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University of Virginia Library

Lyrical Poems

By John Stuart Blackie

Blackie, John Stuart (1809-1895)

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I.

THE TWO MEEK MARGARETS.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JAMES RENWICK.

LINES WRITTEN IN WIGTON CHURCHYARD.

A SONG OF CARDINAL BEATON.

SUNDAY AT ETTRICK KIRK.

A SONG OF SCOTTISH HEROES.

THE MERRY BALLAD OF STOCK GEILL.

THE SONG OF MRS JENNY GEDDES.

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II.

BOOK II.POLYHYMNIA.

HYMN TO HELIOS.

THE WOOD-SORREL.

SABBATH EVENING IN ETTRICK.

THE COTTAGE MANSE.

THE JUNGFRAU OF THE LURLEI.

THE COVENANTER'S LAMENT.

SONG OF THE WINDS.

THE SCOTSMAN'S VOCATION.

SABBATH MORNING HYMN.

ODI PROFANUM VULGUS.

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III.

BOOK III.ERATO.

THE BOW-WINDOW.

MY LOVE IS LIKE A FLOWERING TREE.

DORA, HAST THOU EVER SEEN?

WHEN A WANDERING ME LISTETH TO GO.

LOVELY DORA, HAST THOU SEEN?

LET ME LOOK INTO THINE EYE!

O BLESSED ATMOSPHERE OF LOVE!

FANNY MACMURDOCH.

O STANEHIVE IS A BONNIE, BONNIE TOUN!

LOVE'S LULLABY.

WHEREFORE NOW NOR SONG NOR SONNET?

I'VE MADE A COVENANT WITH MINE EYES.

SPORT NOT WITH LOVE!

DINNA MIND MY GREY HAIRS.

JENNY'S SOLILOQUY.

THE BROWN GOWN.

WHO'S THERE, JANET?

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PLANTS.

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IV.

BOOK IV.EUTERPE.

MY WISH: AN IDYLL.

THE WEE HERD LADDIE.

THE OLD SOLDIER OF THE GARELOCH HEAD.

POUR FORTH THE WINE.

A SONG OF GLEN LUI BEG.

AUSTRALIAN EMIGRANT'S SONG.

THE CRICKET ON THE TREE.

STUDENT'S VACATION SONG.

THE WORKING MAN'S SONG.

THE GLENS OF NITHSDALE.

DREAMING DAVIE.

CONFESSION OF FAITH FOR ALL MEN.

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243

THE WORKING MAN'S SONG.

I am no gentleman, not I!
No bowing, scraping thing!
I bear my head more free and high
Than titled count or king.
I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no, no!
And only to one Lord on high
My head I bow.

I am no gentleman, not I!
No vain and varnished thing!
And from my heart without a die,
My honest thoughts I fling.

244

I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no, no!
Our stout John Knox was none—and why
Should I be so?

I am no gentleman, not I!
No mincing, modish thing!
In gay saloon a butterfly,
Some wax-doll Miss to wing.
I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no, no!
No moth, to sport in fashion's eye,
A Bond Street beau!

I am no gentleman, not I!
No bully, braggart thing!
With jockeys on the course to vie,
With bull-dogs in the ring.
I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no, no!
The working man might sooner die
Than sink so low!

I am no gentleman, not I!
No star-bedizened thing!

245

My fathers filched no dignity,
By fawning to a king.
I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no, no!
And to the wage of honesty
My rank I owe!

I am no gentleman, not I!
No bowing, scraping thing!
I bear my head more free and high
Than titled count or king.
I am no gentleman, not I!
No, no no!
And thank the blessed God on high,
Who made me so!