University of Virginia Library

Though gen'rous Albert so was fam'd,
That Albert's field of Harvest, nam'd,
Instant did list'ner's fancy see
A field of friendship, love, and glee;
Where, mild, a parent-master walk'd,
And join'd the jest, and smil'd and talk'd;
Yet sometimes there, despite his sway,
Contention rose, and fierce affray,
Till ridge behind on ridge before
Came furious up, and past it bore;
While stubble rough, and bindsters flung
Declar'd the wrath with which they sprung.
Now to their ridge each merry three
Repair'd once more from song and glee.
At once they stoop! from side to side
The ring of sickles nimbly plied,
And rustling corn are heard;
Successive sheaves are fill'd and bound,
Successive bands bestrew the ground,
The hooks, bright circling, still resound,
And still the field is bared.
The corn is dropp'd from Anna's hand—
Why glance her eyes along the band?
The bustle is begun!
Has lovely Anna, lost in thought,
Or youthful Edward faster wrought;
Was Nelson fir'd, by phrenzy taught,
Or did thy breast, with rapture fraught,
Sylvander! bid thee run?
'Twas on the left the harsher jar
Of sickles spoke commencing war,
And anger mutter'd low;
The soldier saw with jealous glance,
The blacksmith's ridge too far advance,
And held that ridge a foe;
And bore away;—that motion soon
Like lightning glanc'd along the boon,
Till all, from side to side, was life,
Resentment, bustle, rage, and strife!

But still unbroken stretch'd the line,
And foot to foot the kempers join;
Not one, though all were toiling keen,
To pass another yet was seen.
While Albert, walking slow behind,
Was long debating in his mind,
Whether at once to interfere,
And stop them in their hot career;
Or leave them to themselves, to pay
With sweat the price of causeless fray.
But well he knew Sylvander's hand
Unskill'd the sickle to command;
And Mary, though unknown to yield,
Was now unfit for bustling field:
Considerate, he resolv'd that toil,
Till o'er the headland rush'd turmoil,
Uncheck'd go on—unless their power
Outstrip the band of Calder's Flower.
For here e'en Albert gaz'd unseen,
And sigh'd—his Ellen such had been!
So often had recurr'd the thought,
A kind of tenderness it wrought
For the sweet maid; and he could spy
Her form with scarce impartial eye.
That eye which beam'd respect to all
On her a kinder glance let fall,
And oh! that glance, heart-sent, did tell
How fond he wish'd her ever well!

As when upon the side of Heddin
The nightly conflagrations redden;
Before the west-wind, swift and strong,
The broad flame rages, grand, along;
Still fiercer blazes from beneath,
And—crackling—falls the sapless heath;—
So, in their rage, the madd'ning train
Toil'd,—and so fell the rustling grain!

Sylvander, on! a time to prove
Thy merits to returning love
Is come! Oh, think what shame shouldst thou
Lose thine and Anna's honour now,
And cloud her ever-cheerful brow!
Thus thought he—and, with all his might
He plied beside his soul's delight:
That maid to whom all hearts must yield—
The pride, the grace of all the field;
With whom to join the best were proud;—
Were here the laziest clown allowed,
From temples of the laziest clown
Thou wouldst have seen the sweat run down:
For—who beside such charms could stand?
Who would not toil with heart and hand?

Thy virgin, Roddam! striking strong
And eager, bore her part along;
Edward exerted all his power;
Sylvander toil'd, and Calder's Flower;
Her furrow-brow sweet Jessy bared,
And Mary all youth's ardour shared,
“Come on!” she cried, “why stop afar?
Come on—a Nelson offers war!”

Behind, and toiling fast as they,
Stripp'd to the shirt, his hat away,
Their bindster rear'd his shocks so frail,
They scarce might bide a gentle gale;
Yet was he pleas'd to see his band
Now far the foremost bare the land.
For all behind, save Tweedmouth's train,
The kempers left had ceas'd to strain;
But those, though yards from Edward sever,
Toil'd in pursuit as keen as ever!