Rural sketches and poems chiefly relating to Cleveland [by J. W. Ord] |
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE BURNS
FESTIVAL.
|
Rural sketches and poems | ||
314
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE BURNS FESTIVAL.
Held at Ayr, August 6th, 1844.
“Him who walk'd in glory and in joy,
Following his plough along the mountain side.”
wordsworth.
Following his plough along the mountain side.”
wordsworth.
Sweet Ayr sing gaily 'midst thy bowers,
Nith, murmur with thy gentlest roar,
Doon, “bonny Doon,” kiss all thy flowers,
Old Coila ring from shore to shore!
Nith, murmur with thy gentlest roar,
Doon, “bonny Doon,” kiss all thy flowers,
Old Coila ring from shore to shore!
This glorious day, this heavenly hour,
Shall kindle through a nation's ranks!
All England, Europe, waft a shower
Of joyous, gratulating, thanks.
Shall kindle through a nation's ranks!
All England, Europe, waft a shower
Of joyous, gratulating, thanks.
Scotland, he was thy noblest,—thine—
A Comet blazing in the skies:
If frail and human, still divine
With heaven's and Nature's sympathies
A Comet blazing in the skies:
If frail and human, still divine
With heaven's and Nature's sympathies
All fears, all hopes, all tenderness,
In Burns' bosom shared a part;
The pangs that rend, the loves that bless
Possess'd in turns bold Robin's heart.
In Burns' bosom shared a part;
315
Possess'd in turns bold Robin's heart.
And, if along his dark career
Shone lurid gleams like hues of even,
'Twas such as gilds yon starry sphere,
Celestial splendour, “light from heaven.
Shone lurid gleams like hues of even,
'Twas such as gilds yon starry sphere,
Celestial splendour, “light from heaven.
Old Scotland's hills, her “banks and braes,”
Her branching woods, and silv'ry streams,
Her Hawthorn glades drank in the rays,
Like sunlight from a land of dreams.
Her branching woods, and silv'ry streams,
Her Hawthorn glades drank in the rays,
Like sunlight from a land of dreams.
Her peasants felt the bnrning glow,
Her maidens drank the rapturous flame—
Mid scorching suns, and frozen snow
Shines forth his beacon-light of fame!
Her maidens drank the rapturous flame—
Mid scorching suns, and frozen snow
Shines forth his beacon-light of fame!
Yea, Scotland's “symbol” spared by him
The daisy perch'd in Nature's nook,
The “primrose by the river's brim,”
Imbib'd heav'ns sunshine from his look.
The daisy perch'd in Nature's nook,
The “primrose by the river's brim,”
Imbib'd heav'ns sunshine from his look.
Proud lords and ladies of renown
With humble peasants linger'd there,
And Poets weav'd the lilac-crown
For Burns, immortal Bard of Ayr!
With humble peasants linger'd there,
And Poets weav'd the lilac-crown
For Burns, immortal Bard of Ayr!
Yes, Scotland's second Burns attended,
The seraph-lipp'd, the eagle-eyed
Whilst rank, from lofty state descended,
And sat with Wilson side by side.
The seraph-lipp'd, the eagle-eyed
316
The Earl of Eglintoun presided, and Professor Wilson, Editor of Blackwood's Magazine, occupied the Vice Chair,—a delightful union of nobility of rank and aristocracy of talent. A better selection than Professor Wilson could not have been made,—kindred with Burns in passion, genius, enthusiasm, and nobility of nature.
And sat with Wilson side by side.
Most festal, most triumphant sight!
The snow-white tents, the banner'd sky,
Gay cavalcades, processions bright,
And woman's soft approving eye.
The snow-white tents, the banner'd sky,
Gay cavalcades, processions bright,
And woman's soft approving eye.
And, Scotland, if despair's keen dart
E'er pierced thy Poet's manly frame,
If cold neglect disturb'd his heart,
This hour eradicates thy shame.
E'er pierced thy Poet's manly frame,
If cold neglect disturb'd his heart,
This hour eradicates thy shame.
Pale Envy, Hatred's hideous brood,
Mean warfare with the loftiest wage,
But, independent, unsubdued,
Burns eagle-like outsoar'd their rage.
Mean warfare with the loftiest wage,
But, independent, unsubdued,
Burns eagle-like outsoar'd their rage.
Now, lo, as Ocean waves they come,
To wash the ungenerous stain away,
Whilst Burns from his cerulean home
Forgives them—for this glorious day.
To wash the ungenerous stain away,
Whilst Burns from his cerulean home
Forgives them—for this glorious day.
Then fear not, ye of kindred clay,
Illumined with Promethean fire,
Though clouds obscure the heavenly ray,
And earthly dews relax your lyre.
Illumined with Promethean fire,
Though clouds obscure the heavenly ray,
And earthly dews relax your lyre.
Though hell-born Furies shriek with pain,
And lash you with a rod of flame,
Your present loss is future gain,
And myriads yet shall bless your name.
And lash you with a rod of flame,
317
And myriads yet shall bless your name.
Rural sketches and poems | ||