1 trembled on my wee creepie stool, 1 wished for daylight with the loons at the school; In bed 1 would cover my head with the clothes, And never feel safe till the bright sun arose. But true pleasure I've felt on my wee creepie stool, When my tasks were all done, and ready for school ; Then down from the shelf came an old storydjook — To up' ever new, though old it did look. Then enraptured I read on my we,' creepie stool Of the deeds that were done when the brave Bruce did rule ; At the feats of great Wallace my young blood did boil, And I wept for his fate, when caught in the toil 78 MY WEE CREEPIE STOOL. At the sound of sweet music, plaintive and low, I have sat on my stool with my heart all aglow ; At the "Flowers o' the Forest," or "Auld Robin Gray," My heart seemed to melt, and my pulse cease to play. When I heard the wild strains of my own dear Strathspey, I danced with delight from evening to day ; Oh ! the sweet strains of music, to man thou art given That on earth he may foretaste the joys of heaven. I shall never forget thee, my wee creepie stool, For on thee I got lessons never taught me at school ; There I learned that life to the humble and low Has a dark dreary side that the rich never know. Though my wee creepie stool was a low humble seat, I have never yet envied the rich nor the great, For life's purest pleasures are free to us all — To the rich and the poor, to great and to small. .iuijs ii.vvKX. 79 JOB'S KAVKN. I'.v the Chevy-Chase road, perched on a rail, Job's raven Bits all day wagging his tail j And, aodding his head, he utters a croak In the very same language liis ancestors spoke. To the lazy tramps, as they pass him by, He screams aloud, then winks his eye; Tin' words he says to them 1 Wan' not writi . Nor put them down in black and white. Job's raven can trace an unbroken descent From the bird that from the Ark first went ; Of the time they first settled in BLeilder Craig, Tradition and history are both very vague : But one thing is settled beyond all debate, In days gone by they were num'rous and great ; In druidicaJ times* Ave know they were there, And lived in those days on the daintiesl fare. * The sacrifice offered by the druidical high priest to the | consisted of human victims. The most beautiful women and children were chosen as an acceptable offering to them. Tin \ were placed in :i wick' r basket suspended from the branch of a great oak ; they «■ re there left to die— a sacrifice to the gods. 80 job's raven. When the great high priest hung the sacrifice On a mighty oak 'tween the earth and the skies, Then like evil spirits in the caves of the rock The ravens of Keilder were heard to croak ; "When down they came at the dawn of day, And carried the contents of the basket away, — Young women and children, tender and good, In those ancient days were their daily food. When the Eomans were here they had rich fare — Enough, it is said, and great deal to spare ; From the Conqueror's time to the time of the Roses, At common food they turned up their noses ; And during the times of Border strife, It is said that they lived a fine jolly life. At length there dawned the blessed day When we ceased each other to kill and slay ; Then the ravens of Keilder had a change of fare — Of human food their shelves were bare ; Then glad were they to find such cheer As a dead lean sheep, or a fallen deer. This meagre fare even failed them at last ; Then, pinched with hunger, the birds died fast : But a small remnant still of this sable race Strives to live on in this wild, lonely place ; The ancient halo that surrounds their name, Appears to many but an idle dream. job's RAVEN. i A raven to them La a bird, and no more ; A thing to 1"' Bhot at, or chained at the door. Because they are termed birds of prey, The raven, forsooth, must be swept away. 1 1 you chance to on the ( !hevy-< !hase ro id, Jolt's raven is sure to give you a nod ; If he ruffles bis feathers and wags his tail, In bis native language he is sure to rail. The truth must be told in one 3ingle word : Job's raven is no1 a civilised bird ; His ideas are radical in the very extreme, To every man's goods he puts in a claim. But if Border history be valid and true, His claims on this subjecl are nol very new ; So, reader, if you pass on the Chevy-Chase road, Keep your hand on your purse, and give him a nod. 82 LINES READ AT THE BURNS ANNIVERSARY. LINES READ AT THE BURNS ANNIVERSARY. ALNWICK. A towmond 's fled since last we met To sing auld Scotland's praise — Her bonnie glens and heather hills, Her broomy knowes and braes. Where'er we wander, east or west. We never shall forget The thicket hame, the auld fireside, Where we were Avont to sit. There we played around the hearth, Our hearts then light and free ; There we conn'd our auld Scotch san^s, That ever dear will be. ( >ur m.ither sat on her laigh chair, And looked on the while ; She loved to see us romp and play — We knew that by her smile. LINES READ VI THE BURNS ANNIVERSARY. Then' by the ingle low we read AuM Scotland's stirring story ; How Wallace wight, and Bruce the bold, I rpheld her ancient glory. First there we read the wondrous tale • If matchless Tam o 1 Shanter ; In fancy we can sou him now, Ajb he frae Ayr did canter. Around the festive board w< To ci Lebrate this night, And hail again the eventful day That Burns first saw the light. That night the spirits of the air Howled round the auld clay biggin'; The wind Mew down its gable-end, Stript all' the straw-thuk't risain'. j. DO Thus Nature hailed her darling child, Her own sweet infant boy ; She sang around his cradle-bed 1 [er wildest songs of joy. She Baw within his glowing hi The latent fire dn ine, 1 destined to light his native land, And o'er the world to shine. 84 IN MEMORIAM. IN MEMORIAM OF THE EARL OF RAVENSWROTH. The kindly man, the clear, familiar face, We miss from the accustomed place Where he was wont to kneel in prayer, As lowly as the humblest there. His loving heart, his tongue of fire, Lies silent like a broken lyre ; No more he'll see with rapturous eyes The new-blown flowers from earth arise ; No more he'll tread the heath-clad hill, Nor rest beside the murmuring rill ; No more at eventide he'll stray Along the path and hidden way, There to forget all earthly care, And muse with God and Nature there. A man of high and cultured mind, He loved his country and his kind ; For Britain's rights, his country's good, lie like a patriot staunchly stood ; IN UBHORIAM. 85 lli~ duty clear, then nought could mo If conscience bade him to appwn < Jareless alike of censure <>r applause, He staunchly stuck to Britain's cause. Such was the man we miss and mourn, < tone from our sighl ne'er to return ; Left us in the early 'lays of spring, When Natmv forth her treasures bring; But loving hands its flowers will spread, And strew them round his peaceful bed. S6 ALONE. ALONE. LINES TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER WEDDING-DAY. " I will make him an help meet for him." Man in Paradise was placed, There Nature's choicest gifts to taste ; Lovely birds with plumage fair Sang to their mates, and sported there ; Every creature did true pleasure find In loving union with its kind ; But the man alone was there, Until God gave him Eve so fair. To be a help meet, loving, kind, In all a reflex of his mind ; There she a beauteous woman shone, " Flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone." When to-day you at the altar stand And take your husband by the hand, May your hearts united be, Close as the branch is to the tree ; Long may you thus together live, To taste the joy that wedded life can give. M\ I I I I I i PRIMROSE I I OWER. 87 MY LITTLE PRIMROSE FLOWER. There grows a golden primrose In a Lone mossy dell, The place where grows my primi I'll not to any tell ; Beneath the shelter of an oak, That's wrinkle I grey with age, My pet Bower blossoms sweetly there, Safe from the tempest's rage. A little rill that trickles by Makes music to my flower, And v, elf in dewy spray T<> cool its mossy bower. The speckled trout leap up with joj When bright it shines and cli And April brings its gentle rain .My little flower to cheer. Spring waken-; Nature from her sleep, There little birds do sing, To see the trees put forth their buds, And flowers begin to spring. 88 MY LITTLE PRIMROSE FLOWER. The robin makes his cosy nest Beside my little flower, And close beneath its shelt'ring leaves His little brood does cower. When in the west the evening star Shines like a diamond bright, The feathered choir in brake and briar Sing sweet their last good-night ; And ere the morning star has sunk Behind the Cheviots grey, They sing to my flower in its mossy bower Their hymn to the coming day. At morning dawn a sunbeam steals Where my pet flower is laid. And wakes it with a warm soft kiss Upon its golden head. My virgin flower, like maiden pure, Lifts its head to the azure sky, And wafts perfume from its golden bloom On the breeze that passes by. Then come the bees through budding trees ; With a hum of joy they sing To the flower of my little primrose, The queen of early spring ; my II I 1 u: PRIMROSE i i i »WER 89 From its cup of gold they Bip Thr honey sweel and clear, Ami carry home with joyous song The first-fruits of the year. As 'neath this old oak-tree I sit, I think of boyh I's day, When, spotless as the primrose flower, ( >n the sunny bank I lay : I gazed from earth to vaulted sky, Till I seemed borne away To a laml of bliss, unlike to this, Where flowers know no decay. 90 LINES WRITTEN ON A VISIT TO SPEYSIDE. LINES WKITTEX ON A VISIT TO SPEYSIDE When tired with worldly cares and toil, How pleasant 'tis to stray, And taste the sweets that Nature spreads Along the hanks of Spey ! No music to my ear so dear As thine, soft murm'ring stream ! The memory of it haunts my heart Like some forgotten dream. Though life's young day has passed away, "With all its fancied train Of boyish hopes and airy dreams, Yet thou art still the same. Oft on thy sandy hanks I built The mimic castle high, And tried, like ancient Bab'lon's sons. To reach the vaulted sky. But sandy castles are like those We build high in the air — They vanish like the morning mist, And leave our landscape bare. . i\i> WRITTEN ■■■• \ 71811 PO [DE. 91 Ah ! where ore new the hearts and hands Thai joined my boyish play .' Some "ii life's stream have gone to wreck, An 1 some have passed away. A Eew, like nun, fighl bravely in Life's battle, sorely prest j But onward, upward, still they cry, " We'll conquer ere v. Oft to the earth they are borne down, And forced to quit the field ; But still aloft Eope's banner wa^ With " Die, but never yield !" Vr greyhaired fathers of my youth, I'll meet you here no more ; — Just like a stream, in yi ara gone by You'v reached the boundless shore. Yonder, around the grey kirk walls Your final rest you take ; To earthly change ami busy life No coming muni will wake. The Sunday bell that tolls at morn Will J iur ears no mon Ala- : no more your friends you'll m Around tin- old kirk door : Q2 LINES WRITTEN ON A VISIT TO SPEYSIDE. In friendly talk no more you'll join, Nor ever want to know If beasts be selling cheap or dear, Or grain priced high or low. Sons of the soil ! your life was toil, But softly now ye rest, And sleep as soundly and as calm As those in purple dressed. Upon yon crumbling moss-grown stones I read your name and age, "With many a solemn warning text Culled from the sacred page. Your simple lives need no historic pen, No brazen trumpet to rehearse your fame ; Your humble virtues long will live behind, Though flatt'ring record never breathe your name. Yours were the virtues that made Scotland great — A frugal people and united state ; AVhen tyrants rose to hurl you from your seat, Them back ye thrust in sure and dire defeat. BLIND SECTOR anm in r, 5 BLIND ELECTOR AND BIS Doc. Led by his faithful dog from door bo door, Blind Eector wandered many a parish o'er: No beggar he ; although by boun He never had to ask for clothes or bread — All had a welcome fur the- blind old man. With shouts ft' glee the children ran, And strove who first should lead away, As guest, the hero of tin: day. His faithful Tyke, that seemed possessed I »t' more than kindness in his breast, His blind old master's friend and guide, That uever changed nor left his side — Unlike those friends that soon grow cold. If we are wretched, poor, and old — The faithful dog no meanness knew, And had im sordid aims in view. Along the rough uneven street lie careful led the blind man".- feet, Kin-w every house along the way, Knew where to call and where to stay , And well he knew their uight's retreat, With " Hector's Corner" and his seat, 94 BLIND HECTOR AND HIS DOG. "Where oft he'd sat, a welcome guest, To Sunday fare and Christmas feast. And when the earth lay wrapped in snow, He sat heside the peat-fire's glow, And to the listening ploughmen told Tales of his clansmen brave and bold, — Of dark Culloden's murd'rous fray, Where chief and clansmen vanquished lay, And he himself fell in the van, Amongst the bravest of his clan, And crawled from thence at dead of night, A wounded man with loss of sight, And from that day he forth did roam An exile from his mountain home. For forty years a wand'rer's life he led, And nightly filled a beggar's bed ; On rough-made bed of straw or hay For forty years the blind man lay ; And ere his homely couch he prest, A solemn prayer rose from his breast, With thanks for mercies kindly given By his Almighty Friend in heaven • Then calm he laid him down to rest, With not a murmur in his breast. But mishap on the best will fall, And come alike on great and small. BUND HECTOB AND III- D 95 ( >ne Luckless morn they chanced to n A cur upon tin' villa< e st i Who sprang <>n Tyke in sudden ire. Quick as a spark shoots from the lii' 1 . The blind man raised his trusty .-tick, Therewith tic savage beasl t<> strike, Bui Btruck poor Tyke tin' deadly blow Was meant to lay his rival low. The poor eld dog gave one low groan That, told his parting breath had gone ; A wail rose from the old man's la-cast, As in hi- arms lie fondly pr'est The Ml'' less dog, his friend ami guide, Whom nought could tempt to leave his side. Quick t" the scene the neighbours ran, An. I kindly soothed the ] r old man ; A farmer took poor 1 lector hoi Ami from his roof he ne'er 'lid roam, While age and sorrow soon him laid Where none need human help or aid. Beneath yon ash, with berries red, We laid Mind 1 lector's old grey head : And just beyond the crumbling wall, Where soft the leaves in autumn fall, Tin- children made poor Tyke a grave, And ovr both the branches wave. 96 LIKES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ. LINES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ., RUTHRIE. Accept, dear sir, this homely rhyme, Though rude in measure and in chime ; My grateful heart would speak your praise For kindness done in bygone days. You kindly helped me when a hoy, And filled my heart with secret joy : I longed to leave our hills behind, And mingle freely with my kind : Hope pointed with her magic wand To the longed-for and blessed land— A land all seek, but none have found— The place where nought but joys abound. But I have found, what some may miss, A friend to share life's ills and bliss. Nigh thirty years have passed away Since I beneath your roof-tree lay, And many a change has passed since then O'er barren moor and lonely glen. Where grew the broom and stunted thorn, There now waves rich the yellow corn ; LINES [N8I RIBBD I" WILLIAM ORBBN, i 97 Where nought but barren heath was Been, The eye reel now on richest green. Such is the change I now can trace Around your erewhile well-known plai By energy and skilful toil, You've made the wilderness to Bmile. But sad 'a the change that I can ( >u many a face long known to me : Ay ! many a face 1 Looth and fair Is wrinkled now and marked with care ; And many a friend I loved to in I miss from off the village street. Bui why should I pursue this thenu The pasl is gone like fairy dream : It's for the presenl we must live, And to its wants our thoughts must give ; And if the sceptic's tale be true, Men need no higher aim pursue. We live (say they) to eat and drink, Ami then in dark oblivion sink. This is the doctrine that they preach, Though scarce believe they what they teach. Man longs for some more healing halm, To sooth- life's ills, and shed a calm ( In his strange, fitful, troubled life, So full of cares and aimless strife. Q 98 LINES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ. In vain lie asks his fellow-man T' unriddle life's mysterious plan ; He tries, but only tries in vain, Our life's deep purpose to explain. We see around us sin and care, Pale misery and dark despair, And wanton luxury and pride Flaunt gaily past the beggar's side ; Men spending life in vain debate For party names, at best a cheat, That stir men's passions into strife, That blights and poisons all their life. We see the bloody demon War Ride on triumphant in his car, And lay wdiole nations in the dust To satiate men's pride and lust ; And liberty seems but a dream — Men only know it yet by name ; And in its name such deeds are done, As make us blush before the sun ! Men call it liberty to break the laws Of heaven and earth to aid their cause, To trample every sacred trust That men hold holy in the dust. And shall we look and long in vain For that blest time when love shall reign ? No happier world will greet our view While men their selfish aims pursue. LINES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ 99 But from these thoughts 1 gladly turn Co your bright home beside the burn, Where life so peaceful glides away, Calm as the eve of summer's day. Ground you Nature, charming wild, hanging like a child ; Each passing day spreads to your vi< < >1<1 scenes thai every hour Beem new. At once we turn our wandering i To Benrinne's top, that meets the skies, And mark his ever-changing form Amidst the sunshini and the stonn. The lesser hills thai meet cur view mi ever changing in their hu< . Along the winding vale of S] A thousand beauties lure the eye ; The waving pine-woods, dark and Lend varied glory to the see] And over all there seems to i \ calm that soothes the troubled br< 1'liat bids our anxious cares to a Where all around breathes calm and peaci . Even now my thoughts will often turn To rocky linn and winding burn, Where I have wandered free from rare. \nd happy as the birds of air. My sold, at one with all around, I 'rank in each pleasanl sight and sound ; IOO LINES INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM GREEN, ESQ. The breeze that broke the evening calm Made music like some heavenly psalm, That wafts the spirit up on high, Far from the scenes that round us lie,— When to the soul a glimpse is given And foretaste of the bliss of heaven. Sweet Nature ! source of purest joy ! Thou sooth'st my heart when cares annoy : Oft have I felt thy magic power In life's dark melancholy hour. Grant me, Heaven ! some lonely glen, Far from the toil and strife of men ; There let me live and let me die Beneath God's clear and azure sky ; And when this doubting spirit's fled, Let me be with the lowly laid, That 'neath the green sod nameless lie, Hut whose fair record is on high. And while I live I'll grateful be For all your kindness shown to me ; And may the dovedike angel Peace Your home make sacred and your place, Where you have reared, with taste and skill, A charming villa on the hill, Where you and your beloved wife May peaceful spend the eve of life ; And when you've finished life's brief day, God grant you higher joys, I pray. \ I I I M \ . 1 O I AI'TI'M N. Who loves no! Autumn's short'ning day Through fruitful fields and Ian tray, And list the plaintive redbreast sing, Where we have spent life's early sprii With joy we turn our wondering eye ( In tlie fair scenes that round us lie, < In golden fields of ripened grain, Matured by Bummer's sun and rain. Sweet scents come wafted, on the breeze, From clover-fields and forest trees ; Nature her incense casts abroad I I'er hill and plain and dusty road ; And smiling Autumn scatters widi A bounteous store on every side, And crowns man's labour and bis toil With generous plenty from the All Nature seems to feel decay, And calmly waits to pass aioay, 102 AUTUMN. Like some great spirit, bless'd and pure, That smiling waits the final hour To cast aside earth's cumbrous load, And upward wing its flight to God, To join the ransomed throng above, Where all is joy and peace and love. Who has not felt the soothing power Of Autumn's silent twilight hour 1 The great moon, like a golden shield, Casts magic light o'er hill and field ; A calm sweet peace seems shed abroad, That lifts the spirit up to God — To Him to whom our hearts should rise, Who rules all nature, earth, and skies. ( features that shun the light of day Come forth at eve to sport and play; The owl and night-hawk seek their food Through the green fields that skirt the wood ; The timorous hare and rabbit shy Hide in the grass as we pass by ; And moths and insects, painted fair, Float joyous through the evening air. The noise of youth at evening play Comes from the village up the way, And happy we ofttime Singing in chorus low and Bweet ; Perchance love song or Border lay Wakes echoes from yon ruin grey, Where "■"■' , the nightly warders trod, To guard from foes their rude ah The i aw of rooks from Shawdon's ti Conies floating on the rising breeze ; For ages there they've found retreal In Winter's cold and Summer's heat ; A Father's bounty doth their needs supply From those fair vales that round them lie ; They have no garners flowing o'er With golden grain for Winter's store. An ancienl steeple meets our ev Above the misl that round it lies, A grey cold mist, that seems t<> weep O'er those beneath, that silent sleep ; They wait for that dread solemn hour When God shall raise them by His power. 104 IN MEMORY OF THE LATE MRS. IBBOTSON. IX MEMORY OF THE LATE MRS. IBBOTSON, BELOVED WIFE OF THE REV. MR. IBBOTSON, GREAT AY TON, CLEVELAND, YORKSHIRE. " Being dead, yet speaketh." Like to a rose whose fallen bloom Sends up to heaven its rich perfume ; The fallen leaves that withered lie, Waft their sweet incense to the sky. Meet type of her whose loss we mourn, "Whose spirit now has crossed that bourn, And entered where they are at rest Whom earthly cares no more molest. No outward badge of Christ she wore, But in her heart the cross she bore ; Her soul o'erflowed with gentle love For men below and God above. IN MEMORY OF I 111-: i.vir MRS. IBBOl IO- She watched the young with tender i From every vile and hurtful snare, And strove to guide them on the road Thai leads to happiness and < rod. Ili-i' call was nol " aloud to cry " To giddj throng thai hurries by ; But, with a woman's gentle love, She tried their thoughtless hearts to move. For all she sent the secret prayer To Him who makes mankind His care, That He would send the Spirit down, His own bless'd work on earth to crown. All earthly things she " counted los She only Lived to bear the en Which she on earth has aow laid down, To wcai' in heaven her promised crown. I06 TIME, LIKE A RIVER, ROLLS ALONG ! TIME, LIKE A RIVER, ROLLS ALONG! WRITTEN OX NEW YEAR'S DAY. Oh ! deem it not a vain or idle dream : We all are sailors on this mighty stream. Another noted landmark now is passed ; To many voyagers it may prove the last. But let us look around upon the throng Of fellow-voyagers as we sail along. See yonder, now a gallant bark appears ; With steady hand and sure the helmsman steers ; Mark with what care he passed the sunken rock, On which full many a gallant hark has broke. Though beacons shed abroad their warning light To guide the mariner's dark course aright, Some careless steer, and, with unwatchful eye To mark and see where hidden dangers lie, Unconscious of their course, they sail along, And spend the night with heedless mirth and song, Until, at last, they strike some hidden reef, Where human power can seldom give relief- I [MB, l IKK A RIVKR, R0LL8 ALONG ! 107 The fatal rocka where thousands daily fall: Some term them passion, some intemp'rance call : But from them you may heat the wretched i For help from man, or mercy from on high, When, sailing 3mooth,they spurn the light of He iven. To guide the voyager's cour e that light was given This light the watchful mariner desci And ever keeps as pole-star in his ej When tempests roar, and darkness clouds the night, The compass guides him on his course arighl ; Hi- chart tells where the hidden rocks ahound, Where foaming breakers dash with sullen sound. He knows he sails the dang'rous deep, And is for ever watchful not to sleep. But hark ! now as he glides along And turns his sails with joyous song, He feels his heart rise with the bn And in each cloud new beauty sees : He sees the banks in beauty drest, Where all seem happy— all seem ble Each passing headland brings to view Scenes ever varied, ever new. At last a dim haze meets his ey< . He knows thai there the ocean lies. Long has he wished upon its breast To strike his sails and be at rest ; But ah! the dang'rous bar— it must be crossed, Where many a noble bark's been lost. loS TIME, LIKE A RIVER, ROLLS ALONG! To pierce the gloom he strains his eye — Hark ! hark ! he hears the Pilot cry ! Joy of all joys ! with heating, trustful heart He yields the helm to His unerring art ! Till: BLIND M \N- DREAM. i O'j THE BLIND MAN'S DREAM. < in ! lead me forth, my own sweet child ! The sun, you say, shines bright j I love to feel his warming rays, Though I cannot see his light. < >h ! lead me to the green turf-seat, Beneath the old ash-tree ; And then, my child, you'll join your mates ; I love to hear your glee. IM rather bear your merry laugh, So happy and so wild, Than be by sensuous revelry In pleasure's haunts beguiled. I >li ! how I love to hear your laugh, So full of happy glee ! < >h ! the glad mem'ries it revives, Memories dear to me ! IIO THE BLIND MAN'S DREAM. Oh ! can it be my eyeballs dim Have got their wonted light, And here again on earth I see Her angel form so bright 1 I do not wish her here again, Where all is care and woe, But rather would I join her there, And to her bright world go. I see her beckon with her hand, I hear her whisp'ring say, " Why do you linger here below 1 Haste, haste, and come away ! " Mf thinks I see her lovely face With more than beauty shine, A dazzling light around it plays. A beauty all divine. Is this a vision of my brain, That seems to float in light ? For round her is a glorious train, Familiar to my sight. I thought I heard her mellow voice Sound high a heavenly theme : A child's sweet voice my slumber broke, Alas ! I did but dream. [ORU S, III HEART MEMORIES. There are mem'ries treasured in the heart Which tongue hath never told, Nor would their rich possessors sell For worlds of glittering gold. i >ur sacn d treasure's guarded fast, With inure than miser care ; We would not our bri ms display To the rude world' The beai t that has no mem'ries dear I- like an empty spring, Which to the weary trav'Uer's heart No healing waters bring. But he -whose soul is stored with the Has more than jewels rare ; He carries daily in his heart A cure for bil ina care. When tired of lifi I road, I I- cheers his weary way I I 2 HEART MEMORIES. With mem'ries sweet of days long past, That seem but yesterday. Perchance the forms of dear old friends Up in review he brings ; They pass through memory's golden gate On soft and downy wings. But there's a form, when all is fled, That ne'er doth pass away, To mem'ry's eye 'tis never lost The livelong night and day. Oft has that form brought peace and hope Back to the troubled heart, And made the tears of bliss and joy Unconsciously to start. The soft sweet tear of memory, Like blessed summer rain, Quickens the dried-up weary heart, And bids it smile again. Who has not felt the soothing power Of mem'ry's soft'ning tear, When into that rich treasure-house We enter without fear? I Mi: EXILE 8 RETl RN. I I THE EXILE'S RETURN. Jeanie, Let u- wander By yon fairy-haunted -n. am ; It warbles sweet as when we parted In th^ days of youth's sweet dream. ( tft when I was lonely straying ( In a far, far distant shi i 1 [ere in fancy I was roaming With you as in days of yore. When silent eve, with noiseless Btep, Came creeping o'er the lonely deep : By its murm'ring shore I wandered Till Nature's voice was hushed in sleep. And when 1 pressed my lonely couch, In dreams 1 u and* I mbolled on the village gr< ( >i on the lonely hanks of Spey. M U4 THE EXILES RETURN. And when the morning's downy light Crept up the sky on golden wing, Then all the birds in chorus woke, And made the air with music ring. 'Twas not the song of that dear thrush That sounds so sweet from yonder tree, Nor yet the ringdove's am'rous note, Whose ev'ning song is dear to me ; Nought could cheer my drooping heart, 'Twas like a withered, sapless tree ; I longed to tread my native heath, And see my Jane, so dear to me. Never more shall riches tempt me With its empty glittering store ; Never more I'll wander from thee, Nor quit again my native shore. i! wi: TO Tin: bridai* i i HASTE TO THE BRIDAL. WRITTEN <>N Tin: MARRIAGE OF LORD LORNE TO THE PRINI BBS I 01 [SB. ( rATHER, gather, men of the heather, Haste ye all to the bridal this day ! < >ur young chief of Lome We'll toasl high this morn, And wish him greal joy this day. < )nr clan Eeuds are ended, ( >ur best breath we'll spend it, And shout for the Campbells, hurrah! hurrah! Gather, gather! we'll muster ami pray For joy to the daughter of Albert this day. Bride of a nation ! 1 1 igh LS your station ; You're wedded to ever-true Scotland this day. ( >ur best 1>1 1 we'll spend it, Your hearth to defend it, And shoul for the Campbells, liurrah ! hurrah ! Like our mountain pine and heather, May you both live long together \ I 1 6 HASTE TO THE BRIDAL. Your hearts closer twining As life keeps declining, May your love never fade nor decay. This life may you spend it, That in peace you may end it, Every true Scottish heart will pray, will pray, For our young couple this day — this day. Gather, gather, the loyal and true, Men of the plaid and bonnets of blue ; Our mountain-tops high Shall echo your cry Of " God save our Queen " this day. 'Mid cares that annoy, May the thought give her joy, That a nation loves her this day, this day, Who for their dear Sovereign will pray, will pray. Our Queen loves her home 'mong the heather, There sweet memories round her gather, Of days that are past and gone, When she walked not alone, But Albert by her side did stray, Whose gentle spirit still Seems to haunt each glen and hill, Where our Queen loves to stray, to stray, Ami spend there the sweet Autumn day. BELL THE CAT. ■ ' 7" BELL THE CAT: a I HRI8TMAS TALE FOB III Hi: CHILDREN. ( Written «t (]<■ r '■< lit£U boy.) Miller Whittle wasjusl whal ;i miller should be ; lie sung like a blackbird and worked like a bee. First thin- in tie' morning the hoppeT be'd fill, Then he went to the race and sei on the mill ; The water rushed down with a dash ami a splash, Ami the mill went to work with a rumbling crash. Clack, clack! went the hopper, and down came the meal, Then off singing to breakfast the miller would steal, His faee shining red like ripe cherries in Juj Transparent like amber and covered with bloom ; lli< eyes had a twinkle of good-humoured glee, That spoke of a kind heart you plainly could Si To all folks alike he was loving and kind. His equal in England you hardly could find. The beggars all round found their way to the mill, For they knew that the miller their meal-bags would fill : I I 8 BELL THE CAT. To the lame and the lazy, the vile and the good, He gave a night's shelter and plenty of food ; The ewes on the hill would come bounding with glee, And they bleated with pleasure the miller to see, For a sieve full of com he often would bring, And feed them like children arranged in a ring ; While the pigs on their hinddegs looked over the stye, And grunted with rapture whene'er he came nigh : Hens, ducks, and pigeons nocked by the score, To be fed by the miller round the mill-door. Most men have a dislike to this thing or to that, And the miller he hated the sight of a cat ; So the mice at the mill had it all their own way, And did as they liked both by night and by day ; For they feasted like lords on his milk and his meal, And butter and cheese they did wantonly steal. Oft at night when the miller went snugly to rest, They would creep into bed and lie down on his breast. One night, as he lay 'tween a sleep and a doze, He felt a wee mousic fast eating his nose ; Then he shouted aloud, " Wifey, strike up a light ! My own canny woman, I have had a sore fright, It is blood, wife, ay, truly ! what say you to that? They will soon take our lives if we don't get a cat. If they let me see morning with the sight of my eyes, I'll make them repent ere the sun leaves the skies." BELL Tin: OAT. I i 9 Bo the old millei borrowed, the very next day, Lame Lizzy's tom-cat, all bo glossy and grey. Tom scanned his new home with a grave solemn air, And looked as important 's a clown at a fair. Refreshed with new milk he Bat stroking hia beard, When a ik in the chamber was heard. Tom said to himself, " .My old friends are up there ! "' Then quickly as lightning he mounted tin' stair. Tin' mice fled before him like the fast-fleeting wind, But a dozen met death that no refuge could find. The news (like ill news) were soon spread through the mill, And dismay and terror each mouse hear! did till ; It was .-aid that a creature with fire-flashing eyes Had dropped to devour them direct from the Bkies ; Some -aid it walked, mid some declared that it flew, no mouse could escape it, they very well kn 'Mongsl tin' mice at the mill there was fear and dismay, A- pining with hunger in their dark holes they lay. And the teai-s from their little dark yes did steal, A- they thought of the past with its milk and it.- meal. And the sweet hours they 'd -pent in revel and play. Dancing and romping through the mill night and day. At last they resolved that a meeting take place, i ,e means to improve their sad C8 So while Tom took his nap in the miller's arm-chair, I n mice held their meeting in trembling and fear. 120 BELL THE CAT. In an empty old meal-kist the meeting took place, Where no preying cat could present his foul face. Then Alderman Mouseman was called to the chair ; When he rose up to speak all gave a loud cheer. The chairman stood up on a Lillet of wood That in corner of meahkist luckily stood. He said, " I see mice here with talent and skill, Who could state far more clearly our rights to the mill ; For we have a right, that I'll boldly maintain, To do as we like with the meal and the grain. What is this here miller but a tenant-at-will, With no legal right to his means or his mill? But our rights from our fathers we clearly can trace, Who for ages have lived upon this here place. I see our friend Councillor Fieldmouse is here, And he is the man that can make our case clear." Then Councillor Fieldmouse stood up and said, " Hem ! I feel, Mr. Chairman, as if in a dream ; I cannot find words that would fully express How deeply I feel our sad state and distress. You all know, my friends, how this matter arose ; Some young thoughtless mouse bit the old miller's nose ; For this, the old tyrant is going to kill Every bit mouse in his house and his mill. 1 now call on this meeting to join as one mouse, To drive this vile man from his mill and his house : BELL THE CAT. 121 And r am Bure, my dear friends, you are all well aware, Thai we musl move in this matter with caution and care. This vile wicked ca1 by some means we must kill, Before we are masters of the house or the mill." Then "Id Madam Shrewmouse bawled out with a squeak, •• Will yen allow, Mr. < lhairman, an old female to speak ' I hate all palavers, with your hums and your haws : There is no n 1 for caution in such a g 1 cause. [f you only will ad upon whal 1 suggest, And deprive tin' old miller of comfort and rest ; 1 would tease and tonmni him by night and by day. I would scratch out bis eves while sleeping he lay. His bags in the mill to shreds 1 would tear, And leave him no atom of clothing to wi For such tyrants as he ought never to live : So kill him at once is the advice that 1 give; But if any one thinks he can better my plan, he! him stand up on Ids legs ami speak out like a man." Then up started young Fopmouse with tine swelling dash, lie bowed to the chair, and then stroked his moustache, And said, ■• Mr. Chairman, and all present here. The whole thing, to my mind, is i clear: This vile wicked eat is our deadli And never i- seen till he deals a death Mow. ' A eat has tune live-,' 1 have heard people -ay. And sees better in darkness than ev'n in day. 122 BELL THE CAT. If we could tie round his neck a small tinkling bell, It would ring when he moved, and his coming would tell. Now, my worthy friends all, what say you to that 1 " With one voice they shouted, "Bell the cat! bell the cat ! " Then said old Father Dormouse, hoary with age, " Friends, listen to me, for I've lived in a cage. Hodge, my first owner, was a labourer meek, Who prayed by proxy just once every week ; He fed me Avith crumbs and the best that he had, But said that the world in general was bad. For riches and wealth he felt no great desire, But would have been "lad if his wages were higher ; Not that he cared for wealth or very rich food, But riches would give him the means to do good. This Hodge had a love both for nature and art, And could tell how far heaven and earth were apart ; He knew all the laws that regulate force, And said the same power ruled a planet and horse. He kept me, he said, to enlighten his mind, And to prove if old age caused the mouse to grow blind. One day to his cottage a pious lady came in, And said, 'Don't you think it a very great sin To keep a poor mouse shut up in this way, Exposed to the light and sunshine of day? For they are like sinners, who love not the light, And do all their deeds in the darkness of night.' i i - 1 i. i in: i a i. i 2 ; •Mam,' said old Bodge, 'it is jut j u Bay, Mice were made for the night, and not for the day, For we Bee in all nature a purpose and plan, All guided by rule save the offspring of man.' • Bodge, a right clever man you are in your way,' And the lady grished Hodge and his wife a good di Thai hour, Mr. Chairman, my knowledge began ( >f the world in gen'raL of woman and man ; For the wry nexl day by Hod; i 1 was sold To a travlling showman for sovereign in gold. The showman (as he called it) put me to school, And taught me to aci by square and by rule. ed "ii my hind-legs, he taught me to stand, Dres i d like a parson in cassock and hand ; Then I pretended to read, in a droll squeaking v With specks on my nose to bow and to sway ; Then dressed like a fop in the very first stj With my pipe, a switch and a fash'nable tile, Smoothing my beard, 1 strolled slowly along, Bumming the tunc of a doggerel song. I soon became known as 'the wonderful i And drew to my master many a full house. • Ladies and gentlemen/ 'twas his custom to say, ' Here now is a sight seldom seen in our day ; This wonderful creature's the white mouse of Moab, Common in the days of the patriarch Job. This here is the species, I am credibly told, The Philistines fashioned and carved out in gold ; 124 BELL THE CAT. Brought to this country by traveller last year, I bought it, I assure you, at a price very clear. Ladies and gentlemen, see this fact with your eyes, I'm not like quack doctors who tell nothing but lies.' My life, Mr. Chairman, was a burden to me, I need not tell how much I longed to be free. One night as Ave drove down a very steep hill, The van was upset and I escaped to the mill ; From slavery and bondage to liberty dear, You don't know the contrast, that is very clear. My friends, I advise you to alter your plan, And respect the old miller, for he's a good man." At this sage advice there were hisses and cries Of " Down with old Dormouse, and blacken his eyes He knows nought of life but the vulgar and low, And has spent all his time in a travelling show." 'Midst all this confusion and wildest uproar, The miller and Tom came in at the door ; They both heard the noise that came from the kist, And fell on the mice ere ever they wist. A good hearty kick, with a push and a thrust, Sent all the pack flying — the old kist to dust ; The miller laid round him with hearty good-will, While Tom did Ins work with calmness and skill. Now the miller sleeps soundly, free from all fear, And Tom does the same in the old arm-chair. BELL nil-: CAT. i Thus the mice were like some little folks we've seen, Thai are never content— yon may know who I mean . They want to have something they do not ]• Perhaps a new Buit or a fine muslin dre And thru, like the mice, they fall into mischief, Which i.s Bure td end quicklj in a »rrow and grief. There are - ime bigger children, w hose hair is nigh grey, That are never content with the times, as they Bay ; With them, nothn ht, but everything wrung, — This cannot last long, is their chorus and song. Now, dear children all, 1 have a last word to say, Be sure to get wisdom before you grow grey ; And when merry at Christmas and Eappy New Sear, May your best friends be there to enjoy your good chi 126 "THE KAIL BEOSE o' AULD SCOTLAND." "THE KAIL BEOSE 0' AULD SCOTLAND." Let English chiels their roast-beef crack, Their puddings plump, and a' that ; We'll ne'er despise our lang-kail brose, For beef we canna fa that. They sneer and laugh at Sawny's taste For crowdy, brose, and a' that ; Say they, " We'll eat his black-faced sheep, And gie'm the head to chaw at." Nae doubt we send them nowt and sheep, Our pigs and liens, and a' that ; But aye keep fat to grease our sheen, And taste our gabs, and a' that. When Yule comes roun', we get our fill 0' flesh and fish, and a' that, And ance or twice throughout the year, But aftener canna fa that. An Englishman gets roast and boiled, Wi' puddings net, and a' that : '• mi: KAIL BROSE 0* a: i.i. 3< 01 1 AND." i 27 And then he maun hae beer to drink, An' no content wi' a' that But then v. iur 'tatiea het, Boiled in their skins, an' a' thai ; And maybe whiles a herring snia', Bui seldom we run fa that. But can they boast mair sturdy chii . Fed "li their beef and a' that, Than we can do, fed on kail bn < Mi crowdy, hrulh, and a' thai .' I winna boasl our hasty bros . ( lur Btir about, and a' that ; They may do when they're butter'd d Wi' pepper, salt, and a' that They ca' our porridge, wi' sour-milk, Bui lit for pigs, and a' thai ; But then we canna grease our 1 eards Wi' butter'd toast, and a' that ( >ur lairds themsells can only Beef, pudding, toast, and a' that; [f we would eat sic dainties nice, They'd raise our rents, and a' that Let Frenchmi e il their frogs an' mice, Their oasty 3tews, and a' that : 128 "THE KAIL BROSE O' AULD SCOTLAND. And Paddy boast his 'taties nice, Wi' butter-milk, and a' that ; And Johnnie Bull may eat his full Of beef and pork, and a' that ; A heapit bicker o' kail brose, Is Scotland's yet, for a' that. LINES WRITTEN ON THE FIELD OF CULLODEN. [2g LINES WKITTKX ON THE FIELD OF CULLODEN (DEDICATED I" SAUNDERS M'OREGOR, WHOSE GREAT- GRANDFATHEB FELL ON THAT MEMORABLE DAY.) Dare lowered the Right, the morn was grey That ushered in Culloden's day — That day of M 1, and hate, and sti ife, When man from man soughl r Life. Oh ! could my muse like O.ssian's telJ 1 1 i\v clansmen fouj ht, uow foemen fell, And how the Saxons, clad in steel, Before their foes were made to reel — R seled as a bark 1>\ temp A in. tip in seen, then all is 1 Lost in the billowy surge of war : Their deafening yell v rd afar. 1 10 LINES WRITTEN OK THE FIELD OF CULLODEN. "d Oh ! need I tell how chieftains led, And for their Prince like martyrs hied ? Or need I tell how dauntless they Against such odds urged on the fray 1 How oft above the battle-yell Each gathering cry was heard to swell ; And like a lion pressed for life, Each cheered his followers to the strife ? See yon proud host, when conscious the) By numbers great must gain the day See how their hate impels them on Their rallying-cry is, " Quarter? None i I i » What ear can listen, tongue rehearse, Their deeds 1 — 'twould stain the vilest verse. Then let their leader's blasted name From age to age be crowned with shame ! See yon proud host who never fled ! See how they're on by heroes led ! Death unto them lias terrors none, If their dear country's honour's gone ! LINES WRITTEN ON THE FIELD OF CULLODEN. 131 But, ab ! thai day the fates had sworn Thai few 30 brave Bhould see the mom ; Though brave they foughl and nobly fell — Thai dire defeal Bhould ring their knelL < »h ! here lei Scotia drop a t< For those brave sons she held so dear ! 1 (ear to their country is their nami — They long shall be her minstrels' theme. 132 LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. Friendship and Love conjointly claim The same pure essence, but a diff'rent name. But what have they in common ? Search and see ; To find a likeness puzzles me. Love, like a playful, thoughtless child, Often by fancy is beguiled. And see how oft the silly thing Will to a lady's ringlets cling ; Even the glancing of an eye Will make his maddened pulse beat high. Sometimes a red and pimpled nose His godship in hysterics throws ; Ay ! ev'n a crimson bloated cheek Will keep him bedfast for a week. Why should we blush to speak the truth 1 The deadliest weapon is the mouth ; Though like a snake with death it's fraught, The silly fool longs for the draught ; He tastes, and feels the deadly smart Of lurking poison at his heart. LOVE -\NH FRIENDSHIP. Sometimes he is like amorous dove, A Bhining neck will fatal prove ; R iund it you see him fondly cling, .lu-t like a bat on outstretched wing. < ift has a slender taper waisi t his godship's sweetest r l'.v'n worse than that, in wild despair 1 te's cut life's thread to ease h Look down, ye powers ! and Mush to see "t, lli~ godship at a lady's fei ( Ir.ivi'lliii'j', l'.i-l to thi'in In' clings, Though in the dust he soil his wings. Friendship, be mine ; I claim your hand, And swear by you to fall or stand ; To me more dear thy friendly grip Than all the talk of Cupid's lip. 134 EARL Percy's wedding-day. EAEL PEECY'S WEDDING-DAY. Men of Alnwick ! shout and sing Till our castle turrets ring ; Earl Percy home a flower will bring He has pulled this day, A tender, blooming, sweet young thing Off the mountains grey. God 'fend his bonny heather-bell, And bring her safe to lowland dell ; May sons unborn yet joyful tell Of this happy day ; Cod shield them from misfortunes fell, From our hearts we pray. May Percy bless to 's latest hour The day he culled his Highland flower, And brought her to his English bower, His heart's best treasure ; May dark misfortune's clouds ne'er lower To spoil their pleasure. EARL PER< V 8 WBDDINO-D 135 Blower of an ancient glorious stock ! Child of the mint and mountain rock ! Your ancient tn I't bore war's shock And fell the blow, But still stood firm when others broke, And now lie low. The name of your great marl re* Stirs in our hearts the latent lire : To such a name may you aspire 1 11 future 3tory ; < rod shield you from a fate so dire As crowned his glory ! Flower of a noble, warlike ra We greet you from this ancient place, t tod of your fathers grant you grace To fill your station : .May sons and daughters nobles grai In this great nation. We're proud of Percy's honoured name, Si • i imed in am tent warlike theme ; * The great Marquis of Argyle, beheaded 27th Maj 1685. — ■• I could die like a Roman, but choose rather t<> ilio as a Christian. I ' th crown upon the King's head, but he gives me a better crown than his own," Baid the gnat Argyle, 136 earl Percy's weddixg-day. First in the right their swords did gleam, And death's blows shower But now their pennons peaceful stream From yon grey tower. No longer from yon portal grey A Percy rides to Border fray ; No bleeding host at close of day Now enters there, Behind whom dying comrades lay All spoiled and bare. Long may their banners peaceful hing, Their spears no more in battle ring, But future bards their vict'ries sine In virtue's race, And future lords their wisdom brine To bless this place. God bless the two made one this day. Sincere Ave men of Alnwick pray, Be 't theirs to see their children grey, And great and wise ; That crowds at last their dust may lay With tearful eyes. MY OWN FIRESIDE. 1 37 MY <>\YN FIRESIDE. There La a halo round the poor man's hearth Shines on hia own fireside, And cheers his weary down irt, That is ofl sorely tried : Through the toilsome -lay his thoughts will sti And there with | 'bide, ( Iheered with the hope of joys to come Around his own fireside. In that sacred spot, thai liky Fair to 1"' seen, Wh6re fatt'ning herds recumbent lie < In richesl green. And now I turn my feasted i To where you see yon smoke arise; There Elgin's ancient city lies, Boast of the land ; There luisy man his i imerce plies With ardenl hand. But tired with gazing on the plain, I turn to dear Strathspey again ; 1 mark the rivi r join the main 'Midsl foam and spray ; Backward I trace its course again To mountains grey. Yonder, embowered in living Proud < !a8tle < rordon's towers are seen, With many a verdanl to screen Idlers thai 'N' i;h spreading trees, love's favourite .- At close of day. 142 LINES WRITTEN ON THE TOP OF BENRINNES. My wandering eyes with pleasure rest Upon Beneagen's pine-claci breast, Where, sheltered like some cosy nest, A home appears The poor and needy oft have blessed Amid their tears. That graceful arch the river clears Where Craigellachie's rock up-rears ; All egress on that side appears Man's skill to mock ; But yet his toil a highway clears Through solid rock. I mark where stood MAUan's shrine, Where many a warrior's bones recline — Brave warriors of that ancient line That stood war's shock, Firm as the hardy mountain-pine That crowns the rock. From this I turn to gaze upon A mansion built of polished stone ; And this fair spot doth virtue own With maiden grace, With open hand her bounty sown Through all the place. LINKS WRITTEN ON THE TOP OF BENRINNE& 143 ere Elchie's turrets meel the sky, Bigh o'er the woods that round them lip, — Woods thai a hermil might envie And find a plai Bui forms amongsl them often stray Would mar his pe Where yon blue curling smoke doth ris ( > 1 * 1 Carron's ancienl homestead lies ; To it the traveller turn- his i And feasts them there, Where verdanl fields Bpread to the skies Like garden fair. 6" A fairer spot is seldom seen, Embowered 'mid trees of living green, With many a ferny glade between And bosky dells; The home "f < "'rant it long has been, As history tells. Scenes meel my '■'■'■- ; on every hand, The pride and glory of our land ; Famed Bpots, whose names will ever .-tand In future Btory, Firm as the giant hills around In all their glory. 144 LINES WRITTEN ON THE TOP OF BENRINNES. Years have fast and silent fled Since last along those vales I strayed, And many a head is lowly laid That shared my joy, There silent in the narrow bed, Nought to annoy. With sobered thoughts I take my way Where once I spent life's happy day ; A voice within me seems to say — All now is changed ; No more with comrades dear you'll stray Where oft you ranged : For some have crossed the rolling deep, To torrid climes where reptiles creep ; Untimely there they sleep death's sleep, Ne'er to return ; And for them childless mothers weep, And sadly mourn. i \Mi:\ I ON Tin: DBA! II OF THE EARL 01 PIPE. I [$ LAMENT, WRITTEN ON READING OP THE DEAT ' THE i EARL OF FIFE. How can ray muse now joyous sing .' How can she strike the \ oca] stri she sighing droops her dowie wing, Wi' grief oppresl : Her fondest hopes did round him cl That's gane to rest. Oh : cruel Death ! thy fatal dart Hath pierced his warm and feeling heart, An' we aneath the stroke maun smart, An' sadly groan. Wha noo will tak' the widow's p Whan he is gone i YVhaur noo will puir folks, in their m ■ Tak' shelter frae tlT oppn spreed .' They noo may bend them like a reed — Their stay is gone ; 1 [e was the poor man's friend ind I, They're left alolie. K 146 LAMENT ON THE DEATH OE THE EARL OF FIFE. Xane frae bis door he turned awa ; He ne'er was deaf to sorrow's ca' ; When cottars' backs were at the wa', He heard their tale, An' took their part, baith ane an' a', An' wished them weel. Feint ane cared less for pride an' state, Xor sat mair lichtly on his seat ; His smiling face was ave a treat To look upon ; His feeling heart was truly great, But that is gone. Nae social gatberins noo he'll grace, Wi' kindly smile upon his face ; But lone and empty is the place He graced wi' ease ; Nae mair will joy liclit up the face That aye could please. Come, a' ye bards frae Xess to Dee, Frae Caimgorum to the sea; Come join bis cor'nach-wail wi' me — In chorus join ; Pray that another like as he May fill his line. I WIKNT OS THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF FIFE. M7 Come, a' ye cottars, mourn the day You saw him laid aneath the clay ; Nae mail to him you'll tak' yer way. \\T heavy heart ; Nae mair, alas! he'll be yer stay, Nor tak' yer part. Let hireling bardies in their lays The loudest sing to him that pa; I scorn to follow in their ways — I only mourn The noble man thai lowly lies, Ne'er to return. 148 THE TRYSTIXG-TREE. THE TRYSTIXG-TREE. I ken wha's waiting in the glen, Beneath the trysting-tree ; And, oh ! I ken his heart beats fast, And a' for love 0' me. My blessing on yon bonnie star — ■ The star 0' hope to me ; It tells me that my Jamie waits Beneath the trysting-tree. >g I ken there's Nelly o' the bog Would her broad acres gie, If she could only get a glance ( )' his soft pawky e'e. Weel do I ken his heart's my ain, Nane fairer does he see ; And often lias he told me this Beneath the trysting-tree. 'Tis true he has nae acres broad, Nor riches yet has he ; THE ON STING TREE. 149 But then be has a true, leal heart, An' that'.- mair dear to me. I wadna gie a Btowan glance Frae his .-aft, sparklin' e'e, To be a queen, and change my place Beneath the trysting ti Awa wi' wealth, awa wi' j ><-lf — ( '.in they ma];' hearts agree ? If for their Bake we sell our Iot e, Can there true pleasure be i t He me the kind, the loving heart, That Bhines out through the 1 And such a smile I've often seen B math the trysting-tr< e. Now lordly dames may laugh at this, Nor think that love could bi . ( >r uohle thoughts rise in a heart Wi' naething else tae '_ r ir. It's nar the shining dust 0' earth That mak's the man to me ; But noble thoughts and burning words I've heard beneath yon tree. But now the moon, wi' laughin' face, Peeps o'er Bem agau hie, 150 THE TRYSTING-TREE. An' I'll down by the go wan bog, Where nane I'm. sure can see ; For weel I ken he anxious waits, Wi' keen and piercing e'e. Oh ! speed the time we meet for aye Beneath our ain roof-tree. ro M , R IBIN RED] ' 5 ' TO MY ROBIN REDBREAST. Now keenly blows the northern blast, Like winter hail the Leaves fall fast, Ami my pet Robin's come at last To our old thorn ; With warbling throal and eye upca Ee greets the morn ; Like some true friend you come to ch When all around is dark and drear. And oh ! what friend to me more dear Thau your sweet sel' \ our mellow voire falls on my ear Like some sweet spell. oit at the gloaming's pensive hour, When clouds above me darkly lowi . ['ye souj ht a seat in some Lone bower, With heart opprest ; you soothed me with your magic power, Au'l calmed my breast ] 5- TO MY ROBIN REDBREAST. When morning dons her sober grey To usher in the coming day, And Phoebus shines with sickly ray On all around, Xo warblers greet him from the spray With joyous sound. But you, sweet bird, unlike the throng, Salute him with a joyous song. When heavy rains and sleet prolong The dreary day, You chant to him your evening son"- Upon the spray. Xo blackbird whistles in the grove, Where late in chorus sweet they strove ; Xo warbler's tongue is heard to move, But all is sad • Xo cushat woos his amorous love In hazel glade. i: SNOWDROP. [53 TO THE SNOWDKOP. Fairest and first of a glorious train ! I bid you welcome, sweet flower, again : For you ruin.' the first of the floral band We shall soon see spread over all the land. Though no vernal sun, with life-giving ray, Bids you welcome on this wintery day, 5Tou come like angel with message of love — A pledge of remembrance from heaven above. Sweet little flower! as you spring by my door, Ymi teach me a lesson unheeded before, 1 if Him win) ordained thee to spring and blow Amid keen biting winds and Bleety snow; Fit emblem thou of that mystery deep, When man will rise from death's long sleep ; From the womb of earth he'll spring like a flower To be gathered by God for Eis heavenly bower. Sweet little flower! as yon spring by my door, \Au bid me hope on 'mid my scanty store, 154 TO THE SNOWDROP. And bravely trust, amid the cares and strife, And the weary toil of this updiill life. In the dark cheerless morn I pass you by, Toiling and growing 'neath a sunless sky, And I've thought, perchance, e'er the dark day close, You may find a grave 'neath the wint'ry snows. Sweet little flower ! as you spring by my door, You teach me more than e'er I knew before Of the heartfelt pleasure a flower can give, For it is not in vain you bloom and live. But thoughtless man, on earthly pleasure bent, No wisdom sees in the flowers that are sent ; A heavenly mentor, by his path you stand, And bid him pause and think of the better land. Sweet little flower ! as you spring by my door, I love you more than I e'er did before, For the very same Hand that made you a flower, Made heaven and earth by the word of His power. And gave to my spirit a feeling of love, A longing desire for the garden above ; For the flowers never fade in that glorious land, Like Him who has made them, immortal they stand. "THERE'S a PRETTl WEE B01 3IE, ' BT< . 155 "THERE'S A PRETTY WEE HOUSIE PROVIDIN' FOR ME." INDICATED TO Till; MORA? LASSES. There's a pretty wee housie providin' for me, And in it, I trow, we .-hall soon happy be; There isna the Like o't, I'm sure, in the glen, W'i' sae canty a but, an' sae coothie a ben. It's true we'll liar naething sae -rand or sae braw, As the great folks wha live in a castle Or ha' : But 1 am sure we'll hae plenty, if only content, Ami thankfu' to Him who our blessings has sent. I ken we'll he happy : — our housie will he A little hit heaven t<> Jamie and ; When cares .-hall oppress him, ami sadden his face, To soothe ami divert him 1 ken it's my place; And when he comes baine frae his .lav's weary toil, I'll ha- a clean hearth, and a sweet winning .-mile ; There's naething, I'm sure, he likes Letter to 3ee, Than a clean COSy hearth, and a smile upon me. 156 "there's a pretty wee housie," etc. And when winter winds blaw wi' snell biting breath, And Nature aroun' us is frozen in death, We'll shut oot the day, wi' its glimmer 0' licht, And never complain 0' a lang, weary nicht. "Whiles Jamie '11 read, or I'll lilt a bit sang, And wi' cracking and joking we'll nae think it lang; And aye the last thing ere we gang to our rest, We will seek His direction wha kens to guide best. o v When summer conies roun' wi' its sweet sunny hours, And breezes come laden wi' scent o' the flowers, We'll stray by the burnie where scented birks hing, And listen how sweetly the birdies can sing. Far, far frae the bustle and turmoil 0' life, We'll jog on life's journey and never ken strife ; Wi' griefs we may meet that are ill to be borne, To-day may seem dark, but we'll hope a bright morn. We a' ken that riches can never buy health, And a wise man has said that contentment is wealth ; And if we have these, we'll be richer by far, Than "my lord" who struts gaily wi' ribbon and star. But contentment and riches may often be found, Like a fruit-bearing tree, showering blessings around ; And happy the spot where their branches are spread, And happy the people that dwell in their shade. \ i BRI81 M VS OR] i.i r- i -; A CHRISTMAS GREETING TO MY KIND FRIEND, ANTHONY OLIVER GARDENER B8LINGTO» PARK. A merry Christmas, friend, I wish you! May heaven with it- blessings bless you ! Be't many a year before we miss you From that sweet spot Where Providence has kindly placed you, And cast your lot. Yule i- a time to cheer the heai For friends to meet that are apart ; The rich to heal the biting smart ( If care and want, For little che< rs the drooping heart When bread is scant. < >h ! that the rich folks only knew What L, r '»>f which we boast, That men may have so free from cost? It is tin- innocence we lost That mournful day When men the fatal bound'ry crossed Where evil lay. Life's ill- now cloud earth's fairest spot, And come alike to hall and cot; Those ills we make, Til name them not, Make thousands weep, And sore bewail their bitter lot In sorrow deep. These ills make sad heart- long to ri And leave this earth, where sorrow ti For sinless world beyond the skies They long to go; Bui when man to heaven would rise, II. aim- too low. l6o A CHRISTMAS GREETING. And many a suffering soul 's opprest, A thousand sorrows rend their breast ; The grave alone can give that rest They seek in vain ; Let's strive to get their wrongs redrest, And save them pain. Alas ! in this loved land of ours, Where freedom's sun his radiance pours, The thorns spring up amidst the flowers, And take their room, And rob them of sweet vernal showers, And spoil their bloom. When we our happy Christmas keep, Let's not forget that others weep, For when we're calm in peaceful sleep, There are I fear Who'll groan in anguish far too deep For sigh or tear. But let us work, my friend, and pray For strength and patience for our day, And friends our old grey heads to lay In their last rest ; May all that knew us kindly say, "They did their best." I hi: rOOM MEAL Ki I 6 I THE Toi.m MEAL KIST, SUGGESTED BY BEADING AN EDITOR'S ARTICLE IN THE •' i i '.in COl RAM i'," i:n ii i LED " RELIEF TO THE POOR." •• 'Mang herds and hon< rt country folk, That till the [arm and feed the Bock, Careless o' mail ; wha uever fash To lade their kist w i' useless cash ; But thank the gods for what they've sent ( )' hi alth i ])■ ugh and blithe content, And pith that helps them to stravaig Ower ilka cleugh and ilka craig." — FBBGU880N. Yi: that are happit snug and warm. In these cauld winter 'lays, Ye canna feel tin- jumr man's Lj;tii • t'~. His sorrows and bis Macs. While ye sit roun' your cosy fires, \\T a' your comforts blest, 1 [e sits beside his ch i hearth And eyes that toom meal-kis t. Doom, empty; meal-kist— it was a common practice in Scotland to keep a store oi meal in a kist or girnel. L j62 the toom mbal-kist. Beside him sits his patient wife, The partner o' his waes, And wi' a mither's skill she mends The bairnies' raggit claes ; Then, wi' a noble woman's heart, She bids him hope and trust, That brighter days will soon be here, To fill the toom meal-kist. But while the words o' comfort flow That cheer the downcast man, A silent, unseen tear drops soft Upon her wasted ban'. < )h ! who can tell what sorrows wring A mother's loving breast, "While round her sleep those helpless things Beside a toom meal-kist 1 Ye thoughtless throng, ye giddy fair, That mad with folly flirt, And try how many yards to wear, In one enormous skirt ; Like silly peacock, vain and proud. I )ear self fills all your breast : Look at that half-clad woman there With but a toom meal-kist ! Tin: TOOM mi" \ i CIST. 163 Ye rich guidwives, whose stores o'erflow In larder and in pret . < 1I1 ! think thai Be who blessed you so ( ',111 quickly make them 1 If we a -i-i< r see in need, And hard wi' want opprest, A heavenly blessing will he ours, 'I'm fil] her toom meal-kist. And you, rich, vain, proud man, who think That you are Heaven's rare. Because II'' has filled your barns full Ami lefl your neighbour's bare. The poor in spirit, rich in faith, By Heaven alone are bl< t, And the ] r man may be rich in full, With hut a toom meal ki And you, ye mad and thoughtless throng, That nightly round the howl Spend what would buy the orphans food And cheer the widow's soul ; Bui think how small th man's need, An 1 what ye thoughtless waste ; 'Twould bring a blessin; on your head, To fill bit 1 10m meal 1. 164 ON THE DEATH OP THE YEAR I 85 5. ON THE DEATH OF THE YEAR 1855. DEDICATED TO SAUNDERS M'GREGOR, Steek fast the door, an' dinna jingle ; Draw ben your chair beside the ingle ; Now tak' a glass to cheer your heart, The best 0' Mens, alas ! maun pairt. Tibby, Tibby ! mak' less din, Ye ken yersel' wha's sick within. Puir Fifty-Five has ta'en his bed, And ne'er again the grass will tread. The Doctor says at twal' o'clock He's sure to hae a mortal shock. But hark ! he raps upon the halLm, He cries, " Guidman, bring in the callan' ! Bring Fifty-Sax, for I must go To dark oblivion's shades below. And now, my son, just gie's your hand, Ye ken I soon maun leave this land ; And when I'm dead an' maist forgot, There's some will try my name to blot. ON tin: DEATH OP i in: J BAB i S55. 165 I muckle doubl they'll sair misca' n Aye, e'en to folk wha never saw me. They'll say I spent their cash f<>r nought, And dear they paid for a' they bought They'll Bay I made their pantries toom, And kepi a better frae my room. A' this ye'll hear, an' muckle mair; I ken my name they winna spare. Let this, my son. ne'er grieve your heart, Bui nobly act a manly pairt. < > Fifty-Sas ! propitious smile ( >n thai dear spol called Britain's isle ! And open wide auld Nature's hand, And scatter plenty o'er their land. oh ! send them peace wi" honour crowned, And gird them safe wi' virtues round; And then, my son, I winna fear, Ye'll nobly lill your daddy's chair ! " 1 66 LINES INSCRIBED TO SAUNDERS M'GREGOR. LIKES INSCRIBED TO SAUNDERS M'GREG< >R, A MEMBER OF THE ROUND-TABLE CLUB, ELGIN, JULY 1857. Here am I clicked wi' dust and reek, For rest and quiet I vainly seek, Nought but the everlasting squeak Of rattling engines, You scarce can hear a neighbour speak For their loud vengeance. .-> Here night and day our sky 's o'ercast Wi' choking reek from Mammon's blast, So thick, that had a comet passed, We wadna kent it, But lived in ignorance to the last That God had sent it. O Saunders, man ! were ye but here, To see the bustling noise and steer ! Folks hardly can find time to speer For friend or foe ; A wink or nod, and past you clear, And on they go. [N8( aiBBD l" 8A1 NDER8 tt'QBtt [67 Weel may ye crack o' broomy know Where yet in peace the wild deer browse; There's imt on earth such heights and howi As ye 1 And bonny glens where cowslip grows In golden dress. Ymi note each day the growing crap, And real yourself in Nature's lap, And when inclined, you toddlin' stap By glen or burn, Where scented dews frae birch-trees drap At every turn. \ ou little ken what ye possess; WT blessings rife, you prize them less ; You've Nature decked in flowery dri Your eyes to please, And kind old friends your hand to press And li> ase. But, all : my friend, d to think Eow men the chains o' folly clink, And oft prefer some stagnant .-ink To Nature's rill; At bier swi m men seldom drink And take their lill. 1 68 LINES INSCRIBED TO SAUNDERS Jl'GREGOR. ( )ft when I read your social crack, On memory's wings my fancy's back To simple joys, that ne'er did lack A pleasure true : But now men's brains are on the rack For something new. Pure simple pleasure gives a joy "Which softens cares that oft annoy • And never leaves that base alloy 0' future grief, That does man's happiness destroy Wi' no relief. Forced by necessity's grim will, Thousands sweat in forge and mill ; They seldom taste of Nature's rill : O' dust and reek 1 )ay after day they drink their fill, Tid pale the cheek. And, sad to think, there's many seek Their pleasure in what makes men weak ; In filthy dens, where poisons reek, Their evenings spend,— - A poor solace for toil-spent week — When thus it ends. I [\i- [NS( RIBBD TO SATJN IE U R. 169 Their home is not thai .-acred place, The pure abode of joy and peace ; And there we see the haggard I < >' want and sin, And misery we plainly 1 1 ( In a' within. We boasl o' being rich and great, A prosp'rous and a glorious stal . And that each man his bread may eat Beneath his tree ; Bui luxury may sap a state. Though great it 1 If with a retrospective eye We view the years so long gone by, A warning from them seems to cry, With outraged patience, Thai there's a Power which rules on high, 1 >'ei men and nations. L 3, July 1S57. I70 MY LITTLE ROSEBUD. MY LITTLE ROSEBUD. My little rosebud, sweet and fair — None fairer could be seen — ■ Bloomed sweetly 'neatlrmy cottage eaves, Amidst its leaves so green. And all that passed my cottage door Admired my lovely rose ; They said it rivalled every flower That in the garden grows. With tender care I nursed my flower, I joyed to see it grow, And spread its petals to the sun, Pure as the driven snow. Safe from the sun's iicrce burning rays, I shielded it with care, And when the evening dew fell soft, Its fragrance tilled the air. o Oft by its side I loved to sit, AVhen the day's toil was done, MY LITTLE ROSEBUD, " 7 ' Wondering whal made sweet flowers grow, While glorious sank the sun. Then beavy thoughts Btole o'er my heart, I knew my flower must die, And, like all earthly-horn tin: Must wither and decay. My boding fears, alas : proved ti For soon my lovely flower Fell soiled and scattered on the earth, Beneath a midnight shower. I ithered up the fallen L That once were .-wart and fair, And in a drawer 1 them did 1 With tender Loving care. "6 When winter comes with sunless sky, With darkness and with gloom, My fallen rose of the summer, With fragrance fills my room. My i e to me a lesson taught, That beauty, when alone, Will never anj fragrance yield, When its fair colour's gone. I7 2 A CHRISTMAS SONG. A CHRISTMAS SONG. We hail again the natal morn On which the Prince of Peace was born- Born to draw us sinful men Back to our Father's love aojain. Again we raise the heavenly strain Of " Peace on earth, good-will to men ; " God's choicest gift to man is given, His own beloved Son from heaven. But " Him we will not have to reitm," Is still the universal strain ; And gentle Peace, with tearful eye, Weeps where the slain in thousands lie. Yes ! at a despot's high command, Men raise the fratricidal hand ; We, shuddering, turn our straining eyes To where the groans of battle rise, And wonder when this strife shall Cease, And nations long and pray for peace — A 0HRI8TMAE 80N0. I ~ When shall come that glorious time, When peace -hall reign in every clime, And men, Like brothers, hand in hand, Join in the sweel fraternal band That owns that Prince's peaceful sway Whose birth we celebrate to-day. Let as the holly bring and bay To deck our homes this festal day, And stir the yule-log to a bla While thankful we our songs do i To Him our Heavenly King above, Who came this day in peace and Love. And soon may He lin, Upon this troubled earth to reign '. 174 A SECOND EPISTLE TO SAUNDERS M'GREGOR. A SECOND EPISTLE TO SAUNDERS M'GREGOR. How pleasant is the summer day, With dewy dawn and evening grey ! Then books and papers past we lay With right good will, And with a crony saunt'ring stray Through glen or hill. To me the Times has now no charms, 'Tis filled with nought but war's alarms, < )f mighty feats by men in arms, That kill and slay, Just as the bees they kill in swarms On autumn day. But I will say 't, and think no shame, That I abhor a warlike theme, All strife where swords and sulphur gleam, And bullets fly ; War I prefer where, killed or lame, None writhing lie. I 9EC0N D I I'l-i LB TO 9 U \l>n;- U'OIU OOB i 75 The war of wives, with head-gear torn, I need not Bay thai has my scorn, Though hero-like they're sometimes borne From off the field, While of their locks perhaps they're Bhorn, And bruised and peeled. Domestic war, we knew, is rif< — The war of words, withoul the knife; 1 mean, the war 'tween man and wife Is sometimes 1>1 ly ; It Beldom ends bul with the life < If either body. But let us turn to that famed field, Where statesmen keen their weapons wield. How deftly they can fence and shield, And cut and thru Beneath their blows the brave have reeled, And bit the dust. Two mighty champions take the field, And well their weapons both can wield ; < >ne takes the broadsword and the shield, And lays about him ; The deadly spear the other wield And tries to r ait him. 176 A SECOND EPISTLE TO SAUNDERS M'GREGOR. Each is the leader of a band, Ready to do their chief's command, And for his cause they'll boldly stand, Be 't right or wrong ; " Our people's rights and native land," Is their old song. One champion in the end must fall, The weakest soon goes to the wall ; Then their war trumpet's clam'rous call Sounds through the nation, All to revenge their champion's fall, From his lush station. ■&- Men fight another warfare still — Instead of blood, 'tis ink they spill, And with the pen they try to kill Their deadly foe ; Till of revenge they drink their fill, And lay him low. TO mv All. i) tiki: BT \rr. i 77 TO MY AC I.D PIKE STAFF. My auld pike stall, my trusty frien', Like hand and glove we aye hae been; Mony a change we baith hae soon, Since first we met ; Atween us yet nae words hae been, I'm prood to say't. Well <1" I mind the April morn I took you frae your parenl thorn. Although al times you've been t lie scorn i >' modern pride, I ne'er could bide to hae you shorn 0' bark or hide. A varnished coat ye ue'er could shaw, Like sticks that come frae tar awa ; Nor were you ever buskel braw \\T dangling tassel ; Bui aye a sturdy shank could shaw. To bide a brassel. M 1 7S TO MY AULD PIKE STAFF. When I to kirk or market gaed, You aye did help me in my need ; I didna want a hicc'ry reed Like strutting spark ; They look nae better than a weed, And dae nae wark. Ower hills and glens I've wandered wide With you aye faithful by my side ; Down craigs and rocks }-ou've been my guide, And kept me right ; With you I ne'er felt dashed nor fleyed In darkest nmht. o On many a wild-goose chase we've been, When I was thoughtless, young, and green ; Full forty miles we've often gane On summer's day, When some famed spot was to be seen, Where heroes lav. But now auld age is come at last, And all those thoughtless days are past, And oh, alas ! they vanished fast, Like some sweet dream ; For them III raise nae mournful blast, Nae poet's theme. I" Mi ai LD PIKE 3TA1 I . 17, We count our d »w by the scoi < fur furthest journey V round the d 101 ; New scenes we'll ne'er again explore, 'Mid Xut ' . But tho we've seen : My old heart warms. . and lai At you and me, my auld pike staff ; We'll little heed their idle chaff, Bui "li ; You'll be my Erien I, my auld pike staff, Till I am gone. l8o ODE ON THE CENTENARY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. AN ODE WRITTEN ON THE CENTENARY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Scotland resigns this day to Scott, And hails this morn — The day she never shall forget, When he was horn. He, like some glorious comet bright, Has crossed our sky ; His radiance dimmed the stars of night That round him lie. His glory is no meteor-light, But, like the sun, He'll shine with undiminished rays Till time is done, Till ocean old shall cease to roll And rivers flow ; Till then our Wizard's name shall live With men below. ODE ON Tin: I 'i:\irw\KY OF BIB WALTER BGOTT. [8l Nn higher fame can mortals know, Where life is death, And human glory here below 1 - lull a breath ; Bui there's a soul thai lives in man Knows ii" decay : It has a voice when he is gone, And passed away. Scott, like .-Mint' prophet-seer of old, AVhose soul had been To thai ethereal spirit-world I ["nseen by men, Had early learned thai mystic art. To casl a spell ( )f glamour o'er the human heart. That men love well. For at his word men live again, And feasl our eyes : I le waves his pen, and angel fun I >rop from the skies : We see them walk this earth again, And hear them speak ; Entranced we gaze with beating heart And glowing cheek. 1 82 ODE ON THE CENTENARY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. And o'er the mighty dead of old He cast his spell, And made them to our list'ning ears Their story tell, ( )f ancient feud and bloody strife, ( )f hate and love, And all the varied passions deep, That hearts can move. rooi; iioKY i- ItKAD : A LAMBS l. 1S3 POOE DOEY is DEAD: A LAMENT. Poob I >oey's dead, and resl ■ her head Beneath a rown tr< We placed her there with tears ami care,- I mean, my wife and me; We neither spoke, nor silence broke, Bui in our hearts we said, " 1 >;ir old friend's gone, ami we're alone, ( >ur poor dog's lowly laid." She was ill bred, the dog-folk said; Bui her heart was kind, 1 know. If her tail was thick, and like a stick, She had (inly part to show. In circles round ['ve seen heT bound For half a summer's day, Ami try by might, by wrong and right, Tin 1 stump to tear away. She'll lie no more beside the door, To watch when I come home, 1 84 POOR DOEY IS DEAD: A LAMENT. And say, as plain as dog could say, "Let's down the green lane roam." Poor Doey's laid, as I have said, Beneath a spreading tree ; No more she'll run, when day is done, Along the lanes with me. AN RPI8TLE I" MR. J. THOMSON. AN EPISTLE TO MR J. THOMSON. And bo, my friend, you mean to 1 iste An author's toil and care, Hoping that smiling Fame may have A laurel leaf to spare, A fresh green leaf without a stain. To show you have not sung in vain. I wish you in the task success Which you have undertaken, And trust that by no cross unseen, Your purpose may be shaken ; For difficulties oft arise, When we seem nearest to the prize. The lyre the master-minstrel sweep-. Willi bowed heads men pause to hear: And though its thrilling music clothe A worthless theme, he needs qoI fe ir The distant zenith holds his star, Its rays to beauty turn each scar. 1 86 A~S EPISTLE TO MR. J. THOMSON. But when some nameless minstrel strikes His trembling lyre with blush ami stammer, His measure, rhythm, rhyme are scanned, And woe betide his hapless grammar. "What wonder if he shrink and shiver, And turn his back on fame for ever ! More to the poet's heart than fame, As life and freedom dear, Is Nature, quiet or wildly grand, Howe'er she may appear. To him the stream, the daisied sod, Have each a voice which speaks of God. When sorrow o'er his chequered path Its sombre mantle flings, Should foes triumph, or friends forsake, Amid the clouds he sings : His grandest or his sweetest strain Is born of wrong or wrung by pain. Not from the gory battle-field Does inspiration come, Not from the flashing steel, nor speaks It in the rolling drum. The poet gazes on afar, And sees but Glory's gilded car. AN BPI81 U I" MR J. I li' IM80N. ( ;]m]-v : -alas 1 thai e'er its pi The poel Bhould have That e'er earth's hills and dales should have With martial music n The voice of human love to smother, And urge men to destroy each otl Be 't ours to hail a better day, When ( Uory"s dazzlin Shall blind no more, noi rth With ruin and despair. Be 't ours to sing of peace and love, Which, blessing earth, is crowned above. The world is wide, and sunlighl free, Ami free the balmy air ; Some close their hearts 'gainst warmth and light, Some catch a double share ; And while for all the sun is shim The half a: ads repining. [f on thy hearl a double share i If warmth and radiance streams, Give hack to those who see them not Some pure life giving beams, Mellowed and softened by the touch ( >f hive, which hears and pardons much. 1 88 AN EPISTLE TO MR. J. THOMSON. There may be hearts thy song will reach, And rouse to courage, soothe to peace ; It may touch chords whose echoing tones Not ev'n with life itself shall cease. Then why should'st thou in secret sing, Though no proud wreath thy song may bring ? There's blood upon the conqueror's bays, Tears dim the patriot's crown ; Thorns bristle on the envied wreath The poet calls his own ; And some perchance that wreath have worn Who'd bruise the leaf to break the thorn. Then forward with thy work, nor shrink From critic's blame or praise. If here and there a heart may be Made better by thy lays, Eemember that is more than fame, Than Avarrior's wreath or victor's name. And now, farewell. I ne'er before In rhyme a letter wrote, And much I fear 'tis little worth ; But whether prized or not, Your success will give joy to me, And I remain, your friend, E. J >. AN ANSWER TO EL D.'S BPI8TL& I g AN ANSWER TO K. D.'S EPISTLE. Thank-, Madam, foi your letter kind, It helped to soothe an anxious mind. Sou, that have felt "an authors care," Know well the thought that's upmost there. There Bope and Fear alternate n ign, I fight against them but in vain. Fear says, " Beware, and hold your hand Before you self-committed stand A fool before 'the gods and men,' Convicted by your own goose-pen." Then Eope breathes whisper in my ear, "Take heart of grace, and cover fear; If laurel wreath is not for thee, Your head with daisies crowned shall be. Though Fame for you no trumpet blow, Love's oil upon your head shall flow." And what is Fame compared to Lot It is the theme of saints above. Fame, Hope, and Fear, as all men knew, Beyond the grave can uever go. 190 nan answer to e. d.'s epistle. The Man of Sorrows came to show The power of Love on earth below ; And when Love guides the poet's pen, He's like an angel sent to men. Who would not wish, in his last hour, To leave behind a spirit-dower, A voice to soothe the tempest-driven, Like that the prophet heard from heaven I This still small voice is calling still, The same that spoke on Horeb's hill. "We hear it in the murm'ring breeze, That stirs at eve the leafy trees ; We hear it in the rippling rill, That dances down the ferny hill ; We hear it in the rustling corn, When by the reapers it is shorn. All Nature speaks in accents clear, But man is deaf and will not hear ; By passion some are heedless driven, They laugh at hell and jest at heaven ; They think them both a pious fraud, To please the good and fright the bad. If men's belief be false or true, In this free land we've nought to do ; So long as they obey man's laws, The state against them has no cause. But there's a higher law of Love, Vouchsafed to man from (Jod above; : an &.N8WEB CO a. o. ii.i:. 191 This law takes knowledge of the heart, And bids 11- fi »m all ill depart ; T> others we mn-t act and do Like friends and brothers stanch and tm ( lurselves \\ e mui t do Longer plea Bui cast behind us selfish ease. Thus we must do if we d< To hear that voir.', " Friend, come up high< .My friend ! we see but dimly hi ( >ur ey< - ■•annul see heaven cl But, like a " vision of the night," It seem 3 to pa b fore our sight ; Like Job, in some lone midnight hour, We tremble 'neath an unseen Power, Then know we that there is on high, A God with an all-seeing eye I i . I . 1 KH KV BALLANTYNB, HANS IN AND CO. EDINBURGH AND L • THE LAIRD OF LILBURN TOWER. A BALLAD OF THE OLDEN TIME. Who raps so loud at the postern gate. Said the laird of Lilburn Tower, Who dares to knock at my castle gate. At midnight's darkest hour. May it please you, Sir, the warder said. "lis a Palmer old and grey, He has wandered wide on Cheviot side, In the mist he lost his way. He greets you for the love of Christ. Who died on the holy rood, To open your gate and let him in And give him shelter and food. A holy Palmer, by Saint Mark, May hap the varlet lies, Perchance a trooper on the raid, Or the devil in disguise. But be he holy or profane, Go, warder, let him in. And give him shelter for the night, God wot we all have sin ! The warder undid the wicket bolts. Unshot the iron bar. And the loud noise scared the owlets grey, And they hooted near and far. The Palmer entered and said aloud. God keep you ail in peace, Tell me, warder, a stranger here. Who owns this hoary place. Holy father have you never beard. Of the Laird of Lilburn Tower P There is not a Scot on the border wide. But dreads his might and power. But sorry I am to tell it to you. He sleeps not day nor night, And Marian his daugi He lets not from his sight. In angry mood on the rush clad floor. The Laird trod to and fro, And Marian his daughter fair Sate on a settle low. The Palmer entered and raised the cross That hung upon his In-east, And said, God help you, laird, this night. And give you peace and rest. Holy father, of peace and rest I have but scanty store, An evil eye hath cursed my house, And Scots they are my door, My daughter pines of a fell disea That wasteth her away, Her cheeks were once like roses rod. But now they are like the clay. It' ail evil eye hath blasted her, I have skill in palmistry, At my touch the evil sprite will fly, Fair maid give your hand to me. The Palmer took her lily-white hand It trembled in hie hold, ' ' "rii by the laird that night, He Laced a ring of gold. irnin j daw tied on Lilburn Tower, i hi - no Pa Lmer grey; With mounted on hia i teed, He waa over the Tweed and away. ■i. Thomson. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below NOV le urn » ' r i,i RECF LD 'VFD URL AM 7-4 4 10m-ll, '50(2555)470 ' PM i>- lO UC SOI FH AA 000 372 600 i ■.•":•■ - r ,1 ;,