BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNlViRS<TY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
^ix. i^A^i ^ tv t ^o^^ 
 
 
AIRDRIE: 
 PRINTED BY BAIRD & HAMILTON. 
 
WA L L A CE 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHEE POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN THOM. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 JOHN S. MARK & SONS, BUCHANAN STREET. 
 
 AIEDEIE : 
 BAIRD & HAMILTON, "ADVERTISER" OFFICE. 
 
 18 73. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
PREFACE. (^73 
 
 The most taciturn is constrained now and then to say a 
 word touching the internal and external matters of life, and 
 the audience usually listens with deference to his opinion, 
 probably because it is rarely offered and is seldom intrusive. 
 Rhymers, however, being ready with an opinion on most 
 subjects, have their motives scrutinised and their right to 
 speak questioned when one of their number comes with a 
 deliberate quantum of his stock-in-trade, and an explanation 
 or introduction is considered necessary. If this is exacted 
 in the present instance, the author has perhaps nothing of 
 immediate importance to add to the evidence afforded by the 
 work itself, which will show that at various times he has 
 thought upon various subjects — to what purpose need not be 
 discussed here. As he has been constrained to form certain 
 thoughts on what he has deemed worthy to occupy his mind 
 for the time, and as he has ventured to offer them where 
 perhaps he should be best known, and possibly best under- 
 stood, he must take in exchange whatever comes by the way 
 to those who advance gratuitous advice and volunteer infor- 
 mation where it may not be wanted. Without ceremony, 
 therefore, he invites all who are willing to pass through the 
 collection ; and as he has endeavoured to write honestly, he 
 trusts none will leave the last page the worse for the inter-* 
 course. 
 Wolverhampton, December, 181$. 
 
 712 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prince Gentleman, 1 
 
 The Crap for a* Corn, ... 2 
 
 Song, 3 
 
 Lines on the Death of *' Charlie," a Favourite Lark, 4 
 
 Ye Ken What, 7 
 
 Song— For She Kent nae o' my Comin', 8 
 
 Don't be Doun o' Mou', Wife, ... 9 
 
 Spring, 10 
 
 An Address to the Scottish Language, 12 
 
 Boyhood, 14 
 
 Ode to Burniebrae, 15 
 
 Lines Written for the Centenary Celebration of the 
 
 Birth of Kobert Burns, 17 
 
 A Serenade, 24 
 
 Ode to Love, , 25 
 
 Ode to Poland, 26 
 
 Household Ties, 27 
 
 Ode to Pleasure, 28 
 
 Ode to the Skylark, ... 30 
 
 Ode to Poland, ... ... 32 
 
 Our First Cross, 33 
 
 Ode to America, .. 34 
 
 Ode to Hope, 35 
 
 Address to the Moon, 37 
 
 Lines ON A Daisy, 38 
 
 A Winter Night, 39 
 
 Our in the Cold, ... 40 
 
Love, 41 
 
 The Egotist's Hymn, 42 
 
 Our Second Cross, 44 
 
 A Christmas Hymn, 46 
 
 Nobility, 47 
 
 Signs of the Times— The Country, .. 49 
 
 Signs of the Times — Socialism, 51 
 
 Signs of the Times— Regeneration, 56 
 
 Signs of the Times— Trades Unions : The Five Gas Stokers, 58 
 
 Ode on the Birthday of Shakespeare, 60 
 
 Wallace, ... QQ 
 
V^ A L L A C E , 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 PRINCE GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Prince Gentleman, stawed o' the drinks o' the South, 
 Had come North for the while jist to slocken his drouth ; 
 0' our swipes, and our bleeries, and auld barley bree, 
 He had lang heard the praises, and noo he maun pree. 
 
 Mair deeply than wisely he joined the carouse, 
 Though nae shakes o' a name could Prince Gentleman lose, 
 Till he swore (which Prince Gentleman did like a priest) 
 He wad sune be a Scot by the whisky at least. 
 
 Weel a' sides o' Scotch questions he ettled to touch. 
 And he maistered the Doric aff-loof in his coach, 
 Till sae cock o'er his pairts in a company braw. 
 He wad challenge the proof in a sentence or twa. 
 
 Here a pawkie young duchess, ane Gordon by name, 
 Fu' o' auld raucle wit — kent abroad and at hame — 
 Touched Prince Gentleman's glove wi' a laigh, catchin' boo, 
 And said, " My cantie wee laddie, come pree my mou\" 
 
PRINCE GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Ah, hoo muckle we preach and hoo little we ken, 
 And hoo heigh we can flee withoot feather or pen 1 
 Ah, hoo lang is the raip and hoo shallow the well 1 
 Truth will tak' her ain time sic like secrets to tell. 
 
 Mair puzzled than pleased glanced Prince Gentleman roun*, 
 And he felt in a snare frae the tae to the croon ; 
 And the laugh waukened up as the duchess stood true. 
 Till her " cantie wee laddie wad come pree her mou\" 
 
 The teeth o* King Dauvit wad ha'e watered, I ween, 
 For a taste o' the lips o' the mettlesome quean; 
 And Prince Gentleman winced, when the laugh rose anew, 
 As the duchess declared he .wad ne'er pree her mou\ 
 
 THE CEAP FOP A' COPJST. 
 
 I AM jist the crap for a' corn, 
 
 Nor better name ye'll gi'e, 
 Though wi' a king I'm aften borne 
 
 Through honoured companie. 
 Since man and woman first began 
 
 To grab, and cheat, and lee, 
 I'm sure I've had the world through haun*, 
 
 Though far frae filled I be. 
 
 A mag or mite I never scorn — 
 There's nought owre mean for me ; 
 
 And when I toom Contentment's horn, 
 Horn back ye'll never see. 
 
THE CRAP FOR A^ CORN. 
 
 For life's last sliift I play wi' want, 
 And nab the stakes wi' glee ; 
 
 To generosity I cant, 
 
 Doun tae the last bawbee. 
 
 Shame tak' the loon wha boos tae shame ! 
 
 "We always disagree ; 
 And pride may come or gang the same 
 
 To profit purposely. 
 Nought comes amiss by richt or wrang, 
 
 By kindness or by scorn ; 
 I speer nae questions gif it gang 
 
 Tae swell my crap o' corn. 
 
 SONG, 
 
 Ae Simmer nicht, when gloamin* licht 
 
 Was gently shadin' a\ 
 I wandered doon by Burniebrae, 
 
 To wile the time awa'. 
 
 I sat me doun upon the croun 
 O' yon hie bink that towers 
 
 Aboon the place whaur Nature's hid 
 Twa cosy watery bowers. 
 
 I had nae thought that ane I sought 
 
 In ties unseen to bind — 
 Those ties Truth hallows to forecast 
 
 Heaven's beauties to the mind — 
 
SONG. 
 
 AVas me near by ; and lovingly 
 
 I gazed her graces on. 
 Her truth-lit face and snawy broo 
 
 O^ beauty seemed the throne ; 
 
 Yes ; Maggie's e'e noo glanced on me 
 
 As by her side I stood, 
 And watched upon her cheeks the tints 
 
 O' love's swift-passin' flood. 
 
 Ta'en by surprise, those soul-marked dyes 
 Methought her love betrayed, ; 
 
 In ecstasy unto my heart 
 I pressed my guileless maid. 
 
 Love, scorning fear, into her ear 
 Poured vows which ne'er shall tine ; 
 
 She further leant upon my breast, 
 And saftly said, " I'm thine." 
 
 Who'll paint the joys which love employs 
 When first the truth is broken ? 
 
 Nae sang nor praise may mark their ways 
 Beyond the faintest token. 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF « CHAELIE," 
 A FAYOUEITE LAEK. 
 
 Nae strappin' verse will fit my theme — 
 Nae tidal words that are extreme ; 
 But numbers saft that are supreme 
 
 In griefs deep hoards. 
 Come, mourn the wale, the chief, the cream 
 
 O' whistlin' birds. 
 
LINES ON THE DEATH OF '^CHARLIE." 
 
 Alas ! he's ta'en his langest flicht, 
 And left the dust he ance did licht j 
 Nae mail' he'll wan ken up the nicht 
 
 Wi' wayward note, 
 Nor charm the day wi' music's micht 
 
 Frae gushin' throat. 
 
 Aft hae I wished some power wad gie 
 The language o' his minstrelsy, 
 For lays like his a word maun be 
 
 Frae place unken'd. 
 Yes ; when he sang methocht his e'e 
 
 Some end attained. 
 
 Tho* Winter made a stern resolve 
 To mak' sJ things thro' him revolve, 
 Oor " Charlie " aft at ance did solve 
 
 His fragile law ; 
 And aft in fancy did evolve 
 
 A flower on snaw. 
 
 The callans wark aft-times wad lead 
 Frae hame a fortnicht at a screed — 
 Mayhap to Glasgow, famed for trade 
 
 And mettle will ; 
 The first to welcome back in pride, 
 
 Was "Charlie" shrill. 
 
 An e'e mair gleg ne'er watched a hoose, 
 O' a' things kent, baith place and use, 
 And ilka face wad introduce 
 
 Wi' special wheeple — 
 Whiles chirlin' saft, whiles era win' crouse. 
 
 In glorious treble. 
 
LINES ON THE DEATH OF *< CHARLIE." 
 
 Aft frae my memory he'll spring, 
 Wi' crested head and fluttering wing, 
 And in its lasting mirror fling 
 
 The shades o' time ; 
 When mair than he did artless sing 
 
 In hopefu* prime. 
 
 His simple life brings back again, 
 
 Erects wi* circumstantial ken, 
 
 One hurried scene when joy was ta'en 
 
 Wr cup in haun' ; 
 And, face to face, wi* death alane 
 
 Did stricken staun. 
 
 We'll turn that picture tae the wa* — 
 For only ance a-year we draw, 
 In reconciliation a', 
 
 Aside the veil, 
 And let ilk New'er's-day gently fa*, 
 
 Wi' Andrew's tale. 
 
 I canna bid a' nature mourn. 
 
 For when sang opened he was torn 
 
 Frae her to cheer oor hame — forlorn 
 
 And silent noo ! 
 But we need ask nae aid to learn 
 
 The feeling due. 
 
 If Willie Gordon's skill can 'reest 
 Wi' a' taxidermy impress'd. 
 The failin' incident to beast. 
 
 And man as weel ; 
 Oor <* Charlie " — bodily at least, 
 
 Th' auld place wHl fiU. 
 
YE KEN WHAT. 
 
 YE KEN WHAT. 
 
 What did Solomon mean but the subject had clean 
 
 Passed ayont a' his wisdom and skill, 
 That nae sure thing wad pass 'twixt a lad and a lass, 
 
 Though he set out wi' purpose and will ^ 
 Noo, without a pretence to half Solomon's sense, 
 
 But by mindin' o' this thing and that. 
 To the right royal bards I wad add jist three words. 
 
 And the wherefore is — weel ye ken what. 
 
 Though a sensible man forms a sensible plan, 
 
 And rehearses it twenty times o'er — 
 Though he's gotten his pairt in a big earnest heart, 
 
 Which has never been dunted before. 
 If the tale be o' love, why, the actor will prove 
 
 In abundance o' strength quite tongue-ty't. 
 Till a hundred false starts and extempore blurfcs 
 
 Tell the lassie — aweel, ye ken what. 
 
 When the happiest wight in the realms o' delight 
 
 To the winds has delivered a' care. 
 And wi' jealous guidwill a' the future wad fill 
 
 Wi' the wale o' love's honeymoon fare — 
 When he airts to decree what the order shall be. 
 
 So that every sweet thing may come pat, 
 A' his wisdom and law, court a certain doonfa', 
 
 Till it's settled — aweel, ye ken what. 
 
 In the currents below there are powers come and go, 
 
 Maist potential for woe or for weal ; 
 Though uncertain in name certain honours they claim, 
 
 And we a' at some time to them kneel. 
 
YE KEN WHAT. 
 
 But in lifers earnest fact make aye true white or black- 
 Let the colour be this or be that ; — 
 
 In the tug and the thraw take a' doubts clean awa', 
 So that nane may e'er hint — ^ye ken what. 
 
 SONG. 
 FOE SHE KENT NAE O' MY COMIN'. 
 
 I whusselt o'er the weel-kent tune, 
 I look'd, as looking was a sin, 
 But out my lass I couldna' win. 
 
 For she kent nae o' my comin', 
 And as I gaed, sae back I cam', 
 For she kent nae o' my comin'. 
 
 I saw the fire's inconstant glower, 
 But saw nae figure pass out owre, 
 And could it else at sic' an hour. 
 
 When she kent nae o' my comin'? 
 And as I gaed, sae back I cam', 
 For she kent nae o' my comin'. 
 
 Yet Maggie heard the weel-kent tune, 
 But bolted doors and powers within 
 Obliged her heart tae beat alane. 
 
 Since she kent nae o' my comin'. 
 And as I gaed, sae back I cam'. 
 For she kent nae o' my comin'. 
 
FOR SHE KENT NAE O' MY COMIN*. 
 
 Ten dark Scotch miles might mak' ane feart, 
 But lovers tak' them like a bird, 
 Sae I maun ta't though only cheered 
 By, she kent nae o* my comin*, 
 For she kent nae o' my comin', 
 And as I gaed, sae back I cam,' 
 For she kent nae o* my comin'. 
 
 DON'T BE DOUN 0' MOU', WIFE. 
 
 Don't be doun o' mou', wife, 
 
 Don't be doun o' mou'. 
 There's muckle mair preventit, wife, 
 
 Than we ha'e warsled through ; 
 Our links o' love ha'e oft been tried, 
 
 And ane asunder riven, 
 But weel we ken the broken pairts 
 
 Will join again in heaven. 
 
 Don't be doun o' mou', wife. 
 
 Don't be doun o' mou', 
 The tide o' joy's no turned, wife, 
 
 Frae either me or you. 
 Although some facts may cheat the wish. 
 
 Still hope great holes can mend ; 
 And wi' true hearts we'll act our pairts, 
 
 To conquer in the end. 
 
10 SPEING. 
 
 S P E I N G. 
 
 Nae mirky cluds bedim tlie sky, 
 JSTae icy winds gang whistling by, 
 Nae burnies noo in bondage lie, 
 
 Smoor'd by the snaw ; 
 For bonny Spring's come frae on high, 
 
 And freed them a\ 
 
 Whaur echoes haunted every blast, 
 
 And, weird-tongued, halloo'd o'er the waste, 
 
 Noo breezes saft skim gently past. 
 
 Convoyed by sang. 
 In varied choral models cast. 
 
 Rich, free, and Strang. 
 
 The laverock, king o' b! the choir. 
 Springs up wi' his ecstatic lyre, 
 And seems as he wad never tire 
 
 The lift tae ring ; 
 And louder sings while flutterin' higher, 
 
 Welcome tae Spring. 
 
 The robin's mornin' crumbs may wait 
 Till winter comes again this gate. 
 For the wee beggar's aiF tae mate 
 
 In some deep wud, 
 And disnae care wha pays the debt 
 
 For winter's food. 
 
SPBINa. 11 
 
 The tity wrens amang tlie rest, 
 
 Begin tae build their foggy nest, 
 
 Nae pinchin* cauld locks up the breast, 
 
 But, proud and free. 
 They wheeple oot their very best, 
 
 And mount maist hie. 
 
 The blackbird, wi' his mellow horn. 
 Peals thro* the dale the march o' morn ; 
 The mavis, sweeter neibor, born 
 
 In varying mood. 
 Sings, while the eve to nicht doth turn 
 
 In solitude. 
 
 The solitary cuckoo's brought 
 
 Again his solitary note. 
 
 An' blest is he wha plack has got 
 
 Aboot his duds. 
 When he first hears the soun' remote 
 
 Come frae the wuds. 
 
 'Tis said the year throughoot shall be 
 
 Ane o' unmixed prosperity ; 
 
 But should he no hae brown bawbee, 
 
 The luckless wight ! 
 The time shall wi' misfortune dree, 
 
 And stomach licht. 
 
 When Nature's tackled tae her pairt. 
 She meets the point wi' high desert, 
 And noo, since Spring frae every airt 
 
 And every clime, 
 Unto her subjects has declar'i 
 
 A festal time. 
 
12 SPRING. 
 
 Wr flower and leaf, wi' bough and blade, 
 
 By matchless artistry display 'd, 
 
 Like new-made queen she stands array'd 
 
 For greeting meet. 
 And mirth and gladness thro* pervade 
 
 Her regal seat. 
 
 Imprest on hill, and dale, and lea, 
 Her power is felt frae sea tae sea ; 
 The quickened earth exultingly 
 
 Mak's haste tac bring 
 Hor firstlings, as an offering free 
 
 Tae welcome Spring. 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 
 
 Lang life, my ain auld mither tongue ! 
 Thou spunkiest wench that ever sung ; 
 Whether tae cheer wi* tender lung 
 
 The woe begone ; 
 Or, ettle on wi* thud and wung 
 
 The martial son. 
 
 By gentle thrum, or, be it best 
 
 By stormy string, thou wak'st each guest 
 
 That slumbers in emotion's breast. 
 
 Up at thy word ; 
 In ony posture manifest. 
 
 Thine wi* regard. 
 
AN ADDRESS TO THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 13 
 
 O, mony a weighty lee thou's trippet, 
 And mony an able man thou's flippit, 
 And mony a spurious saunt thou's tappit, 
 
 My wordie, wlia 
 Like thee when truth maun hae a rippit 
 
 Can kick the ba\ 
 
 Thou'rt jist to me the power o* yore, 
 If less in strength, in love the more. 
 Whase cunnin' haun doth ope the door 
 
 O* human heart, 
 And reign'st, the queen o' hamoly lore, 
 
 In every pairt. 
 
 Through time thou hast nae passed unharm*d, 
 But time to stop thou^s aften charmed ; 
 And though thy outworks are deformed. 
 
 Yea, hard tae tell, 
 Yet firmly built and still unstorm'd 
 
 Thy citadel. 
 
 By force o' time in future day, 
 The ancient fortress may decay ; 
 But mony a beauteous arch and stay, 
 
 And virgin stone. 
 Into a living building may 
 
 Pass, as 'twere one. 
 
 And, though this be, 'tis but to die 
 The death to immortality ; 
 And though nae academic sky 
 
 Maks classic quite. 
 Transfigured in the heart thou'lt lie, 
 
 A thins: o' lidit. 
 
14 AN ADDRESS TO THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 
 
 Too precious are thy works to go 
 
 In the first death, which threatens now ; 
 
 Be what it may, the world doth know 
 
 The sterling thing ; 
 And let refiners abler grow, 
 
 Mair true thou'lt ring. 
 
 Lang life, nurse o' my early thought, 
 Wha tentily did airt it straight ; 
 I aiblins noo forbode a fate 
 
 That winna happen ; 
 But dootless thou my death will see't. 
 
 Alive and loupin\ 
 
 Yet things o' worth but serve their day, 
 And types and anti-types decay, 
 Or deftly change insensibly 
 
 To something newer ; 
 Sae dootless thou wilt pass away. 
 
 But still endure. 
 
 Things auld and new are yet in store 
 To change and elevate the more, 
 And thou hast lent nae triflin' power 
 
 To raise truth's beiP, 
 Hence thou shalt be remembered whaur 
 
 Men upward speel. 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 O GUILELESS Time ! I often wish 
 That T were moving in thee still ; 
 
 And oft it cheers me to recall 
 
 That tender touch of Heaven's will. 
 
BOYHOOD. 15 
 
 Though disappointment often checked 
 An ardent wish for some vain toy, 
 
 Care, even with a modest hand, 
 JSTe'er traced a line upon the boy. 
 
 Himself as fleeting as his life. 
 
 Each thing enjoying — all was joy ; 
 
 Come summer, autumn, winter, spring, 
 Each had its pleasures for the boy. 
 
 He never thought those things would fade, 
 Nor time could with his pleasures cloy ; 
 
 He never bade those things to stay — 
 For all was bright before the boy. 
 
 Like unto sunbeams, they are gone ; 
 
 But, with a hand that Nature gave, 
 They left their image on the glass 
 
 Of memory, to soothe and save. 
 
 ODE TO BURNIEBRAE. 
 
 Like a heart that is glad when dark visions are over, 
 
 When misgiving fancies have fleeted away. 
 The sun, re-enfranchised, courted earth as a lover, 
 
 Kestoring again to us gladness and day. 
 Far away to the east the spent storm-clouds were sweeping, 
 
 And nature rejoiced in her fullness again ; . 
 
16 ODE TO BURNIEBRAE. 
 
 Whilst her songsters commingled, fresh holiday keeping 
 
 For freedom regained, in high jubilant strain. 
 In the sun every leaf seemed with diamonds bestudded, 
 
 Every flower, re-enamelled, in kind seemed more fair ; 
 Every bee sallied forth to the banquet provided, 
 
 On diligent wing, to take home his sweet share. 
 Thus by all invited, to my young haunt I wended 
 
 My lingering footsteps — for gems strewed the way — 
 By the big and the wee glen, by the burnie that lended 
 
 Its voice to the music that filled Burniebrae. 
 Though years full of change had passed by since I sported 
 
 With light-hearted playmates those beauties among, 
 My memory keen every object consorted 
 
 With deeds of high prowess unsaid and unsung. 
 Each scene wandered past with old memories teeming, 
 
 I saw each, as it were, like stars in the sky. 
 They seemed near, yet away, and their little lights gleaming 
 
 Betimes made me glad and betimes made me sigh. 
 In life's fitful battle new strength I have gathered 
 
 In brief retrospect of our innocent youth. 
 When our trust in the present no care ever withered, 
 
 And the boy learned the lessons of freedom and truth. 
 Though long from thy glens and thy braes I've been parted. 
 
 Yet thy name from my memory ne'er passed away ; 
 And oft when despair would have come broken-hearted, 
 
 It nerved me to muse upon thee, Burniebrae. 
 In Spring thy new garland surpassed all in glory ; 
 
 In Summer thy vesture shone briglit as the day ; 
 And Autumn became thee, with his locks turning hoary ; 
 
 Even Winter did clasp and shield thee from decay. 
 Sweet nurse of my young limbs, may thy beauties ne'er wither; 
 
 May each passing moment new springs on thee lay ; 
 And all glories and beauties on earth join together 
 
 To weave a diadem for thee, Burniebrae. 
 
THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 17 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Written for the Centenary Celebration of the Birth 
 OF Kob2rt Burns. 
 
 What hour gives worth with genius birth 
 
 Becomes a deathless date, 
 To us an age, a privilege. 
 
 The hundredth duplicate ; 
 Ours then the pleasure and the gain 
 To enter on the wide domain 
 Of noble work which one. 
 The master spirit of this day, 
 Rais'd up to honour, where it lay 
 Derided, or ur known. 
 
 With pride then, well tried then, 
 
 Auld Scotlaiid fondly turns 
 To meet thee, and greet thee. 
 The natal morn of Burns. 
 
 What then the work for which we claim 
 
 One day of thought and gleel 
 Why bid high Honour take to Fame 
 
 Her choicest poesy 1 
 If it were granted, thou couldst look 
 Down in the heart, as in a book, 
 In Scotland's thou wouldst see 
 A thousand monuments, nor one 
 That doth the touch of manhood shun, 
 Or woman's purity. 
 
 Created and seated 
 
 On progress and emprise. 
 All lightened and brightened 
 By Burns's melodies. 
 
18 THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 
 
 But turn vre to those " records dear," 
 
 When passion's pulse beat high, 
 When rose his love, a star above, 
 
 For ever in the sky. 
 Nor yet more sacred were this scene 
 Though Truth's clear river run between, 
 
 The lovers' mutual flame. 
 The humblest love hence takes a place 
 Which seraph- witnesses may grace 
 Without or taint or blame — 
 Secure here, and pure here. 
 
 The front and form of youth ; 
 Imprest here, and cast here 
 In beauty and in truth. 
 
 Another scene of greater worth 
 
 Historians may not match. 
 Though gifted men of mind and pen 
 
 The people's manners catch. 
 Would'st thou broad Scotland's forces know 1 
 Here one is photographed to show 
 
 Their character and fire. 
 Can loftiest scene teach more than this 
 Of present and eternal bliss 1 
 Man, patriot, priest, and sire. 
 Concentre and enter 
 
 The lowly cottar's home ; 
 Thus warded and guarded, 
 Decay shall never come. . 
 
 But not one scene of common life 
 He passed with careless view ; 
 
 Our " toils obscure " touch'd by his power, 
 New forms of manhood grew. 
 
THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 19 
 
 Where poortith struggled to be free, 
 An equal, though superior, he, 
 
 A liberator, stood. 
 A teacher, he by rights well earned. 
 Brave millions have his lessons learned. 
 With new-born rectitude. 
 Upraising and praising, 
 
 Kude life he beautified, 
 Pourtrayed it, and made it 
 Yield honesty and pride. 
 
 The Bible of humanity. 
 
 His " Man was made to mourn," 
 Experience, wisdom, truth might say 
 
 From suffering millions torn, 
 The freeman's charter stands decreed 
 In thought, reward, in hope and deed — 
 
 In " Man's a man for a\" 
 While patriotic hearts dilate 
 As face to face with death and fate 
 In fancy yet we draw. 
 Ecstatic, emphatic. 
 
 The sword to " do or die," 
 As finely, divinely, 
 
 His " Scots wha ha'e " peals high. 
 
 Through generations hence thy race 
 
 Thou'lt run again o' Tam, 
 And take first undisputed place 
 
 'Mong heroes of the " dram." 
 Though Superstition shall be dumb 
 In the great changes yet to come, 
 
 Thou'lt Scotland's witches save. 
 
20 THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 
 
 In mimic revelry to meet, 
 While all sage dames, with counsels sweet, 
 An exponent shall have ; 
 And swiftly and deftly 
 
 Here pleasure's form we see 
 Depicted, dissected, 
 With fervid mastery. 
 
 Preserve the scene, although of those 
 
 Who follow nameless trades ; 
 For philosophic hands expose 
 
 The temper of the blades. 
 And " waverin' like the baukie bird " 
 A greater genius is declared 
 
 For him than was imparted ; 
 Old Wisdom is a fool by rote. 
 And wisdom only is begot 
 
 Through something broken-hearted. 
 We'll set, then, we'll let, then. 
 
 Shrewd, Poosie Nansie sell 
 Her tipenny or fipenny. 
 Or product of the still. 
 
 We often want, for quack and saint 
 
 The Pen to scourge and seer, 
 Which in the bowels of the Kirk 
 
 Kaised an unholy fear. 
 Each burning line a landmark makes 
 For common sense, when roused, he takes 
 
 Truth's hand with pressure strong ; 
 And Scotland proudly crowns her son 
 For every thankless action done 
 
 'Gainst error, cant, and wrong. 
 
THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 21 
 
 W©*11 lay then, well bye then, 
 His weapons clean and bright — 
 
 Preserve them and serve them 
 In many a future fight. 
 
 Ah, Love ! thy devotees have been 
 
 Unnumbered as the stars — 
 The cause of many a wondrous scene, 
 
 Strange harmonies and jars ! 
 Beneath thy wild, unfathomed rule 
 The wisest often play the fool, 
 
 Without the least assistance; 
 No potter ever tempered clay 
 Like thee ; and thy deep witchery 
 Meets no inert resistance, 
 When singling and mingling 
 
 The elements of man. 
 To shake them and make them 
 The creatures of thy plan. 
 
 What have we to forgive in him, 
 
 Low in his narrow bed 1 
 Shall we discard Love's chosen bard 
 
 Because his virtue fled, 
 And buiy with him in the tomb 
 Those garlands of unfading bloom 
 
 His tender fancy wrought '? 
 Methinks one faithful spirit even 
 Looks through the pearly gates of Heaven 
 Forbidding such a thought. 
 
 Who proved him and loved him 
 
 In many a trying lot — 
 Him yearned for, and mourned for 
 Long years when he was not. 
 
22 THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 
 
 Emotions which, unuttered long, 
 
 Pressed oft the heart's closed gate. 
 Enfranchised by this king of Hong, 
 
 Because articulate. 
 And Nature's hidden voices rise 
 In grand responsive harmonies, 
 
 Released and jubilant ; 
 And dumb creation found a tongue 
 Unsealed the measure to prolong 
 Of Scotland eloquent. 
 Unstinted he sent it, 
 The harmony afar ; 
 And jealously and zealously 
 We hold them as they are. 
 
 Come, Friendship, thou Great Heart of life, 
 
 A heavy debt is thine ; 
 From greenest tree thy leaflets be 
 
 Our central knot to twine. 
 Though often erring in thy ways, 
 In manner's and in custom's maze, 
 
 Evangeliser still. 
 No bard like him e'er tuned thy chords, 
 Or gave more sympathethic words. 
 Thy ordinance to tell. 
 Discerned, adorned, 
 
 Thy homeliness and worth 
 Arrayed thee, conveyed thee 
 Through every clime of earth. 
 
 What have we to forget in him 
 
 Whose only shield is death 1 
 Whose candour never stooped to trim 
 
 Detraction's withering breath 1 
 
THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 23 
 
 " The quick to learn and wise to know " 
 Passed off in life's meridian glow — 
 
 The fiercer in such men. 
 But we may do the work his age 
 Had nobly done had he that stage 
 Made perfect in his ken. 
 And metely, completely, 
 
 The legacy doth read — 
 Committed, remitted, 
 
 Ere death the blow had sped. 
 
 Forgive, forget — strange words indeed ; — 
 
 For, take him as he stands, 
 There's not a mind of human kind 
 
 A wider realnr commands. 
 Though sifted to the inmost core, 
 Malignant, reverential lore 
 Alike his power decree ; 
 In images of truth confest, 
 Man's traits indelibly impress'd, 
 Are Time's first prophecy, 
 That never, for ever. 
 
 While earth her cycle turns, 
 We part it, desert it. 
 
 The whole man Eobert Burns. 
 
 Now Scotland leaves the plough and pen, 
 
 The hammer and the sword, 
 One day to tell and chronicle 
 
 The value of his word. 
 Historic forms of heroes good. 
 Who oft in perils bravely stood 
 
 For freedom, faith, or land, 
 
24 THE CENTENARY OF BURNS. 
 
 Abreast of time in fancy here, 
 Bid welcome, as they own a peer 
 Is added to their band. 
 With pride, then, well tried, then, 
 
 Anld Scotland fondly turns 
 To meet thee and greet thee — 
 The natal morn of Burns. 
 
 A SERENADE. 
 
 My spirit faints, and to the night 
 
 I come for air reviving. 
 For in her lofty halls I feel 
 
 No passion madly driving, 
 And every fire-gem set on high, 
 Seems chastening my idolatry. 
 
 Know'st thou, Night ! the treasure fair 
 Thou hast within thy keeping 1 
 
 If she but looked upon thy face. 
 
 Thou wouldst refrain from weeping ; 
 
 For Truth and Beauty in her meet. 
 Made by Perfection's hand complete. 
 
 Bring from thy gardens and thy groves 
 
 Unstinted every blessing ; 
 Muster thy soothing arts around 
 
 The couch my loved one's pressing. 
 And let each luxury of rest 
 
 Thi'ough peace and pleasure bo addressed. 
 
A SERENADE. 25 
 
 Outsentinel the spirit dark 
 Of dreams wild and alarming, 
 
 And move her form to joyous life, 
 When day his path is forming. 
 
 Her sleep within thy hand retain. 
 
 That she may bless thy bounteous reign. 
 
 Dear lovers' friend, farewell ; mayhap. 
 
 Beneath thy sway invited, 
 A loving pair may converse seek, 
 
 And at thy shrine united. 
 Ask thee each cycle to repeat 
 
 A maiden, manly vow complete. 
 
 ODE TO LOVE. 
 
 A ray from thee 
 Is the gold of time ; 
 Of joys a galaxy 
 In this unstable clime. 
 
 O, it would be 
 To reside with thee 
 The kiss of happiness, 
 Ne'er ending as the skies. 
 
 Short is our hour 
 Here, mysterious power ; 
 But thine shall live for aye, 
 For thou dost heaven sway. 
 
26 ODE TO LOVE. 
 
 To thee we pray, 
 By no common desire ; 
 Before thee we bow, 
 With our being entire. 
 
 O ! for thy shrine, 
 In purity to move j 
 Immortality divine 
 Draw us to thee in Love. 
 
 ODE TO POLAND. 
 
 Can Kosciusko's name inspire 
 Thy heart again with martial fire, 
 And kindle up thy slumb'ring ire, 
 
 To bring thy tyrants low. 
 Vienna's fight thy valour prov'd, 
 'Neath Warsaw's walls you stood unmov'd, 
 And then, as now, you freedom lov'd — 
 
 Rise ! strike another blow ! 
 Poland, arise ! succeed you must ; 
 Why thus allow thy arms to rust ? 
 Three despotisms, unto the dust, 
 
 Beneath thy arm shall fall. 
 Poland ! thou art a living tomb ! 
 The hour is near — I see it loom ; 
 Ten thousand stars light up the gloom, 
 
 And freedom circles all. 
 
ODE TO POLAND. 27 
 
 When Freedom's torch is waving high, 
 When " God for Poland" is the cry, 
 And every Pole has sworn to die, 
 
 His country to set free. 
 Then shall we hear a fun'ral knell. 
 Loud booming forth from Freedom's bell, 
 That downward every despot fell, 
 
 Where breathed Liberty. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD TIES. 
 
 No boyhood age is theirs, no mortal span 
 Hath ever fixed the compass of their growth, 
 None chronicled the date when they expired ; 
 Nay death is an auxiliary, the more 
 To bare their scope and add to theu' domains, 
 
 'Tis most Misfortune which divides their sweets. 
 And brmgs to light rare undetected traits 
 Which master while they sanctify man's will. 
 
 Though all the powers of darkness hold their court 
 Within some wayward heart, long dispossessed 
 Of Virtue, and her sister, Memory dear, 
 Still subtily hid beyond the ken of sin. 
 There lurks a remnant of those glorious ties 
 Which, touch'd by some electric truth, leaps up. 
 And every evil occupant expels. 
 
 As passing snow is man, but ye endure 
 As deputies of Truth, as Prophets, Pxiests, 
 And Kings, wliich foUow'd lead to themes which grasp 
 
28 HOUSEHOLD TIES. 
 
 God's Fatherliood, and the whole wond'rous scheme, 
 
 By which, immortal, in conditions, we 
 
 Must actuate reform in self and kind 
 
 Before the severance from Truth is healed, 
 
 Ere recognised as Sons of God we stand 
 
 In His eternal, unpolluted House. 
 
 O, holy ties — deep as the thoughts of Heaven, 
 Ye parts of God in sinful man bloom on ; 
 Though some would taint ye, yet for ever fair, 
 And ye unsullied aye, within all noble breasts. 
 Shall to your source return. 
 
 ODE TO PLEASURE. 
 
 Spirit of a million faces. 
 Limit of perfection's graces, 
 Infinite cheater of our species. 
 
 Strange is thy mission ; 
 Eluding when our chance increases 
 
 Of firm possession. 
 
 Thy lure repliest to man's desires. 
 Tamed or inflamed, as art requires, 
 Thou'rt but a mirror which inspires 
 
 His long'd-for joy ; 
 But, touching thee, he wastes the fires 
 
 He would employ. 
 
ODE TO PLEASURE. 29 
 
 When thou invitest we quickly turn, 
 As if thy subjects we were born, 
 And though to-morrow's finger scorn 
 
 Our work to-day. 
 Still next to-morrow we'll be sworn 
 
 In fealty. 
 
 Thou keen reflection of a wish, 
 
 As evanescent as a blush, 
 
 Man foolishly for thee doth rush 
 
 O'er ruin's brink. 
 And in possessions' headlong dash 
 
 Doth beggar sink. 
 
 In many an aspect thou art seen, 
 
 A silken or a cotton queen, 
 
 A specious fable, which hath been 
 
 Some hope forlorn, 
 A truth in very form and mien. 
 
 But aye still-born. 
 
 One phase is a proscribed delight, 
 Wove with temptation, gem be-dight 
 Which hardly any sainted wight 
 
 Can fully scorn, 
 If every portion of our fight 
 
 Be fairly borne. 
 
 Youth buys thee while himself he sells 
 Unto the mistress of his spells ; 
 He loves thy rule, though life rebels 
 
 Against thy sway. 
 And deadly menace urgent tells 
 
 To throw 't away. 
 
30 ODE TO PLEASURE. 
 
 But who believes not thy report, 
 Nor hath farailiar of some sort 1 
 Who takes no holiday to sport 
 
 With keen desire, 
 Anticipating, doubtless, for't, 
 
 Thyself entire. 
 
 But let man mark thy virgin use 
 And slay the dictates which abuse ; 
 Then none thy ways will more traduce 
 
 Or speak thee ill ; 
 Nay ; they will mourn and even loose 
 
 Thee with a: will. 
 
 ODE TO THE SKYLAEK. 
 
 Earth^s sylvan dells and rocky fells 
 
 Seem places not for thee. 
 Thou king of all those little birds 
 
 That warble bonnilie. 
 Thou seem'st to know that none below 
 
 Can tune a lyre like thine. 
 And therefore soars in azure bowers, 
 
 Transcendently to shine. 
 A thousand throats pour forth their notes, 
 
 To make a valley ring ; 
 
ODE TO THE SKYLARK. 31 
 
 But earth and skies, whene'er you rise, 
 
 In fancy seem to sing. 
 Wild music's child, hours IVe beguiled 
 
 While listening to thy lay, 
 Which prompts within, the strong desire 
 
 For better minstrelsy. 
 Voice of the Morn, traveller whose bourne 
 
 Thou oft in fancy scans, 
 Say, shall there be no place for thee 
 
 Past earth's progressive plans 1 
 Life, meanest life, of painless strife, 
 
 Which lives, and blooms, and dies ; 
 Methinks it never can return 
 
 To utter nothingness. 
 Then more thy life of love and strife. 
 
 Of motive and of power, 
 Which things can not be trifles for 
 
 An economic hour. 
 Why bid goodbye, thou, aye to die, 
 
 I, once, but to live more. 
 When thou more full of innocence, 
 
 Though made a little lower ? 
 Be as it may, life fellow-clay, 
 
 I cannot see the why, 
 That only one of all God's works 
 
 Lives on immortally. 
 Why only one in Life's great plan 
 
 Soars o'er the wreck of time, 
 When sequent breath and sequent death 
 
 Descend with equal claim "? 
 When equal act, death doth exact, 
 
 God may the points prolong. 
 For thou seem'st meet to bear a parb 
 
 In Love's eternal song. 
 
32 ODE TO POLAND. 
 
 ODE TO POLAND. 
 
 God speed thee through thy path of blood, 
 And every man in Europe aid, 
 As once of old all Euroj)e cried — 
 
 *' Now God for Poland war ; " 
 Then, thou, O ! Poland, one and free, 
 Strong as with fate and destiny, 
 Broke with th^ hand of liberty 
 
 The ruthless scimitar. 
 Yes, records proud thou can'st repeat 
 In victory and in defeat ; 
 Thy love and faith sublimely great. 
 
 Nor weal nor woe could mar ; 
 Oft torn and crushed, thy spirit still 
 Arose as indestructible ; 
 And with a mission to fulfil, 
 
 Not as a serf or slave. 
 God aid thee now, the hour is on 
 Which claims thy resurrection done. 
 And by high heaven salvation won, 
 
 Or ruin in thy grave. 
 With anxious heart the world awaits, 
 With every hope its breast dilates. 
 And Sister Freedom palpitates, 
 
 A cheer word audibly. 
 Then haste, O ! Poland, every day 
 Counts centuries of destiny ; 
 Strike with thy whole soul's energy. 
 
 And one and free you be. 
 
OUR FIRST CROSS. 33 
 
 OUE FIEST CEOSS. 
 
 Time laid our sorrow gently past, 
 
 As if its strength to prove ; 
 But memory holds the treasure fast, 
 
 In wardship unto love. 
 In the first agonies, we thought 
 
 No other love and care 
 Than ours could tend our little flower 
 
 That bloom'd in promise fair. 
 But haply o'er the shades of death 
 
 Faith raised our hopeless eyes. 
 And flowers of earth we saw enhanced 
 
 As flowers of Paradise. 
 Oft some memento breaks the calm 
 
 Of resignation's reign. 
 And human feelings re-assert 
 
 Supremacy again. 
 But Hope while counting every chord 
 
 In Nature's purpose given. 
 Shows 'tis an ordinance of love 
 
 "Which takes the pure to heaven. 
 And even while the wayward heart 
 
 Would ask life back again, 
 Our own experience declares 
 
 The wish as false as vain. 
 And looking with aflection's eye 
 
 Adown life's varied road, 
 We say, even as we loved her last, 
 
 The happy are with God. 
 
34 ODE TO AMEKICA. 
 
 ODE TO AMERICA. 
 
 Hail, Columbia ! glory laden, 
 Freest, bravest, sorrowing maiden ; 
 Through Affliction's blighting path, 
 Over War and Ruin's wrath, 
 Over Hate, and Shame, and Vice, 
 Victress sanctified, arise ! 
 
 Rise to the end thy sufferings. 
 Woes, and unselfish offerings 
 Forecast, as living prophecies ; 
 Rise in thy new. born energies. 
 Unshackled, faithful, wisest, free. 
 In thy great one-ness ever be. 
 
 Let the high mandate rise sublimely 
 O'er all thy triumj)hs, breaking timely- 
 As the end thy patriots fought for. 
 As the end thy martyrs sought for, 
 That no man is less than brother 
 Where thy love draws men together. 
 
 In thy cradle this hath slumbered. 
 With thy jewels it was numbered ; 
 With thy strength it stronger grew ; 
 With thy power it rose to view ; 
 With thy worth 'twill always live. 
 And eternal glory give. 
 
ODE TO AMERICA. 35 
 
 Hold on thy course, nor swerve, nor falter, 
 Thy work approv'd, thou shalt not alter. 
 Heiress of Truth, grand heritage, 
 Truth's righteous battle strongly wage. 
 And heaven itself will mould the plan — 
 Redemption, freedom, love to man. 
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 Time is thy pleasure. Fate thy pain, 
 Enthusiast of the soothing train 
 Of graces which our hearts contain, 
 
 There though neglected ; 
 Fair Poetess ! sweet is thy reign 
 
 Even wrong directed. 
 
 Happy the soul who hears thy tongue, 
 Nor deems enchantments may be wrong ; 
 Who loves thy smiles, however long 
 
 Delayed her wishes. 
 Till thine is made a prophet-song 
 
 By Fortune's blisses. 
 
 Happy the soul who hears thy voice 
 Aye whispering inclinations choice. 
 While depute Fancy nimbly shows 
 
 An easy path ; 
 But pity such if all should close 
 
 In ruin's wrath. 
 
36 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 Blest is that soul when bitter blast 
 Hath laid her visions with the past, 
 And made her aim a doomed outcast — 
 
 A withered thought ; 
 Who still doth say 'tis not the last 
 
 That may bo sought. 
 
 Cheered is the soul who hears thee aye 
 Discoursing of some better day, 
 Which, full of no peculiar joy 
 
 Or thing supreme. 
 Still makes a rugged, tedious way 
 
 More easy seem. 
 
 Happy the soul in which thou art 
 A constant guest, a mystic heart 
 Connecting this decaying part 
 
 With endless life — 
 That life which sorrow doth desert, 
 
 And tears and strife. 
 
 With evil thoughts thou canst not dwell- 
 To sin thou never gav'st a smile ; 
 Yet is thy strangest, noblest spell 
 
 Evoked to bring 
 A sinner from the porch of Hell 
 
 To Heaven's King. 
 
 When life is like a troubled sea — 
 The spring-tide of adversity ; 
 When every wave 's with peril high 
 
 And ruin deep. 
 We, in thy harbour safe, defy 
 
 Their threatening sweep. 
 
ODE TO HOPE. 3Y 
 
 From Heaven's bosom come thy rays — 
 Through veiled eternity they blaze ; 
 Ah ! what were we could aught erase 
 
 Thee from our heart 1 
 And what were earth could aught repress 
 
 Thy healing art 1 
 
 Above all thanks — thanks move thee not ;- 
 Above all complimental thought ; 
 Above all slight : for though forgot 
 
 Thou com'st again j 
 Still Gratitude dictates unsought 
 
 Her urgent strain. 
 
 Thou hand that lightens half life's load 1 
 Thou lamp of Heaven upon this road ! 
 O guide us to thy pure abode, 
 
 Thy vestal seat — 
 Even unto the House of God, 
 
 Thy Author great. 
 
 ADDEESS TO THE MOON. 
 
 Penumbra of thy brighter lord, 
 
 Thy light strikes on a softening chord ; 
 
 I feel thy pure untainted beams, 
 
 As clasping lovely things through dreams ; 
 
 I love to see thy mellow light 
 
 Gilding the dusky brow of night ; 
 
 I love to feel thy chastening power, 
 
38 ADDRESS TO THE MOON. 
 
 It makes tliis eartli seem Nature's bower. 
 O, when tliis world once met its doom, 
 Did thy small ark shine through the gloom, 
 And lighten up the hecatomb 1 
 Or when the olive branch of peace 
 Gave man a forecast of release, 
 Did'st thou, a prophetess, proclaim 
 That Order ruled o'er all the same ? 
 
 I've often watch'd thee with delight, 
 Pale central glory of the night ! 
 Thou seem'st a beacon hung on high — 
 A footstep to that grander sky. 
 Where seraphim sweet praises sing 
 In honour of our Saviour King. 
 Thou smilest at the fiercest storm ; 
 And when 'tis past, thou rear'st thy form 
 Aye nobler, clearer than before. 
 Which shows us there are joys in store 
 After the rudest trial's o'er. 
 
 LINES ON A DAISY. 
 
 Thy presence tells when Spring's begun, 
 Sweet embassage from genial sun ; 
 Thou paint'st and lacest all the lawn. 
 Which seems as if with silver drawn ; 
 Thou spanglest rich the shady dell ; 
 Thou also deck'st the mountain feU ; 
 
LINES ON A DAISY. 39 
 
 Thou viest in whiteness with the snow ; 
 Thy form is circled with a glow, 
 Which matcheth with the blooming rose 
 That health on maiden cheek bestows. 
 
 Sweet emblem of our own vain race, 
 Whene'er thou show'st thy pretty face, 
 It quick recalls life's varied spring. 
 When all our hopes were on the wing, 
 And seem'd at no time like to fade 3 
 But when we see thee, lowly laid. 
 Thou telFst us stern we too must die, 
 And, peradventure, 'neath thee lie. 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 I LOVE to look around me when 
 The sun is gone, and night again 
 Bedecks with gems the barren groimd. 
 And seems all Nature to surround 
 With endless charms none may behold 
 Except when Winter, stern and cold, 
 Assumes his firm, determined hold. 
 The Crescent herself seems to glean 
 A fairer light, a purer sheen ; 
 And the deep vault of heaven defin'd 
 By fiery festoons entertwined ; 
 While the gaunt streamers flash and fly, 
 Like spectral swords in upper sky. 
 
40 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 The plains a fairest garment wear ; 
 The trees all different foliage bear ; 
 Sharp icicles instead of fruit, 
 Like crystal pillars downward shoot ; 
 The stagnant pool a mirror seems, 
 And back reflects rich varied gleams ; 
 The playful brook has ceased to croon, 
 And in her bosom sleeps the moon. 
 Now doth it seem as fairy band 
 Had garnish'd all with magic hand, 
 To cheer lone Night o'er wintry fields. 
 When Nature cold no homage yields. 
 And to surprise the Day, with care, 
 Hath built this tabernacle fair. 
 
 OUT IN THE COLD. 
 
 In the lights and the shades of the picture of life 
 
 There are scenes take a prominent place. 
 And though time may reverse old opinions, no time 
 
 Can those old recollections efface. 
 But if one reminiscence all others survives, 
 
 In defiance of changes untold. 
 All experience teaches, this must be the one — 
 
 That of being left out in the cold. 
 When the phantasies rais'd by ambition, allure 
 
 From the pursuit of L., S., and D., 
 Then afiection's transferred hold no honour can peer 
 
 With the national stamp of M.P. 
 
OUT IN THE COLD. 41 
 
 The while promises rise in prophetic array, 
 
 To your foot is the ball nicely rolled ; 
 And your heart proudly swells every challenge to meet — 
 
 Till you pay when left out in the cold. 
 When with Beauty enamour'd the wit oft is dull, 
 
 And of troubles we never stand clear ; 
 But the senses supply every motive to work. 
 
 And we awkwardly still persevere. 
 But the height and the depth of the venture is hid, 
 
 Till misfortune's last phases unfold ; 
 Then we estimate all in one hopeless account, 
 
 When unkindly left out in the cold. 
 But the winners are few in the battle of life. 
 
 When the prizes are Beauty or Fame ; 
 And the number is scant who are pleased to accept 
 
 With content every change in the game. 
 Still in this or in that bring a clean heart to work 
 
 With due courage, nor boastful, though bold ; 
 And no matter how fortune may shuffle the cards, 
 
 YouVe respected — though out in the cold. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Like to the sun that ever bums, 
 And cannot hide his light, 
 
 Pure Love, by Truth made manifest. 
 Is bare before the sight. 
 
 Both lovers know it, but each heart 
 In doubt grows faint and cold, 
 
42 LOVE. 
 
 While but one word would change reserve 
 
 To ecstasy untold. 
 One word would tell the life that lies 
 
 Within each aching breast, 
 And yet they dare not lisp its name, 
 
 They dare not make the test ; 
 They dream themselves in future bliss, 
 
 And let the present fade ; — 
 They form resolves, but when they meet 
 
 They find them all betrayed. 
 Thus when they see, why hesitate 1 
 
 Let man be manly still ; 
 But when Love enters in the breast, 
 
 In pieces falls his will. 
 The past is past — ^the present's thine. 
 
 But it too soon will glide ; 
 Then, false heart, break through Fancy's fears. 
 
 And take of love the bride. 
 
 THE EGOTIST'S HYMN. 
 
 Good morning, myself ! all things change : even I 
 In the bosom of night unto fashion doth die ; 
 But when noon-day resplendent sweeps over the earth, 
 Like a Phoenix I rise in my dandified worth. 
 
THE EGOTISTS HYMN. 43 
 
 From the aslies of self ; yea, my old skin and bone 
 Develope fresh traits of imperial tone. 
 Though the world lives fast, far ahead I have prest, 
 And when tired I can wait till it comes up abreast. 
 
 Though jilted in love I've no faint heart to cry, 
 For my ocean of self cannot possibly dry. 
 When cast from my mark with a warning profound, 
 I find strength again in the very rebound ; 
 
 But the conquest of one is no measure for me. 
 For the world comes first ere selection can be : — 
 Alexander the Great was some iaxe feet, no more, 
 And shall I be too tall although &Ye feet and four 1 
 
 Ah, I know myself formed on an eminent plan — 
 To give point unto fashion and finish to man ; 
 And though IVe been beaten in many a race, 
 They were only small trials of other men's pace. 
 
 My enemies now to their weapons may look, 
 For I'm in for an empire, a crown, or a book ; 
 And the mystical problem falls pat to my share. 
 While the circle of earth I reduce to my square. 
 
 Now, I'll finish my spoon or blow hard through my horn. 
 And on laughter at least through Fame's temple be borne. 
 If no niche may be mine unto all I'll lay claim, 
 For all niches shall hold my pneumatical name. 
 
 Ah, I rise to the subject, for self never lags : 
 I'll be quoted by wit while humanity wags — 
 An immortal text-book for the trifles of time, 
 Till the joke of dear self shall o'ertop the sublime. 
 
4:4: OUR SECOND CROSS. 
 
 OUK SECOND CEOSS. 
 
 Arise, my soul, Affection waits, 
 
 And Duty, sisters twain, 
 Who through thy night of sorrow deep 
 Did ministering vigils keep 
 
 Thy call to life again. 
 
 Thou shalt not love thy son the less — 
 
 Thy hopeful eldest born — 
 Ta'en on the threshold of this life. 
 When thou had'st braced him for the strife. 
 
 We all must meet in turn. 
 
 Because his prattling brothers come 
 
 To claim an instant part. 
 In every feeling lately stirr'd. 
 When every channel gate unbarr'd. 
 
 Relieved the swollen heart. 
 
 Rise, braver soul, a greater void 
 
 In daily life is thine ; 
 But heaven to countervail, hath wove 
 In every tissue of thy love 
 
 A peace and power divine. 
 
 Ah, 'twere a scornful world, indeed. 
 
 To measure all its span 
 By solar morn, and solar night. 
 Made glorious by the transient might 
 
 Of intellectual man. 
 
OUR SECOND CROSS. 46 
 
 Were purposeless our loves to grow, 
 
 And conscience wield the rod, 
 Divining aspirations high. 
 Mere shadows in a spectral sky. 
 Without a loving God. 
 
 Twere vain to try to reconcile 
 
 Affliction to the heart. 
 Were we now limited to know 
 Tis all a mere material show 
 
 Without an afterpart. 
 
 Then self alone would be the God, 
 
 The past a sordid theme ; 
 The present foul Corruption's prey. 
 Fed by the future day by day — 
 
 All life a painful dream. 
 
 'Tis not the soul that dies ; what then 1 
 
 The purpose here displayed 
 Inevitably falling due. 
 Exists a record for review. 
 
 For nought in vain was made. 
 
 Arise, brave soul, undim'd our faith 
 
 That human life will prove 
 The threshold of another state. 
 Where souls again will congregate, 
 
 In knowledge and in love. 
 
 Though death came early, trustful one. 
 
 Our hopeful home to mar ; 
 Though he has ta'en a joy away. 
 The heart in peace makes the essay 
 
 To follow him afar. 
 
46 OUR SECOND CROSS. 
 
 To life return, enricli'd in love, 
 
 For sorrow amplifies, 
 Into the Life of Lives, our son 
 To perfect every hope is gone, 
 All love to realise. 
 
 A CHEISTMAS HYMN. 
 
 Lead forth, ! ISTight, thy shining trains. 
 And fill the heaven's expanse ; 
 
 Meek worshippers in spirit, we 
 
 In every added glory see 
 God's great magnificence. 
 
 Christ's Night ! the eye of Faith beholds 
 
 A splendour in the scene 
 Unwonted, as when shepherds watch'd — 
 Saw heaven's familiar face enricli'd 
 
 With newer lights serene. 
 
 Christ's ISTight ! the ransom'd soul exults 
 
 In this memorial hour ; 
 Which, as of old, glad tidings brings, 
 Fresh intercourse with heavenly things. 
 
 From undiminish'd store. 
 
 Christ-like, O ! Lord, help us to be 
 
 In thy all-reaching plan ; 
 And every fresh memorial hour 
 Bring added holiness and power, 
 
 From childhood up to man. 
 
A CHRISTMAS HYMN". 47 
 
 Lead forth, O ! Night, thy shining trains, 
 
 And fill the heaven's expanse; 
 Kapt worshippers in spirit, we 
 Beyond thy every glory see 
 
 Love's great magnificence. 
 
 Christ's Night ! lead forth thy shining truths, 
 
 And fill the soul's expanse ; 
 Rapt worshippers in spirit, we, 
 From glory unto glory, see 
 
 Love's full magnificence. 
 
 NOBILITY. 
 
 Men mark a title as a thing of course. 
 Giving the compliment contemptuous 
 To those who have possession without the 
 
 Proper generous attributes. 
 Exception may appreciate the name, 
 And think the name the gospel of the man ; 
 But, happily, exception hath become 
 A trifling, lessening infirmity. 
 Aye may the universal judgment follow 
 Truth, till merit be the modest king of 
 
 Every family of man. 
 The blood of Liberty is up again, 
 And Bombalina's heir hath nothing to 
 Oppose the mighty imptilse ; nought but a 
 Huge legacy of monstrous rocks : the tools 
 Of torture's soulless trade and groaning prisons ; 
 
48 NOBILITY. 
 
 His kingdom is divided, and he hears 
 His people shout exultingly, as if 
 A hateful dynasty had passed away, 
 And a new monarch riding in their midst. 
 " He comes ! King Garibaldi comes !" they cry; 
 He comes, a king — the monarch of himself. 
 The golden plaudits strike a steely soul. 
 And barbless, powerless, virtueless, they fall. 
 He comes, nor more nor less the man of old — 
 The one affection reigning in his breast — 
 Nor room for any tempter to destroy. 
 He rides a head above imperial wiles. 
 Above the checkmates of diplomacy — 
 Beyond the baits of purple and of guilt. 
 His work is done : two kingdoms are made free- 
 One king unmade, another made again. 
 No worth extraneous a king can add — 
 Himself, and God his treasure only make ; 
 Invincible his soul, crowned long ago, 
 Flings baubles bye, and, fetterless, he waits 
 Till freedom cries, and gives him other 
 Sacred, noble work to do. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — THE COUNTRY. 49 
 
 SIGNS OF THE TIMES— THE COUISTTEY. 
 
 *TwAS said, " God made the country, and man made the 
 
 town," 
 IsTor do reason and nature the dictum disown ; 
 But 'tis pity indeed that the country should be 
 Not a paradise quite for the authorship plea. 
 
 'Tis not that the country's old beauties are gone — 
 That nature has lost any freshness and tone, 
 For she still woos the caged city bird as of yore, 
 With fair visions of peace from a plentiful store. 
 
 Still Nature displays her great bounty for all. 
 And there might be content — for her tribute is small — 
 If the squire of broad acres and lord of broad lands 
 "Were in kind the sweet product of Nature's own hands. 
 
 But a blindness, descended from times long gone by. 
 Degrades every prospect that gladdens the eye ; 
 For they compass small pleasures which last for a day. 
 While there lie in their grasp those which never decay. 
 
 To be less than a squire, or be more than a lord 
 Of the old crooked types sooth, their truth can't afford ; 
 Though a forecast of progress discovers their ways. 
 Will much lessen their pleasure in these latter days. 
 
 Do my ancient powers do what seems meet with your time ] 
 To multiply deer, grouse, and game is no crime ; 
 And they're reckoned more worthy your culture and skill 
 Than those great human herds that grow up as they will. 
 
 D 
 
60 SIGNS OF THE TIMES — THE COUNTRY. 
 
 But there's joy here untasted, all running to waste — 
 Well directed, would furnish a god-like repast : 
 Here's renown for ambition, more noble by far 
 Than garner'd in blood through the triumph of war. 
 
 "We want light in the country from hovel to hall. 
 And the great have a chance ere it pass to the small ; 
 For old bonds want renewing betwixt Adam's kin, 
 And the old or the new lord must quickly begin. 
 
 Why, there Justice herself seems too old for the work, 
 And though right to degrees is too much in the dark ; 
 Her golden mean mighty, quite out of repair. 
 Seems unable to cast up accounts on the square. 
 
 She should sit in the gates as a friend to the poor. 
 And imprison a Justice as fast as a boor. 
 And have feelings for starving John Brown quite as keen 
 As for Squire Noodlehead, in such possible scene. 
 
 Her humanity should not be frightened and gone 
 When a man eats two turnips he called not his own ; 
 She should hold up the wisdom to odium and scorn 
 Which would find a jail bird in a gleaner of corn. 
 
 We want light in the country ; and sui'ely it comes 
 To make brighter and sweeter our millions of homes ; 
 Let the blind and the slothful beware its approach, 
 That it come not upon them in haste overmuch. 
 
 There is grace yet for all if the truth in them lay. 
 But our thoughts grow so fast, they mature in a day ; 
 And who would be the master to-morrow bespeaks, 
 Must con over his lesson before the day breaks. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — SOCIALISM. 51 
 
 SIGNS OF THE TIMES— SOCIALISM. 
 
 Come, ye dead-level dealers in dead-level dreams, 
 To the old knotty problem, your highest of themes. 
 Bring the light of the present, the points of the past, 
 In one more hopeful vision, the truth to upcast. 
 
 Come, philosophers, ye of the rigid class school. 
 Who with Plato improved would the world misrule — 
 From Egypt unearth, bring from Sparta fresh lore, 
 All the sides of the natural man to restore. 
 
 Come, ye Sadducees, blatant o^er less than the truth, 
 With your hearts free from guile as credulity's growth. 
 Bring your free thought and logic, from prejudice free, 
 To balance accounts of a contra degree. 
 
 Come, ye teachers of truth, and at times somewhat more, 
 Send the tractable part of your obstinate corps. 
 That inside of the temple the truth may run free, 
 ISTor come, as of yore, from some lost Galilee. 
 
 Come, Crime, and come. Want, in your nakedness show, 
 For your forces are great, and still stronger they grow, 
 Let your evidence point where your causes outcrop. 
 That the axe find the root — not still tinker atop. 
 
 Come, all who have stakes in the country, or none. 
 Who have taken a thought on the work to be done. 
 Let your counsels flow hither to help out some plan 
 To grant a just measure to every just man. 
 
52 SIGNS OF THE TIMES — SOCIALISM. 
 
 First in order, my dead-level dreamers, I find 
 Contradiction still loose yet among all mankind ; 
 Each is quite an exception where interest calls, 
 And your self-sacrifice before self-worship falls. 
 
 But the aim of your system by none is denied 
 Who take pleasure in progress and add to its tide ; 
 Though mistaken in means, ye have struck the key-note 
 Through which common redemption is ever begot. 
 
 For 'tis not for one part, be they Levites or kings, 
 
 That her great common treasures old Mother Earth brings ; 
 
 Nay, even where they centre^ by will or mere luck, 
 
 'Tis humanity asks that those lords pay them back. 
 
 Who talks of the normal condition of man, 
 As of kingship and rulers by right divine plan. 
 Should come with the proofs that this right divine work. 
 By the rule of exception, leaves none in the dark. 
 
 Let us see that the bungles and muddles they made 
 Is precisely the life that the world aye should lead — 
 That peace and goodwill come through right divine rule. 
 And the sweet alternation of wise man and fool. 
 
 Tell us, oft when the world lay prone at their feet, 
 To be moulded in harmony's measure complete. 
 Why the chances fell dead through divine work serene. 
 And the nobles grew fat, while the people grew lean ? 
 
 No normal condition, but quite the reverse. 
 An attempt to impose both the better and worse ; 
 A pre-arranged sham, and a one blessing show, 
 Where the few may ordain how the blessing shall go. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — SOCIALISM. 53 
 
 There are two kinds of madness to politics run, 
 Though their motives are contra, their actions are one, 
 Which I hope these fair isles will forever forego, 
 As extremes of a sort which brings ruin and woe. 
 
 First the bold unbeliever, whose creed is — revile. 
 And who knows not to let well alone for the while, 
 But would bring all humanity's idols to grief. 
 And demolish the truth, as defaulter-in-chief. 
 
 Let us put out the light, and begin in the dark, 
 Is his sure way to lead to perfection of work ; 
 For the world appears to have always gone wrong. 
 And all faith, hope, and charity not worth a song. 
 
 Void of faith, yet no oracle ever before, 
 Told the free — I am truth by more one-sided lore ; 
 He can measure out judgment in nicest degree. 
 Till the orthodox shake, and the heathen go free. 
 
 By all means let him live, as one phase of the day. 
 And as useful to hint both the right and wrong way ; 
 But seek not in him representative voice. 
 For no leader is he, though he offers the choice. 
 
 There's his fellow in zeal of an opposite grade, 
 Who belongs to the school v/here apostles are made ; 
 Be he Romish or Greek, or High Anglican bloom, 
 He takes titles to teach which none else can assume. 
 
 Through his system alone is the whole truth convey'd, 
 And where any may differ, his soul is dismayed ; 
 And where one, two, or three, as a church, gather in, 
 'Tis no church, as of old, but a license of sin. 
 
54 SIGNS OF THE TIMES — SOCIALISM. 
 
 Well, those great corporations have played out their plan 
 With all chances to raise and to educate man ; 
 And well up to the point where self-interest stops, 
 Have the masses been raised in obedient crops. 
 
 But a high priest arose, some three centuries gone, 
 And Mordecai like at gate, altar, and throne. 
 Hath daily demanded, with multiplied might. 
 Where the monoplist gathered the sanction of right. 
 
 As more strong grew the Press, so more weak grew the plea 
 
 Of exclusion, in every distorted degree ; 
 
 Now loudly it tells — and with all it can cope — 
 
 Those political failures are hoary atop. 
 
 No ! no leader is he, all too carnal his game. 
 Long tried and found wanting in truth's single aim ; 
 Yet the march of enlightenment opens a door 
 To a destiny nobler, more free, than before. 
 
 Come, read me a riddle, insolved yet by time ; 
 
 Come, read me the riddle of want and of crime ; 
 
 How, where wealth grows apace, age should pauper become, 
 
 And where Government sits, youth takes prison as home. 
 
 In ancient times hanging was good for a thief. 
 And all punishment barbarous, lengthened or brief; 
 Nay, the man in the moon might have truly declared 
 That the thief, more than judge, more humanity shared. 
 
 Left to fate, often want saw in crime a last friend, 
 And co-partners they journeyed to one common end ; 
 While the snug ruling class made the kinship secure, 
 By all efforts for self, and none left for the poor. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — SOCIALISM. 55 
 
 But light goeth down, even down in the earth, 
 To show US the cause of this twin-monster birth ; 
 And not pains nor exclusion will conquer and win, 
 But more love, and less hate, for who suffer and sin. 
 
 Now, my dead-level dreamer, what chances for thee 
 When the people shall reach their majority free? 
 "When the hands which produce shall deliver the power, 
 And the act and the will shall be severed no more 1 
 
 No sight nobler, I ween, will the world ever see, 
 Than a people who rule when enlightened and free ; 
 And whatever the forms which their will travels through. 
 We shall read with new light — Give ye honour where due. 
 
 In a stable, thou knowest, a king may be born. 
 And Truth's jewels be placed in a hand hard as horn ; — 
 Such selections deride all thy dead-level dreams. 
 With the feudal age dotage of rigid class schemes. 
 
 By the signs of the times he who runneth may read 
 That their work shall be done — now the people take heed ; 
 Here and there have they noted, by verities sure. 
 That the workman alone shall the harvest secure. 
 
 On the dim border lands of great changes stand we, 
 While vast shadows forecast what the changes may be. 
 Come, my dead-level friend, thou hast claims in the work. 
 And the truths thou hast nui'sed will leave notable mark. 
 
60 SIGNS OF THE TIMES — REGENERATION. 
 
 SIGNS OF THE TIMES—REGEISrERATION. 
 
 Was there ever a time when no thing did go wrong — 
 When old Earth in contentment sped gladly along — 
 When she rose in the morn still the pastime of change, 
 But with heart to enjoy it and with hope to arrange 1 
 
 Every nation can point to some wonderful time 
 When her sons were all heroes in action sublime ; 
 But the present, somehow, all romances ignores 
 In the struggle for life with the wolf at our doors. 
 
 Now and then we have done a remarkable deed — 
 
 We have oft changed our kings and have twice changed our 
 
 creed ; 
 And our kingship and creed are both measured right well, 
 But for change or improvement — the- future will tell. 
 
 Now, where doctors may dijffer mere men may agree, 
 
 And though statesmen be wise, still some things they don't 
 
 see; 
 And when leaders elect social signs don't discern. 
 Both the hawk and the quack take their chance for a turn. 
 
 Now the hawk is abroad with keen eye for his prey — 
 If he prayed, he might ask royal geese in his way ; — 
 To be candid, he reads what the signs all portend. 
 Though he's destined to swoop — in the dirt at the end. 
 
 We could do without bishoj)S till Time's work is done. 
 And our high priests of nothing might likewise be gone ; 
 But a credulous race, as we are, we must have 
 A great something to worship, even though nothing it prove. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — REGENERATION. 57 
 
 Now, the quack is abroad, with sharp eye for his pay, 
 "With new nostrums to heal social sores in a clay ; 
 All come useful to him from old Fungus, my lord, 
 To the wit and the will of a Trades' Council Board. 
 
 In some ways greatly different our kestrels and hawks. 
 From the thoughts and the ways of plain, innocent folks ; 
 For rejecting salvation, salvation they seek. 
 And in social redemption a saviour bespeak. 
 
 Well, even let them hawk all things useful and true — 
 When the tide fully flows they will sink from the viev/ ; 
 All mere Lilliput Canutes, less wise they than him 
 Who retired ere Old Ocean was filled to the brim. 
 
 Now the lords of the past are to rule us once more. 
 Though decently dead generations before. 
 And my Lords Cotton and Coal, and such modern fools. 
 Sooth to save self, must call up those middle-age ghouls. 
 
 Given twelve noble ghosts and twelve mere working men, 
 With my quack in the midst to encompass their ken, 
 And the wants of the age are deduced one by one — 
 Reckoned up sores and cures — and on paper 'tis done. 
 
 Ah, ye know not your strength, men of iron and wood — 
 Ye, the salt of the land, are not self-understood ; 
 But hawkdom, and quackdom, and ghouldom, well know 
 Whence the honey and milk of the future will flow. 
 
 Hence, be watchful of foes and be wary of friends : 
 In your own hands remain the enfranchising ends j 
 Great works are the outcome of small truths indeed, 
 And the works are your own if the truths ye but heed. 
 
58 SIGNS OF THE TIMES — TRADES* UNIONS. 
 
 SIGNS OF THE TIMES— TRADES' UNIONS. 
 THE EIYE GAS STOKERS. 
 
 More light ! more light ! the cry hath been since earth began 
 
 her race, 
 Since o'er the void of darkness wide she leapt to its embrace ; 
 More light ! more light ! we cry amain, the greater be our 
 
 store. 
 We want more light to guide aright the higher we may soar. 
 
 To ^x the quantum men may have, let nations stand the test, 
 Their common law to illustrate mayhap will be the best ; 
 And Justice, high enthroned, is said to know not men's 
 
 estates 
 Else than the light, the inner light, alone communicates. 
 
 The liar is a liar still, though Rex his title be — 
 The tyrant is a tyrant still though liberty his plea : 
 Before the equal eye of Truth all men are equal found ; 
 Within the hall of Justice pure all stand on common ground. 
 
 Blind justice hears or man or prince whom slander would 
 
 defile — 
 Gives absolution, and decrees his heart is free from guile ; 
 In every village of the land she sitteth at the gate. 
 And by the light of Britain's law holds high and mighty 
 
 state. 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES — TRADES* UNIONS. 59 
 
 Well, it hath happ'd those wondrous times the ^'swinish 
 
 multitude " 
 Hath learned more economics than their legal light makes 
 
 good; 
 And in Trades' Unions, banded firm, wide spreading o'er the 
 
 land, 
 Their little outside parliaments a mighty power command. 
 
 Before the equal eye of Truth all men are equal found, 
 And every outside parliament decrees the doctrine sound ; 
 When A and B a bargain make, all simpletons agree 
 That equal benefits involve an equal penalty. 
 
 Not so, good friends : it may be so in Eighteen eighty-four ; 
 Meanwhile here is a case to point makes ye a little lower ; 
 An equal contract may be broke on one side, it is true. 
 And all your recompence at law is just the wages due. 
 
 Dare ye an equal contract tear — their recompence divine — 
 The penalty is swiftly due in quite another coin ; 
 The ratio of your recompence is just a pound a- week. 
 Theirs — just a pound of British flesh when ye the contract 
 break. 
 
 " More light — more light," our Solons say ; " the nation will 
 
 be dark ; 
 The sacred rights of capital will vanish like a spark. 
 Unless we deal a telling blow, through these misguided five. 
 To unions and conspiracies which in these kingdoms thrive." 
 
 The deed was done in open day — the gage was sternly flung, 
 And honest men, as jail birds, go to right a fancied wrong ; 
 To right no fancied wrong, arise — do battle as ye may. 
 And light, pure light, to guide aright, be yours in the assay. 
 
60 ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 ODE ON THE BIETHDAY OF SHAKESPEAEE. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Apostrophe to the Age — its characteristics — its beginning 
 and form — Shakespeare's place in it and all ages — His work 
 and our privileges. 
 
 Thine, Age of Fulness, is the privilege, 
 Nor less the privilege than pride and duty, 
 To edit in thy turn Life's wondrous page — 
 Ev'n add another to its lines of beauty ; 
 But, heir of frailty, as I may salute thee. 
 When high ancestral tendencies impel. 
 Pause o'er the warning records of thy theme. 
 And mark where truth crops out the chronicle. 
 And why the monarch-sires alternate rose and fell. 
 
 Light rushes on thee, as from countless suns. 
 And wonders shoot up in thy path, as flowers 
 When the cold Earth in her proud circle runs 
 Into Spring's vernal province, and embowers 
 Deep in unnurtur'd beauties : yea, thy powers 
 In happiest aspect peer Hope's noblest thought, 
 And her evangelistic soul expands. 
 When, as Truth's husbandman, from Wisdom's height 
 Her golden seed you sow, man's heart to recreate. 
 
 Thought waits on all, from marvelling Infancy, 
 And freely issues forth her heaped up treasure — 
 Whether it be 'neath academic sky. 
 Or on earth's highway, equal is the measure : 
 The multitude heart especially her pleasure ; 
 
ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF SHAKESPEARE. 61 
 
 For in its sweep her attributes dilate 
 Tlirougli million channels, and in endless forms, 
 And Truth, set free, superior stands elate, 
 And bids for empire wide, and victory complete. 
 
 The heart would linger o'er thy virgin traits. 
 And in the partial pleasure deeply revel, 
 But contra-attributes force the heart's gates, 
 And sickening images of blood and evil 
 Tell of dread paths, and times of pain and travail ; 
 And in the light Sin's offspring loftier grow 
 Distinguished in the course of Destiny, 
 And scenes the world would gladly never know 
 Pass over its head as dark hurricanes of woe. 
 
 Ev'n now, while catching at eternal fruit, 
 And peering through the substance for the spirit. 
 While, Phseton-like, to glory thou dost shoot. 
 Sweeping through heaven's blue gateways in thy chariot, 
 Making the ancient aim of daily merit ; 
 While with electric thongs thou tiest up space, 
 And Earth's four corners in thy hands retain'st ; 
 While Knowledge by her giving doth increase. 
 And slave-bound souls rejoice in recognised release. 
 
 Still Force, detested Force, stalks o'er the earth, 
 Unholy thoughts the nations' wills governing ; 
 And Lust and Carnage tow'r as things of worth. 
 And by their arts the mind of man descerning 
 Sees the sharp path to instant glory turning. 
 Still studied Devilry doth chain and thrall. 
 And millions rob of their fair heritage ; 
 For spurious rights blood merchants loudly call, 
 Ev'n to the rescue God to sanctify the fall. 
 
62 ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OP SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Sum of all Ages, pass thy hand along 
 The chequer'd record of thine own expansion, 
 Down through the rolling centuries of Song, 
 Till a new face appears in Life's old mansion — 
 Long time pre-heralded by light advancing : 
 Yea, till thyself, commissioned from on high, 
 Leap'd in the lists Truth's battle to resume. 
 And, thunder-tongued, man's heart did doubly try. 
 And op'd a door again to banished Liberty. 
 
 Earth cried for help, and the great Sea of Life 
 Surged to and fro, its ancient barriers breaking ; 
 Thy natal morn, men dreamt a dream of strife, 
 And unto consciousness was reawaking. 
 In the dread grasp of actual terror shaking. 
 The real and the prophetic bade him rise 
 And shake the manacles from off his soul, 
 And by high heaven fulfil his destinies. 
 In his regenerate strength and new-born energies. 
 
 Help came through Suffering, as thy records tell, 
 And classic martyrs, ripe for endless glory. 
 Bade the prophetic speed in glad farewell. 
 And seem'd to seal the issue of thy story. 
 Pointing to conquests lying far before thee. 
 They were thy types who cheerfully did die. 
 At Truth's command, for millions yet unborn ; 
 For, as of yore. Truth did in anguish cry 
 For Bighteousness to save heaven's waning light and joy. 
 
 Peace came in part, and 'neath her gentle sway 
 Man's soul grew purer and increased in stature ; 
 Love sowed her seed along earth's common way. 
 And flowers blush'd forth her counterpart in feature 
 In image sweet and delicate portraiture ; 
 
ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF SHAKESPEARE. 63 
 
 While Wisdom's august hand arranged the whole, 
 And Poesy round thy forehead twined a wreath 
 Of fadeless worth, Decay shall never soil, 
 And man devoutly prize while endless ages roll. 
 
 Thy history unfolds in streams of light, 
 Blending in complex mazes interblending ; 
 Unshackl'd now, Man journeys in his might 
 Through thy dominions far and wide extending — 
 New features to thy progress ever lending ; 
 And forms Conception never limned before. 
 And scenes which beggar the enchanter's tale. 
 And truths which worthless lay at every door. 
 Rise to an honoured place, to value evermore. 
 
 Chief in thy orient course moves Shakespeare's sun ; 
 Among thy morning stars apart he shineth 
 With independent splendour : yea, as one 
 Who shows thy orbit his full strength confineth ; 
 For by his light new visions man divineth. 
 And beauties hitherto hid from our eyes 
 Are bared by varied sovereign touch, while more 
 Wait for our wonderment, when we shall rise 
 Endow'd with power to scan his path along the skies. 
 
 The hollow symbols of a slighted Art 
 Grow pregnant with Life's stern realties ; 
 The mimic Stage extends in act and part 
 To grasp the world's whole powers and qualities, 
 In one grand scene all aspects to comprise ; 
 While Intellect the work: doth multiply 
 By a creative power which Genius wields ; 
 And the mere form of things is folded bye. 
 And inner Schools of Life their secret thoughts supply. 
 
64 ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 There Nature is outpictured, and she joins 
 Herself a handmaid to superior graces ; 
 Humanity in endless shades refines, 
 Each one distinct, one of a million faces ; 
 Light penetrates the heart's remotest places. 
 And every dweller, whencesoe'er he spring, 
 From highest source or shameless pedigree. 
 Yields up his wit beyond all reckoning. 
 And sings the Song of Life as truths can only sing. 
 
 A Player he ! upon the chords of Life, 
 "With mastery their place and purpose shaping : 
 From undertones where Thought and Instinct strive. 
 To utmost notes where Thought, clay-bands escaping, 
 Kings out new truths — old mysteries undraping ; 
 And melodies responsive come afar 
 Like revelations from some central string. 
 Proclaiming fellowship v/ith themes still higher, 
 Which mute and hidden lay within the human lyre. 
 
 First in the van of Ages travels he ; 
 Flower of Man ! God-like, ever scattering 
 Pearls of Instruction plenteously — 
 Truths — fairer, fresher by his uttering ; 
 No prophet false of self aye muttering. 
 Searching for exaltation as his fee. 
 But humbly his high lessons are declared ; 
 Yea, in his grand mature simplicity 
 His works are shade w'd, while the Man towers great and free. 
 
 With joy we meet on this his natal morn. 
 His the sweet password to our union solely ; 
 Him, the acknowledged High Priest, truly born 
 To kill the seeds of vice, and shame, and folly. 
 And mould our hearts in heaven's fashion holy ; 
 
ODE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF SHAKESPEARE. 65) 
 
 To con his lessons, and witli Hope compare 
 The grasp which Truth o'er mind and man maintains ; 
 And humbly and devoutly with just care 
 Try to advance one step Truth's empire rich and fair. 
 
 Hail, fruitful Time! the world shall bless this day, 
 While mankind love to mingle thoughts together; 
 For loftiest soul e'er cased in form of clay. 
 Who could subscribe himself man's erring brother. 
 Drew from thy breasts a power which shall not wither; 
 Our tribute wish, our prayer and our regard, 
 Is that thy course and end may realise, 
 In every point which heaven doth reward. 
 The truths and teachings free of thine own peerless Bard ! 
 
66 WALLACE. 
 
 WALLACE. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 PEOEM. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Mourn ye, mourn ye, Scotland's daughters, 
 
 For slaves will woo ye now ; 
 Mourn ye, remnants of the slaughters ; 
 Cast your broadswords in the waters ; 
 
 Your only hope is low. 
 
 Mourn, feeble age, with darkened eye, 
 Quench'd thy last light, gone thy last joy ; 
 
 In travail and in gloom. 
 Without one hope, or bless, or stay, 
 Go thy cold solitary way. 
 
 Into the barren tomb. 
 
 Break, swollen hearts, in your distress, 
 Your deep, maternal wretchedness ; 
 From fonts of love to streams of woe, 
 Turn your unmatched devotion now ; 
 Your dreams of peace are ever gone. 
 With homeless sire, and lifeless son. 
 
 Bow down, ye everlasting hills, 
 
 Old home of liberty ! 
 No more within your shadow dwells 
 
 The fearless, or the free ; 
 
WALLACE. 67 
 
 No more athwart your heathery sides 
 Shall sweep high patriotic tides, 
 
 To freedom or the grave ; 
 No more your heaven-arch'd halls shall hold 
 Those tameless spirits, who of old 
 
 A shatter'd land did save. 
 Broken the limbs ye knit so well. 
 The monarch mind for ever still ; 
 
 Thy Wallace is no more ; 
 While infamy hath set her brand 
 Upon the forehead of the land, 
 And Scotland's noblest names have shared 
 The sordid bribe, the foul reward, 
 
 Which traitors revel o'er ; 
 That power oft broken at her feet, 
 Hurl'd back in many a dire defeat. 
 
 Hath bought the mastery ; 
 And loose her store of vengeance flies, 
 While bartered, bleeding Scotland lies, 
 
 The sport of tyranny. 
 
 TREACHERY. 
 
 There is a race of men accurs'd 
 In every clime, in every land, 
 
 Weeds in the human garden, nurs*d 
 As by the devil's hand. 
 
 Around the pure they softly twine. 
 
 With many sickening arts combine, 
 Fair life with ruin foul. 
 
 No flower too sacred for their touch ; 
 
68 WALLACE, 
 
 None placed too high but they can reach, 
 
 To vitiate and spoil. 
 Unceasingly their toils they ply 
 In tangled webs of devilry, 
 Till nature's fairest offerings fade, 
 Corrupted, sullied, and decayed ; 
 E-ipe they in selfishness and sin, 
 As fair without, as foul within ; 
 Men they profound in friendship's lore, 
 Whose choice with honours runneth o'er ; 
 Prompt to discern the turning tide. 
 And claim their own the winning side. 
 When the hearts of patriots sink. 
 Battling still on ruin's brink ; 
 When their hopes are waning fast. 
 By despair and fate o'ercast ; 
 When a stricken nation reels, 
 And her blows at random deals ; 
 Then the guiltiest game is play'd. 
 Cold masterpiece of soulless trade ; 
 Then the failing hearts they win. 
 And stealthily they welcome in 
 
 Death, vengeance, woe, and shame. 
 Such, false Menteith, thy work and art, 
 Forsworn, rejected — hence, depart 
 
 To scorn and vilest fame. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Idolateks, who love the truth. 
 And what the truth produces. 
 
 Whether the flower be pagan growth, 
 Or crops out heavenly places. 
 
WALLACE. 69 
 
 Come, with the sweets of million-man, 
 Come, with the traits of your great one. 
 
 To register his uses ; 
 Together reverently divine. 
 The glories of that august line 
 
 Of crownless kings, or crowned, 
 Whose death let loose their life to all — 
 Their pent-up worth did disenthrall, 
 
 The more it might abound. 
 Come with the noble and the great, 
 My brave one's merits to debate — 
 
 His rights to sanctify ; 
 Bring every worthy, honoured name 
 To verify the place we claim 
 
 In your idolatry. 
 'Tis Scotland's tale, is Wallace' life ; 
 Her victories, defeats, and strife 
 
 Concentre round his name ; 
 For when her game for life was play'd, 
 And England lifted high her blade. 
 
 The victor's debt to claim. 
 The Wallace sword leapt from its sheath, 
 Unmov'd he in the face of death. 
 
 And cross'd it ere it fell ; 
 And gathering strength with every blow, 
 He press'd back his insulting foe, 
 Till every foot of Scotland's ground 
 It's Southern mastery disowned — 
 
 Free and unconquer'd still ; 
 Nor did he stay for border line. 
 But backward o'er the Tweed and Tyne 
 
 His beaten foe he hurl'd ; 
 Even in Durham's ancient see 
 Men saw his flag of victory 
 
70 WALLACE. 
 
 Defiantly imfurl'd ; 
 Nor yet for menace or distress, 
 In cruelty or wantonness ; 
 But a bold step, most wisely ta'en, 
 To fill his country^s folds again ; 
 Her vacant garners full to store. 
 And famine keep from Scotland's door. 
 
 Well earned a saviour's name, indeed- 
 A guardian's was the homely meed. 
 Nor to one part alone confined 
 The action of his august mind : 
 Though formed to bias and control 
 War, with his demon-frenzied soul — 
 Mould and direct the multitude 
 Through passion's ever-varying mood ; 
 Whether on battle-eve to steel 
 The patriot heart for woe or weal — 
 Whether, when victory was won, 
 To temper retribution's tone, — 
 Whether, when ruin had o'ercast, 
 A better future to forecast : 
 His was the loftier part again 
 To teach peace unto warlike men — 
 To bid the dead again arise 
 In Scotland's buried enterprise, 
 And let the resurrection be 
 The bridal of the earth and sea. 
 
 With all a patriot's high desii'es, 
 Industry's civilising fires 
 He lighted, till the coldest hearth 
 Grew beautiful in joy and mirth. 
 The while pomp, pride, and hate allied 
 
WALLACE. 71 
 
 To turn his truthful steps aside : — 
 
 Fame offered every regal bait, 
 
 Temptations ever round did wait — 
 
 Friends became foes ev'n in their love, 
 
 Foes became friends to doubly prove ; 
 
 But power and wealth, and pomp and fame, 
 
 Else than his country too could claim, 
 
 He thrust aside, and grandly stood 
 
 A master in his rectitude. 
 
 Kings from the man might lessons learn. 
 
 Humanity fresh honours earn — 
 
 Instruction light anew acquire 
 
 At patriotism's holy fire. 
 
 Youth o'er his life, which fictions shame. 
 
 Feels manhood coursing through his frame — 
 
 Reflective manhood proudly turns 
 
 With brightening eye and heart that burns. 
 
 And all his sympathies decree 
 
 A pattern man and friend was he. 
 
 Nor yet historic lay be mine — 
 
 Not in the compass of this line. 
 
 The Wallace life I aim to trace 
 
 In its devoted nobleness. 
 
 No lyric, though with epic sweep, 
 
 To mark each feature sharp and deep ; 
 
 No mere description can collect 
 
 A grander, fairer retrospect, 
 
 Scarce other beauty can engage 
 
 Than lingers sweet round history's page ; 
 
 His high deserts command as meet 
 
 The tragic Muse in power complete. 
 
 Where thought and action fitly twine 
 
 With honour firmly to combine. 
 
72 WALLACE. 
 
 Idolaters by token here, 
 Mine honoured one with me revere ; 
 Love asks for him your greenest bays, 
 And Honour vindicates the choice — 
 Truth forms for him her highest claim 
 To be an elder son of Fame. 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 Harp of my sires ! .fain would I sweep 
 
 Thy immortality along — 
 Fain would I ope thy treasures deep 
 
 Of melody and song ; 
 The theme is thine alone to wake — 
 
 Kound thy most sacred chords 'tis twined ; 
 Nor canst thou other memories wake 
 
 More green in Scotland's mind. 
 
 But inarticulate yet this theme 
 
 In every painful, glorious phase ; 
 In disunited tissues stream 
 
 Those tales of precious days. 
 One hand, alone, had tied them all 
 
 By one poetic spell inspired. 
 But Death's untimely blow did fall 
 
 When full of action fired. 
 
 "With Burns thy master lay was lost. 
 Though music from thy chiefest string, 
 
 Unpeered in kind, at random cross'd, 
 Shall everlasting ring. 
 
WALLACE. 73 
 
 Be mine, meanwhile, the loving task 
 To touch one phase of this great theme, 
 
 And to forecast thy aid I ask. 
 Through figure, type, or dream. 
 
 ^Tis thine to shut or to unseal. 
 
 To give the certain bias true — 
 Thy newer beauties to reveal, 
 
 Thy older to renew. 
 An early, ardent wish, mature, 
 
 Now courts the hopeful venture sweet, 
 And haply by thy power secure 
 
 The present aim complete. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 A spy in heaven appears the evening star — 
 
 A scout from Night to watch Day's dazzling car 
 
 Descending o'er the confines of our sight. 
 
 Slow, laden with the author of all light. 
 
 Now on the hills of Caledon he burns, 
 
 Like fearful light round sacrificial horns — 
 
 An image great recalling Israel's doom. 
 
 When temple, city, and a nation's home. 
 
 Full garner'd with the sum of miseries, 
 
 In fire did fall one awful sacrifice. 
 
 Now as a bridge, with parapet of fire, 
 
 The passive clouds appear, at his desire. 
 
 While underneath yon ponderous mass upheaves 
 
 Like burning ice-hill in the northern waves. 
 
 The monarch's head beneath earth's zone's now hid. 
 
 But middle space his glories yet bespread ; 
 
74 WALLACE. 
 
 The clouds, subservient to creative pow'r, 
 Dilate with splendours Fancy might die o'er ; 
 Above, around, in grand disorder built — 
 Calm as a babe hushed by a mother's lilt — 
 In stately form, far-reaching and sublime, 
 A perfect whole — still Nature in her prime. 
 As master hand which showeth Pleasure's face, 
 And hides in golden tints what might disgrace. 
 The sun, in his inimitable dyes. 
 Changes and gilds what else would blot his skies. 
 
 Now as the soft grey sister of the night 
 Spreads her smooth wings to take her rapid flight, 
 A throbbing halo marks 'decaying power. 
 Like after-traces of a passion's hour. 
 The evening star now mounts in upper skies — 
 A cautious light, or mellow in disguise — 
 And from her height, to virgin Night's a sign 
 That hot-eyed Day hath left her throne again. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 When Spring, ecstatic, o'er the wasted earth 
 
 Proclaims the ord'nance of another birth — 
 
 Unties the bands of Nature, and again 
 
 Restores the banished beauties of the plain. 
 
 So queenly Night, o'er heaven's dominions wide — 
 
 Which garish Day made featureless and void — 
 
 Erects again her potentates and pow'rs, 
 
 E-estores the glories of her silent hours. 
 
 From every part of her far-circling dome 
 
 Forms known to seer and peasant sparkling come 
 
 In phalanx deep, in bristling front or line — 
 
 In shapes fantastic Fancy's eyes define ; 
 
 The while soft Night, through the deep vale alone, 
 
WALLACE. 75 
 
 Doth order, dictate from her ebon throne, 
 
 And round their queen they gather, mute and still, 
 
 Like mystic adjuncts in a mystic spell. 
 
 In deep devotion homage now to pay 
 
 To her who rules, and ruled before usurping Day. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 While thus her court enormous holds the Night, 
 
 Swathed in her pendant's beautifying light, 
 
 Let mortals now peruse the august scene, 
 
 Stand mute before the infinite serene. 
 
 In height and depth of their own littleness, 
 
 Feel what's to learn, their knowledge none the less. 
 
 For each and all there is a lesson here, 
 
 For dullest mind, and soul which knows no peer ; 
 
 Here Wonder may her utmost senses thrill. 
 
 Thought stride from star to star in wonder still j 
 
 The ampler vision brings the ampler joy. 
 
 And paths of light untrod invite the high employ. 
 
 Ambition, hither in thy greatest form ! 
 Lord of the tempest, master of the storm ! 
 In all the garnitm^e of pomp and pride, 
 Thy aims complete, no high desire denied ; 
 With vassal peoples humbled round thy throne, 
 One system, and one monarch — thee alone. 
 Ah ! 'tis indeed a passion-stirring scene, 
 Flush'd in thy might, to see thy flaming eyne, 
 Exultant o'er earth's forehead grandly sweep. 
 The while thy thoughts, in haughty musings deep, 
 Spurn with disdain Contentment's local crown. 
 When for a blow they might name all their own. 
 Here at the bar of Nature, lofty night, 
 
76 WALLACE. 
 
 Humanity arrests thee in thy might, 
 
 By truth, to tax thy stern authority — 
 
 Though might is right with conquerors like thee. 
 
 Stand, pride incarnate, say what place is thine 
 
 In this great temple, where ordained to shine 1 
 
 In the eternal order here display'd, 
 
 Where is thy kingdom by one surety laid ? 
 
 Under what verity dost thou appear 
 
 And take thy honours as immortal here 1 
 
 It is eternity confronts thee now. 
 
 And sears the laurels on thy hardened brow ; 
 
 It is the future with its silent scorn 
 
 Which lays thy glory in the dust 'twas born 3 
 
 It is the present, full of truth's employ, 
 
 Which mocks to-day thou trembles t to enjoy ; 
 
 It is a solemn oracle which speaks 
 
 Of wrath to sin, joy to the heart that breaks ; 
 
 Of stable kingdoms and a certain crown. 
 
 When thou art eyeless, senseless, dead and gone. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Night, gentle succourer, renews again 
 The day-worn earth, prone with its toil and pain ; 
 Its thews unstrung with tender sleep repairs. 
 And respite grants from its great load of cares ; 
 Its myriad tongues grow faint, and mute, and still, 
 And Night doth reign with undisputed will. 
 The roaring city, by her power imprest. 
 Like weary giant, softly sinks to rest ; 
 The drowsy hamlet and the clattering town 
 Alike her calm, benignant sway doth own ; 
 The watchful castle, and the fortress grim. 
 As lofty shades nod in the darkness dim ; 
 
WALLACE. 77 
 
 The solemn mountain, and the dreary plain, 
 Promote her silent, universal reign ; 
 From sea to sea her regal sway complete, 
 While onward moves the heavenly pageant great. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 Stay, sovereign Night ! protract thy kindly reign ; 
 
 With added sweets here minister again ; 
 
 Here cast in hope thy recreating power, 
 
 And seal thy arts to cancel and restore ; 
 
 Thy deepest spell o'er suffering Scotland throw. 
 
 To blunt her pain and mitigate her woe. 
 
 In ways remote convey thy tempered care. 
 
 For mute she lies, in sorrow and despair — 
 
 In helpless consciousness abased, opprest. 
 
 Her last brave hope wrung from her gallant breast. 
 
 Day, ruthless, summoned olden feelings dear. 
 
 Each aspiration which was wont to cheer ; 
 
 Each high emotion, parent of renown, 
 
 Old days of freedom, ever past and gone ; 
 
 Historic forms in stately order great. 
 
 Historic joys to Scotland consecrate — 
 
 Historic deeds passed on from sire to son. 
 
 Historic hopes of greater to be done. 
 
 And Retrospection's mocking finger keen 
 
 Drew poignant contrast to the closing scene — 
 
 A scene of death, intensified by hate. 
 
 Where torture, death, with spurious life did bait — 
 
 Where fury sought for fresh extremes of pain, 
 
 And vengeance whetted every shame again. 
 
 There stood one form, one central figure, free. 
 
 Though lock'd in gyves, and fast his shackles be ; 
 
 Erect, yet lowly — meek, yet full of fire, 
 
78 WALLACE. 
 
 The butt of insult and of malice dire ; 
 Him the accuser, though condemned to die, 
 Scorn in his port, forgiveness in his eye ; 
 Distracted Scotland o'er him wildly hung — 
 With deep farewells her wasted bosom wrung ; 
 Summ'd, in his life and in his death complete. 
 Her hopeful trials and her hopeless fate : 
 Her chequer'd life epitomised in him, 
 She sees depart as his bright eyes grow dim. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 Man's deepest night may bring hope's brightest day. 
 As Winter holds the germs of Summer gay : 
 Down in the depths of anguish and despair, 
 Redeeming hope, unbid, may enter there. 
 Though the worn heart rejects the proffered joy 
 As Fate's deceit to build and then destroy. 
 Devoted Hope, which time nor doubt can tire, 
 Brings back the outcast will with added force and fire. 
 One Spirit, chief in Truth's celestial train, 
 Promoteth hope when hope doth shrink again — 
 Unerring friend when man for light doth call, 
 Unflinching friend when man may blindly fall ; 
 Opposed and baffled, sterner doth he grow — 
 Oppression's prime, unalterable foe. 
 Issue divine, nor change, nor force, nor fear. 
 Can bow his head or chill his purpose dear. 
 With flesh abiding, as a god in clay. 
 Emotions mixing till mankind obey ; 
 He robes the lowly with eternal fame. 
 The dastard turns to monument of shame. 
 And, helpless, he will ope a heaven to view 
 Where sin and shackles can no more pursue ; 
 
WALLACE. 79 
 
 This spirit sweeps across the placid scene — 
 Across the old land where his home had been. 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 By dark, capricious Forth the spirit rests 
 
 Upon a hill, the foremost of those guests 
 
 Which tower in grand array, from Nature won, 
 
 To guard the northern parts of Caledon — 
 
 Even on the hill the Wallace wight did plan 
 
 The solid square and the impetuous van — 
 
 Restrained and edged each freeman for the fight — 
 
 Making their blows heroic in their might — 
 
 As on the mass they fell when ready eye 
 
 Signalled the point presumption cast the die. 
 
 Disquieted he moveth to and fro — 
 
 Half vanishing, then starting all aglow ; 
 
 Now trembling, dim on the uncertain sight. 
 
 Like faintest scintillation of the night ; 
 
 Now would he threaten, an unearthly fire. 
 
 To quench the orbs that strove to view entire 
 
 The lightning phases of his passion's course, 
 
 Which burned through every change with stronger fire and 
 
 force. 
 Within one hand he held a crystal sphere 
 On which was limned, in darkest character. 
 The instant features of our changeful globe ; 
 Now even his emotions and his robe 
 Settled around his form in noble grace. 
 As living like and conscious of its lAsice ; 
 A golden band the Spirit's brow embraced, 
 O'erwrought with type and sign divinely traced. 
 All that the heart devout doth yearn to know 
 For guide and government in state below. 
 
80 WALLACE. 
 
 His face betokened constant thought and care, 
 
 Enhancing more its nobleness of air : 
 
 Upon his brow deep wisdom held full sway, 
 
 While round his mouth benevolence seemed to play ; 
 
 And pity's tender traits might there be seen, 
 
 Though anger's cloud should travel o'er the eyne ; 
 
 There honour and integrity appeared. 
 
 And scorn, higher than loftiest man e'er rear'd. 
 
 To guard him unto death for conscience just ; 
 
 And undissembling love that could not lust ; 
 
 And deeper when deceiv'd were whirlwind parts, 
 
 Awing as scene where soul this life deserts. 
 
 His silver beard of many -years might tell. 
 
 But youth was there as indestructible ; 
 
 His eyes now seemed as two attentive souls, 
 
 Deep as the deepest intellect controls ; 
 
 While thus he seemed what man might truly fear, 
 
 Or ever love, if that he shadow'd near 
 
 Unto the attributes the form displayed. 
 
 In truth he seemed a soul as high as souls are made. 
 
 CANTO VIII. 
 
 Over the shining ball the spirit mused, 
 
 And every point and every line perused ; 
 
 Not like philosopher o'er something new, 
 
 But master-like, with all in instant view ; 
 
 To speculation giving scope the while. 
 
 As if from depths remote some pleasure to beguile. 
 
 " Again that subtle vice," the spirit said, 
 
 ^' Would place the world upon its brittle head." 
 
 Oft hath it done, and frightful was the fall. 
 
 While man aye suffer'd through his merits all. 
 
 And on its serfs the superstructions fell. 
 
WALLACE. 81 
 
 And wisdom came with desolation's knell. 
 
 Alas ! to many minds it seems a gem 
 
 Worthy the front of sacred diadem : 
 
 With it the monarch wields a nation's arms, 
 
 And slays the safety which he ne'er alarms ; 
 
 It flaunts its hollow glories to the sky, 
 
 And makes allegiance dance in every eye ; 
 
 It puts man's honour to ignoble use, 
 
 And dulls the heart to truth's own perfect joys : 
 
 Power adds to power, its merit is success, 
 
 Nor, with its ends attain'd, doth find content or bliss. 
 
 My cause shall prosper, heaven's voice doth say. 
 
 Though nations pass, as things of yesterday : 
 
 I know not time, yet its pulsations will 
 
 Evoke impatience, as for man I feel ; 
 
 For millions rise, and sink down as they rise, 
 
 In promise fair, but promise fair it dies ; 
 
 And truth propitious bears for freedom's day, 
 
 But passion drives her centuries away. 
 
 This haply is the individual sight. 
 
 For in the scope of universal light 
 
 The world's whole life is purified the more. 
 
 And point by point truth's influence spreads o'er : 
 
 And though at times unequal seems the flow. 
 
 Still as the sovereign doth she onward go — 
 
 Sole arbitress of life or death alone, 
 
 The peoples first or last pay homage at her throne. 
 
 CANTO IX. 
 
 How many fiery eyes have swept thy brow ? 
 How many fiery feet yet dint thee now ? 
 Thy varied form hath o'er and o'er been traced. 
 Names scarce were written ere they were defaced ; 
 
82 WALLACE. 
 
 Mere powers material up to heaven they grew, 
 
 And o'er thy face their mighty shadows threw ; 
 
 Built by injustice, in their greatness lay, 
 
 The impulse spent, relapses and decay. 
 
 A holiest fire is patriotism true, 
 
 A household love expanded in its view ; 
 
 Matured in form 'tis emulation pure. 
 
 Careful to build on truth's foundation sure, 
 
 Renouncing self, yet made all wants to feel 
 
 As whole were self, and self were whole as well ; 
 
 Exclusive, yet as helping man to be 
 
 More than he is, in truth and honour free ; 
 
 A stern evangel cloth'd in rectitude. 
 
 Expanded still, base of man's brotherhood. 
 
 But though it lies within the breast of man 
 
 In his land's love, and every nation's plan, 
 
 'Few, few, alas, it's uses can unroll. 
 
 And shape its woj-k in economic whole ; 
 
 In narrow channels yet its course hath run. 
 
 While lust rose to pollute its hopeful aims begun. 
 
 CANTO X. 
 
 Man seeks new signs while old signs yet are seal'd. 
 
 And wonders new while wonders old are veil'd. 
 
 Bid him retrace his wayward steps to find 
 
 The blissful ends he hurrying leaves behind. 
 
 Learn to unlearn is truth's first lesson keen, 
 
 Nor harder task on learning's road, I ween ; 
 
 For sacred prejudices bar the way. 
 
 And frightful veneration bears full sway ; 
 
 Self to renounce, old pleasures to destroy, 
 
 A vale of shame for seats of pride and joy; 
 
 But sweet the issue, sanctified by pain, 
 
WALLACE. 83 
 
 The conquered soul turns conqueror again, 
 And cloudless visions actuate the soul, 
 Signs old and new, and wonders to unroll. 
 Free doth he stand, enfranchised every power 
 To heights unmarked, unfetter'd he may soar. 
 Even as the heir to some possession great 
 Arrived at manhood's opulence and state. 
 His vast dominions then he comes to view 
 Acquire his rights, and every right pursue. 
 Know their conditions, whitherward they tend. 
 The ordering cause, and the momentous end. 
 
 CANTO XI. 
 
 So far estranged, so far from truth declin'd, 
 
 So dimmed man's judgment, and so mix'd his mind, 
 
 That simple truth makes strongest doubt arise, 
 
 Or is or seems supernal in his eyes. 
 
 Hence doth he seek a mediatorial power, 
 
 Priest, or arch-priest to mystify the more, 
 
 While equal he, a son of light may shine, 
 
 And turn the heart direct to source of light divine. 
 
 Unaided by inspired instruction, he 
 
 Once grandly grew, though half a Sadducee ; 
 
 His great untutored aspirations prone 
 
 Saw fancy's heavens reserved for gods alone, 
 
 And though he built a nobleness and worth, 
 
 'Twas transient as the fashion of the earth. 
 
 His future was a lion in the path, 
 
 A gloomy picture hung in shades of death, 
 
 Devoid of cheering hope and loving aim, 
 
 Which yet shall rule without or spot or blame. 
 
 Heaven new he hath preserved on every side. 
 
 Its counsels kept by idleness and pride. 
 
84 WALLACE, 
 
 A stunted crop of virtues duly told 
 
 Of precious price in service or in gold ; 
 
 False deputies have turned the stream aside 
 
 Which ought to circle through the heart's own tide ; 
 
 Man cannot know his individual good, 
 
 For well built superstition will intrude 
 
 On immortality's deep solitude, 
 
 Supported by some o'ergrown weaknesses, 
 
 Shifting to suit a blindness more or less. 
 
 Only as light may rise or may depress. 
 
 Man's conscience dares not his own Levite be. 
 
 And down upon the ignominious knee. 
 
 All take this gospel as the mother food 
 
 As infancy, as soul-crowned great manhood. 
 
 CANTO XII. 
 
 Ah ! Caledon, misfortune doth thee chase. 
 
 And fairer spirit heart might never trace ; 
 
 Aye isolated on the path to truth. 
 
 Aye struggling for thy singleness and youth. 
 
 And worth and power had often pressing court. 
 
 And often strait escape, but if thou wert 
 
 In faithfulness protected by each son, 
 
 None ever placed a hand upon thy throne. 
 
 Alas ! thy darkest forecasts are fulfilled, 
 
 Thy recreant sons alone have thee exiled ; 
 
 But mayhap in abasement they shall know 
 
 That theirs in thine, and thine is all below ; 
 
 And they may rise with those who never sleep : 
 
 Those like to one whom faith, love, hope, now weep ; 
 
 And none shall say a nation ever dies 
 
 Or falls beneath mere brutish tyrannies. 
 
 Although its foes be doubled o'er and o'er, 
 
WALLACE. 85 
 
 If heart be whole, and its brave arms before. 
 
 Heart yet is whole, but who shall be the head 
 
 When all shall ripen and invoke the dead — 
 
 For all shall ripen, and the moment shall 
 
 Be when to rise, and rise or ever fall ? 
 
 One shall be found though forced direct from heaven, 
 
 For none desire but in due time 'tis given ; 
 
 One shall be found, born with a sceptred mind, 
 
 One meet for elements of sternest kind ; 
 
 Kor may I point the outlines of the day. 
 
 And hold this generation will decay 
 
 Before a blast of freest life is born ; 
 
 For man to-day is peace, and on the morn 
 
 He riseth an emotion incarnate. 
 
 Keener to strike if death upon him wait. 
 
 CANTO XIIT. 
 
 Man's deepest sin is advocating blood. 
 
 But righteousness ne'er shrank where patriot stood. 
 
 Whether to prune by thousands or by one ; 
 
 Nay, such the courses which mankind have run. 
 
 Such the conditions and their issues stern. 
 
 Which man must meet successively in turn. 
 
 That blood doth trace all histories of wrong, 
 
 And blood again rights contra themes prolong ; 
 
 Blood seals or opens with unfailing power. 
 
 Brings ruin or redemption evermore. 
 
 Even so 'twill be until a brighter hour 
 
 When truth shall rule commensurate with power, 
 
 And the old fallacies of conquest fail. 
 
 With passions curbed that justice may prevail. 
 
 Toil on, ye brave ! though darkness be the king, 
 
 Though every evil be upon the wing ; 
 
86 WALLACE. 
 
 Though gall'd with all the pains of hate and death, 
 
 Peace and reward a sure to-morrow hath. 
 
 Undoubting work, though force thy work would reap, 
 
 The gage is blood, for force is aye thigh-deep ; 
 
 Heirs ye of truth, unto no race confined, 
 
 She moves ye now with a prophetic mind ; 
 
 Behold truth's heralds, in a thousand forms, 
 
 Ride on war's tempest, mingle in her storms ; 
 
 Signs of a great emancipation come 
 
 From points remote, through ignorance and gloom ; 
 
 Even on this soil truth's temple may uprise. 
 
 The builders ye of wondrous destinies ; 
 
 Be faithful, then, that when the changes break, 
 
 Your hands be free their glories to partake. 
 
 CANTO XIV. 
 
 Thus, "Wallace, ends thy passage through the lists. 
 
 In which have played the world's greatest guests j 
 
 Mighty in truth, supreme, and adequate 
 
 To mete a measure unto proudest fate. 
 
 Thou didst not fall because a subtler hand 
 
 Than thine did frail humanity command. 
 
 None thee approached to insolently cope. 
 
 Though odds were 'gainst thee and a famish'd hope; 
 
 Nor fortune, nor misfortune, turn'd thy work 
 
 From thy one purpose, and thy righteous mark ; 
 
 The rather gave new strength nnto thy soul, 
 
 Thy country's name to place on freedom's roll. 
 
 Into the sanctuary of feeling thou 
 
 Now enterest, and mankind yet shall bow 
 
 To thee as of that family of men 
 
 Who save and mould the world past common ken." 
 
 The spirit paused, for through the passive air 
 
WALLACE. 87 
 
 There clove a voice of sadness and despair ; 
 Round every accent music seemed to dwell, 
 Although the passioned utterance did tell 
 That grief alone forced through articulate voice 
 Her bitter woes and vital agonies ; 
 Thus spake the voice, and spirit, hill, and sky 
 Joined audience to the melancholy cry : — 
 
 CAICTO XV. 
 
 "I've mourned with thee when deserted 
 By our kindred traitor-hearted, 
 But thou wert a mighty prop. 
 And thou wert a host in hope ; 
 And I never knew despair 
 While a remnant round thee bare. 
 While thy hand and foot were free 
 To wrestle with adversity. 
 But thou art now for ever gone, 
 My truest, kindest, noblest son ! 
 And my destiny falls with thee — 
 All my hopes are laid beneath thee : 
 Now a .fugitive I lurk — 
 Welcome only in the dark ; 
 Now my destiny is cast 
 With the spirits of the past, 
 There to weep my glories o'er. 
 There to live, but doomed for ever. 
 Meth ought thy victor-locks to twine 
 
 With honours none e'er won before ; 
 But though the honours still are thine, 
 
 The act of love is mine no more. 
 Annulled my power thy worth to bind 
 
 With tribute in historic scene ; 
 
88 WALLACE. 
 
 But strangers will thy story find, 
 An(i trace its beauty, ever green. 
 
 Awhile I linger, crushed and torn, 
 
 To reap the shame which brake thy heart, 
 
 Till Scotsmen be not freemen born. 
 Then silently as dead depart." 
 
 CANTO XVI. 
 
 As the last accent trembled in the air, 
 Before the spirit stood a maiden fair — 
 Fair and proportioned past what mind conceives, 
 Nobler than that conception aye deceives — 
 *Twas she who spoke ; and attitude exprest 
 The grief and care which travailed in her breast. 
 Though every feature griefs commotion claimed, 
 Fresh from the hand of purity she seemed ; 
 Adown her shoulders foamed her golden hair 
 Loose and unfettered ; and when motion bare 
 It o*er her countenance, she seemed as Truth 
 When sorrowing through an ornament of youth. 
 Her hands were clasped upon her half-hid breast, 
 "Which heaved and struggled as imprisoned guest 
 Who through a loop-hole sees a loved one die. 
 And strives in grief for griefs own liberty. 
 Ah ! to depict the tenderness and love. 
 The majesty in suffering from above — 
 The high-souled look and feature every one, 
 The vestal grace with energy upon ; 
 The full-born honour and unbending will. 
 In mien which said untouched, untrammeled still. 
 Though over all the clouds of sorrow hung. 
 Touched with the passiveness despair doth bring, 
 More was required than evanescent tears, 
 
WALLACE. 89 
 
 Than undivided grief, unchanged by years, 
 
 To dim the consciousness of her bright eye, t. 
 
 And overrule the mind's supremacy. 
 
 Not that her grief was like the tear-like dew. 
 
 Assumed on beauteous flower to make more new ; 
 
 For every look and movement told of wounds 
 
 Which had their roots in life's remotest bounds ; 
 
 The rather the emotion's passing throe, 
 
 In contrast well defined, undying powers did show. 
 
 CANTO XVII. 
 
 Upon the ground was bent the maiden's eye — 
 
 The spirit thus unnoted still stood by, 
 
 But unsolicited he now advanced. 
 
 And broke the rapture which her soul entranced. 
 
 " Daughter," he said, " thy sons are many yet, 
 
 And why shouldst thou their faithfulness forget ? 
 
 Thy Wallace is well worthy of thy tears. 
 
 But are all brothers worthy of thy fears 1 
 
 'Tis not a vassal-spirit lurks within — 
 
 'Tis discord only is the accursed sin; 
 
 And when all feel the suffocating hand 
 
 Of tyranny, then shall thy wayward land 
 
 Bise o'er some incident or simple word. 
 
 And drown what sheathes Bemorse's ghastly sword ? 
 
 Were painter here of mind, and hand, and eye, 
 
 Fit to relate upon that boundless sky. 
 
 In able character and symbol true, 
 
 To which to what vicissitude is due, 
 
 Methinks in this affection thou wouldst see 
 
 The future honoured, purified, and free ; 
 
 But list unto approximation's view. 
 
 And let the danger aid thy struggles to renew. 
 
90 WALLACE. 
 
 CANTO XVIII. 
 
 There thou wert placed an isolated star, 
 
 Whose single light was envied from afar ; 
 
 In thy close neighbourhood a sister shone 
 
 Like, yet unlike in beauty, too alone — 
 
 Identical in aim, as virtue thou, 
 
 And unassailable as heaven's brow — 
 
 She open truth, and more approachable. 
 
 Both the possessors of a massive will ; 
 
 Both full of dignity and purest worth — 
 
 Allied, commensurate to sway the earth ; 
 
 Nor in alliance would oub feature be 
 
 Erased, though softened, ere by her or thee. 
 
 But pride and folly sit in places high. 
 
 And cut the chords of sweet affinity ; 
 
 Thy sister's ampler fields the while aifford 
 
 An ampler power to the acknowledged lord ; 
 
 From sea to sea roams his ambitious eye. 
 
 And thou alone bar'st his supremacy. 
 
 Ambition mocks him that thy king should be 
 
 Of equal merit, by his right as free ; 
 
 And though thy sister struggled to repress 
 
 This finest talent of all wickedness, 
 
 With art and power, it moved the nation's heart 
 
 To make its aim a nobleness in part ; 
 
 And now the passion hath obtained full sway. 
 
 While a close prisoner she droops away. 
 
 CANTO XIX. 
 
 The swords are whetted and the arms are bright, 
 And Glory rides his red horse to the fight. 
 And sends ambassadors on every hand 
 To Boil the charter of thy ancient land. 
 
WALLACE. 91 
 
 Good success here, though it is hard to bear, 
 
 For freedom stoops not, proud aye as a spear; 
 
 But discord through the nation sweeps amain, 
 
 Like wintry blasts o'er summer's golden plain ; 
 
 And buried enmities again revive. 
 
 And fresher enmities together strive ; 
 
 And treachery meets honour and reward, 
 
 And faithfulness the dagger and the sword — 
 
 The foemen's gage, unlifted in thy name, 
 
 No honoured king doth honour to thy fame 
 
 Till, worn and faint, thy prowess passed away — 
 
 To the invader thou dost fall an easy prey. 
 
 A troubled sleep upon thy country falls. 
 
 But old emotion to its spirit calls ; 
 
 With every link forged to oppression's chain — 
 
 Another son awakes to thee again. 
 
 The deeper down humiliation's throes. 
 
 The stronger still redemption's promise grows ; 
 
 Now flitting here, now flitting there, to tell 
 
 That under-currents inward life impel. 
 
 Until collected by one master soul. 
 
 Whose voice evoked thy freedom's muster roll. 
 
 When, lo ! the dead again to life return. 
 
 And shackless fall apart under the impulse stern. 
 
 CANTO XX. 
 
 Where titled minions spilt thy dearest blood, 
 And, for the while, in hireling favour stood ; 
 Where sordid leaders run dishonours race. 
 Sold and re-sold with an unblushing face ; 
 Where discord waged her self-destructive fight, 
 And lost the freeman's in the fool's birthright. 
 Fresh faces rise, unknown to eye of fame — • 
 
WALLACE. 
 
 Ten thousand freemen equal to thy name, 
 Sick of the paltering of thy traitor lords, 
 Keen as the edges of their ready swords. 
 With ardent footsteps pressing to one goal, 
 Drawn by the magic of one earnest soul. 
 Still unimpaired her arm thy country proves. 
 Still in her heart untarnished ancient loves, 
 A lesson then — a warning now indeed 
 To those who will her open heart misread, 
 Who, high-appointed, will her ways disown. 
 And fail to mould her tendency and tone ; 
 For step by step come newer lords elate 
 To shape her course where older monarchs sate. 
 And olden rulers, then as aliens, stand 
 Without a common tie in common fatherland. 
 
 CANTO XXI. 
 
 As Bethel's shepherd, filled with flame divine. 
 Met face to face the mighty Philistine, 
 In kindred spirit doth thy Wallace rise. 
 And face to face all England's might defies. 
 The artless shepherd knew not Israel's fear. 
 In faith where truth is, Good is ever near ; 
 Thy Wallace, in his tameless virtue, feels 
 'Tis bondage only which the spirit kills. 
 By Judah's lion great deliverance came. 
 And tongues inspired decree eternal fame ; 
 Thy Wallace brought salvation by. his sword. 
 And equal merit doth the truth aflbrd. 
 In thy historic page let fancy find 
 New threads of gold with which her tale to bind ; 
 Here, in one life pourtrayed heroic theme. 
 Beyond the compass of her grandest dream. 
 
WALLACE. 
 
 As sacred were the Hebrews' struggles deem'd, 
 
 As sacred to men's progress thine esteemed ; 
 
 Nor greater issues Hebrew patriot saved 
 
 Than by thy Wallace hand upon times tablets graved. 
 
 But though thy Wallace doth superior stand, 
 
 Fitly pronounced the leader of the land, 
 
 The form and cast of many a brother true 
 
 Fitly pronounce such leadership as due; 
 
 In faith and hope self-trustful they arise 
 
 A nation high endowed with deathless qualities. 
 
 CANTO XXII. 
 
 The air is thick with terrors gathering far. 
 
 And earth, prophetic of remorseless war, 
 
 Doth shuddering gird her ere the mighty storm 
 
 Shall scathe her face and desolate her form. 
 
 For Scotland's shepherds, filled with flame divine, 
 
 Now face to face defy their Philistine ; 
 
 From every hand, with import and emprise, 
 
 The instrument of thy deliverance flies. 
 
 Hope, banish'd erewhile in the conflict high. 
 
 Exalts her torch to catch the patriot's eye, 
 
 Now here, now there, a minister and guide, 
 
 To mark oppression's slow receding tide, 
 
 Until fair prophetess of freedom won, 
 
 Ev'n at thy regal gates thee victress doth she crown. 
 
 And yet, alas ! while thy great Guardian's hand 
 
 Doth brace the thews of thy enfranchised land 
 
 To meet the foe returning in the mass. 
 
 Wave upon wave of tinkling steel and brass. 
 
 Deceit again 'neath coronets doth smile. 
 
 And pride again, as false as it is vile, 
 
 Detested villanies again renew, 
 
94 WALLACE. 
 
 And foimer follies join thy freedom to undo. 
 
 Unfolds tlie signal on dark Falkirk's field — 
 
 Foredoomed to fall, though not foredoomed to yield ; 
 
 A bartered battle, though thy faithful still 
 
 Fight against Fate with an unflinching will ; 
 
 Each proves a lion that hath turned to bay, 
 
 Defeated half the victors of the day. 
 
 Thence, step by step, even to this solemn hour, 
 
 Thy hopes depart, thy purposes and power. 
 
 Through the old forms of shame and bitterness. 
 
 Through newer forms intenser in distress. 
 
 But yet awhile the husbandmen who sow 
 
 Shall harvest reap of infamy and woe. 
 
 And yet awhile the gamblers of to-day 
 
 In penalties of death their own life-stakes shall pay. 
 
 CANTO XXIII. 
 
 Who are against thee both in deeds and words 
 
 Besides oppression's hundred thousand swords ? 
 
 Chief are thy sons, anointed and prepared 
 
 Select, upraised thy heritage to guard — 
 
 Hope shudders at the mention of each name. 
 
 And scant exception verifies their shame. 
 
 But they alone are not the source of power — 
 
 'Tis deeper down, uninjured to this hour, 
 
 And though their wont-right brings a hireling crowd 
 
 Which knows no aim but rank or gold's avowed, 
 
 Truth's ceaseless actions silently apply. 
 
 And within lessening bounds their wicked hands doth lie. 
 
 Who, then, are thine — who are thy honest sons ? 
 
 The nameless yeomen, simple artizans. 
 
 Who bend the brow to palpitating toil — 
 
 Each, one and all, without exception, vile. 
 
WALLACE. 95 
 
 Now leaderless, they seem a broken mass, 
 But from their bosom yet a chief shall rise, 
 And worth like theirs concentring once more, 
 Kesistless shall thy olden state restore. 
 Nay, though no Wallace hero rise again 
 From rural life to break the tyrant's chain, 
 When round thy traitor nobles' neck is thrown 
 The galling yoke they fastened on thine own, 
 Then shall repentance hasten thee to meet. 
 And peer with peasant kneel low at thy feet." 
 
 CANTO XXIV. 
 
 When on the maiden's ear the spirit's voice 
 Broke in reproach in which there was no choice, 
 Like startled modesty she backward drew. 
 And round her form her ample mantle threw, 
 Then on the spirit fixed a steady eye. 
 And listening attitude made the reply. 
 His speech v/as rapid, but no word was lost — 
 Each one peculiar, in perfection most. 
 While action rose to perfect every strain, 
 And every feature told it o'er again. 
 Though no new tale, yet every hope and joy. 
 And every love, and every fear and woe, 
 Which had controlled or been controlled again. 
 Came and departed in tempestuous train. 
 With features calm, " Father," she answer made, 
 " Thy countenance I seek, thy paths would tread ; 
 My heart is lightened though the land doth die, 
 Yet hope I will though adverse fate reply ; 
 And strive I will, nor e'er dishonour self. 
 For this despair was only sorrow's pelf. 
 I, only I, could prize the Wallace' heart ; 
 
96 WALLACE. 
 
 Yea, father, I have often thought that part 
 Of thine own attributes were in him placed. 
 Unsullied, undiminished, though embraced 
 In human form.— Thou sawest cruelty 
 Stand like an imbecile beneath his eye, 
 Nor fretful cry nor angry word he gave ; 
 And as his body hath not found a grave, 
 So shall his nobleness no death-bed have. 
 No titles sought he, nor an envious name — 
 Man with a true heart was his only claim, 
 ' My country,' said he, ' is my only bride ;' 
 In truth he lived, in faithfulness he died." 
 
 CANTO XXV. 
 
 Without a sign, without a warning given. 
 Quick as the fire from cannon's bowels driven, 
 Flashed in the eastern sky a stranger light, — 
 Direct and rapid to the hill its flight, 
 But ere the eye could estimate its form. 
 It swept the creeping Forth like fiery storm. 
 And round the hill a lightning circuit flew, 
 Then stayed in front in middle air to view. 
 A troubled mass of no distinctive shape 
 Of every hue, all glittering in a heap. 
 As if it caught a ray from every star. 
 And mix'd the brilliant lights in journey from afar ; 
 But from its midst a solemn voice was heard, 
 And thus the mission Proj^hecy declared : — 
 " Spirits of the heaven and earth. 
 
 Spirit thou of olden birth. 
 
 Spirit thou of humbled worth ; 
 
 He whose word no time can alter ; 
 
 He whose wisdom cannot falter ; 
 
WALLACE. 97 
 
 . He who speaks, and worlds quiver ; 
 He who rules supremely ever, 
 Thus permitteth prophecy ; 
 Whose dominion rests on clay. 
 Must bear grief with joy alway, 
 But good works shall ever merit 
 What the meek doth aye inherit ; 
 And on earth truth shall not perish, 
 For his hand doth always cherish. 
 Out of the chosen of thy name. 
 Out of a corrupted fame. 
 
 Shall a king arise ; 
 Heed not what he^ seemed before, 
 Give him all as thou had'st more. 
 
 And freedom is the prize. 
 Another spring shall hardly kiss 
 
 Thy wasted country's brow ; 
 Before thy sorrow shall be gladness, 
 And thy gladness shall be sadness, 
 
 For war hath made a vow. 
 
 CANTO XXVI. 
 
 As when the fiery ruler of the day 
 
 Cleaves through the forehead of the morning grey. 
 
 First making dulness as a fire to burn. 
 
 And sober weeds to flaming drapery turn. 
 
 So when the voice was heard within the cloud. 
 
 The lambent mass with fiercest ardour glowed ; 
 
 Then shifting round the flames were lashed aside. 
 
 And forth there streamed of light a living tide. 
 
 Seven times brighter than meridian light. 
 
 But, glow-worm like, oflending not the sight, 
 
 Or other .sense, as immortality 
 
98 WALLACE. 
 
 Lived in a light of no material sky. 
 Six noble steeds now champed the viewless air, 
 As doth a charger on earth smooth and fair ; 
 Their arched manes were of the rainbow dyeKS, 
 But purer than those in our misty skies ; 
 Their eyeballs shone like stars in seas of glass, 
 But each intensified as all that space, 
 With supplemental properties, were here. 
 Compressed within the compass of each sphere. 
 Their pride-raised tails, and bodies of a hue 
 "Which glows in whiteness, nor to whiteness due ; 
 From every nostril rushed a fiery horn ; 
 From every hoof a diamond flash was borne ; 
 The ready head, and stately, powerful limb. 
 Showed each as fit heaven's battlements to climb, 
 They seemed to bid defiance unto space. 
 And love the lightning, and the whirlwind chase ; 
 In golden harness shackled two abreast ; 
 By golden bands unto a chariot laced — 
 A chariot to which emperors' or kings' 
 Of orient taste compare as tawdry things. 
 Wheels within wheels of ruby stones divine. 
 With steel like rims without a cloud or line ; 
 And spiral axles of rich emerald hue. 
 O'er which was placed by mechanism new 
 (Which keenest intellect could not betray. 
 With finest hand and pencil to pourtray) 
 The gorgeous chariot frame of prophecy. 
 
 CANTO XXVII. 
 
 There countless pillars, clear and colourless, 
 With onyx capitals in chastest dress ; 
 And pedestals in kind of onyx pure 
 
WALLACE. 99 
 
 Placed to proportions on tlie pearl-faced floor. 
 
 Upon each capital a figure stood, 
 
 Between, in faultless lines, was arch conveyed ; 
 
 Each arch of deep ultramarine did seem, 
 
 O'erlaid with mosaic work of golden gleam; 
 
 Each figure was the type of those that seers 
 
 In dreams heroic, by their truth and prayers, 
 
 Wrested from heaven a sight ; and on each arch 
 
 Beside its sign peculiar the march 
 
 Of each concomitant event, fulfilled 
 
 Or unfulfilled from time child-earth rebelled 
 
 Against Omnipotence, thence onward through 
 
 The world's various epochs false and true, 
 
 Till the last cii'cumstance is made entire. 
 
 When heaven shall pour on earth consuming fire. 
 
 The pillars to describe a form had place — 
 
 A form unknown, and in the interspace 
 
 Unnumbered stars like works revolved. 
 
 And in the centre, without seat, imrolled 
 
 A simple scroll, which cast a single light 
 
 To the remotest circling spherule bright, 
 
 And mingling with their rays made cloudlike thing, 
 
 Which seemed as incense unto fancying. 
 
 CANTO XXVIII. 
 
 In front was placed a shining sapphire throne. 
 
 Before which stood the god who sits upon. 
 
 Now thunder-tongued he gave his cheer-fraught word, 
 
 As conscious none dare question of his Lord; 
 
 Within one hand he held two scales of gold, 
 
 In which were seen the issues that he told; 
 
 Within the other was each stinted rein, 
 
 Which caused obedience where methought 'twas vain ; 
 
100 WALLACE. 
 
 A halo round liis presence seemed to wait ; 
 
 Immortal majesty upon him sate. 
 
 All his appearance scorn'd our paltry fame; 
 
 But what seemed chiefest in his awful frame 
 
 "Were his dark eyes, which seemed as meet to soar 
 
 Beyond those toppling suns to heaven's door. 
 
 Two things mysterious 'mong mysterious things, 
 
 Though all earth's acts, with all that each act brings, 
 
 Were placed in their confused array before 
 
 Those intellectual fires, could order and restore. 
 
 A momentary sight of fiercest eyne. 
 
 Of teeth of brass with crystal bits between. 
 
 Of shortening thighs, and in a cloud of fire 
 
 The w^hole shot upward like the lightning spire, 
 
 Through the blue gateways of the stars they steered, 
 
 And in the unknown heavens disappeared. 
 
 CANTO XXIX. 
 
 As if awakened by that mighty voice. 
 
 Up from the hill a giant form arose, 
 
 His forehead man's most god-mark'd part did mock. 
 
 Furrowed his cheek bones as with fiery stroke. 
 
 His eyebrows straight half hid his prowling eyes. 
 
 His mouth seemed form'd in sin's festivities, 
 
 His stolid look as fashioned in disgrace. 
 
 His brutish mein in mercenary place ; 
 
 As fit for missions mankind doth abhor. 
 
 For tortuous murder, death, or dark or sure ; 
 
 A thousand daggers at his girdle hung. 
 
 In his right hand a bloody axe he swung, 
 
 And muttering dark and deep, he look'd abroad. 
 
 As questioning who usurped where he abode. 
 
 The spirit viewed him with a kindling look, 
 
WALLACE. 101 
 
 The maiden slirunk not, nor a step forsook ; 
 Both knew the tool oppression doth employ, 
 Both knew the strong red hand of tyranny. 
 Now all observed, an equal pause is made. 
 In two 'twas scorn, in one 'twas hate surveyed ; 
 But brief prelude, the spirit hastened near 
 The form, who vanished where he did appear; — 
 As scared assassin, ere the stroke he deals, 
 "When half the meditated death he feels. 
 
 CANTO XXX. 
 
 From whence, from where, let only spirits say, 
 Came gentle Graces that our world doth sway ; 
 First in a circle round the spirit, then 
 Around the maiden in like form again. 
 Hope first advanced and took her by the hand, 
 And smiled the prospect words cannot command ; 
 Next robust Peace, in perfumed garments pure, 
 Gave forecast of the pleasures yet in store ; 
 Next gallant Commerce, in her happiest mien. 
 And Industry, in garments ever green. 
 And Music, now ecstatic, now serene. 
 And dimpled Love, of innocence the queen; 
 Then strong-eyed Poesy, in parts a whole, 
 Stronger, or weaker, for susceptible 
 To faint impression or to power extreme. 
 Though mistress of their action and their theme. 
 Next Joy advanced, but stumbled over Grief, 
 When gentle Hope returned to her relief. 
 Grief half retained her offering ^' Farewell ;" 
 But as she passed the broken accents fell. 
 Apart the spirit heard each Grace rehearse 
 The promised opening of her boundless stores, 
 
102 WALLACE. 
 
 Then sternly said, " The hour doth come always 1" 
 And heavenward he looked to utter praise ; 
 And as he spoke the outlines fled away 
 Of Spirit, Maiden, and of Graces gay. 
 
 POST-EXORDIUM. 
 
 Harp of my sires ! behold a wayward sprite, 
 Arrayed by youthful fancy, wandering free ; 
 Now half appro v'd in manhood's nicer light. 
 Doth seek thy groves to plant her poesy. 
 With other flowerets delicate, to thee. 
 The thoughts and works of Scotland's yesterday 
 Evanish not, as if they ne'er had been : 
 They are Time's harvest which we bear away. 
 And re-delivering with increase, I ween. 
 Will feed her future life, and mould her form unseen. 
 
 There's work to do for the poetic mind. 
 Though the Romance we worshipped be gone ; 
 Chivalric elements of purer kind. 
 Made more humane, more brotherly in tone. 
 With power and great dominion once unknown. 
 Wait hopefully and earnestly to find 
 Their idyl or their epic take due form — 
 Then, ready for the battle, truth combin'd, 
 List for the invocation and alarm : 
 Harp of my sires ! be thou the spirit of the storm. 
 
 Awake to newer life ! thy mountain land 
 Made musical by thee, bids thee awake ! 
 The glowing hill-top and the rugged strand 
 
WALXACE. 103 
 
 Are tremulous with ecstasy to break 
 Thy honour'd silence, and once more partake 
 Of joys long pledg'd to future use and fame. 
 Thou hast a place in the increasing store 
 Of hopes and aims which prophet-like proclaim 
 Emancipation on earth's farthest shore, 
 And tells the Sun of Truth now shines for evermore. 
 
 Not silent thou when Scotland strove to cast 
 A noble foothold in the world to be ; 
 When the great spectral empires of the East 
 Blanch'd in the light which shone from Galilee, 
 Ev'n through the darkness rose thy melody — 
 Shaping the limbs of an enduring land, 
 Ere history in order and degree 
 Thy purpose compass'd with divining wand. 
 Thou hadst our manhood sketched with bold, ambitious hand. 
 
 Through devious change, through centuries thy theme 
 Aspiring bid, elate hath empire won ; 
 Occasion found the instrument supreme 
 To weld the master elements in one, 
 Or give the bias till the work was done ; 
 And on the threshold of each venture bold 
 Among the worthy, charter'd to redeem. 
 In guise prophetic did thy verse unfold. 
 Till Victory return'd the forecast hope unrolled. 
 
 Alike the king and peasant were thy choice, 
 Address'd to knit the nation one and true ; 
 In peace and war alike the people's voice. 
 To bless when done, or shape the work to do ; 
 With faith and power thy children to imbue. 
 A land of Song, whose joys, and aims, and toil. 
 
104: WALLACE. 
 
 Gem'd in thy thoughts, and beautified, outgrew 
 The narrow bounds of Eace and Clime and Soil, 
 And taught the earth inspir'd to emulate the while. 
 
 Why should'st not thou be foremost in the song 
 Of a glad word redeemed, but halting still 1 
 Mere spendthrifts of the truth have we been long 
 Wasting her beauties, which yet flooding fill 
 Life's daily paths, combining peace with skill, 
 Faith with our duties, hope with every work, 
 Love with our power ; to every man of will 
 Sending swift opportunity to mark 
 The time and means to rise where once unsafe or dark. 
 
 The first great heart of human life lies hid, 
 Like Moses dead, no one but God knows where ; 
 Its primal action had been grandly sped 
 Through mighty epochs, dimly shadow'd, ere 
 Its master impulses grew faint and rare ; 
 And disunited o'er earth wandering. 
 Burst with inconstant force and wild'ring glare — 
 Beating the darkness back with rapturous ring. 
 Again to sink and pale as nameless, unknown thing. 
 
 Thus, till of human life the One Great Heart ' 
 Recovered the lost presence of our God ; 
 Brought back again from earth's remotest part 
 The scatter'd elements, and meekly show'd 
 Man the great temple, truth's own real abode ; 
 The type of worshippers whose work was prayer, 
 Rebuilt man's majesty, and re-endowed 
 The individual life with rights to heir 
 A noble heritage perennially fair. 
 
WALLACE. 
 
 105 
 
 Mere spendthrifts yet ! our work is not our prayer ! 
 A simple grand deliverance rudely spoiled, 
 Karrow'd to apt quotations pick'd threadbare, 
 Or link'd to customs heathenish and wild. 
 Or ordinance with sensuousness defiled. 
 But haply yet Love knocketh at the door. 
 And to the erring world would be reconciled ; 
 With her quiet entrance all our complex store 
 Of duties unfulfilled would vanish evermore. 
 
 Harp of my Sires, awake ! my wayward sprite 
 Would actuate in others thy sweet song ; 
 Wake, as of old, in thy prophetic might, 
 The stream of inspiration to prolong, 
 Which runs from Truth in many issues strong. 
 The modern heart is valiant, knightly still. 
 Throbbing with forces — conquerors unsprung. 
 The talisman to bind with mighty spell 
 The kindred earth, evoke ! — meantime, brave Harp, farewell ! 
 
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