Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
113
POEMS.
The Pleasures of Faith.
Bright Goddess—who, with eagle eye sublime,
Look'st upward to yon high celestial clime,
Whose beatific charms from bondage free—
Say, Power benignant! dare I sing of thee?
Look'st upward to yon high celestial clime,
Whose beatific charms from bondage free—
Say, Power benignant! dare I sing of thee?
Yes! though untaught to strike the classic lyre,
And touch the bosom with ecstatic fire;
Though doom'd to toil in labour's irksome cell,
Far from the scenes where wealth and honour dwell;
Though starr'd to brave misfortune's sweeping surge,
And oft o'erwhelm'd below the swelling gorge—
Warm rolls the torrent o'er my thrilling soul,
Poetic rapture spurning all control:
I raise my voice to sing thy joys, O Faith!
Which cheer the saint through the dark vale of death,
While, 'neath thy brilliant rays, he draws his latest breath.
I court no Muse on pure Olympus' height
To guide me in the high, the heavenward flight;
Thy aid, O Deity, I crave alone,
Who sitt'st on heaven's bright angel-circled throne;
Thy aid, that thou, in mercy, wouldst reveal
The vision fair; and, while I sing it, feel
The sweets ambrosial which it can impart,
The only opiate for the sinful heart.
And touch the bosom with ecstatic fire;
Though doom'd to toil in labour's irksome cell,
Far from the scenes where wealth and honour dwell;
Though starr'd to brave misfortune's sweeping surge,
And oft o'erwhelm'd below the swelling gorge—
Warm rolls the torrent o'er my thrilling soul,
Poetic rapture spurning all control:
I raise my voice to sing thy joys, O Faith!
Which cheer the saint through the dark vale of death,
While, 'neath thy brilliant rays, he draws his latest breath.
I court no Muse on pure Olympus' height
To guide me in the high, the heavenward flight;
Thy aid, O Deity, I crave alone,
Who sitt'st on heaven's bright angel-circled throne;
Thy aid, that thou, in mercy, wouldst reveal
The vision fair; and, while I sing it, feel
The sweets ambrosial which it can impart,
The only opiate for the sinful heart.
Keen memory a backward look may throw
On joys departed, shorn of all their woe;
And who can view his childhood's scenery bright,
Yet feel no filmy tear bedim his sight?
But all is fled! fled, never to return,
Inclosed for aye in Time's chaotic urn!
On joys departed, shorn of all their woe;
And who can view his childhood's scenery bright,
Yet feel no filmy tear bedim his sight?
But all is fled! fled, never to return,
Inclosed for aye in Time's chaotic urn!
Hope's magic power may gild our youthful days
With fleeting scenes through fancy's florid maze;
May ope bright visions to the dazzled eye
Which in the end appear illusions sly;
May spur to action, yet, when all is done,
Her darling object may not then be won:
Her warmest feelings, when most sternly fix'd,
With doubts and fears are still profusely mix'd.
With fleeting scenes through fancy's florid maze;
114
Which in the end appear illusions sly;
May spur to action, yet, when all is done,
Her darling object may not then be won:
Her warmest feelings, when most sternly fix'd,
With doubts and fears are still profusely mix'd.
But Faith displays no mind-deceiving dream
Of pleasure, gliding down the fatal stream
Where smoothly sails her gilded bark along,
Till headlong hurl'd sheer ruin's rocks among.
No! 'twas no weak, delusive, vague demur
Made Abra'am leave the fertile plains of Ur,
While, inly prompted by that Power divine,
He roam'd the distant land of Palestine;
Nor wild illusions of the vagrant mind
Caused him, in age, believe an heir to find,
From whom a race as num'rous, and as bright,
Should spring, as stars that gild the vault of night.
How bless'd the vision of the faithful sire,
To see, among that race, the just's Desire—
Messiah—born, death's bloody field to tread,
And, by his passion, bruise the serpent's head:
Adown time's lengthen'd vista beam'd his eye,
And view'd the scene in clear perspective lie—
The Saviour's triumph in the realms of light,
And Satan chain'd in tenfold shades of night.
Of pleasure, gliding down the fatal stream
Where smoothly sails her gilded bark along,
Till headlong hurl'd sheer ruin's rocks among.
No! 'twas no weak, delusive, vague demur
Made Abra'am leave the fertile plains of Ur,
While, inly prompted by that Power divine,
He roam'd the distant land of Palestine;
Nor wild illusions of the vagrant mind
Caused him, in age, believe an heir to find,
From whom a race as num'rous, and as bright,
Should spring, as stars that gild the vault of night.
How bless'd the vision of the faithful sire,
To see, among that race, the just's Desire—
Messiah—born, death's bloody field to tread,
And, by his passion, bruise the serpent's head:
Adown time's lengthen'd vista beam'd his eye,
And view'd the scene in clear perspective lie—
The Saviour's triumph in the realms of light,
And Satan chain'd in tenfold shades of night.
Firm and unshaken as the flinty rock
Was his pure faith, which stood the potent shock
Of trial, and the wondrous conquest won,
When drew the sire the knife to slay his son;
That son, from whom, by God's supreme command,
A race should spring, as countless as the sand:
What throbbings must his tender heart have borne
When nature's ties by him in twain were torn,
And on the pile, with meek imploring eye,
His darling son a victim weak did lie!
But steadfast Faith firm nerved his feeling soul,
Though down his cheeks the tears of nature stole,
To show submission to that Power divine
Who never acts from motives unbenign.
Was his pure faith, which stood the potent shock
Of trial, and the wondrous conquest won,
When drew the sire the knife to slay his son;
That son, from whom, by God's supreme command,
A race should spring, as countless as the sand:
What throbbings must his tender heart have borne
When nature's ties by him in twain were torn,
And on the pile, with meek imploring eye,
His darling son a victim weak did lie!
But steadfast Faith firm nerved his feeling soul,
Though down his cheeks the tears of nature stole,
To show submission to that Power divine
Who never acts from motives unbenign.
115
An endless prospect opens to the eye,
On the instructive page of history,
Of saints heroic, who, like granite rock,
Have braved stern persecution's direst shock;
Nor could the fellest form of gloomy death
Appal their souls, upborne by cheering Faith.
Torture in vain the crucifix hath rear'd,
In vain with blood the rack hath been besmear'd,
In vain the fagot's fiercest flames have stung,
In vain the headsman's axe hath direful rung,
In vain, death-fraught, hath reel'd the shower of stones,
Or wheel to dust hath bruised the martyr's bones—
With angel-meekness has their latest breath,
In smiles, been pour'd, amid the scenes of death.
On the instructive page of history,
Of saints heroic, who, like granite rock,
Have braved stern persecution's direst shock;
Nor could the fellest form of gloomy death
Appal their souls, upborne by cheering Faith.
Torture in vain the crucifix hath rear'd,
In vain with blood the rack hath been besmear'd,
In vain the fagot's fiercest flames have stung,
In vain the headsman's axe hath direful rung,
In vain, death-fraught, hath reel'd the shower of stones,
Or wheel to dust hath bruised the martyr's bones—
With angel-meekness has their latest breath,
In smiles, been pour'd, amid the scenes of death.
Wondrous the blissful power that could bestow
Strength to contemn the life-consuming glow
Of fire terrific, blown to sevenfold rage,
That death to all approachers did presage!
Such power did Faith indelibly impart,
To cheer, 'neath threaten'd martyrdom, the heart
Of those illustrious Jews whom Pagan ire
Doom'd to the ordeal of Chaldean fire;
Such power did Faith through Daniel's soul infuse—
High favour'd prophet of the captive Jews—
As led him ne'er God's law to disobey,
Though he should perish by the beasts of prey:
Firm clave their anchor to that Rock secure
Which can temptation's fellest storm endure.
Strength to contemn the life-consuming glow
Of fire terrific, blown to sevenfold rage,
That death to all approachers did presage!
Such power did Faith indelibly impart,
To cheer, 'neath threaten'd martyrdom, the heart
Of those illustrious Jews whom Pagan ire
Doom'd to the ordeal of Chaldean fire;
Such power did Faith through Daniel's soul infuse—
High favour'd prophet of the captive Jews—
As led him ne'er God's law to disobey,
Though he should perish by the beasts of prey:
Firm clave their anchor to that Rock secure
Which can temptation's fellest storm endure.
Thus Faith can cheer each gloomy mundane scene,
Though terrors frown the heavenly bliss between;
Can realise those pleasures ever new,
Though densely dark unto the carnal view;
Can lift her voice, to join the dulcet song
That flows the pure angelic choir among,
Who from their harps such harmony impart
As could entrance with rapture every heart.
Though terrors frown the heavenly bliss between;
Can realise those pleasures ever new,
Though densely dark unto the carnal view;
Can lift her voice, to join the dulcet song
That flows the pure angelic choir among,
Who from their harps such harmony impart
As could entrance with rapture every heart.
Oh, for the grand apocalyptic sight
Of that bless'd realm of infinite delight,
Where haggard want and woe can ne'er appear!
Whose fields still bloom, whose sky is ever clear,
Whose rivers, springing from life's sacred source,
Round rocks of brightest gems, do wind their course,
Whereof who drinks shall never thirst again,
But through eternity refresh'd remain;
Whose ever-verdant trees' ambrosial fruit,
With nodding welcome, doth the saints salute
To taste the luscious food, so fair to view,
Of which who ever ate ne'er hunger knew.
Of that bless'd realm of infinite delight,
Where haggard want and woe can ne'er appear!
Whose fields still bloom, whose sky is ever clear,
116
Round rocks of brightest gems, do wind their course,
Whereof who drinks shall never thirst again,
But through eternity refresh'd remain;
Whose ever-verdant trees' ambrosial fruit,
With nodding welcome, doth the saints salute
To taste the luscious food, so fair to view,
Of which who ever ate ne'er hunger knew.
Faith from the mind all murmur doth expel,
And plants content there evermore to dwell;
She teaches all her vot'ries ne'er to fret,
Although by life's distresses sore beset;
Smooths the erst frowning brow of poverty
Amidst the rigours of the toiling day;
Awakes the finest feelings of the soul,
Immured before in stupor's black control;
Gives resignation when affliction's nigh,
Content to live, and fortitude to die:
Thus life she sweetens! but her strongest power
Sheds on the saint to cheer his dying hour.
And plants content there evermore to dwell;
She teaches all her vot'ries ne'er to fret,
Although by life's distresses sore beset;
Smooths the erst frowning brow of poverty
Amidst the rigours of the toiling day;
Awakes the finest feelings of the soul,
Immured before in stupor's black control;
Gives resignation when affliction's nigh,
Content to live, and fortitude to die:
Thus life she sweetens! but her strongest power
Sheds on the saint to cheer his dying hour.
Firm resting on the promise of his God,
He longs to reach his ever-bless'd abode,
And trusts that his all-gracious Sire on high
Will soothe the widow's grief and orphan's cry;
Will guide them, through earth's wilderness of woe,
From every outward, every latent foe,
And waft them, when they leave its dreary shore,
Safe to His arms, to taste of grief no more.
Such aid upheld those heaven-approved few
Whom persecution's vengeance did pursue;
Who, for Immanuel's life-dispensing cause,
Were doom'd to perish 'neath tyrannic laws;
Who, for their pure benevolence of mind,
Were too, too good to dwell with base mankind;
These trod the footsteps of their Master dear,
Unmindful of their suff'rings, though severe,
Conscious that, when life's per'lous day was o'er,
To joys beyond conception they would soar.
He longs to reach his ever-bless'd abode,
And trusts that his all-gracious Sire on high
Will soothe the widow's grief and orphan's cry;
Will guide them, through earth's wilderness of woe,
From every outward, every latent foe,
And waft them, when they leave its dreary shore,
Safe to His arms, to taste of grief no more.
Such aid upheld those heaven-approved few
Whom persecution's vengeance did pursue;
Who, for Immanuel's life-dispensing cause,
Were doom'd to perish 'neath tyrannic laws;
Who, for their pure benevolence of mind,
Were too, too good to dwell with base mankind;
These trod the footsteps of their Master dear,
Unmindful of their suff'rings, though severe,
Conscious that, when life's per'lous day was o'er,
To joys beyond conception they would soar.
How dark, terrific, is the sullen lour
That shrouds the sceptic at death's gloomy hour?
No charm can soothe his agonising mind,
On all sides round no solace can he find;
Shut are wit's once exhilarating springs,
Shorn are his fancy's bounding eagle wings;
Stern conscience throws her venom-pointed dart,
That shoots corrosive anguish through the heart;
Perverted reason brands his tortured soul,
And mem'ry spreads her guilt-bedaubed roll;
Time's trickling sands, he deems, too rapid run;
Too soon to set glides down the evening sun;
Conviction's lamp faint glimmers on his eye,
When down he sinks into eternity!
That shrouds the sceptic at death's gloomy hour?
117
On all sides round no solace can he find;
Shut are wit's once exhilarating springs,
Shorn are his fancy's bounding eagle wings;
Stern conscience throws her venom-pointed dart,
That shoots corrosive anguish through the heart;
Perverted reason brands his tortured soul,
And mem'ry spreads her guilt-bedaubed roll;
Time's trickling sands, he deems, too rapid run;
Too soon to set glides down the evening sun;
Conviction's lamp faint glimmers on his eye,
When down he sinks into eternity!
Such horror frown'd, through infinite despair,
Upon the sceptic bosom of Voltaire,
When life refused her cordial beams to shed
Around the witty infidel's death-bed;
When all his humour, all his atheist lore,
The passing moments could beguile no more;
When, from profoundest hell, began to flow
That fire which wakes the sharpest pangs of woe—
That fire which, kindled, nought can ever quench,
But, flaming, burns with keen sulphureous stench—
Intense, as lightning through the welkin driven,
Eternal, as the sure decrees of heaven:
A backward eye he, haply, throws on youth,
Before estranged far from the path of truth;
What heart-contentment then his bosom found,
Ere he had trod the daring sceptic's ground!
But such a retrospect, when view'd thus late,
In tenfold misery sinks his hapless state;
He dies, to live anew to sharper pain,
Where torture merciless doth ever reign!
Upon the sceptic bosom of Voltaire,
When life refused her cordial beams to shed
Around the witty infidel's death-bed;
When all his humour, all his atheist lore,
The passing moments could beguile no more;
When, from profoundest hell, began to flow
That fire which wakes the sharpest pangs of woe—
That fire which, kindled, nought can ever quench,
But, flaming, burns with keen sulphureous stench—
Intense, as lightning through the welkin driven,
Eternal, as the sure decrees of heaven:
A backward eye he, haply, throws on youth,
Before estranged far from the path of truth;
What heart-contentment then his bosom found,
Ere he had trod the daring sceptic's ground!
But such a retrospect, when view'd thus late,
In tenfold misery sinks his hapless state;
He dies, to live anew to sharper pain,
Where torture merciless doth ever reign!
Faith's power to cool affliction's scorching fire
Did make the stubborn infidel admire—
Admire, and wish that hour he ne'er had met
Which had his mind with doubtings vain beset—
When he espied the fortitude of mind
Display'd by good La Roche, by Faith refined,
While he endured the shock of trial great,
Yet bow'd with meek submission to his fate:
The dear companion of his bosom torn
Away by death—a stranger he forlorn—
His only child—his daughter sweet and fair,
Who sole remain'd his sufferings sad to share—
Sunk, 'spite of all the sage physician's art,
Beneath the cureless wound—a broken heart!
Untimely doom'd to tenant death's drear cell,
For rival lovers, who both fought and fell:
Yet soar'd the feeling saint o'er all these woes,
Which Faith's triumphant power resplendent shows.
Did make the stubborn infidel admire—
Admire, and wish that hour he ne'er had met
Which had his mind with doubtings vain beset—
When he espied the fortitude of mind
Display'd by good La Roche, by Faith refined,
While he endured the shock of trial great,
Yet bow'd with meek submission to his fate:
118
Away by death—a stranger he forlorn—
His only child—his daughter sweet and fair,
Who sole remain'd his sufferings sad to share—
Sunk, 'spite of all the sage physician's art,
Beneath the cureless wound—a broken heart!
Untimely doom'd to tenant death's drear cell,
For rival lovers, who both fought and fell:
Yet soar'd the feeling saint o'er all these woes,
Which Faith's triumphant power resplendent shows.
Bless'd emanation from the throne above!
Rich garnish'd grace of all-surpassing love!
May thy transcendent pleasures wide be shed
By Him who is thy only fountain-head;
Shed o'er a world by passions wild o'errun,
Shed to eclipse sin's scorching tropic sun,
Shed to prepare mankind for joys that lie
In other worlds, veil'd from the carnal eye!
'Tis thou canst penetrate those regions sheen,
Angelic “evidence of things not seen!”
Canst more than mountain obstacles remove,
And fix the mind on endless themes of love,
Which brightly shine, with still-increasing ray,
In the pure realms of immortality.
Rich garnish'd grace of all-surpassing love!
May thy transcendent pleasures wide be shed
By Him who is thy only fountain-head;
Shed o'er a world by passions wild o'errun,
Shed to eclipse sin's scorching tropic sun,
Shed to prepare mankind for joys that lie
In other worlds, veil'd from the carnal eye!
'Tis thou canst penetrate those regions sheen,
Angelic “evidence of things not seen!”
Canst more than mountain obstacles remove,
And fix the mind on endless themes of love,
Which brightly shine, with still-increasing ray,
In the pure realms of immortality.
A Dream.
The silver-leaf'd willow
Did wave in the breeze;
On Flora's soft pillow
I lay at my ease:
I mused on the folly
Of gay thoughtless youth,
Which brings melancholy—
Oh heart-rending truth!
Did wave in the breeze;
On Flora's soft pillow
I lay at my ease:
I mused on the folly
Of gay thoughtless youth,
Which brings melancholy—
Oh heart-rending truth!
Thus lonely I ponder'd
Beside a clear stream,
Till, in reasoning wander'd,
I slept, and did dream;
A nymph stood beside me,
In full bloom of youth,
Who said, she would guide me
To unerring truth.
Beside a clear stream,
Till, in reasoning wander'd,
I slept, and did dream;
119
In full bloom of youth,
Who said, she would guide me
To unerring truth.
Amazed at her kindness,
I knelt at her feet;
A leader to find thus
I grateful did greet:
For long I in error
And darkness had stray'd;
And heart-burning terror
Threw life all in shade.
I knelt at her feet;
A leader to find thus
I grateful did greet:
For long I in error
And darkness had stray'd;
And heart-burning terror
Threw life all in shade.
She quickly upraised me,
And soon she did show,
That virtue should praised be
For banishing woe.
I listen'd her story,
Convincing and clear,
Was downcast and sorry,
And dropp'd a sad tear.
And soon she did show,
That virtue should praised be
For banishing woe.
I listen'd her story,
Convincing and clear,
Was downcast and sorry,
And dropp'd a sad tear.
The tale, dearest reader,
Is simple and true;
The tale of my leader;
I'll tell it to you.
She lean'd on a hawthorn
And did it rehearse;
Then hear 't without scorn,
In Pindaric verse.
Is simple and true;
The tale of my leader;
I'll tell it to you.
She lean'd on a hawthorn
And did it rehearse;
Then hear 't without scorn,
In Pindaric verse.
“A sage dwelt by yon shady wood,
His clay-built cot was thatch'd with rushes;
All could declare the hermit good,
Who lived obscurely 'mong the bushes.
But they as uniformly led
A counter life: they would not tread
The path to joy; for they did dread
The power that sensual pleasure crushes.
His clay-built cot was thatch'd with rushes;
All could declare the hermit good,
Who lived obscurely 'mong the bushes.
But they as uniformly led
A counter life: they would not tread
The path to joy; for they did dread
The power that sensual pleasure crushes.
“O Vanity! thou enemy
To all internal peace;
Where thou dost rule we find a fool,
And wisdom's quick decrease.
“Well: on a day this hermit lay
Beneath a hawthorn fair,
Rapt in deep adoration;
To Him, whose is creation,
He breathed a fervent prayer:
When forth stepp'd a young libertine,
Who cried, ‘Why dost thou groan and whine,
Reclusely, in this wild?
What will avail thy abstinence,
Thus curbing all the joys of sense,
When death thy days hath foil'd?’
To all internal peace;
Where thou dost rule we find a fool,
And wisdom's quick decrease.
120
Beneath a hawthorn fair,
Rapt in deep adoration;
To Him, whose is creation,
He breathed a fervent prayer:
When forth stepp'd a young libertine,
Who cried, ‘Why dost thou groan and whine,
Reclusely, in this wild?
What will avail thy abstinence,
Thus curbing all the joys of sense,
When death thy days hath foil'd?’
“The sage was struck with great surprise,
And on the youngster fix'd his eyes,
And thus, laconical, did say
What made the stripling slide away.
And on the youngster fix'd his eyes,
And thus, laconical, did say
What made the stripling slide away.
“‘If that within the human soul
Eternity's clear tide doth roll,
Then am I bless'd with endless life,
Whilst thou art plunged in deathless strife.
Eternity's clear tide doth roll,
Then am I bless'd with endless life,
Whilst thou art plunged in deathless strife.
“‘But if, beyond life's fatal sigh,
All be but blank nonentity,
I'm still the gainer, for I've shunn'd
Rude riot's sting, that oft thee stunn'd.’
All be but blank nonentity,
I'm still the gainer, for I've shunn'd
Rude riot's sting, that oft thee stunn'd.’
“So spake the sire; the youth withdrew,
And own'd his reasoning was true:
So deep did passion's fangs him fix on,
The wise reply but wrought conviction;
The rede he did regard no more,
So lived as he had done before.
And own'd his reasoning was true:
So deep did passion's fangs him fix on,
The wise reply but wrought conviction;
The rede he did regard no more,
So lived as he had done before.
“But profit thou by his advice,
And prize the talent Time;
Make true religion now thy choice,
While yet in youthful prime:
Submit to heaven's high behest,
Which will thee lead to endless rest;
The road is smoothest, surest, best—
It winds through Zion's clime.”
And prize the talent Time;
Make true religion now thy choice,
While yet in youthful prime:
Submit to heaven's high behest,
Which will thee lead to endless rest;
The road is smoothest, surest, best—
It winds through Zion's clime.”
121
Ode to the Sun.
Thou glorious Orb that shinest on high,
To us, the monarch of the sky,
Again I see thee southward hie
From Cancer's scorching tower:
Far, far from Scotia's desert plains,
The seat of cheerful nymphs and swains,
Thou fliest; and sullen clouds and rains
In gloomy horror lour.
To us, the monarch of the sky,
Again I see thee southward hie
From Cancer's scorching tower:
Far, far from Scotia's desert plains,
The seat of cheerful nymphs and swains,
Thou fliest; and sullen clouds and rains
In gloomy horror lour.
The change is just; so let it be;
For other realms, as well as we,
Rejoice thy brilliant smile to see,
And feel thy cheering beam.
No people, between pole and pole,
But feel thy mighty power, O Sol!
While Terra round her course doth roll,
Thy use will be their theme.
For other realms, as well as we,
Rejoice thy brilliant smile to see,
And feel thy cheering beam.
No people, between pole and pole,
But feel thy mighty power, O Sol!
While Terra round her course doth roll,
Thy use will be their theme.
The fragrant birks thy worth proclaim,
The verdant meads confess the same,
The yellow broom far spreads thy fame,
And flowers thy anthem raise;
And, fond, at eventide I rove,
To list the music of the grove,
The sweet retreat of ardent love,
Whence flow the amorous lays.
The verdant meads confess the same,
The yellow broom far spreads thy fame,
And flowers thy anthem raise;
And, fond, at eventide I rove,
To list the music of the grove,
The sweet retreat of ardent love,
Whence flow the amorous lays.
There too the fancy-wafted bard
Finds shelter from misfortune hard;
From social pleasure oft debarr'd,
For want of needful money;
In lieu of which, thy offspring sweet,
Flowers, shrubs, with birds, is his retreat;
A bless'd Elysium, quite replete
With life's most luscious honey.
Finds shelter from misfortune hard;
From social pleasure oft debarr'd,
For want of needful money;
In lieu of which, thy offspring sweet,
Flowers, shrubs, with birds, is his retreat;
A bless'd Elysium, quite replete
With life's most luscious honey.
122
A Sabbath Morning Reflection.
SCENE—Torrance Hermitage.
Once more begone, ye bustling toils of life,
That, with incessant clamour, grating jar;
While here, sequester'd from all human eyes,
I taste the sweet, the hallow'd day of rest:
But not in solitude, for all around
Is joy and gladness, rapturously sweet;
From every shrub and thicket, bough and spray,
Soul-soothing melody is pour'd profuse.
From yonder larch, but late with verdure clad,
The blackbird's lay in boldest cadence flows;
The thrush, from yon green birch, her dulcet strain
Disseminates, more sweet than softest flute;
The linnet, redbreast, bullfinch, e'en the wren,
All join in harmony to hail the morn;
While Calder, gurgling o'er her rocky path,
Excites the mind to contemplation sweet.
That, with incessant clamour, grating jar;
While here, sequester'd from all human eyes,
I taste the sweet, the hallow'd day of rest:
But not in solitude, for all around
Is joy and gladness, rapturously sweet;
From every shrub and thicket, bough and spray,
Soul-soothing melody is pour'd profuse.
From yonder larch, but late with verdure clad,
The blackbird's lay in boldest cadence flows;
The thrush, from yon green birch, her dulcet strain
Disseminates, more sweet than softest flute;
The linnet, redbreast, bullfinch, e'en the wren,
All join in harmony to hail the morn;
While Calder, gurgling o'er her rocky path,
Excites the mind to contemplation sweet.
Here then dwells Deity, all nature cries;
What just arrangement still the senses meet!
What skill, past utterance, past conception far,
Appears, in every stroke and lineament
Of this first Cause, from whom all blessings flow!
Oh pride! that e'er in man thou shouldst have found
A haven where to hatch thy impious brood,
When all creation, subject to his ken,
With never-ceasing voice, proclaims aloud
That God, in every action, should be praised:
What hast thou, man, whereof thou mayest boast,
In mind or body, riches, titles, power?
Nought: all thy boasted dignity, assumed,
Is but the offspring of that cursed lust
Which threw bright Lucifer and his compeers
From Heaven's delightful realms of love and joy,
Down to the gloomy sulphurous vaults of hell,
To pine, blaspheme, and rage, in endless woe.
Why doat on knowledge? the infernal crew
Surpass thee almost to infinity:
Of this thou may'st be easily convinced,
When every day that passes o'er thy head
Shows how their sly delusion-baited snares
Can draw thee, captive, on to ruin's shore,
And all unseen e'en to the mental eye;
For while their death-fraught mandates thou obey'st,
They seem the only paths of cloyless bliss.
And why of that frail body art thou proud?
How short, at longest, is the term of life!
And, oh! how oft, ere shines thy noontide sun,
Thou sleep'st, unknowing, in the gelid tomb?
Yea, while the tenure lasts, what cares and toils,
With never-ceasing clamour, gall thy rest;
Till too, too oft, e'en in fair Britain's realms,
Grim suicide steps forth, with demon frown,
And, by one thrust, doth soul and body part.
What just arrangement still the senses meet!
What skill, past utterance, past conception far,
Appears, in every stroke and lineament
Of this first Cause, from whom all blessings flow!
Oh pride! that e'er in man thou shouldst have found
A haven where to hatch thy impious brood,
When all creation, subject to his ken,
With never-ceasing voice, proclaims aloud
That God, in every action, should be praised:
What hast thou, man, whereof thou mayest boast,
In mind or body, riches, titles, power?
Nought: all thy boasted dignity, assumed,
Is but the offspring of that cursed lust
Which threw bright Lucifer and his compeers
From Heaven's delightful realms of love and joy,
Down to the gloomy sulphurous vaults of hell,
To pine, blaspheme, and rage, in endless woe.
Why doat on knowledge? the infernal crew
Surpass thee almost to infinity:
Of this thou may'st be easily convinced,
When every day that passes o'er thy head
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Can draw thee, captive, on to ruin's shore,
And all unseen e'en to the mental eye;
For while their death-fraught mandates thou obey'st,
They seem the only paths of cloyless bliss.
And why of that frail body art thou proud?
How short, at longest, is the term of life!
And, oh! how oft, ere shines thy noontide sun,
Thou sleep'st, unknowing, in the gelid tomb?
Yea, while the tenure lasts, what cares and toils,
With never-ceasing clamour, gall thy rest;
Till too, too oft, e'en in fair Britain's realms,
Grim suicide steps forth, with demon frown,
And, by one thrust, doth soul and body part.
The bubble riches glitters in thy eye,
And on it, bright, seems happiness impress'd;
But though of that thou hadst thy heart's desire,
No comfort, joy, nor solace wouldst thou find,
When this great lesson thou hast left unlearn'd—
“With God's disposals always be content.”
And on it, bright, seems happiness impress'd;
But though of that thou hadst thy heart's desire,
No comfort, joy, nor solace wouldst thou find,
When this great lesson thou hast left unlearn'd—
“With God's disposals always be content.”
And what of titles—man, now low indeed—
When breathing that too sublimated air?
The name's too mean which Deity bestow'd;
Hence to some stratagem we must resort,
To rid us of this fatal obloquy:
And kings and princes, with their endless train,
Lord o'er their fellows with despotic power.
Power, that gigantic champion, sits enthroned
With brazen sceptre, 'neath which millions groan,
And, by his nod, awes pining discontent,
And mire-clad drudgery, to their slave-like work—
Must too, at length, the ruler's voice forego,
When death, in horrent form—hell's nuncio grim—
Appears, beside the yew-surrounded grave,
Arm'd with that potent dart, of baleful point,
Venom'd in sin's terrific blazing forge,
To throw his fate—his endless destiny.
No figment this: the world's great victor see,
'Neath whose dire arm the Persian monarch sank,
Pallid and faint, on unrefreshing couch—
Now, in his turn, resigns his crown to death.
And mark him, too, who once gave Europe law,
Vaulting in all the arrogance of pride;
Now, lonely, on Helena's rock he sits,
With pensive eye bent on the foaming wave,
(True emblem of his envy-rankled soul,)
Despoil'd of all his stern magnific port,
Sullen yet calm, like castigated child,
Nor dares he rule earth's most ignoble slave.
When breathing that too sublimated air?
The name's too mean which Deity bestow'd;
Hence to some stratagem we must resort,
To rid us of this fatal obloquy:
And kings and princes, with their endless train,
Lord o'er their fellows with despotic power.
Power, that gigantic champion, sits enthroned
With brazen sceptre, 'neath which millions groan,
And, by his nod, awes pining discontent,
And mire-clad drudgery, to their slave-like work—
Must too, at length, the ruler's voice forego,
When death, in horrent form—hell's nuncio grim—
Appears, beside the yew-surrounded grave,
Arm'd with that potent dart, of baleful point,
Venom'd in sin's terrific blazing forge,
To throw his fate—his endless destiny.
No figment this: the world's great victor see,
'Neath whose dire arm the Persian monarch sank,
Pallid and faint, on unrefreshing couch—
Now, in his turn, resigns his crown to death.
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Vaulting in all the arrogance of pride;
Now, lonely, on Helena's rock he sits,
With pensive eye bent on the foaming wave,
(True emblem of his envy-rankled soul,)
Despoil'd of all his stern magnific port,
Sullen yet calm, like castigated child,
Nor dares he rule earth's most ignoble slave.
Then why high-rate things of a birth so mean,
Or envy much the good which springs from earth?
That soul ought ne'er on time-girt themes to dwell
Whose native clime is heaven's illumined realm.
But, oh! how high, beyond conception's sight,
Are those keen transports which possess the soul,
In that pure intellectual region bless'd,
To man, thus stifled in gross matter's robe!
How high! when he essays to penetrate the veil
Which hangs, dark, waving round the hallow'd shrine!
Still wrapp'd in sense and sensitive delights,
What are his views? but those which Pagans feign;
Elysian joys, but alter'd in their form;
Their golden harps but tuned to other themes,
And gleaming courts, for flower-encircled bowers.
Yet should man's mind this mystic region scan
While here on earth? No: that were vain indeed:
He's made to serve his end, and this he doth
When he, with humble heart and contrite spirit, loves
His God supreme—his neighbour as himself.
Or envy much the good which springs from earth?
That soul ought ne'er on time-girt themes to dwell
Whose native clime is heaven's illumined realm.
But, oh! how high, beyond conception's sight,
Are those keen transports which possess the soul,
In that pure intellectual region bless'd,
To man, thus stifled in gross matter's robe!
How high! when he essays to penetrate the veil
Which hangs, dark, waving round the hallow'd shrine!
Still wrapp'd in sense and sensitive delights,
What are his views? but those which Pagans feign;
Elysian joys, but alter'd in their form;
Their golden harps but tuned to other themes,
And gleaming courts, for flower-encircled bowers.
Yet should man's mind this mystic region scan
While here on earth? No: that were vain indeed:
He's made to serve his end, and this he doth
When he, with humble heart and contrite spirit, loves
His God supreme—his neighbour as himself.
And some have felt the antepast below
Of those true joys which lie in store above;
Have felt the pleasures which in raptures flow
From conscience unreproving, and God's smile,
His benediction, and his grace vouchsafed.
Yea, e'en among the agonies of death
Thousands have gloried, in this cause divine,
On racks and crosses, and on blazing piles,
Cheer'd and supported by that heavenly Power
Who works, unseen, within man's inmost core.
But now, bless'd thought! grim persecution's fled,
Rome's hand is fetter'd, and, throughout this land,
All may, as conscience dictates, serve the God
Who rules sole monarch of both earth and heaven,
Nor deputes a vicegerent here below
To lord supremacy o'er fellow-men.
Of those true joys which lie in store above;
Have felt the pleasures which in raptures flow
From conscience unreproving, and God's smile,
His benediction, and his grace vouchsafed.
Yea, e'en among the agonies of death
Thousands have gloried, in this cause divine,
On racks and crosses, and on blazing piles,
Cheer'd and supported by that heavenly Power
Who works, unseen, within man's inmost core.
But now, bless'd thought! grim persecution's fled,
Rome's hand is fetter'd, and, throughout this land,
All may, as conscience dictates, serve the God
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Nor deputes a vicegerent here below
To lord supremacy o'er fellow-men.
Thou, who this freedom wrought'st by love, me guide,
And let me ne'er on life's fell hardships brood;
What things are only fit for me provide,
While wandering through life's vale of solitude.
And let me ne'er on life's fell hardships brood;
What things are only fit for me provide,
While wandering through life's vale of solitude.
A Prayer.
Mighty Lord of grace and glory,
Who transcendent reign'st above,
Here I prostrate lie before thee,
To implore thy saving love.
Who transcendent reign'st above,
Here I prostrate lie before thee,
To implore thy saving love.
Like the drunkard in his vomit,
I in vice have wallow'd long,
Nor could reason turn me from it,
Arm'd with demonstration strong.
I in vice have wallow'd long,
Nor could reason turn me from it,
Arm'd with demonstration strong.
All around was dark and dreary,
Till the glorious gospel light
Burst the ebon gloom, to cheer me
While immured in sin's black night.
Till the glorious gospel light
Burst the ebon gloom, to cheer me
While immured in sin's black night.
Then I saw my woeful nature
In more gloomy shades pourtray'd;
Darker seem'd each moral feature,
By the holy law display'd.
In more gloomy shades pourtray'd;
Darker seem'd each moral feature,
By the holy law display'd.
Let the matchless love of Jesus
On thy creature now descend,
Which from Satan's bondage frees us,
If on grace we sole depend.
On thy creature now descend,
Which from Satan's bondage frees us,
If on grace we sole depend.
May my sins be all forgiven
Through His all-atoning blood,
Which hath pathed the way to heaven
In an overflowing flood.
Through His all-atoning blood,
Which hath pathed the way to heaven
In an overflowing flood.
May the Holy Ghost, descending,
Kindle in my soul a flame,
Which, through every deed extending,
Still shall glorify Thy name.
Kindle in my soul a flame,
Which, through every deed extending,
Still shall glorify Thy name.
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Dark's the path I have to wander
Through this life, with snares beset;
Oh do Thou assistance render
To escape sin's fatal net!
Through this life, with snares beset;
Oh do Thou assistance render
To escape sin's fatal net!
Should the eye of fortune, smiling,
Shed its heart-deluding ray,
Save me from its dire beguiling
By thy grace, O Lord, I pray.
Shed its heart-deluding ray,
Save me from its dire beguiling
By thy grace, O Lord, I pray.
Or should poverty and sorrow
Be through life my constant lot,
May “Take no thought for to-morrow”
By me never be forgot.
Be through life my constant lot,
May “Take no thought for to-morrow”
By me never be forgot.
Thus, by Thee through life protected,
I my journey shall pursue,
With my face to heaven directed,
And bright glory's crown in view.
I my journey shall pursue,
With my face to heaven directed,
And bright glory's crown in view.
And, when death shall overtake me,
In that dark and dreary hour,
Oh do Thou not then forsake me,
But on me thy Spirit shower.
In that dark and dreary hour,
Oh do Thou not then forsake me,
But on me thy Spirit shower.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Who through boundless space dost reign,
This, my prayer, oh do Thou hear it,
And all praise be thine—Amen.
Who through boundless space dost reign,
This, my prayer, oh do Thou hear it,
And all praise be thine—Amen.
The Infanticide.
The blazing meteor brilliant shone,
And still the Magi wander'd on
From Persia's mountains, distant far,
Where first they spied the wondrous Star,
O'er hills, through glens and rivers, wending,
Still on their heavenly guide attending;
No toil, no travel do they mind,
Their sole wish, Judah's King to find;
And, inly by the Spirit led,
With joy their longsome way they sped:
The Tigris and Euphrates pass'd,
And parch'd Arabia's desert vast,
They reach the towers of Salem grand,
The pride of all the Holy Land.
And still the Magi wander'd on
From Persia's mountains, distant far,
Where first they spied the wondrous Star,
O'er hills, through glens and rivers, wending,
Still on their heavenly guide attending;
No toil, no travel do they mind,
Their sole wish, Judah's King to find;
And, inly by the Spirit led,
With joy their longsome way they sped:
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And parch'd Arabia's desert vast,
They reach the towers of Salem grand,
The pride of all the Holy Land.
Their habit strange and errand new
The eye of wonder on them drew;
For, quick, their fame like lightning ran
From city crowd to grave divan,
Till Herod, trembling, hears anon,
And, hearing, dreads a captive throne.
The eye of wonder on them drew;
For, quick, their fame like lightning ran
From city crowd to grave divan,
Till Herod, trembling, hears anon,
And, hearing, dreads a captive throne.
“I'm Judah's king,” the tyrant cries,
“And should one in rebellion rise,
He and his allies soon shall feel
The conq'ring power of Roman steel!
But bring these vagrants, and I'll hear
Why in this city they appear,
And set the whole in wild uproar,
Where peace serenely reign'd before.”
“And should one in rebellion rise,
He and his allies soon shall feel
The conq'ring power of Roman steel!
But bring these vagrants, and I'll hear
Why in this city they appear,
And set the whole in wild uproar,
Where peace serenely reign'd before.”
This said, the Magi straight are sought,
And to the haughty monarch brought,
Who sat in anxious troubled mood,
And o'er the strange report did brood.
Arrived, he stares them with an eye
Of wrath, deep mix'd with jealousy,
While they, unawed by courtly grandeur,
In all the glare of tyrant splendour,
Give answer calm to all required
By Herod, whom suspicion fired;
But each he bound, with strict behest,
When found of whom they were in quest,
The joyful news they back should bring,
That he might go and hail their King.
And to the haughty monarch brought,
Who sat in anxious troubled mood,
And o'er the strange report did brood.
Arrived, he stares them with an eye
Of wrath, deep mix'd with jealousy,
While they, unawed by courtly grandeur,
In all the glare of tyrant splendour,
Give answer calm to all required
By Herod, whom suspicion fired;
But each he bound, with strict behest,
When found of whom they were in quest,
The joyful news they back should bring,
That he might go and hail their King.
Dismiss'd, they onward hie again,
And now the Star illumes the plain;
With vertic beam and brighter flame
It burns o'er humble Bethlehem.
And now the Star illumes the plain;
With vertic beam and brighter flame
It burns o'er humble Bethlehem.
In poverty's most lowly guise
The Infant here, in slumber, lies
Clasp'd in his mother's fond embrace—
Content, though mean her resting place.
The Sages' hearts with joy o'erflow
While prostrated to Him they bow,
And, praising, gifts profuse bestow,
In wonder rapt that Power divine
Should through an infant's weakness shine.
The Infant here, in slumber, lies
Clasp'd in his mother's fond embrace—
Content, though mean her resting place.
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While prostrated to Him they bow,
And, praising, gifts profuse bestow,
In wonder rapt that Power divine
Should through an infant's weakness shine.
With grateful hearts and tearful eyes,
On warm devotion's wings, arise
The parents' thanks to Jacob's God,
For cheering thus their lone abode
By timely aid, brought from afar,
When trouble seem'd all joy to mar.
On warm devotion's wings, arise
The parents' thanks to Jacob's God,
For cheering thus their lone abode
By timely aid, brought from afar,
When trouble seem'd all joy to mar.
Meanwhile did Herod's bosom burn,
With anxious wish, for the return
Of these sage pilgrims; but in vain,
For them he ne'er should see again:
By vision warn'd, they homeward stray,
To eastern lands, another way.
With anxious wish, for the return
Of these sage pilgrims; but in vain,
For them he ne'er should see again:
By vision warn'd, they homeward stray,
To eastern lands, another way.
An angel, robed in heaven's bright beam,
Instructed Joseph by a dream,
Warning the kind and cautious sire
To fly from Herod's vengeful ire,
And refuge seek in Egypt's clime
Until the due appointed time.
Obedient to the heavenly call,
He flies, to shun the despot's thrall;
By night, by day, through drearest road,
The desert wilderness he trod;
By night's dews chill'd, by day's heat parch'd,
With meek submission, on they march'd,
Till safe arrived in that far land
Where Pharaohs long held sole command.
Instructed Joseph by a dream,
Warning the kind and cautious sire
To fly from Herod's vengeful ire,
And refuge seek in Egypt's clime
Until the due appointed time.
Obedient to the heavenly call,
He flies, to shun the despot's thrall;
By night, by day, through drearest road,
The desert wilderness he trod;
By night's dews chill'd, by day's heat parch'd,
With meek submission, on they march'd,
Till safe arrived in that far land
Where Pharaohs long held sole command.
As from the bursting nitrous cloud
The awful thunder rattles loud;
As volleying Etna's baleful blast
Rolls out in lava-streams at last;
As, from the marshall'd lines of war,
Destruction bursts, with fatal jar;
So wrath, matured in Herod's soul,
Breaks forth, disdaining all control,
And nought can calm his demon-pride
But hell-advised Infanticide.
To execute his dire intent
A secret order out is sent,
Assembling all the sons of blood,
On Bethleh'ms streets to spread the flood
From the pure spring of infant hearts,
Pierced by their poniards, swords, and darts.
The awful thunder rattles loud;
As volleying Etna's baleful blast
Rolls out in lava-streams at last;
As, from the marshall'd lines of war,
Destruction bursts, with fatal jar;
So wrath, matured in Herod's soul,
Breaks forth, disdaining all control,
And nought can calm his demon-pride
But hell-advised Infanticide.
129
A secret order out is sent,
Assembling all the sons of blood,
On Bethleh'ms streets to spread the flood
From the pure spring of infant hearts,
Pierced by their poniards, swords, and darts.
See, the black troop, with hellish frown,
Surrounds the calm but fated town.
What though all robed in pilgrim guise!
Souls base are louring through their eyes!
With weapons arm'd, much joy they'll blight
Before to-morrow's sun gives light.
Surrounds the calm but fated town.
What though all robed in pilgrim guise!
Souls base are louring through their eyes!
With weapons arm'd, much joy they'll blight
Before to-morrow's sun gives light.
The shades of night o'erspread the plain,
Soft slumbers slew the weary swain,
Quit was the lay of evening lark,
The dreary watch-dog ceased to bark,
The stray sheep dropp'd her woeful wail,
The crow did roost in woodland dale,
The sportive youths had left their play,
The saint had sung his vesper lay,
The miser summ'd his golden heap,
The mother lull'd her babe to sleep—
When murder's sable flag was rear'd,
Whereon grim death its crest appear'd,
As up the bolted doors were broke,
And parents—but to weep—awoke.
With sulphrous torches blazing blue
The murd'rers range the village through,
Waving the lamp of hell, to light
Them to the massacre this night.
The father, starting, quakes with fear,
The lights to see, the sound to hear;
The mother swoons, with terror wild,
Her latest grasp laid on her child;
The babe she fondled oft before
Now throbs, and welters in its gore.
From house to house th' assassins fly,
From street to street quick rings the cry
Of groaning sires, distracted mothers—
Of shrieking sisters, wailing brothers—
Till all the woeful village round
In blood and tears is drench'd and drown'd.
Resistance none could fathers make;
No sinew strung, each nerve did shake,
As sailors torpid struck with fear,
When, deeming that no danger's near,
Their vessel founders on the rock,
They stand confounded at the shock.
Soft slumbers slew the weary swain,
Quit was the lay of evening lark,
The dreary watch-dog ceased to bark,
The stray sheep dropp'd her woeful wail,
The crow did roost in woodland dale,
The sportive youths had left their play,
The saint had sung his vesper lay,
The miser summ'd his golden heap,
The mother lull'd her babe to sleep—
When murder's sable flag was rear'd,
Whereon grim death its crest appear'd,
As up the bolted doors were broke,
And parents—but to weep—awoke.
With sulphrous torches blazing blue
The murd'rers range the village through,
Waving the lamp of hell, to light
Them to the massacre this night.
The father, starting, quakes with fear,
The lights to see, the sound to hear;
The mother swoons, with terror wild,
Her latest grasp laid on her child;
The babe she fondled oft before
Now throbs, and welters in its gore.
From house to house th' assassins fly,
From street to street quick rings the cry
Of groaning sires, distracted mothers—
Of shrieking sisters, wailing brothers—
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In blood and tears is drench'd and drown'd.
Resistance none could fathers make;
No sinew strung, each nerve did shake,
As sailors torpid struck with fear,
When, deeming that no danger's near,
Their vessel founders on the rock,
They stand confounded at the shock.
What alteration sad the sun
Displays, when, through the vapours dun
He darts, with red, effulgent beam,
On hill and vale, and lake and stream!
The sire he left in joyful air
Now sits o'ercome by black despair;
The mother singing to her child,
Now wails with bitter anguish wild;
The rosy infant, smiling once,
Now sleeps in death's eternal trance:
All pleasure's fled, and nought appears
But faces drown'd in grief and tears.
In vain the sympathising friend
His soothing counsel now doth lend;
In vain the sacred man of God
Drops comfort from the holy code;
In vain are nature's bounties spread—
The grieved soul recoils at bread;
For still the wildest wails of woe,
With floods of tears, afresh do flow.
Displays, when, through the vapours dun
He darts, with red, effulgent beam,
On hill and vale, and lake and stream!
The sire he left in joyful air
Now sits o'ercome by black despair;
The mother singing to her child,
Now wails with bitter anguish wild;
The rosy infant, smiling once,
Now sleeps in death's eternal trance:
All pleasure's fled, and nought appears
But faces drown'd in grief and tears.
In vain the sympathising friend
His soothing counsel now doth lend;
In vain the sacred man of God
Drops comfort from the holy code;
In vain are nature's bounties spread—
The grieved soul recoils at bread;
For still the wildest wails of woe,
With floods of tears, afresh do flow.
As mourns the dove, both night and day,
When bears the kite her mate away,
No art revengeful can she try,
But only lives to mourn and cry,
So, 'gainst the cause of this event,
No bow of vengeance can be bent;
The bloody despot rests secure,
If conscience can the deed endure;
Nought can the injured do but mourn,
With throbbing bosoms, sadly torn.
When bears the kite her mate away,
No art revengeful can she try,
But only lives to mourn and cry,
So, 'gainst the cause of this event,
No bow of vengeance can be bent;
The bloody despot rests secure,
If conscience can the deed endure;
Nought can the injured do but mourn,
With throbbing bosoms, sadly torn.
With ceaseless toil the sexton groans,
While lab'ring 'mongst sepulchral stones;
All trench'd the dreary burying ground,
With mould'ring bones bestrew'd all round;
E'en he with rage infuriate burns
To dig the graves for infants' urns.
The carpenter, both day and night,
Toils, while with tears and sweat his sight
Is dimm'd, to answer the demand
For sable coffins through the land.
No bolt of fate was ever shed
Like that which burst o'er Bethleh'm's head.
While lab'ring 'mongst sepulchral stones;
131
With mould'ring bones bestrew'd all round;
E'en he with rage infuriate burns
To dig the graves for infants' urns.
The carpenter, both day and night,
Toils, while with tears and sweat his sight
Is dimm'd, to answer the demand
For sable coffins through the land.
No bolt of fate was ever shed
Like that which burst o'er Bethleh'm's head.
Hour after hour the solemn bier,
With grieved attendants, doth appear;
Incessant sounds the dreary mould,
Immuring corpses stiff and cold;
And none the wond'ring trav'ller meets
But mourners on the roads and streets,
All bathed in tears, in sackcloth clad,
Downcast, heart-broken, wildly sad.
No more the darkness lulls to rest,
To nerve the hind, with toil oppress'd;
No more the cheerful dawn of day
Can chase the gloom of woe away;
No more of love the joyous song
Is heard the greenwood shades among,
Nor mirthful tale, at even-tide,
Around the blazing bright fireside:
But now the mother's weeping seen
At eve, lone, straying o'er the green,
To view her murder'd infants' tomb,
More drear by night's congenial gloom:
Oft sits she on the letter'd stone,
That says, “Sad dame, this is thy own
Dear child!” Here, with an absent eye,
Stern fix'd upon the spacious sky,
She ponders in her mind the joy
Hope proffer'd in her darling boy—
Her boy, now mould'ring in the dust,
A victim to a tyrant's lust.
Nor can her home amend her state,
While sorrow rules the die of fate;
All consolation still she flies,
And mourning lives, and mourning dies.
With grieved attendants, doth appear;
Incessant sounds the dreary mould,
Immuring corpses stiff and cold;
And none the wond'ring trav'ller meets
But mourners on the roads and streets,
All bathed in tears, in sackcloth clad,
Downcast, heart-broken, wildly sad.
No more the darkness lulls to rest,
To nerve the hind, with toil oppress'd;
No more the cheerful dawn of day
Can chase the gloom of woe away;
No more of love the joyous song
Is heard the greenwood shades among,
Nor mirthful tale, at even-tide,
Around the blazing bright fireside:
But now the mother's weeping seen
At eve, lone, straying o'er the green,
To view her murder'd infants' tomb,
More drear by night's congenial gloom:
Oft sits she on the letter'd stone,
That says, “Sad dame, this is thy own
Dear child!” Here, with an absent eye,
Stern fix'd upon the spacious sky,
She ponders in her mind the joy
Hope proffer'd in her darling boy—
Her boy, now mould'ring in the dust,
A victim to a tyrant's lust.
Nor can her home amend her state,
While sorrow rules the die of fate;
All consolation still she flies,
And mourning lives, and mourning dies.
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On Scepticism.
Who e'er could scan the infinite of space,
In which creation wheels with ample sweep,
Or what idea has the human mind
Of non-existence, ere time had her birth
From the wide womb of dread eternity?
None! Never mortal could take in the range
So wide, which wraps in darkness, as a shroud,
The corse of matter gross, and farther sweeps,
With outspread wings, than fancy can descry.
In which creation wheels with ample sweep,
Or what idea has the human mind
Of non-existence, ere time had her birth
From the wide womb of dread eternity?
None! Never mortal could take in the range
So wide, which wraps in darkness, as a shroud,
The corse of matter gross, and farther sweeps,
With outspread wings, than fancy can descry.
When Herschel heavenward points his telescope,
And views unnumber'd suns and systems roll
Where scarce blue ether to his eye appears,
So thick these radiant orbs before him glance,
Thick as the dew-drops on the morning field,
What sees he of this shoreless continent?
Nought—but the foreground of infinity.
And yet the tenants of this atom world,
Whose stinted minds scarce know the right from wrong,
Will wield and manage the high attributes
Or Him who, out of nothing, gave them life!
Oh! had they but the feelings of the brutes,
That bend submissive to their masters' yoke,
Then would they shudder at the impious thought
Of aiming to explore God's mysteries;
A thought as blasphemous as it is vain.
And views unnumber'd suns and systems roll
Where scarce blue ether to his eye appears,
So thick these radiant orbs before him glance,
Thick as the dew-drops on the morning field,
What sees he of this shoreless continent?
Nought—but the foreground of infinity.
And yet the tenants of this atom world,
Whose stinted minds scarce know the right from wrong,
Will wield and manage the high attributes
Or Him who, out of nothing, gave them life!
Oh! had they but the feelings of the brutes,
That bend submissive to their masters' yoke,
Then would they shudder at the impious thought
Of aiming to explore God's mysteries;
A thought as blasphemous as it is vain.
Hark how the sensualist, with daring front,
Storms at the laws design'd to lead to joy,
And sees in God no attribute but Love,
Dragging, as 'twere, his Justice captive-bound.
There too the sceptic, with blasphemous tongue,
Doubts all beyond his reason's shallow depth,
And breathes defiance to the Deity,
Because he dwells beyond the reach of sense—
Dwells in that realm where never eye shall beam;
Where only Faith, the pilgrim, finds the way.
As in a circle all the radii
Are equidistant from the central point,
So all God's attributes, though infinite,
In him, the centre, do harmonious meet.
And, oh! how wondrous to the human soul
Seem these perfections, that they should agree:
See Justice stern with Mercy mingle tears;
Anger, with flashing eye, mild Love embrace;
Truth, sworn off sinners to exact the debt,
Yield to the plaint of sad Forgiveness.
Storms at the laws design'd to lead to joy,
And sees in God no attribute but Love,
Dragging, as 'twere, his Justice captive-bound.
There too the sceptic, with blasphemous tongue,
Doubts all beyond his reason's shallow depth,
And breathes defiance to the Deity,
Because he dwells beyond the reach of sense—
Dwells in that realm where never eye shall beam;
Where only Faith, the pilgrim, finds the way.
As in a circle all the radii
Are equidistant from the central point,
So all God's attributes, though infinite,
In him, the centre, do harmonious meet.
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Seem these perfections, that they should agree:
See Justice stern with Mercy mingle tears;
Anger, with flashing eye, mild Love embrace;
Truth, sworn off sinners to exact the debt,
Yield to the plaint of sad Forgiveness.
Nor lies this wonder only in himself;
For those who frown defiance 'gainst His throne
Carry, in their own frame, what quite as far
Transcends their knowledge as the King of heaven
Doth in his nature baffle their attempts
To find his ways of working here below.
The soul—of pure and unsubstantial mould,
Where length, breadth, depth, can no connection claim,—
The body—gross, of rude material make,—
Are join'd together by some law unseen;
But that fine bond of union let them tell
Ere we list to their soph'sms 'gainst their God.
Or, sages—since that name you arrogate—
Tell whence that law, which keeps in order due
The universe, which you attraction call!
Whence every atom of its mother globe,
If disengaged in the atmosphere,
Drops t'ward the centre, as if loth to fly,
Ungratefully, from where it first had birth.
The effect you see, the cause you cannot tell;
Confess and yield, and quit yourselves like men.
For those who frown defiance 'gainst His throne
Carry, in their own frame, what quite as far
Transcends their knowledge as the King of heaven
Doth in his nature baffle their attempts
To find his ways of working here below.
The soul—of pure and unsubstantial mould,
Where length, breadth, depth, can no connection claim,—
The body—gross, of rude material make,—
Are join'd together by some law unseen;
But that fine bond of union let them tell
Ere we list to their soph'sms 'gainst their God.
Or, sages—since that name you arrogate—
Tell whence that law, which keeps in order due
The universe, which you attraction call!
Whence every atom of its mother globe,
If disengaged in the atmosphere,
Drops t'ward the centre, as if loth to fly,
Ungratefully, from where it first had birth.
The effect you see, the cause you cannot tell;
Confess and yield, and quit yourselves like men.
A God there is! all nature shouts aloud:
And since, by nature, we bewilder'd are
In all our most minute inquiries keen,
Then give to Faith the helm, though reason fail,
To bear our bark into the haven safe;
Lest on the shelves of ruin we be cast,
To mourn our wreck through all eternity.
And since, by nature, we bewilder'd are
In all our most minute inquiries keen,
Then give to Faith the helm, though reason fail,
To bear our bark into the haven safe;
Lest on the shelves of ruin we be cast,
To mourn our wreck through all eternity.
“All is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.”
Let not ambition spoil thy rest,
That demon of the human breast;
Though oft in seemly garbage dress'd,
Its end is only misery.
That demon of the human breast;
Though oft in seemly garbage dress'd,
Its end is only misery.
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Whate'er the wish, whate'er the prize,
That dazzles thy bewitched eyes,
The ignis-fatuus from thee flies,
For all is nought but Vanity.
That dazzles thy bewitched eyes,
The ignis-fatuus from thee flies,
For all is nought but Vanity.
Think not that titles, wealth, and fame,
On earth can all the pleasure claim;
Oft poverty, without a name,
Enjoys more sweet serenity.
On earth can all the pleasure claim;
Oft poverty, without a name,
Enjoys more sweet serenity.
The king who sat on Judah's throne
Made every joy on earth his own;
Yet plain declares to every one,
“All earthly joy is Vanity.”
Made every joy on earth his own;
Yet plain declares to every one,
“All earthly joy is Vanity.”
What scorpion-torments rend the breast
Where wealth displays her dragon-crest!
Nor day nor night can bring them rest
Who hunt the phantom Vanity.
Where wealth displays her dragon-crest!
Nor day nor night can bring them rest
Who hunt the phantom Vanity.
The haughty fair who trips the street,
In all the show of dress complete,
Though gay she seems, doth often meet
Neglect—which cries, “All's Vanity.”
In all the show of dress complete,
Though gay she seems, doth often meet
Neglect—which cries, “All's Vanity.”
Oh were she but so wise as know
Small happiness is found below,
More joy she'd meet, and feel less woe.
Earth holds not true felicity.
Small happiness is found below,
More joy she'd meet, and feel less woe.
Earth holds not true felicity.
With ceaseless rage her bosom's burning;
At fate's sour look she's ever spurning;
Of cold mischance knows every turning;
But still finds all is Vanity.
At fate's sour look she's ever spurning;
Of cold mischance knows every turning;
But still finds all is Vanity.
Nor dwells this only with the fair:
Our dandies too its horrors share;
Who hunt for fortunes everywhere—
But find full oft “all's Vanity.”
Our dandies too its horrors share;
Who hunt for fortunes everywhere—
But find full oft “all's Vanity.”
The warrior—who through fields of blood
Drives, keen to pull fame's rosy bud—
But meets, when cross'd the troubled flood,
The airy phantom Vanity.
Drives, keen to pull fame's rosy bud—
But meets, when cross'd the troubled flood,
The airy phantom Vanity.
How drear the time when all is o'er!
And he, on life's remotest shore,
Sees thousands weltering in their gore
Through his unbounded Vanity!
And he, on life's remotest shore,
Sees thousands weltering in their gore
Through his unbounded Vanity!
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Where'er he looks, where'er he flies,
The ghastly picture still he 'spies;
And, black and wild, before him lies
A dismal dark eternity!
The ghastly picture still he 'spies;
And, black and wild, before him lies
A dismal dark eternity!
Oh what would thousands such have given,
When, to despair's dark cavern driven,
Had they obey'd the voice of Heaven?
Which cries aloud, “All's Vanity.”
When, to despair's dark cavern driven,
Had they obey'd the voice of Heaven?
Which cries aloud, “All's Vanity.”
Nor holds this law to crimes alone
Which make creation loudly groan;
Each pleasure's crest has stamp'd thereon,
“All earthly joy is Vanity.”
Which make creation loudly groan;
Each pleasure's crest has stamp'd thereon,
“All earthly joy is Vanity.”
How short our rapt'rous moments last?
Like clouds before the sweeping blast!
Like surging tides receding fast!
And all at last is Vanity.
Like clouds before the sweeping blast!
Like surging tides receding fast!
And all at last is Vanity.
The summer flower in beauty blows,
And, sun-ward, fair its bosom shows;
But, evening come, its leaves soon close;
So death ends all our Vanity.
And, sun-ward, fair its bosom shows;
But, evening come, its leaves soon close;
So death ends all our Vanity.
In that lone house the weary rest;
There sighs no more the soul oppress'd;
There finds the saint a haven bless'd,
Beyond the reach of Vanity.
There sighs no more the soul oppress'd;
There finds the saint a haven bless'd,
Beyond the reach of Vanity.
The Mahometan Pilgrim.
From the green plains of Midian Aretas did stray
To the temple of Mecca, to pay his devotion;
Breezy evening approach'd at the exit of day,
For the sun sank beyond the Egyptian ocean.
To the temple of Mecca, to pay his devotion;
Breezy evening approach'd at the exit of day,
For the sun sank beyond the Egyptian ocean.
He had wash'd his feet in a clear cooling spring,
And partaken what supper his scrip did contain,
With his hymn made the whole Caravansary ring,
While devotion did soar with his echoing strain.
And partaken what supper his scrip did contain,
With his hymn made the whole Caravansary ring,
While devotion did soar with his echoing strain.
He had sunk in soft slumbers upon his straw bed,
And the dreams of his Prophet did float in his mind;
He did fancy himself to Elysium led,
Where he left earth's perplexities far, far behind.
And the dreams of his Prophet did float in his mind;
He did fancy himself to Elysium led,
Where he left earth's perplexities far, far behind.
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He dream'd that the land was delightfully gay,
With groves, flowers, and pleasant streams, bless'd past compare;
And many a clear winding streamlet did stray,
By whose verdant banks never frown'd sordid care.
With groves, flowers, and pleasant streams, bless'd past compare;
And many a clear winding streamlet did stray,
By whose verdant banks never frown'd sordid care.
In this bless'd abode he the 'habitants heard,
With their voices immortal, glad chanting their numbers;
When, sudden around, fancy's visions were marr'd
By the rude clang of arms, which dispell'd his sweet slumbers.
With their voices immortal, glad chanting their numbers;
When, sudden around, fancy's visions were marr'd
By the rude clang of arms, which dispell'd his sweet slumbers.
“Arouse! to arms, each man of might!
For now depart the shades of night.”
(Aretas heard, not far away,
This was the call of Morgavay
The robber, with his fearless band,
The scourge and terror of the land;
Who shortly paused, and, in a trice,
Again was heard his awful voice.)
“Rise, friends, to march with utmost speed,
The pursuit of the foe I dread;
Their vengeance, roused to utmost height,
May prompt perhaps to deeds of might:
But, lest they chance to find our rout,
For treach'rous spies look all about;
And each we meet, or friend or foe,
Must feel the dagger's fatal blow.
Within yon Caravansary,
Perchance, some pilgrim there may lie;
Haste, therefore, haste, with utmost speed,
And all you find, quick, make them bleed.”
For now depart the shades of night.”
(Aretas heard, not far away,
This was the call of Morgavay
The robber, with his fearless band,
The scourge and terror of the land;
Who shortly paused, and, in a trice,
Again was heard his awful voice.)
“Rise, friends, to march with utmost speed,
The pursuit of the foe I dread;
Their vengeance, roused to utmost height,
May prompt perhaps to deeds of might:
But, lest they chance to find our rout,
For treach'rous spies look all about;
And each we meet, or friend or foe,
Must feel the dagger's fatal blow.
Within yon Caravansary,
Perchance, some pilgrim there may lie;
Haste, therefore, haste, with utmost speed,
And all you find, quick, make them bleed.”
Aretas heard his orders dire—
Appall'd, distracted. His desire
To execute, his scouts drew nigh,
Who pull'd their morglays from the thigh.
Aretas fell on bended knee,
And begg'd that they would let him free;
Told them, for Mecca he was bound,
To see the Prophet's natal ground;
No spy he'd prove, though he should meet
Their rude pursuers, bold and fleet:
If rage were e'er to pity changed,
He had e'en now been from his ire estranged.
Appall'd, distracted. His desire
To execute, his scouts drew nigh,
Who pull'd their morglays from the thigh.
Aretas fell on bended knee,
And begg'd that they would let him free;
Told them, for Mecca he was bound,
To see the Prophet's natal ground;
No spy he'd prove, though he should meet
Their rude pursuers, bold and fleet:
If rage were e'er to pity changed,
He had e'en now been from his ire estranged.
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But pity they knew not, so struck him to death;
With a look of forgiveness he, fainting, expired:
On the name of his Prophet he spent his last breath,
While his saint-like demeanor his en'mies admired.
With a look of forgiveness he, fainting, expired:
On the name of his Prophet he spent his last breath,
While his saint-like demeanor his en'mies admired.
His corpse they soon hid in the light fleeting sand,
Lest the action should lead to discover their track:
Long his friends wish'd in vain for his company bland,
But, alas! poor Aretas did never come back.
Lest the action should lead to discover their track:
Long his friends wish'd in vain for his company bland,
But, alas! poor Aretas did never come back.
The Waes o' Ambition;
Or, THE RUIN O' GLENMUIR.
CANTO FIRST.
While autumn tinges a' the woods wi' yellow,
And summer hies far southward o'er the lea,
While winter's prelude rises, wild but mellow,
Frae birds in hazle, row'n, and birken tree;
While Scotia sits, wi' tear bedazzled e'e,
On Goatfell's tap, and views the vessels glide,
Bearing her sons, wha ranged her hills ance free,
To toil in lands beyond the Atlantic tide—
I choose the season sad to wail the Waes o' Pride.
And summer hies far southward o'er the lea,
While winter's prelude rises, wild but mellow,
Frae birds in hazle, row'n, and birken tree;
While Scotia sits, wi' tear bedazzled e'e,
On Goatfell's tap, and views the vessels glide,
Bearing her sons, wha ranged her hills ance free,
To toil in lands beyond the Atlantic tide—
I choose the season sad to wail the Waes o' Pride.
I sing not how, 'mong bright seraphic powers,
The syren sprang, and millions then beguiled;
Nor how she enter'd Eden's rosy bowers,
And, by her wiles, man frae his bliss exiled;
But how, o'er Scotia's dells, where sweetly smiled
Blithe faced content, o' conscience ever pure,
Ambition rages, like a fury wild!
Spreadin', baith far and wide, her balefu' lure;
And spill'd the peace at last o' happy gay Glenmuir.
The syren sprang, and millions then beguiled;
Nor how she enter'd Eden's rosy bowers,
And, by her wiles, man frae his bliss exiled;
But how, o'er Scotia's dells, where sweetly smiled
Blithe faced content, o' conscience ever pure,
Ambition rages, like a fury wild!
Spreadin', baith far and wide, her balefu' lure;
And spill'd the peace at last o' happy gay Glenmuir.
Glenmuir was lang the seat o' joy and peace,
The patrimony o' sage Robin Roy,
Whase sire it left him, at his ain decease,
Without mortgage or bond him to annoy.
Pure independence was his boast and joy,
And likewise o' his umquhile brave forbears,
Wha lent a han' vile popery to destroy,
When Knox's nervous reas'ning struck their ears,
And, Calvin's cause to prop, they wielded swords and spears.
The patrimony o' sage Robin Roy,
Whase sire it left him, at his ain decease,
Without mortgage or bond him to annoy.
Pure independence was his boast and joy,
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Wha lent a han' vile popery to destroy,
When Knox's nervous reas'ning struck their ears,
And, Calvin's cause to prop, they wielded swords and spears.
In aftertimes too, when, o'er brae and bog,
Monmouth and Graham their fiend-like forces led,
Glenmuir his braid-sword wielded at Drumclog,
And was at Bothwell-brig the last that fled;
But met that nicht a cauld and bluidy bed;
On Earnock field he slept amang the slain:
His friends at hame lang listen'd for his tread,
But his blithe face they never saw again:
He fell a martyr there, to close life's troublous scene.
Monmouth and Graham their fiend-like forces led,
Glenmuir his braid-sword wielded at Drumclog,
And was at Bothwell-brig the last that fled;
But met that nicht a cauld and bluidy bed;
On Earnock field he slept amang the slain:
His friends at hame lang listen'd for his tread,
But his blithe face they never saw again:
He fell a martyr there, to close life's troublous scene.
Such was good Robin's ancient pedigree;
Men wise, religious, and, in danger, brave,
Who served their God with true fidelity,
But spurn'd, ilk ane, to be a tyrant's slave.
And Robin was in noucht behind the lave,
Which could man's real value aggrandise;
To vice's tale no listening ear he gave;
Her wanton gait he ever did despise,
For still his mind was fix'd on themes beyond the skies.
Men wise, religious, and, in danger, brave,
Who served their God with true fidelity,
But spurn'd, ilk ane, to be a tyrant's slave.
And Robin was in noucht behind the lave,
Which could man's real value aggrandise;
To vice's tale no listening ear he gave;
Her wanton gait he ever did despise,
For still his mind was fix'd on themes beyond the skies.
Heaven had him bless'd wi' plenty, and a heart
That ne'er unmoved could witness misery;
Want never frae his door was let depart
Withouten joy bright beamin' frae her e'e:
But the rude voice o' bedlam revelry
Was ne'er heard ring beneath his peacefu' roof;
The vicious still did frae his presence flee,
For sin frae wisdom ever stands aloof;
But, should they e'er intrude, they met his fell reproof.
That ne'er unmoved could witness misery;
Want never frae his door was let depart
Withouten joy bright beamin' frae her e'e:
But the rude voice o' bedlam revelry
Was ne'er heard ring beneath his peacefu' roof;
The vicious still did frae his presence flee,
For sin frae wisdom ever stands aloof;
But, should they e'er intrude, they met his fell reproof.
The war-worn soldier, hirplin o'er the lea,
When low the sun sets in the crimson'd west,
Rejoices when Glenmuir's wide-spread ash tree
He sees, assured he's still a welcome guest;
For ofttimes has he there got food and rest,
In summer hot and winter raging chill,
And tauld sic tales o' war, when danger press'd,
As gart their hearts wi' sympathy aft thrill,
And aft the glitt'ring tear their guileless een wad fill.
When low the sun sets in the crimson'd west,
Rejoices when Glenmuir's wide-spread ash tree
He sees, assured he's still a welcome guest;
For ofttimes has he there got food and rest,
In summer hot and winter raging chill,
And tauld sic tales o' war, when danger press'd,
As gart their hearts wi' sympathy aft thrill,
And aft the glitt'ring tear their guileless een wad fill.
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But spaewives, skill'd in mystic glamour fell,
Met here nae countenance to their black art;
Still were they deem'd the instruments o' hell,
And without alms were ever bid depart:
But blind, and lame, and orphans, ne'er did smart
'Neath hunger wan, or Boreas' bitter blast;
Here food and shelter cheer'd the drooping heart,
By pallid woe's bleak howling storm o'ercast,
And bade the present smile at troubles o' the past.
Met here nae countenance to their black art;
Still were they deem'd the instruments o' hell,
And without alms were ever bid depart:
But blind, and lame, and orphans, ne'er did smart
'Neath hunger wan, or Boreas' bitter blast;
Here food and shelter cheer'd the drooping heart,
By pallid woe's bleak howling storm o'ercast,
And bade the present smile at troubles o' the past.
If cheerfu' virtue can impart delight,
When by the female bosom-friend display'd,
In this was Robin bless'd; for never wight
Could boast, through life's rough maze, o' sweeter aid.
Hers was the heart where nae base passion sway'd
The iron sceptre—all was heavenly mild;
The wife, the mother, without vain parade,
Still shone conspicuous, and wi' joy beguiled
Care frae the husband's brow, and pleased the fretting child.
When by the female bosom-friend display'd,
In this was Robin bless'd; for never wight
Could boast, through life's rough maze, o' sweeter aid.
Hers was the heart where nae base passion sway'd
The iron sceptre—all was heavenly mild;
The wife, the mother, without vain parade,
Still shone conspicuous, and wi' joy beguiled
Care frae the husband's brow, and pleased the fretting child.
This made his hame an ever lovely scene
O' bliss—frae which noucht e'er could him allure;
Nae market revel ever could detain,
Till midnight hour, the laird o' sweet Glenmuir:
Its inmates ever could to him secure
Such blinks o' earthly joy as beam on man,
Since sunk in sin's deep baleful slough impure;
And still through Robin's soul that pleasure ran
Which only's felt by those who follow virtue's plan.
O' bliss—frae which noucht e'er could him allure;
Nae market revel ever could detain,
Till midnight hour, the laird o' sweet Glenmuir:
Its inmates ever could to him secure
Such blinks o' earthly joy as beam on man,
Since sunk in sin's deep baleful slough impure;
And still through Robin's soul that pleasure ran
Which only's felt by those who follow virtue's plan.
To train his children in the fear of God
Was ever his endeavour late and air;
Nor did his conduct mark a counter road,
For all his actions show'd the sire sincere.
His only son, his namesake and his heir,
A father's future joy did clear bespeak;
His only daughter—virtuous and fair,
The lure o' beauty smilin' on her cheek,
Show'd all her mother's grace—was modest, mild, and meek.
Was ever his endeavour late and air;
Nor did his conduct mark a counter road,
For all his actions show'd the sire sincere.
His only son, his namesake and his heir,
A father's future joy did clear bespeak;
His only daughter—virtuous and fair,
The lure o' beauty smilin' on her cheek,
Show'd all her mother's grace—was modest, mild, and meek.
Next to religion, 'twas his greatest care
To burnish bright their intellectual powers
Wi' a judicious course o' human lare,
Which decks the mental field wi' bloomin' flowers:
And aften wad he pass his leisure hours,
In sultry summers, on the verdant sward,
Instructing them, beneath the shady bowers
O' bourtree that surround the auld grass yard,
Or heark'nin' if for school their lessons were prepared.
To burnish bright their intellectual powers
Wi' a judicious course o' human lare,
Which decks the mental field wi' bloomin' flowers:
And aften wad he pass his leisure hours,
140
Instructing them, beneath the shady bowers
O' bourtree that surround the auld grass yard,
Or heark'nin' if for school their lessons were prepared.
Thus rose his fam'ly charming to his mind,
The boast and envy o' the country roun',
By education's glorious power refined,
To shine conspicuous in life's fervid noon.
But, ah! how little thought he, all the boon
On them bestow'd contain'd the seeds o' woe!
Refinement often fosters pride, which soon
To boundless-soul'd ambition rank doth grow:
Then fareweel evermair to joy's ecstatic glow!
The boast and envy o' the country roun',
By education's glorious power refined,
To shine conspicuous in life's fervid noon.
But, ah! how little thought he, all the boon
On them bestow'd contain'd the seeds o' woe!
Refinement often fosters pride, which soon
To boundless-soul'd ambition rank doth grow:
Then fareweel evermair to joy's ecstatic glow!
How little think the wistful parents kind
What griefs they seek, when, fond, they long to see
To manhood grown their children dear! but blind
Is human hope to future destiny.
The prattlin' child, placed on the father's knee
In health's sweet bloom, beguiles his cares away;
Or, gaily sporting on the flowery lea,
Ere harlot vice can lure his heart astray,
Yields to his parents joys that with his years decay.
What griefs they seek, when, fond, they long to see
To manhood grown their children dear! but blind
Is human hope to future destiny.
The prattlin' child, placed on the father's knee
In health's sweet bloom, beguiles his cares away;
Or, gaily sporting on the flowery lea,
Ere harlot vice can lure his heart astray,
Yields to his parents joys that with his years decay.
As fades the lovely charms o' summer morn,
When clouds arise and dim the lamp of heaven;
As reels the vessel, o'er rude ocean borne,
When for the calm the scowling tempest's given:
So wanes parental bliss, when youth is driven
By passion's tide or adverse fortune's blast,
Till every joy on earth be from them riven,
And on the sterile shore o' want they're cast,
Where ever gath'ring gloom o'erwhelms the soul at last.
When clouds arise and dim the lamp of heaven;
As reels the vessel, o'er rude ocean borne,
When for the calm the scowling tempest's given:
So wanes parental bliss, when youth is driven
By passion's tide or adverse fortune's blast,
Till every joy on earth be from them riven,
And on the sterile shore o' want they're cast,
Where ever gath'ring gloom o'erwhelms the soul at last.
Arrived at manhood, wi' a burnish'd mind,
Young Robin ill could brook a rustic's toil;
Some other business, o' a gentler kind,
He long'd to try, where ease and splendour smile:
Hence to his father, wi' ilk cautious wile,
He by degrees his specious plan disclosed—
Whose honest soul, unskill'd in trade's sly guile,
His loving son's intention ne'er opposed;
The mother too warm hail'd the phantom now proposed.
Young Robin ill could brook a rustic's toil;
Some other business, o' a gentler kind,
He long'd to try, where ease and splendour smile:
Hence to his father, wi' ilk cautious wile,
He by degrees his specious plan disclosed—
Whose honest soul, unskill'd in trade's sly guile,
His loving son's intention ne'er opposed;
The mother too warm hail'd the phantom now proposed.
141
Soon execution follow'd the design,
While glitt'ring grandeur rode the car of hope;
So he in Glasgow town, where knaves aft shine,
Set up a gaudy weel-fill'd grocery shop:
And here his active mind got rowth o' scope,
For village hucksters soon found out his dwellin';
Yet they ere lang proved but a faithless prop,
When on his han' accounts and bills were swellin',
And they, for goods received, 'gainst payment were rebellin'.
While glitt'ring grandeur rode the car of hope;
So he in Glasgow town, where knaves aft shine,
Set up a gaudy weel-fill'd grocery shop:
And here his active mind got rowth o' scope,
For village hucksters soon found out his dwellin';
Yet they ere lang proved but a faithless prop,
When on his han' accounts and bills were swellin',
And they, for goods received, 'gainst payment were rebellin'.
His sister Mary too did fond aspire
To taste the gay allurements o' the town,
To leave the labour o' the field and byre,
And learn to wake the sweet piano's soun'.
This new establishment, sae quick brocht roun',
Form'd a new era sad to guid Glenmuir;
For rapid hurl'd the bolt of ruin down
On that calm scene o' pleasure, ance sae pure,
And blighted a' the joy that hope seem'd to secure.
To taste the gay allurements o' the town,
To leave the labour o' the field and byre,
And learn to wake the sweet piano's soun'.
This new establishment, sae quick brocht roun',
Form'd a new era sad to guid Glenmuir;
For rapid hurl'd the bolt of ruin down
On that calm scene o' pleasure, ance sae pure,
And blighted a' the joy that hope seem'd to secure.
The anxious parents now were left alane
In rural dulness, but in heart unite,
Withouten care their bosoms kind to pain,
Save for their children's weal, their sole delight;
For whom was mony a prayer, frae hearts upright,
Sent heavenward, warm on faith's fleet-bounding wing,
That grace would screen them from sin's fatal blight,
Which galls the soul wi' torture's keenest sting,
And turns to winter's gloom the cheerfu' joys o' spring.
In rural dulness, but in heart unite,
Withouten care their bosoms kind to pain,
Save for their children's weal, their sole delight;
For whom was mony a prayer, frae hearts upright,
Sent heavenward, warm on faith's fleet-bounding wing,
That grace would screen them from sin's fatal blight,
Which galls the soul wi' torture's keenest sting,
And turns to winter's gloom the cheerfu' joys o' spring.
CANTO SECOND.
As, on her nuptial morn, the blooming bride
Awakes wi' joy bright beaming in her eye,
And thinks the fleeting hours reluctant glide,
That waft on wings of love the sacred tie;
So hope, on speculation's summits high,
Shows golden visions to her vot'ries vain,
For which they long, wi' mony an ardent sigh,
Possession o' the glitterin' toy to gain,
And fret at tardy fate, and burn wi' inward pain.
Awakes wi' joy bright beaming in her eye,
And thinks the fleeting hours reluctant glide,
That waft on wings of love the sacred tie;
So hope, on speculation's summits high,
Shows golden visions to her vot'ries vain,
For which they long, wi' mony an ardent sigh,
Possession o' the glitterin' toy to gain,
And fret at tardy fate, and burn wi' inward pain.
142
Life has its joys, though mingled still wi' care:
Could blind humanity the path pursue,
She might obtain o' those her ample share,
And shun the thorns that pierce her bosom through;
But base ambition, unopposed by few,
Inserts her Vampire fangs to drain the heart,
Then, quick, the fated victim bids adieu
To pleasure's thrill, for now he's left to smart
'Neath the corrosive pangs o' his envenom'd dart.
Could blind humanity the path pursue,
She might obtain o' those her ample share,
And shun the thorns that pierce her bosom through;
But base ambition, unopposed by few,
Inserts her Vampire fangs to drain the heart,
Then, quick, the fated victim bids adieu
To pleasure's thrill, for now he's left to smart
'Neath the corrosive pangs o' his envenom'd dart.
And now young Robin may take leave o' a'
That can gi'e lasting joy to man below,
Since borne by pride's propelling gale awa'
Frae calm Glenmuir to scenes o' polish'd woe:
Here affectation's garnish'd cheek may glow,
Here learning's sentimental e'e may smile,
Here wealth may dazzle wi' his gaudy show,
Yet scarce be fit the moments to beguile,
For deep within the core may torture reign the while.
That can gi'e lasting joy to man below,
Since borne by pride's propelling gale awa'
Frae calm Glenmuir to scenes o' polish'd woe:
Here affectation's garnish'd cheek may glow,
Here learning's sentimental e'e may smile,
Here wealth may dazzle wi' his gaudy show,
Yet scarce be fit the moments to beguile,
For deep within the core may torture reign the while.
Nae mair to him can rural scenery bring
The tide o' raptures, or delight his e'e;
Nae mair to him the mavis sweet doth sing,
At morn or eve, within the birken tree;
Nae mair the fragrance o' the clover lea,
Or hawthorns sweet, or honeysuckles please,
Or soothing murmurs o' the eident bee,
Saft swelling 'mang the foliage o' the trees,
Or glens o' yellow broom, that scent the fanning breeze.
The tide o' raptures, or delight his e'e;
Nae mair to him the mavis sweet doth sing,
At morn or eve, within the birken tree;
Nae mair the fragrance o' the clover lea,
Or hawthorns sweet, or honeysuckles please,
Or soothing murmurs o' the eident bee,
Saft swelling 'mang the foliage o' the trees,
Or glens o' yellow broom, that scent the fanning breeze.
Scarce dares he mention, 'midst his fellows gay,
His birthplace, or his hamely parents own,
Lest notions mean his lineage should betray,
Amang the belles and beaus throughout the town,
Till he his sire persuaded to pu' down
The ivy shaded mansion, stained by time,
That despicable to his sight had grown,
Though deem'd for lang to be of ernes the prime,
And raise a villa gay, to suit his views sublime.
His birthplace, or his hamely parents own,
Lest notions mean his lineage should betray,
Amang the belles and beaus throughout the town,
Till he his sire persuaded to pu' down
The ivy shaded mansion, stained by time,
That despicable to his sight had grown,
Though deem'd for lang to be of ernes the prime,
And raise a villa gay, to suit his views sublime.
Razed frae its site, it soon in rubbish lay,
The clasping woodbine frae its roots uptorn,
And nought to mark its boundary is let stay,
Except the bourtree, row'n, and ancient thorn.
Its very name can now nae mair be borne,
So much it savours o' the barren wild;
To please the fancy, and elude a' scorn,
Rosebank its gay successor now is styled,
At whase fair form our youth wi' inward pleasure smiled.
The clasping woodbine frae its roots uptorn,
And nought to mark its boundary is let stay,
Except the bourtree, row'n, and ancient thorn.
Its very name can now nae mair be borne,
143
To please the fancy, and elude a' scorn,
Rosebank its gay successor now is styled,
At whase fair form our youth wi' inward pleasure smiled.
The auld folk likewise found their dwellin' new,
Though costly, mair adapted to their ease;
Nae driftin' snaws through doors and windows blew,
Nor chillin' frosts, that maist the blood wad freeze.
Adown futurity the sire now sees
His branchin' offspring high in honour rise;
E'en linked in close connection wi' grandees;
And sic like pageantry as fancy spies,
When through her airy bounds ambition's meteor flies.
Though costly, mair adapted to their ease;
Nae driftin' snaws through doors and windows blew,
Nor chillin' frosts, that maist the blood wad freeze.
Adown futurity the sire now sees
His branchin' offspring high in honour rise;
E'en linked in close connection wi' grandees;
And sic like pageantry as fancy spies,
When through her airy bounds ambition's meteor flies.
Commercial labours now haud a' asteer;
Wide ramifies his trade, and eke his fame,
And village hucksters to his shop draw near,
Proud to be ranked debtors to the same.
Rosebank's hale produce here doth shelter claim—
Potatoes, barley, meal, eggs, butter, cheese—
A's here deposited, but naught sent hame,
Whilk kindles up suspicion by degrees,
And trade's vague phantom false fu' clear the auld man sees.
Wide ramifies his trade, and eke his fame,
And village hucksters to his shop draw near,
Proud to be ranked debtors to the same.
Rosebank's hale produce here doth shelter claim—
Potatoes, barley, meal, eggs, butter, cheese—
A's here deposited, but naught sent hame,
Whilk kindles up suspicion by degrees,
And trade's vague phantom false fu' clear the auld man sees.
But still the younkers' fancies soar sublime,
As yet they bask in joy's bright gilded morn,
And pleasure's tinkling strings concordant chime,
While plenty waves her full ambrosial horn.
On speculation's fairy wings upborne,
They deem all meet that glitters a-la-mode;
Those who think else are subject to their scorn,
And shunn'd as cannibals, grotesque and odd;
Ne'er named but wi' disdain in their superb abode.
As yet they bask in joy's bright gilded morn,
And pleasure's tinkling strings concordant chime,
While plenty waves her full ambrosial horn.
On speculation's fairy wings upborne,
They deem all meet that glitters a-la-mode;
Those who think else are subject to their scorn,
And shunn'd as cannibals, grotesque and odd;
Ne'er named but wi' disdain in their superb abode.
O' a' the nymphs that gaily trip the street,
Attended by the Cyprian archer boy,
Nane wore the attractin' smile o' love mair sweet,
Amang them a', than bonnie Mary Roy.
The rest o' mony youths she did destroy,
Smit by the glances o' her dark-blue een;
Nae concert, ball, or festival o' joy
Took place, but she in peerless light was seen,
Chaste as Diana fair, gay as the Cyprian queen.
Attended by the Cyprian archer boy,
Nane wore the attractin' smile o' love mair sweet,
Amang them a', than bonnie Mary Roy.
The rest o' mony youths she did destroy,
Smit by the glances o' her dark-blue een;
Nae concert, ball, or festival o' joy
Took place, but she in peerless light was seen,
Chaste as Diana fair, gay as the Cyprian queen.
144
But well she knew her charms, and still aspired
To higher steps on grandeur's slipp'ry scale;
Yet, though in gorgeous robes ilk day attired,
Less joy she felt than when she trode the vale
Wi' gowans clad, while she the milkin' pail,
At morn or eve, bore frae the bught or shiel;
Or liltit owre in sang the lover's tale,
Beside the cheery ingle, at her wheel,
Unknown to envious pride, which peace doth ever steal.
To higher steps on grandeur's slipp'ry scale;
Yet, though in gorgeous robes ilk day attired,
Less joy she felt than when she trode the vale
Wi' gowans clad, while she the milkin' pail,
At morn or eve, bore frae the bught or shiel;
Or liltit owre in sang the lover's tale,
Beside the cheery ingle, at her wheel,
Unknown to envious pride, which peace doth ever steal.
Blithe was the beau wha, for a Sunday jaunt,
Permission gain'd sweet Mary to escort
To gay Rosebank, and a' day idly flaunt
Amang the groves and streams o' that resort.
At first the sire view'd sic unhallow'd sport
Wi' inward grief, and on his brow a frown;
But ne'er could he sic reverence extort
Frae them as he to heaven was wont to own—
Which when neglected still draws retribution down.
Permission gain'd sweet Mary to escort
To gay Rosebank, and a' day idly flaunt
Amang the groves and streams o' that resort.
At first the sire view'd sic unhallow'd sport
Wi' inward grief, and on his brow a frown;
But ne'er could he sic reverence extort
Frae them as he to heaven was wont to own—
Which when neglected still draws retribution down.
Changed is the scene frae what it was in yore,
When on the Sabbath he, by break of day,
The Bible's sacred pages to explore,
Retired beneath the hawthorn's flowery spray—
While saft the streamlet murmur'd on its way,
And shrill the lark sang o'er the dewy dale—
As he frae Ur with Abram wide did stray,
Or heard the weeping prophet sore bewail
For Zion's dreadful doom, through guilt that did prevail.
When on the Sabbath he, by break of day,
The Bible's sacred pages to explore,
Retired beneath the hawthorn's flowery spray—
While saft the streamlet murmur'd on its way,
And shrill the lark sang o'er the dewy dale—
As he frae Ur with Abram wide did stray,
Or heard the weeping prophet sore bewail
For Zion's dreadful doom, through guilt that did prevail.
But rattlin' gigs, and troops o' hackney steeds,
And talk profane, sae void o' ought that's holy,
Aft made auld Robin rue some bypast deeds,
And heave the burden'd sigh of melancholy;
The sermon barter'd for vain tales o' folly,
And private duties lost in sinfu' cookin';
Although austere amidst thae merchants jolly,
Much err'd he in sic conduct not rebukin',
When his ain fam'ly's wae lay in sic deeds o'erlookin'.
And talk profane, sae void o' ought that's holy,
Aft made auld Robin rue some bypast deeds,
And heave the burden'd sigh of melancholy;
The sermon barter'd for vain tales o' folly,
And private duties lost in sinfu' cookin';
Although austere amidst thae merchants jolly,
Much err'd he in sic conduct not rebukin',
When his ain fam'ly's wae lay in sic deeds o'erlookin'.
This blazing meteor soon its lustre spent,
And ruin waved his desolating arm;
Losses and luxury, quite headlong, sent
To trustees' hands Rosebank's weel plenish'd farm.
Auld Robin, thunderstruck at the alarm
O' this mishap, in silent sorrow grieved;
Nae ray o' hope appear'd, wi' soothin' charm,
To reinstate them, thus sae sair deceived
By trade's delusive glare, which they for truth believed.
And ruin waved his desolating arm;
Losses and luxury, quite headlong, sent
To trustees' hands Rosebank's weel plenish'd farm.
Auld Robin, thunderstruck at the alarm
145
Nae ray o' hope appear'd, wi' soothin' charm,
To reinstate them, thus sae sair deceived
By trade's delusive glare, which they for truth believed.
The shop's now shut, and sequestration made—
Nae mercy has the law's black menial gang—
And grim oblivion shores her deepest shade
To throw out-owre the name o' Roy ere lang.
Nae mair again to them the mavis' sang,
Frae their ain trees, at morn or e'en shall ring;
Nae mair they'll tent their flocks the broom amang,
While list'ning to the lark's sweet carolling,
Where, tinklin' frae its source, clear flows the caller spring.
Nae mercy has the law's black menial gang—
And grim oblivion shores her deepest shade
To throw out-owre the name o' Roy ere lang.
Nae mair again to them the mavis' sang,
Frae their ain trees, at morn or e'en shall ring;
Nae mair they'll tent their flocks the broom amang,
While list'ning to the lark's sweet carolling,
Where, tinklin' frae its source, clear flows the caller spring.
But indigence appears in blackest hue,
Ilk future scene of being to pervade;
How sad to them, wha want before ne'er knew,
To sit obscurely 'neath her balefu' shade!
'Tween debts and property a balance made,
What yet remain'd their ain did clearly show.
With grief in every feature deep pourtray'd
Rosebank they leave—heart-rending scene of woe!
And o'er th' Atlantic waves to Canada they go.
Ilk future scene of being to pervade;
How sad to them, wha want before ne'er knew,
To sit obscurely 'neath her balefu' shade!
'Tween debts and property a balance made,
What yet remain'd their ain did clearly show.
With grief in every feature deep pourtray'd
Rosebank they leave—heart-rending scene of woe!
And o'er th' Atlantic waves to Canada they go.
O Scotia! why desert thy wonted ways?
Why barter peace for vague uncertain gain?
Oh cast an e'e on thy departed days,
When in thy children's manners was no stain—
When independence roam'd the hill and plain,
Unknown to every vice—and fear'd nae foe!
May they yet frae Ambition's wiles refrain:
Hence deathless wealth shall through thy regions flow,
And every heart shall feel true pleasure's ardent glow.
Why barter peace for vague uncertain gain?
Oh cast an e'e on thy departed days,
When in thy children's manners was no stain—
When independence roam'd the hill and plain,
Unknown to every vice—and fear'd nae foe!
May they yet frae Ambition's wiles refrain:
Hence deathless wealth shall through thy regions flow,
And every heart shall feel true pleasure's ardent glow.
On Genius.
Ye Sages, me tell what can learning impart,
If the rich ore of Genius lies not in the heart?
Why strive ye to burnish the crude gloomy mind,
When no gleams of the true innate gem ye can find?
If the rich ore of Genius lies not in the heart?
Why strive ye to burnish the crude gloomy mind,
When no gleams of the true innate gem ye can find?
146
Ah! Sires, I can tell you, she lies not in lore,
Nor dwells she where riches and affluence soar;
For the greatest of dunces return from your schools,
And the great, we oft find, are the veriest fools.
Nor dwells she where riches and affluence soar;
For the greatest of dunces return from your schools,
And the great, we oft find, are the veriest fools.
Oh hail! gift of Nature, which wealth cannot buy,
Descendant divine of the star-spangled sky;
Who, heedless, will pass by the gold-garnish'd wight,
On the drudge in oblivion's hid realms to alight.
Descendant divine of the star-spangled sky;
Who, heedless, will pass by the gold-garnish'd wight,
On the drudge in oblivion's hid realms to alight.
She loathes e'en to surfeit the jargon of schools;
Her soul spurns to stoop to the foible of rules;
She sees, with one glance of her quick mental eye,
What the dolt, in a month's demonstration, can't spy.
Her soul spurns to stoop to the foible of rules;
She sees, with one glance of her quick mental eye,
What the dolt, in a month's demonstration, can't spy.
Thee, Newton! I place next the race of the gods,
For the most thou didst know of their laws and abodes;
Who, from principles simple, didst draw all thy ken;
For ever thou'lt stand at the head of wise men.
For the most thou didst know of their laws and abodes;
Who, from principles simple, didst draw all thy ken;
For ever thou'lt stand at the head of wise men.
O Milton! who taught thee to strike the sweet lyre?
From what coal of heaven didst thou catch the bright fire?
From Genius, imprimis, which learning refined,
And show'd to the world thy unlimited mind.
From what coal of heaven didst thou catch the bright fire?
From Genius, imprimis, which learning refined,
And show'd to the world thy unlimited mind.
But, Shakespeare! where found'st thou thy bold-featured muse?
And whence didst thou bring thy bright costume profuse?
From nature, I ween—nowhere else could it be,
When the fates had consign'd thee to black poverty.
And whence didst thou bring thy bright costume profuse?
From nature, I ween—nowhere else could it be,
When the fates had consign'd thee to black poverty.
And where, matchless Crichton! in what happy shade,
Didst thou find out Genius, the heaven-born maid?
Thou found'st her unsought, thou exception 'mong mortals,
Who wast most ignobly consign'd to death's portals!
Didst thou find out Genius, the heaven-born maid?
Thou found'st her unsought, thou exception 'mong mortals,
Who wast most ignobly consign'd to death's portals!
Great Burns! bright example of nature's donation,
The gift it was grand, although humble thy station;
Thy sweet loreless harp shall with ecstacy ring
When the cant lyres of pedants shall wear not a string.
The gift it was grand, although humble thy station;
Thy sweet loreless harp shall with ecstacy ring
When the cant lyres of pedants shall wear not a string.
Thou fruit tree spontaneous, O Genius—on which
No tame graft from learning thy fruit can enrich—
I love thee, admire thee, adore thee, divine,
And bow down and worship before thy rich shrine.
No tame graft from learning thy fruit can enrich—
I love thee, admire thee, adore thee, divine,
And bow down and worship before thy rich shrine.
147
Kilbride Kirk's most Sincere Thanks
TO THE HERITORS AND OTHERS WHO CONTRIBUTED SO LIBERALLY TO HER RECENT REPAIRS.
Ye wha ha'e tholed the burnin' pain
O' stan'in' in the Pass alane,
Wi' thumpin' heart, and reelin' brain,
And sweatin' face,
Ken something o' the life I've haen
O' fell disgrace.
O' stan'in' in the Pass alane,
Wi' thumpin' heart, and reelin' brain,
And sweatin' face,
Ken something o' the life I've haen
O' fell disgrace.
For five and forty years I've borne
The country's spitefu' jeers and scorn;
Wi' burnin' wrath lang inly torn,
I've lain in scandal,
Despised like vagrant Jew forlorn,
Or plund'rin' Vandal.
The country's spitefu' jeers and scorn;
Wi' burnin' wrath lang inly torn,
I've lain in scandal,
Despised like vagrant Jew forlorn,
Or plund'rin' Vandal.
But now that enmity is gane
By whilk I lang did sigh and grane,
And my proud spire and gilded vane
Triumphant rise,
Since jarring discord now lies slain,
Wi' closed eyes.
By whilk I lang did sigh and grane,
And my proud spire and gilded vane
Triumphant rise,
Since jarring discord now lies slain,
Wi' closed eyes.
Whae'er alive did think to see
Sic reparation wrought on me,
Wham nei'bour kirks, wi' pridefu' e'e,
Spurn'd frae their quorum;
But now I preses sit, fu' spree,
Wi' great decorum.
Sic reparation wrought on me,
Wham nei'bour kirks, wi' pridefu' e'e,
Spurn'd frae their quorum;
But now I preses sit, fu' spree,
Wi' great decorum.
Nae mair shall folk in terror dread
The danger o' a broken head,
Frae Bibles tumblin' doun, like lead
Aff Spoutie's railin',
Aft clourin' crouns wi' spitefu' feid;
To fricht ne'er failin'.
The danger o' a broken head,
Frae Bibles tumblin' doun, like lead
Aff Spoutie's railin',
Aft clourin' crouns wi' spitefu' feid;
To fricht ne'er failin'.
Nae mair shall menseless dogs, wha aft
Held revels on the Muirland laft,
Tak' front seats there—that look'd sae daft
In sic a place;
The braw boun' front keeps tykes abaft
Frae shawin' face.
Held revels on the Muirland laft,
Tak' front seats there—that look'd sae daft
In sic a place;
The braw boun' front keeps tykes abaft
Frae shawin' face.
148
Nor yet shall ony darker stark
Lie gruntin' at the hour o' wark;
But quick maun spring up, like the lark,
When, clean pell-mell,
John waukens sleep, be 't licht or dark,
Wi' 's sax-hour bell.
Lie gruntin' at the hour o' wark;
But quick maun spring up, like the lark,
When, clean pell-mell,
John waukens sleep, be 't licht or dark,
Wi' 's sax-hour bell.
And, blithe, at e'en the joyous soun'
Is heard the country roun' and roun';
Glad news to mony a weary loun
At labour toilin',
Wi' head maist to the grund bow'd doun,
And sweat outboilin'.
Is heard the country roun' and roun';
Glad news to mony a weary loun
At labour toilin',
Wi' head maist to the grund bow'd doun,
And sweat outboilin'.
But waefu' news to alewives fell,
When wabsters bauld and souters snell
Meet owre a dram, their news to tell,
At the week's en',
Is the ungracious curfew bell,
Loud rung at ten.
When wabsters bauld and souters snell
Meet owre a dram, their news to tell,
At the week's en',
Is the ungracious curfew bell,
Loud rung at ten.
For trottin' clocks nae discount's gi'en,
Though to religion's truest frien';
Mine's still the test, at morn and e'en,
Of ony wicht
Wha'd break the holy morn unseen,
When planted richt.
Though to religion's truest frien';
Mine's still the test, at morn and e'en,
Of ony wicht
Wha'd break the holy morn unseen,
When planted richt.
Thanks to you a', wha, blithe and jolly,
Ha'e hearts unkenn'd to melancholy,
Wha left the beaten track o' folly
And raised my spire,
While faes out vented mony a volley
O' oaths, in ire.
Ha'e hearts unkenn'd to melancholy,
Wha left the beaten track o' folly
And raised my spire,
While faes out vented mony a volley
O' oaths, in ire.
And my best wishes unto you
Wha ranged the toun and country through
To raise a clock and dials too,
For use and beauty;
Ye were still eident, stainch, and true
To this your duty.
Wha ranged the toun and country through
To raise a clock and dials too,
For use and beauty;
Ye were still eident, stainch, and true
To this your duty.
Nae mair dare bards satiric banter
My saul 'bout ellwand-steepled Blantyre;
I'll learn the Muse to blaw her chanter
To ither airs;
I've play'd my nei'bours a mishanter
Ilk ane declares.
My saul 'bout ellwand-steepled Blantyre;
149
To ither airs;
I've play'd my nei'bours a mishanter
Ilk ane declares.
Frae Logoch muirs to banks o' Clyde
My bell resounds thus far and wide;
Our bonnet-lairds, sae fu' o' pride,
Fu' crouse may craw,
And owre the Mearns' nabs vogie ride,
And taunt them a'.
My bell resounds thus far and wide;
Our bonnet-lairds, sae fu' o' pride,
Fu' crouse may craw,
And owre the Mearns' nabs vogie ride,
And taunt them a'.
For mony a time, at their fell jeerin',
Our esquires ha'e been set a-swearin',
And claes frae aff their backs been tearin',
In change-house wars;
But wi' my gawdy steeple's rearin'
Has fled sic jars.
Our esquires ha'e been set a-swearin',
And claes frae aff their backs been tearin',
In change-house wars;
But wi' my gawdy steeple's rearin'
Has fled sic jars.
An Elegy
On the Death of the Kilbride Beadle, Charles Mair.
O death! thou base and treach'rous loun,
Wha flees the country roun' and roun',
Again thou hast come through our toun,
Wi' dagger bare,
And hew'd thy nearest nei'bour doun,
Poor Charlie Mair.
Wha flees the country roun' and roun',
Again thou hast come through our toun,
Wi' dagger bare,
And hew'd thy nearest nei'bour doun,
Poor Charlie Mair.
Perfidious deed! how could you do it?
Ere lang, I trow, ye'll sairly rue it;
To gi'e thy gard'ner sic a flewet,
Wha still rejoiced
When thy black ensign he did view it
By thee up hoised.
Ere lang, I trow, ye'll sairly rue it;
To gi'e thy gard'ner sic a flewet,
Wha still rejoiced
When thy black ensign he did view it
By thee up hoised.
Kilbride may sigh, and greet, and moan,
And stitch her doolfu' weepers on,
Since her auld Beadle's fairly gone,
Ne'er to return:
Cauld on his back he lies, ochone!
Within death's urn.
And stitch her doolfu' weepers on,
Since her auld Beadle's fairly gone,
Ne'er to return:
Cauld on his back he lies, ochone!
Within death's urn.
150
Wi' asthmas lang he pechtan grain'd,
And gravel-pangs richt sair him pain'd;
Yet, while ae spark o' health remain'd,
Fu' fain wad he
Inspect the lairs, wi' sorrow feign'd,
When ane did die.
And gravel-pangs richt sair him pain'd;
Yet, while ae spark o' health remain'd,
Fu' fain wad he
Inspect the lairs, wi' sorrow feign'd,
When ane did die.
Syne wad he fetch his shankin tools,
His pinches, mattocks, spades, and shools,
And raise in heaps the putrid mools
On ilka side,
Mix'd wi' the pows o' saints and fools,
Now close allied.
His pinches, mattocks, spades, and shools,
And raise in heaps the putrid mools
On ilka side,
Mix'd wi' the pows o' saints and fools,
Now close allied.
Aft, wi' his colleague Robin Aiton,
The black procession he wad wait on;
Or, frae the bell arouse the wae-tone,
Wi' doolfu' din;
Or, fast as trouts do seize the bait on,
The cash draw in.
The black procession he wad wait on;
Or, frae the bell arouse the wae-tone,
Wi' doolfu' din;
Or, fast as trouts do seize the bait on,
The cash draw in.
Though he in death's drear shambles toil'd,
An occupation dull and wild,
Yet wha than Charlie blither smiled
Out owre a gill,
Or time wi' better jokes beguiled
Beside gude yill.
An occupation dull and wild,
Yet wha than Charlie blither smiled
Out owre a gill,
Or time wi' better jokes beguiled
Beside gude yill.
In some mad freak, wanchancie nature
Had him denied ilk manly feature,
And burden'd wi' a humph the creature,
His patience tryin';
But yet he wore a saul o' stature
Micht saired O'Brien.
Had him denied ilk manly feature,
And burden'd wi' a humph the creature,
His patience tryin';
But yet he wore a saul o' stature
Micht saired O'Brien.
Though he, in early life, was bred
To tug at auld King Crispin's trade,
Yet easier ways to earn his bread
He aim'd at still;
To assassinate a sheep weel-fed,
And sell a gill.
To tug at auld King Crispin's trade,
Yet easier ways to earn his bread
He aim'd at still;
To assassinate a sheep weel-fed,
And sell a gill.
Forbye, he held that occupation
Contemned by folk in ilka station—
A beagle—omen o' vexation,
By poind or summons;
For wham they leave their habitation,
And skulk on commons.
Contemned by folk in ilka station—
151
By poind or summons;
For wham they leave their habitation,
And skulk on commons.
The fumbler club, wi' ruefu' faces,
May sair lament their umquhile preses,
For he the brunt o' their disgraces
Did bear for lang;
And jockies at our summer races,
Our days o' thrang.
May sair lament their umquhile preses,
For he the brunt o' their disgraces
Did bear for lang;
And jockies at our summer races,
Our days o' thrang.
Owre Kittoch-brig afttimes he trode,
But now he'll nae mair gang that road,
To wauchle wi' the holy code
Owre to the kirk:
Death's claucht him to his ain abode,
Cauld, drear, and mirk.
But now he'll nae mair gang that road,
To wauchle wi' the holy code
Owre to the kirk:
Death's claucht him to his ain abode,
Cauld, drear, and mirk.
And now upon his verdant grave
The gowans bloom and nettles wave;
But since he's left nae heir, to save
His name frae death,
We'll on his headstane deep engrave
As underneath.
The gowans bloom and nettles wave;
But since he's left nae heir, to save
His name frae death,
We'll on his headstane deep engrave
As underneath.
EPITAPH.
Incog.! hic jacet Charles Mair,Unbless'd wi' male or female heir:
A spouse he had, baith kind and tender,
But barren as the neuter gender.
Although his soul hath left his body,
As steam sublimely soars frae toddy;
And though the worms his carcase share a',
While it lies happed subter terra—
Yet when the dreadful trump of doom
Calls forth the vassals of the tomb,
Revived, to bliss he forth may come,
More fair than beauteous Absalom.
152
Allan Bane's Dream.
Auld Allan Bane, the clachan souter,
Although nae sceptic, was a doubter
O' things that thwarted common sense;
But he to lare had nae pretence;
Nae help got he frae schule or college,
Yet still he grasped after knowledge;
At auld buik-stan's wared mony a bodle
For volumes that maist crazed his noddle;
Read baith th' abettors and cross parties
Of Norris, Locke, and sage Des Cartes,
Wha treat on matter and on spirit
Sae nice, they maist ding folk deleiret.
Although nae sceptic, was a doubter
O' things that thwarted common sense;
But he to lare had nae pretence;
Nae help got he frae schule or college,
Yet still he grasped after knowledge;
At auld buik-stan's wared mony a bodle
For volumes that maist crazed his noddle;
Read baith th' abettors and cross parties
Of Norris, Locke, and sage Des Cartes,
Wha treat on matter and on spirit
Sae nice, they maist ding folk deleiret.
To midnicht Allan aft sat porin',
Thae metaphysic themes explorin',
'Bout observation and reflection,
Which they explain wi' nice dissection;
'Bout time, infinity, and space,
And, eke, the spirit's resting place;
And whiles, by logic's deep inspection,
They would disprove the resurrection.
Thae metaphysic themes explorin',
'Bout observation and reflection,
Which they explain wi' nice dissection;
'Bout time, infinity, and space,
And, eke, the spirit's resting place;
And whiles, by logic's deep inspection,
They would disprove the resurrection.
Scarce ane cam' in to get shoon cloutit
But Allan rhymed and raved about it,
Till folk began to doubt his creed,
And Meg his wife began to dread
That, soon or syne, he'd craze his head.
But Allan rhymed and raved about it,
Till folk began to doubt his creed,
And Meg his wife began to dread
That, soon or syne, he'd craze his head.
But noucht sae harass'd Allan's brain
As when they labour'd to explain
The palace o' the inner man,
And a' his outs and ins to scan.
Ane proved, by demonstration grand,
His dwellin' was the pineal gland;
For there the nerves, frae ilka station,
Brought in the tidings o' sensation,
As aide-de-camps, on wings o' win',
Wi' news unto the marshal rin:
Anither would as plainly shaw
It had nae special hame ava,
But could at pleasure rantin' gae
Through ilka bore, frae tap to tae.
As when they labour'd to explain
The palace o' the inner man,
And a' his outs and ins to scan.
Ane proved, by demonstration grand,
His dwellin' was the pineal gland;
For there the nerves, frae ilka station,
Brought in the tidings o' sensation,
As aide-de-camps, on wings o' win',
Wi' news unto the marshal rin:
Anither would as plainly shaw
It had nae special hame ava,
153
Through ilka bore, frae tap to tae.
Ae nicht, wi' contrair notions vex'd,
He gaed to bed richt sair perplex'd:
Yet, though in's head sic thochts were swimmin',
He dover'd owre, and fell a' dreamin'
How that his body and his saul
Coost out, and had this bitter brawl.
Soul.
He gaed to bed richt sair perplex'd:
Yet, though in's head sic thochts were swimmin',
He dover'd owre, and fell a' dreamin'
How that his body and his saul
Coost out, and had this bitter brawl.
'Tis strange, auld nei'bour, folk's sae doitit
As tuilyie 'bout how we're united;
And try, by logic, that vain foible,
To contradict the holy Bible,
Wi' siccan metaphysic wraith
That they would kow the wings o' faith
Wi' reason's shears, that she might sten'
Nae farther than their narrow ken.
Vain fools! trowth, they ha'e shallow powers
Wha think this clumsy frame o' yours
Wad e'er allow them, while we're join'd,
To judge correctly wi' their mind,
When they receive their ilka notion
Frae jumpin' nerves, in panic motion,
Wha tell them many a sinfu' lee,
Syne a' the blame lies aye on me.
Thus, by your means, I'm wrang'd richt sair,
In spite o' a' their college lare:
Though no the thief, you're the resetter,
Which, in the law, is little better.
Body.
'Deed, frien', the naked truth to tell,
Thae blades are something like yoursel',
As scant o' that rare thing ca'd sense
As they're o' oucht approachin' mense.
Ilk ane still mak'st his only aim
His nei'bour rival to defame;
Or else, their bedlam notions screening
'Neath words devoid o' oucht like meaning,
Their contradictors' een they steek,
And hide themsel's amang the reek.
154
Wi' brazen front, to rave and lee?
Less jeerin', else ye'se bide the brunt
O' what wad ither folk affront.
Soul.
Vile bag o' dirt! think ye that I
Dread oucht comes frae your stinkin' stye?
What mind wad heed your brawlin' scandal?
Ye rude, unfeelin', graceless Vandal;
Sae brutal are your hail desires
That frae you naething great transpires.
A miser ye're o' every meanness;
A stews, for knavery and uncleanness;
Whase filthy appetites appear
Unquenchable wi' oucht that's here;
Which gars me pine, in deep vexation,
Till death—that blessed separation.
Body.
Mean, lewd! guid guide's, whar now is conscience,
That suffers sic infernal nonsense
To bellow frae that fiend o' pride,
And sober hamely folk deride?
'Tis past the power o' tongue to say
What filthy notions, nicht and day,
Rin through your head, ye beast uncivil,
And constant colleague o' the devil.
Some graceless plot ye're ever plannin',
And God's ain law richt aften bannin',
That fetters sae your inclination,
Ye basest wretch o' the creation!
Yet still on me ye lay the blame,
And say sic plans I foremost frame,
And slander far and near my name.
Soul.
Wi' sic low fools 'tis vain to reason;
Advice to you's aye out o' season;
Wha claver on, wi' jargon mean,
Because ye are nae farther seen.
Know ye but oucht o' nature's laws—
155
Aye, aye! like you, wi' B's and A's;
And drive the truth clean heels-owre-head—
I'd be a prodigy indeed.
Soul.
Instructor base! Come, keep decorum.
Body.
Ay, like the Academic forum;
To list to your bombastic blethers,
As licht's a goupin o' hen feathers.
Soul.
Accursed pest o' the creation,
I'se let ye feel my castigation,
That ye may learn, for time to come,
To speak wi' mense, or else sit dumb!
I'se let ye feel my castigation,
That ye may learn, for time to come,
To speak wi' mense, or else sit dumb!
Wi' that they closed, and fierce did grapple:
The soul claucht fast the body's thrapple,
And held sae firm, he wad him choked,
And noosed him sae that bluid out bocked.
The soul claucht fast the body's thrapple,
And held sae firm, he wad him choked,
And noosed him sae that bluid out bocked.
But Allan, turnin' in his lair,
Soon put to flicht this vile nicht-mare;
Yet for some time could scarce compose him,
Sae lap his agitated bosom:
Syne, neist, he tried t' investigate
The spring and cause o' this debate,
And fand it had its fountain fair
Amang his metaphysic lare:
Therefore, wi' nervous resolution,
He raised an ordeal persecution,
And brunt the philosophic nest
That had sae troubled him in rest,
And did his brain a' day molest.
Soon put to flicht this vile nicht-mare;
Yet for some time could scarce compose him,
Sae lap his agitated bosom:
Syne, neist, he tried t' investigate
The spring and cause o' this debate,
And fand it had its fountain fair
Amang his metaphysic lare:
Therefore, wi' nervous resolution,
He raised an ordeal persecution,
And brunt the philosophic nest
That had sae troubled him in rest,
And did his brain a' day molest.
156
The Revel of Riot.
“When hopes are gone, and life forlorn,
Perhaps thou'lt wish thyself unborn.”
Robertson of Struan.
Perhaps thou'lt wish thyself unborn.”
Robertson of Struan.
Dame Riot, held, by long renown,
The leading model of the town,
Sent round her cards of invitation
To those of noted reputation,
To dine, drink tea, and spend the night
In dancing, until morning light.
The guests quick to their toilets flew,
To deck themselves in order due;
For cost and beauty each did try
His and her neighbours to outvie;
In silks and satins, gauze and lace,
They were equipp'd with playhouse grace;
With lard and rouge bedaubed o'er,
To banish time's intrenching power;
With beads and sparkling gems they shone,
And for the fete set out anon,
In hopes that pleasure's magic power
Would banish spleen's unwelcome lour,
And from their bosoms far away
Chase the drear spectre ennui.
The leading model of the town,
Sent round her cards of invitation
To those of noted reputation,
To dine, drink tea, and spend the night
In dancing, until morning light.
The guests quick to their toilets flew,
To deck themselves in order due;
For cost and beauty each did try
His and her neighbours to outvie;
In silks and satins, gauze and lace,
They were equipp'd with playhouse grace;
With lard and rouge bedaubed o'er,
To banish time's intrenching power;
With beads and sparkling gems they shone,
And for the fete set out anon,
In hopes that pleasure's magic power
Would banish spleen's unwelcome lour,
And from their bosoms far away
Chase the drear spectre ennui.
The hour of dinner fast drew on,
And in they come, pop, one by one;
The carriages—thick reeling—jostle;
The valets run in heyday bustle;
The drivers lodge their cargoes rare;
The cooks and scullions curse and swear
Because the roast is scarcely done
And all the guests arrived but one:
Now here she comes, dark fiend of hell,
Dame Lust,—so rings the dinner bell.
And in they come, pop, one by one;
The carriages—thick reeling—jostle;
The valets run in heyday bustle;
The drivers lodge their cargoes rare;
The cooks and scullions curse and swear
Because the roast is scarcely done
And all the guests arrived but one:
Now here she comes, dark fiend of hell,
Dame Lust,—so rings the dinner bell.
In order set around the table
Their talk flows like the tongues of Babel;
The reeking roast and pastries nice
Are meetly done to foster vice
And drought to raise, which they to smoother
Soon usher drink, a jocund brother,
Who, ere they end the night's debauch,
Proves for them all an overmatch.
Their talk flows like the tongues of Babel;
157
Are meetly done to foster vice
And drought to raise, which they to smoother
Soon usher drink, a jocund brother,
Who, ere they end the night's debauch,
Proves for them all an overmatch.
Dame Riot, as by due her place,
The table head supports with grace,
While on her right her gay compeer,
Lewd Mrs. Lust, sits, eyes on leer;
Next, Dames Pride, Scandal, Envy, Guile,
Disguised by mild decorum's smile;
Then Misses Caper, Lounge, and Quiz,
Cant, Clash, Chat, Quibble, Quirk, and Friz;
And many more of these and those:
To name them all much time we'd lose.
The table head supports with grace,
While on her right her gay compeer,
Lewd Mrs. Lust, sits, eyes on leer;
Next, Dames Pride, Scandal, Envy, Guile,
Disguised by mild decorum's smile;
Then Misses Caper, Lounge, and Quiz,
Cant, Clash, Chat, Quibble, Quirk, and Friz;
And many more of these and those:
To name them all much time we'd lose.
As ably, Monsieur Riot sat
Assisted, both for deeds and chat.
Close placed beside his elbow chair,
Superb, sat Monsieur Debonair;
Then Messieurs Bagatelle and Pun,
Eclat, Hauteur, Gibe, Cully, Fun,
Outre, Savant, et cetera, et ceteræ,
In long and elegant array;
Famed amateurs of dance and song,
Double entendre and Bon ton.
Them set as potent mode directs—
We've ranged them here by age and sex.
Assisted, both for deeds and chat.
Close placed beside his elbow chair,
Superb, sat Monsieur Debonair;
Then Messieurs Bagatelle and Pun,
Eclat, Hauteur, Gibe, Cully, Fun,
Outre, Savant, et cetera, et ceteræ,
In long and elegant array;
Famed amateurs of dance and song,
Double entendre and Bon ton.
Them set as potent mode directs—
We've ranged them here by age and sex.
Oh had the famish'd sons of want
Peep'd through the door, with eyes aslant,
And view'd this gay alluring scene,
Much envy had it raised, I ween!
What pity that the joys of sense
Eclipse the fatal consequence!
Peep'd through the door, with eyes aslant,
And view'd this gay alluring scene,
Much envy had it raised, I ween!
What pity that the joys of sense
Eclipse the fatal consequence!
Scarcely by them to bounteous heaven
Is an uplifted thought e'er given,
To supplicate a blessing down
On what doth now their table crown:
But all at once, in formal mode,
With query sweet and smiling nod,
They carve and slice, with joyous air,
And lavishly the bounties share,
And praise, with complimental flow,
That all is cook'd quite comme-il-faut;
While perk Outre takes off his glass,
His ever welcome Coup de grace.
Is an uplifted thought e'er given,
To supplicate a blessing down
On what doth now their table crown:
But all at once, in formal mode,
With query sweet and smiling nod,
158
And lavishly the bounties share,
And praise, with complimental flow,
That all is cook'd quite comme-il-faut;
While perk Outre takes off his glass,
His ever welcome Coup de grace.
Now comes the elegant dessert,
The pride of culinary art,
To tempt the appetite, though slain,
The combat to renew again,
Until, per force of gormandising,
They're foiled by pastry's art surprising.
The pride of culinary art,
To tempt the appetite, though slain,
The combat to renew again,
Until, per force of gormandising,
They're foiled by pastry's art surprising.
What, ho! here comes the potent bowl,
Of wit and glee the very soul,
The laugh to raise, dispelling woe,
And vending pleasure apropos;
Sed hic, the laws of chaste decorum
The ladies must observe before 'em;
For debauchees are ever haters
Of belles who are the bowl's abettors;
Therefore, at decency's desire,
Bon-gre, they all at once retire.
Of wit and glee the very soul,
The laugh to raise, dispelling woe,
And vending pleasure apropos;
Sed hic, the laws of chaste decorum
The ladies must observe before 'em;
For debauchees are ever haters
Of belles who are the bowl's abettors;
Therefore, at decency's desire,
Bon-gre, they all at once retire.
But here 'tis meet that we should show
How powers above rule men below,
That these may not bide all the blame,
When those at them their arrows aim;
And that we likewise hence may see
It is not all adversity
Which is accoutred in its guise,
For wisdom in a well oft lies.
Sly Cupid did with Bacchus join
To shed on man his love benign,
By cunning art, in firm compact,
This fete's event to counteract;
So each his twanging bow did bend,
And showers of arrows down did send,
T' accomplish the desired end.
Like lightning through the ladies' hearts
The Cyprian archer sent his darts,
And fondly from his seat above
He viewed them half entranced with love;
And in their glancing eyes were seen
Some glimpses wild of lust unclean.
How powers above rule men below,
That these may not bide all the blame,
When those at them their arrows aim;
And that we likewise hence may see
It is not all adversity
Which is accoutred in its guise,
For wisdom in a well oft lies.
Sly Cupid did with Bacchus join
To shed on man his love benign,
By cunning art, in firm compact,
This fete's event to counteract;
So each his twanging bow did bend,
And showers of arrows down did send,
T' accomplish the desired end.
Like lightning through the ladies' hearts
The Cyprian archer sent his darts,
159
He viewed them half entranced with love;
And in their glancing eyes were seen
Some glimpses wild of lust unclean.
Likewise the rosy god of wine
So glued his Messieurs to the vine,
That nought could wile them from the seat
Where brimm'd the bowl with nectar sweet.
In vain the bell for tea was rung,
In vain the lyre for dance was strung,
In vain was every warm essay
To break the bands of revelry;
Jocund they toasted, pledged, and sang,
While discord through their catches rang;
Till fled the sable shades of night,
And dawn'd the saffron morning light.
So glued his Messieurs to the vine,
That nought could wile them from the seat
Where brimm'd the bowl with nectar sweet.
In vain the bell for tea was rung,
In vain the lyre for dance was strung,
In vain was every warm essay
To break the bands of revelry;
Jocund they toasted, pledged, and sang,
While discord through their catches rang;
Till fled the sable shades of night,
And dawn'd the saffron morning light.
The sex, out-teased with spite and spleen,
All disappointed, left the scene;
For cards and scandal both gave way
To ease the grief of this affray.
Yet still our toppers braved the blast,
Each Bacchus serving to the last,
Till piecemeal on the soft tapis,
They sank, while wine sang victory.
All disappointed, left the scene;
For cards and scandal both gave way
To ease the grief of this affray.
Yet still our toppers braved the blast,
Each Bacchus serving to the last,
Till piecemeal on the soft tapis,
They sank, while wine sang victory.
There had they dosed in woeful plight,
Had not their valets, stout and tight,
Them in sedans and coaches huddled
(To their disgrace so sorely fuddled)
Home—there to lie and snore unseen;
But who could the dishonour screen?
With drought and rage their bosoms burn
As they to sense's realms return;
Apologies each way they're planning,
And all the power of diction scanning;
While valets run, with blister'd feet,
With cards, their doings to secrete:
And thus did end Dame Riot's fete.
Had not their valets, stout and tight,
Them in sedans and coaches huddled
(To their disgrace so sorely fuddled)
Home—there to lie and snore unseen;
But who could the dishonour screen?
With drought and rage their bosoms burn
As they to sense's realms return;
Apologies each way they're planning,
And all the power of diction scanning;
While valets run, with blister'd feet,
With cards, their doings to secrete:
And thus did end Dame Riot's fete.
160
The Misanthropos.
“Who's yon, beneath the sullen frown
Of the impending rock,
O'ertopp'd with pines of searest brown,
Scathed by the lightning's shock?
With folded arms and downward gaze
He dernly treads the briery maze,
Where scarce the sun's all-cheering rays
Smile through the gloomy oak.
Of the impending rock,
O'ertopp'd with pines of searest brown,
Scathed by the lightning's shock?
With folded arms and downward gaze
He dernly treads the briery maze,
Where scarce the sun's all-cheering rays
Smile through the gloomy oak.
“Doubtless a sage of virtues pure!
So speaks his hermit look—
Who shuns the world's destructive lure
In this sequester'd nook.
His rural weeds and matted hair,
His musing, world-contemning air,
A philosophic aspect bear,
Which only few can brook.”
So speaks his hermit look—
Who shuns the world's destructive lure
In this sequester'd nook.
His rural weeds and matted hair,
His musing, world-contemning air,
A philosophic aspect bear,
Which only few can brook.”
“Ah! stranger, no! thy judgment errs
Far, far, in thinking so;
The seemly ambush oft inters
A deadly lurking foe.
That troglodyte, of manner mild,
From human intercourse exiled,
Was ne'er devotion's pious child—
Ne'er felt love's melting glow.
Far, far, in thinking so;
The seemly ambush oft inters
A deadly lurking foe.
That troglodyte, of manner mild,
From human intercourse exiled,
Was ne'er devotion's pious child—
Ne'er felt love's melting glow.
“No hymn of praise, at eve or morn,
Flows from his rocky cell;
By hatred keen he's inly torn,
Though thus recluse he dwell.
Like pois'nous asps and adders vile,
Rove through his soul rage, hate, and guile,
Where galling discord rules the while
This miniature of hell.
Flows from his rocky cell;
By hatred keen he's inly torn,
Though thus recluse he dwell.
Like pois'nous asps and adders vile,
Rove through his soul rage, hate, and guile,
Where galling discord rules the while
This miniature of hell.
“The hapless stranger, faint and fear'd,
Who wanders from his way,
Whom nature says he should have cheer'd,
He fails not to betray.
When surly winter, round our coast,
Smooths the deep lake with snow and frost,
Ofttimes the trav'ller there is lost,
Led by this wretch astray.
Who wanders from his way,
Whom nature says he should have cheer'd,
He fails not to betray.
161
Smooths the deep lake with snow and frost,
Ofttimes the trav'ller there is lost,
Led by this wretch astray.
“Yet in his youth this monster base
Was learned, proud, and brave,
And glory sought, through fortune's maze,
Where thousands found their grave.
Amidst the horrent shouts of war
He drove infuriate slaughter's car;
Power hunted he, both near and far;
For this his mind did rave.
Was learned, proud, and brave,
And glory sought, through fortune's maze,
Where thousands found their grave.
Amidst the horrent shouts of war
He drove infuriate slaughter's car;
Power hunted he, both near and far;
For this his mind did rave.
But state detection mark'd the bent
And bias of his soul;
Then quick his towering flight was spent,
Which aim'd at chief control.
Statists—the check of those who stray
Beyond the limits of their sway—
Did lop his wings—then, well-a-day!
From manhood's haunts he stole.
And bias of his soul;
Then quick his towering flight was spent,
Which aim'd at chief control.
Statists—the check of those who stray
Beyond the limits of their sway—
Did lop his wings—then, well-a-day!
From manhood's haunts he stole.
“And now he spends the dreary time
In universal hate,
Immured within this narrow clime,
To rail and spurn at fate.
Mark now his gait, his accent hear,
His imprecations wildly drear—
Alike unknown to love or fear:
This is the hermit's state.”
In universal hate,
Immured within this narrow clime,
To rail and spurn at fate.
Mark now his gait, his accent hear,
His imprecations wildly drear—
Alike unknown to love or fear:
This is the hermit's state.”
Britannia in Lacrymis.
November bleak swept sullen o'er the isle
Where Freedom, guardant, roams the rocky coast,
And night's grim shroud obscured heaven's stellar smile,
When famed Britannia wail'd her Princess lost.
Where Freedom, guardant, roams the rocky coast,
And night's grim shroud obscured heaven's stellar smile,
When famed Britannia wail'd her Princess lost.
162
From the rude cliffs, her seat in days of war,
The goddess came, in mourning weeds attired,
While gloomy tempest drove his boreal car,
And sat by Windsor's tomb, by woe inspired.
The goddess came, in mourning weeds attired,
While gloomy tempest drove his boreal car,
And sat by Windsor's tomb, by woe inspired.
Pensive and sad, she raised the strain of woe,
While hail-blasts harsh the direful prelude rung;
And ever and anon the tears did flow,
As dropp'd this dirge from off her faltering tongue.
While hail-blasts harsh the direful prelude rung;
And ever and anon the tears did flow,
As dropp'd this dirge from off her faltering tongue.
“Alas! the sad, the fatal hour is come,
Which bright anticipation view'd with joy;
But all is changed, and every tongue is dumb,
Or sighs, ‘Oh, death! why thus our hope destroy?”
Which bright anticipation view'd with joy;
But all is changed, and every tongue is dumb,
Or sighs, ‘Oh, death! why thus our hope destroy?”
“She's gone for ever from this scene of things;
In death's cold grasp she doth profoundly sleep:
Pale visaged woe now strikes her drearest strings—
While Leöpold and I in anguish weep.
In death's cold grasp she doth profoundly sleep:
Pale visaged woe now strikes her drearest strings—
While Leöpold and I in anguish weep.
“No grief like that which is forerun by hope:
And where the hope like that which I possess'd?
But now, of that bereft, despair finds scope
To hold grim council still with the distress'd.
And where the hope like that which I possess'd?
But now, of that bereft, despair finds scope
To hold grim council still with the distress'd.
“She's dead! the clear concatenation's broke!
The ebon shroud now screens that pallid face,
Which lately virtue, love, and life bespoke—
With every Christian, every courtly grace.
The ebon shroud now screens that pallid face,
Which lately virtue, love, and life bespoke—
With every Christian, every courtly grace.
“Ah! little dream'd she the eventful hour,
That usher'd death to her, approach'd so fast:
But e'en when death, with horrid frown, did lour,
Her look of love on Leöpold was cast.
That usher'd death to her, approach'd so fast:
But e'en when death, with horrid frown, did lour,
Her look of love on Leöpold was cast.
“That look! so deep on his pure soul is graven
It will remain till time with him be o'er:
That look! like angel's smile serene from heaven!
Bade earth a sweet farewell for evermore!
It will remain till time with him be o'er:
That look! like angel's smile serene from heaven!
Bade earth a sweet farewell for evermore!
“Soft be her rest! a soul so strung to love
Will find a clime congenial, high in bliss,
In rapture sweet, to join the choir above,
Nor cast one “lingering, longing look” on this.
Will find a clime congenial, high in bliss,
In rapture sweet, to join the choir above,
Nor cast one “lingering, longing look” on this.
HUIC SPERENT OMNIA!
“Britannia in tears” for the death of the Princess Charlotte. This afflicting national bereavement took place in November, 1817, and the above lines were a nearly extemporaneous effusion upon receipt of the distressing news.
163
Scotia's Lament.
Why, Scotia, heavest thou that sad sigh?
Why dropp'st thou that sad tear?
Why droops thy crest-plume, that so high
Did, tow'ring, long appear?
Why dropp'st thou that sad tear?
Why droops thy crest-plume, that so high
Did, tow'ring, long appear?
Thy tresses all dishevell'd hang,
Thy rosy cheek is pale;
Thy voice, that long triumphant sang,
Now pours a woeful wail.
Thy rosy cheek is pale;
Thy voice, that long triumphant sang,
Now pours a woeful wail.
Say, lovely maid, what wakes thy woe,
So strange, and yet so true;
Thy sons disgraced thee not, I know,
At blood-stain'd Waterloo.
So strange, and yet so true;
Thy sons disgraced thee not, I know,
At blood-stain'd Waterloo.
“Ah, no! 'tis not for honour lost
Upon the field of war;
There still my sons maintain'd their post,
Though mark'd with many a scar.
Upon the field of war;
There still my sons maintain'd their post,
Though mark'd with many a scar.
“Ne'er, since the Roman eagle spread
His wings o'er my domain,
Have my brave sons like cowards fled,
The martial page to stain.
His wings o'er my domain,
Have my brave sons like cowards fled,
The martial page to stain.
“But, dauntless as the stubborn rock
That bounds my free-born strand,
They've oft repell'd the en'my's shock,
Disdaining their command.
That bounds my free-born strand,
They've oft repell'd the en'my's shock,
Disdaining their command.
“Yet, now, what anguish wrings my soul
For what they now endure,
Who ought, 'gainst carping want's control,
To have remain'd secure.
For what they now endure,
Who ought, 'gainst carping want's control,
To have remain'd secure.
“Theirs were, by right, the joys of peace,
For dangers bravely borne;
But, ah! to them comes no release,
For which I sadly mourn!
For dangers bravely borne;
But, ah! to them comes no release,
For which I sadly mourn!
“Strange! that, in Freedom's native land,
Where Wallace fought and fell,
The fiend Oppression's ruthless hand
Should raise want's direful yell!
Where Wallace fought and fell,
The fiend Oppression's ruthless hand
Should raise want's direful yell!
164
“Had foes but struck the cruel blow
They might have been forgiven,
But Sires to treat their children so
Calls down the wrath of heaven.
They might have been forgiven,
But Sires to treat their children so
Calls down the wrath of heaven.
“This horrible infanticide
For vengeance loudly cries,
And mercy's portals open wide,
Whence retribution flies.
For vengeance loudly cries,
And mercy's portals open wide,
Whence retribution flies.
“Oh lovely land of dance and song,
Where pleasure once was free,
The harp and viol, ere 'tis long,
Shall ring no more in thee!
Where pleasure once was free,
The harp and viol, ere 'tis long,
Shall ring no more in thee!
“Across the wide Atlantic's waves,
In legions, from thee fly
Thy sons—to where wealth's banner saves
From want's distressing cry.
In legions, from thee fly
Thy sons—to where wealth's banner saves
From want's distressing cry.
“Columbia's almost boundless realms
Shall blossom fresh and gay,
While misery thy fields o'erwhelms,
Where pleasure sheds no ray.
Shall blossom fresh and gay,
While misery thy fields o'erwhelms,
Where pleasure sheds no ray.
“Should Mars again uplift the spear,
O'er Europe waved so long,
Where, Albion, wilt thou then appear,
Thou land of dance and song?”
O'er Europe waved so long,
Where, Albion, wilt thou then appear,
Thou land of dance and song?”
The Poetaster: an Epigram.
A pedant Peter Rithmus was,Who vow'd he knew prosodial laws;
A bold pretender unto all
The strains which from the Muses fall:
But yet, alas! his visage shows
Want visits oft'ner than the Muse.
He sits up late, burns many a candle,
In hopes his subject well he'll handle:
His stock of lore in every lay is cramm'd,
And, after all his pains, his works are damned.
Though Rithmus thinks all else he doth surpass,
The critics term him still a stupid ass.
165
Cash.
'Tis hard to lie 'mang flaes in simmer,
Or bugs, wha haunt auld beds o' timmer,
Or thole slee Love's inconstant glimmer,
That gi'es sic fash;
But waur than a' is that base limmer,
Miss Want-o'-Cash.
Or bugs, wha haunt auld beds o' timmer,
Or thole slee Love's inconstant glimmer,
That gi'es sic fash;
But waur than a' is that base limmer,
Miss Want-o'-Cash.
O' life—but Cash—what joy or mirth
Can mortal budies ha'e on yirth?
Whare mis'ry's Oronock-like firth
Doth whelming dash.
A day o' woe is ilk chield's birth
That's scant o' Cash.
Can mortal budies ha'e on yirth?
Whare mis'ry's Oronock-like firth
Doth whelming dash.
A day o' woe is ilk chield's birth
That's scant o' Cash.
Alake! the chield can never thrive
Wha has 'gainst adverse fate to strive;
The stubborn jilt her drift will drive
Wi' scorpion lash;
Till 'neath despair he sink, belyve,
For want o' Cash.
Wha has 'gainst adverse fate to strive;
The stubborn jilt her drift will drive
Wi' scorpion lash;
Till 'neath despair he sink, belyve,
For want o' Cash.
But, oh! how joyous pass the days
When baskin' 'neath kind fortune's rays;
The pulse wi' heavin' rapture plays;
Licht reels our pash;
We've mony frien's, withouten faes,
When rife o' Cash.
When baskin' 'neath kind fortune's rays;
The pulse wi' heavin' rapture plays;
Licht reels our pash;
We've mony frien's, withouten faes,
When rife o' Cash.
Wi' ill fill'd purse, at merry meetin'
Ane dowie sits, wi' dread a' sweatin',
And scarce daur gi'e their craig a weetin',
Or join the clash;
A yillwife's bill's na'e sicht invitin'
When scant o' Cash.
Ane dowie sits, wi' dread a' sweatin',
And scarce daur gi'e their craig a weetin',
Or join the clash;
A yillwife's bill's na'e sicht invitin'
When scant o' Cash.
But, ah! how bauld a birkie roars,
And rings and brews, and drinks and splores;
When conscious he can clear his scores,
He gabs fu' gash,
And toasts and sangs he blithe en-cores,
When pang'd wi' Cash.
And rings and brews, and drinks and splores;
When conscious he can clear his scores,
He gabs fu' gash,
And toasts and sangs he blithe en-cores,
When pang'd wi' Cash.
166
Cash cleeds the back and fills the kyte,
Gars mony a coof appear perfyte;
Though he can neither read nor write,
The claverin' hash
Mak's lasses' hearts amaist gae hyte
Wi' rowth o' Cash.
Gars mony a coof appear perfyte;
Though he can neither read nor write,
The claverin' hash
Mak's lasses' hearts amaist gae hyte
Wi' rowth o' Cash.
At market, ball, or holy-fair,
Cash gars a birkie strut and stare;
And ony lass that's ranked there,
Like lichtning's flash,
Springs at his wink; she needs nae mair
If he hae Cash.
Cash gars a birkie strut and stare;
And ony lass that's ranked there,
Like lichtning's flash,
Springs at his wink; she needs nae mair
If he hae Cash.
Nae hucksters, snabs, nor tailors fear him,
Accounts aff-hand he aye can clear them;
That bluid-hound gang comes never near him,
The beagle trash:
Noucht casts him down, a' aids to cheer him,
That's rife o' Cash.
Accounts aff-hand he aye can clear them;
That bluid-hound gang comes never near him,
The beagle trash:
Noucht casts him down, a' aids to cheer him,
That's rife o' Cash.
Cauld winter's win' may rudely blaw,
And smoor the warld deep under snaw,
Yet pale-faced want dare never draw
At his door-lash;
Nor sullen spleen his visage shaw,
While he has Cash.
And smoor the warld deep under snaw,
Yet pale-faced want dare never draw
At his door-lash;
Nor sullen spleen his visage shaw,
While he has Cash.
The wildest loun that e'er chow'd cheese,
Whase wealth can let him reel at ease,
Will be respected by grandees;
While his weak clash
Will savour o' the learn'd degrees,
Sic power has Cash.
Whase wealth can let him reel at ease,
Will be respected by grandees;
While his weak clash
Will savour o' the learn'd degrees,
Sic power has Cash.
But ane whase coat is worn sae bare
That scarce a louse can travel there,
Will meet the sklent disdainfu' stare,
Though straucht's a rash
His conduct be; yet, de'il may care,
He still wants Cash.
That scarce a louse can travel there,
Will meet the sklent disdainfu' stare,
Though straucht's a rash
His conduct be; yet, de'il may care,
He still wants Cash.
Snool'd laithfu'ness doth aften seize him,
Cauld puirtith's claims incessant tease him,
And wyzen'd want nae seldom gi'es him
Clean teeth to gnash;
Till death, his frien', frae mis'ry frees him
That's void o' Cash.
Cauld puirtith's claims incessant tease him,
167
Clean teeth to gnash;
Till death, his frien', frae mis'ry frees him
That's void o' Cash.
Ye wha ha'e plenty at your ca',
That strut about baith braid and braw,
Beware, lest ye tyne fortune's ba',
Else, clean slapdash,
Your friends their friendship will withdraw
When ye want Cash.
That strut about baith braid and braw,
Beware, lest ye tyne fortune's ba',
Else, clean slapdash,
Your friends their friendship will withdraw
When ye want Cash.
For mony a chield that ance fu' saucy,
Wi's puncheon-kyte projectin' gawsy,
Has drawn respect on Glasgow causey,
Now fin's pride's lash;
While former friends him heedless pass aye,
Since tined o's Cash.
Wi's puncheon-kyte projectin' gawsy,
Has drawn respect on Glasgow causey,
Now fin's pride's lash;
While former friends him heedless pass aye,
Since tined o's Cash.
Ode on the Return of Peace.
Now fled is the demon of death from the field,
And Bellona her ensign hath furl'd;
No more doth the soldier the red weapon wield,
Nor with blood drench the grief-laden world.
And Bellona her ensign hath furl'd;
No more doth the soldier the red weapon wield,
Nor with blood drench the grief-laden world.
The trumpet no more wakes the dew-chilled camp,
Nor the swell of the thundering drum;
No dense sulph'rous smoke dims the sky's glorious lamp;
All the furies of war now are dumb.
Nor the swell of the thundering drum;
No dense sulph'rous smoke dims the sky's glorious lamp;
All the furies of war now are dumb.
Lovely Peace waves the white flag of truce round her head,
And no wife, child, or parent doth mourn;
Joy tunes, at the signal, the sweet rural reed
For the stay of her country's return.
And no wife, child, or parent doth mourn;
Joy tunes, at the signal, the sweet rural reed
For the stay of her country's return.
O Britain, forget not the perilous time
When the blood of thy children was shed;
When, throughout the whole earth, in war's contest sublime,
Thy death-daring sons bravely bled!
When the blood of thy children was shed;
When, throughout the whole earth, in war's contest sublime,
Thy death-daring sons bravely bled!
168
Content.
The sages, who do bright display
The regions of philosophy,
Do all agree, with one consent,
The greatest blessing is Content:
But where to find this heavenly fair
They differ strangely wide;
Some search the earth, and some the air,
As fancy doth decide.
The regions of philosophy,
Do all agree, with one consent,
The greatest blessing is Content:
But where to find this heavenly fair
They differ strangely wide;
Some search the earth, and some the air,
As fancy doth decide.
Newton, within great nature's laws,
Explores each consequence and cause;
Experiments unnumber'd tries,
Nor quits his search until he dies;
Finds pleasure new in each advance
He makes to wisdom's throne,
Till wheeling systems, at one glance,
He can descry anon.
Explores each consequence and cause;
Experiments unnumber'd tries,
Nor quits his search until he dies;
Finds pleasure new in each advance
He makes to wisdom's throne,
Till wheeling systems, at one glance,
He can descry anon.
What crowds incessant strive to climb
Parnassus' tow'ring height sublime?
And Homer, Virgil, Milton, Pope,
With Shakespeare, have attain'd the top:
Though sweeter far the Hebrew strains
Which through our bosoms thrill,
Struck by the heaven-inspired swains
Who stray'd round Zion's hill.
Parnassus' tow'ring height sublime?
And Homer, Virgil, Milton, Pope,
With Shakespeare, have attain'd the top:
Though sweeter far the Hebrew strains
Which through our bosoms thrill,
Struck by the heaven-inspired swains
Who stray'd round Zion's hill.
Where Mars displays the furbish'd spear
Behold the sons of blood appear;
The leader of the Grecian host,
And Cæsar, Rome's eternal boast;
With those who o'er Hindostan ran
With predatory sweep—
Famed Tamerlane and Zinghis Khan,
By whom did thousands weep.
Behold the sons of blood appear;
The leader of the Grecian host,
And Cæsar, Rome's eternal boast;
With those who o'er Hindostan ran
With predatory sweep—
Famed Tamerlane and Zinghis Khan,
By whom did thousands weep.
And, last, yon troop who strive to gain
The golden gate of Mammon's fane;
O'er land and sea they eager press
To reach their throne of happiness:
On wealth their thoughts are wholly bent,
Their hearts for lucre burn;
That gain'd, they still are discontent,
And, disappointed, mourn.
The golden gate of Mammon's fane;
O'er land and sea they eager press
To reach their throne of happiness:
169
Their hearts for lucre burn;
That gain'd, they still are discontent,
And, disappointed, mourn.
But palms and laurels, though attain'd,
And wisdom found, and riches gain'd,
May still have miss'd the hallow'd road
Which leads to true Content's abode.
She seldom in the palace dwells,
Where grandeur gleams in gold,
But oft the peasant's bosom swells,
Who tends the lone sheepfold.
And wisdom found, and riches gain'd,
May still have miss'd the hallow'd road
Which leads to true Content's abode.
She seldom in the palace dwells,
Where grandeur gleams in gold,
But oft the peasant's bosom swells,
Who tends the lone sheepfold.
Hers is the power to raise the smile
Upon the sun-burn'd face of toil;
To cheer the soul and clear the eye
Of downcast ragged poverty;
And dissipate the sullen gloom
That o'er misfortune frowns;
And soothe the martyr 'neath his doom,
While horror dwells with crowns.
Upon the sun-burn'd face of toil;
To cheer the soul and clear the eye
Of downcast ragged poverty;
And dissipate the sullen gloom
That o'er misfortune frowns;
And soothe the martyr 'neath his doom,
While horror dwells with crowns.
'Tis not the splendour of the court
Can tempt her thither to resort;
'Tis not that mirth where riot reigns
Can waft her from her calm domains;
But patient mild humility
Alone she does attend,
Whose handmaid, pure fidelity,
Befriends her to the end.
Can tempt her thither to resort;
'Tis not that mirth where riot reigns
Can waft her from her calm domains;
But patient mild humility
Alone she does attend,
Whose handmaid, pure fidelity,
Befriends her to the end.
Epitaph
TO THE MEMORY OF FOUR INFANTS.
Parents, forbear for us to wail and weep!We in the arms of Jesus fell asleep,
While you in tears mourn'd o'er the loss;
For, 'mid the throng of saints and angels bright,
We swell that song, with ever new delight—
The glorious, matchless triumph of the cross!
170
Vice's Entreaty.
Oh but this once, and then, for aye, adieu
To all that's opposite to virtue's call!
Oh but this once, and then the path pursue
In which man walk'd before the fatal fall.
To all that's opposite to virtue's call!
Oh but this once, and then the path pursue
In which man walk'd before the fatal fall.
Youth's sun yet shines in his meridian height—
Repent before you die the soul will save;
None, but who latterly the ransom slight,
Shall sink despairing in the gloomy grave.
Repent before you die the soul will save;
None, but who latterly the ransom slight,
Shall sink despairing in the gloomy grave.
The Saviour's blood, profuse, for man was shed;
And man was form'd to enjoy his state;
Then why the clemency of heaven dread?
Or frown beneath th' Omnipotence of fate?
And man was form'd to enjoy his state;
Then why the clemency of heaven dread?
Or frown beneath th' Omnipotence of fate?
'Tis as thy life the cordial cup to taste,
Which vivifies and brightens every power;
Then dally not, time's fleeting hours to waste,
But seize with rapture sense's blooming flower.
Which vivifies and brightens every power;
Then dally not, time's fleeting hours to waste,
But seize with rapture sense's blooming flower.
Thus spake the traitor, and the list'ning youth
Unto the base remonstrance lent an ear;
And deem'd the counsel the behest of truth—
So in the mire of guilt plunged, void of fear.
Unto the base remonstrance lent an ear;
And deem'd the counsel the behest of truth—
So in the mire of guilt plunged, void of fear.
Epitaph on a Lady,
ALIKE FAMOUS FOR TATTLING, LYING, AND HYPOCRISY.
Now, Death! a nest-egg ye ha'e got
Nae greedy grub dare pree;
So she may lie a thousand years,
Yet ne'er corruption see.
Nae greedy grub dare pree;
So she may lie a thousand years,
Yet ne'er corruption see.
On her we've wared nae costly rites
O' the Egyptian nation;
The vip'rous venom o' her heart
Is special preparation.
O' the Egyptian nation;
The vip'rous venom o' her heart
Is special preparation.
Ne'er was a hapless clachan cursed
Wi' sic a pest, I ween;
For, since she's gane, some folk will threep
We've the millennium seen.
Wi' sic a pest, I ween;
For, since she's gane, some folk will threep
We've the millennium seen.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |