 | Songs and Poems by George Sigerson |  |
THE BONNIE BRIG O' MALEZAN
O bonnie brig o' Malezan, my heart is with you still,
And wanders down the rocky ridge unto your rushing rill,
And sees your trailing ivy sway, the tall trees o'er you wave,
But your wind's sigh,—it wounds my heart, like a low cry by a grave.
And wanders down the rocky ridge unto your rushing rill,
And sees your trailing ivy sway, the tall trees o'er you wave,
But your wind's sigh,—it wounds my heart, like a low cry by a grave.
O bonnie brig o' Malezan! 'tis I that loved you well,
And loved each spot your river roves by moor and mead and dell
With the great stream far below you, and the kindly mountains o'er
O bonnie brig o' Malezan—I may never see you more.
And loved each spot your river roves by moor and mead and dell
With the great stream far below you, and the kindly mountains o'er
O bonnie brig o' Malezan—I may never see you more.
21
Still early, early in the Spring, and late of Autumn eves,
I gladdened to the opening flower, and to the goldening sheaves,
All through the leafy Summer time, and through the winter's snow
My heart was high 'mid woods and hills or frosty vales below.
I gladdened to the opening flower, and to the goldening sheaves,
All through the leafy Summer time, and through the winter's snow
My heart was high 'mid woods and hills or frosty vales below.
Blow, leafy odours of the woods, from my far and fair countrie,
Lift up your gladsome voices, ye rivers rippling free,
While dawns the day o'er Balliskay, and sets on Barnusmore,
May happy hearts be near you still, though mine is sad and sore.
Lift up your gladsome voices, ye rivers rippling free,
While dawns the day o'er Balliskay, and sets on Barnusmore,
May happy hearts be near you still, though mine is sad and sore.
O snowy cloudlet, whither through the blue deep do you roam?
I dream I saw you long ago in the mountain lake at home.
My soul arises out of me, O shining silent star,
And trembles in your holy ray o'er slumbering scenes afar.
I dream I saw you long ago in the mountain lake at home.
My soul arises out of me, O shining silent star,
And trembles in your holy ray o'er slumbering scenes afar.
Ah, tell me, ye who still may dwell, beside the river bright,
Feel ye no wandering memories, in the still time of the night?
Deep in your heart no echo when my spirit passes nigh,
Whilst even they, beneath the grass, give answer to my cry?
Feel ye no wandering memories, in the still time of the night?
22
Whilst even they, beneath the grass, give answer to my cry?
My heart lives back in childhood, I weary much of life,
But love and longing cannot hide the battle-scars of strife,
And, crown of all unworthiness! from out the ranks to fail,
A sentry in a noble cause to falter and grow pale!
But love and longing cannot hide the battle-scars of strife,
And, crown of all unworthiness! from out the ranks to fail,
A sentry in a noble cause to falter and grow pale!
O ancient brig of Malezan, O grey with many storms,
From rock to rock your crescent springs, defiant all of harms,
Time has but made you, too, a rock, and with each passing day,
Still to your garland adds a leaf, and to your lays a lay.
From rock to rock your crescent springs, defiant all of harms,
Time has but made you, too, a rock, and with each passing day,
Still to your garland adds a leaf, and to your lays a lay.
Between your ramparts shadowy, how many feet have gone,
How many changing travellers your river has looked on,
My soul is struck with silence for the visions that sweep by
Between your ramparts shadowy, across your rills low cry.
How many changing travellers your river has looked on,
My soul is struck with silence for the visions that sweep by
Between your ramparts shadowy, across your rills low cry.
23
O lonely brig o' Malezan, O grey with sun and rime,
O symbol of the life that spans the hurrying flood of Time,
The Joys and Woes troop over you, they beat upon your breast,
Unheeded and uncared for, yet, in serving, not unblest.
O symbol of the life that spans the hurrying flood of Time,
The Joys and Woes troop over you, they beat upon your breast,
Unheeded and uncared for, yet, in serving, not unblest.
| Songs and Poems by George Sigerson | |