THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES . AVOODNOTES OF A AVANI)EKER. J OH N RA MSA Y. K I I.M A KNOCK , A V KSH 1 It E. SEVENTH IHOUSAS D By Druid's cairn, by martyr's stano, By ruin gray, through churchyard lane, By river famed, o'er battle- plain, The wild, the dread, The fair, entwined with deathless strain, 'Twas his to tread. EDINBURGH: J. MENZ1ES, PRINCE'S STREET. LONDON: DAVID BOGUE. DUBLIN : J. m'GI.ASIIAN. MD.CCC.LTI. I DINBI RGH : PRINTED BY MACPHERSON & SYMK. l2South st Dnvi.i Street /5f Xzaf ro THE MEMORY OK ROBERT RAMSAY, GTfrig Uolumc is AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY HIS BEREAVED BROTHER, TI1K AUTHOR. 85 INDEX. Pago 5 Life of the Author, Eglinton Park Meeting, . . . . . * 13 The Sports of Fasten's-e'en in Kilmarnock, . . 37 Bewildered among Churches, . . . .55 Address to Dundonald Castle, . . . 70 Musings by the Clyde, . .7!) Martha of Myreton, ... Jj!) Alfred Graeme, .... .94 The Loudon Campaign, . . . 100" The Fortuneteller, . . . . .11!! Meditations and Reflections, . . . .124 Paterson"s Attempt on the Temple of Fame, . . 1 30 Evening Thoughts on the Heights of Dundonald, . 138 On the Death of My Sister, Mrs R. Parker, . .142 Christ Weeping over Jerusalem, ... 1 46' Lament for Robert Tannahill, . . . . 1 4f) A Visit from the Shade of Shakspere, . . 153 Epistle to Mr John Stirling, Darvcl, . . .1 56 St Andrew's Message to the Scotsmen in Liverpool, . 160 Epistle to Mr Charles Clark, Cottage-hill, Lanark, . 163 Hughie Spiers ; or, the Wonder of the Ninteenth Century, !(>'7 The Tombs of the Douglasses, . . 173 M INDEX. Page On the death of Mr Hugh Adam, ... 175 A fragment, ...... 178 Lines Written in Whalley Abbey, Lancashire, . 180 The Wandering piper, . . . . .183 Epistle to Mrs Hamilton of Parkhill, . . 186 On Visiting Lanercost Priory, and Na worth Castle, . 190 On the Death of Mr George Osborne, . . 1!*:; Epistle to Mr Robert Brown, Kirkhill, Craigie, . .191) Hannah Hedgehog, . . . . .201 Lines to my Eldest Son, ..... 204 Lines to Lavinia, ..... 206 The Dog and the Cock— (not a Fable), . . .208 On Seeing a Redbreast Shot, . . . .210 Help's Elegy, . . . . . .212 Arran from the Sea, . . . . . 215 Fragment, . . . . . .216 On Visiting the Grave of Hardie and Baird, . . 217 On being Overtaken by a Storm, . . .218 On Meeting a Pythagorean on Bosworth Field, . 219 A Sketch, ...... 221 Written at " the Bonny Bush aboon Traquair," . 223 Lines Written near Kilmarnock House, . . . 224 Written at the Grave of Robin Hood, . . 226 On being asked what Figure was most Descriptive of a Poet, 227 Midnight Thoughts, ..... 228 A Fragment, ...... 229 On Visiting the Lake of Windermere, . . .231 Written in Melrose Abbey, .... 231 A Summer Evening, ..... -'.'<'_' Written at my Father's Grave, . . . 232 \ Winter's Evening, ..... 2;'.;; V Fragment, ..... 234 Written in Dumfries Churchyard, . . . 234 Written under the [mpression of Melancholy, 235 INDEX. Ill Written on a View of Cairntable, To Robert Rose, Esq. .... The Sunflower and Pink, ..... To the Harebell, ..... The Flowers of the Forest, .... A Wayside Gleaning, .... On Visiting one of the Round Towers of Ireland, Written at the Grave of the author of " The Course of Time," ...... Written during illness, .... Epitaph for C — rl-s L — ck — t, .... Epitaph for Mr R 1 C d, On some Ill-bred Agricultural Apprentices, On Mr J. Inch complaining of the Small Size of my Volume, Satan's Rejected, ..... On hearing that Mr Lamb had deceived Mr Shepherd, On seeing the Effigy of a Bible above a Bookseller's door, Singular Phenomenon on the Interment of an insidious Innkeeper, .... Epitaph for J. W., Dyer, Epitaph for Mr John Ingram, Artist, On a Carpet Factory Subscription Bail, To a Person with very Large Feet, Epitaph for Mr T. Gunn, To Irvine Water, Tammy M'Quhae, .... Jeanie o' the Fiel', The Happy Five, . . . • Sandy that wons in the Aird, Sandy the Bookman, .... Farewell to Craufurdland, Stanzas addressed to the author on his visit to Edinburgh, Sonnet to the author, .... Opinions of the Press, ..... Page 235 236 237 339 241 243 244 245 245 246 246 247 247 248 248 249 249 250 250 .251 251 252 253 254 255 256 258 259 261 262 263 265 BRIEF SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. John Ramsay was born in Kilmarnock in the year 1802. His education, like that of most individuals in his sphere of life, was limited. After leaving the jurisdiction of the " dominie," he resided several years with an uncle, near the village of Dundonald. The ancient castle, and the romantic scenery in the neigh- bourhood, linked as they are with the stirring events of Scottish history, had no doubt an inspiring effect on the ardent mind of Ramsay. Hence it is that we often find him reverting, in his poems, to the enchanting spot, with all the buoyancy of youthful enthusiasm. G LIFE OF TJ1K AUTllOi:. lie was afterwards apprenticed, in his native place, as ;i carpet weaver; and, amidst the din and dissonance of the loom-shop, he occasionally essayed, in fancy's dream, to visit the poet's bower. A subscription paper for a ball was at one time handed through the carpet work, bearing these lines — '* Every good fellow who wishes to prance. Come pray take the pencil and sign for a dance ;" and which, as a matter of course, was submitted to Ramsay, who wrote the following impromptu on the back of it : — " Old Plato once met Father Jove, And asked the Self- Existent, ' What was in earth or heaven above Of all most inconsistent ?' " Jove heard the question, gave a nod, To Heaven's high towers advancing, In veiled this world, — ' Now,' says the god. ' D'ye see yon weavers dancing ?'" The satire, though it galled the more earnest pro- moters of the ball, was much appreciated ; and Ramsay was induced to send the lines for insertion to the Edin- burgh Literary Journal, a clever periodical, edited by Henry Glassford Bell, Esq. The lines, trifling as they may appear, were inserted in an early number. Em- boldened by encouragement, Mr. Ramsay contributed I LIFE OF THE AUTHOE. c another poem to the Journal, entitled, " Lines to Eliza," which was also received, and highly recommended by the indulgent editor. When the late Marquis of Hastings visited Loudon Castle in 1823, after his return from India, the Kil- marnock Volunteers and the Ayrshire Yeomanry re- paired thither to congratulate him on his arrival, The excitement created in Kilmarnock by the turn out of the volunteers was considerable, and formed the engrossing subject of conversation for several weeks. Ramsay, whose forte certainly lies more in the satirical than the pathetic, selected " the march" of the volunteers as a legitimate subject for his pen, and wrote an amusing poem, in which he did ample justice to some of the more eccentric characters in the " dandy corps." The poem, though only in manuscript, was widely known throughout " Auld Killie," at that time ringing with " the great campaign, Which the brave Dandies did sustain/' Mr Ramsay continued to work at the carpets for a number of years ; but he is now, and has been for a length of time, in business as a grocer in Kilmarnock.* lie is married, and has a rising family. * Since this sketch was written, the author lias sustained a severe iiMTse of fortune. 8 LIFE OF THK AUTIIOR. In 1836, after a sufficient number of subscribers bad been obtained, be published the first edition of bis poems, of which a thousand copies were printed. In 1839, he was induced to publish a second edition, with emendations and improvements ; and now, we under- stand, a third edition of a thousand copies is in the press. The volume was favourably noticed in Chambers's Journal, and several local and other provincial news- papers. . " The Eglinton Park Meeting," the leading poem in the second edition, is among the latest of his writings ; and, if we may judge from the strong poetical vein per- vading it, his genius appears only to require cultiva- tion to undertake a more daring flight. Written in the strain of Tenant's " Anster Fair," " The Eglinton Park Meeting" is a running commentary on everything that came within the author's observation, and is a poem of undoubted merit. In the " Address to Dundonald Castle," he is no less felicitous in the selection of material than judi- cious in its arrangement. The ancient ruin, once the seat of Scottish royalty, is reverenced by the poet with an ardour, and described with a vigour, that touches and awakens the tender susceptibilities of the heart. We do not envy the man, who, after visiting the sylvan LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 3 shades and shaggy hills of Dundonald, does not recog- nise, in the glowing imagery of the poet, the reality and boldness of its representation. — From " The Con- temporaries of Burns, and the more recent Poets of Ayr- shire." Published by Hugh Paton, Carver and Gilder to the Queen, and her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent. Edinburgh. 1840 WOODNOTES OF A WANDERER, POEM S. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. " If Pindar sung horse races, what should hinder Himself from being as pliable as Pindar ? " Byron. I. Dawn slowly vanished, and the source- of light Appeared in all his summer glory dressed. And bade the seas and rivers sparkle bright, And cheered afar the lonely mountain's breast, Whose shaggy top was veiled in vapours white, Where soared, sublime, the eagle o'er her nest, By haunted cairn the simple lamb and ewe Grazed 'mong red heath, wild-thyme, and harebell blue. ir. And on a rock that aged seemed as earth, Where time had toiled till with his toil turned grey, The shepherd sat, and eyed, in all her mirth, Nature rejoice along life's flowery way ; From blossomed thorn the mavis warbled forth, The linnet from the broom and birchen spray, 11 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. The cushat mourned, and, as the bass to all, Loud thundered o'er the cliff the mighty waterfall. in- Descending thence, along the misty plain, On wings of thought th' enraptured eye surveyed Rich lawns, extending even to the main, And groves and vales in verdure's pomp arrayed ; And waving woods, now lost, and now again The broad bright river, in his strength displayed, Proud aristocracy's bedazzling bower, The lone sad remnants of the feudal tower. IV. Far other features showed the city's face — Buildings on buildings piled unto the sky, The vagrant curs about the market-place, The high slow-moving wain, the driver's cry, The bawling sweep, the tippler on the chase, Of stunted form, pale cheek, and heavy eye ; Toil's various tribes unto their tasks repair, The drunkard to his den of frenzy and despair. v. Heaven ! what means this vortex we behold Of human passions, human joys and woes, Of vast extremes, and much that is untold In life's retreats ? — For ever onward flows Time's tide, on which we rise but to be rolled As wrecks, with all our transports and our throes, EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 15 Down to that deep impenetrable gloom Which hangs o'er all that lies beyond the tomb. VI. But with that god we have begun our song, Who swept of old the lyre, and strung the bow, And dealt in pills (if Ovid be not wrong),* And played the devil 'mong the dames below ; When he had farther sped the heavens along, Our streets, lanes, highways made a glorious show, With wains, carts, gigs, cars, studded with blythe faces, Still answering to the query — " Are ye for the races ?" VII. Behold how little lifts the sons of verse ! I fast got breakfast, faster was arrayed — For Poets' garments, like their pounds, are scarce — And seldom are on that account mislaid ; I cannot say that mine are the reverse, And, worse than that, not altogether paid ; But soon I mounted by the turnpike post, Watching, but not like Hamlet — for a ghost. * " Mine is the invention of the charming lyre ; Sweet notes and heavenly numbers I inspire. Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart, But, ah ! more deadly his who pierced my heart. Med'cine is mine, what herbs and simples grow In fields and forests, all tbeir powers I know ; And am the great physician called below." Dryden*s Ovid. 16 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. VIII. A car instanter trundled into sight, Drawn by a donkey-looking creature vile, Which in its youth had galloped with delight On the high hills of some bleak misty isle. A seat I found, and having sung — " All's right," Sober began to measure the first mile ; — Seat, did I say ! — a hanging on the door, For in the vehicle were already four. IX. One was a dominie,* a wag most queer, As full of mirth as is of meat the egg ; Another was his daughter, and his dear Partner in care a third, whom he called Meg ; The fourth, of whom you heavily shall hear, In millstones dealt, and wore a wooden leg, A namesake of the Macedonian chief, The past world's greatest murderer and thief ! x. Little occurred worth noting on the way ; Thronged with all kinds of creatures were the high- ways. Of every colour in the light of day, Crowds still came forth to join them from the bye- ways, We took in Dreghorn village a short stay ; For having got, as some say, " kin' o' dry-ways;" * Schoolmaster. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 17 A place, like all else, where the greatest dunce, May find the parson's residence at once. XI. For I must say, wherever I have heen, This task hut little of perception craves ; O'er other mansions, soon the manse is seen, Like some proud eastern prince above his slaves ; The pasture's rougher, and of deeper green, A heavier crop upon the tillage waves ; The cow is plump and sleek, and more than that — I'll point you out his Reverence's cat. XII. But, let us on : to Irvine soon we got, Where swarms were casting fast, and others hiving, And others sweeping past as hard and hot As Monsieur Jehu had resumed the driving : Waiters and ostlers drawing in the groat — Like bladders blowing were their purses thriving ; Old Lethe's stream had swallowed up the ills Of life, crossed loves, wives, and dishonoured bills. XIII. By Jupiter ! it is a glorious thing That there are times when we forget our cares, Else to the grave they would our craniums bring, Long, long ere garnished by the hoary bairs 18 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. The patriarch spake of;* but come, trim your wing, My Muse, and mind more intimate affairs, For now the scene of action we are near, And best of company in front and rear. XIV. Through the deep ruts and fast fatiguing sand Strained little " Charlie," though it was but slow, And sunk his hoof where Neptune did command The bounding waves a thousand years ago, When unexpectedly he made a stand — " Broke down," was chanted round, " broke down, hallo," And now our precious dominie alighting, Leaped up into the air like cock a-fighting ! xv. And stamped and swore with terrifying mien, And cursed each thing that ever went on wheel, Since the first day that chariot was seen Which had the prophet footman to Jezreel ; -f- All horses, mules, and asses, that have been Since Balaam's donkey made her grand appeal ; Each soul that ever drove a car a mile, Since chariots started in the land of Nile. XVI. To every heathen deity for aid He cried aloud ; but, suddenly detecting * Genesis xlii. 38. t 1 Kings xviii. 46. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 19 His error, next to all the saints he prayed — (When wroth we're nowise given to reflecting) ; All fiends of whom e'er Milton mention made He next invoked, and, foresaid things collecting With oaths that never shall escape my tongue, To them at once the whole concern he flung. XVII. But oft when rudest storms have ceased to blow, Dame Nature will assume her sweetest face. And after heights are hollows still, we know ; This with our dominie was just the case. Perhaps such impious lengths he did not go ; For rhymers ever are a lying race ; But on shanks-naigie, or the " Independent," We gained the racing-ground — a scene resplendent ! XVIII. Yet ere I dare it in descriptive flight, My song, dear Nature, shall arise to thee ; What transports, dreams fantastically bright, Thy charms have given me even in infancy ! Thy dewy wild flowers — dawn — and dying light Of day, far o'er the wide illumined sea, Thy mossy rocks, grey hills, and woodlands green, Where my young soul first talked with things unseen. XIX. Behold the sandy plain here tells a tale Of earth's mutations, to the thinking mind, 20 I.CI.INTON FARK. MEETING. Ln words of thunder ; westward the wide vale Of mighty waters, rising to the wind, And glittering in the sun, where the full sail Of Industry or Pleasure still avc find, August Ben-Ghoil,* where evening hillows meet, And wash with songs the giant monarch's feet. xx. 0, ho ! my little sentimental hlue, You're at your woods, your hills, and streams again I'd thank you more to turn and take a view Of titled Beauty, through the chariot pane. The world's wide continents their tributes due Have given to her shrine ; and all in vain We seek for similes to describe the fair, For Nature's highest, brightest work is there. XXI. And many a youth of fair and manly die, On charger of our isle's unrivalled breed, Swift as the whirlwinds of the desert fly, Pricks o'er the plain the snorting fiery steed ! What spendid equipages glitter by, With sober, stately pace, or graceful speed ! Homer ! all chariots in thy Trojan scenes Were mere wheelbarrows unto our machines ! * Ben-Ghoil, the mountain of the winds, is generally known by its English and less poetical name of Goatfield. — ScoWs Lord of the Isles. It is the highest mountain in the romantic Island of Arran. EG LINTON PAKK MEETING. 21 XXII. Now get your spectacles, my wayward dame ! Some self-styled critics say ye're short of sight — Nay, altogether stupid, blind and lame ; (It may be) — but we'll canter o'er a height, Whose very base would paralyse the same ; And from one page of Nature's book of light Draw sweets their souls are strangers to : — let's hence ! What mastiff minds the messin's impudence ? XXIII. Next see our buirdly farmers join the throng, Upon their blacks, and browns, and lumb'ring greys ; Blythe as the larks the morning clouds among, Hale as the breeze that fans their native braes : And Clergy, aye, their gowns and faces long, And other furniture of Sabbath days, Are off; and lawyers, beagles* too — that's odd; No ! Satan sometimes ranks with sons of God. XXIV. Jack squeezes here his quid as in a vice, And sea-born phrases deals, and oaths wholesale ; And there are men of garters, thimbles, dice, While others nuts and gingerbread retail ; And some with organs, monkeys, and white mice, AVhile the light fingers follow Mammon's trail, And prove by practice what the Scriptures say, " That riches oft make wings and flee away." * Bumbailiffs. c 2 - J EGLINTON PARK MEETING. XXV. Well, I do think, and almost, too, could swear, They're here from every land beneath the sun, And moon, and stars, and clouds — from each nook where The wind has blown, grass sprung, or water run; Where'er mankind have felt the thorns of care, Or loved, or hated, or seen that old one Called Dcatli, although 1 miss the Ashantcea, And Cook's old cronies of the southern seas. xxvi. And fore and aft, and right and left they drive, And ride, and walk, and run, condense and scatter, Numerous as tenants of the busy hive, Or the small gentlemen in drops of water Seen by the microscope, a mass alive ; And joined with this, say, what a fund of matter For sad reflection may we glean from yon Neglected churchyard, all so sad and lone. XXVII. But to the tents away now we must hie — The sun's far up, and soon the race will start — And all things look more brilliant to the eye, When folks have something got to keep the heart. To paint this panorama grand when 1 Attempt, as vain, as futile is my art, EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 23 Aa 'twould be catching Garnock* in a riddle, Or playing on the tongs 'gainst Paganini's fiddle. XXVIII. With jostling, squeezing, driving, and what not, We reached at length the vortex of commotion, And took our seats among a merry lot, Deeply engaged in Bacchanal devotion ; Pestiferous power ! for all that has been wrote, And said and seen, we drain thy deadly potion ; And oft yield part by part, till sinks the whole — Unnerved the system, and unmanned the soul. XXIX. And, shade of Hogarth ! what a scene was here ! Such eating, drinking, jesting, laughing, courting ; And by the aid of Fancy's fairy gear, It seemed that meat and drink had ta'en to sporting. Their riders thirst and hunger, their career The gullet, and the goal, that all supporting Organ, ycleped the stomach — ill supplied In Ireland, and in England deified. * Garnock, a small river in the district of Cunningham, Ayrshire, which rises from the foot of a very high hill in the moor called the Mistylaw, on the northern boundary of the county, parish of Largs. and runs shallow, clear, and beautiful, down the hill towards the south. It holds on its course through the parishes of Dairy and K'il winning, enlarged as it flow:; by the addition of the Caaf and the live, till it falls into the sea at the harbour of Irvine. Chambers's Gazetteer of Scotland. 24 BGLINTON PARK MEETING. XXX. But my poor Pegasus is off the course ; No wonder, for lie lias a sorry rider : Indeed, 'tis just such horseman and such horse — The muse should run into a hole and hide her : To every one we pass we are a source Of shaking laughter — none e'er wander'd wider From Phoebus' path, o'er ditch and quagmire skelpin', The tailor unto Brentford, or John Gilpin. xxxi. Come, truce : — here, as Silenus drunk of old. Sits Kate M'Killop, erst of Sannox Glen,* Which modern avarice has turned a fold — Once the dear homes of happy Ilighlandmen ; Moulder the rent green walls — the hearths are cold ; Where stood the cradle is the fox's den ; And many of her sons have found a grave In that far world beyond the Atlantic wave. xxxn. But when the midnight moon has climbed the heaven, And pale, cold, pure, shines each attendant star. * A beautiful glen in the north of the Island of Arran, in the bosom of which a number of happy families had for centuries resid- ed, till the year 1830, when they were expelled by the agent of the lord of the soil, and the grounds converted into sheep-walks — the greater part of the ancient tenants emigrated to North America. The name of M'Killop may still be traced on some of the rude stones that there mark the dust of men of other days. EGL1NT0X PARK MEETING. -0 To deep, deep vales a deeper tint is given, And meeting tides their murmurs send afar — The spirits of the forms of days, long driven Away upon the wheels of Time's swift car, Return, and o'er their joys and sorrows gone, Moan on the wind around the gi*ey grave-stone. XXXIII. However, let's go back and see our Kate, Who, as the glass and hiccup will allow, Holding, with both hands, firmly by the seat. To neighbour spins this yarn, with beck and bow : — " Our ane an' me was here last year, and great •' Was the galravagin and fun — hech-ho ! — " Here's luck ! — but there was ae race, sic ne'er seen " Was in Guid's yirth by ony body's een.* xxxiv. " I think there either was some aucht or nine " 0' ladies, wi' their ponies, this race rade, " In tap-boots, breeks, sleeved waistcoats, bonnets fine " Buskit wi' ribbons, feathers lang and braid. " Here's luck, man, Donald, baith to thee and thine! " I ne'er leugh mair sin' ever I was made, •• Nor I did at an eldren dame that wan it, " She leukt sae awfu' queer frae 'neath her bonnet. * A race was run, in IDliG, with ladies' ponies, the gentlemen riders being dressed in ladies' leghorn bonnets. It was won for Miss Boswell of Auchinleck, by Mr Campbell, Sornbeg. 26 I.CI.INTON PARK MEETING. xxxv. f< Whether it was the ridin' brought the bluid " Into her face, or no, I canna say ; " But every smiteh o't was a kin' o' red, " Or rather somethin' coniin near a blue : " And lang wljite whiskers on her face, some said — ■ " My een's no what they ance were in a day — " Eigh, but here's tae her ! be her what she will, '• Of horsemanship she shewed nae trifling skill." xxxvi. With glass in hand, now o'er the form went Kate, Right in a box of pies and gingerbread — O'erturned a vintner, near about the weight Of a prize ox ; like drowning people, glad To seize on anything, he fastened straight Upon a gauntree's end, completely clad With casks, and down it came — the host grew pale, For ' neath it stood a gross of bottled ale ! XXXVII. The souls and bodies of the bottles were Sent to destruction, save a precious few — As Calvin tells us human beings are ; Or like the " Highland Watch" at Waterloo : Ten Women fainted — fifteen some aver ; Perished of corset laces twenty-two : Who doubts the truth of what is written here, May find it all in the Dumfries Courier. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 27 XXXVIII. And is it thus ? — when will ye be wise ! My muse, whene'er ye find your favourite regions, Ye fly like Vulcan hurled from upper skies, Hume on the pensions, Boswell's* carrier pigeons ; Nay, pray, Miss, don't affect the least surprise — The race starts, sure as men of all religions Deem they are right, and 'tis a pretty omen — You stand here trifling 'bout a drunken woman. xxxix. But through the ever-tumbling human sea — By Feeling's gales, by winds of Passion tossed— We've steered with pilot caution to the lee, And anchor dropt near harbour winning-post. But, hark ! lo, off they to the contest be, Loud sound the hoofs upon the trembling coast, And each as anxious is to be the winner, As Satan watching o'er a dying sinner. XL. And watch he does, they say, most warily ; — Who say ? the clergy ; — and, 'tis therefore true ; Now, what a great old blackguard he must be ! But his attendance may be merely through A touch of kindness ; — o'er their daily fee, Some farmers cart their weary reapers to Their homes ;-~so, life's day ended, Nick a sail May give his slaves — or ride upon his tail. * Sir James Boswell, Baronet, of Aucliinleek. 28 EGLINTON PARK MEETIM ! , XLI. Cnough of this— behold like thought or light They fly : — hut these are similes too hold ; — To have it like the wind, were something trite, And hy-the-hye, I think a little cold : To say they fly, or unto distant sight Appear to fly, with critics e'en may hold ; Though I ne'er yet have heard of flying steed Save & Pegasus, who was not known to breed. XLII. [n ladies, lords, knights, gents of every grade. Clergy, physicians, lawyers, and cutpurses, Men of each business, calling, craft, and trade, Tis pleasant to behold how high the force is Of the excitement, at this point displayed ; Hung in suspense they're— though upon the course is None quite exact, like Absalom on the oak, When fled his treach'rous mule, which was no joke. XLIII. And as the rivals to the goal drew nigh, Like dying storms in some rock-circled bay Rises a clamour, or more like the cry Of crowds when in the electioneering way ; When men are valued just as they will lie, The greater fib the louder the huzza ! While others shout, approve, condemn, though heard Distinct, they've not one solitary word. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 29 XLIV. Ho ! now they come — whatever head, or heart, Or hand, or heel can do, is deftly done ; See, see, 'tis past' — away the people start, Scorning each barrier, crying " Boswell's won !" 'Twere surely now a very foolish part, Should one course-guard attempt to stop the run ; Though we each day see things more foolish still — As Owen's schemes — Sir Andrew Agnew's bill. XLV. And now, most patient reader, if you please, We'll have a little soothing relaxation, While things are at a kind of " stand at ease ; " But hark ye first this scrap of conversation : — " Well, blow my eyes, since e'er I've cruised the seas, " If yet I've looked on better navigation ; " And though the pilot came too late to port, " 'Twas but by point of prow, and d — d good sport." XLVI. Now here, some antic specimens we'll see Of various animals, both wild and tame, Fit to bring Wombwell's grand menagerie, ■ Or even Captain Noah's, unto shame. * Wednesday, April 26, 1837. Match, one hundred sovereigns, h.ft., Sir James Boswell's ch. g., Patriot, 4 years old, 11 st. 4 lb. (Mr Grant M'Dowall), beat Lord Eglinton's b. g. Pilot, aged, 12 st. 7 lb. One mile. (A splendid race, and won by the nose.) — Ayr Advertiser. 30 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. Some making loves, bets, bargains, ardently Playing their parts in life's vain subtle game ; Some slyly take their leave — as of his host Did Boney, when o'ercome by General Frost. XL VII. And some, again, where justice keeps her shop, Contrive to hold a most confounded bustle ; Men of six feet through crevices do pop, That scarcely would admit my Lord John Russell. Halloo ! what's up now ! backward, forward, stop — Tis, as my grandmother would say, a tussle ; But who would not risk random treads and squeezes To see men tested in a scale like cheeses ? M.VIII. Others, before the tabernacle, or tent, Or what d'ye call't ? whei'e all grandees repair, Stand, shewing each expression that e'er went To form ill-breeding's most accomplished stare. Some do, as did the "Whigs in Parliament, Which was just nothing — sure now most unfair ; — Nay, by the gods I say, what did either House ? The mountains laboured, and brought forth — a mouse ! XLIX. Four things I know not, Solomon hath said ; Four things there are which I sincerely pity ; ix; LINTON PARK MEETING. 31 But sympathy of bards to none brings aid, More than the wind's sigh to a famished city : They want the wherewithal, apt to parade What brings but small relief, their whole — a ditty ; And like the cuckoo sing, their own affairs Meantime the object of another's cares. L. First, then, a bigot, whose beloved creed The world unprejudiced can plainly see A bore, a bagatelle, nonsense ; indeed, What i' the nature of things can never be ; Life spent in doing nought ; he who can plead The cause of doctrines, whose absurdity He knows full well ; — young Beauty, else placed snugly, If wed to husband crabbed, old, and ugly. LI. But what connection, you will doubtless say, Have all the figures you've of late been tracing ; Cuckoos, and clergy, statesmen, beasts of prey — Unto the subject you proposed — horse-racing ? I know my muse is oft, like one next day That has been drunk, some fanci'd meteor chasing ; And that her brain as pregnant is with havers As is with scepticism a Paisley weaver's. LII. For most my days in Killie* have been passed, Where merit only dwells with monied men, * Kilmarnock. 32 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. And these are scarce enough hecome at last, A child might write them e'en without a pen ; But hear, Phrenology ! and stand aghast ; If there the purse is well developed, then They're clever, intellectual, "decent" gemmen, Though fools, or fit to jig it a-la -Hainan. i. in. " ! Killic, Killie," said some hapless bard, (As most have been that ever touched the string,) " Thou art my native spot, by fortune hard " Compelled am I to distant wandering ; " Farewell ! thy name I'll cease but to regard " When ceases life unto my heart to bring " Its flood ; but ne'er shalt thou my ashes hide, " Thou sink of scandal, poverty, and pride." LIV. But some will say it is a pretty town, With which opinion I can half agree ; Still one thing brings, it not a little down, It seems to have been made for two or three, Or six, or seven ; or, lest dame Killie frown, We'll say her elect may eleven be, And some of these (heaven knows) make one inclined To think that Fortune's mad as well as blind. LV. Hist ! what in the name of wonder's coming here ? 'Tis a dog-chariot, forsooth, and three ! o EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 3 And there's a maniac sweep, who seems to fear Water nor wind, nor ought beside does he ! His head, neck, feet, all want the usual gear, Yet wears the happiest visage I can see ! Nature such minds from care does kindly sever — He shouts " Sir James and Eglinton for ever !" LVI. And lo ! ranged ready at the starting-post, Eight — the crack hunters of the day — appear ; Enough to summon to this world the ghost Of mighty Nimrod ; and he may be here Around upon aerial billows tossed ; — You can't say no, I'm sure, my reader dear ; But to the race (let him who doubts disprove it), 'Twas won by Captain Houston's horse, Cognovit.* LVII. But scenes so similar why dallying sing ? 'Tis my opinion that the muse supposes 1 Wednesday, April 2G, 1837. The Trial Stakes of 5 sovs., each, p.p., with 20 sovs. added by the Club, for Hunters. Half-a-mile five-year-olds, 11 st. 11 lb. ; six ditto, 12 st. 3 lb. ; aged, 12 st. 3 lb. Captain Houston's Cognovit, aged, (Owner 1 Mr Ramsay's b. g. Tamworth, by Canteen, (> years, 2 Mr A. Campbell's Guess, by Champignon, aged, 3 Earl of Eglinton's Pilot, aged, Sir James Boswell's L;eona, by Juniper, 5 years, Mr D. Davidson's Vingt-un, aged, Sir I). Baird'sch. g. The Bird, aged, Mr Kerr's The Kitten, aged, — Ayr Advertiser. 34 EGLINTON PARE MEETING. All men arc Jobs that listen to her string, Or meek as Jewish legislator — Moses. Of this and that, and every other thing, She deals about such overpowering doses ; But after this, which I'll be sworn you'll tire on, Just read for regimen a page of Byron. LVIII. For I have penned much nonsense in my time — Volumes in verse, and libraries in prose, The first th' antipodes of all sublime, Beneath where even your proper critic throws Ills dart; and now about " wrought out" in rhyme, As miners say, a halt I should propose ; For trash more trashy grows by repetition ; See Lockhart's Poems in the third edition.* LIX. And now we met a Mend of early days, And sought the calmest corner of a tent ; Reserve was packed on her penurious ways, And canker care unto the misers sent ; We basked a while in friendship's cheering rays, And to our warmest feelings gave a vent ; At last the hound, Time, broke us from the cover, When, lo ! the races for a day were over. * A work published in Ayrshire, some years ago, and which reached a third edition, through a process it were both tedious and unpleasant to recapitulate. EGLINTON PARK MEETING. 35 LX. Troop after troop was disappearing fast, Like morning's shadows from the misty lea ; The wave rose gently to the strengthening blast, And the blue hills looked sullen on the sea ; The birds sang sweetly ; in the glowing west The sun, about into eternity To roll the day, rode glorious — his smile Lay lovely on the cliff's of Arran's rocky isle. LXI. Much yet remains might be detailed in song, Ere to the dwellings got the honest folk ; For steeds stood at the doors of taverns long, And gigs and cars were, and commandments, broke ; ; And some discussed a beverage so strong, Surprised next morn they in the ditch awoke, Enjoying Bacchus' blessings in the " blues," Those bailiff's craving outraged nature's dues. LXII. We cannot sing, forsooth, we have not seen How merrily withul the lofty hall The feast was held, and youths of noble mien And fairy figures mingled in the ball : My muse is in the dump3 and jaded clean ; Moreover, won't of dancing sing at all — And for this piece of indolence docs plead She's steadfast Antiburgher in her creed. 36 EGLINTON PARK MEETING. I.XIII. But all must have an end — this day has had, The races, we must, and so must this rhyme ; The world, sin too — of this I'm very glad, And think it is a doctrine most sublime, And wish it soon (of late I'm grown so bad), Betwixt sin and repentance all my time Is spent. But, reader, I must close this strain, Some other day, perhaps, we'll meet again. 37 THE SPORTS OF FASTEN'S-E'EN IN KILMARNOCK. The day was sleety, cauld, and doure, Dame Nature's face was wan ; The noteless birds, wi' dowie cower, Happed round the bields o' man. Yet young folks, wi' their new duds on, And bawbees gathered lang, Stood at the doors, while to the fun The crowds were skelpin' thrang And thick that day, ii. "Tvvas Killie's far-famed Fasten's-E'en. The fireside was my station, Till ca'd a stanch auld-farrant frien', Yclcped Dan Observation. ■" Come, Jack," said he, " we'll up the gate;" Sae, trudgin' cheek-for-chow, A' een and ears, awa' we set, The motions o' the row To note that dav. *i i) 38 sports of fasten's-e'i s III. We gained the Laigh Kirk's sacred fauld, Whare sheep on Sunday gather ; And mony a solemn truth here tauld, And mony an unco blether. By this the fun was just begun — The multitude was roarin' ; And up and down, and roun' and roun', The water- warks were pourin' Their store that day. IV. The Cross Ave wan, weel studded through Wi' mony a gazing gaper ; Men o' a' ranks, and women, too, Aye trump at every caper. And mony a face was there, I wot, That showed the farce was pleasin', But that, in Fortune's mill, they'd got A most tremendous squeezin' For mony a day. " Now," said my friend, " mark ye yon fish, '.' A' bloatit, bleart, and blinkin', " And belly turned, like some tun dish, " Wi' eat in' and wi' drinkin' ; " lie's laughin' .at the grand strumas!!, " And thinks he's safe frae harm.'' sports of fasten's-e'en. 89 Wi' that he got a noble lash, Which douked his convex thairm Rig'ht weel that day. VI. Jock Stewart took a pipe's comman', Though for his neck 'twas risky, And dealt it roun' wi' heavy han' — Ye're sure it wasna whisky. For, had it been, he would, I ween, Ta'en rather better care o't ; Nor, by his drouth, to ony mouth Hae had ae drap to spare o't — On that same day. VII. Out-owre the heighest house's tap He sent the torrent scrievin' ; The curious crowd aye nearer crap To see sic feats achievin'. But scarcely had they thickened weel, And got in trim for smilin', When roun' the pipe gaed like an eel, And made a pretty skailin' Along them that day. VIII. Now here, now there, he took his mark — Now down, now up, he liftit • And droukit some unto the sark That hadna ane to shift it. 40 sports of fasten's-e'en\ And aye the callans were as keen To stan' and get a blatter, As they had Roman Cath'lics been, And it a' holy water That fell that day. IX. Next strutted by a stranger Miss, In Fashion's finest glare, Come into town to taste the bliss, And show and sell her ware. But what can a' this din excite — This universal keckle ? We turned about, and Jock, for spite, Had spoiled her fishing tackle Complete that day. 'Twere not an easy task to tell How many got a bathin' ; And what to shins and taes befell, 1 To dogs and dandies' claithin'. How many drones enjoyed the sight- How safe and snugly seated ; * In our early days it was customary on FastenVE'en to use the fire-engines, or " water-warks," as described in the text ; but, alas ! with cook- fighting, once prevalent on that day, and other incontrovertible proof's of the wisdom of our ancestors, it has joined •• the things that werr."" sports op fasten's-e'en. 41 • »r \vi' what trifles, vain and light, Mankind will be elated. On ony day. XI. But surely Killie's sons are blest, That hae sic fine diversions ; And rulers, using for the best, Unparalleled exei"tions. Sic shinin' spires, and streets sae grand, Observatories bonny ; And burial-grounds,* that in the land Are not surpassed by ony — I'll swear that day ! XII. Now closed this scene — and now the crowd Dispersed in a' directions ; While water-warks proclaimed aloud The pavement's imperfections. And some gaed aff to slake their thirst, And get their cargo shippit ; We took the hint, amang the first, And into Joppa's slippit, To taste that day. * At the time this was written, in proportion to its inhabitants, perhaps no town in the United Kingdom had so limited a place of interment as Kilmarnock ; and things of a very revolting nature were often witnessed. 42 sports of fasten's-e'en, XIII. There ca'd we roun' the cap wi' tent, Till, to the window veerin', We saw a sight that might have sent The very stanes a-sneerin'. Of duddy hoys, five hundred guid, And in the front presiding Twa warlike chiels, in hlue and red, As big as farmers, ridin' To fair some day, XIV. The ane, a halbert shouthered high, And purse, breeks, shoon, an' bonnet, Fit laurels for the victory, Hung splendidly upon it. The ither beat the row-dow-dow, A wee, but wickit sinner ; And great temptations they, I vow, Held out to ilka rinner To stake that day. xv. The clock near three had turned about ; We down the street gaed cockin', To see our Councilmen march out, (Wi' reverence be it spoken;) We stood at Bailie Fulton's door ; And I maun gie confession, sports of fasten's-e'en. 43 Their ranks, and music placed before, A glorious procession Did mak' that day. XVI. " Now," cried a pigmy 'mang the crowd, " In vain my neck I've rackit, " For faces, thought that see I would, " Wi' wit and wisdom packit : " They're fish, nae doubt, wi' finer scales, " And redder 'bout the giunels : " That's a' the difference frae oursels, " Pale Misery's fated panels, " And hacks this day." XVII. T would tak 1 a Lockhart, or Will Pum,* Or some sic son of thunder, To paint lang Harvey at his drum, And every ither wonder : The bark of dogs, the bawl of boys, The sneer of many a scorner, That mingling rose, in one wild noise, As round by Mathie's corner They gaed that day. XVIII. Now folk sped thranger to the race Than e'er to kirk on Sunday ; * Two bards who have had the honour of founding a nondescript school of poetry. 44 spouts of fasten's-e'en. And like a priest's was ilka face, On Sacramental Monday, When wi' his brethren hame he hies, And sees, a' spread before him, An' glittering in his fancy's eyes, The banquet for the quorum, Prepared that day. XIX. We joined the noisy fickle flock, And heard in quick succession : " My heels!" " I say, ye jade, whare's Jock?" And mony a queer expression ; We scarce gat peepin' roun' about, So sairly were we battered, Till on the course, amaist worn out, And a' wi' dirt bespattered, We stood that dav. xx. Then opened full on ear and view The congregated " rabble" — The varied face — the dress — the hue — The mingled gibble-gabble — The blachnan wives* — the gingebread creels- Tho maids for sale in braces — * Sellers of confections made of boiled treacle. sports of fasten's-e'en. 45 And droves o' swankie kintra ckiels, Wi' roun' red, rosy faces, Sae blythe that day. XXI. Here youngsters throwing turf and clay, Are scourin' roun' sae tricky ; " Almanacs for the present day," Are bawled by Johnny Mickie.* There's Muirland, wi' his plaid and dog, And Will M'Web, the weaver, Right thin and blue about the lug, Puir sapless, stunted shaver, Here met this day. XXII. And yonder is a whisky-stan', Whare, drinkin' roun' and crackin', Are seen a squad ; and there a ban' Thrang down the fences breakin' ; Anither core are jumpin' keen, And strainin' nerve and muscle ; While some light-fingered lads are seen Performin' in the bussle, Fu' gleg this day. * A dealer in gingerbread who was wont to perambulate the race-course on Fasten's-e'en, calling out, " Almanacs for the present day ; an' if ye canna read them, ye may eat them." 46 SP0BT8 OF FASTEN's-E'EN. XXIII. Here mony a chiel, wi' gaudy coat, Flegs by wi' unco bluster, That, o' his ain, a guid gray groat I'm sure could hardly muster. See yon twa up their noses set, Deep read in roguish dealings, As they, for every pound o' debt, Could pay their twenty shillings, Clink down this day. XXIV. Great flights o' foreigners are come, Frae Fenwick's far dominions ; Men o' Beansburn — frae Stew'rton some, That dwell 'neath Lainshaw's pinions ; And frae beyon' whare Irvine roars, The Riccartonians mighty ; An' tinkler bodies frae Kilmaurs, That great and wondrous city, Are here this day. XXV. Newmilns' dog-fechters hae come down, Some squintin' through their glasses ; Wi' folks frae Darvel's lang-tailed town ; Tarbolton's lads and lasses ; Wild natives o' the Hurlford ; And Galston wabsters lazy ; sports of pasten's-e'en. 47 And frae the Crookedholm, a horde 0' woollen-spinners, greasy — Quite big this day. XXVI. An', canterin' like a cork i' the tide, Ho ! here comes Hughie Vane, At kirk-plate either he'll preside, Or head Rab Owen's train ; 'Deed ony part in life he'll play To gain the puff or penny ; A precious proof how little may Suffice to gull the many He is this day. XXVII. An' beagle Jamie wi' the great ; Ay, mud will for a time Wi' water mix, but soon or late Maun fin' its native slime ; It needs nae witch or ghost to tell, Wha herds wi' sic a fellow, Is either little worth himsel', Or pitifully shallow, I'm sure this day. xxvm. An' mony mae the scene hae sought, Owre taiglesome to mention, 18 SPORTS OF FASTEN's-e'kN. A' keen pursuin' Mr Nought, Wi' most profound attention ; Frac brawny chiels aboon sax feet, Tbat sturdily can stab it ; To infants, at their mammy's teat, Scarce far ayont a rabbit For size this day. XXIX. Here some are crackin' loud o' Dun, And some o' ane ca'd Rover, And some o' Neil, that aft has won, But now is fairly over ; Ithers of Brigton, Boyd, and King, Discuss the several merits ; And ither " bloods" that, in the ring, Hae shown their strength an' spirits, On some sic day. xxx. And this we heard o' female talk — " Yon's Maggy Featherbrainie, " That aft, last year, in Rumpie's Walk,* " Was heard and seen by many, * A shaded avenue in the vicinity of Kilmarnock House, now destroyed. In the summer months it was much frequented by persons of both sexes, and of all ages, and is associated in our own mind with some of the brightest images of life's morning dream. sports of fasten's-e'en. 49 " And now she's tied to yon wee chap, " Yon poukit-leukin' monkey ; " And got a young ane in her lap, " And face as lang's a donkey — " I'm sttre this day !" XXXI. " Hech ! lass, d'ye see Tam Catch thepence, " The great hig witless clown, " Yet thinks he's gotten a' the sense " That's in Kilmarnock town ? " Ou-aye, and fain a saunt would be ; " My word, if dirty greed " And slander mak' a saunt, that he " Is ane, ye dinna need "To doubt this day." XXXII. Quo' blear-e'ed Meg tae fish-wife Jean, " Is tat a beast or bodie? Was ever sic a creature seen, " Sae tousy an' sae duddy ? " He'll be the king o' craw-deils a', " Or may be, lass, wha kens, " Some tailor's midden run awa', " By help o' steam-machines, " T' the race this day." 50 sports of fasten's-e'en. XXXIII. " Weel, yc'rc ac bletherin' gouk," quo' Jean ; " Ha ! middens an' craw-deils ; " Ye leuk as ye had pawned your e'en " For whisky in Tarn Neill's !* " That's Tammie Raeburn o' the ark, -j- " Far prouder o' his rags " An' tautit hair, than ony spai'k " That by sae saucy wags "New clad this day!" xxxiv. 1 Jut suddenly the scene is changed ! And, ! what preparation To clear the course, and get arranged The crowd in proper station. " Stan' back ! stan' back!" is bawl'd about — Sic ruggin' and sic rivin' — The big folks threaten, thump, an shout, As thev were at the drivin' 0' nowt this day. " A noted " Jiowf" of those necromancers who transform coats, shirts, shoes, &c, into what is falsely styled " cheap whisky." t A person lately deceased in the neighbourhood of Kilmarnock, who, in consequence of losing a lawsuit, lived unshaven and un- shorn for nearly thirty years, nor changed his clothes during that period, with the exception of his linen. SPORTS OF FASTEN's-e'eN. 51 XXXV. At length they're in a kind o' square ; And a' the finer cattle The inner court claim as their share, Nor mix wi' baser metal. But if this spot by worth is got, Some chiels hae ta'en their places, That in the rear, I rather fear, Maun show their gawsy faces And fronts this day. xxxvi. Now aff his duds ilk rinner flings, And hands them to some crony ; While expectation draws her strings, And maks her motions mony : She fixes some like Lot's auld wife, Maks ithers fidgin' keen, Sets some hearts wi' their holes at strife, Some baith wi' mouth and e'en Gars glower this day. XXX VII. A \va' like grews behint poor puss, They cleave the yicldin' ether ; ( )r clergy to some patron's house, When dies a wcel-paid brither, An' aye the drum cries something mair, As won the tither course is ; , 52 sports of fasten's-e'en. And, ! what deep important stare Hac a' the stick-armed forces, On guard this day. xxxvm. Now Byron here himsel' would fail, And Shakspere's muse would sink, To justice do to this same tale, And tell it o'er in clink : What shouts came pourin' frae the ring, How ilka hirkie strained, How at the hindmost hout, lang King Cam' in wi' strength weel liained, Like shot that day. xxxix. And loud as winds and waters met In Winter's mad convention, A moon-struck congregation set On schemes of sea-extension. The crowd hrak for the winnin' post, (0 ! grand important spat,) And ran as life had heen the cost ; Nor did they ken for what It was that day. XL. 0, sirs ! weel Robin Burns might say, " Mankind's an unco squad ;" sports of fasten' s-e'en. 53 A wee thing lifts them up the brae, A wee thing makes them sad. The man they idolise this day, The next they'll pelt wi' mud, And stain his name wi' calumny, And e'en would shed his blood, Some ither day. XLI. The second race might be our sang, But 'twere a subject tame, Just as the Psalms of David gang, " Another of the same." An' when 'twas owre, how through the yets And slaps baith young and auld, Like to sae mony gimmer-pets Frae some new-opened fauld, Did break that dav. XLII. An' how some crackit, lang and keen, 'Bout rinners and the race ; How wooers set the tryst at e'en, And named the time and place ; How grannies led their oyes in han', Wi' muckle dauds o' snap ; And wee anes, daubit wi' blackmail, Auld-farrant out the lap Did keek that dav. •' I SPORTS OF FASTEN's-e'eN. XLII1. And we might paint auld Killie town, Would Phoebus gi'e's a hecze ; W'lien ilka change-house made a soun', Just like a byke o' bees ; But 'twould be folly great for folk Withoutcn legs to rin ; Or bats an' owls at twal o'clock To try t' outstare the sun, On simmer day. XLIV. But some will sing, and even preach, Lang after they hae dune, And lest the same dry road we reach, We'll quat, or change the tune. May Killie's sons and bonny dames Be strangers lang to hardships, And better luck attend their aims, Than ever did my hardship's By night or day. 55 BEWILDERED AMONG CHURCHES, AND CONVERSA- TION "WITH A " CHARACTER. - ' In passing through life's busy street, What various minds we chance to meet ! I. One afternoon, as carelessly I strolled Through Stirling, ancient, and romantic town, Pondering on days when Fortha's waters rolled Above the rock's now castellated crown, And merry mermaids would their gambols hold Whence cannons look so sulkily adown, And pretty little whales took mammy's drop, Smacking their lips, upon Demyat's* top. * Dummait hill is situated on the northern bank of the Forth, nearly opposite Stirling. From its conical summit may be seen part of twelve counties, comprehending a view as romantic and beautiful, as various and extensive. Macneill, in his charming poem, the " Links o' Forth," exclaims — Or fragrant whar, at openin' day, The whins bloom sweet on Aichill brae, There, whan inspired by lofty lay, He'd tak' his flight, 56 BEWILDERED AMONG CHUKCHES. II. Ah ! those were times, the good old times said L Which all our efforts never can remand, I felt at once as if about to cry, (An onion garden was perhaps at hand,) When bump my precious beaver went awry, For lo ! a church had ordered me to " stand," But not "deliver," though, we know that they. The churches namely, do so every day. in. Of course, obliged to take another route, I got along some twenty yards or so, And studious still, again when looking out, Egad ! I found no farther I could go In that direction, almost led to doubt My senses, looked a second time, and lo ! Another church ; I muttered, there has been A shower of these things hereabouts, I ween. And towerin' climb, wi' spirits gay, Demyit's height. Dunmait, or Dun-ma-chit, is said to signify the hill of the good prospect. 13ut from Din, Brit., Dun, Gael., a height, a hill ; mat, lirit., magh, {r in the labyrinths of some gloomy dell, There with his God and solitude to dwell ; Where the dark stream that slid the vale along, Murmured responsive to the martyr's song, That rose at midnight oft, when all was still, And swept in heavenly strains the lonely hill ; Looked down the wondering moon — the stars on high, In conscious silence, wheeled along the sky ; The spirits, gliding through the midnight air, Heard, for his foes, the wanderer's fervent prayer. O ! maj r the monster ne'er again invade ( Mir isle, nor here his triumphs be displayed, But sleep secure, as ages roll away, With things long buried from the glance of day. DUNDONALD CASTLE. 77 And, ! my soul, for present peace adore The Power Supreme ; and that great Power implore, That all oppressed and wronged of human kind May soon their rights and privileges find — From where the Line's deep burning billows roll, E'en to the dark dominions of the Pole. AVhen feudal bands engaged, and fields were lost, Thou prov'dst a shelter to the vanquished host ; Oft have thy walls the fierce assault withstood, And thy green hill been dyed with hostile blood. But bending now beneath a load of years, Frail and departing all thy strength appears ; Loud through thy riven walls the tempests howl, The dark recesses of the lonely owl And sable rook, which tenant the abode That courtiers, dames, and warriors have trode. Strange it may seem, yet Scottish records tell Even regal splendour deigned in thee to dwell ; I low sadly changed ! — in thy deserted halls Rank grow the weeds ; and round thy ruined walls The ivy creeps ; thine ancient glory's fled ; Thine ancient tenants numbered with the dead. Yea, with the stream of time a wave rolls on, Whose surge shall leave thee not a standing stone ; The sun shall rise, the waning moon decline, The night look down, the star of morning shine, And mark thy towers that long have braved the rust Of time departed, level with the dust. 78 DUNDONALD CASTLE. Long ere that day shall this frail form be prest In the dread arms of everlasting rest, A thing unnamed beneath the reckless tread, Long, long forgotten 'mong the silent dead. These eyes, that gaze on ocean, sun, and shore, Shall burn with rapture at the sight no more ; And this sad heart, so oft the seat of woe, Shall feel no more the agonizing throe. Thus things terrestrial wing their rapid flight, Clouds of the morn, or vapours of the night ; The sons of men like shadows flee away ; The everlasting hills themselves decay ; Yon towering cliff— lone pillar of the sky, Shall o'er the plain in mouldering ruins lie ; Proud cities perish, and their sites be lost, And e'en old Ocean seek another coast ; Britannia's Isle shall sleep beneath the wave, And o'er her pride the fierce Atlantic rave ; The moon herself forget through heaven to ride, And draw from shore to shore the heaving tide ; Yea, vanish shall earth's great revolving ball, For change and vanity is stamped on all ! 79 MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. The morn appears — the lovely morn of June — All warmly smiling on sweet Nature's face, Like mother o'er her child that craves the boon, In cradled beauty, of a warm embrace ; Each moment carries on its wings some grace The beauteous blushing goddess to array ; And every melody resumes its place. In the grand choir, to swell the lofty lay, And Echo waits to wing the anthem on its way. 11. Adorned with diadem of dawning's cloud, Hail ! Tinto,* stately monarch of the scene ; * Tinto, a lofty mountain at the head of Clydesdale, lying on the boundaries of the parishes of Carmichael, Weston, and Syming- ton. The word Tinto signifies " The Hill of Fire," and derives this appellation from its summit having, in an early age, been a place whereon tbe Druids lighted their fires in heathen worship. From its isolated character and great height, Tinto may be seen from almost every part of Clydesdale, and even Dumbartonshire. Its 80 MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. Ten thousand years hast tliou beheld unbowed, Clyde roll his waves the rugged banks between, Yet look'st as everlasting — as serene As when the pillars of thy strength were laid. Child of the earthquake ! frequent hast thou seen Those deeds of darkness, Druid rites displayed, When Nature stood aghast, and Truth retired dis- mayed. in. A nd feudal times their fantasies unfold, Their bands of discord hurl the car of blood. Whose brightest deeds were ever best untold, Whose wisdom was but Folly's wildest mood. A vaunt! Oh, Chivalry, thy greatest good Was but the shade of very vanity ! And went thine evils forth long unsubdued 1 5 v lapse of ages ; without shore, a sea — A wide unfathomed vast, like an eternity. IV. To whate'er point the pensive eye is cast, Lo ! now thy halls are Desolation's prey ; Sublime memorials of the darkening past ; And their proud tenants, where, alas ! are they ? highest part rises like a great dome above the other eternal edifices of nature. In clear days, the Bass may be seen on one side of the island, and the Firth of Solway on the other. There is a cairn of stones upon the summit, the top of which is elevated 2351 A feet above the level of the sea. — Chambers. 1 MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. 8 1 The wild rose, on the fresh and dewy spray, Smiles through the path where deadly shaft has sped ; And where the trumpet summoned war's array, The redbreast on the stunted hazel's head, Awakes his stealing strains, that seem to mourn the dead. Where scattered lie beneath the tangled brake, On brink of Cartlane's* terrible abyss, The wrecks of Castle Qua ; -J- — now let me take One lofty look of this wide wilderness — * Cartlane Crags, a deep chasm, supposed to have been formed by an earthquake, through which the Mouss Water (remarkable a little farther up for Roman antiquities on its banks) seeks its way to the Clyde, instead of following a more natural channel, which everybody seems to think it should have followed, a little farther to the east. A bridge of three arches was thrown, in 1825, across the narrow profound, its two piers being at least a hundred feet high, while the whole length is little more. The building has an exceedingly striking effect. At a little distance below may be seen one of those narrow old bridges, with an arch precisely semi- circular, supposed to be of Roman structure. In the western I of the chasm of the Crags, a few yards above the new bridge, a small slit in the rock is pointed out by tradition as having been the hiding- place of Wallace, after he had slain Ileselrig. It is still termed Wallace's Cave. — Chaml T Castle Qua lies on the east side of Cartlane Crags. It is supposed to derive its name from the Gaelic word Cuach, a drink- ing cup (the Qi'.cch of the Lowlands), to which shape the chasm of tbe Mouss, when seen from the Castle, lias a striking resem- blance. 82 MUSINGS BY TTIE CLYDE. This amphitheatre, whose green Avails kiss The dazzling summer skies ; and, ! survey How far beneath is stretched its loneliness, The Mouss, though sweeping with unwonted sway, Is heard, like song of storm, on hill-top far away. VI. And down the dizzy gulph's tremendous bay, The giant rocks, in majesty severe, Frown through the waving foliage, and betray The hawk's high citadel ; but cause of fear None hath he, for the steps of man have ne'er In yonder spot left their polluted trace ; The little warrior lists, with upturned ear, I lis dappled pinions trims with native grace, Then cleaves the deep blue air, afar in fields of space. VII. Again descend the slippery winding path, But with no tame emotions mark the spot ; — Here Freedom, with her chosen Wallace, hath Retired, when weeping Scotia's homes had nought But fetters for the slave ; and here were brought News of the blight of his affections' bud,* Which iu his soul a fiery tempest wrought, * A female attendant is said to have conveyed the melancholy intelligence to Wallace, who had retreated to Cartlane Crags. There, in the midst of his followers, he heard the heart-rending recital of his bereavements with a behaviour worthy of himself, and becoming the occasion.— Z(/e of Sir William Wallace, Kn ifjht of MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. 83 That drank his tears, as does the lava's flood The dew, and burned and blazed till quenched in Southron blood. VIII. ! justly-famed, transcendant, peerless chief ! — Age has on age long sunk beneath the tide Of deep oblivion, yet thy laurel's leaf Is seen to flourish in its pristine pride ; Conquering Death's power, and Time's imperious stride ; The (renius of thy country oft her eye Lifts, to gain strength when omens dark pi'eside, To where thou, with her Burns, art seated high — Twins on the hallowed mount of immortality. IX. Far in yon vale, where lofty towers of Lee* O'erlook the wide arms of the mighty oak, Ellerslie, and Guardian of Scotland. Published by Richard Griffin & Co., Glasgow, 1825. * Lee. — The environs of Lee, an elegant modern, castellated edifice (Lockhart, Baronet), contain a remarkable natural curio- sity, in the shape of a large oak tree, whose trunk is thirty feet in circumference, and which having become rotten through age can hold in its hollow inside nine persons standing upright. It is called, reason unknown, the Pease Tree, and is supposed to be a relic of the ancient Caledonian Forest. Under its venerable shade charters connected with the family are said to have been written, and it has ben entailed by written deeds for fourteen generations. 84 MUSINGS BY Till: CLYDE. Which, by the voice of sage antiquity, A thousand years has braved the tempest's stroke : There, when her beauteous neck unto the yoke Of Superstition, Caledonia bowed, From distant parts would weary pilgrims flock, To bear the water hence, with charm endowed. Art, nature, fate to foil — at least so deemed the crowd.* * The Lee Penny. This curious heir-looin, of talismanic cele- brity, was acquired by an ancestor of the present possessor of the estate of Lee, Sir Lockhart. When Sir Simon Locard ac- companied the good Sir James Douglas to Palestine, bearing the heart of Bruce in a locked ease, on this account his name- was changed to Lockhart, and he obtained fur his armorial bearings a heart attached to a lock, with the motto, " Corde serrata pando." Engaged in the wars of the Holy Sepulchre, this hero had the good fortune to make a Saracen of rank his prisoner. The lady of the warrior came to pay his ransom, and was counting out the money, when she happened to drop from her purse a small jewel, which she immediately hastened to pick up with an air of careful solici- tude. Lockhart eagerly inquired the nature of the jewel, and learning that it was a medicatory talisman, refused to deliver up his captive, unless it was added to the sum previously stipulated. The lady was obliged to comply, and Simon brought it home to Scotland, where it has ever since continued in the possession of bis descendants, perhaps the only existing memorial of the Crusades in this country. It is called The Lee Penny, on account of its being set in the centre of an old English coin. Triangular, or heart-shaped, it measures about the third of an inch each way, and is of a dark red colour, but perfectly transparent. The nature of the stone cannot be determined by lapidaries, being apparently different in all respects from any known in this quarter of tin world. To the cd^c of the coin a small silver chain has been at- tached ; and the whole is deposited in a gold box, which the Em- press Maria Theresa presented to the father of the late Count MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. 85 X. In vain, 'twas said, might stern disease assail, Where'er the potent water found its way ; Nor spell of weird infernal might prevail, Nor e'en the water- dreading madness slay ; Such were the dreams of man's untutor'd day, And wizard, witch, wraith, ghost, and goblin drear, The spunkie, brownie, kelpie, and the fay — A motley troop — have all held revel here, All danced on Cartlane Craigs ; beheld and heard with fear. Lockhart. The Lee Penny did not lose its talismanic property on being transferred to a country of Christians. On the contrary, it has been all along, even to the present day, remarkable for medical virtue, especially in the diseases of horned cattle. The mode of administering it is this : — Holding it by the chain, it is three times plunged into a quantity of water, and once drawn round, — three dips and a swell, — as the country people express it, — and the cattle and others drink of this water, for the purpose of being cured. In the reign of Charles I., the people of Newcastle being afflicted with the plague, sent and obtained the loan of the Lee Penny, leaving the sum of £6000 sterling in its place, as a pledge ; and so highly impressed were they with an opinion of its sovereign virtues, that they proposed to keep it, and forfeit the money ; but the Laird of Lee would not consent, for any consideration, to part with so venerable and gifted an heir-loom. About the beginning of last century, it is said to have cured Lady Baird of Saughtonhall, who having been bit by a mad dog, exhibited all the symptoms of hydrophobia. In his fine chivalric tale of " The Talisman," Sir Walter Scott has made an admirable use of this curious relic of antiquity. Strangers from all quarters still resort to Lee to view this celebrated gem ; and the present worthy proprietor has adopted the idea of keeping an album, in which the names of visitors are recorded. — Chambers. G 86 MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. It comes, it comes, the glorious march of mind ! Children of darkness, whither have ye fled? Ride ye sublime on chariots of the wind, Whom kindred haste to join with noiseless tread ? Or in the land of shadows rest the head ? If so, Heaven grant your slumbers be profound, May silence keep her watch around the bed Whereon ye rest — in sacred circle bound — Oblivion's curtains closed eternally around. XII. Assume not, Bigotry, thy withering look, Thy grim, self-righteous smile, or hollow sneer, Nor search for names in Cant's fastidious book, For what has been believed or practised here ; Scan thine own creed, thy cherished dogmas dear. There, wert thou not with prejudices blind, Things as adverse to reason would appear — To Nature's laws — to interests of mankind — To all that God in love and mercy has designed. XIII. Where have I wandered in my reverie ? List, lo ! there Cora* strikes the astonished eve ; * Couv I, inn. — The uppermost fall is Bonniton Linn, a cascade of about thirty feet in height. The next below is Cora Linn, where the water takes three distinct leaps, each apparently as high as that of Bonniton. Between these two falls the course of the water is prodigiously rapid and perturbed. Its channel is contracted among rocks and precipices, and in some places it struggles through a MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. 87 In one wild fit of frantic revelry The waves of Clutha tumble from on high, And all the deafening echoes l'ound reply ; And hoary mists their dewy wings expand, And radiance darting from the azure sky, Bids o'er the deep an infant iris stand, A path for fairy feet to trip from either strand. XIV. Whatever of beautiful, sublime, or great, That either heart, or eye, or ear can crave ; The foaming waterfall's o'erpowering state, The threatening rock, the alcove, and the cave, The rifted tower that frowns above the wave, The streamlet's song, the breath, the bloom of flowers, The melody of birds, that gay or grave, Tell forth their loves or griefs among the bowers — Are here, and much that wings can lend to languor's hours. chasm of not more than four feet in width. Its sides consist of walls of rock, equi-distant, and wonderfully regular, the jutting points of which are covered with natural shrubbery, and in whose crevices nestle numerous flocks of birds. Upon a rock above Cora Linn, on the southern bank of the river, stands a ruined castle, behind which is a middle-aged mansion, and behind which again there is a still more modern and splendid mansion-house, called Corehou8e. A pavilion, erected above a century ago, stands on the opposite bank of the stream, as a station for observing the fall. — Chambers. 88 MUSINGS BY THE CLYDE. XV. But musing thus on Nature's wondrous plan, It seems a source of sadness and of pain, To note the transitory hours of man, While meaner things for centuries remain ! Even so Eternal Wisdom did ordain ; 'Tie therefore best, whate'er our state betide, Let us be wise, nor dare the heavens arraign, The language shun of discontent or pride And where God's hand we trace, let resignation guide. Lanark, June, 1840. 89 MARTHA OF MYRETON, OR "THE MAIDEN STONE."* Fair Martha dwelt by Devon's stream, Old Myreton's only child, And lovely as the dewy rose That blooms in trackless wild ; And gentle as the summer's breath, When day has sunk to rest ; And guileless as the prattler dear Upon its mother's breast. * This striking relic lies in the churchyard of Tullybody, Claek- raananshire, within a few feet of the church wall, and is still in good preservation, although the melancholy event with which it is connected, is said to have taken place about 400 years ago. Part of the lid or covering, however, has been removed : what remains is a stone nearly two feet thick, and wrought like the coping of a roof. The church is a little low building, and is now used as a place of sepulture by the noble family of Abercromby, and bears a tablet to the memory of the hero of Alexandria. There is no door on that side of the church where the " Maiden Stone" lies, which, according to tradition, was built up at the instance of the Reverend Seducer. 90 MARTHA OF MYRETON. And well she loved to ease the load Of poverty and care, And smooth the pillow to the head Of sickness and despair. And many sought fair Martha's love — The wealthy and the wise, The warrior in his panoply, The courtier in disguise ; The love-lorn minstrel lingered oft Around her father's place, And deemed it bliss upon the path Her fairy foot to trace. But Martha viewed them all with pain, Her answer still was " nay ; " For first love's wild delicious throb Had given her heart away. Young Beaton, Tullibody's priest, Of manly beauty rare, Was learned, but, ah, his heart was false, As outward form was fair. And Martha loved him with that love Which fixes upon one Dear object, and bereft of this, For ever is undone. MARTHA OF MYRETON. 91 Which too, too well the villain knew ; But here we draw the veil Above one portion of our dark And melancholy tale. And now fair Martha shunned the light, And every human eye ; Forgot her gentle cares and joys, And only wished to die. The hind beheld her oft, 'tis said, When dubious was the dawn, Glide like a spectre through the wood, Or o'er the dewy lawn. And pale, pale grew her lovely cheek, And languid was her eye ; Her slender form seemed e'en too weak To heave the deep drawn sigh. Yet never would she deign to name The source of all her woe, Nor ever made a single plaint, Or bade a tear to flow. At length, when midnight cold and lone Was o'er the Ochils spread, And stars on Devon's teeming vale Their placid lustre shed. 92 MARTHA OF MYRETON. Round Myreton's grief-struck halls arose A hymn as sweet as when The friends that parted were by death, Are joined in heaven again. Her weeping parents Martha called, While hectic's fatal streak, Like sunset on the lily's leaf, Illumed her faded cheek. " The hour at last is come," she said, " I long have wished to see, And soon I hope to find a home From sin and suffering free. " If still you love, or e'en regard, Your lost, your ruined one, Oh ! then, let this my last request, In all be strictly done. " That my poor worn and wasted frame Encofined be in stone, And by the church door closely laid, Nor mould nor turf thereon ; " That as he passes out and in, It still may meet his view." She stretched her small, thin, trembling hand, And breathed, " a long adieu." MARTHA OF MYRETON. 93 And like some lovely tender flower, Of timeless storms the prey, Stript from its drooping parent stem, In death fair Martha lay. Those strange sweet notes again were heard, But distant more they seemed, Yet wildly sweet as aught of which E'er rapt enthusiast dreamed. Then all around was sadly still, Like silence of the tomb, Or that before the livid bolt Has seamed the desert's gloom. And Myreton's age is childless now, He rends his hoary hair, For bootless words, or e'en for tears, Too deep is his despair. Poor Martha's hest was all fulfilled, And still the stones we see, That tell a tale of love misplaced, And priestly perfidy. Alloa. October. 184.5. 94 ALFRED GR.EME ; OR, THE FATAL LIKENESS. Retired from courtly pomp and power, In old Dundonald's stalwart tower The good King Robert dwelt : and e'en At sylvan sports but seldom seen ; Nor fleeting years as yet bad sbed Their snows upon the monarch's head, Enough to quench the spirit's flame, And sap the vigour of the frame. His early love* was in the grave, And like a frozen, sunless cave, The generous monarch's heart became, When died Rowallan's peerless dame. Where Shewalton moorland to the west Expands its bleak and barren breast, There stood a stately forest then, Well known to Ayrshire archermen. For many a gallant stag was there, And wild boar in his bosky lair ; And, white as Ailsa's crest of snow, The mountain bull, a dangerous foe ; * The beautiful Elizabeth Mure, daughter of Sir John Mure of Rowallan, Kilmarnock. ALFRED GRAEME 9. J Though now degenerate, 'tis the same At Cadzow seen, and Chillingharn : The first in Scott's high strains has rung — * The last has been by Foster sung, With all the graceful ease and fire That mark the manly Borderer's lyre.-j- Stern winter's hand had bound the soil, And laid the snow on steep Ben-Ghoil ; Like mirror lay the cold blue sea, Scarce heard its evening lullaby ; With graceful sweep the white sea-mew Sailed to his home in headland blue ; And island skiffs, their journey made, Soon lost were in the landward shade. The monarch, in his secret bower, Enjoyed the soul-ennobling hour ; But, ere the woodland and the height, Had sunk in sombre shades of night, And tapers glimmered o'er the plain, Like reason on the drunkard's brain, With something of importance fraught, His page, De Werter, audience sought. * The well-known ballad of " Cadzow Castle," by Sir AValter Seott. t " Chillingharn Bull Hunt," a ballad, by William Ah- Foster. See the Local Historian's Table Book for Northumberland and Durham, Legendary Division, vol. ii. p. 258. Published by A. Richardson, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 1H44. 96 ALFRED GRuEMK. De Werter's infant hours had known The vales where sweeps the rapid Rhone ; Of featui - es stern, and sable browed As pinion of the thunder cloud; Yet finer form than his ne'er trode The surface of earth's verdant clod. The ranger and De Werter long Had been at feud from trifling wrong : The former was of Celtic line, M'Coll, from banks of deep Loch-Fyne, With amplest quantity supplied Of the foul fumes of Highland pride, And Nature ne'er more cunning gave To one designing, sordid slave ; One aim, and one alone he knew, Self-interest ever kept in view ; As for his creed, 'twas of that kind Which always orthodox we find, Although the owner chance to go From Guinea's sun to Lapland's snow. Fawning and flattering was he To all above his own degree, — To equals treacherous, and to all Dependants as tyrannical ; Grim envy never in her reign Held more obsequious serf in chain ; Nor e'er was human kind disgraced By aught more basely double-faced. ALFRED GR.EME. But why, you'll say, a verse bestow On one so despicably low ? Because (although it may seem hard To be believed) he was a bard : Such freaks Dame Nature sometimes plays, Nor from her laws eternal strays. Although the King was in that mood When most he wished for solitude, With courtesy a little strained, The artful page an audience gained ! And thus, " My liege it grieves me I Should so disturb your privacy ; And more, since what I wish to state, Does fellow- servant implicate ; But duty dictates, and I must Obey, which pleads excuse (I trust)." " Ho !" said the King, and waved his hand Impatient, silence to command : " De Werter, I have known you now Since thirteen summers bronzed your brow ; Though others oft have failed, of you Have ne'er known aught save good and true But give your message and begone, For much I long to be alone." Somewhat abashed De Werter stood, Despite his ease and fortitude, — 1)8 ALFRED GR/EME. Fumbled his cap, his fingers ran Through his long locks, and thus began : " 'Twas yester morn, at break of dawn, Returning o'er the westward lawn, Upon M'Coll by chance I came, His horse o'crloaded quite with game ; His finger on his lip he laid, And, scowling, pointed to his blade, Then took that dangerous path whence we Can sometimes soonest reach the sea ; I followed, and at distance stood On shore, in covert of the wood ; A stranger barque was in the bay, The boat came dashing through the spray, Received the game, and backward hied, Nor swifter aught e'er skimmed the tide." King Robert started to his feet As youth's high pulse again had beat; The page he bade a moment wait, Th' apartment paced with pensive gait : " 'Tis strange my lenity should lead That miscreant still to darker deed !" He said ; " Nor do I know the times I've overlooked his faults and crimes ; What pity ! nor in east or west 1 s one of half the skill possessed. ALFRED GRAEME. 99 Go, find M'Coll, and tell him, he, To-niorrow, here, at noon must be : A different turn we'll take ; and, stay, Bid Alfred Grseme, without delay, Attend, and bring his harp along ; Perchance the magic powers of song May bid awhile these pangs depart. That feed upon the fading heart." There seems but for M'Coll to be One course, and that the gallows-tree ; His is a hopeless case indeed, With whom even mercy can't succeed. AVhere Aven's sterile wilds are spread The youthful minstrel had been bred ; His sire had fallen in feudal strife, Left a young son and wealthless wife ; Of gentle lineage was the dame Had wed, for love, the handsome Graeme : And by this foul, imprudent sin, Incurred the hatred of her kin. In form, in visage, and in mien, The bard was what his sire had been : His features cast in Grecian mould — His flowing locks like links of gold — His form erect as lance or spear, And a^ile as the bounding deer ; 100 ALFRED GRAEME. So good, so wise he was withal, At once heloved in cot and hull ; Vice from his presence slunk away, As from the light the beast of prey ; Licentious jest, and its acclaim, Were hushed at sight of Alfred Grteme. The crafty page, and minstrel bland, Were rivals for a maiden's hand — The beauteous Mary, called in tale And toast, the " Flower of Irwindale." liut Mary loved the minstrel youth With first affection's fervent truth ; Though hopeful still, the other swain Had long preferred his suit in vain. As David charmed, with tuneful String, The fiend that troubled Israel's king, So Alfred Graeme possessed the power To soothe his master's moody hour. Nor wonder ; for his worthy bard The monarch held a high regard, — Had given him lands — a goodly cot, To smoothe his mother's hapless lot. Attentive still to duty's call, With harp he soon appeared in hall, ALFRED GRAEME. 101 Obeisance made, his hand along The strings he swept, and raised his song : He sung Rowallan's hoary towers, Of Carmel's stream, of Carmel's flowers, Of mutual love's delightful hour, Beneath the fragrant greenwood bower. Awhile the monarch. seemed to be Dissolved in pleasing reverie ; Anon, and down his visage wan The big hot tears profusely ran ; And, ere the song was well essayed, A signal to the bard he made To check the unpropitious strain, Who, heedless of the list'ner's pain, Was borne triumphant by his theme, Like swimmer on the rising stream. To war's red page he next did turn, And sung the field of Bannockburn, — The hosts embattled on the plain — The royal Bruce — De Bohun slain — The shock, the shout, the reeling foe — The haughtiest crests of England low, Beneath the brand of mountaineer, Or red i-esistless Carrick spear ; And through the battle's stormy tide, Like angel of destruction ride, , Fierce Edward Bruce, who, sad to tell! At Erin's sceptre grasping— fell ; 11 iUL' LL1 RED i.K.f.ME. And lies on Faughart 's* dreary heig Without a stone to tell the site. Edina ! blush thou at the thought ! < >!' all thy wonders art has wrought, Not one perpetuates the name Of Bruce, of Wallace, or of G reeme ; Yet, statues in thy streets the- while Stand to the vilest of the vile. The cold round moon had risen high. In ocean of a cloudless sky, With all the glittering orbs embossed. Of heaven's resplendent, countless host — So beautiful, they seemed to be Ordained to burn eternally. Nor sound the wistful ear could mark But gentlest sigh of forest dark; Or bittern's boom, or ban-dog's bay, As stranger sought the castle's way ; Or the vexed ocean's mellowed roar, From some lone island's rockv shore. Adown a narrow well-trod path, Through clumps of gorse and blasted heath — In those rude days the only course To Irwin, or for foot or horse — ■ The churchyard of Faughart lies on the top of a hill, about two miles north of Dundalk. Many of the churchyards in Ireland have :i very slovenly and repulsive appearance ; but that of Faughart is "ne of the worst in this respect that we met with. ALFRED GRAEME. 103 De Werter passed with speed of flight, In cloak Avith northern furs bedight ; The dress was Alfred's, and a thing He prized, as guerdon of the King. The page in frolic took the loan, And, tittering, as he tried it on, Was heard to say, " This joke may some More favoured people keep at home ; And should she me for Alfred take, Some good discovery I may make." Nor darkling, e'en might lover's eye The counterfeit, at first, espy ; Their stature and their gait the same, Though not more wide the snow and flame Than either face — deceit and truth, Or wrinkled age and rosy youth. Close by that path the ranger lay, Like tiger watching for his prey ; He heard the footstep, left his den, And, muttering " Alfred," crouched again. An hour had fled, the hard dismissed Was free to go where'er he'd list ; Descending to the hall anon, He found his favourite cloak was gone ; At once his rival's round him flung, And through the outward portal sprung. 104 ALFRED GRAEME. His licart was gay, his foot was light, He gazed on glories of the night, And every star that beamed above Drew lustre from his Mary's love. A hawthorn copse he'd nearly made, Where still M'Coll held ambuscade ; Some happy thought had just the wdiile Rode forth on sunshine of a smile, — Ah ! little dreamed th' enraptured swain That never should he smile again. From that dark ranger's deadly yew, The shaft in vain but seldom flew ; And such his strength, nor high, nor low, In all the west could bend his bow. His lair the minsti'el just had passed — " I have him now," he said, " at last ;" Full stretch the keen-winged bolt he drew, Right to the mark the weapon flew — Behind the shoulder blade it sunk, And life's stream at the fountain drunk. As falls the dove, with pinions broke, Beneath the falcon's fatal stroke, So fell the youth — or said, or sighed His Saviour's name, and, turning — died. North from the castle's verdant mound, An unhewn column still is found, ALFRED GRAEME. 105 Hard by an arch that spans the way Where iron-harnessed meteors play, 'Twas here by fell assassin's aim, Of life was reft young Alfred Graeme. Where once his trim-built cot was seen, Where neighb'ring swains would blithe convene, When twilight shades had wrapped the plain, And rose the harp's entrancing strain ; Where age would weep, and youth would gaze, To hear the tales of ancient days ; Though other trace has long been gone, As " Harperland" * it still is known. * A farm on the estate of Sir John Cunningham, Bart, of Fairlie, Dundonald. 106 THK LOUDON CAMPAIGN.* " O ! wad some power the giftie gie \i^ To see oursells as ithers see us." Attention ! all ye martial band, The bulwarks of our native land, On Albion's shores, on foreign strand, By Ganges' tide, Or where Canadian forests grand Stretch far and wide. No seas of blood, no hills of slain, No blazing cities swell my strain ; No widow's tears, nor orphan's mane — For what are they, ; In the summer of 1823, the Marquis of Hastings, after many years spent in the " Land of the Sun," returned to his seat of Loudon Castle, on which occasion a part of the Ayrshire Cavalry and Kilmarnock Volunteers marched thither to congratulate the worthy nobleman. THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. 107 When viewed wi' Loudon's great campaign? Mere children's play. When Hastings back frae India came, The worthy chief to welcome hame Our " Dandies" had resolved, and Fame Said wine and wassail Profuse, should celebrate the same At Loudon Castle. The Cavalry, wi' some persuasion, Agreed to serve on this occasion ; But, previous, they got intimation That nae flesh, but Such as was void of animation, Was to be cut. 'Twas tauld in Killie a' that week, That five large owsen, fat and sleek, Were kilt, that Yeomanry might streek Their jaws wi' pleasure, And " Dandies' " bellies get a keek Beyond stay measure. Besides five score o' sheep, as fat As ever walloped in a pat, And routh o' drink, the demon that Has been man's ruin Since e'er auld father Noah's vat Was set a brewin'. 108 TIIK LOUDON CAMPAIGN. There was a cliiel, baith lank and lean, Wha had at mony a muster been In bygane time ; but on the green, In war's array, The sycophant had not been seen For mony a day. Whene'er he heard o' the affair, He went directly unto prayer : " Lord !" said he, " my life but spare " Till that great day, " And thine ain servant shall his share " 0' dainties hae." The very thought o't made him smile ; He gathered out his kit meanwhile, And cleaned, wi' perseverin' toil, His firelock rusty ; And fleas out-flanked in gallant style On's garments dusty. Even in his sleep he couldna rest ; For Fancy out the table drest, An' then he'd roar, like ane possest, And, starting, cry, " Slice down the beef; well, I protest; " Fair play, stand by !" Anither ane, wi' Leith-walk face, A first performer of grimace ; THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. 109 A patent hand at prayer or grace ; But ready he Was aye (when gain was in the case), Wi' loop or lee. As clergy hear o' coming cash, As gossips seize some new-hatched clash, As trembling drunkards face- ward dash Their morning dear, So did this curious moral mash The tidings hear. Even, when the hero took the beuk,* He waled wi' earnest anxious leuk, Till ance he happened on a neuk Concerning eatin', And then he'd read, an' roar, an' smack Himsel' a-sweatin'. The drummer o' this warlike corps Had fasted for a week before The raid took place ; and aften swore He would lay in At least a lucky fortnight's store In his wee skin. That mornin', when they marched awa', He said that, " roasted, boiled, or raw, * Family worship. 110 THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. •• He'd eat a badger, tail an' a', " Without a scunner!'' Sae keen and craving was his maw — Sae ripe for dinner. The day was fair, an' aff they set, Hope hoverin' o'er them — dear coquette ; Mars looked ower heaven's gowden yett, The group to scan ; But turned his godship in a pet, And thus began — " 0, Jupiter ! was e'er a sight " Like this beheld in heaven's light — " Since cranes and pigmies closed in fight, " Or mice and frogs " Displayed their direful earthquake might " In bluidy bogs ? " Should now some hostile crowd appear, " Wi' brickbats, stanes, or sic like gear, " We soon wad see them, struck wi' fear, " Tak' down the road, " As sheep, when hangs upon their rear " The panting tod. " Dear Britain, should it be thy hap " Again to face another Nap, " Just lea' thae chiels to tent the crap, " And shoot the craw, THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. Ill " The ' Greys' mil better fill a gap — " Or < Forty-twa,' " A chiel might dread as muckle skaith, " Frae turkey-cock when in his wrath, " Or goosie peckin' in her freath " On nest a-sittin', " Or drove o' big brown rattons, faith, " When gaun a-flittin'." Thus having said, the God of War Resumed in wrath his blood-stained car ; Jove sent his thunderbolts afar Till heaven resounded ; And every orb, and distant star Winked quite confounded. As bi-isk they marched along the way, The drummer twice was heard to say, " I fin' the smell ; my boys, huzza ! " The gravy's spillin' ; •' But faith, we'll have a glorious day, " I'll hold a shillin'," The carrion corps behint them ilew, (Puir simple birds) they little knew These warriors never weapons drew On livin' boukes, Nor ever cut entrenchment through, Except the cook's. I L2 THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. I Jut when a swarm of flies they'd meet, They laid them sprawlin' at their feet ; And mony a cleg was made retreat Ere came they till The " honny wood and braes," sung sweet By Tannahill. As hens besiege the thrashing-floor, As ducks, in frost, a pond before, As craws upon a hillside hoar, Portending storm, So by the Castle 'gan the corps At length to form. Out came the gentles ane an' a', And, spite of breedin's rigid law, Scarce was supprest the loud guffaw ; And heads were hung. Lips bitten, faces turned awa', Whence bluid maist sprung ! But first impressions being o'er, They roosed and thanked the 'foresaid corps — When laigh's the lintel o' the door We needs must stoop it, Nowhere of this we've samples more Than in the poopit. Young Hastings said, and curled his nose, " A gang of gipsies, I suppose ; THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. H3 ' Or people come to scare the crows ; " Look ye, my Lord, ' A drummer ape, how bluff it goes, " Upon my word." But 'tis beyond puir simple John Their bill of fare to venture on ; Let their ain language speak, anon, 'Twill paint it fine — ' Deil haet, except a bawbee scone, " An' glass o' wine." Some fainted wi' convulsive roar, Some uttered oaths ne'er heard before, The service some for life forswore, Wi' frantic air ; Some veterans out in handfuls tore Their thin gray hair. Ane mair inclined to feast than fight His puir wee scone wi' a' his might He hurled o'erhead, clean out o' sight, Belike it may Suffice some comet for a' bite When scarce o' prey. A hairum-scairum wabster blade, Wha laughed at a' tilings, even dull trade, A toothpick o' his bayonet made, Then on his nose I I J nil: LOUDON CAMPAIGN. The instrument o' death he laid Wi' look jocose. " Waesucks, wacsucks," the drummer cried ; " Wacsucks," the lengthened glades replied ; To keep his feet the bodie tried, But, quite o'ercome, He fell, despite his martial pride, And hrak' the drum. The birds affrighted couldna sing ; The young anes in the nests took wing ; The cattle gathered in a ring, As't had been thunder, The very midges cease to fling — But 'twas nae wonder. And, to their shame, in this sad plight, Part of the heroes took to flight, And into Galston, as in height Of summer sun, Maddened wi' heat and insects' bite, Whole herds will run. The bairns and dogs the coining row Announced, with shout and loud bow-wow, Auld grannies left their rocks o' tow, And cripple bodies Limpit, and scraiched as on a knowe Ye've seen young hoodies.'' * Carrion crows. THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. 115 Bald-headed men forgot their hats, Wi' tails like boas ran the cats; Fast to their burrows took the rats That were a-roamin', Sic was the stoure, it seemed to bats The hour o' gloamin' ! I've got an honest fellow's word For this, or 'twould seem half absurd, — The town clock stopped, — an ancient sword Frae sheath did drop, A fiddle, o' its ain accoi'd, Played Johnny Cope ! * Vet on the warriors strode, as bold As hares, or Parthian troops of old, Or fleecy tenants of the fold, When thunder roars • Or the dun deer, when o'er the wold The far hunt pours. And took (how strange !) withouten toil, Or fire, or smoke, or battle broil, An inn, and maut, and roast, and boil, At once o'ercamc, And heavy laden wi' the spoil, Went glorious hame. Ancient warriors used to draw omens from their sword blades. When Lord Lovat was born the swords in the mansion-house hall ied spontaneously from the scabbard. — See Lady of the Lake. 116 THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. Their " inexpressibles" sae white, And dazzling in the morning light, By this appeared a waefu' sight, Baith black and brown, Some prayed for cover o' the night To face the toun. Behint the dykes, and to the wuds Some took, and turned the foresaid duds, Came forth as fresh as burstin' buds, By ane, 'tis said, This novel game o' cheat- the- suds Was three times played.* But laith am I to tell the fray That raise among them by the way ; Sic civil wars again, pray ! We ne'er mav hear of, Which ended, as historians say, Before the Sheriff. The greater number o' the squad Cam' hungry hame, wi' hearts right sad ; The vera Major swore, " by Gad " It was a shame, " And brought a stain — an odium bad " On Hastings' name." * A fact. THE LOUDON CAMPAIGN. 117 The drummer raised his plaintive wail, The rocks gave hack the dolefu' tale, Yea, and the soher evening gale, That swept alang, Bore far away o'er hill and dale, His inournfu' sang. Ye who these tragic lines peruse, While tears (nae doubt) shall flow profuse, Should Hope hereafter lift your views, Watch ye the cummer, And mind how sair she did abuse Our frien', the drummer. 118 THE FORTUNETELLER. [t was in eighteen thirty-nine, The month of June, the weather fine ; But so confounded hot — 'bout Ayr Mad dogs were running here and there — Mad politicians everywhere. One afternoon of this same time, A brewer, smith, and man of rhyme, Rather a kind of kittle set, In the Turf Inn of Irvine met, And drove the joke a while and tale, Over a jug of Geordie's ale. Whether it was the mania then That in the shire struck dogs and men ; Or whether 'twas the fumes of ale That in their craniums did prevail, Must under covert still remain, Till some intelligence we gain, By steam conveyance, or balloon, From that queer planet called the moon ; THE FORTUNETELLER. Hi* Howe'er, to Jenny Hooks" they'd go, And learn their fortunes — weal or wo ! "Twas fixed upon — a house was got Contiguous to the beldam's cot ; And soon did Jenny 'mong them stand, With pregnant look and cards in hand. His hardship was her first essay — But Jenny, Jenny, well-a-day ! Thou could' st not have been farther wrong Had'st thou declared that old was young, That black was white, that east was west, That Satan was a heavenly guest ! The roguish rhynister blew her still With words of wonder at her skill ; And swore by Burns's soul, she'd been At night with Nick upon the green ; And had she lived in times of old, When earth was Superstition's fold, Had been condemned to end her days Amid the faggot's crackling blaze. The son of Vulcan next would know Bow Fate had laid his lot below, * A notorious character of the Kndor school, to whom persons of all classes resort. So much for the boasted intelligence of the nineteenth century. 12') ii!i. FORTUNE-TELLER. And cut the cards — whose dirty leaves Firsl told he was beset with thieves ; Who knows not that ; — 'tis my belief The, world is just one giant thief : And could with ample demonstration Substantiate the observation. Next, Fortune's favours came along So quick, so heavy, and so throng, They trode each other's heels, and cried, " Come, devil take you, stand aside !" — ings that are like to come to pass When o'er the planets grows the grass ; Or, drunk with tippling over night, The sun forgets the world to light ; " But time would fail to tell of all," As saith my friend the apostle Paul. By this the brewer 'gan to think Sans hops and malt Was Jenny's drink He proffered not the powerful pelf, When Jenny looked her horrid self; With withering glance the group surveyed, Rose, tossed the glass — her exit made ! But now the glorious things with which The smith's futurity was rich, Produced by Jenny's magic slight, In all their galaxy of light, THE FORTUNETELLEK. 121 As wax the man of iron made — He home was on a cart conveyed. O muse ! ye jingling jilt, fie shame, Tell truth for once — "the smith was lame.' That stately youth, with giant force, That there restrains the fiery horse ; First at the sports of summer's e'en, That shake the sod of village green ; And round the glowing winter hearth, The lifestring of the rustic mirth ; Nor will the precedency yield To one in labours of the field. His fair was coy, as fair will prove Sometimes, when deepest drowned in love ; Beneath th' eclipse he sought for guide The wily witch of Irvine side. And mark that venerable man, Conspicuous ever in the van Of those that seek the house of prayer, And long an office-bearer there — His goods were stolen. With truth 'tis said. He sought notorious Jenny's aid, And rushed against the threefold fence. Of Scripture, Reason, Common-sense. 122 I in. FORTUNETELLER. Irvine, the Virtues long have made Their bowers within thy sheltering shade ! What ! sermonising ? lift thine eye And scan that fair one passing by, In all the pageantry and power Of vonth and beauty.' s noontide; hour. Yes, Art and Nature both have played Their freaks to form the matchless maid ; Even on that high brow's beauteous swell The amorous sunbeam loves to dwell ; Or, through the silken shade will peep, Like lover o'er his idol's sleep : Those bright blue eyes might be the theme For life of minstrel's raptured dream, New charms disclosing day by day, As fled the swift sweet hours away. That swimming majesty of tread, That air, that symmetry, might wed The misanthrope to ways of men, The hermit to the world again ; Yea, and beneath that hand of snow, The bright designs will sometimes glow ; She sings, 'tis as if angel gave To earth the music of a wave Of harmony, from that great sea — Companion of eternity. let this accomplished, peerless queen, Hath also with the beldam been. TUE FOETUNETELLEE. 123 man ! of all things here we see Thou art the greatest mystery ; Thou chaos in contention dipt, Thou heterogeneous nondescript ; God's word and Nature's law aside Are set, as inclinations guide ; And spite of every high pretence, The child art thou of circumstance. Ye who profess the creed sublime, That man shall, at some future time, , Divest him of his native will To shun the good and seek the ill, And, by his own intrinsic aid Arise, in moral light arrayed ; Turn, in your intellectual pride, Survey the witch of Irvine side ! L24 MEDITATIONS AND REFLECTION'S I. Huiii on a rock of Mona's rugged coast, Like mateless seabird, let me sit a while, Watching the ranks of ocean's snowy host, And list their music in the dark defile, As the young morning lends her sweetest smile To gild those precipices, dark and dun ; Like Friendship on this world of selfish guile, < )r filial love, that in some beauteous one Illumes the fevered couch, when sands of life are run. n. Thus, were they cast upon creation's morn, With horrid grandeur hanging on each brow ? Or, by the vengeance of the earthquake torn Or, by the deluge left as they are now ; Or, has the thunder taught their heads to bow ? A deep voice seems to answer solemnly — " Frail mortal, dwell not on the why, or how, " Behold all fair, and filled with good to thee, " And all that lives and moves, in earth, in air, and sea." MEDITATIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 125 III. Lo ! far around, to utmost range of sight, How numerous float the inhabitants of air, Their snowy pinions glittering in the light ! Hark ! their wild cries of transport and of care. Alike the deep and dizzy height they dare, Soar on the blast, or plunge into the wave ; Their lives by Nature's happy laws they wear ; Whilst man, oft appetite's or passion's slave, Diseased, dishonoured, sinks to an untimely grave. IV. Go, search the hospital's unwholesome round, The felon's dungeon, and the maniac's cell, The workhouse cold, the churchyard's dreary mound, And learn what suicide's history can tell. Ask what does most the stream of victims swell, And truth shall answer with a look forlorn — " Intemperance, greatest curse since Adam fell; " Parent of ills, perdition's eldest born ; " Dark cloud without a bow — a night that knows no morn." v. Beyond yon shadow on the welkin's verge, At memory's call, past scenes salute the eye ; The long black streets of Manchester emerge, And rivers with the fabled fStyx that vie ; And chimneys numberless that blot the sky ; 12(! MEDITATIONS ^ND REFLECTIONS. The factories pouring human tide on tide, Stunted and pale, their physiognomy Of beauty's form and meaning oft denied, Doomed offerings at the shrine of avarice and pride. VI. And note their language as they pass along— The horrid oath, loud laugh, and jest obscene, The frequent snatches of the odious song, The rude remarks on passers-by between ; And lo ! the gin-shop opes its jaws unclean, And shows a mouthful of its daily meal. Insatiate ! long death's leader thou hast been : Earth's other scourges give a time to heal — Thy giddy hosts still down to dark destruction reel. VII. 'Tis night — commotion reigns in street and lane, . And mingling sounds come rolling on the blast, Like the far murmurs of the wintry main, Or fire, when raging in some forest vast ; And ever and anon the cab whirls past, And round reverberates the tavern bell, And on to ruin crowds are hurrying fast : Her female finger-posts the pathway tell, Which Israel's sated king delineates so well.* Prov. vii. MEDITATIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 127 via. Where yonder gate unfolds its iron wings, And yields an entrance to the gay saloon. Whose light around a dazzling lustre flings, That mocks the glories of the cloudless moon, Coach upon coach comes clattering up, and soon Clink go the steps, descends the mincing fair, Light as the snow-flake, skims the ground, a boon Of perfume giving to the smoky air. AVhat gewgaws, jewels, gems, and frippery are there ! IX. And what a cloud of suffering and sin Has been, ere furnished was this scene of show ? Vices, and crimes of darkest hue and kin, All pangs the body and the mind can know — Hearts broken, floods of tears been made to flow, And weary limbs through many an irksome hour, And nakedness, and hunger, all that grow From selfishness, when backed by Mammon's power — Youth, manhood, beauty, crushed like to a trodden flower. x. That lady, bright as dream of earliest love, Mark ye the gold upon her bosom shine. Know that its history's registered above : The slave's heart burst that dug it from the mine, Long ere that life had warranted decline — 128 MEDITATIONS AND REFLECTIONS. Scourged, starved, distorted, he had breathed his last, And that his dying lips had dared repine, His mangled body to the fowls was cast, Scarce ratified as man's by those who shuddering past. XI. Darkening the distance comes a funeral train, With all the proud appendages of wo. Is it the scion of some ancient strain On Avhom has fallen the inevitable blow ? Fame, through her thousand trumpets, answereth, "No— " One that by trade to princely wealth did rise. " Much to the church he gave at last, although " Through life this truth once never met his eyes — " That God will mercy have, and not a sacrifice. XII. Man ! what a strange anomaly art thou ! Tyrant or slave, oppressing or oppressed, Fighting for wealth or bread with beating brow. By wants fictitious, imaged ills distressed, Now by ambition on through peril pressed. Religion's truths, so beautiful, so plain, Perverted, mystified, or trimmed, as best ^ ields arms to power, or plentitude to gain, Till what God meant for bliss at last becomes thy bane. * Hosea vi. 6. MEDITATIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 129 NIII. Thy creed is formed for thee, and stamped in youth, As is the seal on wax when it is hot ; And though around should shine enlivening truth In after yeai*s, alas ! it matters not ; Thou warr'st thy little hour, art gone, forgot. And whence come half the ills our life that try ? Earth's teeming cities, solitudes remote, In tones of tempest " Ignorance" reply, The deep, the very grave is heard to join the cry. XIV. But now the sun has gained meridian height, And every spot of earth is glad and gay ; The gloomy cavern's mouth itself seems bright, Like dark deceit, that welcomes to betray ; Old ocean trolls his merry roundelay, Life drinks enjoyment's limpid fountain free ; And while I thus the happy scene survey, My soul ! what thrilling thoughts arise in thee ; An earnest, and a glance of immortality. Calf of Man, May, 1844. L30 PATERSON'S ATTEMPT ON THE TEMPLE OF FAME. I. In that same year that Navarinian Ned Sent Turks to Mahomet by hundreds home, I saw in vision, slumbering on my bed, High on a cliff, a fair and goodly dome ; Steep was the way that to its portals led, Up which the sons of men would sweat and loam ; Twas called the Temple — dwelling-place of Fame, Where with a favoured few reposed the lofty Dame. II. Methought some guardian spirit of the place Bore me aloft upon his sounding wings, And set me in the court-yard's ample space, Far o'er this scene of sublunary things ; And ! how many of the human race, Goaded by wild ambition's serpent stings, Strained up the ascent, with danger, toil, and pain ! Were still repulsed, and still returned again ! THE TEMPLE OF FAME. 131 III. Others, although with mighty trouble, wrought Themselves at length into this splendid mansion. Were cheered by those within, who, no doubt, thought They had to it a something of pretension ; For these a crown the smiling goddess brought, Of never-fading flowers of fair expansion ; And every class had marked a separate entry, Kings, Heroes, Bards, and all such other gentry. IV. Down on a long, long, well-worn seat, that stood Nigh to the door where went the sons of verse in, I sat, and, with the jealous, selfish brood, Expected soon to see some little farcing. I heard 'twas long before the goddess would Ope unto any — kept them there rehearsing ; And, out of pity, during the probation, Had found that form for their accommodation. Scarce had I occupied my seat an hour, When a loud sound of laughter and of mirth Burst from within ; while, like a thunder shower, All to the windows sudden rushing forth, Coughed, sneered, huzzaed, and hooted all their power ; And what to such strange merriment gave birth , that a surgeon-bard, despite the porter, Had passed the gate — his Pegasus a mortar. 132 i in: TEMPLE OP FAME. VI. Whose strong right hand a ponderous pestle bore, With which his steed he laboured till it rang, And undismayed, amid the vast uproar, In strains like those of bedlamite, still sang, His face had something I've ne'er seen before, Except in folks that are, as some say, " wrang ; As for his nose, 'twas h'ke a ripe wall-cherry Pecked by a blackbird — or a big strawberry. VII. His satellites this luminary had : And this I learned, was their determination, That though they murdered Truth and put Fame mad, They'd take possession of her habitation, A sketch of them would make a sexton sad — The real cast-off sons of dissipation ; Mere tippling, shirtless, coinless, would-be fops, That daily scandal deal in ill- frequented shops. VIII. One on the front, whose name was Puny Paul, Held a high place 'mong that enlightened crew : Purveyor of medicines he was withal, And poet-laureate to a well-known stew : Along his cheek was marked the midnight brawl, In traits conspicuous to the slightest view ; Aye, his whole look and visage were as evil As he had been vicegerent of the Devil ! THE TEMPLE OF FAME. 133 IX. In bare but well-brushed trowsers, coat and hat, With shirt scarce reaching to his collar-bone, Followed the next, who, by the name of Bat, Among the sad fraternity was known ; He whirled a cane — had seals, no watch thereat — His boots with Warren's blacking brightly shone, Though, by their hollow, loud, and empty knockings. They told at once his feet were void of stockings ! In widow's weeds of tasteless disarray, Next in procession came a stately dame ; Though tricky Time had marred her locks with grey, Proud was her air, and quick her eye of flame, And much there told she'd rather do than say ; Her sons were numerous, nor unknown to Fame ; As for her daughters, I some few have seen, To whom Diana might a handmaid been. XI. Old Killie she was called, who ne'er had yet A son who, with success, had swept the lyre ; And this was one adopted, in a fit Of fondness did she with the rest conspire To hoodwink Fame, but now 'twas plainly writ On all she did she rather would retire ; There was a sad, sad something in her mien 1 liked not, yet have in a bridegroom seen. K 134 THE TEMPLE OV FAME. XII. Lust came a lout of most unmeaning face, Works of the bard he carried in his hand, And which he hinted, with a queer grimace, lie was to circulate throughout the land. Yet, from the whole, I easily could trace, Self did supreme in's estimation stand ; And where he lacked address and penetration, Had got a substitute called — affectation. xm. AVith these, and more 'twere dangerous to describe, Our daring hero safely passed the portal, Trumpet procured from herald, by a bribe, And ranked his name among the bards immortal. Then what a riot rose among the tribe ! Eager they seemed, and keen at the retort all ; Bawled Burns, above the rest, " Do ye no ken, " The proverb says, ' Self-praise comes stinkiu ben ?' XIV. Still all unconscious of their wrath and din, He only listened to the other band Echo his tale ; then with important grin Looked round, esteem and notice to command. The real attitude he then was in, If iitly drawn, would be a treat most grand ; I've never yet beheld such selfish stave, Such bold, presumptuous, unbecoming air. THE TEMPLE OF FAME. 135 XV. Betwixt the ground and knocker of the door, Vast was the distance ; therefore, all that came Had steps to furnish and set up before They reached it — such the stern decree of Fame. With stuff that other bards had used of yore, Our nondescript began his work to frame — From Campbell, Burns, and Byron stole a share, And joined it with his own most miserable ware. XVI. From a long list, too troublesome to quote, He pilfered keenly. From religion, too, Borrowed a deal : whilst he, in inward thought, Laughed loud at everything of serious hue. His allied powers, with zeal now burning hot, Rushed forward — set him on the fabric new — When, lo ! he popped down through it in a trice, As folks do sometimes when they take to ice. XVII. Out rushed a watchman, as the goddess bade, And of our hardship's collar took a catch ; Said, he believed, that since the world was made, It ne'er produced such sacrilegious wretch ; Told him how far he had mista'en his trade, And, of conviction to undo the latch, He beat him, kicked him, flogged him with a switch, And gave his scurvy nose a most tremendous twitch ! 136 THE TEMPLE OP FAME. XVIII. Down gushed the black contaminated gore, Like streams of tar beneath the solar ray, And but a few seconds had elapsed, before It vermin grew, took feet, and ran away ; A peal of laughter shook the temple o'er, And next a long and deafening huzza ! [hen crammed each sash was, as in expectation Of execution, or a coronation. „ XIX. " Begone !" cried Goldsmith, " bare-faced, dirty thief!" " Not fit," quoth Moore, " to wash the dishes here !" " Of scribblers and plagiarists the chief," Said Byron ; " hence ! feed pigs, and share their cheer!" " Awa' !" quoth Burns, " this house is scribbler prief — " We'er needin' nane o' Esculapius' gear !" Tom Campbell said, " 'Tis fruitless here to cope, " There is not for thy case a single ray of hope ! " xx. By this our hero and his comic group Had reached the confines of the farthest gate ! When Justice called the disappointed troop, And said, " 'Twas his inevitable fate, " 'Twas true (she owned), they might despair and droop ; " But she had seen him get his proper weight ; TAE TEMPLE OF FAME. 137 ; ' And that, as said somewhere ahout Ezekiel, " Could state, on oath, the whole amount was — Tekel."* XXI. Perhaps the greatest farce was yet To come, but 'tis uot in my power to tell — Before my eyes the figures seemed to flit — I woke with the ringing of the morning bell. But, as for what I have already writ, Tis quite correct, for I was watching well; One special evidence can still be seen, His hardship's nose, whose wound is yet quite green. * Dan. v. 27. 138 EVENING THOUGHTS ON THE HEIGHTS OF DUNDONALD. I. How sweet the summit of yon lonely hill, And naked forest's wild and wintry roar ! The deep-toned music of the vagrant rill, That leaps from cliff to cliff in fragments hoar ; The sea and sky as far as sight can soar, And fading landscape's melancholy bloom, Where, from a thousand hearths, the lights once more Through the dim shade their wonted paths resume, And variegate the scene, and twinkle through the gloom. II. The peaceful sounds that wait on evening's train, From rock to rock pass lingering along, And melt melodious on the sighing main, That, cold and dark, obstreperous and strong, Spreads his deep waters ; sweet the seabird's song Strays o'er these shores, that heard, in days remote From Rome's imperial powers, or feudal throng, EVENING THOUGHTS. 139 Destruction's trumpet, through her brazen throat, Pour to contending hosts the war-arousing note. in. And list ! the anvil's ever-echoing knell, Broke by the breeze — the village evening hum, The partridge chirping through the dreary dell, While loud reports from distant sportsmen come ; Irvine's deep moan, now sinking slowly dumb, Now rising hoarse, as sudden shifts the gale — The clattering wheels — and in the dusk still some Laborious rustic whirls his sounding flail, ,* And far off tells the deep his everlasting tale. IV. Now lost the churchyard, gone the tombstones grey, That silent, teaching, tributary band, That 'gainst Oblivion's powers, of black array, O'er the green graves, like watchful sentries stand ; And many a sigh and holy throb command, When Sabbath summons round the house of prayer I Ler crouds promiscuous, and with olive wand ( 'harms every sound that swims along the air, And bids each spot around a heavenly aspect wear. Spring yet shall glad these weary, wasted plains, This moaning hawthorn deck with blossoms fair, 140 EVENING THOUGHTS- Call up to keen activity the swains, And ope the primrose in the noontide glare . The village youth their summer sports shall share : Yon sea, so fierce, with dimple scarce be curled, But to these tombs no change shall tidings bear, Till earth behold the Archangel's wings unfurled, And the loud trumpet's voice awake- a slumbering world. VI. Obscure the spot, and far removed from fame, No«regal sepulchre is here arrayed, Yet, as I pass, a sigh 'twill sometimes claim ; For here a grandsire's aged dust is laid, Around whose knees, in infant hours, I've played, And felt beyond the muse's power to sing, When bowed the hoary patriarch, and paid His due devotions to the Almighty King, ( >r when with heartfelt strains the rustic dome would ring. VII. < ) ! 'mid these wilds had fortune placed my cot, And bade me daily 'mong their charms to stray. Climb the grey hill, from revelry remote, And mark the morning bursting into day, The seasons rise and softly steal away, And oft my harp be tuned at fall of night ; When age should come — cold age — and dull decay, To find a grave in yonder solemn site, With hopes to rise and shine in everlasting light. EVENING THOUGHTS. VIII. 141 Ye mighty oaks, that smile at ocean's blast, With ivy circled, where the ring-dove rears Her brood secure — ye shaggy mountains, cast In Nature's throes, where Time a thousand years Has wrote — thou tower that dim afar appears, Where feudal lords in olden time would dwell ; Ye rocks, that shine with evening's crystal tears, And mournful echo yonder village bell, Night calls me to my home — dear scenes of youth farewell ! 142 ON THE DEATH OF MY SISTER, MRS R. PARKER. " Now my days are swifter than a post." — Job ix. 25. Our fellow-pilgrims, one by one, We lose on life's declining way ; And soon a cheerless course we run, With changing looks and tresses grey ; And things within, without, unfold To us the world is waxing old. It seems of yesterday to be, When hand in hand we went to school ; Or gambolled on the daisy'd lea, Or watched the minnows in the pool : And bliss from every object drew, For all was beautiful and new. It seems of yesterday to be, When looked we through the churchyard gale Our little kindred's graves to see ; And though we distant deemed the date, Each other viewed with sob and sigh, And said " We one day too would die." ON THE DEATH OF MRS PARKER. 143 It seems of yesterday to be, When in the long, dark winter night, Beside our mother's wheel sat we ; The hearth was clean, the fire was bright, And she would sing some melting lay Of men, of things long passed away. And, when the song or tale was o'er, What simple questions we would start ; Or on the fire intensely pore, With tearful eyes and lips apart ; Alas, that sweet, that soothing strain, I'll never hear on earth again. Upon my father's mouldering breast I've lived my mother's dust to lay ; The tongue that hushed us both to rest, Is silent and insensate clay ; That dreary path thou too hast gone, And we must travel all anon. It seems of yesterday to be, When at thy grandsire's knee thou stood, With blossoms of the hawthorn tree, And wild-flowers dewy from the wood ; And soft the good old man the while Would stroke tby head, and fondly smile. It seems of yesterday to be, When through the morning's dewy pane 1 * I <'N THE DEATH OP MRS PARKER. The summer's golden light we'd see Gild the green hills and distant main : Those moments in their bright array, I > ! God of goodness, where are they ? But where is all the bliss, the bane, The sunny hours, the deeds sublime ; The most that mortals may attain, In annals of departed time ? Earth's mightiest ones, forgot at last, Are swallowed in the boundless past. And now, within the grave's embrace — Two little children by thy side — Thou art ; and six hast left to trace The world's rough shore, and stem its tide, Through much unkindness, many a snare, And all without a mother's care. And should they meet those ills of life That rend the heart, and blanch the cheek, Perhaps, unequal to the strife, With eyes suffused, unseen, they'll seek The spot where thou liest lone and low, To tell the senseless turf their wo. Years shall away on viewless wing, The sky as bright, the earth as green, And soon some laughing hour shall bring, When none shall know that thou hast been ; ON THE DEATH OF MRS PARKER. 145 Perchance some one in passing by, May say, " This dust once lived as I." And is it all of life we gain, A gleam to light us to the grave ? A sigh, a tear, upon the main The crested foam, and ere the wave On which it rides has drunk the dies Of light, 'tis lost to mortal eyes ? Yes, this is all ! and 'tis a boon The Godhead hath in goodness given ; The dawning of that day whose noon Shall rise beneath his smile in heaven ; And brighter still, and brighter be, Through ages of eternity. 'Tis ours to adore the great First Cause, To practise love to fellow -man ; To steer our course by Nature's laws, And spend with joy our little span ; The rainbow, butterfly, and flower, Are beauteous in the fleeting hour. ( Mir fellows pilgrims, one by one, We lose on life's declining way ; And soon a cheerless course we run, With changing looks, and tresses grey ; And things within, without, unfold To us the world is waxing old. I to CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. " And when lip was come near, he beheld the city and wept over it." Luke xix. 41. Jkhu^alem's temple, towers, and bulwarks lay In all the splendours of the eastern da} T , And in the blaze of palaces, embossed With gems, and gold, the astonished eye was lost ; "While the bright tombs of men of ancient days Shed their far lights and shadows on the gaze ; And the sad sites of thousand glories gone, Diffused what sensibility alone Can gather from the hoary wrecks of time, And o'er them weep with sympathy sublime. And there the High Priest to the temple trode, While far behind his shining garments flowed ; lint, ! how lacking in the important part, The inward man — the adorning of the heart ; i Youd, grasping ever both at power and gold, To all impi-ovement still a barrier bold ; For the same spirit through the race has run, Of every creed and clime beneath the sun. CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 147 Beauty, sweet beauty, gorgeously arrayed, Shone in each path — the matron and the maid ; The tender infant, grasping in its fears The wall ; the patriot of an hundred years, Whose furrowed cheek and faded eye were wet For the far sun of Israel's glory set : As sits the watchful spider in her snare, Sat the shrewd lawyer — and all pompous there The self-adoring Pharisee — while fleet The man of business hurried through the street. And there the war-horse pranced, and rushed amain To phantom battle o'er the dusty plain, And formed the hostile squadrons that had known The stern extremities of every zone ; Yet the same dauntless and unconquered host, In Lybia's glow, and Caledonia's frost, And here to wondering multitudes unfurled Their arts of war that had subdued the world ; While, by the portal of the strong-built tower — Shade of their ex-hues, aud shelter of their power — The sullen sentinel, with tread profound, Flung the defiance of his looks around. The city smiled, the melancholy smile That wretched beauty sheds, yet weeps the while ; The trace of dignity the prince retains, Dragged at the conqueror's chariot wheel in chains. Messiah came ! — benignant was his mien, His followers few — as Truth's have often been ; i IS , HEIST WEEPING OVEB JERUSALEM, Unknown to pomp and pageantry, that wait Around the form of son of regal state ; Though his it was salvation to bestow — Theirs, oft to plunge whole provinces in woe. He paused! beheld the dismal scene dilate, Of Israel's present, past, and future state ; Beheld her love in happier period shown, When God she followed in a land unsown, And heartfelt songs amid the desert rose, Of trust in him and triumph o'er their foes ; And warnings often given, but given in vain, And mercies offered ne'er to be again ; The woes from heaven by obstinacy wrung, That in thick closing clouds above her hung, While she beneath infatuated slept, Till lo ! the Saviour she rejected — wept ! 149 LAMENT FOR ROBERT TANNAHILL. My muse, in showers let sorrow's rain Descend, awake thy saddest strain, And call on Nature to sustain Thy simple skill ; Her warmest worshipper is gane — Meek Tannahill. Lives there a man that half but knows A poet's feelings, frailties, woes ; His heart's sad ebbs and overflows; How melted will His soul be o'er the life's sad close Of Tannahill ! His meed of fame he asked — nor high His claims were stretched," yet could deny * " When the man of taste and discrimination reads these pieces, he will no doubt find passages that might have been better ; but his censures may be qualified with the remembrance that they 150 rANNAHILL. The cold harsh world, with jaundiced eye, Adjudging ill ; But " wounded worth forbade reply" From Tannahill. The rustic heel can tread the rose, The stream soil that in silver flows, Seduction with a thousand throes Sweet Beauty kill : Neglect and Envy crush with woes A Tannahill. world invidious ! loth art thou The laurels to the living brow Of lowly minstrel to allow ; What serves thy skill. Displayed in lengthened wailings now For Tannahill. Go, in thy selfish thoughtless pride, But placed in hall by Beauty's side, While woke by Music's vocal tide Is rapture's thrill ; How wronged, thou then may'st there decide Was Tannahill. are the effusions of an unlettered mechanic, whose hopes as a poet extend no farther than to be reckoned respectable among' the minor bards of bis country."— Preface to TannahUCs Poems. TANNAHILL. 151 His strains are sung, his numbers read From palace to the lowliest shed, 'Mong burning deserts, mountains clad With glaciers chill ; While, without stone to mark his bed, Sleeps Tannahill. But, as bemoaning Minstrels tell, When visits spring " Gleniffer's dell," Rich on the " crawflower's early bell" The dews distil, The tears of Nature's " bonny sel'," For Tannahill. When the last sun of summer's shed On huge Benlomond's lofty head, And far is sunk in ocean's bed, Clouds linger still, Streaks of deep mourning purple red, For Tannahill. When yields the aged year her pride, Is heard by planting's sunny side, Where sweet the " woodland burn" does glide, The redbreast shrill, The voice of Nature's empire wide, For Tannahill. When Winter, with resistless power, Sweeps through the halls of Stanley Tower, L52 TANNAHILL. 'Tis said, at midnight's awful hour, His tempests will Mourn with the sprrit of the bower For Tannahill. And long shall kindred genius come And linger pensive by his tomb ; When earth's proud potentates the womb Of darkness fill, Verdant the memory shall bloom Of Tannahill. 153 A VISIT FROM THE SHADE OF SHAKSPERE. Erin ! hapless Erin ! where Shall we behold a land so fair, So fertile, and alas ! withal, So deeply sunk in misery's thrall ; God has been good to thee, but man On all has thrown his baneful ban, Priestcraft, misi-ule, and faction's strife, Have drained the fountain of thy life ; And, like some wretch about to drown, The longer, still the deeper down. Such were my thoughts in that man-gin Of N , called the " Shakspere Inn," 'Twas night's unloveliest hour — the dead, 1 just had snugly got to bed ; The fire was burning dim and low, And shadows flitted to and fro, Old N 's close companion — rain, Loud rattled on the trembling pane, The leaden god a moment shed His balmy influence o'er my head 154 A VISIT FROM THE SHADE OF SHAKSPERE. A moment, and his reign was o'er ; And when my optics sought the floor, With angry look, and haughty air, The ghost of Avon's bard stood there. Preserve 's ! had scarcely from me broke, When thus th' indignant phantom spoke: — " Since e'er my life's last scene was played, And in the dust the Actor laid, Of all the portraits that have been O'er tavern, or in printshop seen, This may be safely said to be The most consummate mockery ; Why, we would think that Mr Quaff Designed to make the tombstones laugh ; What has such place, such child as he, At all to do with mine or me ? As much as bear at Almack's ball, Or donkey in a bishop's stall. " By great Apollo's crown of light ! By all that aids the poet's flight, — By every joy that genius knows, — By all her pangs, by all her woes, — If ever you expect to claim One breathing from the trump of Fame, Ne'er turn your back upon this town, Till once you've pulled that sign-board down. A VISIT FROM THE SHADE OF SHAKSPERE. 1 55 Let him get up some such like thing As Pat, with grunter in a string, A wolf, a fox, or if he will Disport it classically still, The jolly Bacchus, or his friend Silenus, best would suit his end." Good, good, said I, hut save the mark, What would you think, Sir, of — a shark? Before the words their wings had known, The cock was heard, the spectre gone. October 1847. L56 EPISTLE TO MR JOHN STIRLING, DARVEL. The dreary hills in snow were clad ; Cold, dull, and owrie, to his shed The redhreast, household bird had fled; And gloamin' grey Walked the wide world with silent tread, To close of day. Through my dim cabin window, I Surveyed the vast concave on high, The cheerless, frowning, winter sky, And coming night ; While days of youth, long gone, passed by Before my sight. 0, what is in the hours so sweet, Loosed from Time's fiery chariot fleet, And banished to the dark retreat Of things forgot, That Fancy loves, yet weeps to meet Their joys remote. TO MR JOHN STIRLING. Whene'er I think on " auld langsyne," When days, devoid of care, were mine ; And life's gay morning sun would shine In cloudless sky ; I linger on the theme divine, With tearful eye. But to return ; when night displaced The day, descending down in haste, And every ray of light had chased Beyond the girth That bounds the unfathomable waist Of mother earth — I sought the Muse — I sought in vain ; She turned her back with proud disdain ; And, though repulsed, to seek again I still returned ; While she as oft my courtship plain Indignant spurned. For oft she is, to say the least, As lazy as a village priest, When after fuddle or a feast, On snowy morn, He hears in bed the bell request His trusty horn. When thunders roll — when tempests sweep The hoary surface of the deep, 157 ]58 TO MR JOHN STIRLING. And Leaven's capacious eyelids weep Their watery store, Till down the mountain torrents leap, With thundering roar. Then — then she furious mounts her car, And joins the elemental war ; Rides the swift Wast ; and sees afar The maddening wave Rise, and the shipwrecked shivering tar, Imperious crave. Again she'll wing her wayward flight ; To ruined turret's mouldering height ; And, with a frenzied wild delight, There sit alone, And hear the doleful birds of night Terrific moan. Or mark the moon glide slowly through Her path of deep, dark, cloudless blue ; While suns and systems round pursue Their courses meet, And the cold moonlight world in dew Is slumbering sweet. And oft on rocks ' rude summit grey She'll stand, as westward wheels the day. And eye round islet, creek, and bay, Old ocean's god TO MR JOHN" STIRLING. 159 Roll, with a wide, resistless sway, His purple flood. To Satire's summit too — you know— - The meddling imp will sometimes go ; And on the folks that walk below, And pass quite civil, Her bombs and brickbats down she'll throw, And play the devil. But if I give her aught to sing She'll instantaneous droop the wing, And runs perverse her giddy ring, Which makes me marvel ; But some time yet the freakish thing May think on Darvel. Now, fareweel, Johnny ; strive to steer Of vice's various whirlpools clear ; And may thou still be found to bear, A Hampden spirit ; Nor e'er rate mankind by their gear, But by their merit ! 160 ST. ANDREW'S MESSAGE TO THE SCOTSMKN IN LIVERPOOL. The star-studded pinions of night waved their last, And the day of St. Andrew was joined to the past ; When sleep had resumed o'er my eyelids its sway. And unconscious the soul of her hurden of clay — Methought through the far fields of light's sunny blue, On a chariot of beams of the morning I flew ; And the sound of earth's cities and ocean had died, Like the voice of a song on the aerial tide. Again, I beheld, and earth's cities were gone — Of her domes, and her temples, and towers there were none ; Not one lofty mountain had ventured to bear Its crest of lone pride in the empire of air ; And far, far away, like the bright star of e'en, The sun-gilded breast of the ocean was seen. Again, I beheld, and lo ! distance had thrown Her pall over all that on earth I had known ; And o'er sun, and o'er moon, and the bright milky way I passed, 'neath the beams of a ne'er setting day ; Till that city celestial, of gems and of gold, That St. John first beheld in a vision of old, st. Andrew's message. 161 In splendour o'erwhelming burst full on my view ; The portals revolved, and methought I passed through, And stood on the shore of the great crystal sea, And heard of the ransomed the sweet melody. There, entranced as I listened, and dazzled beheld, A form slow approached that in beauty excelled, All lovely as Mercy and Truth, when they bear Their boon to the deathbed of Guilt and Despair. And he smiled as he gently on mine laid his hand, Saying, " Listen young bard, and my words under- stand ; " By grace, here, through great tribulation I came ; " The patron of Scotland, St. Andrew my name; " While on earth I through faith communed daily with God, " And the sweet paths of virtue and wisdom I trode ; " And sowed thus the seed that a harvest has given " Of fruit everlasting — the bounty of heaven ; " And hence, 'mongthe great and the mighty, my name — " Is blazoned in light by the finger of Fame. " Thy countrymen long have the day of my birth " Distinguished and welcomed with gladness and mirth ; " But lately on banks of the Mersey I've seen " What if honour designed me, no honour has been. " When the deep bowl is drained until Reason's watch- light " Is extinguished — and desperate and dark to the fight, Ki2 st. Andrew's message. ' l Unmarshalled, the armies of Passion arise, " And love drops a tear, and sweet Harmony flies ; " And man's guardian angels recoil from the sight, '• While fiends on dark errands look on with delight : " Such scenes may give joy to the base god of wine, " And add to his honours, but never to mine. " Go, bard of the Irwine, and ere thou again " Shalt mark that fair stream mix its waves with the main, " To men of the north who sojourn in this land, " Disclose thou my counsel, and this my command : — " When Time's hoary pinions again bring the day " That closes November's cloud-mantled array, " And far from the face of each well -cherished scene, " The children of dear Caledonia convene ; " Let Temperance and Wisdom preside at their boards, " Love ride all their actions, and dictate their words ; " And thus by kind heaven shall their efforts be blest, " And with joy shall I hear in those mansions of rest." I awoke all bewildered — long musing I lay, And eyed the dawn roll its deep shadows away ; My trust is discharged to the Saint — and to you, Ye Scotsmen, that dwell by the Mersey — adieu ! Liverpool, Dec, 1J&2. 163 EPISTLE TO MR CHARLES CLARK, COTTAGE-HILL, LANARK. AUTHOR OF " THE SPINNING WHEEL," ETC. What, in the name of all divine, Apollo, and the glorious nine, Parnassus' mount, Castalia's stream, And all the ancient classic dream, Has ta'en the bard of Cottage-hill, And set a silence on his quill ? Is he away with fate and chance To pay his court to Queen Romance, On some fantastic, witching theme, Involved in everlasting dream, Peopling the tower, all rent and grey, That threatening hangs on steep and brae, And linking every hill and dale With some event of stirring tale ? Or, has old Isaac Walton's art Assumed the empire of his heart ; That, spite of years, amphibious grown, lie's only to the Naiads known? 164 EPISTLE TO MR CHARLES CLARK. By fancy's power, I've sometimes seen The aged bard with pensive mien, By some tall rock upon the side Of winding Mouss, or dashing Clyde, Courting the ardent, holy power Of poesy at evening's hour, While hung the mist upon the vale, And told the thrush his amorous tale, And high o'er-head, in crevice wild, On scanty soil, the primrose smiled, As heaven-taught virtue fair to see, Victorious o'er adversity. The dream would change, when far and wide, The snow appeared on every side ; And winter sang in leafless bower Llis triumph over plant and flower ; And round thy cot all sadly dumb, The feathered pensioners would come.* When loneliness her couch hath spread Upon the mountain's barren head, When howls the tempest o'er the heath, And the deep vale is dark as death, Nor sound comes from its bosom lone, But the spent torrent's bubbling moan, * My friend is very attentive to the wants of the winged tribe during the severities of winter. I have been much amused, on a frosty morning, to see them hopping about the windows with wistful and expectant looks. EPISTLE TO ME CHAELES CLAEK. 165 The bird steals heartless to its cave, Like disappointment to the grave ; While weary limbs must still be strained, Before a resting-place is gained. When doomed to prove such dreary scene, My thoughts of thee have often been — Thy cheering hearth, thy partner kind, Like halo burst upon my mind, And might have oft been heard to say, With a deep sigh, " All far away ! " Our lots as wide asunder lie, As points opposed of sea and sky ; Thou with a competency blest, Hast found a fairy place of rest, As gentle cares, and pastimes hale. Lead thee serene through age's vale. Whilst 1 — but let me not repine, Nor yet unmanly plaint be mine ; I've suffered much, can suffer more, One happy thought, 'twill soon be o'er ; When likely none shall lift my name But for the purpose to defame ; At least, of this I've had my share, Through the past lease of life to bear • With vices blamed, with frailties too, Grod wot, my nature never knew, M. 16! EPISTLE TO MR CHARLES CLARK. And even of which (hut who can tell) I deem my soul incapable. Should some dark hour the tidings bring, That I, poor isolated thing, By death have lost thy friendship's stay, My harp shall wake its saddest lav ; The Past forsake her shadowy throne To bid me strike a deeper tone, And generous Nature, weeping tell, The heart is cold that loved her well. Glasgow, April 1H45. 167 HUGHIE SPIERS, OR THE WONDER OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Ye sons of song, awake ! arise ! Each power invoke in earth and skies ; Tune well your harps ; — hark ! hark ! Fame cries, " A bard appears ! " Give place ! he comes to take the prize ; " My Hughie Spiers ! " Awake ! awake ! or soon ye'll mourn Your fame eclipsed — your laurels torn — Your palms away in triumph borne ; While, 'mid the cheers Of thousands, with " exalted horn," Rides Hughie Spiers ! Bard of the wild Green Island ! * thou Hast got a match — a rival now ; Campbell lags on Parnassus' brow, His hopes turned fears ; * Moore. 168 ii GHIE SPIERS. While stumping ower ilk height and howe Gangs Hughie Spiers I Auld England talks wi' timorous cheep 0' Shakspere wild, and Milton deep ; Greece 'bout her Homer daurna peep ; — Were they his peers ? Not fit the Pegasus to keep 0' Hughie Spiers ! In Keats' and Shelly's gaudy ware, The " Foambell" Bard need shine nae mair, Thence dream o' cake and pudding fair, In sad arrears. I doubt, jackdaws will fin' their share Wi' Hughie Spiers ! Nae mair Apollo will give heed To Scott, the bard of knight and steed, Or bid the bauld Bob Southey speed ; But laughs and jeers At every sinner o' the breed, Save Hughie Spiers ! Venus ance tauld the god, of late She heard some mortal had him beat ; Urged him to tell, until he flate, And said, in tears, " Ye wanton jade ! since ye maun hae't, " It 's Hughie Spiers !" HUGHIE SPIERS. Ae night he got upon the spree, And roaring like the northern sea, He sought Fate Atropos ; said he, Unless your shears Can send relief, disgraced I'll be, By Hughie Spiers ! His name on every zephyr scuds ; 'Tis heard in wilds and loneliest wuds ; — Sweet Irvine — gentlest of our floods ! Fast onward bears, To tell the ocean's guardian gods 0' Hughie Spiers ! Thou moon ! meek mistress of the night ! Ye stars, that roll in radiance bright ! Ye comets, whose revolving flight Takes up whole years ! Rejoice in our poetic light — Bright Hughie Spiers ! Sound him, thou sea ! like thunder's roar Lift thy deep voice along the shore ; The same let all on earth encore ! Meanwhile, ye spheres ! As through the realms of space ye soar, Sing Hughie Spiers ! Dogs, when they see him, wag their tails ; "Tis said whole packs forget the trails, .161* 170 HUCiHIE SPIERS. Nor aught the huntsman's voice avails ; And, when he nears Steam carriages, they gar the rails, Shriek Hughie Spiers ! The flies that round his hardship bum, His wondrous merits daily hum ; Auld puss, at " twa threads an' a thrum," Her windpipe clears, And bids the chorus rolling come In Hughie Spiers ! When meditation leads his shanks By sedgy pools and reedy stanks, The paddocks lea' their plays and pranks, And e'en their dears, And come in crowds to gie their thanks To Hughie Spiers ! When tempests sweep the welkin wide, And hags the broomstick steed bestride, Ere forth upon their route they ride, Nick cries, my tiers, Look out, no tricks may ill betide, Sweet Hughie Spiers ! At birth of this seraphic bard, Things strange, they say, were seen and heard The sun rose east — grass decked the sward — In gossips' ears HUGKIE SPIERS. Doors on their oilless hinges jarred, "0! Hughie Spiers!" To aid his observations sly, Nature has given a searching eye ; Although his foes will this deny, And say he wears That of the mole, 'tis all a lie — Gleg Hughie Spiers ! He has gi'en vice ane unco clip, He made Miss Folly naked strip, Fast held her in his mighty grip — And Reason swears She mended 'neath the sounding whip 0' Hughie Spiers ! Unlike some bards of modern time, Who string their neighbours' faults in rhyme, He soars amid the true sublime, Nor ever veers To aught that's low ; 'twere darkest crime, Says Hughie Spiers ! Whene'er his mighty numbers flow, Concord and strength attending go, Grace, ease, and dignity, in Co., Jove, stooping, hears The notes, and shouts — " Well done 1 bravo ! " My Hughie Spiers ! 171 172 HUGHIE SPIERS. (dine, fScotia ! lift thy drooping head, And leave poor Burns's lowly bed ; In thy best tartans be thou clad ; Dry up thy tears ; Shout ! there's a brighter in his stead, Great Hughie Spiers ! 173 THE TOMBS OF THE DOUGLASES. " Sae mony, sae guid, as o' the Douglases hae been 0' ane sirname, were ne'er in Scotland seen." Old Saying. Approach thou reverently, the mighty dead Are here, whose swords were in themselves a host ; Who in the cause of sacred freedom bled, And left their names on history's page embossed, E'en when they fell, 'twas glorious as on coast Of Eastern land descends the orb of day ; They conquered perishing ; yea, once when lost His followers seemed, and dead the Douglas lay, The dread, redoubted name, was victor in the fray.* u. 'Tis said, here rests the dust of " Good Sir James," If in thy heart there lingers aught that's base, One thought that with the kindred craven claims, Hence ! bring not here thy sacrilegious gaze; * Battle of Otterburne, fought 21st July, 1388. 174 TOMBS OF THE DOUGLASES. ilis virtues far transcend the loftiest praise, To Southron yoke he never deigned to yield ; The land's first ornament in peaceful days, War's hottest thunderholt in hattle-field, In dark, in dangerous times, poor Caledonia's shield. in. And Beauty, haughty, high-born Beauty, here Disclaims the boasted triumph of her eyes ; Lo ! in that tomb, where carvings quaint appear, Perhaps the theme of ancient minstrel lies — The pride of courts, who gave the envied prize To valour's hand, and led the radiant dance With steps of harmony, in all the dyes That form the rainbow's dazzling expanse — Her frown more dreaded far than sternest foeinan's lance. IV. ! for one hour of midnight's deepest noon, When twinkling oi'bs their solemn vigils keep ; And mourns the watch-dog to the waning moon ; And weary winds through rents of ruin creep ; And mellowed comes the music of the deep, Disturbed at times by owlet's dreary Scream — Here left to thought sublime, unseen to weep O'er human grandeur's sublunary dream, And gather lore to guide rapt Passion's wayward team. Douglas, June, 1840. 175 ON THE DEATH OF MR HUGH ADAM. Fair morn awakes, and from the opening sky The vanquished shadows of the dawning fly ; She comes, new-born ! and from her purple wings A thousand beauties o'er the welkin flings ; She comes ! — proud perched among his listening dames Shrill through the sleepy town the cock proclaims ; With waning splendour sinks the morning- star, The watch-dog's voice howls mournful from afar, The zephyr sullen sighs above the dead, As o'er the churchyard pensively I tread. Time ! what changes wait on every wave, As roll thy billows to their boundless grave ! Things of a day, we deck thy destined shore ; Thou mov'st — we perish — and are seen no more ; .Sometime the tenant of yon humble sod Youth's flowery vales and sunny mountains trod ; Enchanting Hope her prospects spread around, Wide as the deep in sky-formed circle bound ; L76 DEATH OF MU HUGH ADAM. Bright as the beam that lights the Christian's e\ About in triumph of his faith to die ; But all is fled, like phantom of a dream, ( >r midnight meteor's transitory gleam. Cold is that breast where Independence dwelt Where Reason ruled, and conquered Passion knelt, Where love to mankind reigned without control, And every noble feeling of the soul. And closed in death, and dim as sister clay, The eye that beamed with friendship's purest ray ; Silent the tongue whence sweet instruction flowed, ( )r harmless mirth, as duty marked the road. No more we'll meet around the evening blaze, When withering winter leads the stormy maze, Chills the bleak wilds, and o'er the mountains white Drops with a frown the dark and lonesome night ! There search some page of modern work sublime, Or records rescued from the wrecks of time ; And bid, before the intellectual eye, The men, the things of other days, pass by ; Or Vice behold portrayed in picture true, Stript of her charms, and naked to the view ; Produce, for general weal, whate'er of lore The closing week had added to our store ; Bid all our sparks in one combustion glow, And in one stream our little streamlets flow ; While in each breast Joy waked her transports wild, And Virtue silent o'er the circle smiled ; DEATH OF ME HUGH ADAM. 177 The hours that ushered Sabbath's solemn day, With pleasure winged, tied unperceived away. No more when mists the twilight world invest, And Ocean's sounds rise gently in the west, We'll seek the fields, and on some spot reclined, Where round the wild flowers wanton in the wind, In converse sweet indulge, or raptured trace The wondrous charms of Nature's fairy face. No more with weary feet we'll scour the plain, The forest green, the margin of the main : No more indulge the soul-inspiring view From old Dundonald's shaggy hills of blue. No more shall study find thee in her bower, Pale o'er the taper of the midnight hour, Far on the cliffs where Learning's blossoms blow, Whence looks the world contemptible below. But 0, how passing sad to wander o'er The dear, dear past, and add to all — no more ! The bliss recalled from which we ever part, Falls with a signal sorrow on the heart. And thee I mourn in vain, whom fell decay Snatched, ere meridian hour of life, away ; In minds of friends and relatives shall long Live, when forgotten is my humble song. And when life's fitful taper has expired, Its last faint flickerings from this scene retired, To meet in new existence be it ours, Nearer to God, with more exalted powers ! 178 A FRAGMENT. 'Twas April — bright and genial was the day, Young dazzling clouds on azure pillows lay Along the margin of the ethereal plain, Like sea birds sleeping on the summer main ; The infant primrose reared its dewy head With modest beauty from the mossy bed ; Not far removed, on springlet's margin green, The eldest daisy of the year was seen; Buds the mild breeze with balmy odours blest, And bright wings twittered round the half- formed nest. The burn, from Winter's iron bondage free, Leaped, laughed, and sang to join the mighty Dee, That down impetuous from the mountains rolled, And his wild strength in haughty murmurs told ; For Spring had called, and Nature heard her voice, And bade all subjects of her realms rejoice. Where Cairnsmuir lifts its hoary head on high, Oft crowned with snow beneath the summer sky, And ofttimes halts the General of the storm,* The dreadful phalanx of his strength to form ; * " When Cairnsmuir gets on his hat, Criffle he soon will hear of that." Old Proverb. A FRAGMENT. 179 Ere fiery messengers have given the host Command to scour the Gallovidian coast ; I passed, a pilgrim to that sacred height* Whence Lowe's rapt spirit plumed her wings for flight, To soar with Fancy through her boundless sway, And earn a crown impervious to decay. And when meridian beams began to fail, And lengthening shadows intersect the vale, Embossed in sterile hills of darkest hue, The loch of Kenmure burst upon the view, A giant gem, by Nature rudely set, When all her hostile energies were met. New Galloway, April, 1842. * Airds, parish of Kells, stewartry of Kirkcudbright, sometime the residence of Lowe, author of " Mary's Dream.'' 180 WRITTEN IN WHALLEY ABBEY, LANCASHIRE. O'er the wide ocean of depai'ted Time, Imagination takes her lonesome flight, And lo ! the past in majesty sublime Appears, arrayed in hues of life and light. Tis vesper hour, and wold, and woodland height. And shadowy hills are waxing dimly grey ; The convent gathers to the solemn rite — Beneath the lofty roof they bend, they pray — Now, hark ! the music swells, now softly dies away. Of ghostly fathers, what a goodly band ! Some forms to fasting little are allied ; And some the leai'ned, the pious of the land, Some that have stemmed the battle's stormy tide, Some look with less of piety than pride ; Some gallants, too, despite their locks of snow, For whatsoe'er we choose to be our guide, Whatever gilding o'er ourselves we throw, 'Tis human nature, oft unchanged, that lies below. WHALLEY ABBEY. 181 But who is she beside yon marble tomb That kneels, a study for the sculptor's art ? Though but in opening of her beauty's bloom, Grief bade the splendom*s of the rose depart. Her laden eye tells anguish of the heart, That well of soul of azure's purest hue, Like violet in wilderness apart, The harebell filled with morning's mountain dew, Or summer's cloudless sky, o'er ocean's boundless view. The lady weeps ; a ringlet o'er her brow Falls like a sunbeam through an April shower j And, lo ! a lovely boy is with her now, Her only child : — a chief of rival power Slew her loved lord, and fired his stately tower, His lands laid waste, his vassals forced to flee, And unattended in the midnight horn*, Save by the light that made her homeless — she, With infant in her arms, fled to the sanctuary. And mark that worn, attenuated fair, Glide like the mist of eve along the vale : And now she stands, the statue of Despair ; And now a smile lights up her visage pale. Her knight was brave as ever girded mail, But fell at last beneath the Turkish brand. She loves the place of graves when night winds wail, Raves of a cloven crest, and bloody hand, And bones all bleached and bare, on desert's burning sand. N ]8'2 AMI ALLEY xVRBEY. And, hark! a clash of arras and trampling steeds, For know a warlike chieftain comes to-day To yield the Church his gold, and tell his beads, So that to-morrow he may burn and slay. The spell is broke ; — behold the swallows play Through yawning arches ; on the mouldering stone The wild flower hangs ; the ivy finds its way O'er columns fallen, and battlements o'erthrown ; And all is sadly grand, and all is Ruin's own. Jv7i< 1843. 183 THE WANDERING PIPER. This is of strange phenomena the age, Of hope-destroying Whigs, and watchful Tories, Of banded sweeping Radicals, that wage War with both church and state, and which a bore is From front to rear, they tell us ; while from cage Of royalty, to flutter in the glories Of petticoats imperial, new made Peers and knights fly, like midges on parade ; — But, 'tis beyond all note and comprehension, Clubs, dinners, working-men's associations, Bills of coercion, schemes of church- extension, Chaps that indulge in pleasing speculations, Of man's perfectibility, suspension, Railways, balls, banquets, duels, agitations, The church, the charter, and repeal — it licks ought Ere madman dreamed — John Bull has turned Don Quixote. 184 THE WANDERING PIPER. Old Caledonia's rampant for her " Kirk" — At least, so I've been given to understand — The subject seems to me a little mirk ; In things divine I'm but a sorry hand ; Howe'er, I hope she'll never draw her dirk, Or seek the hills again, with book and brand ; And being church-building 'mong a starving people, Will give each house a bread and butter steeple. " Man in the moon" is getting something old; " The wandering Jew" has pitched his tent with Death ; Joanna Southcote, too, has caught a cold (Poor body) which has ta'en away her breath; And by the sons of scepticism we're told, Lost half his terrors even the Devil hath ; And as the world's wild fancy is grown riper, What has she got now? — Oh ! " a wandering Piper 1" Of whom the trump of Fame has sounded loud, That talismanic touchstone. In all ages To which the common sense of man has bowed, In stamping kings, priests, heroes, saints, and sages, Who are but pipers all, although allowed Of higher character in history's pages. Tis true, they differ something in their keys, As also in the mode they manage fees ; Besides, they sometimes with their piping mix A little of the homicide and juggler ; THE WANDERING PIPER. 185 At other times, again they play such tricks As savour of the liar, bandit, smuggler. It seems the world must yield her tale of bricks Without straw, still to fascinate and boggle her Have something, and appears, for ought yet shown, Just made for kings and clergymen alone. This man of mystery — but who is he ? Numbers pretend the secret to impart, Yet know no more than preachers what we'll be, When fails to flow the fountain of the heart : Some luminary fallen, he looks to me, Of gaming-table, or the sporting mart — A class that Ruin's comet seldom fails to Treat as the insects cattle with their tails do. But soft, I think I've heard some people say. 'Tis quite the same whatever the attraction, Providing you are pleased in your own way, Or can attain a certain satisfaction ; Life is, even at its longest summer day, As we all know, a business-like transaction ; But while it lasts, alike are blest to tarry on — The bees their flowers, the beetles on their carrion. L86 EPISTLE TO MRS HAMILTON OF PARKHILL. Madam, — I have received your note, Besides my scroll of ragged coat ; And, 'tis enough for all I've wrote, To know that one Enlightened mind has pleasure got From aught I've done. If eer in print I try my gear, Among the very first ye'll hear ; And for the part, I learn, ye'll bear At that sad crisis, I send to you my thanks sincere, And warmest wishes. But, as the Ephesian town-clerk said, " Let us do nothing rash," for aid Old Time shall bring ; and Fate has played A trick as queer, As call me from the workshop's shade And discords drear. TO MRS HAMILTON. 187 Perhaps my lot she yet may lay Beneath the glorious blaze of day, Where wood, and vale, and mountain grey, Are spread around ; And rocks that roll the deep away With voice profound. Then far as Nature's wide expanse Exceeds a workshop's stinted glance ; And far as Nature's notes advance Above the din That wounds and stupifies the sense, Our cells within ! As far my song shall then transcend, That which now labours through my hand ! Converse with Nature will extend My strength and skill, And point the steps by which t' ascend The sacred hill. Meantime, in life's steep rugged road, Obscure, unknown, I graveward plod, Cheered on beneath the present load By Hope's faint light, Which often has deceitful glowed, To set in night. '!-,' Hark ! hark! I hear the critic corps Behind, with loud invidious roar ; 188 TO MRS HAMILTON. And, lo! Oblivion's gulf, before, Is yawning wide ; The bard's launcb'd in — nor rises more Above the tide. But, hold ! my wild imagination ! I see, Ma'am, you've got information That I, since at your habitation, To Hymen's altar Have paid the usual visitation, And got his halter ! Yes ! lang Jock danced about the light, Rejoicing in its radiance bright, With frolicsome, incautious flight, Nor feared the gin, Till, like some insect of the night, He tumbled in. Mony a weary mile he trottit, O'er mony a stane and hillock stottit, Or wet to skin, wi' dirt bespottit, Or laired in snaw ; The very next night he forgot it, And scoured awa. But aft he viewed, with rapture high. The silent, starry, moonlight sky, And earth asleep beneath it lie ; While on the gale TO MRS HAMILTON. L89 Arose the river's mighty sigh, Far down the dale. And aft the houlet, flichtering hame Through the still mora, cried out—" Fie shame !" The very collies did exclaim ! And even the craik Would rant, till rocks returned the same, " Ye rake ! ye rake !" But now the chiel maun toil and sweat, 'Neath scorching sun, or tempests' beat, Nor e'er approach the muse's seat, For 's very nose ; Or get a curtain lecture by 't, And lumpless brose. But hush, my harp ! May peace be still Within the mansion of Parkhill ; May ye your course with joy fulfil And then arise, Triumphant o'er this woi'ld of ill, Beyond the skies. This leaves us both, and our relations, In health, and at our occupations ; And while my heart- strings their vibrations And tone maintain, Your much obliged, through all mutations, Ma'am, I remain. 190 ON VISITING LANERCOST PRIORY, AND NAWORTI1 CASTLE.* My homely harp, though locks are turning grey, Slower the step, and shrunken is the limh — Though spirits have forgot their wonted play, And faded sight tells distant objects dim — * Lanereost Priory is situated about eleven miles N.E. of Carlisle, in the beautiful vale called St Mary's Holm, on the banks of the river Irthing. It is built in the usual cruciform ; the style is what is termed the early English. The nave has been fitted up as a parish church ; and in the eastern part of the building, which is in a ruinous state, the tombs of several distinguished persons may be seen. It was founded a. d. 11 1C, by Robert de Vaux, the second Baron of Gilsland, to atone for the murder of Gilles Fil Bueth, whom he treacherously slew at a conference held for the adjustment of their respective claims to the property. Fil Bueth was the rightful Baron of Gilsland, the lands having been alienated at the Norman Conquest. So lax were the laws at that period, especially when the Church had been propitiated, that De Vaux not only escaped public justice, but was afterwards appointed a judge of assize by Henry II. It was noted that he died childless, and the estate passed to another family. Naworth Castle is situated in the parish of Brampton, about a mile S.W. of Lanereost Priory. It is the baronial residence of the lords of Gilsland, and a seat of the Earl of Carlisle. Naworth was built by Ralph, Lord Dacre, about the year 1335, and has much to render it an object of interest, particularly its having been the resi- dence of the illustrious Lord William Howard, generally denomi- nated " Belted Will." LANERCOST PRIORY, AND NAWORTH CASTLE. 191 Though OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. state of our trade, he writes, * 1 must say with Bums— Smcf heart hae I to sing.'' "—Edinburgh Literary Journal, or Weekly Register of Criticism