The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

Merchiston Tower stands, lone and apart,
On the high Borough moor, among elms and limes,
And lone and apart were the thoughts of his heart;
While the struggle was brewing, in kirk and in mart,
To mend the ills of the hapless times.

Other his labours, and other his cares,
Other the ends that he sought to gain,
Other his dreams and his hopes than theirs
Who busied themselves with the State's affairs,
Or stood up for freedom with hand and brain.

By a paper, writ over with ciphering neat,
The master sat in loose-flowing robes,
Unbonneted head, and slippered feet,
Eager to see his long labour complete,
In a chamber littered with books and globes.

585

Toil and trouble he never had spared,
But year after year had wrought at his theme,
Often been baffled, but never despaired,
Still had come back, and his errors repaired;
And now he was sure that it was not a dream.

His task was nigh finished; the end drew near,
As page after page he threw down on the floor,
A great pile of writing, where truth did appear
With every new scroll growing ever more clear,
Convincing the reason that doubted before.

With forehead deep-furrowed he wrote every word,
The strain was so hard, and he toiled till the sweat
That beaded his brow trickled down on his beard,
And the sound of his heavy, hard breathing was heard
Like the panting of athlete that struggles with Fate.

Then there came a glad light on his face, and his head
Was lifted up grandly and proudly the while,
“I have found it, and 'stablished it clearly,” he said,
The Law that God wrought by that day when He made
The stars in their courses, and measured their mile.

Hear what the Kirk says, and you might suppose
He has no other thoughts save about His own Name,
And the glory, befitting His greatness, which flows
From the saving or damning of souls, whom He chose
To show forth His grace or His wrath upon them.

But many His thoughts are, all old and yet new—
Mathematic, mechanic, and chemic—and we,
In our brooding and searching to find out the True,
Do but glimpse, with long toil, what He perfectly knew
From the first, when He held the young world on His knee.

Yea, many His thoughts are, and many His cares,
Not only for souls, but for dead, silent things,
Thoughts of number and form, of circles and squares,
Of the grass on the field, and the dews and the airs
And the salts that it lives on, and sweets that it brings.

And one of His thoughts He has given me to find,
Never dreamt of before, and to follow it on
To results that enlarge and deliver the mind
From bonds that did hitherto fetter and bind
The pursuit of light that leads up to His throne.

Lo! the fruit of long patience, hard thinking, and pains,
And science, by its means, shall range over space,

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As easy as merchant can reckon his gains
Without failure or flaw to bewilder his brains,
Or uncertain shadow of doubt on his face.

How simple it looks, now the key has been found!
How hopeless and dark it looked often to me!
God's thoughts are as simple as they are profound,
Yet hard as the path over untravelled ground,
Till a way has been hewn which the simple can see.

Hark! men are fighting where peace should have been,
Clashing their sword-blades, and shouting their cries;
If they but knew all the triumph serene
When a great Law of Nature is certainly seen,
And God's secret given to the patient and wise!

What are the schemes which their poor lives devour?
What are the ends they're so eager to gain?
They do but strive to get honour and power,
And wield them in pride for a brief little hour—
This while the world lasts still shall remain.

Truth is the one power to loose or to bind,
Not to oppress, but to set the world free,
Power over Nature by masterful mind,
Power to enlarge the great thoughts of mankind,
And by obeying Law its Lords to be.