3)6 6'd. 
 
 DOBELL . 
 DRE/IMER OF THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE
 
 I
 
 THE DREAMER OF 
 
 THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 i.
 
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 THE DREAIMER OF 
 
 THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 THE DREAMER OF 
 THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 BERTRAM DOBELL 
 
 London : 
 
 P. J- & A. E. DOBELL, 
 
 77 Charing Cross Road. 
 
 191S-
 
 
 NOTE 
 
 Throughout the whole of his Hfe my father was 
 writing verse. After practising various forms he found, 
 in late life, that the sonnet best suited his temperament, 
 and over this form he obtained such a mastery that 
 he was able to write in it with comparative ease. His 
 skill as a sonnet-writer has been fully recognized, and 
 I am confident that his work in this field will come 
 to be regarded as equal to that of any of the sonnet- 
 writers of his time. 
 
 Of an introspective nature, with a philosophic turn 
 of mind, he meditated much upon life, upon death, 
 and upon the problems of existence. His meditations 
 upon death prompted him to write, spontaneously and 
 without effort, a number of sonnets, to which I have 
 given the collective title, " The Approach of Death." 
 These I printed recently, together with a poem entitled 
 " The Close of Life," in a small edition for private 
 circulation.* Some time before his death he announced 
 the forthcoming publication of the Sonnet Sequence, 
 " A Lover's Moods," — of this series only ten have as 
 
 * These poems have been so well received by those who have seen 
 them that I am publishing ihem simultaneously with this volume. 
 
 786760
 
 yet been published.* Another iinpubh'shed Sonnet 
 Sequence is entitled " The Searcher ; " and in his 
 Ce7itury of Sonnets (published 1910) will be found his 
 thoughts upon music and many other subjects. 
 
 But, as I have said, his poetical efforts were not 
 confined to this form of verse. In Rosemary and 
 Pansies (published 1903), he printed, I believe, all the 
 narrative and lyrical poems written up to that date 
 that he wished preserved. And now, in this slender 
 volume, I give a selection of similar poems written 
 after the publication of Rosemary and Pansies. He 
 was constantly revising his work, and has left in 
 manuscript a good many unfinished or unrevised pieces. 
 I could have added to the bulk of this book by 
 printing some of these, but have limited myself to the 
 pieces to which he had given his final corrections. 
 Except for a poem entitled " A Stoic's Philosophy," 
 which he completed and contemplated printing, we have 
 here all the poems written in other than the sonnet 
 form that I deem it advisable to publish, A comparison 
 of the present volume with Rosemary and Pansies 
 will show plainly that age did not bring with it any 
 diminution of my father's poetical ability. The old 
 
 * In The Poetry Revietv for March, 1914.
 
 smoothness and melodiousness are here, with, if 
 anything, a h'ghter touch and a calmer outlook ujDon 
 life. 
 
 My father's editorial work in connection with 
 James Thomson ("' B.V."), Shelley, Lamb, Traherne, 
 and Strode occupied much of the time he was able to 
 spare for literature, and would alone be enough to keep 
 his name in remembrance ; but when it can be viewed 
 as a whole I feel sure his original work is sufficient, 
 both in bulk and distinctive merit, to warrant the 
 hope that it will give his name a still higher rank, 
 and assure for him a permanent reputation as a poet. 
 
 PERCY J. DOBELL.
 
 \
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Dreamer of the Castle of Indolence - • ii 
 
 The Chatelaine of the Castle of Indolence - 23 
 
 A Portrait 29 
 
 The One Want of L/ELius 31 
 
 The Bonnie Irish Colleen 32 
 
 The Daughters of Erin 33 
 
 Wayward Celia 34 
 
 Poor Colin 36 
 
 Robert Burns - 38 
 
 At Last - - . - .... 43
 
 II 
 
 THE DREAMER OF 
 THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE ^^ 
 
 " A Bard here chvelt^ more fat than Bard beseems j 
 Who void of Envy, Guile, and Lust of Gain, 
 On Virtue still, and Nature's pleasing Themes, 
 Pour'd forth his unpremeditated Strain, 
 The World forsaking with a calm Disdain : 
 Here laughed he careless in his easy Seat, 
 Here quaffhi encircled with the joyous Train ; 
 Oft tnoralisin^ sage ; his ditty sweet 
 He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat." 
 
 James Thomson : '^The Castle of Indolence." 
 
 Canto /., Stanza LXVIII. 
 
 I 
 
 A NOTHER bard was in our Castle found, 
 ^^ Whose brow, where gathered now the snows of age, 
 Had never been with laurel-leaves ycrowned, 
 
 Since, hating much the world's tempestuous stage, 
 
 He rather chose in some far hermitage 
 To dwell, absorbed in philosophic thought. 
 
 Such as doth oft perplex the musing sage. 
 Which can be to no certain issue brought, 
 Though those who truth revere an issue aye have sought. 
 
 * This and the following piece were suggested by James Thomson's 
 {"B.V.") "Yord of the Castle of Indolence."
 
 12 
 
 II 
 
 He with the world had ever been at strife, 
 
 For it loves not insurgents such as he, 
 Who wander from the beaten ways of life, 
 
 And break themselves from its conventions free : 
 
 He would not to its idols bend his knee : 
 Wherefore, since he belonged not to their band, 
 
 The world's tame creatures {that mobility 
 Whose only god is custom) with high hand 
 Outlawed him, and thenceforth with scornful visage 
 scanned. 
 
 Ill 
 
 So in his youth through much distress he passed, 
 And did sore scorn from worldlinos undergo, 
 
 Who looked upon him as beneath their caste. 
 Though he a spirit above his rank did show. 
 From which to him much galling ill did flow. 
 
 Since every soul too fine-strung for its place 
 More keenly doth the pains of bondage know 
 
 Than those born serfs who feel not their disgrace, 
 
 And can with coarse delights afar their sorrows chase.
 
 13 
 
 IV 
 
 His nature even in earliest youth rebelled 
 Against the twin-oppressors of mankind, 
 
 Who almost from the dawn of time have held 
 A tyrant inquisition o'er the mind, 
 Which else the source might of its evils find : 
 
 Kingcraft and Priestcraft he did ever hate, 
 And to their baleful inHuence assigned. 
 
 Though not all ills, yet those whose iron weight 
 
 Is potent most man's spirit to break or subjugate. 
 
 V 
 
 A learned bibliomaniac was he, 
 
 And was in books than men more deeply read ; 
 So from the scholar's faults he was not free : 
 
 He had a mind that no suspicion bred. 
 
 And so in judging men was oft misled ; 
 For since himself was candid and sincere. 
 
 And what he thought ingenuously said, 
 He thought all men were so ; which cost him dear, 
 Though openness and truth he ceased not to revere.
 
 14 
 
 VI 
 
 'Twas difficult to tear him from his books, 
 
 With which he ever did content enjoy : 
 He had small joy in mountains, vales or brooks, 
 
 Nor did with Amaryllis care to toy ; 
 
 These could not from his studies him decoy : 
 In truth he was too much the devotee 
 
 Of ancient tomes, which did his zest destroy 
 For that quick pulsing life which still should be 
 Beyond all studies else man's chief academy. 
 
 VII 
 
 Yet all good women he did reverence, 
 
 And in his youth he thought all women good, 
 
 But then, too much a prey to diffidence, 
 
 He never learned to know them as he should. 
 And so their nature much misunderstood : 
 
 Yet with the chivalry of La Mancha's knight 
 He would have fought for lowly womanhood, 
 
 Since he too was devoted to a bright 
 
 Ideal of loveliness scarce seen in mortal wig^ht.
 
 15 
 
 VIII 
 
 Too late he found the radiant ideal 
 
 That did his dream of loveliness fulfil ; 
 No ano'el truly, but a woman real 
 
 In heart, emotion, intellect and will ; 
 
 The best of women yet a woman still. 
 Endowed with every grace of womanhood, 
 
 And ready aye with sympathetic skill 
 To comfort (as alone she understood) 
 All those by evil fortune cruelly pursued. 
 
 IX 
 
 What happiness his thoughts, his life to share 
 
 With her ! — but pitiless fate drove them apart ; 
 His one bright love-dream ended in despair : 
 
 And so he turned, at first with little heart, 
 
 For consolation to the poets' art. 
 Wherein but little better did he thrive : 
 
 He scorned to chant the wares that suit the mart. 
 So from his verse he nothing did derive 
 Save praise from two or three, however he might strive.
 
 i6 
 
 X 
 
 A questioner and secircher he had been 
 
 Since thought first wakened in his youthful mind ; 
 
 He ever sought to penetrate the screen 
 
 Of the vain shows of things the truth to find, 
 And, though he might not know it, yet decHned 
 
 With common sophistries to Hve content. 
 Cutting: the tancjle he could not unwind : 
 
 Rather he would his ignorance lament 
 
 Than to those mythic creeds that please the mob assent. 
 
 XI 
 
 To know himself most earnestly he tried. 
 
 And strove with keen and steady eyes to scan 
 The follies and the evils which misguide 
 
 The will and mar the purposes of man, 
 
 And into fiame his baser passions fan : 
 Fain would he from his soul ill-growths root out, 
 
 And though he might not vanquish all their clan 
 He waged with them a constant warfare stout, 
 And did most oft succeed in putting them to rout. 
 
 \
 
 17 
 
 XII 
 
 He saw 'twas vain with nature to contend, 
 
 Or quarrel with inexorable fate, 
 And ceased his little vigour to expend 
 
 In warring with the world's contempt or hate, 
 
 But looked on with a mood compassionate 
 At all the discords and contentions sore 
 
 Which envy, spite, and avarice generate 
 Amongst the world's spoiled children : now no more 
 Vain wrath against their many fantasies he bore. 
 
 XIII 
 
 'Twas strange that in the winter of his days, 
 
 (As he in frank discourse was wont to tell) 
 Fortune grew kind in unexpected ways, 
 
 And happiness unhoped-for him befell ; 
 
 His clouded life, as by some magic spell, 
 Grew sunny and serene ; and calm content 
 
 And perfect peace came in his soul to dwell ; 
 And what had seemed a fate malevolent 
 All that he most desired did now to him present.
 
 i8 
 
 XIV 
 
 For now he knew that his poetic gift, 
 
 Though it might not with recognition meet, 
 Had yet the sovereign power his soul to Hft 
 
 From out the pit of dolour and defeat ; 
 
 Nor did he lack a compensation sweet 
 For all his cares ; musick so much delight 
 
 Gave him that with it he could always cheat 
 What sombre thoughts oppressed him : such the might 
 Of these twin-consolations for the world's despite. 
 
 XV 
 
 He did not wilfully himself withdraw 
 From other folks' discourse or sympathies, 
 
 But knew it in his nature as a flaw 
 
 That he could never join with graceful ease 
 In that sweet social converse that doth please 
 
 The human throng, and with them smile or weep ; 
 Nor shape his life, as custom's will decrees, 
 
 To them who from the social pleasures reap 
 
 What is to them as much a needful thing as sleep. 
 
 \
 
 19 
 
 XVI 
 
 Moods oft of deep discouragement he had, 
 
 For though he had praiseworthy things achieved 
 
 Which might have made one less ambitious glad, 
 He of his powers too highly had conceived, 
 And, till time tamed his spirit, had believed 
 
 Ages to come would rank him with the few 
 
 Whom nations have, when the hour was ripe, received 
 
 As master spirits : though at last he knew 
 
 His will was all too weak great deeds to dare or do. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Thus lived he with his lowly lot content. 
 
 Well pleased to live yet not afraid to die, 
 Nor asked a future life to complement ' > 
 
 The one he knew, or cure what was awry : 
 
 He thought one life enough to satisfy 
 A thing so poor as man, since few are worth 
 
 So much as one ; and few indeed supply 
 Aught to repay the cost that from their birth 
 Unto their death attends their useless course on earth.
 
 20 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Although we felt he was not truly one 
 
 Of us, long as he in our Castle dwelt, 
 And though our company he oft would shun 
 
 For days while with some knotty point he dealt, 
 
 And slowly through its intricacies spelt, 
 Yet we had grown to like him since we knew 
 
 He had a soul that no mean passions felt ; 
 And scorned the false even as he loved the true, 
 Nor would for selfish ends a crooked path pursue. 
 
 XIX 
 
 When sinners asked him how they might be saved, 
 
 From what ? he asked them with a gentle smile ; 
 Then told how that good Emperor behaved 
 
 Who ruled the ancient Roman world erstwhile. 
 
 Yourself to your own conscience reconcile. 
 He said, and not to any god without : 
 
 That doctrine of atoned-for-sin is vile ; 
 From it a thousand evil blossoms sprout ; 
 Your sins yourself must bear — no god will help you out. 
 
 V 
 
 \
 
 21 
 
 XX 
 
 In nature's strange and mighty revolutions 
 
 He saw no evidence of a guiding hand, 
 But found one force in all its evolutions 
 
 At work though working in a mode unplanned ; 
 
 With no power else its workings to withstand : 
 That force no count of good or evil took, 
 
 And never heeded if it blessed or banned 
 That little creature with the puzzled look 
 Who its unmoral deeds could not approve or brook. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Such was, or so appeared he, — for I own 
 
 That there were depths in him we could not sound : 
 He had an inner life to us unknown ; 
 
 And oft we saw him steeped in a profound 
 
 Reverie, insensible to all around. 
 Wherein strange visions seemed him to enthral. 
 
 And so with us, retired and unrenowned. 
 He lived till death him forth from us did call, 
 Who mourned him long, though such a riddle to us all.
 
 \
 
 23 
 
 THE CHATELAINE OF 
 THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE 
 
 'X'HOUGH in our Castle women were but few, 
 ■*• Since few there are whom restful calm contents, 
 
 And most for aye strange fantasies pursue, . 
 
 While love of change still in their minds ferments, 
 And evermore their wit new wants invents, 
 
 Yet some with their bright presence graced our home, 
 Nor pined to traverse seas or continents 
 
 For ever after some new thing to roam. 
 
 Though but of froth and wind like flying ocean-foam. 
 
 II 
 Of these the chief was our loved Chatelaine, 
 
 The gracious mistress of our little state, 
 Whose rule no force was needed to sustain 
 
 Although she reigned an absolute potentate : 
 
 Ah ! would I worthily might celebrate 
 Her beauty and the riches of her mind. 
 
 The grace that did her actions animate, 
 And all who knew her to her service bind : 
 Who was the very crown and flower of mortal kind.
 
 24 
 
 III 
 The picture of enchanting womanhood, 
 
 Before whose form the sculptor yearns to kneel, 
 Hers was a charm which could not be withstood, 
 
 Which only churlish natures failed to feel : 
 
 Time did in her new graces still reveal ; 
 And, loving first, at last we did adore 
 
 Her with a passionate religious zeal, 
 Though never she a nun-like aspect wore. 
 But ever her due share in sport and pastime bore. 
 
 IV 
 
 'Twas woman's finest, rarest quality 
 
 By which she gained our hearts and ruled supreme, 
 That all-embracing generous sympathy 
 
 Which did to those around her still outstream, 
 
 ForoettinCT none : the meanest mio^ht not deem 
 Himself by her in any wise disdained. 
 
 Knowing she would not lightly him esteem, 
 But ever with a courtesy unfeigned 
 Would seek to allay those ills that in his spirit reigned.
 
 25 
 
 V 
 
 Her gentle sway all jarrings soothed to peace 
 
 Amongst us, for all dreaded her reproof: 
 Her presence caused unseemly brawls to cease, 
 
 i\nd made unquiet spirits hold aloof; 
 
 Dissension could not live beneath our roof, 
 For that accord which in her spirit reigned 
 
 Diffused itself around and formed the woof 
 Which harmonized our discords and maintained 
 Our clan in bonds of love fast bound yet unconstrained. 
 
 VI 
 
 The lowliest she welcomed with a smile, 
 
 And gave her time and thought to their affairs, 
 And ever listened patiently the while 
 
 In prolix speech they told their griefs and cares ; 
 
 It seemed she as her own mishaps felt theirs ; 
 So comforted and cheered they went away, 
 
 And for her welfare offered up their prayers : 
 So much the power of sympathy doth sway 
 Mankind that all a willing homage to it pay.
 
 26 
 
 VII 
 
 In each contention she was arbitress, 
 And none her sentence ventured to dispute, 
 
 Since all knew that beneath her gentleness 
 There was of sense unclouded a strong root, 
 Clear-sighted judgment, firmness resolute, 
 
 That could not be by other motives swayed 
 Than truth or justice : whatsoever suit 
 
 Before her came, the cause being duly weighed 
 
 Her just award all bitter discontent allayed. 
 
 VIII 
 
 On every scene, however cold or gray. 
 She visited, there seemed at once to ope 
 
 A prospect of a brighter, better day. 
 Bringing with it revival of lost hope. 
 Giving the prisoned spirit a wider scope : 
 
 So great a boon it was to see and know 
 
 Her, that not even the gloomy misanthrope. 
 
 Whose gall did most against his kind o'erflow. 
 
 His mood could hold, but would his bitterness forego.
 
 27 
 
 IX 
 
 The rudest in her presence curbed their tongues, 
 
 Seeking well-bred and courteous to appear ; 
 Gentle expressions came from boisterous lungs ; 
 
 The cynical at goodness ceased to sneer ; 
 
 The loose-lipped jester grew in words austere ; 
 And all with such intentness strove to show 
 
 How much they did esteem their mistress dear 
 That loud contention ceased or whispered low, 
 And hot dispute no more with heated words would glow. 
 
 X 
 
 Well-pleased the wisest scholars would converse 
 
 With her, for she could learnedly debate 
 With them on subjects which they who asperse 
 
 Her sex declare too hard and intricate 
 
 For women's wits thereon to meditate : 
 And ever she with steady purpose sought 
 
 (While she her own fine sense would underrate) 
 From them to gain new stores of fertile thought, 
 Whose lessons might by her to other folk be taught.
 
 XI 
 
 When once she left our Castle for awhile 
 
 'Twas strange how cheerfulness gave way to gloom ; 
 
 The gayest of our inmates ceased to smile ; 
 
 The garden-flowers seemed to lose their bloom, 
 And all things did a sombre look assume : 
 
 Amongst us spread a causeless discontent ; 
 
 At small vexations hearts would fret and fume ; 
 
 Pretexts for discord's sake some would invent. 
 
 And passions hot and fierce would suddenly ferment. 
 
 XII 
 
 Such was our Chatelaine ; or so she seemed 
 
 To me who cannot half her virtues tell, 
 Yet still have her the royal pattern deemed 
 
 For all her sex who would in worth excel : 
 
 I know not where to find her parallel, 
 But shall be ever thankful that I knew 
 
 One for whose sake henceforth I must love well 
 All womankind ; though, certes, it is true 
 That they who own her charm are hard to find and few. 
 
 \
 
 29 
 
 A PORTRAIT 
 
 A FACE and a figure 
 
 The Graces have blest ; 
 Atalanta in motion, 
 A Helen at rest : 
 A rose-clear complexion, 
 Eyes lustrously bright : 
 A crown of rich tresses 
 The hue of the night. 
 
 So lovely her features, 
 
 So gracious her air, 
 They must needs make the painter 
 
 And poet despair ; 
 For what colours could capture 
 
 A beauty so bright, 
 Or what lyrical rapture 
 
 Her praises recite ?
 
 3° 
 
 No cold marble Venus 
 
 With her can compare ; 
 No pictured Madonna's 
 
 So fresh and so fair ; 
 Soul and body are lovely 
 
 As thought can conceive : 
 She's so perfect that Nature 
 
 No more can achieve ! 
 
 He who Rosalind drew 
 
 Surely had her in mind, 
 And — since poets are prophets- 
 
 Her graces divined : 
 His ideal creation 
 
 Of womanhood sweet 
 In her blooms before us, 
 
 Alive and complete.
 
 THE ONE WANT OF LyELIUS 
 
 * 
 
 f^ OOD fairies came at Lailius' birth, 
 
 ^-^ And gave him many gifts of worth ; 
 
 Sound sense and judgment one bestowed, 
 
 Rich seeds of wit another sowed, 
 
 Fine taste and elegance of mind 
 
 A third unto his lot assigned : 
 
 A pleasant manner and address, 
 
 An air of hearty manliness, 
 
 Power to enchant a woman's soul, 
 
 A tongue to wheedle and cajole — 
 
 All these and more were to him given, 
 
 And armed with them he should have thriven ? 
 
 Ah no ! for though the fairies' art 
 
 Gave much it gave him not a heart ! 
 
 * Sheridan ?
 
 32 
 
 THE BONNIE IRISH COLLEEN 
 
 T^HERE'S a lovely Irish maiden with wit and beauty laden, 
 
 The fairest and most witchino- that ever I have seen : 
 She has set my heart a-tremble, and my love I can't dissemble, 
 Though she puts me off by saying she can't fathom what 
 I mean : 
 She's delightful and she's sprightful, and her eyes are so of 
 light Vull 
 That they flash on you their glances till you're dazzled by 
 their sheen : 
 Of your Venuses don't tell me or to anger you'll impel me — 
 Of all women past or present she's the paragon and queen. 
 
 So rich and sweet her voice is that my soul in it rejoices. 
 
 And I listen to its cadences with ever-new delight ; 
 It's the spell with which she captures all the lovers she 
 enraptures ; 
 
 If once you listen to its charm quite hopeless is your plight ! 
 O sad and sore my state is, for I feel my future fate is 
 
 For the love of her to sorrow till my heart is broken quite; 
 Yet the day I'll bless for ever, and be sorry for it never, 
 
 When the bonnie Irish colleen first shone before my sight. 
 
 \
 
 33 
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN 
 
 I'VE a deal of admiration for the noble Irish nation ; 
 ^ Its sons for reckless bravery where can you parallel ? 
 They spend their money freely — when they've got it, says 
 
 Tim Healy ; 
 When they haven't any they've a jest that serves their turn 
 
 as well. 
 They've good humour and they're witty, and can troll a 
 
 merry ditty ; 
 If you'd make the very best of life just go to them to school : 
 They've just one tribulation that demands eradication — 
 
 They want, and by Saint Patrick ! they shall soon achieve 
 Home Rule ! 
 
 But the men, although I love them, I must place far far 
 above them 
 The bonny Irish colleens with their beauty and their wit : 
 Their ways are so alluring it's no use your heart insuring, 
 Do what you may you cannot choose but to their charms 
 submit : 
 It's myself that am a token, for there's one my heart has broken ; 
 She's the flower and crown of all of them unless I'm quite 
 a fool ; 
 I'd be proud as any Kaiser, and far happier than a miser, 
 If she would only cross the sea my English Home to Rule !
 
 34 
 
 WAYWARD CELIA 
 
 \ A HTH careless grace on every feature, 
 ' " Love's most incomparable teacher, 
 Celia, dear charming, wayward creature, 
 
 Whate'er her mood delio^hts me : 
 Lissome and light she dances by, 
 As graceful as a butterfly, 
 The soul of mischief in her eye ; 
 At once she makes me smile and sisfh, 
 Enchants, cajoles, and slights me ! 
 
 With good advice I've tried to tame her, 
 And from her wilful ways reclaim her. 
 But when in gentlest tones I blame her 
 
 Away with laughter trips she ! 
 I vow I will no more endure 
 Her moods so changeful and unsure ; 
 Her charms no longer shall allure ; 
 My heart shall rest in peace, secure 
 
 From such a thoughtless gipsy !
 
 35 
 
 My resolution, stern and dour, 
 Endures perchance for half-an-hour, 
 And then her graceless grace has power 
 
 All thought of it to banish : 
 So irresponsible and wild 
 Is she : so like a froward child, 
 So artless-artful I'm beguiled, 
 And — how I know not — reconciled, 
 
 And wrath in smiles doth vanish. 
 
 'Tis vain to censure or reprove her, 
 
 Or 'gainst her nature strive to move her ; 
 
 It were to spoil her to improve her : 
 
 If not too wise she's witty : 
 Well, let her be whate'er she will 
 I cannot choose but love her still : 
 'Tis she alone has power to thrill 
 My heartstrings when I hear her trill 
 
 Some sweet old English ditty.
 
 36 
 
 POOR COLIN! 
 
 pOOR Colin is love-lorn and sadly complains 
 * That pitiless Dora his passion disdains ; 
 And so the poor fellow disconsolate sighs, 
 And vows she has slain him with shafts from her eves 
 
 Poor Colin, poor Colin, poor Colin ! 
 
 Clarinda the brown and Amanda the fair 
 Have beauty and sweetness than Dora's more rare ; 
 And many the maidens whom Colin might wed, 
 But for Dora alone he has eyes in his head. 
 
 Poor Colin, poor Colin, poor Colin ! 
 
 He says she deceived him by leading him on 
 Until he imaoined her heart he had won, 
 And then with affected surprise she turned round. 
 And dashed all his towering hopes to the ground. 
 
 Poor Colin, poor Colin, poor Colin ! 
 
 \
 
 37 
 
 She says no encouragement from her he got, 
 And she gave him no hint that she loved him a jot, 
 But which of them's right or which of them's wrong 
 Is a question too subtle to solve in this song. 
 
 Poor Colin, poor Colin, poor Colin ! 
 
 He vows that her trifling has ruined his life, 
 
 And since she won't have him he'll ne'er take a wife ; 
 
 But ruined lives often new vigour attain, 
 
 And perhaps by-and-by he'll go courting again. 
 
 Poor Colin, poor Colin, poor Colin !
 
 38 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 A S, when we utter Shakespeare's name 
 ''*• It symbolises England's fame, 
 So doth the name of Burns proclaim 
 
 His nation's glory 
 To the world scarce known until he came 
 To sing her story. 
 
 His land is mirrored in his song, 
 
 Its pride of race, its hate of wrong, 
 
 And glorious deeds, whose records throng 
 
 With memories splendid 
 Of souls heroic, brave and strong, 
 
 Never transcended ! 
 
 Inspired he touched the Doric string. 
 And sang as none but he could sing 
 The virtues whence her honours spring ; 
 
 The deep emotion 
 Which makes her sons together cling 
 
 In strong devotion. 
 
 \
 
 39 
 
 He scorned the brutal and the base, 
 
 And flagellated all the race 
 
 Of hypocrites — his land's disgrace — 
 
 With keenest satire ; 
 Nor ever stooped rank, wealth or place 
 
 Meanly to flatter. 
 
 His voice rang forth, bold, clear and strong 
 Against oppression, fraud and wrong : 
 The clarion's sound was in his song, — 
 
 It faltered never. 
 But echoes roused so plain and long 
 
 They'll last for ever. 
 
 Ah, Robert ! luckless was your fate ! 
 With talents fit to rule a state, 
 With Byron, Scott, or Swift to mate, 
 
 Your fortune gave you 
 But a mean post you needs must hate, 
 
 From want to save you.
 
 40 
 
 Such ever is the poet's lot ; 
 
 His "ift the wise world values not, 
 
 Against him all the dullards plot 
 
 With envious scheming ; 
 For he no worldly craft has got, 
 
 No pious seeming. 
 
 His rich endowments, spiteful fate. 
 That still delights to dissipate 
 Great powers in a mean estate, 
 
 Repressed and flouted. 
 While heaping wealth and honours great 
 
 On fools undoubted. 
 
 Of human faults Rob had his share. 
 Or somewhat more (as saints declare), 
 But who so perfect as to dare 
 
 Denounce his failings ? 
 Henceforth, ye over-righteous, spare 
 
 Your unctuous railings !
 
 41 
 
 His errors from his virtues grew ; 
 His soul no taint of meanness knew ; 
 To friendship he was ever true ; 
 
 And much he hated 
 The Holy Willies and their crew 
 
 With cant inflated. 
 
 If we some failings must deplore, 
 
 There was to love and praise much more ; 
 
 Sound was his nature to the core, 
 
 By vice uncankered ; 
 No bitterness or spite it bore — 
 
 On manhood anchored. 
 
 A bard so fondly loved as he 
 We must not hope again to see ; 
 Another Shakespeare there may be 
 
 (Soon may we greet him !) 
 But Burns reborn ! What would not we 
 
 Give could we meet him ! 
 
 i
 
 42 
 
 Scotland ! until thy soul has tied, 
 And thou forgett'st thy mighty dead, 
 Who for thy sake have wrought or bled, 
 
 True souls and fearless, 
 His name the glorious roll shall head, — 
 
 Thy poet peerless !
 
 43 
 
 AT LAST 
 
 When at last 
 
 I fall asleep, 
 Far too fast 
 
 To smile or weep 
 
 II 
 
 Heave no sigh 
 
 And shed no tear, 
 Just say " Good-Bye, 
 
 Comrade dear." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Naught but grief 
 
 From life we borrow ; 
 Death's relief 
 
 From every sorrow. 
 
 IV 
 
 To dismay me 
 
 Death's no skill — 
 Let him slay me 
 
 When he will. 
 
 V 
 
 Life can never 
 
 Be a boon ; 
 Care comes ever, 
 
 Late or soon. 
 
 VI 
 
 111 dreams no more 
 The dead molest ; 
 
 On Lethe's shore 
 All soundly rest : 
 
 VII 
 
 For ever blest ; 
 
 Whate'er befall 
 I shall rest 
 
 Unvexed by all.
 
 Printed by R. Stockwell, Baden Place, Crosby How. Boiriyph, S.E.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 
 L863 The ilr earner of 
 D65d the c astle of 
 indolence 
 
 PR 
 
 1j863 
 
 D65d