University of Virginia Library

With gesture odd, and smirking smile,
The Roddam Virgin stood,
And thus, in metaphoric style,
Her comrades laughing all the while,
Harangued them as she view'd:
“Sylvander, ply! and all your sail,
Spread, Anna, out, to catch the gale;
In battle Nelson ne'er can fail;—
On then, and bear away!
The Berwick Smacks are coursing nigh,
Their sails are out, their colours fly;
They come—in triumph gay!
Oh! had we been behind—to chase;
Warm were the hindmost in the race,
And wish'd-for long the bay:
Our vessels—firm, expert, and sound,
Had run their feeble barks aground;
And dash'd against the rocky shore,
Till sailors scorn'd to board them more.
Down, Anna, and at least retain
What space we have, or rather gain,—
Up, Calder, yet for aye!”
She wav'd her sickle round in air,
And merrily lilted “Calder Fair,”
Then stooping, with extended stride,
Struck boldly o'er the ridge's side!

Nor with less might the Tweedmouth band
And strokes far-sweeping, bared the land;
Their faces glow'd with heat and ire,
Red in their eyes was seen the fire;—
They heard, nor answered her harangue,
Save with the sickles' quicker clang;
And bearing onward, doubly keen,
Till scarce an inch was left between,
With foot to foot they swept away,
And fired again the flagging fray!

The flame pours on!—Along the rank
The well-plied sickles faster clank:
For now they near the head-land drew,
Where stones lay thick, and thistles grew;
And ere these stalks be level'd low
What wounds may ope, what blood may flow?
Ye Farmers! while your fields are green,
Oh, careful bid your virgins clean;
Nor let one angry thistle tower,
To mar the glee of Harvest hour;
Make some Sylvander's brow ungay,
Some lovely Anna lose the day!

'Twas thou, fair Anna! form'd to charm,
And Mary old, with ardour warm,
That young Sylvander's skilless arm
Did dext'rously supply!
And certain his defeat had been,
Had he the blood of Anna seen,
Instead of that which trickled sheen
From Nelson's hand—whose die,
Blushing upon her toil-clear'd hook,
And every handful that she took,
Though seen by her with careless look,
Caught Anna's pitying eye;
Sweet Anna's heart was good and kind,
And, heedless of the day,
Her fingers strove a cloth to find;
But Nelson gave it to the wind—
“Away, away, away!
What! stop me now—the end so nigh!
And what is blood to victory?”
She cried and join'd the fray.
Albert had seen the accident
And, inly flutter'd for th'event—
The word to stop the kemp just hung
Impatient on his trembling tongue;
But when he saw them start again,
And still the foremost of the train,
He turn'd him from the bustling crowd,
And laugh'd at Mary long and loud!
The soldier heard his master's glee;
The blacksmith rear'd his bulk to see;
The joiner bade, with loving smile,
His fav'rite maid behold the toil;
E'en pensive Norman, left afar,
Stood up and view'd the distant war!

With zeal redoubled on they press;
Thy foot, fair Anna! treads the ness.
On, Anna, on! thy nimble hand
Can best the circling blade command.
On! swiftly stoop, and, stretching o'er,
With sweeping stroke lead down before;
Thy gather'd handfuls, hurried, fling
Into Sylvander's ready string;
Rough is thy ridge from brow to brow,
But Albert will excuse it now:
On, Anna, on!—'Tis done! 'tis done!
The field is thine—the hedge is won!

The loveliest of the reaper-train
Had scarce a moment ceas'd to strain,
When the last rustling stalks were seen
To fall before their ardour keen.
So far at last old Mary struck,
Fast in the earth her sickle stuck;
Edward rush'd out—and, high in glee,
Rodammia's maid cried “Victory!”—
Yet not a minute did they stand
Ere sprung to end the Tweedmouth band.