 | Annie Weir and Other Poems |  |
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A CANDLEMAS RHYME.
FIRST.
It was the eve of Candlemas, and in her easy-chair
Sweet Mrs Cameron knitting sat with thrifty zeal and care;
And silent sat, in slippered ease, her lord, of portly frame,
And sturdy Cameronian faith, and stainless local fame.
Sweet Mrs Cameron knitting sat with thrifty zeal and care;
And silent sat, in slippered ease, her lord, of portly frame,
And sturdy Cameronian faith, and stainless local fame.
And on that eve of Candlemas, if memory reckoned fair,
'Twas sixteen years since they were wed, a humble hopeful pair,
Rich only in a love that ne'er by coldness had been crossed,
And theirs was now the beinest house that Lavernshaw could boast.
'Twas sixteen years since they were wed, a humble hopeful pair,
Rich only in a love that ne'er by coldness had been crossed,
And theirs was now the beinest house that Lavernshaw could boast.
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Full blithe was Mrs Cameron—and wherefore should not she?
For where were six such blithesome bairns to keep a house in glee?
'Twas true there should another been, but Heaven had deemed it best
To make their first an angel, and the guardian of the rest.
For where were six such blithesome bairns to keep a house in glee?
'Twas true there should another been, but Heaven had deemed it best
To make their first an angel, and the guardian of the rest.
And as the children played, she let her happy fancy roam,
And saw in summer loveliness her childhood's moorland home;
And memory brought its store of joys, and garrulous she grew,
And talked of pleasant times that were ere Lavernshaw she knew.
And saw in summer loveliness her childhood's moorland home;
And memory brought its store of joys, and garrulous she grew,
And talked of pleasant times that were ere Lavernshaw she knew.
“Ah! bairns,” she said, “this was an eve that, thirty years ago,
To every one at school aye passed full wearily and slow,
Because to-morrow was a day when all went blithe to school—
A day on which the master stooped to laugh and play the fool.
To every one at school aye passed full wearily and slow,
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A day on which the master stooped to laugh and play the fool.
“Oh! dear, dear gala-time! There were no dreary tasks that day,
No grim ferule upon the desk in leathern terror lay,
But trays with sweeties richly heaped to fill its place were seen,
With pyramids of oranges in order ranged between.
No grim ferule upon the desk in leathern terror lay,
But trays with sweeties richly heaped to fill its place were seen,
With pyramids of oranges in order ranged between.
“And, oh! how graciously our gifts the happy master took,
And smiled as if its wonted frown his face no more could brook.
Nor less the widow's child received, who laid her penny down,
Than she, the daughter of the Laird, who gave her silver crown.
And smiled as if its wonted frown his face no more could brook.
Nor less the widow's child received, who laid her penny down,
Than she, the daughter of the Laird, who gave her silver crown.
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“And, oh! what glorious liberty that day conferred on all!
Ours seemed the mirth of slaves relieved from long and hopeless thrall;
The watch-dog barked, and spiders from their nooks crept out to hear
That laughter which shook down the dust no more than once a-year.
Ours seemed the mirth of slaves relieved from long and hopeless thrall;
The watch-dog barked, and spiders from their nooks crept out to hear
That laughter which shook down the dust no more than once a-year.
“And well I mind how every year the master spoke a speech,
The same one still—his voice seems yet my startled ear to reach;
How I with terror quaking sat, as with a madlike pace
He stamped about the floor, and still waxed redder in the face.
The same one still—his voice seems yet my startled ear to reach;
How I with terror quaking sat, as with a madlike pace
He stamped about the floor, and still waxed redder in the face.
“I knew not then what speech he spoke, nor why he spoke so loud,
And waxed so fiery in the face, and seemed so fierce and proud,
But wondered aye why such a storm should follow such a calm,
And the ferule in fancy felt once more upon my palm.
And waxed so fiery in the face, and seemed so fierce and proud,
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And the ferule in fancy felt once more upon my palm.
“And sweet was the relief when he had through his passion toiled,
And panting stood, and wiped his brow, and on his audience smiled.
And, doubtless, when we cheered he thought our judgment sage and good,
And was convinced his “Norval” for our minds was proper food.
And panting stood, and wiped his brow, and on his audience smiled.
And, doubtless, when we cheered he thought our judgment sage and good,
And was convinced his “Norval” for our minds was proper food.
“And then he told us who was king, and told us who was queen—
And queen and king were always those whose gifts had greatest been;
I ne'er was queen, nor hoped to be, for father's folks were poor,
And silver crowns were scant among the cottars on the moor.
And queen and king were always those whose gifts had greatest been;
I ne'er was queen, nor hoped to be, for father's folks were poor,
And silver crowns were scant among the cottars on the moor.
