 | Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece, with Other Poems |  |
241
THE RIVER SIDE.
(Lines written at Banchory Ternan, Dee-side.)
Fevered by passion, by the spur
Of eager purpose goaded on,
Driven, like a steam-car, through the stir
Of all things, with a pause for none;
O come not here,
To the river's side,
With thy passion and thy pride,
To the amber stream both swift and clear!
Where, by the green bank, hollow-roaring
The many-swirling tide is pouring
Its waters broad and free,
There is a music—O how sweet!
But not for thee.
Of eager purpose goaded on,
Driven, like a steam-car, through the stir
Of all things, with a pause for none;
O come not here,
To the river's side,
With thy passion and thy pride,
To the amber stream both swift and clear!
Where, by the green bank, hollow-roaring
The many-swirling tide is pouring
Its waters broad and free,
There is a music—O how sweet!
But not for thee.
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But thou by gracious love subdued,
From the keen hour's still-vexed annoy
To turn, and woo in solitude
Each gentlest thought, each simplest joy;
O come thou here
To the river's side;
Through brake and bush I will thee guide
To the amber stream both swift and clear!
Where leafy summer richly dresses
The lady birch with feathery tresses,
Or by the alder tree,
'Neath whose coiled root the old trout dwells,
Come sit with me.
From the keen hour's still-vexed annoy
To turn, and woo in solitude
Each gentlest thought, each simplest joy;
O come thou here
To the river's side;
Through brake and bush I will thee guide
To the amber stream both swift and clear!
Where leafy summer richly dresses
The lady birch with feathery tresses,
Or by the alder tree,
'Neath whose coiled root the old trout dwells,
Come sit with me.
Or thou by pain and sorrow bowed,
Whom now, with lightened heart and head,
The gracious God who smites the proud
Lifts from the low and languid bed;
O come thou here
To the river's side!
O'er crag and scaur I will thee guide,
To the amber stream both swift and clear.
Come with me, nor fear the scramble,
Through briar, rasp and sprawling bramble:
There's health in the thorny strife;
Breathe free, and know how sweet a thing
Is simple life.
Whom now, with lightened heart and head,
The gracious God who smites the proud
Lifts from the low and languid bed;
O come thou here
To the river's side!
O'er crag and scaur I will thee guide,
To the amber stream both swift and clear.
Come with me, nor fear the scramble,
Through briar, rasp and sprawling bramble:
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Breathe free, and know how sweet a thing
Is simple life.
Sit by the stream, and look and see
The darting minnow in the pool;
And lave thy feet i' the pure lymph, free
From freakish fashion's fretful rule;
So sit thou here
By the river side,
The tuneful roar o' the amber tide
Drinking with gently ravished ear;
While mild the winged odours move thee,
From the fragrant birchen bower above thee;
And, like a child, think then,
How sweet a thing is life, how good
Is God to men!
The darting minnow in the pool;
And lave thy feet i' the pure lymph, free
From freakish fashion's fretful rule;
So sit thou here
By the river side,
The tuneful roar o' the amber tide
Drinking with gently ravished ear;
While mild the winged odours move thee,
From the fragrant birchen bower above thee;
And, like a child, think then,
How sweet a thing is life, how good
Is God to men!
Then lift thine eye to whence it flows,
'Neath yon far mountain's sweeping line,
Where the blue prospect dimly shows
Tall armies of the serried pine.
Then trace its thread,
Clear silvery seen,
Far-fringed with plumes of summer green,
The fretted flood's keen-twinkling bed;
And feast thine eyes on the various splendour,
Of forest and field in wavy grandeur,
And waters deeply swirled;
And think how fair a thing to see
Is God's fair world!
'Neath yon far mountain's sweeping line,
Where the blue prospect dimly shows
Tall armies of the serried pine.
Then trace its thread,
Clear silvery seen,
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The fretted flood's keen-twinkling bed;
And feast thine eyes on the various splendour,
Of forest and field in wavy grandeur,
And waters deeply swirled;
And think how fair a thing to see
Is God's fair world!
245
THE REVIVALIST.
And thou art he!—I wish thee joy,
Of recent Time's arrivals
Not the least strange, the godly boy,
The preacher of Revivals!
Of recent Time's arrivals
Not the least strange, the godly boy,
The preacher of Revivals!
Thou hast made uproar great, I learn,
In this good town appearing;
Filled all our maids with soul-concern,
And all our men with sneering.
In this good town appearing;
Filled all our maids with soul-concern,
And all our men with sneering.
I'll judge thee justly, trust me, youth;
Fame, like a broken mirror,
With twenty fragments of a truth,
Gives twenty shapes of error.
Fame, like a broken mirror,
With twenty fragments of a truth,
Gives twenty shapes of error.
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I find thee modest, meek, and mild,
With smooth and boyish braid
Thy hair; as simple as a child,
As gentle as a maid,
With smooth and boyish braid
Thy hair; as simple as a child,
As gentle as a maid,
But pensive, sad, and inly-grieved;
Else that slow utterance why,
That each fair thought, howe'er conceived,
Must still be born a sigh?
Else that slow utterance why,
That each fair thought, howe'er conceived,
Must still be born a sigh?
But even thou art not all night,
Thy soul, too, has its gleaming;
Mark! now it flickers with fair light,
Now with red fire 'tis streaming;
Thy soul, too, has its gleaming;
Mark! now it flickers with fair light,
Now with red fire 'tis streaming;
Now like sea-murmurs on the shore,
Soft ripple on the pebble;
Now like the many-surging roar
That furious scales the treble;
Soft ripple on the pebble;
Now like the many-surging roar
That furious scales the treble;
A wind-waked stream of gospel notes,
Which systematic ears,
Because for them too wild it floats,
Will listen to with sneers.
Which systematic ears,
Because for them too wild it floats,
Will listen to with sneers.
250
But God, who nothing does in vain,
And gives to each his part,
Oft compensates the feebler brain
By stronger-pulsing heart.
And gives to each his part,
Oft compensates the feebler brain
By stronger-pulsing heart.
Thus He to thee gave strong desires,
Emotion deep, not clear,
The power to wake the fusing fires,
And urge the softening tear.
Emotion deep, not clear,
The power to wake the fusing fires,
And urge the softening tear.
And if, belike, scant wisdom serves,
Nor needs a potent planet,
To witch convulsions from the nerves
Of Jeanie or of Janet,
Nor needs a potent planet,
To witch convulsions from the nerves
Of Jeanie or of Janet,
Is it not better thus to hear
The Word, and wildly feel it,
Than to receive it in thine ear,
And in thy heart congeal it?
The Word, and wildly feel it,
Than to receive it in thine ear,
And in thy heart congeal it?
And were the preacher very fool,
A man of basest note;
'Tis well, lest men confound the tool
With the high power that wrought.
A man of basest note;
'Tis well, lest men confound the tool
With the high power that wrought.
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This further mark: whate'er he speaks
Is simplest and sincerest,
As if for each lost soul he seeks
His own heart's blood the dearest
Is simplest and sincerest,
As if for each lost soul he seeks
His own heart's blood the dearest
He'd wring. Who rate him false mean this,
That they, cased in his crust,
To weep like tears would act amiss,
Their hearts being dry as dust.
That they, cased in his crust,
To weep like tears would act amiss,
Their hearts being dry as dust.
Ye Doctors learn'd, compact, and square,
Of decent reasons full,
This boy is rich where ye are bare,
And quick where ye are dull.
Of decent reasons full,
This boy is rich where ye are bare,
And quick where ye are dull.
Let him alone!—with his rude creed,
And logic loose arrayed;
He is a workman, hath sown seed
Where ye ne'er moved a spade.
And logic loose arrayed;
He is a workman, hath sown seed
Where ye ne'er moved a spade.
Enough with one gift to be true:
The poise of all the powers
Belongs to few, and very few,
In such a world as ours.
The poise of all the powers
Belongs to few, and very few,
In such a world as ours.
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| Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece, with Other Poems | |