U*tt)Wi»tkltlkt: POEMS, LYRICS, SONGS, AM) SONNETS. •icc^ / \lMA4AyV OEMS. YRICS, ONGS. AND ON NETS. HY FRANCIS HENNOCH. F.S.A. " Though no bold flight to thee hcloiiK, And thnugh thy \.\y\ with con^ciouk fc*r. Shrink from judgment's eye severe, Yet much I thank ihec, Spirit of my Sonu, Kor, lovely Muse ! thy sweet employ Exalts my soul, refines mv breast. Gives each pure pleasure keener icst. And softens sorrsw into pensive Joy." CoLBRIDGK. LONDON: HARDWICKE AND BOGUE, 192, nCCADILLY. 1877- CHISWICK press:— C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS> COURT, CHANCERY LANE. TO MY Win:. TUB DEAR COM TAN ION Ol MT MANIIOOD. AND KVER MT TRUEST FRIEND AND Ul>T AI)VI^EU, 1 AFFECTIONATELT DKIUCATK THIS BOOK. FHANCiy BENNOCH. PREFACE. EARLY forty years ago I pub- lished a small volume of poems, which, to my surprise and de- light, was most favourably received by the public. Reviewers spoke kindly of it ; and several of the eminent poets of the time wrote to me encouragingly, whilst some advised me to adopt literature as a pro- fession. But Wordsworth, in one of seve- ral letters, couched in friendliest language, wliilst urging me to continue the study of poetry as a pleasure, quoted the opinion of viii PREFACE. Sir Walter Scott, that " poetry as a staff was a pleasant companion to walk with, but perilous as a crutch to lean upon;" and so I remained a man of business. At the same time I mingled freely and plea- santly with many of the foremost men in literature, art, and science. In some of the important movements in the metropolis, political, social, and charitable, it has been my good fortune to take an active part ; and in connection with several of them my name is still united. Like many others, I have enjoyed the blessings of prosperity, and like them too, suffered from adversity ; but, whether lifted high by popular applause, or cast down by public forgetfulness, I have always found my sweetest consolation and dearest plea- sure in my passion for poetry and in the practice of verse. My poems won for me the PREFACE. ix acquaintance and friendly correspondence of Wordsworth, Sodthey, Landor, Kingslet, Dickens, Haydon, Sir Henry Bishop, De Qdincey^ Charles Swain, Allan Cunningham, my Dalesman, whose kindness to me when a friendless youth in London, I ever gratefully remember, — and the fastidious Rogers, who frequently received me as a welcome guest at his agreeable break- fast-table. They made me a companion of many of our present leaders in literature and art, whose names for obvious reasons need not be printed here. Through my jverses I was introduced to the late Mary Russell Mitford. I was her visitor once a fortnight, for several years previous to her death. To me she committed the pleasure of gathering together and arranging for pub- lication her Dramatic Works, and to me they were dedicated. X PREFACE. That a volume so unpretending as mine sbonld have had so wide an influence has ever been to me a pleasant enigma. Yet, in addition to the names already referred to, it made me intimate with men of thought in France and Italy ; but more I especially in Germany, where Freilegbath (alas I no more), Kinkel, and Carl Elzb became my fast friends ; whilst in America I was honoured with the esteem of Bryant, Longfellow, Bayaud Taylor, Grace Green- wood, and that most genial of men, James T. Fields. But, above all, it opened to me the heart of Nathaniel Hawthorne, of whom I hardly dare venture to write. During the whole pwiod of his residence in Eng- land we were as brothers. My house was as his own home, and to me more than to any living man, was disclosed the inner workings of bis marvellous genius. Retiring, PREFACE. xi modest, and silent in general society ; he was ever joyous, outspoken, and cheerful Avith me. Those who read his English Notes will discover how intimate we were, and win judge how sacred I have held the privilege of such a friendship. At various times I have been urged to collect into a volume my scattered verses, but I have steadily declined to do so until I should be free from the daily anxiety of a mercantile life. Having slackened the cords and eased the collar of labour, I have now assented ; and this volume is the result. Perhaps it is unwise, possibly foolish; for the world can well allow such verses to drift into oblivion, or remain in their pre- sent comparative obscurity. Yet, when I find many of my rhymes from time to time reappearing in the press, all over the world, and occasionally honoured by being chosen xii PliEFA CE. for selections of English poetry, — and some- times with other names attached, — I think the time has come when I may fairly claim them as my own, and that this collection, may bo looked upon as, at most, an act of pardonable vanity. The compositions having extended over many years, a considerable diversity, — and possibly some incongruity, — of thought will doubtless appear. Condensation and not dif- fuseness has ever been my aim in writing. Having due regard to rhythm and harmo- nious cadence, my theory and practice has been to clothe my thought in the clearest language I could at the moment com- mand. The local colouring and general descrip- tion of scenery, — especially in the Scottish poems, — I know to be accurate, because they are drawn from nature. Even the terrors PBEFA CE. xiu of tho Winter are described from personal experience. As the son of a Scottish far- mer, it was my delight, if not my duty, to assi^ tho shepherd and servants for a long winter's night iu a terrible storm ; tho object being to keep tho sheep on the windward side of the fold, lest, if left on the leeward side for shelter, they should be smothered iu the di'ift and lost. /. Ingathering together my scattered verses, as far as I have been able, I have enjoyed considerable pleasure, and been moved by many conflicting emotions arising from the 'reawakening of long -slumbering experi- ences. Poems unread for thii-ty years or more, arouse many pleasant and some pain- ful memories. Their appearance now will, I dare say, surprise many of my associates, who have hitherto only looked upon me as a merchant, or as a hard-headed financier, to xiT PREFACE. whom the beauties of nature or the graces of poetry conld have little fascination. Here, however, is the book, and here I close my preface, with the full assurance that friends and readers, whether they open the IxKik from kindliness or from curiosity, will pive it whatever credit, and do it all the justice, it deserves. Francis BEXxocn. I'J, TAVISTOrK SylAllK, Junt 2'Mh, 1877. CONTENTS. 11F. Stomi Sir liiilplj ik" ItayiK- and Liliuit CJny . To the Mfiiiory of Godwin Tlw Mourner's IIoj>e The Wntk "Tlie Foumllinjj Wonls .... My Hooks Lthic.*, So\«;8, aki> Sovskts Hast thou a Friend '/ \Vhi) tlares to Scorn ? ^ Muv-duv Life '. Miinstii'ld My Ikmnie Woe Witie A Thi^ufrht Our Weddin? Day . Toi^etliiT I>-ive and Beauty Our Sliip Truth and Honour . The Lime-tree Sing, Lady, Sing Ix)ndon . First Verses in an Album The Switzers Song P»ffe I 1>5 45 47 :)4 5S t,l Ci c: 71 76 7S M ><-2 8. J S.'i 86 87 89 91 93 94 90 97 coy TENTS. Kclief Mine Lrnics, Etc. (conlinucd) : — Past ami Present . Florence Nifjhtingalo The Irish Gleaner . (.) Say not they are Past Eva Minnie's Isle . Sonjj — My IX-ar Minnie " The liud is on the Bng Marian . A History To the Mills Away Song for the Sason Smi^ — The Setting Sun Helit'ctions O. What are You Doing What Is It? . My Uwn Masonic Song Love and Marriage, in Fi Love's Consolation . Dying . Minnie an' Me Adam Brown and Jeanie The Auld, Auld Story — Lasses lieware Coila .... To the ilcmory of Bums iye Stanzas Kennedy CONTEyTS. xvii Lyhics, Etc. {continued) : — I'uge Niih 176 TIk' Biinrs Return . . . . 178 Nith Hevisiteil 180 Tyiiron (JIcmi— Tlio Shinnel . Soiif: -SiMiil tlic Brimniing Glasses Houn 182 d 184 The lioiinif Bunks u" Dve 186 C(>urfthi|) ..... 188 190 Tlio Dominie 1D2 Nat 11 ml Thilosopliv 193 TlieT.Hlior . '. 197 Tlie Sottish Gathering . 198 I Dinnii Ken what is the Matter Ava •J 00 Pride Maun Learn to Fa ! a 03 My Joluinv Son;; — (,) Jenny was Bonny . :i06 •J08 My Buirnie ..... 210 S.->n;jj— t)li Life it is Dreary . ■21'2 The rarling ai3 Margaret 214 Willie 215 To Isabel 216 The Dyini,' Daughter 217 The Shepiierd's I'laidie . 219 The Bonnie Bin! .... 220 Song — O Stay wi' me now, Lassie . 221 Kate 222 The CoTenanters .... 224 Sandy's Coming .... 226 The iliz/ies 228 MyAinWife 231 Commemorative Song 233 What's Her Name? 234 Wae's My Life .... 235 Nannie Bell 236 Song — Steek the Door 238 Song — Dinna Hinner Me 240 I Will Lippen Thee, Lassie . 242 Isa ...... 244 On Receiving a Bunch of Violets . 246 Glen Valentine .... 247 xviii CONTESTS. LvRics, Etc. (contintud) :— To My Mother . In Memoriam The Briiist'd Flower Uver tho Hills The Maid ..t" Alton Vale Mary .... TIr- Pipinp Shepherd B«v A I'oet's Wife A Ttx-t's Daujjjhter Never IX'S])air To Nathanifd Ilawihorne A ISketi'h from Memory What Love is Like Fair and Brii-f An A]>peal for Peace Lines \\'ritten During Illness Love's Potency My Spirit Love E.xile's Song Welcome is Night The Tide will Turn Three Meetings Wallissellen . Duchess of Argyle and Her Son Neil Gow's Oak Watching and Waiting To Mary — Maiden To Mary— Wife . The Fisher-boy "s Vision My Lady Love The Tinie to Marry Home Love . To Whom we Bow Pity Me! Musings in May, 1875 Bessie has Come . The Trance . Garjiel Glen — A Memory The East The Dignity of Labour Polish Exile's Dream CONTENTS. xix Ltuics, Etc. {continued) :— PiiK* She Camo Ainonj; Us . 319 I Canna be Fashed .... 321 The Maiden's Friend .... 323 W(X>ing and Weddinjj . . . . 325 I Will Try . . . 327 • S0NNKT8:— Howard 330 Wordswurtlj 331 HaynH n temi)est,— and, the voynee o'er. Death is the quiet haven of us all ! " — Wordsworth. j^^^^i^ " The goandiog cataract Haunteil mo like a passiini : the tall nK-k, The mnimtuiu, and the deep and fjliHiray wijod. Their i-ulours and their fi>rin», were then to me An ap|ietite ; a feeling ami a love. That had no need of a remoter charm By thooghts (applied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye." WoBDSWORTH. THE STOR>r. I'.VHT I. Hi; S]iiiiit, — my only boy, — My life, — my love, — my hope, — my joy ! My thoughts are with thee night and day. And, as thou lov'st thy mother, pray That He may all thy actions bless Who only is the orphan's stay, The ' Father of the fatherless ! ' " " I thank thee, my mother! — thy blessing is dear To my soul as the sun to the dawTiing year, — As drops of rain to the paichrd tongue. As kisses of love when the heart is young ! THE STORM. .} Ere Winter comes with iey chain And chinks his t'cttei-s o'er tlie ground, Dear mother, I'll return a