The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang Edited by Mrs. Lang |
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Our Fathers
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 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
32
Our Fathers
Not ‘better than our fathers’, we
Can wisely boast ourselves to be;
And evil may the scribbler speed
Who vaunts the vaunt of Diomede!
Can wisely boast ourselves to be;
And evil may the scribbler speed
Who vaunts the vaunt of Diomede!
Our fathers eighty years ago,
From Princes Street amazed the Row.
From his far castle upon Tweed
The Great Magician came at need,
And every woman, man, and child
Was gladder when the Shirra smiled;
Nay, every tyke about the place
Took pleasure in the Shirra's face!
From Princes Street amazed the Row.
From his far castle upon Tweed
The Great Magician came at need,
And every woman, man, and child
Was gladder when the Shirra smiled;
Nay, every tyke about the place
Took pleasure in the Shirra's face!
He, too, was here, the Giant Childe,
Tender, magniloquent, and wild,
Whose lure lay light on lochs and streams;
Whose prose or weeps, or glooms, or gleams,
As shower and shadow flit in turn
O'er moor and tarn and ben and burn;
Whose crutch fell heavier than he knew
On laurelled crest or Cockney crew,—
The mighty Christopher beside him
He that ‘gules feared’ whene'er they spied him
The Scorpion
of the loyal heart,
Who saw youth, love, and friends depart;
Bearing dark sorrows in his breast
Yet held his own and broke his jest—
Crowned, as I deem, are men above,
At once with Scott's and Carlyle's love!
Tender, magniloquent, and wild,
Whose lure lay light on lochs and streams;
Whose prose or weeps, or glooms, or gleams,
As shower and shadow flit in turn
O'er moor and tarn and ben and burn;
Whose crutch fell heavier than he knew
On laurelled crest or Cockney crew,—
The mighty Christopher beside him
He that ‘gules feared’ whene'er they spied him
33
Who saw youth, love, and friends depart;
Bearing dark sorrows in his breast
Yet held his own and broke his jest—
Crowned, as I deem, are men above,
At once with Scott's and Carlyle's love!
With them the Shepherd
: never plaid
Of shepherd wrapped so strange a lad.
Second alone was he to him
Who turns all peasant glories dim.
Oh, kindly heart and random tongue!
That erst of fair Kilmeny sung,
And taught how dreadfully he died,
The Sinner, Lost and Justified,
And turned to rhyme and told in prose
The fortunes of the Fallen Rose—
Of shepherd wrapped so strange a lad.
Second alone was he to him
Who turns all peasant glories dim.
Oh, kindly heart and random tongue!
That erst of fair Kilmeny sung,
And taught how dreadfully he died,
The Sinner, Lost and Justified,
And turned to rhyme and told in prose
The fortunes of the Fallen Rose—
These were our Fathers: truly we
Scarce better men may boast to be!
Scarce better men may boast to be!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |