O THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/astonbrookalsopoOOshelrich ASTON BEOOK, BY Vv^ILLIAM/^HELLEY, Author of ^^ Flowers by the Wayside,^' Jbc. ALSO. A POEM ENTITLED— AEE ANY BODIES POUND ? Relating to the Ferry-boat Disaster on the River Dee. The Profits arising from the Sale, to be given to the Fund for the Relief of the Sufferers. ABiERDEEN : WILLIAM LINDSAY, AND ALL BOOKSELLERS* Vc^^, W V T ARE ANY BODIES FOUND? Day after day, and many times a-day, The neighbours of the bitterly bereaved Come boftly in, and without prelude ask — ** Are any bodies found ? " How piteous The sad, imploring gaze — suspense of breath — And standing still of pale expectancy ! What answer can we frame ? Alas, liow cold The kindest words that mention hope no more ! Night after night, in many lowly homes By sudden death made dark and comfortless, The wrestling spirit turns away from man ; And, asking God's assistance in the search. Goes forth in tears to wait the turn of tide. And bring the loved ones home. At dawn of day — Oh, gloomy day that makes no sunrise known ! Tiie tears are still on prostrate woman's cheek. So troubled were her dreams. When flowers wake. Bright, slanting sunbeams kiss their tears away ; ivi367501 They lift tlieir smiling faces from tlie ground, And, lo ! tlie larks are bravely carolling. Is woman not more precious than the flowers ? More lovable, for grander life designed ? Then why are there so many sorrowing, As Rachel did of old, hard by the stream That snatched their darlings out of pleasure's arms. And swirled them, shrieking wildly, from our sight ? Hush, murmurer ! Regale thy heart awhile By gazing on the face of Charity. Rather than be presumptuous, cry aloud — " The purpose of our tribulations here. Is still to strengthen pure Benevolence — Enrich the world with rare humanity — And bririg the heavy-laden home to rest." Now, through the early watches of the night, While tliose who dare not hope to fall asleep. Lie down to hide despair — they having heard, " There are no bodies found," the April moon Looks coldly from the silent firmament, Upon the faces of the drifting dead ; And God, the loving father of us all, Also beholdeth the vast agony Of tliem that crave His mercy; and the deep Shall cast tlie dead ashore at His command ; And He who walked the sea of Galilee, Will calm the sorrowful with — " Peace, be still." What of our duty to tlie destitute, The sorrowing, the suddenly bereaved, Whose hopes are quenched in Dee ? Our gratitude To God, .the Giver of the good we love. Is magnified by comforting the poor. We should not yet pay heed to such as prate Of children violating Nature's laws ; Of women shrieking in their widowhood ; And mothers sorrowing for sons gone down, In consequence of the temerity Of some poor men whom none had taught aright. But, while we make resolve to utilise The wisdom brought to us by accident, Sweet Charity should have our hearts in charge, And sisterly and meekly lead us forth, In likeness of the good Samaritan 'Who had compassion on the wayfarer. And brought the helpless to a place of rest, And gave some pence to those who tended him, And promised more if needed. For the love Of Him w^hose love makes heaven manifest, We will not, like the Priest and Levite, pass Our wounded neighbours, on the other side. ASTON BROOK. All tender thoughts, all happy memories That, still through tears, regard the beautiful, The innocent, and glad are anodyne Intended to restrain our murmurings. That we may catch the earnest undertones Of Nature's harmony; and liken life, With all its fret and moil and weariness, Unto the careful husbandry of One Who ploughs and sows to fill the thrashing-floor, Where, for good purpose, tribulation smites The loosened sheaves to free the grain from chaff. At eventide when fancy grows sedate, How calm and sweet the intercourse we hold, Beyond the city bounds, with friends beloved, Who, heedless of time's gadding servitors, Gain vantage and grow strong in quietude. We learn the feelings of a boy again. And yield the spirit imperceptibly To frolic sport, and bright imaginings That take us home to mother's cleanl}^ hearth, And bring the neighbours in. We prove the worth Of those with whom we had delicious dreams Of love, h}' Aston Brook, when Hesperus Smiled sweet approval from the blue of heaven, Like mother smiling through the window panes To welcome us from school, long years ago. Sweet Aston Brook is still melodious To many laden hearts. Blithe fancy there. Now pert, now petulant, but ever kind, Trips to and fro with charming unconcern. While echo, giving way to rural jo}?^, Improves the cadence of the milkmaid's song. There love, for ever kindly masterful, Shines manifest to all who gaze intent On Nature's countenance. The village girls, As song-birds jubilant, and chaste as flowers. Take Nature for their governess and yield Their hearts to her control. The lusty swains Believe the modulations of her voice. As seasons glide, are bravest harmony ; And there 1 ramble with the well-beloved Who make me happy as the swallows are When crimpled ferns their tender fronds uncurl; And all the woodland choir with one accord Are boasting of the earth's maternity. Sometimes my dear companions look demure As if sore tribulation had constrained Their love to silence ; yet a little while, 8 And tender hearts are jubilant as larks Whose nests are safe among the shooting corn Where truants dare not range ; and resolute As were those heroes of the olden tmie, That guarded liberty as yet too young Alone to walk abroad, such vengeful foes, Coleagued in hate her progress to retard, In sylvan labyrinth malignant prowled. But, whether grave or gay, my well-beloved Would elevate the man above the reach Of grovelling fear, and soul-debasing sloth, Ti]l life shall prove a solemn harmony, By love arranged for purpose too profound For dissonance to mar. They me inform That light and shade, alternate grief and joy; Yea, our chance intercourse with fool and knave, Whereby we learn to venerate the just, Are wisely ordered, that the virtuous. By beautiful gradations, may ascend Brave altitudes, and glory in the light, And breath the pure inspiring air of heaven. How lovely to behold a sprightly band Of villaoje maidens, innocent and fair As love's conceptions when the heart is pure, Come dancing down the vale : How gracefully Their arms embrace, with exquisite fine curve, Fair neck, and slender waist ! With what delight Their orarmcnts wave and rustle in the wind : And liuw their laughter makes the swallows scream ! Not all the Graces, nor the Muses nine That made Parnassus worthy of the gods, Like my belovtd could poet captivate ; Nor pour such amaranthine charms abroad ; And when they pray the Lord of love's domain To make them part of his bright husbandry, Their native speech, the doric of stark truth. Might harmonise the orisons of mom. What time portentious clouds the vale obscure. And moaning winds an angry night forebode. The beautiful retire, and I am left With fondling memory. But why repine ? Why urge the truant through the quickset hedge Like one afraid of wholesome chastisement ? Better to sit at Nature's feet and learn That patience is the darling of her heart. Then sunbeams fall aslant through passing clouds. And happy creatures, from green-curtained nooks, Peep gaily forth and comfort us with song. Thus bashful maiden, feigning to conceal Her face with dainty hands, flashes, between Her parted fingers, glances that shall make A conqueror of one that hugged despair. 10 With converse sweet and kind solicitude, My dear companions make me resolute To smile in duty's face, nor turn aside Though she look fierce as death. They make i-esolve To have me with them to the vocal west, And make me joyful as a mariner, Kescued at nightfall from a drifting wreck. They give assurance that the promises Love made shall be redeemed, by tender looks, Tiiat gently charm our ciaven fears away ; By kindly words that warm the heart like wine ; By meek forbearance and considerate deeds, That plant forget-me-nots and lilies bright About the narrow graves, where oft at eve Sweet robin sings, inspired. So, like a child, • Enjoying sunshine after heavy rain ; Or like one bound in slavery, that feels Determined freemen severing his chains ; Or like the broken prodigal that hears His father bid tliem slay the fatted calf, My grateful soul resolves to make amends For many wilful errors unatoned. As thy delight in spring-time, prattling brook, Subdues all trace of winter's tyranny, So shall this guest of mine, by faith sustained, Bear up the man against all grievances. 11 No more the doleful murmurer shall dash Tlie twilight comforts of my lowly home ; Nor shall my own lank shadow lengthways fling The silent ghosts of vanquished enemies Before me down the lane, what time I wend, Peering through thorny hedgerows, into fields. Where men more frail than I are harvesting. What matter though tlie vain and arrogant My feeble pace deride ? The richest' born Must creep before they run. Who shall forbid The village poor, when passing down the lane. To glean between the ruts a few short ears Shed from the groaning wain ? Humility While gazing on the ground, haply, may find Some precious gems that folly trampled on, While gadding in the sunshine for applause. What matter though dejected penury Restrain my fervour with harsh mutterings Of what the aged feel when snow descends. And labour can no longer carry home Sufficient daily bread ? 'Neath cottage eaves The sparrows prosper yet. In vales obscure The graceful lilies shame the pomp of kings; And I believe that He who heedeth them, Will also have a tender care of me. When I am labour-thrown, and never more Go forth at morn rejoicing in my strength. 12 Dear Aston Brook, thy beauty and delight Remind me of a comely-featured girl, Rehearsing, gaily and melodiously, Her morning lesson as she trips to school. Such was my sister's wont, in haj^^y days Ere sorrow found dear mother's dAvelling-place, And frightened us with strange, lugubrious tales Of bitter fruit, dead flowers, and stinging bees. Alas 1 we have so many burdens borne Since that sweet time, but few that loved us then Would care to meet us now. Tliou art not changed. . Thy face is fresh as morning, and thy voice Is sweet as echo's laughter of delight. When lusty swains are shouting " Harvest home," And Nature's darlings in the bramble copse, Perform " Te Deum Laudamus " all da}^, To celebrate a glorious victory. When gentle zephyr, frisking down the vale, Tickles thee into laughter, as love's praise Brightens the face of low- voiced modesty, Thy brambles, ferns, and rose sprent briars are proud As children that rejoice in mother's joy. Again the throstle half the day devotes To social intercourse, and, like a lord. Rare w^ealth of music scatters far and wide. 13 ~ • Tlie tiny wren, and pretty white-throat deem The liazel belt their own, so glad are they ; The fern and burdock praise thy creeping pace ; The willows dip their tresses in thy pools ; Thy shallows prattle and thy ripples gleam So merrily, I feel a boy again, And play the truant to my heart's content. Oft as I loiter 'neath the grand old trees That, with huo^e arms umbraoceous, shade tlie pools Where schoolbo3^s loved to bathe in summers past. The friends who found their peace in comforting The poor and heavy-laden are restored. And ever, as of old, they me inform That still the winter of adversity Foreruns the resurrection of the flowers. Sweet Aston Brook, thou never canst surpass The silent grace, the hoyden merriment Of children newly washed, and combed, and kissed. That often make thy flowers more luminous, More musical thy banks, while gathering The fairest they can find to carry home, That mother's mantel-piece and window-sill May own the grace and redolence of June. Delighted with his summer holida}^ A chubby little child approaches now — 14 His face with berries smeared, his pinafore With fern and sorrel filled, his flaxen curls Confused with cap of rushes tricked with flowers. The scene is changed — a stripling bounds along, His fancy charmed with dauntless " Old Benbow," Lord Nelson, Drake, and Cook. Forsaking home, The youngster, wrapped in Crusoe, goes to sea, Where, fondly he believes, he will attain To riches and renown ; and then return, And. fill the villagers with glad amaze, And make dear mother lady over all. Again the scene is changed — 'tis Sabbath eve ; This blooming damsel, just come o'er the stile. Dressed in her best, with Bible in her hand. Is wending home from church ; her sprightliness Seems over-awed and hushed by earnest thought, As if she had the loving Bridegroom seen, And answered His entreaties with her tears. How well the pensive mood becomes the maid ! How chaste her bearing : and what sympathy She pours on all that seek her countenance ! Stirred by her steps, the flowers seem courtesying, And woo the kindly pressure of her feet, Then spring to kiss her skirts. Her summer dress, So neatly made, and careful kept, and clean, Is innocent of spendthrift fashion's whims, 15 Outrageous flash, and rude extravagance. The taste and elegance herein displayed With stature and complexion harmonise So quietly, her picture ages hence Might artist captivate. Thus foilage cool That half conceals the bright delicious fruit, By quiet contrast, heightens loveliness. Another change ! the maiden is no more ! The Sabbath comes not yet with holy calm, Melodious praise, and s])irit-questioning. 'Tis now a still autuiimal eventide, And down the meadow footpath, sad and slow, Cheatinor her weariness with thousfhts of home, An aged gleaner totters neath her load. Upon the wooden bridge she rests awhile, And, sadly smiling, reads once more the names Carved in the trusty hand-rail, long ago, By one whose manliness made beautiful Her after years with solemn light and shade. Wherefore should vulgar curiosity Presume to question her ? Why lay rude hand Upon the latch that keeps her cottage door ? The neighbours say, that when she seems alone. The widow wrestles for the Comfortei- As Jacob did of old, and oft exclaims — " 1 will not let thee ^o until thou bless " My sailor-boy, that he may be restored 16 Alive and well, ere Christmas comes asfain." "&" May she prevail, as wrestling man prevailed ; And may her lowly dwelling-place become As bright as Bethel in the wilderness ! Would that my service down the flowery vale, Like thine, sweet brook, might prove continuous, And beautiful for good ! Then children dear Would lift their merry hearts up, like the birds That in thy shallows plash their wings and sip, Then look to heaven as if saying grace. Though shoi't thy journey hither from the heath, Yet, for thy kindly ser\'ice night and day, Ten thousand creaturcvs innocent as bright Untutored sing thy praise, and charm thy course With hey-day merriment. Alas for me I I potter like an ill-conditioned fool. Nor choose the paths wo lucidly defined By mon who mastered stubborn cintumstance, That valor might advance : fi-amed 'wholesome laws To cruai-d the frail and curb the turbulent : Constrained the gorsc-patched wold and ague- swamp To bring forth rich abundance : and arranged. For human intercourse, harmonious speech Suited ahke to earnest reasoning, 17 And to the gladness of a little child , Meet for persuasion, censure, and applause, And for the holy fellowship that makes Men vindicate their right, by soul-descent, To live upon the land they bravely till, •' And Avorship God in spirit and in truth." Unwearied brook, thy worth reproaches me With lack of strenoth, or lack of manliness To do my duty as a servitor Of One by whom I live ; to touch the hem Of my dear Brother's garment, and revere The blessed Shiloh in His countenance. Like thee, my mother eluded long ago, What time the truant dabbled in thy pools. And gamboled on thy banks. Alas I the boy Missed her sweet meaning. Now, when memory Informs the man how motherly she was. The boy comes back, his wayw^ardness subdued, And walks thy margin, weeping bitterly. At dead of night, when son-ow holds me fast. And will not turn her rueful face away, A plaintive voice, intensely passionate, Yet soothing as the gentle lullaby Of peace at eventide, my spirit thrills With — " Hush, my son, the burden must be borne." 18 Each morn my face in deeper tone displays Dear mother's lineaments and cast of mind ; And through the day I feel the solemn force Of all her warnings ; but I never reach Her height and depth of love, nor comprehend The sacred kinship, wherein life reflects The peace, and joy, and tender sympathy Slie would have wrapped around me as a robe. Thou placid brook, that seekest not to climb, Nor turnest to the left nor to the right. Save in the service of utility, Oh ! teach me to believe that all things meet For my advancement in all usefulness To which my life is suited, yet abound In lowly places by the water brooks : Inform my spirit that the course of time Is not too swift when merriment prevails ; Nor yet too slow when halting penury Benighted strays. Show me that Wisdom metes The pace and purpose of my servitude. In clear accordance with my will to make A ripple on the waters as they glide. Thou art a kindly teacher, gushing brook, And grateful to my heart thy teachings prove As cooling winds are to the husbandmen In harvest time, when swathes of heavy grain Follow the flashing scythe. Thy whisperings 19 Encourage me to clierisli the belief That, haply, even I may be endowed With poet sympathies, and that my course Along the valley may some few pei-suade To feast at large on Nature's loveliness. Oft when I catch thy smiling countenance My woes are hushed, as frightened children are When mother brings a light into their room. TJiy tinkling snatches of faint melody Are sweet as Christmas carols, and recall Bright holidays, and dear indulgent friends Whose worth, like holly, still defies the frost. Do other hearts, like mine, feel comforted With thy brave pleasantry ? Does sorrow hear The treble voice of childhood in thy song ; And still perceive, in th}^ soft undertones, The earnest vows, the whispered promises That make love's aftermath as bright as June ? Then bless them ever ! They are dear to me As if one loving mother nursed us all. And blessings en the ever beautiful ; Thy Rylands, Masons, Dudleys who have lived The life of good Samaritans, and made The Midlands of Old England motherly Beyond all precedent : whose love of man, And faith in Him wl;o blest the sorrowful, 20 Make widely-known the tender cliarity That poureth oil and wine into men's wounds; And bringeth many of the labour-crushed, And many weanlings, bleating on the wold, To peaceful homes where hunger is unknown. Art thou not of our kindred, restless brook ? In thy bright features do I not behold Resemblance of myself ? Thy relatives Are mighty oceans ; and majestic streams That drain wide continents. The prattling rilh That mimic comely children when at play ; Also, the placid lakes that still reflect The starry firmament on frosty nights. Are thine for ever in afiinity. The amethystine icebergs, rainbows, clouds. And glorious Alpine glaciers works with thee In harmony supernal ; yea, thou art Related to the dew-drop on the thorn. The sap of verdure, and contrition's tears. Like thee, sweet brook, my spirit earth-confined A fretful prisoner whose only hope Of blessed liberty is fixed upon The Gracious Counsellor, may kindred claim With all who made the lowly prosperous, And set their life to psalms. Oh ! may I strive To understand how valiantly they wrought. And fiercely battled, and devoutly prayed, 21 Until heroic zeal and hardihood Made human j)rogress bright as water brooks To after generations. May I still Remember that the vain and frivolous, The poor and feeble, and the soul-debased. Are still my brethi'en. Their degraded plight Is not more piteous than mine would prove, Should tender mercy turn his face away. Our Father breathed in them ; our Brotlier still Holds out his hands to them, and will anoint Their aching eyes soon as their souls exclaim, As Nicodemus did in days of old — " Rabbi, thou art a teacher come from God." When I am old, and wearied of the strife, The drudgery, and stubborn circumstance That hold me face to face with hideous sloth, And hilding fraud, and gross debauchery : When my vexed spirit wrestles like a bird To break the cage, and sing of love at large : When from my best-beloved I would conceal The doubts that keep me writhing in the dark. Lest she should miss my meaning, and deride My heart's unrest as springing from caprice, I'll seek thy banks again, at eventide, And sit beside tliee till I lose myself Communing with tlie darlings gone away, Who still salute me from the brighter shore Of every stream that duty bids me cross. •22 ' Melodious brook, ere from the stormy north The tyrant rages, like a churl grown hoarse With hooting aged gleaners from his ground ; Ere silent frost sets in, and tiies by stealth To overpower thy soft threnetic voice, Enable me to rightly understand The pathos of thy music ; and the peace That comes of labouring, like thee, for love : Then shall my work and worship harmonise A few bright snatches of thy melody : In spring time wlien the cliildren of the poor Sui'pass the throstle in their merriment, And well-nigh shame the fairest of thy flowers, What gladness will be thine ! When summer comes, And moths and bees hold merry festivals 'Mong brambles dredged with bloom, what happy girls. Escaped from school, will make thy face reflect Their native comeliness ; what pretty feet Will give thy depths delight ■ When harvest-home Proclaims the valour of thy husbandmen To all the listening vale. I will rejoice With all Avho praise thee ; all whom thou canst charm With bright imaginings ; and all whose love Protects the orphan, makes the widow glad And sheds the light of knowledge round the poor. 2S When from boreal regions winter comes, Like one that leads a host to victory ; When beauty falls before the conqueror, And mother weeps for darlings overthrown. Oh ! may my spirit joyfully exclaim — " Sweet Brook, it is a blessed thing for me " That I have hearkened to thy undertones." WILLIAM LINDSAY, FKINTEU, ABJiKl)E£>'.