 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
206
MY FRIENDS OF CHORLEY.
The earth lay entranced in the glories of June,
The flowers were in splendour, the birds were in tune,
When I, a poor wayfarer, plodded along,
Surrounded by beauty, and fragrance, and song;
But weary and hungry, in quest of employ,
My soul could not mingle with Nature's great joy;
Till at length I encountered a friend by the way,—
A friend I had known in a happier day—
And he without coldness, or question, or guile,
Gave the bread and the cup, with a kind word and smile;
And more, for he stirred other hearts to my need,
And their aid and their sympathy cheered me indeed.
The flowers were in splendour, the birds were in tune,
When I, a poor wayfarer, plodded along,
Surrounded by beauty, and fragrance, and song;
But weary and hungry, in quest of employ,
My soul could not mingle with Nature's great joy;
Till at length I encountered a friend by the way,—
A friend I had known in a happier day—
And he without coldness, or question, or guile,
Gave the bread and the cup, with a kind word and smile;
And more, for he stirred other hearts to my need,
And their aid and their sympathy cheered me indeed.
I shall ever remember that sociable night,
When my friends gathered round me to help and delight;
Honest men and hard-workers, a right pleasant throng,
Who could feel for the bard, while they honoured his song.
How quickly and cheerfully passed the brief time,
With the bountiful mixture of reason and rhyme,
With the good-natured banter, which gave no offence,
With the laught of good humour, the speech of good sense,
With song, recitation, and other good things,
Which sped the brief hours on delectable wings:
And more than all this, there was mixed with the whole,
A feeling which touched and exalted the soul.
When my friends gathered round me to help and delight;
Honest men and hard-workers, a right pleasant throng,
Who could feel for the bard, while they honoured his song.
How quickly and cheerfully passed the brief time,
With the bountiful mixture of reason and rhyme,
With the good-natured banter, which gave no offence,
With the laught of good humour, the speech of good sense,
With song, recitation, and other good things,
Which sped the brief hours on delectable wings:
And more than all this, there was mixed with the whole,
A feeling which touched and exalted the soul.
207
And who shall presume to discourage with scorn
The brave son of toil, with his duties o'erworn,
Who seeks to enjoy, in a rational way,
The small leisure left him throughout the long day?
Not I; for dear freedom, in action and mind,
When used with right reason, and justly defined,
Is the claim of all men, yea, their claim and their need,
And the stark son of labour deserves it indeed.
The brave son of toil, with his duties o'erworn,
Who seeks to enjoy, in a rational way,
The small leisure left him throughout the long day?
Not I; for dear freedom, in action and mind,
When used with right reason, and justly defined,
Is the claim of all men, yea, their claim and their need,
And the stark son of labour deserves it indeed.
Dear friends, newly found, I will try to retain
Your hearty good-will till I meet you again,
And may our next meeting come gladly and soon,
And may fickle Fortune just grant me a boon,
That I may reward you, with feelings of glee,
For the delicate aid that you rendered to me.
Your hearty good-will till I meet you again,
And may our next meeting come gladly and soon,
And may fickle Fortune just grant me a boon,
That I may reward you, with feelings of glee,
For the delicate aid that you rendered to me.
Let us give when we can, for to give is to gain,
As the earth gets her own exhalations in rain;
Each free gift of charity goes to increase,
And returns to us sweetly to bless us with peace;
Let us foster kind feeling in this world of ours,
For such is the “odour of heavenly flowers.”
As the earth gets her own exhalations in rain;
Each free gift of charity goes to increase,
And returns to us sweetly to bless us with peace;
Let us foster kind feeling in this world of ours,
For such is the “odour of heavenly flowers.”
Fellow-workers, 'twere vain my rude verse to prolong,
For I cannot tell all my emotions in song,
But I'll cherish your memory, happen what may,
Whate'er be my fortune, for many a day;
May your blessings be many, your sorrows be few,
May health, peace, and virtue befriend you! Adieu!
For I cannot tell all my emotions in song,
But I'll cherish your memory, happen what may,
Whate'er be my fortune, for many a day;
May your blessings be many, your sorrows be few,
May health, peace, and virtue befriend you! Adieu!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |