THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ->*> V C^l-/(^ './/^/^^ ^/-^f . /^ TRIFLES IN VERSE. Printed by George Ramsay & Co. TRIFLES IN VERSE: INCLUDING SOME EXPERIMENTS IN LATIN RHYME. BY LIONEL THOMAS BERGUER, Esq. I lovt tlie license all loo well. Walter Scott. EDINBURGH : PRINTED FOR JOHN ANDERSON AND COMPANY, AND FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, LONDON. I8I7. -J i^'ii : ADVERTISEMENT. For any illustrative, or explanatory remarks, as connected with the following trifles, I refer my readers to the notes. The Tentamina Me- trica at the end of this little volume, are only the beginning of attempts undertaken on a much larger scale, in two of the modern lan- guages, as well as in Latin. I do not apologize for English idiom, which, in these pieces, could not have been avoided, nor for English metre, which I did not mean to avoid. As, in the French, I have only preserved the Boat Song, I have incorporated it into the Latin division, ra- ther than mix it with poems to which it had no reference. The Latin language is far the most unfit for monosyllabic rhyme, the Italian alone excepted ; which, from its still greater paucity pf monosyllables, even than the Latin, I found. HI'? VI ADVERTISEMENT. in some of my Experiments, to be quite unma- nageable. The Carmen Aquaticum is, on this account, to my ear, at least, often ludicrous; the reader being obliged, in the alternate rhymes, to shorten long syllables, and lengthen short ones : as will be perceived by the marks, I have thought it necessary to substitute, as guides to the ear. It would, however, be heard to ad- vantage, operatically performed. The French can be moulded to any thing. I translated the second canto of the Rape of the Lock, but much too carelessly to give to the public, seve- ral years ago, easily preserving throughout the English heroic measure. The Latin, also, and even the Italian, is well adapted for dissyllabic rhyme, and always very tractable, where no mo- nosyllables are required. Edinburgh, \ March 3, 1817.]" TO FREDERICK VERNON WENTV\ ORTH, Eso, OF WENTWORTH CASTLE, IN YORKSHIRE, THIS IIANDTUL OF WILD FLOWERS IS OFFERED BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. Page. To Frederick Vernon Wentworth, Esq 3 Stanzas, inscribed to Walter Scott, Esq 10 To a Young Lady, in answer to a complimentary Copy of Verses, 27 Song, Flora Mocdonald, 27 To a Young Lady. From Horace, 32 To Miss Elizabeth Bencraft, S3 Seng, 38 Verses, on seeing the picture of a young Highland Lady, 40 Song. The Thistle, 43 To Edmund Kean, Esq 46 Song, 52 Why I dislike Waltzing, 55 Helen. A real Incident, 57 Song Written for the first Anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, by my friend, Lieutenant Skin- ner, of the Ninety-Second Regiment, and sung at the ^^ess, t)0 Song. Doina de Clyde, G3 To Orea, QO b X CONTENTS. Page. The Faiewcl. To Miss , by a most Intimate Friend, 69 To tlie Nightingale. Written at the age of Fourteen, by a very dear Friend, 71 Song. Translated from the French, 73 To Bransby Blake Cooper, Esq 75 To a Lady weeping, 79 To my Mother Abroad, 80 Notes, 82 Ode Alcaica. Napolconi, Russiam ferro et igne vastanti, Bardus, 9I Ode Sapphica. Virgo Saragossae, 96 Ad Gratiolara Epigramma, 98 Tentamina Metrica, 99 Carmen Aquaticmn, - 101 Chant Aquatique, 104 Lallus Fitz-Jacobi, 107 Lanientum Allan-Bani, 110 EpithalamimTi Editha;. Fragmentum, 112 Feriscelis, 114 TRIFLES IN VERSE. TO FREDERICK VERNON WENTWORTH, Es^. Tecum vivere amem. HOR. I. My Frederick, I could ever stray Your beechen groves among, Listing the linnet's morning lay, And blackbird's mellow tongue. There, piping to some wood-nymph gay, Like Pan, I'd spend the summer day ; And, when the shades fell on the vale. Hark to the whistling nightingale. What love-dreams o'er my fancy float, Whene'er I hear his wilding note j While Ivor's swelling groves around The Terean melodies resound. 4 TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. But I must throw that harp aside, In hours of idlesse gaily tried, And soon shall sleep, in stillness mute, The keys of my Arcadian flute. Yet, ere 'tis hushed, that homely song, And sink, in silence lone and long, Mixed in one wreath let friendship twine Your name for ever blent with mine. Oh ! more to me than all beside, Wentworth, my ornament and pride. Forgive the fond, officious vow, And hang this garland on your brow. It will be sweet, in after time. When my lulled harp forgets its chime, To ponder o'er the song it wove. And feed my vanity of love. III. Peace to it, then, o'er dale and dell ! Hygeia bids the strain give o'er * TRIFLES IN VERSE. Peace ! though its echoes never fell So sweetly on mine ear before. Is it, because my footsteps tread The soil so famed in early story ? Where matchless Wallace fought and bled, And Bruce attained undying glory ! Be what it may, against my will, I smack of the enthusiast still. In poetry's expiring trance Still fondly clinging to romance. And many a struggle must be mine Those finer feelings to forego, Ere from my heart I disentwine That zest of joy, that balm of woe. IV. Oh ! rude reahties of life, For ever with my soul at strife, Whence are these visions that I see. Of something which may never be ? " TRIFLES IN VERSE. Why were the musings of my youth Still fairer than the fairest truth, If no bright heaven, beyond the grave. Shall realize the dreams it gave ? Unsolid pageantries, begone ! Why do ye tempt me to dream on ? Too fastly speed life's winged years For unsubstantial smiles and tears. V. For us, my Wentworth, here below, Enough of unideal woe, Sinking in pleasure's cup, like lead, Its weight of alloy, dull and dead. Then, wherefore grieve because mankind Is ever gross and unrefined ? When I have wept such sight to see, The world ne'er sympathiz'd with me. Oh ! I have felt, while in mine ear Their sordid sensual language rang. TRIFLES IN VERSE. And apathy stood, brute-like, near, Unconscious that it gave a pang ! Felt ! 'till I thought it were as well To search for sympathy in hell, Or look for attributes divine Among a senseless herd of swine. VI. Now, from my air-built castles hurl'd, At juster rate I prize the world : The fault was more in me than them, I raked a dunghill for a gem. Wiser and happier he who flings A philosophic glance on things ; And, knowing that they might be worse, Feels imperfection less a curse. Grateful, if here and there he find A spark of the Eternal Mind, He mingles in the flow of soul, And lets the vulgar current roll. ^ TRIFLES IN VERSE. VII. For me ! I've less romance, I own, Since first my pity shocked the town ; And faintlier comes, for other's woe. Philanthropy's enthusiast glow. When public clamour's deafening gong Drums out its victim from the throng ; No matter, whether truth or lies, We must not dare to sympathize. Oh ! horrid libel on mankind Suspicion, jaundicing the mind. Can hiss his bosom-friend, and shun him, As if the Centaur's shirt were on him; VIII. Then, turn to what account you may, The good and evil of the day ; And, in this game of hit or miss. Take the world, calmly, as it is. And oh ! if, in some peevish hour. When faithless friends shall turn me sour. TRIFLES IN VERSE. " Or sickening pang of hope" delayed, Or truth to interest betrayed ; Tired of the chequered scenes of life. Tired of its struggles and its strife, From man, in fretfulness of heart. But yet, no misanthrope I part- Give me that lone and sweet alcove. That skirts the brink of Rockley grove. IX. There, with light step, at early day, Blithely I'd brush the dews away, And thread, with heart of care devoid. The tangled alleys of Brooraroyd j Stealing athwart the wood-girt mead, To watch the grouping hares at feed, Or startling, at his grassy cheer, In forest-walk, the dappled deer. But, far from me the cynic spite Of stern and selfish anchorite. 10 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Who lets no human foot intrude Upon his savage solitude. I could not bear, though Eden smiled, To live so unbeloved, and wild. X. But George should come, at friendship's call, And Margaret leave her stately hall, And Pigot, from her green retreat, Oft in our social circle meet. Then would I seize my harp, and try Old themes of minstrel melody, Till bower and cottage, copse and lake. Should with the widening music wake. And back the swelling strain should bring The pleasures of life's bygone spring. Oh I false of taste ; Oh ! foolish blunder My Wentworth, did you never wonder, How restless man the world can roam, And leave the dearest world at home ! STANZAS, OCCASIONED BY A VISIT TO EDINBURGH IN 1815, INSCRIBED TO WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. lUe per extentnm funem mihi posse videtur Ire poeta, menm qui pectus inaniler angit, Iiritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, Ut magus, et mod6 me Tliebis, modo ponit Alhenis. HoR. Epist. 1. Lib. ii. 2-j, "^.Korogy ? ffxorog u, aXXa (pCug 1-/.orir/\ Epigr. in Buohan. I. Oh ! wonder not, thou master of the lyre. Blest Caledonian minstrel, wonder not That bard, ungifted with thy muse of fire, With praise obscure, and soon to be forgot, 12 TRIFLES IN VERSE. In echoes wakes thy name through glen and grot ! Forgive that, not unmoved, through Rosslyn's bowers He roved, nor Hawthornden's sequestered spot ; That not unmoved he looked on Edin's towers, Where that famed minstrel dwells, who charmed his tedious hours. II. Yet little reck'st thou of such lowly praise, In the high zenith of thy well-earned fame j Aye rightly deeming that no vulgar lays. Glancing from harp inelegant and tame. Can lessen or increase thy glorious name. Still, spare the muse who, all unskilled in song, Dares 'mid the chords to lay her fingers lame ; Who, though her tune be harsh, her cadence wrong, Yet strays, for love of thee, her harp's rude maze along. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 13 III. Forgive her, that she wakes this lay to thee, Nor from her descant turn thine ear in scorn : No mountain daughter of Harmonia she ; Yet fond to hear, on distant echoes borne. Thy kingly hunter wind his bugle-horn. Oh ! fond to hear the martial pibrochs ringing Float up Loch-Katrine's sides at early morn j While, at each stroke the plaided boatman sing- ing, On Alpine's bannered flag his glance of pride is flinging. IV, Once, gentler melodies she deemed to yield, And on her harp-strings tune a sweeter lay : But her, Hygeia from the lyric field Woos with Apollo's other crown away. His bright brows twined with her immortal bay. She points where Gregory fills her mighty chair, 14 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Beckoning the bard from Pindus' flowery way, " Go ! spread like him," she cries, ** thy name afar, And mount to highest fame, beneath Hygeia's star." V. But Oh ! how oft reverting fancy flies To the loved regions of romance again : To her fond ken what fairy phantoms rise. More exquisitely felt in every vein. Than thrills of truest joy, and certain pain ! How oft the scenes where boyhood loved to range, Scenes of ideal bliss, resume their reign j The willing mind from soberer truths estrange, Aye prone for brighter dreams the cares of life to change ! VI. Lovely Northesk, by thy romantic side, Those brighter dreams, those dear deceits were mine : TRIFLES IN VERSE. 15 I kenned what poet on thy banks of pride Erst came the tributary wreath to twine. That graceful hangs on Rosslyn's mouldered shrine. I kenned, and, as I flung my gaze around. All sense absorpt in reverie divine. Like one transported into fairy ground, Listening, I seemed to catch that harp's bewitch- ing sound. VIL For oft its magic minstrelsy had been IMy sick soul's solace in her moody hour ; When withering spite, or disappointment keen, High hope reversing from her airy tower. With dusky clouds made life's horizon lower. O'er all the heart prevailed thy wizard song. The drooping spirits felt its cheering power, And turned from scenes of injury and wrong To visionary bliss, unfound mankind among. 16 TRIFLES IN VERSE. VIII. Thrice-envied Gr^me, such bliss was thine to feel. With Ellen Douglas too supremely blest : Fancy may frame, but never fate reveal Raptures refined as those that filled thy breast, With such a matchless paragon possest. Fairest Loch- Katrine, beauty's charmed retreat, Her chosen refuge, and her bower of rest, The wild-flower on thy banks that kissed her feet Lives in eternal song, and blooms for ever sweet. IX. Yes ! while the heart its pristine nature keeps, And man one heavenly sympathy retains ; While the struck virgin in her chamber weeps, And tries to doubt the tumult in her veins, But seems to wander through Elysian plains ; While valour loves to dare for beauty's sake. But sighs impatient in her gentle chains j 1 TRIFLES IN VERSE. 17 While all the passions poesy can wake. So long thy charms shall last, sweet Lady of the Lake. X. Lord of the best emotions of the soul, Nature improves to hear thy lovely lyre : From coarsest bosoms at that sweet controul I see the uncultivated mind retire, And softer sympathies the crowd inspired Charmed while they listen to thy magic rhymes, Plpbeian spirits burn with heavenly fire, By fancy rapt to those congenial chmes "Where honour fires the soul, and virtuous love sublimes. XL By night, by day, where'er my footsteps rove, Still o'er my breast thy genial muses reign j Gild the soft scenery of the summer grove, u 18 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Frown in the mountain, laugh upon the plain. Or coast the storied islands of the main. Ellen in every lovely form anew, Ellen in every beauty smiles again, Ellen's in every graceful foot I view, That from the uninjured flower dashed off the morning dew. XII. Poet of Nature, bliss to thee I owe, That soothes my sorrows, and my joy enhances : When pity's sigh, or pleasure's mantling glow. Heaves in my breast, or to my cheek advances. More sweet that sigh, and mirth more gaily dances. Such was thy power 'mid Gorki's festal scene. Lending new charms to love's triumphant glances j Where thronging youths in motly groupes were seen. And ladies light of heart, in beauty's dazzling sheen. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 1 XIII. Such was thy power, 'when first to view confest, Broke from afar Dun-Edin's battled mound : Like summer bride, fantastically drest, The Northern Queen upshoots her from the ground, And peers to heaven, like Vesta, castle-crowned. High towers the Calton on her eastern side. Flinging broad survey on the plains around ; The conscious sailor kens his pillar'd pride Far up the dark blue Forth, and thinks how Nel- son died. XIV. Fair is Dun-Edin to my longing sight, I love the dim grey towers of Holyrood ; At shutting day, by Autumn's evening light, 'Tis sweet to wuniler by in pensive mood, And see the moon play in those arches rude. Then to remember what their ancient state. And what alternate scenes of peace and leud ; 20 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Contrast their grandeur with their present fate, And scan what artless tale those ruined piles re- late. XV. Oh ! Queen, too lovely, to perdition fair, Most injured, most accomplished of thy time. Oh ! victim Stuart, yet shall pity dare (Maugre stern censure, in this fleeting rhyme) To weep thy sorrows, and forget thy crime. E'en when their last farewel thy maidens took, And envy felt no mercy for thy prime. As with sick soul the shuddering headsman strook. On martyred beauty's pangs he might not dare to look. XVI. So deemed the Bard, while on fair Holyrood He mused, not thoughtless of her former days : So deemed the Bard, where, in the distance viewed. TRIFLES IN VERSE. ^1 Their frowning keep Craigmillar's turrets raise Stern o'er the land, and quell the startled gaze. For there was heard the solitary moan Of beauty, pining in her bloom of days : So the sweet goldfinch, into durance thrown, Sings its lorn prison-song, and weeps its woes alone. 1. Like a clan-circled chief on the hill is Dun-Edin, Begirt wi' Mount Arthur an' Salisbury steep : But I fly frae her streets in this hour o' my needin', My hame's in my ken, yet a' lanely I weep. Yet, dear to me still is mine ain bonnie town. That looks up the valley, sae blithesome an' bra' ; Though, fashed wi' my beauty, an' tired o' my crown, When a' laughs around me, I wither awa'. 22 TRIFLKS IN VERSE. 2. Freshly comes blawin' the dewy-mouthed mornin*. An' bears frae yon rampart the clangour o' mail: Wi' the lass that he loos the young sodger is scorn- in', An' his voice, 'tween the drum-beats, is heard on the gale. By the burnside the sang o' the milkmaid is ringin', As her leghlin she takes frae the stile in the wa'j But, sad is the sang that her mistresss is singin', When a' laughs around me, I wither awa.* S. Wet, wet are my cheeks wi' the tears o' complainin'', As I gaze upon joys that my heart canna feel ; Yet, a moment's short respite my sair grief is gain- in', Like IxiON, wha rested an* wept on his wheel. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 23 Oh ! what is my crown, but a bauble a plaything In spite o' whase splendours the vulture will gnaw ! An' the pride o' my beauty it 'vaileth me nae- thing When a' laughs around me, I wither awa'. XVII. Fair is Dun-Edin to the minstrel's view, I love the tartans of the sturdy Gael ; So dressed his giant limbs brave Roderick Dhu, When, bent the Saxon's castles to assail, In plaided pride he strode o'er hill and vale. So marched through driving snows his clans be- side Undaunted Charles, the plaid his better mail ; Comrade and prince, in Scotland's peril tried. Whom to her dearest hopes Culloden's day de- nied. 24 TRIFLES IN VERSE. XVIII. Eclipsed in blood then sunk thy Stuart's star, Oh ! Bard of Caledon, no more to rise ! "Yet sighs thy country, though the time be far ; And clansmen scarce can brook with tearless eyes To trace that princely ruin through the skies. Yet, Scotland, yet one grateful wreath entwine, Where, dear to fame, thy patriot virgin lies. Who snatched from death the last of Stuart's line. And watched with weeping eyes the Wanderer cross the brine. XIX. Land of sweet scenery, land of sweeter song, In every spot thy classic charms abound ! The Lowland stranger does fair Scotland wrong, Whose view unblest her mountains never found. Nor footstep trod her loch-enamelled ground. Dull were the soul her beauties failed to move, TRIFLES IN VERSE. 25 Dull were the eye could glance uncharmed around ; Thrice dull, who through her grots and glens could rove, Nor think on Campbell's lyre, nor thy last lay of love. XX. Is this the glorious soil of Bannockburn ? Is this the air that Bruce and Wallace drew .'' Where sleeps the Southern spoiler in his urn. Methought again red Falkirk rushed to view, And Stirling's bugle to my fancy blew ! Is Cambuskenneth to oblivion gone ? Uosslyn forgot, and thine own Flodden, too .' Where Chester charged, and Stanley galloped on. But all too late for thee, intrepid Marmion. XXI. Bard of the North, farcwel : I dare not more With breast all uninspired, and feeble hand: A tribute, mightier far, has gone belbrc ; S6 TRIFLES IN VERSE. And on thy shelf, fit gift of rival grand, The cup of Hafiz shall for ever stand. Enough for me, if no vain hopes betray, Thou wilt not spurn my homely laurel-band ; Nor undistinguished let this votive lay, 'Mid hum of chattering crowds, in silence die away. XXII. Nor hath it died in silence ! thanks to thee, Superior to low prejudice, whose ear. Still closed against the tale of calumny. Not all the tongues of mischief, babbling near, Could steel against the song it loved to hear Obscure, but honest ! No it hath not died That lay, which only boasts to be sincere ! But, stemming first, then carried down the tide, Mixed with thy fame, the verse goes floating far and wide. * TO A YOUNG LADY, IN ANSWER TO A COMPLIMENTARY COPY OF VERSES. Non nietus, officio nee te cerlasse priorem Paeniteat. ViRG. Oh ! early skilled to storm the heart, Young adept in the minstrel art, Where did you learn, on Sapphic shell To play so sweetly, and so well ? Your fingers run along the lyre With such a swelling sweep of fire. Their touch might well be deemed the rage Of more than twice your tender age. 28 TRIFLES IN VERSE. My spirit owns your kindred sway, And loves the unexperienced lay, Still ringing wild, in grief or glee, With Nature's highest minstrelsy. It comes across this vale of crime. With such a soft and holy chime. As music falls in desart lone, Or trumpet, by an angel blown. " Unschooled in worldly thoughts and feelings ?" No we have had too many dealings. The world and I, worse hap for me ! That I can still unworldly be. And you, sweet eulogist, ere long. Life's eddying turmoils thrown among, Shall weep your disenchanted spell, And learn the danger to excel. SONG. FLORA MACDONALD. Quae te tam laeta tulerunt Secula ? qui tanli talem genuere parentes ? In t'reta dum fluvii current, dnm Diontibus umbrae Lustrabunt convexa, polus dum sidera pastcet, Semper honos, nomenque tnum, laudesqtie manebunt. Quae me cuiique vocant terrze. ViRG. I. Hae ye no heard, when dear Charlie was roamin* An exile his ain happy islands amang, Wha crossed the braw laddie's gate in the gloamin,' Wha sped him safe frae the Cumberlan* gang ? Hae ye no heard o' the Maid o' CJanronald, Wha mounted at eenin' her gray dappled steed ? Hae ye no heard o' that angel, Macdonald, How linkin* she rade, when her prince was in need ? 30 TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. She cast round her shoulders the true tartan plaiddie, And swith snatched the maiden her bonnet o' blue : Oh ! vveel may ye fancy it moved the braw laddie, When she knelt down before him, sae lovely to view ! In their ain liquid orbits her bright een were lavin', Like twa dewy stars in an ocean of air ; And down till her middle, in ebon pride wavin', Fell the dark ringlets o' lang raven hair. III. I kenna, cried Charlie, why wander ye hither, Why kneel ye, dear lassie ? ye owe me nae lee : I fly to far countries, I scarcely ken whither, Then kneel na, dear lassie, Oh ! kneel na to me. He raised her, he kist her, and baith wept thegither. Entranced in a sacred, saft silence o' wae : And think ye, my prince, I wad kneel to anither. Oh ! think ye Macdonald her faith can betray ? TRIFLES IN VERSE. 31 IV. No ! I ken thy true heart in thine ee's gentle beam- in' Nae traitress art thou, but my guardian and guide : Lead, lead where thou wilt by yon pale planet's gleamin', I'll follow thy footsteps, whate'er may betide 1 She's brought him her maiden's attire to disguise him. Gown, kerchief, and bonnet he donn'd ilka ane: Gude Kingsburgh wi' shelter and shipping supplies him. And far o'er the waters prince Charlie is gane* TO A YOUNG LADY. Vitas hiniiuleo me siinilis, Cliloe. HOR. You shun me, like a kid, my love, Seeking its dam in lone recesses ; Quelled, if a gust disturb the grove, And rustle in its leafy tresses. Scared at the waving of a rush. Or slightest motion life resembling, A lizard, stirring in the bush, Will set its heart and limbs a-trembling. Yet no pursuer, fierce and fast. Like tiger, I to spoil and ruin : Then, leave your mother's side at last. For yours is the right age to woo in. TO Miss ELIZABETH BENCRAFT. FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE, IN THE SUMMER OF 18 IG. Olim i.ieminisse juvabit. ViRG. I. Nay, tell the truth downright, my dear, I must have no dissembling here, Have you not said deny it not That Berguer had his iViends forf^ot ? That northward, with himself from you He carried all allection, too ; Repaying friendship's dearest right With cold neglect, and truant slight ? 34 TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. And sooth, to half the world beside, Such judgment were not misapplied: But me, who deviate from the rules That govern coxcombs, lords, and fools, By heart and not appearance scan, Too plain to be a fashionsman. Nor deem my memory so ingrate, Although the laggard tongue be late, O DO o ' To turn with undelighted eye On pleasures flown too quickly by. III. Though here I lounge with sauntering pace. And find no end to park and chase, The woodbined cottage haunts me still, And rustic bowers of Balham Hill. Oh ! dearly fancy loves to trace Each absent form, each well-known place: TRIFLES IN VERSE, 35 To Clapham now she turns her eyes, And now to Tooting Common flies, Where oft we wandered, two and two, With Stephen, Lucy I, with you. Triumphant fancy, airy ranger. Still to the present scene a stranger, Through time and distance journeying fast. Restores, and re- enjoys the past ! IV. But you, my friend, in what retreat Will these poetic trifles meet ! In green Saint Leonard's, making merry With my gay hostess, charming Bury ? Bright as the Dardan's goddess-dam, Smiling, to cheer dejected Sam. Or, strolling through Anne's arbourcd walk With her, in desultory talk ? Now, studying what this dress shall be. Now, arguing on the ' Rhymes of Shce." OO TRIFLES IN VERSE. Or, Still immured like convent maid, Gliding through Down's sequestered shade ? Learning with Sophy, in a grove. How Piatonism wars with love 1 For love despite each foreign theme- Is all unwedded beauty's dream. V. Avoid, avoid the dangerous power, He reigns in contemplation's hour : You do not know how reason reels. When on the heart that softness steals. Let Wandsworth's laurelled maids inspire With emulation's noble fire ; And round your brow, in wreath divine, The triumphs of the pencil twine. VL For me I loiter, all too long, My Wentworth's woody dales among j TRIFLES IN VERSE. 3? Cheating the hours, to physic due. For converse with the muse, and you. Vainly, as yet, Edina calls Her absent votary to her halls : Far off he strikes the random string. And Stainborough's beechen valleys ring. SONG. XaiPOiTi Xoi'-ov Tiiiiv. Anacr. I. Dear sex, whose fond endeavour Is still to charm our lives, Our guardian angels ever. As sisters, mothers, wives ! With every pleasure teeming That tempts a lover's sly kiss Xa/^o/7s /xo/, riNAIKES ! TRIFLES TN VERSE. '^9 II. With strong affections gifted, Too oft your virtue's ban ; By love's pure thoughts uplifted Above jjross, sordid man ! With eye all rapture-beaming, With face, that goddess-like is Xa;io/7= /jjitc/ ri/j^iv ! Xaiioili /Ml, rXNAIKES! III. When toils and grief importune Our refuge from despair: Our pride in happy fortune And can I leave the fair ? No ! never 'till, pale-gleaming, Death's lightning hurled to strike is Xa/;0(7s ,aw, FTNAIKE::: ! VERSES, ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF A YOUNG HIGH- LAND LADY, AT MR Y *S EXHf- BITION. Ut vidi, ut peril, ut me mains abstulit error ! ViRG. Miidiouvli 6-jv ofjjiiari (paid^a idiffdai. MOSCH. Oh ! for that Highland harper's lays, So eloquent in maidens' praise, Who framed Loch Katrine's green alcove. And sang so lovelily of love : Or, were that harper's chance, like mine. To stand before this bGauteous shrine ! For he would say, whate'er thou art, Love never formed thy counterpart. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 41 And, from that brow half hid, half seen, 'Mid glossy curls of ebon sheen, And from the soul, that glances high In flashes from thy dark blue eye, And that free step, and faultless mould, (More than from Ellen's broach of gold,) Thy Caledon's own bard had said, *' A chieftain's daughter seems the maid !" And princelier maid than thou, I guess, Yet never donned the tartan dress. If e'er spoke out in face divine The stamp of high and lordly line. The plaid, that graces all beside, Flows round thy feet with conscious pride, As I'i tJiiiie arm might best uprear The mantle to the Stuarts dear. Hope of thy clan, whose nameless name I would but dare not give to fame. 42 TRIFLES IX VERSE. I could gaze on thee, and forget The star of Caledon had set ! Or, dream thee that enthusiast maid, On whom its dying glories played ; Who fearless faced the crashing levin, And caught the falling fire from heaven ! SONG. THE THISTLE. Nemo me impune lacessit. Motto of the Thistle. I. Away with your mawkishly redolent posies, That pall on your stomachs, but pamper your noses : The jasmine for Jane, and the foxglove for Fan, But, the thistle for me, that's distinguished by Ann ! With its prickles and stickles My fancy it tickles. Oh ! the thistle for me, that's distinguished by Ann ! 44 TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. The rose of the garden, and pink of the glade, Are emblems, that suit with a languishing maid : But, a tartar to deal with deny it who can The thistle's a much better symbol of Ann ! With its " nemo lacessit," And prickles, God bless it, The thistle's a much better symbol of Ann ! III. The snow is less white than the down on its cheek, And the silkiest ermine v/as never so sleek : Oh ! what, in the region of plants, will you scan, To match with the thistle, distinguished by Ann ! Like snow and like erniinc. What plant may determine To rival the thistle, distinguished by Ann ? IV. Unscathed in its beauty, unbent m Its form, Superior it stands in the season of storm : TRIFLES IN VERSE. 45 The blue-bell will fade, and the cowslip look wan, But the thistle survives, that's distinguished by Ann ! Though the hollow wind v/histles Around its green bristles. The tliistle survives, that's distinguished by Ann ! EDMUND KEAN, Esq. Non ego le nicis Chartis iuornatum silebo. HOR. SAPpir. I. Dear Kean, you admirable wit, Worthy in Garrick's chair to sit, (All flattery and fulsome guile hence ) I cannot know you thus in silence ! And, though ray verse may ill proclaim Your merit, equal to your fame, At least, 'twill serve me to make known A friendship I am proud to own. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 47 Though, trust me, did my fancy view None, but old Drury's scenes, in you, 'Thad left for better bards to tell How in the drama you excel. But, thoughts of long- remembered joy Come mingling with your name, my boy. II. I think, 'tis fifteen years, or more Long ere your crest displayed *' the Boar," Our classic forms I took my seat on With you, a stripling boy, at Eton. Nor dreamt I, 'mid the stormy feuds Of life, and its vicissitudes, That e'er *' we two should meet again," To broach Macculloch's best champaigne. Still less, in this far northern clime. To see your genius break, sublime, Like a full stream of boreal light, Flashed on the drama's wintry night. 48 TRIFLES IN VERSE. III. Yet, nigh had managerial malice Dairhed from your lips the glittering chalice, When up your soaring spirit rose, Triumphant o'er a thousand foes. Vanished the fiendish league afar Before that bright, ascending star, And jealousy, that mai'ked its road, Burst with her spleen, like ^sop's toad. So, when the snakes, with hisses dread, \^^oke young Alcjdes in his bed, The infant laughed at Juno's errors. And strangled both the scaly terrors. IV. What, though the impish, reptile crew, Where genius shines, will still pursue ; Buzzing its fulgent paths about, Like hornets, with their stings cut out ? TRIFLES IN VERSE. 49 The man it views with envious eye The railing herd will still decry ; With lynx's glance his faults detect, And magnify his least defect. Let it rail on, the headstrong brute, 'Till choked with its own lies-~'tis mute: In spite of all the slanderous ill. Dear Kean, you can be ilichard, still. V. Fickle and false, the vulgar mind Veers like a vane with every wind j To-morrow, ready to gainsay The breath of praise it gave to day. But, can such truantry employ One serious thought of pain, or joy ? Trust me a rush, a straw, a feather I rank their praise and blame together. B 50 TRIFLES IN VERSE, VI. The tribute, that your talent earns From breasts, where kindred genius burns. And tears, from Byron's manly eyes, Beyond a thousand plaudits, prize. But, laugh to scorn the critic sneer Of weekly print, or pamphleteer : While with four horses post you travel. Let the mad Caledonian * cavil. VII. With wealth, and wit, and genius rare, Of Nature's boundless stores the heir, Whose buskin, since George Cooke withdrew, None dares to buckle on, but you With power, the wretched to relieve A heart, to feel a hand, to give With soul, heaven-gifted formed to prove Our public wonder, private love A Scotdi newspaper. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 51 Your friend, too can he more require ? Blest with the Muse's partial fire, Each in his own peculiar way, What reck we, though the chatterers say, I fled to town, all prudence scorning, And YOU drink brandy in a morning I [52] SONG. Absent, present, de pres, de loin, Je t'aime est le mot que je tronve : Seule avec toi, devanl temoia, Ou je le pense, ou je I'^piouve ! Fabre d'Eglantine. I. I WISH I hadna met you. My bonnie, bonnie May j Since I maun sair regret you, In the north hills far away. 11. Wi' sic a face an' een, you Will bear the grie frae a' : Yet, wae that I ha'e seen you. In the lang, lang tartan shaw* ! TRIFLES IN VERSE. 53 III For Saxon lads you care na, Why was na I a Gael ? Then I'd gang though now I dare na To my lassie'b Highland vale. IV. I boast na me a clansman, Wi' Southron slaughter dyed : Yet, I'd be the Stuart's brandsman, Gin his chance ance mair he tried. V. Oh ! a' for the love o' you, lass, I'd don tile bonnie plaid ; An', a' for your eon sao blue, lass, I'd become a Highland lad ! VI. I'm no a mountaineer born, Yet, I loo the mountaineer : An,' I weel may blaw the deer-horn. Though I never chu- od your deer- 54 TRIFLES IN VERSE. VII. I'm no wi' Albyn blended. Yet I spring frae tribes o' war : By my auld grandsire descended Frae Alpine clans afar : VIII. Whar' saved the state ane bowman, W^i' a twang o' his bow-string : An' quelled the foreign foeman. Whiles Altorff' bells did ring. IX. Yet I wadna be that stalwart, Wha took his aim sae well, Nor lose my Scottish girl for't, To be great V^^illiam Tell. X. But, a' for the love o' you, lass, I'd don the bonnie plaid ; An,' a' for your een sae blue, lass, I'd become a Highland lad ! [55] WHY I DISLIKE WALTZING. WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF TWO YOUNG LADIES. Motus doceri gaudet lonicos Matara virgo, et fingitiir artubns Jam nunc, el incestos amorcs De teaero meditatiir ungiii. Hon. L'^clat du licit, le tuinulte, la danse, L'art du d^isir, la voix de la liceuce, L'impuDitfe du masque officieux. Tout y fait naitre uu feu s^ditienx. Gentil Bernabd. Because, I worship that refined And chaste virginity of mind, That, from the loose and vulgar stare, Still hides its treasures rich and rare : 56 TRIFLES IN VKRSK. That, unobtrusive, sweet, and shy With a world's ianction in its eye. Yet flies from the promiscuous touch, And^ like Mimo&a, shrinks as much. Because, Since Nature's self is frail, The purest modesty may fail ; And quench, i pj6ie's thrilling gaze. Its beautiful and frosty blaze. Because, The maid, who sees no danger In mixing hands with every stranger. Nor shuns to blend, with him or him. Her floating shape and twirling limb> May all too easily forget What laws restrain what snares beset. Because, The web oi chastest woof Is not CONTAMINATION-PROOF : And spite of all the world besides I'd have maids, vestals 'till they're brides. [57] HELEN. A REAL INCIDENT. Adero : dabis, improbe, paenas. ViRG. False guardian of a charge too good ! POPB. I. O'er moor, marsh, and mountain, o'er wild high- land fells. Where the robber retreats, and the ravisher dwells: In haunts, where the plunderer lodges his prey, And deeds are committed, that tremble at day ; In the loneliest cave in the farthermost isle Come ! look for lost Helen, the victim of guile. 5S TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. Her locks are bright auburn, her eyes are of blue, Like evening's soft summer-sky, loaded with dew : Her height is like Dian's, and Hebe's own glow Shines warm in her cheek if not faded with woe. But, her guardian has fled with the beautiful heir, And kidnapped the gem, that was left in his care. III. She is torn from her friend from the friend of her choice In the halls of her kindred no more to rejoice: Far distant she weeps, by her tyrant controlled, A spoil for the spoiler, who covets her gold ! But, the tracks of the Tarquin are still on the plain. And Helen shall yet see her kindred again. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 5 IV. Then, seek for lost Helen, oh ! seek her, and save, Ere the bridals of force make her bride of the grave. No ! thou never shalt wed with that monster of hate Heaven yet will descend to thy rescue, though late : Through the hills of the north, like a blood-hound I'll range, Nor rest 'till I find thee, and bring thee revenge. [ 60] SONG. WRITTEN FOR THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OP THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO, BY MY FRIEND, LIEUTENANT SKINNER, OF THE NINETY- SECOND REGIMENT, AND SUNG AT THE MESS. Dicite io Paean, et io bis dicite Paean! Ovid. Yet, though they oft made hostile squadrons yield, Tlie heroes never viewed a brighter field. Mrs Grant. Revolving time has brought the day That beams with glory's brightest ray, In hist'ry's page, or poet's lay, The day of W^aterloo ! Each British heart with ardour burns. As this resplendent day returns. While humbled France in secret mourns 1 he day of Waterloo ! TRIFLES IN VERSE. 6\ Then lift the brimful goblet high, While rapture beams in every eye ; Let shouts of triumph rend the sky, The toast be Waterloo ! To all who can the honour claim, From Wellington's inimortal name, To the humblest son of martial fame Who fought at Waterloo ! Fill, fill the wine-cup yet again ! But alter'd be the joyous strain ; To those the cup, now, silent drain, Who fell at Waterloo ! Soft sigh, ye breezes, o'er the grave Where rest the relics of the brave, And sweetest flow'rets o'er them wave. Who sleep on Waterloo ! 62 TRIFLES IN VERSE. From their ensanguin'd, honour'd bed. The oUve rears its peaceful head, Nurs'd by the sacred blood they shed At glorious Waterloo ! In freedom's sacred cause to die. In victory's embrace to lie, Who would not breathe his latest sigh Like those at, Waterloo ! [63] SONG. DOINA DE CLYDE. QuJE sublegi tacifus libi carmina luipcr. ViRG. I. Dear to my soul are the hills of the Highlands, There, the Clrai-Alpine lived outlawed and lone; Dear to my soul the Hebridean islands, Bruce at thy bridals, there, Editha, shone. Yet, not so much for yon chief of the mountain. Pathless Benledi, I joy in thy pride : Dearer to mc are thy rude rock and fountain, Since they are sacred to Doina de Clyde. 64 TRIFLES IN VERSE. II. Oft, in the trance of ray fancy, I've wandered O'er the high summits of bald Benvenue j Oft, on the banks of Loch- Katrine I've pondered, Dreaming the barge of its Lady to view. Haunts of romantic and wild meditation. Mightier charms to your scenes are allied ; Now, that your objects, in sweet combination, Back to my fancy bring Doina de Clyde, in. Victress at Bannock, but vanquished at Floden, Caledon triumphed alternate in war ; 'Till, with her tartans blood-drenched at Culloden, Down from her orbit she dropped, like a star. Ruined and lost, from the conquering foemen Far fled the Stuart, her glory and pride ; Say, did he 'scape from the Cumberland yeomen ? Yes ! in the halls of my Doina de Clyde. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 65 ly. DoiNA DE Clyde ! yet thy clansmen shall glory, When their brave chiei'tain's descendant they view : Oft shall they think of that Highlander's story. True to his prince, when 'twas death to be true. When to my thoughts red CuUoden arises, Thou, and the Stuart, my breast shall divide : Woe to the wretch, who the tartans despises. Since they are dear to sweet Doina de Clyde. V. Oh ! had I lived in the tempest of battle, When the war-feuds on the borders were hiffh Dear to me, then, were the musketry's rattle, Daring each danger for Doina's bright eye. Blest were 1 then, with her white arm around me. Slinging my father's claymore at my side : Blest weie I, then, when each night-fall had found me Locked in the arms of my Doina de Clyde, e [66] TO OREA. Credimus ? an qui amant, ipsi sibi somDia fingunt ? ViRG. La plus rebelle est souvent la phis tendre. Gentil Bernard. I. Oh ! what would I give, to divine The state of thy bosom, that minute, When last thy dark eye fell on mine. As if destiny's frown had been in it I Yet, surely, for me, such a frown Was never intended, Ore a : It was but a blind, to keep down The clue to some tender idea ! TRIFLES IN VERSE. 6? II. Like a cloud it came o'er thee, to hide Thy bosom's internal commotion, Which heaved, in its fulness and pride. Like the up-and-down wave of the ocean. And many a feeling was there, Which a stranger might never discover ; And thoughts, in which none had a share, But the conscience-fraught breast of thy lover. in. And thy laughter was vacant and void, And I saw, by the change that came o'er thee, Both thy heart and thy mind were employed On him who was sitting before thee. And, in spite of thy patriot pride. And fondness for national story, Unheard on thy passive car died The airs of thine ancestors' glory. 8 TRIFLES IN VERSE. IV. But, seldom thy glance fell on one, Whose soul, ever anxiously silent, To the looks, that he seemed most to shun, A keen and a vigilant eye lent. A space, in thy features' full light. He sat watching their moody vagaries j And joyed in each mark of thy slight, Interpreting all by contraries. V. Thou art lofty and wayward to view. But I see through thy caprice, believe me Thy plaid-mantled bosom is true, And Orea could never deceive me. So boys, long accustomed to spy The roundabout arts of the plover, Mark most, as she wheels through the sky, The spot, that she fails to fly over !^ [69] THE FAREWEL. TO MISS -, BY A MOST INTIMATE FRIEND. Longiira, Formosa, vale ! vale! ViRG. E tu chi sa, se mai Ti soverrai di me? Metastasio. Farewel for me those locks of jet, Whose lustre pains, but pleases yet ! Farewel for me that ebon eye, That wantons still in cruelty ! Farewel for me the alternate swells Of bosom, smooth as wave- worn shell ! 70 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Farewel, that lip's vermilion hue And thrice, oh ! thrice farewel to you ! Grey be those locks of raven dye, Dim be that laughter-loving eye, The heaving of that breast be stayed, That lip's inviting purple fade : There's bliss in this in any ban- To all I've felt, for love of Ann, [ 71 ] TO THE NIGHTINGALE. WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN, BY A VERY DEAR FRIEND. Pollio et ipse facit uova carmina. VlRG. Fies nobilium tu quoque fontiiim. HoR. Enchantress of the groves, why scorn the day, And sing, when night puts on her sable grey ? Soft in the woods your mellow note is heard, Mixed with the scream of Pallas's own bird. When all in silent gloominess is still, Save the wild sound of yonder fountain's rill, 72 TRIFLES IN VERSE. Re-echoing through the forest's wide extent, From tree to tree your soothing song is sent. What ten-stringed lute, what instrument can be Compared with your enrapturing melody ? Potent the sleepy Morpheus to awake, And with sweet sounds his dreamy slumbers break. When morning dawns, you take your rapid flight To the lone shades, to hide yourself 'till night : Again, oh ! melancholy bird, I say. Why scorn the beauties of the new-born day ? [73] SONG. TRANSLATED FROiM THE FRENCH. C'est ia verdure. Segvr. I. 'Tis the verdure, Which announces Nature, daily, Waking sweetly, waking gaily : Pleasure's throne she seems to hail ye From the verdure ! II. In the verdure. Zephyr sits, his brows inwreathing : But his fresh and balmy breathing Sets love's fiery cauldron seething, In the verdure ! 74 TRIFLES IN VERSE. III. Without verdure, Myrtle- sprig, nor branch of laurel : How the victor's brows apparel In Love's camp, or Mars's quarrel, Without verdure ? IV. On the verdure, Innocence, with coy step straying. Culls bright flowers for her arraying : Which anon she loses, playing On the verdure ! V. On the verdure, Love obtained his wished-for treasure- Since that bliss, exceeding measure, Hope in the gay tints takes pleasure Of the verdure ! [ 75 ] TO BRANSBY BLAKE COOPER, Esq. ON HIS APPROACHING DEPARTURE FROM EDINBURGH. PoMPEi, nieomm prime sodaliuin! Cum quo morautem saepe diem nieio Fregi. HoR, I. Yes ! oft, my boy, in many a weather, We've crowned the sparkling cup together, And more than once the morning skies Have dawned upon our revelries. Yes ! oft but ne'er too oft our souls Have flowed commingling o'er the bowls, In concert i^wect your's, Maw's, and mine ! And friendship gave a zest to wine. 76 TRIFLES IN VERSE. We formed so close a trio then, And all distinct from other men, That every fourth was deemed, at best, An interloper and a pest. II. Yet burnt we ne'er the midnight torch In boisterous and sheer debauch ; But still, in gaiety discreet, We mixed the useful and the sweet- You know how, inch by inch approaching, Our foreheads oft would be encroaching, 'Till gaining all the space betwixt O'er Gregory's classic page they mixt ! And now, our changing theme would be The wonders of anatomy: The blood, diffused through every part The refluent veins, tliat seek the heart Where, Ganges-like, the arched aorta Pours its broad wave of blushing water. TRIFLES IN VERSE. 77 III. But yet, such scientific book, For minstrel tale, I soon forsook j O'er other page too fond to glow, Than Fyfe, and Haller, and Monro. " The Stag at eve," and " Branksome Tower," Have charmed us many a winter hour : And still I read and still you hung, Like lover on his mistress' tongue And swore, no song was ever heard So sweet as his of Abbotsford. Soft Campbell's harp of heavenly tone, His lay of Hope was all our own : And Byron, ever blazing fierce, A meteor in the skies of verse. IV. He had not joined us, who alone For Hymen's fraud might well atone : 78 TRIFLES IN VERSK. And all too soon 'till Ferriar came, Yon lit, for me, the nuptial flame. Bright may it burn, and pure, and long ! Could envy mix my thoughts among, The sight of worth by woman blest Might wake that feeling in my breast. Dear Cooper ! friendship, such as ours, Will gild our retrospective hours: And oft, while memory's pictures glow, I love to hope to feel to knowy As roll time's various changes on. You'll think of me, when you are gone. [79] TO A LADY WEEPING. Lc plaisir, la peine, la volupt^, le d Aut parvae Chelyos despice stamina j Ad cujus miserans proxima flamina, Olim avcrsa tuis virgo caloribus Turbabit tepidis lumina roribus, IIcu, hcu deciduis Pinus honoribus ! [ 11^ EPITHALAMIUM EDITHiE. FRAGMENTUM. Lulled were the waves on Inninniore, And green Loch-Alline's woodland shore ; As if wild woods and waves had pleasure In listing to tiie lovely measure ! Walter Scott. Virgo Lornias, experge ! Lorn IAS, exclamant surge Ad concentum cithararum, Somnum nolumus pulchrarum ! Terra, pontus, aer prodit Nil, quod modularaen odit. Dama Lettamoris, miris Amat barbiton audire ; TENTAMINA METRICA. 113 Phoca gaudet per Heiskari Fluctus musicen sectari ; Audit leporis oblitus Ales Callachi tinnitus. Ut ne dedignetur, ergo, Fidibus vocarl virgo : Dum cantamus, tenict orna, Et prodi, Editha de Lorna ! [114] PERISCELIS. Honi soit, qui mal y pense ! Motto of the Garteb. I. Ut Neream certus, olim, Vidit soporatam jure ; Traxit nominare nolim- Periscelidem de crure ! At experrecta, flevit se Orbatam Pebiscelide. II. Coma scinditur decora, Palmis pectora caeduntur; Et per genas, et per ora Lachryma2 oboriuntur : TENTAMINA METRICA. 115 Et heU) et hoi, et hei, et has. Pro rapta Periscelide ! III. Ah ! quid instas ungue faedo ? Parce vultui, Nerea ; Habeat, servetque praedo. Quae sic abstulit, trophaea : Nam dabit, quod rependet te Pro rapta Periscelide ! FINIS. Printed by (ieorgc Ramsay & Co. '^''> A.^^'T'f ;:,s ^r UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 h099 Trifles in verse] UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIUTY A A 000 073 749 4 PR a099 B8u5t