The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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THE EPISODE OF THE THISTLE. |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
85
THE EPISODE OF THE THISTLE.
Flowers, Book I.
Nor to the garden sole, where fair resides
As in her court the scarlet Queen, amid
Her train of flow'ry nymphs, does Nature boon
Indulge her gifts: but to each nameless field,
When the warm sun rejoicing in the year
Stirs up the latent juice, she scatters wide
Her rosy children: then innumerous births,
As from the womb spring up, and wide perfume
Their cradles with ambrosial sweets around.
Far as the eye can reach all nature smiles,
Hill, dale, or valley, where a lucid stream
Leads thro' the level down, his silver maze,
Gliding, with even pace, direct, as one
On journey bent, and now meand'ring fair,
Unnumber'd currents to and fro convolv'd,
His pastime, underneath the azure green
The wanton fishes sport; and round his banks,
Sole or in consort, the ærial kind
Resound in air with song: the wild thyme here
Breathes fragrance, and a thousand glittering flowers
Art never sow'd. Even here the rising weed
The landscape paints—the lion's yellow tooth,
Th' enamell'd daisy, with its rose adorn'd—
The prickly briar, and the thistle rude,
An armed warrior, with his host of spears.
Thrice happy plant! fair Scotia's greatest pride,
Emblem of modest valour, unprovok'd
That harmeth not, provok'd that will not bear
Wrong unreveng'd; what tho' the humble root
Dishonour'd erst, the growth of every field
Arose unheeded thro' the stubborn soil
Jejune: tho' softer flowers, disdainful, fly
Thy fellowship, nor in the nosegay join,
Ill-match'd compeers; not less the dews of heav'n
Bathe thy rough cheeks, and wash thy warlike mail,
Gift of indulgent skies! the lily pure
And rose of fragrant leaf, best represent
Maria's snowy breast and ruddy cheek
Blushing with bloom: tho' Ormond's laurel rear
Sublimer branch, indulging loftier shade
To heaven-instructed bard, that strings beneath,
Melodious, his sounding wire, to tales
Of beauty's praise, or from victorious camps
Heroes returning fierce. Unvenvied may
The snowy lily flourish round the brow
Of Gallia's king: the thistle, happier far,
Exalted into nobler fame, shall rise
Triumphant o'er each flower, to Scotia's bards
Subject of lasting song, their monarch's choice;
Who, bounteous to the lowly weed, refused
Each other plant, and bade the thistle wave,
Embroider'd, in his ensigns, wide display'd
Along the mural breach: how oft, beneath
Its martial influence, has Scotia's sons
Thro' every age with dauntless valour fought
On every hostile ground? while o'er their breast,
Companion to the silver star, blest type
Of fame unsullied and superior deed,
Distinguish'd ornament! their native plant
Surrounds the sainted cross, with costly row
Of gems, emblaz'd, and flame of radiant gold,
A sacred mark, their glory and their pride.
As in her court the scarlet Queen, amid
Her train of flow'ry nymphs, does Nature boon
Indulge her gifts: but to each nameless field,
When the warm sun rejoicing in the year
Stirs up the latent juice, she scatters wide
Her rosy children: then innumerous births,
As from the womb spring up, and wide perfume
Their cradles with ambrosial sweets around.
Far as the eye can reach all nature smiles,
Hill, dale, or valley, where a lucid stream
Leads thro' the level down, his silver maze,
Gliding, with even pace, direct, as one
On journey bent, and now meand'ring fair,
Unnumber'd currents to and fro convolv'd,
His pastime, underneath the azure green
The wanton fishes sport; and round his banks,
Sole or in consort, the ærial kind
Resound in air with song: the wild thyme here
Breathes fragrance, and a thousand glittering flowers
Art never sow'd. Even here the rising weed
The landscape paints—the lion's yellow tooth,
Th' enamell'd daisy, with its rose adorn'd—
The prickly briar, and the thistle rude,
An armed warrior, with his host of spears.
