The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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ADDRESS:
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
348
ADDRESS:
SPOKEN BY THE AUTHOR AT THE ANCIENT SHEPHERDS' ANNIVERSARY, TOWN HALL, ASHTON, JANUARY IST, 1846.
Mid the gleam and the gladness of waters and vales,
That fling a proud charm o'er the realm of old Wales,
In a cot that hung midway 'tween mountain and moor,
Where silence and solitude guarded the door,
Dwelt Ruthin, the shepherd, as honest a hind
As e'er breasted the tempest, or battled the wind!
Rude, hardy, yet gentle, good-humoured and brave;
Ever ready to succour, and reckless to save;—
With a heart full of love, and a soul full of mirth,
A simple, unpolished, free child of the earth!
Though his dwelling was lonely, and lowly, and bare—
Though his raiment was weather-worn—scanty his fare;
Enough for to-day set him proof against sorrow,
He knew not, he sought not the ills of to-morrow:
For a faithful and frugal, a village-born wife,
Who strengthened his fortitude—softened his life;
And children, a comely but boisterous race,
Came fondly about him and gladdened the place!
And nightly with earnestness—sometimes with tears,
He prayed for the peace of his young mountaineers.
That fling a proud charm o'er the realm of old Wales,
In a cot that hung midway 'tween mountain and moor,
Where silence and solitude guarded the door,
Dwelt Ruthin, the shepherd, as honest a hind
As e'er breasted the tempest, or battled the wind!
Rude, hardy, yet gentle, good-humoured and brave;
Ever ready to succour, and reckless to save;—
With a heart full of love, and a soul full of mirth,
A simple, unpolished, free child of the earth!
Though his dwelling was lonely, and lowly, and bare—
Though his raiment was weather-worn—scanty his fare;
Enough for to-day set him proof against sorrow,
He knew not, he sought not the ills of to-morrow:
For a faithful and frugal, a village-born wife,
Who strengthened his fortitude—softened his life;
And children, a comely but boisterous race,
Came fondly about him and gladdened the place!
And nightly with earnestness—sometimes with tears,
He prayed for the peace of his young mountaineers.
But alas! o'er his threshold stepped sickness one day,
And Death followed after with dread and dismay,
Touched the heart of the mother so watchful and mild,
Put his hand on the brow of the loveliest child;
And the husband—the father—stood soul-stricken there,
In a motionless, voiceless, and tearless despair!
Till the little ones shook his sad spirit with cries,
And the fulness of sorrow o'erflowed at his eyes.
And Death followed after with dread and dismay,
349
Put his hand on the brow of the loveliest child;
And the husband—the father—stood soul-stricken there,
In a motionless, voiceless, and tearless despair!
Till the little ones shook his sad spirit with cries,
And the fulness of sorrow o'erflowed at his eyes.
In the palace, where plenty and splendour abide,
Death may veil his dread form in the trappings of pride;
But in the lorn hovel where penury reigns,
How awful his aspect, how piercing his pains!
Poor Ruthin, o'erwhelmed and bewildered with woe,
Sank prostrate—for poverty doubled the blow.
Desponding and destitute, where could he crave
The last solemn boon of a coffin and grave?
But God sent him succour: from hamlet and glen
Came rough-handed, kind-hearted, poor, patient men;
And each from the mourner took part of his grief,
And each brought his tribute of timely relief;
And the mother was laid, with her child on her breast,
In the shadow and stillness of hallowèd rest;
But never did Ruthin grow cold at the deed,
Or shut up his heart to a brother in need.
Death may veil his dread form in the trappings of pride;
But in the lorn hovel where penury reigns,
How awful his aspect, how piercing his pains!
Poor Ruthin, o'erwhelmed and bewildered with woe,
Sank prostrate—for poverty doubled the blow.
Desponding and destitute, where could he crave
The last solemn boon of a coffin and grave?
But God sent him succour: from hamlet and glen
Came rough-handed, kind-hearted, poor, patient men;
And each from the mourner took part of his grief,
And each brought his tribute of timely relief;
And the mother was laid, with her child on her breast,
In the shadow and stillness of hallowèd rest;
But never did Ruthin grow cold at the deed,
Or shut up his heart to a brother in need.
This “short simple annal” of life may portray,
By its homely example our purpose to-day;
For we, too, though Shepherds but only in name,
Each to each in our sorrows would practise the same!
With the deeds of our Virgin-born Pastor in view,
We are bound in a covenant steadfast and true;
In a brotherly compact of peace to sustain
The trouble-tried spirit that bows to its pain;
To enter where sickness appalleth the poor,
And keep foe and famine aloof from the door;
To give to misfortune e'en more than a tear;
To watch by the death-bed, and wait on the bier;
To comfort the widow, the orphan to guide,
And all without falsehood, or folly, or pride;
Save that honest pride which the conscience forgives,
As it pleads for the lowliest being that lives.
By its homely example our purpose to-day;
For we, too, though Shepherds but only in name,
Each to each in our sorrows would practise the same!
With the deeds of our Virgin-born Pastor in view,
We are bound in a covenant steadfast and true;
In a brotherly compact of peace to sustain
The trouble-tried spirit that bows to its pain;
To enter where sickness appalleth the poor,
And keep foe and famine aloof from the door;
350
To watch by the death-bed, and wait on the bier;
To comfort the widow, the orphan to guide,
And all without falsehood, or folly, or pride;
Save that honest pride which the conscience forgives,
As it pleads for the lowliest being that lives.
No sword flashes proudly at Shepherdry's gate,
No symbols of mystery garnish our state,
No banners hang round us in foolish array,
No words, cabalistic, mislead or betray!
Benevolence needeth not these to proclaim,
Its feelings and doings, its purpose and name;
It is simple in manner, and humble in mien;
It is earnest in private, in public serene;
In action 'tis strenuous, kindly, and warm,
It is ready to plan, it is prompt to perform;
It seeketh not honour, it asketh not praise,
It is deaf to our whisper, and blind to our gaze;
If its conscience approve what its bounty hath given,
It is happy on earth, it is hopeful in heaven!
No symbols of mystery garnish our state,
No banners hang round us in foolish array,
No words, cabalistic, mislead or betray!
Benevolence needeth not these to proclaim,
Its feelings and doings, its purpose and name;
It is simple in manner, and humble in mien;
It is earnest in private, in public serene;
In action 'tis strenuous, kindly, and warm,
It is ready to plan, it is prompt to perform;
It seeketh not honour, it asketh not praise,
It is deaf to our whisper, and blind to our gaze;
If its conscience approve what its bounty hath given,
It is happy on earth, it is hopeful in heaven!
Benevolence bids us, with thankful delight,
To hail you as friends on this festival night;
This night of the newly-born year, when the mind
More than wont is consoling, confiding and kind!
And ye will not forget on the calm-coming morrow
The heirs of misfortune, and suffering, and sorrow;
For ye come here to help, to encourage, to bless
With your heart-given tribute, the child of distress;
And still let this beautiful truth be believed—
That “A blessing bestowed is a blessing received.”
To hail you as friends on this festival night;
This night of the newly-born year, when the mind
More than wont is consoling, confiding and kind!
And ye will not forget on the calm-coming morrow
The heirs of misfortune, and suffering, and sorrow;
For ye come here to help, to encourage, to bless
With your heart-given tribute, the child of distress;
And still let this beautiful truth be believed—
That “A blessing bestowed is a blessing received.”
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |