Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 \ MOTHEE, 
 
 I ' AND 
 
 ! OTHER POEMS. 
 
 JOHN KENNEDY. 
 
 THOMAS E. LUFF, PUBLISHER, PEASCOD STREET. 
 
 1889.
 
 PRINTED BY THOS. E LUFF, WINDSOR.
 
 Pa 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 ge 26— line 8— For fullishness read foolishness. 
 
 
 38— line 3— For my read our. 
 
 
 , 45— line 11— For reigns read reign. 
 
 
 , 106— line 11— For insect read flower. 
 
 
 , 108— line 5 — For journing read journey. 
 
 
 , 109 — line 17 — For were read are. 
 
 
 , 143— line 23— For ayout read ayont. 
 
 
 , 164— line 6— For clapp'cl read capp'd. 
 
 
 , 168— line 14— For sorrow read with sorrow. 
 
 
 , 236— line 19— omit there. 
 
 
 , 237 — line 10 — For stammach read stomach.
 
 MIN. 
 
 /^A:. 
 
 1 
 
 CONTENTS. Z^ J iii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 To the Reader 
 
 V. 
 
 INIother , . 
 
 1 
 
 Fair, Lovely Maiden . . 
 
 18 
 
 Love Di\T.ne 
 
 19 
 
 Shadows . . 
 
 20 
 
 The Lover's Lament . . 
 
 21 
 
 The Dying Soldier 
 
 23 
 
 Strong Drink 
 
 24 
 
 A Fairy Tale 
 
 29 
 
 Love and Duty . . 
 
 61 
 
 A Lullaby 
 
 63 
 
 Thy Win be Done 
 
 64 
 
 The Exile's Farewell 
 
 65 
 
 On the Albert Institute 
 
 67 
 
 Maiden Mine 
 
 69 
 
 My Mary . . 
 
 69 
 
 To a Lady 
 
 71 
 
 My Ain Wife 
 
 72 
 
 Eliza 
 
 76 
 
 Mary (A Fragmentary Poem) 
 
 83 
 
 Farewell . . 
 
 . 109 
 
 To Annie . . 
 
 . 112 
 
 On Raising a Subscription 
 
 . 114 
 
 On the Same Occasion 
 
 . 117 
 
 To my Brither . . 
 
 . 118 
 
 I Wonder if She Loves Me 
 
 . 121 
 
 Some Say I'm a Lovely Young Maiden 
 
 . 122 
 
 Second Life Guards 
 
 . 123 
 
 The Dving Christian . . 
 
 124 
 
 The Auld Man to his Wife 
 
 . 125 
 
 Heartfelt Wishes 
 
 127 
 
 God Bless the Baby 
 
 . 129 
 
 1036772
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 On Seeing the Baby 
 
 130 
 
 In ]\IemoriaixL 
 
 
 130 ' 
 
 In the midst of Life we are in Death 
 
 
 . 132 
 
 Woman— War . . 
 
 
 134 
 
 Lines to Dorcas 
 
 
 137 
 
 The Cross 
 
 
 . 139 
 
 I awoke, and lo ! it was a Dream 
 
 
 . 140 ; 
 
 General Gordon 
 
 
 146 
 
 The Mind — A Eeminiscence . . 
 
 
 . 148 
 
 Passing Thoughts 
 
 
 151 
 
 Christmas IMorning, 1885 
 
 
 . 153 i 
 
 Christmas Greetings . . 
 
 
 155 
 
 Christian Tell Me 
 
 
 156 
 
 Dead, Yet Speaketh 
 
 
 . 157 
 
 Death 
 
 
 158 
 
 Musings . . 
 
 
 . 163 
 
 Friendship 
 
 
 165 
 
 Majuba Hill 
 
 
 . 167 
 
 Father 
 
 
 169 
 
 Thine for Ever . . 
 
 
 . 183 
 
 The Name of Jesus 
 
 
 184 
 
 Let us Adore Him 
 
 
 . 186 
 
 God the Father 
 
 
 . 187 
 
 God of Battles 
 
 
 . 188 
 
 Keep us and Guide us . . 
 
 
 190 
 
 To an Old Lady 
 
 
 191 
 
 To the Same 
 
 
 . 192 
 
 Tam 
 
 
 193 
 
 A vera Ghaistly Tale . . 
 
 
 . 209 
 
 A Few Fragments 
 
 
 242 
 
 Hail ! Victoria . . 
 
 
 . 247 
 
 \ God Bless the Queen . . 
 
 
 249 
 
 Glossary of Scotch Words 
 
 
 . 257
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 TO THE EEADER. 
 
 I cull'd these simple spraylets as I 
 
 journey 'd on my way; 
 Some I gathered in the gloaming, and 
 
 some at break of day ; 
 Some when the stars were twinkling; in 
 
 the silence of the night, 
 Some when Sol, in noonday glory, shed 
 
 down his radiant light. 
 Some I glean'd in cot and palace, and 
 
 busy haunts of men. 
 Some in the dark, gloomy forest, and some 
 
 in sunny glen ; 
 Some on the stormy ocean, some from the 
 
 ambient air, 
 Some from the earth's foundations, and 
 
 some from flowerets fair. 
 I glanced at the depths of science, and 
 
 scann'd the Word of God,
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 But, alas ! their light shone dimly on the 
 
 path in which I trod ; 
 For want of scholastic knowledge I often 
 
 went astray, 
 And the light that erst was shining, like 
 
 shadows passed away. 
 Learning kindles the latent fire within the 
 
 plastic mind, 
 Evolving aspirations more noble and re- 
 fined; 
 Dispels gross superstition, makes the dark 
 
 with light to shine. 
 Unveils the works of Nature, shows their 
 
 Maker is Divine. 
 
 Upon the sweet wings of poesy I glanced 
 at the unseen, 
 
 Viewed the deep gloom of Hades, and 
 
 Heaven's effulgent sheen ; 
 Gazed at the awful torments of the damn'd, 
 
 in Hell's abode.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 And the never-ending glory of theransom'd 
 
 sons of God. 
 Eoved on the wings of fancy across the 
 
 bright, starry main, 
 And saw, in worlds and atoms, there is 
 
 nothing made in vain. 
 In all God's works around me, in the 
 
 ocean, earth, and air, 
 I saw a Divine Creator, His presence 
 
 everywhere. 
 I wandered in joy and gladness o'er moun- 
 tain, hill, and vale. 
 Searching for the pure and lovely, to adorn 
 
 my simple tale ; 
 And sweet has been the pleasure as I 
 
 cull'd the tiny sprays. 
 Which I lay before my readers in these 
 
 few rustic lays.
 
 Mother, and other Poems. 
 
 MOTHEE. 
 
 [I stood by the bed of a dying youth, who, 
 shortly before his death, stretched out his arms 
 (while a heavenly smile illumed his face) and 
 exclaimed : " He is there ! He is there ! He is all 
 in white." The scene at the time made a deep 
 impression on my mind, and it has since often 
 flitted across my mental vision, assumed many and 
 varied forms, until at last it resolved itself into the 
 following simple and untutored verse. The sceptic 
 may sneer and the worldling laugh, but from my 
 heart I pray that " my last end be like his." — The 
 Author.] 
 
 Mother, I am on the confines 
 
 Of a brighter, better world, 
 Where the glory of the future 
 
 To my eyes will be unfurl' d. 
 
 Where I'll see the King, Jehovah, 
 
 With saints and angels round the 
 throne, 
 
 If the blood that flowed on Calvary 
 For my earthly sins atone.
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 Yes, I'll see the King of Glory, 
 Clothed ill majesty, on high ; 
 
 And the thought is bliss, my mother, 
 Now the end is drawing nigh. 
 
 It is balm, and sweetest incense, 
 And gives comfort to the soul. 
 
 To know God is ever near me 
 As a universal whole. 
 
 I behold the One Eternal, 
 And His mighty hand I trace 
 
 In the atoms floating round me, 
 And the worlds in boundless space. 
 
 All His works accord Him glory, 
 In the ocean, earth, and air ; 
 
 All proclaim the Omnipresent, 
 And His Majesty declare. 
 
 He is present in the dewdrop. 
 And the angry ocean's roar ; 
 
 In the hoary, cloud-capp'd mountains, 
 x\nd the barren desert shore. 
 
 I see Alpha and Omega, 
 
 In the insect and the flower ; 
 
 In the deep-mouth'd rolling thunder, 
 In the sunshine and the shower.
 
 MOT HE B. 
 
 Now He rides upon the whirlwind, 
 Now He whispers in the calm ; 
 
 Now gives rest unto the weary, 
 Now unto the wounded balm. 
 
 But His glory still is hidden, 
 Though 'tis only for a while ; 
 
 Soon I'll cross the darksome river, 
 Bask for ever in His smile. 
 
 Mother, it will soon be over. 
 But of death I have no fear ; 
 
 Jesus, He is ever near me. 
 And His voice I seem to hear. 
 
 Yes, I hear His gentle whisper, 
 As I near dark Lethe's stream ; 
 
 Now its waters are like crystal. 
 Or bright visions in a dream. 
 
 Once I feared the fell destroyer, 
 Trembled at his dread decree ; 
 
 Now I'm longing for the summons, 
 When his hand shall set me free. 
 
 His dark shadow now is o'er me, 
 
 And is very, very near ; 
 But thine arm is circled round me. 
 
 So I've nothing now to fear.
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 You ask, mother, if I'm happy, 
 If my hope is bright and clear, 
 
 And my answer is that Jesus 
 To my soul is very dear. 
 
 And He says unto the weary 
 
 " Come, and I will give you rest," 
 
 So I choose Him for my Anchor, 
 And I know He is the best. 
 
 It is no vain, fond illusion, 
 When I say that God is near. 
 
 That I see His Three-fold presence, 
 By the eye of faith made clear. 
 
 Can the dark-soul'd atheist, mother, 
 Eest on hope as sure as mine. 
 
 He who trusts in arm of mortal, 
 With no hope in the Divine ? 
 
 Mine is built on Kock of Ages, 
 (His on ever-shifting sand,) 
 
 With eternity, my mother. 
 
 As the base on which we stand. 
 
 When arraign 'd before the judgment 
 
 Of the ever-living God, 
 Will he laugh at the Almighty, 
 
 And His sin-avenging rod ?
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 Will he still rail at the Godhead, 
 As he did when on the earth ? 
 
 Sneer at what is pure and holy, 
 And deny the Saviour's birth ? 
 
 No ! he'll ask the hills to hide him 
 From the One All-seeing Eye, 
 
 And eternity will echo 
 
 To the still unanswer'd cr^^ 
 
 But I'll leave the gloomy sceptic, 
 Turning to a brighter scene, 
 
 View the sun descend in glory, 
 Ere I enter the unseen. 
 
 Here I cannot read the future, 
 Nor the curtain draw aside ; 
 
 But I rest my hope in Jesus, 
 He will evermore abide. 
 
 Principalities and powers, 
 
 With their glories, pass away. 
 
 But His love, which passeth knowledge, 
 Will with me for ever stay. 
 
 I am passing through the furnace 
 
 Where the gold is purified. 
 And the Comforter is with me, 
 
 Emmanuel, the Crucified.
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 I am dying, dying, mother, 
 
 I am fading fast away 
 From a land of fleeting shadows 
 
 To a bright, eternal day. 
 
 But I think with joy, my mother, 
 Of the days that have gone by ; 
 
 It is like a gleam of smishine 
 From a dark and cloudy sky. 
 
 Now I'll leave you, darling mother, 
 Here I must no longer stay ; 
 
 Like yon sun I'm gently sinking 
 To the realms of endless day. 
 
 Here I'll watch its fading glory. 
 
 As I lie upon thy breast. 
 For no more I'll see its rising. 
 
 Or its setting in the west. 
 
 It is grand, surpassing lovely, 
 To my eyes, the setting sun ; 
 
 But I'll wake to brighter glory 
 When my race on earth is run. 
 
 When my heart shall cease its throbbing, 
 And is loos'd life's silver cord ; 
 
 When the pearly gates" I enter 
 To the presence of the Lord.
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 Now, around the bright horizon, 
 Banks of fleecy clouds arise, 
 
 And out pours a stream of glory 
 From the azure -tin ted skies. 
 
 Now each cloud is streaked with carmine, 
 Spreading out like angels' wungs ; 
 
 Now a lark is upward soaring, 
 And the air with music rings. 
 
 And my soul is filled with rapture, 
 
 List'ning to its joyful lays, 
 As it soars beyond my vision. 
 
 Pouring forth its song of praise. 
 
 Waves of gold are now advancing 
 O'er the glowdng hemisphere. 
 
 And the birds are trilling sweetest 
 Melody, my heart to cheer. 
 
 And unrolls a panorama 
 
 Vv^ith an ever-changing scene, 
 
 Yawning gorges, deep'ning shadows. 
 Now a bright effulgent sheen. 
 
 Now a plain of shimmering beauty, 
 
 Lovely as the virgin snow ; 
 Now^ uprear grand Alpine mountains, 
 
 With their summits all aglow.
 
 Light and shade now sport alternate 
 On beethng chff and rugged cone ; 
 
 Golden tmts are now ascendant, 
 Now they're wiiite as arctic zone. 
 
 See ! yon mountain mass is moving, 
 Like an avalanche of snow. 
 
 Burying in its grand progression 
 All the lesser hills below. 
 
 And with slow, majestic motion. 
 Cloudy pillars pierce the sky, 
 
 While below, in hoary ruins, 
 Palaces and temples lie. 
 
 All are piled in w^ild confusion, 
 As if by magician's wand ; 
 
 Now weird battlements and tow^ers, 
 Like a scene in fairyland. 
 
 Now huge, tow'ring, silvery masses. 
 Grander than the Appennines ; 
 
 Now each rugged peak is golden. 
 As with rainbow-tints it shines. 
 
 Now emerge sublime creations. 
 Like the fragments of a world. 
 
 Showing the Divine Creator, 
 As their glory is unfurled.
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 Mountains now are piled on mountains, 
 Hills and valleys roll between, 
 
 Eobed in snowy, feathery rna^ntles, 
 Like jpure silver's frosted sheen. 
 
 Bright, transcendent is their beauty, 
 
 Glorious each tint and hue, 
 Like Aurora Borealis, 
 
 Ever changing, ever new. 
 
 Beautiful, surpassing lovely. 
 Surely God Himself is there, 
 
 Prefig'ring our future glory 
 By those emblems in the air. 
 
 Grand and noble are their outlines. 
 
 Like eternal hills of snow, 
 Or volcanic, craggy mountains, 
 
 Where the fiery currents flow. 
 
 And, beneath, the shimmering beauty 
 Sparkles still upon the plain, 
 
 Downwards pour the golden streamers, 
 While the lark sings its refrain. 
 
 Still the glory is advancing 
 Like a burnished, golden sea ; 
 
 And my prison'd soul is longing, 
 Longing, mother, to be free.
 
 10 MOTHER. 
 
 Now a bright, pure, chasten'd glory 
 Fills the room and vaulted sky ; 
 
 Sweetest peace is o'er me stealing, 
 Surely God is very nigh ? 
 
 Paradise now seems to open. 
 To unveil the heav'nly plain, 
 
 Where we'll meet again, my mother, 
 Free from sorrow, sin, and pain. 
 
 0, it is beyond conception. 
 Grander than a poet's dream ; 
 
 And I fail— poor finite mortal — 
 To do justice to the theme. 
 
 But a veil of darkened shadows 
 Is descending o'er the scene, 
 
 And I've looked the last, my mother, 
 On yon bright, effulgent sheen. 
 
 For the glory is departing, 
 x\nd succeeds a leaden hue ; 
 
 See ! the golden tints are fading, 
 
 Now they've vanished from my view. 
 
 Bright Aurora, too, has left us, 
 And the room is fiU'd with gloom, 
 
 A true symbol of the darkness 
 Which awaits us in the tomb.
 
 Our bodies will with dust commingle, 
 
 In the grave a season lie ; 
 But the soul, the fount of reason, 
 
 To a God of Love will fly. 
 
 And again they'll be united 
 
 At the final day of doom. 
 When the harvest will be gather'd 
 
 From the silence of the tomb. 
 
 When the last dread trumpet soundeth, 
 
 And the dust of ages rise, 
 We shall meet the Lord's anointed 
 
 In His glory in the skies. 
 
 All creation then wall vanish 
 
 In a universal flame ; 
 Mother, let us kneel to Jesus, 
 
 Laud and glorify His Name. 
 
 Mother mine, my gentle mother, 
 Clasp me to thy loving heart. 
 
 Let me nestle in thy bosom 
 Till I'm summoned to depart. 
 
 I am weary, weary, waiting, 
 
 And I long to go to rest : 
 In thine arms I now will slumber, 
 
 With my head upon thy breast.
 
 12 MOTHER. 
 
 For the end is near, my mother, 
 Short and labom-'d is my breath ; 
 
 Jesus soon will guide me safely 
 
 Through the gloomy gates of death. 
 
 He has promised to be with me 
 When my soul is sore opprest. 
 
 And to lead me to the Father, 
 There to find eternal rest. 
 
 Do not grieve for me, my mother, 
 Death will open wide the door 
 
 Which w^ill usher me to Heaven, 
 And its joys for evermore. 
 
 Where no sin or sorrow enters. 
 Where we meet to part no more ; 
 
 Where we'll greet the dear ones, mother, 
 Who have gone from us before. 
 
 Where no sun or moon is shining, 
 Where the stars have pass'd away ; 
 
 Where the glory of the Triune 
 Eadiates eternal day. 
 
 And we'll kneel in adoration 
 At the footstool of the Lamb, 
 
 And, with angels, join in praising 
 The Ineffable I Am.
 
 MOTHER. 13 
 
 Hark ! my mother, holy angels 
 To my bed are drawing near ; 
 
 They are singing, 0, how sw^eetly, 
 Hymns of praise my soul to cheer. 
 
 They are robed in spotless raiment, 
 Whiter than the driven snow : 
 
 And the room is fill'd with glory, 
 Lovely as the sunset's glow^ 
 
 my mother, for an instant 
 Heaven's veil was drawn aside, 
 
 And I had a glimpse of glory 
 Grander than I can describe. 
 
 Glorious and bright the vision 
 Which unroll 'd before mine eyes, 
 
 And I gazed with awe and rapture 
 On the mansions of the skies. 
 
 All w^as glory, pure, effulgent, 
 Eound the High and Holy One ; 
 
 And Co-equal, Co-eternal, 
 Sat His well-beloved Son. 
 
 And I thought He smiled upon me 
 From His rainbow-circled throne, 
 
 That He hid me in His bosom. 
 While His face with glory shone.
 
 14 MOTHER. 
 
 my mother, it was lovely, 
 
 Far beyond this world's compare ; 
 
 And I'm waiting, longing, waiting, 
 For the summons to go there. 
 
 Mother dearest, darling mother, 
 You have been my sw^eetest joy ; 
 
 But a purer is before me. 
 
 Free from sin and earth's alloy. 
 
 Mother dear, you'll soon come to me, 
 For the journey is not long ; 
 
 I'll be waiting to receive you, 
 With a bright, angelic throng. 
 
 And I'll lead you to the Saviour, 
 The Incarnate Three in One ; 
 
 Then your sorrows will be ended, 
 And the victory be won. 
 
 Mother, my own gentle mother. 
 
 All is glory now around ; 
 Loud triumphant hallelujahs 
 
 From my angel-guards resound. 
 
 •' Hallelujah ! hallelujah ! ! " 
 Still the herald angels cry, 
 
 As the sands of life are ebbing. 
 
 And the hand of death draws nigh.
 
 MOTHER. 15 
 
 They are radiant with glory, 
 
 x\nd their wings are spreading wide ; 
 A few^ moments — fleeting moments — 
 
 Will my role on earth decide. 
 
 And they'll bear me, dearest mother, 
 
 Ere another sun shall rise. 
 To a haven, calm and peaceful, 
 
 In the courts of Paradise. 
 
 " Victory ! " and " Hallelujah ! " 
 From the vault of Heaven rings ; 
 
 And I hear a gentle rushing. 
 
 Like the sound of angels' wings. 
 
 I behold a seraph, mother. 
 
 With the fiat from above, 
 Where the portal now is open, 
 
 Open'd by Eedeeming Love. 
 
 Hark ! a grand angelic paean 
 Wakes the blue ethereal sky, 
 
 Heralding the King — the Shiloh, 
 Who Himself is drawing nigh. 
 
 See the Lamb of God approaching. 
 
 Glorified He now appears ; 
 Mark the signs of our redemption 
 
 In the w^ound-prints which He bears.
 
 16 MOTHER. 
 
 Once, the sins of earth opprest Him, 
 He knew not where to lay His head ; 
 
 Once, He lay within the manger. 
 Where the lowing cattle fed. 
 
 Now, ten thousand thousand angels 
 Hail Him Lord, Messiah, King, 
 
 Saints and martyrs all adore Him, 
 And His praises ever sing. 
 
 I adore Him too, my mother. 
 As the High and Holy One ; 
 
 All my hopes are centred in Him, 
 I can say " Thy will be done." 
 
 For He bled for my redemption. 
 Meekly bow'd His sacred head, 
 
 In deep anguish cried ** 'Tis finish'd ! " 
 And was number'd with the dead. 
 
 "It is finished ! " — my salvation 
 
 On the Cross was verified ; 
 " It is finished ! " — He has risen ! 
 
 God and Man, the Crucified. 
 
 It is finished : " He has risen ! " 
 All creation doth proclaim ; 
 
 He has risen, and is coming 
 
 Soon my ransom 'd soul to claim.
 
 MOTHER. 17 
 
 He is coming ! — now I see Him, 
 And He greets me with a smile ; 
 
 Earth is fading, hfe is fleeting, 
 I must leave you for awhile. 
 
 Clasp me closer to thee, mother, 
 Let me hear thy voice again 
 
 Ere I launch on death's dark river, 
 Leading to the Heavenly main. 
 
 Glory, glory, all is glory. 
 Now the Son of God is nigh, 
 
 And the angels are triumphant. 
 Spreading out their wings on high. 
 
 And my soul is fill'd with longing 
 To leave its tenement of clay, 
 
 On their wings to fly exultant 
 To the realms of endless day. 
 
 Mother, haste, the window open. 
 For the pearly gates I see, 
 
 And within are angels waiting, 
 Waiting soon to welcome me. 
 
 And the King of Glory, mother. 
 He who died upon the Tree, 
 
 He who bled for our redemption, 
 Mother, He now waits for me.
 
 18 FAIR, LOVELY MAIDEN. 
 
 Kiss me yet again, my mother, 
 Just once more before we part ; 
 
 And, with joy, I'll hail the summons, 
 Nestling near thy loving heart. 
 
 Now I'm happy, O so happy. 
 
 With your w^arm cheek close to mine 
 Farewell, mother : welcome, Jesus, 
 
 Thou art mine, and I am Thine. 
 
 FAIK, LOVELY MAIDEN. 
 
 Faik, lovely maiden, can you tell 
 If love on earth doth always dwell ; 
 Or, is it true, sweet gentle love 
 Is only found in realms above ? 
 
 The maiden, blushing, answer'd " Yea, 
 " Sweet love on earth doth always stay ; 
 " Ev'n now I feel its pleasing dart 
 " Quivering in my virgin heart." 
 
 I to the maiden closer drew 
 To gain of love a clearer view ; 
 When, true as sunshine tints the flow'r, 
 I then felt love's mystic power.
 
 LOVE DIVINE. 19 
 
 From out her flashing eyes there flew 
 
 A dart, which pierced me through and 
 
 through, 
 And, at her feet, I own'd sweet love 
 Dwelt nearer than the realms above. 
 
 LOVE DIVINE. 
 
 My theme shall be of love. 
 
 Sweet love divine ; 
 Of everlasting love, 
 
 Which may be thine. 
 
 Of love that never dies, 
 
 Love always new ; 
 Seeking our souls to win, 
 
 Our hearts renew. 
 
 Of One upon the Cross, 
 
 Of Him I sing, 
 Who died that we might live,- 
 
 The Christ, the King. 
 
 Who left His Father's throne, 
 
 His home above, 
 To dwell upon the earth ; 
 
 Unfathom'd love !
 
 20 SHADOWS. 
 
 Pierced, nail'd upon the Cross, 
 
 His hands and feet, 
 And from His side outflow'd 
 
 An offering meet. 
 
 To wash away onr sins, — 
 
 Each guilty stain, — 
 The Christ, Immanuel, 
 
 For us w^as slain. 
 
 Such deep, unfathom'd love, 
 
 Beyond our ken. 
 Was the great sacrifice 
 
 Of Christ for men. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 Shadows here and shadows there, 
 Shadows flitting everywhere ; 
 Shadows meet us at our birth, 
 Shadows close our eyes in death. 
 
 Shadows of the shadowy past 
 On our future shadows cast ; 
 Shadows at the festive board 
 Of the peasant and the lord.
 
 THE LOVER'S LAMENT. 21 
 
 Shadows cloud each happy hour, 
 On the brightest, shadows lower ; 
 Shadows at the busy mart, 
 Shadows round each throbbing heart. 
 
 I have seen the young and gay 
 Like a shadow pass away, 
 And the strong man, racked with pain, 
 Say that death would be his gain. 
 
 Shadows blight the maiden's bloom, 
 Shadowing the silent tomb ; 
 And the noble, manly breast, 
 The dark shadows lay to rest. 
 
 Shadows overshade our lot, 
 In the palace and the cot ; 
 But — no shadows, when we rest 
 On a loving Saviour's breast. 
 
 THE LOVEE'S LAMENT. 
 
 My een are dim wi' greetin'. 
 My heart is sad and wae ; 
 
 For they hae stown my dearie, 
 And ta'en her far away.
 
 22 THE LOVER'S LAMENT. 
 
 We twa our troth had pKghted 
 Aneath a hawthorn tree; 
 
 Twa souls were then united 
 In true fehcity. 
 
 We gazed adoon Time's vista, 
 And a' seem'd fu' o' joy, 
 
 Na cloud in the horizon 
 Our future to alloy. 
 
 She was my ain sweet birdie, 
 
 Sae sonsie and sae fair, 
 Wi' eyes bright as the dew-drops. 
 
 And bonnie gowden hair. 
 
 As to my heart I clasp'd her, 
 Sweet vows we did renew, 
 
 And swoor, by Him aboon us, 
 To be for ever true. 
 
 But they hae gi'en my dearie. 
 My lassie sweet and fair, 
 
 To an old toothless carlin, 
 Wha had got lots o' gear. 
 
 And eyes, that beam'd as brightly 
 As sunshine in the sky, 
 
 Wi' tears now aft are clouded. 
 And waesome is her sigh.
 
 THE DYING SOLDIER. 23 
 
 Cursed be the gowd that bought her, 
 Cursed be the carhn's art, 
 
 Which stole my ain sweet birdie, 
 And brak' her lover's heart. 
 
 THE DYING SOLDIER. 
 
 Brave comrades, farewell, my fighting is 
 over. 
 No more will I march to the beat of the 
 drum, 
 Charge through the breach at the point of 
 the bayonet. 
 For my last day on earth already has 
 come. 
 
 No more will we scale the ramparts to- 
 gether, 
 Nor shoulder to shoulder rush on to the 
 foe ; 
 Sharp pinging bullets have each found a 
 billet, 
 And England's brave heroes in thousands 
 lay low. 
 
 In gallant array our guards are advancing, 
 With cheers they are charging the foe 
 on the plain ;
 
 24 STRONG DRINK. 
 
 Eound me are lying the dead and the 
 dying, 
 Who'll ne'er see the home of their 
 fathers again. 
 
 The bugle's shrill notes in vain will be 
 sounded, 
 No answer I'll give at the morning roll- 
 call : 
 My warfare is over, death is approach- 
 ing, 
 I die for my Queen, for my country I 
 fall. 
 
 O joy ! I'll obey the voice of my Captain, 
 When the Archangel sounds the final 
 roll-call, 
 I'll march to the front, 'mid lightning and 
 thunder. 
 And receive the reward which is open to 
 all. 
 
 STRONG DRINK. 
 
 Strong drink it is the nation's curse, 
 And pairts baith frien' and brither ; 
 
 It tak's the guid frae oot the heart, 
 And a' gangs wrang thegether.
 
 STRONG DRINK. 25 
 
 'Tis the foul leprosy o' sin, 
 
 And drags man doon the lowest, 
 
 Snapping asunder nature's ties. 
 Which God on a' bestowest. 
 
 It mak's the mither hate her child, 
 The child to hate its mither ; 
 
 Destroys the purest social joys 
 We hae wi' ane anither. 
 
 The maist o' us hae ken'd some frien', 
 Wi' honour pure, unspotted. 
 
 Become the vilest o' the vile, 
 By alcohol besotted. 
 
 The higher attributes o' man 
 It seems to blight and canker. 
 
 Leaving the grosser pairts behind, 
 Debasing sins to pamper. 
 
 There's scarce a spark o' manhood left 
 
 In a confirmed drunkard ; 
 He worships at the shrine o' self. 
 
 His god is in the tankard. 
 
 He'll rob his wife o' house and hame. 
 His w^eans o' food and clothing ; 
 
 And spend the proceeds o' his shame 
 To mak' himsel' mair loathing.
 
 26 STRONG DRINK. 
 
 It crowds our jails wi' a' that's vile, 
 Fills monie a pauper's grave ; 
 
 Sends thousands to a living tomb, 
 Like demoniacs to rave. 
 
 It makes the bloomin' cheek to pale, 
 The youthfu' voice to quaver, 
 
 The auld a gommeral become, 
 And fullishness to claver. 
 
 Eeason is driven frae her throne 
 
 By the fiend alcoholic ; 
 A room is swept : by open door 
 
 Enters the diabolic. 
 
 Af a' the asses o' the earth, 
 
 Man seems the greatest donkey ; 
 
 He is the only one who drinks 
 What makes him fu' and cranky. 
 
 The deil he baits his heUish traps 
 
 Wi' the accursM liquor. 
 Which mak's sweet gentle peace to flee. 
 
 The dearest frien's to bicker. 
 
 If Hell's dread lair we could unfauld, 
 Twa pairts we'd find were drunkards, 
 
 The chiels wha quaffed the alcohol 
 Frae glass and breaming tankards.
 
 STRONG DRINK. 27 
 
 The drunkard he is scarce a man, 
 But worse than beasts that perish ; 
 
 He loses a' his highest thoughts, 
 
 The thoughts that guid men cherish. 
 
 And, worst o' a', the Beuk doth say — 
 
 Na drunkard shall inherit, 
 Or hae a place in the abode 
 
 Where dwells God's Holy Spirit. 
 
 The highest intellects o' airth, 
 
 Hae felt its fascination, 
 Succumb'd to the bewitching wiles, 
 
 Which brings sic' desolation. 
 
 The rich, the poor, the high and low. 
 May a' weel curse the poison. 
 
 Which blighted a' their highest hopes, 
 Obscured their bright horizon. 
 
 Even the preachers o' the Word 
 By it hae sometimes fallen, 
 
 Descended frae their high estate 
 To wretchedness appallin'. 
 
 Man loses by the demon drink 
 
 The brain-resisting povv'er, 
 Descending in the social scale 
 
 Till he can fa' nae lower.
 
 When he nae langer can resist, 
 Then follows swift destruction, 
 
 The earthly end o' which is shame, 
 Beyond the resurrection. 
 
 When a' the myriads shall wauk 
 To meet the Judge Supernal, 
 
 And hear Him say to some " Arise, 
 Enter thou life eternal." 
 
 The drunkard — weel, we canna' tell, 
 But if we gang by Scripture, 
 
 We ken he winna wear a crown. 
 Nor grasp a royal sceptre. 
 
 The safest course, for ane and a'. 
 
 Is to avoid temptation. 
 And touch na mair the poison'd cup 
 
 Which ends in dread damnation. 
 
 But maist o' us are fu' o' pride, 
 And think that we are able 
 
 To stap when we hae had eneugh, 
 Tho' ithers are unstable. 
 
 But Ane wha ken'd has tauld us, pride 
 
 Is herald o' destruction ; 
 'Tis written in the Beuk o' Life 
 
 For ilka ane's instruction.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 29 
 
 The only pathway free frae guile, 
 And ane to keep us siccar, 
 
 Is frae Dame Nature's fount to draw 
 The aqua-pura liquor. 
 
 But if we still persist to tak' 
 
 The alcoholic gases, 
 Wi' truth our epitaphs may be 
 
 " Here lies a lot o' asses." 
 
 A FATEY TALE. 
 
 The Invitation to a Young Maiden to 
 Visit the Home of the Faiey Queen 
 IN Windsor Forest. 
 
 My dear, dear little Annie, I pray you to 
 
 me come, 
 You're sweet as sugar candy, or a ripe 
 
 juicy plum ; 
 You are like a little lambkin, and gentle 
 
 as the dove, 
 And sweeter than the sweetest, so you 
 
 shall be my love. 
 Bright and lovely as a fairy I see oft in 
 
 mv dreams.
 
 30 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Which flits about and dances beneath the 
 
 moon's pale beams. 
 You are sweet as apple blossom, and 
 
 fragrant as the rose, 
 And sweeter than each flow'ret that in my 
 
 garden grows ; 
 You are all that I can wish for— so loving, 
 
 kind, and true, 
 The essence of all sweetness — my love I'll 
 
 never rue. 
 You are just, my dearest Annie, your own 
 
 sweet little self, 
 A honeycomb of sweetness, a charming 
 
 little elf. 
 The morn is bright and lovely, so come at 
 
 once I pray, 
 I've got such heaps of nice things to take 
 
 with us to-day. 
 Haste to me, my dear one, do not loiter on 
 
 the way, 
 And you shall be my sweetheart all this 
 
 bright summer day. 
 We'll saunter through the woodlands, and 
 
 wander far away, 
 To listen to the birdies, and roll amongst 
 
 the hay : 
 And I will gently lead you to the bright 
 
 greenwood dell,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 31 
 
 Where wood-nymphs and the fairies in 
 
 palaces do dwell ; 
 And I'll tell to you a story about the Fairy 
 
 Queen, 
 How with a wand of magic she weaves a 
 
 fairy scene, 
 Where jew^els of purest lustre hang from 
 
 each tiny spray, 
 Shimm'ring like crystal dewdrops when 
 
 kiss'd by sunny ray. 
 The Fairy Queen is beautiful as the first 
 
 breath of morn, 
 And lovely as the snowflakes ere of their 
 
 beauty shorn ; 
 
 it is a lovely sight the sweet Fairy 
 
 Queen to see, 
 Nestling in a buttercup, or flitting o'er the 
 lea ; 
 
 1 oft see her in my dreams, so lovely, 
 
 sweet, and fair, 
 There is nothing like her here, in the ocean, 
 
 earth, or air. 
 We must go to realms above such loveliness 
 
 to see. 
 Where we mortals hope to dwell in pure 
 
 felicity ; 
 But at present I'll not sing of that bright, 
 
 heavenly scene,
 
 32 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 But of the wonders wrought by the lovely 
 
 elfin Queen : 
 How all the fairy powers, each elfin, sprite 
 
 and fay. 
 To Eunnymede make haste, the royal 
 
 mandate to obey. 
 (But only can young maiden behold their 
 
 revelry ; 
 If she is pure as angels, she will as angels 
 
 see.) 
 The Queen waves her wand, and glory — 
 
 bright effulgent) sheen, 
 A halo more than earthly, on knoll and 
 
 hillock's seen ; 
 And sweet, harmonious music is wafted to 
 
 the ear. 
 As if a choir of angels were very, very 
 
 near. 
 The fairies they come tripping from glen 
 
 and leafy bower, 
 From buttercup and bluebell, and each 
 
 lovely flower ; 
 With merry peals of laughter they form a 
 
 fairies' ring, 
 And the Queen commands the elfins a 
 
 fairy song to sing. . 
 They sing of love and beauty, and the 
 
 graces of their Queen,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 33 
 
 How none so tall and lovely in Fairyland 
 
 is seen ; 
 And, when the song is ended, the heralds 
 
 then advance 
 To proclaim a tournay, for sweet love to 
 
 break a lance : 
 The guerdon — a fair maiden of Britain's 
 
 royal line, 
 With beauty so transcendent, no language 
 
 can define ; 
 Her dower — golden palace 'mong flowers 
 
 that never die. 
 Don thine armour, warriors, the battle 
 
 now is nigh ! 
 
 The Fairy Queen's Proclamation. 
 
 '' Assemble all the powers, it is our royal 
 
 decree, 
 "In a green, leafy bower, muster our 
 
 chivalry ; 
 " Ere the silvery moon shall rise, our 
 
 legions must attend, 
 " In dark panoply of war, their honour to 
 
 defend, 
 '' Array 'd in their national dress, arm'd 
 
 with sword, lance, and shield, 
 " Beneath our royal eves to tilt in tented 
 
 field.
 
 34 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 " The beauteous Princess Eoyal, for whom 
 
 each hero sighs, 
 " Will view the tournament, and be the 
 
 victor's prize. 
 "From each nation warriors ten will join 
 
 in the tournay, 
 "And for the maid contend until the 
 
 break of day. 
 " When a warrior bites the dust, to the 
 
 victor he will yield, 
 " And will march, wdth arms reversed, from 
 
 the ensanguin'd field ; 
 " No recreant knight need come, the royal 
 
 boon to crave, 
 " But with hearts as true as steel, the 
 
 bravest of the brave. 
 " From Windsor Eoyal Towers the trum- 
 pets will resound, 
 "For the cohorts to advance within the 
 
 mystic ground ; 
 " Seven times the mighty host will circle 
 
 the castle walls, 
 " To pay homage to the Queen w'ho reigns 
 
 within its halls. 
 " From the castellated keep a herald will 
 
 proclaim 
 " The warriors who that night wdll fight 
 
 for love and fame ;
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 35 
 
 " In St. George's royal hall, bedecked in 
 bright, golden sheen, 
 
 " They will, on bended knee, swear alle- 
 giance to their Queen. 
 
 "On the symbols of chivalry of ages pass'd 
 away, 
 
 " They will gaze with bated breath when 
 they think on the tournay 
 
 " In which they will engage, when the 
 silvery moon shall rise, 
 
 " When the bravest and the best will con- 
 tend for beauty's prize. 
 
 " Seated on a sapphire throne, raised by 
 the royal command, 
 
 " Will sit the Fairy Queen, while warriors 
 round her stand. 
 
 " A banquet will be spread, given by Great 
 Britain's Queen, 
 
 " And lordly guests be there, but no fairies 
 will be seen ; 
 
 " They will form in phalanx deep, in glori- 
 ous array, 
 
 " While an ancient bard recites a grand, 
 heroic lay : 
 
 " Sing of the noble deeds of the knights of 
 chivalry, 
 
 "When they rescued lovely maids from 
 the wiles of witchery;
 
 36 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 " Defied great Merlin's power, and his 
 
 necromantic art, 
 " Storm'd his enchanted towers, and won 
 
 fair maiden's heart. 
 " When the clarion's warlike notes resound 
 
 o'er dewy meads, 
 "The warriors, with a bound, will vault 
 
 on their prancing steeds, 
 "And march 'tween stately trees planted 
 
 by the good Queen Anne, 
 " With the Britons, as of yore, still leading 
 
 in the van. 
 "And will pass o'er hill and dale where 
 
 grows the sweet blue-bell, 
 " Till they reach a darksome wood within 
 
 the fairy dell ; 
 "As they cross the listed field, where all 
 
 is golden sheen, 
 " They will make the welkin ring, in 
 
 honour of their Queen : 
 " By nations will advance, with banners 
 
 all unfurl 'd, 
 "That the Queen of queens may seethe 
 
 pennons of the world. 
 " Principalities and powers, of high and 
 
 low degree, 
 " Will make obeisance low, and humbly 
 
 bow the knee :
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 37 
 
 " All the fairy powers of earth, of every 
 
 cHme and zone, 
 " Will swear allegiance true to England's 
 
 Queen alone ; 
 "Then take their appointed stand, by 
 
 marshals pre-ordain'd, 
 " That in the* presence royal due order be 
 
 maintain'd. 
 " Obey these royal behests — the orders of 
 
 thy Queen, 
 ** And dwell in bowers of bliss, and ever- 
 lasting sheen : 
 "Our decrees are those of love, beyond 
 
 frail mortals ken, 
 " A welcome to all we give within the 
 
 fairy glen. 
 " Dare to disobey our will, and meet with 
 
 vengeance dire, 
 " With dread punishment condign, beneath 
 
 our Queenly ire ; 
 ** Driven from the elfin halls, with mortal 
 
 wights to dwell, 
 " To wander for evermore outside the fairy 
 
 dell: 
 "Ne'er again to see the dance, or hear 
 
 the elfins sing, 
 "Nor behold their joys and loves within 
 
 the fairy ring.
 
 38 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 " Assemble all the powers, it is our royal 
 
 decree, 
 " In a green, leafy bower, muster my 
 
 chivalry ! " 
 
 The Summons. 
 
 The Queen's messengers rush forth, with 
 
 lightning speed they go, 
 To the sunny south some hie, some to 
 
 eternal snow ; 
 On green Erin's sea-girt isle, and Scotia's 
 
 mountains blue. 
 The shrill, startling cry was heard, "Pre- 
 pare, each warrior true, 
 " To march, by Windsor towers, to a green, 
 
 mossy dell ; 
 " Between there and Eunnymede the 
 
 Fairy Queen doth dwell ! " 
 From 'mid Afric's sunny plains her sable 
 
 warriors came. 
 With bright assagay and lance, to fight for 
 
 love and fame ; 
 From the frozen Arctic pole, where the 
 
 foot of man ne'er trod. 
 From Patmos and Cyprus isles, and from 
 
 the land of Nod. 
 From the Ganges sacred stream, where 
 
 Hindoo and Parsee dwell ;
 
 From the confines of the earth, from 
 
 mountain, flood and fell : 
 From the sluggish flowing Nile, home of 
 
 ancient story, 
 From its mysterious som'ce, and from 
 
 mountains hoary ; 
 From Greenland's glist'ning hills, weird 
 
 home of mist and snow, 
 Her fur-clad warriors came, for love to 
 
 strike a blow\ 
 On Eussia's barren steppes, the wild Cos- 
 sacks of the Don 
 Call'd for their noble steeds, and their 
 
 armour buckled on. 
 The Parthian and the Moor, the German 
 
 and the Dane, 
 Call on their patron saints for sweet 
 
 victory to gain ; 
 Mongolian and Turk came from their 
 
 bright, flowery land, 
 To beard the hated Frank on his dark, 
 
 cloudy strand ; 
 And they swore, with bated breath, on 
 
 creese and scimitar, 
 To win the royal maid, or to perish in the 
 
 war. 
 On Australasia's shore, where the sons of 
 
 Britain dwell,
 
 40 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 They heard the glorious news, to meet in 
 
 mossy dell ; 
 The magic words resound, " Eemember 
 
 Eunnymede ! 
 " Ere the silvery moon shall rise, be there 
 
 with lightning speed ! " 
 Ere the echoes die away they are ready 
 
 for the war, 
 And, like vultures in the air, scent the 
 
 battle from afar. 
 On Ben Nevis' rugged sides, and frowning 
 
 Lochnagar, 
 They heard the glorious news, to join the 
 
 mimic war ; 
 They threw on their Highland plaids, their 
 
 claymores buckled on. 
 And with loyal hearts and true they cross'd 
 
 the Eubicon. 
 Ere they left their native wilds, each 
 
 from his sporan drew 
 A wee, tiny, golden flask, full of pure 
 
 mountain dew ; 
 Each warrior fill'd his glass, and quaftM 
 
 the fiery brew. 
 And aye the more they drank more valiant 
 
 they grew. 
 When they reach'd Eoyal Windsor towers 
 
 they took a " drappie mair,"
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 41 
 
 And, with flashing eyes, they swore to win 
 
 the maiden fair. 
 The Circassian and the Greek, Armenian 
 
 and Jew, 
 Like a bright flash of hght, o'er the deep 
 
 blue ocean flew ; 
 From the rising of the sun to where he 
 
 seeks repose. 
 The elfin warriors came, to fight for 
 
 England's Eose. 
 From eloud-capp'd, frowning mountains, 
 
 and from bright, sunny hills. 
 From deep, wild, rushing torrents, and 
 
 gentle flowing rills ; 
 From caverns of the ocean, where lovely 
 
 mermaids dwell 
 In palaces of crystal, brighter than tongue 
 
 can tell. 
 They leave their fairy castles beneath the 
 
 surging waves. 
 Where jewels, bright with glory, illume 
 
 the grotto caves ; 
 Bright amethysts and rubies hang from 
 
 the crystal towers, 
 And lamps of glowing diamonds gleam in 
 
 fairy bowers : 
 In deep primeval forests beneath the 
 
 surging sea,
 
 42 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Where mermaids and the fairies hold 
 
 courts of chivahy, 
 Pearls of purest lustre hang from the 
 
 pendant boughs, 
 Shimm'ring with light resplendent, on 
 
 lovers making vows. 
 For fairies are Kke mortals, and, like 
 
 young lovers, sigh, 
 And try to pop the question when no one 
 
 else is nigh ; 
 They lead the blushing fair one to some 
 
 sequester'd dell. 
 And hear what makes them happy, and no 
 
 one near to tell : 
 O'er hills and dales they gambol, or dance 
 
 on snowy foam. 
 Then dive beneath the ocean to their 
 
 bright, jewell'd home. 
 But from these scenes of splendour they 
 
 haste with lightning speed, 
 At the first magic sentence, ''Eemember 
 
 Eunnymede ! " 
 Stop not to ask the wdierefore, their joy is 
 
 to obey, 
 At the first call of duty to join in the 
 
 tournay.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 43 
 
 The Touknament. 
 
 Earl-marshals of renown mete out the 
 
 ground with care, 
 And enclose, in ample bounds, a space of 
 
 nine feet square ; 
 The silvery stakes they drive into the 
 
 dewy ground. 
 And seven times, with golden chains, the 
 
 listed field surround. 
 Tents and pavilions rise, bedecked in 
 
 colours gay. 
 From which the lovely elves may behold 
 
 the grand tournay : 
 They have come from every clime, from 
 
 islands of the sea, 
 To view the doughty deeds of the knights 
 
 of chivalry. 
 Flowers bloom, by royal command, of 
 
 every tint and hue. 
 From Sharon's beauteous rose to the sweet 
 
 violet blue. 
 The royal tent is rear'd 'neath sweet lilies 
 
 of the vale. 
 O'er which they bend their heads, and 
 
 with fragrance load the gale ; 
 Strains of martial music are wafted on the 
 
 breeze,
 
 44 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 And tread of armed warriors, araong the 
 
 forest trees. 
 They advance by tribes and nations, in 
 
 war's dark, dread array, 
 And vow to win the maiden before the 
 
 break of day. 
 Great potentates and princes — of high and 
 
 low degree, 
 Sahite the Queen of Beauty, and lowly 
 
 bend the knee ; 
 Each warrior is elate, and trusts his single 
 
 arm 
 Will win the royal maid, each foeman 
 
 soon disarm. 
 Some trust in battle-axe with which to 
 
 win renown, 
 Some poise the quiv'ring lance — the airy 
 
 thistle-down ; 
 Some with the pond'rous spear rush on- 
 ward to the fray. 
 Some trust in sword and shield, some 
 
 launch the assagay. 
 When the clarion sounds the charge, closed 
 
 is each burnished helm. 
 Ere the knights do onward rush, all foemen 
 
 to o'erwhelm. 
 O, it is a glorious sight, those warriors to 
 
 see,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 45 
 
 Some mounted on a butterfly, and some 
 
 on humble-bee ; 
 How they feint, they charge, they turn, 
 
 adopt each strategy, 
 While their hearts with ardour burn to 
 
 gain the victory. 
 Bright casques and plumes are shorn, and 
 
 strew the dewy ground, 
 And shouts of loud defiance from fairy 
 
 throats resound ; 
 Eout and confusion reigns within the listed 
 
 field, 
 Some boldly dare the fight, some, like base 
 
 cravens, yield. 
 Brave w^arriors still advance, and marshal 
 
 on the plain, 
 While attendant squires remove the woun- 
 ded and the slain. 
 " St. George and Merrie England," in ac- 
 clamations rang, 
 When a tall Saxon warrior on his charger 
 
 sprang ; 
 He was more tall and princely than all his 
 
 bold compeers. 
 And the nation hail'd his advent with 
 
 three loud British cheers. 
 Nine noble Saxon princes attend St. 
 
 George's knight,
 
 46 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 To succour him, if wounded, and 'neath 
 
 iiis banner fight ; 
 With a look of lofty daring he knelt before 
 
 the Queen, 
 And swore to win the maiden, and home 
 
 of golden sheen. 
 Then, with his noble Saxons, rush'd on- 
 ward to the fray, 
 To fight for love and beauty, and the 
 
 honours of the day : 
 Encased in burnish 'd armour, he rode a 
 
 coal-black steed, 
 On a huge antler'd beetle charged home 
 
 with lightning speed ; 
 Down went Cretes and Persians before 
 
 his quiv'ring lance, 
 The bearded Turks and Eussians, and 
 
 gallant sons of France. 
 Flash'd his mighty falchion beneath the 
 
 moon's pale light, 
 Prone lay Scotland's chieftains, though 
 
 heroes in the fight ; 
 They fought like ancient Spartans, their 
 
 hearts were true and brave, 
 But to St. George's hero they render up 
 
 their glave. 
 The giant sons of Anak — a race well 
 
 known to fame,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 47 
 
 Advanced with shouts exuUant, the lovely 
 
 prize to claim ; 
 Mounted on fiery locusts, they charged on 
 
 to the fray, 
 Swearing by the gods of Ashdod, whole 
 
 hecatombs to slay. 
 But, like Gath's blatant boaster, who 
 
 scared the kingly Saul, 
 They meet the Saxon hero, and by his 
 
 prowess fall ; 
 Not by a stone from brooklet projected 
 
 from a sling. 
 But by his flashing falchion, which on their 
 
 hauberks ring : 
 Like the smooth tiny pebble, his sword 
 
 found entrance too, 
 And lo ! their mighty heroes the dewy 
 
 meads bestrew^ 
 Their brazen cries of vengeance are turn'd 
 
 to doleful moan, 
 ^Yhen they see their chosen fallen, and on 
 
 their faces prone. 
 The assembled host of Saxons made the 
 
 welkin ring, 
 Bards recite the hero's praises, troubadours 
 
 they sing. 
 The dusky sons of Afric, with shouts of 
 
 battle, came.
 
 48 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 To win the Queen of Beauty, and gain 
 
 immortal fame ; 
 Mounted on furious scorpions, they charged 
 
 St. George's knight. 
 And gallantly they bore them, and nobly 
 
 did light. 
 But soon the dusky warriors bestrew 'd the 
 
 flow'ry mead. 
 And left alone their chieftain on his panting 
 
 steed. 
 Swearing to wreak dire vengeance, he 
 
 charged into the fray. 
 And launch'd against the Saxon his 
 
 quiv'ring assagay : 
 Through the still air it hurtled, and grazed 
 
 the hero's crest. 
 Then breast to breast they battled, and 
 
 to each other press'd ; 
 Across the plain they thunder 'd, shouting 
 
 their battle cry, 
 Swearing, for love and beauty, to conquer 
 
 or to die. 
 Seven long spears they splinter'd, on 
 
 hauberk, targe, and helm, 
 Knightly was their bearing as they strove 
 
 each to o'erwhelm ; 
 Glorious was the conflict, and desperate 
 
 the fight.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 49 
 
 Between the sable hero, and the Saxon 
 
 knight. 
 On, on, thou princely heroes ! On, on, 
 
 thou gallant steeds. 
 The peerless Queen of nations beholds thy 
 
 doughty deeds ! 
 A galaxy of beauty looks on with flashing 
 
 eyes, 
 To see such mighty champions contending 
 
 for the prize ! 
 Their swords gleam'd like meteors athwart 
 
 the azure sky, 
 And from casque, shield and breastplate, 
 
 the sparks in showers fly ; 
 A mighty stroke descended upon the 
 
 Saxon's steed. 
 Which shrove a noble antler from his 
 
 lofty head : 
 With a cry of pain he bounded like a lion 
 
 on his prey, 
 Or a wild bull, when baited, it turns round 
 
 at bay ; 
 Down went the sable warrior, down went 
 
 his noble steed, 
 And o'er him stood the hero, of chivalry 
 
 the meed. 
 " St. George ! St. George of England ! " 
 
 across the welkin rang.
 
 50 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 As, like a tiger couchant, he on his war- 
 steed sprang ; 
 Spurring on to meet each foeman, he raised 
 
 his gauntled hand, 
 And dared the chiefs of nations to meet 
 
 him brand to brand. 
 From the serried ranks of England there 
 
 burst a British cheer. 
 And gleam'd, beneath the moonbeams, the 
 
 flash of sword and spear ; 
 Then, raising his triple visor from his noble 
 
 brow, 
 He to the Queen of Beauty made obeisance 
 
 low. 
 The fiery sons of Erin next ranged the 
 
 battle-field. 
 Swearing loudly, by St. Patrick, to Saxon 
 
 not to yield ; 
 Couching their quivering lances, they 
 
 charg'd into the fight. 
 Their battle cry ** Green Erin ! Down with 
 
 the Saxon's might ! " 
 The hero of St. George's unsheathed his 
 
 scimitar, 
 Spurred on to meet the foe men while they 
 
 were yet afar ; 
 Soon the brave trusty henchmen of the 
 
 great Celtic chief
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 51 
 
 Fell before the hero in an action bold and 
 
 brief. 
 But glorious was the conflict, and desperate 
 
 the fray, 
 Ere Erin's noble chieftain at his mercy 
 
 lay; 
 His steed a mighty cockroach, right nobly 
 
 bore him on. 
 Amid the shock of battle, of shriek and 
 
 dying moan : 
 And when their spears were splinter'd on 
 
 targe and burnished crest, 
 With battle-axe and sword-point they on 
 
 each other press'd. 
 On, on, thou mighty warriors ! On, thou 
 
 gallant steeds ! 
 The lovely Queen of Beauty beholds thy 
 
 noble deeds ! 
 Eight on, thou Celtic hero ! Charge home, 
 
 brave Saxon knight ! 
 Maintain your ancient prestige, and prove 
 
 your honour bright ! 
 Their swords gleam 'd like fiery comets 
 
 athwart the deep blue sky. 
 As they closed in shock of battle, shouting 
 
 their battle cry ; 
 At last a mighty sword-stroke on the Celt's 
 
 burnish'd helm.
 
 52 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Clove him downward to the shoulder, and 
 
 did him overwhelm : 
 Again shouts of joy and triumph from the 
 
 Saxons rang, 
 And flashing swords and falchions from 
 
 their scabbards sprang ; 
 The hero still rush'd onward, each foeman 
 
 to defy, 
 To fight for love and beauty, to conquer or 
 
 to die. 
 Llewellen, the Prince of Snowdon, advanced 
 
 with flashing eyes, 
 To slay the mighty Saxon, and gain the 
 
 lovely prize ; 
 With him came knights and squires, in 
 
 gallant, bright array. 
 To support their chieftain in the ensan- 
 guined fray : 
 Mounted on fiery hornets, they circled 
 
 round the ring. 
 The ladies waved their kerchiefs, the trou- 
 badours they sing. 
 The brave, the bold Llewellen, was the 
 
 noblest of his race. 
 And could his line unbroken to Time's 
 
 beginning trace ; 
 He could tell of Eden's garden, and of the 
 
 first of men.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 53 
 
 Of the great flood of waters, which cover'd 
 
 hill and glen : 
 Of the rise and fall of nations, which have 
 
 long pass'd away, 
 Of their great powder and grandeur, and 
 
 reasons of decay. 
 He led the ancient Britons against the 
 
 power of Eome, 
 When Ceesar led his legions to our sea- 
 girdled home ; 
 He fought like mighty hero, as only Britons 
 
 can, 
 Striking in the forefront, and aye leading 
 
 in the van. 
 And many a noble Roman fell beneath his 
 
 might, 
 As he retired fighting to Snowdon's rugged 
 
 height ; 
 Where he maintained his freedom 'gainst 
 
 the Norman power. 
 The noble Dane and Saxon — of chivalry 
 
 the flower. 
 And now this mighty hero, this knight 
 
 without a stain, 
 Has sworn to win the maiden, the peerless 
 
 beauty gain. 
 Mounted on noble Vespa, a steed well 
 
 known to fame,
 
 54 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Swift as a mountain torrent, and fiercest 
 
 of her name ; 
 He bow'd his green-phmied hehnet down 
 
 to the saddle-bow, 
 And, Hke a bolt from cross-bow, launch' d 
 
 forward on his foe : 
 The steeds they paw'd and snorted, shook 
 
 the dewdrops to the ground ; 
 The knights, in loud defiance, made the 
 
 dewy meads resound. 
 Furious was the conflict, and desperate 
 
 the fray. 
 For they fought for love and beauty, and 
 
 the honours of the day : 
 Their blows fell thick as sparklets beneath 
 
 stout Vulcan's blows. 
 When the seven times heated metal on the 
 
 anvil glows ; 
 Savage as hungry lions when tearing up 
 
 their prey, 
 Tiiey vow'd to win the maiden, or heca- 
 tombs to slay : 
 The Saxon's noble charger was of its antler 
 
 shorn. 
 With the flashing falchion by the Briton 
 
 borne. 
 Vespa was sorely wounded, she lost a leg 
 
 and wing.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 55 
 
 And from her rear was stricken her sharp 
 
 and deadly sting ; 
 The bright bands of gold were shriven from 
 
 her bleeding side, 
 Still gallantly she bore him, he gallantly 
 
 did ride. 
 So deadly was the conflict, each in his 
 
 saddle reel'd, 
 But at last the brave Llewellen fled o'er 
 
 the battle-field ; 
 Thrice the listed field he circled, then 
 
 turned round at bay, 
 Fought again for love and beauty, and the 
 
 honours of the day. 
 Alas for brave Llewellen! alas for Snow- 
 don's knight ! 
 He was cloven to the waist-belt, no more 
 
 that day to fight ; 
 His ruddy gore commingled with a bright 
 
 drop of dew". 
 Which gave the lovely crystal a bright 
 
 ensanguin'd hue. 
 Knights and squires, advancing, laid him 
 
 on his brazen shield. 
 And in dolorous plight they bore him from 
 
 the listed field ; 
 "With solemn strains of music, bore him to 
 
 Snowdon's height,
 
 56 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 And laid him on a moonbeam, hid from all 
 
 mortal sight : 
 But when the cock's shrill clarion shall 
 
 wake his feather'd train, 
 He will spring to life and beauty, to fight 
 
 for love again. 
 Meanwhile, the mighty Saxon ranged round 
 
 the battle-field. 
 And potentates and princes before his 
 
 prowess yield : 
 He fought for England's glory, and the 
 
 honour of his Queen, 
 And a sweet lovely maiden, with home of 
 
 golden sheen. 
 Countless spears he splintered — on breast- 
 plate, targe, and helm. 
 And many a noble hero his might did 
 
 overwhelm ; 
 He fought mid countless foemen, but their 
 
 ranks soon melt away, 
 Like dewdrops in the morning when kiss'd 
 
 by sunny ray : 
 Warriors were strown around him, numer- 
 ous as autumn leaves. 
 When Boreas has been sporting amid the 
 
 forest trees. 
 The braves of every nation broke with him 
 
 a lance.
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 57 
 
 Felt his keen-edged falchion, or quail'd 
 
 beneath his glance : 
 No knight could stand against him, the 
 
 opposing ranks gave way. 
 And he was declared the victor, on that 
 
 glorious day. 
 Loud shouts of acclamation awoke the 
 
 dewy morn, 
 As, with proud step and bearing, the hero 
 
 did return : 
 The mighty prince and hero knelt lowly to 
 
 the Queen, 
 Unclasped his burnished visor, a smile from 
 
 her to glean; 
 A sweet, poetic halo circled her queenly 
 
 brow. 
 As the noble, princely Saxon made obeis- 
 ance low: 
 She waved her wand, and nations knelt 
 
 humbly at her feet, 
 And with loud shouts triumphant, her. 
 
 Queen of queens, they greet. 
 She sat on throne of gossamer, her footstool 
 
 a moonbeam. 
 Her crown, distilled from sunlight, shed 
 
 glory on the scene ; 
 A golden ray her sceptre, from the bright 
 
 morning star,
 
 58 A FAIRY TALE, 
 
 Gleamed like a watch-fire in the night, or 
 
 beacon from afar. 
 Her mantle, sweet Aurora, from the far 
 
 northern skies, 
 With colours of the rainbow, in ever- vary- 
 ing dyes ; 
 Necklace of orient pearls, sweet glory shed 
 
 around. 
 With beauty, chaste and lovely, illumed 
 
 the mystic ground : 
 Earrings of crystal dewdrops, from steep 
 
 Parnassus' hill, 
 Eefined by fairy workmen with more than 
 
 mortal skill ; 
 Sandals of glowing sapphires peex^'d 'neath 
 
 a robe of light, 
 The work of a mighty wizard, and an 
 
 elfin sprite. 
 A diamond clasp'd her mantle, pure as the 
 
 moon's pale beams. 
 Flashing in crystal fountains, or clear pel- 
 lucid streams ; 
 Ten thousand times more lovely than 
 
 England's Koh-i-noor, 
 Brighter far than diadem of Mogul, Euss, 
 
 or Moor. 
 The earth, the air, and ocean, marshall'd 
 
 their golden sheen,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 59 
 
 With glory — pure, transcendent — around 
 the Fairy Queen. 
 
 The Fairies sueeound the Bride and 
 Bridegroom, and Sing. 
 
 "Bravest warrior, fairest maid, 
 " Your home shall be 'neath leafy shade, 
 " 'Mong sweet flowers that never die ; [hie. 
 '* Haste, haste thee homeward, homew^ard 
 
 " Sweet violets shall be thy bed, 
 
 " With lilies waving o'er thy head; 
 
 " Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 
 *' To the flowers that never die. [hie, 
 
 '* You shall have sw^eet babies three, 
 
 " To perfect thy felicity ; 
 
 " Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 
 " To the flow^ers that never die. [hie, 
 
 " A lovely page shall w^ait on thee, 
 
 " The ever active, busy bee; 
 
 "Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 
 " To the flow^ers that never die. [hie, 
 
 " He will to thee sw^eet honey bring, 
 " In summer and in verdant spring ; 
 "Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 " To the flowers that never die. [hie,
 
 60 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 " And he will fan thee with his wings, 
 " While a sweet lullaby he sings ; 
 "Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 " To the flowers that never die. [hie, 
 
 " Warrior, you shall nectar sip 
 " From thy bride's soft, sweet ruby lip; 
 *' Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 " To the flowers that never die. [hie, 
 
 " But only shall the Fairy Queen 
 " Behold thy bright, effulgent sheen ; 
 " Haste, haste thee homeward, homeward 
 " To the flowers that never die." [hie, 
 
 Fair, sweet, lovely maiden, we must leave 
 
 the fairy glen, 
 Eeturn to Eoyal Windsor, and busy haunts 
 
 of men. 
 Sol's bright, effulgent glory sinks in the 
 
 glowing west, 
 The birds, in leafy covert, seek their ac- 
 
 custom'd rest ; 
 The bees have ceased their humming, the 
 
 bats begin to fly. 
 Dark shadows are advancing, the gloaming 
 
 it is nigh.
 
 LOVE AND DUTY. 61 
 
 And we must hurry, maiden, we can no 
 
 longer stay, 
 The stars begm to twinkle, evanishes the 
 
 day; 
 And soon the owl's weird hootings will be 
 
 heard in the vale — 
 So w^e must haste, my dear one, and end 
 
 the Fairy Tale. 
 
 LOVE AND DUTY. 
 
 Young and old should ponder deeply 
 
 On the mystery of life, 
 Be prepared to meet each foeman 
 
 In the battle and the strife. 
 
 Fighting manfully 'gainst evil. 
 As each day shall onward roll ; 
 
 Doing deeds of love and kindness. 
 Which will elevate the soul. 
 
 Succouring the poor and lowly, 
 Make the sorrowful to smile ; 
 
 Help the weary on their journey. 
 And the weak ones o'er the stile.
 
 62 LOVE AND DUTY. 
 
 Pressing on, in cloud and sunshine, 
 'Neath the shadow of the Cross; 
 
 Thinking only of our duty — 
 Not of either gain or loss. 
 
 Pressing on to reach the God-like, 
 Whose sweet, gentle name is Love ; 
 
 'Tis the highest of all virtues, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Love and duty, when commingled,. 
 
 Are our passports to the skies, 
 Which will open wide the portal 
 
 To the courts of Paradise. 
 
 Onward in the path of duty. 
 
 With sweet love our guiding star. 
 
 And we'll conquer daily evils, 
 Or will view them from afar. 
 
 Onward — ever pressing onward 
 In the race in which w^e run ; 
 
 Onward — never looking backward. 
 Till the final goal is won. 
 
 Onward — till we gain an entrance 
 To that happy home above : 
 
 Onward — till we see His glory. 
 The Eternal Fount of Love.
 
 A LULLABY. 63 
 
 A LULLABY. 
 
 Sweet baby mine, on Christnjas morn 
 The Christ, the King, the Lamb was born; 
 Hark! hark! the bells ring forth our joy 
 At love, sweet love, without alloy. 
 
 Sweet baby mine, the angels sing 
 " Hosannah to the new-born King! " 
 List! " Peace on earth, good will to men," 
 The bells proclaim on hill and glen. 
 
 Sweet baby mine, on this great day 
 Our Lord within a manger lay ; 
 i.\n infant — lowly, meek, and mild : 
 A monarch — yet a little child. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, now go to rest 
 
 In peace upon thy mother's breast ; 
 
 The gentle Jesus, He is near 
 
 To keep thee, guard thee, comfort, cheer.
 
 64 THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 Almighty Fathee, be my stay 
 In joy and sorrow, night and day, 
 And help me from my heart to say 
 Thy will be done. 
 
 let not pride my heart control, 
 
 Or find a lodgment in my soul ; 
 
 But strength to say, when surges roll, 
 
 Thy will be done. 
 
 ' < .' ^ • ■■ • ■" ■ 
 Help me, when anguish rings my brow. 
 
 And when the sands of life are low. 
 
 To say to Thee, who strikes the blow. 
 
 Thy will be done. 
 
 Immanuel, my Lord, my King, 
 Still to Thy cross help me to cling. 
 In health and sickness still to sing 
 Thy will be done. 
 
 Help me to walk in wisdom's way. 
 To trust in Thee from day to day, 
 And with my latest breath to say 
 Thy will be done.
 
 THE EXILE'S FAREWELL. 65 
 
 THE EXILE'S FAKEWELL. 
 
 Sweet scenes of my childhood, I bid you 
 farewell, 
 
 Each streamlet and mountain, green mea- 
 dow and dell ; 
 
 Soon I must wander on a far distant shore, 
 
 Where scenes of my childhood will greet 
 me no more. 
 
 Farewell, silvery Tweed, in boyhood's sweet 
 
 dream. 
 On thy braes I clamber'd, and bathed in 
 
 thy stream ; 
 And in bright, joyous youth, I lov'd oft to 
 
 stray. 
 To muse on thy banks at the close of the 
 
 day. 
 
 Farewell, my lov'd home, by the old ruin'd 
 
 keep. 
 Where foemen and friends in oblivion sleep ; 
 No more will I view, while my heart glow'd 
 
 with pride. 
 The sweet, lovely scenes in the vale of 
 
 Tweedside.
 
 66 THE EXILE'S FAREWELL, 
 
 Each hedgerow and grove, and each clear, 
 
 wimpling burn, 
 I bid you farewell, ne'er again to return ; 
 had I the wings, the swift wings of 
 
 the dove. 
 Then soon I'd return to the home of my 
 
 love. 
 
 Farewell, gentle maiden, thou gem of my 
 
 heart. 
 Soon seas will divide us, the ocean us part ; 
 Wherever I wander, wherever I roam, 
 I'll think of the maiden, the dear one at 
 
 home. 
 
 In fancy I'll roam by the Tweed's rippling 
 
 stream, 
 In silent night watches of thee I will 
 
 dream ; 
 Though seas shall us sunder, the ocean us 
 
 part, 
 You'll still reign supreme as the gem of my 
 
 heart. 
 
 My mother — dear mother — my father, 
 
 adieu ! 
 Soon, soon your dear forms will be lost to 
 
 my view ;
 
 ON THE ALBERT INSTITUTE. 67 
 
 I leave you in sorrow, deep anguish, and 
 
 pain. 
 No more will I hear your lov'd voices 
 
 O yes ! I w^ll hear you, and see you once 
 more. 
 
 Where sorrow is banish'd, and partings are 
 o'er; 
 
 When the last trump echoes, the last thun- 
 ders peal, 
 
 I'll meet you again in the " Land o' the 
 leal." 
 
 ON THE ALBERT INSTITUTE, WIND- 
 SOR, BEING FREED FROM DEBT. 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! the debt is paid, 
 
 The Institute is free ; 
 A cloud is lifted from our eyes. 
 
 Our hearts beat merrily. 
 
 'Tis free, and bears the hallow 'd name 
 
 Of him who's pass'd away ; 
 But, though he slumbers in the tomb, 
 
 We feel his loving sway.
 
 68 ON THE ALBERT INSTITUTE. 
 
 His was a noble, lofty soul, 
 And knowledge gave it power ; 
 
 It acted on his plastic mind 
 As sunshine on the flower. 
 
 He wished its vivifying beams 
 
 On rich and poor to shme ; 
 To temper down their rugged hearts. 
 
 To purify, refine. 
 
 Hip, hip, hurrah ! for those who stood 
 
 So nobly at the wheel ; 
 When many left the sinking ship. 
 
 They still stuck to the keel. 
 
 They brought her through wild, stormy 
 Where winds adversely blow ; [waves, 
 
 With perseverance at the helm. 
 They laid each foeman low. 
 
 They mann'd the yards, they mann'd the 
 With loyal men and true ; [shrouds, 
 
 Then nail'd the colours to the mast. 
 The red, the white, the blue. 
 
 Soon men and maids, and matrons too, 
 Gave each their time and skill ; 
 
 But to recount their loving deeds 
 Would many pages fill.
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! the debt is paid, 
 
 The Institute is free ; 
 A British cheer for all who help'd, 
 
 A hearty three times three. 
 
 MAIDEN MINE. 
 
 Maiden mine, sweet, gentle maiden. 
 Thou art all the world to me ; 
 
 Sweeter than the breath of morning 
 Wafted o'er a flow'ry lea. 
 
 Thy damask cheeks excel in beauty 
 The apple or the peach's bloom, 
 
 And thy smile is bright as sunshine 
 Bursting from a sky of gloom. 
 
 Beautiful, surpassing lovely, 
 In thy form is grace refined ; 
 
 But the beauty which enthrals me 
 Is thy purity of mind. 
 
 MY MAEY. 
 
 My Mary is, of womankind, 
 The best and sweetest, to my mind; 
 Her cheeks are like the damask rose, 
 Or the bright tints at ev'ning close.
 
 70 MY MABY. 
 
 Her face it beams with love divine, 
 The Graces three in her combine, 
 With fairy step and sylphhke form, 
 As if she were a goddess born. 
 
 Her voice is sweet as zephyrs' breeze 
 When whispering among the trees ; 
 And her soft Hps, of roseate hue, 
 Are sweeter than the honey dew. 
 
 Her eyes are of deep, laughing blue, 
 Aye speaking love, sincere and true ; 
 Her rippling laugh, angelic smile. 
 From sorrow doth the heart beguile. 
 
 Graceful and gentle as the fawn 
 When bounding o'er the dewy lawn ; 
 While her white hands and tiny feet 
 Are all in due proportion mete. 
 
 Beneath her light, elastic tread 
 The daisy only bends its head ; 
 Ere she has time to pass it by 
 Its petals point toward the sky. 
 
 Her breast is like the snowy dove. 
 The seat of purity and love ; 
 But the sweetest charm is her mind, 
 So gentle, modest and refined.
 
 TO A LADY. 71 
 
 TO A LADY. 
 
 When your beauteous form first burst on 
 
 my view, 
 My heart and my soul were enchanted 
 
 with you ; 
 I thought you a vision of heavenly birth, 
 That no mortal so lovely could dwell on 
 
 the earth. 
 
 Your step is majestic, and regal your brow. 
 For pride or black envy your heart does 
 
 not know ; 
 Your smile it is sweet as the first breath 
 
 of morn, 
 And comforts the weary, the sad and 
 
 forlorn. 
 
 May the bark which bears you o'er life's 
 
 troubled wave 
 Be guided by Him who is able to save, 
 And land you at last on that bright, happy 
 
 shore, 
 Where sorrow is banished, and partings 
 
 are o'er.
 
 72 MY AIN WIFE. 
 
 MY AIN WIFE. 
 
 Osborne, I. of Wight. 
 
 My ain darling wife, O how happy I'll 
 be 
 
 When homeward I hie, o'er the deep surg- 
 ing sea ; 
 
 In sunshine and shadow, in rain and in 
 snow, 
 
 Thy love it doth cheer me wherever I go. 
 
 Here all is peaceful, sweetest calm and 
 
 serene. 
 In the home of the Empress, our gracious 
 
 Queen ; 
 'Tis a beauteous spot, where angels might 
 
 dwell, 
 A bright Eden on earth, with wood and 
 
 with dell. 
 
 In this lovely retreat the Queen doth re- 
 side 
 
 When tired of the world, its vain pomp 
 and its pride ; 
 
 May God grant her grace, a sweet spirit of 
 love. 
 
 To prepare for the Crown that awaits her 
 above.
 
 MY AIN WIFE. 73 
 
 My ain loving wife, you are dearer to me 
 Than the riches of earth, the air, and the 
 
 sea ; 
 Without your dear presence all other things 
 
 seem 
 A phantom, a shadow, the shade of a 
 
 dream. 
 
 When Sol, with his beams, has descended 
 
 to night. 
 And the pale silvery moon diffuseth her 
 
 light, 
 I love then to wander, and think of the 
 
 bride 
 I led to the altar by Thames' winding side. 
 
 In Upton old church, 'neath its green 
 
 mantl'd tower, 
 I gave you my hand, with my heart as my 
 
 dowser ; 
 And promised to love you in weal and in 
 
 woe, 
 In sickness or health, until death lays me 
 
 low. 
 
 Many seasons have gone since I led you 
 forth 
 
 From that ancient pile, wath its low^ Nor- 
 man porch ;
 
 74 MY AIN WIFE. 
 
 And each rolling season has brought to my 
 
 view 
 Sweet virtues and joys, ever-pleasing and 
 
 new. 
 
 Oh ! I pity the man who ne'er had a wife, 
 
 He has lost the chief joy and solace of life ; 
 
 While scraping and scheming, and hoard- 
 ing vile pelf. 
 
 He forgets the main thing, and that is — 
 himself. 
 
 For, when Time was young, God unfolded 
 
 a plan. 
 He planted a garden, and in it placed 
 
 man. 
 To see, feel, and taste of the pleasures of 
 
 life; 
 And to make him quite happy. He gave 
 
 him a wife. 
 
 Who can conceive Adam's joy and dehght 
 When Eve's fair, lovely form first dawn'd 
 
 on his sight; 
 He deem'd her a vision, an angel of light, 
 Who had come to dispel the darkness of 
 
 night.
 
 MY AIN WIFE. 75 
 
 He found gentle Eve in Eden's green 
 
 bowers, 
 Transcendent in beauty, like nature's sweet 
 
 flow^ers ; 
 And the floral scene was enchanting to 
 
 view. 
 So varied its tints and resplendent its hue. 
 
 But the sweetest flower — the fairest and 
 
 best. 
 Was Eve, gentle Eve, in innocence drest ; 
 Man soon felt her pow'r, as he knelt at 
 
 love's shrine ; 
 He knew she was human, but he thought 
 
 her divine. 
 
 My ain dearest wife, I now bid you adieu, 
 I've unfolded my heart, which beats only 
 
 for you ; 
 Like the dove which soar'd back to the Ark 
 
 for rest, 
 I long to return, for w^ith thee I am blest.
 
 76 ELIZA. 
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 You wish me, Eliza, to write you a song, 
 Which must not be either dull, prosy, or 
 
 long ; 
 So I'll try to comply with what you desire, 
 And invoke the sweet muse my soul to 
 
 inspire. 
 I'll search the blue ocean, the earth, and 
 
 the air, 
 For all that is beauteous, precious, and 
 
 rare ; 
 Will revel in dreamland, where fancy doth 
 
 roam, 
 And seek for bright pearls 'neath the white 
 
 surging foam. 
 My mind will soar forth from its frail house 
 
 of clay, 
 And rove 'mid bright realms of celestial 
 
 day, 
 Discarding the trammels of time and of 
 
 space, 
 Creation to view, and its wonders to trace. 
 In my course I'll leave the fork'd lightning 
 
 behind, 
 As I journey through space on the wings 
 
 of the mind ;
 
 ELIZA. 77 
 
 And cull the sweet flowers that come to 
 
 my view, 
 x\s a token of love to present unto you. 
 I will not remain with the pale Queen of 
 
 Night, 
 For faint are her beams, and borrow'd her 
 
 light ; 
 I'll glance at the comets, as upwards I fly 
 To bright worlds unseen in the depths of 
 
 the sky, 
 I'll stay for a while with the bright God of 
 
 Day, 
 His glory to see, and his wonders display ; 
 And will search o'er that orb for gems 
 
 bright and rare 
 For my sweet Eliza to w^eave in her hair. 
 I'll soar far beyond the bright influence of 
 
 Sol, 
 And new worlds of beauty my mind w^ill 
 
 unrol ; 
 I will visit each system, planet, and star, 
 To weave you a garland to bring from afar. 
 On fancy's sweet wings I will reach that 
 
 array, 
 Which w^e mortals on earth call the Milky 
 
 Way; 
 View system on systems, more glorious and 
 
 grand
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 Than the mmd can conceive, or soul under- 
 stand. 
 They cluster around, like the seed in a 
 
 field 
 The sower has sown, a rich harvest to 
 
 yield ; 
 And numerous as leaves which the autumn 
 
 has strown. 
 Or a verdant meadow with daisies o'er- 
 
 grown. 
 They shine with effulgence, above and 
 
 below. 
 Their glory around makes the heavens to 
 
 glow ; 
 I'll scan their glories with the eye of the 
 
 mind, 
 View all that is lovely — the pure and 
 
 refined. 
 'Mid those worlds and systems with joy I 
 
 will roam 
 For gems bright and rare for my dear one 
 
 at home ; 
 And when I have found more than my 
 
 mind can tell, 
 To earth I will haste, with Eliza to dwell. 
 But, if more she requires,, still onward I'll 
 
 fly. 
 
 Till creation itself shall fade from mine eye,
 
 ELIZA. 79 
 
 Soaring through ether of empyrean hue, 
 For all that is lovely, and all that is new. 
 
 Eliza, fair maiden, T own it was wrong 
 To promise to write or compose you a song; 
 But you knew I was willing, and could not 
 
 refuse 
 To attempt the steep hill where dwell the 
 
 sweet muse. 
 My mind was elate, and I started with joy 
 To cull you a poesy that never would cloy ; 
 I gained bright Parnassus, and gazed with 
 
 dehght 
 On the goddess of muse who sat on the 
 
 height. 
 I gazed with delight, and I'm gazing there 
 
 still, 
 But, alas ! I'm no nearer the top of the 
 
 hill; 
 I took a few steps, but soon downward I 
 
 fell, 
 And a sad tale of grief to you I could tell. 
 But all was not grief, for the goddess she 
 
 smil'd, 
 And spoke in soft accents — sweet, gentle, 
 
 and mild : 
 She said — ** Persevere: a bright prize you 
 
 may win.
 
 80 ELIZA. 
 
 '* Though the temple of Fame you will 
 
 ne'er enter m ; 
 " For the place where I dw^ell is rugged and 
 
 steep, 
 " And the muse must soar high such hon- 
 ours to reap : 
 " A Milton, a Shakespeare, a Burns, have 
 
 been here, 
 " Who tasted my sweets, so precious and 
 
 rare. 
 *' But although you must stand at a dis- 
 tance, and gaze, 
 " You shall sing of thy love in sweet rustic 
 
 lays ; 
 " 'Twill ennoble your thoughts, will raise 
 
 and refine, 
 " And give you a glimpse of the glorious 
 
 divine." 
 Her voice and sweet smile w^ere so pleasing 
 
 to me, 
 Though she said her glory I never w^ould see. 
 But gaze at a distance on her lovely face. 
 And in faintest outline her beauty there 
 
 trace. 
 But I fear you will think me dull, prosy, 
 
 and long, 
 So I'll finish my prologue, and start with 
 
 my song.
 
 ELIZA. 61 
 
 O she is charming, young, and fair, 
 With sparkHng eyes and auburn hair 
 Sweetest of maidens, I declare, 
 My love, Ehza. 
 
 Of all the maidens I have seen 
 In palace, or on village green, 
 Best, sweetest, loveliest, I ween, 
 Is my Eliza. 
 
 It is a lovely sight to see 
 Her dancing on the grassy lea. 
 Graceful as roe, or fawn, is she. 
 Sweet, sweet Eliza. 
 
 And when I scan her gentle mind, 
 There, sw^eetest purity I find ; 
 All that is lovely is defined 
 In my Eliza. 
 
 And as I gaze upon her face, 
 There, sweetest innocence I trace ; 
 No evil passions e'er deface 
 Lovely Eliza. 
 
 Her praises I will ever sing 
 When poesy sweet unfolds her wing, 
 And purest incense I will bring 
 Dearest Eliza.
 
 82 ELIZA. 
 
 I'll sing of her on flood and fell, 
 On mountain, meadow, rock and dell, 
 Trilling like sweetest Philomel, 
 Darling Eliza. 
 
 May angels be her stay and guide 
 By night and day, whate'er betide. 
 And may they evermore abide 
 With my EHza. 
 
 But now I think I'll end my song. 
 Lest my dear one should find it long ; 
 And not for worlds would I so wrong 
 My own Eliza. 
 
 And yet I'm loth to leave the maid. 
 There is so much still left unsaid ; 
 But to offend, I am afraid, 
 The fair EHza. 
 
 So now, sweet maiden, fare thee well. 
 May peace and plenty with thee dwell ; 
 I love you more than I can tell, 
 Good-bye, Eliza.
 
 MARY. 83 
 
 MAEY. 
 
 [A Fragmentary Poem. J 
 
 You wish me, dearest Mary, to compose a 
 loving song, 
 
 To think of on your birthday, as the sea- 
 sons roll along ; 
 
 I will write to you, my dear one, in a 
 discursive way, 
 
 Telling you my thoughts and fancies, as 
 o'er my soul they stray. 
 
 But, pray judge not my effusions by ele- 
 gance of style, 
 
 Nor purity of diction, which might be a 
 mask for guile; 
 
 For the spirit which pervades them, if 
 pure, it will arise, 
 
 And shed a gentle halo o'er the path to 
 Paradise. 
 
 Each mind, however lowly, can in its own 
 humble way. 
 
 Shed some light upon the pathway which 
 leads to endless day ; 
 
 The starting-points are legion — all con- 
 verging into one, 
 
 Whose eternal goal is Jesus, the High and 
 Holy One.
 
 84 MARY. 
 
 If my mind could grasp creation, shake 
 
 the world with my nod, 
 If nations bow'd before me, and proclaim'd 
 
 me as a god ; 
 If potentates and princes, kneeling humbly 
 
 at my feet. 
 Laid down their precious treasures as an 
 
 offering meet : 
 If I led forth mighty armies to conquer, 
 
 ravage, kill, 
 I would still be a frail mortal, and depen- 
 dent on God's will. 
 Sometimes our hearts are cheery 'neath 
 
 the sunshine of the hour, 
 Sometimes they're sad and weary, when 
 
 dark clouds begin to lower ; 
 When something we have wish'd for, set 
 
 our hearts on as a prize. 
 Has, like a vision, vanish'd from our sad, 
 
 longing eyes. 
 Then all the world seems dreary, when the 
 
 angel "Hope" has flown. 
 For, to ponder o'er our troubles, the heart, 
 
 alas ! is prone ; 
 But there is a silv'ry lining within the 
 
 darkest sky. 
 And we find, when hope is waning, the 
 
 goal is sometimes nigh.
 
 MARY. 85 
 
 Let Hope illume the future, and improve 
 
 each passing hour ; 
 Walk in the paths of virtue, and joy will 
 
 be your dower. 
 If we would be truly happy, enjoy Hfe's 
 
 little day, 
 We must shed abroad bright sunshine o'er 
 
 the path in which we stray : 
 Comfort those who are in sorrow, wherever 
 
 it is found — 
 The widow, when despairing, and the 
 
 beggar on his round. 
 If duty is your standpoint, and sweet love 
 
 your guiding star, 
 You will conquer daily evils, or will view 
 
 them from afar. 
 Aye speak the truth with boldness, do not 
 
 fear the world's frown. 
 For a conscience pure and guileless is a 
 
 bright, jewell'd crown ; 
 Whatever is your station — be it high, or be 
 
 it low, 
 Let love rule all your actions, and your 
 
 heart with joy will glow : 
 Nurture a kindly spirit, it sheds happiness 
 
 around, 
 And adds sweet grace and beauty where 
 
 its virtues most abound;
 
 86 MARY. 
 
 Speak gentle words of kindness to the 
 beggar at the door, 
 
 He may be truly noble, though he's indi- 
 gent and poor. 
 
 Of all God's works of beauty, the loveliest, 
 to my mind, 
 
 Is a young, gentle maiden, who is modest 
 and refined: 
 
 She's nearest to perfection, next the angels 
 in degree. 
 
 True grace in all her actions, with the 
 sweetest purity. 
 
 And in the daily struggle, in the turmoil 
 and the strife. 
 
 She is still a sweet, sweet angel, as a gentle, 
 loving wife ; 
 
 And w^hen children gather round her, danc- 
 ing in joyous glee, 
 
 She is their guardian angel, as they prattle 
 at her knee. 
 
 Still, as the years roll onward, and the joys 
 of youth have flown. 
 
 She's nearing to the angels round the rain- 
 bow-circled throne ; • 
 
 And when cold death has touch'd her, her 
 soul will hie away
 
 MARY. 87 
 
 To join a choir of angels, in bright, ever- 
 lasting day. 
 
 So, Mary, there is comfort for the young 
 and for the old, 
 
 If we keep the narrow pathway where the 
 pearly gates unfold ; 
 
 Youth is the time, my dear one, when the 
 heart is full of joy, 
 
 To choose the priceless jewel, the pure 
 gold without alloy. 
 
 Keep in the path of virtue, hold it ever in 
 your view, 
 
 The casket, if once tarnish'd, you can never 
 more renew : 
 
 The silver, when it's sullied, may be pol- 
 ished oft again, 
 
 But it's pure, pristine beauty it will never 
 more regain ; 
 
 And they who, in life's journey, stray away 
 from virtue's road, 
 
 Will never see the glory of a gentle, loving 
 God. 
 
 God is love, and all His works proclaim 
 He is Divine ; 
 
 He makes the gentle dew to fall, the sum- 
 mer sun to shine.
 
 He opens wide each tiny flower which 
 scents the ev'ning gale, 
 
 Imprints some with a carmine hue, and 
 some, hke Hly, pale : 
 
 Some rear aloft their lovely heads, and 
 court the noontide glare ; 
 
 Some lowly hide 'neath leafy shade, and 
 bloom in beauty there. 
 
 Some love the lonely, darksome wood, be- 
 neath the giant trees, 
 
 And open when the twinkling stars shine 
 on the dewy leas. 
 
 They're found in wild, weird Alpine peaks, 
 and 'neath the snowy foam ; 
 
 Some from each hedgerow peepeth forth, 
 to cheer our hearts at home. 
 
 They bloom amid the arctic snow, and 
 'neath the torrid zone, — 
 
 And all proclaim that God is love, om- 
 niscient alone. 
 
 I love to muse and ponder 'neath the moon's 
 
 pale, silv'ry beams, 
 Indulging in quaint fancies, and in sweet, 
 
 poetic dreams ; 
 Conjuring up bright visions, building castles 
 
 in the air.
 
 MARY. 
 
 To see them floating by me, like the web 
 of gossamer : 
 
 Evolving forms of beauty by the ever-teem- 
 ing brain, 
 
 And, from the dust of ages, reproducing 
 them again ; 
 
 Like a moving panorama with ever-chang- 
 ing scene, 
 
 Sporting 'mid realms of beauty, though to 
 mortal eyes unseen. 
 
 The muse is dear, my Mary, to the poet's 
 pensive mind. 
 
 He treads a path untrodden by the rest of 
 humankind ; 
 
 He soars beyond the finite, the trammels 
 of time and space. 
 
 And grasps at the ethereal, infinity to 
 trace : 
 
 Eoves with joy 'mongst worlds and sys- 
 tems (upon sweet poesy's wing). 
 
 And, enraptured, hears their praises to the 
 Eternal King, 
 
 Who guides them in their orbits, and leads 
 them in the way, 
 
 'Mid pure empyrean ether, and everlasting 
 day; 
 
 Through space beyond conception, or the 
 mind of man to scan.
 
 90 MARY. 
 
 Beyond the grasp of angels, and which 
 
 only One can span. 
 Down the deep abyss of ages the dreamer 
 
 loves to roam, 
 To peer mto the future, gaze on our eter- 
 nal home ; 
 He beholds One rob'din glory, oh! beautiful 
 
 and fair ; 
 He beholds, in deep, dread Hades, the 
 
 blackness of despair : 
 Beholds the redeem'd in Jesus enter bright 
 
 Paradise, 
 The damn'd to hell descending, who did 
 
 once the Christ despise. 
 He hears loud hallelujahs round the rain- 
 bow-circled throne, 
 And, ascending from perdition, one loud, 
 
 eternal moan ; 
 Commingling with heav'nly anthems, sweet 
 
 songs of joy and praise. 
 Are anguish and deep wailing, which the 
 
 damn'd for ever raise. 
 As they gaze, with hopeless longing, on 
 
 heaven's bright abode. 
 The never-ending glory of the ransom'd 
 
 sons of God.
 
 MARY. 91 
 
 These thoughts of hght and shadow came 
 unbidden to my mind, 
 
 From the deep, untrodden future, the dark 
 and undefined ; 
 
 That there is, beyond, an endless, our aspi- 
 rations tell — 
 
 A home of joy and gladness, and a place 
 where devils dwell. 
 
 When the sweet queen of poesy deigns to 
 
 stir my sluggish brain, 
 She wakes my soul to gladness with her 
 
 gentle, loving strain ; 
 I sometimes feel her presence, like a pure, 
 
 sweet, pleasing dream. 
 But her stay is evanescent, like snowflake 
 
 in sunny beam : 
 I feel her soothing power stealing o'er my 
 
 troubled soul, 
 And, though my heart is weary, she aye 
 
 makes my spirit whole; 
 She's like your own dear mother, who so 
 
 gently cool'd my head 
 When wan disease had laid me pale and 
 
 helpless on my bed. 
 I sometimes have sweet glimpses of the 
 
 glorious divine,
 
 92 MARY. 
 
 And I gaze with joy ecstatic, and try to 
 
 make her mine ; 
 But, alas ! her stay is fleeting, transient as 
 
 a dream, 
 A radiancy of glory, a flash, a passing 
 
 gleam. 
 Yet the halo of her presence she always 
 
 leaves behind, 
 A "something" so ethereal, it cannot be 
 
 defined ; 
 As if a guardian angel was very, very 
 
 near. 
 Instilling consolation, whispering sweet 
 
 words of cheer : 
 Pointing, with gentle kindness, to the bright, 
 
 heavenly road. 
 The goal of w^hich is Jesus — Jehovah, 
 
 Saviour, God. 
 O shade of glorious Milton, of poets most 
 
 divine. 
 Cast thy great mantle o'er me, let me in 
 
 sweet poesy shine ! 
 I'll burn the sweetest incense, pure and 
 
 bright shall be its flame ; 
 Ne'er wall desecrate thine altars, nor make 
 
 thee blush with shame.- j 
 
 I've roved in fields Elysian, 'mong sweet | 
 
 heav'nly fl owners, i
 
 MARY. 93 
 
 To please my Mary's fancy, and amuse her 
 leisure hours ; 
 
 Transcendent was their beauty, sweet and 
 lovely, too, each hue. 
 
 But, ere I clasp'd the flowers, they aye 
 faded from my view. 
 
 I heard sweet voices singing a soft melo- 
 dious strain. 
 
 As if a choir of angels sung of love the 
 sweet refrain. 
 
 I hear them in the gloaming, in the twi- 
 light's silent hours. 
 
 Sporting amid the spraylets, and singing to 
 the flowers; 
 
 Floating, in gentle zephyrs, on the soft, 
 sweet, balmy breeze. 
 
 And in low, dying cadence, murmuring 
 among the trees. 
 
 I hear them in my day-dreams, in the 
 silence of the night. 
 
 Whispering "Ever onward! do not dally 
 in the fight " : 
 
 Aye singing, sw^eetly singing, 'mid the rush- 
 ing, circling spheres. 
 
 Not ceasing in their music in the cycle of 
 the years. 
 
 I see the Omnipresent in the sweet, tiny 
 flower,
 
 94 MARY. 
 
 In the deep rolling thunder, and in the 
 
 gentle shower ; 
 In the clear crystal dewdrop, and the angry 
 
 ocean's roar, 
 In the green, verdant meadow, and the 
 
 barren desert shore : 
 In hoary, cloud-capp'd mountains, in the 
 
 sweet flow'ry dell. 
 In wild, erratic comets, in the forest, flood 
 
 and fell ; 
 In the expanding blossom, lending fragrance 
 
 to the breeze. 
 In calm and hurricanoes, in the quiv'ring 
 
 of the trees. 
 The countless worlds and systems, in il- 
 limitable space. 
 Are all guided by His counsels in their 
 
 swift, lightning race ; 
 And they swerve not in their orbits, nor 
 
 deviate a line. 
 For the Hand that made them is great, 
 
 glorious, and divine. 
 Creation's voice is singing on each moun- 
 tain, hill, and plain, 
 Showing, in worlds and atoms, there is 
 
 nothing made in vain ; 
 God's Spirit is around us — in the ocean, 
 
 earth, and air,
 
 MARY. 95 
 
 The lightning and the thunder, His om- 
 niscience declare : 
 
 He rides upon the whirlwind, and He 
 whispers in the calm, 
 
 Gives sw^eet rest unto the weary, and to 
 the w^ounded balm. 
 
 The deep, mysterious ocean is troubled at 
 His breath. 
 
 He makes the stormy billows sweep the 
 mariners to death ; 
 
 When He wills, the pestilence is loosen'd 
 on its prey, 
 
 And War's dread hell-hounds, commis- 
 sioned, their fellow-men do slay. 
 
 When His wrath divine is kindled, out- 
 pours the liquid fire. 
 
 Spreading wdde desolation, death and de- 
 struction dire ; 
 
 On flows the fiery lava o'er the cities of 
 the plain, 
 
 To remain to distant ages ere disentomb'd 
 again. 
 
 At His dread voice the valleys and the 
 mountains disappear, 
 
 The earth's foundations quiver, and the 
 nations shake with fear ; 
 
 The deep, mighty ocean is in the hollow of 
 His hand,
 
 96 MAEY. 
 
 The hills bow down before Him, and obey 
 
 His high command. 
 He is great and glorious, omniscient His 
 
 power, 
 He gives us food and raiment, the sunshine 
 
 and the shower ; 
 He makes the balmy winds to blow, sends 
 
 the sweet breath of morn. 
 Gives comfort to the weary heart, and joy 
 
 to the forlorn. 
 He sends the snow in winter, and the soft, 
 
 sweet, summer rain; 
 He clothes the hills in verdure, and He 
 
 beautifies the plain : 
 The seasons all obey Him, He bids winter 
 
 melt away. 
 And the seeds that lay embosom 'd spring 
 
 to a brighter day. 
 They burst their bands asunder, at the 
 
 approach of spring. 
 And, though mute, they are not silent; 
 
 sweet melody they sing 
 To the Divine Creator, Who gave the 
 
 quick'ning power 
 To spring from out the cold earth at the 
 
 appointed hour. 
 He bids the shoots spring upward through 
 
 the cold, watery clod,
 
 MARY. 97 
 
 As a true symbol of the rising of the sons 
 
 of God; 
 In spring, in summer, autumn, and in cold 
 
 winter's sway, 
 The same wise, benign Creator is seen from 
 
 day to day. 
 I now gaze with joy around me on fields 
 
 of golden grain. 
 Which, in faith, was sown at springtide 
 
 upon the fallow plain. 
 God breathes upon the flowerets, they open 
 
 to the breeze. 
 While the giant oak rejoices, and all the 
 
 forest trees ; 
 A new life pervades them, as they drink 
 
 the springtide showers. 
 Soon all around is beauty, a Paradise of 
 
 flowers : 
 The great Omniscient Artist imprints each 
 
 tint and hue, 
 Bids them to breathe sweet odours, though 
 
 invisible to view ; 
 To expand in forms of beauty beneath the 
 
 glowing sun, 
 And fill our hearts with gladness until their 
 
 sweet duty's done. 
 He dwells within the flowerets, so beautiful 
 
 and fair,
 
 98 MARY. 
 
 The glorious constellations shine by His 
 
 presence there; 
 The sun's bright orb is lighted, and doth 
 
 by His presence shine, 
 The planets sing in chorus, and they own 
 
 He is Divine. 
 In their swift concentric motions they bow 
 
 to His control; 
 He doth guide alike the insect, and the 
 
 immortal soul. 
 The wide universe adores Him, the radi- 
 
 diant orb of day, 
 The bright galaxy of glory within the milky 
 
 way ; _ 
 The angels veil their faces in presence of 
 
 the King, 
 And shall man dare to deny Him, and not 
 
 His x^raises sing ? 
 'Tis He Who sends the brooklets meander- 
 ing to the sea. 
 Dashing, splashing, ever flashing, so full of 
 
 life and glee; 
 Bubbling gaily o'er the pebbles, to be lost 
 
 wdthin the main. 
 No, not lost, again we'll see them, in the 
 
 gentle dew^ and rain. 
 Which will wake the lovely flowerets on 
 
 each returning spring,
 
 MARY. 99 
 
 And in summer, when they're thhsty, make 
 
 them with joy to sing. 
 Oh, yes ! we'll see the brooklets, which we 
 
 saw long ago, 
 Floating hither, wafted thither, as the winds 
 
 may list to blow ; 
 We see them in the tiny cloudlets floating 
 
 in the air, 
 And, as snow-flakes, falling round us — pure, 
 
 beautiful, and fair. 
 Sometimes in dark, frowning masses they 
 
 glide athwart the sky. 
 Bearing the loud-mouthed thunder, where 
 
 the lightnings hidden lie ; 
 Even the mighty ocean has been vapour in 
 
 the air, 
 Sparkled in crystal fountains, and, as dew- 
 drops, everywhere. 
 There are w^ond'rous transformations in 
 
 ocean, earth and sky ; 
 To-day a pond'rous substance may as gas 
 
 to-morrow fly : 
 O 'tis a wond'rous story, that the w^aters 
 
 of the earth 
 Are aeriform bodies, and gaseous in their 
 
 birth. 
 It is stranger far than fiction, or myth, or 
 
 fairy tale,
 
 100 MARY. 
 
 And the highest flights of fancy before the 
 
 truth must pale. 
 In the microscopic kingdom, unfolded to 
 
 our view, 
 We see there life and motion, ever chang- 
 ing, ever new ; 
 In a single drop of water, there meets our 
 
 ravished eyes 
 Such strange wonders of creation as fill us 
 
 with surprise. 
 But all God's works are glorious, and 
 
 nothing's made in vain : 
 Ev'n sin it was permitted that the Saviour 
 
 might be slain. 
 
 When I commenced this letter I was 'neath 
 Osborne's Towers, 
 
 But now I am at Windsor, in this happy 
 home of ours ; 
 
 I've sauntered to the woodlands, through 
 green fields and shady lane. 
 
 But homeward I must hasten, ere down- 
 pours the drenching rain. 
 
 A storm is now advancing — dark, electric 
 clouds are nigh. 
 
 The birds have ceased their singing, man 
 and beast for shelter hie ;
 
 MARY. 101 
 
 Nature herself seems weeping, as if full of 
 fear and gloom, 
 
 Lest the first peal of thunder should pro- 
 claim the day of doom. 
 
 And, ere I gain a haven, lurid lightnings 
 flash around, 
 
 Deep awe is o'er me stealing, as the thun- 
 der doth resound, 
 
 As I listen to its rolling, hear its dread, 
 awful voice ; 
 
 When lightnings flash around me, I fear, 
 tremble, and rejoice. 
 
 I feel that God is near me, and is speaking 
 to my soul 
 
 To be prepared to meet Him when His last 
 thunders roll : 
 
 When the recording angel will point out 
 each blot within 
 
 If not wash'd by blood of Jesus from im- 
 purity and «in. 
 
 How happy for us, Mary, if our names are 
 there enroll'd ; 
 
 Then hear the Judge supernal bid the 
 pearly gates unfold. 
 
 And say " Ye blessed, enter those heavenly 
 gates within, 
 
 " The blood that flowed on Calvary has 
 wash'd away all sin."
 
 102 MABY. 
 
 And, if we meet the dear ones whom on 
 
 earth we loved so well, 
 Om- bliss will then be bomidless, beyond 
 
 our tongues to tell. 
 The very thought, my dear one, is sweet 
 
 unction to the soul. 
 May God in mercy keep us till His last 
 
 dread thunders roll. 
 Our lives are evanescent as the ephemera 
 
 fly. 
 
 To-day, in life and beauty, may in death 
 
 to-morrow lie. 
 Death stalks abroad in sunshine, and in 
 
 the dark, weirdsome hours. 
 Gathering all the sear leaves, and oft sweet, 
 
 lovely flowers : 
 Youth, budding into manhood, falls by his 
 
 deadly arrow, 
 Beauty's cheek is pallid ere the advent of 
 
 the morrow. 
 The infant, as it nestles at its dear fond 
 
 mother's breast, 
 Is touched by Death's cold hand, and, 
 
 behold ! it is at rest. 
 A youth and sweet lovely maiden are 
 
 sitting side by side. 
 And the maiden she has promised to 
 
 become his bride ;
 
 MARY. 103 
 
 As they gaze down Time's vista, all assumes 
 
 a roseate hue, 
 No thought of death or sorrow is presented 
 
 to their view. 
 The swift tide of time keeps rolling (with 
 
 us it will not stay). 
 And the maiden's at the altar in her bridal 
 
 array : 
 The white-robed priest is waiting to unite 
 
 two hearts in one. 
 To send them off rejoicing ere the setting 
 
 of the sun. 
 The bridegroom, too, is longing to his heart 
 
 to clasp his bride, 
 But Death has first embraced her, and with 
 
 him she must abide. 
 The preacher ascends the pulpit, opens the 
 
 sacred page. 
 Selects a verse or portion 'gainst the powers 
 
 of hell to wage ; 
 With eloquence and fervour he expounds 
 
 the Word of God, 
 Points out the path of duty, and the narrow, 
 
 heav'nly road : 
 Descants upon creation of insect, fruit, and 
 
 flower, 
 Of countless worlds and systems, infinity 
 
 of power.
 
 104 MARY. 
 
 He speaks of love and mercy, of sins to be 
 
 forgiven, 
 Tells of the Cross of Calvary, and a home 
 
 in heaven : 
 Discourses on death and judgment, warns 
 
 all to be prepared, 
 He staggers, falls, is silent, and no more 
 
 his voice is heard ! 
 
 When the dark-soul'd Atheist stands on 
 
 the storm-toss'd ocean's shore. 
 Will he still say that God is not ? Nor his 
 
 spirit upward soar 
 When the lurid lightnings flash, rending 
 
 the giant oak asunder ; 
 When the voice of God is heard in the 
 
 awe-inspiring thunder : 
 Or when the stormy winds are hush'd, and 
 
 no ripples move the wave. 
 Which, in majesty, rolls in, and his feet 
 
 and pebbles lave. 
 When deep silence reigns around, save the 
 
 low moaning of the sea, 
 Which, like a giant strongly bound, 
 
 struggles and longs to be free ; 
 But, lo ! the fiat has gone forth, which hath 
 
 said " No further go,"
 
 MARY. 105 
 
 And, until God gives the word, it can ne'er 
 
 its bounds o'erflow. 
 Vain doubter, cast thine eyes above to the 
 
 star-bespangled sky, 
 And, behold, in radiance there, the veil'd 
 
 face of Deity : 
 Let your imagination soar far beyond the 
 
 realms of day, 
 Still other glories you will see, which the 
 
 Creator's hand display. 
 Yet soaring onward in the depths of the 
 
 never-ending sky. 
 Still beyond, in realms of space, bright 
 
 worlds and systems you'll descry ; 
 Speed on thy course through the abyss of 
 
 the deep, ethereal blue, 
 And constellations beyond thought will still 
 
 meet thy ravish'd view. 
 Yea, let the mind in fancy roam until all 
 
 numbers you exhaust. 
 And on the confines of the sky you will 
 
 only be at last. 
 Could blind chance those worlds create, 
 
 and their vast airy orbits trace, 
 And launch them onward in their course 
 
 through illimitable space ? 
 Did they spring from the abyss of chaos of 
 
 their own accord,
 
 106 MARY. 
 
 Or by the Omniscient word of the Ever- 
 
 lastiug Lord? 
 Sceptic, if you can create a tiny insect on 
 
 the wing, 
 Or the flow 'ret at thy feet, thy praises I 
 
 will ever sing : 
 When I see the lovely insect moulded 
 
 'neath thy plastic hand, 
 Indued by thee w^ith light and motion, soar 
 
 away at thy command ; 
 When I see thee form the insect from the 
 
 cold inated clay, 
 Breathing odours sweet and lovely as the 
 
 sweetest thorny may : 
 When I see the tiny flow^'ret turn its petals 
 
 to the sun, 
 And the insect soaring upward, I will own 
 
 thy duty's done. 
 When thy simple task is finish'd, then no 
 
 other god I'll own. 
 But, kneeling humbly at thy feet, w^orship 
 
 thee, and thee alone ! 
 
 In fancy I have wandered over mountain, 
 
 hill, and dale, 
 In search of something lovely to adorn my 
 
 simple tale ;
 
 MARY. 107 
 
 And pure has been the pleasure, as I cuU'd 
 
 each tiny spray, 
 Which, with joy, I now present you upon 
 
 thy natal day. 
 May you, on its perusal, in your heart its 
 
 truths enshrine. 
 May you rest on the Eternal, trust oiily the 
 
 Divine : 
 May the King of Kings be with you, and 
 
 be thy help and stay, 
 Be thine in joy and sorrow, be still thine 
 
 by night and day. 
 Here, all is change and motion, everywhere 
 
 we see decay ; 
 Beyond, is life immortal, and bright, ever- 
 lasting day. 
 Here, death reigns alone triumphant upon 
 
 this j&nite shore ; 
 There, all is joy and gladness, where all 
 
 partings will be o'er. 
 Here, is only your probation for a brighter, 
 
 better world ; 
 There, the glory of the future to your eyes 
 
 will be unfurl'd, 
 Where you'll see the King, the Father, the 
 
 High and Holy One, 
 And, co-equal, co-eternal. His well-beloved 
 
 Son.
 
 108 
 
 MARY. 
 
 But now, I think, my dear one, it is time 
 
 to say adieu, 
 I find my letter lengthy, as its pages I 
 
 review ; 
 I'll leave you on life's journing, with 
 
 Omniscience as thy guide. 
 Trusting in God's love and mercy, whatever 
 
 may betide. 
 Be a woman, dearest Mary, of the best, 
 
 truest kind, 
 Improve thy sweetest graces, the sweet 
 
 beauty of the mind : 
 May no foul thief e'er rob thee of a 
 
 maiden's sweetest charms. 
 The Prince of Peace aye keep thee in His 
 
 gentle, loving arms, 
 Till the silver cord is loosen'd, the storms 
 
 of life are o'er ; 
 Then take you in His bosom to a bright, 
 
 better shore. 
 To await the final judgment, when the 
 
 mortal, purified. 
 Will arise to meet thy spirit, by the Christ 
 
 glorified.
 
 FAREWELL. 109 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell, dearest, I must leave you, 
 Here I can no longer stay ; 
 
 I am passing from the finite 
 To a bright, eternal day. 
 
 Soon, in death, I'll close mine eyelids, 
 
 Never more to open here ; 
 Never more behold my darling. 
 
 Nor thy gentle voice will hear. 
 
 In the springtide of young manhood, 
 Life to me seem'd very fair. 
 
 When I pictured, in the future, 
 A bright home with you to share. 
 
 But the blissful dream has vanish' d. 
 Burst like bubbles in the air ; 
 
 And my soul is sometimes verging 
 On the confines of despair. 
 
 For you were my own sweet darling, 
 
 Very, very, very dear ; 
 And to part from you so early 
 
 Seems too hard for me to bear.
 
 110 FAREWELL. 
 
 But beyond, in heav'nly mansions, 
 
 On a brighter, better shore, 
 I will meet my earthly treasure, 
 
 Never, never to part more. 
 
 There we'll reign o'er death triumphant, 
 There no tears will dim our eyes ; 
 
 There we'll, through eternal ages, 
 To a purer glory rise. 
 
 In that home to which I'm hasting, 
 
 There is not eternal rest, 
 But progression, ever onward, 
 
 In the mansions of the blest. 
 
 Each redeem'd one has a mission, 
 Working still the Father's will ; 
 
 There is not, in earth or heaven. 
 Such a thing as standing still. 
 
 I have long'd to call my dear one 
 By the hallow'd name of wife. 
 
 But the hand of death is on me, 
 And fast ebbs the sands of life. 
 
 Soon the cold, dark grave will hide me 
 From thy tender, loving- eye ; 
 
 But you'll think of me, my dearest, 
 Sometimes heave for me a sigh.
 
 FAREWELL. ill 
 
 Place the bright green turf above me, 
 But no tablet at my head ; 
 
 Plant the lowly, humble gowan. 
 The sweet daisy tipp'd wi' red. 
 
 When your heart is sad and weary, 
 And your soul is sore opprest, 
 
 Come to Him, the Man of Sorrows ; 
 He will give you joy and rest. 
 
 Kneel upon the lovely flowerets 
 On the bed in which I lie. 
 
 And my spirit will be near thee, 
 Hear thy gentle, loving cry. 
 
 Yet a last, fond kiss, my darling, 
 I am cold, my eyes are dim ; 
 
 But, O joy ! the portal opens. 
 Which will usher me to Him. 
 
 Which will usher me to Jesus, 
 To the glory of the Lamb ; 
 
 To the One Eternal Father, 
 The Ineffable I Am.
 
 112 TO ANNIE. 
 
 TO ANNIE. 
 
 The year has swiftly passed away, 
 And brought again thy natal day ; 
 I wish you joy on its return, 
 May blessings sweet with thee sojourn. 
 
 To-day, my darling, you are eight ; 
 O come to Jesus, do not wait : 
 He will take you in His arms, 
 And shield you from all dread alarms. 
 
 On this bright day and happy hour. 
 Come to Him, my sweetest flower. 
 And he will teach you how to pray. 
 And lead you in the narrow way. 
 
 In the bright kingdom of His love, 
 A home's prepared for you above ; 
 And He says to such as thee, 
 " My little children, come to me." 
 
 O come to Him in youthful hour, 
 Ere dark clouds begin to lower ; 
 O come to Him while hope is high : 
 Come, come to Him e'er death draws nigh.
 
 TO ANNIE. 113 
 
 come at once, my Annie, clear, 
 Pray do not wait another year ; 
 Cold death may claim you for his prey : 
 O come to Him, make no delay. 
 
 Kneel, kneel to Him at rising sun. 
 And kneel to Him when day is done ; 
 Kneel, kneel to Him, in grief and joy, 
 Sweet peace He'll give, without alloy. 
 
 Tell Him you are a little child. 
 So very wilful, weak, and wild ; 
 Ask Him to teach you how to pray, 
 And not to leave you night or day. 
 
 Tell Him your heart is very prone 
 To wander from Him when alone ; 
 In Church or school, at home or play, 
 Ask Him to be your Guide and Stay. 
 
 Say, " Jesus, merciful and mild, 
 " Take pity on Thy sinful child ; 
 " O fill my heart with love of Thee, 
 " And be Thou ever near to me. 
 
 " Feed me each day with heav'nly food, 
 " And cleanse me in Thy precious blood ; 
 *' Send down Thy Spirit from above, 
 " And clothe my soul with Thy sweet love.
 
 114 ON RAISING A SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 " Send Thy Grace, with gentle power, 
 " Into my heart each day and hour, 
 ** That I may love Thee all my days, 
 " Each night and morn may sing Thy praise. 
 
 '* My father and my mother dear — 
 " Make me their joy and comfort here ; 
 ** And when, in death. You close their eyes, 
 " Be Thou their Guide to Paradise. 
 
 " My brothers and my sisters too, 
 " Incline their hearts to come to You, 
 " That we may stand at Thy right Hand, 
 " A happy and united band." 
 
 ON EAISING A SUBSCRIPTION FOR 
 THE WIDOW OF A DECEASED 
 FELLOW-SERVANT, Makch 2nd, 1883. 
 
 My brithers a' and sisters dear, 
 I've ken'd ye weel for monie a year. 
 And af your weelfare I now spie^ 
 
 Wi' anxious heart : 
 Tho' nae doot you will me cheer 
 
 Afore we part.
 
 ON RAISING A SUBSCRIPTION. 115 
 
 I muckle fear that you're no' weel, 
 Sae I maun a' your pulses feel, 
 And, if I can, I'll bleed you weel — 
 
 It is my craft : 
 Tho' some may say, the cannie chiel 
 
 Is a bit daft. 
 
 Your blood is now at fever heat, 
 'Tis nine times twal' by Fahrenheit ; 
 But, if 1 can, the deil I'll cheat, 
 
 Sae hand my fee : 
 Then you may a' baith drink and eat 
 
 Wi' gust and glee. 
 
 A saxpence here, a shilling there, 
 Frae ilka lad and lassie fair ; 
 But if you don't, I solemn swear, 
 
 You'll hae a pill : 
 'Twill mak' you grane for monie a year, 
 
 And howl your fill. 
 
 But ilka lad is unco kind. 
 The lassies a' are, to my mind, 
 Sae bonnie, sonsie, and refined 
 
 In form and face : 
 A kindly heart I see defined 
 
 In ilka grace.
 
 116 ON RAISING A SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 The bonniest sight o' a', to me, 
 Is a young lassie's tearfu' ee, 
 Beaming wi' purest sympathy 
 
 Free frae a' guile : 
 At sic a sight I seem to see 
 
 The angels smile. 
 
 The highest, best, the purest joy, 
 And ane that canna, winna cloy, 
 The purest thoughts, without alloy, 
 
 Bearing sweet seed, 
 Is when we gie the widow joy 
 
 In time o' need. 
 
 And now I ask your aid to dry 
 A puir auld body's dimming eye, 
 To gie her comfort ere she lie 
 
 'Neath the cauld sod, 
 And hear her say, wi' her last sigh, 
 
 '' O bless them, God." 
 
 And if ilk ane gie half-a-croon, 
 Wi' joy I'll coost my een aboon, 
 Then aff I'll thraw my clouted shoon. 
 
 And dance a jig. 
 Then snap my fingers at the moon, 
 
 I'll feel sae big.
 
 ON RAISING A SUBSCRIPTION. 117 
 
 But if you should cock up your nose, 
 Hint this is neither verse nor prose, 
 Or, that I hae o' Athol brose 
 
 Ta'en owre rnuckle, 
 I'll end my life and a^ my woes 
 
 Wi' my auld whuttle. 
 
 Tho', 'twill no' come to sic a pass, 
 
 For ilka lad and bonnie lass 
 
 Hae got a purse wi' lots o' brass — 
 
 The rhymer's fee : 
 Sae hand it owre, then hae a glass 
 
 0' barley bree. 
 
 P.S. 
 
 The rhymer's a grey-headed carl 
 Wha kens but little o' this warl, 
 And wha winna wi' you quarrel, 
 
 If gold you gie ; 
 'Twill raebbie gie you to yon warl 
 
 An entrance free. 
 
 ON THE SAME OCCASION. 
 
 I ask your aid, to comfort, cheer. 
 To w^ipe away the widow's tear ; 
 Pray do not say you can't afford. 
 For you are lending to the Lord.
 
 118 TO MY BRIT HER. 
 
 To those who give their mite to-day, 
 He will, with tenfold interest, pay ; 
 I therefore ask your aid, to cheer. 
 And wipe away the widow's tear. 
 
 The Man of Sorrows does His part 
 To comfort every weary heart ; 
 Let us be like Him, help to cheer. 
 And wipe away the widow's tear. 
 
 March 10th. 
 
 The stricken heart is full of joy, 
 With gratitude without alloy ; 
 And gives you thanks, with heart sincere, 
 For drying up the widow's tear. 
 
 TO MY BEITHEE. 
 
 I SEND you doon a verse or twa 
 To read when you hae leisure, 
 
 Tho' you'll no' find them vera braw, 
 In metre or in measure. 
 
 But sin' I've taen the rhymin' trade, 
 
 I string a lot thegether : 
 In some there is a little sense. 
 
 In some a lot o' blether.
 
 TO MY BRITHER. 119 
 
 But if they should gie to your heart 
 
 The sma'est bit o' pleasure, 
 I'll send you mair whene'er you like, 
 
 Withouten mete or measure. 
 
 And, as you are deep in my debt, 
 
 In fac', an aufa' debtor. 
 Just o' your mind gie me a screed 
 
 In a lang, winsome letter. 
 
 And if the muse should be sae kind 
 
 To kittle up your fancy. 
 To gar you write a roosing sang 
 
 0' Jeannie, Kate, or Nancy. 
 
 And if, perchance, you've lost your heart 
 To some fair, country maiden, 
 
 Just let me ken, and in a trice 
 I'll post aff to your weddin'. 
 
 For surely you have seen some lass. 
 When knappin' stanes, or shearin', 
 
 Wad make you happy a' your life. 
 And stap my further spearin'. 
 
 For, brither Ealph, I think its time 
 
 You took yoursel' a wihe, 
 She wad bring joy into your heart. 
 
 And pleasure to your lifie.
 
 120 TO MY BRITHER. 
 
 Of a' things guid, a wife's the best, 
 The vera cream o' pleasure ; 
 
 If ance you try, I ken you'll say 
 She is a priceless treasure. 
 
 My cannie lad, ye're gettin' auld. 
 Your hair is gray and scanty ; 
 
 But a wife wad mak' you young again, 
 And cock your hat quite jaunty. 
 
 Just tak' a pattern by mysel', 
 
 I am baith snug and cosy ; 
 In trying to express my love 
 
 I've taen to writin' poesy. 
 
 My wife is weel, and so am I, 
 And a' the bairns are canty : 
 
 But o' their beauty I'll no speak, 
 Lest you should think me vaunty. 
 
 Gie my best love to Ann and Jean, 
 To Adam, John, and Jamie ; 
 
 And no forget my ancient frien's. 
 Tarn Wilson and his Jeannie. 
 
 Sae now, farewell, my brither dear, 
 I've tried to show my learnin' ; 
 
 But a letter is what maist I want. 
 For that my heart is yearnin.'
 
 I WONDER IF SHE LOVES ME." 121 
 
 I WONDEE IF SHE LOVES ME. 
 
 I WONDER if she loves me, 
 Or would she say me nay, 
 
 If I should gently press her 
 To name the happy day ? 
 
 I really think she loves me, 
 She blushes when I'm nigh ; 
 
 In her sweet, pensive moments 
 I sometimes hear her sigh. 
 
 To-day I mean to tell her 
 
 I think she is divine. 
 And if she lets me kiss her, 
 
 I'll ask her to be mine. 
 
 Sweet joy, the maiden loves me ; 
 
 She seal'd it with a kiss. 
 And, with sweet blushes, promis'd 
 
 To consummate my bliss.
 
 122 A LOVELY YOUNG MAIDEN. 
 
 "SOME SAY I'M A LOVELY YOUNG 
 MAIDEN." 
 
 Some say I'm a lovely young maiden, 
 I know I am bashful and coy, 
 
 Yet love the young men to distraction, 
 Which brings me both sorrow and joy. 
 
 If they look, my face becomes crimson, 
 If they speak I answer them wrong ; 
 
 If they try my waist to encircle, 
 
 I give it them — well, something strong. 
 
 Yet I love the sweet titillation. 
 The light, gentle pressure is bliss ; 
 
 And when in their eyes I read something, 
 The something of which is a kiss ; 
 
 When their face, with joy, is advancing 
 Still closer and closer to mine. 
 
 When our breath in sweetness commingles, 
 What follows, I own, is divine. 
 
 There's nothing on earth so delightful 
 To a maiden, bashful and coy, 
 
 Than a young man gently persisting 
 To impart such heavenly joy.
 
 SECOND LIFE GUARDS. 123 
 
 ON THE OCCASION OF A BANQUET 
 HELD IN HONOUE OF THE 
 SECOND LIFE GUAEDS, ON 
 THEIE EETUEN FEOM THE 
 EGYPTIAN WAE, 1882. 
 
 Second Life Guards — 
 
 Again we bid you welcome to our ancient 
 
 royal Town ; 
 We give you heartfelt greetings, thou 
 
 warriors of renown. 
 You've proved yourselves good soldiers, on 
 
 the march, and in the fray, 
 And we're proud to call you brothers on 
 
 this auspicious day ; 
 You fought like ancient Spartans, proved 
 
 loyal men and true : 
 You have shed a brighter glory on your 
 
 Queen and country, too. 
 Prompt at the call of duty, ready at the 
 
 word " Fall in ! " 
 Like an avalanche you thunder'd on your 
 
 foes at Kassassin ; 
 Your swords gleam 'd for an instant, then 
 
 descended on the foe, 
 Again you flash'd them, reeking, there was 
 
 death in everv blow.
 
 124 THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 
 
 Eise, gentlemen of Windsor, your attention 
 
 I now crave, 
 Drink to our noble Life Guards — to the 
 
 bravest of the brave ! 
 
 THE DYING CHEISTIAN. 
 
 Soon, in death, I'll close mine eyelids, 
 Soon my soul will pass away 
 
 From its home of sin and sorrow, 
 To a bright, eternal day. 
 
 When the grave has claim'd its victim. 
 And is loos'd life's silver cord, 
 
 It will rise, with joy exultant, 
 In the image of the Lord. 
 
 Angel-guards will guide it onward, 
 Through the pathway of the skies, 
 
 And will open wide the portal 
 To the courts of Paradise. 
 
 But the body it will slumber 
 In the silence of the tomb, 
 
 Till the angel sounds the trumpet 
 At the final day of doom.
 
 THE AULD MAN TO HIS WIFE. 125 
 
 When the dead, in countless thousands, 
 Will arise to meet their God ; 
 
 Some, with joy, will hail the summons, 
 Some will fear His chastening rod. 
 
 When the Christ — the Man of Sorrows, 
 He who once lay in the grave. 
 
 He who was the Friend of sinners, 
 And who died our souls to save ; 
 
 He — the King, the Judge Supernal, 
 . Will say unto some, " Arise, 
 " Enter thou to life eternal 
 
 " In the mansions of the skies." 
 
 But the damn'd! — Jesu, in mercy, 
 Let me never hear the word, 
 
 Which would banish me for ever. 
 From the presence of the Lord. 
 
 THE AULD MAN TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 We twa are gettin' auld, wife, 
 And doiterin' doon the hill ; 
 
 But hand in hand we'll gang, wife. 
 And will love each ither still.
 
 126 THE AULD MAN TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 I mind the day fu' weel, wife, 
 When we did first forgather ; 
 
 I thought you sweet and fair, wife, 
 And winsome a' thegether. 
 
 Your eyes they beam'd wi' love, wife. 
 Bright and bonnie was their sheen ; 
 
 Their first glance pierc'd my heart, wife, 
 And enthroned you as my queen. 
 
 Those days o' youthfu' joy, wife, 
 
 Hae pass'd awa' for ever. 
 But love's sweet dream remains, wife, 
 
 Which death cannot dissever. 
 
 And, after death, there is, wife, 
 A bright, bonnie hame above ; 
 
 A hame prepared by Him, wife. 
 Whose sweet attribute is Love. 
 
 I sometimes hae sweet glints, wife, 
 
 O' yon bright, better world. 
 Where a' is joy and peace, wife. 
 
 Eternity unfurl'd. 
 
 Though it is but a dream, wife, 
 The strange fancies o' the night. 
 
 We ken there is beyond, wife, 
 A bright hame o' pure delight.
 
 HEARTFELT WISHES. 127 
 
 Where sorrow, pale-faced care, wife, 
 
 Cannot even enter in ; 
 Where death has sprung to hfe, wife, 
 
 And sweet love has banish'd sin. 
 
 Where we'll see face to face, wife, 
 The bright glory' o' the Lamb, 
 
 Immanuel, the King, wife, 
 The Ineffable I Am. 
 
 But ere we gain that hame, wife, 
 We must trust in Him wha died, 
 
 Wash in the cleansing blood, wife, 
 Af the Christ, the Crucified. 
 
 Still may we hand in hand, wife. 
 Gang doon life's hill thegether, 
 
 And in that bonnie hame, wife, 
 Wi' a' that's dear, forgather. 
 
 HEARTFELT WISHES. 
 
 AjJril 37th, 1882. 
 
 Fair Helen of Waldeck, w^e now greet you 
 
 with joy, 
 May your guerdon be love, without dross 
 
 or alloy ;
 
 128 HEARTFELT WISHES. 
 
 May the Searcher of hearts be your Friend 
 
 and Guide, 
 To keep you and guard you, whatever 
 
 betide. 
 May the flags now waving on thy bridal 
 
 day 
 Be a symbol of joy that will ne'er pass 
 
 away : 
 May Leopold, the Princely, be loving and 
 
 true, 
 Make your heart throb with joy, your love 
 
 never rue ; 
 May sweet olive branches soon cluster 
 
 around, 
 To gladden your hearts when their laughter 
 
 resound. 
 
 Fair Helen of England, we bid you fare- 
 well, 
 
 Haste away with thy love to Claremont's 
 green dell ; 
 
 And when, in sweet converse, with Leopold 
 you stray 
 
 Li its sylvan retreats, at the close of the 
 day.
 
 HEARTFELT WISHES. 129 
 
 Oft think of the dear one who gave you 
 
 the joy : 
 Be a wife and a friend to her noble boy. 
 
 God Bless the Baby. 
 
 Febniary 25th, 1883. 
 
 May God bless the baby, and her dear 
 
 mother, too ; 
 May she give the glory to whom the 
 
 blessing's due : 
 May God bless the baby, wnth heart and 
 
 soul we pray ; 
 Keep her, guide her, guard her, on each 
 
 future day. 
 May she grow in beauty, in outward form 
 
 and mind. 
 Be gentle, loving, modest, the best of 
 
 womankind. 
 Now we'll leave the baby in God's Almighty 
 
 hand. 
 May she always love Him, and in His 
 
 temple stand.
 
 130 IN ME MORI AM. 
 
 On Seeing the Baby. 
 
 Light balmy sleep enwrap'd the child, 
 
 A smile illumed her face ; 
 Sweet innocence I saw defined, 
 
 No stain of sin could trace. 
 
 Again I saw the lovely babe, 
 
 Crowing in joyous glee, 
 And read within her laughing eyes, 
 
 A soul of purity. 
 
 may her soul keep bright and pure, 
 God be her help and stay ; 
 
 And never leave her to herself. 
 But keep her night and day. 
 
 IN MEMOEIAM. 
 Princess Alice, Died 14th Dec, 1878. 
 
 Children of Albion, veil your faces, and 
 
 weep 
 For England's fair daughter who has fallen 
 
 asleep : 
 For the sweet Princess Alice, the gentle 
 
 and brave, 
 In the true path of duty has gone to the 
 
 grave.
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 131 
 
 But grieve not, my Queen, for the dear one 
 
 who has gone, 
 For she now reaps the fruit of the seed you 
 
 have sown ; 
 With acts of devotion, abnegation, and 
 
 love. 
 She has enter'd the portal of heaven 
 
 above. 
 
 Your fair name it is known o'er the wide 
 
 rolling earth, 
 From the hot torrid zone, to the cold frigid 
 
 north ; 
 Thy glory is great, pure and bright shines 
 
 its light, 
 But, compared to her's, 'tis the blackness 
 
 of night. 
 
 O, kneel, kneel at God's footstool, great 
 
 Empress and Queen, 
 His arm will support you, though His hand 
 
 is unseen ; 
 And at last he will lead you to those whom 
 
 you love, 
 Who now dwell with Emmanuel, the 
 
 Heavenly Dove.
 
 132 ''IN THE MIDST OF LIFE," &c. 
 
 IN THE MIDST OF LIFE WE ARE 
 IN DEATH." 
 
 The day is waning, waning, 
 
 The night is nigh : 
 The sands of hfe are ebbing, 
 
 Soon we must die. 
 
 Earth, with our joys and sorrows, 
 
 Will disappear. 
 Engulfing all we cherish. 
 
 And hold most dear. 
 
 Time bears us swiftly onward. 
 
 It will not stay : 
 Evanishing, like day-dreams, 
 
 We pass away. 
 
 Death stalks abroad in sunshine, 
 
 And mid-night gloom, 
 Ingathering his harvest 
 
 Into the tomb. 
 
 He takes the high and noble. 
 
 And humble poor ; • 
 Enters the lordly mansion. 
 
 And cottage door.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF LIFE," dx. 133 
 
 The infant, in the morning, 
 
 Is full of glee ; 
 Lo ! ere the sun has vanish'd, 
 
 Its soul is free. 
 
 Youth, budding into manhood, 
 
 Joyous in heart, 
 Encounters the grim foeman, 
 
 Falls by his dart. 
 
 The maiden's cheeks are tinted 
 
 With beauty's bloom: 
 The morrow, they are pallid, 
 
 Ripe for the tomb. 
 
 The mother, while she fondles 
 
 Her darling babe. 
 Is touched by Death's cold hand, 
 
 In silence laid. 
 
 The strong man gathers riches. 
 
 And ample store ; 
 Death meets him on the threshold, 
 
 His race is o'er. 
 
 Soon, loving hands will lay us 
 
 Beneath the sod ; 
 May we, w^hile day is with us. 
 
 Make peace with God.
 
 134 WOMAN— WAR. 
 
 Trust in the King, Eedeemer, 
 
 Who came to save ; 
 Who died for our redemption, 
 
 Eose from the grave. 
 
 Who pleads now with the Father, 
 
 For us above : 
 Infinity of mercy, 
 
 Unfathom'd love ! 
 
 WOMAN— WAE. 
 
 Awake, my muse, awake to life, 
 
 But not to sing of angry strife. 
 
 Nor yet of battles' loud alarms. 
 
 But only of dear Woman's charms. 
 
 Of her sweet, gentle, loving ways, 
 
 Aye giving joy, not seeking praise, 
 
 As sister, daughter, mother, wife. 
 
 Such theme might wake poetic life. 
 
 Of belted warriors, tented fields, 
 
 Fierce charging hosts, and clang of shields, 
 
 In scenes of blood you are forlorn, 
 
 You cannot sing when widows mourn. 
 
 Upon a red, ensanguin'd plain, 
 Amongst the dying and the slain,
 
 WOMAN— WAR. 135 
 
 Minist'ring angels hover near, 
 
 Giving comfort, hearing prayer. 
 
 Some are there of heavenly birth, 
 
 And others, too, of grosser earth. 
 
 But angels still, in woman's form. 
 
 Instilling peace amid the storm. 
 
 There, a youthful warrior lies. 
 
 Pale is his cheek and dim his eyes : 
 
 His life-blood flows in ebbing tide, 
 
 While Death sits cow'ring by his side. 
 
 And o'er him bends, in speechless woe, 
 
 The partner of his joys below ; 
 
 With trembling hands she tries to stay 
 
 His life-blood fleeting fast away. 
 
 Of charging squadrons, shrieks and groans, 
 
 Of curses, prayers, and dying moans ; 
 
 Of cannon's roar, and shots' rebound, 
 
 She's dead to every passing sound. 
 
 Her soul seems centred on that face. 
 
 So full of youthful, manly grace ; 
 
 Now pale and wan with death's cold dew, 
 
 Clustering o'er his noble brow. 
 
 Six months before, with joyous pride, 
 
 He led her forth a happy bride ; 
 
 By Tweed's green banks, and crystal stream, 
 
 They first indulged in love's sw^eet dream : 
 
 They took a fond, perspective view 
 
 Of pleasures sweet, and ever new ;
 
 136 WOMAN— WAR. 
 
 Of cottage joys, connubial bliss, 
 A home of peace and happiness. 
 Of children prattling on their knee. 
 Or dancing round in joyous glee : 
 Kneeling down at ev'ning prayer ; 
 Such scenes are bliss beyond compare. 
 But War, that monster, child of hell, 
 Whose horrors tongue can never tell, 
 With trumpet clang, and loud alarms. 
 Tore Edwin from his loved one's arms. 
 Dread War, thou hellish child of sin : 
 Ambition, too, thy sister twin ; 
 Join not again in wild embrace. 
 And man with man shall dwell in peace. 
 Then Love, that bright, and heav'nly star, 
 Shall rule the nations near and far ; 
 The teeming earth her pow'r shall feel. 
 And at her footstool lowly kneel. 
 But haste the time, thou loving band. 
 Against dread War now take thy stand ; 
 And gentle Peace, with mighty power, 
 Shall blessings on the nations shower. 
 Arise, arise, and quell the strife. 
 Each sister, daughter, mother, wife ; 
 Shed thy sweet spirit o'er the scene. 
 Then joy and peace will reign serene. 
 
 [Note. — The preceding lines, composed one 
 morning on my way from Osborne to Newport
 
 (I. of W.), were commenced with the intention of 
 descanting on love and peace in accord with the 
 scene around me. The muse, however, appears to 
 have resented my telling her that she must not 
 sing of war and its attendant horrors, for I found, 
 upon reducing my thoughts to writing, that 
 " Angry Strife " was my principal theme.] 
 
 LINES TO DOECAS. 
 
 YouK sorrows are great, but the Saviour is 
 
 kind, 
 He sent you affliction to chasten your 
 
 mind ; 
 For those whom He loves, He oft chastens 
 
 them sore, 
 To prepare them for heav'n, and joys 
 
 evermore. 
 
 While here, you have sorrow, deep anguish, 
 
 and pain, 
 There, if a Christian, a crown you will 
 
 gain ; 
 And here, you must part from those whom 
 
 you love. 
 But there, you will dwell with the Saviour 
 
 above.
 
 138 LINES TO DORCAS. 
 
 On earth, all is mortal, swift change and 
 
 decay, 
 There, life is eternal, celestial day ; 
 Here, you are tempted, without and within : 
 There, all is sweet peace, for heaven is 
 
 serene. 
 
 Here, like the ocean, you can never find 
 
 rest. 
 But there, with the Father Eternal, you're 
 
 blest ; 
 Here, like the seed, in the cold earth you 
 
 must lie. 
 But there, you are quicken'd, and never 
 
 will die. 
 
 Here, brief is our portion, our life is a span. 
 The dark looming future, no mortal can 
 
 scan ; 
 But a bright light is shining to point out 
 
 the way, 
 The beacon is Jesus, to Him we must pray. 
 
 Here, amid suffering, sharp hunger, and 
 
 pain. 
 The Saviour was womided, for us He was 
 
 slain ; 
 On the Cross of Calvary laid His life down 
 To purchase our pardon, to gain us a Crown.
 
 THE CROSS. 139 
 
 And here, like the moth on a bleak autumn 
 
 day, 
 We flutter and die, and our bodies decay ; 
 But there, with the angels, for ever we'll 
 
 sing 
 Sweet anthems to Jesus, our Saviour and 
 
 King. 
 
 THE CROSS. 
 
 Father of mercy, God of love, 
 
 I lift my heart to Thee ; 
 Send dowai Thy Spirit from above, 
 
 That it may comfort me. 
 
 Thou sent Thy Son, Thine only Son, 
 
 To die upon the Tree ; 
 O wash me in His precious blood, 
 
 And it will comfort me. 
 
 To the Cross, the glorious Cross, 
 
 Father, in haste, I flee ; 
 Beneath its shadow I will kneel. 
 
 That You may comfort me. 
 
 Beneath the Cross, the blood-stain'd Cross, 
 
 I crave for pardon free. 
 And will not leave the hallow'd spot 
 
 Until you comfort me.
 
 140 ''I AWOKE, AND LO! IT WAS A DREAM" 
 
 Upon the Cross, the blood-stain'd Cross' 
 
 Jesus He died for me ; 
 And from the Cross, the glorious Cross, 
 
 Father, I'll fly to Thee. 
 
 "I AWOKE, AND LO ! IT WAS A 
 
 DEE AM." 
 
 clasp me to your heart, Jamie, 
 Till I am ta'en awa' ; 
 
 For I maun leave you now, Jamie, 
 And my wee bairnies twa. 
 
 1 ance did think to stay, Jamie, 
 Wi' you for monie a year, 
 
 To be your comfort here, Jamie, 
 And dight awa' ilk tear. 
 
 But God has said to me, Jamie, 
 
 That I maun gang awa' 
 To a hame prepared, Jamie, 
 
 Where a' is grand and braw. 
 
 The voice Divine did speak, Jamie, 
 
 In accents loud and clear, 
 '* Put a' your trust in Me, Jeannie, 
 
 " And you'll no' doubt or fear."
 
 'I AWOKE, AND LO! IT WAS A DREAM" 141 
 
 At first it seem'd sae hard, Jamie, 
 To pairt wi' a' that's dear, 
 
 To leave my bairnies wee, Jamie, 
 And no' their voices hear. 
 
 But now my mind is chang'd, Jamie, 
 
 I'm waitin' to be taen ; 
 Tho' I am vera wae, Jamie, 
 
 To leave you a' alane. 
 
 But I hae dream' d a dream, Jamie , 
 
 Sae comforting to me ; 
 I thought I was in heaven, Jamie, 
 
 And bonnie sights did see. 
 
 Ye mind our blithesome wean, Jamie, 
 
 When she was taen awa'. 
 How sair it grieved our hearts, Jamie, 
 
 And brak' them near in twa. 
 
 I saw our darling bairn, Jamie, 
 And, oh ! she look'd sae gran', 
 
 Wi' a crown upo' her head, Jamie, 
 And a sceptre in her han'. 
 
 And she was claid in white, Jamie, 
 
 Wi' glory roun' her head; 
 And it then seem'd to me, Jamie, 
 
 That she had ne'er been dead.
 
 142 ''I AWOKE, AND LO! IT WAS A DREAM*' 
 
 And, oh ! she look'd sae bhthe, Jamie; 
 
 She sweetly smiled on me : 
 I clasp 'd her to my heart, Jamie, 
 
 And set her on my knee. 
 
 And she then said to me, Jamie, 
 " mither, ye maun stay ; 
 
 " We're a' sae happy here, mither, 
 " We worship night and day. 
 
 " We sing aboot the Lamb, mither, 
 " Wha died for you and me ; 
 
 " He left His hame aboon, mither, 
 " Frae sin to set us free. 
 
 " He left His glory here, mither, 
 " Our souls frae death to save ; 
 
 " And frae the Cross went doon, mither, 
 " To the cauld, silent grave. 
 
 " But there He didna' stay, mither, 
 " He cam' back to His hame; 
 
 " And now it is our joy, mither, 
 " To glorify His Name. 
 
 " We hae nae sun or moon, mither, 
 " We need nae earthly light, 
 
 " The glory o' the Lamb, mither. 
 " Sheds roun' a radiance bright.
 
 'I AWOKE, AND LO! IT WAS A DREAM" 143 
 
 " The rainbow-circled throne, mither, 
 " Shines wi' effulgent sheen ; 
 
 " In palaces o' earth, mither, 
 " There's naething like it seen. 
 
 " S. John, the frien' o' Christ, mither, 
 " Gie'd us o' heav'n a gleam ; 
 
 " But here it's grander far, mither, 
 " Than his prophetic dream. 
 
 " What he saw aboon, mither, 
 " Was thro' a darken 'd screen ; 
 
 " Nae mortal yet ere saw, mither, 
 " Unveil'd the heavenly scene. 
 
 " For he just had a glint, mither, 
 
 ** Thro' a half-open door ; 
 " Eneugh to mak' us strive, mither, 
 
 " To reach this happy shore. 
 
 " You've seen the sun keek oot, mither, 
 " Frae a dark, cloudy sky ; 
 
 " A flash, and it was gane, mither, 
 '' Like ae glance o' the eye. 
 
 " It telt the sun was there, mither, 
 
 " Tho' it was but a peep 
 " O' glory still ayout, mither, 
 
 " Af which w^e a' may reap.
 
 " For God did not create, mither, 
 
 '' Immortal souls to damn ; 
 "His attribute is Love, mither, — 
 
 " Ineffable I Am. 
 
 " But there's adreadfu' hell, mither, 
 
 " Of unutterable woe — 
 " A place where devils dwell, mither, 
 
 " And where the damn'dmust go. 
 
 " The joys o' heav'n they'll see, mither, 
 
 *' The bliss o' a' within : 
 "Behold the fruit o' love, mither, 
 
 " But reap the grit o' sin. 
 
 " Eoun' the throne o' light, mither, 
 
 " The angel harpers stand ; 
 " Their sang is o' the Lamb, mither, 
 
 " Wha sits on God's right hand. 
 
 " The saints and martyrs a', mither, 
 " Wha cam' through grief and pain, 
 
 ** Join the angelic choirs, mither, 
 " In their poetic strain. 
 
 " They praise the Christ, the King, mither, 
 '• Wha shed His blood for thee ; 
 
 " Wha died upon the Cross, mither, 
 " Frae sin to set us free.
 
 'I AWOKE, AND LO! IT WAS A DREAM'' 145 
 
 " They veil their faces then, mither, 
 " The glory is sae bright ; 
 
 " Ye maunna see it now, mither, 
 " You couldna' bear the sight. 
 
 ** The glory is too great, mither, 
 
 " For mortal een to see ; 
 " Sae ye mami wait a wee, mither, 
 
 " Till death shall set you free." 
 
 I then awoke wi' joy, Jamie, 
 
 And it was a' a dream ; 
 But I believe I had, Jamie, 
 
 0' heav'n a transient gleam. 
 
 And now I'll say fareweel, Jamie, 
 
 But no' for evermore ; 
 I'll meet you and our weans, Jamie, 
 
 On a bright, better shore. 
 
 Yes, I'll be waitin' there, Jamie, 
 You'll be the first I meet ; 
 
 Sae dinna look sae wae, Jamie, 
 dinna, dinna greet. 
 
 Just lay your cheek to mine, Jamie, 
 And catch my latest breath. 
 
 For now I ken that this, Jamie, 
 Is the cauld hand o' Death.
 
 146 GORDON'S JOURNEY TO KHARTOUM. 
 
 A glorious sight I see, Jamie, 
 The heav'ns are opened wide. 
 
 The Saviour beckons me, Jamie, 
 Sae here I mamma bide. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION 
 OF THE JOURNEY OF GENERAL 
 GORDON FROM CAIRO TO KHAR- 
 TOUM, FEB., 1884. 
 
 Onward ! Gordon, noble heart, 
 God from thee will not depart ; 
 For thy mission is sweet love. 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Onward ! Gordon, do not fear. 
 Face the hostile sword and spear ; 
 For thy mission is sweet love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 On the barren desert sand 
 God by thee will take His stand ; 
 For thy mission is sweet love, 
 Attribute of Him above.
 
 GORDON'S JOURNEY TO KHARTOUM. 147 
 
 Though the battles may abound, 
 Blood and carnage thee surround ; 
 Still thy mission is sweet love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Onward ! Gordon, onward, on ! 
 Through dark Afric's torrid zone, 
 In thy mission of sweet love, 
 x\ttribute of Him above. 
 
 'Mid the hostile sw^ord and spear 
 God Himself is always near ; 
 For thy mission is sweet love. 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Gordon, thou shalt take thy stand 
 With the noblest of the land ; 
 For thy spirit glows with love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Onward ! Gordon, face the strife, 
 Death will bring eternal life ; 
 He Who's attribute is love 
 Has a home for thee above.
 
 148 THE MIND— A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 Gordon's cross'd the desert sands, 
 Met the fierce Arabic bands, 
 In his mission of sweet love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 Pure and noble, gentle, brave. 
 Friend of the enshackled slave, 
 With a heart surcharged with love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 The great soldier of renown 
 Has now gain'd the victor's crown 
 In his mission of sweet love, 
 Attribute of Him above. 
 
 From Khartoum his soul did rise 
 To bright mansions in the skies ; 
 He now dwells in worlds above. 
 In the presence of All Love. 
 
 THE MIND— A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 In childhood's sweet dream, by the clear, 
 
 silvery Tweed, 
 I wander'd in joy, and of care took no 
 
 heed ;
 
 THE MIND— A REMINISCENCE. 149 
 
 And in boyhood's bright bloom, on its 
 
 banks and braes, 
 I clamber'd for hours, and ne'er thought of 
 
 the days. 
 
 But they kept roHing on, the years pass'd 
 
 away. 
 And the locks that were raven are turn'd 
 
 to grey ; 
 Yet Old Father Time has dealt gently with 
 
 me, 
 Though changed is my body, my mind is 
 
 still free. 
 
 Oh ! the mind is a wondrous web to un- 
 fold. 
 
 If kept bright and pure 'tis more precious 
 than gold ; 
 
 In an instant it soars to the ends of the 
 earth. 
 
 And returns as soon to the place of its 
 birth. 
 
 The place of its birth — oh ! 'tis grander by 
 
 far 
 Than earth's lovely scenes, or the bright 
 
 morning star ;
 
 150 THE MIND— A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 It came from the Heaven of Heavens 
 
 above, 
 The home of Immanuel, the Heavenly 
 
 Dove. 
 
 In the image of God — glorious and 
 grand — 
 
 It sprang into being by word of com- 
 mand ; 
 
 And, swifter than thought on celestial 
 ray, 
 
 Descended to earth to its frail house of 
 clay. 
 
 Its house will soon fall, will dissolve and 
 
 decay, 
 But the mind is the soul — eternal its 
 
 day; 
 'Twill return, as it came, to the realms 
 
 above, 
 To dwell with the Father, whose essence 
 
 is Love.
 
 PASSING THOUGHTS. 151 
 
 PASSING THOUGHTS. 
 
 As in the devious path of hfe 
 
 We wander on our way, 
 Our hearts are sometimes very sad, 
 
 And sometimes they are gay. 
 
 Gay, in the springtide of our youth, 
 When all that meets our view 
 
 Is gilded with the tintings bright 
 Of a sweet, roseate hue. 
 
 With blithesome hearts we sail alon 
 
 o 
 
 On life's bright, buoyant w^ave ; 
 And, without either chart or guide. 
 The dark untrodden brave. 
 
 We gaily launc-h upon the stream, 
 
 With Pleasure at the helm ; 
 And think not of the storms beyond, 
 
 Which may us overwhelm. 
 
 We spread our sails, with cheerful hearts, 
 
 To catch each passing joy. 
 Forgetful that the stream of Time 
 
 May the sweet pleasure cloy.
 
 152 PASSING THOUGHTS. 
 
 The days and months sweep swiftly on, 
 
 And years keep rolling by ; 
 Our youthful joys are swept away, 
 
 The end it draweth nigh. 
 
 Will they who trust in Pleasure's cup 
 Feel joy when death is near, 
 
 Or will the thoughts then shadow'd forth 
 Bring only doubt and fear ? 
 
 Will angel guards surround their beds. 
 
 Or fiends of hell be there ? 
 Will they descend to hades' shades. 
 
 Or rise to mansions fair ? 
 
 If their sweet hopes of future bliss 
 
 Are clear and well defined, 
 The shaft which gives the fatal stroke 
 
 Will leave no sting behind. 
 
 When darken'd clouds enwrap us round, 
 Our hearts are full of gloom ; 
 
 When some dear one — our hope and joy — 
 Is hast'ning to the tomb. 
 
 When all the skill that science gives. 
 
 And love can intervene. 
 Fails to arrest the fatal stroke 
 
 Which will encloud the scene.
 
 CHRIS TMA S MORNING. 153 
 
 When some dear one (the hope and stay 
 
 Of our dechmng years) 
 Sinks gently to the gates of death 
 
 With all our hopes and fears. 
 
 But if we've sail'd our bark aright 
 O'er life's dark, troubled wave, 
 
 And cast our anchor and our hopes 
 On Him who died to save, 
 
 He'll guide us to a haven sure, 
 
 Free from all storms of sin ; 
 If w^e but trust His cleansing blood, 
 
 We all may enter in. 
 
 CHEISTMAS MOENING, 1885. 
 
 Again the day has circled round. 
 On w^hich the Christ was born. 
 
 The day the Son of Mary came 
 To comfort the forlorn. 
 
 He came, the Messenger of Peace, 
 By angel guards proclaim'd ; 
 
 He came to burst the bands of sin. 
 By which we are enchain'd.
 
 154 CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 He came not on triumphant car, 
 But lowly, meek, and mild ; 
 
 Not as a monarch to his throne, 
 But as a little Child. 
 
 The Christ, the King, the Holy One, 
 
 Was in a stable born ; 
 And in a manger He was laid 
 
 On that first Christmas morn. 
 
 Herald angels, at His birth, 
 
 Proclaim'd Him Christ the Lord, 
 
 Immanuel the King of kings, 
 The everlasting Word. 
 
 He came, the bleeding heart to bind, 
 
 The sinful soul to save ; 
 He came to die upon the Cross, 
 
 To lie within the grave. 
 
 Before He left His home above. 
 He knew that He must die ; 
 
 That on the Cross His blood must flow, 
 He in the grave must lie. 
 
 He died that we might gain a home. 
 
 To dwell with Him above, 
 And bask for ever in the smile 
 
 Of Him whose name is Love.
 
 CHRIS TMA S GREE TING TO A NNIE. 155 
 
 I CHEISTMAS GEEETING TO ANNIE. 
 
 Dearest one, we greet thee, 
 I On this happy morn ; 
 
 ! May His love enwrap thee, 
 
 Who this day was born. 
 
 May He lead thee onw^ard 
 ! Till thy journey's o'er ; 
 
 I Thine in joy and sorrow, 
 
 Thine for evermore. 
 
 Buckle on His armour 
 In the race you run, 
 I Treading in His footsteps 
 
 i Till the goal is won. 
 
 In the land of Beulah, 
 
 His bright home above. 
 In His presence dwelling, 
 i Basking in His love. 
 
 ' Singing, sweetly singing, 
 
 Praises unto Him ; 
 Kneeling at His footstool 
 With bright seraphim. 
 
 Singing with the angels 
 On that happy shore, 
 Meeting with the dear ones, 
 j When their journey's o'er.
 
 156 " CHRISTIAN, TELL ME." 
 
 "CHEISTIAN, TELL ME." 
 
 Christian, tell me, pray me tell. 
 Is there a heaven and a hell ? 
 Or is it a false, priestly dream. 
 Pray tell, tell me, what you deem ? 
 
 Is there a life beyond the grave, 
 (Our highest aspirations crave) 
 Or will the myriads who die. 
 In the cold grave for ever lie ? 
 
 Is there a home for us above. 
 Prepared by a Eedeemer's love ? 
 Or is it all a priestly dream. 
 Pray tell, tell me, what you deem ? 
 
 " There is a home prepared above, 
 " The seat of purity and love ; 
 " There is a heaven and a hell, 
 " Our silent monitor doth tell. 
 
 " There is a life beyond the grave, 
 " (Our highest aspirations crave) 
 " And the vast myriads who die, 
 " Will not in death for ever lie. 
 
 " The dead in Christ will first arise 
 " To dwell with Him in Paradise, 
 " And the damn'd be downward driven, 
 " Nevermore to enter heaven."
 
 DEAD, YET SPEAKETHr 157 
 
 "DEAD, YET SPEAKETH." 
 
 A Memento of 14th December, 
 1861 AND 1878. 
 
 Again the silent wheels of tune 
 
 Have usher'd iu the day 
 On which two noble, lofty souls 
 
 From our earth passed away. 
 
 One — the dear Consort of our Queen, 
 
 Albert the good and wise ; 
 And Alice — gentle, loving, true, 
 
 Left us for Paradise. 
 
 The years have silently swept on. 
 
 Since fell the fatal blow, 
 And we still mourn the princely ones, 
 
 But chasten'd is our woe. 
 
 Noble and lovely in their lives. 
 Dead — they speak with power ; 
 
 Their virtues still illume our souls 
 As sunshine tints the flower. 
 
 And He, who wisely wing'd the shaft 
 
 For purposes unseen. 
 Has left to us our hope and joy. 
 
 Our own true-hearted Queen.
 
 158 DEATH. 
 
 May God bless our gracious Queen, 
 And long her life still spare ; 
 
 She reigns enshrined within our hearts, 
 Her image it is there. 
 
 Kingdoms and potentates may fall. 
 
 Her throne it is secure ; 
 Love is the symbol of her reign, 
 
 Her heritage is sure. 
 
 And when life's silver cord is loosed, 
 
 There is a home above, 
 Where dear ones meet to part no more, 
 
 A heritao;e of love. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Death stalks abroad in sunshine, and the 
 
 weird, darksome hours. 
 Gathering in the sear leaves, and sweet, 
 
 lovely flowers ; 
 The palace gates he enters, and at the 
 
 cottage door. 
 He know^eth no distinction between the 
 
 rich and poor.
 
 DEATH. 159 
 
 For he is no respecter of persons or 
 
 degree, 
 The noble and ignoble must bow to his 
 
 decree ; 
 And the poor wretched starv' lings are equal 
 
 in his sight 
 As potentates and princes, lordlings or 
 
 belted knight. 
 [Man's highest aspirations are like a lovely- 
 flower 
 Nipp'd by the breath of autumn in an 
 
 untimely hour ; 
 Transient as a snowflake when kiss'd by 
 
 sunny beam. 
 Unstable as the fancies of a poetic 
 
 dream.] 
 The merchant, while rejoicing o'er the fair 
 
 gains of trade, 
 Must leave all in an instant, just as his 
 
 fortune's made : 
 The miser, too, exulting o'er title deeds and 
 
 gold, 
 Sees the grim foe advancing, the gates of 
 
 Death unfold. 
 Sweet friendship's ties he sunders, and will 
 
 not be said nay. 
 He claims the aged pilgrim, the youthful 
 
 and the gay :
 
 160 DEATH. 
 
 He takes the prattling infant from its fond 
 
 mother's knee, 
 And sets the laughing school-boy from all 
 
 his studies free. 
 The young man enters gaily upon the race 
 
 of life, 
 But soon falls in the contest, unequal is 
 
 the strife. 
 Death leaves awhile the weakling, and 
 
 striketh dow^n the strong ; 
 He passes by the grey beard, and taketh 
 
 hence the young. 
 He breathes upon the maiden — young, 
 
 beautiful, and fair. 
 Preparing for her nuptials, and braiding up 
 
 her hair ; 
 The bridesmaids are around her, laughing 
 
 in joyous glee, 
 But Death bespeaks the maiden, and her 
 
 pure soul is free. 
 With stealthy steps he enters into the 
 
 gay ball-room, 
 Selects a lovely victim in all her youthful 
 
 bloom ; 
 Her damask cheek soon paleth, her spark- 
 ling eyes grow dim, • 
 And all her beauty fadeth when she is 
 
 claim 'd by him.
 
 DEATH. 161 
 
 The bands of love he sunders : unsatiable 
 
 his hate ; 
 He kills the Christian hero, and the 
 
 reprobate. 
 The prop of age he slaughters, and stills 
 
 the lofty mind ; 
 The beggar falls before him, the noble and 
 
 refined. 
 He reigns alone triumphant in a continual 
 
 feast, 
 And wounds alike the maiden, and the 
 
 manly breast. 
 The mother, while she's smiling on her 
 
 sweet, darling babe, 
 Is touched by his cold hand, and lo ! in 
 
 death is laid ; 
 He slays the loving father by whom the 
 
 bread is won, 
 And shows no love or mercy to the poor 
 
 widow's son. 
 Sings an exultant paean amid the cannon's 
 
 roar, 
 And stalks among the dying when the 
 
 dread battle's o'er. 
 War is to him sweet music, he joys to see 
 
 the day 
 When host meets host in battle, whole 
 
 hecatombs to slay :
 
 162 DEATH. 
 
 Angels veil their faces on the unhallowed 
 
 scene, 
 Dark Pluto's shade rejoices, the souls of 
 
 men to glean ; 
 And laughs to see them rushing to his 
 
 dark, dread abode, 
 Condemn'd to dwell in hades by an 
 
 avenging God. 
 [I speak not of the patriot — noble, true, 
 
 and brave — 
 Who, fighting for love of country, find a 
 
 soldier's grave ; 
 But of hell's foul ambition, which swells a 
 
 nation's pride 
 To trample on the weaker, and the laws of 
 
 God deride. 
 Open the scroll of history, and scan its 
 
 ancient page, 
 Where are the mighty nations? Where 
 
 Eome, and where Carthage ? 
 Eome is a living symbol of Almighty 
 
 power, 
 A warning to the nations that He can 
 
 raise and lower.] 
 A mighty host advances, in war's grand, 
 
 dread array. 
 And falls before Death's onset ere they 
 
 can join the fray :
 
 MUSINGS. 1G3 
 
 The warriors bones lie bleaching on the 
 
 arid plain, 
 Dear ones for them are waiting, but wait ! 
 
 for them in vain. , 
 
 Death laughs at man's devices, and the ' 
 
 physician's art, i 
 
 And only owns one Master, Who wings for i 
 
 him each dart : ! 
 
 A power divine doth guide him, he strikes j 
 
 but by God's will, 
 Uutil he is commissioned, he hath no 
 
 power to kill. 
 
 MUSINGS. 
 
 When love divine the soul inspires, 
 And moves the sluggish mind 
 
 To love our neighbour as ourselves, 
 To feel for all mankind. 
 
 To comfort every weary heart, 
 The wretched and forlorn ; 
 
 To point them to a home above. 
 Where they w^U cease to mourn. 
 
 To love the creatures God has made- 
 
 The insect on the wing, 
 The feather' d songsters of the grove, 
 
 Which so divinely sing.
 
 164 MUSINGS. 
 
 We hear God in the gentle breeze, 
 
 His voice amid the storm ; 
 His presence in the dew and rain, 
 
 His wonders they perform. 
 
 He beautifies the verdant meads, 
 And crowns the cloud-c^app'd hills. 
 
 Guiding the mountain torrent's course. 
 And gentle, flowing rills. 
 
 He makes each tiny flower to bloom. 
 Which scents the passing gale, 
 
 Imprinting some with roseate hues. 
 And some, like lily, pale. 
 
 The modest violet to bloom, 
 
 And rear its lovely head, 
 To shed abroad its sweet perfume 
 
 From its low, leafy bed. 
 
 His Spirit moves the stormy waves, 
 And makes them cease to roll ; 
 
 The earth's foundations, at His word. 
 Do shake from pole to pole. 
 
 The starry firmament on high, 
 Doth by His presence shine ; 
 
 The sun and moon obey His voice. 
 And own He is Divine.
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 165 
 
 FEIENDSHIP. 
 
 To Mr. T. Wilson, of Wakk. 
 
 In the silence of my chamber, when 
 
 thoughts crowd on the brain, 
 And phantoms of the past arise — of pleasm-e 
 
 and of pain — 
 The mind — -the essence of the soul — flies 
 
 back to childhood's days, 
 When on the bonnie banks of Tw^eed, w^e 
 
 sang our youthful lays. 
 
 O Tw^eed, thy name to me is dear, thy 
 
 stream is clear and bright, 
 Thy banks are clothed with buttercups, 
 
 with daisies red and wdiite. 
 And often in thy crystal stream I've gazed 
 
 w^ith pure delight, 
 To watch the bubbles dance and gleam, 
 
 and vanish out of sight : 
 Thy stream to me is hallow'd, in my heart 
 
 I'll thee enshrine; 
 And I never can forget the days, those 
 
 happy days of mine,
 
 166 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 When, on thy banks and dewy meads 
 
 , we 
 
 cull'd the gowans fine, 
 
 
 And chased the moth and butterfly in 
 
 iays 
 
 of " auld lang syne." 
 
 
 Dear Tom, I often think of you, and of the 
 
 happy hours 
 
 
 We clamber'd on the banks and braes, 
 
 and 
 
 cull'd the brightest flowers ; 
 
 
 And of the many rambles when the stars 
 
 shed down their light. 
 
 
 And the moon smiled upon us in 
 
 the 
 
 silence of the night. 
 
 
 It was then, in youthful friendship, 
 
 our 
 
 hearts were knit together. 
 
 
 And neither time nor distance can 
 
 the 
 
 holy tie dissever : 
 
 
 Our hearts were one in childhood, 
 
 the 
 
 spark kindled was divine ; 
 
 
 And bright it glows within our hearts, 
 
 and ' 
 
 evermore will shine. 
 
 
 Time has made many changes, and 
 
 has 
 
 turn'd our locks to grey. 
 
 
 He soon will roll us off earth's stage 
 
 for 
 
 here we cannot stay ; 
 
 
 But we'll live when Time is vanquish'd, 
 
 and 
 
 earth has passed away : 

 
 MAJUBA HILL. 167 
 
 Friend will meet friend, to part no more, 
 
 in everlasting day. 
 While here, we must fight the battle if we 
 
 would win the crown 
 In those bright, heavenly mansions where 
 
 partings are unknown. 
 Let us now choose our armour from the 
 
 armoury above, 
 And the Captain of Salvation, whose 
 
 battle-cry is Love. 
 
 MAJUBA HILL. 
 
 We mourn for the brave, for our warriors 
 
 slain, 
 Who'll ne'er see the cliffs of dear England 
 
 again ; 
 In a far distant clime, 'neath Afric's bright 
 
 sun, 
 They fought and they fell, and their duty 
 
 was done. 
 
 The Gael and the Saxon, bold, gen'rous, 
 
 and brave. 
 By numbers o'erwhelmed, have met death 
 
 and the grave ;
 
 168 MAJUBA HILL. 
 
 They faced the wild torrent, the foemen 
 
 swept on, 
 And we mourn for the brave, the heroes 
 
 now gone. 
 
 We mourn for the brave, for our sailors so 
 
 true. 
 Whose last cruise is o'er on the deep ocean 
 
 blue ; 
 On Majuba they fought, on Majuba they 
 
 fell, 
 The sharp, pinging bullets — dirge, requiem, 
 
 and knell. 
 
 Mourn for the brave, let the heart wail 
 sorrow 
 
 For Britain's brave sons who'll see no to- 
 morrow ; 
 
 The Scarlet and Tartan are steep'd in their 
 gore. 
 
 And the home that knew them shall know 
 them no more.
 
 FATHER. 169 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 Life is waning, time is fleeting, 
 
 And eternity is near ; 
 When I meet the Everlasting, 
 
 Father, have I aught to fear ? 
 
 Eternity ! my soul now trembles, 
 Standing on thy dread abyss, 
 
 Waiting for the final summons 
 To eternal woe or bliss. 
 
 Eternity ! who can fathom. 
 Or define thy boundless sway ; 
 
 Who record, by flowing numbers. 
 Thy eternal, endless day. 
 
 Eternity ! tell me, Father, 
 
 Has eternity no end? 
 Is it always the beginning. 
 
 Will it never onward tend? 
 
 If the vast, deep, stormy oceans 
 Were dissolved in dewy spray. 
 
 And each drop ten thousand ages. 
 Would those ages pass away ?
 
 170 FATHER. 
 
 If the grains of sand were numbered, 
 (In the sea, and on the shore), 
 
 And each grain a mighty era, 
 Would eternity be o'er ? 
 
 Add to them the crystal dewdrops 
 That have sparkled in the sun. 
 
 And the raindrops that have fallen 
 Since the race of man begun : 
 
 Joining, too, the leaves and spraylets 
 That have grown upon the trees, 
 
 With each blade of grass and blossom 
 That has fluttered in the breeze : 
 
 Multiplied by the fiow'rets 
 That have open'd to the sun ; 
 
 And all life that's been created, 
 Would eternity be done ? 
 
 Still you say, " 'Twill be beginning 
 *' When those ages pass away, 
 
 " Always present, never future, 
 "But an everlasting aye." 
 
 Cease, my soul, O cease thy doubting ; 
 
 Has the Saviour died in vain? 
 Was the sacrifice deficient 
 
 When the Lamb of God was slain ?
 
 Has the blood that flow'd on Calvary 
 
 Been for me of no avail ? 
 When the sun was robed in darkness, 
 
 And was rant the temple veil. 
 
 "When the earthquake shook the mountains, 
 x\nd the valleys quaked with fear ; 
 
 When Creation groan 'd in anguish 
 As the awful hour drew near. 
 
 When the mortal and immortal 
 
 Were united in the tomb, 
 And the dead, in solemn silence, 
 
 Left awhile its horrid gloom. 
 
 When the Christ wail'd, " It is finished! " 
 
 As He hung upon the Tree, 
 Bow'd His head, the Man of Sorrows, 
 
 In His dying agony ; 
 
 And, wailing, cried, " My God, My God, 
 Why hast Thou forsaken me?" 
 
 And, yet again, " My God, My God !" 
 In His dread extremity. 
 
 When the pangs of hell oppress'd Him, 
 When He bore man's sin and w^oe ; 
 
 When He pray'd, " Forgive them. Father, 
 " For they know not what they do."
 
 172 FATHER. 
 
 When by God and man forsaken, 
 
 Bruis'd, and left alone to die ; 
 When His voice was heard in wailing, 
 
 Like a sinner's dying cry. 
 
 When the Eoman Pilate scourged Him, 
 And exclaim'd, " Behold your King ! " 
 
 Had he scourged the Lord Incarnate, 
 Of whom saints and angels sing ? 
 
 When in purple they array 'd Him, 
 And a crown placed on His head. 
 
 When the sharp thorns pierced His temples, 
 Was it God and man who bled? 
 
 When they smote and spat upon Him, 
 And, in mock'ry, bow'd the knee. 
 
 Were they kneeling to a mortal. 
 Or the Threefold Trmity ? 
 
 When the soldiers, in their railings, 
 Cried, '' All hail, King of the Jews!" 
 
 Were they speaking of the Shiloh, 
 Telling us the wondrous news? 
 
 How the Lord, the King Supernal, 
 Had nowhere to lay His head. 
 
 Was condemn'd, with vilest sinners. 
 To be number 'd with the dead.
 
 FATHER. 173 
 
 When they shouted, " Crucify Hhn ! " 
 As they dragged Him to the Eood, 
 
 With the cry, " On us, and children, 
 " Be the onus of His blood/' 
 
 When Simon, the Cyrenian, 
 Bore the burden of His Cross, 
 
 To the place they call'd Golgotha, — 
 Was it for our gain or loss ? 
 
 When His hands and feet were pierced, 
 
 Nail'd to the accursed Tree, 
 When out flow'd the blood and water, 
 
 Was redemption meant for me ? 
 
 When His throat and lips were parched. 
 And He feebly moan'd, " I thirst ! " 
 
 Was the cry that of a mortal. 
 Or of God and man confest ? 
 
 When His parch'd lips the sponge had 
 Filled with vinegar and gall, [touched, 
 
 And the words, " Now, it is finish'd ! " 
 Was salvation meant for all? 
 
 Did the thief who craved for pardon 
 
 Else to mansions in the skies. 
 Meet that day the King of Glory 
 
 In the courts of Paradise ?
 
 174 FATHER. 
 
 Was the railer, the reviler, 
 
 Sent to Hades' dreadful gloom ; 
 
 There to wait the day of judgment 
 To receive his final doom ? 
 
 Will one get a Crown of glory 
 
 Brighter than the tongue can tell ? 
 
 Will all scoffers then be sentenced 
 To the nether depths of hell ? 
 
 When the grave had claim 'd its victim, 
 Did the powers of hell prevail ? 
 
 Was the Crucified — a mortal, 
 And our prayers of no avail ? 
 
 Did He rise on the third morning 
 As He had Himself foreshown ? 
 
 Was His sepulchre found empty. 
 Had the angel moved the stone ? 
 
 Did He comfort His disciples 
 
 With bright cloven tongues of fire. 
 
 And the Holy Ghost descending 
 The unlearned to inspire ? 
 
 How can I believe the story — 
 That the Lord of Life did die, 
 
 Leave the glory He created. 
 
 The bright mansions of the sky ?
 
 FATHER. 175 
 
 Could the child of earthly parent 
 
 Be the Everlasting God, 
 Feel the pangs of death and hunger, 
 
 Fruit of sin's avenging rod ? 
 
 Could the glorious Creator — 
 The beginning and the last — 
 
 Be enchained by wiles of Satan, 
 And in deepest hell be cast ? 
 
 Is He not the Lord Almighty, 
 
 The Eternal Holy One, 
 He who ne'er had a beginning. 
 
 And whose race will ever run ? 
 
 He who holds the mighty oceans 
 
 In the hollow of His hand ; 
 While Creation bows before Him, 
 
 And obeys His high command ? 
 
 Father, I believed your teaching — 
 That the Christ was God and man ; 
 
 Now^ my soul is lill'd wdth doubting, 
 As the mystery I scan. 
 
 Could the Man surcharged with sorrows, 
 Whom you taught me to revere, 
 
 Live and die with vilest sinners 
 
 W^ith His soul and concience clear ?
 
 176 FATHER. 
 
 Can the clear, bright, bubbhng burnie 
 Mix with the dark, turbid stream. 
 
 And emerge in pristine beauty. 
 In the sunshine still to gleam 
 
 9 
 
 'Tis too deep for my conception, 
 Far beyond my mortal ken, 
 
 How the pure, holy Shekinah 
 Died the death of sinful men. 
 
 How the mortal and immortal 
 
 Were united into one ; 
 Was a man, yet God Almighty, — 
 
 Father, Holy Ghost, and Son. 
 
 " Faith, my Son, is all that's needed 
 " To believe the wondrous news — 
 
 " That He died for the redemption 
 " Of the Gentiles, and the Jews." 
 
 Faith no longer guides me onward, 
 All around is dark and drear ; 
 
 And no hope illumes the future, 
 
 Which was once so bright and clear. 
 
 Deepest darkness now surrounds me, 
 And is surging o'er my soul ; 
 
 And I seem to hear the echoes 
 Of the last dread thunder's roll.
 
 FATHER. 177 
 
 Summoning me to the judgment 
 On the grand and awful day, 
 
 When the dead shall wake from slumber, 
 And Creation melt away : 
 
 When the trump of the archangel 
 
 Summons each created soul 
 To the Bar of the Eternal, 
 
 When the books He will unroll : 
 
 When the Lord's recording angel 
 Will point out each blot within, 
 
 If not washed, by blood of Jesus, 
 From impurity and sin. 
 
 Sou] and body, then united, 
 Shall receive their final doom ; 
 
 Some will enter joy eternal. 
 Some to everlasting gloom. 
 
 Some will soar to heav'nly mansions. 
 Brighter than the tongue can tell; 
 
 Some descend to Hades' tortures, 
 Where to hope they bid farewell. 
 
 Hope — companion of our childhood, 
 And of youth's bright, joyous time ; 
 
 Hope — which gives the roseate colouring 
 To young manhood's op'ning prime.
 
 178 FATHER. 
 
 Hope — when it has fled our presence, 
 All our earthly joy is gone ; 
 
 Hope — alone illumes the future, 
 Though to us it is unknown. 
 
 Hope — the cheerer and consoler — 
 Lights us gently to the grave ; 
 
 Wafts us to a quiet haven 
 
 Where no storms of sin can rave. 
 
 To the lost, condemn'd to Hades, 
 Hope can never enter there, 
 
 But the fiend which now assails me,- 
 The dread phantom of despair. 
 
 He will be their sole companion. 
 Ever whispering in their ear 
 
 Of the sweet delights of Heaven 
 They will never see nor hear. 
 
 How a God of love and mercy 
 Had with them so often striven, 
 
 Offering them free salvation. 
 
 And a home with Him in Heaven. 
 
 But despised, scorned, and rejected, 
 Kindled His Almighty ire. 
 
 And with devils has consigned them 
 To hell's everlasting fire.
 
 FATHER. 179 
 
 Oh ! that hght might find an entrance 
 To that dark and drear abode, 
 
 That there was some hope of pardon 
 From a sin-avenging God. 
 
 " God is love," — will He for ever 
 Keep His guilty creatures there ? 
 
 Will they not, in that dread furnace, 
 For a higher life prepare ? 
 
 Will the sins, on earth committed, 
 
 Never, never be forgiven ? 
 W^ill they not be manumitted, 
 
 And a place for them in Heaven, 
 
 Distant from the fount of glory, 
 
 Centre of redeeming love, 
 Yet beholding the effulgence 
 
 Of the Heav'n of heav'ns above ? 
 
 " God is love," — but will His mercy 
 
 Have for ever pass'd away ? 
 Is the fiat everlasting. 
 
 When the grave has claim 'd its prey? 
 
 In the Book of Life, my father. 
 May our names be found enroll'd ; 
 
 May we hear the King Supernal 
 Bid the gates of pearl unfold.
 
 180 FATHER. 
 
 Hear Him say, " Thou blessed, enter, 
 " Enter now those gates within ; 
 
 " You were wash'd, by blood of Jesus, 
 " From the earthly stains of sin." 
 
 Oh ! the joy, the bliss, and gladness, 
 If we meet our dear ones there. 
 
 Dwell together in communion 
 In those heav'nly mansions fair. 
 
 Hope's sweet mission will be ended, 
 
 Consummated, verified. 
 In the presence of the Father 
 
 And the Christ, the crucified. 
 
 Father, father, I am dying, 
 
 And my angel guards have flown ; 
 
 Fiends of hell they now assail me. 
 And they claim me as their own. 
 
 Imprecations — dread, blasphemous — 
 They are whisp'ring in my ear; 
 
 Horrid phantoms — weird and shapeless- 
 Are floating by me in the air. 
 
 Father, father, they will drag me 
 To the lowest depth of hell. 
 
 Hades' mouth is yawning for me ; 
 God of mercy, break the spell !
 
 FATHER, 181 
 
 Hist ! — the King of Kings is speaking, 
 Gently whisp'ring in my ear ; 
 
 Speaking words of highest import 
 For the soul of man to hear. 
 
 " Sinner, put thy trust in Jesus, 
 " He has shed His blood for thee ; 
 
 "The sacrifice was all-sufficient 
 "When He died upon the Tree." 
 
 List ! — my Father, to the harping, 
 To the grand, angelic strain ; 
 
 'Tis my guards once more returning. 
 Singing now their last refrain 
 
 Oh ! the symphony is lovely. 
 
 Sweeter than Eolian lyre ; 
 Sweeter than the sweetest longings 
 
 That a mortal could desire. 
 
 Still the melody advances, 
 Chanted by seraphic choir ; 
 
 Loftier than the lofty breathings 
 Of Milton's grand, poetic lyre.
 
 182 FATHER. 
 
 Hark to the deep, swelling anthem, 
 Like the thunder's mutter'd roll. 
 
 Bringing peace and sweet contentment 
 To my late despairing soul. 
 
 " Hallelujah ! hallelujah !" 
 
 Is again their paean song ; 
 Hallelujah ! hallelujah ! 
 
 Father, it will not be long. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 And to feel thy loving arms ; 
 
 To rest upon the Eock of Ages, 
 
 Free from doubts and dread alarms. 
 
 Some will say that all I've told you 
 
 Is a visionary dream. 
 Not the words of truth and reason. 
 
 But unreason's fitful gleam. 
 
 That the rock on which I'm resting 
 Has no base whereon to stand ; 
 
 And will sink in its foundations. 
 Like a house built on the sand. 
 
 But I know in whom I'm trusting. 
 That my faith and hope are sure, 
 
 For the Lord Himself has promised 
 It will evermore endure.
 
 THINE FOR EVER." 183 
 
 Father, father, O my father. 
 
 May the Christian's death be thine ; 
 'Tis not death, but Hfe immortal : 
 
 Father, it will soon be mine. 
 
 Now the shades of death are o'er me, 
 But the Lord of Life is near ; 
 
 His bright glory now surrounds me, 
 And His voice I seem to hear. 
 
 Now I'll close mine eyes in slumber. 
 In thine arms I'll pass away ; 
 
 From thine arms I'll fly to Jesus, 
 And will dwell with Him for aye. 
 
 "THINE FOR EVER." 
 
 Thine, dear Jesus, when we kneel, 
 And, for sin, abasement feel, 
 Lying at Thy footstool prone, 
 Trusting in Thy blood alone. 
 
 Thine, dear Jesus, w^hen w^e feel 
 For Thy cause deep, fervent zeal ; 
 When our hearts are full of love, 
 Bringing souls to Thee above.
 
 184 THE NAME OF JESUS. 
 
 Thine for ever : oh ! how sweet, 
 Kneehng at the mercy seat, 
 At the fountain of all love 
 In Thy home of joy above. 
 
 Thine for ever : never more 
 On Thy bright, effulgent shore 
 Will we feel of death the sting, 
 But with angels ever sing. 
 
 Thine for ever : blessed Lord ; 
 Thine for ever : most adored ; 
 ** Thine for ever," we will sing 
 In the presence of the King. 
 
 THE NAME OF JESUS. 
 
 The name of Jesus, 
 How sweetly it sounds. 
 
 Brings joy and gladness 
 Where most it abounds. 
 
 The name of Jesus 
 Gives joy to the heart 
 
 More than earth's treasures, 
 From which we must part.
 
 THE NAME OF JESUS. 185 
 
 The name of Jesus, 
 It points to the skies, 
 
 Sorrow evanish'd, 
 A bright Paradise. 
 
 The name of Jesus, 
 When the heart is sad. 
 
 Gives consolation, 
 
 And makes the heart glad. 
 
 The name of Jesus 
 
 Will ever endure. 
 The Eock of Ages, 
 
 The promise is sure. 
 
 The name of Jesus, 
 The highest of bliss — 
 
 A home in Heaven, 
 And comfort in this. 
 
 The name of Jesus, 
 Our Savious and King ; 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 His praises now sing.
 
 186 ''LET US ADOBE HIM: 
 
 "LET US ADOBE HIM. 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 
 The King on His Throne ; 
 Kneel at His footstool 
 
 Our sins to atone. 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 
 Jehovah the Lord ; 
 Trust in His mercy, 
 
 And rest on His word. 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 
 Who hung on the Tree ; 
 Shed His blood for us 
 
 On dark Calvary. 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 Who lay in the grave ; 
 
 Descended to hell, 
 A ransom to save. 
 
 Let us adore Him, 
 
 Ascended on high. 
 Bearing our sorrows. 
 
 And hearing each sigh.
 
 GOD THE FATHER. 187 
 
 Let U3 adore Him, 
 
 Who pleads in our cause 
 For sins committed, 
 
 And broken His laws. 
 
 We will adore Thee, 
 
 And kneel at Thy shrine ; 
 Trust in Thy mercy, 
 
 And be only Thine. 
 
 GOD THE FATHEE. 
 
 God the Father, Christ the Son, 
 Holy Spirit, three in one. 
 
 Keep us, guide us, guard us ; 
 Keep us in the narrow way. 
 Never from its path to stray, 
 And, at last, to realms of day. 
 
 Do Thou guide and guard us. 
 
 When temptation us assail. 
 When our spirit seems to fail. 
 
 Be Thou near to help us ; 
 May we put our trust in Thee, 
 Who from sin can set us free. 
 And Who died upon the Tree, 
 
 Be our guide, and save us.
 
 188 GOD OF BATTLES. 
 
 In the devious path of hfe, 
 In the battle and the strife, 
 
 Be Thou ever near us. 
 When the lamp of life is low, 
 When deep anguish wrings the brow, 
 Until death shall strike the blow. 
 
 Be Thou ever near us. 
 
 When, in death, we close our eyes, 
 Guide our souls to Paradise, 
 
 Nevermore to leave us : 
 In those mansions, bright and fair, 
 May we meet our dear ones there, 
 Hear the King of kings declare 
 
 He will never leave us. 
 
 GOD OF BATTLES. 
 
 King Eternal, Prince of Peace, 
 Make all wars and strife to cease ; 
 Let Thy Spirit gird the earth, 
 i\.nd sweet peace will soon have birth. 
 
 God of battles, King of kings. 
 Bring sweet healing on Thy wings ; 
 Break asunder sword and spear, 
 God of love, the Christ, appear.
 
 GOD OF BATTLES. 189 
 
 Let the cannon's sullen roar, 
 On the earth be heard no more ; 
 Make the shouts of war to cease, 
 Eaise the paean of sweet peace. 
 
 God of battles, Lord of Life, 
 Stay, stay, the deadly strife ; 
 Make all angry passions cease, 
 Give, give us gentle peace. 
 
 Let not War- — the child of hell — 
 Cast o'er man its baleful spell ; 
 Still the angry nations' cry, 
 Hush, O hush, the widow's sigh. 
 
 Let not man with man contend, 
 But the cause of Peace defend ; 
 Still, God, the orphans' cry. 
 Hush, hush, each mother's sigh. 
 
 " Peace on earth, good wdll to men," 
 Was once heard on hill and glen ; 
 Let the joyful song again 
 Wake us with its sweet refrain. 
 
 " Peace on earth," — the glorious sound, 
 Shall from pole to pole resound ; 
 Then shall angry passions cease, 
 Man with man shall dwell in peace.
 
 190 ''KEEP US AND GUIDE USr 
 
 " KEEP US, AND GUIDE US." 
 
 Keep us, and guide ue, O Father, 
 In the path in which we should go ; 
 
 Let not the wiles of the devil 
 
 Lead us through the portals of woe. 
 
 We know our souls are immortal. 
 And, although our bodies decay, 
 
 We may rise to glorious mansions 
 To an endless, eternal day. 
 
 The path cannot be mistaken. 
 
 The landmarks were written in blood 
 
 By One who was crowned with thorns, 
 And Who died for us on the rood ; 
 
 In death descended to hades, 
 
 And lay in the cold, silent grave. 
 
 Felt all the pangs of lost sinners, 
 That He might us ransom and save.
 
 TO AN OLD LADY. 
 
 Jan. 1st, 1887. 
 
 On the first morning of the year 
 I wish you joy with heart sincere ; 
 May earthly comfort thee surround, 
 And peace within thy heart abound. 
 May the dear Saviour Christ be near 
 To guide thy steps from year to year ; 
 May He who makes the planets roll 
 Give joy and comfort to thy soul. 
 May children dear watch round thy bed, 
 Till thy sweet, gentle spirit's sped 
 From its frail tenement of clay 
 To dwell in everlasting day. 
 May you, on that bright, happy shore, 
 Meet dear ones who have gone before; 
 Join in sweet praises to the Lamb, 
 And the Ineffable I x\m. 
 Again, thou aged pilgrim dear, 
 I wish thee joy on the New Year ; 
 May God, in mercy, keep thy soul, 
 Until His last dread thunders roll.
 
 192 TO THE SAME. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Jan. 1st, 1888. 
 
 May joy and peace enwrap thee, 
 
 And be for ever thine ; 
 May love, which passeth knowledge, 
 
 Thy heart and soul enshrine. 
 
 And may you, in life's journey, 
 If rough or smooth the road, 
 
 Have for thy daily guidance 
 The One True, living God. 
 
 Our days are evanescent, 
 With us they will not stay; 
 
 Since last I sent you greetings 
 A year has pass'd away. 
 
 Earth, with our joys and sorrows. 
 Will soon fade from our view ; 
 
 Life is a talent lent us, 
 Our spirits to renew. 
 
 The future is advancing, 
 
 Eternity unrolls ; 
 The Christ, the King, is pleading 
 
 For our immortal souls.
 
 For us, the King, the Shiloh, 
 Was nail'd upon the Tree ; 
 
 He bled for our redemption, 
 And died on Calvary. 
 
 He died : wondrous story, 
 
 Unfathomable love ! 
 He rose, and is now pleading 
 
 For us in realms above. 
 
 joy, sweet peace, and gladness, 
 O bliss beyond compare. 
 
 When the redeem'd, in Jesus, 
 His happy home will share ! 
 
 TAM. 
 
 It lang has been my wish, Tam, 
 
 To write you a letter, 
 That you, my ancient frien', Tam, 
 
 Might become my debtor. 
 
 Sae I gat pen and ink, Tam, 
 In guid Scotch prose to write. 
 
 When my muse stepet ben, Tam, 
 And said she wad indite.
 
 194 TAM. 
 
 My heart it gae a loup, Tarn, 
 To hear her speak sae saft ; 
 
 I feart her gentle smile, Tarn, 
 Wi' joy wad send me daft. 
 
 I set me doon at auce, Tarn, 
 
 To let her hae her way, 
 And put in black and white, Tam, 
 
 Whatever she might say. 
 
 She likes me to sit doon, Tam, 
 And gie my thoughts in rhyme, 
 
 Forgetfu' o' the past, Tam, 
 And o' the present time. 
 
 To let sweet fancy rove, Tam, 
 Mid worlds that are unseen ; 
 
 To sport amang the spheres, Tam, 
 And pastures ever green. 
 
 To hae a passing glint, Tam, 
 O' yon bright, better world, 
 
 Where Time will be na mair, Tam, 
 Eternity unfurl'd. 
 
 I never ken afore, Tam, 
 What she is gan to say ; 
 
 It may be vera grave, Tam, 
 Or, ablins, vera gay.
 
 When she is in the mood, Tarn, 
 
 I let her hae her swing ; 
 I maunna interfere, Tarn, 
 
 Or else she winna sing. 
 
 It may be o' the airth, Tarn, 
 
 Or af anither world ; 
 And then, wi' joy, I write, Tarn, 
 
 When her sweet wing's unfurl'd. 
 
 Sometimes she will begin, Tam, 
 In a grand, clinking style ; 
 
 And, ere a verse is penned, Tam, 
 Eefuse on me to smile. 
 
 She is a skittish jaud, Tam, 
 
 Aboon my puir control ; 
 But when she deigns to smile, Tam, 
 
 She w^aiiks my inmost soul. 
 
 I've ken'd her start a sang, Tam, 
 In a light, blithesome strain, 
 
 Then sing af deadly strife, Tam, 
 On the embattled plain. 
 
 View the contending hosts, Tam, 
 Their life-blood dye the plain ; 
 
 The glazing eye o' death, Tam, 
 The dying and the slain.
 
 Join in the squadrons' charge, Tarn, 
 View the foe turn and fly ; 
 
 The carnage, rout, despair. Tarn, 
 And the last waiHng cry. 
 
 Lead the forlorn hope, Tarn, 
 
 Amid the cannons' roar ; 
 Then sing o' love and peace, Tam, 
 
 When war shall be no more. 
 
 But sometimes she is dowff, Tam, 
 
 At ither times prolix. 
 Leads me beyond my ken, Tam, 
 
 Then leaves me in a fix. 
 
 But, lad, I ken her weel, Tam, 
 
 She winna me disgrace ; 
 She hates the name o' prose, Tam, 
 
 And says sae to my face. 
 
 Sae, while she smiles on me, Tam, 
 
 The letter I will write, 
 Lest she again forget, Tam, 
 
 She promised to indite. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 We twa are gettin' auld, Tam, 
 Our locks are scant and grey. 
 
 Which surely tells o' change, Tam, — 
 That here we canna stay.
 
 We've wrinkles on our face, Tarn, 
 Which were no' there o' yore ; 
 
 The' mute, they're speaking loud, Tarn, 
 x\f a bright, better shore. 
 
 For this is no' our hame, Tarn, • 
 
 We're only lodgers here ; 
 But when we reach the goal, Tarn, 
 
 We'll dwell for ever there. 
 
 If we but trust in Christ, Tarn, 
 
 Wi' heart and soul sincere. 
 He says He will provide, Tarn, 
 
 And dight awa' ilk tear. 
 
 He died that we might live, Tam ; 
 
 The lowdy and the great 
 A' hae a hame prepared, Tam, 
 
 Beyond a' earthly state. 
 
 Each soul the Lord creates, Tam, 
 
 Is equal in his sight, — 
 The beggar in his rags, Tam, 
 
 The lordling in his might. 
 
 The potentates o' airth, Tam, 
 
 Wha reign wi' royal state, 
 Must pay the debt o' sin, Tam, 
 
 Man's universal fate ;
 
 Which says — frae dust thou art, Tarn, 
 
 And shall to dust return : 
 A' that hae lived and breathed, Tarn, 
 
 Must cross the darksome bourn. 
 
 The thought should gie us joy, Tam, 
 
 To leave a' earthly pain ; 
 To thraw the mortal aff, Tam, 
 
 And the immortal gain. 
 
 Our eyes are no' sae bright, Tam, 
 
 As in our youthfu' days 
 We dookit in the Tweed, Tam, 
 
 And clamber'd on its braes. 
 
 We raced owre hill and dell, Tam, 
 
 Chasing the moth at e'en; 
 And watch'd the sun descend, Tam, 
 
 In bright, effulgent sheen. 
 
 We wander' d aft away, Tam, 
 
 In the calm ev'ning hours, 
 Owre monie a dewy mead, Tam, 
 
 In search o' bonnie flowers. 
 
 On the auld castle's height, Tam, 
 We pou'd the gowans fine, 
 
 And made grand daisy chains, Tam, 
 In days o' " Auld lang syne."
 
 Those days hae pass'd away, Tarn, 
 And now seem like a dream ; 
 
 But o' our youthfu' joys, Tam, 
 I aften get a gleam. 
 
 o^ 
 
 Our cheeks were ruddy then, Tam, 
 Eiv'ling the peach in bloom ; 
 
 Now they are pale and wan, Tam, 
 Precursors o' the tomb. 
 
 But there we winna stay, Tam, 
 Our souls will hie away, — 
 
 To dwell in darkest night, Tam, 
 Or bright, eternal day. 
 
 When the great Judge o' a', Tam, 
 Will, on the judgment morn, 
 
 Bid the archangel blaw, Tam, 
 To wauk the myriads born. 
 
 The Son He will be there, Tam, 
 Wha died upon the Tree : 
 
 Not as a suppliant then, Tam, 
 But in grand majesty. 
 
 The rich, the poor, and great, Tam, 
 Will a' be judged aright ; 
 
 Some in His presence dwell, Tam, 
 Some banish' d frae His sight.
 
 The dead in Christ will rise, Tarn, 
 
 Wi' joy and peace serene, 
 And view creation's wTeck, Tarn, 
 
 The last dissolving scene. 
 
 The damn'd — but now I'll stay, Tam- 
 
 I seem to hear their cries 
 As they are doom'd to hell. Tarn, 
 
 In sight o' Paradise. 
 
 When I first left my hame. Tarn, 
 'Twas on a springtide morn. 
 
 In the bright month o' May, Tarn, 
 When blooms the sweet hawthorn. 
 
 Oh ! I was dow^ff and dool, Tam, 
 Leaving the banks o' Tweed, 
 
 And friens I loo'd sae weel, Tam, 
 Made my young heart to bleed. 
 
 Alas ! w^here are they now, Tam, 
 Wha kick'd wi' us the ba', 
 
 Maist lie aneath the sod, Tam, 
 And some are far awa'. 
 
 But we are hale and weel, Tam, 
 Gat wife and bairns, aiid a' ; 
 
 May we thank God for that, Tam, 
 And keepin' us sae braw.
 
 May we a' meet aboon, Tarn, 
 And greet each ither there ; 
 
 Tho' here our forms are bent, Tam, 
 They'll then be straight and fair. 
 
 While in the land o' hope, Tam, 
 strive to win the prize ; 
 
 The bright pearl o' great price, Tam, 
 A hame in Paradise. 
 
 'Tis open to us a', Tam, 
 
 For God ye ken is Love, 
 And has prepared a hame, Tam, 
 
 A bonnie hame above. 
 
 If here we trust in Him, Tam, 
 
 Wha died upon the Tree, 
 We'll dwell wi' Him aboon, Tam, 
 
 Throughout eternity. 
 
 The friens' you loo sae dear, Tam, 
 May God smile on them a' ; 
 
 On Jean, your couthie wife, Tam, 
 May sweetest blessings fa'. 
 
 May your young son and heir, Tam, 
 
 Your ae wee, lambie boy. 
 Do credit to your name, Tam, 
 
 And be his mither's joy.
 
 202 TAM. 
 
 May he grow up to be, Tarn, 
 
 An honest man and true ; 
 Ne'er make you blush wi' shame, Tam, 
 
 His mither's heart ne'er rue. 
 
 May you baith lean on him, Tam, 
 
 In your declining days ; 
 Go with you and your Jean, Tam, 
 
 To the same House o' Praise. 
 
 And when the end is near, Tam, 
 
 Be near to close your eyes, 
 In sure and certain hope, Tam, 
 
 To meet in Paradise. 
 
 Do laddies dook as aft, Tam, 
 
 As we did in the Tweed ? 
 Or do they only now, Tam, 
 
 In paths o' knowledge tread ? 
 
 Nae doot they ken far mair, Tam, 
 
 Than either you or I ; 
 My ignorance is great, Tam, 
 
 And aften makes me sigh. 
 
 For I was unco slow, Tam, 
 
 At learning ABC; 
 And never yet could reach, Tam, 
 
 The simple Rule o' Three.
 
 Tho' lowly our degree, Tarn, 
 We're pairt o' a grand plan ; 
 
 So let us aye uphaud, Tarn, 
 The dignity o' man. 
 
 If the heart's fu' o' guile, Tarn, 
 The richest will be poor ; 
 
 The poorest will be rich. Tarn, 
 If bless'd wi' heav'nly store. 
 
 For God He judges not, Tarn, 
 
 Like either you or I ; 
 He kens our inmost thoughts, Tam, 
 
 And hears our faintest sigh. 
 
 But learnin' it is grand, Tam ; 
 
 It opens to the eyes 
 The beauties o' the earth, Tam, 
 
 And wonders o' the skies. 
 
 Waukens the soul to life, Tam, 
 Ennobles heart and mind. 
 
 If it be used aright, Tam, — 
 For God, and a' mankind. 
 
 Sheds roun' a brighter light, Tam, 
 
 Emits a purer ray ; 
 And what was dark as night, Tam, 
 
 Is made as bright as day.
 
 Examine at your feet, Tarn, 
 The wee, lovely flower ; 
 
 It shews the Hand o' God, Tarn, 
 His Almighty power. 
 
 In countless worlds above, Tarn, 
 We see His glorious Hand ; 
 
 In microscopic life, Tam, 
 And in a grain o' sand. 
 
 He makes the snaw to fa', Tam, 
 And sends the summer rain ; 
 
 The hills in verdure clothes, Tam, 
 And beautifies the plain. 
 
 The flow'rets, by command, Tam, 
 Spread open to the sun ; 
 
 And hide again their heads, Tam, 
 When their sweet duty's done. 
 
 The thunder is His voice, Tam, 
 His whisper is the breeze ; 
 
 He makes the oak rejoice, Tam, 
 And a' the forest trees. 
 
 His majesty is seen, Tam, 
 In insect, fruit, and flow'r : 
 
 Infinity of love, Tam, 
 Illimitable pow'r.
 
 We breathe but by His will, Tarn, 
 
 Our life is no' our ain ; 
 But is a talent lent, Tarn, 
 
 Which He will claim again. 
 
 My love to friens at Wark, Tarn, 
 
 To Adam, Jean, and a' ; 
 Tell them that I am weel, Tam, 
 
 That wife and bairns are braw\ 
 
 Gie my respects to John, Tam, 
 My auld frien', "John the Bee ;" 
 
 To Kattie Ord, and Scott's, Tam, 
 Whenever you them see. 
 
 Forget not sister Ann, Tam, 
 
 And a' at Leatham Hill ; 
 I hope their hairst is guid, Tam, 
 
 And wall their garners fill. 
 
 That sheep and kine are free, Tam, 
 Frae foot and mouth disease ; 
 
 And that the earth's products, Tam, 
 Will a' the farmers please. 
 
 May they gie praise to Him, Tam, 
 Wha sent baith sun and show'rs 
 
 To ripen w^eel the grain, Tam, 
 And beautify the flow'rs.
 
 Without God's loving care, Tarn, 
 
 His Omniscient pow'r, 
 The dew wad no' descend, Tarn, 
 
 Nor fa' the gentle show'r. 
 
 He makes the winds to blaw. Tarn, 
 
 The sun aboon to shine ; 
 The mountains and the plains, Tam, 
 
 Proclaim He is divine. 
 
 The ocean's mighty depths, Tam, 
 He hands within His Hand ; 
 
 The sun, the moon, and stars, Tam, 
 Obey His high command. 
 
 If, while we are on earth, Tam, 
 
 We put our trust in Him, 
 He will surround our beds, Tam, 
 
 Wi' guards o' Seraphim. 
 
 Then guide us in the end, Tam, 
 
 (Owre death's dread, darksome bourn), 
 
 To a bright hame aboon, Tam, 
 Where we will cease to mourn. 
 
 When love, sweet joy, and peace, Tam, 
 
 Will reign for evermore ; 
 Where the redeem 'd in Christ, Tam, 
 
 Will meet to part no more.
 
 It has been sweetest joy, Tarn, 
 To write o' childhood's days 
 
 In rude and rustic rhyme, Tarn, 
 But breathing heartfelt praise. 
 
 I canna gie my thoughts, Tam, 
 
 In elegance o' style, 
 But you wall find them free, Tam, 
 
 Frae a' deceit and guile. 
 
 Grand words are no' the test, Tam, 
 To prove the heart sincere, 
 
 But deeds o' love and truth, Tam, 
 Sweet virtue to revere. 
 
 The purest and the best, Tam, 
 
 Is when it does impart 
 To ithers joy and peace, Tam, 
 
 Frae breathings o' the heart. 
 
 The humblest words may prove, Tam, 
 The highest thoughts o' a'. 
 
 If frae a life o' sin, Tam, 
 They wean a soul awa'.
 
 My muse is sair forfairn, Tani, 
 
 Forjesket and distrest, 
 And begs I'll write na mair, Tarn, 
 
 She wants a little rest. 
 
 Besides, she says you are, Tarn, 
 Deeply now her debtor, 
 
 And will compose na mair, Tarn, 
 Till you send a letter. 
 
 Sae I will now subscribe, Tam, 
 
 Wi' a spirit fervent. 
 To be your dear auld frien', Tam, 
 
 And your humble servant.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 209 
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 [The hero of the following tale appears to have 
 indulged rather too freely in the " Mountain 
 dew" of which he sings, although he takes care 
 to tell us that he only took enough "To keep me 
 warm." He, however, lets the cat out of the 
 bag when he describes certain uninvited visitors. 
 He says of them that " A' were blue," a descrip- 
 tion which clearly proves that alcohol had 
 deranged the even balance of his brain. Further 
 on we read — 
 
 "If no' the deil, I muckle fear 
 'Twas mither's coo." 
 
 And again — 
 
 " For it had horns and tail as well." 
 Our hero infers that because the creature 
 possessed horns and a tail, it may have been the 
 great enemy of mankind ! But we arrive at the 
 climax when, after a "Night of it" with his 
 friend Jock, it is recorded — 
 
 " Wi' sober gait I cross'd the yaird, 
 
 " But somehow slipped on grassy swaird, 
 
 " And their I lay," &c. 
 
 It was while lying on the " grassy swaird " that 
 the visions 
 
 " Sae fu' o' pleasure and o' pain," 
 
 flashed across his brain. We will now leave 
 him to tell his own tale, trusting that those who 
 follow his somewhat discursive and de\'ious 
 wanderings will treat his shortcomings with 
 gentleness, and that they will avoid the evils
 
 210 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 to which he succumbed. Should our readers be 
 visited by visions of the night, we trust that they 
 will be of that happy character described else- 
 where in the poem — 
 
 "My mind was fu' o' heartfelt glee 
 " To witness their felicity," &c.] 
 
 Hielan' Johnnie, Johnnie Beggs,^ 
 Your mountain dew, frae whisky kegs, 
 
 1 fear it took me aff my legs 
 
 Ae awsome night ; 
 Now a puir sinner humbly begs, 
 And asks — was't right ? 
 
 I ken your bree is vera guid, 
 I've tried it aft in time o' need, 
 And taen it till its made my heid 
 
 A bittie sair : 
 Stuck to the bottle till indeed 
 
 There w^as na mair. 
 
 Conscience, which first frae heav'n did 
 
 spring. 
 When it's kept pure, it winna sting. 
 Has aften whisper' d — whisky fling 
 
 Into the sink ; 
 And now I ask — Great w4iisky king, 
 
 What do you think ?
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 211 
 
 I ask — wil't mak' the brain mair clear, 
 Our pouches fill wi' gowden gear ; 
 Or will it — but I muckle fear 
 
 It clouds the mind. 
 I therefore ask my bold compeer 
 
 To hae't defined. 
 
 And I will tell him what I saw 
 When I drank whisky neat and raw, 
 The awfu' things which did befa' 
 
 His humble servant ; 
 In poesy, tho' it isna' braw, 
 
 He'll own is fervent. 
 
 My drouthy friens, I pray tak' heed, 
 If you this ghaistly tale should read ; 
 Digest it weel when you hae freed 
 
 Frae it the rubbish. 
 It may, wha kens, dee you some guid 
 
 Afore you finish. 
 
 Ye canty chiels, wha like a splore, 
 And o' guid health lay little store, 
 Tak' tent lest you bring to your door 
 
 Deep misery : 
 Join now my friens — yon sober core — 
 
 Wha drink Bohea.
 
 212 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 The wisest course, I think you'll own, 
 
 Is a' strong liquors to disown ; 
 
 They sometimes mak' the wise a drone, 
 
 Sad sight to see ; 
 Na penitence can then atone, 
 
 Or pleasure gie. 
 
 But now I'll try to tell the tale, 
 Which, at the time, did me sae quail ; 
 Ev'n now my spirit seems to fail 
 
 When I think on't, 
 As, in deep thought, I backward sail 
 
 Right to the point. 
 
 Ae stormy night, 'mang wind and rain, 
 I dander'd oot a' by my lane, 
 When, in my lug, I heard a grane, 
 
 A waefu' sound : 
 It seem'd to come, wi' fear and pain, 
 
 Frae oot the ground. 
 
 It didna seem like mortal groan. 
 But mair like a lost spirit's moan, 
 Doom'd to yon het and torrid zone, 
 
 O dreadfu' place ! 
 If ance you're there, a' hope is gone, 
 
 Nae chance o' grace.
 
 A VERA OHAISTLY TALE. 213 
 
 Ai Scotland's hills I had a view, 
 
 And they seem'd neither green nor blue ; 
 
 But a strange weird, uncannie hue 
 
 Illum'd the scene. 
 Which made the beads o' deathly dew 
 
 Drap owre my een. 
 
 The Gillies' Nick lay black in gloom, ^ 
 Which made my head, wi' fear, to soom. 
 When, frae the north, I heard a boom 
 
 Like distant thunner : 
 I feart it was the day o' doom. 
 
 It did sae dunner. 
 
 Af that Kirkyerd I winna tell. 
 
 No, not by missal, book, or bell ; ' 
 
 It look'd sae dreadfu' like to — well — ' 
 
 I was deleeret ; | 
 
 But truth is best, sae I maun tell ' 
 
 I'd taen some speerit. I 
 
 Wi' whisky I'd been a bit free, 
 
 I, af Scotch Gillies, had taen three ; 
 
 Eneugh to weet just ilka ee. 
 
 To keep me warm ; ' 
 
 But canty chiels will a' agree 
 
 'T would dee nae harm.
 
 214 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 But what luas wraog, I'd taen some beer, 
 Aud that, uae doot, had made me queer ; 
 For af the whisky, I'm quite clear 
 
 It was a' right ; 
 I'd tried the same, for monie a year. 
 
 On ilka night. 
 
 But a' things roun' look'd unco strange, 
 And did my sober thoughts derange ; 
 I feart I hadna got my change 
 
 Quite clear that night, 
 When roun' I let my vision range — 
 
 I saw a sight ! 
 
 Portentious omens met my view. 
 Which, in a circle, closer drew, — 
 Thousands o' imps, and a' were blue. 
 
 Which made me fear ; 
 Tho' nane had ever seen me fou' 
 
 On that New Year. 
 
 But I maun own the year was young ; 
 Twa nights before its birth we sung, 
 And the auld rafters shook and rung 
 
 Wi' our wild laughter ; 
 We thoughtna' af the wifie's tongue, 
 
 The scolding after.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 215 
 
 Tho' there is na harm in a glass, 
 If owre oor Hps na ither pass ; 
 But then, you see, we aft trespass, 
 
 And tak' anither : 
 And the result — each is an ass, 
 
 A' fools thegether. 
 
 I feart the company I did see 
 Had met that night to punish me. 
 Because I'd taen a sup o' brie, 
 
 Ca'd Avhisky toddy ; 
 But than the drappie was sae w^ee, 
 
 'Twould hurt naebody. 
 
 They mouth'd, they gib'd, they lap'd, 
 
 they sprang. 
 Demoniac laughter roun' me rang ; 
 And when a dizen on me sprang. 
 
 And held me tight, 
 I ken'd that there was something wrang 
 
 Wi' me that night. 
 
 They forced me on to my left knee, 
 And doon my throat pour'd fiery brie, 
 The rest a' gather'd roun' to see, 
 
 And hear me moan ; 
 And danc'd in highest ecstasy 
 
 At ilka groan.
 
 216 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 Each pointed at me in deep scorn, 
 As if a sot I had been born ; 
 But sic a lot wad ilk suborn 
 
 To onie lee ; 
 Tho' sometimes I hae stay'd till morn 
 
 On a bit spree. 
 
 The Hough— frae Wark to Cornhill— ^ 
 Wi' fear and wonder did me fill : 
 It seem'd sae like a mighty kiln 
 
 O' lurid fire. 
 The Tweed, by the same cantrip skill, 
 
 Bore portents dire. 
 
 Past the Boathoose, on the Tweed brae, — * 
 
 Where, as a laddie, I did play. 
 
 And in young manhood aft would stray 
 
 In the gloamin', — 
 A weird procession took its way 
 
 To the Loanin'.^ 
 
 I gazed, wi' fear and awfu' dread. 
 On the foul phantoms o' the dead ; 
 The claes o' death, in monie a shred, 
 
 Aboot them hung : 
 The sight was ane o' awfu' dread, 
 
 And made me dumb.
 
 A VERA GEAISTLY TALE, 217 
 
 Their glassy een at me did stare, 
 But soul or sense didna seem there : 
 A' that was lovely, sweet, and fair, 
 
 Had pass'd away : 
 The horrid phantom o' despair 
 
 Did wi' them stay. 
 
 They croon'd a weird, unearthly strain, 
 As if in fear, or dreadf u' pain ; 
 To close my een, I then was fain, 
 
 Frae their sad plight : 
 When I look'd up, the ghaistly train 
 
 Was still in sight. 
 
 They circled thrice the Castle wa',^ 
 
 And where ance stood the Western Raw,^ 
 
 But which has laug been swept awa 
 
 Wi' monie mae : 
 Owre it the wintry winds now blaw. 
 
 And bairnies play. 
 
 Wi' fear they look'd upon the Lough, ^ 
 In w^hich was heard an angry sough. 
 As if beneath there was a slough 
 
 Wi' demons there. 
 Trying to break frae oot the trough 
 
 To upper air.
 
 218 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 The Castle seem'd a' in 
 
 a bleeze. 
 
 Dread wailing cries cam 
 
 ' on the breeze, 
 
 The Willow-beds — auld knarl'd trees — ^ 
 
 Ceased to quiver : 
 
 
 My vera innards seem'd to freeze, 
 
 Couldna' shiver. 
 
 
 The Callow's Hill was a 
 
 ' in flame, ■^^ 
 
 The Lambs' Knowe, it was just the same ; ^ ^ 
 
 And close at hand, upon 
 
 the Kame,^2 
 
 I heard a croon : 
 
 
 I feart it was the deil come hame 
 
 To our auld toon. 
 
 
 The Lough, which ance 
 
 was a deep moat 
 
 To keep the Castle frae the Scot, 
 
 Now teem'd wi' imps — a 
 
 hellish lot — 
 
 A ' in high glee ; 
 
 
 And in their centre was 
 
 a pot 
 
 0' barley-bree. 
 
 
 But, oh ! it was het, fiery stuff, 
 
 The lowes cam' oot wi' sic a fluff, 
 
 Which put them a' in a 
 
 bit huff 
 
 For a minute ; 
 
 
 But to get mair did girn 
 
 and cuff 
 
 As dementit. 

 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 219 
 
 Tho' they drank deep, they were na fou', 
 But Hvid flames cam' frae each mou', 
 Lurid, and o' brunstanian hue, 
 
 Awfu' to see : 
 I feart that I mysel' might rue, 
 
 Wi' drinkin' free. 
 
 Sic' awfu' sight I then did see, 
 Roun' that big pot o' barley-bree, 
 As made my vera heart to dree. 
 
 My hair turn white : 
 I swoor, a sober chiel to be 
 
 Frae that dread night. 
 
 Ae drunken loon — Bacchus by name — 
 Was like a tongue o' lowen flame ; 
 And o' his state he had na shame, 
 
 A menseless sot. 
 When, wi' a yell, which froze my wame, 
 
 Loupt in the pot. 
 
 The impish lot set up a skirl, 
 
 Which made my puir sair head to dirl, 
 
 When roun' the pot they a' did swirl, 
 
 Wi' lightning speed ; 
 And in the caudron a' did birl, 
 
 Oh, dreadfu' deed !
 
 The lowen brie did hiss and bubble, 
 
 The demons howl'd, and brunt Hke stubble; 
 
 Sae I then tried — or else my double — 
 
 To set them free ; 
 But in the pot was sic a bubble, 
 
 I had to flee. 
 
 There was ae chiel among the rest, 
 Sat gloomy, sad, and sair opprest : 
 The cares o' state I saw confest, 
 
 Wi' half an ee. 
 He drank the maist (tho' no wi' zest) 
 
 O' fiery brie. 
 
 In his grand face I still saw there 
 Eemains of what was noble, fair ; 
 But on his brow sat canker'd care, 
 
 A darkened cloud : 
 Deep, unutterable despair 
 
 Did him enshroud. 
 
 I couldna, frae my heart, but feel 
 
 For our auld enemy, the deil, 
 
 Wha tried, in heaven, to higher speel, 
 
 But downward fell : 
 Ambition stamp'd the final seal, 
 
 Doom'd him to hell.
 
 The prince o' evil — sad to tell — 
 
 In heavenly mansions ance did dwell, 
 
 Till pride his heart began to swell, 
 
 Insensate fool ! 
 Angels o' light he dragg'd to hell, 
 
 And endless dool. 
 
 He held high command in Heaven, 
 And frae there wad ne'er been driven, 
 If, in pride, he hadna striven 
 
 For the first place ; 
 We now a' ken where he is livin' 
 
 In dire disgrace. 
 
 There, he has raised himsel' a throne. 
 And reigns o'er an extensive zone ; 
 Sae if he'll leave us a' alone, 
 
 There he may stay ; 
 A' partnership wi' him disown 
 
 This vera day. 
 
 Young lads and lassies, warning take. 
 
 Let not ambition you elate ; 
 
 For you might rue when its too late. 
 
 Like the puir deil ; 
 The' its a' right if you gang straight 
 
 To higher speel.
 
 222 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 My youthfu' frieiis, I beg, I pray, 
 Frae virtue's paths O dinna stray : 
 A' ither roads, the Beuk doth say, 
 
 Will you mislead. 
 Ance angels tried, — ah, lack-a-day ! — 
 
 For which we bleed. 
 
 There's monie pleasures to be found 
 That make your hearts wi' joy rebound- 
 Innocent, and no' profound, 
 
 To please you a' : 
 I like mysel', to sw^ell the sound 
 
 In a hizza. 
 
 In gazing on a youthfu' face, 
 A well o' joy I love to trace ; 
 A merry heart will ne'er disgrace 
 
 The work o' God. 
 A canker'd spirit may deface 
 
 Its fair abode. 
 
 But now ance mair I'll to my tale, 
 Ere it gets cauld, or, mebbie, stale ; 
 I wadna like you a' to rail, 
 
 Ca' me a fool : 
 My gentle muse hersel wad quail 
 
 Wi sorrow dool.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 223 
 
 The deil in anguish tore his hair, 
 He gnash'd his teeth in wild despair : 
 The sight was mair then I could bear, 
 
 And I did sw^oon. 
 When I awoke, and roun' did stare, 
 
 1 saw the moon. 
 
 Her crescent horn was owre Shedlaw, ^ ' 
 Which is frae Wark a mile or twa, 
 Where I lang labour'd hard awa' 
 
 When a callant ; 
 And kiss'd the lassies in the Ha' 
 
 Like a gallant. 
 
 I'th Ladies' Walk^* — that aw^fu' night- 
 I saw^ a bonnie, bonnie sight : 
 A lassie braw dress'd a' in white, 
 
 Wha smiled on me. 
 When she evanish'd frae my sight, 
 
 My heart was dree. 
 
 I sought her on the banks o' Tweed, 
 Through the hale toon and farmstead ; 
 And to the place where lies the dead, 
 
 I went wi' awe. 
 When I cam' back, my heart did bleed 
 
 Wi' what I saw.
 
 In dool, I clainb the Castle hill, 
 Then veil'd my face, and lang lay still 
 On the green swaird I grat my fill. 
 
 O wae ! O wae ! 
 Ae time I thought it wad me kill. 
 
 Or send me fley. 
 
 Oh ! I was dowff, my heart was sair, 
 I beat my breast, and pou'd my hair, 
 Till hope vouchsafe'd a vision fair ; 
 
 Oh ! it was grand, 
 When she unveil'd an upward stair 
 
 To a bright land. 
 
 Its base was resting on the Loan, ^^ 
 (About twa hundred yerds frae home : 
 I frae the Lough could thraw a stone 
 
 Wi' perfect ease.) 
 When at its foot I heard a groan, 
 
 My blood did freeze. 
 
 It was the deil wha moan'd sae sair, 
 Because he couldna climb the stair ; 
 Again he howl'd, and tore his hair, 
 
 Awfu' to see. 
 I'd like'd to gien him, if I'd dare, 
 
 An upward gee.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 225 
 
 A 
 s 
 
 f 
 
 The rich, the poor, the great, were there, 
 A' striving hard to speel that stair ; 
 Some gat half way, then roun' did stare I>^ 
 
 And tumbled down : 
 Some to the top speel'd up a' fair. 
 
 And gat a crown. 
 
 They enter'd then a bonnie town, 
 Where ilka ane put on his crown ; 
 Their paths were a' wi' posies strown. 
 
 Lovely and bright. 
 And a' had on a robe or gown 
 
 0' dazzling white. 
 
 Nae pain or sorrow entered there, 
 Nae fear o' death, or pale-faced care 
 The auld became youthfu' and fair, 
 
 Those gates within. 
 Nae evil thing can speel that stair. 
 
 Or enter in. 
 
 When ae foot touch'd the ither shore. 
 And ane was still outside the door, 
 A glorious change was coming o'er 
 
 Each mortal wight : 
 Bright immortality before 
 
 Burst on their sight.
 
 226 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 My mind was fu' o' heartfelt glee 
 To witness their felicity, 
 Whose highest pleasure is to gie 
 
 To ithers joy ; 
 Sic happiness, I plain could see, 
 
 Wad never cloy. 
 
 It was a bright, sweet, heav'nly scene, 
 Where a' was joy, and love serene ; 
 A' shone wi' gold, and silvery sheen, 
 
 Glorious and fair. 
 To reach that land o' pastures green 
 
 Was the steep stair. 
 
 The weans, lang pairted frae their mither, 
 Forgather there wi' ane anither ; 
 Frien' meets frien', and brither, brither. 
 
 To pairt na mair. 
 Husband and wife there dwell thegether 
 
 For evermair. 
 
 I saw them join a mighty thrang. 
 When a' burst oot in glorious sang ; 
 Doon the staircase their voices rang, 
 
 Joyous to hear. 
 I wonder'd if it wad be lang 
 
 Ere I gat there.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 227 
 
 Next I was shown the place o' woe, 
 Where the rebelHous hae to go ; 
 Nae stak was there to gang below 
 
 To their weird doom. 
 They were struck doon, at ae dread blow, 
 
 To blackest gloom. 
 
 Sae now the vision I will tell, 
 Which was unveiled in nether hell ; 
 The dreadfu' fate I saw befell 
 
 Each drunken sot. 
 May ilk ane tak' it to himsel', 
 
 And shun their lot. 
 
 On earth they loved the sparkling bowl, 
 
 The spirit-stirring alcohol : 
 
 The price they paid was wi' their soul, 
 
 When death had won ; 
 And, while eternity shall roll. 
 
 They are undone. 
 
 x\las ! it was an awfu' scene 
 That burst on my astonish'd een ; 
 In that dread place, na lovely sheen 
 
 Greeted my sight, 
 But visions o' the dread unseen 
 
 Did me affright.
 
 228 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 O may sic awfu' sights again 
 
 Ne'er glide athwart my fevered brain ; 
 
 On my puir mind the dreadfu' strain 
 
 Near snapp'd the thread, 
 Which Hnks me to this world o' pain 
 
 On which we tread. 
 
 My mind it couldna grasp the woe, 
 The awfu' sights I saw below. 
 Or words define, or pictures show, 
 The gloom o' hell. 
 
 may na frien', or I, ere go 
 
 Where devils dwell. 
 
 1 view'd a lurid, darksome plain, 
 Far larger than the earth's domain ; 
 On it I saw the millions slain 
 
 By the cursed drink. 
 And when I heard their cries o' pain, 
 In fear did shrink. 
 
 Methought I heard, in gloomy hell. 
 The lofty anthem's rolling swell. 
 Proclaiming bliss no tongue can tell, — 
 
 The depths o' love 
 Af One who died that we might dwell 
 
 With Him above.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 229 
 
 Bright visions o' the heav'nly main 
 FUtted across my frenzied brain : 
 Visions o' bhss, a joyous strain 
 
 Frae saints above, 
 Singing the glorious refrain 
 
 Af " God is Love." 
 
 The damn'd they gazed, wi' stony_ glare, 
 When ohe sweet mnsic fill'd the air ; 
 They saw and heard, but had na share 
 
 In the sweet sound : 
 To them the demon o' despair 
 
 Was closely bound. 
 
 For water, water, they did crave, 
 
 Their parched throats and tongues to lave ; 
 
 But not a drop was there to save. 
 
 Or ease their pain. 
 And through eternity they'll rave 
 
 For it in vain. 
 
 I saw pitfalls on left and right. 
 Behind, before, hid frae their sight ; 
 And o'er each ane a bonnie light 
 
 To lure them on. 
 Likewise a phantom streamlet bright 
 
 Before them shone.
 
 230 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 It shone like a clear, ripplin' stream, 
 Af which we sometimes catch a gleam ; 
 Now out, now in, like a sunbeam 
 
 Frae cloudy sky. 
 But 'twas like monie an earthly scheme, 
 
 A sham, a lie ! 
 
 In hell's dread lair, each drouthy soul 
 For evermair his thirst must thole ; 
 In Lethe's river a' must roll, 
 
 It is their dree. 
 Bathe in a stream o' alcohol, 
 
 Het, fiery brie. 
 
 Wi' frienzied looks they haste to drink, 
 Nor stand an instant on its brink ; 
 But in they plunge, and doon they sink 
 
 To blackest gloom. 
 Be sober, wise : let us bethink 
 
 The drunkard's doom. 
 
 The flames shed roun' a lurid light. 
 Illumed the darkness o' the night. 
 While horrid phantoms did affright 
 
 My trembling soul ; 
 When a' at ance they sank frae sight 
 
 Wi' a dread howl.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 231 
 
 Beneath were caudrons, deep and dread, 
 O' boiling pitch and molten lead, 
 To be their everlasting bed 
 
 On which to lie : 
 A lowen pillow for the head. 
 
 And never die. 
 
 Frae hell's abyss — Hades dread lair — 
 Loud wailing cries now rent the air ; 
 I feart that I wad never mair 
 
 See light o' day. 
 I howl'd mysel', in wild despair, 
 
 And blank dismay. 
 
 What next I saw, I mannna tell, 
 
 My tongue is bound by dreadfu' spell ; 
 
 And when I heard the awfu' yell. 
 
 My heart stood still. 
 It seem'd sae like the final knell, 
 
 And made me ill. 
 
 The prince o' hell he was no' there, 
 For he was then in upper air. 
 Prowling and prying everywhere 
 
 In search o' prey : 
 He shuns the light, and the bright glare 
 
 O' the noonday.
 
 232 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 He sometimes tempts the youthfu' mind 
 Wi' pleasures sweet, mebbie, refined ; 
 But, hid within, a hook's confined — 
 
 We canna see. 
 And then, alas ! too late we find 
 
 Our sorrow dree. 
 
 Perhaps some pleasure he'll propose, 
 Sweet to the sense as damask rose ; 
 But it will only lead to woes 
 
 If it's no' right : 
 Abjure him in braid Scottish prose, 
 
 And he'll tak flight. 
 
 And when you think he is no' near. 
 Then is the time there's maist to fear ; 
 He may be whispering in your ear 
 
 Some cursed lie. 
 His blandishments, dinna hear, 
 
 But frae him fly. 
 
 He ranges roun' thebonnie earth, 
 And none are safe, or free frae scaith; 
 He's always near, — at birth, or death, 
 
 If chance there be. 
 But frae the Christian's latest breath 
 
 Doth howling flee.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 233 
 
 It's then he kens there is a God, 
 And fears His sin-avenging rod. 
 Af guilt he bears an awfu' load, 
 
 Naething can wash : 
 He trembles at the dread abode 
 
 For sins sae rash. 
 
 The time will come when he'll be bound. 
 Then hell will wi' his wails resound ; 
 But may nae place for us be found 
 
 In his dread lair : 
 Here let us drap an anchor sound 
 
 Near the steep stair. 
 
 When the weird vision pass'd away, 
 On the auld Castle still I lay, 
 And frae my heart I couldna pray, 
 
 I was sae sad. 
 I gazed aroun' in wild dismay 
 
 On scenes sae sad. 
 
 The hoose, where I was born, w^as doou, ^ ^ 
 Wi' half, or mair than half, the toon : 
 Again I heard the dreadfu' croon 
 
 Upon the Kame. 
 I had a dwam, and tumbled doon, 
 
 Which shook my frame.
 
 234 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 My canty frieus, I tell you fairly 
 
 My heart was sad, and that right sairly, 
 
 To find the hoose I lov'd sae dearly 
 
 Clean oot o' sight, 
 I'd sent my son to sketch it rarely ^ ^ 
 
 In black and white. 
 
 I gazed aroun' for the auld biggin, 
 I saw a wa, but no' the riggin' : ^ ^ 
 No' eneugh to put a pig in. 
 
 My heart was wae. 
 I'd like to gien the loon a whiggin', 
 
 Wha took't away. 
 
 The tears they drapt frae ilka ee 
 
 As I laid there in misery, 
 
 When there cam' whooping owre the lea, 
 
 The third dread croon ; 
 But I had then na strength to flee 
 
 Frae the auld toon. 
 
 The clock struck twal — I mind it weel — 
 When owre the knowe there seem'd to speel 
 A " something," which I thought the deil — 
 
 It look'd sae black : 
 My heart it gied an unco chill, 
 
 And nearly brak.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 235 
 
 The shape cam' doon near Gallows' hill 
 (Where cadgers ance a bairn did kill : 
 On the cauld stanes its blood did spill 
 
 Wi' murd'rous knife. 
 I wish I had been there to shiel', 
 
 Its wee bit life.) 
 
 It didna stap, it didna stay, 
 But on it cam' in dread array : 
 To right, or left, it didna stray. 
 
 No, not an inch. 
 I wonder 'd, should it come my way, 
 
 If I wad flinch. 
 
 It nearer cam,' and I could tell 
 That it had horns, and tail as well : 
 I feart it was the deil himsel' 
 
 Wi' cloven hoof ; 
 I wiss't I was baith safe and well 
 
 'Neath my ain roof. 
 
 Its muckle een did glower and glare, 
 As if a lowen coal was there ; 
 Ev'n seem'd to scent the murky air 
 
 Wi' brunstane smell : 
 I thought it just had come frae where 
 
 I winna tell.
 
 236 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 Oh ! it is awfu' now to think, 
 That he, who gied the world a jink, 
 Was then sae near that he could clink 
 
 Me owre his shouther, 
 And hae me aff, ere I could wink 
 
 To frien' or brither. 
 
 I couldna speak, I couldna pray, 
 I couldna stan', or rin away ; 
 I tint my reason it was fley 
 
 That awfu' night. 
 And that I wad be cauld as clay 
 
 Ere mornin' light. 
 
 Its big, black form now owre me stood ; 
 It chill'd my heart, and froze my blood, 
 And yet I thought it chew'd the cood, 
 
 Which eased my mind : 
 I ne'er had heard that hornie's brood 
 
 Was bovine kind. 
 
 But, wad ye believet, there twa or three 
 Hae tauld me its a thumpin' lee, 
 And that the fine auld barley-bree 
 
 O' Johnnie Beggs 
 Made me sae fou, I couldna see. 
 
 Or keep my legs.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 237 
 
 But I'll tak' iny aith, wi' conscience clear, 
 I've no' been fou for monie a year ; 
 And, if no' the deil, I muckle fear 
 
 T'was mither's coo : 
 I'd lately seen her grazing near 
 
 And heard her " moo." 
 
 For on that night I'd met a frien' — 
 A canty Scot as ere was seen, 
 And we just wat each ither's een, 
 
 But naething mair : 
 We were baith sober as a queen 
 
 I'll Jiearly swear. 
 
 Jock says he kens it w^as na' true 
 I, on that night, was roaring fou ; 
 But that the drap o' mountain dew 
 
 Had turn'd my stammach, 
 Because the whisky was sae new 
 
 It raised the colic. 
 
 I canna think that he is w^ang. 
 We ow^re oor drappie sat sae lang ; 
 And wiled the time wi' crack and sang 
 
 Sae blithe that night ; 
 And when we thought to ham e ward gang 
 
 I was a' right.
 
 238 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 I mind Jock sung, wi' unco' zest, 
 A bonnie sang I loo'd the best, — 
 Composed by ane lang gone to rest — 
 
 Scotch Eobbie O ! 
 Which on my memory stands confest, 
 
 " My Nannie 6 ! " 
 
 Wi' sober gait I cross'd the yaird. 
 But, somehow, shpp'd on grassy swaird ; 
 And there I lay till Tam the Laird 
 
 Cam doit'rin by. 
 He swoor I was a drunken caird, 
 
 And there might lie. 
 
 There, visions swept across my brain, 
 Sae fu' o' pleasure and o' pain. 
 Upon the evil I was fain 
 
 To close my een ; 
 But gazed wi' joy upon the plain 
 
 O' pastures green. 
 
 Alas ! the demon alcohol 
 
 Owre the puir body gains control : 
 
 And young and auld do sometimes roll 
 
 O'er death's dark bourn. 
 Where, we are told, the drunkard's soul 
 
 In hell will burn.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 239 
 
 So says the Beuk — divine record — 
 
 The Beuk which Hghts the heav'nly road, 
 
 Where saints and martyrs a' hae trod 
 
 To realms above ; 
 Where dwells, in glorious abode. 
 
 The Fount o' Love. 
 
 The young, the auld, the rich, the poor, 
 May reach that bright, eternal shore, 
 If, while on earth, their lives are pure, 
 
 Contrite in heart : 
 God leads them, by a pathway sure, 
 
 Na mair to part. 
 
 (1) " Johnnie Beggs." -A noted distiller of 
 whisky." 
 
 (2) " The Gillies' Nick lay black in gloom." — 
 The Gillies' Nick is a disused burying ground on the 
 west side of the village of Wark, in Northumber- 
 land. As a boy the author had a great dread of 
 passing it, there being many strange and weird 
 tales told in connection with the spot. 
 
 (3) " The Hough— frae Wark to Cornhill."— 
 The Hough is on the east side of the village of 
 Wark, and extends for about two miles along the 
 south bank of the river Tweed in the direction of 
 the village of Cornhill.
 
 240 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 
 
 (4) " Past the Boathoose on the Tweed brae." 
 — The Boathouse is on the west of the village, and 
 on the south bank of the Tweed. 
 
 (5) "A weird procession took its way to the 
 Loanin'." — The Loaning is a gentle rising ground 
 on the south of the village, where the cottagers' 
 cows are turned out to graze. 
 
 (6) " They circled thrice the Castle wa'." — 
 Wark Castle — an ancient stronghold, now in ruins. 
 
 (7) " And where ance stood the Western 
 Raw." — The Western Row — a number of houses 
 once standing at the west end of the village, now 
 pulled down. 
 
 (8) " Wi' fear they look'dupon the Lough." — 
 The Lough — supposed to have been a deep moat 
 enclosing the Castle on three sides, the east, west, 
 and south, whilst the river Tweed enclosed the 
 north side. 
 
 (9) " The Willow-beds — auld knarl'd trees." — 
 A cluster of trees about half-a-mile on the west of 
 the village, now nearly all swept away by Father 
 Time. 
 
 (10) "The Gallows' Hill."— On the west of the 
 village, where it is supposed prisoners from the 
 Castle were hanged. In ploughing the land human 
 bones have been disinterred. 
 
 (11) " The Lambs' Knowe." — About half a 
 mile on the south-east of the village.
 
 A VERA GHAISTLY TALE. 241 
 
 (12) " The Kame."— A narrow ridge close to 
 Gillies' Nick. 
 
 (13) " Shedlaw." — A village about a mile and 
 a half on the west side of the village of Wark. 
 
 (14) " Ladies' Walk." — A beautiful retired 
 spot on the north side of the Castle, and over- 
 looking the Tweed. 
 
 (15) " The Loan." — Same as " Loanin'." 
 
 (16) " The Hoose, where I was born, was 
 doon." — Wark was once a large, thriving village, 
 but more than one half of it has either fallen or 
 been pulled down. 
 
 (17) " I'd sent my son to sketch it rarely." — 
 A fact. 
 
 (18) "I saw a wa', but no' the riggin." — A 
 wall had been built with the stones frojn the old 
 house.
 
 242 A FEW FRAGMENTS. 
 
 A FEW FKAGMENTS. 
 
 [In revising the original manuscript of a "Vera 
 Ghaistly Tale," I excluded the following verses 
 from the poem, but as they touch on subjects on 
 which I feel very strongly, — especially on the 
 shocking and senseless habit of swearing, a habit, 
 the most inveterate swearer must own, of no good 
 to himself or anyone. I am, therefore, anxious to 
 give my views on the matter, and if any of my 
 readers indulge in that which takes away from 
 them the true dignity of Man, I sincerely hope 
 they will turn over a new leaf, and " Swear not at 
 all." The Author.] 
 
 I'll now digress, and say how wrang 
 It is to leave our wives sae lang, 
 Brooding o'er slights, while we, wi' sang, 
 
 Care no' a whistle ; 
 But when we're hame, she gies a stang, 
 
 Sharp as a thistle. 
 
 If husbands wad but stay at hame, 
 Ilk wi' their bonnie, couthie dame, 
 And no' hunt after ither game, 
 
 Or ither' s wives, 
 There would soon burn a purer flame, 
 
 Holier lives.
 
 A FEW FRAGMENTS. 243 
 
 It is a sad, a waefu' sight, 
 
 When man, endow'd wi' heav'nly light, 
 
 Loses a' sense o' what is right, 
 
 Becomes a sot : 
 (God keep me aye frae sic a pHght, 
 
 Frae sic a lot.) 
 
 Besides the ruin to himsel'. 
 
 He drags his dear ones doon as well : 
 
 Wife, children, a' : oh ! sad to tell, 
 
 Awfu' to think ; 
 Beneath a pump he ought to dwell. 
 
 His bed, the sink. 
 
 Owre man Drink gains an aw^'u' power. 
 Drags him doon aye deeper, lower ; 
 Till, to resist, he has na power, 
 
 To pass it by ; 
 And, at the last, he's glad to cower 
 
 In a pig-stye. 
 
 The drunkard, sae the Beuk doth tell. 
 Will be condemn' d to nether hell ; 
 Where with foul devils he will dwell 
 
 In Hades' gloom. 
 Death sounds his last eternal knell — 
 
 His final doom.
 
 244 A FEW FRAGMENTS. 
 
 The deil himsel' collects the toll, 
 
 His revenue on alcohol ; 
 
 The price man pays is wi' his soul 
 
 In barter fair ; 
 But while eternity shall roll 
 
 He'll curse him sair. 
 
 Digressing a wee bittie mair, 
 
 That you my inmost thoughts may share, 
 
 On what has aften hurt me sair 
 
 In heart and soul. 
 When I hear men and women swear 
 
 Wi' language foul. 
 
 'Tis a dishonour to our race, 
 And on true manhood a disgrace. 
 That we should try ere to debase 
 
 The gifts o' God : 
 Let us be wise, strive for a place 
 
 In His abode. 
 
 I couldna, if I tried, dare swear, 
 I view it wi' such trembling fear ; 
 Ae aith wad haunt me monie a year 
 
 By night and day : 
 Its shade would never disappear. 
 
 But wi' me stay.
 
 A FEW FRAGMENTS. 245 
 
 The young and auld a' ken right well 
 That swearing is the fruit o' hell, 
 And helps dread Hades' maw to swell 
 
 Wi' souls immortal, 
 Precursoring their final knell 
 
 At its dread portal. 
 
 It makes me shudder, start wi' fear. 
 When horrid oaths assail my ear : 
 It seems to taint the vera air 
 
 Wi' vapours foul, 
 As if they cam direct frae where 
 
 Puir devils howl. 
 
 It is indeed a hellish brew. 
 
 Which never fiU'd a hungry mou', 
 
 Or brought pure pleasure sw^eet and new. 
 
 To heart or mind ; 
 Or the immortal soul updrew 
 
 Wi' thoughts refined. 
 
 It never help'd a soul to rise 
 To a bright hame in Paradise ; 
 But with the father af a' lies. 
 
 Drags it to hell, 
 Where, wi' the w^orm that never dies, 
 
 'Twill ever dwell.
 
 246 A FEW FRAGMENTS. 
 
 I ask the young if it will raise 
 Their voice in the Creator's praise, 
 And the auld men, when darken'd days 
 
 Are drawing nigh, 
 Wi' soul and body in a maze, 
 
 They fear to die. 
 
 'tis a sad, a waefu' thing. 
 
 That lips, which should God's praises sin^ 
 
 Do aft broadcast their curses fling, — 
 
 O wae ! wae ! 
 But a' who swear will feel its sting 
 
 At the last day. 
 
 The angels weep, the Beuk doth tell, 
 When a puir soul is doom'd to hell : 
 O dinna make the tears to well 
 
 In heav'nly eyes ; 
 But strive to hear the anthem swell 
 
 In Paradise. 
 
 Again I say, dinna swear, 
 
 But frae thy mou' thy tongue out-tear 
 
 Eather then you should ever hear 
 
 Its mouthings foul : 
 Ask God His holy name to fear. 
 
 And save thy soul.
 
 UNVEILING THE QUEENS STATUE 247 
 
 The voice divine, — God's highest gift- 
 Has owre the brutes gien us a lift : 
 O dinna show that you're unfit 
 
 For sic a boon ; 
 Let heart and voice wi' praises flit 
 
 To Him aboon. 
 
 ON THE UNVEILING OF THE 
 STATUE OF THE QUEEN AT 
 WINDSOK, JUNE 22nd, 1887. 
 
 Hail, Victoria ! 
 
 Hail, Victoria, hail ! — 
 We greet with joy 
 The advent of this day ; 
 Evanish'd sorrow, 
 And dull care 
 Has fled away. 
 
 Hail, Victoria, hail ! — 
 Beloved Queen, 
 Our hearts are thine ; — 
 May He, who guides 
 The Universe,
 
 248 UNVEILING THE QUEEN'S STATUE. 
 
 Enshrine, 
 
 And lead thee on 
 
 Unto the utmost verge 
 
 Of human Hfe ; 
 
 Then take thee Home 
 
 To dwell with dear ones 
 
 Who have gone before. 
 
 Hail, mighty Empress 
 And Queen ! — 
 Thy name shall live 
 When this fair image 
 Of thyself 
 
 Has mingled with the dust : 
 Shall live, yea, shall live 
 Till time shall be no more !
 
 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 249 
 
 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 
 
 A Jubilee Poem. 
 
 God bless the Queen, our gracious Queen, 
 
 On this auspicious day ; 
 Long may she reign our Empress Queen, 
 
 Her loving subjects pray. 
 
 When first the diadem was placed 
 
 Upon her regal brow, 
 She was a maiden, young and fair, 
 
 To whom all hearts did bow. 
 
 Fifty revolving years have pass'd, 
 
 Now^ silvery is her hair ; 
 Still in our hearts she reigns supreme 
 
 As when a maiden fair. 
 
 Her noble influence benign 
 
 Shines forth in every land : 
 The humble cry " God bless the Queen," 
 By love she doth command. 
 
 The King of Kings has bless'd our Queen 
 Throughout her glorious reign ; 
 
 Been with her in her hours of joy, 
 Li sorrow and in pain.
 
 250 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 
 
 And in His wisdom He hath seen 
 
 Fit to afflict her sore : 
 Has taken dear ones from her side 
 
 To a bright, better shore. 
 
 From earth removed her hope, her joy, 
 
 Albert the good and wise ; 
 Sweet AHce, Leopold — loving, true. 
 
 To mansions in the skies. 
 
 Prayers are breathed to God on High 
 From hearts and lips sincere, 
 
 Long, long to spare our gracious Queen, 
 Her diadem to wear : 
 
 Beseeching the eternal King 
 
 To lead her gently on. 
 Till she lays down her earthly crown 
 
 To meet around His throne 
 
 The dear ones who have pass'd away 
 To that bright, better world, 
 
 Where universal love abounds. 
 Eternity unfurl'd. 
 
 We love our Queen, our gracious Queen, 
 
 With pure, unselfish joj^ ; 
 She won our hearts by loving deeds. 
 
 Which time can ne'er destroy.
 
 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 251 
 
 Kingdom and kings have pass'd away 
 Since she became our Queen, 
 
 But each bright jewel in her crown 
 Shines with a brighter sheen. 
 
 Justice has been her sword and shield, 
 
 The Holy One her guide ; 
 All those who put their trust in Him 
 
 Will evermore abide. 
 
 Though mighty be our august Queen, 
 And boundless her domains, 
 
 Her loving heart joys with our joys, 
 And sorrows with our pains. 
 
 Vast continents obey her voice. 
 Vast oceans own her sway ; 
 
 And distant isles hail her as Queen 
 On each returning day. 
 
 The sun, upon Victoria's realms, 
 Doth never cease to shine ; 
 
 And still her glory will increase, 
 While trusting the Divine. ' 
 
 Peoples and nations bless her name ; 
 
 The islands of the sea 
 Rejoice with Cape and Continent, 
 
 And hail her Jubilee.
 
 252 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 
 
 Mind — the reflection of the soul — 
 
 Has, in her reign benign, 
 Advanced us in the social scale, 
 
 In noble deeds to shine. 
 
 Beneath its bright, mspiring rays 
 
 The light of truth divine. 
 Evolving gentle arts of peace, 
 
 Doth purify, refine. 
 
 From pole to pole its chasten'd beams 
 Have set the bondsmen free, 
 
 Destroyed the bigotry of creed. 
 The curse of slavery. 
 
 Grand Institutions have been raised 
 
 To elevate the mind 
 In sculpture, painting, music, song, 
 
 Arts noble and refined. 
 
 Behold the piles ! they rise to grace 
 
 Our Monarch's Jubilee ; 
 The offspring of a noble life 
 
 Of peace and purity. 
 
 Science commands the lightning's flash, 
 Guides it round earth and seas ; 
 
 We speak, and lo ! our voice is heard 
 At the Antipodes.
 
 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 253 
 
 The starry firm anient it scales, 
 We mid its glories tread ; 
 
 The earth's foundations it explores, 
 The stony volumes read. 
 
 It bears us swiftly o'er the earth, 
 
 Across each stormy sea ; 
 And brings the nations of the earth 
 
 In closer amity. 
 
 Unveils the teeming forms of life 
 
 In ocean, earth, and air, 
 Proclaiming the Creator's hand, 
 
 His presence everywhere. 
 
 O'er all the Monarchs on the earth 
 
 Victoria reigns supreme ; 
 (0 that the shade of Milton's muse 
 
 Inspired this lofty theme.) 
 
 The glorious Gospel has been spread 
 Beneath her fostering hand ; 
 
 The civilizing arts of peace 
 Arose at her command. 
 
 Behold the noble fabric rear'd 
 
 In eighteen-tifty-one, 
 A monument of lofty thought 
 
 To him whose work is done.
 
 254 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 
 
 Not done : the light he shadow'd forth 
 Still bums with brighter flame, 
 
 Shedding fresh glory on our Queen, 
 And honour to his name. 
 
 Shine forth, sweet gentle spirit, shine ; 
 
 Diffuse thy subtle powers 
 Till universal love abounds, 
 
 Like sunshine on the flowers. 
 
 Shine forth, shine forth, with light divine, 
 From England's happy shore ; 
 
 Soar forth, with olive branch of peace. 
 Till war shall be no more. 
 
 Shine forth, thy noble work on earth 
 
 Is not yet nearly done ; 
 Shine forth, until thy rays converge 
 
 In the millenial sun. 
 
 Again to Thee, Eternal King, 
 
 We plead on bended knee 
 For blessings on Victoria's reign. 
 
 Sweet joy and peace in Thee. 
 
 Shed Thy divinest blessings on 
 The dear ones of our Queen, 
 
 And teach the nations 'neath her sway 
 To trust Thee, tho' unseen.
 
 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN. 255 
 
 Make them — Thy chosen — to exalt 
 Thy names of Love and Peace, 
 
 Trusting in Thee, Thou King of kings, 
 Their glory will increase. 
 
 God bless the Queen, our noble Queen, 
 
 Upon her Jubilee ; 
 Grant her an everlasting Crown 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 
 §k\^V'//^
 
 GLOSSARY. 257 
 
 GLOSSARY OF SCOTCH WORDS. 
 
 A', all. 
 
 Ablins, perhaps. 
 
 Aboon, above. 
 
 Aboot, about. 
 
 Adoon, adown. 
 
 Ae, one. / 
 
 Af, of. 
 
 Ain, own. 
 
 Airth, earth. 
 
 Alane, alone. 
 
 Amang, among. 
 
 An', and, 
 
 Ance, once. 
 
 Aneath, beneath. 
 
 Anither, another. 
 
 Aroun', around. 
 
 Athole Brose, whisky and honev. 
 
 Auld, old. 
 
 Awa', away. 
 
 Awfu', awful. 
 
 Awsome, awful. 
 
 Ayont, beyond. 
 
 Ba', ball. 
 
 Bairn, child. 
 
 Bairnies, children. 
 
 Baith, both. 
 
 Barley-bree, malt liquor ; also, whisky. 
 
 Befa', befaU. 
 
 Ben, the imier apartment. 
 
 Bide, stay. 
 
 Biggen, house. 
 
 Bittie, a little. 
 
 Blaw, blow.
 
 258 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Bleeze, blaze. 
 
 Blether, nonsense. 
 
 Boathoose, boathouse. 
 
 Bonnie, beautiful. 
 
 Bonniest, j)rettiest. 
 
 Brae, a rising ground. 
 
 Braid, broad. 
 
 Braw, beautiful ; quite well. 
 
 Brie, liquid. 
 
 Brithers, brothers. 
 
 Brunt, did burn. 
 
 Brunstane, brimstone. 
 
 Ca', call. 
 
 Gallants, young lads. 
 
 Cam', came. 
 
 Canna, cannot. 
 
 Cannie, gentle. 
 
 Canty, cheerful ; merry. 
 
 Carl, or carlin, a gruff old man. 
 
 Caudron, a cauldron. 
 
 Cauld, cold. 
 
 Chiel, a young fellow. 
 
 Claes, clothes. 
 
 Claid, clothed. 
 
 Claver, to talk foolishly, 
 
 Clinkin, cheerful style. 
 
 Coo, cow. 
 
 Coost, cast. 
 
 Core, corps ; party. 
 
 Couldna, could not. 
 
 Couthie, cheerful ; pleasing. 
 
 Croon, croNvn ; five shillings. 
 
 Daft, foolish, weak-minded. 
 
 Dee, do. 
 
 Deil, devil.
 
 GLOSSARY. 259 
 
 Deleerit, delirious. 
 
 Dementit, mad ; insane. 
 
 Didna, did not. 
 
 Dight, to wipe. 
 
 Dinna, do not. 
 
 Disjaskit, jaded ; worn out. 
 
 Dizen, dozen. 
 
 Doiterin, to w^alk feebly. 
 
 Dook, to bathe. 
 
 Dooket, bathed. 
 
 Dool, sorrow; sorrowful. 
 
 Doon, down. 
 
 Doot, doubt. 
 
 Dowff, dull ; low-spirited. 
 
 Drap, drop. 
 
 Drappie, very little. 
 
 Dreadfu', dreadful. 
 
 Dree, sorrow ; to endure. 
 
 Drouth}', thirsty. 
 
 Dwam, a fainting fit. 
 
 Ee, the eye ; een, the eyes. 
 
 E'en, evening. 
 
 Eneugh, enough. 
 
 Evermair, evermore. 
 
 Fa', fall. 
 
 Fac', fact. 
 
 Feart, fear'd. 
 
 Flee, to fly. 
 
 Fley, to frighten ; to unhinge the mind. 
 
 Forfairn, very tired. 
 
 Forgetfu', forgetful. 
 
 Forjesket, worn out ; dull. 
 
 Fou, drunk. 
 
 Frae, from. 
 
 Friens, friends.
 
 260 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Fu', full ; quite well. 
 
 Gang, to go. 
 
 Gar, make. 
 
 Gat, got. 
 
 Gaun, gone ; going. 
 
 Gear, riches ; property. 
 
 Gettin' getting. 
 
 Gliaistly, ghostly. 
 
 Gie, to give. 
 
 Gied, gave. 
 
 Gien, given. 
 
 Glint, glimpse. 
 
 Gloamin', gloaming. 
 
 Glower, to stare ; to look. 
 
 Gomeral, a fool ; weak-minded. 
 
 Go wans, daisies. 
 
 Gowd, gold. 
 
 Gowden, golden. 
 
 Gran', grand. 
 
 Grane, groan. 
 
 Grat, wept. 
 
 Greet, to shed tears. 
 
 Greetin', weeping. 
 
 Guid, good. 
 
 Ha', hall. 
 
 Hadna, had not. 
 
 Hae, have ; haet, have it. 
 
 Hale, whole. 
 
 Hame, home. 
 
 Han', hand. 
 
 Hands, holds. 
 
 Held, head. 
 
 Hersel', herself. 
 
 Het, hot. 
 
 Hoose, house.
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 261 
 
 Hubble, hubbub. 
 
 
 Ilk, each. 
 
 
 Ilka, each one. 
 
 
 Innards, mtestines. 
 
 
 Ither, other. 
 
 
 Jaud, jade. 
 
 Keek, to peep. 
 
 Ken, to know ; ken'd, knew. 
 
 
 Kittle, to tickle. 
 
 
 Knappin', breaking. 
 Lang, long. 
 
 
 Langer, longer. 
 
 
 Lap, did leap ; lap'd, leapt. 
 
 
 Lassie, a girl ; a young woman. 
 Learnin', learning. 
 
 
 Lee, lie. 
 
 
 Livin', living. 
 
 Loan, a lane ; an enclosed road. 
 
 
 Loanin', same as loan. 
 
 
 Loo, love. 
 
 
 Loup, to jump. 
 Lowes, flames. 
 
 
 Lug, ear. 
 Mae, more. 
 
 
 Mair, more. 
 
 
 Maist, most. 
 
 
 Mak, make. 
 
 
 Mang, 'mong. 
 Maun, must. 
 
 
 Maunna, must not. 
 
 
 Mebbie, perhaps. 
 Menseless, shameless. 
 
 
 Mickle, much. 
 
 
 Mither, mother. 
 
 
 Monie, many. 
 
 1 

 
 262 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Mou', mouth. 
 
 Muckle, much ; large, 
 
 Mysel', myself. 
 
 Na, no ; not. 
 
 Nae, no ; not any. 
 
 Naebody, nobody. 
 
 No', not. 
 
 Noo, now. 
 
 0', of. 
 
 On't, on it. 
 
 Oor, our. 
 
 Owre, over ; too much. 
 
 Pairt, part. 
 
 Pairted, parted. 
 
 Pou'd, pull'd. 
 
 Puir. poor. 
 
 Raw, row. 
 
 Roosing sang, jolly song. 
 
 Roun', round. 
 
 Sae, so. 
 
 Saft, soft. 
 
 Sair, sore. 
 
 Sairly, sorely. 
 
 Sang, song. 
 
 Saxpence, sixpence. 
 
 Shearin', reaping. 
 
 Shiel, to shield. 
 
 Shoon, shoes. 
 
 Shouther, shoulder. 
 
 Sic, such. 
 
 Siccar, steady ; sure. 
 
 Sin', since, 
 
 Smaest, smallest. 
 
 Sonsie, having sweet, engaging looks. 
 
 Soom, to swim ; to be giddy.
 
 GLOSSARY. 263 
 
 Spearin', enquiring. 
 
 Speel, to climb. 
 
 Speerit, alcohol. 
 
 Spier, to enquire. 
 
 Splore, a frolic. 
 
 Stanes, stones. 
 
 Stang, sting. 
 
 Stap, stop. 
 
 Stown, stolen. 
 
 Swoor, swore. 
 
 Taen, taken. 
 
 Tak, take. 
 
 Tauld, told. 
 
 Tearfu', tearful. 
 
 Telt, told. 
 
 Tent, to take heed. 
 
 Thegether, together. 
 
 Tliemsel', themselves. 
 
 Thole, to suffer. 
 
 Thoughtna, thought not. 
 
 Thrang, throng. 
 
 Thraw, throw. 
 
 Toon, town. 
 
 Twa, two. 
 
 Twal, twelve. 
 
 Uncanny, supernatural. 
 
 Unco, very ; very strange. 
 
 Unfauld, unfold. 
 
 Upo', upon. 
 
 Vamity, boastful ; haughty. 
 
 Wa', wall. 
 
 Wad, would. 
 
 Wadna, would not. 
 
 Wae, woe. 
 
 Waesome, woeful.
 
 264 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Waitin', waiting. 
 
 Wame, belly. 
 
 Warl, world, 
 
 Wauk, to rouse from sleep. 
 
 Waukens, to rouse into action. 
 
 Weans, children. 
 
 Wee, small. 
 
 Weel, well. 
 
 Weelfare, welfare. 
 
 Wha, who. 
 
 Whiggin', a beating. 
 
 Whuttle, a knife. 
 
 Wi', with. 
 
 Winna, will not. 
 
 Winsome, lovely ; of engaging appearance. 
 
 Withouten, without. 
 
 Wiss't, wish'd. 
 
 Wrang, wrong. 
 
 Ye, you. 
 
 Yearnin', yearning. 
 
 Yerds, yards. 
 
 Yere, you are ; your. 
 
 Yon, there ; beyond. 
 
 Yoursel', yourself. 
 
 Youthfu', youthful.
 
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 date stamped below.
 
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