a ' J I AC* met i i n n k rw 'OU3l|VJdU % •iv: t-n i-i* en U-l CT3 33 > 33 ^< L_J ft r^ i^ or CO I 5 s x _ ^ O 'jjjwM»i ju i 'juj/viimi jn' vV vlOSANCELfr> JO AtiE-UNI ,NCELFj> ■ivaaiH^' y -r i> ^i /A > i /A %)JI1V.) i r_ nr rmi - 1 1 PHILOSOPHIA MUSARU M CONTAINING THE SONGS AND ROMANCES OF THE PIPERS WALLET, PAN, THE HARMONIA MUSARUM , AND OTHER MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. By THOMAS IGNATIUS MARIA FORSTER, MB. FRAS FLS. CORK. MEMB. ACAD. NAT. SCIENCES, HON. MEMB. PHRENOLOGY SOC. KT CETERA . Cantando licet usque minus via laedit eamus. TaiJr cepet Naval aoticj, OXufjCTtiaSupar £%8crat , Ewecc Sruyarrepsq psyaXu Awi%vp>l r , Eppru ts , IbXu'pvta r , Oopavlv) rs f Kct?<.?.l07T-/} Br V] <5S Wp0(£?£ps-CCT>1 SgiU CC7Ta(TSCCl>. H [th yap L €ccu From tins general praise of rustic life we may turn -with pleasure to Horace's picture of its happiness and useful occupations, in the very beautiful Epode beginning — Reatns We qui procul negociis lit prisca gens mortalium — Paterna rum hobns e.rercet suis Solutus omni fcenere • — Virgil was a striking example of the fact that poetic genius was best shewn in well concealed imitation ; there being as the proverb says u nothing new under the sun! » The learning and elegant taste of tli e writer is however proved by the manner in which he diversifies his objects and invests with a new dress , modified by his native peculiarity of mind, those sublime conceptions of the fancy and turns of thought which in succession distinguished able men from the common herd. The works of Theocritus, Bion and Moschus seem to have been the prototypes of Virgil's pastoral scenes ; but it is jnobable that the former were modelled on the stiil earlier examples of this sort poetry. Let us take an instance from one of the most popular prognosticks known in rural life in order to shew how the same observation has descended through various nations and ages dressed successively in the peculiar poetical imagery of each : — Jeremiah , in a beautiful passage on the regularity of the seasons notices the migration of certain pojmlar birds as follows : — Turtur et hirundo et grus custodierunt tempus aduentus sui. Homer in a fine metaphor compares the flight of cranes to the march of the Trojans : — Hi/rc xcp xXayyy yspuvvv ttsXsi cupavcQi npb At r End cuu %si(MWva. (fuycu , Kcd aOt-aCparou 'opppov K?.ayyy rcciys ttZtcvtcu ett Qx.sa.vc7o poaccv, AvSpcca Tluypaioicri Qovcv kcci Kvjpcc $£povcrxi. Hcsiod has the following verses on cranes : Qpa^GvOxi S su t av Qwvyv yepavcv iV««cuc^ T-licOi-i/ $k veQeoov vjiavGioc Ksxfyyvtqg. PROLEGOMENA, vnt Bochardt cites similar passages from Oppian's JIalseuticon, N'isus De Anytiriis, Theophrastus, Horace and others. Not only the migra- tion, but the prognosticative import of the flight of birds, particularly cranes and storks , is noticed by Virgil after Aratus : in the Diose- meia we read : Ou£ uJjcu yspccvoov ftanpou <7ri%zq aura xsXzuQct. TsivovTcu , crpoCpciBsg 3s ftaXtfixsrsg cc7rovsovrcu. YVhioh is imitated with variation in the Georgicks : — — Numquam inprudentibus imber Obfuit; aut ilium suryentem vallibus imis Aeriae fuyere yrues; etc. In another passage in the ./Eneid the authour has more closely copied his Greek master: — — CI amor em ad sidera tolhtnt Dardanidae e mnris, quales sub nubibus altis Strymoniae dant siyna yrues atque aethera tranant. Lucretius is less elegant : Paruus vt est cyyni melior canor ille gruum quam, Clamor in aetheriis dispersus nubibus Austri, In Claudian we find the following: — Jngenti clamore yrues aestiva relinquunt , Thracia quum tepido permutant Strymona Nito. Milton and other modern writers have also copied the same passages of which a fine example is recorded by Bewick where he contrasts the silent migrations of storks with the clamorous flight of cranes. Thronought all the best poets we shall perceive this imitation; and, what is remarkable, those who are the least of copyists are the dullest bards. Refer to my edition of Aratus ; and also to the Vir- gilius Collatus of Ursinns. Lucan, though more original, is dull, after Virgil, and though be Las some fine passages , yet the poem as a whole is not well lustained. The author of the ^Eneid, like his Greek prototype, PROLEGOMENA. ix must have jwssessed ideality , comparison, causality , and the elevated sentiments. The author ofPharsalia might only have been an instructed historian with a moderate proportion of ideality. It seems to me that pastoral poetry has degenerated in every succeeding age; while tho heroic has kept its preeminence. Paradise Lost is equal both to the jEneid and to the Iliad : but the Idyls and Eclogs have never been equalled : Pope's best imitations do not come up to them, and Spencer's are poor in comparison. Who can endure the shepherds Hobbinol and Collin Clout, after sympathizing with the patriotism of Melibceus , the fortunes of Tityrus or the loves of Gallus. The poetic feeling must have been stronger and the imagination more chastened, in those early writers, than in their imi- tators : for there is often a refinement of sentiment which ill accords with the rough manner of early times. Of the dramatic writers who wrote nearly four centuries before the Christian era we ought to place ./Eschylus at the head : he had the most ideality the boldest imagination and best language. Euripides came next, and Sophocles, at least to my uninstructed mind, was rather inferiour to both. In each I can trace, the effects of different organization. But tho' Greece excelled in her tragic Muse, yet her comic writers were by no means contemptible. Rome had nothing equal to Aris- tophanes, whose Choms of Frogs has no parellel. Terence and Plautus will hardly bear comparison with our best new plays. It is however in this department of Poetry that we have so greatly exceeded our ancestors : probably the improvements in scenery have had much to do with this advantage of the modern over the antient stage ; but independently of this circumstance, I think the plays of modern Europe and particularly of England greatly excel those of old. Sha- kespeare for deep knowledge of human nature stands foremost among modern dramatists : perhaps his best pieces are As you like it, and Hamlet; but the whole is excellent. Criticks may differ with me but I have always contended , and do so still , that Milton's Comus , a masque acted at Ludlow stands wholly unrivalled by any piece whatever antient or modern : and it possesses this advantage over Shakespeares that not only the imagery but the very expressions arc formed on Greek models, a thing which gives to them so classical and elegant a character. Now the heads of both Milton and Shakespeare correspond very exactly to their res- x PROLEGOMENA. peclivc works. Shakespeare , of the two, Lad more of native genius and of the organ of imitation, though he had much less learning. Milton in Allegro justly speaks of him as Sweetest Shakespeare , Fancy's child Warbling his native woodnotes wild. The natural cxellence of Shakespeare is admitted: but he has written nothing equal in beauty to Lycidas or even to V Allegro and // Penseroso. Milton too had a happy knack of writing Latin verses , which I was always much pleased with: he, in this respect, beats hollow Jorsin, Vincent Bourne, Gray and all the other autliours of modern Latinity : I bad in my head an early recollection of bis epistle to bis late preceptor , then at Hamburg, beginning : Curve pev immensum sub i to mca litteva pontum I pete Teutonicos, lere per ccquor , agros t — When I wrote my Dcdicatio ad Libellum which begins : Musa perigrinas qucv prompta vol are per auras Non mea despicias rura patcrna , fate. The first ten lines of this letter I own to be an imitation of those of the great bard , though I had not read him since I was a boy : for the trains of thought last long in the mind, and a simi- larity of expression will often follow, years after a deep impression has been made by any favourite authour. A cherished Muse, me- ditated in childish years when impressions are strong, seems to leave indelible vestiges impressed on our hearts ; which excite thoughts, and even verses, long after their particular prototypes have been forgotten. I last read Milton when a lad in my grandfathers groves at WalthamstoAV ; and yet to this day, when I write verses, I catch myself, without meaning it, using bis peculiar measures, ludeed metre is of all things that which has ever the most engaged my attention, and has enabled me, as will apj>car in the lyrics and odes of the following volume , to compose on subjects which I am neither qualified by sentiment nor habits of life to discuss in prose. I may almost say that I never forgot a verse which had once pleased my fancy : but so far from ever being pleased with the subject matter of my odes and songs , I never wrote one in my life PROLEGOMENA. xi which contained anything commonly called sentiment, without wishing, before I got to the end of it , to introduce some stanzas of a comic nature calculated to cast an air of ridicule on the whole piece. Whether this propensity arises from some idiosyncratic connection between the activity of the organs of wit and other cerebral parts, or is referable to the general love of the contrasts of antethesis ? — I know not; but the introduction of such glaiks of the ridiculous seems to me to please on the same principle as that on which dis- cords are often introduced into musical composition, in order, as it were, to heighten the returning harmony. For reasons not dissimilar perhaps the melody of some sonatas is enhanced by a sudden change from the major to the minor key ; as occurs , among many others , in the popular song of Auld Robin Gray. But this consideration leads me wide away from our present subject, and I must reserve for another place the discussion of the connection between Music , Poetry and Painting, which has been ably handled of late by some discerning natural philosophers, and which will by and bye throw additionnal light on the causes of the peculiar taste above alluded to ; particularly when the enquiry shall bo made with a constant refe- rence to the varieties of the cerebral organization. Pan y the Somnium Philosophicum, the Verses inscribed on a Scull, and the Inscription for the Tomb of Shargs are alone original and native effusions , penned under momentary impulses and devclloping the real bias of my mind. The rest are for the most part mere loose parodies. I mention these things because the object of these observations , as well as that of the poems which follow, is to assist phrenological enquiry and thereby enable us to act on the great rule of the sage yvu$i crscaflcy. Before I quit the subject of dramatic compositions I cannot help remarking how much they were appreciated of old; their influence on society in every age placed them high in the scale of literary productions. The book of Job has been esteemed by critics as a fine ethical drama , the Greek plays convey some sublime moral sentiments, and every succeding age has learnt to appreciate their influence. 1 am persuaded that if duly cultivated with reference to morals, and under a discreet censorship the stage might surpass both the pulpit and the bar in its useful dominion over the opinions and actions of men, and would thereby be converted into one of the greatest safeguards of the social compact. To effect this purpose however the subjects of our plays must *" PROLEGOMENA. be modified and made to accord with the advanced civilization of the age : we do not now want to stimulate the patriotric ambition of the soldier , by scenes from Marathon , nor to harden the human bloodhound to the chace, by the carnage of Cannae : we do not desire to stimulate to slaughter, nor to create rivals in rapine, but to offer to the young mind, when impressions are strong and lasting, such pictures of benevolence, of generosity and, the reward of merit as shall train up our yonth to virtue , and by exhibiting examples of retributive justice, shall impress them for ever with the fear of evil , and excite sentiments of justice and charity. Poetry of every kind, when powerfully written, possesses a moral influence , from its tendency to fix its subject on the mind; and it shonld be cultivated with this view. Who is not more or less affected with sentiments of devotion, by the fine anthems sung in our cathedrals, assisted by all the surrounding emblems of the place, the storied windows, lighted tapers burning before the saints, the sweet melody of the bells and the grave harmony of the organ pealing in solemn cadences to the singing of a large congregation assembled before the cross and the altar ? Again I ask who can read the speech of Pythagoras, as represented in Ovids 15 th book of me- tamorphoses, and not feel emotions, of general humanity as well as enlarged philosophical notions of the divine wisdom and the probable immortality of the whole animal creation? Before we quit the subject of heroic poetry I should have taken some notice of the mideva} writers of the south of Europe, part cularly the Italians, Dante, Tasso and Ariosto ; the two former gifted with enormous organs of ideality and wonder, the latter endowed with prodigious faculties of comparison as well as the poetic devellopements : In Dante, as well as in our English Chaucer, we see evidently the influence of the new religion operating on the fancy of the writer. Christianity gave a fresh existence to all the belles lettres , as well to the fine arts ; and music , poetry and painting derived new charms from the influence which a more consistent hope in eternity shed over them. This last and sweetest solace, left in the box of Pandora, raised the genius of man to sublime conceptions, by causing the latteral and upper portions of the brain to act with a more constant and better regulated force on the other organs. Some passages in the Inferno exceed in force of sentiment, if not in elegance of Unguage, any thing composed by the antients. In the Gerusalemme PROLEGOMENA. xm Liberate* we have a more regular and chastened verse , though per- haps less force of expression. Spencer who imitated the Italian style both in Lis Fairie Queene and in his Sonnets, is weaker in this respect; because there certainly was at that period , and perhaps always been, less intensity of religious feeling in the reformed pro- testant than in the catholic countries ; but all cf them partook of the happy influence of Catholicism and its fixed doctrines on the wandering imaginations of the poet and the speculations of the meta- physical philosopher. Dryden's Hind and Panther has a moral capable of general application to the advantages of any consistent and uncom- promising system of religion , based on authority, over that which is vague and subject to the caprices of individual judgement. In my endeavours, in another place, to shew that the sublime hypotheses of Plato Pythagoras and Plutarch, particularly the latter, were not inconsistent with Christianity , 1 conceive I have enhanced the probability and consequently the value of both ; for such considerations open a wide field for expatiating of the possibility that a moral as well as a physical principle may pervade the universe and give uniformity to the great design of the whole , while it is subject in every time and jdace t that equally univer- sal law of variety and infinite conbination which seems to pervade all created nature. I shall not however discuss the subject here; but merely observe that the poets like the philosophers, both being en- dowed with much comparison and ideality, have never been contented with narrow and selfish systems of theology , but in all their writings have advocated liberal principles; and taken a wide view of the ceconoray of Nature , as emanating from a Supreme Being of universal benevolence. The origin of evil is certainly the great stumbling block; but good sence and humanity point out that, whatever may be the mode of reconciling it with the divine benevolence on the ground of a future recompense, the same will hold good with regard to animals of every kind, whose life here is one of suffering) while analogy and every argument of sound logic forces us , after the discoveries of phrenology, to admit that tlie minds of men and of beasts cannot depend for their existence and nature on any essentially different prin- Rcfer to Sati or Universal Immortality, and to Fpislolaricum Forsteiionurr- vol. 1. Fasc. 2. also to Philoroia by T. Forster F. L. S. cetera. Cotes Londonl&ZV xiv PROLEGOME N A. ciple. In many of the following- poems it will be seen that I have touched on tins truth : In short I could not help it, as such subjects occupy a great part of my daily meditations and are consequently mixed up with poetical effusions. If such opinions be considered eccentric, 1 am not ashamed of it : I wander in good company and with an immense balance of probabilities on my side. And when we look to authority, not to speak of Salomon, David, Brahma Pythagorus and Origen , Butler, Pascal, and Wesley among the moderns, and Plato and other antient Philosophers, it is clear that Ovid Tasso , Ariosto , Pope and many of the best poets have been of the same way of thinking. In short the poetic mind , which always seeks for perfection , could never take any other than comprehensive and sublime views of Omnihenificent Providence. When I lay on the bed of sickness, some years ago, writing my pastoral Pan, to beguile the tedious hours of convalescence , I could not avoid seeing the importance of this subject, aud the manner in which it mixes itself with all considerations of future retribution , as has been shewn in the closing Epilogue of Astrcea. The subject treated of above brings us naturally to the consi- deration of what is called religious poetry, including psalms, hymns canticles, madrigals and sonnets to the saints; in the composition of which the higher organs of veneration, hope, benevolence and wonder have been the principal cooperators with ideality. Antient traditions respecting future life did not satisfy these faculties of the mind; any more than did the speculations of philosophers on the immortality of the soul. It seems to have been reserved for Christi- anity to supply this succedaneum in ethics; and consequently we find that till its introduction , about eighteen hundred years ago, religion had not become a practical principle of action. There were however numerous passages in early writers , as well as many loose opinions scattered abroad cr entertained by philosophers about the future , sufficcnt to shew , how congenial this doctrine was to the nature of man. Following the Indian doctrine of mctempschy- chosis , as old as history reaches , came Plato, Aristotle and others who preached, as S l Austin remarks, something almost Christianity; and indeed if we divest the Jewish writers of the double meaning which fancy so often sees in the predictions of the prophets, the Indians, Egyptians, and Greeks seem to have had clearer glimpses of a future state than either the patriarchs or the Israelites. We read in the psalms: PROLEGOMEN A. xv « J said in mine heart, concerning the estate of the sons of men, that < a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his por- •i tion; for who shall bring him to sec what shall be after him ?n Now I contend that there is less doctrine of futurity in this passage and many others in llie Bible than is to be found in the Creek writers, whom the Romans always followed. Cicero, in tbe Somnium Scipionis has a fine but curiously constructed passage on the immortally of mind, — « Non esse te mortalem scd corpus hoc; mens cujusque is est quisque. In fact hundreds of such passages might be cited; the hope of futurity is to be gathered from all the poetry of the East, in every country and age, in the verses of Hafiz, in the Persian Legends, and even from the Zodiac of Dendcra. Plalo however, followed by Xenpcrates and Zcuo, was more precise; but it was Pythagoras, the greatest poet and philosopher probably who ever lived, that made any thing like a system of this belief, capable of affording consolations to those whom superstition had tought to fear death. Ovid's speech taken from 1 his philosopher in the Metamorphoses is eminently beautiful and it reads very well consecutively with Virgil's Pollio, the former work giving an account of creation and the golden Age, the latter depicting its return in a manner which corresponds to what some writers have called the .Millenium. Christianity at length supplied what was hitherto wanting, and gave a new impulse to poetry and the arts ; as we may sec in the magnificent works of mideval imagination. The mischief of the matter is, as the late amiable sir J. E. Smith used to quote to me, thai Christianity like its Divine Master has been crucified between two thieves, Superstition on one side has made H ridiculous, Hypocrisy on xvi PROLEGOMENA. the other rendered it odious. » — Now I contend that the latter is the impenitent thief. For of all the enemies that religion in every age has had to contend with, the most obstinate, and the most persecuting is the hypocrite. When Science in her march shall have unmasked this monster, and trampled down Superstition, then will Faith, Hope and Charity follow in her footsteps and spread over the earth the blessings of a sound Christian philosophy. Now poetry , as might clearly be shown, has contributed in no small degree, to this end. And the reason is this ; poets from their organization , seek perfec- feclion in all things, and cannot take or suffer contracted views of Nature. Indeed I have always regarded ideality as a principal adjutant in so exciting the higher organs of veneration, hope wonder and justice, as to produce that elevation of sentiment which bears up the mind : — Above the smoke and stir of this dims spot ffhich men call earth, and with lowthoughted care, Confined and pester d in this pinfold here Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being Unmindful of the crown which virtue gives, After this mortal change, to her true servants. And the same organ not only enables us to admire but to attain to excellence, and to discern among the swinish herd of %i ■zo A Xoi who grovel along in the indulgence of selfish and destructive passions. — That some there be who by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of eternity. * Among other persons, whose conversation has contributed to suggest the above observation, is an acquaintance whose diffidence of distinguisted personal merits is such that she might not be pleased * It is not however ideality which can produce the imagery of poetry, but it excites the other organs to produce them. In a like manner the organ of won- der is not the effective cause of spectral illusions, hut it generates a sen- timent favorable to the entertainment of such visions and seems to excite (he organs of form and colour in such peculiar manner as to produce these delusive sensations. PROLEGOMENA. xvn if I should introduce her name into a book of this kind , unless she were present 1 shall therefore call her by her cognomen — the ,V TCV VdV CCVCCTSIVSTS , YlavGuSivj vuv nciVTSq apxacrsTS , TuZTSTS , CStSTS , 7TCCISTS , K07TTSTS , Kai Y.a.TlXY.C7t7£TS, Y.CCt KCCTCifi/xXXSTS Tcv fJLiapCV f£STSCCCC<7C(pl;V , Tcv S*fj.cCp&opcv Epsfivq uiov , ^SV^OTrpoQVjTviq bq S-ccvarqCtcpoq , £lq fjisv KAEIITHS vuttTOq ccpoXyy, • — Ovx. sipyvqv, — aXXa [j,cc%ccLpa,v — AlfJ-OCpOpUKTU KCClVOTO^pCCCTCq^ JlXSsv £7TifiaXuv y/j 7roXvSccxpul. ExSpoirotya-txv 7rcc« For ye are sure a right guid man An mucklc praised be yer kin' An' I maun save yc gin 1 can , Nar let my canlic Piper tine. So seeing the elemental strife An' swearing that I manna dee She well secur'd haith love and life Under her auld cloak about me. ****** xxxxn PROLEGOMENA. QUEEN MARIE'S DREAM, Ae naight the Moon, whas placid beam Had sillcr'd o'er Dun Edin's towers , To. Marie's prison window came To cheer her wearie lanelie hours, Through lattice work o' Jasmin sweet An' scented rose , had Luna stown , As gin' she'd stoop'd frae Heaven, to greet The Queen that Earth's leal subjects own. « Hail sillershafsed huntress fair » In plaintive voice said Scotland's Queen ic Feign wad I glent thro' liquid air , Like ye, to fill some glen unseen Ance mair o'er native mountains' brow Wi Hieland chieftains ranging free But aye my friends desert me now E'r those who dwells ayont the sea. Hard bye, the owl shriekd oe'r the steep The waters tinkled in the stream Which lull'd the buvelie Queen to sleep An' gaf her this prophetic dream : She thought lay she in Paphian groves Surrounded by the Muses nine Where poets make their tales o' love An' roun their brows the laurel twine. When Clio rising frae her seat, Thus siad to Marie weeping sair: a Greet nae, fair lady, 'tis to meet The boon o' martyrs ye come here , In Heaven is register'd y'er worth, An' Scotlauds bards yer praise shall ring While there shall dwell ane bard or earth Anc piper wba kens hoo to sing. PROLEGOMENA. XXXXlll The following Italian translation of a wellknovvn fable appears among the collections of the Marchese di Spineto : the English version, the first of Gay's fables is wellknown, and I have changed them but little from the original. IL VILLAiNO ED IL FILOSOFO ; PER IL SIGNOR GR1LLO. Nei campi ameni e ferlili V iveva un buon villano , Dal cittadino strepilo Tenendosi lonlano ; E nel suo slato modico , CoJilenlo sol dei beni Che dan Pomona e Cerere, Passava i di sereni. Sebbene il tempo avessegli La chioma incanutita Pure era fresco, e vegeto , Dual neWeta fiorita. Uman , modeslo , ajjabile , A' suoi doveri Jido Fu sempre ; e del suo merit o Tal giva inlorno il grido, Che un cittadin fdosofo , Che spesso impallidiva Su libri, per conoscerlo, Alia sua casa urriva. Seco discorre: attonito Arnmira la sua menle , II cuor sinccro e candido , E la ruijion prude nte. E donde in te derivano Gli disse , tanti lumi? Forsc dei gran filosop. Leg g est i tu i volumi? Forse ad TJlisse simile Vaijando in varie parti , Vedcsti mold popolr\ Loro costumi ed ariil Dalla Natura semplice , Di cui siam iutti Jigli , Rispose , seppi prendere Sollan/o i miei consigli. Appresi dalla lortora Ad esser Jido sposo ; Dalla formica, provido , DalVape , induslrioso : Ad esser padre tenero HPinsegnan gli augellctti t Nella sfagion che allevano I Jigli pargolelti ; Il mto Zampa insegtiami La Jedclla sincera, E I'umil gratitudine, E Vamistadc vera : D'ogni animal, che mcriia Abborrimenlo e sprezzo , Da'rei vizj a difendermi Mi sono sempre avvezzo. Ouul c/ufo par ridicolo Un'uom troppo ciarlieroj E simile alia vipera Sara chi nudre in seno DelVodio e deWinvidia Il livido vclcno: Colui che opprimo il debole , Che in van piange e si lagna, I mi (a il lupo pcrfido , E I'aquila grij'agna. iXXXlV PROLEGOMENA. Oime! sclama il fdosofo , E d'aquile , e di lupi Le gran citladi ahbondano Piti assai che selve e rupi'^ Che ognor voraci e cupidi Di far mwve rapine Le lor ricchezze ammassano Sopra le allrui rovine. Ah! si chi vuole apprendere Una morale pura, Qual tu facesti , esamini La semplice nalura: Chi d'essa i semi spigola, E gli coltiva in seno , Coi fiutli che producono Vivra felice appieno. The following Ly Arellano, is about the prettiest poem of the kind with which I am acquainted in the Spanish language : ■ — MI AM AD A. Oi saver qucres , Maria , ahora, A quien adora Mi corazon. Oye las senas De la hermosura Cuya luz pura Mi embelezo. Negros y largos Son sua cubelios , J agar con ellos Solia Amor. Y enlre sus hebras Aprisionado De enamorado Tal vez llorb. Sobro la leche, Que con cautela De la ovejuela Sacca el pastor, Ca'er no has visto Ojas de ?'osa Que hacen visfosa Placida union, Pues esa nusma Orna cl semblanle De la que amanle M« aprisionb. Porque en su seno Frente y mexillas Sus mar avillas Flora apurb. Flor de granado Rosa temprana Nacar y grana Sus labios son, Y el ialle joven Cedro que ?nueve Del vento leve Soplo veloz. Mayor prodigio Mayor belleza Naiuralcza Nunqua formb. Si ya con esla No has penetrado Quien ha robado Mi inclinacion. Llega a esa fuenle Tan clara y bella Y mira en el la Tu perfeccion. Que sus crislales Preciosa encanto Te divan quanlo Calli mi vo . PROLEGOME N A. XJLXXT The following old Italian song . sung at Rome (luring carnaval, is some satire on ladies for wearing feathers at mass , a thing still forbidden it was give to me by Mr Barre, at Edinbourg in 1816. LE PIUME DELLE DONNE. Quelle Piume bianche e were, Che sul capo voi portate , Care donne innamorate, Vi fan crescer la belta. Rassembrate a chi vi mira, Tante lodole fastose, Pavoncelle che pompose Van sul prato in liberta. Nello scorso car net ale , Rel viderve in Argentina, Qui so v ratio della China Chi sultana rassembro ; Ma che basso delle scene Non potca ben godere, O indiscrete pennachiera ! Sotto voce taroccb. Cosi bclla e slrana usansa, No , non cene da Bretagna, Non da Francia, non da Spagna, Aon da Persia, o dal Peru. La porto fra coi, Romano, Capo in gin Mercurio alato Degli Dei corier piumato Che dal cielo scesse giu. Racconto che sulle stelle Ogni Diva ha per costume Di portar sul crin le piume, Ouando bclla si vuol far; Che Minerva modestina , Occhi aszurri e vcrginetta, Spermacchio la sua civetta Per potersene adornar. SONNETTO. I?f AKGHA3I. Luce ti nieghi il Sol , erbc le terra , Malvagia , che dalV alga e dallo scoglto Per le vie dei ladron salisti al soglio E con glV armi di Giuda uscisti in guerra. Fucina di delitti ore si scrra Tutto d'Europa il danno ed il cordoglio, Tempo vcrra che abasserai I'orgolio, Se pur stanco al fin Dio non ti sottera. La man che tempra della Gallia il fato Scomyorra le I tie chtome in sin che chiuda Quel tno di sangue uman empio mercato. Pace avra il mondo, allor , tu briaca, e cruda Del mar fir anna, all' a mo ahhandonutn Farai ritorno peseratrice ignuda. — Moim. ixxiyi P K O L E G M E N A. While writiVig these prologomena I received the following, as I »at at a birthday dinner, from my friend major Anstruther, the talented translator of Jocelyn. Dear Forster monie a day lias sped Since your first welcome note I read, And now another comes instead And gars me think That langer 't were in truth ill bred To spare my ink. E'en tho' a hermit, a recluse Mysel ne'er fasting in the news , Srleuce is but a puir excuse To sic a friend, And gin I maun invoke the Muse I'll try to mend. While at my ingle here alane Wy Wife to dear auld Scotland gaen, The solitary ban in vain May strive to mend, — Alas ! all's right. The loving heart which long has known The glories by a woman thrown O'er all he loves to call his own Feels, feels the loss, When nought is left him but to moan Beneath his cross: Nought left him? Yes! for solitude, Ilalh charms too little understood , And these the giver of all good Vouchsafes to men ; He gives him in poetie mood Himsel to scan. He gives him friends at Bruges and Ghent (And Scottish friends to ilk intent Are suns amang the firmament Or Northern lights) With whom the cheer fu' hours well spent Make days o' nights. Friends from the land of Robert Burns, From whom each living bardie learns To feed the patriot fire which burns With flame as bright At hame as erst at Bannockburn; Thrice glorious light. PROLEGOMEfl A, Still tlien my brother hardies , hail ! As hermit 1 no more bewail That lane I sup my broth er kale Or 'what d'ye eall it? 1 have a jou can never fail — The Piper's Wallet. For with the « wallet :> by my side For mind and body I provide, And feel myself with honest pride Friend o* the bard Whom I would rather with me bide Than manie a laird The ii wallet » shews me bonnie Jean , Metlinks I see her face again The sweetest antidote to pain, Or harrowing grief: — In her soft smile the burning brain Finds its relief. But fill the bowl, fill high fill high Drain it, tho' 'twere the Yarrow, dry, And be the festive chorus cry — March, seventeen, Be thine all blessings from on high This day sweet Jean ! Another face beams on me now Whose dulcet eyes and glorious brow, A radiance o'er a cell might throw Thro' gloom most dreary , Aye! e'en the heartless lowly bow Before our Mary. Fair children of an honourd sire, Touched with tlic true poetie fire , (Long yet may sound his Scottish lyre ! ) From parent's hand! A father that in hall or byre Is youth's best friend. But now dear Forster fare ye weel , All joy may you and Nome feel, And linked in chains more true than steel , Love ane another Warm frcindship links another chicl Yes Bob Anstruthcr ! IXTltli itixvii PROLEGOMENA. After this long and I fear too rambling excursus into which , currente minium festinanter calamo , I have been led; it may be expected that I should say something of the plan of my own book. Suffice it therefore to add that it has been the mere idle amuse- ment of leisure hours, during which I have relieved the tedious course of philosophical studies and experiments by the pleasing interlude of versifying. The songs were hastily composed, while at breakfast in the morning, others while smoking after dinner in the p : m : ; in order to be sung at night by a social party who used to assemble at my house on Sunday evenings , during the long and murky nights of the last very severe winter. As I have before said , they were written more for the measure and the adaptation of new words to favourite old tunes, than fo r the sense , and therefore must not be harshly criticised , but taken as they were intended , as the recreations of a canty evening among friends when "KporccCpoi civ ccfjcfioffavTsg Xliuafisv ccjSpa ysTiUvrsq. And, since the best apology for the nonsense of half of them will be found in the circumstance that the wassail bowl contributed to their composition, while the recollections of the music of early childhood harmonized their melodies, it is to be hoped that they will be sung in the same spirit by ursous who, in a moment of good nature and conviviality, assemble round the social cogie , addans cornua pauperi, in order to beguile, in pleasant mirth, those hours of recreation which contribute so much to relieve the tedium vitce and to dispel the ennui that often follows unremitted labour. As for the other poems , tliey are a republication of a work bearing the same title which was printed several years ego. They possess the merit of having amused the writer at a lime when he was too ill to do any thing else than to dally with the Muses, whose province is to entertain with their cheering melody , while their philosophy as I have endeavoured shew , when they sing in harmony, tends to instruct and to elevate the mind , which perhaps , after all , is the best reason for invoking them. T. FORSTER, 6n H Bruges Febr. 27 1846. SONGS AND ROMANCES. 0) SON G. All hail to night my right guid friends ; "Wha come wi me to dine , For last years dool well mak amends In this years healing wine. * Then crown this chrystal tawsy dear Cheer up each festive soul And fill the bumper goblet clear Frae New Year's Wassail Bowl. Chorus. A cup d kindness be your glass , Let Friendship's pledge be mine , And ilka lad shall toast Ids lass, For auld lany syne. Written by IK FORSTER for a New Years party at Bruges, mid tunj January 2 1845. The parties coini>limcnsod beiug chiefly present. (4) So a health to merry Erin's charms , And tho' we dine abroad We still maun gang to Britain's arms To bless our Jovial board. Chorus; < 2 > THE CAMBRIDGE BREAKFAST SONG TO THE TUNE OP THE ROMANS IN ENGLAND. All ye learned of Cambridge and Oxford and all , Ye Bigwigs and Numsculls of College imd Hall , Who would fein be Philosophers thirsting for knowledge , Come hasten to breakfast at Trinity College. Chorls. For there's Herschel and Forster and Babbage and all Are bringing their porridge Their wit and their knowledge From each learned College And each learned Hall. The wisdom they used to say was in the wig And now in the skull , for the peruke's too big. But we think that the eggshell is fitter to hold Our learning , so come e'er the coffee be cold. Chorus. ( 5 ) Tomorrow shall Peacock analyses shout , And W he wall talk learnedly learning about , And Forster as wild as a fox in the shrouds Strike the stars , if he don't get his head in the clouds. Chorus. There's Herschall in chemistry richly learn'd Will shew how the world to a coke may be turn'd So while life shall remain and the blood gayly flows Let's eat and drink well and be jolly as Rose Chorus. Old Parr they say is a learned pig And Porson with Greek is grown wond'rous big But I'm bound to say Whewall would bang them all Should they come to the scratch in Philosophy Hall. Chorus. Though Shelley has cudgel'd the Oxford school And Byron has made the whole world a fool They would barter their cunning their verses and wit For a slice of our breakfast , could they get a bit. * Cliorus. W SONG of FLORA. For me the plants of yon parterre Their rragant eyes unclose: (*) The author hereof is unknown, h t the song remains in MS And the editor recollects the very agreable Breakfast Parties to which it alludes. In anno 18 1 . "J . (6) And first the snowdrop cold and clear, I hat greets departing snows ; Then comes the crocus token sure Of primaveral day 5 Then primroses that can endure On all the banks till May. Then let me roam the shadowy dell Beneath her milder sky ; Where violets give the fragant vale A blue embroidery. The while the seasons onward press , And Flora paints the lawn , Anon the leaves spring on the trees , Which blossoms sweet adorn. The pert acacia's light peagreen , The ash's greyer hue , The larch and fir so lively seen , The pine of darkening blue ; The oak whose boughs scarce cast a shade , The deep umbrageous elm , The sycamore , the noble beech , The mastic , and the holm 5 The aspen's silvery whispering leaves , That answer Zephyr's sighs ; The chesnut , and the aeschylus, That pencil ate the skies ; (7) The airy birch the forest's beau ; The mountain ash the belle ; The hazel copses green that show Their new leaves in the dell ; The tulip tree with smooth broad leaves., The hornbeam , and the plane ; The poplar that its spiral waves. To Maia's fan again. There o'er yon clear translucid pool Where sportive fishes swim , The weeping willow hangs its cool Boughs drooping to the brim. The blossomed orchard and the vine Have too their charms for me ; The sweet briar , and the eglantine , Again I joy to see. Chorus These are the beauties of the Spring , And while it doth remain , Let all the graces dance and sing , Till winter come again. <*> SPRING SONG IN 1820. Now returns the blooming spring , Flora treads the smiling plain , Zephyrus with musky wing Fans the flowery mead again. (8) Primrose pale and violet blue , Scented woodbine , lily fair , Muskrose bathed in morning dew , With rich odours fill the air. Meadows fresh with daisies trim , Shady banks with harebell blue , Groves where birds are carolling , Towering pines where turtles coo. Chorus. To you I delicate my hours , Lovely May; then grant to me To hiss thee , drest in all thy flowers , Neath the shade of yonder tree. ft SONG TO SUMMER. Hail , rural Goddes of delight ! I woo thy smiles from morn to night ; Now no more rude Eurus blows O'er mountains of congealed snows ; But thy faire handmaid lovely Maie Treads the fresh laAvns and leads the waie. Now , at Flora's earlie call , The meadows greene and vallies all Pour forth their variegated flowers , To regale the sportive Hours. ( 9 ) Hence then let me fly the crowde Of busy men , and seke the woode , With some Dryad of the grove. By shades of elm and oak to rove , Till some , sequestered spot we find , There , on violet bank reclined , We fly the Cay Star's burning heate , Which cannot reach cur green retreate; While Zephyr , with light whispering breeze , Softiv rustles in the trees : And , upon his muskie wing , Doth a thousand odours bring From the bloming mead below , Where cowslips sweet and daisies blow , And from out her grassie bed The harebell hangs her nodding head ; Hard bye , some purling stream beside , Where limpid waters gently glide , Iris shows her painted woof Of variegated hues , windproof , And with water liliies there , The Nymphs and Nai'ds braid their ha ire : And from out their leafie haunt , The birds their varied matins chant. Then , sweet Nymph , at eventide, Let us roam the brook beside , While the lovelorn nightingale Sadlic sings the woods ymel , ( io ) Till the bittern's booming note Oer the sounding mashes flote , And the ominous owls do crie, While luckless bats are flitting bye ; Then before the midnight houre , When ghostlie sprites and pizgies coure , We will betake us to our cot , And be it there, Sleep , our lot , To rest in balmie slumbering , Till the next cock his matin rinsr. (6) BONNIE MARIE JEAN. Mi mither bad me , when a lad , To gang and get a wife , At first I thought , 'twad drive me mad , An plague me out o' life, But since on wedlock she was bent , I wad nae gie her pain, So linkin oer the muir I went To seek for Marie Jean. Chorus. For Marie Jean was ever dear I hid her bonny cen An filVd a glass o' toddy clear An drank to Marie Jean. ( 11 ) Mi mither said the scheme was wild A puir mans bairn to wed ; I pleaded she was naeman's child Sin Bad an Mam were dead ; But she wad sen me into toun , To fit the weddin ring An seek a lassie wha renoun And mickle gowd cad bring. Chorus. I ran to Marie's hallan dear, To tak a guid farewell , She blaw'd the mirkie inkle clear , As I the tale did tell; The duddie wee things toddled rouu An sairlie weepin stood , For it brake their heart to see me part Frae her I fein had woo'd Chorus. Puir Marie grat wi sorin face I had been all her bliss , • Wi mickle grace , ane fond embrace She gae , an mony a kiss : Auid Tray sae laith to see me gae , Had left his bane at hamc , His snowkin sonsie face wad say — Come back to Marie Jean. Chorus. (12) I roam'd about the flauntin toun, But neer a girl cad find , Mid a the lasses blond or brown , Sae winnin fair an kind : Ilk jaukin jade o' lairdlie pride With plumes upon her head , E'er she ane month had been a bride , Disgrac'd the nuptial bed. Chorus. Sae sick o toun an a 5 the great A nee mair I hither came Wi Marie's lot to join my fate And seek a swinker's heme ; I plac'd her on my pantin breast A fiernt o' want an pain , An joy'd to be sae fondly press d By bonnie Marie Jean. Chorus, < 7 ) ADDRESS TO TWA TUMBLER PIDGEONS. * Twa too confiding tentless fowls ! What boots it that when danger scowls Ye hae cscap'd the fauks an owls As ye were able An ilka nightlie graip that prowls In hoif or stable. * This ode was written for one of the Auimals Friend Society, on the occasion of seing kill'd two tame pidgeons who had escaped beneath a woodin cavcring, afterwards serve'd up in sauce for dinner. Sunday Oct. 13 1844, ( 13) Wi Fortune's heels ye canna grapple, And when she thraws ye'r gawsie thrapple, What gain , that ye kent how to tapple On whirr in wing. For soon in grease y'er bluid maun papple An hiss an sing. A like fate waits on man's ambition Wha to this Goddess maks petition : How cS: she hurls him to perdition , Or treads him doun , "Wi scantie gain and court fruition And wee renoun ! The tawdrie blooms these gardens yield , The humble flouris o' the field Corn rigs an buskie shaws can shield Gainst whirlwind's strife , "While ye below man's treach'rous bield , Ilae lost y'er life. So ilk auld cowclynk o' the toun The shochlin jad an cappit loun Long live to plague : but ah too soon The patriot falls An neath Eellona's iron shoon Expiring squalls ! Troth I did greet to hear ye squeelin , And when beneath my reekie ceilin Wi smoutic hands the lass was pcelin Your bonnie crest ( 14) I amaist wish'd the deedthraw stealin O'er her ain breast! What law gies mortal man to trench On Natures rights, to fat his painch An glut his maw wi gore and stench, Like cannibals , Yet hope wi coward prayer to wrench Ope Heaven's portals I The limmer floyt, the cringin knave, The worm that gaws us in the grave , Or shark that wars o'er billow'd wave, By hunger driven , Hae better chance their sauls to save An gang to Heaven. Then leave it to the savage crowd To tak that life the Gude bestow'd It wordis men wi wot endow' d To be me mair human , The fruyts o' yeerd are proper food For man or woman. So now farewell my luckless birdies^ When the three Sisters on my hurdies Shall jimp , my prayer and partin word is, Above I fly For tho' my pass the cauld kirk yaird is , My bame's on high. ( 15 ) Nor may the Deil e'er fry and roast My cannie pow an branit coist , Like yours , when I be pinch't and cros'd Wi wounds internal , Nor serve me up a savourie toast In sauce infernal. ( 8 ) ON A MOUSE ACCIDENTALLY KILLED. Alas ! wee cow'ring donsie mouse , How soon y'er leelang day is o'er ! Yestreen , about my lawly house , Ye prank and play'd , frae door te door ; And pick'd the crumbs o barley cake That frae y'er mistress' table fell , Then frolickit for pastime's sake , Unscar'd by flunkie's sounding bell. Y'er life, though short, was fu enjoy'd , Nor had ye ony cares to fret ye , Nor fear'd ye , while wi' her ye toy'd , The slaughtering tread o' primsie Betty All ! were mine ain nae harder lot ! To breathe the weary air a' day , A myrmidon at Fortune's feet , To cringe and fawn my time away! Right wotting a' the ruefu' pain The chequer d life o' man attendin , (16) To me ilk flowret blaws in vain , On youth its balmy fragrance spendin I Then let me drown my cares in wine, And let me , while I live , carouse , And by my deedthraw short like thine , My life as simple, luckless mouse ! | | (9) HET KIND EN DE WIND. In Rotterdam een kleen kind , Tusschen het water en den wind, Omwenden is gevallen , Het Was een wys en lustig kind , En onderdaenig aen den wind , En voldaen was te vaelen , En had zoo aen den wind gezeyd , Ik vallen als myn kindermeyd , In 't water is gevallen , Die kleen ried aen biese stand , Als grooten boom met sterken band , Met wind staet neer te vallen. * | | In spring 1845, * Impromptu at Rotterdam 1840. ( 17 ) <"» S O IV G. Chords. Frac the much kin's floicin brink Fill the siller taicsie O Ilka maun to tither drink, And then I kiss my lassie Cosie roun this inkle bright , Fondly press d by Marie , The snarl in warl, for me, to night , May a' gae topseltearie O. As erst I saw y'er sonsie face An form sae tall an fairie O , I sue'd for ane dear fond embrace , To mak the warl less drearie 0. A cannie hour had made ye mine , The first caress my dearie 0, Gave life a second waking prime To dawn on me and Marie 0. Chorus. Aye when ye kindled in my breast Fond love an warm desire , It seem'd that Psyche had impress' d Young Cupids heart o' fire ; The bonnie blink o' y'er blue een Was then Aurora dawning O, "Which shon , like Hope's bright ray , between Dark night and purple morning 0. Chorus. ( 18) It was in April's primrose vales , On buskit braes an pansies , Y'er sighs , like Zephyr's scented gales , Breath'd promise to my fancies O. The lily deck'd y'er bosom fair, Y'er cheeks were blushing roses 0. The snood that bound y'er bonny hair Was Flora's wreath o' posies O. Chorus. Y'er koussenbands o' rosy braid Were webster Love's ain weaving ; As roun your feet the hawthorn shed The blosoms o' May's leaving O. The zone that wad y'er bosom brace Maun be o' Hymen's twining 0. Sin Virtue in y'er bonny face Kens her ain mirrour shining 0. Chorus . When first ye gied the balmy kiss, Mid pleasure's many phases , Nae moment ever equal'd this , Wi Venus and the Graces 0. Then gie me , Marie , millions mair , Wi many dear embraces 0. For kisses, tho' on lips sae fair, Nae leave behind their traces 0. Chorus. ( 19 ) Oft when ye've liltit me to sleep My lullit senses cheating 0, Y'er teeth , like flocks o' maeing sheep , Seem'd snavvy lambies bleating 0. Then rich or puir or sick or weel , I'll ever lo'e my Marie 0, For ilka greeting maks me feel That she maun be my dearie 0. Chorus. As that ill omen'd night drew nigh , Our hearts wi grief sair throbbing O, It were as if the west wind's sigh Was wet wi showers o' sobbin O , An when the leesing kiss ye gae' , Then tore awa wi trouble Q> T'er partin footsteps seem'd to me, To burst life's empty bubble 0. Chorus. But leeze me, sin again we meet, For naething mair I'm grenin , An a' the days pass unco sweet , By thinkin o' the e'enin 0. And now life's bark may crowd her sail , Again 1 ni wi my dearie 0. Nae a' the coofs that rant an rail Can reef her topsail, Marie O. Chorus, (20) They strive to faynd my lo'e astray Wi jades an giglets manie O. The braws o' Bessie blythe an gay, The auburn locks o' Annie 0. But tho' I ken the charms of a' My heart is yet contrary An, darklins aye , I slink awa , To steal a kiss frae Marie 0. Chorus , iU) SONG. Tcne Come haste to the wedding , The nuts are now ripe and the flouris yet blawin , The linnet still sings in the bonny green shaw , But I'm naething the better that autumn is glawin, I'm freezin like winter : for Mimmie's awa. By the clusterin vine I sit sulkily smokin Ilk puff o' tobacco , ick riek that I draw Seems to say — How fond hopes have a' finish' d wi crokin, How prospects . like Mimraie, are flitten awa ! Chorus. My setter an messins are sniffin an snowkin , Now stroanin on stanes, an now huntin in ha, But they naething turn up wi their grubbin an howkin That happits their maister now Mimmie's awa ! How oft haejwe sat, while the welkin was snawin, Sae sung by my sootie auld lum at our ease : (21 ) How often hae stray'd where the yellow broom blawin Had gladden'd the valley an gilded the braes! Chorus, But tho' she is gaen , an the rush o' the waters, That jawp in the rink o 1 the murmurring burn , Seem to moan that the dearest o' Vlandria's daughters Still tarries awa , still delays her return ; Hark the winter is sped an the spring flowers comin , The sweet siller maybush enlivens the glen , The heather now blooms an the bees are a' hummin An Nature and Mimmie come hither agen. Chorus. See Flora spreads out her new carpet before her , The cowslips rejoice as she links o'er the lea, So ill bend on you violet bank to adore her, Right glad that the simmer is smilin on me. An since the sun kecks thro' the tempest that lowers, Come catch the stray beam, while it lightens the glen; An quaif a wee glass wi the rosy crowndd Hours, An hail my dear Mimmie come hither agen. Chorus . Then down wi the sneers o this warl an its bother, While nightingales sing in the musical grove, Aulcl Clootie may carry dull Care to the other, When we are sac favour d by Venus an Lovo ! ( 22 ) < 12 ' SONG. Am : Roy'a wife o' slldocalloch. Julie's dog o' whoopy wallow Julie's doir o' muckle valour Wat ye how he bay'd at me As I cam whistling o'er the fallow. She said, my spousie, if ye like, The setter's yours sae blythe an fconny But oh the floytin faithless tyke Ha taen the wife an jilted Tommie. Chorus . J ulics dog o muckle valour Julie's dog o' whoopy wallow Wat ye how he bay'd at me , As I cam whistling o'er the fallow. he had bright amber een Howe! his bark was deep and mellow Happy I , if I had gaen Huntin wi this charmin fellow. Chorus. His lugs were long, his spots were clear , His howkin snout Avas sharp an cannie , His gawsie tail and sonsie air Trove he w r ns bred as high as any Chorus. (23) O he can loop o'er chke an slcugh , The muircock through the fen can follow , Shepherds ken his bow wow wow Soundin frae* the Mil an hollow. Chorus. O then I'll buy me mony a hound, An pack , wi horn , the game we'll follow And sniff and make the braes resound Wi bow wow wow . oud view hallow us. Julie's dog c' \ py wallow , Julie s dog o -muckle valour Let hin bay n ow ivcio wcv\ When I am huniin o'er the fallow. < 15 ) INFA' " n ONS. In fancy how dear are the scenes of my childhood Which old recollections recall to my view ; My own little garden , its plants , and the wild wood , The old paper kite that my infancy flew. The cool shady elm grove, the pond that was by it My small plaything mill where the rain torrent fell ; My father's pot garden , the drying ground nigh it. The old wooden pump by the melon ground well. That portngal laurel I hail as a treasure , For often in summer, when tired of play, ( 24 ) I found its thick shade a most exquisite pleasure , And sat in its boughs my long lessons to say , There I first thought my sholarship somewhat advancing, And, turning my lilly right down on its back,. While my thirst for some drink the sun's beams were enhacing , I shouted out learnedly — Da inihi lac. No image more dear than the thought of these baubles Ghigs , pegtops and whiptops , and infantine games; The grassplot for ball , and the yewwalk for marbles , That leads to a temple which nobody names. Those three renown'd poplars, by summer winds w T aved, By Tom, Ben, and Ned, that were planted of yore, 'Twixt the times that these wights were first breech'd and first shaved , May now be hewn down , and may waver no more ! How well I remember, when spring flowers were blowing, With rapure I cropt the first crocuses there Life seemed like a lamp in eternity glowing, Nor dreamt I that all the green boughs would be sear. In summer , while feasting on currants and cherries , And roving through strawberry beds with delight , I thought not of autumn's grapes, nuts , and blackberries, Nor of ivydeck'd winter cold shivering in white , E'en in that frosty season, my grand father's hall in, In used to sit turning the electric machine , And taking , from schockbottles , schocks much les galling. If sharper, than those of my manhood I ween. ( 25 ) / The chesnuts I pick'd up and flung in the fires , The evergreens gather 'd the hot coals to choke Made reports that were emblems of blown up desires , And warm glowing hopes that have ended in smoke. How oft have I sat on the green bench astonished , To gaze at Orion in Night's shady car , By the starspangled sky's magic lantern admonished , Of time and of space that were distant afar! But now , when embarked on Life's troubled ocean , While Hope with her anchor stands up on the bow, May Fortune take care of my skiff put in motion , Nor sink me when coyly she step on the prow. Anno 1824- 5 ) IMITATION OF THE RANZ DES VACHES. Anno 1827. "When shall I return to the Land of the Mountains , The lakes and the Rhone that is lost in the earth , Our sweet little hamlets, our villages, fountains, The flowerclad rocks of the place of my birth ? when shall I see my old garden of flowers , Dear Emma the sweetest of blooms in the glade , And the rich chesnut grove where we passed the long hours With tabor and pipe , while we dane'd in the shade "When shall I revisit the land of the mountains, Where all the fond objects of memory meet : The cows that would follow my voice to the fountains, The lambs that I call'd to the shadv retreat. 3 (26) Mv father , my mother , my sister and brother ; My all that was dear in this valley of tears ; My palfrey grow old, but there's ne'er such another My dear dog , still faithful , tho' stricken in years. The vesper bell tolling , the loud thunder rolling ; The bees that liumra'd round the tall vinemantl'd tree , The smooth water's margin whereon we were strolling , "When evening painted its mirrour for me. And shall I return to this scenery never These objects of infantine glory and love? tell me , my dear Guardian Angel , that ever Floats nigh me, safe guide to the regions above. * RANZ DES VAGHES. * Quand reverrai-je un jour, Tous les objets de raon amour, Nos clairs ruisseaux, Nos hameaux , Nos coteaux, Nos montagnes , Et I'ornement de nos montagnes , La si gentille Isabeau ? Dans l'onibre d'un ormeau , Quand danserai-je au son du Chalumeau ? Quand reverrai-je un jour , Tous les objets de mon amour Mon pere. Ma mere Mon frere. Ma scaur Mes troupeaux, Mon chien cheri Mes agneaux. Ma chere Marie. Ma bergere. (27) l' 4 ' A FALSE HALLOW. JAN 1820. Brtght was the morning, and Thursday the day, Two brothers in Essex to hunt rode away ; Twas at Thorney Down Common the hounds were to meet, And the Squire was there all the hunters to greet. Tally o, Tally o, Tallyo , Tallyo-o-o-o-o, etc. The banker was mounted on a pert little bay, The doctor he rode a mare active and grey ; Through Woodford and Loughton they both take their course, While John rode abaft on a wounded bay horse. Tallyo, Tallyo, etc. As the church clock of Epping eleven did sound, The hunt all assembled , went forth from the ground ; After drawing seven covers, and finding no vermin, They returned from the course ; and to home did determine Tallyo , Tallyo , etc. But while onward they jogged, and for hunting good lack, They heard the hounds open; and the Whipper in crack, At last came Sir Renard beside of the road , So the banker sung out most tremendously loud. Tallyo , Tallyo. They followed the chase for an hour and more; And lost the Fox just as the daylight was o'er, When mistaking the phiuies of a goose , Ned , anon Sung out the view holloa, — the hounds were set on , Tallyo, Tallyo. (28) "When the huntsman found ont there was really no fox , He hollowed out, Zounds tis a confounded hoax 5 He turned and went on , but the doctor and banker "Went home , for they found there was nothing but rancour. Tally o, Tally o. At the Baldfaced Stag they halted awhile, And got a few biscuits the time to beguile, But coming home dark they near lost the right way, Their dinner, and also about at the play, Tallyo, Tallyo. Should the banker some day take it into his head; To leave hunting, and chase some fair vixon instead; May he ne'er be deceived , and when too lake to choose ; Discover the game he has taillieds a goose. Tallyo, Tallyo. < 15 ) HENHAM BELLS. AT QUENDON. AUG. 1810. Hark! now I hear those evening bell* What doleful tales their music tells, Of comfort past, of hours mispent, Of Aouth to senseless vices lent ; Of childish joys in days of yore , Of merry playmatesnow no more; Of all that frightful change of things "Which each succeeding season brings. (29) Softly ring on, melodious peal, Your soft persuasive strains I feel, Which give refreshment to the soul , By calling to its proper goal. For though each soul entrancing knell Seems some fair image lost to tell, Of love entomb'd, of friendship dead, Of infant hopes for ever fled; And calls to mind the early time When first I heard your melting chime , At life's and daylight's infant dawn, When cocks first blew the trump of morn , And first I sallied forth to play , Free, on a festive holiday. Since whieh old times, the silvery head Of fond paternal counsels dead ; The child that was the evening star Of youthful passtime dwells afar; The trusty dog, my father's pride, Is swallowed in time's gulphing tide; And fierce Ervnnis tramples down Those childish hopes we now disown. Yet still, oh! soft melodious bells, A tale of joy your music tells To faithful flocks assembled here , To drink of holy water clear. For in the dusky cloister damp, Where Vigilance hath lit her lamp, (30) The white wing'd angel Hope appears / And my desponding genius cheers , And says , « Hark ! yet the tuneful bells Are sounding stiil their inagie spells , That quell all harms , and call the sheep ; The vigils of pure Faith to keep ; And cheer the soul to hold in view , For faithful flocks green pastures new ; In those fair realms , fair Virtue's seat , Where kindred souls again will meet The taper steeple point the way, The cock upon the vane doth say , Thou follow me , not turning round To every blast that sweeps ground : But , by a watchfulness on high , Bend to the spirit of the sky, Then jingle on, ye mellow bells, Of many hopes your music tells , ('«> EPITHALAMIUM. 1816. Salve grado Himeno Ya Hespero en el cielo . Enciende fiel consuelo La vela del amor. (3t ) Llega alia Selina A su caro marido Roxeante en el vestido De carinoso ardor. Como en las florestas Temprana y dichosa Es la sagrada .rosa Pintada por Amor. Musas di Helicone Euterpe y Clio amada Con vestra voz sagrada Centais en su honor. Las dias di verano Maja y pintada Flora Pingan la terra ahora Con vario color. Felix felix marido A te eeha sus brazos En amorosos lazos Objecto del amor. ( 17 > ALLA SANTA VEPvGINE. 1827 Salve, del cielo sovrana, liianca stella matutina , Degli angioli rcgina, Fonte del divin amor ; Salve , della grazia piena , (32) Fra le dorme ben stimata, Sposa figliuola nata Madre vera del Signor ; Solazio dei pecatori, Dei smarriti Cinosura , Lurae clriaro, luce pura, E perfelta castita ; Palma della pazienza , Soave cassia odorata , Cedro dolce bene amata Dell' eterna carita ; II serpente, gia calcato Sotto i vostri pie', dolente, Nella tesla serba sempre L'alta impronta di bonta. Maria, per me ora. Allegra la mia sorte, E neir ora della morte Fa morire in fidelta. (*•) IMPROMPTU, WHILE ASCENDING IN A BALLOON, APRIL 30 1831. Adieu, queer tiny speck of eartli , adieu! Aloft I fly to seek a wortheir lot , Midst countless suns , and comets not a few , And seem, dim planet, to regret thee not! Thou , whose rough surface is encas'd in mist Hiding each vice and woe to mortals given ( 33 ) If thou wert blotted out , wouldst scarce be miss'd , Among the million brighter stars of Heaven. Yet as I view rich Flora's gaudy train Of newly budding leaves and blossoms sweet, I almost long to be aground again , To spread the carpet for young Maia's feet ; And to invite her to some shady bower , Lattic'd with amorous woodbine and muskrose , While the gay wood lark cheer'd each passing hour , And court her favours in secure repose. I seem enshrin'd on high in ruby clouds That draw their goldenfringed curtains round , Above the noise and stir of mortal crowds, Like grovelling insects, crawling on the ground. what a panoramic scene around Of chequer'd fields , green woods and silver brooks , And such a stillness that the smallest sound Makes Silence startle as she downward looks ! Let Phaeton Apollo's chariot guide, Scan the Empyrean and fire the Sky ; 1 under Night's dark cowl my head must hide , Or fall , like Icarus who soar'd too high : So , Doedalus , inspher'd in silken sack , Swell not thy crest too big with new renown , But , warn'd by Ilelle who broke Phryxus back , Curb thy bold flight and timely bring me down , With wife and child and dog and friends to sup , Return'n about as wise as I went up ! (34 ) (io) SONG. Chorus . In the woodbines secret bower Meet me in a canny hour; Wi ye alane my heart can cower Mv mair than dear ain Marie. Tune: The Lass o' Gotvnie. A bee that sips a rosy flower, "Wash'd in a muskie scented shower, In simmer e'ening's dainty hour, Sucks honey sweet and cheerie. But sweeter sweeter far tfian this, Was true luve's dear untainted kiss, When first I stole ambrosial bliss Frae lips o' bonny Marie. Chorus i Then roam nae mair for foreign blooms, To deck y'er garlands an saloons, An scent y'er cauld an murkie rooms To me sae dull an drearie. Her cheeks can show a fadeless rose , Upon her breast the lily blows, An aye my ain a heartsease glows, When press'd by bonny Marie. Chorus. (35) Why gather pearls on India's lands, Or gang for gems where Nyssa stands? Why ding for coral neath the sands , Wi wind and wave contrary? The teeth in her wee mon that lie Are pearls in coral set, for me. An jewels , ane in ilka e'e , Gie light to bonny Marie. Chorus. Why seek beneath Italian skies, A clime that rosy health defies , Come catch the canty hour that (lies , An dinna be too wary. For me love maks a 1 climates clear, W T hen , in her cosie hallan dear In hamely ha , by ingles cheer , I kiss my bonny Marie. Chorus. If winter's wind around us howl Or blackening clouds abo'e us scowl We fill the gawsy wassail bowl An quaff a wee drap , dearie. An when in spring young Flora strays Where gowden broom decores the wavs, And heather blooms on a 1 the braes I gac abroad wi Marie. Chorus* (36) I've roam'd beneath the azure skien By fabled Tybur's margin green Where wit an beauty grace the scene But still my heart was drearie. So toward hame I set my sail , — "Where Zampa wags his swirlie tail An runs the fond caress to hail Of me and bonny Marie. Chorue. Then let me hope, when life shall close An we in grassie swaird repose , Wi kindred saul in social cose To meet aloft my dearie. As least the Glide forgie the prayer That mounts to Heaven wi mony a tear — « The wee while I maun tarry here I may be bless d wi Marie. » Feb. 1845. < 20 > SONG. IMPROMPTU INTENDED FOR MR. W. ANDERSON OF CHELSEA GARDEN, FOR THE FLORAL FEAST 2i MAT, BEINGTHE BIRTHDAY OF LINN.EUS. Tone John Jnderson my Joe- A health to ye auld friend , Man I'll greet ye while I can , (37 ) For L'gin wi eld to bend Man , Thro' life's too little span; Sin a' the dainty plants , Man , That now begin to blow , Ca' back our early haunts, Man, Will Anderson my Jo ! Time was when we were young, Man, An baith hae seen some fun , We hae tippled lo'ed and sung, Man, But now sic days are done : To a in dear lass we baud , Man , An for her we are fou , She is bonny Flora ca'd , Man , Will Andersom my Jo She is a tawdry jad, Man, For ilka loun to dress , But ye are sic a sad Man , Ye woo her nae the less Ye court her sonsie smile , Man , Where daisy'd meadows blow , An wi her ye'r time beguile , Man , Will Anderson my Jo ! In braws she now is dress'd , Man , Which autumns win' shall tine , Yet we bear her on our breast , Man, When we gang out to dine. An tho' our spring is gaen , Man, (38) Our fa' maun shortly go , Her bloom is yet our ain . Man , Will Anderson my Jo ! We've rambled mony a day, Man O'er Highland rock an glen, An link'd o'er Lawland lea, Man, Where we'll nae gang again ; On sunny braes we've play'd , Man , Where lucken gowans grow , But we win down to the shade, Man, Will Anderson my Jo! We've scann'd the mountain brow Man , And rov'd by Ayr an Doun , But now we feeble graw Man, An birple inlo toun; Still our inkle cheek is free , Man , When mirth an toddy flow , So here's a health to ve Man. Will Anderson my Jo ! Aye tho' our youth be fled, Man, Our blossom gaen to seed , Our trees their leaves hae shed, Man, We ken our ways to weed ; Our senses still are clear , Man , If siller deck the pow , An Maia's smiles are dear, Man, Will Anderson my Jo ! ( 39) For us the lark yet sings , Man , The piper still can play , Ilk season something brings, Man Altho 1 were grawing gray. So Iunt a wee wi' me, Man, An lilt as on we go, An a tawsy tak wi glee , Man , Will Anderson mv Jo ! My daddies life is sped. Man, My unckles on his bier, My bousie tyke is dead , Ma if , My Minnie lingers here , Guid friends still bide wi us , Man , Wha botanizing go. So ye maun still be first Man , Will Anderson my Jo ! Rare specimens we've seen , Man , "Whas petals long are cast, An canna help but grene, Man, That olden time is past Donn, Aiton, Smith an Banks, Man," Are gaen where we maun go : Still to the Gude be thanks, Man, Will Anderson my Jo ! T. F. Brugct U Feb. 1845. (40) ( 21 > SONG. Ae day Friar Phillip said, lad, if you please, Ye may, gang for a walk wi ye'r master An tak a sly peep at the warl as it is, Twill mak ye'r genius flow faster I've nae other meaning in ganging abroad Than to pleasure an ease to be dieing Bit an brat's a' I want, an the cross in my load the Gtide forgive him for lieing. (bis). 9 But while we were toddling on to a shrine , We met wi a troop o' young lasses A pu'ing the blossoms sae bonny an fine , "What a sight for twa sanctified asses ! tell me wha's coming guid father , said I , 1 feel as o' lo'e I were dieing « Tis a flock o' green geese frae the burnie just by. » O the Gude forgie him for lieing. {bis). Guid father, quoth I, they are cosie and tame ; If these be the geese o' y'er waters, 1 wad rather tak ane o' the goslings hame Than the fairest o' Israel's daughters , The game is a' wild , said the monk in a rage , Tis a sin to be wishey an prying They are nane o' 'em birds that can live in a cage. O the Gude forgive him for lieing, {bis). (41 ) He fain wad hac bound me , but aye I broke loose ; Cupid always is snapping his tether, — « It seems to me, father, that lassie and goose Maun surely be birds o' ae feather ; » Nae nae quoth tho Friar, now quite in a pet As he wiley the damsels was e'eing , — ■ They are geese without flesh and na fit for my net: the Gude forgive him for licing. (bis). the whole o' the flock was sae bonny and fair Wi feathers baith gawsie and crested, An a neat cock' a noddy atop o' the hair By Love an by Venus invested , So I said daddy hypocrite gie me release , Wi the flock o' fair swimmers to wander, I'm willing to ca' them a' geese if ye please , An i/Gad I am off as the gander. (bis). SONG. r-) THE JEOLIAN HARP. Tone: The harp of Tuva's Hall. March. 1. 1845. A harp in lorn Ovoca's vale, Hung high upon the spray , An unseen spirit o' the gale Breath'd on that harp to play : I ask'd her whv sae sweet a string 5. (42) Was drawn by sic a han' She answerd , « tidings glad to bring - The birth o' bonny Ann ! I sat me doun an grat forlorn On primrose bank to sleep , For well I kent that wha was born , Was anely born to weep. I saw on green Ovoca's brae The portrait life o' man, An as the spirit gan to play I liltit thus for Ann. bard unseen that stikes the chord An moves the vocal air, Assist my vow that Nature's Lord May bless a babe sae fair , An if there's aught o' guid in prayer To change life's chequer'd plan , Waft now my lay aloft on air, To plead for bonny Ann. Ye pansy blooms sae sparklin' seen In bright enammell'd hue, Gae, gie to her dear sonsie een Y'er ain celestial blue. An may yon snowdrop o' the dell, Wee , modest , pale , an wan , Its milk white virtue lend , as well , To chasten bonny Ann. ( 43 ) The lily o' the vale maun grace Her breast as fair as snow ; Then may the hearssease find a place On her dear bosom too : The rose will sure her cheeks adorn , When wav'd by Zephyr's fan; An may kind heav'en forbid the thorn To tear the heart of Ann. Here Scotland's lads an Britain's boys , Her friends, together meet, An e'en the Belgian pilgrim joys To bend before her feet; Will triple tones then bless the life 0' Freedom's father Dan , Sin mother Erin brings, to night, Sae sweet a bairn as Ann. GEZANG. ^ VERZOEK AEN EENE JOTNGVROUW OM EEN GLAS WYN TE DRINKEN EN OM TE DANSEN. Goede gezondheid, goede vriend, Die komen hier van daeg , Voor lesles jares slechten cind , Vergocding zeker maekt. Brengt dan die chrystal glazen klaer Zy dan gelukkig , man , (44 ) En schenkt van bier de bekers vol Van deezes jares kan. Als wy aen tafel zitten rond, En klein zanggoden zingt , Die onze hooge ouderdom Tcrug naer jongheid brengt. Terwyl die meid van Brugge zingt, Met schoone lieden klein , Voor ons te drinken Anna bringt , In grooten schalen , wyn. Terwyl hy drinkt, dan ider man, In goede en schoone lied Met luider stemme zingen kan Brugge's aenvallig meid, Terwyl by drinkt, terwyl hy klinkt Met galmen bekerklank Apollo, Venus, Liefde zingt, Mimie zoo schoone en vrank. juweel, glinsterend als star Myn lief, myn schoonste meid, Uw voetstappen zyn parel klaer Op levens weg geleid. Met ray op maet in dezen kant Danst dan zacht als een lam ; Opwekt , myn hart is al in brand Slaept nict dan by de vlam. ( 45 ) ™ ON THE FADING ROSE. On Julia's brow why fades the rose , Late so richly glowing? Why now the lily yellow grows On her fair bosom blowing? Ah now the vernal time is o'er , Spring's gay blossoms smile no more Tell me why we love the rose Better while it's fading ? In fancy still why sweeter glows Its flower in autumn's shading? It is because we love the last Of every thing that's nearly past! if Then heed not Memory's magic shell , While envious hours are fleeting; Nor on past pleasures fondly dwell , The present joys unweeting : « But suck the sweets of Now with me ,» Said Hope, « and I will succour thee.» — < 23 ) LES VOEUX DE LA JEUNESSE ACCOMPLIS. Avant ma morl, dis-je , Irois grandes choses Je ferai : le Voyayt auoo Pays Bas. L amour qui pour un autre fut la rose Que j'appclle « la chose » , chaquc pas. (46) La troiseme est le Voyage en I' air , Non a la Chine , en Afrique sur mer ; Mais pour trouver , en haut , dans tous les cas Mille secrets quon ne trouve ici-bas. Commencant par lamour , je fis guerir , La passion, et puis je fis voyage , Puis montais en ballon 5 mais je m'engage Dans mon jardin de passer l'avenir Gar en depit de moi ce beau ballon Au gre des vents montait dans un orage : Cherchant le ciel , je trouvais les nuages, Et tombais a la fin dans un vallon. Le vieux soldat, le marchand, le marin , Heureux cent fois qui trouve un beau jardin , Oil racine en paix il peut passer ses jours , Raconter ses exploits , rappeler ses amours* ( 2G > S O IN G. Willy keeps a wake to day , An Rob and Tarn come toddlin doun Twa canty loons mair blytlie than they Ye canna find in Brugge toun. ( 47 ) Chorus. The lads are fou , the lasses hraxc, TVi cup an tabor at our mou , TV' ill drink an sing till day shall daw In spite o' Cock a doodle doof Then fill the bowl wi rosy wine An tap the cask o' barley brie : For lads , wha come wi us to dine , Maun swill an lilt as long as we. The watch dog barks, wha cares for that . Or heeds the messins wee bit mou, Auld Poskis growl , or Ankers yap Or surly Zampa's bow wow wow. (bis). E'n tentie Betty now gets fresh An stamps on puir Grimalkins paw , An Annie gins the tykes to thrash, "While squeeling puss begins to claw. So a is noise in Tammy's ha An wi the goblet in our mou , The girls a reel, the cats a miaw , The dogs a' bay wi bow wow wou (bis). Mirth now spangs wi tipsy air And Punch kens how tho cork to draw , An ilka lad reels on his chair , And so he shall till day shall daw. (48) Then wet yer whistle fill your maw, When joyous sauls are gather d here , The day may daw , the cock may craw Wha care's for Morn or Chantileer?? (bis). Dame Nature joins our jovial crew , The sun now sinks an gulds the sea , The flower sips the falling dew If a' things drink , why may not we ? Aye mistress Moon then ye may blink , Asklent the duds yer arrows thraw , But fill the bowl, lads, sing an drink Till the last watch the cock shall craw. Aye roun the cheerie inkle set , We're like the kettle and pot, — We sing , boys , while we warmer get But scold an liiss when unko hot. Now wi a wee drap in our een As muckle maun our painches graw ; Our thrapples hech, we canna see, Ah heels o'er gowdy doun we faf (bis). ( 49 ) < 27 ) BIRTHDAY SONG. March. 17 1845. Should Jenny's birlh unheedit pass Without the bumper toast, Sin she's Thalia's favour'd lass, The Graces' comely boast ! Then bring the flowing goblet clear Fill ilka queen \vi wine : To drink the health o' Jenny dear, fVi a the Muses joi:u [bis.) The lavrock pipes above the corn The warbler wakes the grove , The thrush from ilka blooming thorn Sends forth his note o' love. If a' their notes then roun us fling Ane song maun sure be mine , To lilt o' her wha kens to sing An rivals a the nine. (bis). Dear Maries lay is soft an clear To sooth the brow o' Care , An Jenny's strains are loud to cheer The pilgrim's c cning pray'r ; Then Melody thy plaintive lute Wi Concords harp combine. Unfolding a' the charms that float In it? (tins o auldcn time. G. ( 50 As violets the bank adorn The gilded broom the brae , May heartsease lighten Jenny's dawn An gowd her simmer's day. An sin the wild woods now unite The rose an eglantine, In festive ha may baith tonight Their arms in chorus twine. If on her cheeks the flow'r o 1 love Its blosoms shall disclose May verdant laurels tow'r above An shade the budding rose , Let Bacchus o'er our temples throw The shamrock an the vine Wha's clusters mak the goblet flow For Jenny's health an thine. < 2S ) WILLY'S WIFE. AN AULD COLLEGE SONG. I've chosen a wife for young Willy to day, An she's a braw widow o' fifty , Her jaudie has room for a bundle o' hay, But her han' I assure ye is thrifty. ( 51 ) Then gang to the bower o' Granny o' moor ! Ye winna be, there, disappointed, When the oil o'her tongue on y'er pow she shall pour, Ye may dub y'ersel Granny's anointed. Then listen to reason , nor gae for a wife To the lasses sae frolic and young sir , They 1 ! fight an they'l flirt an embitter y'er life, But I'll gie ye a list of the throng , sir , There's Polly wha sings and can play the guitar , — But gif ye gae sue her for grace, man , In a jiffy she'l up wi a handfu' o' glar An fling it asklent in your face man. Ye winna be happit wi Kate o' the green, She'd pawn her ain smock for a' drappie , And tho' Bessie be fair , yet her bonny black cen , Ne'er swim but in whiskey or nappy. Then hasten dear Willy an get her to wed; She canna contend wi a bauld man , An troth I maun think ye are better in bed Wi Granny, now weather is cauld, man. She mouts like a Maggie, her duds in a crack Will be doft, while ye water y'er jaws, man. An before y'er new plaid can be slung on y'er back , She'l be drest in her holliday braws, man. (52 ) Her mou is a trumpet o' music an verse , Her pate is a mountain o 1 lore , man . If ye learn a wee stanza frae Tommy's ain verse . Ye have nought but to knock at her door, man. An then if on wedlock cauld water she fling An seem to be shy and contrary , There's a muckle o 1 pow'r in Willy's gowd ring To gar an auld grammachie' marry. Then haste to the wedding , your maramie surprize , While giaikit by wine an by weather, May the Gude and the Wise open Billy Boy's eyes An his blessing be on ye together. ^ SONG. TO THE ECHO. sweetest Echo that can dwell Unseen in shady glen , Or violet embroider 'd dell ! Come speak to me again. An flit the voice o' Marie dear Frae yonder flowry vale, To greet my ain , in accents clear , Upon the e'ening gale. (53 ) ClIORl'S . welcome Echo, Nymph unseen An frae y'cr airy shell U aft the sweet song across the (jrcen O'her I lo'e sa wccl. Hark , for I ken the strain that floats Sae gently o'er the lea . Those soft an sweetly warbled notes Oft gart my sorrows flic. Haste then an feed these trembling ears. Fly Echo fly the brae ! Then bear her music to the Spheres, To cheer them on their way 5 Till for her soul they find a place Abo'e the starry skies, Where singing she may gie new grace To Heav'ns bless'd symphonies. W SONG. FROM A TRUE STORY. Anc day while ganging lang the street Atwcen the lale an early, A lo'cly minstrel girl 1 met, Alane an greeting sairly , ( 54 ) The frost was bard , the snaw lay deep , The weather wild an bleary , I thought that I maun also weep For purtye caud an dreary. A Christian coof yclept a lord Game by , to prayers gaeing : Hizzy , quoth he , ye've sleept abroad , An now y'er lute are playing. In the Gudes name , I maun consign Vagrants to prison , hear ye, Tis the best place to rot an pine , For purtye caud an dreary. How dare ye sleep in open air , That hae na land to ring in ? Or lilt in market , street , or fair , Wha hae nae ha' to sing in. For Christ his sake who loed the puir An helpd the sick an weary, Hie to the dungeon, quit the muir. Curst purtye caud an dreary. A stranger wi an atheists fame , Wha spied her sorrin features , Now led her to his ingle, hame*, Ay free to a' puir creatures ; Here, in untutor'd Nature's fane, The lass got warm an cheery , ( 55 ) An e'en the dog ga'e half his bane To purtye cau'd an dreary. Troth I maun doff, thought I, the mask, Let Faith na mair be canting , Justice gies man a higher task To aid the sick an wanting. Let kirk an Aristocrasy Join hands in palace cheery : There is nae hame in Christendic : For purtye cau'd an dreary. < 51 > ON THE TOMB OF SHARGS. 1838. As o'er the pansicd grave we jog Of ilka lov'd and honourd dog What tears o sorrow flow. For though in each succeeding race The faint ressemblance we may trace Of those who rest below. The selsame dear confiding friend . As him for whom our hearts we rend, Will near again be given : The dearest that I ever knew To dav demands the pious vow That we may meet in Heaven. ( 56) C 32 > AN MEI1NEN HUND SHARGS. PARODY OJV A SILLY ODE* Wie oft du mir , geliebter hund , Ich weis nicht wie , so fremde t)ist Wcnn wir im schwarm der hunden sind , Das schlacht mir alle freudc nieder ; Aber wenn still und finsler alles ist, Erkenn icli deine bow wow wieder. W FAIRWELL TO MAY. Sweet queen of flowers! Say now where art thou hiding . Beneath th' starred welkins carpet blue , That seems just spread anew, The rosebuds and the' odorous hawthorn bowers, That while thou wast abiding Among us , in our blosom'd gardens grew , Say , goddess , where Those purple blooms are gone ; Hast thow transformed them to the mottled skies Where , with thy sister Pleiades , Thou wearest them in thy bright amber hair , Or do they fade upon Thy boson, where thy fondest suitor dies? ( 57 ) W MY SOOTIE AULD LUM. When I was a lad I was glaikit to roam Frae London to Paris, to Greece an to Rome , But o' a sic diversions I'm tired an wae , An I find my ain ingle my pleasure to day. sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear Hoo sweet is your blink ici guid friends an guid cheer. I've revell'd wi topers in towers an has An danced wi fair maidens in di'mands an braws , But now I'm content wi my wife to abide , And the boosie auld dog o' my ain fireside. sootie auld lum , when the fire bren clear Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends an guid cheer. When winter is howling an freezing without I gather my wee things my ingle about Dear Betty now sings a new ballad to me , "While Annie comes toddling up wi the tea. sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends an guid cheer. When Norie comes in, to be ane o' the thrang, An our Veteran Chieftain his guid friends amang : Then cozie we chat o'er auld Scotiass wrongs , An lilt a wee verse frae our Jacobite songs. sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends an guid cheer. 7. ( 58) O then wi nae brood o'er the troubles o' life, Wi lunting an -whiskey our hallan is rife , It sweet social cogi our e'enin we passes, An are merrier made by ilk circling glass. sootic auld lum, when the fire bren clear IIoo sweet is your blink wiguid friends anguid cheer. Hark, hark! frae the steeple the curfew doth sound, Haste empty the bowl, let the tawcy gae round: Tis time to depart , an we ken it with sorrow , But promise anither kind meeting tomorrow. O sootie auld lum , when the fire bren dear IIoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends anguid cheer. < 5S ) LIFE'S HOURGLASS. A CHRISTMAS CAROL SUGGESTED BY REVIEWING THE ROGATION PROCESSION AT LOUVAIN MAY 1829. All is motion , all is life , Every mote with sense is rife , Beast or insect , fish or fowl , Body is but made for soul : But if a 1 beliving breath Breath of life by God is given , Time , its measure , bringing death , Its true object gaining Heaven. Souls go through death's narrow j)ass; Like drops of sand in Hourglass. ( 59 ) In coupled rows you children wend , To hallowed ground their course they bend, On fruits of earth to pray a blessing , Each bears wreath of Floras dressing 5 Solemn Priest goes on before , Bearing cross of mans salvation ; All the rural hamlets pour Faithful children, for Rogation ; But the pageant seems to pass Like the grains in Hourglass . How bright the wish'd for festive day ! How soft the choristers do play! How slow the palmers pace along , How sweet the litanies are sung , How bead on bead in Vestal hand , Like dew drop falls, the rosary singing, How lofty spires grace the land , How sweetly all the bells are ringing , But bead and band and bell do pass, Like drops of sand in Hourglass, Every blooom that decks the glade , Trod by frisky village maid , Dying plaintive seems to say, See how beauties pass away. Primrose pale , and violet blue , That embroider walcrd valley , Blushing mossrosc . washed in dew , (60 ) Woodbines o'er the greenwood alley All are gems that swiftly pass Trough their seasons Hourglass. Cowslips wan that trim the mead, Bend unhurt to fairy's tread ; Gaudy tulips in parterre, Shield off hail, and brave the air: Zephyr, with his musky wings , Fans the blooms without their falling , But when Autumn's clarion rings , Death ingulphs them past recalling. Thus each coral flower must pass fVhilome through Times Hourglass. What is Time, and what is Season, What is all man's boasted reason. Space expands , and Time is spun ; And while we're wondering we're undone. Faith gives all that all deceiving , Hope in earth is all desire , Charity's an endless fire , Ligting all right well believing. Days and seasons , as they pass , Prove but mortal Hourglass. Advent carols waking Night , Midnight mass at Christmas bright , Missle boughs and garnish berry , Ivy'd windows, dances merry, Day of Holy Innocents , (61 ) New Year's gifts , and Kingtide feasting Day of ronipful innocence , Plays and pranks and frolic jesting , All in annual mirrour pass And drop like grains in Hourglass. Candlemcns lights holy candles, Which each votive Virgin handles, Pacing in long schivering row To where altar tapers glow ; Emblem this of human day ! Lamps hren out by constant burning , Foul or pure , sedate or gay , Down death's steep we'll soon be turning Grant us purified, to pass, Of mortal sin , thro Hourglass. Penance next her Shriving lashes Gives, with Lenten Fast and Ashes, Abstinence that Saints might diet, Bringing virtue , prayer , and quiet , Then the pilms to church are brought, Soon we serve Christ's sacred passion , Pascal tapir curious wrought With five marks, an ancient fashion. All these holy emblems pass A pageant in life's Hourglass. Easter eggs and bacon flitch , Festive board foor poor and rich , (62) Ascension flowers , Whitsun ale , Soon the swink hind will regale, Then comes Corpus Christi feast , Mystery passing mortal learning , Rite whereby true Faith is blest, Truth , though veil'd from our discerning , Making men content to pass , With endless hopes, through Hourglass. Then St. John the Baptist Day , Bids our bonfires blaze away , Soon St. Peter and St. Paul To festive mass lead good men all 5 When lilies white the garden grace , Comes our Lady's Visitation, Her Assumption tide hath place Close on Christ's Transfiguration. Ever and anon they pass } Passing fleet in Hourglass. Then we sing St. Michael's deeds, And Angels guardian of our needs, Till with votive Rosary We hail blest Mary in the sky ; Soon will notes concordant swell With All Saints at rest in Heaven, And to All Souls suffering still, We must beg that grace be given. Praying yet that all may pass Through Purgatoris Hourglass. ( 63 ) Ah how soon then all is gone , Summers wardrobe scarce put on . When rude winter sweept the plain , And while were idling , chills again ! Advent now again comes round , Cocks again all night are crowing. We are all at frolic found , Nor yet seeds of virtue sowing, Morning, noon, and night yet pass , Like spectres fleet in Hourglass. The waste of night , the break of dawn , The stealthy light crept o'er the lawn . Aurora s orient amber streak , That shines on lofty mountain peak. The 'watchful cock that wakes the morn , The merry lark that mounting sings, The lowing kine, the hunters horn, The matin bell that early rings, Are tokens sure that time doth pass As waking turns Slecpss Hourglass. The clink of mower wetting scythe , The tentie milkmaid singing blythe, The herdsman whistling o'er the lea, The cuckoo's note from blossom 'd tree , The swallow's twit o'er glassy pool , The sheep's bell on the brow a tinkling The prate of children going to school , (64) The harness of the plough that's gingling , All these denote that time doth pass Like sand in life's true Hourglass. The tuneful chimes that play at noon, The roofs that echo ev'ry tune , The rays that broil the sultry plain , The hawthorn shade that's sought again , The swinker's dinner under thorn . The spicy ale the lads are drinking, The horkey load , the yellow corn , The humming bee in flower sinking, All these are sounds of things pass Like falling sand in Hourglass. The evening clouds in colour' d plight , The lengthened shadows, waning light, The hoary beetles vesper hum , The booming of the bittern's drum , The folded flocks that distant bleat ' The lowing herds drove home from drinking The cottage smoke, the smell of peat, The unseen stonefowl's lofty clinking , All these proclaim that day has past Another evening's Hourglass. All that parcels time and space , Quartered hours, measured place, Dials true to shadowy lines , Compass which to pole inclines, (65) The sunset gun , th' OEtaean star , Watches that are ever ticking, Drops that fall from eaves afar, Death watch in the rafter clicking , Prove how soon we all must pass Through life , like sand in Hourglass. The weathercock, which turns to wind, Is fickle emblem of the mind ; The cross that braves both storm and blast, Like Saint , is motionless and fast ; But oh, the pendulum below Marks out how little time is given, And tapering spire seems to go, "Where time well spent will take , to Heaven Thither let us strive tc pass, Struggling through Earth's Hourglass. The stars which in the welkin shine, The moon that lights the sparkling brine , The planets wending round their mate , The comets with long tails that blaze , The cricket in she hearth that sings, The owl that hoots in yonder tower , The curfew bell that slowly swings, The clock that strikes the midnight hour, All proclaim that we must pass One time thro' Lethe's Hourglass. 8: (66) Where'er we rove, where'er we range, All is motion, all is change; Change of life, and change of place, Change of penance, change of grace. If all be change , then all is less. What we change we're always loosing Pain or pleasure , crown or cross , Lot is not of mortal choosing; God our lot in change hath cast , For a changeless meed at last. Use then time , ere time be lost , Count it well when wish is crost, Pleasure's nought if always waning, Endless life is worth obtaining, In divine creative flood; Man is but a mote made living, Fashion'd one , for his own good , Gift of Holy Spirit's giving ; For man and beast and all must pass To God again through Hourglass. < 36 > BALLAD. Tune The Banks o' Doun. Hark , Tammie cogs a cade of ale , An gathers here ilk canty loun , Come , then , an tak a guid fareweel , My trusty jo, o' Bruges toun. (67) what a winter we hae seen , What joyous sauls wi pleasure mad , 'T wad gar the De'il gae wud , I ween , Gin Clootie kent how we were glad! We've danced the reel, we've sung the glee, We've quaft the wassail a' naight lang , We've brought ayont the German sea The genius o' auld Scotland's song ! The tartan , to the Belgian plain , Like kiltit lairds , we've carried o'er , An Flodden field , an Duncinane Noo echo frae a foreign shore. We ve sung o 1 Scotia's fated war , An pipe'd o'er Derwent's bluidy wave , O'er Musgrave's tomb an Forster's fa', Till Stuart's gaist spang frae the grave ! Tis ours , that Hielan' glemen play Fair Jenny's dulcet lay to greet , An blue bells fra Lochaber's brae , Dight Flemish lawns for Mimic's feet ! Let rushymargin'd Dy ver draw , Her sluggish waters roun* us here , Wi Tweed's clear burn our hearts o'erflaw , To ilka border chieftain dear. Right wcel ye fill the Consul's post ; But stoop a wee frae statesman's height (68) « The Piper's Wallet » is the toast , An ye maun be our bard tonight. Then will I quit the Spheres above , And seek below Earth's passing bliss, Nar science beats the art o' love , When those we lo'e in turn love us I How cozie rouu' our ingle bright We've sat thro' mony a leelang e'en , To lilt o'er Charlie's luckless flight An Marie hapless murder'd queen ! Our sonsie bairns about us play'd , Our welcome friends were siltin round , Dun Edin's Muse the chorus made , An fliskin' lasses trod the ground. Aye I maun greet wi ye to part , Tho' to a better place ye gang , Sic mirth will never glad my heart , As that which cheers our happy thrang. These strains will die, this music fa' , These bonny flow'rs nae mair be seen , Like spring's rath blooms that fade awa An pass as gif they ne'er had been. Then let us pledge y'er quick return , An if we gang abroad for fame , To prize our native Ian' wi learn , An value a' the sweets o' hame. ( 69 ) So gallant Sturt noo fill y'er glass , An ere the dappled day shall daw , We'll toast ilk friend an bonny lass , That still is blythe in Tammj's ha' Then drink « guid night » , ilk friend forlorn , An tho' our sun seems set in wae , Yet brighter glaiks may glent o'er morn , An warmer rays beam on the day! (37) S IN G. Air The lass o' Gowrie. Hail hour o' bliss , hail happy sight , Since time hae taen anither flight: Can these be stars that shine tonight , So lang obscure and dreary? Fain wad I now forget the morn , When true love frae my arms was torn, The rose was stown , but aye the thorn Was left to wait for Marie. I felt that tho' the flower was gaeu , They didna ken what they had ta en , The brier was here to shoot again , \Vi spring returning cheery. The roots ance planted on my breast, The bonny blosoms ance carcs'd , C 70 ) Aye gart I maun again be blest Wi th' rose o' Lawlan' Mary. A flower weet wi Nature's deaw , Tho' sudden frost its bud may gaw , Or storms may whirl its bloom awa , Braves wind a wee contrary : There rests a power yet , on hie , Wi new green leaves to cleed the tree, An blaw again , for love an me , The rose o' bonny Marie. O could I see ye , dearest maid , Ance in our tartan braws array'd, Aye then I'd coff my border plaid , An gang wi ye , my deary , To dwell on braes o' Cowden Knowes Where yellow broom an gowan grows An ye're the fairest flow'r that blows My bonny Lawlan Marie. But sin on Flandria's murky plain , Sair , unprotectit, an alane, I've found my bonny plant again ; Whylome so gay an cheery ; My altar be Jove's mountain fane, So here I mak ye mine again, On ilka soil ye bear the same Sweet rose o' Lawlan' Marie. (71 ) < 38 > BALLAD. I've always deem'd the joy o love A pledge of higher bliss above , An beg'd kind Venus that ane dove Frae her fair flock be given , To guide my soul ayont the sky , Where brens for aye that fire on high , Whas beams below glent forth an die, Like meteor lights o' Heaven! Ah when clear e'enings shadows ca' My thoughts to realms o' space afar , Aye then I seek my gloamin star In thee so light an cheery. The blink o' y'er dear azure een , Which shine ilk day an night between , Persuades me that a brighter scene Aloft await us, Mary ! Long had I liv'd in Flora's bower , An woo'd her smiles an sought her dower, While Marie was the fairest flower That graced her bed of posies. Where e'er ye trod was hallow'd ground , Y'er steps inlaid the garden round Wi brighter gems than e'er were found In pansies , pinks , an roses ! ( 72 ) When storms y'er lovely blossoms shed, I didna think the plant were dead , But timely to some shelter fled Frae wintry whirlwinds dreary. Wi safter gales now Zephyr blows, Again the thorn supports the rose : Aye on my panting bosom glows The rose o' bonny Marie. When first, at fauldin' hour dear, I catch your accents saft an clear , I feel that voice hae charms to cheer A heart that sinks in sorrow: Wi pow'r to lull a' cares today , An bid my troubled spirit stray Where Muses yet mair sweet may play On holier lutes tomorrow. Sic notes untwist the bands that tie The prison'd soul o' Melody An bid angelic ditties fly Frae Concord's sacred breast ! An when your mellow love notes draw Forth tears an sighs; aye then I fa' , Beneath your charms to win awa An gain a place o'rest ! ( 73 ) Say then what science higher is Than answer'd loves transcendant bliss When lips embrace'd return the kiss By fond desire given. Tis then , if ever , that we own A flame from warlds unearthly stown , "Whas glaiks asklent night's vault are thrown , Like falling stars at even'. Then lovely Marie ever dear , In whom ilk gift an grace appear , Nae lights but thine my bark shall steer On life s rough billows driven. In thee pure Faith her balsam brings, Hope her white arms about me flings , An Charity on gowden wings Bears up my soul to Heaven. ' (38) SONG. Tune : Tho Birks o' Aberfuldy. Chorus : Bonny Marie will ye gae, icill ye gae, will ye gae , Bonny Marie will ye gae wi me to Ahergcnny . Again the spring blinks o'er the braes , An gorse an heather gild the ways, * This song is an impromptu in reply to a question — Are there any nnlura indications of q future Heaven , independent of religious Dogma 9. ( 74) Which tales o' many happy days By the Wells o' Abergenny. Chorus. The birks still o'er the burnie hing , The swallows come , the robbins sing , The martlet builds , an a things bring Me back to Abergenny. Chorus. T'is there at dewy morn are ta'en The waters that gie life again To sickness brought , wi dool an pain , To the Wells o' Abergenny. Chorus. T'was there in childhood's happy hour, I pud rare plants frae Flora's bower , An 0, I gain'd the fairest flower At the Wells o' Abergenny. Chorus. Nae blushing rose like hers was seen , Nae vi'lets rival'd her blue een , Nar feet sae lovely trod the green, By the Wells o' Abergenny. Chorus. When Echo frae the mossy cell Threw her dear voice alang the dell , It seem'd that Heaven's ain music fell On the Wells o' Abergenny. Chorus, ( 75 ) Aye thither Marie gang wi me, An there bid warly troubles flee , I scorn them a' when blest wi thee, By the Wells o* Abergenny. Chorus. W SONG. Tunb : JVe are o' noddin. when we're at a preachin' , Or when we kneel at kirk , Come Poll an keek asklent a creek An gie us just a jerk: For when we hear the parson's saws , Awake we canna keep, Our weary een are drawin' straws, An then we fa' to sleep : Chorus : An we then nod Nid nid noddin then we are a nodding An wish ourscls at hame. ' These waters called Tunbridge Wells are situated on the frontiers of Kent and Sussex on the border of the Abergenny property : they have long enjoyed a reputation for restoring the constitution to health. The Song uddressed, at it were lo Rosy Health, has, like most of the author * compositions, a double meaning. (76) Or perhaps at night were waikin' The precincts o' the toun , A lucky ass brays o'er the carse As th' eyelids tumble down : Een when we hear the watchdog bay Or list the postman's horn We gin to doze , we are sae wae Sae sleepy an sa worn. Chorus. when that we walk out , At Dullman's house to dine , We try to chat , but canna get Beyond the price o' wine ! New dies we try , but lurch a gly , An snorin', get a rap An wake in nick o' time to gie A neebor dolt a tap : Chorus. But when we're roun' the wassail Wi joyous friends alane How merry we, pray come an see The guicy flaggon drain , Aye then we smoke an sing an joke An chase dull Care awa The Piper pus his Wallet out An plays a tune or twa. ( 77 ) Chorus : An ice nac mair nod Nid nid noddin , O then we leave off nodding Nor icish oursels at hame. (40 > SONG. To a Lady ca'd "The Bird o' the Grove.'' Sweet "warbler o' the vernal grove Breath out that note again, An ca' the blooms o' early love Fra Scotia's verdant plain ! There first I pud the daisies fine , An joy'd their cups to see , For then my days began to shine Wi garish eves on me ! Ye mind me o' the heartsease flower Which then had force to please, Because in childhood s happy hour The heart was still at ease! Those strains reca' the primrose brae Where on I looping came , E'en as a primrose blylhe an gay, To bring their posies hame ! Hie snawdrap, virtue's emblem sure, In Scottish accents sing. ( 78 ) Sin I, like that wee plant, was pure In life's untainted spring. Wi dewy tears the bluebell weet Naemair weeps o'er tho green, So for its image I maun greet, In Jennys ditty seen. Nae mair the cowslip on the lea, Nar mair the gowan blows But Marie thou art still to me The everblawing rose ! Aye still I hope, fond lass, that thou, Will cheer my days forlorn An be for ay, as thou art now, The rose without the thorn. Ter cheeks it's pinky bloom sustain , Y'er breast the lily fair , Blue violets are y'er azure een, The broom y'er gowden hair, The woodbine roun' y'er bonny bree Wi myrtil forms the wreath ; Sweet lavander an rosmary Are born upon y'er breath. An when ye frisk alang at een, O'er beds o' pansy sweet , The little firefly flits between , To kiss y'er lovely feet I ( 79 ) As o'er y'er bead the marigold Its radiant crown displays, May noontide sunbeams not withold Their warmth frae later days. Though youth is fled, an boughs are sear Ilk flower fades awa , In thee sweet Marie ever dear I still retain them a' , Then warbler fill the vocal grove , My heart wi rapture glows , Beneath this bonny bloom o' love I'll sink in saft repose ! NOTE. Orpheus observes , an lie play'd llie lute long e'er we strung the lyre , that kulog f § ayaOoio kcckov Bvvpoivt Sidunrt : We may reverse the proposition and say that : As ill frae guid, sae guid frae ill may flow , An what seems waefu' transient mirth hestow. On an occasion of one of our Sunday evening's soirees , the British Consul was present, it being a farewell party given to him and , his friends), on his removal to Ghent ; that Gentleman rose and sung the following too complimentary song to the author: (80) ( 41 ) SONG. DEDIDATED TO A RESPECTED FRIEND ON LEAVING HIM. Tone : For a that and a that. What makes this waesome heart so sad To part frae thee and a that, And leave the king o' Scottish verse Wi broken harp an a' that. For a that an a that And muckle mair than a that: Fools may torite hut neer indite Like Forster's lines , for a that. A man o' wit a man o' sense The man for me an a that , With independant nohle mind An wisdom's lore an a that. For a that an a that And better far than a that, The thistle on his breast shall bloom For Scotland's sake are a that. Wha can revive within my breast Auld Scotia's verse an a that, When far frae him I lauely rest And grieve and think on a that. On a that an a that An muckle mair than a that The cantie glass an bonnie lass That cheer d the night an a that. Let cuifs cry up their foreign airs, Their science, skill an a that, They canna touch the minstrels' heart. Like Scottish lays for a that. (81 ) For a that an a that The wildest notes for a that Are those tvhich bring back early days Lang syne an lore an a that. When on the braes in happy days An fu o mirth an a that We pu'd the rose to busk the brow blushing cheeks an a that. An a that an a that An' kisses stole an a that, An wiled away the summers day Wi daffing love an a that. Then fare ye weel my cantie chiel , My thoughts o' thee an a that Will rest forever in my breast When far frae thee an a that. An a that an a that An those you love an a that An she the queen of every heart The queen o' worth an a that. The author, finding himself unequal , on the spurt o' the occasion, to return so elegant and undeserved a compliment to himself and his lady , from the pen of the worthy Consul , but conscious at the same time of the value of being laudatus laudato viro , got up and sung the following Impromptu , in allusion to the accomplishmens of his two daughters who Muse had so often cheered the fireside, during many a long evening in the preceeding winter. 10. (82) VERSES HYMN OK THE NIGHT OF THE ASSUMPTION. It is a balmy night And Cynthia's pallid light Through twisted Virgin's bower finds its way , Where the green mantling vine Lattic'd with eglantine And sweet briar , has resisted Titan's ray : But Marie's carried to her tbrone And the apostle sits beneath these boughs alone. Nature with homage rife Has check'd her amorous strife ; No more the choral groves with love resound, E'en plaintive Philomel Hath left the woody dell, And the lowpillow'd lark sleeps on the ground, While the swiftwinged Procne hies To Memphis and the Nile, to sport neath milder skies. See Flora's gaudy train Droops on the sultry plain, Her scatter d blosoms bleaching in the sun, Each white pink and muskrose No more its scent bestows But casts its petals: for its course is run And bleeding Amaranthus dead At Venus' feet, by Jordan's fabled stream is laid. The lily of the vale, Pansy and primrose pale, With cowslips wan and purpling violets , No more on emerald mound Margin the valley round, Pomona in the ruddy orchard sits With Ceres to survey the grains Which autumn's heat has tann'd on Syria's golden plains. ( 83 ) In the branches of the palm Boreas and Lybs are calm, And Iull'd Hippotades his portal closes , Zephyr enchanted brings Alone on musky wings , From Tempe's fragrant vale, th'odorous breath of roses. And fans , among the rustling leaves iEolian harps, which Thestilis hung on the sheaves. Apollo sunk to rest Below the watery west, Uplifts his radiant beams to her his Queen, While the red clouds of night, In livery wardrobe dight, Cover with mottled rows the azure sheen , Like flocks of Christ's one fold, at rest, Whom their own Shepherdess assum'd again hath blest List! the harmonious Spheres Now grete my ravish'd ears , Angels and Cherubim their carols singing , Crown'd with the galaxy Urania fires the sky , On Cybele's lap her nectar dewdrops flinging And strikes to clear the starshot air Her sweet sevcnchorded lute strung with her amber hair. ■fr Triton , with winded horn Proclaims the coming morn , When the Sea Star on Ocean's bed shall shine , And Proteus , changed again , Quits his Carpaslhian den, And with fix'd eyes regards Her , from the brine , While JVeptune calls his sea Nymphs round And the quaint Syrens sing till all the rocks resound. ( 84 ) On Berenice's crine A thousand spangles shine , Andromeda her diamond girdle wears, Gassiopea bright Gloams with new lustre light And starr'd Astreea scales of justice bears , And Jove ten thousand comets sends To bear the hallow'd news to Heaven's remotest en« Bootes , by the gleam, Strays his astonish'd team , Twin'd round the pole the Serpent's sinews lay , His subtile head anon By Marie trod upon And crush'd, falls mangled on the Milky Way, And now his wiles no more Can lure his dupes to sin on the Judaean shore. Medusa, at e'ening damp, Trims the Algolian lamp, Lest it should faintly burn , amidst her hair, And at the southern gate Baleena keeping state Opes her dark lantern , like a beacon fair , And Sirius and Procyon keep The wild goats' herd from out the jasperwattled sheep. Along the upland lawn Against Aurora's dawn Hear Chanticleer his rath nightwatches count Till the late Pleiades In clustering chorus rise O'er Oreb's hill or Sinai's hallow'd mount, And then he struts to the haystack dnd claps his wings and crows, like Peter's warning cock. (85) So let us warning take , While keeping Marie's wake , That we may never here deny our lord , Scar'd from the saintly thong By maiden's flattering tongue , Or lur'd by Bacchus to his wassail board : But hasten forth in palmer's weeds, To that blest shrine where Juno on Ambrosia feeds. Then let the Earth rejoice And join th'Empyrean voice That fills Heav'ns airy shell with strains abrove , And pray that we may soar , When flesh shall be no more , Aloft , and drench'd in Her Seraphic love May live when Time and Space shall die And measur'd sense dissolve in boundless extasy. VERSES ON AN EXTORTED CONFESSION. Said Flora one night, as by jealousy mov'd , She blush 'd in a rage on my chest, Come give me a list of the girls you have lov'd , Or to death you shall surely be press'd. I gaz'd on her image, where true love and grace Their sympathy scem'd to disclose; For the tendrils of eglantine shaded her face, And her bosom the amorous rose ! Soft moonlight), that stole through the jasmin hard by , With her limbs seem'd to wanton and play; And I thought for a moment 'twere better to die, Than to Virtue my sins to betray. Flora ! said I , as in transport I kiss'd Her lovely and fairylike feet, ( **6 ) If Lawrence could hug the hot iron , I wist That my fate I should fearlessly meet ; But in pity I beg you , since suitor and saint Carry crosses of different wood, To spare me this trial ; for truly I faint With the pressure of dear flesh and blood. Remonstrance was useless, the lady was firm, I struggled in vain to get free , Till agony left me a lesson to learn — That a martyr I never could be ! So I answered — the truth shall be faithfully told, I will number the catalogue true, From the damsel who first did my passion unfold, To the love now exhausted in you ! My first was Fortuna in infancy wild , And upon me she carelessly sat , Found me yet but a fanciful prurient child , Who scarcely knew what to be at. Corinna the next , in a naughty alcove , That Cotytlo would almost disown, Was the second , who taught me Corinthian love , 'Twas the passion of Lais alone. My third, whose sweet voice I will never forget, Was Scylla , the maid of the sea ; But her kiss was too cold , I remember it yet , She was quite a Diana to me. Selena the next took my heart by surprize, Quite a Helen, majestic and fair, And we kiss'd till the phosphorus flew from our eyes, And we swoon'd on the couch that was there. Next came Fauna , a pretty and frolicsome lass , And we romp'd in the newly mown hay; But I hated the manner she sprawl'd in the grass, And disgusted I scamper'd away. Soon Felina my marrow transfi'xd with her dart , Fond , sorrowful , cross and demure ; ( 87 ) But I found, though her eyes were as soft as her heart, That absence my passion could cure. Libertina then dropt in Love's nectarine bowl , The sweet honey of Circe and Venus, But had Hymen approach'd , some too good natur'd soul Stept in a Duenna between us ! Let me glance over Spadia , Bella and more Columbina and other donzellas , And spare you the pain of recounting a score, That w r ould make you confoundedly jealous : Each transport was tried, each variety well, Each turn that caprice could confer; But, if Flora consent to be always my belle, I will ring all the changes on her. For the aggregate pain that for all I endured, Could memory the anguish recall , Would be nought to a passion now left to be cur'd , By a girl who is dearer than all. So comely her person, her stature so tall, Her visage so soft and so fair , O'ershaded by sweet auburn curls that install The magic of Hyacinth's hair, So lovely her eyes when in pleasure they swim, What passion, what fire they impart, They surely had given to Joseph a whim , And had rectified Corydon's heart: The tread of a Dido , inceding and slow , The lap of a Venus in love; What I see, as I lay here, of beauties below, Are but tokens of beaties above. With the musky Narcissus and Marigold new, I will dress her fair bosom in spring. And on beds of pale primrose and violet blue, I will kiss her, new pleasure to bring. In the heat of the summer her locks will I braid , With the sweetscented pink and the rose , ( 88 ) And embrace her in Aristolochian shade , Where Cupid and Psyche repose. When goldilock'd autumn the sheaf has enlac'd , With the creeper I'll circle her brow , And twist the wild vine round her virginal waist, And regale in the clusters that glow. In winter, when hound up in fur and in snow , And the bonnet is placed on her head , This ornament new shall new passion bestow, And revivify all that was dead. So I vow by the impress divine on my heart , Which your passion has made , to be true , If death to your vengeance can solace impart , I will willingly perish for you. At this protestation dear Flora was griev'd , And , frighten'd , she trembled and sigh'd , Said she , from your torture you shall be reliev'd , Begg'd pardon , relented and cried ! As soon as fond Pity had scattered her beams ; Weep not dearest maid at my vow , Said I , nor now lavish on eyelids the streams , That would seem to be wanting just now. So she step'd on the moss , and then bid me arise , When after one penitent hour, I in extasy kiss'd the sweet tears from her eyes , And then bore her away to her bower. So all ye fond lovers who quarrels approve, In mercy bid anger be gone; Learn that jealousy is but a fleabite to love, Which will yield to enjoyment alone. Schaerbcek, 28*/j June 1840. * * This like all the authour'g verses has a douhle meaning, relating to plants. It is however a more parody on a antient Anacreonlick. (89) ( 4r >) SONG. Tcne : Hosier's Ghost. Once upon the foaming Ocean, Poll an I lo sea did go, A' the clouds above in motion Kiss'd the swelling waves below. Wint'ry winds were howling dreary, Scarcely could we make the boat , When I bore away my deary To the rolling ship afloat. Hark the sound, — " Get under weigh, boys, Starboard hard, there, reef a 1 sail." On the surge the dolphins play boys , Frae the West 'twill blow a gale. Now the sea mews scream above us , Rougher storms around us roar Fare ye well a' friends wha love ut , Would that we had staid ashore ! O'er the bows break raging billows Was! ling kickshaws off the deck : Yonder rocks maun be our pillows , When our skiff shall be a wreck. " Stewardess come bring the bason , — Leeward Ma'am , — ye spew about ! Lord ! look there at puir Miss Mason She has hech't her inside out. Fiercer comes the wind! an weather, Nacthing cheeks the crews alarms , 11 (90) '' Come Poll, we maun die together, Let me fauld ye in my arms. " O the sun glents o'er the water , Frae y'er blink my fate I learn , See the wind , frae beam to quarter , Shifts about, now blaws astern. Hail again then chearfu faces -— « Step aside maid ; give us room : Han, lads, han', come set the braces, See the jib lags on the boom. » Safe wi gang , nae mair be railing , Now we skud afore the win' , And, at last our bark is sailing, Gently o'er the level brine ! Fleets o' boats come out to meet her , Britain's pennant wavers o'er , Flags of ilka nation greet her, As she makes her native shore ! Brighter beams are always comin' When the clouds their curtains move , Nor are stars a better omen Than the blink of een we love ! * Life is aye , a ship in motion, Venus stands ayont the how, Fear nae danger on auld Ocean, When young Hope direct the prow. The mora! of this son? is that the embraces of Mary and the blink o' her een rere the first signs of a calm; in this respect an emblem of life. (91 ) W SONG. Tune : TTte yellow hair'd Laddie. In May when the buttercups gilded the field And blackthorn an hawthorn their blosoms did yield, When the dells were wi primrose an vio'let o'erlaid An paigles an daisies bespangled the mead , When the cuckoo was heard from the newblossom'd tree The swallows were flittin o'er lake an o'er lea, While the birds sang their luvesong in every grove , I wanderd abroad , but nae thocht upon love. A gowden hair'd lassie came out o' the shaws , Her form it was bonnie an buskit in braws, Her face was the fairest that ever was seen, An diamonds bright were her bonnie blue een. *o* Come listen , said I , to the birds on yon cot , They are singing o' something I dinna ken what? She replied, they are a' making luve on the tree, So come to the grot, lad, an do so wi me ! Chorus. Since Nature wi' music saft love hue combined , In harmony let us, then , nae be behind, In melody rival the birds o the grove , An sin(j our sweet notes to the (/iris that ice love. ( 92) <*> SON G. THE EPICUREAN WISH. Where the pipe is never cold , Where the bowl is never dry , "Where the women never scold The men for drinking merrily ; Where the rose for ever blows , Where the more we drink the better, Where repletion health bestows, And by [laughing we get fatter , Where the fairest girls are found , Where time rests at five and twenty , Where the toast goes always round, And o'erflows the horn of plenty ; Where chaste Mirth can trample Care , While her : blue eyes roll in pleasure , While Bacchantes tarrying there, Fill the goblet without measure ; Where the dance is never still , Where the lute is silent never, There of joy I'll have my fill, There I'll dwell and live for ever. Chorus : But before I hasten there . Where is there? tell me where? (93 ) W THE CHERRYCIACK SONG. The lamplight student wan and pale , In his chamber sits at ease , And tries to read without avail; For everv moment the light breeze Springs up and rustles in the trees : And then he startles at the sound Of the noisy Cherryclack , That drives its flippant windsails round With Lybs still puffing at his back , Provoking endless click a tee clack. The scholar tries and tries again To read, but cant; then damns the cherries, And swears that every effort's vain To answer all his masters queries; For Greek and Latin quite a jeer is, Where every chorus, every verse Ts interrupted , for alack ! When he the lesson would rehearse , The thread is broke, himself thrown back, By this perpetual click a tee clack. (50) ON THE RIVAL POETS. Each country to some learned Muse is bound , Old Homers song made ancient Greece resound ; Proud Italy the Tyre of Horace claimed , (94) Nor less for Virgil and for Ovid famed; Milton's majestic Muse o'er Albion smiled, Where warbled Shakespeare, Natures favour'd child. France had Voltaire — each nation shone by turus, Till Scotland crown'd the catalogue vvi Burns. ( 5I ) ROMANCE A SAD STORY OF LIFE. As first I caught life's morning ray , And sat in the green woods lonely, I thought that the heart was always gay And was make for enjoyment only: And the good folks gave me a thousand toys, To beguile my childish hours , And I roved in the fields with the other boys, To gather the new spring flowers: And we trundled the hoop and we flew the kyte, And we played with the pegtop daily, And we lighted our little bonfires at night, And we danced around them gaily. Then summer came and the Zephyr's breeze Began in the boughs to rustle And we stroll'd in the braes and climb'd the trees And ran about all in a bustle. Soon autumn came and the leaves did fall And our pleasure seemed declining, (95 ) But we gathered the fruit from the garden wall And ate it without repining Cold winter came and our toes were nipped: But frost is a wonderous mover : So upon our skates we nimbly skipped , When the ponds were frozen over. Then Christmas came and the huge Yule clog Was laid on the Christmas fire ; And we ate minced pyes round the blazing log And drank to our hearts desire. So I thought the seasons as on they pass'd Where a circle of changing pleasure , Resolvd to drink of joy to the last , With time alone for the measure ; But picking a flower when spring returnd , A bee in the blosom had settled , And it stung me sore and my finger burn'd At which I was sadly nettled. And crying I ran to my mammy dear , Who sat at her wheel a spinning; You must learn , said she , much pain to bear, Your troubles are only beginning. The coachman gave me a mouse one day Which he caught and tamd in the stable; And I fondled the mouse and taught it to play , And to eat the crumbs on the table : And I lovd the mouse and the mouse lovd me, But it brought me my first vexation. ( 96 ) And whatever has since been dear to me Has ended in consternation. For the nursery girl ran up to the door , And just as I went to meet her, She crushed my little beast on the floor, Who was running with me to greet her. Ah Betsy, said I, in all our joys There lurks a hidden devil , And I thought, as I look'd at my broken toys Of the origin of evil. My uncle caught a lark in the tree Long kept in the birdcage neatly, But the bird regained its liberty , And sung in the wild wood sweetly. I cried when I found that my bird was gone, For I loved his sweet notes dearly , And his song was now still clearer grown , As he sang on the pine grove yearly. He became as happy and gay and sweet A fowl as was ever set eyes on ; Alas, thought I, what's one man's meat, Is often another man's poison! I grew a youth when the bonny face Of fair Anna tickled my fancy: But the quest of love is a wild goose chase, As the sequel proved with Nancy. Our wedding day was at length arrang'd : But , ye Gods , how plans miscarry : c to ) A fever came and her face was chang'd And I felt that I could nae marry. Alas said I , as I piped my eyes, How deceitful are a' things human ; How many the slips tvvixt the cup and the lips When we offer that cup to a woman! I chcrisli'd an old and favourite dog, But so soon as I dearly lovd him, Time crecp'd to my side and gave me a jog , And old age came by and remov'd him. My peerless mother was kind and dear : Poor soul , there was ne'er such another , But the tooth of time that nought doth spare Made a final meal o' my mother. I doted still on my dear old dad , And never disliked my brother , But the first, through drink, went raving mad And fever demolish'd the other. While around his bier we sung a stave , The funeral bell still tolling , My cousin met wi a watery grave In a river where he was trolling. Alas, said I, how fein would he make Of the pike his dainty dishes! But the fortune of war is a doubtful stake , And he's now the food of the fishes! So I took to playing the violin, Thinking all in life was a riddle, 12. (98) But the slidder jad cut my hand in twain , And spoilt my tune on the fiddle ! One after another each scheme did fail Each project of joy vias blasted And I found the canker in ilka tree, So soon as the fruit was tasted. Then I took to turning Miss Fortunes wheel At cards or at hazard nightly : And I though for a while that the girl would smile If I tickled her features lightly. But she chang d her grace with an angry face , Like a Saturday's moon just risen , And frown'd like a beast on my doleful case, And gave me a twelve month's prison! So of parents , of riches , of a' that can Make the gay world charming, bereaved, I began to suspect that the heart o' man Was only made to be grieved. So I heaved the cross right on to my back Resolved no sinner to tarry: If I bear my cross, it will bear me aback, Said I , so my burthen Til carry. This is , I allow it , a sorry fling To which my misfortunes drive me But the cross, by Jove, is the only thing Of which nobody can deprive me. On earth each scheme of power , and might Doth glance agly in sorrow, (99) Where every promise Hope makes tonight Is broken before tomorrow. So I ride at last on the Christian's cross ; From my back no Devil shall tear it: Thus I humbly hope to Heaven to go, Now there's strength to carry you , Poll , also Come lend me a shoulder to bear it (*). < 52 ^ DIRGE. THE DYING HUNTRESS* CONFESSION A TRUE TALh. Am The Maid of Bedlam. Memory ca nae back the days , When a nee a little child , The ripplin' burn and flowric braes My artless time beguil'd. For noo disgraced and quite forlorn , While guilt o'erhangs my head , The wild birds are my anely friends And the cauld earth my bed. My history then briefly know , And if you would be wise, To 'scape the same unlucky blow Implore the very skies. (*) Somebody ■wrote under these lines when I first put them in tho Album — « This is indeed a true picture of tho average lot of man in Iifo » The idea of riding on tho cross is from Thomas a Kempis wha observe* Si porlas crucem libvnter, jwrtabit te. ( ioo ) My father was a guid auld man , My mither fair and kind , And 1 a tenderhearted child , Nar cruelly inclin'd. I could not even bear to see An insect trampled o'er , But often chid the maid who trod The spider on the floor. When falcons seized their feathered prey , I could nae hear their cry , And every mouse the cat might slay Soon shared my sympathy. But whylome on a luckless day 111 fated as the owl , Gallina ca'd me down to see Her gang and kill a fowl. It chanced she killed the very chick Which I had often fed : And I cried as though my heart wad break To find my bird was dead: I cad nae eat his honor'd corse , When on the table laid , But begg'ed Mamma , wi sonsic face , To beat the dairy maid. But a' my horrors pass'd away , The thought ance cross'd ray mind , That , as my elders cruel were , Twere folly to be kind. ( 101 ) To witness scenes like these I strove My infant heart to steel , I play'd at killing flies, for fowls, And loved to make them feel; With other children roam'd the wood To spoil the wild birds nest , And plunder 1 d all her little brood , When they lay snug at rest. I grew not vicious all at once, But every cruel thought , Some act more savage than the last, Some deed more deadly brought. A woman grown , the forest ranged Wi Dian' in the chase , Till my whole nature thus was changd , All chang'd except my face. I lovd to feel the writhing fish In tortures on the hook, And joy'd to sit the leelang day , The tyrant of the brook. A canny laird propose'd to mc To be his wedded bride: But nae; it were too lame a thing To sit sic men beside. I sought to wed a hunter bold A hunter soon I found , But ance for giving me a scold I fell "d him to the ground. ( 102 ) I fear'd his vengeance an the law , An as I had been taught By cruelty red blood to draw, I linger'd on the thought , That it might better be at ance To do the best I can , And put all witness well askance — It seemed the only plan. I drew the knife wherewith of yore I kill'd the fated deer , And plunged it deep in his hearts gore Tho' trembling still wi fear. I fled into a foreign land, That I might save my life , Where I read that an English gentleman Was murdered by his wife. The question now was hoo to live, As hunger I did feel. I had often robbed the linnet's nest Therefore kent hoo to steal. The tap , the brothel and the dice Divided now my days ; But Justice fair had followed me Through all my wicked ways. Ane dark night in Cotytto's den The De'il becam my match , Caught struggling wi a weakly man That I might steal his watch. ( 103 ) For I had often drawn the noose To calch the ortolan , And thus was taught the way to choose To tak the life o' man. To the tribunal I was led And there condemn d to die ; But though all other friends had fled The jailer let me fly. For ilka woman's death , to man , Is sic a sore disgrace That she carrys e'en her right to sin In her ain handsome face. Now wild distracted and disgraced About the world I run , Wi scarce ane horrid crime or vice That I had left undone : But Justice failhfu' to her charge Ilae not forget her guard , She never leaves the bad unscourged , Nor good, without reward. Disease and want have sappd my frame , And I am left to die, Starved to contrition, while to Hell I seem about to fly. So you that would sic sins avoid , And a' the woes they bring , Be kind to animals when young : And here I cease to sing. ( 104 ) w BALLAD THE NIGHTMARE OF L1NN.EUS. I dreamt that I died, but that after my death , I still was percipient clay ; The earth was my body, the air was my breath, And my blood flow'd in rivers away : Then Flora , wha trampled me under her feet , In gay colours dane'd over the ground ; And yet, my olfactory senses to greet, Shed the balm o' sweet odours around! And she ca'd the gay Nymphs that attend in her train In colours so variously drest, And, doffing the white shroud wherein I was slain, They dane'd a quadrille on my breast I And they took it in turn to figure away, As their showing off season came round ; While lady Arundo soft music did play, And Diana beat time on the ground! But Thetis was taller than a' the rest, And her weight I wi' agony bore ; "When she stamp'd, the blood flow'd up in my chest, As the tide rises up on the shore ; But my heart was o' rock in a mountain dell, "Whence torrents of liquid did flaw ; And the girls as they dane'd, and sipp'd at the well, Maiv blooming , and fresher did graw ! Galanthis , the fair , in a robe of white , ( 105 ) As modest as colourless snow , Wi Primula footed , left hand and right , On the frolic fantastical toe : Daffodilla, the next, was a gaudy Miss, With a yellow vest and a green gown ; And she fled just to give Ilyacinthus a kiss, And nodded her jealous head down ! For she view'd her fair rival step up by her side , Scilla gracefully vested in blue , Whom Narcissus and Crocus had claim'd for a bride As she balh'd in the morning dew 5 Chaste Viola next, sae sweetlie parfum'd, Crept lihtly my bosom alang ; And was follow'd by Rosa , wha blushing assum'd Preeminence over the thrang ! Then Tulipa , gaudy coquette , kept rule , Wha sets such a price on her feature , And dresses for every holiday fool, That capriciously pays for such creatures. But she gave place , in the wavering round , To a maid of great power to lure , Amaryllis , whom a' the fresh vallies resound Wi her fringes o' crimson pure! Then Lilia , bland as Silhonian snow , Stood up most majestic and tall , But complained that Campanula jostled her so , That she scarcely could dance at all. Convolvula next, a new waltz proposed, 13. ( 106 ) With Tropceola, whirling around ; But they tangled their arms and legs as they close! , Till they both tumbled down on the ground : But all were eclips'd, when Calendula came Wi her glory o' burnis'd gold , She extinguish'd the last o' my vital flame, And dane'd till my breath was cold. But just I seemed about to die , "We heard the sound of a carriage , And learnt that Tortula off did fly , Having made quite a secret marriage. Her vicious example was follow'd by a' , All secretive huzzies , d'ye see , Parmelia had clambered over the wa' , And had mulliplted under a tree. Now, all on a sudden, in a painted scarf, Came Iris wi Pluvia smart, Introducing a fierce looking fiery maid , "Wha pierced my heart with a dart — 'Twas the goddess Electra, * with amber hair To whom attic dwellings are given ; Wha, follow'd by thundering bailiffs there, Lap out o' the window of Heaven! The concussion was sharp, and great was the smart, And then to my utter surprise , * The Electricity , or Lightning. ( 107 ) I first dreamt I was dreaming, and then with a start, I awoke, and I rubbed my eyes. I had doz'd , dear Selina, with tbcc on my breast , In one of the Paphian bowers , And thy fragant breath, as we both carcssd, Had set me a dreaming on flowers! < 94 > MARY AND THE WEE SNAIL. Ah! puir little mortal, said Polly ae day, As she carelessly smash'd a wee snail in her way , In spite of the horns that graw out of your head,, Hoo cruelly trampled ! hoo soon ye are dead ! Thus man , through this valley o' tears as he creeps , While sometimes he laughs , and at others he weeps , Puts forth his line feelers to find out the road , To ease his hard yoke and to lighten bis load, Till Fortune more hastily driving along, Unheard her swift wheel and unnoticed her song , While he struggles to catch her, will trample him doun , And he meets wi a cross wha wad cateh at a crown. Then turnings she viewed the puir creature again , And blush'd that so cruel a girl she had been ; Remorse overcame her, she hung doun her head, Consulted the doctor, an hasten'd to bed! But nae sooner at rest was she laid for the naight, Than the ghaist of the snail woke her up in a fright, ( 108 ) And crawling at length to the top o' the broom , Thus awfully spake in the midst o' the gloom! — For this fault there awaits ye, as oracles say, In the kingdom to come a smart whipping ae day! But if satisfaction you'r willing to make, To morrow gie Neptune the whole of your cake; Haste now to your birdcage and open the door, Let fly your canary, and murder no more! Well kent she the doctrine o' penance an grace, Took warning, got up and made haste to the place, Let fly the fond bird to give thanks on the fir, For freedom regained, to his Maker and her! And further, to Heaven, on interest, to lend, Sent to London ane pound to the Animals Friend. * W VERSES INSCRIBED ON A SKULL. empty vault of former glory ; Whale'er thou wert in time of old , Thy surface tells thy living store , Though now so hollow , dead , and cold ! For in tliy form is yet descry'd The traces left of young Desire ; The painter's art, the statesman's pride, The Muse's sons:, the Poet's fire; * Aninuls 1 Friend Society, London. — See Translation, infra, among the Pocmuta Lalinu it Grieca. ( 109 ) But these , forsooth , now seem to be Mere bumps on thy periphery. Dear Nature, constant in her laws, Ha tli mark'd each mental operation , She every feeling's limit draws On all the heads throughout the nation , That there might no deception be ; And he who kens her tokens well , Hears tongues which every where agree In language that no lies can tell — * Courage, Deceit, Destruction, Theft, Have outlines on the skullcap left. But through all Nature's constancy An awful change of form is seen , Two forms are not which quite agree , None is replaced that once hath been ; Endless variety in all , From fly to man , Creation's pride , Each shows his proper form , to fall Eftsoons in time's o'er whelming tide ; And mutability goes on With ceaseless combination. 'Tis thine to teach with magic power Those who still bend life's fragile stem, To suck the sweets of ilka flower, Before the sun shall set on them ; Calm the contending passions dire, ( HO) That on thy surface I discry , Like water struggling with the fire In combat, which of them shall die: Thus is the soul , in Fury's car , A type of Hell's intestine war. Old wall of man's most noble part , "While now I trace with trembling hand Thy sentiments, how oft I start, Dismayed at such a jarring band. Man with discordant frenzy fraught Seems either madman , fool , or knave ; To try to live is all he's taught — To 'scape her feet who nought doth save ; In life's proud race, unknown our goal, — To strive against a kindred soul. These various organs show the place Where Friendschip loved where Passion glow d Where Veneration grew in grace , Where Justice swayed, where man was proud — Whence Wit its slippery sallies threw On Vanity , thereby defeated ; Where Hope's imaginary view Of tilings to come, fond fool, is seated : Where Circumspection made us fear, Mid gleams of joy some danger near. Here fair Benevolence doth grow In forehead high —here Imitation Adorns the stac;c . here on the brow ( 111 ) Arc Sounds and Colours legislation. Here doth Appropriation try , By help of Secrecy to gain A store of "wealth, against Ave die, For heirs to dissipate again. Cause and Comparison here show The use of every thing we know, But here that fiend of fiends doth dwell, Wild Ideality unshaken By facts or theory , whose spell Maddens the soul and fires our beacon . Whom Memory tortures, Faith deludes, Whom Circumspection fills with dread , On every organ he obtrudes, Until Destruction o'er his head Impends ; then mad with luckless strife , He volunteers the loss of life. And canst thou teach to future man The way his evils to repair — Say , memento of the span Of mortal life ! For if the care Of truth to Science be not given , From whom no treachery it can sever There's no dependence under Heaven That crrour may not reign for ever. May future heads more learning cull From thee, when mine shall be a skull.' — ( 112 ) ( 5 °) SONG. Occasioned by seeing the Portrait, of a long lost Favourite. 1820. Selina ! yes , I view again A form still dear to me ; While tears of rapture flow in vain , Alas! for 'tis not she ! Oft have I wished myself the rose Entwined amidst y'er hair — That wellknown robe of blue, which flows Around y'er bosom fair! But , most of all , that lovelorn flower , The heartsease marked with jet , "Which , pressed by thee in youthful hour , Expired at y'er feet ! When evening's dusky shadows fall , And Cynthia lights the sky, I roam 'neath yonder ivied wall , To think of thee and sigh ! By every myrtle bower green, Where we have twined the wreath ; By every transient bloom of Spring , That adds its fragant breath ! Dear portrait, thou canst not deceive! The guileful task forbear: 0, change it , Heaven , and let me live , And bid herself be here ! ( 113 ) P"> THE MOUSES PETITION TO THE HOUSE KEEPER, FROM HIE TRAP. O mistress Betty hear llie prayer Of one for freedom sighing Nor shut thy heart , so debonair, Against the prisoner crying. If thou for liberty hast glow'd And spurnd a tyrant's chain Forbear forbear the worlds high road With guiltless blood to stain. O do not taint with murderous step Thy hospitable hearth , But loose from out this horrid trap A prize of little worth. O let me go into my hole Forbear to crush or smother The last of all our family , As thou hast kill'd my brother. The maid relented and let go The little mouse to play Who with his pranks has charm'd her so Since he had got away, That every morn at breakfast time She gives him bread to cat, And is right glad , when he comes out , The little beast to greet. So when unto some prisoner Our mercy we extend He, grateful for the kind demur Becomes our warmest friend. (*) (") An. Fr. Soc. This seems to hnve also sonic particular allusion. 14. ( 114 ) ( 58 > TO A VISION. O what art thou on rapid pinions flying? « The Universe , » th'Ephemera replied , a More fleet than Paestum's scented Zephyrs sighing, Or Peneus floods through Tempe's vale that glide ! And who art thou its transient course pursuing ! « Lifes Fertile Source , » the whitewing'd Dove rej oind The sportive insect you are fondly viewing Inspir'd by me becomes Eternal Mind. Then what are all those nfyriad globules turning Round various axes , in the vaulted skies , Countless at Lybian sands their lamps are burning, Fed from some fount beyond man's searching eyes. « All that is rife with sense , » resumed the bird , Are salient points in Cybele's great womb , Begot by Ccelus, but the Eternal Word « Bring forth » will rule their birthday and her tomb. (*>) THE COCK AFLOAT IN THE BOWL. At Rotterdam in olden time The dykes once broke , 'tis said , The floods burst in , the waters swcll'd And dreadful ravage made. (115) The poultry in a farmyard fence From a huge bowl were fed, Which stood half full of barley whence The fowls their dinner made. The fields were drench'd the cattle drown'd As in the sea did roll , When the adroit and cunning cock Jump'd right into the bowl. Full well he knew his boat would float Where eer the flood might go , And that he had his food aboard And drink in plenty too. In rush'd the wild impetous wave , The chickens were all drown'd , But Chanticleer his life did save , Since he a ship had found. But when the flood retir'd again And he was safe ashore , He could not find one chick or hen That he had known before; For he was borne to Overschie Upon the angry surge , The rest lay dead at Rotterdam, And you may sing their dirge. So like a mariner escapd From some great storm at sea , Who gets another Poll and brats When his own drownded be. Our gallant Cock found other hens , And added to the slock Of farmer Fudge who to his joy Now found another cock. ( 116) (oo) VELATA VIRGO. IMPROMTU ON SEEING A YOUNG LADY TAKE THE RELIGIOUS HABIT. Say Muse to what intent yon sable throng Of Virgins darkly veiled pass along , "Where tapers dim arrang'd in saintly row Their scanty light across the cloister throw, And hallow'd strains in softned accents blend , To beg that God forestalling grace will send , To bless the maid who kneels in fervent prayer , And for the cloister quits a world of care. Say why does she, who whylome tun'd the lyre To artless notes of love and warm desire , With skillful hand could touch the plaintive lute , Or sing responsive to the she shepherd's flute , Now string the harp with holy chords , to move A heart that sighs for brighter scenes above. What wish denied , what love too rudely cross'd , What prospect blasted, or what fortune lost, Could prompt an heiress of such high renown Upon the world's inviting charms to frown? To spurn what pleasures youth and beauty yield — The chase, the dance, the banquet and the field. With Juno's eyes and Dian's figure blessd , By woman envied and by man caress'd , ( 117 ) Whose voice was music , and whose tread was grace , While passion glow'd in her enchanting Face? Does she desire to raise her saintly worth, By bringing down celestial fire on Earth, Or vainly hopes her sins will be forgiven , By bearing lustre to the stars of Heaven ? Say for what joy, for what Seraphic blis , She gives the world her last and ligering kiss , Like one who bears the nectar bowl away With hopes reserved for some more festive day. Thy censure stay, Melpomene replie'd, On her who to the world to day hath died : No deep remore e'er tore her virgin heart Too wisely steeVd against loves poison'd dart : She knew with equal firmness to withstand , The tempter's gold, the suitors proferr'd hand: She knew mankind with deep deceit was fraught, By dire experience and trouble taught : The world foregone , when Heaven's reign begins , Dispis d its follies and condemn'd its sins , This day from all its snares she gets release , To tread the surer paths of endless peace. rw> THE STORY OF THE BELL. Ask, gentle reader, of the recreant Muse , My history, my origin and use. I am a bell in lofty steeple hung: Where God is worshipped and his praise is sung ( 118) My life's long story shalt thou shortly know , From whence I came, and whither I must go. Beyond the spray of Deva's fabled waves, Deep in Cornubia's dark unfathom'd caves, A metal lay conceal'd in winding veins , Which Vulcan smelted into silver grains. Old stories tell that in the mystic land Wherein Queen Mab leads forth the elfin band , And fairy sprites in moonlight morris dance , And dapper pizgies round Lostwithiel prance , Diana once her plighted vows forgot , And from her fell bow Cupid's arrow shot : It dropt on Jove; and, as it entered in, Th'engender'd mixture prov'd the baby Tin , Full grown , she imitates her mother's arts , And follows Phoebus into foreign parts , Her patron Venus to each fiow'ry mead And crystal brook would fam the the youngling lead ; Roaming the Gallic and Italian fields The amorous damsel soon to Hymen yields. Thus mother Tin to father Copper join'd Dissolv'd in warmth , like other lovers kind : As chaste Lucina blest their mutual flame, So I their sweet melodious offspring came : Seven younger brethren did our brood compose , And the full octave in the belfry rose. Here hung aloft our hallow'd rites began , God's servants and the monitors of man. We , in melodious harmony , are bound , When the full festive peal is ringing round, By our sweet melting influence to bind In stronger social bonds all human kind. ( 119) Often at eve, when the hush'd winds ore still, And the pale moon plays on the tinkling rill , Across the lake our softend murmur swells, And the lost pilgrim hails the village bells ; Who from some foreign shrine content to come , Is glad to find himself so near his home. Oftimes at noon, when warmer duties lead To the tann'd haycock in the grassy mead, And the swink't hind, with sultry toil opprest, Under the blossom'd thorn is laid at rest , Our startling peal through tangled copses flings Its cheering notes , and to the herdsman brings Glad tidings of some victory at sea , Or else of village wedding , as may be. Sabina now her oaken bower leaves, And Marian no longer binds the sheaves; Both under hedgerow elms together walk, And waste , beneath the shade , their time in talk Of who is married? why the bells ring now? Perhaps then farmer Stock has found his cow ! Or the rich widow has a suitor got To be the second partner of her lot. But while our sounds are dying on the gale, The landlord bears the jug of spicy ale, Follow'd by Thestilis , who brings at last Of country herbs the labourer's repast. Such is our peal when all in chorus ring; But each her proper office oft doth sing : Each separate sound , like prophets' words of old , Hath its respective duty to unfold; And though each tongue is various , to one end All our advice and varied accents tend. ( 120 ) Concord in all is perfect, for 'tis given To bells , like saints , to cheer the way to Heaven ! Our treble shrill and clear is christen'd John, And to each matin choir he calls anon. His little note, like bleating lamb, doth keep The early vigils of Christs folded sheep. Our second , Agnes , tolls when children die ; A passing bell of plaintive ministrelsy. Our third nam'd Stephen is the sanctus bell : May all who hear him do their duty well. Our fourth, sad Magdalen, to penance calls, And startles wassailers in festive halls. Deep, flat and mellow dotli her sombre note At shriving tide, o'er evening meadows float ; When pensive nuns, yclad in sable veils, Quit the loud choir , to tell their dolefull tales , And every village maid who weaves or spins Forsakes her woof and wheel and counts her sins: Now the old hypocrite , alarm'd and sad , Dreads to confess the crime that drives him mad ; And every monitory clang or knell Brings to his view repentance , penance , Hell. Far different is yon virgin at her beads, "Who a chaste life in Godly counsel leads! Our fifth , the firebell , is Saint Laurence call d : A louder larum ne'er from steeple bawl'd. His voice , most terrible at midnight hour Makes the stout heart of city -wights to cow'r. That dreadful element in flames had broke Froth from his bonds, and fill'd the air with smoke. No more man's slave , his master now become , He rages far and wide : hark how the drum , ( 121 ) Mid screaming trumpet and alarming horn, Proclaims the burning town, and blazing corn. Loud shriek the women , engines roll along , And houseless thousands to the ramparts throng. The deep red sky reflects the horrid light , And from their nests e'en scares the birds at night. Meanwhile the bell with wild uprorious clang Rings on , while many votive prayers are sang. From fiercer fires than what our fifth proclaims May our sweet sixth protect all pious dames ; He , Baptist call'd , to every mass invites , And with his cheerful lone the hind delights; Bids faithful pastors now prepare the way For Him who from high Heav'n descends to day. Our seventh, the most mysterious note of all, Profound and awful, has been christen'd Paul. The funeral clang , the mournful passing knell Attest the force of this soulsaddening bell. And I, the last, not least, am Mart named, And for my deep impressive tone am famed ; I bear her image who the infant God Hath born , and on the conquerd serpent trod. For each great feast my solemn voice I raise , Inviting all to sing their Maker's praise. Then calls the housewife all the maids around, And says , hark now the Mart clock doth sound ; "Wash up the house , and put your work away , Tomorrow is a festive holiday. Three times , three strokes , three times a day, I ring , To call the faithfull Angclus to sing; And often times I give the warning sound Of curfew, when no fire must more be found. 15. ( '22 ) So here I hang in steeple tall ; and now The various emblems of the church will show. Whereby the pilgrim and the peasant learn Of Heaven the eternal boon to earn. The lofty spire that points toward to the sky Inspires the hind earth's sordid cares to fly. If, like the weathercock , he deign to bend To every breath that God on high doth send. The storied windowpanes are colour'd o'er With a rich series of historic lore Which at the dusky close of summers day Are softly tinted with the parting ray. The marble urn by cypress shades o'erhung Declares that here we shall not tarry long. Then flock around this venerable pile Of gothic splendour , and descend the aisle : Rang'd on each side the nave in double rows Before each saint a lighted taper glows; Lights of the church , in whom the child may find Each patron virtue suited to the mind. But as , beneath the elevated arch , W T e with a trembling step are wont to march , To sain the altar and repair our loss, Wc see life's giant emblem in the cross. Here in the nitch God's Virgin Mother stands Bearing the Infant Jesus in her hands ; Beneath her feet the trampled serpent lies , Her wrapt soul beaming in her azure eyes. There on the left the meek disciple John To humbler virtues doth invite anon; While pictures all around aloud proclaim The holy painters everlasting fame. ( 123 ) Here floats the ark upon the watery flood : Buil't on false hopes there towering Babel stood : Here God creates, and each fond creature lives, There the Angelic message Gabriel gives. On yonder wall behold Rebecca's well , The tale of Joseph other tablets tell. Each history told each holy fact reveal'd Nought from the students ken is there conceald. When Job is tried , let all his patience learn : Gomorrah burns, let man to virtue turn. In each old nook vindictive Justice stands , And bids in prayer to knit our suppliant hands, And beg that all may now protected be From sin's entail , and made from danger free. The very stone doth cry from out the wall , And seems endow'd with a prophetic call, And tells me I am mortal ; so are you j The priest who preaches and the pupil too : Indentity alone belongs to soul , Destined hereafter to attain its goal. Then hasten to that place whence mercy flows , And the pale lamp before that altar glows , Where grace alone rewards the palmer's toil And fills our lamps with unconsuming oil. All that is mortal in this vale below Sprang from the dust , and to the dust must go. If fierce Electra should not strike the fane , Time's slow unerring tooth will grind the same: And the Cameleon changes of each day Proclaim that all things wane and waste away. Learn then the truth, earths vanity despise, And seek a lasting mansion in the skies. ( 124 ) ( 62 ) INSCRIPTION FOR THE TOMB OF MY OLD DOG SHARGS, DECEASED 23d AND BURIED SUNDA^ 24TH JUNE 1838, AT SCHARBBEK. Beneath these trees I've buried my old dog , Who, niue years, by ray side was wont to jog, "With him I lov'd the weary day to spend, My brother mortal and my only friend. But now his tongue is mute, his bones are old, His nerves are quiet and his blood is cold. Yet, warmer still, though cold, than those who find A pride to boast themselves of human kind: Nor emptier I find his hollow head , Now laid , as whilome , on his master's bed , Than stupid man's who takes such fruitless pains To make me think his skull possess'd of brains : For Shargs was Nature's dearest sweetest child ; His ways were simple and his temper mild , His faithful heart alone knew no deceit; And, when his tongue his master's hand would greet, No squint suscipion filled the cautions mind, Such as one feels when greeted by mankind , That venom lurks behind each fond embrace , While hypocrite is written in the face ! Vile man alone defiles the nuptial bed; Lust bids him couple , interest makes him wed , Pride prompts his virtues , avarice his cares ; And coward superstition writes his prayers. In his curs'd fall , if tales of old be true , And Satan really tumbled with his crew , Man, more degraded than the rest, at least, ( 1*25 ) Fell lower than each other fallen beast : And, to conceal his shame, he makes his task, In every stage of life to wear the mask : For, though the lion lies not with the lamb, The cub sleeps safely by the parent dam ; Hie fox may hunt the goose, the stoat the rat, The snappish dog may chase the saucy cat, Where right is might and hunger points the way, The stronger beast will make the weak his prey ; But man leaves other brutes far far behind, In cruelty and preys upon mankind ; Gorg'd with the gore of beasts , seeks human food. Eats kindred flesh , and drinks his brother's blood. In civil life, a fiend grown more refin'd, He steals his friend's estate and wounds his mind Destroys his comrade's honor , blasts his fame, And robs his neighbour of an an honest name ; And , when his foul career is fully run , His body rotten and his soul undone , He hopes to get his horrid sins forgiven , By laying claim to an exclusive heaven. Yes , cursed man ! I've seen the sable dye , In every clime, of thy hypocrisy, But, my dear dog. endow'd with simple grace, Carried his heart upon his honest face; With friendship, not by sordid lucte gained, His faith unpurchas'd and his love unfeign'd , He , unlike man who courts where he can pick , Lick'd where belov'd ; not lov'd where he could lick And proved himself, to life's remotest end, My only trusty and confiding friend. But now he's gone and all his pranks are o'er ; ( 126 ) And Poski plays where Shargs had play'd before : God wot how soon a third may take his place, And grace the kennel he was wont to grace; How soon may Zampa wag his merry tail O'er their twin graves; for dogs, like men, are frail. At least in body , though they're firm in mind , As in these records, trac'd by love, we find. Like waves at sea , or flowers in the mead , Man follows man, and dogs to dogs succeed. Where e'er the mind can rove, or body range, The universe is one wide ceaseless change : Nor whence we come, nor whither we shall go, Have the Gods gi'en to prying man to know. Then , hither , Muses , all your concord bring , And, Flora, round this urn your blossoms fiing : Haste to his mould , and on this tablet lay Each virgin bloom that decks the lap of May; Scatter the heartsease of unnumberd dyes, And open Summer's sweet cnamell'd eyes. And thou, Melpomene, whom Pity bids To dry thy tears and wipe thy lovely lids, Dip Clio's quill in Brahma's Indian ink, Since all eftsoons of Lethe's stream must drink; And write on this grey tomb o'er grown with moss — Of one true friend I here bewail the loss. Of all the forms fond Memory can trace , None are so sweet as Puppy's sonsy face , Busy was snug, old Tray was vastly clever , Fangs handsome , Trim and Lion quiet never : Long Pum was fond , but cross , Guess hardly civil , And poor old Los&i , snappish as the Devil , But was endowed with friendships firmest ties , ( 127 ) While melancholly press'd his yellow eyes, And e'en in death his pleasure unsurpass'd Was to defend my wardrobe to the last. Nature for each fond dog from Jove had stole Some special grace to animate his soul ; To SIIARGS alone were higher titles given , Which Justice registers this day in heaven. (G3) SPUING. Full blossomed trees, rich perfume in the gale , The primrose bank, tbe violet margined vale; The choral grove, where birds the boughs ymel Carol of love , and seem sad woes to tell. Clear azure skies, the honey winged bees Gathering their sweets and humming in the breeze , Starspangled meads, where painted butterflies Sport o'er the flowers; where the swallow hies, Skimming Along the grass, or crystal pool, Spreading its deep blue surface cleare and cool. These are the sweet of Spring, and while May fliugs The richest scents o'er Zephyr's muskie wings ; While Flora treads the flowerenamcll'd way, And Leisure breaths the fragrant air of day; Give me in gardens trim rctir'd to rove : Or'ncalh the pine and poplar's shadie grove. Woke bv the cock's first clarion shrill at dawn , Lulled by the hum ol bees on noontide lawn ; And when at eve loud sounds the vesper bell, Sooth'd by the song of plaintive nightingale. — ( 128 ) < 6 ^ RECOLLECTIONS OF FAR DISTANT SEASONS. Ah why in Memory's magic lantern spell Do sounds and scenes of childhood love to dwell Whv do her notes float o'er the muskie dale At eventide with many a flowery tale? How we in Spring's and Life's sweet April time Were joyed to spoil the Daisy's earliest prime, And rob the first pale primroses flowers we met , Or pull their roots to carry home ond set; How in our little gardens lov'd to note The Robin's song , or Cuckoo's early throat How when maturer Summer used le lead To romp on haycocks in the grassy mead , Or when, as now, ripe Autumns sheaves were bound With hearts like feathers, we would dance around, Nor less enjoy white Winter's Christmas toys, Sports, games, and play, and fifty childish joys, In every season count our pleasures o'er, And feel as we on earth shall feel no more. ( 129 ) A PASTORAL OF THE FIRST AGE It was during an illness which confined the authour to the house in the year 1840 that this poem teas written. Being unable to attend to his usual routine of scientific pur- suits , in consequence of fever , he amused the tedious hours of convalescence with its composition : — The pla?i is very simple : it supposes Grcvcian philosophers as well as shepherds to have joined the wise men of the East in their pelgrimage to the stall of our Lord at Bethlehem; and the authour takes occasion from this circumstance to introduce a discussion on the merits of Christianity. After warm discussions , the pilgrims remain doubtful, and though they had offered their hymns of praise to the Virgin mother , yet not seeming convinced of the holy truth, Astrcea desccjids in the form of Justice, and points to her course on Earth as affording proof of a moral Governour. During the piece, many and varied scenes are introduced which would occur in the natural progress of a pilgrimage through the life of a Christian, and in which the authour adopts the opinions of F. Guerrin du Rocher , in his Histoire des Terns Fabuleux. The whole has that emblemutical air which pervades all the authour' s poetical writings. 10 ( 130 ) SCENE Palestine and particularly the Country round Bethlehem. DRAMATIS PERSONS. MENALCAS, a young shepherd, r r . ,. n»«innT4c 1 1 u i < trom Arcadia. DAMOETAS , a aged shepherd , \ PALAEMON , a shepherd and traveller. PHIT OSTRATUS (Ph'l° so phersofdifferenlcreedsand systems LUCIANUS , a satyrical guest. MELIBOEUS, an old herdsman. BACCHUS , and his comrades , in Chorus. VENUS and the GRACES , dancing , form the Ballet. Numerous attendants, besides herds, flocks dogs, etc., make part of the scenery. MARY, appears with the INFANT and is saluted by nine several Sages each invoking his favorite Muse. To wit : — Clio, or the Song of Glad Tidings, Thalia , or the Salutation and Gifts , Melpomene , or the complaint and Consolation , Euterpe , or the Power of Sacred Song, Cilliope, or Prophecy of Martyrdom , Erato, or Prophecy of Church Music, Polyhymnia, or Traditions Resolved , Terpsychore , or Prayer and Penance, Urania, or Eucharistic Consummation. ASTRiEA , at length , descends and speaks the Epilogue. ( 131 ) PROLOGUE. SPOKEN BY ME1NALGAS. I who , e'er while , Arcadian groves among , Of shepherds' loves , in rustic accents , sung — Who to no higher themes had tun'd my lays , Than Corin's worth, or Cloes homely praise; Nor took , in rural ditty , higher aim Than to perpetuate Sabina's fame , Or laud Neaera's golden curling locks, Or the while fleeces of Palamion's flocks , Or Phryne's eyes , so languishing and sweet , Or Libertina's lightly tripping feet , * Or laid , perhaps , in melancholy mood , By smooth Meander's softly babbling flood, Have staid the Naids on the banks, that rove To hear the plaint of Arethusa's love; And in ray turn have told the mournful talc How (Callus his Lycoris did bewail — Now to still loftier rhymes the Muse invite, With lips more chasten 'd and a bolder flight, To chant the praise of the Eternal Pan, Today come down from Heaven to dwell with man. Properlus lias it : — Et canit, ut Boleaut moll iter ire pedes. ( 132 ) Not all are pleased to wend the peaceful way, Through flowery dales , and breathe the air of day, Midst blossom' d bushes , or where darkening trees Fan their green leaves to Zephyrs musky breeze , Content to dwell the greenwood shades among, Cheerd by Luscinias strains , or Procne's song : For higher minds a higher theme demand, And purer notes touch 'd by an abler hand. To please you then , I quit the oaks and rills , And now to graver stops have touch'd the quills; Assist me then , sweet Clio , to unfold The mystic legends that were read of old , By elder bards at history's first dawn , When erst the young world suck'd the breath of morn, Whose prophecies relate to later days. So help me to extol our Masters praise ; And then , should I his approbation gain , Yours is the second boon I would obtain : And if I give ye entertainment due , I am rewarded by amusing you ; But if perchance I might not thus succeed , And hang my hopes upon a broken reed , My vanquish' d Muse shall now retreat with sorrow, And you shall hear a sweeter strain tomorrow. ( 133 ) PAN A PASTORAL OF THE FIRST CENTURY. Scene I. — Discovers a wide plane in Judcva before sunrise, where shepherds, assembled from various parte, are sleeping by their pocks. Menalcas rises and soliloquizes. At length Aurora from you eastern brow- Peeps o'er the russet fallows and green lawns , And fires the grey peaks of each hoary hill With her pale saffron light: but why her torch Lit from the lamp of Day should burn so pale ; Why she has borow'd the dark cowl of Night And is in trim, so unlike the gay morn, When in her ruby mantle she arose Lately to light the mighty Titan's path And lead him on to victory o'er Python; 10 Is now my wonderment : I recollect She look'd as if array'd in Iris scarf, And, with her prismy mirror in her hands. Faithful to every tint her wardrobe owns , Cast down upon the glistening earth below Such purple radiance of his orient beams , As, to proclaim approaching majesty, Call'd forth the winged heralds of the spring , Each in his gayest livery to attend , And wait upon the charriot of the Sun. 20 Flora too then was lavish , and let fall , From her ricli calalhus , the sweet musk rose. With pinks that throw their fragrance all around, And primroses thai sip the morning dew: ( 134 ) Each daisy bank , each flowerenamelled dell Was bordered with the purple violet, And every tangled copse and valley green Seem'd doited with the lily's little bloom , Or else, where Hyacinth and Scilla met, A lovelier blue rivall'd the azure sheen, oO Well I remember, how the birds did sing And pourr'd their love notes frome each blosom'd bough , Filling the choral grove with melody., Nor less shrewd Procne . round her slimy nest , Twittering at morn beneath the cottage thatch , Broke the sweet slumber of the village maid ; While through the hollow and resounding dale Narcissus fled from his loquacions bride. Tis not so here : for all is hush'd around , And Silence sits upon the mountain top , 40 Surveying her dull reign: not e'en the lark, From his high oratory in the clouds, Sings his rathe matin hymn; but all is still , At least if stillness can be fairly call'd That which is often broken in upon By the shrill clarion of the early cock , Who taking this pale little wintry noon For a long dawning , croweth all the day : And then , as fearful lest the murky night Should favour the grim wolf or thievish fox 50 That skulks about the coops with hungry jaws , lie like a faithful sentinel keeps watch , And counts the long hours from the homestead lodge : But to my task : for the Pheebaean lamp Has stretch'd out the wide landscape , I must haste And loose my flocks from their close wattled pens , To browse about the sheepwalks: true Hylax Wakes now each shepherd with his honest bark But who comes hither : if mine eyes be true , 'Tis old Damceus followed by his goals. 60 ( 135 ) Yes, it is he: my eyes do not deceive ; I know him by his sedgy mantle grey , His measured step and crook worn out by age , But most of all by Mopsus , his old dog , "Whose shaggy hair, long ears, and eyes of fire, So fit to light the lost kid home at night, Can never be mistaken. Shepherd hail ! It cheers me up, a kindsman thus to greet ; But 'tis most strange that we should hither come On Syria's plains, who but the other night, 70 In the fresh pastures of Arcadia , Batten'd our flocks with wholesome dews distill'd From the moist nightcap of high Maenalusj Or under the dark shelter of his pines Listen'd at noonday to the rustic pipe "Whereon fond Damon to his Phillis play'd. Da. Good morrow , Shepherd , that soliloquy Reach'd me before I knew from whence it came; For when thy song unconsciously call'd up The mocking Echo from her airy cell , 80 To tell the tale to the responsive woods ; Unheeded , o'er the dewy spangled fields , I drove my nibbling herds abroad to graze : While turning by the base of you green hill , Round which the sacred stream of Jordan flows, A stray breeze from behind the bullrushes , Stole forth at break of day , and took his course Along the babbling windings of the flood, Wilh thy soft accents hanging on his wings , When meeting me on the smooth water's edge , 90 He wafted them to these my listening ears. The voice half recollected , half forgot , — For sudden change can work confusion queer In man's frail memory , at first I look For one of those unseen and ominous tongues That call the fated hearer by his name. ( no ) I startled ; but at length o'er unjust fears Firm confidence resum'd her wonted sway. I do allow 'tis strange that we meet here But less so truly than 'tis fortunate, 100 Yet Menalcas, if I rightly ween, Thou hast mistook the gist of chanticleer, Whose shrill and spiritstirring horn awoke The Dryads from their mossypillow'd couch And shook the sear leaves from the wither'd oak. It was not the sly fox , nor grizzly wolf , Nor roughpaw'd bear , nor spotted mountain paid That mov'd the trumpeter of early morn To break the silence of the midnight hour, And put to flight the fickle train of dreams, 110 That follow feverish Morpheus through the night. — But I must cut the thread of long discourse , And seek some shady bower of beach or elm ; For these my weary limbs have need of rest. But tell me , as we jog along the way , Thy story and for why thou'rt hither come. M. I was beguiled here by a radiant star, Which , blazing in the chambers of the East , I took for the fair beams of Phosphorus ; Buth it turn'd out a faint and wandering flame, 120 Such as they say oft leads th'unwary hind O'er quagmire bogs and quicksands insecure , Bottomless sloughs and hills of ill repute , Through briary tangled maze , or thorn or brake , Till in some whirlpool of foul jeopardy It leaves him to bewail his misplac'd trust. Lur'd by this' light I closely followed on , Till yesterday , when , from the westering wheels Of Phoebus' wain, dim Darkness rose again, And over all things his black pinions spread', 130 And then I laid me on a grassy bank In deepest meditation, till the star, ( 137 ) Spreading it rays above yon humble roof , Now stood as steadfast as the Cynosure , Not even following the sluggish team Which the old waggoner Bootes guides , Marking his daily track about the pole , As if he fear'd to touch th'Allantic wave. Sure it must be some fearful warning to U3, Some comet blazing forth a monarch's death, 140 Or a foreboding of dire things to come; Still the stroke falls less heavy when 'tis shar'd By kindred shoulders , so we'll trudge togeher. D. Let us repair then to you antienl well , ^Yhere Israel's thirsting patriarch of yore QualT'd the cool water from Rebecca's pail. I have oft heard that by that favour'd spring , And drawing thencefrom all its nourishment, A vine once grew of such a giant size, That round the girdle of the very earth, 150 It twind'd its monstrous branches , and shot forth , From either side, its suckers to the poles. Beneath this tree and basking in its shade , An old and haughty people used to dwell , "Whom Jove divided into twice six tribes , In honour of Lerntean victories By Hercules o'er twelve fell monsters gain'd ; And to hand down to all posterity , The labours of that day, the Gods assigned To these twelve tribes as many signs in Heaven * 160 "Which in the circling Zodiac laid out Now "Trate with th'eternal welkin round : But the great nations whom they represent. Scattered abroad like chaff before the wind , * The connection between tlio labours of Hercules and the twelve tribes it not now. Sec Gaerrin