Thrice happy plant! fair Scotia's greatest pride,
Emblem of modest valour, unprovok'd
That harmeth not, provok'd that will not bear
Wrong unreveng'd; what tho' the humble root
Dishonour'd erst, the growth of every field
Arose unheeded thro' the stubborn soil
86
Thy fellowship, nor in the nosegay join,
Ill-match'd compeers; not less the dews of heav'n
Bathe thy rough cheeks, and wash thy warlike mail,
Gift of indulgent skies! the lily pure
And rose of fragrant leaf, best represent
Maria's snowy breast and ruddy cheek
Blushing with bloom: tho' Ormond's laurel rear
Sublimer branch, indulging loftier shade
To heaven-instructed bard, that strings beneath,
Melodious, his sounding wire, to tales
Of beauty's praise, or from victorious camps
Heroes returning fierce. Unvenvied may
The snowy lily flourish round the brow
Of Gallia's king: the thistle, happier far,
Exalted into nobler fame, shall rise
Triumphant o'er each flower, to Scotia's bards
Subject of lasting song, their monarch's choice;
Who, bounteous to the lowly weed, refused
Each other plant, and bade the thistle wave,
Embroider'd, in his ensigns, wide display'd
Along the mural breach: how oft, beneath
Its martial influence, has Scotia's sons
Thro' every age with dauntless valour fought
On every hostile ground? while o'er their breast,
Companion to the silver star, blest type
Of fame unsullied and superior deed,
Distinguish'd ornament! their native plant
Surrounds the sainted cross, with costly row
Of gems, emblaz'd, and flame of radiant gold,
A sacred mark, their glory and their pride.
But wouldst thou know how first th' illustrious plant
Rose to renown: here the recording muse,
While back thro' ages that have roll'd she leads
Th' inquiring eye, and wakens into life
Heroes and mighty kings, whose god-like deeds
Are now no more, yet still the fame survives,
Victor o'er time, the triumph of the muse.
Rose to renown: here the recording muse,
While back thro' ages that have roll'd she leads
Th' inquiring eye, and wakens into life
Heroes and mighty kings, whose god-like deeds
Are now no more, yet still the fame survives,
Victor o'er time, the triumph of the muse.
As yet for love of arts and arms renown'd,
For hoary sires with gifts of wisdom grac'd,
Unrivall'd maids in beauty's bloom, desire
Of every eye, and youthful gallant chiefs
For courage fam'd and blest with sacred song,
Flourished, sublime, the Pictish throne; and shar'd,
Rival of Scotia's power, fair Caledon.
Equals in sway, while both alike aspired
To single rule, disdaining to obey:
Oft led by hate and thirst of dire revenge
For ravish'd beauty, or for kindred slain,
Wide-wasting others' realms with inroads fierce,
Until the second Kenneth, great in arms,
Brandish'd th' avenging sword, that low in dust,
Humbled the haughty race: yet oft, of war
Weary, and havock dire, in mutual blood
Imbru'd, the nations join'd in leagues of peace
Short space enjoy'd; when nice suspicious fears
By jealous love of empire bred, again,
With fatal breath, blew the dire flame of war,
Rekindling fierce: thus when Achaius reign'd,
By the disposing will of gracious heav'n
Ordain'd the Prince of Peace, fair Ethelind,
Grace of the Pictish throne, in rosy youth,
Of beauteous bloom, in his young heart, inspir'd
Spousal-desires, soft love, and dove-ey'd peace,
Her dowry. Then, his hymeneal torch,
Concord, high brandish'd; and in bonds of love,
Link'd the contending race. But ah! how vain
Hopes mortal man, his joys on earth to last
Perpetual and sincere; for Athelstane,
Fierce from the conquest of great Alured,
Northumbrian ruler, came. On Tweda's shore
Full twenty thousand brazen spears, he fixt,
Shining a deathful view; dismay'd the brave
Erst undismay'd: even he, their warlike chief,
Hungus, in arms, a great and mighty name,
Felt his fierce heart, suspended, if to meet
Th' outrageous Saxon, dreadful in the ranks
Of battle disarray'd. Suppliant of help,
He sues the Scottish race, by friendly ties
Adjur'd and nuptial rites and equal fears.
Led by their gallant prince, the chosen train
Forsake their native walls. The glad acclaim
Of shouting crowds, and the soft virgin's wish
Pursue the parting chiefs to battle sent,
With omens not averse. Darkness arose
O'er heav'n and earth, as now but narrow space
Sundred each hostile force: sole in his tent
The youthful chief, the hope of Albion, lay
Slumb'ring secure, when in the hour of sleep
A venerable form, St. Andrew, seen
Majestic, solemn, grand, before his sight
In vision, stood: his deep and piercing eye
Look'd wisdom, and mature sedateness weigh'd
To doubtful counsels, from his temples flow'd
His hair, white as the snowy fleece that clothes
The Alpine ridge, across his shoulders hung
A baldric, where some heavenly pencil wrought
Th' events of years to come prophetic drawn,
Seasons and times: in his right hand he held
A cross, far beaming thro' the night; his left
A pointed thistle rear'd. Fear not he cried,
Thy country's early pride; for lo! to thee
Commission'd I, from heav'n's eternal King,
Ætherial messenger of tidings glad,
Propitious now am sent. Then be thou bold,
To-morrow shall deliver to thy hand
The troops of Athelstane. But oh! attend,
Instructed from the skies, the terms of fate,
Conditional, assign'd; for if misled
By cursed lust of arbitrary sway,
Thou, or of thee to come, thy race shall wage
Injurious war, unrighteous to invade
His neighbour's realms, who dares the guilty deed,
Him heaven shall desert in needful hour
Of sad distress, deliver'd o'er a prey
To all the nations round. This plant I bear,
Expressive emblem of thy equal deed.
This, inoffensive in its native field,
Peaceful inhabitant, and lowly grows;
Yet who with hostile hands its bristly spears
Unpunish'd may provoke? and such be thou,
Unprompt t'invade, and active to defend;
Wise fortitude! but when the morning flames,
Secure, in heaven, against yon fated host
Go up and overcome. When home return'd
With triumph crown'd, grateful to me shall rear
A rising temple on the destin'd space,
With lofty towers and battlements adorn'd,
A house where God shall dwell. The vision spoke,
And mix'd with night, when starting from his couch
The youth from slumber wak'd. The mingled cries
Of horse, and horsemen furious for the day,
Assail his ears. And now both armies closed,
Tempestuous fight. Aloud the welkin roars,
Resounding wide, and groans of death are heard
Superior o'er the din. The rival chiefs
Each adverse battle gor'd. Here Athelstane,
Horrent in mail, rear'd high his moony shield
With Saxon trophies charg'd and deeds of blood,
Horrid achievement! nor less furious there
Hungus, inflam'd with desp'rate rage, and keen
Desire of victory; and near him join'd,
With social valour, by the vision fir'd,
The hopes of Caledon, the Scottish oak
Plies furious, that from the mighty's blood,
Return'd not back unstain'd. Thus when the seeds
Of fire and nitrous spume and grain adust,
Sulphureous, distend earth's hollow womb,
Sicilian Ætna labours to disgorge
Dreadful irruption, from the smoking top
Flows down the molten rock in liquid ore,
A threefold current to the wasted plain,
Each ravaging a sep'rate way: so fought
Desp'rate the chiefs; nine hours in equal scale
The battle hung, the tenth the angel rear'd
The tutelary cross, then disarray
Fell on the Saxon host. Thus when of old
Th' Amalekite in vale of Rephidim,
Against the chosen race of Judah, set
The battle in array, and various chance
Alternate rul'd, when as the sun went down,
Aaron and Hur upstaid the failing hands
Of Moses, to sustain the potent rod,
Till Israel overthrew: thus sore that day
The battle went against the numerous hosts
Of Athelstane, impure; the daring chief,
Far from the slaughter borne, a swelling stream
By sudden rains high surging o'er its banks,
Impervious to his flight, forever sunk,
Number'd amongst the dead. Then rout on rout,
Confusion on confusion, wild dismay,
And slaughter raging wide, o'erturn'd the bands
E'rewhile so proud array'd. Amaz'd they fled
Before the Scottish sword; for from the sword,
From the drawn sword, they fled, the bended bow,
The victor's shout, and honour of the war.
For hoary sires with gifts of wisdom grac'd,
Unrivall'd maids in beauty's bloom, desire
Of every eye, and youthful gallant chiefs
For courage fam'd and blest with sacred song,
Flourished, sublime, the Pictish throne; and shar'd,
Rival of Scotia's power, fair Caledon.
Equals in sway, while both alike aspired
To single rule, disdaining to obey:
Oft led by hate and thirst of dire revenge
For ravish'd beauty, or for kindred slain,
Wide-wasting others' realms with inroads fierce,
87
Brandish'd th' avenging sword, that low in dust,
Humbled the haughty race: yet oft, of war
Weary, and havock dire, in mutual blood
Imbru'd, the nations join'd in leagues of peace
Short space enjoy'd; when nice suspicious fears
By jealous love of empire bred, again,
With fatal breath, blew the dire flame of war,
Rekindling fierce: thus when Achaius reign'd,
By the disposing will of gracious heav'n
Ordain'd the Prince of Peace, fair Ethelind,
Grace of the Pictish throne, in rosy youth,
Of beauteous bloom, in his young heart, inspir'd
Spousal-desires, soft love, and dove-ey'd peace,
Her dowry. Then, his hymeneal torch,
Concord, high brandish'd; and in bonds of love,
Link'd the contending race. But ah! how vain
Hopes mortal man, his joys on earth to last
Perpetual and sincere; for Athelstane,
Fierce from the conquest of great Alured,
Northumbrian ruler, came. On Tweda's shore
Full twenty thousand brazen spears, he fixt,
Shining a deathful view; dismay'd the brave
Erst undismay'd: even he, their warlike chief,
Hungus, in arms, a great and mighty name,
Felt his fierce heart, suspended, if to meet
Th' outrageous Saxon, dreadful in the ranks
Of battle disarray'd. Suppliant of help,
He sues the Scottish race, by friendly ties
Adjur'd and nuptial rites and equal fears.
Led by their gallant prince, the chosen train
Forsake their native walls. The glad acclaim
Of shouting crowds, and the soft virgin's wish
Pursue the parting chiefs to battle sent,
With omens not averse. Darkness arose
O'er heav'n and earth, as now but narrow space
Sundred each hostile force: sole in his tent
The youthful chief, the hope of Albion, lay
Slumb'ring secure, when in the hour of sleep
A venerable form, St. Andrew, seen
Majestic, solemn, grand, before his sight
In vision, stood: his deep and piercing eye
Look'd wisdom, and mature sedateness weigh'd
To doubtful counsels, from his temples flow'd
His hair, white as the snowy fleece that clothes
The Alpine ridge, across his shoulders hung
A baldric, where some heavenly pencil wrought
Th' events of years to come prophetic drawn,
Seasons and times: in his right hand he held
A cross, far beaming thro' the night; his left
88
Thy country's early pride; for lo! to thee
Commission'd I, from heav'n's eternal King,
Ætherial messenger of tidings glad,
Propitious now am sent. Then be thou bold,
To-morrow shall deliver to thy hand
The troops of Athelstane. But oh! attend,
Instructed from the skies, the terms of fate,
Conditional, assign'd; for if misled
By cursed lust of arbitrary sway,
Thou, or of thee to come, thy race shall wage
Injurious war, unrighteous to invade
His neighbour's realms, who dares the guilty deed,
Him heaven shall desert in needful hour
Of sad distress, deliver'd o'er a prey
To all the nations round. This plant I bear,
Expressive emblem of thy equal deed.
This, inoffensive in its native field,
Peaceful inhabitant, and lowly grows;
Yet who with hostile hands its bristly spears
Unpunish'd may provoke? and such be thou,
Unprompt t'invade, and active to defend;
Wise fortitude! but when the morning flames,
Secure, in heaven, against yon fated host
Go up and overcome. When home return'd
With triumph crown'd, grateful to me shall rear
A rising temple on the destin'd space,
With lofty towers and battlements adorn'd,
A house where God shall dwell. The vision spoke,
And mix'd with night, when starting from his couch
The youth from slumber wak'd. The mingled cries
Of horse, and horsemen furious for the day,
Assail his ears. And now both armies closed,
Tempestuous fight. Aloud the welkin roars,
Resounding wide, and groans of death are heard
Superior o'er the din. The rival chiefs
Each adverse battle gor'd. Here Athelstane,
Horrent in mail, rear'd high his moony shield
With Saxon trophies charg'd and deeds of blood,
Horrid achievement! nor less furious there
Hungus, inflam'd with desp'rate rage, and keen
Desire of victory; and near him join'd,
With social valour, by the vision fir'd,
The hopes of Caledon, the Scottish oak
Plies furious, that from the mighty's blood,
Return'd not back unstain'd. Thus when the seeds
Of fire and nitrous spume and grain adust,
Sulphureous, distend earth's hollow womb,
Sicilian Ætna labours to disgorge
Dreadful irruption, from the smoking top
89
A threefold current to the wasted plain,
Each ravaging a sep'rate way: so fought
Desp'rate the chiefs; nine hours in equal scale
The battle hung, the tenth the angel rear'd
The tutelary cross, then disarray
Fell on the Saxon host. Thus when of old
Th' Amalekite in vale of Rephidim,
Against the chosen race of Judah, set
The battle in array, and various chance
Alternate rul'd, when as the sun went down,
Aaron and Hur upstaid the failing hands
Of Moses, to sustain the potent rod,
Till Israel overthrew: thus sore that day
The battle went against the numerous hosts
Of Athelstane, impure; the daring chief,
Far from the slaughter borne, a swelling stream
By sudden rains high surging o'er its banks,
Impervious to his flight, forever sunk,
Number'd amongst the dead. Then rout on rout,
Confusion on confusion, wild dismay,
And slaughter raging wide, o'erturn'd the bands
E'rewhile so proud array'd. Amaz'd they fled
Before the Scottish sword; for from the sword,
From the drawn sword, they fled, the bended bow,
The victor's shout, and honour of the war.
The royal youth, thus victor of his vows,
Leads to his native land with conquest crown'd,
His warring powers; nor of the heavenly dream
Unmindful, bade the promis'd towers aspire
With solemn rites made sacred to the name
Of him in vision seen. Then to inspire
Love of heroic worth, and kindle seeds
Of virtuous emulation in the soul
Rip'ning to deed, he crown'd his manly breast
With a refulgent star, and in the star
Amidst the rubies' blaze, distinguish'd shines
The sainted cross, around whose golden verge
The embroider'd thistle, blest enclosure! winds
A warlike foliage of ported spears
Defenceful: last, partakers of his fame,
He adds a chosen train of gallant youths,
Illustrious fellowship! above their peers
Exalted eminent: the shining band,
Devote to fame, along the crowded streets
Are led, exulting, to the lofty fane
With holy festival and ritual pomp
Install'd, of solemn prayer, and offer'd vows
Inviolate, and sacred, to preserve
The ordinance of heav'n, and great decree
Voice of the silent night:
O ill foreseen,
O judgments ill forewarn'd and sure denounc'd
Of future woes and cov'nants broke in blood,
That children's children wept: how didst thou grieve,
O virgin daughter, and what tears bedew'd
The cheek of hoary age, when, as the fates,
Transgress'd the high command, severely will'd,
The hapless youth, as the fierce lion's whelp,
Fell in the fatal snare? that sacred head
Where late the graces dwelt, and wisdom mild
Subdued attention, gastly, pale, deform'd,
Of royalty despoil'd, by ruthless hands
Fixt on a spear, the scoff of gazing crowds,
Mean triumph, borne: then first the radiant cross
Submitted in the dust, dishonour foul,
Her holy splendours; first, the thistle's spears
Broke by a hostile hand, the silver star
Felt dim eclipse, and mourn'd in dark sojourn,
A tedious length of years, till he, the fifth
Triumphant James, of Stuart's ancient line,
Restor'd the former grace, and bade it shine,
With added gifts adorn'd. To chosen twelve,
Invested with the ornaments of fame,
Their sovereign's love, he bounteous, gave to wear,
Across their shoulders flung, the radiant brede
Of evening blue, of simple faith unstain'd,
Mysterious sign and loyalty sincere.
Approven chiefs! how many sons enroll'd
In the fair deathless list, has Scotia seen,
Or terrible in war for bold exploit?
Best champions! or in the mild arts of peace
Lawgivers wise, and of endanger'd rights
Firm guardians in evil times, to death
Asserting virtue's cause, and virtue's train?
Blest patronage! nor these, with envy, view
Th' embroider'd garter to surround the knee
Of military chiefs of Brutus' blood;
With equal honours grac'd, while monarchs bear
The consecrated cross, and happy plant
Bright on the regal robe; nor valued more
Th' anointing oil of heav'n. In Britain's shield
The northern star mingles with George's beams,
Consorted light, and near Hibernia's harp,
Breathing the sp'rit of peace and social love,
Harmonious power, the Scottish thistle fills
Distinguish'd place, and guards the English Rose.
Leads to his native land with conquest crown'd,
His warring powers; nor of the heavenly dream
Unmindful, bade the promis'd towers aspire
With solemn rites made sacred to the name
Of him in vision seen. Then to inspire
Love of heroic worth, and kindle seeds
Of virtuous emulation in the soul
Rip'ning to deed, he crown'd his manly breast
With a refulgent star, and in the star
Amidst the rubies' blaze, distinguish'd shines
The sainted cross, around whose golden verge
The embroider'd thistle, blest enclosure! winds
A warlike foliage of ported spears
Defenceful: last, partakers of his fame,
He adds a chosen train of gallant youths,
Illustrious fellowship! above their peers
Exalted eminent: the shining band,
Devote to fame, along the crowded streets
Are led, exulting, to the lofty fane
With holy festival and ritual pomp
Install'd, of solemn prayer, and offer'd vows
Inviolate, and sacred, to preserve
The ordinance of heav'n, and great decree
90
O judgments ill forewarn'd and sure denounc'd
Of future woes and cov'nants broke in blood,
That children's children wept: how didst thou grieve,
O virgin daughter, and what tears bedew'd
The cheek of hoary age, when, as the fates,
Transgress'd the high command, severely will'd,
The hapless youth, as the fierce lion's whelp,
Fell in the fatal snare? that sacred head
Where late the graces dwelt, and wisdom mild
Subdued attention, gastly, pale, deform'd,
Of royalty despoil'd, by ruthless hands
Fixt on a spear, the scoff of gazing crowds,
Mean triumph, borne: then first the radiant cross
Submitted in the dust, dishonour foul,
Her holy splendours; first, the thistle's spears
Broke by a hostile hand, the silver star
Felt dim eclipse, and mourn'd in dark sojourn,
A tedious length of years, till he, the fifth
Triumphant James, of Stuart's ancient line,
Restor'd the former grace, and bade it shine,
With added gifts adorn'd. To chosen twelve,
Invested with the ornaments of fame,
Their sovereign's love, he bounteous, gave to wear,
Across their shoulders flung, the radiant brede
Of evening blue, of simple faith unstain'd,
Mysterious sign and loyalty sincere.
Approven chiefs! how many sons enroll'd
In the fair deathless list, has Scotia seen,
Or terrible in war for bold exploit?
Best champions! or in the mild arts of peace
Lawgivers wise, and of endanger'd rights
Firm guardians in evil times, to death
Asserting virtue's cause, and virtue's train?
Blest patronage! nor these, with envy, view
Th' embroider'd garter to surround the knee
Of military chiefs of Brutus' blood;
With equal honours grac'd, while monarchs bear
The consecrated cross, and happy plant
Bright on the regal robe; nor valued more
Th' anointing oil of heav'n. In Britain's shield
The northern star mingles with George's beams,
Consorted light, and near Hibernia's harp,
Breathing the sp'rit of peace and social love,
Harmonious power, the Scottish thistle fills
Distinguish'd place, and guards the English Rose.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |