4525
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 t/Szut+Lus 

 
 Hbelia, 
 
 Enbotber Poems, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 MERIKY LETTERS," "NEW ENGLAND SKETCHES, 
 
 &>c, &>c. 
 
 ASHTON-UNDER-LYNE 
 
 J. ANDREW AND CO. PRINTERS, "REPORTER" OFFICE. 
 
 1883.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Adelia 5 
 
 Lines to Mrs. Coldwell 13 
 
 The Sea Shell 15 
 
 Spring Signs and Spring Flowers 20 
 
 To my Cousin, H. Arnfield 21 
 
 A Scrap for a Scrap-book — To H. A 23 
 
 To the Memory of H. Melville 23 
 
 Morning 24 
 
 Lady M ary 25 
 
 Buttercups and Bluebells 31 
 
 Margaret 33 
 
 The Pansy 33 
 
 The English Robin 34 
 
 Wanoka 36 
 
 Kate B 37 
 
 Birds 3 8 
 
 Mary Stuart 39 
 
 Fair J anet 41 
 
 Sonos. 
 
 Bye-gone Yea rs 47 
 
 On the Winding Banks of Tame 48 
 
 A Lovely Night at Sea 49 
 
 My Baby Boy 5° 
 
 O' Leary 's Daughter 5° 
 
 The Sleigh Bells 51 
 
 My Susie 5 2
 
 ?K 
 
 IV. 
 
 I've Wandered Wide in Distant Lands 53 
 
 The Huntsman 54 
 
 Noo gin ye look sae vera dour 55 
 
 Celia 56 
 
 False Edwin 56 
 
 My Native Isle 57 
 
 The Parting 5 8 
 
 Jocky and Ann 59 
 
 New Year's Song 60 
 
 Push about the Can 61 
 
 The Herdsman 62 
 
 A Serenade 63 
 
 The Forsaken Maid 6.3 
 
 Scotland hath many a Noble Name 64 
 
 The Silly Auld Carl 65 
 
 Affection's Touch 66 
 
 A Long Adieu 66 
 
 Sorrow and Care 67 
 
 My Bonny Boat 68 
 
 Twin Rosebuds 6g 
 
 I have no Flocks 7° 
 
 My Cottage 7° 
 
 The Wounded Soldier 7 1 
 
 Roundelay 7 2 
 
 Night 73 
 
 Phemie and Allen 73 
 
 Curran's Daughter 74 
 
 New England 75 
 
 The Emigrant's Farewell 76 
 
 My Lassie 7 6 
 
 By Medlock's Bank 77 
 
 Alice Ray 7 8 
 
 Life's Lowly Vale 79 
 
 Boat Song 8o 
 
 Friendship's Joys 8l 
 
 Awake ! my Lovely Bride 82 
 
 For England's Queen 83 
 
 Poverty's Alleviations 84 
 
 Humble Advice 85 
 
 Gaffer J enks 86 
 
 To J. E. Cobb 87 
 
 An Acrostic 88 
 
 917931
 
 preface. 
 
 Weaving rhymes has been the amusement of many idle 
 hours in my time. Perhaps reading the rhymes thus strung 
 together may afford some pleasure to my friends, I hope 
 such may be the case, in a measure. 
 
 Fond parents like to bring their children into notice, for 
 
 they, at least, believe in their many excellencies, and look for 
 
 the commendation and praise which they are sure their 
 
 offsprings merit. An author, with a similar object in view, 
 
 brings before the public the emanations produced by his 
 
 pen — his "brain children." Neither parents nor authors 
 
 are apt to decry what is precious to them, if to no one else. 
 
 I leave censure and commendation to chance, and to my 
 
 friends would say, 
 
 Yours most truly, 
 
 S. DALE.
 
 Hfcelia* 
 
 No sound save that of mirth broke on the night, 
 As thronging guests, beneath the taper's light, 
 Quaffed sparkling wine, and spake of daring feat 
 Of chivalry ; or, in low converse sweet, 
 Pour'd in the willing ear of listening maid 
 A tale of love in earnest tones portrayed. 
 But more o'er this the ready laugh prevailed, 
 When keener wit light badinage assailed. 
 
 In the wide hall is spread a sumptuous feast, 
 When all draw near. And now a stoled priest 
 A blessing asks on this the fair repast, 
 In secret wishing that it long may last ; 
 Better he loves good cheer and rosy wine 
 Than crystal water, or on herbs to dine. 
 
 Here lake and forest, and the buoyant air, 
 Have each contributed their choicest share — 
 Fowl, venison, and pastry, fruit and fish, 
 Luxurious plenty fills each tempting dish. 
 A train of serving men in long array, 
 And dainty pages in apparel gay, 
 File through the banquet hall, and favours white 
 Stream from each badge on this eventful night. 
 
 " But, wherefore," asks the stranger, " this gay 
 show ?" 
 " Kind sir, or gentle madam, you must know 
 Herbert de Worms a gentle bride hath won, 
 Adelia is the loved and loving one." 
 
 Each guest now drinks to Herbert and his bride, 
 Who on a throned dais at his side
 
 6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Receives the homage with a blushing grace, 
 While loving pride beams in young Herbert's face. 
 
 Again the guests fill high their cups of gold 
 To pledge fair dames, and each young warrior bold 
 Kisses the love pledge of the favourite fair, 
 A glove, a scarf, perchance a lock of hair, 
 And fancies that he feels her balm}- breath 
 Float in the perfume of some fragrant wreath 
 Of rarest flowers, for these had lent their power 
 To add more beauty to the nuptial hour. 
 
 The ladies scarcely touched the jewelled rim 
 Of the bright goblet, but each thought of him, 
 The lov'd one of her heart, distant or near, 
 And in her bosom shrined the image dear. 
 
 Anon the harp, the tabret, and the flute, 
 With merry viol and the tinkling lute, 
 Give challenge to the dancers, who now bound 
 On toe fantastic through the giddy round. 
 
 A galaxy of loveliness was there, 
 The choicest of an isle where all are fair ; 
 But dames and damsels, yet in earlier youth, 
 Must nature help to enhance each charm, forsooth, 
 And robes of silk these dainty fair ones wear. 
 Their kirtles, with gold broiderings glistening o'er 
 Their stomachers, their waist encircling zones 
 Were decked with glittering wealth of precious stones, 
 And velvet coiffures were with gems bedight 
 Of such rare lustre, that the sparkling light 
 Of flashing taper dim beside them grew, 
 As gorgeous iridescent rays they threw 
 Rays which had prison'd first the sun's own light. 
 And then the rainbow's colours, that they might 
 Entrance the eyes of gazers yet the more,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And added charms bestow on those who wore 
 The costly garnitures :;: * 
 
 We turn to the fond loving pair, who now 
 Are blest for aye ; with holy rite and vow 
 The twain made one till death doth bid them part. 
 And, through the morning's rite, more near in heart. 
 
 In stature, young Adelia was not tall, 
 But just above the common height ; yet all 
 Her movements had a supple grace, which told 
 Of just proportion, and that the true mould 
 In which her form was cast perfection spake. 
 
 Adelia was not dark, nor very fair, 
 As some count fairness ; but had wealth of hair 
 The darkest shade of brown, which rippling hung 
 Far, far below her waist, and dark grey eyes 
 Shaded by lashes long of ebon dyes. 
 Oval her faultless face ; her smiling mouth 
 Was set with pearls, and winds of the fair south 
 Breath'd in the sweetness of her rosy mouth. 
 The flush upon her cheek now came and went 
 As varying moods prevailed, and this, too, lent 
 An added charm, of which she had in sooth 
 A goodly share ; in shape, in face, and youth, 
 Her graciousness bespoke a tender heart ; 
 Cold pride, sternness, or malice had in her no part. 
 Yet, could this fair one school her heart and mind 
 To deeds of firmness, should occasion find 
 A call for such ; for in her soul was seed of 
 Nobleness, as time and chance might need. 
 
 Adelia's mind gave to her lovely face 
 A charm divine, which all who gazed might trace 
 To the deep fount from which it sprung to birth. 
 Sedate her carriage, yet a flow of mirth
 
 8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Moved her to share its charm ; but truly she 
 Loved not rude jest nor boisterous company. 
 
 Again, on outward show I turn my glance, 
 And while the ladies, tired with the last dance, 
 Rest for a space, I yet will further note 
 The new-made bride, and tell with ready rote 
 Of her white dress, pearly in hue and sheen ; 
 Of kirtle shot with golden threads between 
 The silken web ; how curiously was wrought 
 The carcanet which clasp'd her slender throat ; 
 And tell of stomacher with emeralds set, 
 Rubies and sapphires, too, like th' carcanet, 
 Tell how the velvet coiffure bravely shone 
 With diamonds and pearls — all there did own 
 It was a goodly sight to meet the eye ; 
 And next her mantle of cerulean dye, 
 With silver broiderings wrought by the young bride, 
 For in such art Adelia took much pride. 
 
 And he who call'd his own the lovely one 
 Was worthy of the prize he now had won. 
 Herbert de Worms scarce thirty years had told, 
 A form had he of true and manly mould ; 
 A soldier from his earliest manhood's prime, 
 He sought the field when first the clarion's chime 
 Rang its shrill summons to the battle field, 
 His motto this. " Only with life I yield." 
 
 In duty's path Herbert was ever found, 
 A mind had he with spotless honour crowned ; 
 Beloved he was alike by high and low, 
 Of those who did his shining virtues know ; 
 And nobles on this bright auspicious day 
 Had met their meed of friendly love to pay. 
 Here, in the midst of song, wassail, and dance,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Courtier forgot to intrigue — brave knight forgot his 
 
 lance. 
 Buskins and hose their nether limbs encased, 
 And doublets wore they with silk slashings faced. 
 Collars these nobles wore with jewels set, 
 And where the baldric on the shoulder met 
 Shone clasp of silver, or more costly gold, 
 (Such trappings wore these gallant men of old). 
 
 Short velvet cloaks wore some, disposed with care, 
 Others, less formal, with a careless air. 
 Some wore the polished hauberk on their breast, 
 And mid the throng rose many a towering crest 
 By valour won, which spoke the martial mould 
 Of the proud wearer, and the spur of gold 
 Endors'd the claim to rank and high esteem ; 
 In th' eyes of those who martial prowess deem 
 The highest honour in the race of life, 
 And that encounters on the field of strife, 
 Only, can give true lustre and bright fame, 
 And glory to some blazon'd leader's name. 
 
 The feasting now is o'er, the tournay's past, 
 Peace and domestic joy have come at last. 
 Unvex'd by show of outward ill or strife, 
 Love draws yet closer husband and true wife. 
 In sylvan sports they sometimes pass the day 
 With hawk and hound ; or, hap with archery. 
 But, ah ! the joys of earth are fleet I ween, 
 And now, within the castled walls, a scene 
 Of busy preparation for the strife 
 Of war and bloodshed greets the new-made wife. 
 
 The gathering hosts, now headed by De Worms, 
 Have left the moated walls, and from the keep 
 Adelia waves her scarf, then goes to weep
 
 IO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 In her lone chamber, and begins ere long 
 To ask for news ; but none amongst the throng 
 Of pilgrims, nor chance travellers, can give 
 Word of De Worms, nor whether he doth live. 
 
 The love-lorn lady summons now her maid, 
 Joan, and asks of her, her ready aid. 
 " I know thou lovest me, minion, and I ask 
 A further proof in my approaching task.-" 
 " Ask not," said Joan, " but command, I pray, 
 My utmost service, show me but the way. 
 Yes, let me prove my fealty — prove it on my oath ; 
 I've loved thee, truly loved thee since we both 
 Drew from my mother's breast the self-same stream 
 That nurtur'd our young 'lives. It's been my dream 
 By night, and in the busiest hours of day, 
 
 How best to serve thee ; I my life would lay " 
 
 " Now, gently, Joan, I ask thee not thy life, 
 
 For well I know thou hopest to be a wife, 
 
 Therefore, I doom thee not to death, but' ask 
 
 Of thee a favour, and I think the task, 
 
 Which now I offer, will thy humour fit ; 
 
 For well I know tbou hast the cunning wit 
 
 That suits both time and place. Pray, get thee gone. 
 
 Assume the friar's cowl, and I will don 
 
 A pilgrim's garb ; and when bright chanticleer 
 
 Shall wake the morrow with his lusty cheer, 
 
 We will away to seek my loving lord ; 
 
 For rumour says the battle of the Ford 
 
 Was one of bloody contest. — Now, my sleep 
 
 Is troubled with strange fancies ; oft I weep, 
 
 Yet know not why. — But, shall a soldier's wife 
 
 Now idly mourn, and pass in sloth her life ? 
 
 I would prove worthy of De Worms's name, 
 
 To shrink from this would be my own soul's shame."'
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. II 
 
 So spake the lady, in sad mood, though brave 
 And trusty Joan ready answer gave. 
 In quick dispatch and ere the morning light 
 The fair ones were equipped for — seeming flight. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Eight days have come and gone in wearing pain 
 To Herbert, Lord De Worms ; and now, again, 
 The weary 'night throws its dark lowering shade 
 Across the plain, across the distant glade. 
 But, though the hour is lone, glad voices tell, 
 To each dear comrade, that "All's well! All's well ! " 
 Secure, — they trust the sentinel whose care 
 Must guard from open sally, or the snare 
 Which foe would weave, to gain his subtle end ; 
 And with bold open fight would treachery blend. 
 
 Two travellers the neighbouring height now gain, 
 Who, in the moonlight, scan the tented plain, 
 Wide stretching on the view : and on they push, 
 Almost unchalleng'd in the general hush 
 Which now prevails ; for are they not good men ? 
 Staid, ghostly comforters. Why, truly, then 
 No hindrance must they meet, but ready aid 
 To further their good work, and reverence paid 
 To each requirement of the several needs 
 Of the grave monk, and youth in pilgrim's weeds. 
 " Good even," says one, leaning on his arms. 
 " My noble master, Herbert, Lord De Worms, 
 Is surely wounded and we fear his death 
 May not be distant, for his labouring breath 
 Speaks ill, I ween, for lengthening stretch of days ; 
 
 Some ghostly comfort might " With strange 
 
 amaze 
 The man looks up, to see the pilgrim start. 
 With st;ep as fleet as any hunted hart,
 
 12 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Straight for the tent where Herbert's pennon bright 
 
 Shines with pale lustre, in the glinting light 
 
 Of moon and stars, and slower striding on, 
 
 The monk now follows ; and when both are gone, 
 
 The soldier gives his thoughts a tongue, and calls 
 
 On all the saints, and then as loudly falls 
 
 To mouthing oaths. " Beshrew me, but I think 
 
 This holy pair have tasted stronger drink 
 
 Than clear, spring water ; or, they be, I swear, 
 
 Two Bedlamites ; though, in good sooth, they wear 
 
 The garb of pious men. Now, may no ill befall 
 
 My noble master. I will haste and call 
 
 My trusty comrades, and we'll keep strict watch 
 
 Beside his tent ; his kindness shall find match 
 
 In our regards ; no ill shall him betide 
 
 While in my own veins runs life's crimson tide. 
 
 Prone on his couch, with visage pale and wan, 
 Lies Lord De Worms, and an old serving man 
 Moistens with water cold his burning lips ; 
 Or, in a silver goblet now he dips 
 A short white scarf, and on his forehead bare 
 He gently lays the same with tender care. 
 
 Though feebly flicker'd now the spark of life, 
 Oft might be heard the whispered name of " wife — 
 Sweetheart — dear love — would thou wert here, 
 Thy welcome voice my sinking soul might cheer." 
 " Herbert, my lord, my dear one, I am come 
 To watch beside thee, and this tent my home 
 Must be until the day arrive when we shall both 
 Together leave : for so, on solemn oath, 
 I'm vow'd to watch thy couch, to stay by thee, 
 And the leech saith (a good grave man is he), 
 " Thou must from hence, until from ailment free."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 13 
 
 In just a week a litter was prepar'd 
 For brave Adelia and her ailing lord, 
 And to their castle fair they take their way, 
 And monk and pilgrim's weeds are cast away. 
 
 Now, sober joy re-echo'd in the halls 
 Of young De Worms ; though long the castle walls 
 Held him a prisoner, for each desperate wound 
 Took long to heal ; but then he solace found 
 In peaceful pleasure ; for he'd surely prov'd 
 The deep heart-tenderness of her he loved. 
 
 And the true loyalty of those who serv'd 
 Was noted well, and for them was reserv'd 
 A measure of his love and warm regard, 
 And proved the more in fitting just reward. 
 So when Joan did wed her man-at-arms, 
 A dinner and banquet both gave Lord De Worms : 
 For his Adelia's sake, and for the plea 
 That both had serv'd them well and faithfully, 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY FRIEND MRS. CALDWELL. 
 Written to commemorate the scenery around Netherton, Yorkshire. 
 
 Oft will my thoughts return to that dear spot 
 Where purple mountains, clothed with heather bells, 
 In grandeur rise, and in the clouds enwrap 
 Their hoary heads, wet with gathering mists, 
 Which night distils on their ascending crests. 
 
 The deepening valley, grove, and stunted copse 
 Arrest the wandering eye, and bid us grave 
 Upon the inmost soul the several parts 
 That form the enchanting whole — 
 B
 
 14 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The wandering brook 
 Which through the valley steals ; the frowning scar, 
 Furrowed and black with gather'd storms of age. 
 The moorland homes nestled on rising slopes ; 
 The gardens gay, won from the stretching waste, 
 Now glow with brightening blooms or lavish buds ; 
 Are parts and parcels of the whole. Yet, still, 
 The picture lacks completion, and we turn 
 To leave the hamlet's narrow bounds and seek 
 The lonely farmsteads, where the patient kine 
 Munch the sweet herbage, — where the frisking lambs 
 Bleat to their meek-eyed mothers, who, in turn 
 Give answering bleat, and with caresses soft 
 Fondle their tender young. 
 
 The wood invites 
 Our willing footsteps, where above our heads 
 A verdant canopy shuts out the rays 
 Of the too fervid sun. Now, at our feet 
 The graceful fern, with harebell blue, bespreads 
 The sloping banks, which, in their sunken depths 
 (Hid from the sight by fringe of living green) 
 A silver runnel finds its silent way. 
 
 In long siesta, or in idle mood, 
 The feather'd choristers indulge, for scarce 
 The rustle of a wing, or chirp, is heard 
 In this lone wood. 
 
 In open meadow, or wide stretching field, 
 With summer flowers now deck'd, the vagrant bees 
 And downy butterflies contented sip 
 From cornucopias, studding thick the heads 
 Of crimson clover, peeping through the grass, 
 Rich drops of nectar'd sweets.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 5 
 
 The ambient air is fill'd 
 With subtle charms, which ever soothe and please. 
 
 Above our heads a sapphire dome, now fleck'd 
 With fleecy cloudlets hung in etherous space, 
 Enchants the vision, and the raptur'd eye 
 Roams o'er the expanse to where the curving arch 
 Bounds the horizon, and the dark dim earth 
 Joins in close circle with the heights which stoop 
 To clasp our fair round world. 
 
 When in far lands, these scenes shall often come 
 As memory's solace and a fond delight. 
 And thou wilt come with willing feet, methinks, 
 To visit oft these sacred haunts, and I 
 Would ask thee to remember how we trod 
 These selfsame paths in sweet companionship. 
 
 The Sea Shell. 
 
 Two merry children, sporting 'neath the shade 
 
 Of the tall rose-bush by the cottage door, 
 
 As ever eager for some fresh device 
 
 To cheat dull time, and fill each minute's space 
 
 With pleasure's fulness, gaily laugh, and shout, 
 
 And clap their little hands, and dance and sing 
 
 In ecstasy of soul ; for they dream not 
 
 Of coming care, of sadden'd hours, of days 
 
 Freighted with sorrow. Thus the happy twain 
 
 Gamboll'd and play'd, when suddenly the boy, 
 
 Seeing at hand a curving hollow shell, 
 
 He grasp'd the treasure, and his ear applied 
 
 To the pink cavity, for he believ'd
 
 l6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The tales he'd heard of whisperings from the sea 
 Prison'd within its rosy depths, and he 
 Intently listen'd, but he only heard 
 Soft mystic murmunngs — nothing more. 
 The girl in anxious haste receives the shell, 
 And listens — listens, but she only hears 
 The wordless air, and nothing more, I trow. 
 Yet both are pleas'd, and merrily they laugh, 
 Even as young children will, for their pure souls 
 Are full of mirth, which, like a bubbling fount, 
 Is ever brimming up, and to their lips 
 Comes in bright ripples, and the air they fill 
 With the glad echoes of their sinless mirth. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 On the low lying beach, where ocean flings 
 
 Its idle treasures at the wanderer's feet, 
 
 Where coming waves on waves with sportive leaps, 
 
 Toy with the land, and sing a low refrain 
 
 Ere they return to ocean's depths, and fling 
 
 Unnumber'd kisses on the broider'd hem 
 
 Of earth's gay garniture ; then come and go 
 
 As some fond lover, ere he takes his leave 
 
 Of the adored one, whose potent spell 
 
 Holds him in thraldom sweet. So doth the sea 
 
 Take his last loving leave of witching earth. 
 
 A lovely maiden, straying by the shore, 
 Holds to her pearly ear a dainty shell, 
 And in its murmurings hears but one glad strain, 
 The old, old song, yet ever sweet, of love ; 
 Love in its rich, ripe fulness ; love that mocks 
 At every other feeling, and pervades 
 The heart, the soul, the all of life, and fills 
 Each bodily sense, thrills through each leaping pulse.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 17 
 
 Earth to Elysium turns, so sweet's the bliss 
 That wraps the dreamer in its glowing folds ; 
 And this glad song the listening fair one heard 
 Within her secret soul : 
 
 " Sweet Lisa, by thy golden hair 
 And eye of sapphire blue, 
 And by thy forehead white, I swear 
 My love is deep and true. 
 
 " Fair maiden, by thy swan-like neck 
 And cheek of roseate hue, 
 And by thy coral lips, I swear 
 My love is deep and true. 
 
 " By every feature of thy face, 
 In just proportion true ; 
 By every charm that binds the heart 
 I swear I love but you. 
 
 " By that dear form of perfect grace, 
 And every motion true, 
 Again I vow, again I swear, 
 I love, I love but you." 
 
 So sang the youth his love, and she the maid 
 Press'd to her lips the much-priz'd shell, and gave 
 From her full heart and from her gushing soul 
 An answering echo to the welcome strain : 
 
 " Soft breezes waft my loving kiss 
 To him who waits beyond the sea, 
 And bear upon your laden wings 
 Low whisper'd messages from me.
 
 l8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sweet-throated linnet, when thou wak'st 
 The morning with thy tender strain, 
 I'd bid thee fill thy lay with this— 
 ' We soon shall meet — shall meet again.' 
 
 Soft cooing dove, that lov'st to wake 
 Light slumbering echo from her sleep, 
 To Herbert tell— O ! tell the tale 
 No love's like mine, so true and deep. 
 
 Bright flashing brook, should Herbert stray 
 Beside your sparkling waters clear, 
 Tell him his Lisa holds his love 
 Beyond all price, divinely dear. 
 
 Blush roses and meek lilies fair, 
 And every flower that sips the dew, 
 Tell him at morn, at noon, and eve, 
 I yet my constant vows renew. 
 
 Soft breeze, bright brook, dew-laden flower, 
 
 Linnet and amorous cooing dove, 
 
 To Herbert tell sweet tender tales 
 
 Of truth, of constancy, and love. 
 
 * * •-:< * * * 
 
 A youth, whose every bounding pulse leaps up 
 With the warm vigour of his ripening prime, 
 Awaits the coming of yon' ship, and seeks 
 Some brief amusement, which shall help to wile 
 The tedious minutes which must intervene 
 Before the trusty boat, now deftly lowered, 
 Shall ground her keel upon the sand, so stoops, 
 And gathers at his feet a curving shell 
 Form'd, but in lesser shape, like those 'tis said 
 The daring spirits bear that close surround 
 Old Neptune's throne, the monarch of the deeps.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. IO, 
 
 He claps, as he had done in childhood's days ; 
 To ear inclin'd, the shell, and smiles to find 
 The tale the sea-shell tells so suits the mood 
 Of his ambition and his longing heart. 
 A gallant ship is his, she ploughs the main 
 In stately pride, and from her prow she flings 
 The dashing spray, and cleaves the opposing waves, 
 Tops the dark billows, skims the watery waste, 
 And holds her steady course, a thing of mark, 
 A thing of beauty from her prow to keel. 
 Symmetrical and slim, with snowy shrouds 
 White as the cygnet's wing, now in the breeze 
 Stretched to their fulness. Onward doth she glide, 
 Obedient to her helm. The stars look down 
 To watch her stately course. The pale-faced moon 
 On the bright surface of the ocean limns 
 Her hull, her tapering mast, her wide stretched 
 
 arms. 
 The breaking sunbeams on her pathway throw 
 Ripples of shining gold. Anon the winds 
 To try her strength put forth their crushing power. 
 Boldly she meets the storm, the cumbrous sails, 
 Most needless, useless in the coining strife, 
 Are to the yard-arms clew'd. Now comes the roar 
 Of the fierce angry winds. Old ocean meets 
 The furious element that works unseen. 
 Now both combine their powers of ill ; but yet 
 The gallant ship succumbs not, though she writhes, 
 Rears, plunges, groans, and sways from side to side, 
 Like some strong wrestler in the iron grip 
 Of stronger, deadlier foe. 
 
 Shout for the victor ! Shout huzza ! huzza 
 The fight is o'er, the ship rides on her way
 
 20 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 In triumph, and the waves and bellowing winds 
 Must now their service yield to speed her course. 
 
 Spring Signs and Spring Flowers. 
 
 Spring is coining ! spring is coming ! 
 We know it by the gentle sigh 
 Of soften'd winds in tall tree tops 
 That boisterous Winter now must die. 
 
 Spring draws nigh ! spring draws nigh ! 
 Twittering swallows come and go ; 
 A golden green the willow dyes ; 
 Spring is nigh we know, we know ! 
 
 Spring is nigh ! spring is nigh ! 
 From prison cell the drowsy bee 
 Hath broken bounds, and tries his wing 
 Once more on open spreading lea. 
 
 Spring is near ! spring is near ! 
 Yellow daff'dils dance and nod 
 In the breeze, and crocuses 
 Purple now the dark green sod. 
 
 Spring is come ! spring is come ! 
 Pleasing signs the sweet truth tell ; 
 Pale primroses now are found 
 In the bosky shady dell.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 21 
 
 Spring is here ! spring is here ! 
 Soft-flushed anemones now 
 Swing their fair)' bells ; the copse 
 Is robed in coolest green, we trow. 
 
 Spring is come ! spring is come ! 
 Cowslip by the purling brook 
 A gilded chalice openeth wide, 
 Violets blow in shady nook. 
 
 Spring is come ! spring is come ! 
 
 See the hawthorn all aglow 
 
 With blushing buds, whose open'd cups 
 
 Shall rival winter's stainless snow. 
 
 Spring is here ! spring is here ! 
 E'en the forest trees, I wis, 
 Hang out buds which first do steal 
 From genial Sol his morning kiss. 
 
 LINES 
 
 A.DDRSSED TO MY YOUNG COUSIN, HARRIET ARNFIELD, 
 
 OF TASMANIA. 
 
 Daughter of one with whom in early youth 
 In close companionship my days I spent ; 
 Gentle and genial was she, and a charm 
 And brightness to each passing hour she lent. 
 c
 
 22 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sever'd b} r distance and an unkind Fate 
 Our lives have parted been ; but yet in thought 
 I'm often with the loved in days of yore ; 
 And thus is time and distance set at nought. 
 
 With swift imaginings I yet can fly 
 
 To distant lands I ne'er in life must see ; 
 
 Tread Tamar's banks, scan Cameron's towering 
 
 crest, 
 With other wonders of the shore and sea. 
 
 Fair is Tasmania, for Dame Nature here 
 In gayest garniture appears, I ween ; 
 And lovely flowers bedeck her trailing robe, 
 With small or statelier ferns of coolest green. 
 
 Strange beasts, strange birds of dazzling plume 
 
 are here 
 By shining river's brink or in the glade, 
 Or forest deep, they seek the bough or lair, 
 And tend their nurslings in the grateful shade. 
 
 But thy fond mother will full oft I know 
 Tell thee of that sweet isle which is in truth 
 The one beloved spot to all who there 
 Have passed their childhood's days and budding 
 youth. 
 
 And now I close with fervent hope and prayer 
 That the Omnipotent may kindly send, 
 For thy acceptance, blessings choice and rare, 
 And Wisdom's guidance, till thy life shall end.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 23 
 
 Written for the Scrap Book 
 
 OF MY YOUNG COUSIN, HARRIET ARNFIELD, OF TASMANIA. 
 
 A little scrap may sometimes mean as much 
 
 As precious gem, or bright enduring gold ; 
 
 A little word may nestle in the heart, 
 
 And cheer the soul when all the world grows cold. 
 
 My kin in blood, I ne'er must see thy face, 
 
 Nor of thy joys and sorrows e'er partake ; 
 
 But though broad lands and oceans part our lives. 
 
 I'll love thee for thy darling mother's sake. 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 MY LITTLE GRANDNEPHEW, HAROLD W. MELVILLE. 
 
 Who died June 14, 1883, in the 5th year of his age. 
 
 Twas in the calm sweet summer time 
 Our blue-eyed boy, now nearing childhood's prime, 
 Our merry, handsome boy lay down to sleep. 
 But oh, my heart ! for this we wail and weep. 
 His is the sleep that knows no waking morn, 
 The sleep which stills the pulses, steals the breath ; 
 It chills the heart ! Great God, this sleep is death 
 Our darling from our longing arms is torn. 
 
 It was with eager eyes his parents traced 
 
 ICach dawning power of mind, and all that graced
 
 24 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 That form of beauty both as fondly eyed 
 
 With glow of rapture — all absorbing pride. 
 
 Ah, little deemed they that the spoiler's hand 
 
 Was stretched to grasp their loved, their cherished 
 
 one ; 
 That the dark grave should claim their little son. 
 So dearly loved of that small household band. 
 
 We cannot choose but weep, and plain our loss, 
 And count thy early death our heaviest cross ; 
 Albeit we know thou never now wilt taste 
 Life's bitter dregs, nor on its dreariest waste 
 Encounter foe, fierce storm, or scorching sun ; 
 We know that with some happy cherub band 
 Thou sharest untold bliss in that fair land, 
 Where reigns the Christ-child, God's beloved son. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 With deep felt ecstasy my soul drinks in 
 The glorious beauty of the awakening east. 
 I watch the sun o'er-top the hyperion arc, 
 Behold him drive the sullen drowsy night 
 From his dark throne. Watch how the sable troops 
 Of dark-wing'd shadows that the adverse night 
 Had gather 'd in his halls, now slow retreat, 
 O'erpower'd by the resplendent hosts that wait 
 Beside the chariot of the all-conquering sun.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 25 
 
 THE LADY MARY. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 The Lady Mary hath left her maids 
 And wandered forth alone 
 To where a sparkling fountain 
 In glistening diamonds shone. 
 
 She stood for awhile by the margin, 
 And pluck'd from a neighbouring bough 
 Sweet blushing buds, which she twined in a 
 
 wreath, 
 And with it bound her brow. 
 
 Her golden hair in rippling curls 
 Adown her shoulders fell, 
 And lashes long shaded her eyes, 
 Of hue like the bonny blue bell. 
 
 The lady was young, and care and grief 
 Had ne'er found room in her breast ; 
 And so her morn of life rose fair, 
 Nor dream'd she of sorrow's unrest. 
 
 And lightly she tripp'd o'er the emerald sward, 
 And caroll'd a merry song ; 
 But, lady fair, a cloud is near 
 Which shall shroud thy life ere long. 
 
 Still on she kept in blythesome mood, 
 With a step as light as fawn, 
 Till she met a forester on her way, 
 Pacing the spreading lawn.
 
 26 MI-SCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The forester raised his cap of green 
 In homage to the maid, 
 And she often turned her eyes on him 
 Ere she quitted the sloping glade. 
 
 And the lady marked well that this same youth 
 Was comely and fair to see ; 
 " But what is that to an Earl's daughter ? 
 It can nothing count with me." 
 
 Thus spake to herself the Lady Mary : 
 " I must cast such thoughts away ; 
 To muse on the handsome forester youth 
 Might lead my thoughts astray." 
 
 She wander'd on yet a little way 
 
 Ere she turn'd her steps to the hall, 
 
 But her breast was fuTd with a tumult wild. 
 
 Her soul in a sweet enthral. 
 
 Fill'd with a strange emotion, 
 Her heart would thrill with joy ; 
 Yet often the bounding rapture 
 Would sink to a soften'd sigh. 
 
 She seeks in her father's mansion 
 Her own dear quiet bower, 
 But soon she sees her pretty young page 
 Come forth from the northern tower. 
 
 He brings to the lady a message 
 
 That at the close of day 
 
 She must welcome — her father bids her — 
 
 The Baron of Ellerybay.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 27 
 
 With the Baron the wooing sped ill, 
 For a gathering frown was seen 
 On his brow ; and this grew darker 
 As the hours pass'd on I ween. 
 
 Then the Baron he mounted his charger, 
 And with angry, haughty air, 
 He said, " I never will take as bride 
 A cold, unwilling fair." 
 
 FART 11. 
 
 Now the Lady Mary often stray'd 
 
 To a lonely sylvan nook, 
 
 Where the lake's bright glittering waters 
 
 Were fed by a rippling brook. 
 
 And oft she'd wait to catch a sight 
 Of Hubert passing by ; 
 But he dream'd not of the love that lit 
 The lady's bright blue eye. 
 
 For the maiden ne'er to him did give 
 
 Of love a sign or word, 
 
 Though her heart would nutter in her breast 
 
 Like a timorous frightened bird. 
 
 When she did pass him by, her eyes 
 Would seek some distant spot, 
 Or, sinking on the ground, would seem 
 As though she saw him not. 
 
 But when she to her chamber came, 
 Her thoughts would backward fly 
 To the time of jousts and tournaments, 
 And Hubert's self was nigh.
 
 28 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And he was bravest of the brave 
 
 In all that courtly scene ; 
 
 And on his brow she was placing a wreath, 
 
 For she was fair Beauty's Queen. 
 
 Next war's dread note was sounded, 
 
 And forth she saw him ride, 
 
 Then saw him return 'mid the warrior throng. 
 
 Flushed full with victory's pride. 
 
 Or when the bright moon shimmering, shone 
 In checkered bars of light 
 
 On the shaded lawns, she would deem the spot 
 A gate of silver bright. 
 
 And through the gate she'd pass, and join 
 A happy elfin band ; 
 For Hubert now was dwelling there, 
 A Prince in fairyland. 
 
 And she, transform'd in shape and mein 
 Into a tiny sprite, 
 
 Most happily liv'd with her fairy Prince, 
 Their lives with love alight. 
 
 These dreams pleased well the maiden, 
 For now she was a bride, 
 And ever hovering near her was 
 Her heart's delight and pride. 
 
 But some earthly jar would break the spell 
 Which on her soul had lain ; 
 Still she in secret hugg'd her gyves, 
 And wore love's flowery chain.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 20. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Now it happen'd one day— 'twas an evil day — 
 That the Lady Mary stray 'd 
 Where the fallow deer were feeding 
 Down in a pleasant glade. 
 
 The lady now, as oft her mood, 
 Mov'd slowly, pensively, 
 And rested awhile in the winding path, 
 At the foot of an old oak tree. 
 
 Now there came a rush through the stilly air, 
 But she neither saw nor heard 
 The blazing eye nor the threatening mein 
 Of that fierce old king of the herd. 
 
 One final bound, with his antlers lowered 
 To strike the fatal blow ; 
 But a sinewy arm now clasps his neck, 
 And the irate stag's laid low. 
 
 The struggle is fierce, but the madden'd brute 
 Now bellows and writhes in vain, 
 Kor Hubert's knife has pierc'd his breast, 
 And his life-blood flows amain. 
 
 The struggle is o'er ; but ah the sight ! 
 Alack! Ah ! well a-day ! 
 The victor and the vanquish'd 
 Upon the green sward lay. 
 
 And from the forester's body flow'd 
 A crimson welling tide, 
 For in the fray those antlers sharp 
 Had pierc'd brave Hubert's side, 
 i)
 
 30 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then the Lady Mary wrung her hands, 
 And wept with dolorous cr}', 
 And said, " Ah me, that my heart's true love 
 For my own poor sake should die." 
 
 Then the parting soul for a time rushed back 
 With a fluttering sigh and moan, 
 For Hubert divin'd from that sorrowing wail, 
 That the lady's heart was his own. 
 
 Now again a dull and glassy film 
 Steals over his hazel eye ; 
 But he raises his hand and points above 
 To the blue and glorious sky. 
 
 They laid him to sleep by a lofty tomb. 
 Where proud escutcheons shone, 
 For that he had saved a lady's life 
 By the forfeit of his own. 
 
 And the Lady Mary often went 
 To that spot at the evening hour ; 
 But from that time she droop'd and sank. 
 Like a blighted, withered flower. 
 
 And many wept and grieved full sore 
 When they heard the muffled chime, 
 F'or the fate of that noble maiden. 
 Who had perish'd ere her prime.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 31 
 
 Buttercups and Bluebells. 
 
 Bright buttercups and bluebells 
 Ye were in early youth, 
 Ere time had left dark traces, 
 And fiil'd my cup of ruth. 
 
 But truce to sombre musings ; we'll none of thes( 
 We have enough of sadness, of sorrow's bitter le< 
 In cares, in hourly wearing strife, 
 While passing through this vale of life. 
 But yet there is alloy. 
 
 Nature, in all her loveliness, 
 Her broiderings and her jewell'd dress, 
 Beckons with smile and soft caress, 
 And bids us taste her joy. 
 
 We cannot choose, but must admire 
 The many beauties spread around, 
 Or hung on bush, or trailing brier ; 
 Bush, brier, or tree, or spangled mound, 
 
 Are brightly fleck'd, 
 
 Are gaily deck'd 
 With gems which art of man defy, 
 Though he his craftiest skill may try. 
 
 How sweet a joy ye've brought to me. 
 
 Fair flowerets of the copse and lea — 
 A joy and a sweet pleasure ; 
 And ye've heap'd full high a measure 
 
 Far coming retrospections — 
 
 Most tender recollections.
 
 32 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A store from which in future days 
 I might enrich my simple lays. 
 Ye yet can call up many a dream 
 Of byegone days ; but these I'll deem 
 The visions of but yesterday, 
 And feel as then, both blythe and gay. 
 I'll revel in delights so dear — 
 Distant ? ah, no ! they are most near. 
 
 Then stay, for now my span of life 
 Is waning fast ; nor ill, nor strife 
 Shall blur or mar my pictur'd store 
 Of pleasing scenes. My heart cries more ! 
 More yet, and more of youthful joy ; 
 Such ne'er can tire, can never cloy ! 
 
 Sweet flowers, ye pleas'd me well, and still 
 Your azure and your golden sheen 
 Shall rhymster glad, and child I ween ; 
 And these shall feel the pleasing thrill 
 Which all must feel who wander free 
 By copse, or on the flowery lea ; 
 For there the bonny blue bell hangs 
 Her drooping head on fragile stem, 
 And there the buttercup is found, 
 Mid the tall grass, a shining gem.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 33 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 [written in a lady's album.] 
 
 If I might pluck from Flora's simpler wreath, 
 The gem that pleases most and lures my feet 
 
 To where sweet wild flowers grow, I sure should 
 choose, 
 The lowly Margaret — the daisy neat. 
 
 And as I love that flower, I hope to love 
 All those who bear my darling's favour'd name ; 
 
 Although the world may know them not, nor write 
 Their lives, their deeds within the book of fame. 
 
 And now my friend if thou wilt give response 
 To that dear name though thou be far away, 
 
 Twould please me well I own to know thou priz'd 
 The promis'd sweets of friendship's transient day. 
 
 And I for thee and thine would often crave 
 
 The choicest blessings heaven might deign to send 
 
 That fond affection bind with golden band 
 Each heart as one, till time and being end. 
 
 THE PANSY. 
 
 Mail, thou most lovely of earth's many flowers, 
 Daughter of spring, soft skies and gentle showers. 
 From emerald tufts thou rear'st thy lovely head, 
 When the pale snow-drop seeks its early bed.
 
 34 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thy colours rich and deep might proudly vie 
 
 With the imperial, boasted Tyrean dye ; 
 
 This mingling with the hue of purest gold 
 
 Gives beauty which must please, and ne'er grow old. 
 
 I leve to see thy sheath of green unclose, 
 While yet the East in flushing crimson glows, 
 And watch the dew-drop tremble in thine eye — 
 But mourn that aught so fair should fade and die. 
 
 Now summer beauties flaunt in showy pride, 
 And would thy humble modesty deride ; 
 All varied are the charms which they disclose. 
 And peerless 'mongst them is the queenly rose. 
 
 Rut in the fierce rays of the setting sun, 
 Or autumn's blast they wither and are gone. 
 The sun may scorch, but thou art with us still, 
 Nor can the autumn winds thy beauty chill. 
 
 And till cold winter comes with snowy shroud, 
 And biting frosts, and tempests howling loud, 
 Thou lingerest still, and in thy life we see 
 Personified true lasting constancy. 
 
 To the English Robin. 
 
 Dear gentle robin, why so shy ? 
 I'm sure thou never canst descry 
 Aught but kind feeling in mine eye, 
 When gazing on thee.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 35 
 
 Then why, oh, why this timid flight, 
 When I to feast my longing sight, 
 Draw near thy nest so snug and tight 
 In admiration ? 
 
 Thou surely ne'er wouldst find in me 
 One who would injure such as thee, 
 Then in thy favourite cedar tree 
 
 Still make thy home. 
 
 I'd rather guard thee and would keep 
 A watch with thee, and I would weep 
 If any foe should slyly creep 
 
 To work thy ruin. 
 
 Then rest thee in thy leafy bower, 
 From scorching sun and drenching shower. 
 And winds that sweep with crushing power, 
 Securely rest. 
 
 Thy coal black eye and glossy coat 
 Of dusky brown and pale red throat, 
 Remind me of a land remote, 
 Beyond the sea. 
 
 Where the sweet linnet on the bush 
 Sings to the strain of mellow thrush, 
 And lark with clear melodious gush 
 In concert joins. 
 
 And when I hear again the song 
 In that far land the woods among, 
 Of gathering choristers a throng, 
 I'll think of thee.
 
 36 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WANOKA. 
 
 By the graves of my fathers I stand now alone, 
 My kindred have all to the spirit land gone. 
 My people are scatter'd like leaves to the blast, 
 They have bowed to the earth, and Wanoka's the last. 
 
 My tribe was once fierce as the wolf in his lair 
 When he battles with hunger and scents on the air 
 The breath of his victim, then wallows in blood- 
 So met we the foe in the wide spreading wood. 
 
 In council our chiefs and our old men were wise. 
 And our dusky brow'd maidens, how fawndike their 
 
 eyes. 
 When our scouts sought the trail in the dark forest 
 
 deep, 
 The enemies' women would wail and would weep. 
 
 The eagle is bold as he sails in the cloud, 
 
 When the Great Spirit speaks in his thunder-voice 
 
 loud ; 
 Vet bolder than eagles our warriors sped on, 
 But Wanoka's alone, and the warriors are gone. 
 
 My father, who taught me the use of the bow. 
 
 And taught me with skill the bright tomahawk to 
 
 throw. 
 To the wide happy hunting ground now hath passed 
 
 on ; 
 Wanoka's alone, and his kindred are gone.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 37 
 
 Our camp fires no more shall illumine the hill, 
 The place of the wigwams is silent and still, 
 The beaver is gone, and the fleet-footed deer, 
 Hath sought a fresh covert to hide him through fear. 
 
 Now the calumet of peace and the hatchet of war 
 Rust deep in the earth, and a voice from afar 
 Whispers sadly, and sighs in the wind's hollow tone— 
 " The tribes have departed — Wanoka's alone." 
 
 KATE B- 
 
 Young Katie hath a beaming smile, 
 And pearly teeth and sunny hair, 
 
 Which wreaths in many a graceful curl 
 Upon her brow so fair. 
 
 Kate hath a noble form and mien, 
 Her parts a just proportion bear ; 
 
 No empress could eclipse fair Kate, 
 Though deck'd in jewels rare. 
 
 And Kate hath coral lips I ween, 
 
 With beauteous eyes of sapphire blue, 
 
 Which sparkle bright or sweetly melt, 
 They are love's chosen hue. 
 
 E
 
 38 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Young Katie hath a dreaming soul 
 
 Which fain would mount aloft and soar 
 
 To grandeur's heights, or deeply drink 
 Of learning's mystic lore. 
 
 But should the wayward Fates prove cold. 
 
 And stay thy anxious upward flight, 
 Still may'st thou roam life's humble vale 
 
 With joyous spirit light. 
 
 BIRDS. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO MY LITTLE FRIEND, E. C, 
 OF NETHERTON. 
 
 Beautiful birds, I love you all, 
 
 From the bold sea-gull to the soft-eyed dove, 
 F"rom the robin nestling in the bush 
 
 To the wren that sings in the branch above. 
 
 O how I love to stand and watch 
 
 The swallow skim o'er the glassy brook ; 
 
 And I like to peep at the tiny brood, 
 
 That flutter their wings in the blue-bell nook. 
 
 Should we choose to roam in the wood) 7 glade, 
 Or gain the top of the breezy hill, 
 
 Or seek far lands beyond the sea, 
 The gentle birds are with us still.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 3q 
 
 Blythsome birds ever willing and glad 
 
 To give us the best of their cheery strains, 
 
 Why should we grudge them a crumb or two. 
 Or of corn just a few scattered grains ? 
 
 The timid things ever seem to say 
 
 To each passer by, " O do us no harm."' 
 
 Then I never will injure my feathery friends. 
 Nor rifle their nests, so snug and warm. 
 
 The great Allwise, the God of Love, 
 
 Who created all things by Hrs own good plan. 
 And fashion'd them all by unerring rules, 
 
 Hath given His birds for the use of man. 
 
 MARY STUART. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Fill jewell'd goblets to the brim, 
 Drink deep to this fond youthful pair ; 
 For Gallia's kingly, hopeful son 
 In love hath justly, truly won 
 Brave Scotia's royal fair. 
 
 Bow, France, to thy fair matchless Queen. 
 For here perfection is outdone ; 
 Ripe beauty with rich grace combine 
 To make this royal fair divine ; 
 She is earth's peerless one.
 
 40 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Peal the joy bells, let glad shouts 
 
 Make the very welkin ring ; 
 
 On each vine-clad slope of France, 
 
 Raise the song and lead the dance ; 
 
 Let the merry viol's note 
 
 On the breeze of evening float, 
 
 And each join the heartfelt strain — 
 
 " Welcome she who comes to reign !" 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Alas the night ! Alas the day ! 
 
 The sun grows dim and clouds obscure 
 
 The brightness of Hesperus' ray. 
 
 Oh, gentle Mary, veil thine eyes ! 
 
