THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SCENES OE YOUTH 
 
 REVISITED. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 EEV. DAVID T. JAMIESON. 
 
 KILMARNOCK : 
 
 JAMES MATHIE, AND JOHN SMITH: 
 
 EDINBURGH: J. MENZIES; GLASGOW: D. ROBERTSON, 
 
 M.DCCCLVIII.
 
 PRINTED BV JAMES MATHIE, 
 1, KING STREET,
 
 ?R 
 
 TO 
 
 II Ifjiili 
 
 NIGH AND PAR OFF, 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOE. 
 
 837?14
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Author, while he was, hi the Avitimiu ol' 
 1856, enjoying, through the kindness of his con- 
 gregation, a few weeks' cessation from his Pastoral 
 duties, caught liimself, to his own surprise, in a 
 rhyming, if not poetical, mood. He was, at the 
 time, deep in the Stinchar,* plying the fishing-rod, 
 and doing all he could, vnth the finest fly he had, 
 to lure the Salmon from his well-known retreat, 
 or resting-place. 
 
 The Subject of the Poem — the Scenes of Youth 
 — took fost hold of him : it hooked him foirly and 
 firmly ; and he could neither run away from it, 
 
 * Pronouuccd Stinshar.
 
 VUl. PREFACE. 
 
 nor shake himself clear uf it. Part II. was medi- 
 tated by the banks and in the midst of the stream, 
 and was first written. It Avas after his retui'n that 
 Part I. suggested itself to his mind. 
 
 It has been the Author's design to make this 
 little volume an agreeable companion to a friend 
 during a day's journey, or a stroll by the beautiful 
 banks of the Stinchar, and hence he uses language 
 as if he were beside that friend ; and the supposi- 
 tion that he is in company with him accounts for, 
 and may, in some measure, if not altogether, excuse 
 his brevity, and, in a feAv instances, abrupt ti-ansi- 
 tions. Great is his aversion to either a talkative 
 book or a talkative man ; and, therefore, he leaves 
 abundance of room for reflection. The lines are 
 suggestive ; and some of his friends may, by them,
 
 PREFACE. IX. 
 
 be sent roaming in imagination over the scenes 
 of their own early life, or have their thoughts 
 directed to matters which, in interest and self- 
 concern, infinitely surpass all the things of time 
 and the scenes of earth. 
 
 The Author has aimed at being true to Nature. 
 The names of places are, of necessity, local; but 
 though particular places have their pecidiar fea- 
 tures, yet their grand outlines belong to Nature 
 in general ; just as all human countenances possess 
 a general likeness, while each face has its distin- 
 guishing characteristics ; hence the reader, who is 
 conversant w4th Nature, and an admirer of her, 
 can appreciate the scenes described though he may 
 never have seen them. The moral reflections are 
 of universal apiilicaiinii. 
 
 B
 
 X. PREFACE. 
 
 He begs to say that this is his hrst effort of the 
 kind, and likely to be his last ; for he is not at all 
 ambitious to appear among either the Major or the 
 Minor Poets. He guesses he is rather too old now 
 to attempt to climb Parnassus; and he dreams 
 not of any afflatus, or wings, being given him 
 which would, without puffing, perspiration, or 
 fatigue, set him down upon that moimt sublime. 
 
 His desire is to live, as he has lived, quietly 
 and happily among liis friends ; and the older he 
 grows, he loves not only Natm-e, but them, the 
 more ; and he shall be delighted to learn that he 
 has, in this form, imparted to them a little pleasant 
 and not unprofitable reading. 
 
 If any of the following lines survive either him 
 or his friends, well : if this little volume is thought
 
 PREFACE. XI. 
 
 worthy of death, it refuses not to die ; and should 
 it expire before the Author, he will neither break 
 his heart nor go into mourning. 
 
 Kilmarnock, 1858. 
 
 P.S. — The Stinchar is a native of the parish of 
 Barr. A mountainous moorland Farm — Shalloch 
 of Minnock — is the place of its birth ; but, as there 
 were neither Session-Clerks nor Registrars when 
 it was born, its birth is unrecorded, and its age is, 
 therefore, unknown. Its run is southwest; and, 
 after skirting the villages of Barr and Colmonell, 
 it falls into the sea at Ballantrae. Its Avhole 
 course is about thirty miles ; and it is said to be 
 the largest stream in Ayisliue.
 
 SCENES OF YOUTH REVISITED. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Child of the moorland mountain Spring ! 
 Thou creepest forth, a tiny thing, 
 From thy rush cradle, gath'ring strength 
 And breadth from streamlets, till, at length, 
 Thyself, a Beauty, danccst through 
 Enchanting scenes of beauty too. 
 
 No stream, with wuidings serpentine. 
 Glides through a sweeter vale than thine :
 
 14 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 From hills majestic, near thy source, 
 We can afar behold thy course ; 
 A silver rillet thou dost seem, 
 Beneath the sun's refulgent beam ; 
 And on thou tripp'st in singing mood, 
 Now past a cot, now through a wood. 
 Responsive to the milkmaid's song, 
 And carols of the feather' d throng. 
 
 \ 
 
 Nor time nor power can we command 
 To sketch the features of the land 
 Through which, meand'ring, thou dost flow 
 On towards ocean : we must go, 
 And leave, where oft our young loot trod. 
 Wild floAvers in bloom, Mint up to God
 
 PAET I. 15 
 
 Are oft'ring iiicense ; liill and glen, 
 And scenes of beauty which the pen 
 Can ne'er describe. He that would be 
 With them delighted, must them see, 
 — When Flora fair begins to set 
 The primrose in her coronet — 
 That early, sweetest flower of Spring, 
 Out from beneath whose fost'ring wing 
 It comes, and looks so beautiful, 
 So coy, that we 've no heart to pull 
 It from its stem, to wither ere 
 
 Its with' ring time ; though in the hair <9i 
 
 Of Beauty set — a true love-token. 
 
 Yet there it droops and dies heart-broken : 
 
 let it sip, where it was born, 
 
 The pearly dew of early morn ■
 
 16. SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Through its brief day on let it hlooui, 
 Then fade and sink into its tomb ! 
 Sweet Flower ! thy fading and thy tomb 
 Are emblems meet of our own doom ; 
 This doom, because of sin, is ours ; 
 But thou art sinless ; from the boAvers 
 Of Paradise thou wast not driven, 
 As man, to bear the wrath of Heaven : 
 
 — Or when fair Flora, in full dress, 
 Bears in her lap and auburn tress 
 The flowers, of varied name and grade. 
 That love the light or court the shade ; 
 How beautiful ! a goddess she ! 
 So says the old mythology ;
 
 PART I. 17 
 
 But we refuse to her to bow 
 The knee ; we ever shall, as now 
 We do, in adoration rise 
 To God, who made the earth and skies : 
 "We worship him : 't is He who lives 
 For aye, and in succession gives 
 The beautiful and fragrant flowers, 
 That cheer us, in our gloomy hours, 
 With tales they tell us of the past, 
 Ere Sorrow's shade was o'er us cast : 
 How oft we wander'd far afield 
 Amidst the perfumes they did yield, 
 And chas'd the bee and butterfly. 
 With heart as light and joy as high 
 As theirs, till, with the sultry heat 
 And sport o'orcome, tlio cool retreat 
 
 c
 
 18 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 We sought, and laid us down to sleep ; 
 But still we climb' d the bushy steep, 
 Or wander' d by the Fairy Nook 
 In dreams which more of heaven partook 
 Than earth ; we love, we love the flowers 
 That bear us back to childhood's hours : 
 
 — Or when gi-een grass and growing gi'ain 
 Bedeck the mountain and the plain ; 
 Sunshine and shade, in contest keen. 
 Each other chasing o'er the scene. 
 The landscape dons a smiling face ; 
 Stray clouds float lightsome, high in space. 
 Nor, resting on the mountain peak. 
 Of lightning or of thimder speak ;
 
 PART 1. 19 
 
 The heaven ascends, and, far o'erhead. 
 It seems a curtain blue outspread ; 
 And from the village, wood, and glen. 
 The gleeful voices of young men 
 And maidens, boys and girls, upstart. 
 Fresh as the spring, to glad the heart ; 
 And little birds all blithely sing ; 
 And hu.mming bees are on the wing 
 Among the flowers ; and bush and tree 
 Put on, in silent rivalry. 
 Their gayest, best attire to meet 
 The Summer, and with joy to greet 
 Her, Avhen she comes majestic, bright, 
 Through heaven's east gate of golden light, 
 To reign o'er earth and sea and sky 
 In glory, then like mortals die ;
 
 20 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 — Or when refulgent Summer leads 
 Her flowers and glories in the meads, 
 The fields, the bowers, by singing streams, 
 And universal nature seems 
 A mighty har]), from whose strings, swept 
 By Hand unseen, the sounds that slept 
 Awake, and fill the heavens and earth 
 With songs of gladness and of mirth : 
 
 — Or when the Autumn tints appear, 
 I'etok'ning that upon the year 
 Comes age ; — but these a cro-vvn of glory 
 To Nature are, as hairs gTOwn hoary 
 To those Avho tread the narrow road 
 In close communion with their God ; —
 
 PART I. 21 
 
 While golden grain waves in the fields, 
 Or, bending, to the sickle yields, 
 And far are heard the reapers' strains, 
 That echo o'er the harvest j^lains ; 
 And Robin (all liis brother throng- 
 Are mute,) prolongs his simple song; 
 To summer joys 't is his farewell. 
 Or thanks for mercies in the dell 
 To him and his ; or 't is his bold 
 Defiance to the icy cold 
 Of winter nigh; but yet he '11 come 
 With drooping wing and cold, his crumb 
 To beg from man, from whom he '11 fiy 
 Whene'er returns the vernal sky, 
 The first M'itli song to bail the spring, 
 And wake Ibo other birds to sing;
 
 22 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 We blame him not ; his native wood 
 Has joys for him, and sweeter food 
 Than those, in wmter, he can find 
 Among the dwellings of mankind ; 
 For Nature calls on birds to pair, 
 And fly to Avoodland scenes, and there 
 To build their nests and rear their young, 
 And sing the songs in Eden sung : 
 
 — Or when, in calm and tranquil morn 
 Or eve, the curling smoke, upborne 
 In wreaths fantastic, leaves the dell 
 Where are the Barr and Colmonell 
 In hills embosom' d, — and these are 
 To mr- than ":\iibiirii" sweeter far;
 
 PART I. 23 
 
 For o'er the scenes of boyhood there 
 My meni'ry broods with fondest care. 
 
 Suppose that we have reach' d Pininore 
 By Dailly, Barr, or Girvau shore : 
 Behold a beauteous sylvan scene ! 
 Its equals few and far between ; 
 In midst of this within a nook 
 A mansion stands : at both you look 
 And Avonder if in olden time 
 No bard their beauty sung in rhyme ; 
 Perhaps it was — by Burns it could, 
 If he had not, in some strange mood, 
 Believ'd that Stinchar was a name 
 Unworthy of poetic fame,
 
 24 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Because it seem'd not solt in flow 
 
 For his love-song, "My Nannie, O." (1.) 
 
 Proceed : Daljavrock next appears ; 
 The house, though old in style and years, 
 Yet seems as hale as it is clean. 
 And stands upon a beauteous green 
 Adorn'd with trees of varied kind 
 And size. This scene you leave behind 
 Reluctant; still you wish to stay 
 To hear the mavis sing his lay, 
 And IVom his lofty, branchy seat, 
 With heartfelt ardour, oft repeat 
 His song of love, not far from where 
 His fair One 's in the nest, that there
 
 PART [. 25 
 
 His notes may fell — a honey'd shower 
 Around her bonnie leafy bower. (2.) 
 Unwilling to proceed, you gaze 
 On lambkins, lying 'neatli the rays 
 Of sun in folds of budding grass, 
 And kine. Away you cannot pass 
 Without the feeling in your miird, 
 That you will leave a scene behind 
 As fine as Nature doth afford 
 To show the goodness of the Lord. 
 
 You round the turn at Almont mill, 
 And gaze upon Knockdolian hill ; 
 SubUme and beautiful in form, 
 At rest alike in calm and storm, 
 
 D
 
 2G SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 He rears liis conic head to heaven, 
 
 And seems from brother Ailsa riven 
 
 By wild convulsion, long ago, 
 
 When forces vast were wont to throw 
 
 Up mountains, and asunder rend 
 
 The hills, that streams might 'tween them wend 
 
 Their way, and mighty Ocean roll 
 
 His waves and tides from pole to pole. 
 
 To his high summit, when the day 
 
 Is fine, ascend. Your toilsome way, 
 
 Your weary limbs forgot will be 
 
 Amidst the wonders which you see. 
 
 The view is dread magnificence 
 
 From centre to circumference. 
 
 Of compass vast, with beauty blent, — 
 
 T 'd rather you would climb the ascent
 
 PART I. 27 
 
 Yourself, and have the view so grand, 
 Than I should sit with pen in hand, 
 And vainly woo the Muse to try 
 To bring the scene before your eye : 
 The peaceful vale, the moimtain rill. 
 The Stinchar winding past the hill, 
 The grazing kine, the nibbling sheep, 
 The white-sail'd vessels on the deep. 
 The Irish coast, and high Goatfell, 
 And places far we do not tell. 
 Bright sun, Ijlue ocean, sky and hill. 
 That baffle all artistic skill : 
 What wisdom, goodness, power divine, 
 From such a scene reflected, shine 
 Clear as the moon reflects the ray 
 She borrows from the orl) oi" day !
 
 28 .SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 The mail, wlio fails our God tu find 
 Amidst tliese wonders, must be blind. 
 
 You come to Craig — a lovely spot ! 
 Once seen it ne'er can be forgot. 
 Upon your left the fine old trees, 
 Whose leaves shake music on the breeze ; 
 The copse-clad hill upon your right ; 
 The birds in song ; the doves in flight ; 
 The swallow twittering out his glee 
 As he skims o'er the flowery lea, 
 'Mong th' insect tribes on airy wings, 
 Tasting the sweets that Summer brings ; 
 The lamb, now to its mother bleating, 
 Now round the kno)] its s])ort repeating;
 
 PART I. 29 
 
 The riiniiiiating dam at rest, 
 
 No dark forebodings in her breast ; 
 
 The careful hen her vigil keeping, 
 
 Wliile 'neath her wings her brood are sleeping ; 
 
 Grimalkin lying in the snn, 
 
 His mousing days now well nigh done ; 
 
 The children running forth to meet 
 
 Their father, his retitni to greet ; 
 
 The faithful dog, now leaping, wheeling, 
 
 And barking loud, his joy revealing ; 
 
 The house, like Beauty in a dream 
 
 Of joy, lull'd by the murm'ring stream, 
 
 A scene of happiness display. 
 
 That makes yoii linger on your way 
 
 To taste awhile, remote from care, 
 
 The joys that have their dwelling there.
 
 30 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Sweet place to spend a good old age ! 
 And whence to speed, as from its cage 
 The captive bird, and soar away 
 To regions of eternal day, 
 Where weary age is felt no more, 
 And sin and sorrow all are o'er. 
 
 Behold that vale before you spread ! 
 That man must have a soul twice dead, 
 Who, all unmov'd, covild walk along, 
 And hear the skylark's blithesome song ; 
 The cuckoo singing, while on wing, 
 His dissyllabic Ode to Spring ; 
 The cushat in the shady grove, 
 Acooing to his chosen love; (3.)
 
 PART I. 31 
 
 The blackbird in the thorny brake ; 
 
 And little songsters that awake 
 
 The sleeping echoes, to repeat 
 
 Their varied notes, so loud, so sweet. 
 
 Lives there a man who, all nnglad, 
 
 Could see that vale — those pastures clad 
 
 With corn and flocks, or listless hear 
 
 Tlieir shouts of joy rise to the ear 
 
 ( )f Him by Avhom they are 1 If so, 
 
 His soul is tuneless, or in woe. 
 
 If we could only Avakc the lyre 
 
 Of Virgil, or of Homer's fire 
 
 A little catch, in truth, we 'd weave, 
 
 In deathless song, that scene we leave — 
 
 A song not set to mournful tune, 
 
 Like "Banks and braes o' bonnie Doon;"
 
 32 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 For why should man his sorrows cast 
 O'er smiling nature as he pass'd? 
 
 There stands a castle old, Craigniel ; 
 
 We must confess we anxious feel 
 
 To know its origin and all 
 
 Its hist'ry ; but Oblivion's pall 
 
 Them covers — of all robes the best, 
 
 And most befitting, to invest 
 
 That rude grim relic of an age 
 
 Of Feudal Eule. 'T is well the page 
 
 Historic speaks not of things done. 
 
 When Might was Eight, beneath yon Sun 
 
 That shines on ruin'd, ivy'd walls, 
 
 Where jackdaw to his neighbour calls.
 
 PAKT r. 3 
 
 And where, on noiseless, velvet wing, 
 The owl and bat from slumber spring, 
 At eve, their himger to allay 
 With mouse or fly — their choicest prey. 
 
 •> 
 
 And there no more the hoary Sire, 
 To children cowering round the hre, 
 Speaks of the Ghosts' and Fairies' pranks, 
 Of Wizards, Witches — all the ranks 
 Of Being, which ne'er being had 
 Except ill fancy. Ah ! how sad 
 To think of Superstition's creed, 
 (From which true Science us has freed) 
 That held in awe, through many ages, 
 Ev'n men reputed to be sages : 
 
 K
 
 34 SCENES OV YOUTH. 
 
 The priest and people, young and old, 
 
 Until their tale of life was told, 
 
 Were kept in bondage by the fear 
 
 Of what had ne'er existence here. 
 
 Yes ! Superstition fill'd the earth 
 
 With things to which its dreams gave birth ; 
 
 Nay, in the churchyard, 'mong the dead, 
 
 There dwelt some horrid shapes, 't was said. 
 
 The voice of gladness there is mute ; 
 And Beauty there, on lightsome foot, 
 Now trips not down the giddy dance, 
 Her Lover gazing in a trance : 
 Her triumphs and her loves are by ; 
 These 'mong the things forgotten lie ;
 
 PART r. :?5 
 
 And he who loved her most, and prais'd, 
 Is from all living minds eras' d. 
 
 And where are those that there once shed 
 Tears o'er their dying and their dead, 
 Whose image dwelt within their heart 
 Till life and they themselves did part ; 
 Of whom some relic — lock of hair — 
 Was kept by them with pious care ] 
 Oh ! they memorial now have none 
 'Mong all the Living 'neatli the sun, 
 Or ev'n among the Dead ! Then why 
 Should mortals seek, beneath the sky, 
 Honour or glory, wealth or power. 
 That fades away as fades a flower 1
 
 30 SCENES OP YOUTH. 
 
 All worldly glory 's but a torch 
 That lights man onwards to the porch 
 Of Shadows, and the land of Night, — 
 Like as the Meteor's blazing light 
 Attends it downward from the sky 
 To earth, — in darkness there to lie. 
 
 A Beauty, in a beauteous dell. 
 Serenely fair, is Colmonell, 
 Where, in the infancy of Spring, 
 The flowers peep forth and thrushes sing ; 
 So mild and genial is the vale. 
 Protected, from the northern gale 
 And cold east wind, by sloping hills — 
 A view from which, in summer, tills
 
 PART I. 37 
 
 You with delight — while kiiie and sheep 
 Dot and adorn their grassy steep. 
 
 That avenue, close by the Dead 
 
 O'er whom the planes their branches spread, 
 
 Conducts you to the Parish Manse, 
 
 That well deserves a passing glance : 
 
 Its site is high above the stream 
 
 Which it o'erlooks. The blithe young beam 
 
 Of Morn, glad Noon, and sober Eve 
 
 Play there. Tlie Churchyard, you perceive. 
 
 Throws o'er the tranquil lovely spot 
 
 A sacred awe, not soon forgot. 
 
 How oft have we held in our breath, 
 
 While walking through that field of death !
 
 38 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Though then it was Avith sunbeams clad, 
 Our tread was light, our heart was sad ; 
 For who with heedless step can walk 
 Among the Dead, and lightly talk ] 
 A brother's grave demands a sigh ; 
 A parent's urn, the tearful eye ; 
 Our children, in their rosy bloom 
 Cut off, and lying in the tomb, 
 Arrest our step : we muse, we weep ; 
 Yet joy that they in Jesus sleep. 
 
 A new-built Church, of Gothic mould, 
 Stands on the site where stood the old ; 
 Around, within, beneath its walls 
 Sleep many, who there heard the calls
 
 PART I. 39 
 
 Of Mercy's SAveet, entreating voice, 
 And did in Zion's (jourts rejoice. 
 There rests the Martyr — honour'd dead ! 
 (No matter what Sir Walter said !) 
 Who nobly fought, for us and ours, 
 Against the persecuting Powers 
 That laid him low ; and now we see 
 His Creed triumphant — we are free. 
 
 'T was our intent to take a stroll, 
 And note down musings of the sovd. 
 Among the graves of th' old Churchyard 
 Of Cobnonell ; but Gray, the Bard, 
 With gi'aphic power, gives these to thee 
 In his immortal Elegy.
 
 40 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 His pictuie of the Sleepers here, 
 Of what they were, has no compeer. 
 What other Poet, who may tread 
 The mansions of the rural Dead, 
 When "glimm'ring landscape fades on sight,' 
 Or "solemn stillness" holds the night, 
 Will weave an Ode that shall be read 
 Long as the Li-ving mourn their Dead I 
 
 O may ours be, when wakes our dust, 
 The "Come ye blessed," to the Just 
 Addressed, by Him who on his throne 
 In glory sits. If He but own 
 That we are His, all shall be well, 
 Though buried not at Colmonell,
 
 PART I. 41 
 
 Where rest in hope our dearest friends, 
 Till God complete redemption sends, 
 That shall not leave in any eye, 
 A tear — in any heart, a sigh — 
 In any lonesome grave, a friend ; 
 For Christ in glory shall descend 
 And speak ; His Dead shall live, and rise 
 Like to Himself; beyond the skies 
 With Him to walk in white, and praise 
 Salvation's God through endless days. 
 
 The Parish Teacher's Home, hard l)y 
 The village, next attracts your eye : 
 Its site is good, and goodly trees. 
 Whose massy boughs wavi; in the breeze.
 
 42 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 O'erhaug tlie roail : these, we have seen 
 When saplings. Changes great have been 
 Since then. The Old have pass'd away 
 From life and the sweet light of day ; 
 And few of those can now be seen 
 With whom we sported on the green ; 
 'T is true, indeed, the "schoolboy-spot" 
 Is there; but there "we are forgot." 
 
 Come on : look there upon your right ; 
 A mansion neAV appears in sight 
 Beside the old — Kii'khill its name, 
 Its architect deserves some fame. 
 Remote from towns not oft one sees 
 Its like : that heath-clad hill, these trees,
 
 PART I. 43 
 
 And pleasant fields around it throw 
 Enchantment ; but we now must go : 
 Soon shall the Sun his farewell beam 
 Throw o'er the mountain, glen, and stream : 
 'Neath simset-hues how sweet to view 
 Knockdolian mansions old and new, 
 Adown by Stinchar's bonnie side. 
 Where stately trees them almost hide. 
 Among whose boughs an ancient race 
 Have their ancestral dwelling-place. 
 And whence, at eve, such clamours come. 
 So mix'd, as strike the Echo dumb. (4.) 
 Eew mansions boast a finer site ; 
 Its beauties fill us with delight ; 
 Tlie Naiads, Muses, hero could find 
 A home quite suited to Iheir iiiiiid.
 
 44 SCENES OP YOUTH. 
 
 Eomantic spot of light and shade ! 
 
 Thou seem'st for "whisp'ring lovers made;' 
 
 A calm retreat where Age may muse, 
 
 In peace recline, or read, or choose 
 
 An evening walk along the hanks, 
 
 And raise alone his hearty thanks, 
 
 Or join with Nature in her chorus 
 
 Of praise to Him who watches o'er us. 
 
 And with his household meet, each day 
 
 As duty calls on all, to lay 
 
 On th' altar to the God of heaven 
 
 Both praise and thanks for mercies given ; 
 
 And most, for Him who came to save 
 
 A guilty world, that men might have, 
 
 By faith. Salvation, through his blood, 
 
 From wrath's eternal, awful flood.
 
 PART I. 45 
 
 You wind along to Balluntrae ; 
 The River still is on your way, 
 Through tangl'd copse and thorny brake, 
 Constrain' d you are to pause, and take, 
 At Nature in her mazy dance 
 Of life and joy, a parting glance. 
 
 Ai"dstinchar rests his shatter' d form 
 Upon that rock, where long the storm, 
 That swept terrific o'er the main. 
 He brav'd ; but ah ! the wind and rain 
 Will lay him soon, a hoary heap, 
 Upon the lap of earth to sleep, 
 Ev'n where for centuries have slept 
 His ancient Owners, who there kept
 
 46 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Incessant watch against the foe, 
 
 To whose heart, from the battle-bow, 
 
 Through yonder slit, the arrow sped, 
 
 And laid him low among the dead. 
 
 These days are gone; let us rejoice, 
 
 And raise to Heaven a thankful voice, 
 
 " With hearts resolved, and hands prepar'd. 
 
 The blessings we enjoy to guard." (5.) 
 
 From heaven's high arch descends the Night, 
 
 To veil the landscape from our sight, 
 
 Or round the Earth's reposing head 
 
 X IjIuc and starry sky to spread. 
 
 And o'er her throw a mantle, made 
 
 Of silvery moonlight, strip'd with shado.
 
 PART I. 47 
 
 How calmly dies the light of day ! 
 Thus die may Ave, and pass away, 
 Without a murmur or a sigh, 
 To endless day beyond the sky. 
 
 Dear Stream ! farewell : we close, as we 
 Began, with words address' d to thee : 
 Thy course is run ; thy music, o'er ; 
 We lose thee now upon the shore; 
 Thou art, and yet thou art not, gone ; 
 For still thou, murm'ring, glidest on; 
 Fresh drops pursuing those that flee, 
 In such a close affinity. 
 Beguile us ; and wc 're apt to think. 
 When standing on thy lovely brink.
 
 48 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Thy lifetime long compared with ouivs, 
 And measur'd not by fleeting hours. 
 We deem that thou art all thou wast 
 When we were young ; and yet thou hast, 
 Since dawn'd this morn upon the earth, 
 Thy journey finish'd, and thy mirth. 
 Thou hast, unhonour'd, found thy grave — 
 A rolling, restless, ocean-wave; 
 But from it thou shalt soon arise, 
 To shine in rainbows on the skies. 
 Or float in clouds, supplies to bring 
 JBack to thy channel and thy spring ; 
 Afar, upon the wings of wind. 
 Perchance to Ganges and the Sindh — 
 God-rivers both — shall others soar, 
 Thy waters into them to pour,
 
 PART r. 49 
 
 And there receive, as on tliey roll, 
 The worship of a Pagan's soul. 
 How sad to think a stream should be, 
 In heathen lands, a deity ! 
 On whose green verge the mother, wild 
 And frantic, clasps her smihng child, 
 Ere, with a strange, convulsive start, 
 She tears it from her throbbing heart, 
 And casts it to the sullen Wave — 
 Vain sacrifice ! — her soul to save. 
 Gospel ! Kiver of Salvation, 
 To every thirsty, dying nation, 
 Flow fast, that anthems loud may rise 
 To God "from all beneath the skies," 
 Wlao have, at last, been bless'd indeed, 
 As promis'd Abrah'm, in his Seed. 
 
 G
 
 SCENES OF YOUTH REVISITED. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 By Stinchar's bonnie banks and braes 
 Were spent my boyhood's happy days : 
 I know its windings in and out ; 
 For in them I have iish'd for trout, 
 Ginnl'd the grilse, and girn'd the parr. 
 When but a schoolboy at the Barr. 
 I 've swum its waters, tame and wild, 
 And sported, as a merry child, 
 Among the brackens on its banks, 
 Till dusky eve and weary shanks
 
 PART 11. 51 
 
 Forc'd me to seek my Father's cot — 
 
 A place which ne'er can be forgot : 
 
 Where'er I go, or roam at will, 
 
 There hover gladsome mem'ries still ; 
 
 And oft I turn the wistful eye 
 
 To days of youth long since gone by. 
 
 My Father's cot — Dalgarva — stands 
 
 Unchang'd — but pass'd to other hands ; 
 
 A Father, Mother, still are there ; 
 
 Not mine ! Oh ! they have gone to where 
 
 The Living haste — where soon must be 
 
 The home of our mortality ; 
 
 And Brothers, Sisters, still are there. 
 
 But know not me, nor can tell where 
 
 I live. I saw them at their plays, 
 
 Keminding me of other days.
 
 52 SCENES OF YOUTH, 
 
 Afar from care, and full of glee, 
 
 As I was once, so let them be ; 
 
 And free as I, a boy, to roam 
 
 At pleasure, far from my lov'd home; 
 
 And may it be their blessed lot, 
 
 In life's dark days, to have that cot 
 
 A little sunclad Oasis, 
 
 To cheer them on their way to bliss ; 
 
 For there, example, precept given. 
 
 Directing, upwards into heaven, 
 
 Young thoughts and prayers, will be a source 
 
 Of strength throughout life's checker'd course. 
 
 Away from this lov'd sjiot we start. 
 For heaven and earth arc glad at heart.
 
 PART II. 53 
 
 To look on Scenes of Youth ; but ah ! 
 What mean those sign-posts threat'ning law 
 'Gamst man, or boy, or lad, or lass, 
 That dares along these banks to pass 1 
 These banks, in my young days, were free ; 
 No wall'd obstruction could you see ; 
 And Lovers young, or aged Pair, 
 Could there go forth to breathe the air. 
 And tell the tale of joy or sorrow, 
 AVTiile hope yet gilded their tomorrow ; 
 And there the Anglers might be seen, 
 Plying the rod, at morn or e'en. 
 Successful, and without the fear 
 Of an Informer drawing near ; 
 But times are changd; and now the "Law" 
 Is posted up to overawe
 
 54 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Them quite, by what they must await, 
 If they go over dike or gate ; 
 The Law Avith "rigour to th' utmost," 
 That is, the highest fine, with cost 
 Of proving, what is not denied, 
 That weeds they trod, as on they hied, 
 To sport a day, with rod in hand, 
 No damage done to fence or land. 
 
 Thy banks, Stinchar, once were free ; 
 I prophesy they yet shall be, 
 When selfish men who noAv bear sway 
 Have strutted out their little day ; 
 For those of philanthropic cast 
 Shall, glad, restore the happy Past ;
 
 PART II. 55 
 
 And on tliy banks shall then be seen 
 The Youngster, sportive as I 've been ; 
 The Swain beside his Mary fair, 
 Tasting a "bliss beyond compare ;" 
 The Man both full of years and hoary, 
 So ever ready with his story, 
 To list'ning youth, of other days, 
 And sitting in the noontide rays 
 Of summer sun to warm — how vain ! — 
 Back into youth his blood again. 
 
 I spake : the Stream thus made reply : 
 "Kind Sir, I 'm gTiev'd you cannot ply 
 The rod at will ; but, ere farewell 
 You take oi' friends at Colmonell,
 
 56 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Hear me a moment : Ouce my name 
 Flew far upon the wings of Fame ; 
 Perchance your fathers have you told 
 How full of fish in days of old 
 Was I ; how masters gave consent, 
 When feeing servants, to present 
 Them Salmon only twice aweek, 
 And that they would most duly seek 
 Them other food — so plentiful 
 Were fish in ev'ry stream and pool ; 
 But now, indeed, the fish are rare, 
 And I can hardly any spare. 
 From Balloch down to Ballantrae, 
 Gro ply the rod, and well you may 
 Believe yourself a lucky wight. 
 Should grilse or salmon come in sight,
 
 PART II. 
 
 57 
 
 Or 'glorious nibble' give your fly, 
 To cheer on hope lest it should die. 
 
 "It was in August and September, 
 As you can doubtless well remember. 
 The Fish came on their marriage trip. 
 Their native stream again to sip. 
 And leave the Spawn, from which the Fry 
 Sprang forth in millions, to supply 
 The place of those which fell a prey, 
 Throughout the hours of night and day, 
 To th' otter, spear, or net, or line, 
 Hook6d and baited, very fine. 
 By boys, most emulous to try 
 How many they could catch thereby ; 
 
 n
 
 58 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 And yet, in tliousands, from tlie deep 
 They 'd yearly come, and, joyous, leap 
 To find themselves again with me — 
 The stream of their nativity. 
 But recent laws, and late restrictions, 
 Have made these facts appear as fictions 
 To purblind mortals, forc'd to try 
 A new, strange mode of rearing' Fry ; 
 As if they could, by such a mode, 
 Repair the evils that have flow'd 
 From laws unwise : be these repeal'd, 
 And then the evils shall be heal'd ; 
 Let Nature only have her way, 
 And her Creator's laws obey; 
 Let men, the rights that were them given 
 By Ilim who made the eailh and heaven, 
 
 I
 
 PART II. 59 
 
 Enjoy, and multiply shall then 
 The Salmon into swarms again ; 
 Untouch'd allow these laws to stand, 
 And leave the sea and me in hand 
 Of persons of a narrow view. 
 No 'whitling' shall be left for you, 
 Or such as you, who come to spend 
 A day or two with an old friend, 
 Right glad to see a clear, bright sun, 
 And, when his daily task is done, 
 And he is set, to look on high. 
 In admiration of the sky, 
 Where float the clouds of ev'ry hue, 
 From crimson to the palest blue — 
 More beautiful and grand by far 
 Tlian galleries of paintings are —
 
 60 SCENES OF YOUTH. 
 
 Joyous to see old Twiligiit grey 
 
 Advancing slowly on her way, 
 
 Then giving place to stars and night — 
 
 A wondrous and enchanting sight ! — 
 
 All joy to 'scape the dust and smoke 
 
 Of towns, and the exhausting yoke 
 
 Of daily toil, and freely breathe 
 
 The air which stirs 'midst blooming heath, 
 
 That you to duty may return 
 
 With strength renewed, and inly burn 
 
 To do whatever good you can 
 
 Within your life's 'allotted span.' 
 
 "In brief: soon o'er a widow'd bed 
 My crystal waters shall be spread,
 
 TART n. 
 
 And tlieu, with grief, it shall be seen 
 
 How hurtful all fish-laws have been. 
 
 Go rid my. mouth of ev'iy net, 
 
 And sea coast too, and I shall yet 
 
 Be most prolific to supply 
 
 The Salmon for the net, the fly ; 
 
 ' It wad for every ane be better, 
 
 The Laird, the Tenant, and the Cotter.' 
 
 61
 
 '( 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 The song alluded to originally began thus : 
 
 "Behind yon hUls where Stinchar flows, 
 'Mang moors and mosses many, 0, 
 The wintry Sun the day has closed, 
 And I '11 awa to Nannie, 0." 
 
 Lugar was afterwards substituted; but the locality of this 
 stream does not answer the description. The wintry Sun, as 
 seen from the residence of the Bard at the time, did exactly 
 set behind the hills where Stinchar flows ; and he opened the 
 day, as the Poet in another place tells us, "O'er Galston moor," 
 which was east of his abode. But for a mere whim, the 
 Stinchar would have been immortal as the Doon, and in a 
 song as beautiful. 
 
 (2.) 
 
 Birds generally sing within a song-cast of their nest; and of 
 all birds of song the male only sings. Of the mavis or black- 
 bird family we have never seen the female perched upon a 
 bough and pouring forth her song; and the female lark, we 
 believe, neither soars nor sings; yet the current poetical 
 phraseology would lead to a contrary belief.
 
 G4 NOTES. 
 
 (3.) 
 
 It is only the male pigeon that coos ; the female (we write 
 what we have noted) does not swell her throat, or open her lips 
 — vulgarly called bill — to coo: she goes about her domestic 
 duties with exemplary quietness and becoming silence. Here 
 again the ciirrent phraseology is at fault. 
 
 (4.) 
 
 It is the office of the Echo to repeat sounds : it may, there- 
 fore, seem a contradiction to speak of striking it dumb; but 
 when crows congregate in the evening, as they do here, their 
 reiterated and mingled clamours render the Echo incapable of 
 giving forth distinct utterances. 
 
 (5.) 
 
 This Castle is said to have been built about the fifth century 
 of our era. It seems to have been intended to guard the path- 
 way along the shore as well as the vale of the Stinchai\ There 
 are old ruins throughout our land called Castles, many of which 
 are, or were, French Houses. The genuine old Feudal Castle 
 may be known by the arrow sUt in its wall. 
 
 PllINTED BY JAJIES MATHIE, 
 1, KING STREET. 
 
 t/.
 
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