ggl 
 
THE SIREN CASKET. 
 

 
 7" 
 
 (/<r-ff TJ 
 
Retreating from the threatening surge 
 
 I fell mto the sea , 
 The rest is but a blanlv- until 
 
 I rallied on the lea. " 
 
THE SIREN CASKET; 
 
 OR 
 
 THE WRECKER AND THE 
 MAID OF DRUM: 
 
 of 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD MUNRO, A.M. 
 
 (Ebinburgh: 
 
 JAMES THIN, 55 SOUTH BRIDGE. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
To the Members of the Kintyre and 
 Argyllshire Chibs. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 As a native of Kintyre, and as a 
 Member of your Associations, whose primary object 
 is the maintenance of the spirit of clanship and the 
 development of mutual attachment in our fellow- 
 countrymen, I beg to dedicate to you " The Siren 
 Casket." 
 
 Whether "The Casket" may not be "Siren" in 
 more senses than one I shall not venture to prejudge, 
 but I may be allowed to state, partly in vindication 
 of its presentation to public notice, that my resolution 
 to describe its eventful history originated in the 
 request of some members of your clubs, and the 
 urgent concurrence of others. 
 
 Having enjoyed unusually favourable opportunities 
 for acquiring a knowledge of the traditions of localities 
 in which you have a common interest, I took advan- 
 tage of a suggestion that fully harmonized with my 
 own predilections. 
 
vi DEDICATION. 
 
 Though the form in which I have taken a fancy to 
 cast the sketches in the volume now before you is a 
 metrical one, I do not claim for my stanzas the 
 qualities of true poetry, nor even that of perfect 
 rhyme. 
 
 Should the perusal of the following facts and 
 fancies afford you any relaxation of spirit in a leisure 
 hour, or wake reflections of a graver and more in- 
 structive character, the object which the Author had 
 in view in recording them will be fully realized. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 Your obedient Servant, 
 
 ARCHIBALD MUNRO. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGES 
 
 WRECK AT DUNAVERTY, KINTYRE A MYSTERIOUS 
 
 STRANGER ..... 1-28 
 WHINNYHILL FAIR ..... 29-38 
 A STIFF ENCOUNTER A BULL FIGHT MACGREGOR 
 AND MACE HERD-BOYS SONG : THE WHINNY- 
 HILL HORN ..... 38-51 
 HOGMANAY AT CAMPBELTON IN THE OLDEN TIME 
 HIGHLAND MARY FIRST FOOTING TAR 
 BARRELS . . . . . 52-81 
 
 THE RED CHAPEL . . . . 81-84 
 
 CAMPBELTON LOCH ..... 84-88 
 SCHOOL DAYS ..... 88-0 1 
 
 THE EVICTED TENANT .... 91-95 
 KILLOCRAW THE HECKLER AND THE PEDLAR . 96-106 
 DELUSIVE VISIONS ..... 110-123 
 LOVERS' VISIONS ..... 123-134 
 THE HERALD (MILITANT) . . . .135-144 
 
 MARY OF THE DRUM .... 144-149 
 
 THE WRECKER ..... 150-169 
 MARY OF THE DRUM . . . . 170-176 
 
 THE NAMELESS TREASURE GLASGOW COLLEGE 
 BUCKHEAD INN, TRONGATE THE FIRST 
 WATCH ...... 176-191 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGES 
 
 WTLSON AND MARY . . . 192-200 
 
 RETRIBUTION ..... 201-207 
 
 THE WILD MOURNERS THE PASTOR OF KILLEAN 207-218 
 
 THE WRECKER'S LETTER .... 218-227 
 
 TORQUIL CONSECRATION OF KILLOCRAW BRIDGE 228-235 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS' VAULT .... 235-251 
 
 PAISLEY BRIDGE . . . 251-259 
 
 PATCHEN . ... 259-274 
 
 THE LONELY WAIF ..... 274-279 
 
 NOT GUILTY, MY LADY .... 279-282 
 
 ANGEL IN DISGUISE ..... 283-289 
 
 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW PROFESSORS 
 
 LUSHINGTON AND RAMSAY . . . 290-296 
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT ..... 297-301 
 
 CARLYLS ... . 301-305 
 
 CHALMERS . ... 305-310 
 
 LIEUTENANT IRVING .... 311-312 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 WHO thinks the gear that fraud procures 
 A satisfying boon ensures, 
 May from the following various tales 
 Find proof that better law prevails ; 
 That ev'n on earth waste, want, and woe 
 Are crops from seeds that vices sow ; 
 That virtues, too, their guerdon find 
 In prosperous thrift and peace of mind. 
 
 This truth two chroniclers of old 
 A sire and son in tales unfold 
 Nor should the reader idly deem 
 These reliques but an airy dream ; 
 For, fancy's aid though they enlist, 
 With facts, in substance, they consist, 
 'Tis thus the first historian's rhymes 
 Disclose a chapter of his times : 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 DUNAVERTY'S steep rugged rock 
 Has oft repell'd so records boast 
 The fierce invader's sturdy shock, 
 And fenced Argyllshire's southern coast. 
 
 From this stronghold I scann'd the strath 
 That sweeps from Keil to Machrimore ; 
 To ocean's wild capricious wrath 
 The strand resistless witness bore. 
 
 A gallant sloop for Greenock bound 
 Had miss'd her stays, and, sport of gales, 
 She writhed on furious surge, and found 
 Not aid but doom, from swelling sails ! 
 
 A shroud of spray enrobed her mast, 
 And hid at times the craft from view ; 
 Oft, high above the angry blast, 
 Was heard the clamour of her crew. 
 
 Fierce was the wind and wild the waves 
 That smote the boulders of the Moil, 
 And frantic echoes in its caves 
 Bespoke their ceaseless mingled toil. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 From crest to crest like lightest cork 
 The creaking vessel onward sped ; 
 Along Dunarty's massive rock 
 A doubtful fate her passage led. 
 
 Fairly the Waterfoot's eschew'd, 
 But vengeful still his time being short, 
 The Spirit of the Storm pursued 
 And smote the craft in fiendish sport. 
 
 High on the sand her weary prow 
 Is hurled by wind and rolling tide ; 
 Yet here she finds not safety now 
 No rest for her exhausted side. 
 
 Adown the slope of whirling sand 
 The backward rush of seething waves 
 The battered vessel sweeps from land, 
 While masts and spars the billow laves. 
 
 Short time she reel'd on boiling surf ; 
 Succeeding waves the charge sustain ; 
 On native shore though firm and tough, 
 The brave " Kintyre " is split in twain. 
 
 The " Village " natives shoreward run, 
 And loud their joy with cheers express'd ; 
 No Stoic's frigid unconcern 
 Finds harbour in their Celtic breast. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY, 
 
 For many a day, O ! gallant Weir, 
 Far-famed Southend with pride will tell 
 How love of health, of life, and gear, 
 Gave way to Suffering's loud appeal. 
 
 Nor, Lephenstrath, wilt thou disgrace 
 Macmillan's guerdon nobly won ; 
 'Mong scions of a manly race 
 On Glory's field he yields to none. 
 
 Towards the wreck lads brave and true 
 With Spartan courage less its pride 
 To save the fast-receding crew 
 Flung' d boldly in and stemm'd the tide. 
 
 Sprung from thy soil, fair Machririoch, 
 The brothers Stewart due notice claim ; 
 For braving risk not theirs alone, 
 They honour still a royal name. 
 
 Mackay, the don of vale and hill, 
 Of nimble foot, and well-knit frame, 
 Was match'd by none for pith or skill, 
 But ever foremost in the game. 
 
 Much serv'd it now that dwelling nigh 
 The "Village" bay from early life, 
 He learn'd to swim, to float and dive, 
 And challenge Ocean's ruthless strife. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 Discreetly train'd to meet the worst, 
 These heroes round them wind a rope ; 
 Then, fearless, all restraints they burst, 
 And with the ruffian surges cope. 
 
 The crew, dispersed, yet near the strand, 
 Th' unequal conflict ill maintain'd : 
 The monstrous floods their vigour spend, 
 Till strength and hope are almost drain'd. 
 
 Conspicuous 'mong the shipwreck'd men 
 A swarthy veteran near'd the shore ; 
 A casket firm beneath his arm 
 In spite of winds and waves he bore. 
 
 Refusing aid (he needed none, 
 Nor for his mates besought relief), 
 With brawny arms he breasts the main 
 And gains, much-spent, a shelvy reef. 
 
 A fervent joy now thrill'd the breasts 
 Of all spectators on the strand, 
 As one by one th' imperill'd wights 
 Are rescued by the patriot band. 
 
 But scarcely had the hearts of men 
 
 More freely throbb'd, since all seem'd safe, 
 
 When, baffled in his highest aim, 
 
 Grim Neptune rush'd to clutch one waif. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 The sun-burnt veteran, faint and stiff, 
 Where first on ground he set his foot 
 As statue stood, and seem'd as if 
 Upon the ledge he'd taken root ! 
 
 On comrades (who on canvas lie, 
 Whose pallid cheeks sad traces bear 
 Of recent agony) his eye 
 He fix'd with rueful, hopeless stare. 
 
 An eager survey round he took, 
 As one that priceless gifts has lost ; 
 Anon his eyelids closed : he shook, 
 And once again on sea is toss'd. 
 
 A shriek of anguish and despair 
 Rose from the crowd, above the roar 
 Of blasts. Now, who the risk shall share 
 To swim at least twelve yards from shore ? 
 
 The perilous triumph who shall win ? 
 Pray, look ! five dauntless youths have spurn'd 
 The thought of Self; and once again 
 Their footsteps seawards they have turn'd. 
 
 With noble envy four discern 
 That stout Mackay has ta'en the lead. 
 With valiant strokes he reach'd " his man," 
 And grasp'd him in his utmost need. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 7 
 
 His utmost need in sooth it seem'd ; 
 For twice, already, 'neath the wave 
 The pithless swimmer sank. Few dream'd 
 He might escape a watery grave. 
 
 A timeous jerk with caution rare 
 To surface brought the sinking head ; 
 Then, as a nurse that turns with care 
 An ailing infant on its bed, 
 
 Mackay now rais'd the face to view, 
 And gently, towards the shore, by turns 
 The floating victim push'd and drew, 
 While call for aid he inly spurns. 
 
 The tempest o'er thy pluck prevails, 
 Though strong and train'd, Mackay, you be ; 
 Your noted vigour plainly fails 
 The course to shore you dimly see. 
 
 The Stewarts through groups their passage clave. 
 And dash'd anew into the brine ; 
 Mackay they urged himself to save, 
 And to their care his charge resign. 
 
 The varied feelings of the crowd, 
 Alternate, sway'd their looks with fear 
 Or hope, as ebb repell'd, or flood 
 The rescued and the youths brought near. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 The brave deliverers welcome found 
 In every breast ; (their matchless feats 
 In many a household still resound ; 
 And guest to host them still repeats.) 
 
 Yet, nathless, clouded were their brows, 
 As cold and stiff and lifeless seem'd 
 The waif. To sense he's hard to rouse 
 Now that from Ocean he's redeemed. 
 
 Attentive, every ear was fain 
 To drink the sound of words he spake, 
 In hope some inkling to obtain, 
 And gather more should he awake. 
 
 Perplex'd and stunn'd, some standing round 
 O'erhear these ominous words with grief: 
 "Don't say, MacLean, I forced you down, 
 Or rudely push'd you from the skiff ! " 
 
 Fierce thoughts now o'er each bosom swept, 
 (Though ruth, by turns, their hearts possess'd), 
 As o'er their minds suspicion crept 
 They've nursed a viper in their breast. 
 
 Is't true that though from tempests hoarse 
 A murderer has got reprieve, 
 Yet, tainted with high Heaven's curse, 
 Him vengeance suffereth not to live ? 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 Did men a serpent's life defend 
 Who, seemingly, another's quench'd ? 
 Shall mercy tend a wretch whose hand 
 With fellow-mortal's blood was drench'd ? 
 
 Perhaps in memory still remains 
 His loss or toil by sea or land ; 
 And 'fore his inward eye grim trains 
 Of horrible illusions stand. 
 
 The awe-struck crowd as is its wont 
 Opposing views and parts assume : 
 Some cease their pity ev'n to grant, 
 While others friendly aid resume. 
 
 Assiduous help and generous care 
 Betimes their due reward obtain ; 
 And hopeful smile or gleesome stare 
 The crowd nor would nor could restrain. 
 
 By slow degrees their vital force 
 The stranger's languid limbs recall ; 
 With borrow'd help erect he rose, 
 And grateful looks he bends on all. 
 
 With feeble gait and furtive mien, 
 Supported, from the shore he wends 
 His way up to " the Village Inn," 
 A motley group an escort lends. 
 
io THE WRECK AT D UNA VERT Y. 
 
 Throughout the district far and wide 
 The common talk on every tongue 
 Embraced the scenes but lately view'd, 
 And changeful themes that from them sprung. 
 
 The veteran's previous career, 
 His native home, whence last he came, 
 He still conceal'd, from pride or fear ; 
 None knew or even ask'd his name. 
 
 And yet a fitful, sudden start 
 And curious stare at times betray'd 
 Some anguish gnawing at. his heart : 
 Was't for a crime or gear mislaid ? 
 
 When memory's slumbering pow'rs revived, 
 He ask'd, with anxious feeling moved, 
 If from the wreck a youth survived 
 Who often all but kinsman proved. 
 
 His shipwreck'd mates had left for town 
 (Ceannloch, that never yet has fail'd 
 Misfortune's sons with help to crown, 
 Nor recks the question whence they've " hailed"). 
 
 From them no whisper ev'n was heard 
 Of other " hand " besides the saved ; 
 Nor was assuring word returned 
 From those who Ocean's fury braved. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. u 
 
 The wringing hands and burdened sigh 
 His anguish told ; and o'er his brow 
 A shadow pass'd, whence one might 'spy 
 He felt he must 'neath troubles bow. 
 
 Fain would he certain hints secure, 
 
 Yet, still reluctant to renew 
 
 The waning wonder of the hour, 
 
 He shrank somewhat from public view. 
 
 One day the footpath to the beach 
 By devious routes he backward traced ; 
 Then 'long the shore with watchful search, 
 Dejected, to and fro he paced. 
 
 'Twas then from steep Dunaverty, 
 Whence far and wide I sought a view, 
 I mark'd his movements curiously 
 As near its rocky base he drew. 
 
 Descending slowly down the slope, 
 I gauged his pace and timed my own, 
 Till near where branches off a road, 
 From others hid, we met, alone. 
 
 Th' averted look and quickened stride 
 In him no wish for parley show'd ; 
 Averse th' encounter to abide, 
 He nimbly jerk'd from off the road. 
 
THE WRECK A T DUN A VERTY. 
 
 It chanced his cane, borne 'neath his arm, 
 Here noiseless dropp'd on loosest sand ; 
 Its fall, methought, supplied a form 
 And motive to take speech in hand. 
 
 My first salute" A pleasant day " ! 
 He answered thus : " It is indeed " ; 
 But, plainly loath to speak or stay, 
 My notice seem'd to urge his speed. 
 
 " Your stick," quoth I, " beside me lies ; 
 "'Tis yours I know; I saw it fall; 
 He halted, and to my surprise 
 Responded blandly to my call : 
 
 " My thanks ; 'tis mine ; thus well you guess ; 
 'Twould grieve me much with it to part ; " 
 11 No doubt, " quoth I ; " its native grace 
 Could borrow nought from finest art. 
 
 " From other soil in foreign clime 
 Its life, I ween, the sapling drew ; 
 And, stay ! I've seen it ere this time 
 So judge I from a closer view. 
 
 "Among the spoils that reach'd the strand 
 From ocean's waste, I mark'd this cane ; 
 In sooth I saved it with this hand, 
 Yet dreamt not I should see't again. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 13 
 
 ' Tis not for me my deeds to name, 
 Though yet 'tis but an honest pride, 
 That I the happy honour claim 
 Your staff to Ve rescued from the tide. 
 
 " Assured 'twas yours, I brought it home 
 To the ' Village Inn,' with keen request, 
 That when enabled hence to roam 
 The treasure you again possess' d. 
 
 "Excuse this interruption, Sir; 
 
 I meant not thus your steps to stay ; 
 
 My freedom may your query stir, 
 
 1 Why thus so long your course delay ? ' ' 
 
 " Apology," quoth he, " is due 
 In truth from me ; I frankly own 
 When friendly greeting came from you 
 Scant courtesy by me was shewn. 
 
 " But trace it not to haughty pride, 
 
 Or temper sullen and austere, 
 
 That cordial answer I denied 
 
 And shank from converse when so near. 
 
 " A forced restraint, for reasons rare, 
 On social converse I must place ; 
 Betimes, mayhap, occasion fair 
 To lift the veil I may embrace. 
 
I 4 THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 " Yet here at least (as I perceive) 
 A stranger well his heart may bare, 
 Where every eye betokens love, 
 Might kindle hope 'mid dark despair. 
 
 " I owe to brave and generous men 
 (In order next to Heav'n alone) 
 My life and schemes of worthy aim ; 
 This debt, my bosom, ne'er disown ! 
 
 " Your debtor, too, in grateful mood 
 I do confess myself at last ; 
 This brief confession, long eschew'd, 
 Accept, and overlook the past 
 
 " A secret chamber in this rod 
 Contained a goodly round of notes 
 Of British stamp a bank, I wot, 
 More safe than wallets, vests or coats. 
 
 " Long years of residence on soils 
 Where fraud upholds its hateful reign ; 
 Where ruthless violence despoils 
 The guardless hand of honest gain, 
 
 In me confirm'd a habit odd, 
 No doubt, to you. In sunny clime 
 This staff I've borne, and found it good 
 To stay a fiend's aggressive crime. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 15 
 
 "This much methought I should impart, 
 Because my mind I won't disguise 
 The purpose of this rod might start 
 In natives here a grave surprise. 
 
 "What time on board a ship I stepp'd, 
 For tedious voyages or brief, 
 This weapon in my grasp I kept, 
 And from its virtue drew relief. 
 
 " Should tempests wreck our hapless sloop, 
 And drive this floating waif to shore, 
 Some records coil'd within its tube, 
 Would tell what life and name I bore. 
 
 " My bosom swells with grateful thought, 
 That no unfriendly prurient hand 
 Has tampered with my constant prop 
 Since first 'twas thrown upon the sand. 
 
 " You pick'd it up, you say, from shore, 
 And guarded well the treasure dear ; 
 Such kindness moves me to the core, 
 And bids me spurn intruding fear. 
 
 " And should you deign to hear a tale 
 I long have lock'd within my breast, 
 Betimes some parts I may reveal 
 That thee may please and give me rest. 
 
1 6 THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 " Your kindness I must still engage 
 The secrets I've made known to guard ; 
 And be assured your honour's pledge 
 Shall fail not of its meet reward." 
 
 " Your ready confidence," quoth I, 
 " With answering trust I will repay ; 
 As magnet seeks the northern sky 
 My thoughts obey your weird sway. 
 
 " Yet, sooth to tell, not I alone 
 Your mystery would gladly read, 
 Which broken phrase and plaintive tone 
 In parts disjointed have conveyed. 
 
 " But meanwhile since you grant unask'd 
 A freedom I were loath to crave, 
 Permit me humbly now to test 
 The pledge of faith you lately gave. 
 
 " From scenes of sorrow and of pain 
 The heart instinctively recoils ; 
 The field that bleeding comrades stain 
 Allures not ev'n with promised spoils. 
 
 " We quote as Folly's meetest type 
 The giddy moth that seeks again 
 With shrivelPd wing the scorching light 
 That thrill'd its nerves with keenest pain. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. \1 
 
 " Your partners in the recent storm 
 With hasty steps Ceannloch have gain'd ; 
 Even there, I "Witeen, who strangers were 
 Have not within its gates remain' d. 
 
 " Like others whom th' event drew here, 
 A looker-on, or little more, 
 I shrank from scenes recall'd with fear, 
 And shunn'd till now this horrid shore. 
 
 " Your rapid pace I noted well, 
 As down yon narrow path you strode ; 
 It moved me why, I cannot tell 
 To test your drift and track your road. 
 
 " If Friendship's rights I've not abused, 
 Mayhap you'll grant me this request : 
 Say, is it loss your mind confused, 
 Or does remorse corrode your breast ? " 
 
 Scarce from my lips these words had pass'd 
 
 When sharp regret my bosom stung, 
 
 As vengeful looks on me he cast, 
 
 And pale with wrath his hands he wrung. 
 
 With grave respect and humble mien, 
 As one who wrong'd a trusting friend, 
 I begg'd my fault he would condone, 
 And friendly hand once more extend. 
 B 
 
1 8 THE WRECK AT D UNA VER TY. 
 
 His scowl of rage and fancied wrong 
 His inward agony betray'd ; 
 The quivering lips and palsied tongue 
 Refused his mind their needed aid. 
 
 Approaching nearer, stern and slow, 
 With clenched teeth and threat'ning stare, 
 His labouring thoughts to free he strove, 
 And warn'd I'd no resistance dare. 
 
 Perplex'd with doubt, and dreading, too, 
 What might be ev'n a maniac's rage, 
 With wary step I backward drew 
 In hope thereby his wrath t' assuage. 
 
 A pace or two apart we strode, 
 Eye bent on eye and watchful both ; 
 Some pity waken'd by his mood 
 To break the silence made me loath. 
 
 His tongue, releas'd from brief restraint, 
 With horrid speech my ears assail'd : 
 " Detested wretch ! with what intent 
 Would'st thou my secret have unveil'd ? 
 
 "You, too, who won my confidence, 
 And still'd betimes my rising cares, 
 'Neath friendship's guise my spirit wrench, 
 And wake anew my dormant fears. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUN A VERTY. 19 
 
 " How hard to hear ! how hard to bear 
 The subtle tones of feign'd respect ; 
 Why would not Fate her frolic spare ? 
 Why did not I a snare suspect ? 
 
 " My guide and solace thou did'st seem ! 
 I hail'd thee as by Heav'n ordain'd 
 To quench an ever-glowing flame 
 A sense of crime has long sustain'd. 
 
 " For years the grating howl of guilt 
 Discordant rack'd my inner sense ; 
 Yet still with ramparts close and thick 
 The noisome foe I learn'd to fence. 
 
 " But conscience' voice though sometimes still' d, 
 Oft stirs my qualms by night and day ; 
 And now your taunts her charge hath sweli'd, 
 And set my deeds in dread array. 
 
 " Why have I Cato's courage lack'd, 
 And borne, resign'd, a scorpion's sting? 
 Why have I not this temple sack'd 
 Within whose walls hoarse furies ring? 
 
 " Methinks 'twere opiate to my mind 
 To drown this wasting fire within, 
 With blood of man adverse or kind, 
 As offering for my deeds of sin." 
 
20 THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 Advancing fast he swore anew, 
 And vengeance vow'd by earth and skies ; 
 When from my pouch a box I drew, 
 And held it full before his eyes. 
 
 As when the King of Persia's land 
 'Mid servile courtiers drain'd the bowl, 
 And saw, dismay'd, the mystic hand 
 The page of coming doom unroll ; 
 
 Despair o'erwhelms his phrenzied head ; 
 His heart's arrested currents freeze ; 
 Alternate hues his face o'erspread, 
 And trembling horror smote his knees. 
 
 As when Macbeth his victim's pray'r 
 'Mid revel's roar would fain forget, 
 And strove in flambeaux' gaudy glare 
 His mad and bootless deeds to set, 
 
 When 'mid the din of drums and horns 
 He sees pale Banquo's ghastly stare, 
 His countenance in anguish falls 
 Its pallor lays the coward bare. 
 
 So stood the stranger, faint and wan, 
 While on the box he fix'd his eyes ; 
 Down dropp'd as lead th' uplifted cane, 
 And every spark of passion dies. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 A drowzy haze his eye bedims 
 As one to sleep inclined : anon 
 A chilly tremor seized his limbs, 
 A sign, I fear'd, of fatal swoon. 
 
 My danger o'er, approach I made 
 To prop his languid sinking frame ; 
 Too late ! He fell. That I delay'd 
 The needed help I felt with shame. 
 
 His prostrate form with grief I view'd, 
 And scann'd each feature of his face ; 
 The sight my racking doubts renew'd, 
 That life to fatal chill gave place. 
 
 The dreadful sign I lately saw 
 Of danger hanging o'er my life 
 Was quench'd and gone ; my fallen foe 
 Forbade all thought of further strife. 
 
 My self-reproaches louder grew 
 At want of tact and sage address : 
 Why would I not those themes eschew 
 Which early seem'd his heart to press. 
 
 I bathed his pale and icy brow ; 
 And 'gainst my knee I placed his head ; 
 But what avails my patience now ? 
 The man is stiff ! Perhaps he's dead ! 
 
22 THE WRECK A T DUN A VERTY. 
 
 'Twere shame to go and leave a corpse ; 
 Yet there was risk should I remain : 
 The neighbours could my footsteps trace, 
 And dubious facts against me strain. 
 
 By chance a boatman hove in sight ; 
 I hail'd him with an urgent cry ; 
 With quickened pace the tar-ry wight 
 Obey'd the summons and drew nigh. 
 
 Long used to scenes of such mishaps, 
 A flask from out his pouch he drew, 
 And plied a cordial to those lips 
 Again o'erspread with pallid hue. 
 
 Though coarse of mien and bred 'mong men 
 Of habits rough and look severe, 
 His bosom swell'd with generous pain, 
 And moved uncheck'd, the ample tear. 
 
 His gentle strength to mine he join'd; 
 On sloping bank our charge we laid; 
 Still no assuring symptons show'd 
 Our efforts with success were paid. 
 
 My partner at this trying time 
 
 A wish express'd to seek the aid 
 
 Of learned skill ; and toward " the Inn " 
 
 With cumbrous step and limp he sped. 
 
THE WRE CK AT D UNA VER TY. 23 
 
 But twenty yards he scarce had paced 
 When, welcome to my anxious breast, 
 Some cheering signs of life were traced 
 In th' equal sigh and heaving chest. 
 
 At length the veteran oped his eyes 
 As one who woke from long repose ; 
 Noteful we watch'd with shrewd surmise, 
 What name he'd give us friends or foes ? 
 
 His look betoken'd much dismay 
 At seeing two now at his side ; 
 And gloom upon his features lay 
 Which vainly he essay'd to hide. 
 
 Though lacking strength to rise or stand, 
 
 He yet refused our proffer'd aid ; 
 
 A wish to rest upon the sand 
 
 His glance and tone at once convey'd. 
 
 Withdrawing from the thankless role 
 Of waiting to relieve his plight, 
 Unheeded, from the spot we stole, 
 And shortly vanish'd from his sight 
 
 But brief the space we pass'd : a mound 
 Of sand and broom between us lay ; 
 Behind this rampart big and round 
 For wisdom's light we inly pray. 
 
24 THE WRECK AT DUNAVER7Y. 
 
 Though now from death redeem'd, once more 
 A frantic whim again might tear 
 The bond of moral, mental pow'r, 
 And bid him fatal folly dare. 
 
 His raving utterance of late 
 Betray'd a mind unhinged, insane ; 
 He met our offer with a threat, 
 And madness might the threat sustain. 
 
 The beetling promontory nigh, 
 With ocean's yawning whirl below 
 Strong motives to a rash design 
 The throne of Reason might o'erthrow. 
 
 But not for long remained we here : 
 From further side of the sandy mound, 
 With eager and attentive ear, 
 We caught his footsteps' rising sound. 
 
 Approaching slowly from his lair, 
 On me a dubious look he fix'd ; 
 His fierce advance my fibres tear, 
 And omens dire my heart perplex'd. 
 
 Aside I turned in wary haste, 
 Afraid th' expected blow to stay ; 
 But, strangely changed, he made request 
 That, so, I would not turn away. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 25 
 
 His late demeanour I recall'd, 
 And begg'd he now would briefly state 
 What served it him, or me avail'd, 
 If further parley I should wait. 
 
 "That you 'twill profit," he replied, 
 " With me more converse here to share 
 I can't affirm ; nor think, though tried, 
 The former wrong I could repair. 
 
 " But past experience bids me feel 
 In dark oblivion's deepest shade, 
 My base requital you'll conceal, 
 For aid bestowed in time of need. 
 
 " Much grieved, repentant and amazed 
 I well recall th' unmanly part 
 1 lately bore ; now, self-abased, 
 With sharpest pangs my feelings smart. 
 
 " My blood too quickly yields, I wot, 
 To passions sudden, fierce and strange ; 
 Their influence has ruled my lot, 
 And, much I fear, will know no change. 
 
 " Too oft indeed my passions blind 
 Spring merely from a groundless fear ; 
 'Twere sweetest solace to my mind 
 To find no cause more stable here. 
 
26 THE WRECK AT D UNA VER TY. 
 
 " Your late companion now being gone 
 At your suggestion, I believe 
 Permit me now t' unfold my mind, 
 In hope its tortures you'll relieve. 
 
 " A casket that I long had kept 
 And held above the tow'ring wave, 
 An envious billow from me swept, 
 And bore 't perchance to some lone cave. 
 
 " Extrinsic value made it dear 
 To me alone ; a useless box 
 To others, and as cheap a gear 
 As idly floats among the rocks. 
 
 " My struggles in the recent gale 
 So far o'erwhelm'd my pow'rs of mind 
 That memory felt her mission fail 
 And to the past her stores resigned. 
 
 " I've seen my treasure in your hand, 
 And would give much to have 't again ; 
 Though how or when it hither found 
 Its way, I mote you would explain." 
 
 " To me no duty," I replied, 
 "More ample pleasure can afford 
 Than succour men, by troubles tried, 
 With active hand or friendly word. 
 
THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 27 
 
 " And yet of favours in my pow'r 
 This were the last I thought you'd crave. 
 Its sight (less since than half an hour) 
 Convuls'd your heart though seeming brave. 
 
 " Your pardon I implore if now 
 I hesitate to bring it forth ; 
 The fear to fatal ill you'd bow 
 Outweighs with me the casket's worth. 
 
 "To tell you by what means and when 
 The treasure came into my hands 
 Is easier task than to divine 
 Why high in your esteem it stands. 
 
 " Yon boatman whom along the mound 
 You see retiring to the bay, 
 On distant beach the relic found, 
 And to " the Village " took 't away. 
 
 " Referred to me (I wist not why) 
 By all to whom the box he show'd, 
 He gave it me, and begg'd I'd try 
 To have it carefully bestow'd. 
 
 " No other eyes than mine and his 
 The casket (since 'twas lifted) saw, 
 I gladly now restore it ; please 
 Receive it now with scarce a flaw. 
 
28 THE WRECK AT DUNAVERTY. 
 
 " A happier hour my fancy sued 
 To cheer your breast and sate my own ; 
 But ah ! how oft do pleasures wooed 
 The suitor's hopes and vows disown ! 
 
 " I conjured up your joyous smile 
 When you the relic should regain ; 
 What visions would your woes beguile 
 And bid, for sorrows, rapture reign ! " 
 
 " Be silent o'er its wonders, friend," 
 The veteran begg'd with sullen tone ; 
 Allusions but my soul offend 
 So, prythee, let the theme alone ! 
 
 " My weary fears and doubts dispel 
 By handing me the casket dear ; 
 Suspicions then will flee my soul, 
 And confidence shall follow fear." 
 
 From out beneath an ample cloak 
 I drew it forth. With beaming eye 
 And nervous grasp the box he took, 
 And gave for thanks a laden sigh. 
 
 Then having scann'd its well-known form, 
 Its lid with fervent lips he press'd ; 
 And fixing it beneath his arm 
 He hurried from the hillock's crest. 
 
WHIXXYHILL FAIR. 
 
 FOR Whinnyhill at Whitsuntide, 
 From Campbelton and country side 
 Large crowds come trooping to the " Fair." 
 To sell their gear or purchase ware. 
 
 Thither the swain who thought he fared 
 
 But ill, with former chums or laird, 
 
 Betook himself to change his lot 
 
 A worse exchange, as oft as not 
 
 And there the buxom, bouncing maid 
 
 Her radiant looks and braws displayed, 
 
 Content to take a smaller fee 
 
 If near the farm a kirk should be ! 
 
 A deeper game her rivals guess : 
 
 Her sweetheart first had changed his place. 
 
 And truant urchins fled their schools. 
 Their peeries, tops, their books and bools ; 
 To see the Fair and taste its joys, 
 And quote the modes of manhood boys : 
 To claim as friends or something more 
 The wights they ne'er had seen before. 
 
30 WHINNYHILL FAIR. 
 
 The hinted fairin' often came 
 From donors ignorant of their name. 
 With thanks profuse from lip and heart, 
 On other raids the schemers start. 
 
 There stallions, chestnut, black, and grey, 
 Are busk'd with ribbons rich and gay. 
 Their lofty necks and neighing loud 
 From knowing judge and partial crowd 
 The proud unanimous verdict gain : 
 The native breed their fame maintain. 
 
 The neighbouring hills and valleys round 
 
 The Fair's tumultuous din resound, 
 
 As furious drovers veer about, 
 
 And to their flocks and collies shout ; 
 
 And stubborn stirks that leap the fence 
 
 Are whack'd with rungs to teach them sense ; 
 
 The precept wants example's force 
 
 The doctrine's preach'd with many a curse. 
 
 The sceptic brutes pursue their course, 
 
 And man and beast from bad get worse. 
 
 Cantankerous curs of various breed, 
 In brawls and growls the chorus lead ; 
 Pugnacious loons fierce quarrels pick, 
 And settle them with fist or stick ; 
 And many a chiel in quarrel nice 
 A trifle marred his market price. 
 
WHINNYHILL FAIR. 31 
 
 Beside gorse tufts where veins have bled, 
 Exhausted heroes find a bed. 
 Some victors, heartless, court applause, 
 For triumphs o'er their weaker foes ; 
 While others tender yet as brave 
 Their victims' painted temples lave ; 
 And just as if 'twas all a sham, 
 The feud they solder with a dram. 
 
 There in a crowd "cheap John" declares 
 No gear on earth can beat his wares. 
 In confidence he tells the mob 
 His rival is a Lowland snob, 
 Who, fleeing justice, left his home, 
 And to Ceannloch has lately come. 
 The crowd are warn'd, both big and small, 
 To shun the fugitive's trashy stall, 
 Lest, buying what was got by guile, 
 They'll share his company in the jail. 
 The quack thus plies the wordy game 
 His neighbour does the very same. 
 
 The guileless trust the scheming pair, 
 And part with cash they ill can spare ; 
 Yet wonder when the Fair is o'er, 
 The traders join in merry splore. 
 Like brothers more than rivals keen, 
 On loving terms the pair are seen. 
 
32 WHINNYHILL FAIR. 
 
 Coofs next suspect then find it true 
 They've sold their wares and buyers too ! 
 
 Full many a truant's hoarded pence 
 Reward the rivals' eloquence ! 
 And worst of all the victims fear 
 To carry home the purchased gear, 
 Lest cuffs and counsels torture add 
 To sense of ruin by a cad ! 
 
 Still livelier scenes the tents possess'd, 
 Where comrades tasted drink and rest. 
 Here farmer, shepherd, hind, and laird, 
 Th' inspiring gifts of Bacchus shared. 
 
 Distinctions in the social scale 
 At kirk or farmstead may prevail, 
 But generous draughts efface the line 
 Where stately ease and service join ; 
 Benevolence streams from every heart 
 To friends or strangers in the mart. 
 
 For strangers, too, this day are here 
 Who've not been seen for many a year, 
 Strangers in name, but not in sooth, 
 For here they spent their hopeful youth. 
 
 Mindful of joys youth only knows, 
 Homeward our spirit's current flows, 
 
WHINNYHILL FAIR. 33 
 
 With sanguine hope (a hope how vain !) 
 To feel youth's raptures o'er again. 
 
 Amid a group of time-worn wights, 
 Well tried in trade or skill'd in fights, 
 A swarthy veteran held a seat, 
 Who gat and gave, in turn, a " treat ;" 
 But sparingly the drink would sip 
 Though oft he raised it to his lip. 
 Little he mingled in the din 
 Where wit and humour flowed with gin ; 
 Noteful he scann'd each reader's face, 
 As if some memory he could trace ; 
 Attentive every speech he caught, 
 But said not what he knew or thought ; 
 While others who were long abroad 
 Detail'd the courses they had trode ; 
 Related ventures they had made 
 On sea, in war, or foreign trade ; 
 Till, deem'd of wisdom's root possess'd, 
 (As silent lips at times suggest) 
 He won importance with his mates, 
 And each for him his tale relates. 
 
 Mackillop of the Heather House, 
 Whom foaming draughts began to rouse, 
 Above the tent's tumultuous roar 
 Narrates this warning scene of yore : 
 c 
 
34 WH1NNYHILL FAIR. 
 
 " Lang syne a husband, fagg'd with strife, 
 Forsook his craft, his bairns and wife, 
 And took the road with hasty stride 
 Ere Bell his wife his scheme could chide. 
 To Whinnyhill his course he bent 
 To taste the solace of the tent. 
 Snugly esconced among his chums 
 He vows be 't weal or woe that comes 
 His half-a-crown with friends to share, 
 Defying wife, and debt and care. 
 But when he changed the coin with pride 
 He found his Mentor at his side ! 
 The tempting change she deftly clutch'd, 
 And both his pouch and honour touch'd 
 ' You've store of wealth, my bonnie man, 
 To waste on trash ye scarce can stan', 
 Ye sware your purse was toom as air 
 The very nicht before the Fair ; 
 Ye deaved your wife for ae half-croon 
 To buy a hymn-book in the toon ! 
 I see the gate my gift has gane, 
 And brawly ken the book ye mean. 
 Nae doot ye think it's greater merit 
 To skip the book and mind the spirit. 
 Let spirits, then, your courage rouse 
 To bear the counsel of your spouse : 
 When next ye mean your care to droon, 
 Gie less for change than half-a-croon." 
 
WHINNYHILL FAIR. 35 
 
 M'Kendrick, too, of Auchinhoan, 
 
 With watchful eye yet jaunty tone, 
 
 In th' vet'ran's ear a story pours, 
 
 On purpose cull'd from Memory's stores : 
 
 " Mactavish, down from Killogroor, 
 
 Was parch'd with travel, heat and stoor ; 
 
 When near this spot the clansman drew 
 
 The tempting tent stood full in view. 
 
 He'd fain go "in " to slake his thirst 
 
 With kindred worthies if he durst. 
 
 But fortune bound him to a colt 
 
 Whose ruling passion was to bolt. 
 
 His stiff dilemma Cracken notes 
 
 (How many a rogue th' example quotes !) 
 
 1 I'll hold your horse, while you are in,' 
 
 The vagrant utters with a grin. 
 
 ' You're kind, my boy,' replies the swain, 
 
 And hands the youth the hempen rein. 
 
 * And here's a fairin' to yoursel, 
 
 Ye're needin' siller like mysel.' 
 
 He doled a shilling soil'd and worn, 
 
 But ask'd and got its half in turn. 
 
 ' Noo, should a stranger come along 
 
 Ye'il easy ken him by his tongue 
 
 If like a dealer he appear, 
 
 And for Mactavish bluntly spier, 
 
 Send some one in to let me know 
 
36 WHINNYHILL FAIR. 
 
 And he shall have his fairin', too.' 
 
 A bargain's struck the swain's at ease ; 
 
 And terms and fee the laddie please, 
 
 " A minute later, ere the clown 
 Could quaff his glass, or e'en sit down, 
 The colt and rider clove the air 
 Some furlongs off beyond the Fair. 
 John Gilpin's steed could scarce out-do 
 The pace at which the charger flew. 
 By "Hungry House" and Stewarton Inn 
 The shoeless naig outstripp'd the win' ; 
 Then madly swerving to the right, 
 O'er Arcs Moss she strain'd her flight. 
 At eve, a hare-skin cap was found 
 Beside a ditch in peaty ground ; 
 The racer, riderless, was seen 
 To crop the Durry pastures green. 
 
 " Meanwhile, a horsey gent appeared, 
 And for Mactavish duly spier'd. 
 An urchin who had got his cue, 
 Into the tent abruptly flew, 
 Where happy Dan of Killogroor, 
 O'ercome with ale, enjoy 'd his snore. 
 
 " From slumber roused by pinch and tug, 
 He eyed, chagrin'd, the emptied jug; 
 
WHINNYHILL FAIR. 37 
 
 Anon his monitor with glee 
 Requests and gets the promised fee. 
 Clodhopper gives the spurious plack 
 The sly contractor gave him back. 
 
 " Returning to the crowded plain, 
 Dan seeks his colt, but seeks in vain. 
 He miss'd his man he missed his brute ; 
 He's lost the day and beast, to boot. 
 Against his loss he's blandly told, 
 Himself, if not his colt, is sold ! 
 
 " Thus moorland coofs or borough knaves 
 Nor glaiket trust nor cunning saves ; 
 And he who rides too fast or far 
 May both his peace and fortune mar." 
 
 Here asks the vet'ran, with a smile, 
 " Is't oft you thus the time beguile ? 
 In screeds on rogues or simple clown 
 Why needs your tale a moral crown ? " 
 
 Whether the smiles that lit his face 
 Were signs of pleasure or distress 
 Were best unsaid we'll leave 't untold, 
 Till further facts the case unfold. 
 
 Charm'd though they were by scraps they heard 
 The cronies sterner themes preferr'd ; 
 
38 WHINNYHILL FAIR. 
 
 A night they fix to meet again, 
 When peace and leisure they'll obtain, 
 Traditions old and rare to rake 
 From memory for the stranger's sake. 
 
 Assembled in th' Argyll Hotel, 
 They, each in turn, their legend tell. 
 Macmurchy, of " The Backs," began, 
 And thus his martial story ran : 
 
 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 Where big Drumore and mossy Moy 
 
 Unite their margins brown, 
 Close to the shoal canal that join'd 
 
 Drumlemble with the town. 
 
 (Dear old canal !* whose sluggish pool, 
 
 In summer's sultry day, 
 Oft cool'd my limbs and braced my nerves 
 
 For study or for play ; 
 
 On whose rough surface bound by frost 
 
 In youth I used to slide, 
 With keener zest than laird or lord 
 
 Did e'er in carnage ride.) 
 
 * See The Old Canal. 
 
A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 39 
 
 One summer's eve two neighbour lads 
 
 That herded near each other, 
 For friendly chat, as was their wont, 
 
 Reposed them on the heather. 
 
 Macgregor, herd-boy of the Moy, 
 
 Claimed kindred with the North ; 
 His sires in many a foray bore 
 
 The gree for pluck and worth. 
 
 Well could he, too, the blow return 
 
 That stung his swarthy cheek ; 
 Who plied one quarrel with this wight 
 
 Would scarce a second seek. 
 
 Yet little courted he the strife 
 
 That leads to weals and scars ; 
 And much he loathed the nagging phrase 
 
 That sweet acquaintance mars. 
 
 His neighbour neatherd, of Drumore, 
 
 From Lowland district " haiPd," 
 Of fair complexion, glib of tongue, 
 
 Of firm and burly build. 
 
 Proud of his country and his name 
 
 The famous name of Mace, 
 He tired the echoes as they rang 
 
 With paeans of his race. 
 
40 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 " Macgregor," so the lad would say, 
 " What barren scenes are yours ! 
 
 And yet you laud your Whinnyhills, 
 Your lochs and rugged shores. 
 
 " No stately floods like Ayr or Clyde 
 Enrich your listless plains ; 
 
 Your churlish soil the grove abhors 
 And rural grace disdains. 
 
 " Your heathy moors and scrubby hills 
 
 But sorry pasture yield ; 
 Your stunted flocks and herds betray 
 
 The bare and meagre field. 
 
 " Your dwarfish cows are lenten gear, 
 Nor flesh nor milk bestow ; 
 
 Your bulls have neither pluck nor form 
 For battle or for show." 
 
 A look of anger, mix'd with shame, 
 Flash'd from the clansman's eye, 
 
 Who, zealous for his country's fame, 
 Returned the tart reply : 
 
 " You've seen but little of the breed 
 You treat with scant respect ; 
 
 And that they lack nor pith nor speed 
 Tormentors soon detect. 
 
A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 41 
 
 " To me it seems " (so adds the Gael) 
 
 " You start a bootless theme ; 
 Tis hid from me what end 'twould serve 
 Should we discuss the same. 
 
 " Your estimate of this our land 
 
 Is true for aught I care, 
 In giving it its form and soil 
 It chanced I had no share. 
 
 "And yet some virtue it must have 
 
 Despite of all you've said ; 
 Else how does 't happen that so well 
 You fatten on its bread. 
 
 " Our cattle's pluck you underrate, 
 
 As you should shortly see, 
 Were these our several bulls allow'd 
 To counter on the lea. 
 
 " But ill 'twould us become the * herds ' 
 
 Our masters' Trust to mar ; 
 For skaithless don't such brutes return 
 If once they meet for war." 
 
 " Your plea is hollow," answered Mace, 
 
 The herdsman of Drumore ; 
 And well you know the shaggy beasts 
 Can neither push nor gore 
 
42 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 " I'm sure, at least, if now they met, 
 
 To try their feckless pith, 
 Your haggard brute would soon turn tail 
 Or roll upon the heath." 
 
 Provoked by shafts so quick and keen, 
 
 Macgregor knit his brows, 
 Yet nods assent to test their bulls 
 
 Beside the Whinny Knowes. 
 
 The herdsmen start for diffrent fields, 
 
 Impress'd with hopes or fears, 
 From peaceful pastures to the " ring " 
 
 To drive their champion steers. 
 
 Sullen at first the brutes obey 
 The hint to shift their ground ; 
 
 And slowly paced till each his foe 
 At narrow distance found. 
 
 Hoarse grumbling murmurs tore the air 
 
 As nearer still they drew ; 
 Large spritty clods from tearing hoofs 
 
 In showers around them flew. 
 
 " The Moy's " proud, stubborn, pawing brute 
 
 A sable colour wore ; 
 A comelier head on sturdy neck 
 
 A combatant ne'er bore. 
 
A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 43 
 
 Of dunnish hue and deeper chest, 
 Drumore's " pride " shows his form ; 
 
 His lusty roar his ardour proves 
 To face the coming storm. 
 
 But in proportion as the brutes 
 
 Their bellowing brag increased. 
 The rival lads' misgivings rose, 
 
 Their wordy bluster ceased. 
 
 With steady pace and level head 
 
 The scowling pair advance ; 
 Their horrid threats the welkin wakes ; 
 
 Their eyes with fury glance. 
 
 At length, when but a dozen yards 
 
 Their ponderous fronts divide, 
 Each halted, and through shaggy tufts 
 
 His eager rival eyed. 
 
 And though defiance each proclaimed 
 
 With pride and noisy scorn, 
 With grim respect each view'd a foe 
 
 So worthy of his " horn." 
 
 More bent on battle, Drumore's pet 
 
 The forward march renew'd ; 
 While lighter "Moy," with staying pow'r, 
 
 His enemy's progress view'd. 
 
44 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 With wisest thrift each combatant 
 Now husbanded his breath ; 
 
 Now both had ceased to rend the air 
 And trench the frowsy heath. 
 
 Well fared it with the nimbler " weight " 
 That higher ground he chose : 
 
 As slope and pith their aid combined 
 To stem the other's blows. 
 
 A heavy plunge th' assailing beast 
 
 Directed on his foe ; 
 But a ready stand on vantage ground 
 
 Repels the weighty blow. 
 
 Rebuff so stout, severe and quick, 
 Served more the brute to tease, 
 
 Till fresh attacks his foe hurls back, 
 And brings him to his knees. 
 
 Stung by repulse the baffled bull 
 
 With vengeful fury burn'd ; 
 And, changing tactics, round he wheel'd, 
 
 And Moy's position turn'd. 
 
 And now the battle fiercely raged 
 By turns on slope and plain ; 
 
 Though both recoil'd from stunning blows^ 
 They rallied soon again. 
 
A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 45 
 
 From brow and neck, from flank and cheek, 
 
 Down flow'd the purple tide ; 
 But tardy victory for long 
 
 Inclined to neither side. 
 
 But by-and-bye the ponderous force 
 
 Of the champion of Drumore 
 Over his slim antagonist 
 
 The marks of triumph bore. 
 
 Severely bruis'd by fell assaults 
 
 From his doure remorseless foe, 
 Moy's champion plainly yields the field 
 
 With grudging step and slow. 
 
 His restless victor, bruis'd as well, 
 
 His clear advantage press'd, 
 And drove his languid enemy 
 
 O'er slope and hillock's crest. 
 
 The vanquish'd, wheeling just half-round, 
 
 Exposed his battered flank, 
 And sought relief from further charge 
 
 'Mong sedges high and rank. 
 
 A better, unexpected shield 
 
 The fugitive obtain'd : 
 A cow, then rushing from a brake, 
 
 The victor's charge sustain'd. 
 
46 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 This respite gain'd in nick of time, 
 
 The beaten bull improved ; 
 For off to well-known moory haunts 
 
 With sullen pace he moved. 
 
 Now here the fray should duly cease, 
 And bulls and " herds " take rest, 
 
 Had not lago reach'd the " ring," 
 And learn'd the treat he miss'd. 
 
 Determined to redeem his loss, 
 
 And stir another feud, 
 The merits of the ended fight 
 
 He craftily review'd : 
 
 " Look here, Macgregor," quoth the loon, 
 
 With sly persuasive art, 
 ' Could you not on this battle-field 
 
 Enact a second part?" 
 
 " In slighter cause you've won renown 
 
 On other plains before ; 
 The honours yielded by your bull 
 Your fists might now restore. 
 
 " And, Mace whose pride in turn he fed 
 
 You'd win a double prize, 
 If smart Macgregor's hide you drubb'd, 
 And painted both his eyes. 
 
A SI IFF ENCOUNTER. 47 
 
 For different issues thus proposed 
 
 Retrieve or double fame 
 The simple gudgeons took the bait, 
 
 And play'd the tempter's game. 
 
 All modes and rites in battle's strife 
 
 The sapient umpire wist ; 
 For melee, trick, or noisy row 
 
 This patron never miss'd. 
 
 In prompting Mace to goad his " man," 
 
 Or challenge him at least, 
 He muttered : " Give the ' fuge,' * or count 
 
 The buttons on his vest." 
 
 Obedient to the " ruling pow'r," 
 
 And to his instincts true, 
 Mace touch'd the buttons in the row 
 
 They numbered only two ! 
 
 Scarce had he press'd the upper boss 
 
 The nearest to the breast 
 When the reckoner's eye, instead of two, 
 
 Saw buttons/*?*^ at least. 
 
 A blow straight from the shoulder hurl'd 
 
 From fell Macgregor's fist, 
 Enlightened Mace's optic nerve, 
 
 And stretched him in the dust. 
 
 * A challenge by a slight touch from the hand. 
 
48 A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 
 
 Convinced by proof so swift and sure, 
 'Twere vain to bandy blows, 
 
 The braggart, growling, own'd defeat, 
 And from his lair arose. 
 
 Sly motives to renew the fray 
 
 lago now supplied ; 
 Now he appeal'd to Mace's height, 
 
 Now to his name and pride. 
 
 But dark Macgregor's sturdy form 
 For warfare still prepared, 
 
 Repressed aggression from his foe, 
 And further conflict spared. 
 
 (The battle o'er, the combatants, 
 Amazed and stunn'd, reflect 
 
 How both were made the dupes of one 
 Whom either could have lick'd. 
 
 So felt the tempter, too, it seems, 
 
 For ere his puppets turn 
 To take revenge, the prompting knave 
 
 Had bolted for Witch-burn.) 
 
 Thus equal honours (bull's or herd's) 
 Drumore and Moy secure. 
 
 Anon the champions quit the " ring," 
 And seek their several moor. 
 
A STIFF ENCOUNTER. 49 
 
 But much it gali'd Macgregor's breast, 
 
 As homeward thence he trod, 
 To find his helpful crumpled cow 
 
 Stretch'd, gasping on the road ! 
 
 The rude but unexpected blow 
 
 One bull at th' other aim'd 
 Has done its work : poor crummie lies 
 
 A hopeless waif, and maim'd. 
 
 Grateful for aid she lately served 
 
 His vanquish'd bull to shield, 
 Her " herd " preserved her dexter horn 
 
 To blow't on moor and field. 
 
 For threescore seasons, late and ear, 
 
 In weather hoarse or still, 
 Macgregor blew the relic horn 
 
 From far-seen Whinnyhill. 
 
 And whistling lads and chanting maids, 
 
 When blasts the signal gave, 
 At morn, from town, drove up their cows, 
 
 And brought them back at eve. 
 
 That horn fulfils its " mission " still, 
 
 The clannish crowd to draw : 
 Now rallying Natives own its spell 
 
 On the banks of Broomielaw. 
 D 
 
50 THE WH2NNYHILL HORN. 
 
 11 Kin tyre Club," the relic guard 
 That past to present joins ; 
 
 Your fathers' memories the horn 
 In silvered grace enshrines. 
 
 SONG : THE WHINNYHILL HORN. 
 
 I BLOW with my horn, and the echoes awake 
 
 That slumbered in caverns afar; 
 I hear their replies as their circuit they make 
 
 From the Pans to the Isle of Davaar. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Come, list ye my horn, who manfully spurn 
 
 The spell of the sluggard's repose ; 
 The rays of the morn Bengullion adorn, 
 
 And the Laggan with radiance glows. 
 
 Now drive up your cows to the green Whinnyhill, 
 
 Ye laddies and lassies in town ; 
 'Mong brackens and whins let the herd roam at will, 
 
 Till the sun in Atlantic goes down. 
 
 Chorus Come, list ye my horn, &c. 
 
 The horn of the sportsman and trumpet of war 
 
 On the battlefield, valley, or heath, 
 Forbode but the deadly artillery's roar 
 
 Or herald the havoc of death. 
 
 Chorus Come, list ye my horn, c. 
 
THE WHINNYH1LL HORN. 51 
 
 But mine is the horn of Plenty and Peace, 
 
 The symbol of love and good-will ; 
 Their health and their wealth and their wisdom 
 increase, 
 
 Who answer my blast from the hill. 
 
 Chorus Come, list ye my horn, &c. 
 
 May its crescent the emblem of friendship suggest, 
 
 And wind it from even till morn ; 
 And when in the welkin its echoes have ceased 
 
 They'll sing of the Whinnyhill horn. 
 
 Chorus Come, list ye my horn, &c. 
 
 His legend here Macmurchy ends, 
 Then from Molloy a tale demands ; 
 Molloy, a Maltster in Mill-Knowe, 
 Returned the laird a gracious bow ; 
 And braced with pith of mountain dew, 
 Of other times these sketches drew : 
 
52 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 HOGMANAY. 
 
 THE long'd for, pray'd for, welcome night 
 Was ushered in with meagre light ; 
 And clouds at times conceal'd from sight 
 
 The planets, stars, and moon. 
 So much the better for the "lark" 
 Who's bent on mischief to embark, 
 Whose "trade" thrives briskest in the dark, 
 
 As owners know ere noon. 
 It was the night of Hogmanay, 
 
 The choice of all the year, 
 When fun and frolic have their sway 
 
 Without restraint or fear ; 
 When dandies and randies 
 
 For festal scenes forgather, 
 And wander and daunder 
 
 They care not spier not whither. 
 
 This night the stiff important laird, 
 Who oft on "want" has coldly stared, 
 Descends to own the houseless caird 
 
 As man and fellow brother ; 
 And should not, pray, the closing year 
 Remind the peasant and the peer 
 That, viewing mortals' brief career, 
 
 One rank 's as frail 's another ? 
 
HOGMANA Y. 53 
 
 Kind Fortune with a various hand 
 
 Befriends the saint and knave ; 
 She makes the landlord prize his land, 
 
 The tinker hug his cave ; 
 While losses and crosses 
 
 All Adam's' sons attend 
 To prove them, and move them 
 
 Their sympathy to lend. 
 
 For good, time-honoured scenes and rites, 
 For timber, peat, and tar-barrel lights, 
 For fisticuffs and wordy fights 
 
 The younger brats prepare ; 
 For twelvemonth's toil they take revenge ; 
 From servants now to lords they change ; 
 O'er Discord's realm they freely range, 
 
 And tire the patient air. 
 Each corner, street, or narrow lane 
 
 A rendezvous supplies, 
 Where schemes of daring tax the brain 
 
 Of boys of every size ; 
 Rewarding and guarding 
 
 The wildest plans proposed ; 
 Denouncing and pouncing 
 
 On coofs to peace disposed. 
 
 Around the sacred bluish stone 
 (Borne from the Isles some ages gone) 
 
54 HO GHANA Y. 
 
 That lures the tourist to the Town, 
 
 lona's sculptured cross, 
 Rough harum-scarum groups have met 
 On frantic mirth or plunder set, 
 And in the scramble gear to get, 
 
 Whoe'er should bear the loss. 
 The watchman sees the coming storm, 
 
 But kindly passes by ; 
 No thought has he to give th' alarm 
 
 By rattle, sign, or "cry." 
 He would not, he could not 
 
 Arrest tar-finger 'd Clootie, 
 Though this night and ilk night 
 
 He faced him at his " duty." 
 
 A model of policeman, he 
 Connived at vagrants big or wee ; 
 Saw not what others buist to see 
 
 Without the use of " specks ; " 
 Although in open broad daylight 
 He feigns to collar firm and tight 
 The most suspected scape-grace wight, 
 
 Or rogue of either sex ; 
 A tardy step towards Tolbooth 
 
 Is all the law shall gain ; 
 Depend on't, neither man nor youth 
 
 Will Colin e'er "run in." 
 
HOGMANA K 55 
 
 Though worried thrice married ! 
 
 On few could " Bobbie " frown : 
 This fine man was kinsman 
 
 To nearly half the town. 
 
 Beside the cross are gathered bands 
 From alleys, closes, rows, and "lands," 
 A team of Madawaska's * " hands/' 
 
 With fisher lads in tow ; 
 There's folk from Greenland and Gartgrillan, 
 From neighbouring clachan, hut, and shieling, 
 From Calliburn and Ballywillin, 
 
 And droves from Kilmahoe. 
 Peninver, Smerby, and the Rhoin, 
 
 Drumlemble and Drumore, 
 The Lossit, Pans, and Auchinhoan 
 
 Send callants by the score. 
 The Learside and Largieside 
 
 The foremost place contest ; 
 And Tangy and Langa 
 
 Claim record with the best. 
 
 The shepherd's hut on Bordadhu, 
 The sheltered mill at Killarow, 
 The smugglers' "toor" at Mulachdoo 
 Their tenants miss'd awhile ; 
 
 * A well-known Brig. 
 
56 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 And squads from Machrihanish Bay 
 Forsake their cod-lines for a day, 
 And to Ceannloch they plod their way 
 
 O'er moorland, road, and stile. 
 And gamekeepers from Pennygown 
 
 And from Bengullion's back, 
 Neglect their work and seek the town, 
 
 E'en should they " get the sack." 
 Kilkeddan, Dalvraddan 
 
 Are seldom far behind, 
 Whenever, wherever 
 
 The scent is in the wind. 
 
 (Kilwhipnach too had sent a couple, 
 As ardent, sturdy, trig, and supple, 
 As ever spank'd o'er lea or stubble 
 
 To markets, kirks, or fairs, 
 Had they not ta'en a whim for horses, 
 To hain their own good brawny forces, 
 And saddled beasts (and what still worse is 
 
 The fillies were not theirs !) 
 To count your chickens ere they're hatch'd 
 May be with stolen fillies match'd ; 
 For steeds and riders may be scratch'd 
 
 Before the race begins. 
 And colts o'er lads will have their fun, 
 
 And shrewdly take their measure, 
 And gowks who try their capers on 
 
 May rue them at their leisure. 
 
HOG MAN A V. 57 
 
 And quickly and meekly, 
 
 The fact our birkies own, 
 When the fillies the billies 
 
 Had neatly overthrown. 
 
 One three year old of thrawart will, 
 
 And birsy as the Whinnyhill, 
 
 The saddle spurn'd, nor would stand still 
 
 As t'other party reckon'd ; 
 Her partner scheming (for the nonce) 
 To lead their pests a bonnie dance, 
 Took on the riders, both at once, 
 
 With a straw-seat for the second ; 
 A pace or two the gipsy strode, 
 
 Though smarting from this saddle ; 
 Then, rearing, stumbled off the road 
 
 Into the byre puddle. 
 In this hole this cess-pool 
 
 The trig knights-errant lay, 
 And tasted but "blasted" 
 
 Their happy Hogmanay !) 
 
 In smaller coteries apart, 
 
 Were clustered jokers mild or tart ; 
 
 And Lawyer wags with phrases smart, 
 
 And gift of ready lingo ; 
 A graver set (so let us say) 
 From quiet homes would hither stray, 
 
58 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 And some a few e'en turning grey 
 
 Were students from St Mungo. 
 That Matter yields to force of Mind 
 
 They've heard Professors say, 
 But active samples here they find 
 
 And not a fee to pay ! 
 Latinity, Divinity, 
 
 A week the students shun ; 
 'Tis fine sport, as time's short, 
 
 To share in sturdy fun. 
 
 High o'er the din that rent the air 
 M'Quilkan with the stiff red hair 
 From off a cask for lack of chair 
 
 His fellows thus harangued : 
 " Once more, my peers, I'll lead your force, 
 And aid you with my voice and purse 
 (That it 's so light I owe a curse 
 
 To some that should be hang'd). 
 Twelve months have come and fled away 
 
 Just like your cash and mine 
 Since last we made our lieges pay 
 
 The tithe of Auld Lang Syne. 
 This night then, each wight then, 
 
 Shall make his yearly call, 
 To hail them, and tell them 
 
 You wish them happy all. 
 
HOGMANA Y. 59 
 
 Your compliments you'll meekly make 
 At house of magnate, priest, or rake, 
 And seem as if just for their sake 
 
 Your visit you have paid ; 
 And if our ancient guild they own, 
 And for neglect and slights atone, 
 Return the lowest bow you can, 
 
 To mistress, miss, or maid. 
 But should some sour and narrow churl 
 
 For bread give you a stone, 
 And both at you and cronies hurl 
 
 The taunts themselves have won, 
 Then loudly, and proudly, 
 
 Parade your views and merit : 
 Remind them you find them 
 
 But curs of dogged spirit ! " 
 
 Anon the crowds in groups disperse, 
 And vow in stanzas rough but terse, 
 
 And signals full of warning, 
 That should they meet a " Polish "-man 
 They'll break his neck and muckle bane, 
 
 And won't go home till morning. 
 The royal sentiment 's encored 
 
 In tenor notes and bass, 
 From shore to hill the strain is roar'd, 
 
 E'en should a bailie pass. 
 
60 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 Loud cheering, nought fearing, 
 
 In banded force they go, 
 Supremely, serenely, 
 
 Defying high and low. 
 
 Battalions of this motley crew 
 Elsewhere their hosts together drew, 
 And quite as clamorous trumpets blew 
 
 To swell the dinsome throng ; 
 And many a chief of local fame, 
 Whose feats were grander than his name, 
 Was drill'd in tactics for his game 
 
 Through chorus, dance, and song. 
 And hopefuls who had little cash 
 
 And more who had not any 
 Were promised, for some brilliant dash, 
 
 We'll say an honest penny. 
 Their leaders were feeders 
 
 Who fed their native pluck, 
 Declaring and sharing 
 
 (In hope !) their wondrous luck. 
 
 My faithful quill, in fadeless ink 
 These leaders' names to glory link ; 
 Preserve them till Bengullion sink 
 
 In grand Kilkerran Bay. 
 The more so as, the truth to tell, 
 From modesty or very well ; 
 
HOGMANAY. 61 
 
 For old MacFadyen's borough bell 
 
 These worthies ne'er did pay, 
 To herald through or round the town 
 Where during night they laid them down, 
 Or where at morning they had flown 
 
 To muse, to watch, and prey ! 
 True genius ever courts the shade 
 For thought and circumspection, 
 And spurn the strut of vain parade 
 
 For action and reflection. 
 Contemning, condemning, 
 
 The pride of public " state," 
 They speculate and meditate 
 
 At Wisdom's coy retreat. 
 
 Come forth, Mactaggart of "The Shore," 
 (Old, honour'd " Shore," where dwelt of yore 
 A maid inspiring sweeter lore 
 
 Than goddess, sylph, or fairy ; 
 Still hallow'd is the street she paced, 
 The modest home she sweetly graced, 
 The walls where shadows softly traced 
 
 The form of Highland Mary. 
 
 Oh ! Burns, had Fate then sent you here 
 
 On love and fun intent, 
 When golden hours beside your "dear" 
 
 In rapture you had spent, 
 
62 HOG MAN A Y. 
 
 Then, Son of Mirth, you'd sally forth 
 
 To this night's queerish scene ; 
 Your noteful eye would soon descry 
 
 Another Halloween ; 
 And mind you, you'd find, too, 
 
 In Campbelton many a hinnie 
 As chary as Mary, 
 
 And quite as sweet and bonnie) 
 
 Come forth, Mactaggart of " The Shore,'* 
 The best of pleaders at a door, 
 And lead the noisy fervent corps 
 
 That fronts the Mason Lodge. 
 MacCualisky of Dalintober, 
 A lad of taste just say, a toper 
 The wale of guides, as long's he's sober, 
 
 To parley, fence, and dodge ; 
 M'Kinlay, his Lieutenant, too, 
 
 His kail-runt baton .wields, 
 And calls on veterans to renew 
 
 Their raids on ancient fields. 
 There's Tom Rae from Broombrae, 
 
 And Wylie of Lochend ; 
 And Huie and Bowie, 
 
 Official counsels lend. 
 
 Old Dalaruan's shaggy chiel, 
 The lusty sutor Dooggy Neil, 
 
HOGMANA Y. 63 
 
 Who traces bore from brow to heel 
 
 Of many a glorious fray ; 
 With Caine, a scion of Mill-Knowe, 
 Mainspring of every local row, 
 A lucky fugitive till now 
 
 From jail and Botany Bay. 
 To Roading skill the night gave scope 
 
 In Brisslan, Dean, and Hair; 
 To clap a slab on chimney top, 
 
 None could with them compare. 
 M'Culloch and Tulloch 
 
 " The Parliament Square " beset, 
 Recounting, discounting 
 
 Past spoils and more to get ! 
 
 To business now the hordes proceed, 
 And ply their trade with zeal and speed, 
 And crave the mite some scarcely need 
 
 The honest trutH to say : 
 " Rise up, guid , wife, and shake your feathers, 
 And dinna think that we are beggars, 
 For we, as neighbours and as brothers, 
 
 Are come for Hogmanay." 
 Such was the burden of the song 
 
 They chanted at each door ; 
 Then coins were shower'd on the throng 
 
 From purses fat and poor. 
 
64 .HOGMANAY. 
 
 A penny coin or any boon 
 
 The strollers ne'er would spurn ; 
 
 While loud thanks from proud ranks 
 The donors got in turn. 
 
 What envious Imp could Scrubb provoke 
 In sportive vein or churlish joke, 
 At fiery blades his fun to poke, 
 
 And give for bread a stone ? 
 Nut shells the niggard madly flung 
 
 The hearty cheering lads among, 
 And added with a nagging tongue : 
 
 " Ye begging cads, begone." 
 But dearly paid he for his jest 
 
 Ere night gave place to-day ; 
 Two birkie's down his chimney press'd 
 
 A dripping swathe of hay ! 
 With sound cord they bound hard 
 
 His door to that of " wee Moll ; " 
 And smoked him and' chok'd him 
 
 By puffing through the keyhole. 
 
 Kate Blues bestows a kebbuck fell 
 Dan Drain had sent just for herseF \ 
 Kind Kate would e'en her " crummie " sell 
 
 To treat the bonnie chiels ; 
 And Sibbie of the orange stall 
 Invites the callants to her hall, 
 And shares her store among them all, 
 
 Though whiles she dubb'd them deils ? 
 
HOGMANA Y. 65 
 
 Tarn Gilkie sacrificed his crate 
 
 Of fozy fizzing Gortchan peat 
 
 To light the tar-barrel in his street, 
 
 Where he could glow'r and gaze. 
 Old Cooper Bauldy gave them spales, 
 And Fisher Hecky scraps of sails, 
 And Dairy Jean two hoopless pails 
 
 To spread the glorious blaze ; 
 Thick farles of cake and barley scones 
 
 Were gifts of Pate the Miller ; 
 And Baker Bess with toothsome buns 
 
 Threw out some bits of siller. 
 And lozens and raisins 
 
 Were flung to them in papers ; 
 The dainty bits the canty chits 
 
 Requite with songs and capers. 
 
 And when did Beith his pocket close, 
 When kirk or other worthy cause 
 Its waning fund or merit shows 
 
 And to the pouch appeals ? 
 Through spectacles just wiped anew 
 Fond on the throng he strained his view : 
 Then coins in gowpens out he threw 
 
 And shower'd them on their heels. 
 The Provost, foremost of his race, 
 
 Relax'd his awful state ; 
 
 E 
 
66 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 (And Madame, too, with envied grace 
 
 Stood smiling at the gate). 
 He offers no " terrors 
 
 To evil doers " now ; 
 Politely, delighted, 
 
 He gives his purse and bow. 
 
 And Magistrates both old and young 
 On lips of rampant spouters hung, 
 And join'd in chorus when they sung 
 
 "We'll not go home till morning !" 
 Well guess'd the noisy randie core 
 That till the Social Season 's o'er 
 For mischief done they'll get no more 
 
 Than just a feckless warning. 
 And louder near their doors they roar'd 
 
 With phrase of reckless mirth ; 
 The Law and Judge they threw o'er board 
 
 And Licence ruled the Earth ! 
 No master nor pastor 
 
 Their freedom shall restrain : 
 For any ill they know well 
 
 An amnesty they'll gain. 
 
 Some other magnates of the place 
 Shell'd out a shilling sometimes less. 
 But Deacon Will with smirking face 
 Would try the mode genteel : 
 
HOGMANA Y. 67 
 
 " Ye're welcome, chaps ; " then mildly adds, 
 The " Compl'inents o' th' season, lads ; " 
 Then, muttering, growls, " I'd hang the cads 
 
 Could I but have my will." 
 Two blades o'erheard the currish speech, 
 
 And vow'd he'd soon repent it ; 
 Soon showers of eggs his taste impeach 
 
 The eggs a trifle scented 1 
 Approaching and coaxing, 
 
 He tried to check the pother ; 
 While John Meek smote one cheek, 
 
 Mackinven smear'd the other. 
 
 Anon the Tolbooth tenor clock 
 
 The passing year's last hour had struck, 
 
 When chums their hands in friendship lock, 
 
 And wish a gude new year. 
 First-footers plied their ancient trade, 
 On hall and cottage made a raid, 
 And drank the health of wife and maid 
 
 In phrases kind but queer. 
 From frequent ' ' toasts " Precentor Tom, 
 
 To leeward often swerv'd ; 
 He ask'd M'Cracken for the home, 
 
 Where Madge his sweetheart serv'd. 
 The marplot, chuckling at his chance, 
 
 Gives guidance false and wrong, 
 And stirs the inmates of the manse, 
 
 With ringing loud and long. 
 
68 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 With terror, with horror, 
 
 Tom hears the pastor roar : 
 " Precentor, get hence, sir 
 
 Precent to me no more." 
 
 O rare and quick is whisky's pow'r ! 
 
 It changes natures in an hour ; 
 
 Makes sad the glad, makes sweet the sour, 
 
 Till folks scarce know their kin. 
 In Bolgam Street, Mike met a mate 
 Whom oft he met both ear and late, 
 But scarcely would a moment wait, 
 
 To ask his neighbour in. 
 But now they've had three gills together, 
 
 And feel their magic spell'; 
 They're knit like spouses to each other, 
 
 And deepest secrets tell. 
 An " entry " leads them to their door, 
 
 And to and fro they pace, 
 And both eternal friendship swore, 
 
 In loving tight embrace. 
 Thus fuddled, thus muddled, 
 
 Each oped the other's door ! 
 Dumfounder'd, they entered 
 
 Abodes unseen before ! 
 
 Oh ! Nell M'Keich, what elfin wrought 
 Within your brain the blund'ring thought 
 
HOGMANA Y. 69 
 
 To hide the flask your husband bought, 
 
 And fill'd with Colville's whisky ? 
 And in its stead to hand your man 
 A flask to treat Macnab and clan, 
 His social spouse and drouthy son, 
 
 With liquor weak and risky. 
 Pure water from the best of springs, 
 
 In haste they quaff from glasses ; 
 But soon the draught convulsions brings, 
 
 And back through gullets passes ! 
 You see well the three, Nell, 
 
 Were quite unused to water ; 
 In faith, ma'am, your death, ma'am, 
 
 Seemed hanging on the matter ! 
 
 Yet worse it fared with Lachy Coag 
 A dupe at times, but mostly rogue, 
 Who bore as gift to Hughie Logue 
 
 A bottle charg'd with " feints " ; 
 Swith, in his mission ever keen, 
 He eyed a bottle near a screen, 
 As like his own as bean to bean, 
 
 And for't his bosom pants ; 
 The bottles deftly he exchanged 
 A lucky " move " he guess'd ; 
 With boundless swing his fancy ranged 
 
 O'er "pulls" of Hughie's "best." 
 He hied him to the Quarry hole 
 
 And gulp'd two gills or more ; 
 
70 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 Much vex'd he ne'er got drunk at all, 
 Yet feared his days were o'er ! 
 
 A Doctor was sought for 
 
 Who hung him by the rieels; 
 
 Then squeez'd him, releas'd him 
 Of three once wriggling eels. 
 
 But list ! The cart and barrel of tar 
 
 Proclaim their action from afar ; 
 
 The flames eclipse the brightest star 
 
 The crowd's loud roar is heard. 
 That barrel the chief of festive gear 
 Lay deep in limbo half a year ; 
 But how secured pray, never spier 
 
 At th' owner or the bard. 
 At Bauldy Bryde's old " corner " stand 
 The leader waves his magic wand, 
 And such as could their knees command 
 
 Stood bolt upright to hear : 
 " My comrades of the fiery race, 
 
 This precious moment I embrace, 
 To beg my brethren at this place 
 
 To raise a lusty cheer. 
 
 u Macnaughton, joiner, kind of heart, 
 Has manfully discharg'd his part, 
 
HOGMANAY. 71 
 
 And lent his long time-honour'd cart 
 
 To bear our cheerful barrels ; 
 To those who own'd the barrels before, 
 I'd call for cheers at least a score ; 
 But who they were we'll say no more, 
 
 Lest cheers should end in quarrels. 
 And you, my lads, who muscles strain 
 
 To pull the blazing load, 
 You're fit to draw Apollo's wain 
 
 Now, bipeds, take the road." 
 Right merrily, right cheerily 
 
 To orders they attend ; 
 With heart, then, the cartmen 
 
 Paraded through Loch end. 
 
 From open windows on the left, 
 The air with shouts the natives cleft, 
 And old and young alike seem'd daft 
 
 With seeing such a glare. 
 Dick Scally, wild at scenes so bright, 
 Into the barrel with all his might 
 Must throw his hat a pate so light, 
 
 Could ill the treasure spare. 
 Across the " bridge " the chargers prance 
 
 'Mid songs and wilder notes; 
 When nimble sprigs would try a dance 
 
 To music from their throats. 
 While reeling and wheeling, 
 
 Whirl'd lad and canty maid ; 
 
72 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 The night flew, the light grew, 
 And native traits betray'd. 
 
 To Dalintober through and back, 
 
 The " steeds " and cart made many a tack, 
 
 And if their speed got somewhat slack, 
 
 The din increas'd its pace. 
 At Mitchell's door they stood a while, 
 And raised a cheer was heard a mile ; 
 The " elder" answered with a smile 
 
 His bounty fring'd its grace. 
 Macalister, the ace of "tars," 
 
 The jocund lads enrich'd ; 
 And Campbell, generous sons of Mars, 
 
 With crowns their eyes bewitch'd. 
 And Marshall, aye partial 
 
 To youths of rich and poor, 
 Rewards them, regards them, 
 
 And bless'd them at his door. 
 
 At Dalaruan's spacious green, 
 A welcome sight by all was seen, 
 For Callum Gow had married Jean, 
 
 The toast of all the row. 
 Macneil the piper piped his best ; 
 And Gow, array'd in spotless vest, 
 With Jean his bride, and all the rest, 
 
 Tripp'd the fantastic toe. 
 
HOGMANA K 73 
 
 The outer crowd might swell their din, 
 
 The dancers heard it not ; 
 The noisy drones prevail'd within, 
 
 And drown'd the other lot. 
 Till Arty Mac Larty, 
 
 For fresh air op'd the door ; 
 Then hastily and lustily, 
 
 He stopp'd the bagpipe's roar. 
 
 " Come oot," he bawls, "and see the bleeze ;" 
 Then out the " party " flew like bees, 
 And left Macneil his bags to squeeze, 
 
 And skirl his drowsy tones. 
 But Dan had blown his breath so long, 
 He thought it neither rash nor wrong 
 To store new pith from something strong, 
 
 To feed his greedy drones. 
 Thus with a bottle he made free, 
 
 As down his bagpipes fell : , 
 " I'm noo your only frien', ye see 
 
 They've left you to myseP. 
 Then here's luck, my dear duck ; 
 
 Aft may we meet thegither. 
 Deil face them, and chase them, 
 
 Wha 'd keep us frae each ither." 
 
 By this, the revellers without, 
 
 Had got their cue to cheer and shout. 
 
74 HOGMANA F. 
 
 They roar'd : " Dan, piper, please, come out 
 
 And treat us to a strain." 
 Now Donald had upset his chair, 
 And staggered out to have a stare 
 At both the folk and tarry glare, 
 
 That lighted up the green. 
 But scarce had gained the outer door 
 
 When birkies gripp'd him tight, 
 And dragg'd him off amid a roar 
 
 Of tumult and delight. 
 M'Crachen and Strachan, 
 
 Ensconced him on the cart ; 
 Then begg'd him and egg'd him, 
 
 To give the dance a start. 
 
 The bridegroom to the change assented ; 
 
 The youngsters shriek'd and jump'd, demented ; 
 
 And wagging noddles sagely hinted 
 
 They got their man at last. 
 Dan answer'd with a vacant glow'r 
 (The index of the bottle's power), 
 He mutter'd : " Just for ae half hour 
 
 I'll do my very best." 
 A rush was made among the crowd 
 
 For partners in the dance : 
 Ian Bain saluted Moll M'Leod, 
 
 MacPhatter " set " to Nance. 
 M'Kiargan a rare gun 
 
 Proposed to Sally Miller ; 
 
HOGMANAY. 75 
 
 She slighted and spited 
 The would-be lady-killer ! 
 
 Pate Craw engaged Rebecca Leech 
 By dint of brass and flattering speech ; 
 His matted head could scarcely reach 
 
 His buxom partner's shoulder ! 
 " They're steps and stairs," some cynics cried ; 
 "A model pair for man and bride ; 
 Ay, Mirren Greg his suit denied," 
 
 Fair candid rivals told her ! 
 So, much as Mirren loved a " fling " 
 
 With man or boy that asked her, 
 Such sallies from the jeering ring 
 
 Now fairly overtasked her. 
 The crowd then applaud when 
 
 They see her from him turning ; 
 With quick step and back skip 
 
 She left the " killer "girning ! 
 
 Red Colin Shaw, contented chiel, 
 
 Who thumped the ground with sole and heel, 
 
 For every form of dance and reel 
 
 A patent step devised : 
 'Twas two leaps up, and two thumps down, 
 One leeward lurch and then wheel round ; 
 Until his partner Effie found 
 
 Folks laughing undisguised. 
 
76 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 One shouted " reel " before the time ; 
 
 Then Colin slopes away ; 
 While Phemie strikes a pose sublime 
 
 That might adorn a play. 
 She press'd him, address'd him : 
 
 " Let 's drop it, Colin Shaw ; 
 Be aff man, ye daft man, 
 
 This winna dae at a'." 
 
 Without them, on the tumult sped, 
 
 And many a Jock his Jenny led 
 
 To strains that taxed their heel and head 
 
 For Donald blew with birr. 
 His blasts for jigs, strathspeys and reels, 
 Blew fire and pepper on their heels ; 
 And even Grannie Neilage feels 
 
 Her girlhood's raptures stir. 
 With taunting challenge Grannie bow'd 
 
 Before her grandson, Johnnie ; 
 " Dont blush," quoth she, " 'twas once allow'd 
 
 I was baith jimp and bonnie." 
 In decking, in shrieking, 
 
 Nor pose nor gamut fail'd her ; 
 Though few were, but knew there 
 
 Her son was * ' ruling Elder." 
 
 As wilder Donald fidg'd and blew, 
 The brute creation revelPd, too ; 
 
HOGMANA Y. 77 
 
 Hoarse bark'd the deep-mouth'd surly grue 
 
 Out o'er the " Factor's Glen " ; 
 Black " Toro " with a right good will 
 Sent back a roar from Calton Hill, 
 As challenge to the bagpipe shrill 
 
 To Dan and all his men ! 
 Thick " Toby," Grant's auld-farran naig, 
 That ne'er was known to move a leg, 
 In backward course on road or rig, 
 
 Though pull'd by half-a-score, 
 Retreated from his hay-stuff'd " heck," 
 And backward paced and toss'd his neck, 
 And fain would from his tether break 
 
 To join the merry splore, 
 Till Jamie Shairp, who drove the cob, 
 
 O'erheard his charger's snort, 
 And left the dance and gay hubbub, 
 
 To check old Toby's sport. 
 Bess Gardner, his partner, 
 
 Depriv'd of Jamie's pith, 
 Both stumbled and tumbled, 
 
 And press'd the turf beneath. 
 
 
 E'en foxes can't aye strain their pace ; 
 
 And Dan, by skirls now growing less, 
 Hung out some signals of distress, 
 
 From lack of wind, not steam ; 
 The bridal swell, the braw best man, 
 Foresees collapse of Piper Dan, 
 
78 HOGMANA Y. 
 
 And for last reel to Peggy ran 
 
 To close the festive dream. 
 M'Cracken eyes his rival's move, 
 
 And feels his choler rise \ 
 For he himself to Meg made love, 
 
 But Meg his presence flies. 
 Then cannily and bonnily 
 
 The swell whirls Peggy Mair; 
 Spectators and waiters 
 
 Admire the bobbing pair. 
 
 With envious stare M'Cracken gazed, 
 The while the crowd the couple praised, 
 And more when Peggy's cheek was raised 
 
 To catch her partner's smack ; 
 The wrathful suitor hatch'd his plan, 
 And darted in on Peggy's " man " ; 
 Then, straining arm and foot, began 
 
 To hold the lassie back. 
 The curly " swell" fell vengeance swore 
 
 Against th' intruder's pate, 
 Who stung him more than e'er before, 
 
 By ducking to his mate ! 
 They gripp'd then, and tripp'd when 
 
 M'Cracken hugg'd his leg ; 
 The " best man," the dress'd man, 
 
 In falling, lost his wig ! 
 
HOGMANA Y. 79 
 
 And now confusion did its worst ; 
 The crackling blazing barrel burst ; 
 While every throat the caitiff cursed, 
 
 That spoil'd the merry maze. 
 M'Cracken, aye on mischief set, 
 Old Donald's pipes with gully slit ; 
 Then sagely guessed 'twas time to flit 
 
 By favour of the blaze. 
 Away he sped for Maitland's Mill, 
 
 And passed Neil Dummie's door, 
 Nor halted till he gain'd Big Kiln 
 
 The hero of the hour ! 
 There grandly and blandly 
 
 He told, while cronies roar'd, 
 How deftly and swiftly 
 
 Dal'ruan loons he floor'd. 
 
 Dazed Donald, witless how it came 
 His drones and chanter all the same 
 Combin'd at once to blight his fame 
 
 And get him dubb'd a sham, 
 Declared some pow'r of nameless place 
 In these disasters he could trace, 
 But hoped to turn his pipes' disgrace 
 
 With just anither dram ! 
 With one gude quaich Auld Nick he'd face 
 
 And all his wiles defy : 
 But with a gill that Prince he'd chase 
 
 And all his train forbye. 
 
8o HOGMANA Y. 
 
 Beguil'd then, he smiled then, 
 And made as though he'd rise, 
 
 While fair hopes and rare stoups 
 In visions rapt his eyes. 
 
 But motion from his tar-ry seat 
 Was now for Dan a hopeless feat ; 
 Still worse, to thole the scorching hea.t 
 
 Of coal and crackling holly ; 
 But loosed by aid of friendly hands, 
 (Though stripp'd of half his tartan pants !) 
 The piper rear'd, but, tumbling, lands 
 
 Upon a vagrant collie. 
 The brute's wild howls at Grannie's heels 
 Made horrid duets with her squeals, 
 Till, panic-struck, the company reels 
 
 In terror from the green. 
 The blaze had spent its final ray ; 
 The sudden darkness spread dismay, 
 And men and women fled away 
 
 Till scarce a hoof was seen ! 
 Who raised and "paid the piper" wight 
 
 Is hid from mortal ken : 
 The bridal ladies took to flight 
 
 The rest ran home like men ! 
 How Grannie cuff d the collie's lugs 
 
 Let frightful echoes show ; 
 Who clothed bare Dan with scarfs and rugs 
 
 Good angels only know. 
 
THE RED CHAPEL. 81 
 
 As mystery, kind history, 
 
 In darkness leave to lie 
 What Kate said his mate did 
 
 When Dan's trews caught her eye ! 
 
 In order next Barasky's wight 
 
 With varied themes prolongs the night ; 
 
 The stranger at their tenor winced, 
 
 And seem'd to wish they ne'er commenced. 
 
 THE RED CHAPEL. 
 
 ON a day in September when harvest began, 
 And the sun had descended half-way to the main, 
 The Rover (the nickname so frequently ran) 
 Forgather'd by concert with Ossian MacLean. 
 
 They met, by appointment, beside the red kirk, 
 (Now sacred to barking the fishermen's gear), 
 Where Reverend Boes once honour'd his work 
 By a life even scoffers were forced to revere. 
 
 " Pray, solve me a puzzle," the Rover demands 
 
 With a licence betraying a son of the sea ; 
 
 " When I voted we 'd meet where the red chapel 
 
 stands, 
 
 Why show'd you aversion at first to agree ? " 
 F 
 
82 THE RED CHAPEL. 
 
 11 The question disturbs me," was Mother's reply ; 
 " For a theme is suggested surrounded with awe ; 
 Yet, though its rehearsal I fain would deny, 
 The lines of its legend I'll ruggedly draw : 
 
 " A reverend shepherd here labour'd for long, 
 And witness'd the fruit of his mission with joy ; 
 Impartial, he rated the wealthy and strong, 
 When sycophants flattering unction would ply. 
 
 " The follies of vagrants in life's lower walk, 
 He faithfully censured with equal rebuke ; 
 With vigorous swoop he pounced like a hawk 
 On foes of the Standards, the Kirk, or the Book. 
 
 " The serpent that tamper'd with angel and Man, 
 Regarded the parson with envy and hate; 
 Observ'd his success with malice and ban, 
 And often engaged him in wily debate. 
 
 " One morning in Summer ere sunlight arose, 
 Of the day when the sacred Communion is held, 
 The Tempter confronted the eloquent Boes, 
 And renew'd the advances so often repell'd : 
 
 " ' Your neighbours invest you,' the enemy hiss'd, 
 ' With talents and learning allotted to few ; 
 Your knowledge embraces the present and past, 
 And ev'n, 'tis rumour'd, the Second Sight, too. 
 
THE RED CHAPEL. 83 
 
 " ' I challenge your science and virtue combined, 
 To state to your people at chapel to-day, 
 One scrap of intelligence fresh to their mind 
 'Tis much if you're even as knowing as they.' 
 
 " ' Then, list me, Deceiver,' retorted the saint : 
 ' Dividing the fringe of a horrible cloud, 
 A bolt from the sky has your mystery rent, 
 And scorch'd your manoeuvre's enveloping shroud. 
 
 " ' Full fair in my vision of heavenly povv'r, 
 There floats in the aether a chapel I knew ; 
 Its gables dispart like the trees in a bow'r ; 
 Its pillars are timber and open to view. 
 
 " ' I see in the lobbies with saws in their hands, 
 Misguided mechanics on mischief debate ; 
 I see them now sawing, at Satan's commands, 
 The pillars supporting the gallery's weight. 
 
 " ' The deed is completed ; now slink they away, 
 With mental reproaches impress'd on their brow; 
 They labour'd that many should perish this day 
 You sneer'd at my second sight Question it now ! 
 
 " * Still further to fret you and add to your shame. 
 To frustrate your purpose and crown your defeat ; 
 Your minions shall henceforth your service disclaim, 
 And their saws and their chisels to pruning hooks beat. 
 
84 THE RED CHAPEL. 
 
 1 ' Aroused by my voice from yon pulpit again, 
 And reviewing with horror the ruin design'd, 
 Repentant, believing, they'll mercy obtain, 
 And rival in graces the best of mankind. 
 
 " ' As pillars in Zion they'll firmly support 
 The faith and the morals of those you would slay ; 
 Their skill on your fabric they'll deftly retort, 
 And gather recruits for the glorious fray. 
 
 " ' Yet, stay ! (I may err I trust it is so) 
 Some gloomy forebodings my spirit disturb ; 
 One wretch from a schemer to wrecker will grow, 
 In folly a mule that no bridle can curb. 
 
 " ' See yonder a multitude flocking in haste, 
 As doves to the windows to bask in the sun ; 
 You've lost them for ever ; no sophistry waste 
 Nefarious strategist, baffled, begone !'" 
 
 The tale is concluded as slowly they pace 
 Through alleys and windings that led to the shore, 
 Where idly they purposed the minutes to chase, 
 By reviewing the pages of Memory's store. 
 
 A yawl ('twas a neighbour's) lay snug on the strand, 
 Supplied with equipment to sail or to row ; 
 So, changing their purpose they launch from the land, 
 To the summons of breezes that wooingly blow. 
 
CAMPBELTON LOCH. 85 
 
 What lamp in the sky, what planet or star, 
 O'er a haven more lovely its radiance throws, 
 Than the Loch that is guarded by Island Davaar, 
 And mirrors Bengullion's majestic repose? 
 
 Encircled by ranges of varying charms, 
 It knows not the havoc of tempest or squall ; 
 When ocean outside it is ravaged with storms, 
 It has room for a navy and calm for a yawl. 
 
 In decades gone by when summer was new, 
 And Kilbrannon rewarded the fisherman's toil, 
 What argosies furrow'd the haven's deep blue, 
 Ere they anchor'd at morning to tally their spoil ! 
 
 Where better can swimmers their languor recruit, 
 In pools for the timid or depths for the bold ? 
 In its brine there is magic and healing to boot 
 It ripens the youthful, makes younger the old. 
 
 How clear o'er its waters in softening sounds, 
 When sunlight is fading and Nature is still, 
 Comes the lowing of oxen, the barking of hound 
 Or the bleating of lambs on the crag or the hill. 
 
 Proud Venice exults in her gondolas' crews, 
 As her gulf they make vocal with music and song ; 
 But dull are her echoes contrasted with yours, 
 As o'er thee, fair haven, they're wafted along. 
 
86 CAMPBEL TON LOCH. 
 
 No circle of mountains Venezia girds, 
 To gather and render the complicate strain ; 
 But here the full swell of melodious chords 
 Rebounds from their summits and mingles again. 
 
 (If aught of a passion for chorus and glee 
 Has lighten'd the toil of my riper career, 
 I owe it to rudiments practised on thee, 
 Untutored in gamut but eager to hear. 
 
 Ah ! doubtless the spell of harmonious song 
 Was partly derived from my cronies of yore ; 
 Thus sweeter if sadder the themes that prolong 
 The memory of songsters now vocal no more.) 
 
 The " salt " at the stern and his mate at the bow, 
 The shallop responds to the lure of the breeze ; 
 Bright Phoebus with gold tipp'd valley and knowe, 
 And gifted the landscape with power to please. 
 
 O'er the tiniest wavelets the vessel and crew 
 'Mid way from the beaches exultingly ride ; 
 A fair panorama enhances their view, 
 Suggestive of musings on every side. 
 
 On the right is receding in silence and gloom 
 Kilkerran's churchyard, where sweetly repose 
 Rare worthies whose virtues no grave can entomb ; 
 For worth and its triumphs extinction refuse. 
 
CAMPS EL TON LOCH. 87 
 
 Still further and eastward Bengullion displays 
 The fancies of Nature o'er hillock and dells ; 
 From its foot to the summits in th' evening rays 
 The bloom of the heather the purple excels. 
 
 From the northern border rise Askomil braes, 
 Responsive with smiles to Bengullion's salute ; 
 The clamour of either the other repays, 
 And signals their neighbours to echo the shout. 
 
 The mound of the Trench (once mounted with guns) 
 Now slips to the rear with quickening glide ; 
 And leeward the slope of Glenramskill runs 
 From the shallop now urged by the wind and the tide. 
 
 Thus wafted the voyagers speedily gain 
 
 The western margin of lonely Davaar ; 
 
 An inlet was enter'd well-known to the twain 
 
 And the vessel was moor'd with the skill of the " tar." 
 
 Ere daylight should vanish from hollow and peak, 
 And the gloaming the smiling perspective obscure, 
 A spot on the slope the excursionists seek, 
 Whence a prospect may converse and pleasure ensure. 
 
 Arrived at a plateau both sunny and dry 
 
 The couple repose them to muse on the scene. 
 
 " Now, Ossian," quoth t'other, " while here we may lie, 
 
 Pursue you the sketch interrupted yestreen." 
 
88 SCHOOL DAYS. 
 
 "Then see," said the chronicler, "yonder to right 
 Outstretches the upland I traversed when young ; 
 Had the Muses but chosen their haunt on its height 
 Its praises o'er Europe my verses had rung. 
 
 "There pluck'd I the berries of bramble and heath, 
 Unheeded, unchallenged, by tenant or laird ; 
 Of joys that have flattered my palate and teeth 
 Beshrew me if aught with their savour compared. 
 
 " From the crown of Knockscalbert (where circles a 
 
 mound 
 
 Mayhap by the Druids regarded with awe) 
 Huge stones I released whose bumping and bound 
 A Newton might welcome as proof of his " law." 
 
 " As lithe as a rabbit that jerks on the plain 
 I scamper'd o'er hollows and ridges of broom ; 
 Enchanted at times by the moor-linnet's strain, 
 Or list'ning the busy bees' querulous hum. 
 
 " Bright glisten'd the braes in the splendour of morn, 
 And reflected the smile of the sun at his height ; 
 With radiance they glow'd when the Whinnyhill 
 
 horn 
 Resounded the cow-herds' retreat for the night. 
 
 " I see in the distance the site of the school 
 
 Where knowledge first open'd her scroll to my gaze ; 
 
SCHOOL DA YS. 89 
 
 My teachers were various so was their rule : 
 Some plied me with lessons, some lured me to plays. 
 
 " 'Tis hard to apportion the measure of praise 
 
 That is due to the zeal of a tutor or mate ; 
 
 Yet the branches, 'tis known, for which nobody 
 
 pays 
 Are master'd while others are left to their fate. 
 
 " Still memory peoples with ardour and life 
 The benches and tables arranged in the room ; 
 Here genius is busy with dexterous knife 
 At carving mementoes for ages to come. 
 
 "And yonder 's a maiden who skips to the floor 
 To whisper the master to sharpen her quill. 
 The moment is precious : of callants a score 
 Discover their pens need mending as well. 
 
 " The obliging preceptor 's enclosed by a crowd, 
 Though none are in haste his attention to court ; 
 With signals and postures (no talking allow'd) 
 The suitors indulge in their ogling sport. 
 
 " If sterner emotions their bosoms possess'd 
 And jealousy prompted the envious sigh, 
 The show of aggression her presence repress'd 
 The rivals were modest while Polly was nigh. 
 
90 SCHOOL DAYS. 
 
 " Ye teachers, how vainly the credit ye claim 
 For the progress in learning your pupils attain ! 
 Compared with a damsel's your efforts are tame 
 In urging a student's competitive strain. 
 
 " While fondly ye fancy your lectures and taws 
 Ensure application to lessons and rules, 
 The hope of some fair one's regard and applause 
 Is mightier than legions of tutors and schools. 
 
 " I own it with pride I've own'd it to Jane, 
 Who once was my schoolmate, and may be my bride 
 The triumph o'er rivals in classes to gain 
 Her smile and approval the motive supplied. 
 
 " And yonder's a steading whence once, it is told, 
 A grabber ungratefully pilfer'd a bird ; 
 At Candlemas cock-fight one promised him gold 
 If the bird in the contest should equal the third. 
 
 " A couple of gallants is flung on the floor 
 In presence of teacher, of pupil and friend ; 
 No combatants ever more gracefully bore 
 The weapons to strike or the life to defend. 
 
 " With their heads and their necks outstretched at 
 
 full length, 
 
 And their body compress'd and swamp as an eel, 
 The feathery duellists tested their strength 
 And batter'd each other with pinion and steel. 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 91 
 
 " Ballygreggan's old champion settled his foe 
 And added new lustre to previous fame ; 
 Then strutted about as if wishing to know 
 If another is ready to honour the game. 
 
 " The grabber, responsive, next open'd his bag 
 To offer for battle his ponderous bird ; 
 At the sight of his stature a simpering wag 
 Exclaim'd that with steel he was needlessly spurr'd. 
 
 " The fowl is let down in the ' champion's ' view ; 
 But yielding to terror or withering scorn, 
 Through the open half door he gallantly flew 
 And crow'd at a chicken unearthing a corn ! 
 
 " And well I remember the generous chum 
 Who brighten'd my spirit when sinking in gloom ; 
 Who polish'd my Essay, corrected my sum, 
 And pummel'd the bully that follow'd me home. 
 
 " Such tempers as his an influence wield 
 More lasting and potent than precept or pelf; 
 As great as the hero that bleeds on the field 
 Is the school boy that aids you to rival himself. 
 
 " Thus pleasantly glided my boyhood away, 
 And tinted the future with roseate hue ; 
 Thrice happy was I that no wandering ray 
 Reveal'd the distresses our family knew. 
 
92 THE EVICTED TENANT. 
 
 " May my hope be well founded that sunshine and joy 
 Illumined the path of my parents when young ; 
 That the dreams that enchanted the girl and the boy, 
 Their spell o'er their chequered experience flung ! 
 
 " In the farm where my ancestors burrow'd and toil'd, 
 In the hope of the comforts it never supplied, 
 The sirens of fancy my childhood beguiled, 
 While hardship and sorrow were rife at my side. 
 
 " The greed of a landlord our capital drain'd 
 With rents and exactions supremely severe ; 
 Till, threaten'd with ruin, my father complain'd, 
 And pray'd for reduction at least for a year. 
 
 " The lambs in the spring had succumb'd to the snow ; 
 The grass and the grain in the summer decay'd ; 
 The prices of stock, like its feeding, were low, 
 And meagre the yield of the plough and the spade. 
 
 " The strictest economy meted our meals, 
 And home-made habiliments saved us expense ; 
 Day over, we twisted green withes into creels 
 Till weariness conquer'd each vigilant sense. 
 
 " A record so grim on the Factor we press'd, 
 Indulging the hope he would honour our plea ; 
 As well might the dove intercede for her nest 
 With the fox in his den or the hawk on a tree. 
 
THE EVICTED TENANT. 93 
 
 " Our appeal for redress was return'd us with scorn, 
 
 And insult with injury soiPd the reply ; 
 
 ' Remove,' quoth the Agent (an alien born), 
 
 ' Your rent is too low your ambition too high/ 
 
 " The grip of a statute too partial to lairds 
 Restricted proceedings to further our cause : 
 The Rights of Humanity greed disregards, 
 But chuckles o'er rapine that's sanction'd by laws. 
 
 " Our property sold at the edict of sharks, 
 Who clutch in a scrimmage what honesty earns ; 
 The family, penniless, quitted their parks, 
 Their garden and produce, their hedges and burns. 
 
 " And yet for the country, its Freedom, and King, 
 My kinsmen and relatives fell on the plain 
 And this is the guerdon their victories bring, 
 While avarice garners the spoils of the slain ! 
 
 " If, loyal, we answer our country's demand, 
 
 And rally to arms at the trumpeter's call, 
 
 Should our magnates begrudge us the boon of our 
 
 land 
 When our valour secures them possession at all ? 
 
 " Injustice, short-sighted, may banish the brave 
 And clear the fair hills for the deer and the sheep ; 
 
94 THE EVICTED TENANT. 
 
 Yet wealth nor itself nor possessor can save 
 
 When the fiend of reprisal shall start from his sleep. 
 
 " Sad prospect ! if over each valley and glen 
 Gregarious quadrupeds only shall roam ; 
 If there are forbidden the dwellings of men 
 Where work and intelligence long had a home ! 
 
 " And where shall our populous cities and towns 
 Their pith and degenerate vigour recruit, 
 When the country no longer the nurseries owns 
 Where its physical stamina first had its root ? 
 
 " But the sun has gone down 'neath the verge of the 
 
 main, 
 
 And, seeing you surly, I'll finish my tale." 
 "Enough," quoth the Rover, "give over, Maclean; 
 To the strand let us hasten and hoist up the sail." 
 
 With forces unequal they made for the bay 
 The Rover impatient and first in the race ; 
 Arrived at the shallop he push'd her away 
 While quizzing his fellow to quicken his pace. 
 
 Suspecting his purpose, the chronicler dash'd 
 Into water so deep it behoved him to swim ; 
 From the vessel the water the miscreant splash'd 
 And threaten'd the swimmer, who clung to its rim. 
 
THE EVICTED TENANT. 95 
 
 " Let go ! " said the caitiff; " now loosen your hold ; 
 Refusal may cost you a ducking or more. 
 Do you think I've connived at the legends you told, 
 Or failed to divine the construction they bore. 
 
 "Too thinly the sinister drift you disguise 
 
 Of the sermon you preached on the farm and the kirk 
 
 Obtuse were my brain did I fail to surmise 
 
 The sly inuendoes that under it lurk. 
 
 " My early adventures at cock-fights and kirks 
 Reflection might lead even you to forget ; 
 While covert allusions to ' factors and sharks ' 
 Leave nothing or little my vengeance to whet. 
 
 " That little 's supplied by the maiden you loved, 
 Whom you hoped for your bride but your scheme is 
 
 undone ; 
 
 Your wooing, like Rover's, abortive has proved 
 * Nefarious strategist, baffled, begone.' " 
 
 So saying, he push'd his companion away, 
 And left him to sink or to swim as he might ; 
 Then seizing the rudder, he steered for " the bay," 
 But long ere the morning betook him to flight. 
 
96 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 IN Killocraw the night drave on 
 'Mid jests and songs and tales ; 
 
 The motley group reck'd not the blasts 
 Nor wrath of rising gales. 
 
 Beneath the hall's o'erarching roof 
 
 The ample peat fire blazed, 
 And many an eye in dreamy mood 
 
 Upon its embers gazed. 
 
 The ebon " bing," * of dateless age, 
 
 Reclaim'd from boggy moor, 
 Engaged the long-time-honour'd space 
 
 Twixt grate and parlour door. 
 
 Upon its hard, unpolish'd plane 
 
 (Fatigue such fault ignores) 
 The farmer's sons reclined their frames 
 
 The " herd " behind them snores. 
 
 The servant " lads " lounge in their chairs, 
 
 And leisure's rapture feel ; 
 The maids have milk'd the patient cows, 
 
 And ply their spinning wheel. 
 * Bench. 
 
KILLOCRAW. 97 
 
 Some space aback a beggar loon, 
 
 Well flank'd with bulky haps, 
 A licensed kern, alternates jests 
 
 With short and easy naps. 
 
 For days the pawky carle enjoy 'd 
 
 This hospitable howff; 
 And of his "yarns" the inmates thought 
 
 They ne'er could have enough. 
 
 Full many a dark and startling tale, 
 
 Of scenes beheld abroad, 
 Ran fluent from his oily tongue, 
 
 Confirm'd by look and nod. 
 
 Of hair-breadth 'scapes he had his share, 
 
 On land and boisterous main ; 
 He quoted fights he might have fought, 
 
 And champions he had slain. 
 
 Beside him sat old Heckler Ned 
 
 Of hecklers first was he ; 
 Ned dressed the lint of every farm 
 
 From Moil to Ballochantee. 
 
 The heckler's prongs, robust and sharp 
 
 As the Dragons' teeth of old, 
 Had ceas'd the twang that many an hour 
 
 His pithful labour told. 
 G 
 
98 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 And next in order sat and smiled 
 The pedlar with his pack, 
 
 Alike expert in trogging wares, 
 And passing round the crack. 
 
 The secrets of each sighing swain 
 From Oban to Southend, 
 
 Were deftly caught and often doled, 
 To serve a trader's end. 
 
 The tinsell'd jewels in his box 
 The maids were fain to buy, 
 
 In hopes this confidant would moot 
 What swains for them might sigh. 
 
 With artful wile the loon divined 
 The lasses' facile mood : 
 
 In trade he deem'd it scarce a sin 
 Their fancies to delude. 
 
 If trinkets dear at any price 
 Secured a flattering sale, 
 
 Rare gossip, free from extra charge, 
 He threw into the scale. 
 
 New stores of clavers in return 
 Would every maid confide ; 
 
 The absence of romantic notes 
 The chapman's wit supplied. 
 
KILLOCRAW. 9$ 
 
 Such was the various group that met 
 
 That night at Killocraw, 
 Prepared to list a tale, or tell 
 
 What once they heard or saw ; 
 
 With less restraint, as th' old goodman 
 
 From home had gone that day ; 
 And few there knew, and no one ask'd, 
 
 How long in town he'd stay. 
 
 Thus 'mid the freedom from reserve 
 
 The absent host ensured, 
 Each, in his way, the varied " yarn " 
 
 In quick succession pour'd. 
 
 The hazel rafters rang again 
 
 With laughter and applause, 
 As packman Will the group regaled 
 
 With jests and witty saws. 
 
 The shepherd's dog, with one eye closed, 
 
 The eyelid veil'd the other, 
 Was startled from his soft repose, 
 
 And, barking, swell'd the pother. 
 
 At times the " herd " o'ershot the mark 
 
 With shouts inopportune, 
 And sallied out in noisy mirth 
 
 When wit there might be none. 
 
ioo KILLOCRA W. 
 
 To silence collie and his chum 
 The household soon agreed ; 
 
 And sharp rebukes and hearty cuffs 
 Were dealt in word and deed. 
 
 The pedlar moved (of right possessed, 
 
 As he had done his part), 
 " The heckler from his wallet's store 
 
 Some legend should impart." 
 
 And, interruption to forestall, 
 
 The needed hint he gave ; 
 The tale the minstrel might relate 
 
 Were best if true and grave. 
 
 The household wide with one consent 
 
 This sage advice applaud, 
 And beg the chosen scene might lie 
 
 At home and not abroad. 
 
 And Rumour, with her thousand tongues, 
 
 Reported through the glen, 
 That in his breast the heckler held 
 
 What few alive might ken. 
 
 Oft was he press'd in other days 
 
 To tell what part he bore 
 In the bustle of the tragic wreck 
 
 On Tangytavil shore. 
 
KILLOCRAW. 101 
 
 "I've heard it said," quoth the farmer's son, 
 
 The elder of the two 
 " That none so well the scene can tell 
 
 In terms so full and true. 
 
 " But father hates the theme, I know, 
 
 And won't allusion bear ; 
 Though surely in its doubtful phase 
 
 He could not have a share. 
 
 " But lately, on a boisterous day, 
 
 With him I slowly paced 
 The broken beach of Port-na-marv, 
 
 With wreckage then defaced. 
 
 " Old Hector he who mends the roads, 
 
 And dwells at Killarow 
 Accosted us beside the rock 
 
 Where cairds the gauger slew. 
 
 " There, pressing near my father's side, 
 
 As if with secret lore, 
 He whispered in his heedless ear 
 
 Some deed in days of yore. 
 
 *' * 'Twas on that ledge the vessel struck 
 
 On yon tempestuous night ; 
 And there's the spot whereon ('tis said) 
 
 Appeared the fatal light.' 
 
102 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 " Still further was old Hector bent 
 
 The subject to pursue, 
 In hopes my father's thanks to earn 
 
 And more than thanks, I trow. 
 
 " ' Ne'er broach to me this theme again/ 
 With wrath my father spoke : 
 
 1 From voice high-pitch'd or whispers low 
 The subject I'll not brook.' 
 
 " A thousand pardons Hector begged, 
 And vow'd he'd err no more ; 
 
 Yet said he wondered father felt 
 So keenly on that score. 
 
 " ' For,' quoth the hoary mountaineer, 
 1 'Bove every name that's bound 
 
 With the record of that luckless night 
 Your name is nobly found.' 
 
 " ' Thanks, Hector, for your friendly words 
 
 I know they are sincere ; 
 Yet, 'twixt what wakes my pride and pain 
 
 You'll find it hard to steer. 
 
 " * I offered aid that woful morn 
 I own't with modest pride 
 
 Yet 'neath a bushel long I strove 
 My humble light to hide. 
 
K1LLOCRA W. 103 
 
 " ' For no unhallow'd part have I 
 
 To blush or to atone 
 But, intermission to cut short, 
 
 " Let sleeping dogs alone." ' 
 
 " Such were the words that reach'd my ears 
 
 Beside the noted bay, 
 With other hints design'd, methought, 
 
 Remonstrance to convey. 
 
 " The ardour of my father's breast 
 
 Undid his sage design 
 T' enclose the secret in his heart, 
 
 And keep it far from mine. 
 
 " Nor do I think I strain a point 
 
 When hence I thus conclude, 
 That mention of the theme at all 
 
 Is adverse to his mood. 
 
 " If solemn silence was imposed 
 
 On Hector's facile tongue, 
 Methinks he'd challenge all who would 
 
 The hated theme prolong. 
 
 "A filial part not more, you'll own 
 
 I duly now perform, 
 And beg the seneschal would shun 
 
 What themes might stir a storm." 
 
io 4 KILLOCRA W. 
 
 Thus earnestly the elder son 
 
 Recorded his protest 
 Against all reference to the scene, 
 
 And hoped it there might rest. 
 
 " Far be 't from me," the heckler vow'd, 
 
 " Your filial awe to sap ; 
 Or idly spread insidious snares 
 
 Your virtue to entrap. 
 
 " 'Tis known my kinsman's earnest wish 
 
 Is sacred with his kin ; 
 And well the outward act reflects 
 
 The love they bear within. 
 
 " But a wish is oft the hasty growth 
 Of dim, ill-shaken thought, 
 
 Whose stem would wither in its prime 
 If light were on it brought. 
 
 " When feeling, be it e'er so pure, 
 
 Opposes honour's voice, 
 The manly jury doubts not long 
 
 On which to fix its choice." 
 
 But curiosity thus roused 
 
 Within the eager crowd, 
 Now gathered force and found a vent 
 
 In voices deep and loud. 
 
KILLOCRA W. 105 
 
 " I 've something heard," quoth Angus Blue, 
 
 An usher from Drumore 
 About the awful midnight wreck 
 
 On Tangytavil shore. 
 
 " But various have the stories been 
 
 No two are quite the same 
 This moment one gets boundless praise, 
 
 The next, he 's steeped in blame. 
 
 " The honour paid your father's wish, 
 
 My worthy kinsman's son, 
 Though sprung from sense of duty's call, 
 
 True kindness may outrun. 
 
 " Well guess I if your father knew 
 
 That envy's tongue 's at work, 
 To mix him with a ruthless crew 
 
 That plied the club and dirk, 
 
 " Instead of fearing moorland tongues 
 
 Should drag the truth to-day, 
 He'd have it roar'd in echoes loud 
 
 From Macrihanish bay. 
 
 " Old Hector's speech, and eke your sire's 
 
 ('Twas so, methinks, you spoke), 
 Your father's innocence delared 
 
 Beside Vik Caggen's rock. 
 
106 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 "Then for his sake, and family's sake, 
 To whom by love I'm bound, 
 
 I vote the heckler start his tale, 
 An't please the household round." 
 
 Though mark'd assent from all save one 
 
 Sustain'd the usher's vote, 
 The heckler weigh'd the two extremes 
 
 To tell the tale or not. 
 
 Meanwhile the mistress of the " hall " 
 
 Made many a casual trip 
 Between the byre and parlour door, 
 
 With soft, though stately, step. 
 
 A distant dignity at first 
 Enrobed tall madam's air;. 
 
 Anon she lingered near the group, 
 And fain would settle there. 
 
 A question now and then she put, 
 
 But answer seldom won ; 
 For more engrossing were the hints 
 
 Of Edward and her son. 
 
 From Tobermory's tortuous shore 
 She sail'd in youthful pride, 
 
 And entered cliffy Killocraw 
 A handsome, winsome bride. 
 
KILLOCRAW. 107 
 
 Macvoolin's sense and graceful form 
 
 Had won her heart and hand ; 
 And many a suitor mourn'd the day 
 
 She left her native land. 
 
 No whisper e'er convey'd to her, 
 
 In youth or later day, 
 The dimmest outline of the wreck 
 
 That blurred the neighbouring bay. 
 
 Much less had " tales " her husband's name 
 
 With any fama mix'd ; 
 She prized him still, as on that day 
 
 Her married lot she fix'd. 
 
 Disjointed fragments even then 
 
 Were all that reach'd her ear ; 
 For quick though she returned, she would 
 
 As quickly disappear. 
 
 One startling phrase had hook'd her thought, 
 
 'Twas uttered by her son : 
 " But, intermission to cut short, 
 
 Let sleeping dogs alone." 
 
 Attracted by the pregnant hint 
 
 The latter line convey'd, 
 With spacious show of an excuse 
 
 She stood and longer stay'd. 
 
io8 KILLOCRAW. 
 
 " I hope," quoth she, " that feeble man, 
 
 " The beggar near the sill, 
 Is comfortable in his lair, 
 
 And feels nor pain nor chill. 
 
 "Methinks, but probably I err'd, 
 
 Just now he op'd his eyes, 
 And quickly cast the hurried glance 
 
 That seeming peace belies. 
 
 A paleness seem'd to mark his face, 
 
 Unseen before to-night ; 
 Though happily my vision fail'd 
 
 To catch his hue aright." 
 
 Thus spake the dame, but all agreed 
 
 She sought excuse to stay, 
 And hear what more her thoughtful son 
 
 And Edward had to say. 
 
 The latter's counsel won her vote 
 
 As, frankly she confess' d, 
 Ev'n other motives urged her wish 
 
 That touch'd no other breast. 
 
 The narrative would soon dissolve 
 The doubt that vex'd her mind, 
 
 If foul 's that heart and stain'd that hand 
 She chose 'bove all mankind. 
 
KILLOCRAW. 109 
 
 But, doubtless, more assuring thoughts 
 
 In turn advanced their plea ; 
 For loving wives their husbands view 
 
 As mortals angels see. 
 
 Then Voolin's spouse, of " pros and cons " 
 
 Decides the scope and sum : 
 " I beg the heckler to relate 
 
 ' Fair Mary of the Drum.' " 
 
 "Me lists it much," quoth Ned, "to say 
 
 Your pleasure guides my will ; 
 The theme that suits you I'll attempt 
 
 With all my feeble skill. 
 
 And yet the stories are allied, 
 
 And form a perfect whole ; 
 As counterparts they co-exist, 
 
 As body with the soul." 
 
IIO DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 TOM left his father's cheerful home 
 
 Ere twenty years were o'er, 
 With prospects sparkling as the waves 
 
 That laved his native shore. 
 
 Yet toned with sadness are the views 
 
 That swim before his gaze ; 
 And the faltering tongue, in spite of smiles, 
 
 His bosom's throes betrays. 
 
 A father's and a mother's love 
 The parting blessing breathes ; 
 
 And many a hoary friend around 
 The sigh of pray'r bequeaths. 
 
 Brothers and sisters four in all 
 
 Escort him, first, a mile ; 
 But then they thought the distance short, 
 
 And never felt the toil. 
 
 New themes came rushing to their lips, 
 
 Or old remembrance woke ; 
 And so they'd walk another mile 
 
 While all, together, spoke. 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. in 
 
 The second mile-stone, too, they pass'd, 
 
 But none let on he saw, 
 Yet at the third their brother said : 
 
 " The limit here we'll draw." 
 
 Then sister Jane the family pet 
 
 The youngest of the core, 
 Declared three miles were but a bit, 
 
 And she could travel four. 
 
 " But, Jane, remember you will have 
 
 To trudge the journey back ; 
 And for the double course your limbs 
 
 The needed vigour lack." 
 
 " No, brother, no ; I'm strong enough, 
 
 And stronger hope to be ; 
 And farther on, we'll meet you, Tom, 
 
 When you return from sea." 
 
 " Now, where, my pet, should be the spot 
 
 To meet your roving Tom ? " 
 " Oh ! further on, and nearer town, 
 
 We'll bid you welcome home." 
 
 " And let me see," quoth thoughtful Jane 
 
 " Let's meet you at the stone 
 Beside the churchyard's ivy wall 
 
 That shield's the cowherd's loan." 
 
112 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 " Wilt keep thy word, my bonnie bird, 
 Should Heav'n thy days prolong ? " 
 
 " I will," said Jane ; " we will," said all- 
 With loud and gleesome tongue. 
 
 They kiss'd and parted. Slow indeed 
 Their parting was and sore. 
 
 Oft turning back, they made one mile 
 Much longer than the four. 
 
 Some years elapsed ere once again 
 Tom paced his native land ; 
 
 But all that time, though oft he wrote, 
 No letter reach'd his hand. 
 
 But still he hoped his latest note 
 The " escort " would prepare, 
 
 To meet him at the trysting spot 
 And give him welcome there. 
 
 A winding path he slowly cleared, 
 When rose the stone to view, 
 
 Whereat his fancy placed the group 
 That would old joys renew. 
 
 Exulting hope anon subsides, 
 And bosom-pangs succeed, 
 
 As, in response to playful calls, 
 No eager ear gives heed. 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. 113 
 
 Then homeward sped the pensive youth, 
 
 To learn the worst and best ; 
 While startling doubts, ne'er felt before, 
 
 Perplex'd his anxious breast. 
 
 Attracted by a funeral train, 
 
 He halts upon his way, 
 And beckoning to an idle swain, 
 
 Would fain his fears allay. 
 
 " Now, boy," quoth he, with faltering tongue, 
 
 " Pray tell me (if you know) 
 Whose last remains are being convey'd 
 
 Through yonder arch below ? " 
 
 " They're Janey Wilson's of the < Barns,' 
 
 And she's the last of three ; 
 The family all lie buried there, 
 
 Except young Tom at sea." 
 
 A braver heart than Tom's ne'er beat 
 
 Within the human form ; 
 No bolder face stern danger met 
 
 On ocean's frantic storm. 
 
 Far out at sea in midnight's gloom, 
 
 When winds swept moaning by, 
 Their wailing tones suggested home, 
 
 And Jane's long doleful sigh. 
 H 
 
ii4 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 Unbidden springs of latent grief 
 At times would flood his breast ; 
 
 But even then his manly soul 
 The rising tear repress'd. 
 
 Yet as the caverns in the hills 
 
 That fringed his father's farm, 
 For long contain within their bars 
 
 The stores of winter's storm ; 
 
 Until some soft and tender chink 
 
 The rising pressure strains, 
 And years' accumulated floods 
 
 Roll o'er the subject plains. 
 
 So Tom's firm bosom, smitten sore, 
 
 Its long-pent dew unseals ; 
 And the rugged, hardy, tawny " tar," 
 
 A feminine heart reveals. 
 
 Beside the stone where, many a month, 
 
 On sea or foreign shore, 
 His fancy conjured joys that now 
 
 Were quench'd for evermore, 
 
 He sated Nature's crave for tears 
 The sweet discharge of grief 
 
 Then sought the churchyard, where he should 
 Of mourners be the chief. 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. 115 
 
 The sorrow of th' attendant crowd 
 
 Gave way to strange surprise, 
 As all, acquaintances and friends, 
 
 The sailor recognise. 
 
 A deeper silence than before 
 
 Among the mourners reign'd, 
 As ere the bier was lowered down, 
 
 Its head the seaman gain'd. 
 
 Two cords he clutched with eager grasp, 
 
 As signs of double woe, 
 And maugre grave decorum's wont, 
 
 Breath'd out, in accents low : 
 
 " Angelic Jane, Heav'n wills it thus, 
 
 You meet your loving Tom ; 
 When next we meet, in heaven be 't 
 
 There give him welcome home." 
 
 The touching scene wrung ample floods 
 
 From each spectator's eyes ; 
 More for the living than the dead 
 
 Were heav'd the long-drawn sighs. 
 
 The solemn ceremony closed, 
 
 And friends began to part, 
 When kinsmen round the sailor press, 
 
 And idle questions start. 
 
ii6 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 " Oh ! spare my tongue details like these," 
 
 His looks appear'd to say ; 
 My bosom sinks with sorrow's weight, 
 
 And seems to melt away. 
 
 " Farewell, dear cousin, I must hence," 
 
 He uttered with a sob : 
 " A longer stay, of all its strength 
 
 My mind, I fear, would rob. 
 
 " Oh ! had I this distress foreseen, 
 
 How gladly had I stay'd, 
 In foreign parts to brood o'er hopes 
 
 In careless ruin laid. 
 
 " Farewell for e'er ! my boyhood's home, 
 Now wasted, bare, and bleak ; 
 
 Upon your soil my wounded soul 
 No tranquil rest may seek. 
 
 " Farewell, ye walls, that now enclose 
 Within this hallow'd ground, 
 
 The dear remains of those in whom 
 Earth's chief delight I've found. 
 
 " Farewell, my gentle, sainted Jane ! 
 
 Adieu ! my brothers dear ! 
 Rest ! faithful parents ; on my breast 
 
 Your names till death I'll bear." 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. 117 
 
 " Why antedate " (his cousin asked) 
 
 " Your parents' final rest ? 
 Has false report your credent ear 
 
 With groundless fear distress'd?" 
 
 " Then, is 't not so their aged forms 
 
 Repose beneath the sod ? 
 And have I fail'd to catch the sense 
 
 Of answers from a lad 
 
 " A neat herd boy who thus replied 
 
 To questions urged by me : 
 1 The family all lie buried there 
 
 Except young Tom at sea ' ? 
 
 " But part is true : your parents live 
 
 Have still their course to run ; 
 Still o'er their days' horizon verge 
 
 Heav'n hangs their downward sun. 
 
 " Your father's absence, mourned by all 
 
 In village, cot, and farm, 
 Is due to illness, sharp, mayhap, 
 
 But causing no alarm. 
 
 " Your mother and your aged sire 
 
 Will welcome your return ; 
 'Twill ease the pressure of their grief 
 
 For those they 're called to mourn. 
 
ii8 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 A gleam of unexpected joy 
 
 Tom's bosom lit anew, 
 More welcome as a sullen gloom 
 
 So lately veil'd his view. 
 
 With filial ardour now revived 
 
 His home he seeks again, 
 While every footstep brings to view 
 
 Scenes treasured in his brain. 
 
 There stretch'd the Laggan to the left, 
 For cereal wealth renowned ; 
 
 No richer soil his eyes engaged 
 In earth's wide travels round. 
 
 Still farther on smiles Lossit bay, 
 
 Now wrapt in soft repose ; 
 And frowning o'er the placid main 
 
 Its rocky ramparts rose. 
 
 Before him Islay's lovely form 
 
 A fresh regard invites ; 
 From every feature of the isle 
 
 He gathers new delights. 
 
 The ocean, almost smooth as glass, 
 In slumbering grandeur lay ; 
 
 And brightly stream'd the sloping beams 
 Of the golden orb of day. 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. 119 
 
 (Ye who have travers'd foreign realms 
 
 And o'er their splendours doat ; 
 Who Ve witnessed old historic bays, 
 
 And will their wonders quote, 
 
 Might feel your raptures still increase 
 
 On Macrihanish shore, 
 What time it rests in tranquil peace, 
 
 Or tempests wake its roar.) 
 
 A golden radiance Jura's peaks 
 
 Now bathed in mellow hues ; 
 A fitter home the fabled gods 
 
 Nowhere on earth could choose. 
 
 In broken bluffs and deep-scoop'd glens, 
 
 In scaur and rock-strewn shore, 
 The fitful freaks of Nature's force 
 
 Suggestive traces bore. 
 
 Here sandy downs like castles fair 
 
 Trophies of wind and wave 
 High o'er the landscape's spacious plain 
 
 Their brent-clad summits heave. 
 
 Yet not these views though fair they seem 
 
 The sailor most impress'd : 
 The simpler features of the farm 
 
 A stronger spell possess'd. 
 
120 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 There flows and purls the limpid stream 
 
 Beside and 'neath the road, 
 Whose fancied echoes sooth'd his dream 
 
 When foreign realms he trod. 
 
 No fruit produced in tropic climes 
 
 On tree, or shrub, or ground, 
 Vied with the cresses that 'in beds 
 
 The streamlet's margin bound. 
 
 The barn and barnyard there they stand ! 
 
 What sunny days again 
 They call from memory's faithful store, 
 
 Albeit now dash'd with pain ! 
 
 Within the yard there gently swung, 
 
 In attitude forlorn, 
 With branches waving welcome home, 
 
 The gnarl'd and rugged thorn. 
 
 Beneath its boughs in other days 
 
 The hours like minutes sped, 
 When merry swings the youngsters charm'd, 
 
 And he the pastime led. 
 
 No laughter now disturbs the air, 
 
 Nor hills the din repeat ; 
 No eager sister quits the yard 
 
 To tell some swinging feat ! 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS, 121 
 
 Oppressive silence reigns supreme 
 
 In steading, yard, and knowes, 
 Save when the wind with moaning wail 
 
 Sigh'd through the bending boughs. 
 
 And much it moved him that the dogs, 
 
 And one a favourite too, 
 Bark'd hoarsely at his pensive steps, 
 
 Until he backward drew. 
 
 At length a cordial fond embrace 
 
 Express'd his parents' joy ; 
 And for a time their grief was lost 
 
 In raptures o'er their boy. 
 
 In slow details the family blanks, 
 
 Each, sadly, would explain ; 
 And though the tale fresh sorrow stirr'd, 
 
 They yearn'd to tell 't again. 
 
 They told that oft when fever's rage 
 
 Thrust reason from her seat, 
 The bairns would rave the time was near 
 
 Their brother Tom to meet. 
 
 And when decay's dark ominous clouds 
 
 O'er Janey's vision spread, 
 She wish'd that Tom some favourite flow'r 
 
 Should place above her head. 
 
122 DELUSIVE VISIONS. 
 
 Responsive to the tender charge 
 
 His dying sister gave, 
 Next morn a fitting wreath he bore, 
 
 And hied him to her grave. 
 
 The immortelles upon the turf 
 He laid with pious hands, 
 
 And bathed them with the ready tear 
 The wounded breast commands. 
 
 Then slowly passing from the ground 
 That held remains so dear, 
 
 He saw a damsel young and fair 
 Within the arch appear. 
 
 As one arrested in the path 
 
 Of some unworthy call, 
 She cast a furtive glance at Tom, 
 
 And slunk outside the wall. 
 
 Perplexing thoughts his spirit moved, 
 As home his steps he turned ; 
 
 Musing, he wondered if the maid 
 His presence feared or scorned. 
 
 " Or may it be," he inly ask'd, 
 "This damsel, too, has cause, 
 
 Like me, to mourn departed friends, 
 And by their tombs to pause. 
 
DELUSIVE VISIONS. 123 
 
 " And have I, guiltless of intent, 
 
 Disturb'd her hallow'd grief, 
 And scared her from the lonely haunt 
 
 Where sorrow seeks relief." 
 
 A week elaps'd, and ere his home 
 
 He left again for sea, 
 His kindred's final resting-place 
 
 Once more he long'd to see. 
 
 One evening, as the radiant sun 
 Hung o'er the western wave, 
 
 A tender impulse urged his steps 
 Towards his sister's grave. 
 
 With deep surprise and strange delight 
 He sees, bent o'er her tomb, 
 
 The maid that late his presence shirk'd 
 And, blushing, hurried home. 
 
 A tiny wreath she just had placed 
 
 Upon the dappled sward, 
 Whose every inch the maiden seem'd 
 
 To scan with sad regard. 
 
 When, startled by a stranger's form, 
 
 A blush suffused her face, 
 And eagerly yet modestly 
 
 She would her steps retrace. 
 
LOVERS 1 VISIONS. 
 
 A mutual glance at once re veal' d 
 
 Their sympathetic hearts ; 
 An influence quick and soft as light 
 
 Swift through their bosoms darts. 
 
 In modest guise the sailor asks 
 
 What interest in that lair 
 The maid might have ; and why thus, twice, 
 
 He chanced to meet her there ? 
 
 "Good stranger" thus the maid replied 
 " Though stranger now you 're none," 
 
 The secret you request is hid 
 From all beneath the sun ; 
 
 " And were I not aware the cause 
 
 Alike concerns us both, 
 Even to you to state its gist, 
 
 My heart would still be loath." 
 
 Oh ! tarry, maid," the lad rejoin'd 
 
 " Your words provoke my zeal 
 To hear you cite your mournful tale 
 
 And all its train reveal. 
 
 " My darling Jane in glory now 
 Your heart like mine possess'd : 
 
 It stills my grief to learn her grace 
 The hearts of all impress'd." 
 
LOVERS' VISIONS. 125 
 
 " Ah ! true, kind sir, the sainted child 
 
 To earth but briefly lent 
 My soul with hooks of iron bound 
 
 Her death my bosom rent. 
 
 " But deeper feelings, I must own, 
 
 (Th' avowal you'll forgive) 
 Engaged me to one dearer still 
 
 For whom 'twas life to live. 
 
 " Your brother (twin to you, they say) 
 
 My partial fondness won ; 
 But since his death all zest for life 
 
 From me is almost gone. 
 
 " The bond, howe'er, that knit us both, 
 
 Your parents disapproved ; 
 And yet the more our love was cross'd, 
 
 The more we fondly loved. 
 
 " One day we scour'd the craggy hill 
 
 'Twixt Craigs and Kilmahoe, 
 And there, in vows, we pledg'd our troth 
 
 Till death for weal or woe. 
 
 " In token of a lover's joy, 
 
 A wild rose blooming fair 
 Beneath a ledge he strove to pluck, 
 
 To give it me to wear. 
 
126 LOVERS VISIONS. 
 
 " The envious foothold straight gave way, 
 
 And down my partner slid, 
 Till rolling farther down the brow 
 
 He struck a flinty bed. 
 
 " Since that disaster, health robust 
 
 Your brother ne'er enjoy'd, 
 Though noted surgeons counsel gave, 
 
 And practised skill employ'd. 
 
 " Yet more than half the pain that writhed 
 
 His spirit and his frame, 
 Was due to silence on the cause 
 
 He felt he durst not name. 
 
 " Both friends and parents much deceived 
 
 To other causes traced 
 The slow decay that seem'd so soon 
 
 His manly strength to waste. 
 
 " But o'er the graver scenes that closed 
 
 My William's brief career, 
 Remembrance bids me draw the veil 
 
 And seal its record here." 
 
 With anguish press' d and downcast look 
 
 Tom sobb'd and sigh'd again ; 
 More would he know, but closing day 
 
 Must further news restrain. 
 
LOVERS' VISIONS. 127 
 
 Forewarn'd by eve's now gathering gloom 
 
 The hallow'd bounds they quit \ 
 A " distance " still their guise defined, 
 
 While love their feelings knit. 
 
 Much-meaning looks they oft exchanged, 
 
 And language breath'd in sighs, 
 And palm in palm the pledge avow'd 
 
 Their words would fain disguise. 
 
 Next day, upon the spritty knowes 
 
 That flank the sandy bay, 
 They both agreed to meet and list 
 
 What either long'd to say. 
 
 To sleep indeed, but not to rest, 
 
 That night Tom laid him down ; 
 Not even ocean's roaring surge 
 
 Could Mary's echoes drown. 
 
 To these were join'd the maiden's tale 
 
 With artless grace adorn'd ; 
 And not less touching were her thoughts 
 
 Of him she sorely mourn'd. 
 
 Alternate and conflicting doubts 
 
 His troubled spirit sway'd, 
 As new conditions and their force 
 
 In restless scales he weigh'd : 
 
128 LOVERS' VISIONS. 
 
 " My time at home draws to an end 
 
 I shortly must away 
 Too brief 's the space to prove a love 
 
 Grown perfect in a day. 
 
 " And can I to fraternal love 
 
 A lover's passion join ; 
 And for a stranger maiden's heart 
 
 Deep grief so soon resign ! " 
 
 The level ray of rising dawn 
 O'ertook Tom's waking dream ; 
 
 He rose, and pass'd the morning hours 
 Along his favourite stream. 
 
 The flowers that deck'd its winding banks 
 
 Fair Mary's charms recall ; 
 Upon his ear each warbler's tones 
 
 Like Mary's accents fall. 
 
 The morning's sweet and radiant beams, 
 
 That solace eye and mind, 
 No fairer seem'd than Mary's face, 
 
 Where smiles with blushes join'd. 
 
 Anon when Phoebus gain'd the height 
 
 Of heav'n's ascending span, 
 He sees his bosom's idol near, 
 
 With visage sad and wan. 
 
LOVERS' VISIONS. 129 
 
 Their greeting over, Tom besought 
 
 His " love " the cause to tell 
 Why, since they parted full of joy, 
 
 Her hopeful countenance fell. 
 
 " 'Tis not," she answered with a sigh, 
 
 While tears her cheek bedew, 
 " That I agreed to meet you here 
 
 And make my promise true. 
 
 " You may. have heard, when first I traced 
 
 My blighted course of love, 
 Your parents plied all cautious schemes 
 
 To make it fruitless prove. 
 
 " They grieved to think that I, some day, 
 
 Might be thy brother's bride ; 
 And shall I pour another drop 
 
 Into their sorrow's tide ? 
 
 "Heav'n thus our union may have barr'd 
 
 To thwart our perverse wills ; 
 Behoves it now the partner spared 
 
 To challenge greater ills ? " 
 
 " Your fears, my darling, now dismiss," 
 
 Her anxious mate replied ; 
 " Fain would my parents now concede 
 
 The favour they denied. 
 
 i 
 
130 LOVERS' VISIONS. 
 
 " Yestreen, with both, I broach'd the theme 
 
 In wary distant phrase : 
 And, for aversion to your name, 
 
 They join'd me in your praise. 
 
 " And as for Heaven's high designs 
 
 Too high for mortal view 
 The trial sent fair Reason's voice 
 
 Would hardly trace to you. 
 
 " Your deep devotion (known too late) 
 
 Bestow'd on sister Jane, 
 My parents' thanks evokes ; in you 
 
 They see their child again. 
 
 " More settled peace would soothe their days 
 
 While lingering life extends, 
 Were 't in their power, for wounding slights, 
 
 To make you full amends. 
 
 " And for the love they bear to me, 
 And bore for those they mourn, 
 
 Your known consent to share my lot 
 To joy their dool would turn. 
 
 " Now, shortly, dearest, I must go 
 To plough wide ocean's plain ; 
 
 Will Mary vow to be my bride 
 When I come back again ? " 
 
LOVERS' VISIONS. 
 
 Emotion stay'd the wish'd reply : 
 
 But smiles assured his breast ; 
 The pressure of her hand made Tom 
 
 Above all suitors blest. 
 
 Time fled on swift impatient wing 
 
 Each day the lovers met ; 
 The sun scarce seem'd to quit the East 
 
 When in the West he set. 
 
 By Ballivain or West Port shore, 
 
 Or o'er their smiling braes, 
 (Where summer suns at eventide 
 
 Diffuse their fairest rays), 
 
 Or by fantastic wave-scoop'd rocks 
 
 Or shingle-covered creeks, 
 Where oft, in storms, the sea-bird faint 
 
 A cozy shelter seeks, 
 
 The lovers strolPd, and sketched their hopes 
 
 Of future blissful times, 
 When, haply, they would th' ocean cross 
 
 To visit distant climes. 
 
 Once when the tide receded far 
 
 Beyond the wonted line, 
 They stepp'd from shell-clad rock to rock 
 
 Across the shallow brine. 
 
132 LOVERS' 1 VISIONS. 
 
 A furlong westward from the beach, 
 Where West Port cottage stands, 
 
 There tow'rs a rock against whose face 
 The wave its fury spends. 
 
 Extreme of rocks that stud the verge 
 Of this scarr'd, rugged coast, 
 
 It rears its front when neighbouring crags 
 In surging floods are lost. 
 
 On the western side its seaward part 
 
 Projects with outline bold, 
 Which playful fancy has compared 
 
 Unto the human mould. 
 
 " Maid of the sea " it has been called ; 
 
 For when the tempests play 
 A maiden's form confronts their wrath, 
 
 Defiant of their sway. 
 
 Thither the lovers shaped their course, 
 
 And found a choice retreat, 
 While wavelets playfully disport 
 
 Around their island seat. 
 
 Full many a stately gallant " craft " 
 Swept o'er the distant main 
 
 A pleasing scene, yet, with its charms, 
 It shadow'd parting's pain. 
 
LOVERS VISIONS. 133 
 
 " By yonder course, my lovely girl, 
 
 I'll shortly quit this shore ; 
 Oh ! could my vision thence descry 
 
 Your sweet salute once more. 
 
 " From the cradle of the tallest mast 
 
 I'll stretch my gaze afar 
 To catch a glance of Mary's smile 
 
 My fancy's guiding star. 
 
 " And now, my jewel, let me put 
 
 Upon your finger fair, 
 This symbol ring, that, till your death, 
 
 I pray you guard and wear. 
 
 " And as (you see) the rising tide 
 
 Again now seeks the shore, 
 Thus shall I seek this spot, I trust, 
 
 Before a twelvemonth 's o'er." 
 
 Somehow a spell of nameless pow'r 
 
 The islet now possess'd ; 
 They longer stayed, did not the tide 
 
 A quick escape suggest. 
 
 A few days more of growing bliss 
 
 Like visions pass'd away, 
 When Time with hasty stride brought round 
 
 The sad, the parting day. 
 
134 LOVERS' VISIONS. 
 
 With many a tender, fond embrace, 
 'Mid sighs, and vows, and care, 
 
 The sweethearts bade their last adieu, 
 And breath'd devotion's pray'r. 
 
 I mote not say if chance or choice 
 Did part them at the stone, 
 
 Where Tom last saw his sister Jane, 
 " Hard by the neat-herd's loan." 
 
 Here Heckler Ned got leave to rest, 
 With prompt consent of host and guest. 
 Stiff draughts of Voolin's homebrew'd ale 
 His tongue and spirit both regale. 
 "Meanwhile," observ'd the prudent Ned, 
 " Let one address you in my stead. 
 While luntin pipe and breath I draw 
 You'll hear the voice of Charlie Shaw." 
 The embryo student of Burnside 
 The needed interlude supplied : 
 
THE HERALD. 135 
 
 THE HERALD. 
 
 AT the head of Longrow there lived the good dean, 
 In whom scarce a failing you'd find; 
 Whose ceaseless delight was to comfort the poor, 
 The lonely, the halt, and the blind. 
 
 With a father's devotion he toil'd morn and eve 
 To replenish the barrel of meal ; 
 Yet the blessings of time were but second with him 
 To his children's enduring weal. 
 
 The heir of his fortunes, a mild looking youth, 
 Instructed to parse and to read, 
 Was duly selected to herald the truth, 
 And heathens from errors to lead. 
 
 To furnish the weapons for labour so stern, 
 All ethical works were supplied ; 
 His table was groaning with orthodox tomes, 
 The wayward or doubtful to guide. 
 
 Huge volumes on morals for young and for old 
 Lay pile upon pile to the ceiling ; 
 But the herald was partial to comical rhymes, 
 Which he conn'd and recited with feeling. 
 
136 THE HERALD. 
 
 Perhaps you may fancy his volumes divine 
 Might grace the recess of a temple ; 
 They might \ but the " study " was scarcely so fine, 
 As you'll glean from the following sample. 
 
 As you enter'd the door of the house from the street, 
 
 You confronted a trap or a ladder, 
 
 Whose top was attach'd by a hook or a cleek; 
 
 At the base was a bucket of water. 
 
 To steady the weary or solace the feeble, 
 The steps at short distance were placed ; 
 From above there descended a piece of a cable 
 Which the herald had skilfully spliced. 
 
 One hand on the wall, and the rope in the other, 
 The linguist soar'd up to the garret ; 
 In darkness he vanish'd ; no one could discover 
 Why so fast through the op'ning he hurried. 
 
 Now, just take a fancy to creep up the ladder, 
 And, peering from under the hatch, 
 You see a short cutty, and shag on a paper, 
 And hard by a lucifer match. 
 
 In a corner the wight is now cutting a caper, 
 Or humming a comical ditty, 
 Regardless of necktie and minus a slipper, 
 But eyeing the trap and his cutty. 
 
THE HERALD. 137 
 
 He scratches a match ; see how knowingly now 
 The dottle he pricks with a needle. 
 See the snug little cap he has placed on his pipe, 
 And drill'd with small holes like a riddle. 
 
 One hears of the glories of prelates and kings, 
 The triumphs of wit and of beauty, 
 But, for peerless felicity, of all earthly boons, 
 See Hugh with his shag and his cutty ! 
 
 Old Homer and Virgil, and Milton and Dante, 
 
 Might have revell'd in truth or in fable ; 
 
 But their joys were as feathers when balanced with 
 
 Hugh's, 
 As he smoked with his legs on the table. 
 
 Alexander the Great, and Caesar the greater, 
 Might boast of the foes they had routed ; 
 But Hugh was dispersing antagonists rarer, 
 And ne'er said a whisper about it. 
 
 These Captains encounter'd brave men like themselves, 
 Though matchless in tactics and dodging ; 
 Well, Hugh had whole legions of trials to stand 
 In languages, ethics, and logic. 
 
 Each morning he rose battalions of roots, 
 Exegetical theses and science, 
 Erected their banners, and vow'd to upset him 
 Before he got dubb'd with a licence. 
 
138 THE HERALD. 
 
 To scatter these hosts from the eye of his fancy 
 He planted a match on the dottle, 
 In smoke and confusion the enemy vanish'd ! 
 Hugh cared not for trials a bodle. 
 
 But, hark ! his father is climbing the ladder, 
 An odour of goodness diffusing 
 The herald was also diffusing an odour 
 As he revell'd in puffing and musing. 
 
 Then Cruden's Concordance or good Matthew Henry 
 At once was spread out on the table ; 
 The cutty was buried, and Gulliver's travels 
 Adroitly slipped under the Bible. 
 
 Refresh'd with this show of canonical duty, 
 And attention to Cruden's directions, 
 The dean would judiciously creep o'er the garret 
 For fear of disturbing reflections ! 
 
 But the hopeful had artfully chosen a portion, 
 Where passages stirring abounded ; 
 And read them with feeling and earnest exertion 
 Till the walls of the garret resounded. 
 
 Perhaps he was spouting the triumphs of Moses, 
 Or Noah's release from the flood ; 
 How slily he moan'd out the tender narration, 
 While near him his guardian stood ! 
 
THE HERALD. 139 
 
 How he thundered when Samson's revenge was the 
 
 theme, 
 
 When the temple he crush'd into clay ; 
 But when he recited the whale and the prophet, 
 The sire turn'd, melted, away. 
 
 But as soon as his beaver was under the hatch, 
 The mask was at once laid aside ; 
 'Twas Henry no longer \ e'en Cruden gave place 
 To the tale of the Lammermuir bride. 
 
 The parent believing the student well stored 
 With learning and fervour sufficient 
 To tutor the heathen that lived at his door, 
 And make them in ethics proficient; 
 
 Himself being engaged, his hands full of work 
 Still sorry at doing so little 
 
 Thought Hugh with his learning and logic prepared 
 The neighbours' loose notions to settle. 
 
 One morning when Hugo had finish'd a chapter 
 On Quixote the Don with his sabre, 
 He hied to his vineyard and posed as a sage 
 Who could tackle a heretic neighbour. 
 
 With a bundle of tracts on duties fraternal, 
 And stories of mythical robbers, 
 Together with records of terrible warning 
 For truants and prodigal topers, 
 
140 THE HERALD. 
 
 On his mission of love to the pagans around 
 He takes leave, for a while, of his shag ; 
 And cautiously arm'd he proceeds to do battle 
 With the sceptic, the sot, and the wag. 
 
 That apostles were ordered to carry no staves, 
 He often heard pastors repeating,; 
 But ne'er saw a law 'gainst showing a dirk, 
 In case he got hints of a beating. 
 
 In the course of his errand of brotherly love, 
 Oh ! horrors ! he rapp'd with his knuckle 
 At the hallan where flourish'd M'Crackens, a pair 
 Unequall'd for breeding a scuffle. 
 
 As the snick was raised up with a black rosin-end, 
 And the door opened wide by the mother, 
 The bearer of peace held a dirk in one hand 
 A tract on true love in the other. 
 
 The dame with a smile of respectful decorum 
 Accepted the tract with a courtesy ; 
 Then spier'd for his father, his mother and Rob, 
 For Tommy, for Katie, and Betsey. 
 
 While the smiling distributor answer'd her queries 
 He sees a M'Cracken before him 
 Revolving a gully and dreadfully hinting 
 He sighs for occasion to bore him. 
 
THE HERALD. 141 
 
 The savage young scamp made a rush for the door, 
 Yet luckily dropping his weapon : 
 Else, hide from us, sacred Humanity's pow'rs ! 
 What horrible havoc might happen. 
 
 As the herald, admonish'd, made off through the close; 
 With such leaps as a trembler could take, 
 Who should enter the passage just right in his face, 
 But the elder M'Cracken a rake ! 
 
 In front stood the ogre 'twixt freedom and him ; 
 His rear was assail'd by his brother ; 
 The herald might stiffen them one at a time, 
 But hardly the couple together. 
 
 Telegraphic grimaces the younger one grinn'd 
 To the elder, blockading the close ; 
 The moment was precious he rushes on Hugh, 
 And straight at his bosom he goes. 
 
 Hugh's weapon had dropp'd no time to regain it ; 
 Unavailing were all his objections ; 
 The beardless M'Crackens were thirsting for war, 
 And scouted his timid prelections. 
 
 Some parcels of tracts lay peaceful and scattered 
 Till the herald would do for a brother; 
 He battered the shins and the knees of the one, 
 While he flattened the nose of the other. 
 
I 4 2 THE HERALD. 
 
 Forgiving an enemy was law for the Jews, 
 But Hugh thought the Crackens excluded ; 
 And the orthodox view must unsettled remain 
 Till the present encounter concluded. 
 
 The other cheek also he turned, to be sure ;-- 
 'Twas the cheek of the Crackens he turned 
 For somewhat confused he fail'd to recall 
 Which sense of the passage he learned. 
 
 As they rolFd over layers of texts on forgiving, 
 Relieving distress in a brother, 
 Returning for evil the good we can do, 
 And cheering the heart of a mother, 
 
 His rivals unfettered with subtle distinctions, 
 
 Regardless of fathers or mothers, 
 
 Gave passion full reins yet they practised one 
 
 grace 
 They stuck to each other like brothers. 
 
 To Hugh they stuck also, embracing him tight, 
 Reluctant to part from his side ; 
 So the prospect was fair that the militant wight 
 A martyr for tracts would have died ! 
 
 Before him was staring in characters plain 
 A text against mauling a brother ; 
 
THE HERALD. 143 
 
 A picture of Abel and passionate Cain, 
 And the form of a sorrowing mother. 
 
 Yet, nathless, the herald kept pounding his foes, 
 The pests and the dread of the borough 
 Now cleaving a shin or peeling a nose 
 While globules were flushing the furrow ! 
 
 The powers of darkness and light had thus struggled 
 
 The light being nearly extinguished 
 
 When the door was heard creaking j the combatants 
 
 bolting 
 Their battle-field quickly relinquish'd. 
 
 Though dozens of families waited for pamphlets 
 And wondered why nobody brought them, 
 Poor Hugh had encountered two spirits of malice 
 Resisted the demons and fought them. 
 
 Now with lumps on his visage, and gore on his 
 
 collar 
 
 The tokens of zeal in the cause 
 He clears with a bound two stoups and a barrow 
 And bolts like a shot from the close. 
 
 Like a generous foe he bequeath'd all his tracts 
 For the good of the Crackens and kin, 
 In the hope that in digging a hole in their pates 
 He was clearing the vision within. 
 
144 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 Having thus done his work more by deeds than by 
 
 words 
 
 Which is ever the marrow of duty 
 The pugilist herald retreats to his garret, 
 His novel, his shag, and his cutty. 
 
 The student here gives place to Ned, 
 Who thus re-knits his record's thread : 
 
 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 SOME tedious years had pass'd since Tom 
 
 To Mary bade adieu, 
 When home to Greenock town returned 
 
 The stately barque " Gentoo." 
 
 The ship's arrival at the " Port " 
 
 To many soon was known ; 
 Yet Mary wist not of the fact 
 
 Till days and weeks had flown. 
 
 Surprise and sorrow in their turn 
 
 The longing maid possess'd ; 
 Inquiries at each friend might well 
 
 Her restless care attest. 
 
MARY OF THE DRUM. 145 
 
 In silent thought the maid would ask : 
 
 " Oh ! why has Tom denied 
 To me the news that 's known to all, 
 
 To all the world beside ? 
 
 " Can it be true he has abjured 
 
 The vows he made to me ? 
 And does he wear a heart as false 
 
 As the wild inconstant sea? 
 
 " No ! Faithless I'll not deem my lad, 
 
 Till better proof I have ; 
 The rock seems emblem of his heart 
 
 And not the changeful wave. 
 
 " Mayhap with fever stricken down, 
 
 Or other ailment tried, 
 My dear young man must keep his couch, 
 
 With no one at his side. 
 
 "Then, should I not betimes prepare 
 
 For Greenock port to start, 
 To learn what cause restrains his pen 
 
 Or alienates his heart ? " 
 
 For Greenock, then, anon she sailed, 
 
 And sought the stout " Gentoo," 
 To know her lover's fate to her 
 
 The noblest of the crew. 
 K 
 
H6 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 She hied her to the shipping quay 
 With steps now quick, now slow, 
 
 For near approach the question raised : 
 " Is 't safe the worst to know ?" 
 
 In groups upon the vessel's deck 
 
 " Hands " told their 'scapes and hopes ; 
 
 Here, some were pulling at a chain, 
 There, some were splicing ropes. 
 
 The maiden scann'd with wistful eye 
 
 Each group at stem and stern, 
 But failed to spy the winsome lad 
 
 Whose fate she came to learn. 
 
 Then leaning o'er the vessel's side, 
 
 She says in accents meek : 
 " If Thomas Wilson 's now on board 
 
 I fain would with him speak." 
 
 The mariners direct a glance 
 
 To where the maiden stood ; 
 Then instantly to grief and gloom 
 
 They change their merry mood. 
 
 'Neath sorrow's weight they bow'd their heads, 
 
 But answer gave they none, 
 For all recall'd the maiden's loss, 
 
 And felt it as their own. 
 
MARY OF THE DRUM. 147 
 
 " Will none of you my doubts dispel ? " 
 
 Thus spake the maid again 
 " Oh ! tell me if my lover's lost ? 
 
 For silence whets my pain." 
 
 Though officers and men could tell 
 
 Tom Wilson was not there, 
 Yet each the answer shirk'd that might 
 
 Astound the damsel fair. 
 
 Press'd o'er and o'er by Mary's tones 
 
 To state the worst or best, 
 Some yielded to her sad appeal 
 
 To set her doubts at rest. 
 
 One of their number they depute 
 
 To guide her to the deck, 
 Then lead her to the vessel's chief, 
 
 Who should the secret break. 
 
 (Now, Mary, note who guides your way, 
 
 And ready service lends. 
 What well begins sometimes 'tis found, 
 
 In sheer delusion ends.) 
 
 The captain in his cabin-room 
 
 To Mary's tale gave ear, 
 Then softly broke the chilling truth 
 
 She dreaded much to hear ; 
 
I 4 8 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 " Fain would I give you happy news, 
 
 My young, uneasy maid ; 
 But pardon the unwelcome sound : 
 
 Your lover, Wilson's deadl" 
 
 With calm endurance Mary bore 
 The shaft that galled her heart ; 
 
 'Tis thus a bird with wounded wing 
 O'erspreads the fatal dart. 
 
 (The pang is less when those have gone 
 
 That loved us till the last, 
 Than when the living cease to prove 
 
 The love they once profess'd.) 
 
 " In duty's course your gallant lad 
 
 Met mortals' final foe ; 
 Minute details another tongue 
 
 I'll charge to let you know. 
 
 " Tom Wilson's chest with all the gear 
 
 He own'd until his death, 
 I purposed to entrust to one 
 
 In whom I place all faith. 
 
 " For further news consult that man 
 That led you to my room ; 
 
 Bound for a trip to Campbelton 
 He'll be your escort home. 
 
MARY OF THE DRUM. 149 
 
 " And here in memory Qiyour "love" 
 
 And officer of mine, 
 Accept this watch 't was mine for long 
 
 Still longer be it thine." 
 
 A silver watch and golden chain 
 
 He placed within her hands ; 
 Then piously the mourning maid 
 
 To heaven he commends. 
 
ISO THE WRECKER. 
 
 THE WRECKER. 
 
 JOE CAINE the convoy of the girl 
 
 No stranger to Kintyre 
 Was keenly prone to grant the aid 
 
 The damsel might require. 
 
 Nor loath was she (now homewards turn'd) 
 
 His company to share, 
 Who could her sweetheart's early death 
 
 With all details make clear. 
 
 Enfeebled health he urged as cause 
 Why change of scene he chose, 
 
 And near the Drum there lives, he said, 
 A friend or two he knows. 
 
 And by and by the Drum they reach 
 
 Where both a welcome find ; 
 And soon her household reckon'd Caine 
 
 An inmate leal and kind. 
 
 And Mary's parents, like herself 
 
 Ne'er tired to hear his tale, 
 How Wilson sank beneath the waves 
 
 And perish'd in a gale ; 
 
THE WRECKER. 151 
 
 " Our pinnace from a craggy isle 
 
 Beyond the Chilian shore, 
 Had ' started,' charged with water casks, 
 
 And urged by sail and oar, 
 
 " When sudden gusts from leeward side 
 
 The swollen canvas smote ; 
 The sail struck Wilson, standing high, 
 
 And swept him from the boat. 
 
 " Prompt had I follow'd o'er the stern 
 
 T' avert his coming fate, 
 Were 't not I caught a stunning blow 
 
 That stretch'd me on my seat. 
 
 " The rising blasts persuaded haste 
 
 To reach the tall ' Gentoo ; ' 
 And soon the curling billows' crests 
 
 Hid Wilson from our view." 
 
 'Twas thus, at Drum, from day to day, 
 
 That fiction (laced with truth) 
 Increased within the hearts of all 
 
 A fondness for the youth. 
 
 Domestic secrets, one by one, 
 
 They openly discuss'd ; 
 And soon the stranger even learned 
 
 The wealth of Wilson's chest. 
 
152 THE WRECKER. 
 
 The bracing air of Ballivain 
 
 And the generous cheer of Drum 
 
 Brought livelier prospects to his views, 
 And pith with youthful bloom. 
 
 Now, on a day he urged the maid 
 
 Her visit to renew 
 To that same rock where Tom and she 
 
 Had blissful interview. 
 
 Thereon they celebrate the day 
 When some twelvemonths before 
 
 The happpy pair in laden sighs 
 Renew'd their pledge once more. 
 
 Awhile they sat upon the rock 
 But mused on opposite themes 
 
 The love- sick maid indulged her grief, 
 Caine worked his wily schemes. 
 
 The maid, absorbed in sorrow's trance, 
 
 Could neither see nor say 
 When from the rock (the tide in flood) 
 
 Caine deftly slipp'd away. 
 
 And little wist she that the tide 
 
 Was swiftly rushing in, 
 And that ere half an hour had run 
 
 T attempt escape were vain. 
 
THE WRECKER. 153 
 
 Much less could she the omens read 
 
 Of fast approaching storms : 
 But Caine had mark'd the rising flood 
 
 And tempests' outward forms. 
 
 In haste he hurried to the Drum 
 
 And sought the maiden's home, 
 Where artfully he feign'd excuse 
 
 Why he alone had come. 
 
 " In Mary's service" (thus he said), 
 
 And at her strong request, 
 He came to fetch the casket rare 
 
 That 's hidden in her chest. 
 
 " Some letters that her lover wrote 
 
 She would again peruse ; " 
 To bring her watch and chain as well 
 
 He fram'd a fair excuse. 
 
 The deed is done, " the gear is his ! 
 
 And safe from all on earth ; " 
 Stay, Caine ; will 't bear the breath of time 
 
 And yield its fancied worth ! 
 
 The time-worn road to Cashen brae, 
 
 Well seen from shore and dell, 
 Caine covered hastily as one 
 
 Whom crime and dread impel. 
 
154 THE WRECKER. 
 
 The shades of eve now mantled o'er 
 
 The distant shore and dale ; 
 And gathering clouds whirl through the sky 
 
 Before the fitful gale. 
 
 He look'd and yet he feared to look 
 
 Towards the maiden's rock ; 
 For, more than wont, against his ribs 
 
 His troubled heart would knock. 
 
 His base ingratitude and crime 
 
 Rose, hideous, to his view, 
 And back for Drum, at conscience' beck, 
 
 He strode a pace or two. 
 
 But Nature's bias turn'd the scale, 
 And Reason kick'd the beam ; 
 
 And soon was stifled that soft voice 
 That might his will reclaim. 
 
 His better angel thus he spurn'd, 
 
 And turn'd upon his heel; 
 But to his conscience Heav'n's voice 
 
 Soon made a new appeal. 
 
 For, issuing from an humble cot, 
 
 The notes of solemn praise 
 Woke memories of an uncle's home 
 
 And thoughts of purer days. 
 
THE WRECKER. 155 
 
 Tis not for mortals to declare 
 
 What motives tore his breast, 
 As towards the smithy door he steered 
 
 And turned aside in haste. 
 
 " Good ev'ning, blacksmith ! " " Same to you," 
 
 Blandly the smith return'd, 
 (Than Bauldy's, ne'er had stouter arms 
 
 Fatigue or leisure spurn'd). 
 
 " Some business calls me to the shore 
 
 Ere darkness dense sets in, 
 The route being rough, 'tis somewhat late 
 
 The journey to begin." 
 
 " Too late for even natives born 
 
 To tempt the road and storm ; 
 A stranger anyhow should shun 
 
 The risk at least of harm." 
 
 " Not such a stranger in these parts 
 
 As doubtlessly I seem, 
 And by the aid of guarded light 
 
 I'd steer by Tangy's stream. 
 
 " A lantern would that aid supply ; 
 
 Now have you such to spare ? 
 For such a boon on such a night 
 
 I'd pay what seemeth fair." 
 
156 THE WRECKER. 
 
 " A lantern, doubly cased I have 
 
 A present from a friend 
 The gift I'll neither sell nor swop, 
 
 But heartily will lend. 
 
 " Reflecting lenses round the flame 
 
 Converge a dazzling light ; 
 And for some miles across the main 
 
 It streams a pencil bright." 
 
 " Such * streaming ' virtues need I not," 
 
 Caine answer'd with a smile ; 
 Enough if one brief yard engross 
 
 The rays that mete a mile." 
 
 " But, stranger, pray what is your name ? " 
 
 " And where do you abide ?" 
 "Wilson's my name," quoth Caine; " but here 
 
 Nowhere do I reside. 
 
 " My home's in town, and thither soon 
 
 I purpose to return ; 
 But fear not for your lantern bright : 
 
 Dishonesty I scorn." 
 
 " Forgive my words," quoth Cashen's smith, 
 
 " If aught of what I've said 
 Suspicion of your honest faith 
 
 Unluckily convey'd. 
 
THE WRECKER. 157 
 
 " Your name is Wilson ! Well, 'tis strange : 
 
 A namesake young and brave 
 (Tom Wilson of the Barns, now gone !) 
 
 To me the lantern gave. 
 
 " The dear memento would I not 
 
 For scores of others swop ; 
 To-morrow then at leisure time 
 
 Return it to the shop." 
 
 Scarce had the latest accents dropp'd 
 
 On Caine's impatient ear, 
 When both the lantern and he 
 
 Were seen to disappear. 
 
 Down Cashen brae he strode with haste 
 
 As one to caution lost ; 
 Then Tangy burn adown the glen 
 
 With growing speed he crossed. 
 
 Silent and still stood Campbell's Mill 
 
 As Caine swept past its gate ; 
 He courted not, though winds blew fierce, 
 
 This lone but snug retreat. 
 
 As near the bouldery. shore he drew 
 
 By paths unsafe for man, 
 His ear was startled by a whine 
 
 And wailing in the glen. 
 
I $8 THE WRECKER. 
 
 That wailing might resemble hers 
 Whom but two hours before 
 
 The knave imprisoned on a rock, 
 That neighbours West Port shore. 
 
 (So guilty souls in harmless sounds 
 
 Arraigning angels hear ; 
 'Twas thus at sight of every man 
 
 Caine felt a murderer's fear.) 
 
 'Twas but the wild cat's mimic wail, 
 
 As o'er the scaurs it prowl'd 
 For nests that on all raiders else 
 
 A stern defiance howl'd. 
 
 Upon the footpath near the bridge 
 
 That now with arch so wide 
 O'erspans the yawning gully scoop'd 
 
 By Tangy's moorland tide, 
 
 Caine paused a moment as in doubt 
 
 To turn to left or right : 
 To seek and save the rock-bound maid, 
 
 Or ply a wrecker's light ! 
 
 Northward he turn'd and quickly pass'd 
 
 Clark's topsy-turvy rock, 
 Whose sides flung back the chafing waves, 
 
 But trembled with the shock. 
 
THE WRECKER. 159 
 
 A mile beyond, a turf-built lodge, 
 
 Where Currie stored his kelp, 
 Caine lately scann'd and felt assured 
 
 It might his purpose help. 
 
 A flickering beam from Allan's cruse 
 
 Betray'd his lodge's seat. 
 'Twas there the ruthless prowler meant 
 
 To claim a night's retreat. 
 
 Approaching near the snick-closed door 
 
 He heard with dread surprise 
 What seem'd an ev'ning song of praise 
 
 In broken tones arise. 
 
 Even he recoil'd from inroad rude 
 
 On lone Devotion's form, 
 And waited till the service closed, 
 
 Though shivering in the storm ! 
 
 Heav'n's couriers seem'd to foster schemes 
 
 Ev'n yet to stay his course, 
 And strike repentance in his breast 
 
 Ere warnings lost their force. 
 
 Caine gently knock'd at Allan's door, 
 
 Who begg'd him to come in ; 
 Thither the caitiff entered, glad 
 
 Such vantage-ground to win. 
 
160 THE WRECKER. 
 
 So does an owl on softest wing 
 
 Her stealthy visits pay ; 
 On covert bough she keeps the shade 
 
 And watches for her prey. 
 
 " Whence came you here," the Kelper ask'd ; 
 
 And wherefore are ye come ? 
 On such a night the famish'd wolf 
 
 Would scarcely leave her home. 
 
 " How came you by that lantern bright 
 
 You carry in your hand'? 
 Methinks I saw't with Cashen's smith 
 
 One evening on the strand." 
 
 " You're right, old man, the lantern's his; 
 
 He lent me't for a day ; 
 This night I mean to fix it high 
 
 Somewhere along this bay. 
 
 " To-night a comrade steers a sloop 
 
 From Gigha's barren isle ; 
 Some days ago I made him know 
 
 I'd tarry here a while. 
 
 " This signal will inform my friend 
 
 That here I still sojourn ; 
 The managed light will also tell 
 
 What day I may return. 
 
THE WRECKER. 161 
 
 " Now, where shall I the beacon fix 
 
 To carry out my plan ? 
 And where 's the height that 's tall enough ? 
 
 Can you advise, sage man ? " 
 
 The good man's eye no guile discern'd 
 
 Beneath the felon's schemes ; 
 The mirky forms of demon wiles 
 
 Were lost in Faith's bright beams. 
 
 " 'Tis little Allan's fit to do 
 
 In labour hard or nice, 
 But where experience may avail 
 
 He gives a fair advice. 
 
 " Erect a pole I have outside 
 
 Against my gable wall ; 
 Secure it with a rope or two 
 
 To stay the risk of fall." 
 
 With specious show of gratitude 
 
 (A virtue sometime dead !) 
 Caine hail'd the sage expedient 
 
 That sprang from Allan's head. 
 
 The pole is set, the lamp is rais'd, 
 
 And far its flame extends ; 
 And thus good Allan witless aid 
 
 To fell deception lends. 
 L 
 
162 THE WRECKER. 
 
 An hour of various talk elapsed, 
 And midnight's gloom was come, 
 
 When Caine consults his silver watch, 
 'Twas Mary's of the Drum ! 
 
 Fell horror for a minute thrill'd 
 
 Each fibre of his frame, 
 As soon 's the stolen gear recalled 
 
 The rightful owner's name. 
 
 His trembling fingers turn'd the key 
 
 To wind the watch's spring, 
 When suddenly the coil gave way 
 
 And snapp'd with weird ring. 
 
 Old Allan, who had laid him down 
 
 To pluck a brief repose, 
 Observed his lodger's alter'd mien, 
 
 And half, in bed, he rose. 
 
 <; What ails thee, youngster, that thy mood 
 Has changed from glee to gloom ? 
 
 Dost fret at lack of generous fare, 
 Or comfort in my room ? " 
 
 " Be easy, friendly host, nor think 
 Your wholesome fare I scorn, 
 
 And when I 'm weary of your hut, 
 Why, hence I may return. 
 
THE WRECKER, 163 
 
 " You noted (though I felt it not) 
 
 My change to gloom from glee \ 
 Such varying moods are mark'd in those 
 
 Who Ve pass'd some years at sea. 
 
 " My watch's spring you may have heard 
 
 Has oddly snapp'd in twain, 
 Exactly when the double hands 
 
 The coming day began." 
 
 " Unlucky accident, be sure," 
 
 Quoth Allan with dismay ; 
 " Tis omen dire if watch springs snap 
 
 When night gives place to day. 
 
 " 'Tis said that human lives are lost 
 
 Where such mishap takes place ! 
 May bliss be ours, if Heav'n is pleased 
 
 This night to end our ' race.' " 
 
 In the plotter's throat Amen stuck fast, 
 
 He dreaded nought but pray'r ; 
 Then, heedless of Saint Allan's wish, 
 
 He said with careless air : 
 
 " Since thus my watch has wholly ceased 
 
 To note time's silent flight, 
 I '11 take conjecture for my guide 
 
 An hour or so to-night. 
 
1 64 THE WRECKER. 
 
 " The lantern's blaze at intervals 
 
 I purpose to conceal ; 
 Thus to my cronie in the sloop 
 
 My plans I'll best reveal. 
 
 " And by this time, if reckoning fair 
 
 *Directs my wit aright, 
 A ' craft ' in course from Gigha's isle 
 
 Should see my hoisted light. 
 
 " To keep my word I'll venture out, 
 
 And face the sturdy storm ; 
 And should I stay an hour abroad, 
 
 Don't feel the least alarm." 
 
 But ere beyond the door he pass'd, 
 
 The saintly cottar pray'd 
 That all on sea might refuge find 
 
 In Him whom storms obey'd. 
 
 " Let those on land their mercies own, 
 
 And ask for quiet rest 
 From passions' storms more dangerous still 
 
 That wreck the human breast." 
 
 Shortly the hermit closed his eyes 
 
 In gentle peace and trust, 
 And slept the sleep that Heav'n awards 
 
 As birthright of "the just." 
 
THE WRECKER. 165 
 
 But while his mind and body rest, 
 
 'Tis otherwise with Caine ; 
 Now see him on his tiptoes stand, 
 
 And, wild, his optics strain ! 
 
 Is yon a massive mountain surge 
 
 That's looming on the deep ? 
 Or is 't a struggling vessel's form 
 
 That fails her course to keep ? 
 
 Her keel has struck against a reef, 
 
 Where seals court summer suns ; 
 She backward reels, a mastless hulk, 
 
 And straight on ruin runs. 
 
 Tempestuous billows swift and strong 
 
 The craft o'er ledges fling 
 And soon with screams from gallant tars 
 
 The caverns ceased to ring. 
 
 But not till Tangytavil's hind 
 
 (Whose sleep the tempest broke) 
 O'erheard the shrieks that from the cliffs 
 
 Heartrending echoes woke. 
 
 He roused the inmates of the farm 
 
 In kitchen and in spence : 
 All quit their couch at what they deem 
 
 The call of Providence. 
 
1 66 THE WRECKER. 
 
 Much grieved they see upon the strand 
 
 A stranger with a lamp, 
 Who, soon as he observed their forms, 
 
 Seem'd eager to decamp. 
 
 He might, they thought, be one of those 
 
 Who form'd a vessel's crew ; 
 For that a ship had perish'd there 
 
 Appeared too plainly true. 
 
 Succeeding groups from neighbouring farms, 
 
 As day began to break, 
 Converge on Tangytavil's bay 
 
 To view the latest wreck. 
 
 (And many a wreck the natives see 
 
 From Balnakill to Moil.) 
 Some come to offer needed aid 
 
 And some to search for spoil. 
 
 Before the sun had reach'd the stage 
 
 Where ends his upward flight 
 Some scores had gathered from the glens, 
 
 From hamlet, creek, and bight. 
 
 Some hailing from far-famed Glenbarr, 
 
 And ev'n from Largiemore, 
 And bands from Lossit and " the Pans," 
 
 Now tread the ghastly shore. 
 
THE WRECKER. 167 
 
 Men rough in speech and outward form, 
 
 'Mid sobs and sighs, regard 
 Th' appalling triumphs of the storm 
 
 Spread o'er the beach and sward. 
 
 And here and there the still remains 
 
 Of stalwart men and brave, 
 Some resting, part upon a ledge, 
 
 And part beneath the wave. 
 
 And one in choicer raiment clad 
 
 Lay high upon the shore ; 
 The spot, engraved with tracks and grooves, 
 
 Signs of a struggle bore. 
 
 And close beside, a journal lay 
 
 In language there unknown ; 
 Of all the words the scholars scann'd 
 
 They knew Stockholm alone. 
 
 From that same spot (unless the " hind " 
 
 From Tangytavil err'd) 
 The stranger with a leathern bag 
 
 So nimbly disappeared. 
 
 Thus Portnamarv the dead men's port 
 
 Tradition names this bay, 
 And claims as graves the massy mounds 
 
 That flank the public way. 
 
1 68 THE WRECKER. 
 
 A later woe the name confirms \ 
 
 For there a gallant son 
 Swam back to save a brother's life, 
 
 And, failing, lost his own. 
 
 " Now, where is Allan of the ' hut ' ? " 
 
 Asked Sandy of Killean ; 
 " None could so well the record tell 
 
 Of this soul-racking scene. 
 
 " Perhaps he shelters in his * store ' 
 
 A remnant of the crew, 
 Or guides them by ascending routes 
 
 Till hamlets come in view." 
 
 On this a youth of nimble pace 
 Came posting from the " store," 
 
 And thus reported what he heard 
 Beside its flimsy door : 
 
 " Now mark me, stranger," quoth the seer, 
 
 In stern and loud appeals, 
 " You'll rue your wild, satanic plot, 
 
 Ere death your eyelids seals. 
 
 " Dost think because you wheedled me 
 
 In yon unguarded hour, 
 You can elude th' unerring glance 
 
 Of Heav'n's omniscient power? 
 
THE WRECKER. 169 
 
 " Were not my Faith confirm'd and tried 
 
 Almost as long's my years, 
 I might renounce the creed that Heav'n 
 
 With mortals interferes. 
 
 " Dire retribution may not soon 
 
 Requite your fiendish deed ; 
 But, if I'm shrewd, both you and yours 
 
 On other's bread shall feed. 
 
 " But even now I'll think the best 
 
 If that bag you resign ; 
 Surrender should not rack your breast ; 
 
 It would unburden mine." 
 
 " Leave off, old man ; your pleading 's vain," 
 
 Replied the stranger bold ; 
 " While you, by faith, hope future gain, 
 
 Let me the present hold." 
 
 While thus he spake he raised the snick 
 
 Of Allan's cottage door ; 
 Then vanish'd with the leathern bag 
 
 Direct for Tangy shore. 
 
 That eve with casket in his hand 
 
 He slunk to Paisley Glen ; 
 Though search was made the wrecker loon 
 
 Eluded dogs and men. 
 
i;o MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 WITH pensive yet with grateful heart 
 
 Fair Mary gave consent ; 
 Three years of grief o'er Wilson's fate 
 
 She had already spent. 
 
 Now Neil, who watch'd her on the rock 
 And snatch'd her from the sea, 
 
 Besought her for a fair return 
 For love and gallantry. 
 
 Industrious, sober, and upright, 
 
 In wealth and worth he grew ; 
 So far, the pledge the maiden gave 
 
 She 'd little cause to rue. 
 
 A day was named and duly set 
 
 To taste a change of air ; 
 And for a brief excursion trip 
 
 They gleefully prepare. 
 
 " A business scheme with pleasures bound," 
 (Said Neil) " I could combine, 
 
 If down to Greenock we should sail 
 To visit friends of mine. 
 
MARY OF THE DRUM. 171 
 
 " Then would my Mary's fancy run 
 
 In Nellie's chosen groove ; 
 Or does some other favourite route 
 
 More welcome feelings move ? " 
 
 "Your will's my pleasure, gallant lad; 
 
 I '11 go vhere you would go ; 
 Though Greenock ships might feelings rouse 
 
 'T were best I should not show." 
 
 " Believe me, Mary, that old flame 
 
 That smoulders in your heart, 
 In Neil no jealousy awakes 
 
 Nor wings a goading dart. 
 
 " The favour you so long bestowed 
 
 Upon another's name, 
 Is pledge, dear girl, for me (I trow) 
 
 You'd feed as fond a flame." 
 
 From Broomielaw's green shrubby banks 
 
 They took the ebbing tide ; 
 Anon they hail'd the plucky town 
 
 That rules the nether Clyde. 
 
 Upon the quay awhile they stood, 
 
 By diverse feelings sway'd ; 
 No care had he; while on her heart 
 
 Remembered sorrows prey'd. 
 
172 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 'Tis seen that what the will would shun 
 
 Our fancies often woo \ 
 That impulse prompts to chase the lure 
 
 Our Reason would eschew. 
 
 Thus Mary, mindful, fain would fly 
 The scenes of bygone pain ; 
 
 But still her steps she knew not why 
 Led thither back again. 
 
 Half-conscious, soon the maiden found 
 
 She reach'd the spot anew 
 Where years ago she stepp'd on board 
 
 The gallant ship " Gentoo." 
 
 Half round she wheel'd with sudden turn 
 
 To hide her rising grief, 
 When Neilie, guessing something wrong, 
 
 Made haste to her relief. 
 
 A clumsy hawser from a ship, 
 Unseen, his movement stopp'd, 
 
 And tripp'd the fond, incautious lad, 
 Who o'er the breast-work dropp'd ! 
 
 While Mary, shrieking with alarm, 
 Collaps'd and swoon'd away, 
 
 A gallant " tar " sprang from the ship 
 And leapt into the sea. 
 
MAR Y OF THE DR Uto. 1 73 
 
 The luckless victim of the tide 
 
 With wary hand he grasp'd ; 
 But, keen for life, the sailor's neck 
 
 The sinking struggler clasp'd. 
 
 Yet none among the gathering crowd 
 
 Spectators of the sight 
 Appear'd inclined to risk his life 
 
 In aid of either wight. 
 
 But see ! Advancing through the throng, 
 
 A stalwart form draws near, 
 Who saw, in time, the drowning men 
 
 About to disappear ! 
 
 He asks not at the gaping crowd 
 
 How both had fallen in ; 
 But quick 's an arrow down he dropp'd 
 
 To float the sinking men. 
 
 As one who, blending pluck with art, 
 
 In danger skill displays, 
 With aid of rope he rescues both 
 
 'Mid long and loud huzzas. 
 
 Nor lingered he upon the Quay 
 
 (When once his feat was done), 
 To hear still further from the crowd 
 
 The plaudits he had won. 
 
174 MARY OF THE DRUM. 
 
 Almost as quickly as he show'd 
 
 His presence at the first, 
 With hasty and impatient foot 
 
 Through closing ranks he burst. 
 
 Yet not until the rescued pair 
 
 Re-ope their languid eyes, 
 And gratefully their saver's risk 
 
 And service recognize. 
 
 The brave deliverer's retreat 
 
 Was noticed but by few ; 
 And fewer mark'd him as he seem'd 
 
 Retiring from their view. 
 
 To Cathcart Square's far-noted Inn 
 The seamen's favourite howff 
 
 The drench'd and shivering stranger hied 
 His dripping dress to doff. 
 
 As towards a window in the Inn 
 
 The hero posted bye, 
 The profile of a well-known face 
 
 Arrests his vacant eye. 
 
 He entered, doubly startled now 
 Through danger and surprise ; 
 
 And ask'd who might the maiden be 
 Whose features caught his eyes. 
 
MARY OF THE DRUM. 175 
 
 "She's from St Mungo's," they replied, 
 
 " A native of Argyle ; 
 But should we boast we further know 
 
 Your ears we should beguile." 
 
 " Pray, may I now the favour beg 
 
 Before the maid to stand ; 
 And in her presence, eye to eye, 
 
 A moment's space to spend ? " 
 
 " No, no ; it shall not, cannot be, 
 Though high you 'd deem the boon ; 
 
 For scarcely has the maiden yet 
 Recovered from a swoon. 
 
 " Some days of quiet, peaceful rest 
 
 The invalid requires ; 
 Thus hopeless, stranger, is your suit 
 
 Until that time expires ; 
 
 " But ere the moon, now young and thin, 
 
 Has run but half her round, 
 At Buckhead Inn, in Glasgow town, 
 
 The damsel may be found." 
 
 " My swelling hopes are dash'd once more," 
 
 The stranger, sad, replied ; 
 " Be 't so ; one boon I crave, and trust 
 
 It shall not be denied : 
 
176 THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 " Inform the maid, when strength's restored, 
 
 Her case a lover mourns ; 
 And add a name she once much prized 
 
 ' Tom Wilson of the Barns ! " 
 
 THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 IN front of Old Saint Mungo's College Gate, 
 Which now attests the whims of fickle fate ; 
 Where rushing crowds regardless of its fame 
 Omit th' obeisance sacred ashes claim ; 
 Where snorting trains and trade's metallic roar 
 Profane the solemn Classic Courts of yore ; 
 
 On th' opposite side, but higher up the street, 
 Of this renown'd but now demolish'd seat, 
 Beside a howff, for youths of antic ways, 
 Where Hadden plied his trade in later days, 
 A table used to stand (so runs the tale) 
 Surcharg'd with books exposed for auction sale. 
 
 Here might be seen, in rude disorder hurl'd, 
 The learned tome that once entranced the world ; 
 And close beside reposed the minstrel's lay 
 That charmed the past and charms no less to-day ; 
 The sceptic's whims deck'd out with siren wile 
 To drug the reckless and his hopes beguile ; 
 The modest tract, the earnest author's type 
 Rebutting doctrines showy, but unripe ; 
 
THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 177 
 
 By turns they each the student's notice drew 
 And quoted age to prove their themes were true. 
 On each the former owner's names were traced, 
 With specious mottoes, marks, or titles graced, 
 Ev'n where the subject-theme received the brand 
 Of virtue's scowl throughout each Christian land, 
 The proud possessor, scorning gadding fame, 
 Upon the frontispiece inscribed his name. 
 
 Beneath this mass, just now transferr'd to-day, 
 A massive volume long unnoticed lay ; 
 Its gilded edges, once compress'd and bright, 
 Now crimp'd and tarnished, scarce reflect the light. 
 A priz'd possession once it doubtless was, 
 Though symbol now of fortune's fickle laws. 
 The Sacred Book (for such it chanced to be) 
 Now waits a " bode " to change its destiny. 
 
 A leaf where met its records, new and old, 
 In different " hands," both graceful, free and bold, 
 Displays two names in mystic union join'd, 
 With place and date in order due combined. 
 
 The names were John . . . and Mary . . . names 
 
 most dear, 
 
 In every age, abroad as well as here ; 
 The Christian name alone remained intact ; 
 The riven leaf the double surname lack'd. 
 
 Yet time there was when this same tattered page 
 Would beaming eyes and loving hearts engage : 
 The happy bride who, moved with modest glee, 
 
 M 
 
i;8 THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 Invited friends her marriage gifts to see, 
 With keenest pleasure would the page unfold 
 That show'd her faith and eke her marriage told ; 
 Though work or time her partner should remove, 
 The silent leaflet would attest his love ; 
 His solemn promise constant to remain 
 Such holy sanction nowhere else could gain. 
 With glowing zeal the loving partners view'd 
 The lines that oft their early joys renew'd. 
 
 Why did they part, then, with the cherished book, 
 Or tear their surnames from their hallow'd nook ? 
 Ah ! who can tell what influence shed its blight 
 On former scenes of promise and delight ? 
 In life's stem struggle did the husband fail, 
 And lose the field where frauds alone prevail ? 
 Did thriftless ventures scourge his lust for gain 
 And swell the crowd of dire Misfortune's train ? 
 Did wife or husband (dare we ask, if both ?) 
 Forswear the Bible and its tenets loathe ? 
 Did baleful fancies nobler views supplant, 
 That nerve the patriot and refine the saint? 
 Or had its precepts fail'd to shape, their way, 
 Till first they ceased to read, then scorn'd to pray ? 
 From step to step, descending in their course, 
 Did crime awake and then defy remorse ? 
 Reduced at last to hopeless want and shame 
 Did former splendour bid them hide their name ? 
 
 Though, for the cause that wrought the rueful 
 change, 
 
THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 179 
 
 Sage speculation long may vainly range, 
 
 Yet, if a relic can affect the heart, 
 
 Tis a " Family Bible " at an Auction Mart ! 
 
 Of all the members of th' attentive throng 
 
 Who heard its value from the salesman's tongue, 
 
 One bidder only, passing by the way, 
 
 And tempted but a minute's space to stay, 
 
 In sportive frolic made a random " bode," 
 
 Procured the Book, and straight resumed his road. 
 
 His hastening steps a watchful wight pursues, 
 Resolv'd ('twould seem) his course he should not 
 
 lose, 
 
 O'ertakes him near St George's busy square 
 And thus accosts him with a pensive air : 
 " The volume, sir, you now have bought so cheap, 
 Longer than I, I trust you'll prize and keep. 
 Misfortune forced me to resign a gift 
 A generous uncle as an heirloom left. 
 Another dear memento of the same 
 I still possess, and yet (I say 't with shame) 
 I'll sell to him who owns the relic tome, 
 That both once more may find a common home. 
 A silver watch, both regular and sound, 
 I hereby offer for a single pound. 
 A transient sentiment, I know not why, 
 Suggests the offer I so warmly ply. 
 The twin memorials as in days of yore 
 I fain would learn adorn'd one owner's store." 
 
i8o THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 At first surprised at freedom thus displayed, 
 But moved at length by what th' intruder said, 
 The new possessor of the sacred Book 
 .Regards his follower with a searching look, 
 Then sternly notes : " A pavement's scarce the place 
 To buy a relic and its history trace ; 
 And should the petty trogger further dare 
 To dog his heels beyond the busy Square, 
 He'd make appeal to constituted ' force ' 
 To stop his begging or a purpose worse." 
 
 He had not ended his severe rebuke 
 When from his fob the kern a time-piece took ; 
 Something unusual in its form and style 
 Arrests his eye and stays his gaze awhile ; 
 With softened tone the " merchant " he addressed 
 Replacing threatenings with a mild request : 
 
 " Withdraw an't please you to a fitter spot 
 Where I may test the treasure you have got." 
 Argyll Street offered them a snug retreat, 
 And in " Buckhead " the casual traders meet. 
 
 Supplied with Scotia's potent " mountain dew," 
 That fires the sluggish and unveils the true, 
 They soon engaged in general, friendly chat, 
 And for a while the " business " they forgot. 
 
 " Now," quoth the buyer, " this I fain would know 
 What grave disaster brought your state so low 
 As thus to part so readily with a gift, 
 A friend, you say, as precious keepsake left. 
 
THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 181 
 
 Methinks 'twere wise 'mid losses to retain 
 What 's known to hallow and to lighten pain. 
 The Sacred Volume, in every clime, imparts 
 The purest opiate to wounded hearts; 
 'Twas meant to elevate the rich and great 
 With prospects fairer than all worldly state ; 
 And equal promises may well allure 
 The eager vision of the luckless poor ; 
 Grateful remembrance of departed friends 
 To shattered fortune grace and beauty lends ; 
 For should a higher motive fail t' impress, 
 Affection's tribute might the bosom bless." 
 
 "Well, once like you," the trogger made reply, 
 " Such views as these (the fact I wont deny), 
 As themes commended by a sire to son, 
 My hearty faith and acquiescence won ; 
 But intercourse with thinkers train'd and free, 
 DispelPd belief in your ' Forbidden Tree,' 
 A tree whose branches and pernicious fruit 
 The whims of bigots and of knaves may suit ; 
 May feed the pride of sanctimonious fools, 
 And win for priests the homage of their tools ; 
 May 'stablish thrones on abject nations' necks, 
 With pow'r derived from Churches' stakes and racks 
 Hold out bright promise of a future life 
 To all that arm for theologic strife ; 
 Denounce fair Reason (Man's securest guide), 
 Whene'er to creeds their claims it has denied. 
 
1 82 THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 But all these sophistries I now disclaim 
 As despot's engine and as bigot's dream ; 
 Affectionate memory of my friend that's gone 
 I'll cherish ever till my latest sun. 
 The Sacred Volume (as you 're pleased to style 't) 
 My boyhood's fancies for a while beguiled ; 
 But as my uncle's love I much revere, 
 I sold a Book whose stock in trade is 'fear.' " 
 
 " You seem to revel in the views you hold," 
 Replies his comrade in a style as bold : 
 " The mighty champions of our Church and State 
 To you seem pigmies, pithless in debate ; 
 The stately staff that props the honest heart 
 In your regard is but a poisoned dart ; 
 The well of Hope, whence joy to others springs, 
 To such as you but noxious potions brings. 
 Did Reason measure our accepted creed, 
 What we believe were very small indeed ! 
 The faith that offers us serene repose 
 Beyond the bounds of mortal wrecks and woes, 
 'Twere reckless folly wholly to displace 
 Till faultless Reason proves it false and base. 
 Could I persuade you to retract your word 
 I' d give you back the Record of the Lord." 
 
 " Your proffer'd gift permit me to refuse," 
 Replies the sceptic, who the theme pursues : 
 " No lord above my conscience do I own, 
 Nor beg a priest for errors to atone ; 
 
THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 183 
 
 A Pow'r Supreme I solemnly deny, 
 
 And think that spirits with their bodies die. 
 
 What happens here results, meseems, from chance, 
 
 And future scenes are baseless as a trance. 
 
 If distant worlds elude our straining gaze, 
 
 Shall gloomy graves transmit celestial rays ? 
 
 If optics ev'n with telescopic aid, 
 
 Fatigued and baffled, quit the field survey'd ; 
 
 Does reason offer prospect of success 
 
 When death's fell pow'rs their blended use suppress ? 
 
 Thus all my prospects are exempt from fear, 
 
 As all my troubles are extinguished here ; 
 
 And if for injuries I feel remorse, 
 
 With life's extinction it will cease its force." 
 
 "The argument limps," the other quick replies; 
 " Your logic 's faulty, as your drift ; s unwise. 
 If chance has placed you here without a God, 
 Then chance may shift you to a new abode. 
 You spurn the creed that future scenes may rise 
 Which now elude the sweep of mortal eyes ; 
 Yet stars and moons by day withhold the light 
 Which charms our vision through the pall of night ; 
 So man, mayhap, to darkness must descend 
 To see new spheres and o'er their wonders bend. 
 Pure fear's the salt that keeps our souls from taint, 
 Or melts in sunshine when our hearts repent. 
 As for remorse a whip in th' human breast 
 To scourge the culprit for a vice caress'd 
 
1 84 THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 
 
 Divorced from fear its warnings soon decay, 
 And rampant sins its early death betray. 
 
 " Behold ! The watch you Ve placed within my har.d 
 Supplies a moral dolts may comprehend ; 
 Elaborate mechanism its frame contains, 
 As the heart our feelings, and the head our brains 
 The healthy action of the parts and whole 
 Depends each instant on the spring's control ; 
 But that same spring its functions lays aside 
 When outer force has ceased to be applied. 
 Anon corruption wastes its useless pow'rs, 
 Which mark decay instead of noting hours. 
 
 " 'Tis thus our conscience every action shapes, 
 While every passion its relations keeps ; 
 But when this ' spring ' shall higher influence spurn 
 The wheels of duty slumber in their turn. 
 But other pow'rs, of foul corruption bred, 
 Invade their sphere and riot in their stead. 
 
 "But truce to homilies !" adds the moralist, 
 " And now let business our discussion sist. 
 Methinks your watch is just about to stop ; 
 With your permission I shall wind it up. 
 
 " 'Tis near the time when night gives place to day, 
 When honest topers should their reck'ning pay ; 
 I 'm loath to think I should so long remain " 
 (But while he spake the watch-spring snapp'd in twain) 
 " Unlucky accident for one or two !" 
 " Ay," quoth the owner, "more for me than you !" 
 
THE NAMELESS TREASURE. 185 
 
 (So Allan spake in Tangytavil bay : 
 
 111 comes, if watch-springs snap at turn of day.) 
 
 O'erwhelm'd with terror at his comrade's look, 
 Who now grew stiff while blood his face forsook, 
 The would-be buyer calls for quick'ning drink 
 In case his partner should in stupor sink. 
 A maiden served them with " the very best," 
 Who eyed, much mov'd, the one who seem'd distress'd. 
 A minute after, when his fit was o'er, 
 A handsome female gently oped the door : 
 Forward she stepp'd, as if to ascertain 
 If he whose state she learn'd was well again. 
 Her gentle eyes first on the patient fell, 
 Whose features seem'd to operate like a spell. 
 One glance at t' other she had time to cast 
 Ere Reason's light had from her service pass'd. 
 On empty space she bent a weird stare, 
 Then drew a sigh, an echo of despair. 
 Advancing towards him she last perceived 
 She reached a heart that deep with sorrow heaved. 
 (Here Caine retired before impending storms, 
 And cursed the couple in each other's arms.) 
 
1 86 TOM WILSON. 
 
 TOM WILSON. 
 
 WHEN dreams of bliss with sorrow mix 
 And rule your restless slumber, 
 
 The brighter hues you fain would fix, 
 And these alone remember. 
 
 But Memory 's an impartial clerk, 
 That keeps a faithful ledger ; 
 
 She won't say white 's the same as black, 
 Though coaxing smiles engage her. 
 
 So felt fair Mary of the Drum 
 
 When from her swoon she rallied ; 
 
 For sad and joyous scenes alike 
 Upon her vision sallied. 
 
 For now she 's strong in Wilson's arms, 
 And happy since he 's near her ; 
 
 And fain was she to tell her tale 
 To one who 'd fondly hear her. 
 
 When gazing in her lover's face 
 She thought with chilling horror 
 
 That Caine was standing at her side 
 And plotting ruin for her. 
 
TOM WILSON. 187 
 
 She starts abruptly to her feet 
 
 To give in charge the felon. 
 " Well, Caine 's escaped ! but vengeance yet 
 
 May overtake the villain." 
 
 " Then has the 'scapegrace injured you?" 
 
 Inquires her angry lover ; 
 " Oh ! had I known that wretch was Caine 
 
 His day ere now was over." 
 
 " See there ! (quoth she) the watch I wore 
 
 The watch your captain sent me ; 
 A gift the odious caitiff stole 
 
 When greater ill he meant me. 
 
 " But, darling, I must hence awhile 
 
 To nip unripe suspicion ; 
 On my return, to sketch our lives 
 
 Shall be our common mission." 
 
 This said, the damsel left the room, 
 
 Nor for an answer waited ; 
 And Wilson thought her manner show'd 
 
 Devotion had abated. 
 
 " All sweetly spoken," muttered Tom, 
 
 " But why the strange addition? 
 What needs the lassie that is mine 
 
 To nip unripe suspicion ? " 
 
1 88 MY FIRST WATCH. 
 
 But when he spent some fruitless thought 
 
 On Mary's odd excuses, 
 He gazed on Caine's now silent watch, 
 
 While on his own he muses. 
 
 MY FIRST WATCH. 
 
 FOR ever dear to me that hour 
 When first a watch I sported ; 
 
 No lover more in raptur'd bow'r 
 Could prize the nymph he courted. 
 
 And dear to me that brother, too, 
 Who parted with the treasure ; 
 
 No gift, indeed, full well he knew 
 Could wake an equal pleasure. 
 
 Proud is the soldier on the plain 
 Who richest trophy clutches ; 
 
 Elate with joy the humble swain 
 Who falls an heir to riches. 
 
 But all their spoils and wealth in one, 
 When by the balance tested, 
 
 Seem'd light as air, compar'd to mine 
 When to my heart I press' d it. 
 
MY FIRST WA TCff. 189 
 
 With self-reproach I oft would feign 
 
 I fear'd I ceased to mind her ; 
 A mere pretext 'twas all to gain 
 
 A plea again to wind her. 
 
 The darling gem each night I laid 
 
 Beneath my gentle pillow ; 
 Right o'er the spot I placed my head 
 
 Where ticked my plodding fellow. 
 
 From underneath I now and then 
 Would draw her forth with caution 
 
 Lest weight or cold might check a hand 
 And stop the organ's motion J 
 
 At shortest intervals of time 
 
 I on her dial doated ; 
 Oh ! transport matchless, rich, sublime 
 
 When friends my treasure noted ! 
 
 By other clocks and by the sun 
 
 To test her I was ready ; 
 'Twas not to mark if mine was wrong 
 
 But prove if they were steady. 
 
 The gift of books, or song, or lay 
 
 May rapture whiles have given ; 
 But to be ask'd " the time o' day," 
 
 Methought resembled heaven ! 
 
190 MY FIRST WATCH. 
 
 I chose the route to mart or fair, 
 
 Where watchless crowds would meet me 
 
 In hopes that sound, that magic air, 
 
 " Pray, what's the time ? " might greet me. 
 
 When my good luck had got abroad 
 Some brats you'll scarce believe me 
 
 Withheld their hand and friendly nod 
 And vow'd they'd ne'er forgive me. 
 
 My teacher's patience oft I Ve tried, 
 Who scorned his phrase to soften : 
 
 " How can you foster childish pride 
 And show that trash so often ? " 
 
 For counsels sage, I must confess, 
 
 I fail'd to seem his debtor ; 
 Not that I prized his lectures less, 
 
 But liked my ticker better. 
 
 Though grieved I lost the love of some 
 
 And met the scowl of others, 
 The scores that kindly ask'd the time 
 
 Seem'd rooted friends and brothers. 
 
 At lonely hour, on moor or fell, 
 
 When fear my bosom worried, 
 Her clinking tick like wizard's spell 
 
 Would lay my troubled spirit. 
 
MY FIRST WA TCH. 191 
 
 But Time has worn her tiny springs ; 
 
 Her " case " is loose and dusty ; 
 The little " fly " no longer swings, 
 
 And wheels are thin and rusty. 
 
 I'm oft advised 'twere better far 
 
 For other gear to change her ; 
 No, no ; remembrance cannot bear, 
 
 I 'd swop her for a stranger. 
 
 Time still drops pleasure from his wing, 
 
 And fresher scenes are treasured ; 
 But no such solace do they bring 
 
 As those my time-piece measured. 
 
 The broken ring is symbol meet 
 
 Of boyhood's transient unions ; 
 Her very silence, lone yet sweet, 
 
 Suggests my dead companions ! 
 
 But why does Mary fail so long 
 To make her promise true ? 
 
 Quickly, she vow'd, she would return ; 
 That vow does Mary rue ? 
 
 Far otherwise did Fancy paint 
 This meeting scene for me ! 
 
 My eyes beheld but glowing tints : 
 The dark they would not see. 
 
192 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 Oh ! Mary, did your heart return 
 The love that swells my breast, 
 
 No frigid, calculating mood 
 Its impulse could resist. 
 
 But to your lover's arms you'd rush, 
 
 Impatient of delay ; 
 And in his ear your tale would pour 
 
 And list what he would say. 
 
 So mutter'd Wilson, lone and dull, 
 
 As Mary reappeared, 
 Whose measured step and distant air 
 
 Confirm'd the change he fear'd. 
 
 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 " Now, by the pow'rs of love and truth," 
 
 Exclaims he, with a sigh ; 
 " What means my Mary's gripless hand ? 
 
 What means th' averted eye? 
 
 " My fond advance to claim that hand, 
 
 Oh ! do not thus repel ; 
 Nor deem the fault is mine if late 
 
 My promise I fulfil. 
 
WILSON AND MARY. 193 
 
 " An envious fate and arrant knave 
 
 Thwarted my purpose leal ; 
 Yet here at last I hoped to find 
 
 My woes exchanged for weal. 
 
 " If all my other warm appeals 
 
 Your apathy should mock, 
 Oh ! list, in fine, while I recall 
 
 Your pledge on West Port rock." 
 
 At mention of the trysting spot, 
 
 " Forbear the theme," quoth she ; 
 " I loved you then I love you still, 
 
 But yours I may not be. 
 
 " Withdraw, if Mary still you love, 
 
 And would her peace restore ; 
 And let a message show you why 
 
 You may not sue her more." 
 
 With fervent grip she grasp'd his hand, 
 
 Then, sobbing, bade Adieu ! 
 And ere her accents died away, 
 
 She vanished from his view. 
 
 This brief and strangely ended scene 
 
 To Wilson look'd a dream, 
 Where not one comfort lent a ray 
 
 The darkness to redeem. 
 
 N 
 
194 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 His stupor past he clutched a quill, 
 And penn'd his last Address ; 
 
 Then sallying forth this pray'r he sighed : 
 " My angels Mary bless ! " 
 
 In loving answer to this hint 
 For which she inly pray'd 
 
 Before her suitor Mary thus 
 Her new position laid: 
 
 " My dearest friend " (oh ! could I use 
 
 A title dearer still ! 
 But that I must that bliss forego 
 
 Seems Heaven's sovereign will), 
 
 " Remembrance and affection, too, 
 
 This parting word indite, 
 Whence reasons for my altered mood 
 
 You '11 reckon to be right : 
 
 " The Westport rock, where you and I 
 Our mutual pledge exchanged, 
 
 Recalls such scenes as reason's sway 
 Has almost quite unhinged. 
 
 " I listened to the voice of Caine 
 Your mate in the ' Gentoo ' 
 
 And heard him swear he saw you drown'd, 
 And took his oath for true. 
 
WILSON AND MAR Y. 195 
 
 " With magic art the fiend proposed 
 
 We should observe the day 
 That closed the weary annual round 
 
 Since you returned to sea. 
 
 " Absorb'd in sorrow o'er your doom, 
 
 Upon a ledge I sate ; 
 Nor knew what time he quit the rock 
 
 And left me to my fate. 
 
 " Our house he meanly robb'd of gear ; 
 
 (Though long a pampered guest) 
 The watch he offer'd you for sale 
 
 Was stolen with the rest. 
 
 " Unnoted rose the raging tide, 
 
 And raved the islet round, 
 Till, horror-struck and all too late, 
 
 I found myself rock-bound ! 
 
 " Frantic with terror I beheld 
 
 A wild advancing wave, 
 And, facing seawards, backwards stepp'd, 
 
 My threatened life to save. 
 
 " Retreating from the threat'ning surge 
 
 I fell into the sea ! 
 The rest is but a blank until 
 
 I rallied on the lea. 
 
I 9 6 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 " Beside me stood a sister dear, 
 And a youth as stiff 's a stone, 
 
 Who, struggling to preserve my life, 
 Had almost lost his own. 
 
 " The rescued and the rescuer 
 Soon mutual interest shared ; 
 
 My grateful words his valour own'd, 
 And love's advance prepared. 
 
 " In time, the offer of his hand 
 
 My scruples overcame : 
 For him who snatch'd me from the waves 
 
 I spurn'd a rival's claim. 
 
 " If in your presence I appeared 
 
 Oblivious of the past, 
 My later pledge across my brain 
 
 A dreadful cloud had cast. 
 
 " At sight of you my slumbering love 
 
 Burst into flame anew, 
 And to arrest its spreading force 
 
 I hurried from your view. 
 
 " Farewell, fair Hope of wedded life 
 
 And fellowship with thee ! 
 And should another call thee spouse, 
 
 More happy may she be. 
 
WILSON AND MARY. 197 
 
 The watch your generous skipper once 
 
 To me as present gave, 
 To-morrow (should you prize the gift) 
 
 For keepsake you may have. 
 
 " Whene'er you gaze upon its hands, 
 
 While moving or at rest, 
 Recall the signs of Mary's love, 
 
 Though now by fate repress'd. 
 
 " May Heav'n upon your constant heart 
 
 Its choicest blessings pour ! 
 Calm be thy life, and blest thy lot, 
 
 When time's brief space is o'er ! " 
 
 Scarce four and twenty weary hours 
 Their sluggish course had run, 
 
 When Wilson, careworn, doubting, sad, 
 The Buckhead entrance won. 
 
 Desiring audience of the maid, 
 
 Who begg'd him to return, 
 He entered, by request, a room, 
 
 Where Mary sat, forlorn. 
 
 With stately air, yet sweet withal, 
 
 His visit she received ; 
 But frigid phrases Wilson's breast 
 
 Now more than ever grieved. 
 
198 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 Still standing, but about to go, 
 Within her hand he placed 
 
 A bracelet that for worth and style 
 A countess might have graced. 
 
 In silent grief the couple stood 
 While presents were exchang'd, 
 
 When suddenly the maiden's mood 
 Seem'd once again estranged. 
 
 Her eyes upon the floor she bends, 
 Her words are faint and few ; 
 
 Nor notes her visitor until 
 He sighs his last adieu ! 
 
 Then gazing towards the open door, 
 
 To snatch a final look, 
 She sees and at the sight the maid 
 
 With quick emotion shook 
 
 She sees advancing to the door 
 The youth she's pledged to wed, 
 
 And fears her interview with Tom 
 Some jealousy has bred. 
 
 On Wilson vapant, slow and sad, 
 Now issuing from the door, 
 
 Neil fix'd his eye as if on one 
 He doubtless met before. 
 
WILSON AND MARY. 199 
 
 Then Mary shrieked as Neil advanced 
 
 With th' ardour of a Gael, 
 And raised his arm as if in act 
 
 His rival to assail. 
 
 While instinct nerv'd the maid's resolve 
 
 The foul assault to check, 
 Perplex'd she sees her Neilie's arms 
 
 Flung round his rival's neck. 
 
 " To you, to you," the youth exclaims, 
 
 While tears stood in his eyes, 
 " My life I owe, yet next to Him 
 
 Who governs earth and skies. 
 
 " Come, Mary, thank the gallant friend 
 
 Who, late at Greenock Quay, 
 Redeem'd me from a watery grave, 
 
 And brought me back to thee. 
 
 " My reason, Mary, you should share, 
 For thanks to bounteous Heav'n, 
 
 Since Providence, partial to us both, 
 A common friend has giv'n." 
 
 " And this is he," rejoins the maid, 
 
 " Who, earlier, won my heart ; 
 But weighing your surpassing claims 
 
 The lovers' bands we part. 
 
200 WILSON AND MARY. 
 
 11 Oh ! faithful Mary," answer'd Neil, 
 " His claim surpasses mine ; 
 
 He earn'd my grateful love till death 
 Discharge my debt with thine." 
 
 Welcome to Wilson was the barque 
 That reached the lonely isle, 
 
 Where long a captive's life he pass'd 
 Through Caine's inhuman guile. 
 
 Welcome to Mary were the arms 
 
 She felt her person lock, 
 Welcome her rescue from the waves, 
 
 And from the Maiden's rock. 
 
 But welcomer still was Neilie's pledge, 
 
 A lover's rights to waive ; 
 Now brief and light her trials seem'd 
 
 When Heav'n such issue gave. 
 
 Tom Wilson, noteful of the guide 
 That timed his passage home, 
 
 Soon join'd his hand, for wedded bless, 
 With Mary's of the Drum. 
 
 A prosperous uncle soon resign'd 
 The cares of Buckhead Inn, 
 
 And left the Wilsons in his stead 
 Good will and wealth to win. 
 
RETRIBUTION. 201 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 " Long years have pass'd since then," quoth Ned, 
 
 As here his story ceased. 
 " But listen, Rab ; a rumbling noise 
 
 My ears assails ; what is 't ? " 
 
 Returning from the stackyard fence, 
 
 Young Voolin hurried in 
 With news that changed the current talk, 
 
 And woke a various din. 
 
 " My father 's come," the youth reports, 
 
 " But not alone he 's come : 
 A stranger and his handsome spouse 
 
 Have giv'n him escort home. 
 
 " Some luggage ben I have to bring, 
 
 A kinsman's," father said, 
 " The weight is great ; pray, who 's prepared 
 
 To lend me needed aid ? " 
 
 " Now," asks the heckler, " whose may be 
 
 The luggage you'd bring ben ? 
 What gentry folk the honour claim 
 
 To have it carried in ? " 
 
RETRIBUTION. 
 
 " They're gentry folk, indeed," quoth Rab, 
 
 " But that is all I know : 
 The husband's age, within my guess, 
 
 Is threescore ten or so. 
 
 " ' T. W.' on a wieldy trunk 
 
 Stand out in letters braw ; 
 The name in full will likely run 
 
 Upon a card I saw." 
 
 On this the beggar (who all night 
 
 Seem'd noteful of the tale) 
 Uneasy glances shot at Rab, 
 
 As squalls forbode the gale. 
 
 No sooner had the packman gone 
 
 To lift and carry more, 
 Than from his couch the mendicant 
 
 RolPd briskly to the floor. 
 
 His nose with spectacles bestrid, 
 
 He read, with wild surprise, 
 The full inscription on the card, 
 
 While shadows mock'd his eyes, 
 
 Thus : " Mr Wilson, Buckhead Inn, 
 Argyll Street, Glasg.," he read ; 
 
 Then rushing out, he left at once 
 The house as well 's his bed. 
 
RE TRIE UTION. 203 
 
 " Why clad so soon?" asks Voolin's son, 
 
 " Tis hardly break of day ; 
 You can't expect we'll yoke a horse 
 
 To speed you on your way." 
 
 " Not yet," replied the wayfarer ; 
 
 " Some better time may suit ; 
 Now, sleep being gone, just for a change 
 
 Thus early I'm afoot. 
 
 " An hour, by favour of the moon, 
 
 I'll dawdle round the farm ; 
 But should I longer stay abroad, 
 
 Don't feel the least alarm." 
 
 That morn unwonted joy provoked, 
 
 'Mong folks in Killocraw, 
 A din that might at other times 
 
 Exceed decorum's law. 
 
 Here Mr Wilson's health is drunk, 
 
 And all rejoice he's come ; 
 Still fuller bumpers prompt hurrahs 
 
 For Mary of the Drum. 
 
 An hour had pass'd, and so had two, 
 
 Yet no one in the hall 
 Had seen the vagrant beggar's form, 
 
 Or heard his footstep's fall. 
 
204 RE TRIE UTION. 
 
 " It frets my breast," observes the laird, 
 " While th' inmates of my house 
 
 Drink Wilson's health with loud encore, 
 And her's, his sonsie spouse, 
 
 " That one is absent from our midst 
 Whose presence I should hail ; 
 
 Well, see the alms-receiver hoar 
 You generously regale." 
 
 " Ah ! well-bethought," replies his son : 
 
 " I miss him keenly, too ; 
 His sleep being gone, just for a change 
 
 He'd stroll an hour or two. 
 
 " These were his parting words, I trow : 
 
 ' I '11 dawdle round the farm, 
 But should I longer stay abroad, 
 
 Don't feel the least alarm.' 
 
 " And now the rhyme usurps mine ear : 
 
 I heard it once before, 
 When friend the heckler sketch'd the wreck 
 
 On Tangytavil's shore. 
 
 " Old Allan's guest these terms employ'd : 
 
 " I '11 face the sturdy storm, 
 And should I stay an hour outside, 
 
 Don't feel the least alarm.' 
 
RE TRIE UTION. .205 
 
 " Perhaps the miscreant survives 
 
 His deed of horrid fame ; 
 And hovers here, in fond belief 
 
 The place forgets his name. 
 
 " Now, who will venture out with me, 
 
 This smiling moonlit morn, 
 To pry along the fisher's loan, 
 
 Or track him to ' the burn.' 
 
 " On hither side he lingers still 
 
 On hillock, crag or moss ; 
 For Poochcan's swollen torrent's ford 
 
 He would not could not cross." 
 
 " In case your choice you cannot get 
 
 For love or show of gold, 
 I '11 join you in your venturous search," 
 
 Rejoins the pedlar bold. 
 
 (No more shall Robert Voolin cheer, 
 
 With tale, or song, or smile, 
 The listening group in spence or hall, 
 
 Or weary toil beguile. 
 
 Would, Robert, you had reck'd advice 
 
 To snatch a brief repose ! 
 But soon, alas ! shall death's dark stream 
 
 Your life 'mid horrors close !) 
 
2o6 RE TRIE UTION. 
 
 The searchers rush'd towards the ford, 
 
 And every refuge scann'd, 
 When lo ! in the middle of the flood 
 
 The waif is seen to stand ! 
 
 The torrent reach'd his shivering knees, 
 
 And every minute rose ; 
 To go, return, or stay 'twere death 
 
 The seeming best to choose. 
 
 Upon the stone he turn'd half round 
 To note his foes (or friends ?), 
 
 When, badly pois'd, his body swerves, 
 And o'er the billows bends. 
 
 " Now, hold your ground a moment more," 
 Cried Rob, the kind and brave 
 
 " I '11 try "Too late ! The beggar slipp'd 
 And sank beneath the wave. 
 
 Swift as an arrow from the bow 
 
 Macvoolin's noble heir 
 Sprang out toward the gurgling waif, 
 
 Despite the pedlar's pray'r. 
 
 Against rude boulders in the stream 
 With violence both were dash'd ; 
 
 And o'er their heads with raving blasts 
 The tortured surges splash'd. 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 207 
 
 No shriek for needed aid returns 
 
 From water deep or shoal ; 
 The young and old, the false and true, 
 
 The fatal rapids roll ! 
 
 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 Deep were the fears that troubled Killocraw, 
 When in the pedlar pale despair they saw ; 
 When questioned where the beggar's footsteps led, 
 He wildly stared, then shook his drooping head. 
 
 " But where is Robert, if the loon is gone ?" 
 
 Each keenly ask'd, but chief the younger son. 
 
 To all the packman still his voice denies ; 
 
 His bursting tears alone response supplies. 
 
 " There's something worse," exclaim'd M'Voolin's 
 
 spouse ; 
 
 " These silent signs my worst suspicions rouse. 
 Speak, man ! and don't be niggard of your speech : 
 Let hints no more the truth in driblets teach ! " 
 
 With less emotion, but with grief as keen, 
 Her husband guesses what his gestures mean. 
 The carle, impelled by tears of young and old, 
 From pity yields what sorrow would withhold 
 
208 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 11 The beggar's drown'd ! I must, with anguish, add, 
 
 You've lost a son, and we the noblest lad ! 
 
 I warned the youth (when near the ford we stood) 
 
 Against his peril from the fretful flood ; 
 
 But mov'd by impulse reckless, if humane, 
 
 He fled my grasp and gave his life in vain !" 
 
 Loud was the wail that echoed through the hall 
 Where lately rang huzzas from one and all ; 
 The boisterous joy 's transmuted into grief 
 In tears alone the mourners find relief. 
 The Wilsons feel a doubly-sharpen'd pang 
 For quick and dead who late their welcome sang. 
 Suspicion's shadow crept along their heart 
 That in the havoc they had had a part. 
 Through them, mayhap, the vagrant stole away, 
 And schemed to lure young Robert for his prey 
 A sad return for many a favour shown 
 By Voolin's fam'ly and by it alone ! 
 
 But trebly galling was the heckler's woe, 
 
 Who, more o'erwhelm'd, could scarce his anguish 
 
 show; 
 
 His startled brain with raging fever burn'd, 
 And in his wound he felt the knife was turn'd. 
 Misgivings rose, relapsed, and rose again, 
 Lest of his role the mourners might complain. 
 The tale he told (which none, however, check'd) 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 209 
 
 Might well the wakeful mendicant affect, 
 
 Who might be Caine (for aught he heard or knew), 
 
 And, self-condemn'd, denote the tale was true. 
 
 His ready service in the part he bore, 
 
 A sickening aspect to his vision wore. 
 
 'Twas thus to him directly all might trace 
 
 The swift disaster that beclouds their face. 
 
 One only solace soothes his harrow'd breast : 
 
 The part he play'd he acted for the best. 
 
 Beside the site where now a bridge and road 
 Unite a furlong from MacKeich's abode 
 A strolling tramp (he might be reckoned worse) 
 Descried the young Macvoolin's battered corse ; 
 From pity or from sordid hopes of gain 
 He dragg'd the body to the sandy plain ; 
 Then o'er the corpse he spread an ample plaid, 
 And look'd around in quest of human aid ; 
 Nor long did look, for lo ! adown the glen 
 He notes a troop of slowly pacing men. 
 With hand and voice he signall'd to the band, 
 And found them heedful of his soft command. 
 Endow'd with sore Misfortune's noteful gift, 
 They soon divined the tramping vagrant's drift. 
 Onward they press'd, as love or duty urged, 
 Along the stream, that still with fury surged. 
 The second son the spot, as foremost, gains, 
 Where lay, much bruis'd his brother's cold remains. 
 O 
 
210 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 Upon the view a sudden frantic fit 
 Appeared to stun his senses and his wit ; 
 The air he rent with one wild piercing scream, 
 And rush'd, a maniac, towards the roaring stream. 
 Deftly the heckler, goaded by alarm, 
 Arrests the youth and firmly grips his arm : 
 A triple force the madden'd boy display'd, 
 And forced the rest to join their needed aid. 
 Savage reproaches, join'd to reckless blows, 
 He hurls at all who dare his will oppose ; 
 And wildly asks why won't they let him die, 
 And in one tomb along with Robert lie ? 
 
 The dead and living slowly some remove, 
 And homewards trend along the hazel grove; 
 While others stay to seek on bank and pool 
 Whom yet they reckoned more a knave than fool. 
 
 The tramp (or tinker) in a pensive mood, 
 
 With seeming interest all their movements view'd ; 
 
 His careless questions scant regard engage, 
 
 He neither ask'd nor heard the beggar's age ; 
 
 Content, apparently, to know no more, 
 
 He bent his footsteps towards the northern shore. 
 
 But Ruary spied a casket 'neath his arm, 
 Whereof he thought he formerly saw the form. 
 In his conjecture, Caine the casket bore 
 That morn he met him at old Allan's store. 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 211 
 
 But now, at length, the beggar's corpse is found, 
 And rocks and gullies with the news resound; 
 To new excitement Ruary's pow'rs attend, 
 And brief reflections on the casket end. 
 
 Long angry blasts swept corrie, glen, and scaur, 
 
 That day when neighbours, friends, and folk from far 
 
 Met to convey to sunny, lone Killean, 
 
 The torn, disfigured corses of th' ill-fated men. 
 
 Never before or since did Killocraw 
 
 Such motley classes to her precincts draw : 
 
 Here masters, servants, hinds, and shepherds grey, 
 
 To fellow mortals sorrow's tribute pay. 
 
 The different age and eke the different rank 
 
 Of those who 'neath th' o'erwhelming current sank, 
 
 Suggested feelings cognate to the case 
 
 Till feuds disturbed the solemn sway of Peace ; 
 
 Old mourners claim for th' elder of the two 
 
 Precedence in the cortege as his due. 
 
 'Tis meet, they said, that age, however poor, 
 
 On life's last journey first should leave the door. 
 
 The young or rich this specious plea resist, 
 And point to merit as the guiding test ; 
 Foul shame, indeed, this party loud averr'd, 
 If beggars should to farmers be preferr'd ; 
 And should not he who gave his latest breath 
 To snatch a felon from deserved death, 
 
212 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 Receive the honours due to true and brave, 
 And yield in none to him who proved a knave ? 
 
 The wordy warfare ripened into brawls, 
 
 And each on other for assistance calls. 
 
 The younger mourners, active, swift, and keen, 
 
 Were first to move and hurry to the glen. 
 
 A stiff mishap arrests them at the burn, 
 
 Whose threat'ning flood their passage seemed to spurn. 
 
 The unforeseen event detains them at its marge 
 
 Until their rivals cleared th' adjacent gorge. 
 
 And now, when peace and concord should combine 
 To yield a point beyond ev'n reason's line, 
 The partisans discuss their rights anew, 
 Till loud remonstrance into menace grew. 
 The old competitors with force declare 
 Disputed honours here both now must share : 
 If th' other men precedence first have snatch'd, 
 By fair award the privilege must be match'd. 
 And thus, in justice, and unaw'd by spite, 
 The first to cross the ford they claim as right. 
 
 None yielding, both omit the solemn rites, 
 And, turning pugilists, engaged in fights. 
 O grave Humanity ! thine eyelids seal, 
 While funeral factions mutual hate reveal ! 
 For, deaf to reason and to honour blind, 
 Thy gentle laws they scatter to the wind ! 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 213 
 
 Around the bier where brother-men repose, 
 
 With fellow-mourners comrades bandy blows ! 
 
 The ploughman turns new sods on blood-stained soils, 
 
 And verdant spots of native hues despoils. 
 
 Keen masters spurn th' advice themselves have given, 
 
 To foster love, best law of earth and heav'n. 
 
 The brawling burn now swifter seems to run, 
 
 A din much hoarser than its own to shun. 
 
 The stream increases by new rivers fed, 
 
 And blends its colour with a warmer red. 
 
 On sable garments and on snowy shirts 
 
 A lusty jet each purple fissure squirts. 
 
 The gory ground suggests a two-fold bed, 
 
 A lair indeed for living and for dead. 
 
 While mutual havoc thus the ford disgraced, 
 The Parish Pastor rode to view in haste. 
 (A wanton obstacle had checked his speed, 
 And caused his absence at the time agreed.) 
 Sincere apologies for being late 
 The pious shepherd was prepared to state, 
 When, horror-struck, he saw the deadly fray, 
 And straight began for heaven's grace to pray. 
 At sight of one whose office heralds peace 
 The fierce antagonists their quarrel cease. 
 Reining his steed he lifts his hand on high, 
 And hurls reproach, but deprecates reply. 
 Bleeding and bruised they list, with downcast look, 
 Their preacher's voice, while thus he plied rebuke : 
 
214 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 (A battered straggler by the water side 
 The cause of tumult to the priest supplied.) 
 The silent, fervent, hurried pray'r being o'er, 
 He plied his gifts peace, banish'd, to restore : 
 " Insensate fools ! why holy rites befoul, 
 And taint your body as you taint your soul ? 
 Much do I grieve that hence I tarried long : 
 My presence here had checked the rabid throng. 
 
 " Ye aged fiends, can't warnings lately sent 
 Wake meditation on your days misspent? 
 Can holiest duties that can man engage 
 Consist with slaughter and unbridled rage ? 
 Becomes it those whose days are near a close, 
 To scout reflection and its blessings lose ? 
 Is 't thus you set example to the young, 
 Belied by deeds, but native to the tongue ? 
 How could your hands with blood the face besmear, 
 Where sorrow's pangs should lead the trickling tear ? 
 How would it seem if others seared as you, 
 Around your bier should mar the honours due ? 
 The beggar's fate might well your hearts impress, 
 And root reflexion in their hard recess. 
 
 "Ye youthful vipers, reft of sense and wit, 
 Why thus so early spiteful venom spit. 
 For trifling whims, impulsive, you contend 
 In feuds that must, at best, ignobly end. 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 215 
 
 A worthier cause for valour and for skill 
 
 Select betimes, and prop it with a will. 
 
 Instruct in patience th' old but foolish head, 
 
 As fruits o'er stems a grateful fragrance shed. 
 
 The youthful scion who so nobly fell, 
 
 Whose worth you knew and whom you loved so well, 
 
 Would scorn the wreath you oifer his remains, 
 
 When soil'd with mud and tinged with bloody stains. 
 
 The memory of his death so premature 
 
 Should surely longer than a week endure. 
 
 If texts like that affect nor head nor heart, 
 
 What moral boon can priest or church impart ? 
 
 A passion vile, and but an hour begun, 
 
 Has years of sermons and of tracts undone. 
 
 I fain could wish my eyes had closed for aye 
 
 Ere they had witnessed this atrocious fray. 
 
 What fruit can spring from years that must be few, 
 
 Since forty summers could so little do? 
 
 My fear awakes lest others be as hard, 
 
 Who quite as long have listened to " the word." 
 
 If those who seem'd at least impress'd by death 
 
 Float mere professions on a vapoury breath, 
 
 Is't wise to cherish better thoughts of some 
 
 Who, shunning sorrow's show, remain'd at home ? 
 
 There needed not, in sooth, such odious brawl 
 
 Malign attention to our shores to call ; 
 
 To teach anew all lips to quote with scorn 
 
 The rebels' ambush for Inspector Sterne ; 
 
1 6 THE WILD MOURNERS. 
 
 To harrow feelings. and to bare the sore 
 Of scars endured on Tangytavil shore. 
 'Twas yours to help these memories to fade, 
 And sink, unmentioned, in oblivion's shade, 
 By lives contrasted with those lives of yore 
 Our land's good name and comfort to restore. 
 Had I gone down to death's dark cave forlorn 
 Ere many of you had as yet been born, 
 My fondest prospects had been more assured 
 My parting pangs with firmer hope endured. 
 A dark suspicion would not anyhow 
 Disturb my bosom or o'ercast my brow, 
 That from some motive quite as cross and vain 
 You'd mock my shade above or 'neath the plain ; 
 That mischief following close on my decease 
 Would blur the triumphs of my day of grace. 
 And why should all, or why should even one 
 (Should I survive you in life's fitful run), 
 Do ought to lessen or, perhaps, destroy 
 The zeal wherewith such terms I'd fain employ, 
 As pastors quote in firm or hopeful mood 
 O'er hearers summon'd to their last abode ? 
 'Tis not your right to hope that pastors true, 
 To soothe your friends, should lie to Heav'n and 
 you. 
 
 Stiff necked race ! (I speak to young and old) 
 If thus it lists you to be stern and bold, 
 
THE WILD MOURNERS. 217 
 
 'Gainst subtler pow'rs proclaim incessant war, 
 And be your emblem Bethlehem's orient Star. 
 With this device upon your banners blue, 
 Follow a Captain ready, tried, and true. 
 Against the world, the Devil, and the flesh, 
 Do ceaseless battle and begin afresh. 
 Let older men their peevish whims abjure 
 Lest sudden follies better traits obscure. 
 To wisdom's path th' inquiring novice guide, 
 And set examples of a nobler pride. 
 
 " And you, young men, the fire of youth restrain, 
 
 Lest wilder vigour it may yet attain. 
 
 The breast that fires at whims we scarcely blame 
 
 Needs little fuel to increase the flame. 
 
 Early conform to models Heav'n ordain'd : 
 
 For years confirm the mood in which we're trained. 
 
 " Now, when these solemn rites, so rudely maim'd 
 
 By orgies dire and scarcely to be named, 
 
 Find due completion ere the day is spent, 
 
 And every mourner hies him to his tent ; 
 
 Resolve, in token you've renounced your hate, 
 
 Your ruthless vengeance and insane debate, 
 
 To build with solemn and masonic law, 
 
 'Twixt ancient Poochican and Killocraw, 
 
 A bridge of stone to span the fatal burn, 
 
 That North and South may friendly ' calls ' return. 
 
218 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 " My blessing (Heav'n confirm my fervent pray'r !) 
 Rest on you all, my flock and constant care ; 
 Depart in peace, and fall not out by th' way ; 
 Improve the sequel and redeem the day. 
 Averse to state whose plea 's the best or worst, 
 I bid the juniors cross the streamlet first." 
 
 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 THE pastor left the funeral train 
 
 For other cleric work, 
 And turned aside, observed by few, 
 
 To Ballochantee Kirk. 
 
 Leaning against the whitewashed wall, 
 
 And seated on a stone 
 (One of the steps of th' outside stair) 
 
 Begrimed with dust, alone, 
 
 A stranger (tramp he might be styled), 
 
 Or one of the tinker race, 
 Confronts his view, but, starting up, 
 
 Made show to change his place. 
 
 " There 's no occasion," quoth the priest, 
 
 " To rise or quit the stair ; 
 There's room enough to pass you by, 
 
 And still some space to spare. 
 
THE WRECKERS LETTER. 219 
 
 " Your state denotes you've travell'd far 
 
 Perhaps you've fasted, too ; 
 If so, my hearers here the part 
 
 Of generous hosts will do." 
 
 " Thanks for your offer, kindly priest, 
 
 For generous hosts are scant ; 
 But charity's bounty now at least 
 
 I neither need nor want. 
 
 " My humble trade, I 'm glad, secures 
 
 An independent life ; 
 My ample means I've not to share 
 
 With either bairn or wife. 
 
 " Within this village I had hoped 
 
 To find a stranger's ' rest ; ' 
 But here's nor licensed howff nor inn 
 
 For either man or beast." 
 
 " True," quoth the incumbent, " there is none 
 
 Within a fair half-mile ; 
 But for a change a better seat 
 
 Would ease you after toil. 
 
 " Your accent leads me to remark 
 
 Argyllshire's not your home ; 
 Fain would I learn what news you bring, 
 
 And whence you've lately come. 
 
220 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 11 Let us withdraw to neighbour Kay's, 
 
 I see him at his door 
 There you'll take rest till I return 
 
 From visits 'mong the poor." 
 
 These visits o'er, the priest rejoins 
 The swarthy tramp at Kay's ; 
 
 Then sitting down a pocket book 
 Upon the table lays. 
 
 Some notes and letters on the board 
 He spread with careless hand : 
 
 Then from the group selected one 
 He fail'd to comprehend. 
 
 Then poring o'er the letters' signs, 
 
 He asks, in heedless tone, 
 If the stranger chanced to speak or know 
 
 Tongues other than his own. 
 
 " A neighbouring farmer placed, to-day, 
 
 This billet in my hand : 
 But, though some ancient tongues I know, 
 
 This can't I understand. 
 
 " Amid the relics of a waif 
 
 A beggar lately drown'd, 
 In course of search to trace his name, 
 
 This document was found/' 
 
THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 221 
 
 One moment sway'd by cautious fear, 
 
 The next by daring pride, 
 The tramp assumed a trustful mood, 
 
 And flung reserve aside : 
 
 " I've been abroad a year or two 
 
 My colour that may tell 
 And though no linguist in a sense, 
 
 I've mastered Spanish well. 
 
 " But scarcely possible, I ween, 
 
 That my linguistic skill 
 Can now avail me to translate 
 
 The beggar's tale or will." 
 
 Then half in doubt, and half in jest, 
 
 The minister passed the note, 
 And keenly watch'd the traveller's face, 
 
 His current mood to quote. 
 
 You've seen the moon's pale sickly sheen 
 
 The cloud's swart colour chase, 
 Till of its floating dusky hue 
 
 You scarce a streak could trace : 
 
 You've seen the strange chameleon 
 
 When roused with sudden spite 
 Renounce its green, and blue, and jet, 
 
 And don a spotless white. 
 
222 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 So changed the tramp's complexion when 
 
 The signature he scann'd ; 
 His body trembled while the note 
 
 Slipp'd from his pithless hand. 
 
 But soon regaining partial strength 
 
 He staggered to the door, 
 Then backward stepped to lift the note 
 
 That dropped upon the floor. 
 
 The pastor snatch'd it from his grasp 
 
 With keen yet tender look, 
 Not knowing which the tramp deserved, 
 
 His pity or rebuke. 
 
 Withholding th' explanations now 
 Which priest and neighbour crave, 
 
 With quick impatient step the tramp 
 Directly seeks " the cave." 
 
 (The ancient cave anent the Kirk, 
 O'erarch'd with reddish stone, 
 
 Whose dripping ceiling water yields 
 When elsewhere there is none. 
 
 Dear grotto ! Summer's cool retreat, 
 And scene of youth's brief joys ; 
 
 How often have I tired thy eaves 
 With feats of tuneless noise !) 
 
THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 223 
 
 Emerging from its cool recess 
 
 With a casket somewhat soil'd, 
 He spurned all converse long or short 
 
 With woman, man, or child. 
 
 With quick'ning pace he reach'd the Inn 
 
 The " big House " of Drumore, 
 Whence, on the right, he pass'd " the brow," 
 
 And cross'd Coliska moor. 
 
 Homewards the parish pastor stroll'd, 
 
 Deep musing on the scene 
 He lately saw, and struggled hard 
 
 Its secret drift to glean. 
 
 Some mourners now were leaving th' Inn, 
 
 And seeking their abode : 
 A few maintained a steady gait ; 
 
 More staggered on the road 
 
 In front of th' Inn the pastor meets 
 
 Macvoolin and a friend ; 
 Their greeting o'er, with one consent 
 
 Into the howff they wend. 
 
 'Mid various talk, Macvoolin asks 
 
 What that same letter meant 
 Which he submitted to the priest, 
 
 And for perusal lent. 
 
224 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 Right modestly the priest replies : 
 " The task exceeds my pow'r : 
 
 My list of studies knoweth not 
 The Spanish tongue and lore." 
 
 His interview beside the Kirk 
 With th' olive-colour'd caird 
 
 He told ; while Wilson 's sunk in reverie, 
 And wonder wrapt the laird. 
 
 " You move surprise, my worthy host " 
 ('Twas thus Tom Wilson spoke), 
 
 " That my experience abroad 
 You strangely overlook. 
 
 " The Spanish tongue was th' only speech 
 
 For years I daily used ; 
 'Tis long ago ! Your oversight 
 
 May justly be excused. 
 
 " But had the letter met my eyes 
 The minute when 'twas found : 
 
 I'd weave, perhaps, a web wherein 
 The spider might be wound." 
 
 Meanwhile the tender eye of grief 
 
 For recent loss sustain'd, 
 On small writ lines can scarcely brook 
 
 To have its vision strain'd. 
 
THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 225 
 
 " May 't please you, pastor, ere I go, 
 
 To visit Killocraw, 
 Where this same note I'll strive to con 
 
 By Grammar's light and law." 
 
 " A fortnight hence, let me observe," 
 
 Quoth Voolin in his turn, 
 " We may inaugurate the bridge 
 
 Across the fatal burn : 
 
 " Be that occasion duly seized 
 
 To serve a double end : 
 The priest will bless the finish'd work, 
 
 And hear my ' learned friend.' " 
 
 Agreed : the pastor hands the scroll 
 
 To Voolin's aged guest, 
 While full approval of the plan 
 
 In chorus all attest. 
 
 To promise true the genial priest 
 
 The family circle joins, 
 To hear the sailor, versed in tongues, 
 
 Translate the beggar's lines. 
 
 Surprise with horror and dismay 
 
 The group's attention feeds, 
 The while the purport of the scroll 
 
 The rescued linguist reads : 
 
226 THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 
 
 " Your luckless ventures, son, affect me much ; 
 Still more your spouse's whims my feelings touch. 
 With Bell of Ballevain your loss you'd mend, 
 And Fortune's frowns might yet in favours end. 
 Like me, perhaps, in scheming you excel, 
 Which melts in air although it promised well. 
 Misfortune lures me to a hopeful scheme, 
 But stints my profits to a vacant dream. 
 Malignant, perverse, strange fatality, 
 Or higher pow'r (if higher power there be), 
 One season smiles upon my well-laid plans, 
 The next, to ruin all my skill trepans ; 
 Till now on life's last verge I barely own 
 A scrimp return for what my hand has sown. 
 
 " Fatigued with failures I have come again 
 
 To seek the casket hid in Paisley Glen. 
 
 Its legend may a lucky sequel show : 
 
 ' Who owns the casket want shall never know.' 
 
 The leathern bag (of which you've been informed) 
 
 I fail'd to find, and hurried off alarmed. 
 
 " Alas ! alarms have often chill'd my breast, 
 
 Turn'd day to night then scared my night's brief rest. 
 
 In fine,' I beg your promise you'll fulfil, 
 
 To meet me at th' appointed ' Poochan well.' 
 
 Till fate arrests the currents of my veins 
 
 Eniac. J. your loving sire remains." 
 
THE WRECKER'S LETTER. 227 
 
 " Eniac J.," quoth Wilson at the close, 
 
 " Revers'd, J. Caine, the name and surname shows. 
 
 Renounce your faith, deluded seed of Caine, 
 
 That with the casket real good you'll gain. 
 
 That casket once was mine until that year 
 
 Caine play'd the traitor in Chili and here. 
 
 A Spaniard pressed me to accept the boon 
 
 As partial payment for a service done. 
 
 Its generous legend casually I observed, 
 
 And own'd it promised more than I deserved. 
 
 ' Who owns the casket want shall never know,' 
 
 Such was its motto graven in a row. 
 
 ' What shall,' quoth I, ' the owner never want ? ' 
 
 The Spaniard vow'd ' He'll ne'er a casket want ! ' " 
 
 Now who can tell with truth and will, 
 Like Bannatyne of High Barnhill, 
 Of Torquil, farmer, laird, and friend 
 To all from Tarbert to Southend ? 
 The sweetly-smiling kindly man 
 Thus o'er a favourite topic ran : 
 
228 TORQUIL. 
 
 TORQUIL. 
 
 LAIRD TORQUIL'S will was parish law 
 
 From Barr to Kilmahoe ; 
 Who did him service very soon 
 
 To fame was sure to grow.' 
 
 His ploughmen turned the cleanest rigs 
 
 On stubble land or lea ; 
 At every " Show " his horse or bull 
 
 Unchallenged bore the gree. 
 
 He tossed the bar or heaved the stone 
 
 An ell or two at least 
 Beyond all rivals in the Shire, 
 
 From North, South, West, or East. 
 
 Who could like Torquil thread the maze 
 
 Of jig, strathspey, or reel; 
 Or balance the fantastic toe 
 
 Against the steady heel ? 
 
 Who challenged Torquil in the ring 
 To test his might and main, 
 
 Was never heard to breathe a wish 
 To feel his grip again. 
 
TORQUIL. 229 
 
 On Ballochantee's sloggy shore, 
 
 Or Pans' wide stretching green, 
 At shinty play on any day 
 
 His match was never seen. 
 
 On choosing " sides " his ashen club 
 
 Was match'd against a pair ; 
 His fly-lick stroke from dale to dale 
 
 Left little space to spare. 
 
 At Fairs he 's first, for friendship's cup, 
 
 To clink the shilling down ; 
 He 's first to fill his crony's quaich, 
 
 And last to charge his own. 
 
 No sturdier flank e'er propp'd a wight 
 
 Of thrawn, unequal gait ; 
 No steadier hand a toper steer'd 
 
 However far or late. 
 
 To build a cot for th' old or poor 
 
 He lent the amplest help : 
 His men and carts, unask'd, were sent 
 
 To drive their peats or kelp. 
 
 Ne'er stung he neighbours with a jibe, 
 
 Or dealt th' aggressive blow ; 
 Yet comrades found his arm a shield 
 
 Against the bragging foe. 
 
230 TORQUIL. 
 
 With Torquil's ways, and Torquil's views, 
 
 The Parish was content ; 
 The priest might risk to change its creed 
 
 If Torquil bowed assent. 
 
 If rent from cotter in a strait 
 
 The farmer fail'd to get, 
 He never dunn'd them for the score 
 
 He scarcely deem'd it debt. 
 
 Though many a caird from far or near, 
 
 By night as well 's by day, 
 Paid keen attention to his stacks 
 
 Of peats, or pease, or hay ; 
 
 Yet Torquil, though he saw the raid, 
 Scarce thought the stacks were his; 
 
 Or if he mark'd the "set" at all, 
 Twas not to ban but bless ! 
 
 Though guileless as a new-born babe, 
 
 In conscious virtue bold, 
 He blush'd but not for self when tongues 
 
 The faults of others told. 
 
 Yet he whose manly generous warmth 
 
 The rich and needy prove, 
 Now smarts with anguish from the chill 
 
 Of interrupted love. 
 
TORQUIL. 231 
 
 Than all the lasses of Kintyre, 
 
 On hill, or dale, or plain, 
 The nearest to his bosom's core 
 
 Was Bell of Ballevain. 
 
 She loved in turn ; for none besides 
 
 Did the maiden live or care ; 
 The day was fixed when Bella vow'd 
 
 That Torquil's lot she 'd share. 
 
 A trip to Glasgow, ere the day, 
 
 Th' appointed bridal morn, 
 Was urged by friends, who press'd the maid 
 
 The rustic laird to spurn. 
 
 Hemm'd in by watchful kith and kin, 
 
 A month from home she spent ; 
 And to a flattering rival's hand 
 
 She sigh'd a forced assent 
 
 But countering tricks of skilful play, 
 
 With still a stronger card, 
 The maiden flees St Mungo's bounds, 
 
 And dupes her wily guard. 
 
 With joy unmix'd her kinsfolk learn 
 
 On better fate she fell : 
 The " rival " prov'd a worthless sham, 
 
 Who 'scaped a prison cell ! 
 
232 TORQUIL. 
 
 Torquil, assured his darling's heart 
 'Mid every change was true, 
 
 Was prompt to give her welcome back, 
 And marriage pledge renew. 
 
 With willing, fond, yet grave consent 
 The bridal day was named ; 
 
 Within the ancient fane at Cleat 
 The banns were thrice proclaim'd. 
 
 To join two rites, the Parish vow'd 
 To cope the " union " bridge 
 
 The day that Torquil and his bride 
 Fulfilled their nuptial pledge. 
 
 From every farm and every hut, 
 For miles, from north and south, 
 
 The people throng'd to place a stone 
 To help the bridge's growth. 
 
 All voted that the helpful laird 
 Two tablet stones should set, 
 
 In solemn pomp before the crowd, 
 In either parapet. 
 
 Th' appointed day the long'd-for day 
 Of joy and temper'd mirth 
 
 Arose propitious : Heav'n's bright orb 
 Shed smiling beams on earth. 
 
TORQUIL. 233 
 
 At noon a multitude possess'd 
 
 The bank on either side ; 
 Not more to scan the tiny bridge 
 
 Than see the winsome bride. 
 
 The pair espous'd select a spot 
 
 On either side the stream, 
 Whence, aided, both could join their hands, 
 
 And courtship's troth redeem. 
 
 At given sign they lave their hands, 
 
 Then joined them o'er the flood, 
 While music rose from waterfalls 
 
 And warblers of the wood. 
 
 With more than customary zeal 
 
 The pastor sealed their bond ; 
 His prayers for their future weal 
 
 The gathering echoed round. 
 
 " Born," adds the priest, " on north or south 
 
 Of this now mystic stream, 
 May this your bond your people bind 
 
 In deed, as well 's in name." 
 
 The happy pair then mount the bridge, 
 
 And on its centre stand, 
 Till Torquil should the tablets fix 
 
 With mason-guided hand. 
 
234 TORQUIL. 
 
 A legend on one slab is cut 
 
 At liberal Torquil's cost ; 
 But in return the donor's name 
 
 A niche therein may boast. 
 
 The stones being set, the pastor pray'd :- 
 
 " Be this memorial 
 A symbol of good faith and love 
 
 'Twixt rich, poor, great, and small. 
 
 " Let all who, crushed by loss or crime, 
 Shall press on either stone, 
 
 Here cease to bear remorse or care, 
 Or Fortune's frown bemoan. 
 
 " If feuds with neighbours or with kin 
 Have marr'd their bosom's peace, 
 
 Here may they catch the social flame, 
 And surly rancour cease." 
 
 A deep " Amen " from sturdy throats 
 Concludes th' impressive rites ; 
 
 Then motley crowds disperse for home 
 To glens or moorland heights. 
 
 And Killocraw's subdued abode 
 
 Receives its tenants, too ; 
 With Thomas Wilson of the Barns, 
 
 And Kaye of Molochdoo. 
 
THE SMUGGLERS VAULT. 235 
 
 Thus Bannatyne his chapter traced, 
 And with a draught his spirits braced. 
 Anon he summons neighbour Kerr, 
 Of legend-lore to give his share ; 
 For Kerr of Paisley Farm was strong 
 In legends varied brief or long 
 Traditions doled from sire to son 
 Within his family long had run ; 
 With greedy ear he caught the strain, 
 And loved to tell them o'er again. 
 Some local themes of various dates 
 The Paisley Tenant thus relates : 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS' VAULT. 
 
 A SCORE of years be 't less or more 
 Had run their chequered course 
 
 Since Caine at Paisley disappeared 
 " For better or for worse," 
 
 When one sweet eve, as Arran's peaks 
 
 Reflect the sun's soft rays, 
 A yawl in snug Lochranza bay 
 
 Her tiny anchor weighs. 
 
 Across for Saddell bay she steers 
 With a fresh and rising breeze ; 
 
 And thus the craft, on nearing home, 
 Shipped several drenching seas. 
 
236 THE SMUGGLERS VAULT. 
 
 Arrived at length, and soak'd with spray, 
 Right fain to reach the land, 
 
 One passenger, robust and lithe, 
 Sprang forth upon the sand. 
 
 He seems in years beyond his prime, 
 But not impair'd by years ; 
 
 The rarest sprinkling of grey hairs 
 In tresses blond appears. 
 
 He walk'd, impatient, from the beach 
 
 Toward the ancient Inn : 
 Yet entered not its cosy bield, 
 
 But pass'd, and sought the " Glen." 
 
 The Antiquary's tame pursuits 
 
 Lay little in his way ; 
 Else, here o'er relics he had spent 
 
 A more than common day. 
 
 Here sculptured emblematic slabs 
 On chieftains' tombs repose, 
 
 Whose records, graved in graphic signs, 
 Old Highland traits disclose. 
 
 Here Somerled of ancient fame 
 Has found his resting-place, 
 
 Though monarch of the Western Isles, 
 And foremost of his race. 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 237 
 
 Half-way across the rugged moors 
 
 That stretch from sea to sea, 
 At midnight here a man he sees, 
 
 Where none he thought should be. 
 
 Then both, for reasons not avow'd, 
 
 But doubtless may be guess'd, 
 Took flight to shun the fiend unknown, 
 
 And conscious faults confess'd. 
 
 A furlong had the traveller cleared 
 
 O'er brackens stiff and burned, 
 When from the yielding ground beneath 
 
 A hollow clang returned. 
 
 A double terror thus assail'd 
 
 What pluck he still retained ; 
 And, finding motion led to scrapes, 
 
 Awhile he there remain'd. 
 
 Some minutes held him, racked with doubt, 
 
 Upon the blasted heath : 
 'Twas hard to choose 'twixt fiends above 
 
 And ogres hid beneath. 
 
 But " private reasons " urged the plea 
 
 'Twas wiser now to go, 
 As moving forms were more to dread 
 
 Than clanging elves below. 
 
238 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 
 
 Onward he crept on all his fours, 
 
 Four yards or maybe five, 
 When suddenly the earth gave way, 
 
 And buried him alive ! 
 
 The rumbling din had scarcely ceased 
 When accents hoarse were heard : 
 
 " The demon that has sent you here, 
 Here gives you your reward ! " 
 
 A struggle to escape the doom 
 These awful terms convey'd, 
 
 Served but to plunge him deeper still 
 In depths of turf and shade. 
 
 Descending sheer through twigs and clods 
 That form'd the fragile door, 
 
 He forced the ceiling of a hut, 
 And bump'd upon the floor. 
 
 Chill horror froze his bones and brain 
 Forerunner of his doom 
 
 When Fancy conjures up the thought 
 He sinks in rayless gloom 1 
 
 But darkness he might well prefer 
 
 To the nether lurid light, 
 Whose service dimly set in view 
 
 A hairy half-clad wight ! 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 239 
 
 From th' opposite corner of the " toor " * 
 
 This type of savage life 
 Advances, halts, then, wildly fierce, 
 
 Unsheathes a burnish'd knife ! 
 
 With counter pluck the traveller 
 
 Display'd a weapon, too ; 
 A handy pistol from his breast 
 
 With equal haste he drew. 
 
 The blade and trigger " lie in rest," 
 
 An instant death to deal ; 
 When scowling on his fancied foe 
 
 Outspake the moorland chiel : 
 
 " My curse upon that faithless ' guard ' 
 
 I sent to watch the lea ; 
 That fate were better thrust on him 
 
 That's now prepared for thee. 
 
 " For a pistol in a trembling hand 
 
 In aim is won't to fail ; 
 But see this point ! 'Tis sharp and stout 
 
 To pierce a coat of mail. 
 
 " Yet heart I've not, within this hut, 
 
 To sned your thread of life, 
 For though I am a smuggler bred, 
 
 I'm not a man of strife." 
 * Vault. 
 
240 THE SMLGGLEFS VAULT. 
 
 " And I believe in you as man 
 
 A like forbearance lies ; 
 The rigour you assert you show 
 
 As servant of th' Excise. 
 
 " Let 's part in peace ; your life I'll spare- 
 
 You're free to go away, 
 On this condition that you'll swear 
 
 This ' toor ' you'll not betray. 
 
 " If after this unbought release 
 You do me wrong or skaith, 
 
 There 's not a man that bears my name 
 That won't design your death." 
 
 Down fell their fury with these words 
 Their weapons dropped as well, 
 
 And startled Peace her pinions press'd, 
 And lingered in the cell. 
 
 " 'Tis ignorance befools our minds," 
 
 The traveller observes, 
 As now he joins to mental calm 
 
 New vigour in his nerves. 
 
 " Your first and wild intent," quoth he, 
 " To stain your trenchant blade, 
 
 Provokes less wonder than the ruth 
 That now forgives my raid. 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VA UL T. 24 1 
 
 " And, now at once to end the fears 
 
 Your trade, I see, creates, 
 I'll draw aside the veil that hides 
 
 How one his fellow hates. 
 
 " I'm no Exciseman ! " Hereupon 
 
 The maltster shored his flask, 
 Well filled with " browst " as keen as e'er, 
 
 Had guggled from a cask. 
 
 " You're no Exciseman ! That's enough," 
 
 Quoth Callum of the Glen ; 
 " Ye noo may be Auld Nick himsel' 
 
 For ocht I care or ken. 
 
 " Come, gie 's your han', and sit ye doon, 
 
 And let us hear your crack ; 
 For, saving this bit toil in maut, 
 
 O' wark I'm unco slack. 
 
 " Though wha ye are and whence ye cam 
 
 I winna rudely spier, 
 Yet, gin ye hae a mind to tell, 
 
 I'll no objek to hear." 
 
 " Not much of business have I," 
 
 (So answer'd Callum's guest :) 
 " Scarce more than whims have drawn me on 
 
 To stride your moorland's crest. 
 Q 
 
242 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 
 
 " My backward route to Saddell Glen 
 I just had turned to trace, 
 
 When lo ! a figure started up, 
 And peer'd into my face. 
 
 " Disdaining converse with the loon 
 1 changed my course a bit, 
 
 And here I am, to find your howff 
 Requires a little wit. 
 
 " But, by the by, what lurking cause 
 Could that strange ring produce 
 
 That answered to my bounding spring 
 On rubbish soft and loose ? 
 
 " 'Tis but a little space from hence, 
 And eastward on the lea ; 
 
 Had I some leisure at the time 
 The cause I'd try to see." 
 
 " 'Tis ignorance disturbs our mind," 
 Quotes Callum to his guest : 
 
 " The sound came from a Whisky still 
 Now gone to rust and rest. 
 
 " Confounded be that imp you met 
 Upon the upland stretch ; 
 
 I'll turn a gimlet in his lug 
 
 When next he 's 'neath my thatch. 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT, 243 
 
 " My orders to conceal that " still " 
 
 In some far distant bog, 
 From your remark I learn have been 
 
 Neglected by the dog. 
 
 "But hark ! Is that his well-known tread 
 
 Upon the moss-clad stone ? 
 My signal, if he's near at hand, 
 
 Will bring him here anon." 
 
 He whistled shrill, and, quick as sound. 
 
 There entered from the roof, 
 A frame which, free to join the pair, 
 
 Kept for a while aloof. 
 
 The meagre phantom seem'd t' abjure 
 
 Fowl, mutton, beef, and fish, 
 And sworn, in penance for his "trade," 
 
 To mortify the flesh. 
 
 Then by and by he nearer drew, 
 
 And caught (from will or chance) 
 Of the stranger's form and size and face 
 
 A shrewd but hasty glance. 
 
 " A better guard you'd better keep," 
 
 Said Callum of the Glen ; 
 In future don't be caught asleep : 
 
 You hear, my bonnie man ? 
 
244 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 
 
 " I hope you went to Carradale, 
 And bargained wi' oor frien' : 
 
 If so, prepare the kegs and jars 
 Against to-morrow's e'en. 
 
 " What news are going in the bay 
 That 's worth to tell or hear ? 
 
 Hast heard about the new-made still, 
 Or latest price of beare ? " 
 
 " No muckle news aboot the bay, 
 Least-ways there 's nane o' wecht, 
 
 The Whusky stull will no be hame 
 Tull, aiblins, Foorsday nicht. 
 
 "That very nicht a sturdy band 
 Wull bring 't to Paisley ' brig/ 
 
 And gin th' Excise oppose, they'll die 
 Rather than quarter beg. 
 
 " The gangers search a' pits an' holes 
 For something they hae smelt, 
 
 But if they grup wi' smuggler chaps, 
 A hantle maun be kill't. 
 
 " They tell me, too, a stranger chap 
 Frae Arran Isle has come, 
 
 A son of Caine, who foully wrong'd 
 Fair Mary of the Drum." 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 245 
 
 This said, gaunt Ruary turn'd away, 
 
 And ceas'd a courier's task. 
 The stranger, restless, somewhat pale, 
 
 Begg'd Callum's bracing flask ! 
 
 The " figure," whom his master dubb'd 
 
 A harum-scarum dolt, 
 Stalk'd back again and flung him down 
 
 Upon the levell'd malt. 
 
 And, for a pillow, both his hands 
 
 He placed beneath his head, 
 Then feigned to close his ears and eyes 
 
 To what was done or said. 
 
 " Now," quoth the alien, " since our friend 
 
 Seems overcome with sleep, 
 " Why trust your safety thus to one 
 
 Who can't a secret keep ? 
 
 " That I am not a gauger, how 
 
 Should this dull fellow know ? 
 For aught he knows, his talk of " stills " 
 
 In me might wake a foe ! 
 
 " Such want of caution, I suppose, 
 
 One may to this ascribe 
 That you, the smugglers, seldom see 
 
 This hated gauger tribe. 
 
246 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 
 
 11 Yet though much fewer risks you run 
 
 In this unlawful trade, 
 Better than join 't, by burning kelp 
 
 I'd earn my daily bread. 
 
 " Ev'n though a pittance fair you gain, 
 
 Tis gained at heavy cost : 
 By lawless traffic, great or small, 
 
 Your sense of virtue's lost. 
 
 " The debt you owe your neighbours near 
 
 The poorest of you own ; 
 While Conscience lets the man of wealth 
 
 Withhold it from the Throne. 
 
 " Through youth and manhood, ay, to age, 
 
 Your morals bear a taint ; 
 Ev'n when your priests are heard to scold 
 
 Rebuke is rarely meant. 
 
 " The State must soon to ruin run 
 
 If subjects scorn her laws ; 
 She thrives to-day, for patriot men 
 
 Befriend her righteous cause. 
 
 " How can a people, lax and lost 
 
 In merchandise like this, 
 Have right to rank in Honour's clan 
 
 Or taste of Virtue's bliss ? " 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 247 
 
 So ends the traveller's stilted theme, 
 
 But ends without applause ; 
 Of th' audience one seem'd fast asleep, 
 
 The other bann'd his " laws." 
 
 The maltster's matted, shaggy locks 
 
 Stood stiff as heather stems ; 
 And swearing by a smuggler's gods, 
 
 He thus, in turn, declaims : 
 
 " Your preach, my man, is very goot, 
 
 Your practice I don't know ; 
 But, by my sang, you better quat 
 
 Than ruffle Callum Gow. 
 
 " Ye've just hae preach'd aboot the Throne, 
 
 And what the Throne should get ; 
 I'm thinkin' that through you and more 
 
 The Throne's owre fat a pet. 
 
 " The Throne's nae better than it's ca'd, 
 
 By a' its mongrel friends ; 
 It scrapes its gear wi' greedy han's, 
 
 And cares na for the means. 
 
 " The Parliament chaps that maks the laws 
 
 For a' folks but themsels, 
 Are just but smugglers in disguise, 
 
 Withoot the cost o' " Stills/ 1 
 
248 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 
 
 " They eke a kingdom here and there, 
 
 To many grabb'd before, 
 And smuggle treaties with their kings, 
 
 With speech in cannon's roar. 
 
 " If what we do offends a law, 
 They smash a law as weel ; 
 
 But wi' this difference that they sin 
 Upon a lairger scale. 
 
 " We're chairg'd for a' we buy and eat, 
 We're chairg'd for what we do \ 
 
 And ay the mair we toil and sweat, 
 The mair ye say we're due. 
 
 " What richt hae lairds or lords to know 
 What money smugglers mak ? 
 
 Why don't they tax the Fermers, too, 
 For every cheese and stack ? 
 
 "The smuggling chaps are just as gude 
 
 As any folk ye'll name ; 
 The Clergy never fashes us 
 
 We seldom trouble them. 
 
 " To rob a foreigner o' his ain 
 Is meanness in th' extreme; 
 
 To keep frae countrymen oor ain 
 Not e'en a saint could blame. 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 249 
 
 " Ye 've seen the warst that 's kent o' me, 
 
 Nane here kens ocht o' you ; 
 Perhaps the folk that ken you best 
 
 Condemn your traffic too. 
 
 " The loodest-tongued in virtue's praise 
 
 Whiles wound her honour most ; 
 On th' other han' her honest sons 
 
 Despise the spouter's boast. 
 
 " There 's many a wark much waur than oors, 
 
 If putten to the test ; " 
 " O ! ay," quoth Ruary, 'twixt his snores, 
 " A Wreckers 'mang the rest." 
 
 " Don 't mind the chiel," quoth Callum Gow, 
 
 He 's dreaming o' a ' wreck ' 
 That happened doon near Paisley shore 
 
 Twa scores o' summers back." 
 
 Swift as a weasel flees its foe 
 
 And quits the threshing floor, 
 The stranger sprang from ground to roof, 
 
 And vanish 'd in the moor. 
 
 " Stop ! wrecker's spawn," roar'd Ruary Ard, 
 " The flask you've ta'en restore us. 
 
 Ye micht at least before ye gae'd 
 Hae tasted ' Deoch an doras.' " * 
 
 * The stirrup-cup. 
 
250 THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT 
 
 " His manner's saucy, Ruary, lad, 
 
 I, Callum, must admit ; 
 Ken ye the chiel ye wrecker ca'd, 
 
 And gar'd so fast to flit ? " 
 
 " A bow at venture I have drawn, 
 
 And hit the mark, I trow; 
 Richt through the harness sped the dart 
 
 What think ye, Callum Gow ? " 
 
 " He's come, I guess, to seek the bag 
 
 Once hid in Paisley Glen ; 
 But I could tell him, had he ax'd, 
 
 Twere best were 't taken then. 
 
 " On southern brink o' yon grim glen 
 There juts a tapering rock ; 
 
 Frae Paisley shore by a' the warl' 
 It's like an anvil's block. 
 
 " Ae day my uncle rode its peak, 
 And, turning back, he see'd 
 
 A leather strap below its root 
 From cover partly freed. 
 
 " That bag, which once his father stole 
 
 From Tangytavil's beach, 
 My uncle drew from holes as deep 
 
 As far 's his hand could reach." 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S VAULT. 251 
 
 " What did he wi' it, Ruary, frien' ? 
 
 Was't keepit for himsel ? " 
 " Na, na, he gaed to Campbelton 
 
 To gar them ring the ' bell.' 
 
 " But some ane said the Custom Hoose 
 
 Aye claims what comes ashore ; 
 Sae, to the offisher he gangs, 
 
 Wha straight the wallet tore. 
 
 " But what was in 't I never heerd ; 
 
 Yet some offishal said : 
 ' This day next week, my man, come back, 
 
 Ye'll find your service weigh'd.' 
 
 " He gaed fu' gleg, ye may be sure, 
 
 And gat a bonnie sum ; 
 A share, I'm told, was sent abroad 
 
 To Mary o' the Drum." 
 
 " Ah ! Ruary," chuckled Callum Gow, 
 
 When Ruary's screed was done ; 
 " Noo, had oor guest the wallet fand, 
 
 Wad he gie it to the Throne ?" 
 
 " To-morrow nicht," quoth Callum's jo, 
 
 . I'll skulk in Paisley Glen ; 
 I'm sure to meet the scoondrel there, 
 Or track him if I can." 
 
252 PAISLEY BRIG. 
 
 PAISLEY BRIG. 
 
 THE hour past gloaming's sober hue 
 
 Had run its midway course, 
 When Sterne, Inspector of Excise, 
 
 Dismounted from his horse. 
 
 A stranger prowling near the shore 
 
 Had hinted to his men, 
 A smuggling corps that very night 
 
 Would muster in the glen. 
 
 Twas near the narrow ancient bridge 
 Due north from Paisley Farm, 
 
 Where smugglers used to watch their foe, 
 And sound the due alarm. 
 
 A straight and lengthen'd lonely road 
 
 Conjoins its northern end ; 
 An opposite path severe and steep 
 
 Assumes a sudden bend. 
 
 Dense tangled mops of hazel trees, 
 With frowsy shrubs between, 
 
 Impend, far-stretching, sloping banks 
 Till scarce a patch is seen. 
 
PAISLEY BRIG. 253 
 
 Betwixt its banks, profusely fring'd 
 
 With duckweed, broom, and fern, 
 There runs a copious brawling stream, 
 
 Brown as its parent tarn. 
 
 Now, by a chief who shrewdly notes 
 
 The fittest lurking ground, 
 A better ambush for a " force " 
 
 Was ne'er designed nor found. 
 
 Sterne for a while in silent thought 
 
 Beside his charger stood, 
 Until he saw who seem'd a spy 
 
 Emerging from a wood. 
 
 'Twas Ruary, who as fleet 's a roe, 
 
 All runners else outstripp'd ; 
 Two " men " pursuing hoped to seize, 
 
 And have the fellow whipp'd. 
 
 On the lonely road there lies a cairn, 
 
 Where every pilgrim stops, 
 And drops a stone to raise a " tomb " 
 
 Where shepherds found a corpse. 
 
 When passing this funereal mound, 
 
 The smuggler, free from fear, 
 Wheel'd round and saw the foremost " man " 
 
 Ten paces to the rear. 
 
254 PAISLEY BRIG. 
 
 Finding his match for speed he clutch'd 
 A pounder from the mound, 
 
 Then from a sure, left-handed fling, 
 '* Pursuer" bit the ground. 
 
 The other learn'd discretion now, 
 And ceased the mad pursuit : 
 
 He fear'd a second " tomb " might rise- 
 Perhaps his own to boot. 
 
 Just then a signal from a scout 
 Put Sterne upon his guard ; 
 
 For other rivals now appear'd, 
 More terrible than Ard. 
 
 ** Now, Adjutant, let every man 
 
 His cutlass hold in hand ; 
 And let us crush, this very night, 
 
 This daring rebel band." 
 
 The scout was heard (but scarcely seen) 
 
 To hurry down the brae, 
 And, on arriving at the bridge, 
 
 Reports, without delay : 
 
 u A numerous squad appears to guard 
 The carriage and the 'Still.' 
 
 The moment ; s precious : hear their din ! 
 They're winding round the hill." 
 
PAISLEY BRIG. 255 
 
 By rapid signs from hand and voice 
 
 The chief arranged his " Staff;" 
 While hollow'd slopes and rocks return'd 
 
 The hurrying smugglers' laugh. 
 
 When half across the scanty bridge, 
 
 The convoy faintly hear 
 The trampling of approaching steps 
 
 In front, in flank, and rear. 
 
 " Surrender," in stentorian tone, 
 
 Inspector Sterne exclaim'd ; 
 He scarce had order'd, when a club 
 
 Against his head was aim'd. 
 
 (The rumour ran was Rum6ur true ? 
 
 Thine, Campbell, was the arm 
 That rais'd a weapon 'twixt the two, 
 
 And stay'd impending harm, 
 
 Thy cutlass, clansman, firmly clench'd, 
 
 Surpris'd the sanguine foe ; 
 With quicker slash the chief you fenc'd, 
 
 And laid th' assailant low. 
 
 For this, mayhap, the Muses thus 
 
 Enshrine thy martial name : 
 Through Burns, their son, thy Mary lives 
 
 In never-dying fame.) 
 
256 PAISLEY BRIG. 
 
 Resistance aim'd at legal pow'r 
 
 Retort in turn provoked : 
 For in a trice Misrule and Law 
 
 In deadly grip were lock'd. 
 
 Now, man to man, and fist to fist, 
 
 On fair and open field, 
 A Highland tike will face his match, 
 
 And scorn, till death, to yield ; 
 
 But much it gall'd the clannish host 
 That close fight they maintain 
 
 With, chiefly, saplings long and soft, 
 'Gainst weapons short and keen. 
 
 Hither and thither on the bridge, 
 On heath, and rock, and sward, 
 
 The conflict sway'd as either foe 
 Preferr'd to strike or guard. 
 
 Here combatants contend in groups, 
 And there in single pairs : 
 
 While both are brave, the loss of blood 
 The smugglers' vigour wears. 
 
 Yet Fortune, eyeing with concern 
 The strife's unequal terms, 
 
 The plucky clansman aids at times 
 And th' officers disarms. 
 
PAISLEY BRIG. 257 
 
 The mountaineers by force or skill 
 
 The enemy throw or trip, 
 And then th' exulting victors wrest 
 
 The cutlass from their grip. 
 
 Then woe betide the prostrate frames, 
 
 Or theirs who upright stand, 
 Who feel the weight of stick or dag 
 
 Descending in their hand. 
 
 " Surrender, villains ! " muttered Sterne, 
 
 In now a fainting tone ; 
 And adds anon " Support me, men ; 
 
 I'm cloven to the bone." 
 
 The rumour flies to friend and foe 
 
 That Sterne's career is o'er ; 
 With strange consent the carnage ends, 
 
 And weapons clash no more. 
 
 The smugglers fled the officers learn'd 
 
 The peril of their chief, 
 And bore him toward Paisley Farm 
 
 For refuge and relief. 
 
 Arriving at the nearest bend 
 
 Where two straight roads divide, 
 The ghastly leader heard it said 
 
 They meant to turn aside. 
 R 
 
258 PAISLEY BRIG. 
 
 But, feebly raising up his foot, 
 Sterne press'd it 'gainst a stone, 
 
 And vow'd he 'd enter ne'er a house, 
 Though there he'd die alone ! 
 
 While consultation 'mong his friends 
 
 Occasioned some delay, 
 Towards the motley gathering crowd 
 
 A stranger made his way. 
 
 With quiet step he moved about, 
 And scann'd each form and face, 
 
 Till, singling out a special man, 
 He dogg'd his every pace. 
 
 A cutlass, resting on a stone, 
 The prowling villain found, 
 
 And rushing on he smote his man, 
 And stretch'd him on the ground. 
 
 The startled crowd o'erheard the blow, 
 And fear'd a second death ; 
 
 Ruary was lifted off the road 
 Caine bolted for the heath ! 
 
 As Kerr his tale brought to a close 
 The audience from the table rose ; 
 
PATCHEN. 25$ 
 
 Yet different thoughts their minds possess'd, 
 And diverse feelings moved their breast 
 The stranger, seeming daz'd and dumb, 
 With furtive glances left the room ; 
 Nor press'd, that night, his wonted bed, 
 But from the Inn abruptly fled. 
 
 PATCHEN. 
 
 YOUNG Ruary Ard of Tayinloan, 
 
 And Quig of Lagnagar, 
 O'er steaming tumblers join'd " mine host " 
 
 Of th' old Inn of Glenbarr. 
 
 The longest hour of night had pass'd, 
 
 And morning just begun ; 
 And many a social song and jest 
 
 Their fleeting course had run. 
 
 " My lads, you both have come from town," 
 
 Observes the mellow host ; 
 " Pray, tell me what you Ve heard or seen 
 
 By clachan, road, or coast." 
 
 " M'Quig, you live in Campbellton, 
 Where Rumour plies her trade ; 
 
 The latest news I 'd gladly hear 
 About the quick or dead. 
 
26o PATCHEN. 
 
 " My story's quick," replies M'Quig, 
 " The word my theme recalls 
 
 The subject of it converse stirs 
 In shops, in streets and halls : 
 
 " A stranger (so he seem'd awhile), 
 Grave, stalwart, somewhat grey, 
 
 Was lately rescued from the wreck 
 That strew'd Dunarty Bay. 
 
 " Some days he tarried in Ceannloch, 
 
 Attent, but scant of speech ; 
 But fragments of remarks, though brief, 
 
 Did senior people reach. 
 
 " But yester eve, beside the Dam 
 That 's westward from the town, 
 
 Mulloy the maltster of Millknowe 
 I chanced to meet, alone. 
 
 " ' In friendship's mood,' quoth I, * my lad, 
 Why bend your head so low ? 
 
 What may the theme be, pray, whereon 
 Reflection you bestow ? ' 
 
 " ' Last night,' the maltster made reply 
 
 (Oddly it so befel), 
 A group of us by concert met 
 
 Within the "Arms "Hotel. 
 
PATCHEN. 261 
 
 " ' A stranger so to some he seem'd 
 
 Had joined us at the Fair, 
 Where older eyes his features mark'd, 
 
 As oft they saw him there. 
 
 " ' Into the Inn we press'd the wight, 
 
 And taking, each, his cue 
 From the eldest members of our core, 
 
 A caitiff's course we drew. 
 
 " ' One sketch'd the bull fight at the Moy, 
 
 With Stirplot in the game ; 
 Another drew M'Cracken's wiles, 
 
 But used a borrow'd name. 
 
 " 'The story of the villain Caine, 
 
 The father's crimes reveal'd ; 
 His dire example in the son 
 
 Like fruit was thought to yield. 
 
 " ' The veteran long with unconcern 
 
 His history seem'd to hear, 
 Till, deeming danger lurk'd behind, 
 
 His looks betokened fear. 
 
 " ' Employing some adroit pretext 
 
 The room and Inn to quit, 
 He vanish'd from his doubtful friends 
 
 With mingled dread and hate. 
 
262 PA TCHEN. 
 
 " ' Suspicion runs that years ago 
 
 A sharper's trick he tried : 
 For payment of an ill-got cheque 
 
 To a bank the rogue applied. 
 
 " ' Appris'd of steps to prove his fraud 
 He vanished from the place ; 
 
 But, 'spite of speed and fair expense, 
 No search his course could trace. 
 
 " ' And some, convinc'd, the rogue connect 
 With that vile wrecker Caine ; 
 
 While others doubt so black a knave 
 Would venture there again. 
 
 " ' And yet have we not heard or known 
 
 The startled wandering hare, 
 Regardless of his scare at home, 
 
 Returns to seek his lair ? 
 
 " ' 'Twas noted by a social group, 
 
 In local legends read, 
 The stranger winced at stories told, 
 
 And rooted fear betray'd. 
 
 " ' Tis said a whisper reach'd his ear 
 
 Of rife suspicion stirr'd, 
 And that his exit from this place 
 
 His apprehensions spurr'd. 
 
PATCHEN. 263 
 
 " ' But quick and secret was the haste 
 
 Wherewith he quit the town, 
 And keen surmises are afloat 
 
 Both how and where he 's gone. 
 
 " ' At Lagnagar two days ago, 
 
 At early morn, afoot, 
 Myself I spied a man, unknown, 
 
 Swift past the clachan shoot. 
 
 " ' And later by a dozen hours 
 
 I mark'd the fellow's form 
 Midway betwixt the Paisley Brig 
 
 And old Macvoolin's farm. 
 
 " ' A pressing duty urged me then 
 
 The moorland path to tread, 
 And baulk'd me of an eager plan 
 
 To track the vet'ran blade.' " 
 
 So spake M'Quig. Next, Ruary adds : 
 
 " A stranger, now, I saw, 
 What time he scann'd the far-famed Bridge 
 
 That stands at Killocraw. 
 
 " ' Good day ! ' quoth I ('twas Sabbath Day) ; 
 
 ' You seem a stranger here ; 
 There was a time when hither flocked 
 
 Dense crowds from far and near. 
 
264 PATCHEN. 
 
 " ' But seldom now a stranger's seen 
 
 To hie him to this spot ; 
 And even natives bom, I fear, 
 
 Its story have forgot.' 
 
 " ' Pray, tell what charm enrich'd the bridge 
 
 Such homage to secure ? 
 And wherefore,' adds th' inquirer, 
 
 Does 't now no more allure ? ' 
 
 " ' Hast thou not heard, though elsewhere born, 
 
 Of either hallow'd stone, 
 Whose substance if a pilgrim touch'd, 
 
 He felt his cares were gone ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh ! tell me,' says the stranger, wan, 
 
 * Where lies that stone so blest, 
 That may give peace to careworn man, 
 
 And ease the laden breast ? ' 
 
 " ' Here stand no more the tablets dear ! ' 
 
 With sorrow I replied ; 
 1 Unhallow'd hands the bridge have sack'd, 
 
 And spoil'd it of its pride ! 
 
 " ' In Patchen churchyard, near Glenbarr, 
 
 (If rumour speaks aright,) 
 One tablet 's rooted in the sand, 
 
 And almost out of sight. 
 
PATCH EN. 265 
 
 "' A mausoleum, tall and stout, 
 
 A hero's dust confines ; 
 And 'gainst the turf that wraps his feet 
 
 The honour'd stone reclines. 
 
 " ' But whether still its virtues live 
 
 In new and alien soil, 
 'Twere hard to prove ; to clear the doubt 
 
 None face the risk or toil.' 
 
 " ' Inform me, Sir, if lofty walls, 
 
 With lock'd and sturdy gate, 
 Repel intruders from the tomb 
 
 At morning, noon, or late/ 
 
 " * An entrance is not hard to find, 
 
 I quickly made reply ; 
 ' And were it not the Sabbath day, 
 
 The passage you might try.' 
 
 " ' Be 't Sabbath day or holiday,' 
 
 Returned my desperate man, 
 ' What aids the end on which I'm bent 
 
 I'll compass if I can. 
 
 " " The better day, the better deed," 
 
 Tis thus your proverb runs ; 
 And who that values health or wealth 
 The means that bring them shuns,' 
 
266 PATCHEN. 
 
 " * Your doctrine 's wild and wicked, too,' 
 
 I ventured to aver ; 
 What blessings, think you, on your heart 
 
 Can sculptured slabs confer ? 
 
 " ' If Heaven's precepts good and wise 
 
 You wantonly reject, 
 What virtue can you in his works, 
 
 In Reason's name, expect ? ' 
 
 " * What ? ' says my querist, ' don't you know 
 
 Some tonic draughts we drink 
 Restore our vigour, whether right 
 
 Or foolishly we think ? 
 
 " ' Some fables taught me in my youth 
 
 I've long ago outgrown ; 
 All higher laws than Reason's light 
 
 I scornfully disown. 
 
 " ' Such glimmerings of a different lamp 
 
 As once my fancy moved, 
 Through flaws in some that praised its worth, 
 
 But fitful phantoms proved. 
 
 " ' But this prevents me not to wish 
 
 Your creed may solace you ; 
 And with best thanks for favour shown 
 
 1 bid you, Sir, Adieu ! ' " 
 
PATCHEN. 267 
 
 " This eve at Ballochantee Inn," 
 
 (Continued Ruary Ard,) 
 " I chanced to pass an hour or twain 
 
 With Coag of Glenacard. 
 
 " ' Rare are the news,' quoth Pate M'Coag, 
 
 ' That went their round yestreen ; 
 For curious records have been found 
 
 Hard by old Stewarton Inn. 
 
 " ' 'Mid other wreckage on the shore, 
 
 Heav'd up by the recent storm, 
 A case, much damaged, was picked up 
 
 Near Machririoch farm. 
 
 " ' A rescued youth the casket saw 
 
 In a fellow-passenger's hand ; 
 And others add, the veteran dropp'd 
 
 Such trifle on the strand. 
 
 " ' Within the case some letters lay 
 
 Both manifold and plain 
 To prove its owner was, in sooth, 
 
 Allied to felon Caine. 
 
 " ' But when or how the relic chanced 
 
 T' escape the owner's hand, 
 The finder and consulted mates 
 
 In doubting question stand. 
 
268 PATCHEN. 
 
 " ' And strange to tell, the rescued youth 
 
 Was found to be his son ; 
 For, though he bore an alien name, 
 
 His pedigree is known.' 
 
 " Now with these words M'Coag drew forth 
 
 The casket from his pouch ; 
 ' There, let the relic,' added he, 
 
 * My story's truth avouch. 
 
 " * To my own hand a neighbour swain 
 
 Entrusted it this morn ; 
 And begg'd I'd keep it till from " town," 
 
 This night he should return.' 
 
 " His tones scarce ended, when, behold ! 
 
 A side-door opened wide, 
 And towards our seat a stranger bold 
 
 Approach'd with hasty stride. 
 
 " ' I've heard it all I know the worst,' 
 
 He uttered with a wail, 
 ' 'Tis clear my schemes some demon checks, 
 
 And makes my ventures fail. 
 
 " ' Allusions to my noxious ways, 
 
 In years now long gone past, 
 Elsewhere I' ve heard rehearsed with glee, 
 
 And borne them to the last. 
 
PATCHEN. 269 
 
 " ' But oh ! to learn my own dear son, 
 
 The goal of fond desire 
 Should innocently though it be 
 
 Bear witness 'gainst his sire ! 
 
 " ' How oft upon the perilous trip, 
 
 From Erin's northern coast, 
 Did all his traits recall my spouse, 
 
 Whose love through crimes I' ve lost ! 
 
 " ' What pow'r opposed my keen design 
 
 To ask his age and name ? 
 For views exchang'd might well have saved 
 
 My breast from later shame. 
 
 " ' The casket too has traitor turn'd, 
 
 And raised the accusing voice ; 
 A gift much valued, and for years, 
 
 Companion of my choice. 
 
 " ' Beyond the main in regions strange, 
 
 When fortune fix'd her frown, 
 In memories with its history link'd 
 
 My cares I used to drown. 
 
 " ' And even now, with your consent, 
 
 I'd handle it again ; 
 Methinks some virtue from its touch 
 
 Might greatly ease my pain.' 
 
270 PATCHEN. 
 
 " This said, he swept from off the board 
 
 The idol, unopposed ; 
 And, hurrying back into his room, 
 
 The door he quickly closed. 
 
 " At length, much wondering why the carle 
 
 Remained so long alone, 
 We ventured in, but found, too late, 
 
 The man and trophy gone ! " 
 
 As Ruary ended his report 
 
 To Glenbarr's social core, 
 " Mine host " and guests, much startled, heard 
 
 Loud knocking at the door. 
 
 Admittance thankfully obtained, 
 
 Dan Stalker of the Glen, 
 Bareheaded and as pale 's the moon, 
 
 All-breathless, staggered in ! 
 
 " Now, Dan, why look so ghastly wan ? 
 
 Hast seen a witch or ghost ? 
 And have you with your bonnet blue 
 
 Your senses also lost ? " 
 
 With bracing potions reinforced, 
 
 And breathing freely now, 
 The courier spreads his wondrous tale, 
 
 And seals it with a vow : 
 
PATCH EN. 271 
 
 " In Patchen Churchyard," whisper'd Dan, 
 
 " I duly took my turn, 
 To guard the tomb where rests the dust 
 
 Of Blair of Calliburn. 
 
 " At midnight, by the moon's dull sheen, 
 
 My partner of the guard 
 Directs my vision to a form 
 
 Slow creeping o'er the sward. 
 
 " ' By angels bright, and angels dark,' 
 
 My cronie faintly swore 
 That, should his life be longer spared, 
 
 Some follies he'd give o'er. 
 
 "He vow'd his habits and his words 
 
 And morals, too, he 'd mend ; 
 His carritch he'd take up again, 
 
 And whiles the Kirk attend. 
 
 " The smuggling trade he '11 not renew 
 
 For all that 's best on earth ; 
 He '11 sell nor sheep nor stirk for more 
 
 Than what he deems its worth. 
 
 " While ' Amen ' halted in his throat, 
 For fear t'would seal his vow, 
 
 He mutter'd queries, as he cross 'd 
 His bosom and his brow. 
 
272 PA TCHEN. 
 
 " ' What may that crawling substance be ? 
 
 Is 't demon or is 't brute ? 
 'Twere loss to slay the one, and vain 
 
 The other fiend to shoot. 
 
 " ' See ! there ! Still nearer comes the form 
 
 And rears its figure tall ! 
 Now, shall I fire a pistol shot, 
 
 And pierce it with a ball? 7 
 
 " * Consider, Dan,' I whispered low 
 
 ' What dreadful risk you run ; 
 Your noisy shot may miss its aim 
 
 And challenge more than one. 
 
 " ' Mayhap, he 's leader of a squad 
 
 That, bent on lucre foul, 
 For bodies of the recent dead 
 
 In churchyards nightly prowl.' 
 
 " But when the figure reach'd the fence 
 That circles Patchen's ' yard,' 
 
 It stopp'd as though our shapes it saw, 
 And timid whispers heard. 
 
 " By all that 's great,' the ogre ask'd, 
 
 ' What may your natures be ? 
 Pray, are you phantoms Fate employs 
 
 To stand 'twixt peace and me?' 
 
PATCHEN. 273 
 
 " Then vowing vengeance to the wight 
 
 Who should his steps pursue, 
 He turn'd abruptly to the right, 
 
 And from our sight withdrew. 
 
 " Some time ensued ere either guard 
 
 His wit or sense regains : 
 For curdling fears our frames benumb, 
 
 And freeze our stagnant veins. 
 
 " Anon the fence we leapt, with hearts 
 
 More curious still than brave, 
 And saw the wretch ascend the gate 
 
 That guards the warrior's grave. 
 
 " With mutual terror each beheld 
 
 His true or fancied foe ; 
 The climber dropp'd upon the ground 
 
 And 'gainst us uttered woe! 
 
 " ' My curses on you, one and all, 
 
 But on that caitiff most 
 Whose startling tone by th' " Magic Stone " 
 
 My final venture cross'd.' 
 
 " Now, where or how the baffled loon 
 
 Has sought a safe retreat 
 I can't divine ; methinks, like me, 
 
 He owes 't to nimble feet." 
 
274 THE LONELY WAIF. 
 
 Here ends the record of a fatuous man, 
 With partial record of a mimic son ; 
 Another pencil now shall briefly trace 
 The later phases of this wayward race. 
 
 THE LONELY WAIF. 
 
 HARD by a burn of gentle tide, 
 
 By rills from moor and bog supplied, 
 
 (Except in summer's heat,) 
 Within a hollow flanked by braes, 
 Whereon the evening's setting rays 
 
 With softest radiance beat, 
 A cottage stood, of humblest mien, 
 
 With roof of mouldy thatch ; 
 
 A knotted piece of hempen string 
 
 Supplied the place of latch. 
 
 Around the cot no cheerful sound, 
 From streamlet, byre, or grassy mound, 
 The sullen silence broke ; 
 No whistling hind or playful child 
 Disturbed the air on lea or wild, 
 
 Or happy echoes woke ; 
 And yet no spot on earth, I ween, 
 
 Could fitter site provide, 
 As home for youth or age serene, 
 
 At morn or eventide. 
 
THE LONELY WAIF. 275 
 
 Oh ! here, methought, might many a waif, 
 From further lures or cronies safe, 
 
 His wayward life redeem ; 
 Temptation's siren tone and wile, 
 The spendthrift here could not beguile, 
 
 Nor spread her witching scheme ; 
 Where lovely scenes in constant view 
 
 Engage th' enraptur'd eye, 
 The heart, one thinks, should take their hue, 
 
 As lakes reflect the sky. 
 
 A truant whim my steps impell'd, 
 (With others by like fancy held,) 
 
 One day to wander here ; 
 Exhausted and by hunger press'd, 
 We turn'd aside for needed rest, 
 
 And eke for needed cheer. 
 With languid feet and wavering hope, 
 
 And doubts ne'er felt before, 
 We paced a gently-rising slope, 
 
 And reach'd the cottage door. 
 
 Faintly we knock'd and knock'd again, 
 Until we deem'd all knocking vain, 
 
 For answer came there none : 
 Curious the inner parts to scan, 
 And know forsooth if brute or man 
 
 Possess'd a den so lone, 
 
276 THE LONELY WAIF. 
 
 The knotted cord we slowly drew 
 
 With soft and bated breath ; 
 While changeful vistas rose to view, 
 
 Relief or, may be, death ! 
 
 The creaking hinge (but seldom turned) 
 A drowsy inmate quickly warn'd 
 
 Of some intruder's " call " : 
 With furious frown a hoary slave 
 Began in horrid terms to rave, 
 
 And ban us one and all. 
 Then with a laugh divorced from mirth, 
 
 A well-shod crutch he grasp'd, 
 Resolved, it seem'd, to fence his hearth, 
 
 While, faint, for breath he gasp'd. 
 
 With effort more than he could bear 
 He partly rear'd him from his lair 
 
 Of rushes loose and sear ; 
 Then trembling with insensate rage 
 111 suited to his strength and age- 
 He dared us to come near ! 
 Brief was his speech : his ebbing force 
 
 Th' intended threat denies ; 
 Yet not the less we read the curse 
 
 That fired his vengeful eyes. 
 
 The vehement tumult of his brain 
 Soon overbore his might and main 
 
 Till Nature's force gave way, 
 
THE LONELY WAIF. 277 
 
 When, feebly propp'd, he slowly sank 
 On tufts of moss, dry, rough, and rank, 
 
 And seeming dead he lay ; 
 Till roused by whispers low and quick, 
 
 (For signs of awe we pass'd,) 
 He groped all round, and clutch'd his stick, 
 
 And fiendish glances cast. 
 
 Convulsive struggles brought him round 
 Towards the spot whence came the sound, 
 
 Foreboding ill he fear'd ; 
 Keen, nervous looks he fiercely threw 
 On lumber lying close to view, 
 
 And to his heart endear'd : 
 A wooden trunk, defaced by age, 
 
 With varied rubbish fill'd, 
 Seem'd all his being to engage, 
 
 And nameless rapture yield. 
 
 The ponderous lid was open, wide ; 
 We clearly saw some gear inside 
 
 And what a motley store ! 
 Horse-shoes, door-knockers, rusty nails, 
 With cords, and chains, and strips of sails, 
 
 The waifs of street and shore, 
 In wild disorder, pile on pile. 
 
 Like wrack upon the strand, 
 Were treasur'd here as richest spoil 
 
 Hard by the old man's hand. 
 
2 78 THE LONELY WAIF. 
 
 Remorseful thoughts our spirit smote 
 That e'er we sought this squalid spot, 
 
 The home of age and greed ; 
 With tacit signs and eager feet 
 We gladly quit the dread retreat, 
 
 And gain the road with speed. 
 Restrain'd by memories of the hour, 
 
 (Though fruitful was the theme,) 
 In silence we endur'd the pow'r 
 
 Of this fell, waking dream. 
 
 A week had scarcely run its course, 
 When Rumour's voice, in accents hoarse, 
 
 Gave out the waif was dead ! 
 His twisted form a struggle spoke 
 (Before the breath his frame forsook) 
 To quit th' uneasy bed. 
 One shrivell'd hand, with fingers curved, 
 
 The straw-stuff'd pillow press'd : 
 The other, by suspicion nerved, 
 
 Held fast the idol chest. 
 
 Next day, the keenly-guarded chest, 
 With all the gear the waif possess'd, 
 
 Was borne outside the door, 
 Thence carried to a lonely bay 
 That near the streamlet's margin lay, 
 
 And emptied of its store. 
 
NOT GUILTY, MY LADY. 279 
 
 'Mid worthless rubbish out there rolPd 
 
 A casket bruis'd and plain ; 
 Inside the lid, in letters bold, 
 
 Was graven : " Joseph Caine." 
 
 NOT GUILTY, MY LADY. 
 
 LATELY a blast as fierce and doure 
 
 As ever twisted thatch and stoure, 
 Or shot its keen malignant pow'r 
 
 Through limb or chest, 
 Smote Preston Street with gust and show'r 
 
 From east to west. 
 
 At the corner of this open street, 
 Where whirling winds in conflict meet, 
 A bluish, shoeless pair of feet 
 
 Of tender age, 
 Endured the snell and drizzling sleet 
 
 And tempest's rage. 
 
 Loop'd was his coat with many a hole, 
 (If 't is a coat where nought is whole,) 
 And many a wistful glance he stole 
 
 At well-happ'd folk, 
 Whose lot exposed them less to thole 
 
 Fell poortith's yoke. 
 
28o MOT GUILTY, MY 
 
 And sturdy men and maids went past, 
 All proof against the cold and blast, 
 Yet no one seem'd a look to cast 
 
 At the cow'ring boy 
 Who slowly crept, and whiles ran fast 
 
 On some employ. 
 
 A stately dame among the rest, 
 
 In densest " Ulster " amply dress'd, 
 
 Toward the corner nimbly press'd 
 
 The drift to shun ; 
 And, trusting she had 'scaped the blast, 
 
 Walk'd slowly on. 
 
 She hoped too much : the veering gale 
 
 Spread out her Ulster like a sail ; 
 
 And sometimes, too, its fringe would trail 
 
 Along the ground ; 
 'Twas there our urchin seem'd to hail 
 
 A shelter found. 
 
 Behind the folds the shivering wight 
 Now tack'd to left, now wheel'd to right, 
 From where the squall was at its height 
 
 To leeward side. 
 But yet he strove from Madam's sight 
 
 His trips to hide. 
 
 A spacious window in a row, 
 Whereon some folks a glance bestow, 
 
NOT G UIL TV, MY LAD Y. 281 
 
 Whether intentionally or no 
 
 Is left to guess 
 Caught Madam's eye and buist to show 
 
 Her air and dress. 
 
 The polish'd glass too well reveal'd 
 The laddie skulking near his bield ; 
 The fair one, guessing he conceal'd 
 
 A roguish plan, 
 With sudden turn adroitly wheel'd, 
 
 And caught her " man." 
 
 Then with a keen suspicious frown, 
 And in a grand and stilted tone, 
 In language choice as Milton's own, 
 
 She told her mind : 
 She might as well impeach a stone 
 
 Or rate the wind. 
 
 Her threats fell pointless on his ear 
 
 Her tropes were far beyond his lear 
 
 Or, haply, waked, instead of fear, 
 
 A hopeful thought ; 
 For there he crouch'd, still lingering near, 
 
 Suspecting nought. 
 
 At length it dawn'd upon the lad 
 That he was reckoned of the squad 
 That sell themselves to all that 's bad 
 In thought and fact : 
 
282 NOT G UIL TV, MY LA D Y. 
 
 That Madam really meant t' upbraid 
 Some odious act. 
 
 Charg'd roundly with intent to steal, 
 
 His peril he began he feel, 
 
 And, on his brow though shone the seal 
 
 Of innocence, 
 He trusted wholly to his heel 
 
 For self-defence. 
 
 A melting look of poignant grief 
 
 He turn'd on her who charg'd with rief 
 
 His guileless heart, that claimed relief , 
 
 Not frowns and blame. 
 Mayhap, where best he 's known, as thief 
 
 None soil his name. 
 
 Restrain reproach, my lady fair ; 
 Conclude not, though his feet are bare, 
 The squalid bairn before you there 
 
 Is old in crime 
 His thin-clad frame a heart may wear 
 
 As pure as thine. 
 
 His parents' sufferings who knows ? 
 To hardships may the brat expose, 
 And urge him forth 'mid driving snows 
 
 In mean array ; 
 While richest robes oft cover those 
 
 Who prowl for prey. 
 
ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 283 
 
 ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 
 
 ON pleasure and on strolling bent, 
 Some years ago an hour I spent 
 
 Beside the Castle's base, 
 Where Ross's Fountain sheds a spray, 
 Which, blending with the solar ray, 
 
 Reflects the rainbow's grace. 
 While gazing at this fairy sight 
 
 This curve of varied hue 
 I found myself beside a wight 
 
 Who also scann'd the view. 
 
 His negligent and rugged mien 
 Contrasted oddly with the scene : 
 
 He look'd a stranger there. 
 What pleasure can this fellow find 
 (The thought rose often to my mind) 
 In ev'n views so fair ? 
 He seems to care and struggle brought ; 
 
 Deep furrows mark his brow ; 
 His hardships scarcely could, I thought, 
 
 Aesthetic joys allow. 
 
 Or is 't some roguish part he plays 
 While o'er the walks and sward he strays 
 Below Edina's Rock ? 
 
284 ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 
 
 And does he feign a native taste 
 
 For Nature's wonders, strange and chaste, 
 
 Which Art's pretentions mock ? 
 'Tis often proved that virtue's air 
 
 The prowler's schemes conceals ; 
 Yet 'neath coarse garments one may wear 
 
 A heart that nobly feels. 
 
 At length, as by. his side I pass'd, 
 A wistful glance at me he cast 
 
 As if to speak his mind ; 
 With rising doubts I shunn'd his eye, 
 Nor courted speech nor meant reply, 
 
 But left him soon behind. 
 With heedless thought I thank'd my star 
 
 That now the bore was gone, 
 And, turning round, I saw afar 
 
 The fancied knave, alone. 
 
 One summer's eve I idly stroll'd 
 Edina's pavements, new and old 
 
 The High Street's 'mongthe rest, 
 With th' Antiquary's zeal to mark 
 The tenements and closes dark, 
 
 By Thanes of yore possess'd ; 
 Within a close with much surprise, 
 
 The dreaded man I spied 
 A Christian mission there he plies 
 
 A skill'd and faithful guide. 
 
ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 285 
 
 Ere long, with growing curious thought 
 His humbler roof I softly sought 
 
 Tis in an ancient " Court ; " 
 A fair excuse I mildly spoke, 
 For this the liberty I took 
 
 To prove his good report. 
 His ready offer of a chair 
 With pleasure I accept ; 
 Anon his converse rich and rare 
 My mind in rapture kept. 
 
 Here proofs of culture and of worth 
 That well might grace the best on earth 
 
 Came trooping to my view ; 
 Deep shelves lay groaning 'neath a pile 
 Of books in different tongues and style 
 
 Scarce, learned, old, and new. 
 A cat and dog his kindness shared 
 
 Along with feathered pets ; 
 For each his morsel he prepared 
 
 Their love, in turn, he gets. 
 
 A crow especial favour got 
 
 A broken, helpless, damaged lot 
 
 A leg and eye were gone ; 
 'Twas rescued, shivering, from a wood, 
 Where 'gainst a shrub he bravely stood 
 
 On t' other leg, alone. 
 
286 ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 
 
 His owner's eye flash'd joyous light 
 
 As birdie's tale he told. 
 I blush'd to think I once could slight 
 
 The man as vagrant bold. 
 
 That man could analyse the form 
 The rainbow borrows from the storm, 
 
 And how its hues combine ; 
 Could trace the rise and fall of states ; 
 How nations' pow'r on virtue waits, 
 
 And must with vice decline. 
 
 An orphan, too, secured a share 
 Of both his time and watchful care 
 
 Within his humble walls ; 
 A pallid ward of tender years 
 Abruptly on the scene appears, 
 
 And recent thoughts recals. 
 That self-same boy whom, thin and bare, 
 
 With cold and hunger spent, 
 A dame of stately gait and air 
 
 Arraign'd with vile intent. 
 
 " Pray, may I ask who this may be 
 That scarce in aught resembles thee, 
 
 At least in outward form ? 
 Me lists to note his looks improv'd 
 Since last within my sight he moved, 
 
 Unsheltered, in a storm. 
 
ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 287 
 
 A fair one, who his movements viewed 
 
 And guileless aim misread, 
 Methought his hast'ning steps pursued 
 
 As far 's the vagrant fled." 
 
 " My freedom, sir," quoth he, in turn, 
 " Do not in haste or anger scorn, 
 
 But slight correction brook ; 
 If so the dame in fancy err'd, 
 Her hasty error you have shared 
 
 Her motives you mistook ; 
 Nor can I think you '11 less rejoice 
 
 Than I the proof to find, 
 The dame her time and means employs 
 
 In missions true and kind. 
 
 " The boy, indeed, as you inferr'd 
 By neither fear nor toil deterr'd 
 
 She follow'd to my door ; 
 Admitted, straight she would inquire 
 Who was the boy, and who his sire 
 
 With many queries more. 
 Inform'd his father died a waif 
 
 Beside a lonely moor, 
 O'erjoy'd she heard the lad was safe, 
 
 And from that waif secure. 
 
 " ' Though me and mine,' she added next, 
 1 His kith and kin once sorely vex'd, 
 
 By fatuous malice driv'n ; 
 
288 ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 
 
 Yet sure to mete out good for ill 
 And love for hate, were to fulfil 
 
 The gracious law of Heav'n. 
 'Tis bliss to learn the orphan boy 
 
 In you had found a friend ; 
 Henceforth let me divide your joy, 
 
 And joint assistance lend.' 
 
 " Thus spake the lady, and with grace 
 Within my hands a gift did place 
 
 A present for the hour ; 
 ' Accept this dole,' she further said, 
 ' Till fuller schemes by me are laid 
 
 To help your ward with more. 
 On me devolve all future care 
 
 For the Miser's ill-starr'd son. 
 May Heaven train him to beware 
 
 The course his fathers ran !' " 
 
 In Ocean's troubled, various tide 
 Concurrent floods its mass divide ; 
 Beside cold streams that press below 
 Benignant tepid billows flow ; 
 Atop, the warmer volumes roll, 
 And blessings spread from Pole to Pole. 
 The lower depths their influence prove, 
 Till in their place, in turn, they move. 
 
ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 289 
 
 Who should not hope that, led by Heav'n, 
 To Caine's grandson it might be giv'n 
 From dire disgrace and want to rise, 
 And tread the path where honour lies ; 
 To bless that generous Dame for aye 
 Who early prov'd his firmest stay \ 
 And greet in her, for years to come, 
 A child of Mary of the Drum. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
290 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 
 
 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 
 
 DEAR Alma Mater, where in life's fair morn 
 
 My zeal for study and for books was born ; 
 
 Still love I to recall the joyous days 
 
 When first thy portals drew my reverent gaze : 
 
 When Homer's Epics and where Roman themes 
 
 Woke visions fairer than the world of dreams ; 
 
 When fervid eloquence and chasten'd fire, 
 
 Adorn'd with kindness worthy of a sire, 
 
 My frigid apathy to ardour stirr'd, 
 
 Or from success to stiffer efforts spurr'd. 
 
 Professor Ramsay, steep'd in Roman lore, 
 Too soon for Scotland thy career was o'er ! 
 To the Latin Chair in early life ordain'd, 
 The fame it gather'd nobly he sustained. 
 In him " Humanity " fit exponent found, 
 Why finest Culture should with worth be bound. 
 
 Still in my ears his manly accents live ; 
 And Memory's pages back his image give, 
 As Cicero's periods or Tibullus' Lays 
 His skill unfolded to the Students' gaze ; 
 Portray'd their beauties every shade and tone 
 In tropes as terse and classic as their own. 
 
 My College chums (How few are still alive !), 
 Whose memories yet life's chequer'd scenes survive, 
 
THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 291 
 
 Fresh in your minds must live the graphic force 
 Wherewith he traced Rome's Empire to its source 
 Approv'd her triumphs when with Right allied, 
 And show'd how ruin sprang from ease and pride. 
 (For later times as well the sketch was meant, 
 And Students, too, might note the timely hint.) 
 How flash'd his eye when early Roman worth 
 He track'd in all that 's great and strong on earth ; 
 Though savage hordes to shame Rome's Legions 
 
 brought, 
 Her tongue now rules their speech and modes of 
 
 thought ; 
 
 The mould or spirit of our modern Laws 
 From Roman Codes its strength and pressure draws. 
 Though prostrate lies the Nation's outward frame, 
 Her Genius lives and guards her hoary Fame ; 
 Her " heav'n-dropped shield " o'er sacred Laws he 
 
 throws, 
 
 And trains in Art the offspring of her foes. 
 Impulsive, fluent, fervid, swift, and keen, 
 Ably he render'd what his " Authors " mean ; 
 Observed the tangles in the Tyro's road, 
 And clear'd his passage or assum'd his load. 
 As when a Chief to arduous combat prone, 
 Precedes his troops and guides their journey on ; 
 The Leader's dash anticipates the fight, 
 Assures his host and makes their conflict light. 
 Thus Ramsay's students quickly cover'd ground 
 
292 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 
 
 Of Heading ample while its base was sound. 
 Stragglers he chid, but yet in tone so kind, 
 The censure left no rankling scar behind. 
 
 With Science, too, of Nature and Mankind, 
 The keen expert enrich'd his plastic mind ; 
 When College brethren, holding cognate Chairs, 
 From flagging force, that age or tension wears, 
 At duty fail'd, reluctant, to appear, 
 The Roman linguist amply filled their sphere. 
 
 Not more his knowledge, copious though it was, 
 Than love of Country, claim'd and won applause ; 
 Though foreign Halls th' accomplished Scholar 
 
 train'd, 
 A Scot by birth, a Scotsman he remain'd. 
 
 Another Scholar and as leal a man, 
 (In scales their merits who shall weigh or can ?) 
 My admiration and my homage drew, 
 And passing years the tribute still" renew. 
 
 Happy the Senate, happy ev'n the Land, 
 That could such Teachers in one age command ; 
 Who, heav'n endow'd with pow'r and gifts to teach, 
 Reap'd early fruit that many never reach. 
 Yet diverse features through their Teaching ran, 
 As mutual aids in Nature's sapient plan. 
 
 Professor Lushington, pray forbear to blame 
 The ardent lips that quote thy honour'd name. 
 If o'er my spirit still the Grecian Muse 
 In thoughtful leisure can a spell diffuse, 
 
THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 293 
 
 The pleasing thought on which my soul delays ''* 
 Comes sweetly moulded in thy pregnant phrase ; 
 To thee I owe the impulse to pursue 
 The subtle train research may bring to view ; 
 To cope with obstacles at sight austere, 
 But nursing pith for those that persevere. 
 Could Greek to Students dull or spell-less be, 
 Who saw its mould and grace unveil 'd by thee ? 
 
 My fellow students, bear with me, I pray, 
 If here with you my thoughts the past survey. 
 Like me you feel the lov'd Professor's spell 
 Through later days in fondest memory dwell. 
 The thought of Greece reflected from his mind 
 Man's highest culture and its force combined. 
 Unconscious pow'r and tact the sage display'd : 
 In briefest maxims volumes he convey'd. 
 Observant of the Greek's fastidious tongue, 
 Where subtle sense on particles is strung : 
 Where accent signs if ev'n they wrongly slope 
 Obscure the context or pervert its scope, 
 The noteful critic traced the finer thought, 
 And charm'd the Fancy while he Reason taught. 
 Patient to see the Student thread his way 
 His aid was offer'd ere he seem'd to stray. 
 The genial guide his footsteps would direct, 
 Yet, while assisting, nurs'd his self-respect. 
 Not less his kindness did affection gain 
 Than did his Learning th' understanding train. 
 
294 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 
 
 A nameless pow'r his look and tone possess'd : 
 They quicken'd thought and yet misrule repress'd ; 
 Placid himself, his mildness others sway'd, 
 Secure of order without sterner aid. 
 
 Our Northern prejudice 'gainst English traits 
 His worth transmuted into cordial praise. 
 Such gifts as here with cultured grace combine 
 Efface the bounds that jealous Nations join. 
 Who does not now exchange a kinder glow 
 With those whose sires for ages proved our foe ? 
 In closer union let us knit the band, 
 As common empire and success demand. 
 Let Scot and Saxon hold their joint career : 
 What jealous Pow'r what menace shall we fear ? 
 
 Well hast thou, Glasgow, now thy duty done 
 To Sister England and thy foster Son : 
 Lord Rector of thy Academic Seat 
 Law Lushington thy learned Councils greet. 
 Well worthy he o'er conclaves to preside 
 That nurture Lore and plodding Science guide. 
 Survivor of the corps of other times 
 Who taught our youth and those of other climes, 
 The symbol-wreath the Students offer you 
 Infolds some leaflets for your Colleagues, too. 
 
 With deeper interest doubtless you will wear 
 Honours you would with dear companions share ; 
 And every " cheer " that thrills your loyal breast 
 In thought you'll echo to the friends at rest. 
 
THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 295 
 
 Ah ! me ; the ancient walls will not prolong 
 The echoes startled by th' applauding throng, 
 When Installation seals the Council's choice, 
 And in its strain Saint Mungo blends her voice. 
 My Mater's shade ! the vandal pow'rs confound 
 That razed thy sacred structure to the ground ; 
 That sacrificed to noisy, sooty Trade 
 The Muses' Temple and the College glade ! 
 
 Farewell, ye towers, Courts, and sombre Halls 
 Whose ancient form fell Ruin now recalls. 
 My pray'r is pious when I wish the New 
 As rare success as ages heap'd on you. 
 
 O happy eve, that Fortune held in store 
 To bless the students with one meeting more ; 
 When festive boards the Rector blandly graced 
 With brother Savans in due order placed. 
 Sections of Classes 'neath a nameless spell 
 Once more beheld the face they loved so well. 
 An angel's mind alone the joy could mete 
 In those that met their honour'd guest to greet. 
 How on his lips the Students old and young 
 With rapt attention and devotion hung, 
 When th' old familiar voice in graceful phrase 
 In fondness dwelt on other halcyon days : 
 When scraps of Greek, to hearers known or no, 
 Recall'd a trait that charm'd us long ago. 
 The same old glow suffused those azure eyes, 
 Where love with shrewdness tact with vigour lies. 
 
296 THE OLD COLLEGE OF GLASGOW. 
 
 True to his nature, shrinking from applause 
 He prized the love of which he was the cause ; 
 To others traced his tenure of success, 
 Ignoring self, but others prone to bless. 
 Here we beheld anew the fruitful source 
 That bred a love that still extends its force. 
 The self-denying mood the courteous air, 
 The gentle voice the grand old man was there. 
 Not less perhaps more, grateful to our ear, 
 The terms where favours friend to friend endear. 
 " Owre kind," you styled your Students' loud acclaim, 
 When the Chairman's toast announced your magic 
 
 name. 
 
 " Favours," you quoted, "love in turn beget " ; 
 And here receivers partly paid their debt. 
 
 In " Auld Lang Syne," with ardour due our Bard, 
 Your lips responded to our fond regard ; 
 And never shall our quicken'd minds forget 
 Your pledge to quaff "a cup of kindness yet." 
 The cup of joy with blessings running o'er, 
 May Heaven grant you now and evermore. 
 
 T>\st March 1885. 
 
BURNS AND SCOTT. 297 
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 
 
 MET ONCE AND (APPARENTLY) ONLY ONCE. 
 
 The place of Meeting "Sheens House," Grange, Edinburgh. 
 Thoughts suggested by a recent visit to the room where the 
 interview occurred. 
 
 JUST three-and-ninety years their course have run 
 Since 'neath this rooflong may it ruin shun 
 There met, like planets in conjunction placed, 
 Two mighty pow'rs, with highest genius graced. 
 Though several years their natal day divide, 
 Their mutual sympathies were deep and wide. 
 
 The one a darling of the tuneful Nine, 
 Whose brows already fadeless bays entwine 
 With conscious worth a learned conclave meets, 
 And host and guest with modest ardour greets ; 
 Scions of rank before the ploughman stoop, 
 And give him welcome to their chary group. 
 
 Another guest, the " Great Unknown " to come, 
 From meekness seeks a corner of the room, 
 And thence with placid awe the Bard surveys 
 Whom peer and peasant loved alike to praise. 
 
 Assembled here are other gifted minds, 
 Whom admiration for one subject binds ; 
 High on the roll of fame they've traced their names, 
 And grateful science proudly owns their claims. 
 
298 BURNS AND SCOTT. 
 
 Whatever problems varied minds pursue 
 To drag time-honour'd errors into view, 
 From thought's mixed soil to pluck the noxious weed, 
 And fix the basis of a solid creed, 
 Received solution from th 7 assembled band 
 That met the Bard and gave the friendly hand : 
 Blair, Black, and Hutton, Home, and Stewart join 
 To stamp approval of his Muse's coin. 
 'Twas meet that sages vers'd in nature's laws, 
 In springs of action, and in Error's cause, 
 Should welcome genial Fancy's brightest star, 
 And prove that talents wage no jealous war. 
 
 Congenial, too, the spot where all had met 
 "The Sheens" a form of what's remembered yet 
 As Sienna. Hard by stood, some paces west, 
 A convent, oft the anxious pilgrim's rest. 
 Tradition thus a halo spreads around 
 The ancient "Sheens," and claims the hallo w'd ground. 
 
 Within, without, these memorable walls 
 Scenes once enacted fancy yet recalls ; 
 But chief of these, the present scene appeals 
 To every breast the patriot's glow that feels. 
 See ! here the Bard whose converse wields a spell 
 More potent than his songs as records tell. 
 
 Anon, a picture hanging on a wall 
 Invites regard he answers to the call. 
 Subjoined are verses, couch'd in plaintive tone, 
 In language choice, and pregnant as his own : 
 
BURNS AND SCOTT. 299 
 
 A British soldier streaks a snowy plain 
 With purple streams that ebbing vigour drain ; 
 A youthful widow, crush'd by cruel fate, 
 With cureless anguish mourns her fallen mate. 
 
 Through ample tears that course his manly cheeks 
 The wounded bosom of the poet speaks : 
 " Can any here," he asks, " the author name 
 Whose happy lot it was these lines to frame ? " 
 Philosophers, divines, alike are dumb, 
 From neither would the answer seem to come ! 
 
 'T was then the Boy, precocious, lame, and pale, 
 In whispers named the writer of the tale. 
 O gifted Scott ! it thus was early thine 
 To show the role wherein thy parts would shine. 
 
 (An omen this where seers may recognise 
 What future triumph in this Mentor lies. 
 Ev'n then his memory had treasur'd stores 
 That yet would charm his own and other shores.) 
 
 Surpris'd and pleas'd, the Bard rewards the Boy 
 With words that note an elder brother's joy : 
 " A man you yet shall be : " prophetic terms ! 
 And every year the prophecy confirms. 
 
 What mystic speech that mutual look conveys 
 From eyes that met in momentary gaze ; 
 What magic fire lit up the youthful brain 
 From those dark orbs where pow'r and pity reign ; 
 What happy grace this " ordination " gave 
 To deck a legend or portray the brave ; 
 
300 BURNS AND SCOTT. 
 
 Did subtle virtue from the Poet dart 
 (By neither notic'd) to the Minstrel's heart ? 
 Who can assert ? Yet who can prove 't untrue 
 That Scott from Burns his inspiration drew ? 
 
 Ye potent wizards ! 'neath this roof ye pass'd 
 One short eventful hour the first, the last. 
 From this ye part, on different errands bent, 
 For men's delight to spend and to be spent : 
 
 To wake to view the heroes of the past, 
 And o'er their lives a radiant halo cast ; 
 To trace in Tales each human passion's phase, 
 The strife of Clans, the pomp of Feudal days, 
 Engag'd the younger in his life-long toil, 
 And made immortal Scotia's rugged soil. 
 
 But who can Burns' matchless feats describe ? 
 A son of toil, yet foremost of his tribe. 
 
 The whims of youth, the woes and pains of age, 
 Our joys and fears, his lucid pen engage ; 
 The present age, the past, and future, too, 
 He sketch'd in colours ever bright and true ; 
 And as the dews that upward seek the skies 
 Refresh again the sources whence they rise, 
 So Burns' affections, shed o'er all mankind, 
 From human breasts their native fountain find : 
 Back to his name the blended tide we roll 
 Of griefs and joys that once possess'd his soul. 
 
 'Tis thus the Novelist and Coila's Bard 
 For Scotland earns the stranger's high regard : 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 301 
 
 Whatever fame our Land abroad obtains 
 That tempts the Foreigner to seek our plains, 
 And why that Fame o'er Earth so widely runs 
 Is mainly due to these her peerless sons. 
 
 Who, then, the tear of sorrow can arrest, 
 At all the griefs our Benefactors press'd? 
 Tis sad that those who countless thousands charm 
 So long encounter'd dire Misfortune's storm : 
 That clouds of gloom bedimm'd their fruitful day, 
 And veil'd the splendour of its setting ray. 
 
 Then, ancient "Sheens," in stately grandeur stand ! 
 And woo the tourist from remotest land. 
 Ye local Genii, long protect the spot 
 Where Robert Burns ordain d Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 December 1879. 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 FAME'S spacious Temple still unfolds its gate, 
 And offers welcome to the good and great ; 
 Though envied niches ancient worth reward, 
 Enshrine the warrior, statesman, and the bard, 
 Fame still propitious, fruitful talent greets 
 And Merit's praise in every age repeats. 
 
302 THOMAS CARLYLE. 
 
 Regardless of the country, race, or clime, 
 Of states obscure, or realms become sublime, 
 She still on labour, virtue, genius beams, 
 And from eclipse their genial light redeems. 
 
 'Tis well ordain'd since life is but a span, 
 That all that 's godlike in imperfect man 
 Should live a power in all coming time 
 To foster virtue and diminish crime. 
 
 Abjuring deeds that charm the thoughtless mind, 
 That glut the victor and the victim bind, 
 Content to strike alone for Freedom's cause, 
 For pure religion and for equal laws, 
 Old Scotland claims the meed of honest fame, . 
 And spurns the triumph that's allied to shame. 
 
 States more ambitious and of wider bounds, 
 With whose exploits the spacious globe resounds, 
 May Scotland envy for the trophies won 
 In valiant conflict for the rights of man. 
 
 While ample realms are struggling to be free 
 And taste of Freedom's still forbidden tree ; 
 Our narrow isle enjoys its luscious fruit 
 And guards with zeal each spreading branch and root. 
 
 Oh ! shade of Bruce ! to thee our nation owes 
 A timely rescue from her grasping foes ; 
 Thy wary skill and thy undaunted breast 
 Unbound the yoke that long thy country press'd ; 
 From southern domination thus releas'd 
 In wealth and worth the race has e'er increas'd. 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 303 
 
 Nor can we Knox with honour less regard 
 For breaking bonds more ponderous still and hard. 
 His was the courage and the sturdy hand 
 That struck Rome's fetters from the groaning land ; 
 Redeem'd from thraldom crushing speech and thought, 
 The nation's spirit own'd the truth he taught. 
 
 Deep in our bosoms must we also bear 
 The ploughman Bard, the tuneful swan of Ayr, 
 Whose gloomy fate and sweetly-sounding lyre 
 Now move to tears now martial hosts inspire. 
 'Twas his to rend th' exclusive fence of Caste 
 And sing that men should brothers be at last. 
 
 For whom shall history the space prepare 
 That forms the remnant of the magic square ? 
 
 What kindred genius shall secure the niche ? 
 What modern seer the lofty height can reach ? 
 The answer needs no labour'd mental toil ; 
 
 Each quivering tongue at once proclaims : "Carlyle." 
 
 Worthy is he to share the same regard 
 
 As Bruce, and Knox, and Scotia's peerless bard. 
 
 No pen than his more truly sketched their traits, 
 
 No oracle so justly spoke their praise. 
 
 A fresher halo now surrounds their head 
 
 E'er since this scribe their several feats display'd. 
 In times when Culture graced the brightest minds, 
 
 Where human pow'r its utmost limit rinds ; 
 
 When giant intellects had gain'd the height 
 
 Of Lore's steep summit and survey'd its light, 
 
304 THOMAS CARLYLE. 
 
 To Chelsea's sage all gave the foremost place, 
 And hail'd him Monarch of the critic race. 
 
 With ruthless knife time-honoured shams he 
 
 trench'd, 
 
 And many a bubble's rainbow hues he quench'd ; 
 The hollow mask of cant he sternly tore, 
 And stripped empirics of the bays they wore ; 
 Unsparing rigour mark'd his open raid 
 On fulsome Literature's ignoble trade. 
 
 Yet generous praise he pour'd on modest worth, 
 And nurs'd to strength what faintly breath'd at birth ; 
 "The bruised reed" he propp'd with tender care, 
 And rescued Merit from a mean career. 
 
 A grave historian, wise above his age, 
 The woes of States he traced to faction's rage ; 
 He track'd a law pervading place and time : 
 That civil ruin springs from civil crime. 
 
 Not Britain only felt his wholesome sway, 
 And pray'd that Heav'n might bless his lengthen'd 
 
 day; 
 
 For Europe's scholars saw with ravish'd eyes 
 Th' effulgent planet in the western skies. 
 Both hemispheres, in sooth, his influence own 
 And cull the fruit of what his hand has sown ; 
 All sages con the maxims that he wrote, 
 And borrow lustre from the views they quote. 
 Loyal to Truth (or what assum'd her form), 
 He early faced each thinker's mental storm j 
 
CHALMERS. 305 
 
 The struggle, doubtless, cost him many a sigh, 
 As cherish'd visions vanish'd from his eye ; 
 Yet who so well his mission could have fill'd, 
 Whose earnest labours priceless treasures yield ? 
 
 Good-humoured, kind, affectionate, and true, 
 Prone to forgive, and swift to punish too ; 
 While haughty pomp the manly seer repell'd, 
 With hooks of steel the friends he won he held, 
 A duller sky, methinks, impends the land 
 Since this brave life has run its latest sand. 
 
 Farewell 1 Carlyle, of memory sweet and blest, 
 May native turf lie lightly on your breast ! 
 Rest ! more revered than Prince or Chief of Clan 
 A matchless critic and an honest man. 
 
 1th February 1881, 
 
 CHALMERS. 
 
 THIS day commemorates th' auspicious birth 
 Of one of Heaven's choicest gifts to earth. 
 A hundred years have come and roll'd away 
 Since time recorded Chalmers' natal day ; 
 And every age that mortal worth reveres, 
 Shall name him prince among his order's peers. 
 
 In the morn of life, while fancy's sway prevail'd, 
 The Church's cause with ardent zeal he hail'd ; 
 U 
 
306 CHALMERS. 
 
 Parental virtues and the charms of home 
 Suggested visions of the world to come. 
 
 Sublime conceptions, strange in one so young, 
 Found apt expression from his fluent tongue ; 
 While yet a boy a Senate's praise he drew, 
 For gift in pray'r, for thoughts profound and new ; 
 A vigorous body and a soul of fire, 
 Supplied a pow'r the Church might soon require. 
 
 Gifted with talents equal to the toil 
 Of mining deep in Science' varied soil ; 
 The sceptic's thrusts he foil'd with dext'rous skill, 
 And prov'd that Faith and Truth are allies still. 
 
 Doubtless, the whirl of shallow unbelief, 
 Awhile o'erwhelmed his glowing heart with grief; 
 Material views of Nature's mystic maze 
 Bedimm'd his vision with a transient haze. 
 
 But as the quivering magnet seeks the pole, 
 The force of truth reclaim'd and fix'd his soul. 
 As the stout oak that 'gainst the storms has striv'n, 
 Extends its roots and rears its head to heav'n, 
 So, tried with doubts, this novice grasp'd the truth, 
 And prov'd the strength of anxious age and youth. 
 
 Ordained to guide the footsteps of a flock, 
 And teach the virtues of the smitten Rock, 
 Whatever theme profoundest love supplies 
 To lead the groping traveller to the skies, 
 He lit with fancy's ever-varying hue, 
 And open'd mysteries to the ravish'd view. 
 
CHALMERS. 307 
 
 Soon busy Rumour spread his growing fame, 
 Till wider scenes resounded with his name. 
 Soon sweet Kilmany felt the parting pang, 
 While other vales with joyous echoes rang. 
 
 The western capital mentions yet with pride 
 How Chalmers' triumphs are with hers allied. 
 Then might be seen at noontime of the day, 
 When speculation wields her potent sway, 
 The merchant, rushing from engrossing work, 
 To hear this pastor lecture in the kirk. 
 The callous worldling, who for years abstain'd 
 From wholesome themes wherein his youth was 
 
 train'd 
 
 Was led, by views propos'd with matchless pow'r, 
 To 'wail the past, and now redeem the hour. 
 He who for years avoidedZion's gate 
 Might now be seen on holy rites to wait ; 
 Imbued with zeal they never felt before 
 Commercial magnates throng'd the mission door ; 
 For better treasures they made haste to toil, 
 And clutch from misery immortal spoil ; 
 Then Glasgow flourish'd by the preached Word, 
 And ransom'd hosts enlisted for the Lord. 
 And sage philosopher who faith contemn'd, 
 When feeble rhetoric its worth proclaim'd, 
 Now own'd its claims when press'd with solid lore, 
 Embrac'd religion and its badges wore. 
 
 Not Scotland only gloried in her son 
 
3o3 CHALMERS. 
 
 But England, too, in Chalmers honour won 
 For learned France transcendent genius own'd, 
 And Britain's son with fadeless laurels crown'd. 
 
 In England, nurse of learning and of art, 
 Of all that guides the mind or trains the heart, 
 Ungrudging homage waited on the Scot, 
 While Churches' shibboleths were all forgot. 
 
 The proudest champions of Church and State, 
 In Chalmers hail'd a leal and doughty mate, 
 Peer, priest, and prelate, youth and hoary sage 
 Pronounce the Celt the preacher of the age, 
 If Doric accents marr'd his rare discourse, 
 The more sublime appear'd the inner force. 
 
 'Tis thus a vigorous tree's expanding pow'r 
 Divides a wall, or rends a ponderous tow'r ; 
 The accidental thus in both gives way, 
 And living energies their strength betray. 
 
 St Andrews' Halls and fair Edina's, too, 
 From far and near enraptur'd students drew ; 
 The spell of Chalmers' Academic fame 
 Evok'd a spirit Time has fail'd to tame. 
 And many a "light " that now illumes the Church 
 Its radiance caught from his effulgent torch. 
 
 When troublous times the Nation's Church dis- 
 
 tress'd, 
 
 Disturb'd her peace and Academic rest ; 
 When anxious hearts, for Zion's freedom moved, 
 Resolv'd to quit the Kirk they dearly lov'd, 
 
CHALMERS.. 309 
 
 The sage professor, patriarch, and guide 
 Position, status, prospects flung aside ; 
 At duty's call (for such to him it seem'd) 
 The old Reformers' chivalry redeem'd. 
 
 A mighty host the veteran leader sway'd, 
 Trac'd out its journey and its counsels weigh'd, 
 Repress'd impatient, prompted sluggish minds, 
 And plied the tact that adverse force combines. 
 
 And yet, with instincts true to th' heavenly birth, 
 He set at nought the transient smiles of Earth ; 
 The rescued waifs of ignorance and sin 
 Composed the triumph he was bent to win. 
 
 See now the tribute to his foresight paid I 
 The Powers yield the boon for which he pray'd. 
 The reign of justice Chalmers well descried, 
 And won for others rights to him denied, 
 
 ; Twas thus the latest champion of these lands 
 Extorted freedom from usurping hands, 
 Yet none more warmly laud his honour'd name 
 Than those whose views his policy condemn. 
 Friends and opponents his alliance quote, 
 And borrow guidance from the themes he wrote. 
 
 Well worthy he to rank with other four, 
 Whose patriot deeds shall live for evermore ; 
 With Bruce and Knox, Carlyle and Robert Burns, 
 This modern Bossuet may compare by turns ; 
 A nation's guide in times of grave concern, 
 He fear'd no foe however stout and stern ; 
 
310 CHALMERS. 
 
 An author brilliant, versatile and strong, 
 
 He spared no creed he knew or thought was wrong. 
 
 Like Burns, whose genius charm'd his loving gaze, 
 The Muses graced him with the pithy phrase ; 
 The social glow, a fancy quick and rare, 
 Alike enrich'd the strong and gifted pair. 
 Yet special virtues Chalmers' memory wreath : 
 Some nobler traits his life and death bequeath : 
 
 No fellow-mortal sank beneath his blow, 
 Ev'n on a plea to stay his country's woe ; 
 No Vandal impulse urged his zealous mind 
 To foes austere mayhap to Queen unkind, 
 No baneful theories floated on his breath 
 To blight the vigour of a wholesome faith ; 
 No turgid passion sway'd his latest days, 
 Provok'd regret, and blurr'd his polish'd bays. 
 
 Humane to all, submissive to the Throne, 
 Whose sceptre ruled him, and his homage won ; 
 Seraphic ardour moves his latest sighs, 
 In hallow'd peace the Christian patriot dies. 
 
 EDINBURGH, yd March 1880. 
 
LIEUTENANT IRVING. 311 
 
 LIEUTENANT IRVING. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 7/ Dec. 1 88 1. 
 
 WHY sounds the pibroch that sad wail I hear ? 
 Or why so grave each countenance you meet ? 
 Why do ev'n strangers drop the tender tear ? 
 Why rush the crowds along the busy street? 
 
 No common grief to-day Edina moves, 
 No recent sorrow shades her saddened brow ; 
 To-day in sighs her constant heart she proves, 
 While o'er his grave her children lowly bow. 
 
 Nurs'd 'mid the comforts of a genial home, 
 And sure of service on his native seas, 
 A noble impulse bade him further roam, 
 Confronting danger, famine, and disease. 
 
 A comrade braver Franklin could not choose 
 Than Irving, scion of a Scottish stock, 
 To dare encounter with the Polar floes, 
 The fitful current and the icy rock. 
 
 For mankind's good as well's for Britain's fame, 
 The siren voice of ease he proudly spurn'd, 
 And, fired with rapture at the Patriot's flame, 
 He faced the fate now long and deeply mourn'd. 
 
 'Mid Arctic horrors oft his bosom sighed 
 
 O'er scenes of boyhood, youth, and college days ; 
 
3 1 2 LIE U TEN ANT IR VI NG. 
 
 Yet who can think aught so his spirit tried, 
 
 As the fears his absence in his friends might raise, 
 
 When thick-ribb'd barriers hemm'd the fleet around, 
 And ghastly famine mock'd her shivering crew, 
 They wish'd mayhap the wish no echo found 
 Their dust might rest where life's first breath they drew. 
 
 A Pow'r propitious, Irving, heard thy prayer, 
 And mov'd brave men to track thy turfless tomb ; 
 Britannia gathered with a parent's care 
 Thy sparse remains and bore them safely home. 
 
 This day a nation warms with loving tears 
 The remnants rescued from the icy mound ; 
 Yet none the less their memory she reveres 
 Who fell with thee, but no such rescue found. 
 
 Thus Britain's love inspires her loyal sons 
 To deeds of valour, suffering, or of death ; 
 With jealous care she seeks and guards their bones, 
 And lisps their names in every passing breath. 
 
 Edina, fence the treasure you possess 
 From vandal's plundering touch or foot profane ; 
 No grave like this can pensive hearts impress 
 No tablet can our gaze so long detain. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 TURNBULL AND SPBARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. 
 

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