The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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| 4. | CANTO FOURTH. The Palmer.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
CANTO FOURTH. The Palmer.
ARGUMENT.
Did ye never hear o' the puir auld man,That doughtna live, and coudna die?
Wha spak to the spirits a' night lang,
An' saw the things we coudna see,
An' raised the bairnies out o' the grave?
Oh but a waesome sight was he!
There is a bounded sphere, where human grief
May all the energies of mind benumb;
'Twixt purpose and regret, it seeks relief
In unavailing plaint, or musings dumb;
But to o'erwhelming height when mounts the sum,
Oft, to itself superior, mind hath shone,
That broken reed, Dependence, overcome:
Where dwells the might that may the soul unthrone,
Whose proud resolve is moored on its own powers alone?
May all the energies of mind benumb;
'Twixt purpose and regret, it seeks relief
In unavailing plaint, or musings dumb;
But to o'erwhelming height when mounts the sum,
Oft, to itself superior, mind hath shone,
That broken reed, Dependence, overcome:
Where dwells the might that may the soul unthrone,
Whose proud resolve is moored on its own powers alone?
Why is young Ila dight in robes so gay,
Her hue more lovely than the gold refined?
Why bears she to the southern vales away,
And leaves the woody banks of Tay behind,
Her beauteous boy well wrapt from sun and wind
In mantle spangled like the heath in flower?—
Ah! she is gone her wandering love to find,
In court or camp, in hall or lady's bower,
Resolved to die, or find young Mador of the Moor.
Her hue more lovely than the gold refined?
Why bears she to the southern vales away,
And leaves the woody banks of Tay behind,
Her beauteous boy well wrapt from sun and wind
In mantle spangled like the heath in flower?—
Ah! she is gone her wandering love to find,
In court or camp, in hall or lady's bower,
Resolved to die, or find young Mador of the Moor.
Had she not cause to weep her piteous plight,
In the wide world unfriended thus to be,
A babe unweaned, companion of her flight?
She did not weep; her spirits bounded free;
And, all indignant that her injury
Moved no congenial feeling on her side,
With robe of green, upfolded to her knee,
And light unsandalled foot, o'er wastes so wide
She journeyed far away, with Heaven alone to guide.
In the wide world unfriended thus to be,
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She did not weep; her spirits bounded free;
And, all indignant that her injury
Moved no congenial feeling on her side,
With robe of green, upfolded to her knee,
And light unsandalled foot, o'er wastes so wide
She journeyed far away, with Heaven alone to guide.
She had not traversed far the woods of Bran,
Nor of her native hills had lost the view,
Where oft, on maidhood's lightsome foot, she ran,
Pilfering the rock-rose and the harebell blue,
Or moorland berries bathed in autumn dew,
When, startled, she beheld a palmer gray
Rise from beneath a lonely ronkled yew,
Where he had prostrate lain since dawn of day,
Who proffered her his hand, companion of her way.
Nor of her native hills had lost the view,
Where oft, on maidhood's lightsome foot, she ran,
Pilfering the rock-rose and the harebell blue,
Or moorland berries bathed in autumn dew,
When, startled, she beheld a palmer gray
Rise from beneath a lonely ronkled yew,
Where he had prostrate lain since dawn of day,
Who proffered her his hand, companion of her way.
He seemed familiar with her wrongs and aim;
Full oft she viewed his face, if she might see
Some feature there that might acquaintance claim—
It wore the mysteries of eternity!
That face was mild as face of age could be,
Yet something there 'twas dread to look upon;
A mien between profound and vacancy,
Bewraying thought to mortal man unknown,
Or soul abstract from sense, with feelings all its own.
Full oft she viewed his face, if she might see
Some feature there that might acquaintance claim—
It wore the mysteries of eternity!
That face was mild as face of age could be,
Yet something there 'twas dread to look upon;
A mien between profound and vacancy,
Bewraying thought to mortal man unknown,
Or soul abstract from sense, with feelings all its own.
She marvelled much to hear, as on they went,
His heavenly converse and his sage replies;
But marked him oft regard with fond intent
Things all invisible to mortal eyes.
The light-winged winds that flaunted through the skies,
Spoke in small voices, like the elfin's tongue;
From welling fountains harmonies would rise,
Like song of lark high in the rainbow hung;—
Seemed as if distant hymns of other worlds they sung.
His heavenly converse and his sage replies;
But marked him oft regard with fond intent
Things all invisible to mortal eyes.
The light-winged winds that flaunted through the skies,
Spoke in small voices, like the elfin's tongue;
From welling fountains harmonies would rise,
Like song of lark high in the rainbow hung;—
Seemed as if distant hymns of other worlds they sung.
In pleasing dread she sojourned by his side,
Nor durst she his companionship forego;
But either fear her faculties belied,
Else speech was whispered from the earth below,
And elemental converse round did flow:
The stranger answered oft in varied tone;
Then he would smile, and chide she knew not who.
Seemed as to him each herald cloud was known,
That crept along the hill, or sailed the starry zone.
Nor durst she his companionship forego;
But either fear her faculties belied,
Else speech was whispered from the earth below,
And elemental converse round did flow:
The stranger answered oft in varied tone;
Then he would smile, and chide she knew not who.
Seemed as to him each herald cloud was known,
That crept along the hill, or sailed the starry zone.
“Give me thy child, fair dame,” he said, and smiled,
Clasping his arms around the comely boy;
“Give me the child, thy youth is sorely toiled,
And I will bear him half the way with joy.”
She loosed her hold, unwilling to seem coy;
Scarce was the timid act of sufferance done,
Ere wild ideas wrought her sore annoy,
That elfin king the unchristened babe had won:
Deep in her heart she prayed that God would save her son!
Clasping his arms around the comely boy;
“Give me the child, thy youth is sorely toiled,
And I will bear him half the way with joy.”
She loosed her hold, unwilling to seem coy;
Scarce was the timid act of sufferance done,
Ere wild ideas wrought her sore annoy,
That elfin king the unchristened babe had won:
Deep in her heart she prayed that God would save her son!
She looked each moment when the old man's form
Would change to something of unearthly guise;
She looked each moment when the thunder-storm
Would roll in folded sulphur from the skies,
And snatch them from her terror-darkened eyes.
She followed nigh, enfeebled with affright,
And saw her boy, in roguish playful wise,
Pulling the old man's beard with all his might,—
The change to him was fraught with new and high delight.
Would change to something of unearthly guise;
She looked each moment when the thunder-storm
Would roll in folded sulphur from the skies,
And snatch them from her terror-darkened eyes.
She followed nigh, enfeebled with affright,
And saw her boy, in roguish playful wise,
Pulling the old man's beard with all his might,—
The change to him was fraught with new and high delight.
Her heart was quieted, but ill at rest,
And gave unwonted thoughts a teeming birth
Of this most reverend and mysterious guest,
Who scarcely seemed an habitant of earth.
The day was wearing late, no friendly hearth
Was nigh, where converse might the time betray;
The storm was hanging on the mountain swarth
Condense and gloomy, threatening sore dismay
To wanderer of the hills, on rough and pathless way.
And gave unwonted thoughts a teeming birth
Of this most reverend and mysterious guest,
Who scarcely seemed an habitant of earth.
The day was wearing late, no friendly hearth
Was nigh, where converse might the time betray;
The storm was hanging on the mountain swarth
Condense and gloomy, threatening sore dismay
To wanderer of the hills, on rough and pathless way.
A darksome sheiling, westward on the waste,
Stood like a lonely hermit of the glen;
A small green sward its bastioned walls embraced,
Kything right simply sweet to human ken,
On tiny path, unmarked by steps of men:
To that they turned in hopes of welcome meet;
'Twas only then the grovelling badger's den;
Damp was its floor untrode by human feet,
And cold, cold lay the hearth, uncheered by kindly heat.
Stood like a lonely hermit of the glen;
A small green sward its bastioned walls embraced,
Kything right simply sweet to human ken,
On tiny path, unmarked by steps of men:
To that they turned in hopes of welcome meet;
'Twas only then the grovelling badger's den;
Damp was its floor untrode by human feet,
And cold, cold lay the hearth, uncheered by kindly heat.
The marten, from his vault beneath the wall,
Peeped forth with fiend-like eye and fetid breath;
They heard the young brock's whining hunger-call,
And the grim polecat's grinding voice beneath.
The merlin from his raftered home in wrath,
Flitted with flapping wing and eldritch scream;
No downward sepulchre, nor vault of death,
Did ever deed of horror more beseem;
'Twas like some rueful cave seen in perturbed dream.
Peeped forth with fiend-like eye and fetid breath;
They heard the young brock's whining hunger-call,
And the grim polecat's grinding voice beneath.
The merlin from his raftered home in wrath,
Flitted with flapping wing and eldritch scream;
No downward sepulchre, nor vault of death,
Did ever deed of horror more beseem;
'Twas like some rueful cave seen in perturbed dream.
The storm was on, and darkening still behind,
Alternate rushed the rain and rattling hail;
In deepened breathings sighed the cumbered wind;
Played the swift gleam along the boreal pale,
While distant thunder murmured o'er the gale:
Far up the incumbent cloud its voice began,
Then, like resistless angel, bound to scale
The southern heaven, along the void it ran,
Booming, in wrathful tone, vengeance on sinful man.
Alternate rushed the rain and rattling hail;
In deepened breathings sighed the cumbered wind;
Played the swift gleam along the boreal pale,
While distant thunder murmured o'er the gale:
Far up the incumbent cloud its voice began,
Then, like resistless angel, bound to scale
The southern heaven, along the void it ran,
Booming, in wrathful tone, vengeance on sinful man.
It was a dismal and portentous hour:
A mute astonishment and torpid dread
Had settled on the soul of Ila Moore;
In whispered prayers, of Heaven she sought remede:
For well she knew, that He, who deigned to feed
The plumeless sea-bird on the stormy main.
The raven, and the osprey's orphan breed,
To save an injured heart would not disdain,
Nor leave the souls he made to sorrow and to pain.
A mute astonishment and torpid dread
Had settled on the soul of Ila Moore;
In whispered prayers, of Heaven she sought remede:
For well she knew, that He, who deigned to feed
The plumeless sea-bird on the stormy main.
The raven, and the osprey's orphan breed,
To save an injured heart would not disdain,
Nor leave the souls he made to sorrow and to pain.
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Nigh and more nigh the rolling thunder came,
Muffled in moving pall of midnight hue;
Fiercer and fiercer burst the flakes of flame
From out the forge of heaven in burning blue.
They split the yawning cloud, and downward flew;
Before their wrath the solid hill was riven;
Some in the lake their fiery heads imbrue,
Its startled waters to the sky were driven,
Belching as if it mocked the angry coil of heaven.
Muffled in moving pall of midnight hue;
Fiercer and fiercer burst the flakes of flame
From out the forge of heaven in burning blue.
They split the yawning cloud, and downward flew;
Before their wrath the solid hill was riven;
Some in the lake their fiery heads imbrue,
Its startled waters to the sky were driven,
Belching as if it mocked the angry coil of heaven.
O ye, who mock religion's faded sway,
And flout the mind that bows to Heaven's decree,
Think of the fortitude of that fair May,
Her simple youth, in such a place to be,
In such a night, and in such company,—
With guest she weened not man of woman born,
A babe unblest upon her youthful knee!
Had she not cause to deem her case forlorn?
No! trusting to her God, she calmly waited morn.
And flout the mind that bows to Heaven's decree,
Think of the fortitude of that fair May,
Her simple youth, in such a place to be,
In such a night, and in such company,—
With guest she weened not man of woman born,
A babe unblest upon her youthful knee!
Had she not cause to deem her case forlorn?
No! trusting to her God, she calmly waited morn.
The palmer did no sign of fear bewray,
But raised a fire with well-accustomed hand,
Smiled at the thunder's break and startling bray,
The chilly hail-shower and the whizzing brand,
In wild turmoil that vollied o'er the land.
Then he would mutter prayer or rite of sin;
Then prattle to the child in language bland;
While the fond mother groaned in heart within,
Lest at the turn of night the fiends her babe might win.
But raised a fire with well-accustomed hand,
Smiled at the thunder's break and startling bray,
The chilly hail-shower and the whizzing brand,
In wild turmoil that vollied o'er the land.
Then he would mutter prayer or rite of sin;
Then prattle to the child in language bland;
While the fond mother groaned in heart within,
Lest at the turn of night the fiends her babe might win.
The palmer, for his helpless partners, made
A bed of flowery heath and rushes green;
Then o'er the twain his mantle kindly spread,
And bade them sleep secure, though lodged so mean;
For near that lowly couch, by them unseen,
There stood a form familiar to his eye,
Whose look was marked with dignity serene,
To ward the freakish fays that lingered nigh,
Who seemed on evil bent—he saw not, knew not why.
A bed of flowery heath and rushes green;
Then o'er the twain his mantle kindly spread,
And bade them sleep secure, though lodged so mean;
For near that lowly couch, by them unseen,
There stood a form familiar to his eye,
Whose look was marked with dignity serene,
To ward the freakish fays that lingered nigh,
Who seemed on evil bent—he saw not, knew not why.
The palmer watched beside the hissing flame,
The mother clasped her child in silence deep;
That speech of mystery thrilled her ardent frame,
For why?—she knew the fays their wake did keep
To reave her child if she should yield to sleep!
No sleep she knew—if woman's word is aught—
But, venturing o'er her coverlet to peep,
Whether through glamour or bewildered thought,
She there beheld a scene with awful wonder fraught.
The mother clasped her child in silence deep;
That speech of mystery thrilled her ardent frame,
For why?—she knew the fays their wake did keep
To reave her child if she should yield to sleep!
No sleep she knew—if woman's word is aught—
But, venturing o'er her coverlet to peep,
Whether through glamour or bewildered thought,
She there beheld a scene with awful wonder fraught.
From every crevice of the wall there looked
Small elvish faces of malignity;
And oh, their gleaming eyes could ill be brooked,
All bent upon the babe that slumbered by!
Ready they seemed upon their prey to fly,
And oft they sprung, or stole with wary tread;
But o'er the couch a form of majesty
Stood all serene, whose eye the spirits fled,
Waring the golden wand she waved around the bed.
Small elvish faces of malignity;
And oh, their gleaming eyes could ill be brooked,
All bent upon the babe that slumbered by!
Ready they seemed upon their prey to fly,
And oft they sprung, or stole with wary tread;
But o'er the couch a form of majesty
Stood all serene, whose eye the spirits fled,
Waring the golden wand she waved around the bed.
The palmer saw—and, as the damsel thought,
Joyed that the assailing spirits were outdone:
Still waxed their number, still they fiercer fought,
Till the last lingering sand of night was run;
Till the red star the gate of heaven had won,
And woke the dreaming eagle's lordly bay,
And heath-cock's larum on the moorland dun;
Then did they shrink, and vanish from the fray,
Far from the eye of Morn, on downward paths away.
Joyed that the assailing spirits were outdone:
Still waxed their number, still they fiercer fought,
Till the last lingering sand of night was run;
Till the red star the gate of heaven had won,
And woke the dreaming eagle's lordly bay,
And heath-cock's larum on the moorland dun;
Then did they shrink, and vanish from the fray,
Far from the eye of Morn, on downward paths away.
Spent was the night, and the old reverend sire
Had never closed his eyes, but watched and wept,
Muttering low vespers o'er his feeble fire,
Or, all intent, a watchful silence kept.
Now o'er his silver beard the round tear dripped,
Aside his cowl with hurried hand he flung,
Wiped his high brow, and cheek with sorrow stepped,
Then, with an upcast eye and tremulous tongue,
Unto the God of Life this matin hymn he sung.
Had never closed his eyes, but watched and wept,
Muttering low vespers o'er his feeble fire,
Or, all intent, a watchful silence kept.
Now o'er his silver beard the round tear dripped,
Aside his cowl with hurried hand he flung,
Wiped his high brow, and cheek with sorrow stepped,
Then, with an upcast eye and tremulous tongue,
Unto the God of Life this matin hymn he sung.
The Palmer's Morning Hymn.
Lauded be thy name for ever,Thou, of life the guard and giver!
Thou canst guard thy creatures sleeping,
Heal the heart long broke with weeping,
Rule the ouphes and elves at will,
That vex the air or haunt the hill,
And all the fury subject keep
Of boiling cloud and chafed deep:
I have seen, and well I know it;
Thou hast done, and thou wilt do it.
God of stillness and of motion,
Of the rainbow and the ocean,
Of the mountain, rock, and river,
Blessed be thy name for ever!
I have seen thy wondrous might,
Through the shadows of this night;
Thou, who slumber'st not nor sleepest,
Blest are they thou kindly keepest;
Spirits from the ocean under,
Liquid flame, and levelled thunder,
Need not waken nor alarm them—
All combined they cannot harm them.
God of evening's yellow ray,
God of yonder dawning day
That rises from the distant sea
Like breathings of eternity;
Thine the flaming sphere of light,
Thine the darkness of the night,
Thine are all the gems of even,
God of angels, God of heaven.
God of life that fade shall never,
Glory to thy name for ever!
Through the shadows of this night;
Thou, who slumber'st not nor sleepest,
Blest are they thou kindly keepest;
Spirits from the ocean under,
Liquid flame, and levelled thunder,
Need not waken nor alarm them—
All combined they cannot harm them.
God of evening's yellow ray,
God of yonder dawning day
That rises from the distant sea
Like breathings of eternity;
Thine the flaming sphere of light,
Thine the darkness of the night,
Thine are all the gems of even,
God of angels, God of heaven.
God of life that fade shall never,
Glory to thy name for ever!
That little song of rapt devotion fell
Upon a feeling heart, to nature true,
So soothing sweet, 'twas like the distant swell
Of seraph hymn along the vales of blue,
When first they ope to sainted spirit's view,
That through the wilds of space hath journeyed far,
Hoping, yet trembling as he onward flew,
Lest God the emerald gates of heaven might bar,
Till rests the joyous shade on some sweet peaceful star.
Upon a feeling heart, to nature true,
So soothing sweet, 'twas like the distant swell
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When first they ope to sainted spirit's view,
That through the wilds of space hath journeyed far,
Hoping, yet trembling as he onward flew,
Lest God the emerald gates of heaven might bar,
Till rests the joyous shade on some sweet peaceful star.
Till then she knew not that the wondrous sage
Was conversant with heaven, or fiends of hell;
Till then she knew not that his reverend age
Cared of the Almighty or his love to tell.
Sweet and untroubled as the dews that fell
Her morning slumbers were—the palmer lay
Stretched on the unyielding stone, accustomed well
To penance dire, and spirits' wild deray:
There slept they all in peace till high uprose the day.
Was conversant with heaven, or fiends of hell;
Till then she knew not that his reverend age
Cared of the Almighty or his love to tell.
Sweet and untroubled as the dews that fell
Her morning slumbers were—the palmer lay
Stretched on the unyielding stone, accustomed well
To penance dire, and spirits' wild deray:
There slept they all in peace till high uprose the day.
They journeyed on by Almond's silver stream,
That wimpled down a green untrodden wild;
By turns their hapless stories were the theme,
And aye the listener bore the pleased child.
The attentive sage nor chided nor reviled,
When simple tale of maiden love she said;
Meek his reproof, and, flowed in words so mild,
It tended much her constancy to aid,
And cheer her guileless heart from truth that never strayed.
That wimpled down a green untrodden wild;
By turns their hapless stories were the theme,
And aye the listener bore the pleased child.
The attentive sage nor chided nor reviled,
When simple tale of maiden love she said;
Meek his reproof, and, flowed in words so mild,
It tended much her constancy to aid,
And cheer her guileless heart from truth that never strayed.
“Fair dame,” he said, “thou may'st have done amiss,
And thou art brought to poverty and woe;
What now remains, but quietly to kiss
The lash that hangs o'er virtue's overthrow?
Be virtue still thy meed, thy trust, and know
It thee befits from murmur to refrain;
No plaint of thy just wounds be heard to flow,
The hand that gave will bind them up again.
List my distracting tale, and blame thy fortune then!
And thou art brought to poverty and woe;
What now remains, but quietly to kiss
The lash that hangs o'er virtue's overthrow?
Be virtue still thy meed, thy trust, and know
It thee befits from murmur to refrain;
No plaint of thy just wounds be heard to flow,
The hand that gave will bind them up again.
List my distracting tale, and blame thy fortune then!
“I was the lord of Stormont's fertile bound,
Of Isla's vale, and Eroch's woodland glade:
I loved—I sighed—my warmest hopes were crowned—
Oh, deed of shame! I vowed, and I betrayed!
The proud Matilda, now no longer maid,
Disdained my base unfaithful heart to move;
She knew not to solicit, nor upbraid,
But did a deed, the last of lawless love;
Ah! it hath seared my soul, that peace no more shall prove!
Of Isla's vale, and Eroch's woodland glade:
I loved—I sighed—my warmest hopes were crowned—
Oh, deed of shame! I vowed, and I betrayed!
The proud Matilda, now no longer maid,
Disdained my base unfaithful heart to move;
She knew not to solicit, nor upbraid,
But did a deed, the last of lawless love;
Ah! it hath seared my soul, that peace no more shall prove!
“I knew not all, yet marvelled much to see
That scarce a circling year had rolled away,
Ere she appeared the gayest maid to be
That graced the hall, or gambolled at the play.
With Methven's lord was fixed her bridal day:
Proud of her triumph, I—the chiefest guest—
Led her to church—Ah! never such array
Did woman's form of vanity invest,
Bright as the orient ray, or streamer of the west.
That scarce a circling year had rolled away,
Ere she appeared the gayest maid to be
That graced the hall, or gambolled at the play.
With Methven's lord was fixed her bridal day:
Proud of her triumph, I—the chiefest guest—
Led her to church—Ah! never such array
Did woman's form of vanity invest,
Bright as the orient ray, or streamer of the west.
“Scarce had we stepped the foremost of the train,
Within the church-yard's low and crumbling wall,
When, sweet as sunbeam gleaming through the rain,
We saw a shining row of children small.
Fair were their forms, and fair their robes withal;
But oh! each radiant and unmoving eye
Was fixed on us!—forget I never shall
How well they seemed my very soul to spy,
And hers—the sparkling bride, that moved so graceful by.
Within the church-yard's low and crumbling wall,
When, sweet as sunbeam gleaming through the rain,
We saw a shining row of children small.
Fair were their forms, and fair their robes withal;
But oh! each radiant and unmoving eye
Was fixed on us!—forget I never shall
How well they seemed my very soul to spy,
And hers—the sparkling bride, that moved so graceful by.
“Proud of their note, or charmed with the sight,
She turned aside with step of dignity:
All still and motionless, they stood upright,
Save one sweet babe that slightly bent the knee,
With such a smile of mild benignity,
These eyes shall ne'er such face again behold!
His flaxen curls like filmy silk did flee;
His tiny form seemed cast in heavenly mould;
His cheek like blossom pale, in April morning cold.
She turned aside with step of dignity:
All still and motionless, they stood upright,
Save one sweet babe that slightly bent the knee,
With such a smile of mild benignity,
These eyes shall ne'er such face again behold!
His flaxen curls like filmy silk did flee;
His tiny form seemed cast in heavenly mould;
His cheek like blossom pale, in April morning cold.
“‘Sweet babe,’ she simpered, with affected mien,
‘Thou art a lovely boy; if thou wert mine,
I'd deck thee in the gold and diamonds sheen,
And daily bathe thee in the rosy wine;
The musk-rose and the balmy eglantine
Around thy soft and silken couch should play:
How fondly would these arms around thee twine!
Asleep or waking, I would watch thee aye,
Caress thee all the night, and love thee all the day.’
‘Thou art a lovely boy; if thou wert mine,
I'd deck thee in the gold and diamonds sheen,
And daily bathe thee in the rosy wine;
The musk-rose and the balmy eglantine
Around thy soft and silken couch should play:
How fondly would these arms around thee twine!
Asleep or waking, I would watch thee aye,
Caress thee all the night, and love thee all the day.’
“‘O lady of the proud unfeeling soul,
'Tis not three little months since I was thine;
And thou did'st deck me in the grave-cloth foul,
And bathe me in the blood—that blood was mine!
Instead of damask rose and eglantine,
The reptile's brood plays round my guiltless core:
Ah! could'st thou deem there was no eye divine,
And that the deed would sleep for evermore?
Did'st thou ne'er see this pale, this pleading look before?’
'Tis not three little months since I was thine;
And thou did'st deck me in the grave-cloth foul,
And bathe me in the blood—that blood was mine!
Instead of damask rose and eglantine,
The reptile's brood plays round my guiltless core:
Ah! could'st thou deem there was no eye divine,
And that the deed would sleep for evermore?
Did'st thou ne'er see this pale, this pleading look before?’
“That moment I beheld, beneath mine eye,
A smiling babe, with hands and eyes upraised;
A pale and frantic mother trembled nigh—
She kneeled—she seized its arm!—the knife was raised—
‘Hold, hold!’ I cried; yet motionless I gazed,
And saw—O God of heaven! I see it now:
I see the eye-beam sink in deadly haze;
The quivering lip, the bent and gelid brow—
Oh, I shall see that sight in being yet to know!
A smiling babe, with hands and eyes upraised;
A pale and frantic mother trembled nigh—
She kneeled—she seized its arm!—the knife was raised—
‘Hold, hold!’ I cried; yet motionless I gazed,
And saw—O God of heaven! I see it now:
I see the eye-beam sink in deadly haze;
The quivering lip, the bent and gelid brow—
Oh, I shall see that sight in being yet to know!
“To wild disorder turned the bridal hall;
Oh, still at me her frenzied looks she threw!
All in amazement fled the festival,
The sufferer to the wild at midnight flew.
Thou found'st me underneath a lonely yew;
There I have prayed, and oft must pray again.
There ravens fed, and red the daisies grew,
Yet they were white! without a dye or stain,
The slender scattered bones there bleached in the rain.
Oh, still at me her frenzied looks she threw!
All in amazement fled the festival,
The sufferer to the wild at midnight flew.
Thou found'st me underneath a lonely yew;
There I have prayed, and oft must pray again.
There ravens fed, and red the daisies grew,
Yet they were white! without a dye or stain,
The slender scattered bones there bleached in the rain.
121
“Fair dame, thy crime is purity to mine;
I must go pray, for I am haunted still:
In heaven is mercy.—I may not repine,
But bow submissive, since it is the will
Of Him, who cares and feels for human ill.
They deem me mad, and laugh my woes to scorn,
And name me crazy Connel of the hill:
My heart is broke, my brain with watching worn;
I must go pray to God, for I am racked and torn!”
I must go pray, for I am haunted still:
In heaven is mercy.—I may not repine,
But bow submissive, since it is the will
Of Him, who cares and feels for human ill.
They deem me mad, and laugh my woes to scorn,
And name me crazy Connel of the hill:
My heart is broke, my brain with watching worn;
I must go pray to God, for I am racked and torn!”
He kneeled beside the gray stone on the heath,
And loud his orisons of dread began;
Such words were never framed of human breath,
Such tones of vehemence never poured by man!
Madly through veiled mysteries he ran,
With voice of howling and unvisioned eye;
Then would the tears drop o'er his cheek so wan,
And he would calmly plead, with throb and sigh,
And name his Saviour's name with deep humility.
And loud his orisons of dread began;
Such words were never framed of human breath,
Such tones of vehemence never poured by man!
Madly through veiled mysteries he ran,
With voice of howling and unvisioned eye;
Then would the tears drop o'er his cheek so wan,
And he would calmly plead, with throb and sigh,
And name his Saviour's name with deep humility.
Three days they journeyed on through moor and dale,
Till faded far the hills of Tay behind;
Still he was gentle as the southern gale,
Mild as the lamb, compassionate and kind;
But oh, far wilder than the winter wind
Whene'er a world of spirits was the theme!
Then he would name unbodied things of mind,
That paced the air, or skimmed along the stream:
His life seemed all a waste, a wild and troubled dream.
Till faded far the hills of Tay behind;
Still he was gentle as the southern gale,
Mild as the lamb, compassionate and kind;
But oh, far wilder than the winter wind
Whene'er a world of spirits was the theme!
Then he would name unbodied things of mind,
That paced the air, or skimmed along the stream:
His life seemed all a waste, a wild and troubled dream.
Still had the crime of innocence betrayed,
Which terminated not with shame alone,
Oppressed his heart and on his reason preyed;
In tears of blood that crime he did bemoan.
Though mazed were all his thoughts, yet to atone
For that to Heaven which reckless he had done,
O'er maiden innocence to watch anon
He ceased not, wearied not, till life was run.
Oh, be his tale a warning youthful vice to shun!
Which terminated not with shame alone,
Oppressed his heart and on his reason preyed;
In tears of blood that crime he did bemoan.
Though mazed were all his thoughts, yet to atone
For that to Heaven which reckless he had done,
O'er maiden innocence to watch anon
He ceased not, wearied not, till life was run.
Oh, be his tale a warning youthful vice to shun!
When nigh the verge of southern vale they came,
And green Strathallan opened to their view,
He blest the child and mother in the name
Of heaven's Eternal King, with reverence due;
Then turning round, with maddened strides withdrew
Back to his desert solitude again,
To watch the moon, and pray beneath his yew,
Controlling spirits on their mountain reign,
Till death brought unity, for ever to remain.
And green Strathallan opened to their view,
He blest the child and mother in the name
Of heaven's Eternal King, with reverence due;
Then turning round, with maddened strides withdrew
Back to his desert solitude again,
To watch the moon, and pray beneath his yew,
Controlling spirits on their mountain reign,
Till death brought unity, for ever to remain.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |