 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
ORGAN BOY.
He hath a spirit bright in its content
And playful in its poverty; the rain
Of English clouds and atmospheric gloom
Of this brave island-clime have not destroy'd
The mirthfulness of his brown cheek; nor quench'd
The lustre of those deeply-laughing eyes
Which sparkle forth the sunbeams of the soul!
And playful in its poverty; the rain
Of English clouds and atmospheric gloom
Of this brave island-clime have not destroy'd
The mirthfulness of his brown cheek; nor quench'd
The lustre of those deeply-laughing eyes
Which sparkle forth the sunbeams of the soul!
Then breathe no pity on the organ-boy;
From his gay Land a stock of sterling bliss
And proud young feelings that can well out-wear
Each frown of Fate, the stripling wanderer brings.
Maternal smiles his heart still brighten round;
A father's blessing, when he climb'd his knee
At night, still sounds upon love's inward ear;
And when the streets are wintry, and the tones
His organ weaves fall fruitless on the air,
He dreams of home deep-bosom'd in bright vales
Of beauty; hill-spread vines, and fairy streams
That trifled sweetly as a sister's voice
Who prattled in her slumber: days will dawn
When he again those glowing vales shall thread,
And tell his travels with unwearied tongue
To fond ones, nestling round his own fireside.
From his gay Land a stock of sterling bliss
And proud young feelings that can well out-wear
Each frown of Fate, the stripling wanderer brings.
Maternal smiles his heart still brighten round;
A father's blessing, when he climb'd his knee
At night, still sounds upon love's inward ear;
And when the streets are wintry, and the tones
His organ weaves fall fruitless on the air,
He dreams of home deep-bosom'd in bright vales
Of beauty; hill-spread vines, and fairy streams
That trifled sweetly as a sister's voice
Who prattled in her slumber: days will dawn
When he again those glowing vales shall thread,
And tell his travels with unwearied tongue
To fond ones, nestling round his own fireside.
Nor think his errant life too mean to sing:
Albeit no music tuned to courtly ears,
Which seem regardless of those native sounds
That raise sweet echoes in romantic souls,
From him is heard; there are of meeker taste
And simpler mind, who bid the roving boy
A welcome; and enchanted hear the notes
His organ wakes, of tenderness and truth.
As through the City's ever-busy streets
And darkly-winding lanes he roams and plays,
Many an ear drinks musical delight;
Many an eye with beams of vanish'd years
Is brightly charged; and from her window haunt,
Who makes the street to tingle with the sound
Of halfpence, thrown with no ungentle hand,
By some fair listener? Haply he woke dreams
Of childhood; thoughts which cannot breathe in words,
But live and fade in sighs of fond regret!
Albeit no music tuned to courtly ears,
Which seem regardless of those native sounds
That raise sweet echoes in romantic souls,
From him is heard; there are of meeker taste
And simpler mind, who bid the roving boy
A welcome; and enchanted hear the notes
His organ wakes, of tenderness and truth.
As through the City's ever-busy streets
And darkly-winding lanes he roams and plays,
Many an ear drinks musical delight;
Many an eye with beams of vanish'd years
Is brightly charged; and from her window haunt,
Who makes the street to tingle with the sound
Of halfpence, thrown with no ungentle hand,
By some fair listener? Haply he woke dreams
Of childhood; thoughts which cannot breathe in words,
But live and fade in sighs of fond regret!
And round him what a throng of urchins group,
And dream his music sweet as Orpheus made!
The laughter hush'd, the noisy tongue asleep,
The hoop, as weary, on his shoulder hung,
A Schoolboy stands to listen, and admire
Those melodies which dance along his soul
Like ripples fleeting o'er a ruffled stream!
And dream his music sweet as Orpheus made!
The laughter hush'd, the noisy tongue asleep,
The hoop, as weary, on his shoulder hung,
A Schoolboy stands to listen, and admire
Those melodies which dance along his soul
Like ripples fleeting o'er a ruffled stream!
Then let the streets still waken to the sound
Of such boy-minstrels; when afar they roam
Through villages, where Music breathes a spell
Of magic in her meanest tone, may smiles
Of welcome flash along the rough-worn face
Of age, and ruddy offspring of the fields:
May gentle skies and glowing days attend,
And feelings toned to every tuneful hour!
Of such boy-minstrels; when afar they roam
Through villages, where Music breathes a spell
Of magic in her meanest tone, may smiles
Of welcome flash along the rough-worn face
Of age, and ruddy offspring of the fields:
May gentle skies and glowing days attend,
And feelings toned to every tuneful hour!
There are who deem a Ballad-singer brings
No music which rewards harmonious ears;
To whom an Organ-boy but grating notes
Of discord scatters on the homeless wind;
Their sympathies are season'd high, and scorn
The gentle: envy not the ungenial souls!
For, hallow'd Nature! thou art ever true;
And he who wanders with an eye of love
And feeling wide among thy many haunts,
Through mountain-walks, or unambitious vales,
Where stream and meadow mingle their romance
Around, in storm and sunshine finds thee still
The same and magical! and so, in Life;
Her sweet humilities have grace and power
Beyond her loftiness and pomp: the Muse
Can never play the courtier; from the halls
And palaces of Kings she flies to glades
Of lowliness, where Faculties are found,
And Will and Action can their sway reveal:
Where beats a heart, there Poetry may breathe
Her spirit round it; beautifying look
And word, extracting all the soul of things,
And veiling Nature with a hue divine.
No music which rewards harmonious ears;
To whom an Organ-boy but grating notes
Of discord scatters on the homeless wind;
Their sympathies are season'd high, and scorn
The gentle: envy not the ungenial souls!
For, hallow'd Nature! thou art ever true;
And he who wanders with an eye of love
And feeling wide among thy many haunts,
Through mountain-walks, or unambitious vales,
Where stream and meadow mingle their romance
Around, in storm and sunshine finds thee still
The same and magical! and so, in Life;
Her sweet humilities have grace and power
Beyond her loftiness and pomp: the Muse
Can never play the courtier; from the halls
And palaces of Kings she flies to glades
Of lowliness, where Faculties are found,
And Will and Action can their sway reveal:
Where beats a heart, there Poetry may breathe
Her spirit round it; beautifying look
And word, extracting all the soul of things,
And veiling Nature with a hue divine.
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |