 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
316
THE MAD EARL
And that is our Earl—poor fellow! I should not have known him a bit,
Had we met on a street: how he's changed! to be sure, he had never much wit,
But at least he was handsome, and now he is bloated and brown as a toad,
And his brains gone to slush, like the snow when a thaw comes down on the road.
Had we met on a street: how he's changed! to be sure, he had never much wit,
But at least he was handsome, and now he is bloated and brown as a toad,
And his brains gone to slush, like the snow when a thaw comes down on the road.
It is years now since I have seen him, except in the woods far away
Pacing alone where the close trees shut out the light of the day,
Shunning all speech of man, and still more a woman to face;—
Ay, ay! the weird is upon him that has to be dree'd by his race.
Pacing alone where the close trees shut out the light of the day,
Shunning all speech of man, and still more a woman to face;—
Ay, ay! the weird is upon him that has to be dree'd by his race.
These grand old families now, there's a story about them all—
A ghost-room, a tragedy somewhere, a writing upon the wall;
Of course they are shy to speak of it, but, on a winter night,
It's the talk of the cottage fireside, in the dusk of the dim rush light.
A ghost-room, a tragedy somewhere, a writing upon the wall;
Of course they are shy to speak of it, but, on a winter night,
It's the talk of the cottage fireside, in the dusk of the dim rush light.
They tell of the Statesman Earl—'twas he made the house so great—
A shrewd-witted Parliament man, and Councillor high of state—
How shifty and clever he was with the turn o' the tide to swim,
And how when a Bisset or Cheyne died, their lands fell somehow to him.
A shrewd-witted Parliament man, and Councillor high of state—
How shifty and clever he was with the turn o' the tide to swim,
And how when a Bisset or Cheyne died, their lands fell somehow to him.
Folk called him the great lord Spider: yet the small lairds still drew near,
And buzzed about him like flies, for he was the big man here;
And play ran high in those days; you might gamble a good estate
Between the wine and the dawn; and his lordship's luck was great.
And buzzed about him like flies, for he was the big man here;
And play ran high in those days; you might gamble a good estate
Between the wine and the dawn; and his lordship's luck was great.
That's how the curse came on them—that ne'er from his house should depart—
A lord who was out of his wits, or a lady who had not a heart,
For three generations coming; at least, so the old wives said,
But maybe the woes of the house gave rise to the weird they read.
A lord who was out of his wits, or a lady who had not a heart,
For three generations coming; at least, so the old wives said,
But maybe the woes of the house gave rise to the weird they read.
Everything must have a reason; every fire once had a spark;
And what like the judgment of heaven for clearing up things that are dark?
None of his neighbours throve, and none of his race had their wits:—
Easy to patch up a tale coming pat to your hand so in bits.
And what like the judgment of heaven for clearing up things that are dark?
None of his neighbours throve, and none of his race had their wits:—
Easy to patch up a tale coming pat to your hand so in bits.
Anyhow, certain it is that the Statesman Earl had a son,
A gallant and gay young soldier, beloved of every one,
Till one day his charger stumbled, and they picked him up for dead—
Better he had been, for henceforth he never was right in the head.
A gallant and gay young soldier, beloved of every one,
Till one day his charger stumbled, and they picked him up for dead—
Better he had been, for henceforth he never was right in the head.
Then followed this one's father; he slobbered a deal at his meat,
His tongue was too big for his mouth, and he shambled too with his feet;
But he knew the right side of a penny, and looked to his farms and woods;
Only nobody saw him at last, and they say he had wild-beast moods.
His tongue was too big for his mouth, and he shambled too with his feet;
But he knew the right side of a penny, and looked to his farms and woods;
Only nobody saw him at last, and they say he had wild-beast moods.
But this Earl Ughtred, he looked right as a man could be:
I knew him well as a boy, for he took a rare fancy for me,
Chose me to go with him fishing, as well he might, for I knew
More about trouting and fly-hooks than idle keepers could do.
I knew him well as a boy, for he took a rare fancy for me,
Chose me to go with him fishing, as well he might, for I knew
More about trouting and fly-hooks than idle keepers could do.
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I was bred, you see, from a child on the bank of his choicest brook,
And fished it with crooked pins, when I knew ne'er a word of my book,
And my father too could busk you the daintiest deadliest flies;
And the young lord saw that I knew the pools where the fish would rise.
And fished it with crooked pins, when I knew ne'er a word of my book,
And my father too could busk you the daintiest deadliest flies;
And the young lord saw that I knew the pools where the fish would rise.
And many a talk we had as we tramped o'er the hills and the heather,
Or dropped the spoil in the creel, or lunched on the banks together;
And what would he not do for me, when he came to man's estate?
For still he would go off a-fishing, and I must still be his mate.
Or dropped the spoil in the creel, or lunched on the banks together;
And what would he not do for me, when he came to man's estate?
For still he would go off a-fishing, and I must still be his mate.
A fine, frank lad, sir, he was; and he would have done all that he said;
It was not his blame that he did not; but he never was strong in the head;
He had not a turn for books; and he used to have dreamy moods;
But his heart was sound at the core, as the healthiest oak in the woods.
It was not his blame that he did not; but he never was strong in the head;
He had not a turn for books; and he used to have dreamy moods;
But his heart was sound at the core, as the healthiest oak in the woods.
It's true, he turned wildish awhile—as all of his race have done—
He was handsome and wealthy and young, and guidance wise he had none;
I sometimes wonder myself, could I carry a cup so full,
And not spill a drop by the way, but keep my head steady and cool?
He was handsome and wealthy and young, and guidance wise he had none;
I sometimes wonder myself, could I carry a cup so full,
And not spill a drop by the way, but keep my head steady and cool?
By this time his father was dead, but he never had been of much good;
Vice was engrained in him, only he did it as cheap as he could;—
What little mind e'er he had—it never was much to be sure—
Had been given to hoarding and hiding the pennies he screwed from the poor.
Vice was engrained in him, only he did it as cheap as he could;—
What little mind e'er he had—it never was much to be sure—
Had been given to hoarding and hiding the pennies he screwed from the poor.
So Ughtred would not be like him, would rather be lavish than mean,
And scatter his gold, like the best, where the nobles of England were seen;
Alike open-hearted and handed, had he only the brains to know
Among all the ways that were miry where was the safe one to go.
And scatter his gold, like the best, where the nobles of England were seen;
Alike open-hearted and handed, had he only the brains to know
Among all the ways that were miry where was the safe one to go.
Wild, then, he was for a season—forsooth, he must bet and race,
Though he scarce knew a horse from a cow, sir, unless she had horns to her face;
So the blacklegs got at him early, and sold him the weediest screws
Which he backed, of course, at their bidding, till he fell in the hands of the Jews.
Though he scarce knew a horse from a cow, sir, unless she had horns to her face;
So the blacklegs got at him early, and sold him the weediest screws
Which he backed, of course, at their bidding, till he fell in the hands of the Jews.
Then he got frightened, poor fellow, and something or other he did—
I never could make out what—to men of his order forbid;
They did not say it was wicked, but spoke of it as of a shame,
And the great folks pitied his mother, and shook their heads at his name.
I never could make out what—to men of his order forbid;
They did not say it was wicked, but spoke of it as of a shame,
And the great folks pitied his mother, and shook their heads at his name.
That don't go for much with me; for I've lived on their skirts all my days,
And I know that their honour allows them to walk in the doubtfulest ways,
And I know that their honour forbids what conscience does not refuse—
And he never was strong in the head, sir, and he was in the hands of the Jews.
And I know that their honour allows them to walk in the doubtfulest ways,
And I know that their honour forbids what conscience does not refuse—
And he never was strong in the head, sir, and he was in the hands of the Jews.
But it touched his mother; who was among us like a sov'reign law;
Her pride was something the people whispered about with awe.
And now to be pitied!—that made her more haughty than ever before,
And she held up her head the higher, and hardened her heart the more.
Her pride was something the people whispered about with awe.
And now to be pitied!—that made her more haughty than ever before,
And she held up her head the higher, and hardened her heart the more.
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Then, his sister, the Lady Ion—she just came of age that year—
A splendid creature to look at, but also a woman to fear,
Features clear-cut as in marble, an eye that was bright and cold,
And a perfect seat on the saddle—a rider as cool as bold:
A splendid creature to look at, but also a woman to fear,
Features clear-cut as in marble, an eye that was bright and cold,
And a perfect seat on the saddle—a rider as cool as bold:
I was his lordship's servant, and it is not for me to speak,
But the Book it says that the strong should be helpful still to the weak;
And if all the tales be true that came from the big house then,
Better for him had he faced the wrath and the scorn of men.
But the Book it says that the strong should be helpful still to the weak;
And if all the tales be true that came from the big house then,
Better for him had he faced the wrath and the scorn of men.
'Twas hard for her, I allow, to have that shadow of shame
Cast on her morning sunshine, stigma on her proud name;
But he was the head of the house, though ever so weak in his mind,
And they were strong and cruel, who should have been strong and kind.
Cast on her morning sunshine, stigma on her proud name;
But he was the head of the house, though ever so weak in his mind,
And they were strong and cruel, who should have been strong and kind.
There was a girl that he fancied, sweet as a rose in June,
All other girls in the county were only as stars to her moon,
All other girls in the county were but as weeds to the rose
That in the bloom of its beauty in stateliest garden grows.
All other girls in the county were only as stars to her moon,
All other girls in the county were but as weeds to the rose
That in the bloom of its beauty in stateliest garden grows.
Her fathers were barons here, when the great Earl's house was small
As the stable where their horses stood champing each in his stall;
It is not for me to say how, if certainly ever I knew,
But slowly their acres had dwindled as his lordship's acres grew.
As the stable where their horses stood champing each in his stall;
It is not for me to say how, if certainly ever I knew,
But slowly their acres had dwindled as his lordship's acres grew.
But my lady and Lady Ion, they would not hear of the match;
They mocked at her as a cottar whose door was shut on a latch,
For there was nothing to steal there, but only a wax-doll face
Blooming on bread and milk, and just fit for a milkmaid's place.
They mocked at her as a cottar whose door was shut on a latch,
For there was nothing to steal there, but only a wax-doll face
Blooming on bread and milk, and just fit for a milkmaid's place.
Ah! pride, sir, is hard as flint, and the sparks struck from it are hot,
Here and there flying unguided, to burn where little you wot;
They hurt not her in the least, but see what they've made now of him,
Moping and mooning about here whereever the light is dim.
Here and there flying unguided, to burn where little you wot;
They hurt not her in the least, but see what they've made now of him,
Moping and mooning about here whereever the light is dim.
Then came the Colonist girl—that's she who's her ladyship now—
That she had her wits about her was writ on her sharp little brow;
Pretty and clever enough, with a glittering hard blue eye,—
Ay! she would see to herself if her face was not wholly a lie.
That she had her wits about her was writ on her sharp little brow;
Pretty and clever enough, with a glittering hard blue eye,—
Ay! she would see to herself if her face was not wholly a lie.
Colonial manners are frank; she would talk to any she met—
Cadger or molecatcher—free, as she walked through the dry and the wet,
And oh but she won folk's hearts, for she neither was haughty nor shy:
But I liked not the cold blue glitter of steel that I saw in her eye.
Cadger or molecatcher—free, as she walked through the dry and the wet,
And oh but she won folk's hearts, for she neither was haughty nor shy:
But I liked not the cold blue glitter of steel that I saw in her eye.
She thawed the Dowager's frost—like a breath of the coming spring,
And toned her speech till it seemed like the songs that the spring-birds sing;
What could she see in her now to sweeten her manner so,
And make so much of a girl who was hardly a lady, you know?
And toned her speech till it seemed like the songs that the spring-birds sing;
What could she see in her now to sweeten her manner so,
And make so much of a girl who was hardly a lady, you know?
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Colonial girls are free, sir, and colonial manners are frank,
But then colonial money is good as the gold in the Bank;
And she had dollars in millions to patch the rents he had made,
Racing and betting, and learning the way that the Hebrews trade.
But then colonial money is good as the gold in the Bank;
And she had dollars in millions to patch the rents he had made,
Racing and betting, and learning the way that the Hebrews trade.
The Dowager, then, looked sweet, and the Lady Ion was bland,
As they led her over the Castle and showed her the goodly land,
And they praised Earl Ughtred to her, and the race from which he grew—
They were not clever perhaps, but their hearts were good and true.
As they led her over the Castle and showed her the goodly land,
And they praised Earl Ughtred to her, and the race from which he grew—
They were not clever perhaps, but their hearts were good and true.
Meanwhile he mooned about: but would sometimes go fishing with me,
And then he was like himself, and would laugh with a boyish glee,
To hear the birr of the reel, or to land his fish on the bank—
Till he turned him homeward, and then his face looked weary and blank.
And then he was like himself, and would laugh with a boyish glee,
To hear the birr of the reel, or to land his fish on the bank—
Till he turned him homeward, and then his face looked weary and blank.
Well; one day she came up to me with the daintiest rod and reel,
A casting-line twined round her hat, and hung by her side was a creel,
Boots of porpoise leather, and petticoats not too long,
In trim for a day of sport, and humming an angler's song.
A casting-line twined round her hat, and hung by her side was a creel,
Boots of porpoise leather, and petticoats not too long,
In trim for a day of sport, and humming an angler's song.
“I want you to take me with you, and show me how you do;
There's nothing our Earl now cares for, except an outing with you;
Of course, I am fishing for him, and they too are fishing for me,
All the big house are in love with my money, save only he.
There's nothing our Earl now cares for, except an outing with you;
Of course, I am fishing for him, and they too are fishing for me,
All the big house are in love with my money, save only he.
I'm frank with you—that is my way; but really I like you, though
You neither like me nor trust me, as well by your looks I know;
And now you are wondering why I am set on this weak-witted earl:—
As if strong-witted peers would look at a mere colonial girl.
You neither like me nor trust me, as well by your looks I know;
And now you are wondering why I am set on this weak-witted earl:—
As if strong-witted peers would look at a mere colonial girl.
Now, I've told you the truth, will you help me? These women will drive him mad;
Their nagging and sneering and mocking have broken what spirit he had.
Folk talk of the fourth generation, that it would bring back their wit—
I'm not superstitious, mind ye—but what if there's something in it?
Their nagging and sneering and mocking have broken what spirit he had.
Folk talk of the fourth generation, that it would bring back their wit—
I'm not superstitious, mind ye—but what if there's something in it?
Most of the old stock here are needing fresh blood in their veins,
And I'm sane enough to set up a score of their weak scatter-brains;
What say you?—might I not risk it just on the chance that they
Might get a new start in life to go on in a rational way?
And I'm sane enough to set up a score of their weak scatter-brains;
What say you?—might I not risk it just on the chance that they
Might get a new start in life to go on in a rational way?
You smile—it's a dubious smile, I've noticed it often on you—
Oh, you do not trust me, I know, yet you might, if you only knew;
No matter; you'll take me with you? I'll not spoil sport if I can,
I just want a lesson from you how to manage a moody young man.”
Oh, you do not trust me, I know, yet you might, if you only knew;
No matter; you'll take me with you? I'll not spoil sport if I can,
I just want a lesson from you how to manage a moody young man.”
So we went off on our fishing, but our sport was little that day;
He was not once at his ease, and I saw that he wished her away;
Nor did she manage him wisely, she had not the delicate touch,
As she chattered and laughed so briskly, to know when it was too much.
He was not once at his ease, and I saw that he wished her away;
Nor did she manage him wisely, she had not the delicate touch,
As she chattered and laughed so briskly, to know when it was too much.
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Yet she meant well, I am certain; meant landing her fish, if she could,
But yet to make life to him brighter, and banish his gloomy mood;
And she bit her thin lip at the failure, when he went off in a dream;
That was the last time that ever he threw a gut-line on the stream.
But yet to make life to him brighter, and banish his gloomy mood;
And she bit her thin lip at the failure, when he went off in a dream;
That was the last time that ever he threw a gut-line on the stream.
How it came round then, I know not; they wanted to wipe off the debt,
And she with her millions of dollars would buy her an old coronet;
They settled it somehow among them, and got him to church one day,
Where he stood like a man in a trance, but he said what he had to say.
And she with her millions of dollars would buy her an old coronet;
They settled it somehow among them, and got him to church one day,
Where he stood like a man in a trance, but he said what he had to say.
The young folk travelled abroad for a time, as their way is, you know;
And the Dowager followed with Ion too, after a month or so,
We heard of them sometimes in Paris, and then in Rome, for a while,
By and by on the Rhine river, then off for a trip to the Nile.
And the Dowager followed with Ion too, after a month or so,
We heard of them sometimes in Paris, and then in Rome, for a while,
By and by on the Rhine river, then off for a trip to the Nile.
At last, they came home, and were followed by visitors, princes and dukes,
And priests with the subtlest smiles, and the sleekest of sidelong looks,
Black-bearded foreign nobles, and their beardless foreign priests,
And oh but there were rare doings with hunts and balls and feasts.
And priests with the subtlest smiles, and the sleekest of sidelong looks,
Black-bearded foreign nobles, and their beardless foreign priests,
And oh but there were rare doings with hunts and balls and feasts.
You see, if there was not an heir—as there did not seem like to be—
Our young lady, she would be countess; and now there was money to free
Every acre of debt, and to leave the Australian girl
Enough to maintain the state of the widow of Fingland's Earl.
Our young lady, she would be countess; and now there was money to free
Every acre of debt, and to leave the Australian girl
Enough to maintain the state of the widow of Fingland's Earl.
That was a merry time then, they rode to the hunt by day,
And kept up the ball till morning, or shuffled the cards for play,
All but the Earl, and he went moping and mooning about,
Alone in his dusky chamber, or alone in the woods without.
And kept up the ball till morning, or shuffled the cards for play,
All but the Earl, and he went moping and mooning about,
Alone in his dusky chamber, or alone in the woods without.
The young wife did as the rest, she rode to the Meet, at least,
Saw them throw off, and then came ambling home with a priest,
Chatted and laughed in the parlour, sailed through a waltz at the ball,
And, thinking nothing of Ughtred, made herself pleasant to all.
Saw them throw off, and then came ambling home with a priest,
Chatted and laughed in the parlour, sailed through a waltz at the ball,
And, thinking nothing of Ughtred, made herself pleasant to all.
So it went on, till a day when bills must be settled at last;
They had been falling like snow-flakes white on the old house cast,
And duns had been prowling about it, threatening letters been sent;
What could it mean, these people growing so insolent?
They had been falling like snow-flakes white on the old house cast,
And duns had been prowling about it, threatening letters been sent;
What could it mean, these people growing so insolent?
Where was the chamberlain? Why had those men never been paid?
Where were the millions of dollars for which they had boldly played?
What had “my Lady” to do with it? was not her money my Lord's?
Had she not titles and honours for her squatter father's hoards?
Where were the millions of dollars for which they had boldly played?
What had “my Lady” to do with it? was not her money my Lord's?
Had she not titles and honours for her squatter father's hoards?
Then they learnt what it meant, that glitter of steel in her eye;
Surely poor folk must be paid for the things that the rich folk buy,
And her lady mother and Ion had ordered everything nice,
And, of course, she had always supposed they were careful to count the price.
Surely poor folk must be paid for the things that the rich folk buy,
And her lady mother and Ion had ordered everything nice,
And, of course, she had always supposed they were careful to count the price.
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As for her money—her father, who honestly had come by it,
Had tied it up, every penny, as fast as the law could tie it;
Her marriage was not a joint-stock; each managed their own affairs;
Not a dollar of hers was Ughtred's, and never a penny was theirs.
Had tied it up, every penny, as fast as the law could tie it;
Her marriage was not a joint-stock; each managed their own affairs;
Not a dollar of hers was Ughtred's, and never a penny was theirs.
Ay! they had met their match; it was even so as she said;
The lawyers had warned the Earl; but he never was strong in the head,
Folk even doubted, at times, if he knew what his marriage meant,
And as for the signing of papers—he had signed whatever was sent.
The lawyers had warned the Earl; but he never was strong in the head,
Folk even doubted, at times, if he knew what his marriage meant,
And as for the signing of papers—he had signed whatever was sent.
So she sat smiling there calmly, and spoke in the blandest way
Soft lisping words that were daggers; how could she know but that they—
She was but a squatter's daughter—had only to clap their hands,
And slaves would bring dresses and jewels, and horses and houses and lands?
Soft lisping words that were daggers; how could she know but that they—
She was but a squatter's daughter—had only to clap their hands,
And slaves would bring dresses and jewels, and horses and houses and lands?
But, of course, if their money was gone, they must live in a quieter way;
No ladies, as she supposed, would wear what they could not pay;
And she knew that one could be happy, as free from the burden of cares,
In a hut with a maid-of-all-work, as in a great castle like theirs.
No ladies, as she supposed, would wear what they could not pay;
And she knew that one could be happy, as free from the burden of cares,
In a hut with a maid-of-all-work, as in a great castle like theirs.
Oh the glitter of that blue eye! yet it showed too a gleam of fun,
As she told them of mutton and damper and tea on her father's “run,”
Cooked by herself, with a wild Irish girl who saw to the fire;—
It was spiteful, no doubt; but the sketch was cleverly hit off by her.
As she told them of mutton and damper and tea on her father's “run,”
Cooked by herself, with a wild Irish girl who saw to the fire;—
It was spiteful, no doubt; but the sketch was cleverly hit off by her.
What could they do? They might rage, but she shrugged her shoulders, and smiled;
If they could not pay their own tradesmen, why, then she had been beguiled;
She had known that he was not burdened with brains, nor in vigorous health,
But she took all their stories for gospel, when they spoke of his greatness and wealth.
If they could not pay their own tradesmen, why, then she had been beguiled;
She had known that he was not burdened with brains, nor in vigorous health,
But she took all their stories for gospel, when they spoke of his greatness and wealth.
So the ladies and princes and dukes and priests all vanished like smoke,
And our clever colonial countess had all her own way with the folk,
And we soon had an orderly household, thrifty, yet stately withal,
And two years after the wedding there came a young heir to it all.
And our clever colonial countess had all her own way with the folk,
And we soon had an orderly household, thrifty, yet stately withal,
And two years after the wedding there came a young heir to it all.
I think she had honestly tried to help the poor Earl in his fits
And moods, till it plainly appeared he was fairly out of his wits,
Harmless enough, but nothing was left of his brains but the husk,
And he muttered a deal to himself as he wandered about in the dusk.
And moods, till it plainly appeared he was fairly out of his wits,
Harmless enough, but nothing was left of his brains but the husk,
And he muttered a deal to himself as he wandered about in the dusk.
I had not seen him for years, till I met him this evening, by chance,
In the wood, and as soon as he saw me, he looked with a furtive glance
This side and that, like a wild beast, to find what way he could go,
For we were on the narrow path 'tween the rock and the river below.
In the wood, and as soon as he saw me, he looked with a furtive glance
This side and that, like a wild beast, to find what way he could go,
For we were on the narrow path 'tween the rock and the river below.
So he turned right round, and made for the beechwood, sir; but my stride
Is longer than his, and soon I was walking along by his side;
I hoped that my good Lord was well; and his folk would be glad to see
More of him now and then: and did he remember me?
Is longer than his, and soon I was walking along by his side;
I hoped that my good Lord was well; and his folk would be glad to see
More of him now and then: and did he remember me?
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We used to go fishing together; and would he not like now to try—
The stream was in beautiful trim—to cast a line and a fly!
“I seem to have seen you before,” he knitted his brows, and said,
As if he were catching at something; “My friend, have you long been dead?
The stream was in beautiful trim—to cast a line and a fly!
“I seem to have seen you before,” he knitted his brows, and said,
As if he were catching at something; “My friend, have you long been dead?
Why are you all so restless? this place now is haunted with ghosts;
They come out singly by day, but at night they are trooping in hosts;
No one sees them, but I; it's the second sight, you know,
Sir Lachlan brought when he married the heiress long ago.”
They come out singly by day, but at night they are trooping in hosts;
No one sees them, but I; it's the second sight, you know,
Sir Lachlan brought when he married the heiress long ago.”
Poor fellow! He had been fumbling a while with his seals and chain,
Still looking this side and that for a way of escape, but in vain,
Till now when he suddenly plunged down into a deep-sunk dell
Strewn with bracken and moss, where the shy deer love to dwell.
Still looking this side and that for a way of escape, but in vain,
Till now when he suddenly plunged down into a deep-sunk dell
Strewn with bracken and moss, where the shy deer love to dwell.
I saw them leaping up near, and laying their horns on their back
As they sought for a lonelier dingle, while he went on in their track;
And there was a lump in my throat, sir, as I sat me down on a stone,
And heard him mutter and stumble and still keep hurrying on.
As they sought for a lonelier dingle, while he went on in their track;
And there was a lump in my throat, sir, as I sat me down on a stone,
And heard him mutter and stumble and still keep hurrying on.
Think of it, sir; when you climb there up to the top of the Ben,
Up through the oak and the pine wood, and the birch and juniper, then
Up through the belt of heather, and past where the moss only grows,
Till you reach the bare scalp of the rock with its lichens and rifted snows;
Up through the oak and the pine wood, and the birch and juniper, then
Up through the belt of heather, and past where the moss only grows,
Till you reach the bare scalp of the rock with its lichens and rifted snows;
And there as you stand, at last, looking north and south and west,
Far as the eye can see from the crag of the eagle's nest,
Cornland, woodland, moorland, every acre is his,
And the villages down on the beach where the wild wan water is:
Far as the eye can see from the crag of the eagle's nest,
Cornland, woodland, moorland, every acre is his,
And the villages down on the beach where the wild wan water is:
And there are three old burghs too, paying him stents and dues,
With hamlets maybe a score, and farms and crofts and feus,
And over the highland border there are miles of moor and moss,
You cannot see from the Ben, where the deer their antlers toss.
With hamlets maybe a score, and farms and crofts and feus,
And over the highland border there are miles of moor and moss,
You cannot see from the Ben, where the deer their antlers toss.
And yonder he is, poor fellow, wandering by night in the dew,
Hurrying by day through the thickest shades of the pine and yew;
It's Nebuchadnezzar once more summering, wintering out
Among the black horned cattle, or where the screech owls shout.
Hurrying by day through the thickest shades of the pine and yew;
It's Nebuchadnezzar once more summering, wintering out
Among the black horned cattle, or where the screech owls shout.
What a heritage that, sir! a cup filled up to the brim,
Yet never a drop can he taste, and it stands there mocking at him!
There is my boy now, barefoot, paddling about in the stream,
His life is a fact at least, but the Earl's—it is only a dream.
Yet never a drop can he taste, and it stands there mocking at him!
There is my boy now, barefoot, paddling about in the stream,
His life is a fact at least, but the Earl's—it is only a dream.
What can you make of it, sir? Is it Fate, as the people aver?
Our Lady is shrewd, and they tell me the young Lord takes after her,
Is more of the squatter kind than the noble of high degree,
But good at his books, and his manners, like her, are frank and free.
Our Lady is shrewd, and they tell me the young Lord takes after her,
Is more of the squatter kind than the noble of high degree,
But good at his books, and his manners, like her, are frank and free.
323
I have not much faith in weirds, though the Lord's law says, it is true,
The third and fourth generation may reap the wrong that you do;
Yet God does not do much cursing, nor tie it in long entails,
Not in the female line, but still to be heired by the males.
The third and fourth generation may reap the wrong that you do;
Yet God does not do much cursing, nor tie it in long entails,
Not in the female line, but still to be heired by the males.
And I have some faith in Love, that it might have brought all right,
As sunshine quickens the seed with its play of warmth and light;
Yet he never got much of that, sir, from sister, mother, or wife,
And I cannot get over the thought, that they wasted a gentle life.
As sunshine quickens the seed with its play of warmth and light;
Yet he never got much of that, sir, from sister, mother, or wife,
And I cannot get over the thought, that they wasted a gentle life.
Never a pleasanter lad, sir,—nothing was wrong with him then—
Cast e'er a line on the river, or stalked the red deer in the glen;
But they must thwart his first love, and none to give him had they—
And then, forsooth, it was Heaven had taken his reason away.
Cast e'er a line on the river, or stalked the red deer in the glen;
But they must thwart his first love, and none to give him had they—
And then, forsooth, it was Heaven had taken his reason away.
Ay, ay! God and heaven, it's little we heed their say,
When good might come of our keeping the strait and narrow way,
But they're handy to lay the blame on, when things go wrong at last,
And you need a glisk of religion to glamour the days that are past.
When good might come of our keeping the strait and narrow way,
But they're handy to lay the blame on, when things go wrong at last,
And you need a glisk of religion to glamour the days that are past.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |