Lays of St. Andrews ' Clement Bryce Gunn of Printed by JOSEPH COOK & SON, St. Andrews. LAYS OF ST. ANDREWS CLEMENT BRYCE GUM, M.D. (EDIN.), EDITOR OF lales ot the 'Ihvee f nzsts, xif fleeble*." ST. ANDREWS : JOSEPH COOK & SON, 17 and 18 Church Street, and 80 Market Street. 1894. MATRUM OPTIMA ITINERUM HORUM COMITI SOMNIA. CONTENTS. I. ST. ANDREWS BY TWILIGHT FROM THE PIER, .... 7 II. STATIONS OF THE CROSS, 9 III. ST. MARY'S PROVOSTRY, - - 11 IV. THE WITCHES' POOL, - -13 V. THE TOWER OF ST. REGULUS, - 17 VI. THE TEREBINTH OF TEARS, - - 20 VII. THE CEMETERY, SAINT ANDREWS, 23 VIII. ALONE UPON SAINT REGULUS TOWER, 26 IX. QUAEDAM UMBRAE, 29 X. THE LAST SAINT, - - - - 33 XI. A SUMMER SEA FROM THE CASTLE, 35 XII. THE PASSING OF THE PRINCIPAL, - 37 XIII. THE STONE CHRIST ON ST. SALVATORS, 40 XIV. THE WELL DESERTED, - - 43 XV. THE BOTTLE DUNGEON, 46 XVI. THE HOSPICE OF SAINT REGULUS, - 49 XVII. ON THE TOWER AN AUTUMN EVE, 53 XVIII. THE LADE BRAES AUTUMN, - 55 XIX. DIVINE SERVICE IN THE TOWN CHURCH, 57 XX. THE LAST WALK SUNDAY EVENING, 60 I. garni Jlnbrctos by ttoilixjht, from the Per. mystic City of the night ! 1 view thee through the darkling eve Which wraps the harbour, where one fain Would sit and fitful fancies weave. O ghostly town ! O past renown ! O City of the Martyr's Crown ! Westward a dull gold afterglow Lights up the Heav'n where set the sun, And in its radiance low'r the spires Still standing amid ruin done. O fretted glade ! O pitying shade ! Concealing havoc wanton made. 8 St. Andrews by Twilight. The glory fills the oriel, And shines through darkness to the sea; As anciently at Vcspertime The altar-lights shone cheerfullie. O light now spent ! O Temple rent ! O service closed when Priestcraft went! And doth Tintagil mirkly loom, That castle by the rocky strand, That with the city seems to sink Immcrged amid the sodden sand? O Lyonnesse That waves caress ! O Phantasy of Saintliness ! And thus one sits, and fancy flits From things toShades which comeandgo; The air is peopled by their Ghosts, And Priests and Saints pass to and fro. But hark that knell ! Saint Saviour's Bell Bids them and me a soft Farewell ! II. gtation* at the Cross. At Saint Salvator's lychgate hoar, Within the sound of ocean's roar, The Protomartyr Hamilton, The Cross of pain first bravely bore. Then Forrest by the Convent Wall In turn obeyed the Master's call " Take up the Cross and follow Me," And cast a beacon- glare o'er all. It shone from Fife across the Bay, , Where Angus hills loom faraway, And Forfar folks said Malison, And recked not of the Dawning Day. And Wishart at the Castle gate, Where gazed the Cardinal in state, In turn the Cross of Suffering bore, And nobly tholed his fateful fate. io Stations of the Cross. And last of all, frail Henry Mill, Though fourscore years their measure fill, Conveyed the Cross the final stage, And by the Pends fulfilled God's will. The Via Dolorosa trod, Their souls returned again to God ; Their words and testimony live, And still rolls on the ocean broad ! II III. aint ^atg's flrflbosttB. Saint Mary's Provostry, Kirkheugh, An ancient ruined holy cell, Whose chants are now the breezes' sough, Diapasoned with ocean's swell. Thy ruins stand a book unsealed, And in them lurks a mystery Sections of columns half concealed Of long-forgotten history. A Celtic Cross with carven scroll, Imbedded lies in masonry; The Altar occupies the knoll, Long robbed of sacred blazonry. A Nave and Chancel unstraight built, Intent or error who can tell? . And 'gainst them lies the sandy silt Of centuries that ages spell. 1 2 Saint Mary's Provostry. An Alma Mater is this Fane, To that Cathedral proud and high, Whose turrets rise in cold disdain, Unmindful of low ancestry. For centuries in ages dark, Its Altar-light shone o'er the deep, And cheered the distant fishing-bark, Whose toilers work while others sleep. On foreign fleets in war away, On embassies in times of peace, On wrecks half hid 'mid blinding spray, Those stones have gazed in scant surcease. And now survives a ruined Nave, Dwarf Transepts, and a Chancel bent, Of Knight and Dame the erstwhile grave, Of byegone rites the Monument ! 13 IV. y the quaint title 'Grave of St. Kici-an s Housemaid.'" A PvLgrimnije. on the Anniversary of Saint Kieran, Sep. X, 23 VII. tenttetg, aint JLnbrctos. God's Rood within the Convent wall, Encircled by the sounding sea, A blest abode of sunlit peace; A smiling land it seems to me. No dread of death its beauty haunts, No spectral phantom of the grave ; But God's own glory lights the Garth, And gilds the wrecked Cathedral Nave, The peace of God broods o'er the scene, Broke only by the murm'ring sea ; In drowsy monotone that breaks But mars not Heaven's harmony. Wellnigh in love with 'easeful death r ; This sacred soil enamours one To yield the fevered fretful life, And slumber here when all is done, c 24 The Cemetery, Saint Andrews. Beneath the ruined Abbey Wall In company with saintly men, One's dust might rest the Spirit flit, And visit this' sweet scene again. And in the gloaming dusk, the note Of sweet Saint Saviour's bell would peal, And permeate with melody, And o'er the spirit softly steal. God's acre this in very truth, The pride of intellect lies here ; The learn ed,thegood,the brave, thestrong, Without reproach, withouten fear. And yet methinks the heart is touched, By one lone spot of strangers' graves, Where rest at last the sailors done To death, amid the raging waves. But not to-day are storm-tossed seas, The ocean smiles blue and serene, And gently laps the rocky coast, And sparkles in the sunny sheen. TJie Cemetery, Saint Andrews. 25 And stern Saint Regulus stands grim Amid the fastly filling sward ; Men come, men go, the ages roll, His tower o'er all keeps watch and ward. 26 VIII. Jllonc npon itmt JUgulus Around me on the bartizan God's living Presence lies, His ./Ether breathing life and love diffus- ing to the skies ; And at one's feet the Academic City westward trends, Each ancient street convergingly to the Cathedral wends The apex of the city life all paths lead to the Grave Hard bye the ruined pillared arcades of the roofless nave. Afar, the azure ocean scintillates in morning light And rumbling murmurs from its waters vibrate in the height ; And through the murmur run the chimes from many a city spire, Each gleaming through the seaborn haze like pinnacles of fire. Alone upon Saint Regulus Tower. 27 At once in circling sweep, with voice untuned, wild seafowl sped, Like tortured spirits blindly flying rising from the dead ; But through their cry a burst of song wafts on the fitful breeze, Ascending from the Priory Choir lodged amid the trees ; Then on the seafowl whirled and vanished on their devious ways, While still uprose the warbled hymn a melody of praise. And thus methought 'tis so with man, misfortunes may come fleet, Yet fleetly pass and leave to rise God's music full and sweet. Alone with God I hold this tower and gaze upon the earth, One's worries vanish, hope revives, ideals have their birth, Would that they lived to fructify, alas for man is weak, 28 Alone upon Saint Regulus Tower. Our heavenly glimpses weaker grow as earth one's footsteps seek. But still these meditative moments serve to feed the fire, Of love divine which glows in each and force one to aspire. 29 IX. Umbrae, t. Jtnbrctos. A city of deep mystery, This Classic town of Academic lore, Which Souls who once made history As Shades pervade though clothed in flesh no more. Their Presence fills the atmosphere, When night benignant mother darkles deep, And no sound stirreth save the moan Of melancholy waves which never sleep. And Belfries Aereal pour Soft hourly chimes upon the list'ning night ; 'Tis then the ghostly Shadows throng, Assuming phantom outlines to thesight. Faint strains of heavenly music swell, A glimm'ring flicker lights the mid- night hour, 30 Quaedem Umbrae, St. Andrews. And shows a Form in shadow wrapt ; Saint Regulus is hov'ringo'er his tower. Dim will-o-wisps light up the nave, Whose ruined walls rise gaunt against the sky, And in their feeble sparks one sees A crowd of Ghosts stripped of mortality. Churchmen and Laymen jostle close, As fleeting clouds upon an autumn breeze ; And many a Form of high degree And low, are what the awestruck gazer sees. The Martyred and the Slayers here Are mingled, and have long since found the right ; And some who struck and some who tholed, Their small selves view in the Eternal Sight. Quaendam Umbrae, St. Andrews. 31 And Betoun, the proud Cardinal, With Norman Leslie's Shadow standing by, In dread no longer, for is sealed The doom of every mortal as they die. And One far-seeing in his age, Who guided Scotland in her darksome day, And founded Saint Salvator's, strode With golden mace good Bishop Kennedy. The Shades of Prelates muster well Their ghostly phantom Hierarchy round, And all the names in history, With scores unnoted, here as Shades are found. And Sharpe, first Presbyter, then Priest, In blood-stained cassock shuffles dimly by; Two Churches showed him how to live, Andyetthemurdered prelate had to die. 32 Quaedam Umbrae, St. Andrews. And Chastelar perfervid soul, The luckless lover of a lovely Queen, A headless Shade pervades the night Alone in grim and solitary mien. And clanking chains a group reveal, George Wishart, Forrest, saintly Hamilton, And Henry Mill the old and last To burn as martyrs 'mid priests' malison. And in the witches' neuk old dames, The tortured martyrs of Kirk Session Rule, Sit cow'ring, chatt'ring by themselves, In bitter memory of former dule. But night advances, and the sough Of rising breezes tells of coming dawn ; Light streams in pencils from the east, And all the ghostly Shades have ghostly gone! 33 X. |tot atnt. There stands upon the Abbey Wall Without restraint, Sole relic of its statues all A broken Saint ! A stone Madonna and the Child, In mute complaint, Wrecked remnant of the shrines defiled A lonely Saint ! Why spared the mob this statue lone ? Did rage grow faint ? And late repentance pity own, For one poor Saint ? Or haply the Iconoclast, With reason quaint, Spared her as symbol of the past "A sample Saint ! 34 The Last Saint And now the Virgin holds the gate, In stony plaint ! A vain appealing against fate From one last Saint ! Nor need we for a ritual dead, Of grief make feint, The time was full, the day had sped- For Priest and Saint ! But later days will hail a creed Withouten taint ; Eternal truth from error freed Replace the Saint 35 XI. Jl gttmmcc ca ^rom the Otastk, The scintillating silent sea Here stilly slumbers in the sun, Encurtained by a misty haze, And hushed its deep diapason. The faintest streak of lightest foam, A tiny ripple on the shore, Alone betoken slumb'ring force, The whisper of a giant's roar. The wavelets roll the fragile shells, Intact sea urchins up the sand, But those same waters wrecked brave barks, Whose ribs loom gauntly on the strand. The offing lowers hazily Around the circle of the sea, And veils from curious scrutiny A depth of secret mystery. 36 A Summer Sea. Perchance then this the reason why Beyond the grave no sea exist, Its secrets, partings, depths, and storms, With boundless bliss may not consist. And by these Colleges and Towers, And ruins of a mighty past, Its waves have rolled for aeons long, And roll they will while time shall last. Then muse no more upon a theme Whose ancientness scorns vain essay ; No voice can tell its mighty spell, Its poesy and mystery. 37 XII. Jte&ing of tht JDriitcipal. The Very Rev Principal Cunningham, D.D. buried Sep. 6, Under the Limes 'mid sonorous chimes, That sadden the afternoon ; With mournful tone 'neath leaves russet grown, That fall to the breezes' croon. With measured beat up the ancient street, Furth of the College they go; And leaves rustling fall on the funeral pall, Whispering gently and slow. They bear to his grave, past the ruined nave, The aged and worn Principal, A Schoolman of thought from the School where he taught, To his grave by the convent wall. 38 The Passing of the Principal. And there within sound of sea and in ground Holy and peacefully fair, Ashes and earth to their kind in the Garth They leave to commingle there. Safe happed 'neath the sod, and the soul to God Has returned and truth discerned ; How vain are the Schools, and the wisest fools, In light of verity learned. And the Scarlet Gown has marched back to town, And Presbyter gone and Priest, And noble by birth 1 and noble of earth 2 Have left their chief to his rest. And the grey old stones in their monotones, Look dim now the robes have gone, That varied the view in diversified hue, 'Gainst tombs on the grassy lawn. The Passing of the Principal 39 So the pageant hath passed that cometh at last, Though humbler to you and me ; But that sad band had environment grand, In the city by the sea. 1. The Most Noble the Marquess of BUTE, Lord Rector. 2. Very Rev. Principal CAIRO, D.D. D 40 XIII. <