The poetical works of John Nicholson ... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird |
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 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
Oft in mischievous sport these took delight,
And made the sable evening clouds be bright
With fiery turf, with heath, and brackens dry.
The heath soon blazed, and seemed to light the sky;
As if some great volcano there had been,
And blushed the clouds as they beheld the scene.
Philo would talk of Ida's mighty flame,
When blazed the woods, and liquid iron came;
Compare it then to Ætna in his mirth,
And spoke of Herculaneum swept from earth;
Then talk of great Vesuvius' mighty blaze,
And wished that he could on its terrors gaze.
The furious flames now to a circle spread
A mile around, and tinged the smoke with red:
Then came the besom-makers with a shout,
And with their besoms strove to dash it out;
Singed with the flames, they could not heat abide,
For they with brooms as soon had stopped the tide.
The ling was deep, and old and strong the bed,
Dry was the night—the flames in fury spread
To such extent, that nought could stop their force,
Till not a branch of heath was in their course.
Where first the fire began the youths were lain,
Vowing they ne'er would fire the heath again.
Their other fires some acres swept away,
This blackened many hundreds ere 'twas day:
An emblem this of drink—we take a quart,
Perhaps some spirits, ere from friends we part,
And then another glass, perhaps the same,
Till folly spreads into a foolish flame.
And made the sable evening clouds be bright
With fiery turf, with heath, and brackens dry.
The heath soon blazed, and seemed to light the sky;
As if some great volcano there had been,
And blushed the clouds as they beheld the scene.
Philo would talk of Ida's mighty flame,
When blazed the woods, and liquid iron came;
Compare it then to Ætna in his mirth,
And spoke of Herculaneum swept from earth;
Then talk of great Vesuvius' mighty blaze,
And wished that he could on its terrors gaze.
133
A mile around, and tinged the smoke with red:
Then came the besom-makers with a shout,
And with their besoms strove to dash it out;
Singed with the flames, they could not heat abide,
For they with brooms as soon had stopped the tide.
The ling was deep, and old and strong the bed,
Dry was the night—the flames in fury spread
To such extent, that nought could stop their force,
Till not a branch of heath was in their course.
Where first the fire began the youths were lain,
Vowing they ne'er would fire the heath again.
Their other fires some acres swept away,
This blackened many hundreds ere 'twas day:
An emblem this of drink—we take a quart,
Perhaps some spirits, ere from friends we part,
And then another glass, perhaps the same,
Till folly spreads into a foolish flame.
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |