 | The Tenth Muse |  |
45
CRATHIE CHURCH
WRITTEN FOR THE ROYAL BAZAAR AT BALMORAL
Far back in memory's vistas—far!
I mind a day when, to Braemar
From Ballater, by winding Dee,
Two college-comrades walked with me.
We tramped by bridge, and birk, and cairn;
Looked down Glen Muick and wild Glen Gairn;
Passed Craigendarroch's hanging glade,
Nor at grey Abergeldie stayed;
Till, on the right,—ere you espy
Balmoral's turrets break the sky—
There rose, 'mid rowan-trees and birch,
The plain front of a parish church,
So lowly, featureless, and mean,
That when one said,“'Tis where the Queen
Goes to her prayers,” the other cried,
“That Crathie? on yon mountain side
Of Lochnagar, purple and blue,
A stately shrine should soar to view
Fitter for kneeling Majesty!
You lassie! Can this really be
Our Queen's church?”—
I mind a day when, to Braemar
From Ballater, by winding Dee,
Two college-comrades walked with me.
We tramped by bridge, and birk, and cairn;
Looked down Glen Muick and wild Glen Gairn;
Passed Craigendarroch's hanging glade,
Nor at grey Abergeldie stayed;
Till, on the right,—ere you espy
Balmoral's turrets break the sky—
There rose, 'mid rowan-trees and birch,
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So lowly, featureless, and mean,
That when one said,“'Tis where the Queen
Goes to her prayers,” the other cried,
“That Crathie? on yon mountain side
Of Lochnagar, purple and blue,
A stately shrine should soar to view
Fitter for kneeling Majesty!
You lassie! Can this really be
Our Queen's church?”—
To a Highland maid
So he put question; and she said:
“It's Crathie Kirk! the door's nae steek'd,
Gang in, and when ye weel have keeked
For the Queen's pew—gin ye sall look,
Ye'll see her cushion and her book!”
So he put question; and she said:
“It's Crathie Kirk! the door's nae steek'd,
Gang in, and when ye weel have keeked
For the Queen's pew—gin ye sall look,
Ye'll see her cushion and her book!”
So those pass in. But I—less bold,
Or more contemplative—withhold
My soiled shoes from that sacred floor,
Waiting beside the open door.
Whereat the lassie, wondering, says:
“Wull you na' see where the Queen prays?”
Or more contemplative—withhold
My soiled shoes from that sacred floor,
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Whereat the lassie, wondering, says:
“Wull you na' see where the Queen prays?”
I called her near and took her hand,
And said:“How shall you understand,
My little maid, what makes me wait
Content, apart, outside this gate?
Yet, listen! In the Indian land
Where many a splendid mosque doth stand,
One, I remember, white as snow,
Supremely reared, above, below,
With domes which in the blue air rise
Like rounded clouds; and rich device
Of plinth and frieze; and minarets
Piercing the sky; and diamond jets
Of fountains; and a sweeping flight
Of stairs laid broad with lazulite
And jasper slabs, leading the feet
To where, beneath the porch, 'tis meet
Men put aside their slippers. There,
Written upon the marble clear,
In Persian letters, one might read
IHTIRÁM,—word for “Take thou heed!”
And said:“How shall you understand,
My little maid, what makes me wait
Content, apart, outside this gate?
Yet, listen! In the Indian land
Where many a splendid mosque doth stand,
One, I remember, white as snow,
Supremely reared, above, below,
With domes which in the blue air rise
Like rounded clouds; and rich device
Of plinth and frieze; and minarets
Piercing the sky; and diamond jets
Of fountains; and a sweeping flight
Of stairs laid broad with lazulite
And jasper slabs, leading the feet
To where, beneath the porch, 'tis meet
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Written upon the marble clear,
In Persian letters, one might read
IHTIRÁM,—word for “Take thou heed!”
‘What made them write it?’
I will say:—
'Twas there that Akbar came to pray:
Akbar the Great, in Agra King,
Lord of the East, all-conquering.
One day his stately head he bent
Within that marble mosque, intent
The names of Allah to intone,—
Ninety and nine—for each, one stone
Upon his turquoise rosary;
And next, upon his face, to be
Suppliant of Heaven for grace and peace
On India, and his Realm's increase;
With happy issue of that war
His Moslem Omrahs waged afar.
'Twas there that Akbar came to pray:
Akbar the Great, in Agra King,
Lord of the East, all-conquering.
One day his stately head he bent
Within that marble mosque, intent
The names of Allah to intone,—
Ninety and nine—for each, one stone
Upon his turquoise rosary;
And next, upon his face, to be
Suppliant of Heaven for grace and peace
On India, and his Realm's increase;
With happy issue of that war
His Moslem Omrahs waged afar.
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Then, while the wise Prince prayed, there came
One of his captains, like a flame
Of gold and jewels, from the field
Bringing great news. The foe did yield;
The mighty forts had fall'n; the towns
Opened, with spoil of thrones and crowns;
So, loud he cried:‘Show me the King!
Since goodly tidings do I bring.’
And to the nail his Arab tied,
Taking the steps at one great stride.
One of his captains, like a flame
Of gold and jewels, from the field
Bringing great news. The foe did yield;
The mighty forts had fall'n; the towns
Opened, with spoil of thrones and crowns;
So, loud he cried:‘Show me the King!
Since goodly tidings do I bring.’
And to the nail his Arab tied,
Taking the steps at one great stride.
But the blind porter at the gate
Crossed his palm-staff, and murmured:‘Wait!
Whate'er thy news! Akbar is met
Inside with Allah! weightier yet
Than any words of man can be,
Or noise of earthly victory,
Is what the King speaks in this place
For him and us, and what the grace
Of Heaven may answer. Take not thou
Taint of thy worldly doings now
Into such presence.’
Crossed his palm-staff, and murmured:‘Wait!
Whate'er thy news! Akbar is met
Inside with Allah! weightier yet
Than any words of man can be,
Or noise of earthly victory,
Is what the King speaks in this place
For him and us, and what the grace
Of Heaven may answer. Take not thou
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Into such presence.’
So that Lord
Unbuckled shield, and helm, and sword,
And sate, awaiting, meek. And there
Upon the marble—clear and fair
In silver script—they did inlay
‘IHTIRÁM,’ and that word doth say:—
‘Here halted, out of modesty,
The herald, e'en of victory.’”
Unbuckled shield, and helm, and sword,
And sate, awaiting, meek. And there
Upon the marble—clear and fair
In silver script—they did inlay
‘IHTIRÁM,’ and that word doth say:—
‘Here halted, out of modesty,
The herald, e'en of victory.’”
Her blue eyes opened all their blue:
But still, I think, she partly knew
Why I, one of those English three,
The Church of Crathie did not see.
But still, I think, she partly knew
Why I, one of those English three,
The Church of Crathie did not see.
11th June 1894.
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