Shifting Scenes and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

No royal palace was prepared for him;
No silent courtiers slid from room to room,
Gathering together in the gorgeous gloom
Of purple hangings, drooping rich and dim;
For him no silver cressets shed their light,
No eager joy-bells sounded through the night
From city minster, or from village tower,
No loud hurrahs, sent from deep-chested men

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Lifted the midnight mist from off the glen
In celebration of his natal hour;
No hush of deep expectance filled the earth;
No cry rose rich with gladness at his birth;
The noble revelled at his sumptuous hall;
The beauty bloomed and languished at the ball;
The drowsy miller scolded at the mill;
The peasant slept beneath the misty hill;
The heavens were still; no shaggy lightnings came
To burn the midnight in their eager ire;
No mighty portent, with a pen of fire,
Scribbled upon the dark the poet's name;
He came and no man knew it; no man knew
The wondrous boon to Scotland given;
That there—beneath that grim and wintry blue—
A glorious poet, strong and true,
Had newly dropped from heaven!