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“Then on the shoulders of the boys their happy king was seen,
And homeward singing as we went, we bore our blushing queen;
And Jealousy among us walked, and Envy told her tale,
And so, although we knew it not, we bowed the knee to Baal.”
And homeward singing as we went, we bore our blushing queen;
And Jealousy among us walked, and Envy told her tale,
And so, although we knew it not, we bowed the knee to Baal.”
So garruled Mrs Cameron, but still her portly lord,
As if the past had charmed him, sat, nor cheered her with a word.
To-morrow and its vast affairs had on him laid their yoke,
And hard he smoked, and much he thought, and thus at length he spoke.
As if the past had charmed him, sat, nor cheered her with a word.
To-morrow and its vast affairs had on him laid their yoke,
And hard he smoked, and much he thought, and thus at length he spoke.
SECOND.
“Rebecca, seek my gouden studs and newest velvet vest,
To-morrow's nomination-day, and I must wear my best;
To-morrow's nomination-day, the battle will be keen,
But ye shall be the Provost's wife before to-morrow's e'en.
To-morrow's nomination-day, and I must wear my best;
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But ye shall be the Provost's wife before to-morrow's e'en.
“And ye shall be the Provost's wife—Rebecca, hear ye that?
And ye shall hae a Paisley plaid, the best that e'er ye gat,
And ye'll a velvet bonnet wear, with feathers waving braw,
And ye shall wear the grandest gown in bonny Lavernshaw.”
And ye shall hae a Paisley plaid, the best that e'er ye gat,
And ye'll a velvet bonnet wear, with feathers waving braw,
And ye shall wear the grandest gown in bonny Lavernshaw.”
“John Cameron, John Cameron, my heart to hear ye's sair,
On worldly honours vain and vile a thought why should ye wair?
Let him wha likes be provost, John, since they sic things maun hae,
A Cameronian can but smile at all their vain display.”
On worldly honours vain and vile a thought why should ye wair?
Let him wha likes be provost, John, since they sic things maun hae,
A Cameronian can but smile at all their vain display.”
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“And wherefore should I change, gudewife? come honours as they will,
In faith, as in affection, I will be John Cameron still;
But I'll be in the provost's chair before to-morrow's e'en,
And we in bonny Laverhshaw shall reign a king and queen.”
In faith, as in affection, I will be John Cameron still;
But I'll be in the provost's chair before to-morrow's e'en,
And we in bonny Laverhshaw shall reign a king and queen.”
“John Cameron, John Cameron, the Tempter's with ye been,
And ye hae yielded to his wiles with little strife, I ween;
Gang to your closet, John—oh! gang, and grace seek frae aboon,
Ye maunna let the morning sun salute you in your sin.
And ye hae yielded to his wiles with little strife, I ween;
Gang to your closet, John—oh! gang, and grace seek frae aboon,
Ye maunna let the morning sun salute you in your sin.
“Why mind ye their elections, John—would ye dispense their law?
The Council or the Provost's chair is no for you ava;
The oath of loyalty and love ye could not dare to swear,
And at the table of the Lord's communion syne appear.”
The Council or the Provost's chair is no for you ava;
The oath of loyalty and love ye could not dare to swear,
And at the table of the Lord's communion syne appear.”
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“Rebecca, hear ye me. The town has business to be done,
And maun hae men to rule, or things would a' to ruin rin;
My duty in the kirk I've done, and so I hope will do,
But surely one may serve the Lord, and serve his country too.”
And maun hae men to rule, or things would a' to ruin rin;
My duty in the kirk I've done, and so I hope will do,
But surely one may serve the Lord, and serve his country too.”
“Look out, John Cameron! Behold! God's smile is on the earth,
The laverock and the blackbird join to hail the snow-drop's birth.
We've seen another spring—let us be thankful for the boon,
Nor dare with black apostasy to woo His vengeance doon.”
The laverock and the blackbird join to hail the snow-drop's birth.
We've seen another spring—let us be thankful for the boon,
Nor dare with black apostasy to woo His vengeance doon.”
“With black apostasy, gudewife, what can ye mean ava?
Our faith is in the synod's care—'tis theirs to give us law;
The testimony of our sires they to the winds have thrown,
And that they well and wisely did, have well and wisely shown.
Our faith is in the synod's care—'tis theirs to give us law;
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And that they well and wisely did, have well and wisely shown.
“Now to the Queen my loyalty and love I'm free to swear,
And I amang the Volunteers a captain's coat may wear.
That testimony was a dyke that cowards hid behind,
No coward I'm, and blithe am I 'twas thrown unto the wind.”
And I amang the Volunteers a captain's coat may wear.
That testimony was a dyke that cowards hid behind,
No coward I'm, and blithe am I 'twas thrown unto the wind.”
“But, John, among the Synod, though it seems o' grace bereft,
E'en there, like Lot in Sodom, is a faithfu' remnant left;
Let them be our example, let us link our lot with theirs,
And ye shall be a captain in a band that fight wi' prayers.
E'en there, like Lot in Sodom, is a faithfu' remnant left;
Let them be our example, let us link our lot with theirs,
And ye shall be a captain in a band that fight wi' prayers.
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“Or if the worldly weapon's raised, as in the days of yore,
John Cameron, there's the good broadsword your faithful fathers wore;
Would they to thrones of sin an oath more sinfu' still have sworn?
For them wha scorn the Covenant would they a sword have borne?”
John Cameron, there's the good broadsword your faithful fathers wore;
Would they to thrones of sin an oath more sinfu' still have sworn?
For them wha scorn the Covenant would they a sword have borne?”
“The Covenant and household swords were weel in times awa',
When martyrs won their crowns, and kings had no respect for law;
But every heart is loyal now, and some maun provosts be,
Or Britain wouldnae lang be found the country o' the free.”
When martyrs won their crowns, and kings had no respect for law;
But every heart is loyal now, and some maun provosts be,
Or Britain wouldnae lang be found the country o' the free.”
“John Cameron, John Cameron, our angel bairn I see,
And there is sorrow on her face that was not wont to be;
Oh, wherefore, owre a bairn in heaven, should hang that cloud o' care?
Can one so innocent as she be ought but happy there?
And there is sorrow on her face that was not wont to be;
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Can one so innocent as she be ought but happy there?
“Oh! maybe on the book of life a moment she has gazed,
And maybe she has seen the name o' ane she loves erased.
Some sin o' mine, or thine, gudeman, her peace has frae her riven,
And oh! how foul maun be the sin that taints the joys o' heaven.”
And maybe she has seen the name o' ane she loves erased.
Some sin o' mine, or thine, gudeman, her peace has frae her riven,
And oh! how foul maun be the sin that taints the joys o' heaven.”
“It may be sae, wha kens?—but I my gouden studs maun wear;
And I maun think about a speech to please the public ear.
Our angel bairn will smile belyve—Rebecca, so shall ye,
And be as proud and happy as a Provost's wife should be.”
And I maun think about a speech to please the public ear.
Our angel bairn will smile belyve—Rebecca, so shall ye,
And be as proud and happy as a Provost's wife should be.”
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SEQUEL.
It is the eve of Candlemas, the laverock has been up,
And from the garden-borders peeps the golden crocus cup;
Bright clouds, that seem of summer, from the west creep o'er the moon,
And the weather-prophets mutter, “We have spring a month too soon.”
And from the garden-borders peeps the golden crocus cup;
Bright clouds, that seem of summer, from the west creep o'er the moon,
And the weather-prophets mutter, “We have spring a month too soon.”
It is the eve of Candlemas, and in her easy-chair,
Sweet Mrs Cameron knitting sits, unscathed by time or care;
The hours have passed on fairy feet, the chapter has been read,
And all the Word suggested has in homely phrase been said.
Sweet Mrs Cameron knitting sits, unscathed by time or care;
The hours have passed on fairy feet, the chapter has been read,
And all the Word suggested has in homely phrase been said.
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Unchanged the household seems, save that a sweeter rose has blown
Upon their eldest's cheek, and save that John has greyer grown.
'Tis true he straighter sits, and has a more important air,
And there's a military frizz about his beard and hair.
Upon their eldest's cheek, and save that John has greyer grown.
'Tis true he straighter sits, and has a more important air,
And there's a military frizz about his beard and hair.
And well may he important seem—he's Provost Cameron now,
And “sitteth in the judgment-seat,” with wisdom-laden brow;
And yon's a captain's sword that hangs beside the rusty blade,
That for the Covenant was drawn at Rullion's bloody raid.
And “sitteth in the judgment-seat,” with wisdom-laden brow;
And yon's a captain's sword that hangs beside the rusty blade,
That for the Covenant was drawn at Rullion's bloody raid.
And is there then no hidden change, no hardening of the heart?
No grudging of the minutes to devotion set apart?
Sprung up around their honours is there not a waste of cares,
In which the angels read again the story of the tares?
No grudging of the minutes to devotion set apart?
Sprung up around their honours is there not a waste of cares,
In which the angels read again the story of the tares?
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Oh, no!—the yoke of riches has by them been lightly borne,
The roses of their honours have no peace-destroying thorn:
They from the war of creeds to live apart have nobly striven,
And in a grander company they climb the hill of heaven.
The roses of their honours have no peace-destroying thorn:
They from the war of creeds to live apart have nobly striven,
And in a grander company they climb the hill of heaven.
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