 See not those boding, threatening signs, 
 
 Taste yet of joy, for tears and sighs 
 
 Must soon thy hapless portion be. 
 
 Grim death is waiting even now 
 
 Thy happiness to mar, and see ! — 
 
 Nay, see not yet that future dark, 
 
 See not the fiercely driven bark 
 
 Of sovereignty, by factions torn, 
 
 And thy sweet self a prisoner lorn. 
 
 An outcast from thy father land, 
 
 And captive on a hostile strand, 
 
 Betray 'd by a false woman vile, 
 
 Who lur'd thy heart with treacherous wile, 
 
 Then wrought thee woe and gloom. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Mary, fair Queen of sunny France, 
 And Queen of Scotland cold and bleak, 
 When thinking of each grief and woe 
 That sear'd thy heart and laid thee low.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 41 
 
 The tear-drop dews my cheek. 
 Still thinking on my troublous fate, 
 I feel my bosom swell with hate 
 Towards thy unrelenting foes ; 
 But most towards that ungentle Queen, 
 Whose breast might ne'er with pity glow, 
 Nor feel sweet mercy's tender throe — 
 False, cruel, treacherous Queen. 
 
 FAIR JANET. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 The young laird left the castle keep, 
 An' sought the wild wood green, 
 Wi' hawk an' hound, an' huntsman, too — 
 A goodly band, I ween. 
 
 They had guid sport that merry morn, 
 For weel-train'd was each hound, 
 An' the falcons were the fiercest 
 In a' the country round. 
 
 Now there cam that morn to the castle gate 
 A leddy wi' haughty mien, 
 
 An' sic flashes o' pride in her bright black een. 
 She might ha'e been a queen. 
 
 An' she had a train o' serving men, 
 An' she had pages twa, 
 Who flew to obey her slightest wish. 
 For to them her word was law.
 
 a 2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then the leddy mither she took her Kan- 
 An' led her to her bower, 
 Where floated the Douglas banner braid 
 O'er the highest, strongest tower, 
 
 She said, " tak' a welcome kind frae me, 
 
 An' a welcome for my son ; 
 
 He is this morn a hunting gane, 
 
 An' will be here anon." 
 
 Now the fairest maid in a' Scotland 
 Was standin' in the ha', 
 An' her cheek was like the snaw I wot, 
 And her face was to the wa'. 
 
 Then she took frae her wealth o' bright brown 
 
 hair, 
 Just ting'd wi' a gowden hue, 
 A shinin' braw new siller pin, 
 While tears dimmed her e'e sae blue. 
 
 An' she took a bonny kerchief, too. 
 An' a bonny silken hood, 
 But bound her shapely head ye's ken 
 Wi' a white and pale green snood. 
 
 Then she took ilk kirtle fine, an' gloves, 
 An' ring, and jewell'd pin — 
 For by sic gear the young Douglas 
 Had sought her luve to win. 
 
 Then ilka token she laid aside 
 
 In a coffer o' carved wood, 
 
 An' her cheek was wet wi' bitter tears. 
 
 As she lorn an lonely stood.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 43 
 
 Then she stole out at the postern gate, 
 An' o'er the moor she hied, 
 For she said, " I never can bear to see 
 That leddy my lover's bride." 
 
 An' she travell'd lang, and she travell'd lone, 
 Till the sun sank in the west, 
 An' fu' lang she grat by the mountain side, 
 As she sat her doon to rest. 
 
 Ere lang she came to where a burn 
 Was wimplin' deep an' clear, 
 An' when the pale stars rose she grat 
 Wi' sorrow an' maiden fear. 
 
 There was ruth in the Douglas ha' that nicht, 
 For pride was no' Geordie's bane ; 
 He car'd no to woo an' wed for wealth, 
 An' wasno' fair Janet his ain. 
 
 And the leddy mither she asked aft, 
 Where is my favourite gane ? 
 Is she gone to spin wi' the ither maids, 
 Or wanders she forth alane ? 
 
 PART 11. 
 
 Fair Janet had found a friendly cave, 
 An' laid her doon to rest, 
 But sleep came no' to her eyelids, 
 For her heart was sair opprest. 
 
 Then she wander'd forth amang the braes 
 When the morn broke bricht and clear, 
 ■' An' O !" she cried, " for some token o' guid 
 My lanely heart to cheer !"
 
 44 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The sun rose high in the blue lift, 
 And she ken'd no' where to gae, 
 Sae she sat her doon, an' a gipsy wife 
 Chanc'd o'er the muir to stray. 
 
 " What ails my lassie ?" the auld wife said, 
 
 " What ails my lassie sae sweet ? 
 Come tell the auld mither, who fain would know 
 Why sae bonny a maiden should greet. 
 
 But first let me keek in your lily-white loof, 
 For bright guid luck may come 
 To the wanderin' lass who's stown away 
 Frae her frien' an' frae her hame. 
 
 " The stately dame wi' the haughty air, 
 Your ain love will never wed ; 
 For weel I wot, wi' a Southron lord 
 Proud Grizel will mak' her bed. 
 
 " Ye shall be his ain, my bonny sweet bird, 
 
 His true an' lawful bride ; 
 
 In spite o' the mither's luve o' gear, 
 
 In spite o' the Douglas' pride. 
 
 "Gin ye're willin' ye's gang wi' me my doo, 
 An' ye shall be my son, 
 An' ye'll mak' as bonny a lad, I trow, 
 As e'er the sun shone on." 
 
 Then she put on a callant's suit o' grey 
 An' wandered forth abraid ; 
 An' nane e'er thocht that the tawny youth 
 Was a fair young Scottish maid.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 45 
 
 They pitch'd a wee tent by the Douglas wa', 
 
 The gipsy mither and son, 
 
 An' in a month the Leddy Grizel 
 
 By an English lord was won. 
 
 An' at the day, an' at the hour, 
 
 When Grizel became a bride, 
 
 Death laid his hand on the Douglas couch, 
 
 An' the lady mither died. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Lord Douglas full oft by the gipsy tent 
 Pranc'd by on fiery steed ; 
 But to the youth who sat by the door, 
 He gave neither thought nor heed. 
 
 But it chanc'd one day that this charger, proud, 
 
 Disdainin' bit an' rein, 
 
 Flew past, an' his gallant rider threw, 
 
 Who groan'd an' writh'd with pain. 
 
 Then they brought the noble an' laid him down 
 Beside the humble door ; 
 For o' herbs and roots and healing balms 
 The gipsy mither had store. 
 
 Then the gipsy lad wi' tender hand 
 Help'd to staunch each wound ; 
 An' oft on his tremblin' ee-lid 
 A stealthy tear was found. 
 
 An' a' that night he sat by the couch 
 O' that pale sufferin' lord ; 
 But to none gave he a hopefu' sign, 
 To none spak' he a word. 
 p
 
 46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But to the youth next day he said, 
 " Come, sit down at my feet, 
 For thy gentle mien reminds me 
 O' my bonny Janet sweet. 
 
 " But she is gone, an' I ne'er shall see 
 A maiden half sae fair ; 
 For her charms o' mind an' lovely face 
 Made her beyond compare." 
 
 "Would it please ye weel," the auld mither said, 
 " If your bonny lass was found ? " 
 " O, mither, it would give joy untold ! 
 An' cure a dolorous wound. 
 
 " An' the holy man should bless our troth, 
 An' the minstrels loud should sing 
 O' a bridal braw ; and Janet should wear 
 The hallow'd gowden ring." 
 
 " Fair Janet, tak' off that suit o' grey, 
 For Love has gotten his fee ; 
 An' the lowly maid I met on the moor, 
 The Douglas bride shall be. 
 
 " She is as bonny as bonny can be, 
 Though she's no' o' gentle bluid ; 
 But she has the virtue o' honest fame, 
 An' her actions are pure an' gude." 
 
 Noo at the weddin' are gathered 
 Lords an' leddies, high-born an' braw, 
 But none are sae fair as young Janet, 
 The Queen o' the Douglas ha'.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 47 
 
 BYEGONE YEARS. 
 
 Dear visions sweet of byegone years. 
 Of childhood's happy days, 
 Float by on memory's welcome wing, 
 To animate my lays. 
 
 Methinks I climb again the steep 
 Where gorse and heather grow, 
 And feel each pulse leap up and fire 
 With youthful warmth and glow. 
 
 Anon I wander in the vale 
 Beside the babbling brook, 
 Or with my young companions hide 
 In shady sylvan nook. 
 
 Or weave in life's strange chequer'd web 
 A fair enchanting dream, 
 As wonderingly I sit and muse 
 Beneath the moon's bright beam.
 
 48 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 O envious time, roll back the tide 
 Of vanished days and years, 
 So often fleck'd with golden rays, 
 So seldom dash'd with tears. 
 
 On the Winding Banks of Tame. 
 
 On the winding banks of Tame 
 There dwelt a maiden young and gay, 
 Lovely in each dawning charm, 
 As some darling queen of May. 
 
 Lustrous eyes had pretty Jane, 
 Sparkling, roguish eyes, I ween ; 
 And two rows of purest pearls 
 Gleamed her coral lips between. 
 
 Lovely was her glowing cheek, 
 Mantling with a tempting flush, 
 Vieing with the rosy buds, 
 Warm upon the parent bush. 
 
 Lithe and graceful was her form, 
 Perfect was her smiling face ; 
 Beauty's charms dwelt full in her, 
 And a sweet and winning grace. 
 
 Lovers had this maid in store, 
 Some had gold and some were poor ; 
 But she said my mind is fix'd 
 To wed the miller of the moor.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 49 
 
 A Lovely Night at Sea. 
 
 While leaning o'er the vessel's side 
 I watch the dark waves swiftly glide, 
 Or gleaming, break against our prow — 
 Soft pleasures fill my bosom now, 
 For 'tis a lovely night at sea. 
 
 The moonbeams gild each tapering spar, 
 While brightly shines each glittering star ; 
 All's taut and trim aboard our bark, 
 While friend to friend well pleased remark 
 Tis a lovely night at sea. 
 
 No anxious fears the soul now rack, 
 We're full upon our destin'd track ; 
 While favouring breezes fill our sails, 
 And every soul with rapture hails 
 This lovely night at sea. 
 
 And now the sailors gather round 
 Some messmate, who is aptly found 
 With store of yarns or merry song, 
 To please and charm the listening throng, 
 On this lovely night at sea,
 
 50 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 My Baby Boy. 
 
 Sleep, sleep my darling baby boy, 
 Soft folded in thy mother's breast ; 
 Thou mayest not know the weight of woe 
 That mars thy mother's sad unrest. 
 
 No hand but mine may press that brow, 
 Nor strive to guide thy youthful feet ; 
 For in his grave, thy father brave, 
 Lies sleeping in the valley sweet. 
 
 When years their circling race have run 
 I'll lead my pretty orphan child 
 Where the willows nod o'er the green sod, 
 And winds are mourning sad and wild. 
 
 Soon as thy infant lips shall try 
 Their lisping powers, my baby boy, 
 Thy tongue shall frame thy father's name- 
 Our buried hope, our stay and joy. 
 
 O'Leary's Daughter. 
 
 Have you seen O'Leary's daughter. 
 Darling Norah, fair and sweet ? 
 Faultless she in form and feature, 
 And in dress she's trim and neat.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 5 1 
 
 Her silken hair of lightest brown, 
 Wreaths her head in shining curls ; 
 But Norah hath no luring wiles 
 To snare young lovers in her toils. 
 
 Darkest fringes shade her eyelids, 
 Softly veiling orbs of blue ; 
 But on her charms gaze not too long, 
 For fear they'd steal your heart from you. 
 
 The daily toils of Norah young 
 Are brightened by her temper sweet ; 
 She has a gentle, humble mind, 
 Arid then she's always trim and neat. 
 
 The Sleigh Bell. 
 
 List' the music of the sleigh bell, 
 
 Tis'on the hill, 'tis in the dell ; 
 
 See the eager horses bound 
 
 O'er the crispy frozen ground. 
 
 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, on we go, 
 O'er the pure white glistening snow. 
 
 Youthful eyes now sparkle bright, 
 Youthful hearts bound with delight, 
 And the sun's glad fervid ray 
 Gilds each object on our way. 
 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, &c.
 
 52 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 For in the tranquil clear blue sky, 
 Light fleecy clouds are skimming high ; 
 Trees and rocks are fleeting past, 
 We draw near our home at last. 
 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, &c. 
 
 My Susie. 
 
 I've climb'd the loftiest hills, 
 And I've travers'd valleys wide ; 
 But I count not this a toil 
 Now Susie's by my side. 
 
 Though the waning moon is hid, 
 
 And starless is the night, 
 
 My Susie's hand I press, 
 
 And her eyes are sparkling bright. 
 
 My toil grows light and less 
 When I think upon each grace 
 Which adorns my Susie's form, 
 And her beauteous youthful face. 
 
 Her form is lithe and slim, 
 And glossy brown her hair ; 
 None 'mong the rustic maidens 
 With Susie can compare. 
 
 Her cheek would shame the rose, 
 As all the youths allow ; 
 And many sighing lovers 
 At Susie's feet would bow.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. $$ 
 
 But I have my Susie's promise 
 She will be mine alone, 
 And all her charms and graces 
 I soon shall call my own. 
 
 One kiss from those red lips, 
 Which cherries might outvie, 
 My Sue will not refuse 
 When parting time is nigh. 
 
 I've Wandek'd Wide. 
 
 I've wander' d wide in distant lands, 
 
 I've cross'd the billowy sea, 
 
 But one sweet well-remember'd spot 
 
 Is dearest yet to me. 
 
 It is my home, my humble home, 
 
 That cot below the hills, 
 
 Whose every thought remembrance wakes, 
 
 And heart and memory thrills. 
 
 In that dear cottage I was born, 
 And there my mother smil'd, 
 And press'd to her fond yearning heart 
 Her darling first-born child. 
 
 In that lov'd home, that humble home, &c. 
 
 There she first taught my infant feet 
 Their timid strength to try, 
 And guarded me with loving arm, 
 And faithful, watchful eye. 
 
 In that lov'd home, that humble home, &c. 
 r,
 
 54 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Foster'd by kind paternal love 
 
 The days and years flew past, 
 
 And spells twin'd round my heart to bind 
 
 Each fond affection fast. 
 
 In that lov'd home, that humble home, &c. 
 
 And should the Fates yet bid my feet 
 
 In foreign lands to roam, 
 
 Still, still my thoughts will fondly turn 
 
 To that dear rustic home. 
 
 That island home, that dear old lov'd home, 
 
 That cot below the hills, 
 
 Whose every thought remembrance wakes, 
 
 And heart and memory thrills ! 
 
 The Huntsman. 
 
 Now the huntsman in the morn 
 
 Calls his pack with sound of horn ; 
 
 There goes Blossom and younger Beau, 
 But staunchest of all, Jowler and Jack. 
 
 O, these are the best of the huntsman's pack ; 
 
 These are the best of the huntsman's pack. 
 
 Scouring the fields, the hills, the vales, 
 
 Then in the wood and down in the dales ; 
 But in the van are ever seen 
 Strong-limb'd Jowler and then old Jack. 
 
 U, these are the best of the huntsman's pack ; 
 
 These are the best of the huntsman's pack.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 55 
 
 Noo gin ye Look sae vera Dour 
 
 Noo gin ye look sae vera dour, 
 I come nae mair, though long I've tried 
 To win your luve, and mak' ye lass 
 An honest man's true lawfu' bride. 
 
 I ne'er can win ane smile frae ye, 
 Though when the coof young Sandy Grey 
 Gi'es ye a blink, ye judge for fain^S^-ey^' 
 An' smile on him, an' aye look gay. 
 
 Young Sandy's got baith gear and gowd, 
 But he's a rantin' youth I ken ; 
 Sae though ye hope to win the prize, 
 Ye may no' be his chuckie hen. 
 
 But weel I ken a sonsie lass, 
 Weel faur'd sweet temper'd bonny Bess ; 
 An' though I've but my penny fee, 
 I feel she will no' lo'e me less. 
 
 Young Sandy's but a havering chiel, 
 Although he may the guineas chink ; 
 But ye may find before ye've dune 
 Ye've brew'd a bitter stoup o' drink.
 
 56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Celia. 
 
 " If there are pleasures in life's cup,'' 
 Celia said, " I mean to taste them ; 
 Fleeting hours of joyous youth, 
 Why should we in dullness waste them ?' 
 
 " There are pleasures, maiden fair, 
 But they're often dash'd with sorrow ; 
 Thou mayest deeply drink to-night, 
 But beware the coming morrow !" 
 
 But she laughingly replied, 
 " Yet a few more honied sips," 
 And she raised the beaker bright 
 To her longing eager lips. 
 
 But young Celia found ere long 
 There was wisdom m the sage, 
 And that wariness might serve 
 Youth as well as riper age. 
 
 False Edwin. 
 
 How could young Edwin so deceive me, 
 And every vow so quickly rue ; 
 I never dream'd he e'er could grieve me, 
 When my own heart beat leal and true.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 
 
 With ready oaths he urged the seeming 
 Of well-feign'd passions ardent power ; 
 Spoke oft of love's consummate blisses, 
 The joys that crown the nuptial hour. 
 
 I listen'd, lov'd, and rapt devolion 
 Thrill'd every pulse, fill'd every thought ; 
 Crowns, diadems, earth's richest treasure-. 
 Such rapturous bliss could ne'er have bought. 
 
 Such glowing hopes ne'er trusting maiden 
 Had ever fuller, richer store ; 
 Life was all bliss, a summer morning, 
 With brightening flashes gilded o'er. 
 
 Ah ! cruel Edwin, false dissembler, 
 
 And cruel fate, which bade me wake 
 
 To see my hopes like roses wither, 
 
 And live though my poor heart should break. 
 
 My Native Isle. 
 
 Ah, well this heart remembers yet 
 
 A little isle whose tranquil shore 
 
 Is blest with peace ; whose ramparts strong 
 
 Are the dark waves of ocean hoar ! 
 
 I see once more fair island homes, 
 
 Dark misty hills and valleys green, 
 
 Where the woodbine wastes her honied sweets. 
 
 And hawthorn hangs her bridled screen.
 
 5^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Columbia boasts her prairies wide, 
 Bright as some trackless emerald sea, 
 Wide-stretching plains and forests deep, 
 Where roams the bison fierce and free ; 
 But give me yet my island home, 
 Her misty hills, her valleys green, &c. 
 
 Let others seek in far off lands 
 The ore which selfish worldlings crave ; 
 Still gathering, hoarding sparkling dust, 
 And fill at last a stranger's grave ; 
 But give to me my island home, 
 Her misty hills, her valleys green, &c. 
 
 The Parting. 
 
 Mirk was the night an' sad the hour 
 My luve set out to fight for Charlie ; 
 The mournfu' wind sough'd in the trees, 
 An' rustled in the sheaves o' barley. 
 
 We sought ance mair the favourite tryst. 
 Where we sae aft had met at e'ening ; 
 A burnie wimpl'd at our feet, 
 Its banks the aik an' hawthorn screening. 
 
 Again he clesp'd me in his arms, 
 And sheltered me aneath his pladie ; 
 Then kiss'd my cheek, an' kiss'd my han , 
 As though I was a winsome lady.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 I sobb'd, he sigh'd ; yet sought to cheer 
 My sinkin' soul wi' words most moving ; 
 I listen'd, an' that hour I felt 
 Doubly the bliss an' pain of loving. 
 
 He said " I now must face the foe, 
 
 But Heaven will watch o'er thee, my dearie ; 
 
 An' I shall trust to meet again 
 
 My bonny lass, baith blythe and cheerie." 
 
 My prayer for him I could no' speak, 
 I could but greet in stricken anguish ; 
 My waefu' heart is like to break, 
 My powers o' life a' droop an' languish. 
 
 Jocky and Ann. 
 
 Nature now wears her gayest dress, 
 The simmer woods are robed in green, 
 And often in the gloaming hour 
 Jock wi' his winsome Ann is seen. 
 
 Young Jocky is baith lithe and Strang, 
 And earns a muckle penny-fee ; 
 And bonny Ann, sae trim and neat, 
 O'er a' the lasses bears the gree,
 
 60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Now at the kirk they sune will be, 
 A finely-match'd, a weel-faur'd pair ; 
 Jocky, the envy o' the lads, 
 And Ann, the fairest o' the fair. 
 
 Vain, silly, smirkin', smilin' Bess 
 Young Jocky oft had tried to win ; 
 But a' her haverin' wiles he'd slight, 
 And then she glower'd black as sin. 
 
 Noo black-brow'd Bess maun gang her gait, 
 And marry wheresoe'er she can ; 
 Young Jock, for twenty sic as she, 
 Wad never leave his bonny Ann. 
 
 New Year's Song. 
 
 Come, one and all, and greeting give 
 To the happy, blithe new year ; 
 Raise high a song of welcome, 
 A lusty, ringing cheer. 
 
 Bring wreaths to crown Time's latest born 
 
 Of berries bright and red, 
 
 And holly green, and fadeless bays, 
 
 To deck his fair young head.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 6l 
 
 A song, a song of joy and mirth 
 Shall make the welkin ring, 
 And the merry bells, from steeples tall, 
 Shall clamerous music fling. 
 
 This morn shall friend again with friend 
 The golden bond renew ; 
 And dear ones feel on this glad day 
 Love's fountain spring anew. 
 
 Push About the Can. 
 
 Come, push about the can my boys, 
 Come, push about the can, 
 I'll drink a health with right goodwill 
 To my sweet lovely Ann. 
 
 My lass is trim, my lass is neat, 
 She is not tall nor low ; 
 Her voice is clear, her voice is sweet, 
 Like music's rippling flow. 
 
 Then push about the can my boys, &c. 
 
 My lass is fair, my lass is young, 
 Yet while I'm on the sea 
 I never doubt her constancy, 
 Her lasting love to me. 
 Then push about the can my boys, &c. 
 
 H
 
 62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Her eyes are blue, her hair is light, 
 Her neck is like the snow, 
 The rosebud lives in her fair cheek, 
 Her teeth are pearls I know. 
 Then push about the can my boys, &c. 
 
 Here's wishing all were safe on shore 
 
 With those each tar holds dear ; 
 
 Hark to the cry, " There's land in sight ;" 
 
 Cheer up, my hearties, cheer. 
 
 Then push about the can my boys, 
 Come push about the can, &c. 
 
 The Herdsman. 
 
 Fair the orient beams of day 
 Dart above the mountains gray ; 
 And as sullen darkness flies, 
 The careful herdsman quickly hies 
 To lead forth his drowsy flocks ; 
 And amid the Alpine rocks 
 His horn is heard ; and echo mocks 
 Each lusty note 
 With deepening throat ; 
 Echo the herdsman mocks.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. O^ 
 
 A Serenade. 
 
 Sleep, lady, sleep, I would not break 
 The slumbers that are o'er thee stealing. 
 But bid my lute to visions wake 
 Of love and beauty's soft revealing. 
 
 The orange tree is blooming near, 
 With golden fruit and snowy blossom ; 
 But its fair buds may not compare 
 With the pure snow of thy fair bosom. 
 
 O'er the blue lake the full-orb'd moon 
 Her tremulous beams is brightly throwing. 
 And 'mid the sheltering leafy bowers 
 The scented winds are softly blowing. 
 
 But, lady fair, I would not break 
 The slumbers that are o'er thee stealing, 
 But bid my lute to visions wake 
 Of love and beauty's soft revealing. 
 
 The Forsaken Maid. 
 
 The night was dark, the breezes chill, 
 When Hannah by the river stray 'd, 
 And bitterly she sigh'd and wept, 
 And mourn'd her virgin trust betray'd.
 
 64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 In vain she scans the winding path, 
 And climbs again the rising heights, 
 Where oft she met young Charley Grey, 
 And dream'd of lasting love's delights. 
 
 Long days have fled, and months gone by, 
 Since Charley cross'd the briny sea ; 
 Yet still she mourn'd her lonely lot, 
 And cried, " Alas ! for love and me ! " 
 
 The warmth and faith that fill'd my breast, 
 My soul and heaven can only prove ; 
 For Charley was my life, my joy, 
 I would have died for him I love. 
 
 Scotland hath Many a Noble Name. 
 
 Scotland hath many a noble name 
 Upon her records fair, 
 For warriors brave and sages grave 
 Are proudly honour'd there. 
 But to the peasant bard of Ayr, 
 Who breath'd his soul in song, 
 Honours more bright hath time decreed 
 Shall to that name belong. 
 
 O, Robin, thou could'st ne'er have dream'd 
 Even in thy hopeful prime, 
 That coming fame should write thy name 
 The brightest of the time.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 
 
 That men should honour with acclaim 
 The rustic son of song ; 
 
 That thy sweet notes should thrill the heart 
 Of every listening throng. 
 
 The Silly Auld Carl. 
 
 Gae wa' wi' your teasing, ye silly auld carl, 
 
 You and I shall never agree ; 
 
 Then haud awa', auld man, 
 
 I'll no' sit beside ye. 
 
 The siller shall never win me, win me, 
 
 The siller shall never win me. 
 
 tell me nae mair o' your ho'usen and kine. 
 
 1 value them a' not a flea. 
 
 Then haud awa', auld man, &c. 
 
 Young Jockey is handsome, he's leal an' he's strong, 
 And 'bove a' the braw lads bears the gree. 
 Then haud awa', auld man, &c. 
 
 Young Jock has nae housen, nae sheep, no nor kye, 
 Nor has he the gowden bawbee. 
 But haud awa', auld man, &c. 
 
 My tocher's but sma', but the wee bit I'll share 
 \Yi' Jockey's weel earn'd penny fee. 
 Then haud awa, auld man, &c.
 
 66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Affection's Touch. 
 
 O let me feel affection's touch, 
 The warm clasp of the hand ; 
 Sweet is its thrill mid home-like scenes, 
 Or on a foreign strand. 
 
 *&■■ 
 
 Earth's dearest and most sterile spot 
 Hath yet a latent charm, 
 If there we hear a loving voice 
 Tuned by affections warm. 
 
 The trappings rich of high estate 
 May worldly homage buy, 
 Yet if there lacks affection's touch 
 It wants earth's dearest joy. 
 
 O may affection's hallow'd glow 
 Light up my hours of gloom, 
 And may affection twine a wreath 
 To hang above my tomb. 
 
 A Lang Adieu. 
 
 I've bade my lad a lang adieu, 
 For wae is me ! the morrow's morn 
 Will see my Archie leave his hame- 
 See me a lassie dour and lorn.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 67 
 
 I went ance mair to that dear spot 
 Where we had kept sae aft our tryst ; 
 But my lane heart was like a stane, 
 My bluid was chill as mountain mist. 
 
 For gowd an' gear my laddie goes 
 To far-off lands ayont the sea ; 
 For sic he leaves his Highland hame, 
 For sic he bids farewell to me. 
 
 But should my Archie no' return, 
 Nor yet should bid me follow him, 
 Grief, grief wad be my weary dole, 
 Tears at sic thought my een now dim. 
 
 Sorrow and Care. 
 
 When dark clouds may o'er thee lower 
 Call with might and main, poor mortal, 
 On the bright-eyed being — Hope, 
 And she'll open wide her portal. 
 
 Never bend to dull old Care, 
 He is such a spiteful fellow ; 
 He'll change raven hair to gray, 
 And he'll turn the visage yellow.
 
 68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 It may be hard to wear a smile 
 When the sad heart is sorrow-bound ; 
 But give Care a sturdy thrust, 
 Else he'll bear thee to the ground. 
 
 Never yield an inch to Care, 
 He is such a spiteful fellow ; 
 He'll change raven hair to gray, 
 And he'll turn the visage yellow. 
 
 My Bonny Boat. 
 
 DEDICATED TO IDA LEWIS, THE GRACE DARLING OK 
 NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 My home is on a craggy rock 
 
 By the dark briny sea, 
 
 Where round me rolls the surging tide, 
 
 And wild winds whistle free. 
 
 And here in grave and gayer mood 
 I on the waters float, 
 And cheerily row, and cheerily row, 
 My bonny, bonny boat. 
 
 Here I can watch the sportive fish, 
 And sea-bird skimming high, 
 And see the proud and stately ship 
 O'er the blue waters fly. 
 
 And here in grave or gayer mood, &c.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 69 
 
 The beacon ray that gilds the deep 
 Lights up my cottage home, 
 And surging waves my threshold lave, 
 Then break in snowy foam. 
 
 And here in grave or gayer mood, &c. 
 
 If ever fate should tempt my feet 
 Mid far off scenes to roam, 
 I still should think with love of thee. 
 My rocky, wave-bound home. 
 
 And here in grave or gayer mood, &c. 
 
 Thf. Twin Rosebuds. 
 
 In the morning dawn I hasten'd 
 Down the path where wild flowers grew, 
 And there, the loveliest of the lovely, 
 Were two twin roses wet with dew. 
 
 In the gloaming path I wander d, 
 Seeking for those rosebuds fair ; 
 And I found them still as beauteous. 
 In the soft, calm, evening air. 
 
 Lovely gems, may no despoiler 
 
 Pluck you from the parent stem ; 
 
 But may ye blow and bloom the brightest 
 
 In all young Flora's diadem.
 
 JO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I Have no Flocks. 
 
 I have no flocks, no roaming herds, 
 
 No lordly hall, nor lands ; 
 
 The humble crust I daily eat 
 
 Is earn'd by willing hands. 
 
 Proud riches have no charm for me, 
 
 Nor yet ambition's wile, 
 
 But give me on the face I love 
 
 A soul-lit beaming smile. 
 
 The showy pleasures wealth can buy 
 I see but in my dreams, 
 But I'm content my little boat 
 Should sail on narrow streams. 
 
 Proud riches have no charms for me, &c. 
 
 Yet deem me not of joys bereft, 
 Forsooth, I can descry 
 Bright rainbow-tints to cheer my path 
 In the near, dark gray sky. 
 
 Gay riches have no charm for me, &c. 
 
 My Cottage. 
 
 Around my snowy cottage front 
 Climbing sweets their stems entwine ; 
 Here the loving woodbine clasps 
 In its arms the jessamine.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Twittering swallows "neath my eaves 
 Part the friendly ivy's shade. 
 And deep within the hawthorn bower. 
 Two fond birds their nest have made. 
 
 At my little window pane 
 Blushing roses gently knock, 
 And a trickling stream near by 
 Meanders down a lichen'd rock. 
 
 Neath the chestnut stretching wide 
 Mossy seats invite to rest, 
 And the brook that murmurs by 
 Bears white lilies on its breast. 
 
 A lordly mansion meets my view. 
 With its park and gardens fine ; 
 Yet contentment brooding sits 
 Upon this lowly roof of mine. 
 
 The Wounded Soldier. 
 
 A soldier on the sod doth lie, 
 More distant grows each random shot : 
 Around he sees his comrades die, 
 He deems by all he is forgot. 
 
 The curtain'd night is o'er him spread. 
 The moon in glorious beauty set ; 
 To other climes his thoughts have sped. 
 To scenes he never can forget.
 
 72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But sleep, with gentle soothing calm, 
 Steals o'er each sense ; each torturing wound 
 Yields now to Nature's healing balm. 
 And he hath sweet oblivion found. 
 
 In dreams he sees the cottage neat, 
 By the murmuring brooklet's side, 
 Where now in happy slumbers sweet 
 Rests his gentle, loving bride. 
 
 He starts — ah ! is it but a dream ! 
 The shadow of a phantom bliss ; 
 No, Mary's eyes now on him beam, 
 His lips are warm with love's soft kiss. 
 
 For him she'd left her native isle, 
 And perils met by land and sea, 
 That she might share his lot, but more 
 In hour of need his solace be. 
 
 Roundelay. 
 
 Now at closing hour of day. 
 Let us chant a roundelay ; 
 Let us join in pleasant song, 
 And the numbers sweet prolong. 
 Come and join in the roundelay ; 
 Come, come, come, and join in the roundelay-
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 
 
 Seek divine Apollo's aid, 
 For each heart is happier made 
 By the pleasing power of song ; 
 Then the numbers we'll prolong. 
 To a joyous roundelay, 
 Come, come, come, and join in the roundelay. 
 
 Night. 
 
 Tis night, dark night, and the owlet's note 
 
 Is heard above the din 
 
 Of the tearing, screeching wind in the pines, 
 
 Bove the roaring of the lynn. 
 
 Tis night, dark night, and the wolf's fierce howl 
 Affrights the shepherd's ear, 
 
 And red lightnings flash, and the thunder's growl, 
 In distance heard, draws near, 
 
 Phemie and Allen. 
 
 Phemie, young, beautiful, and fair, 
 Steals from her vine-clad cottage door. 
 And her cheeks glow like the red rose, 
 As she draws near the pebbly shore. 
 
 There Phemie sees her lover's boat 
 O'er the still waters swiftly glide ; 
 And she is pledg'd in promis'd troth 
 Her Allen's future faithful bride.
 
 74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Eve sees her lover's safe return ; 
 And now young Allen sues and craves 
 That she will come to bless his home 
 Beside the dark-green ocean waves. 
 
 The days pass by, their troth is blest, 
 And now this loving pair shall be 
 The happiest of the happy in 
 That cot, their home beside the sea. 
 
 Curran's Daughter. 
 
 Erin, mourn with Curran's daughter. 
 Tune thy harp to dirges wild ; 
 She her love mourns, and thou never 
 Had'st a truer, warmer child, 
 Than thy darling Emmet brave, 
 Filling now the patriot's grave. 
 
 For his fate a vengeful burning 
 Fills they heart with wrathful glow : 
 While the lov'd one, broken-hearted. 
 Mourns in accents sad and low 
 For her darling Emmet brave, 
 Sleeping in the patriot's grave. 
 
 Drape thy banner green in emblems. 
 Signs of deepest woe and gloom ; 
 For the blow that struck thy Emmet 
 Seal'd a loving fair one's doom ; 
 And the darkness of the grave 
 Claims the lov'd of Emmet brave.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 75 
 
 New England. 
 
 Hail ! hail ! to thee, New England dear, 
 I love thy rocky shore, 
 For here once trod the pilgrim band, 
 In hallowed days of yore. 
 
 The orange groves of the fair South 
 Shall tempt my thoughts no more ; 
 For best I love the humbler scenes 
 Of dear New England's shore. 
 
 The hunter hears in Western wilds 
 The savage bison roar ; 
 But sea birds fan with gentle wing 
 New England's peaceful shore. 
 
 The miner in his cavern dark 
 Hugs the bright glittering ore ; 
 But we've the vine and golden grain 
 On this our fruitful shore. 
 
 Then while I live my home shall be 
 Beside the ocean hoar ; 
 And I would sleep my dreamless sleep 
 On dear New England's shore. 
 
 ^Kjt*
 
 76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thk Emigrant's Farewell. 
 
 To friends beloved and comrades dear 
 I bid, perchance, a last adieu ; 
 I've shar'd with you some hours of bliss. 
 And pleasures not a few. 
 
 And to my childhood's home most dear 
 I bid a long farewell ; 
 But round my heart its social charms 
 Have twined a deathless spell. 
 
 Farewell each scene to memory dear, 
 Each grove and tinkling rill ; 
 Yet whereso'er my feet may tread, 
 My heart is with you still. 
 
 The vision'd scenes of home and friends 
 Shall still to me be blest, 
 And childhood's scenes remember'd be 
 While life-blood warms my breast. 
 
 My Lassie. 
 
 My lassie has nae gear and gowd, 
 She is no' verra bonny ; 
 But aye she is baith trim an' neat. 
 And is as guid as ony. 
 
 My lassie has nae gowden locks, 
 Nor cheeks like ony roses ; 
 But ilk word fa'ing frae her lips 
 Guid common sense discloses.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 77 
 
 My lassie is na tall nor lithe, 
 Nor has great store o' learnin' ; 
 But ye may trust her judgment clear, 
 The richt an' wrang discernin'. 
 
 My lassie has nae studied airs 
 
 To challenge bold attention, 
 
 But modest manner'd, though she's blithe, 
 
 An' this I'm proud to mention. 
 
 My lassie's luve is a' my ain, 
 This mak's me unco cheery ; 
 I would no' for a gowden crown 
 Be parted frae my dearie. 
 
 By Medlock's Bank. 
 
 We met one bright and rosy morn 
 By Medlock's banks so early ; 
 The dew hung on the spangled thorn, 
 The thrush was singing cheer'ly. 
 
 Dame Nature wore her gayest dress 
 Of green, bespangl'd over 
 With daisy, cowslip, primrose neat, 
 And sweetly-scented clover. 
 
 But the young lover at my side, 
 All other thoughts beguiling, 
 Woo'd me with warmth to be his bride- 
 Sly Cupid listen'd smiling. £ 
 
 K
 
 78 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I lov'd the youth, what could I do 
 But yield a willing consent 
 That Hymen's votary I would be, 
 And wear the badge with content ? 
 
 The badge, a golden ring, was bought, 
 And so next morning early 
 We sought the church on the rising hill, 
 Where Medlock's stream runs clearly. 
 
 Alice Ray. 
 
 The bright-eyed lark is yet asleep 
 Upon her cool and dewy nest, 
 And other songsters in the grove 
 Are still in quiet rest. 
 
 Now where goes gentle Alice Ray, 
 So early at the break of day, 
 Among the pretty flowers so gay, 
 Where goes sweet Alice Ray ? 
 
 " I go," she said, " to gather flowers, 
 
 Roses rich and lilies neat, 
 
 With vernal grass and the pale pink, 
 
 And mignonette so sweet. 
 
 Then I must to the town away, 
 To sell my flowers so sweet and gay, 
 And I must go by the break of day" 
 Said gentle Alice Ray.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 79 
 
 " Now must I add the honied bine. 
 And pansies rich of matchless hue, 
 And bright carnation and Sweet Will, 
 And bells of azure blue ? 
 
 Then I must to the town away," &c. 
 
 " And I must gather the Crown Imperial, 
 Flush'd with gold and jessamine, 
 And rare tulips and red peonies. 
 And the pretty columbine. 
 
 Then I must to the town away," &c. 
 
 Now, with her basket fill'd, she goes, 
 Light tripping o'er the shaven lawn, 
 With brightening smile and gentle mien. 
 And graceful she as some young fawn. 
 
 Now joy go with thee, Alice Ray, 
 
 At noon, at morn, or break of day ; 
 
 And blithesome be thy heart and gay — 
 
 Fair, gentle Alice Ray. 
 
 Life's Lowly Vale. 
 
 Tenants of life's lowly vale, 
 
 Strangers ye to wealth and station ; 
 
 Brethren, sisters, would I hail ye, 
 
 Of whatever tribe or nation. 
 Yet we need not droop forlorn, 
 For that we are lowly born ; 
 Let us vail the face of sadness, 
 And from time steal hours of gladness.
 
 8o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 If bless'd health and careful store 
 Keep us from want's fearful brink, 
 We may prove that drops nectarine 
 Mingle with the cup we drink. 
 
 Then why should we droop forlorn, &c. 
 
 To the low as to the lofty, 
 God hath given heart and mind, 
 Noble souls by Heaven illumin'd 
 Oft among the poor we find. 
 
 Then why should we droop forlorn, &c. 
 
 Some are blest with hearts of sunshine, 
 Blest with happy smiling face ; 
 These are medicine to the mourner. 
 And to their possessors, grace. 
 
 Then why should we droop forlorn. 
 
 For that we are lowly born, &c. 
 
 Boat Song. 
 
 Come, sweet, and in my trusty boat 
 We'll o'er the waters glide, 
 Nor dread on Narrayunsett's breast 
 Fierce storm or whelming tide. 
 
 And we with Fancy's aid will pierce 
 The gently rising waves, 
 Then hand in hand we'll gaily roam 
 The mermaid coral caves.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 8l 
 
 Anon we'll join the witching dance, 
 Or with the gathering throng, 
 Entranc'd, drink in sweet melodies, 
 Trill'd by some child of song. 
 
 And every morn shall wake new joys, 
 While we from Pleasured hand 
 Take her bright cup, and with light touch 
 Spurn Care's dark furrowing brand. 
 
 And if in future saddening lines 
 Shall mar thy now fair face, 
 I'll bid thee turn to memory's page, 
 And these dear scenes retrace. 
 
 Friendship's Joys. 
 
 Some may quaff bright sparkling wine, 
 Some taste love's sweeter pleasure ; 
 But give to me from Friendship's cup 
 A full and flowing measure. 
 
 Friendship has no borrowed charms. 
 
 Friendship is no cheater ; 
 
 Love and wine give measured joys, 
 
 But Friendship's cup is sweeter. 
 
 Wine gives its votaries fleeting bliss, 
 Love deep and thrilling pleasures, 
 But Fate give me from Friendship's source 
 A full and flowing measure. 
 
 Friendship wears no borrow'd charms, &c.
 
 82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Let love and wine then cheat each sense. 
 And give a fleeting pleasure, 
 But give to me pure Friendship's joys, 
 Such joys I'll count my treasure. 
 
 Friendship wears no borrowed charms, 
 Friendship is no cheater, &c. 
 
 Awake ! my Lovely Bride. 
 
 Awake ! awake ! my lovely bride, 
 
 For, lo, the blushing morn 
 
 Glows in the east, while on the ear, 
 
 From dew-bespangled thorn, 
 
 The thrush pours forth such mellow strains. 
 
 That other warblers seem to vie 
 
 With him, artd chant so loud and clear 
 
 That Echo's self draws nigh, 
 
 And sends upon the mist afloat 
 
 The double music of each note. 
 
 Arise, and see the clouds roll back 
 
 From mountain and from fell, 
 
 And list the music of the brook 
 
 That in the mossy dell 
 
 Trifles and toys with all it meets, 
 
 Then gently leaps the rocks that bar 
 
 Its entrance to the placid lake 
 
 Whose bosom knows no jar. 
 
 Come forth, my love, and with me share 
 
 The pleasures of a scene so fair.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 83 
 
 See from the reeds the snowy swan 
 
 Sails forth to greet the dawn, 
 
 And from the covert shyly peeps 
 
 The gentle, timid fawn. 
 
 And I would tell thee of the flowers 
 
 That now their cups unclose, 
 
 And how bold Phoebus drinks the dew 
 
 That trembles in the rose, 
 
 And gives to each such colours bright 
 
 That Flora smiles with fresh delight. 
 
 O haste thee, love, and I will seek 
 The banks for violets fair, 
 That I may with thy gentle eyes 
 This lovely flower compare. 
 Thy form I'll liken to the hind, 
 Most perfect in each part ; 
 But the rich graces of thy mind, 
 And thy true, loving heart, 
 I'll prize beyond aught else beside 
 In thee, my own, my darling bride. 
 
 For England's Oueen. 
 
 For England's Queen, for England's name, 
 For freedom, justice, and for right, 
 To keep Old England's honour bright 
 Rush forth to meet the foeman.
 
 84 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Fair smiling peace, her crown bereft 
 By cruel hands now prostrate lies ; 
 A gory stream her bosom dyes, 
 But England shall avenge her. 
 
 Up Britons, ye are freemen's sons — 
 Strike at the tyrant who maintains 
 His power by torture, knout, and chains ; 
 Strike for the name of freedom. 
 
 Shall Russia's tyrant, though he leads 
 His abject millions, dare to meet 
 Old England's land force, England's fleet i 5 
 Then let him rue his boldness. 
 
 Then Britons up, for England's Queen, 
 And England's name, lead on the van ; 
 Strike for the rights of man to man ; 
 Strike down the base enslaver ! 
 
 Poverty's Alleviations. 
 
 What though poverty surrounds us, 
 We have still some streaks of joy. 
 Clouds and sunshine, sour and sweet : 
 Life is made of such alloy. 
 
 The rich and great must trials bear, 
 They have dark spots upon their sun ; 
 Pain and sickness and death claims them 
 When their earthly race is run.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 Up then ; why sit sad, despondent ? 
 Up and seek some hidden sweet ; 
 Thou wilt find it under covert, 
 Meandering at thy very feet. 
 
 Think of those who kindly love thee. 
 Think of those who claim thy love ; 
 This will cheer thee — love's the essence 
 Which pervades the realms above. 
 
 Enter the fair field of knowledge, 
 Humble votary at her shrine ; 
 She will bid thee take, and welcome, 
 Priceless treasures from her mine. 
 
 Humble Advice. 
 
 Ne'er let discontent or sloth 
 Fill the mind with vapours dark, 
 For they of high aim and purpose 
 Quench the soul, the vital part. 
 
 Search around and thou wilt find 
 Glimmerings of a better day ; 
 Or thy soul catch the refulgence 
 Of some bright celestial ray. 
 
 Though thy state be humble, be thou 
 Ever prompt at duty's call, 
 Turning from each luring sin 
 That could heart and soul enthral. 
 
 L
 
 86 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Loving all that's pure and lovely, 
 Turning from the tempter's charm : 
 Boldly battling for the right, 
 Ever keep the heart core warm. 
 
 Then when life's calm evening comes, 
 And the victory's all but won, 
 Thou mayest look on what thou'st wrought. 
 And believe it nobly done. 
 
 Gaffer Jenks. 
 
 " Good day, Gaffer Jenks, I mean no offence. 
 But wherefore so sad or so sour ? 
 The world it is bright, it is full of delight, 
 There is pleasure for every hour. 
 
 Nature is gay, and to lighten each day 
 Some pleasant enjoyment I find ; 
 The smile of some fair one entrances the soul. 
 And friends are both loving and kind. 
 
 Then our friends let us cherish, and give of our store 
 When time or occasion may need ; 
 And then, should we ask it, our purses they'll fill, 
 For this is both just and our meed." 
 
 " Young John, young John, at your age I, too, said 
 The world it is full of delight, 
 
 With some cherish'd fair one, and friends, too, beside, 
 What lot more enchanting and bright ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 87 
 
 And I fill'd up for others a measure full high 
 With good things as far as might be, 
 But when I held out my own shallow cup 
 How little came back to me ! 
 
 The woman I lov'd with a fervour untold 
 Prov'd hollow, and false, and base ; 
 And the nearest and dearest did leave me behind, 
 To struggle in life's losing race. 
 
 With scant share of wealth and broken in health, 
 With heart wounds in number untold, 
 These chill the warm soul, and the impress is seen 
 When hopes die and one's growing old. 
 
 Then wonder no more at my looks, young John, 
 Be they sad, be they dark, even sour ; 
 I've had sorrows enow in my time, young John, 
 To shadow with gloom every hour." 
 
 To J. E. Cobb. 
 
 Your prankish ways and ready tongue 
 May beguile both old and young ; 
 
 But beware, 
 
 Have a care 
 Lest some syren you ensnare ; 
 Danger may e'en now be nigh : 
 
 Look ahead — 
 
 Be wary, boy.
 
 88 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 An Acrostic. 
 
 H appy she who trains the mind, 
 A nd in wisdom seeks to find 
 N ever failing streams of joy ; 
 N ever shall such pleasures cloy ; 
 A rich feast hath she in store ; 
 H aving this, who'd wish for more ? 
 
 D ally not with trifling aim ; 
 
 A n humble guerdon be thy fame ; 
 
 L et excelsior be thy guide, 
 
 E ver constant at thy side. 
 
 J Andrew and Co , Printers, Reporter Office . Ashton-under-Lyne
 
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