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

It was in “the Killing Times,” when consciences were crimes,
And over all the Merse were scattered troops of wild dragoons
Swaggering in the streets and squares, saucy, daring “deil-ma-cares,”
All in bravery of scarlet, and brawny handsome loons.

For Claver'se and Dalzell had trained the rascals well
For the pillage and the carnage, they set them now to do;
They haunted all our shores, and spied about our doors,
Watching keenly for our father, but we watched them keenly too.

Just then the rage was hot about the Ryehouse Plot,
Wherein he had no part, for all such doings he abhorred;
There were ten of us to feed, and his heart had daily need
Both of courage and of caution, and he trusted in the Lord,

And never went astray from the strait and narrow way
Of truth and right and duty, which his Master trod before;
He was staunch against oppression, and his heart bled for the nation,
But he waited for salvation, till God opened wide the door.

But guiltless though he was, they knew he loved the cause
Of the wronged and ruined people, and the Kirk he held so dear;
And his innocence had failed, when such lawlessness prevailed,
To protect the friend of Baillie from their fury and their fear.

He must take to hiding, then, where the prying eyes of men
Might not find him, till the trouble and the terror overpassed;
And the only likely place was a gruesome one to face
Where he laid his honoured father, when its door was opened last.

Polwarth tomb beside the Kirk, it is eerie, cold, and mirk,
With a mere slit in the wall for light and air to enter in;
And scant the light and air ever came unto him there,
As he lay repeating Psalms, and praying to be kept from sin.

603

I often thank the Lord for His good and holy Word,
And also George Buchanan for his craft in Latin verse;
Father could not have got through the waste and weary time he knew,
But for humming the old Psalms he learnt in schooldays to rehearse.

That kept his heart up well, as the glimmering sunlight fell
On the coffins heaped up grimly against the clammy wall,
While he breathed the sickly breath of old decay and death,
For the long line of his ancestry had there been buried all.

Mother and I alone were aware where he had gone,
My brothers were too young to be told a secret yet;
And each night, when they slept, forth into the dark I crept
Under the twinkling stars, when the sun had wholly set.

At meal-times it was good just to watch our mother's mood
And the fun she made till every one must turn to her his head,
While I swept into my lap dainty bit and wholesome scrap,
Which they thought that I had eaten, and called me “greedy gled.”

For the children must not know, nor the servants, where I go
Or what it was I took with me when I stole out at night;
But father must have meat in his hiding-place to eat,
And when I got my basket filled my heart was very light.

I had always been afraid in the darkness, when I made
My way along the footpath beside the kirkyard wall;
I knew that ghosts were nought, yet my heart came to my throat,
If a rabbit scurried past me, or I heard an owlet call.

But now I stumbled on over mound and grey headstone,
As the dogs barked in the manse, when they heard my stealthy feet,
And I heeded not the dead, not a ghost was in my head,
But I only thought how soon he should have bread enough to eat.

I found him always gay, ready still to jest and play;
How he laughed out when I said the children called me “greedy gled!”
And first I had to tell him if all at home were well,
And then he thanked the Lord, and bared and bowed his honoured head.

He was pious, cheerful, wise, and my happiest memories
Are the hours that I passed with him in the tomb by Polwarth Kirk;
Though his wrath would burn and blaze, as I spake of our evil days
When there was no law in the land, but the rule of sword and dirk.

We were feeling quite secure that our secret would endure
Any search they would be like to make among the kirkyard stones,
Though at times they might have heard, now and then, a Latin word,
Or even a peal of laughter from the house of dry old bones.

604

But it chanced upon a night, when the moon was shining bright,
That the parson in the manse beheld me through the kirkyard go;
He was but a craven loon, and the glamour of the moon
Made him take me for a phantom that was gliding to and fro.

Next day he took to bed, and the tidings quickly spread
Through the parish, that he had been driven into fainting fits
By a vision he had seen, flitting where the graves were green,
And filling him with terror till it shattered all his wits.

Some laughed, and others hinted it was drink that had demented
The creature, who was known to be a spy upon his flock;
There were some, both young and old, who were lying then in hold
On the curate's information to the military folk.

But there were some troopers swore that they feared a ghost no more
Than a Whig, and they would watch the kirkyard willingly all night;
Give them but some cups of wine, and they would make wassail fine,
Though the Devil and all his angels came from hell to do them spite.

What could we do to save our loved one good and brave,
Now that in his father's grave he could no longer hope to hide?
They were reckless and profane, those dragoons, and it was plain
They might keep their watch on nightly, till he pined away and died.

I was fain to play the ghost with them, and take, at any cost,
The food that he would need upon a cold and wintry night;
For wrapt up in a sheet, and coming up with silent feet,
I felt sure that sudden terror would seize on them at the sight.

I had no fear at all, for I knew the kirkyard wall,
And could jump it, and take shelter where they should not find me then;
But though father was so dear, mother would not even hear
Of my running any risks among those wild and godless men.

She had thought out in her mind another way by which to blind
The foes if they suspected that he still was near at hand,
And she liked it all the rather that she thus could cheer our father
With the voices of the children, and the comforts she had planned.

There was one whom we could trust, as clearly now we must,
And we took him into counsel, and began our task straightway:
In a room on the ground floor there was a bed and little more,
And we hoped to hide him there, until he might get safe away.

Then we dug beneath the bed a hole to hide his honoured head,
Scraped the earth out with our fingers, till the nails were worn away,
And bore it in a sheet outside, until we did complete
The work we had in hand before the weary close of day.

605

Mother looked bright and brave, but I said 'twas like his grave,
And the box the man had made for it was like his coffin too:
But with holes in it for air, and a little room to spare,
And a mattress for his comfort, she thought that it might do.

The night was dark and wet, and before the watch was set,
I brought him safely home from his gruesome hiding-place;
And oh but she was glad, who had been of late so sad,
As she fell upon his bosom, and looked up into his face.

Then she'd make him a gay feast, and his wine should be increased
From a flask up to a flagon, and they two should dine alone,
As on their wedding day, when he bore his bride away,
A prouder, happier man than the king upon his throne.

Meanwhile the rain fell fast, and beneath the howling blast
Doors banged and windows rattled, and the old house seemed to rock;
But though the night was eerie, their hearts were very cheery,
And they only said the storm was hard on poor and homeless folk.

At length she rose to show his hiding-place below
The great bed by the wall, where none would surely seek for him;
But the box it was afloat, and leading like a boat
Which had gazened in the sunshine, till it scarce was fit to swim.

He smiled at our pet scheme, which had proved an idle dream,
But mother was so vexed, he would not tease her with a jest,
But gently stroked her hair, and bade her not despair;
That the rain should flood the old house no mortal could have guessed.

“Well, to-morrow's Wooler Fair,” he said, “and we should have horses there
If we would not lose the market. Let the man set forth to-night,
And let him take the highway, while I will take the byway,
And pick him up, I reckon, before the morning light.

“We must run some risk, indeed, but I know the fords of Tweed,
And there is no safety here, now suspicion is awake,
John will ride my good bay horse, and use it tenderly of course,
For none can tell how long a journey next day I must take.”

We had no time to waste, yet we must not seem in haste,
But as if we went on calmly in our ordinary way;
So the colts were all got ready by our trusty man and steady,
And father crossed the Border before the break of day.

Then we had a while to wait in a troubled, restless state,
Till tidings came from Holland he had landed on its coast,
Having been to Wooler Fair, and sold his horses there,
And got money in his purse to “pay the lawing of Mine Host.”