II f • ■:! y.V.- :^r7' 11 1 i[ i\ : i ■ f.'r^i^^: ■M\. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES Noble Love. Vt^'T-^ <^ ^2eS^^^^ NOBLE L O \' E AND OTHER POEMS r,v COLIX RAE-BROWN. <^^ LONDON: WILLIAM SKEF'FIXGTOX. 163. PICCADILLY 1871. W. H. HODOE AND CO., PRINTERS, RATHBONE PLACE, W. "Tu^ NOBLE LOVE, AS EXEMPLIFYING A PHASE OF ENGLISH CHARITY IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE BARONESS BURDETT COUTTS. 942417 CONTENTS NOBLE LOVE. Page Proem . . . . • • • • • • • ■ ^ Book L .. .. .. •■ •• •• 4 Book IL .. •• •■ ■• •• ..12 Book IIL .. . . .. .. ■• 23 Book IV. .. .. .. .. .. ..28 The Light of the World . . . . . . . . 36 Glory . . . . . . . . . . ■ ■ -43 The Scottish Emigrant . . . . . . . . 49 viii Contents. Robert Burns.. .. .. .. • • 57 Fallen . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 Won and Lost .. .. .. .. ..71 Albert the Good .. .. .. .. 74 On the Clyde .. .. .. -77 Momentous Questions .. .. .. 80 Life in Earnest . . . . . . . . 84 Men or Monkeys? .. .. .. .. .. 86 Let There be Light .. .. .. .. .. gi Fading . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 Five Hundred.. .. loi Forsaken .. .. .. .. .. .. 106 The Mariners .. .. .. .. .. log Starved to Death.. .. .. .. 113 Korner . . . . . . . . . . 117 The Caged Lark .. .. .. .. 123 Outsiders .. .. .. .. .. .. 125 The Poet's Mission .. .. 128 Contents. OUTLINES IN VERSE. page The Jew of Sidon . . . . . . . . . . 135 Autumn Leaves . . . . . . . . . . 143 Over the Sea My Love Clouds 145 Farewell to the Heather .. . .. 149 " Shakspeare " . . .. .. .. .. ..151 Master Love . . . . . . . . . 153 My Mother .. .. .. .. .. ..155 Good Walter . . . . . . . . . . 157 Over the Mountains . . . . . . , . . . 159 Idols . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Far, Far Away .. .. .. .. .. 163 A Wedding Gift .. .. .. .. .. 165 Home Revisited .. .. .. .. .. 167 Love's Eden . . . . . . . . . . 169 The Inner World .. .. .. .. .. 171 173 175 War and Conquest .. .._ .. .. 177 Coiittiits. Under the Cloud .. .. .. .. 179 Crystallyne .. .. .. .. 181 Harvest Hymn . . . . . . . . 183 Let Hope he Evek Young . . . . . . . . 185 Bonnie In\ermay .. .. .. .. .. 1S7 The Spikit-Goal .. .. .. iSg Waterloo .. .. .. .. ..191 Deceit . . . . . . . . . . 193 Childhood . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 Free Fatherland .. .. .. .. 196 Prose or Poesie ? . . . . . . . . . . 198 PROEM READ not the lowliness of thy estate, For ev'ry eager, earnest-purposed soul There is a highway to nobility. First know thyself, and then an orbit choose Where thou canst move and shine — diffusing light, Yet being its recipient evermore. Above, beneath, around us — and within Our own mysterious beings — Knowledge dwells. Nor are the most exalted heights of fame Denied to him whose accident of birth Precludes the hope of adventitious aid. Brave leaders in the forward march of mind — In purpose strong — have from the ranks upiis'n, Onward and upward toiling, undismayed. Until the goal was gained, the guerdon won. What though we heir not titles, or broad lands ? B Proem. The glorious empires of recorded thought — The boundless worlds of mind-^are all our own : By these enriched, no man need think him poor, Or murmur at the meanness of his birth : Ennobled by their wealth, the peasant may To intellectual monarchy aspire, And win and wear its crown right regally ! Had Burns lived only for his humble plough, Content to master matter and observe The varied aspects of successive crops. How much the poorer must the world have been- Nor threw he off the yoke of honest toil While summering amongst the flowers of song, But plodded ever on in Labour's track Through all the changing seasons and the years. Untutored minds bewail the lack of time, And sigh tor leisure and reflective ease; But thev who walk betimes \n wisdom's paths, And pile her treasures up for future days. Are never destitute of inward joys. Thus heavenward souls communion ever have With things immortal, while the outward man. Proem. In business diligent — improving time — But spins or weaves, or hews the sturdy oak; Or sows, or reaps, or drives his team afield ; Or quarries strata after strata up ; Or buys or sells, or builds or breaketh down ; Or guides his rapid pen through ledger-lore ; Or steers his vessel "midst the howling storm ; Or leads his army on, like Havelock. Such lives are jewels in the crown of God, And through Eternity shall sparkle there — No limit to the setting of that crown, No soul so lowly that it may not rise And add a glory to His diadem ! NOBLE LOVE. BOOK FIRST. \'ANDER was a child of charitv, An orphan even from his earliest years — And owning nothing; but the honoured name And brave achievements of a humble sire, Bequeathed ere yet his tongue that name could lisp ; While, all too soon for her dear babe's good thrift, The widow'd mother, pining, droopt and died. A British sailor of tlie noblest stamp, Evander's father at his post expired. His lion heart, witliout a tremor, felt The life-blood oozing from a deadly wound — Tiller in hand, the word was, " Hard-a-port," He ran the braggart foe-ship bravely down, Breathed his last prayer, and died a hero's death ! We bless thee, England, for thy Charities, Noble Love. Dispensing blessings great as manifold, Ever distilling Mercy's precious dews In fruitful showers with healing virtues fraught : In one of these Evander found a home And, 'midst its comforts, soon unlearn'd his loss. Blest with a kindly matron's sympathy — Her fond endearments gaining rich reward In his young heart's outwelling gratitude — The boy grew up contented with his lot : God ble?.s -hy charities, dear Native Land ! God bless the Givers ! bless them, one and all ! -Friends ever are inestimable gifts, And worthy of our dearest love — our constant care Life wanting such becomes a joyless round Yielding no smiles in joy, no tears in grief — O bind them strongly with the cords of love ! Forgive the hasty word, forget the fault Which they, ingenuous, seek not to conceal. To what shall we compare Sincerity — A sun whose bright effulgence never sets — A star whose lustre fades not with the dawn — A bow of peace that never disappears : Noble Love. A bright green spot on Care's wide sterile waste- A shclt'ring tree whose leafage never fails — A well of living waters, deep and cool ; A helper o'er Life's hard and stony paths : A trusty pilot through Time's stormy seas — A faithful chart, and compass ever true — A beacon set amidst the shoals and reefs — A safe, unshifting, pleasant anchorage : A rock whose hrm ft)undations never shake : A watchful sentinel that never sleeps — A weapon to defend, not to def\' ; A clasping hand that never grows reiaxt — A breast that never harbours cold deceit — A voice whose utterance is ever true : A home to which the trusting heart repairs When cold Adversity hath winnow'd friends — • Life's never failing, ever true delight—? The gentle boy became an ardent youth And forth adventured on the world's wide way : Begirt with principles of sternest mould He strove but to excel where virtue led, So grew in favour and advancement mt-t. Oft 'Wanted leisure, as a rc-reward. Noble Love. 7 He roamed afar through intellectual climes And culled the fairest flowers that in them grew. Though in luxuriance, as in grace and strength, His 3'oung imagination revelled free, He had betimes been taught, and ever strove, To prune and train its rich fertility — Thus, like a goodly plant, in kindly soil. Well cared for ev'ry day, it throve apace. External Nature, and the God it preacht, A fervent worshipper in him had found — At morn, at noon, at twilight's pensive hour, Or when the dark of contemplative Night Revealed Creation's vast magnificence. He never sighed for Autumn's falling leaves, Or grieved when Winter sealed fruition up. But saw in ev'ry change a law fulfilled : He dearly loved the young and bright-eyed Spring That jewels earth with buds and promise flowers, Jonquil and crocus, snowdrop and blue bell. How fresh, how gay, how beautiful is Spring ! How pleasant to the sight its opening charms, How welcome its exhilarating air, 8 Noble Love. How sweet the joyous carol of its birds ! The quicken'd grain shoots through the yielding soil, Its tomb that was, its smiling birthplace now, Re-robing Earth with tender greenery: All nature lives again to gladden Man — Breathing to Heaven an incense-laden hymn — O that his heart, renewed, could so rejoice, And, with pure off'rings, glad his inner world ! Thou art all bright and beautiful, sweet Spring ! Thy silv'ry streamlets, dancing down the hills. Leap joyously into the glens deep pools, And thence emerge — in silent, shining forms That wend their way to fill pellucid lakes, Whence flow the rivers on their seaward way. The young year's sun is prodigal of light — Arrayed at early morn in brilliant state, He scattereth sublime irradiance And with transccndant glory Hoods the world : New life and being calling into play. The mountain and the valley he makes glad — Benignantly revivifying all. Season of Hope, be gracious unto us. Revive our bodies, and our souls relume. Noble Love. And be true herald of a coming time When Error shall forsake God's noblest work, And disenthralled mind have sov'reign sway ! Evander loved the promise-laden Spring, But he adored the Summer's golden prime, And oft hath told how, at the early dawn, He sought the summit of a fav'rite cliff And watched the Morn put forth her lovely arms — To draw apart the filmy folds of cloud That screened her virgin couch : she, smiling thence, As joy-expe(5tant as a fair young bride Whose love's blest consummation is at hand. Beneath him lay the sea, waveless and still. Stretching far out — away, and yet awaj — A vast expanse that kissed the distant sky. At times, a whisp'ring breeze passed o'er his head And down the cliffs, saluting on its way The lone sea-flower, and shaking off the dew; Or, floating o'er the sea, blew ripples up. That danced with glee as rose the King of Day — Who spent his hours dispensing wreathed smiles. Then sank to rest in mellow radiance robed : An amber, deep'ning to a crimson glow, lo Noble Love. That with rich splendours canopied his bed, And shed a burning glory o'er the deep ! Sweet Summer is the year's bright honeymoon, And never bridegroom longed more ardently Than did Evander for the blooming May — In votive lay, thus fashioned, hailing her approach- "Come, gentle Summer, woo us with thy smiles, Unfold thy blossomed wings, and swiftly come ! O tarry not, sweet season of the }ear. With plenty come to crown the blessed Spring! Pour forth, in floods, thy gushing melodies, Make every grove a paradise of song, And breathe upon us, in soft sighing gales, Delicious odours from the opening flowers 1" The forest, and the hunibler woods and groves. Affording kindly and refreshing shade, Oft drew him to their most secluded nooks. And dear to him the meadows and the fields — O ye are very pleasant, ye green fields ! Ye are so soft, so bright and beautiful, So welcome and refreshing to the eyes Long prisoned in the unromantic town ! Noble Love. ii True, a divinity reigns everywhere, Deep in the dark and disembowell'd earth, Or on the giant mountain's dizziest peak, But O, ye dwellers by the wood and fields Who are not lacerated by the sights That in the city wound and rend the heart, Praise God continually for your estate — So fraught wtth the primeval bliss of man ! 12 NOBLE L O V E BOOK SFXOND. UCH were the joys Evander's manhood knew, But all his boyhood years were closely pent Within the busy city's stony bounds ; And wheresoe'er he went, or what befell, World-wonder London never was forgot. Far, far away, his memory oft recalled Those narrow, winding streets, and tortuous lanes. O'er which St. Paul's in solemn grandeur looms. Immensity of cities ! dense as vast! A Babel and a Babylon in one ! Colossus-like, astride the noble Thames, With feet on either side, thy gods are seen — Thy Gog and Magog, venerably great. What crowded hives of bustling human life Noble Love. 13 In thee — gregarious — swarm, and buzz, and hum. Throng upon throng, a natioi"! in themselves — Earth's grandest type of CosmopoHtism ! What lights and shadows on thy surface play, Constant in nothing save their constant change — What hopes and fears in thy big heart contend, Joys multitudinous and countless woes — What startling revelations would appear In one brief day's eventful history — What dark, unfathomed, tearful tragedies — What bright beatitudes of Peace and Love ! Virtue and Vice, commingling, yet apart. Pass and repass thy crowded thoroughfares From hour to hour, in motley multitudes — Motley in purpose as in garb and form : Each, with a separate mission to fulfil, Must for himself go quarr}- out a path Through which, instinctively, he makes his way — Alike unheeded and unheedingly. The Sins and Sorrows of the Cities thrive, Till want, and woe, and misery, and crime, Have ceased to wake our horror, or surprise. i-|. Noble Love. lout are with stolid glances met and passed — Familiar institutions of the age. Almighty God, our Father, and our Friend, Who to the freedom of his will hath left, In Thine own image formed, the creature, Man, How must Thy universal ear be filled With plaints and sobs by mortal ears unheard — Thy universal eye, with sadd'ning sights Unpitied and unseen by all but Thee ! Behind the Veil, unknown to mortal ken, There lies a world of dread Realities — Vast regions, all unknown and unexplored — Dark \'ales of Sorrow which no strangers tread, Great seas of Grief unploughed by foreign keels : Behind the Veil, unknown, unheard, unseen, By all save Thee, more dramas are enact Than on the open stage of daily life. Dahomey's bloody rites appal the mind And Nature shudders at their dark details. Yet here, in this most honoured Christian land. This vaunted cradle of the goodly great, Religion's model home and Freedom's boast. Our darker horror^ make the angels v.eep. Noble Love. 15 Behind the Veil, with poison, cord, or knife, Infanticide pursues its hideous course ; At times, in trembling, hesitating mood, But oft'ner with a firm, relentless will That knows no pity, anguish, or remorse. Could we but see the shambles where each babe Awaits, perhaps in sleep, its coming doom. Or watch the ruthless hand that crushes out The life so lately given, or hear the voice V7hose tender bleatings fail to touch the heart ! Alas ! we do not wish to fret our lives, Or care to know what lies behind the Veil, With more than ostrich-ignorance to blame — With cruel crime, most foul and pitiless. Red-reeking in our midst, our very homes, We only waste the time in vain regrets And nurse the hideous Evil we deplore ! ( " Sham " is on many a lofty forehead writ — Could we but pierce that flimsy cuticle And read the fest'ring characters beneath The unctuous polish of the shining brow — The seeming not the real doth obtain. The counterfeit more current is than gold. i6 ■ Noble Love. And forj^ed humanity may pass with ease. Would we were gifted with unerring skill To separate the sterling from the base — To ratify the same with honest seal, Whose lasting impress should instruct the world ! O were it meet for us to travel through The Vast array of Insincerity With which the Age is heavily surcharged— So glossed with smooth Hypocrisy, So hideous and revolting to the eye Which through no false, expedient medium sees — We would but find Experience sadder grow. And quite one half the world existing as If Earth-probation and the Life to come Were mere inventions, or deluding Shams ! Evander was a frequent, welcome guest At his kind master's hospitable home. And ever as the Day of Rest wore round, He bent his footsteps thitherward at morn. The Grange was centred in a fair domain Remote from prying eyes, and guarded by A noble army of gigantic trees Whose gnarled and twisted trunks, grown hoar with age, Noble Love. 17 Were netted round with hardy parasites. The house, a treasure to artistic eyes, Was roofed with strangely convoluted tiles, Each hollow filled with debris of dead leaves — A richly blended mass of red and green — That had to dust returned, and then giv'n birth To strips of velvet turf, begemmed and starred With flowers that from wind-wafted seeds had sprung Rich clust'ring ivy, thick and glossy leafed, The pointed gables graced, and, clambering o"er The high-peaked windows, round them hung In fluttering festoons that swept the porch — \M-iich, frail with age, and winter"s scathing storms, Was scarcely fit to bear its scented thatch Of jasmine, interwove with passion-flower; Yet none might dare remove it from the spot Where, many years before, it had been reared By one who fought his country's battles well, And in her annals lives a deathless life. The quality in heroes that befits Them most for greatness is Sinceritv, And he might well have been its archtetype. On Truth's foundation moral grandeur rests, c 1 8 Xoblc Love. And Herbert's sire embraced it from bis youtb, And lived and died an honourable man. Like rectitude of purpose swayed his son, Whose simple word was known to be his bond. His was that consciousness of worth, and wealth, Which moves along with firm, elastic step, With lock serene, and fearless, open brow. Keel after keel of his ploughed foreign Seas, And where the Ganges rolls its mighty tide The name was potent as at home on Change. The faithful servant must needs fervent be. And only in an atmosphere of love Can fervour thrive and bear its goodly fruit ; No law but that of Kindness safely binds — Its welcome chains defy Misfortune's stroke, And are but strengthened by its heaviest blow. Would that the world at large with Herbert thought, Would that all strove, with acts like his, to win Their hands and hearts whose lot is servitude ! One smiling Sabbath morn, in pleasant June, Evander took his way towards the Grange, Through still suburban lanes and winding paths Noble Love. ig Dower'd with the honeysuckle's balmy breath, And garlanded with modest wilding flowers That know no culture save the sun and dew — Arched here and there, o'erhead, with branching screens, And thrid beneath by voiceless rivulets : All nature seemed to court serene repose, In silent worship, mutely eloquent. Thrice blessed day of holy calm and quiet. Foreshadowing the Sabbath of the soul ! First Trait of the Redeemer's sacred blood Shed for the sins of Men on Calvary ! They who by toil invade thy needed rest . Are very aliens to the Commonwealth, And spoile-s of a glorious heritage ! Sweet Sabbath morn ! — be welcome evermore ! Amidst the populous City's streams of life, 'Where many hundred thousand human hearts Beat high or low, or cease, as Time rolls on : Where ev'ry bosom hath its freight of joy, Or woe, to bear along life's changing sea — Upon the mountain tops, where silence reigns 20 Noble Love. Supreme o'er all, as at Creation's birth ; Or where th' unlorded winds can raj^e at will, Careering madly through the mist and cloud — In caves or glens where, in the olden time, Protesting fa'hers worshipt, battle clad, And praised the God they loved, with sword in hand- On the gay meadow, in the shady dell, Enamell'd wi-th bright clusters of sweet flowers. Wild flowers, that bloom alike for rich and poor, And freely gift their od'rous sweets to all — In grey Cathedrals, monuments of Art, When Art was rich in it& primeval wealth ; Or in the humble Village Sanctuary, Where Praise ascendeth from untutored lips And finds a welcome at the Throne of Grace : Coequal with the more pretentious strains That swell through fretted and re-echoing aisles Resounding the sonorous organ's peals — Among the tombstones, eloquently dumb, Suggesting thoughts that overflow the heart — Noble Love. 21 As all the Lights and Shadows of the Past, Strangely commingling with the Present, meet. And quietly shadow forth what is to come — Upon the stately vessel's spacious deck, Walled round by landless space, and vaulted o'er With fleecy clouds and sky of azure hue, While gently swelling waves her sides caress. Or curl and foam around the bounding prow — At the far prairie's verge, a vast expanse, Beneath the shadows of centurial trees, Where wand'rers from our native land encamp To keep the Sabbath as a Day of Rest — Sweet Sabbath Day ! — the same on land or sea. If but the heart be faithful to its Lord — Long may thy blessings glad this world of ours ! Increasing as they flow, till Sin and Death Are crusht beneath His Feet — who yet shall reign As Prince of Peace, the blest Millenial Kin"" ! 'o Such lofty thoughts Evander's mind engaged, Though, with unwonted haste, he hurried on— Noble Love. To meet that " Little lulilh " he had heard About so oft, Herl)ert"s long absent child : His steps were swift, his heart was light and free, And, all exhilarant, he gained the Grange. From early dawn, he had been quaffing up Those sparkling wines of intellectual growth That flow, matured, through old poetic lore, xAnd felt as joyous as the Bird of Morn Who knows its wings are gifted with the power To soar, or circle, wheresoe'er it will : He, like the happy bee, knew where to find The tempting sweets he loved and cherisht most. So lived an easy and contented life — From morn to eve, from year to year, the same. 23 NOBLE LOVE BOOK THIRD. |ATE lies beyond control — Evander found The little Edith cast in fairest mould Of womanhood, and, straightway, lost his heart. The hot blood reddened o'er his cheek and brow, And when he dared again to look, A kindred blush the maiden's face o'erspread. While downcast eyes spake volumes to his soul— In short, they met, and loved — the old, old tale ! At Herbert's door a grievous error lay — ■When but an infant prattling on the knee. He had betrothed his daughter to the heir Of goodly acres marching with his own : As both domains had once his father's been, 24 Noble Love. He thought the joint entail thus fashioned forth A vict'ry wrung from adverse circumstance, And lickl its consummation dear as life : Tliis bond had been the grandsire's earnest prayer, ■ And when the old man's sand of life ran low The}' set the seal to the betrothal deed — That he might die content — so runs the tale. Unconscious as the graceful bounding roe Of coming battue, and the murd'rous ball, The gentle Edith grew to womanliood W'ithouten ken of this unln)ly pact. So, with a full, free heart — as pure as free — She laid the offring of her virgin love Before that shrine of which Evander seemed Presiding idol, and her soul's desire. That same sweet Sabbath day, with like intent, Eyes, other than Evander's, Edith's sought, But failed to draw from her's that warm response Which flasht love's golden sunshine o'er his heart — Young Elmore sought her glance with ardent zeal, And with her father plied a fluent tongue, But ne'er a word of the betrothal bond, And ne'er a look from the heart-captured maid. Noble Love. 25 So weeks wore on, while, Desdemona-like, Edith had learnt Evander's simple tale — And learnt it but to weave around his heart, More firm and close, the tendrils of her own : Blending their kindred beings into one, Each for the other lived a new-born life And in their present joy read future bliss. He never loved before, or counted love Necessity of his, but now it seemed As if he could not live one little hour Without its joy — enthralling heart and soul : And, ev'ry day, he thanked and praised his God For dow'ring him with such a precious gift, And ever thus his inner voice would sing : " I never loved before ! I never felt Such high and holy aspirations fill My breast and interpenetrate my heart — Such yearnings to prove worthy of the love Which so enriches and makes glad my soul : My own beloved Edith ! now I feel As if one half my being had gone forth To dwell for ever in thy heart of hearts — To be for ever near thee, night and day, 26 Noble Love. To guide and guard thee, present though unseen, To whisper life-devotion in thine ear, To press love's ardent kisses on thy lips, To lock thee in affection's fond embrace — To rest for ever on thy bosom's bliss ! " He never loved before ! the world to him Had been a desert, though he wist it not — Now, on a smiling oasis of love, He found himself encamped, and, 'midst its sweets, Became bewildered by excess of joy. To him it seemed an carthl\- paradise Beyond the bounds of which he could not stray : And that no noxious weed, or poison-flower. Should ever blight, or taint, its purity He most devoutly wished and ever prayed. All-powerful love ! he owned thy sov'reign sway. Thy welcome fetters bound him in delight ; But to be near her, by her presence sunned, He had endured the lowliest lot in life And thought himself a Monarch crowned with bliss. Absent from her, he nothing knew of joy : The wheels of time were clogged, and only moved Noble Love. 27 With painful effort's dull and creaking sounds : Then hours seemed days, and days as weeks appeared, Then, though the skies were fair, he saw them foul — The gloom within pervading all without — Was ever heart so bound to heart as his ? Did Love e'er venture on so deep a sea ? O Love ! young Love ! how strong thou art when pure ! How beautiful when true — how anp^el-like ! Thine are the realms through which the Bird of Morn Pursues its pleasures on a tireless wing ; Thine are the splendours of their summer sun, And thine the azure of their cloudless skies. Thou wilt not leave thy cherisht home for earth Save for the meaner wants of common life, Then, on re-strengthen'd pinions bravely borne. Away thou soarest to thy Heaven again ! Thou vvouldest not the stern realities That cling around this cold, material clime. But the perennial sunshine, flowers, and song, Of rapt Imagination's airy world ! 28 NOBLE LO\'E BOOK FOURTH. ILL lier he met, his barque unheeding flew From shore to shore, yet never haven sought, But once Love's anchor touched that golden strand It never lost one sand-grain of its hold. And were it well to garner all our hopes In aught of Earth Evander's there had dwelt, Nor feared that still resistless flood of Change Which sweepeth o'er Affection's cherisht spots And only leaves a ruined waste behind — A lonely sepulchre of buried hopes. "Take courage, heart," he said, " Sincerity Can build a sea-wall strong as adamant, Impregnable to every wave but death, Which only enters that the soul, set free. Noble Love. 29 May blend its being, in a purer sphere, With that affinity it found on Earth : Death breaks no vows, exhibits no deceit, And, whilst its shadows trace immortal joys, For ever shapes its consolations thus — ' Our after-Life shall former bliss excel.' " No gath'ring clouds presaged a coming storm. No fitful gusts a hurricane foretold, The social sun had never seemed more bright Than when it smiled o'er Edith's natal day. Alas ! alas ! that life and love should prove So pregnant with disasters unforeseen ! The very words that Herbert thought must leap Like welcome tidings into ev'rv heart Around his table grouped in festive glee. Smote Edith and Evander with dismay ! Yet, had they dared to breathe one little word Against that marriage-bond, to him so dear. The doting father, and the faithful friend. Had spurned them both for ever from his heart. Her tender nature swooned, though none wot why Save he, whose prudent grief no outlet found 30 Noble Love. But in the deep complainings of his soul — " I never lov'd before ! — I never knew The burning- anguish, and the madd'ning thrill, Of blighted love's mysterious influence ! Its fitful fever never fired my blood. Or scorcht my brain before — I never felt This strange unrest that sways me to and fro, Like an unrudder'd bark that dares to live Upon a wild, tempestuous, landless sea !" She never could be more to him than now. The onlv idol of his earthlv faith, The planet of his life, go where he might — Whose distant rays would glad another sphere, Whose beauty would become another's joy. The poet gives to fathers flinty hearts. Yet Herbert thought himself a different man, And would have proved a type of j^entleness Had not his priceless honour been at stake. True, they could fly his sight, his home, his hearth. And jointly dare whatever fate might yield — Whilst their ingratitude, Man's blackest sin, Drew down his curses, as it dug his grave. Evander's heart was like the rock-built house — Noble Love. 31 That, when the tempest hDwled, and torrents foamed, Defied the blast, and every surge withstood ; And he elected now to test its strength By Suffring's discipline — with his own hands To bind the cords of his self-sacrifice. Esteem not this the coinage ol a brain O'er-wrought, and steept in sentimental lore, Or ravings of impetuous, ardent youth, More fickle than the transient April sky — Evander's mind had been matured by thought. By self-reliance fully disciplined ; In purpose clear, in resolution strong. He counted up the cost, and was content To peril all for his lost Edith's peace — The goddess of his heart's idolatry ! Night after night he courted sleep in vain — At length exhaustion pleaded with such power That Nature's great Physician came at last And bore him into Dreamland, far away : A child again, upon his nurse's knee, He gazed once more on those familiar walls That shelter'd him throughout his tend'rest years: This picture passed away, and, in its stead, 32 Noble Love. Appeared the clingy house in Crutched Friars, Just as it seemed when first he Herbert met : The quaint old Grange came next, and, by its porch, Stood Edith, with an infant in her arms — And, by her side, a man of comely mien Who prattled fondly with his earliest barn. A snow-white Dove came flutt'ring through the trees And percht on pensive Edith's trembling arm : From 'neath its downy wing a letter peeped — " For Edith " — and no superscription else — They broke the seal in eager, anxious haste, And but to make amazement more intense : Within, upon a silken scroll, were traced The outlines of a noble Doric pile, Its front engraven thus, on ground of gold — " Evander's Gift to Edith " — nothing more. Evander never sought her home again. But hailed the light of that eventful day Which dawned upon his life of hopeless love — Hopeless in consummation, yet, withal, A pilgrimage not destitute of joy; For well he knew that Edith's inmost soul Enshrined his heart as her life's talisman : Nohlc Love. 33 Youth writes its vows of love upon the sand, Maturer age engraves them on a rock. Far o'er the sea, Evander took his way, Self-exiled from the land he loved so well — Far o'er the sea, with memories in his heart That never on his manly face were writ — Far o'er the sea, on one firm purpose bent, Inspired by gratitude, and fanned by love. Time, like the torrent of a mighty flood. Impetuous ever, surgeth ever on. And round about our globe, unheeded still, The foam-bell hours maintain their ceaseless whirl To feed the mighty waters of the Past And mingle with its sea of Memories : O vast, O awful sea ! O dread abyss ! Whose ever-yawning depths have swallow'd up The countless generations of our race. With all their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears ! Mysterious Future ! the sustainer, Hope, For ever points to thee with outstretcht arms. And, with exulting voice, still " onward " cries : D 34 Noble Love. Unfathomed Future ! endless End ! What fate, when this v/orld's time shall cease to be. Hid in thy far recesses, still awaits This human race — which for a something lives That earth-life ne'er hath yielded, nor can yield. For which the soul yearns even until death — ? Day after day, year after year, rolled on And found Evander bound to Fortune's wheel, Each revolution yielding rich reward. Whence this prolonged and ever cheerful toil — This strong endurance of a lonely man ? Nor wife nor child nor kith nor kin hath he, And yet he ever addcth field to field — And ship to ship — a Croesus of the East ! That dream had never left the Wand'rer's breast : Far o'er the sea, safe cabined in his heart, He bore it as a precious growth of Love To plant, some coming day, on English soil : That dream assumed a fixt reality And fashioned forth the Mission of his life — The dreamer was the faithful worker now. And hence endurance, hence his fervent zeal. Noble Love. 35 Far o'er the sea — he never sailed again ! He saw the shadows fall across his path — He felt the touch of an arresting hand — He knew his work was done, well done, at last — So set his house in order, and lay down. Far o'er the sea — Old England's heart was stirred With an impulsive flow of gratitude — - They bore his body and his treasure home : The first reposeth near that upland Heath He loved so well — close to the kindly Grange — The other, with his memory, is enshrined Within a stately Doric Pile whose walls Have sheltered thousands whom the waves of life Threv/ back upon its strand — as helpless wrecks Unfit to battle longer with the storm. Such was the ending of Evander's dream. And such the Noble Love to Edith given- Such is the history of a Life well spent, Emblazon'd in a deathless Heraldry ! 36 THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. HE God-Man Christ who deified the Truth And on the Cross enthroned His righteousness, Hath dower'd this world of ours with Love Divine And made accessible the Mercy Seat : He drove the Priests of Vengeance from the fane And scatter'd wide their instruments of doom — He drew aside the veil with rev'rent hand, And, in the Holiest of Holies, men Beheld a Father in their dreaded God. The Star that rested over Bethlehem Yet sheds its rays of sacred glory there — Outliving races, rules, and dynasties ; And that wild rocky slope of Nazareth Hath memories that through the Ages bloom — Defying every blast of unbelief. The Light of the World. 37 A golden halo circleth gentle Olivet Where fell the Manna of Immortal Love Bedewed with Merc}^ and Goodwill to Man ; And round Jerusalem there floateth still The odour of His wondrous sanctity! His mission o'er, His Light, the Word, proclaimed, Our great Exemplar passed away from Earth — To wait and welcome such as overcame. Thus, near His throne, great Victors in the strife, Are ranged the moral Heroes of the Past — • A countless throng of earnest, Noble Lives, Tow'ring, like Anaks, in the Courts of Heav'n, With crowned heads, enstarred and glorified, That, God-like, flash, and burn, and shine — God-like, as earth-bound souls of God conceive, But, to the One in All, Omnipotent, As motes that shimmer in the noonday sun. The well-beloved John is also there — A glorified and chief beatitude — He bears the emblem of the Christian faith. And meekly eyes the Man who standeth near ; And Mary, once despised and rudely spurned, Whose teardrops washed His travel-stained feet, 38 The Light of the World. Is leaning safely on the Master's breast. How fruitfully suggestive that array ! Beyond the reach of uninspired pen — Beyond the pencil's almost living power — Beyond Imagination's loftiest llight — Out-distancing and far transcending all ! Year after year, Time's viewless flood rolls on, And still the God-Man, Christ, is manifest — A universal, boundless Influence P''or ever striving in this motley world To counteract the Evil life evolves — A power, if not a spirit, hard to throw : The Devil is a most convenient friend When men are prone to follow wickedness, And huge enough to carry tons of sin : Poor Devil ! what a tool we make of thee — Thee and that ever ready Providence Are very scape-goats to the sons of men : Anointed Kaisers devastate and slay Through confidential hints from Providence, And give it all the glory — theirs, the gain ; While pulpit-seers discern its righteous hand In ev'ry famine-field of blighted grain. The Light of the World. 39 When will this worse than pagan darkness flee Before the light of intellectual day ? — Our Devils are but downward tendencies, And our Good Angels, upward-guiding thoughts. Light of the World ! Incarnate Love of God ! When first Thy dazzling glory men beheld, A re-created Life from chaos sprung. Clad in the beauty of Thy Holiness. All old things yet shall find that newer Life — The reign of terror prompted Sacrifice, The law of " blood for blood," and " blow for blow," Shall merge into and mingle with that Love Whose first-fruits are Goodwill and Charity. But, nathless. Evil still hath potent sway And bars the upward progress of the Soul : Evil v/ill fall — the campaign but begins — Our Christian World is yet in infancy — Our Centuries are but as days to Him — Our cycled Ages, swiftly passing years : The Past, the Present, and the Future, sweep Before His Mind as lightnings flash and die — Time but existeth in the thoughts of Man. *o^ The Darkness fiercely warreth with the Light- 40 The Light of the World. A mi<;hty conflict, raging evermore — The trampling to and fro, the battle-clang, The crashing thunder of gigantic strife, Commingling with the deafning roar of Time, Whose every fleeting moment marks some stage Of mighty warfare, host engaging host. Brave warriors of the Cross, press nobly on ! Your love and truth at length shall overcome ; Your weapons are the Lessons that He taught, And only strike to heal the wounds they make — The vanquished smile, and kiss correction's rod. O blameless Life ! exemplified in Love — Love glorified by Faith's simplicity. There cannot fail a season when mankind Shall comprehend Thy mission's glorious truth— That Uprightness is parent of all Joy And Fellow-Love the source from which it flows. 'Tis well to measure out and weigh the stars, To flash mysterious voices round the globe. To sound the ocean and to scan its depths, To use the elements wc may not curb : The Light of the World. 41 To beautify a beauteous world with Art And tlood it with Imagination's streams, To people it with Fancy's brightest forms And charm it with the wand of Intellect : But Science, Art, and Intellect decay When merely creatures of the creature Man, And but inherit lastingness when interwove With aims that heav"nward yearn — and, yearning, soar. The only Sunrise that shall flood the world With all-enduring glory and delight Must issue from the inner souls of men — Still grov'lling in the darkness and the dust : The fellest tyrants that embitter life Exist in passions nourisht and caresst. Let Dreamers dream their dreams Republican, And build vain hopes on frail Equality, Revealing visions, vague and purposeless. In eloquent obscurity of words ; The men of action must lay hands on Work, Nor let it slip their hold, till, from the swamps Of Ignorance and Selfishness shall spring The golden fruitage of a true Elysium : Then radiant glories, shed by truthful lives, 42 The Light of the World. Shall glad the earth with mercy and goodwill — Mingling their rays with those that downward stream From Him whose smile is an Eternal Sun. When Priests no more shall m}-stify the world With puzzling dogmas from ambitious brains, Each anxious for a founder's name and fame ; When all our Preachers Charity shall teach, And, with Example, ev'ry Precept crown ; When Czars, and Emperors, and Peoples shall, For its own sake, love righteous Uprightness ; When Kings and Governments shall serve, not rule, And be exponents of a Nation's will ; When Nations shall be fitted to control The servants they elect — by moral force Of educated and ennobled mind ; When men shall only unto others do What they desire may to themselves be done ; When all Christ's Golden Laws are Rules of Life And universal as the blessed air — Then, only, shall the Cross have done its work. And Love be manifest through God, the Light ! 43 GLORY. HE love of Glory and the lust of Power I Have deluged Europe with a sea of blood^ The Orient also, and the mighty West — And now, once more, our suff'ring sister-land Is drencht with priceless floods of Life's red wine, And strewn with ghastly heaps of mangled slain : Poor, bleeding France ! we cannot choose but grieve That ever thou didst wed the Corsican. The Infant Century, with wond"ring eyes, Beholds the Glory of a Consulate Which crowns an Empire and an Emperor ! To greet the Conqueror's triumphal march Illuminations flare from ev'ry house, In strange devices wrought and many-hued. Flashing their coruscations o'er the crowds 44 Glory. Assemblin<; ev'rywhere along, or near. The da;^2ling pageant's gaily-di/en'd route. I'^ar as the eve can reach, a myriad mass 0\' life extends, dense as the grassy blades Upon a dew-fed meadow, southern-sunn'd : One moment, all is silence — but the next Rolls out a mighty sea of surging sound Whose crashing waves the throbbing city shake : Again, and yet again, the deafning roar, Commingled ever with " Napoleon !" •" Gloire !" " Victoire !" " Marengo !" " Italic !" The Consulate has Hohenlinden won. Defied the Pope, re-strengthen'd Switzerland, Proclaimed old " perfide Albion " for War. Sent Beauharnois to Roma's classic soil, Annexed Piedmont, and noble d'Enghien sh^t — Or murdered, let it be the honest truth — And well deserves its Chief the Glory-gft Whose regal lustre fired his daring soul : Lieutenant — General — Consul — Emperor ! Defeat — Captivity — Helena — Death ! Scene after scene is changed : now Louis reigns — Glory. 45 Chicanery thrives well on money-bags, And marriages are made in Spain, not Heaven ! Fear, Flight, Disgrace — pour Angleterre ! Vision of Visions ! Babe Republican ! Sweet toy of Soldiers, Poets, and Savants — Dear idol of Montmartre and BatignoUes — The Power that France, through Paris, must obey — The full-developed flower of Liberty — Whose life is National for evermore ! Alas ! the day ! the beauteous, smiling Babe With Death untimely meets, nay, has its throat Cut i" the early morn before the drums Are beat — because they will not, being slashed. ■ • • • Cannon — Bloodshed — Prisoners — Curses — Quiet. • • • • Imperial Glor}^ Plenty, smiling Peace — Imperial Beauty, Wealth, and Piety ! Let us abjure the doctrine that success, At any price, is Virtue — nor, henceforth, With hopeful words like these, essay to quite Efface the blood-stains of a Coup d'Etat : — 46 Glory. " Beautiful France ! romantic, smiling land ! " Each honest British heart now holds thee dear — " O'erflows with purest love for thee and thine, " And with fond rapture our alliance hails : " Be this the dawn of lasting brotherhood — " The re-risen Empire's best achievement, " And the bright harbinger of Europe's peace ! " Foremost alike in Science and in Art, " Valiant alike in arms by land or sea, " Breathing, as 'twere, the very selfsame air, " We surely brothers were by heaven ordained. " Thy manhood on old England's breast was nurst, " Napoleon ! and thy fair Eugenie's blood " Flowed from our hardy Barons of the North, " So 'tis most meet that in thy reign the bond " Of union should be ratified in love. " The strangest tale of history's romance " Thou hast most gloriously realized, " And given the lie to every hireling pen " That dared with obloquy to link thy name. " Press nobly onward in thy bright career, " And thou shalt yet achieve for lovely France Glory. 47 " A greater Glory than thy Uncle could — •• Though his vast intellect still wrought and planned '• For her advancement on the rolls of Fame. " Napoleon ! France ! be to your mission true, " And cultivate with zeal the peaceful arts — ■ " Seize ye the golden hour that dawneth now " And carve yourselves a name that shall endure " When War's last trumpet shall have ceased to sound, <' And Earth is jubilant o'er lasting Peace !" Vain dream ! the sword was only sheathed, not beat Into the ploughshare of millennial peace — The gold-bought Glory-cry has done its work, And France is made to " slip " a yielding leash. Both Crown and Crowd are drunken with a Past Which it were well the world had never known : The curse of Europe is again let loose- Imperial Slaughter drives its car afield : Envy and Lust postilion the steeds Whose nostrils are dilate with scent of blood, And Caesar riots o'er the plains of death. His mission now is to baptise with fire The scion of a devastating race — • 4^ Glory. Whose name is writ in Glory and in Blood, Whose monuments are bronz'd with human gore : The evil brand is on another brow — The damning seal that binds him hand and foot To lustful conquest, fire, and sword, and death : Will Heaven not rain its wrath on act so foul ? Is Earth not weary of the Slaughter-Fiend— Of Human sacrifice at Glory's Shrine ? Must we look tamely on, with grieving hearts. And see our fellows mowed like ripen'd grain Before each God-anointed ]\Ian of Blood ? O fatal mission ! worse than fatal end ! How thou hast dragged the Lilies through the mire Of crushing failure and supreme defeat ! Better have left the Teuton in his lair — To multiply his Cubs and thrive apace On Federation and Philosophy. Arise, Humanity! arise! — crush out All " Right-Divine" that is in league with blood. And re-create the nobler Right of Man To cannonade with Moral Force alone : Thus gentle Peace shall o'er the world preside And Mercy be with Liberty enthroned ! 49 THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT. AREWELL, dear Native Land, whose moun- I tains hoar And storm-embracing hills, receding, fade : Farewell, ye lakes and roaring cataracls — Ye loupin' burns and silver-threaded rills — ■ Ye heath'ry knowes and gowan-studded leas — Ye rocky glens and primrose-jew^elled nooks — Ye fertile straths and clover-scented fields — ■ To one, and all, a long and last farewell! Dear Native Land — of Wallace, Bruce, and Burns- Whose last dim outline slowly melts in space — Should distance e'er erase thee from my heart. Let me be branded as some son of Cain Who fled a land he was unfit to grace — Or one who for a promised pottage sold The glorious heritage of memory ! E ;o Tlic Scottish Emigrant. There may be fairer lands, with brighter skies That limn no clouds upon the lakes below — And cast no giant-shadows on their hills — But stouter arms and truer hearts are none. Dear Native Land ! where'er my footsteps roam — Whateer the future of my life may be, Th\- every feature in my heart shall live And prove a solace in the coming years. Thy grand old memories shall visit me Amid the mighty forests of the West, Or on the distant praries' vast expanse ; Thy sweet old songs shall gladden us at eve When all our hearts, untravell'd. think of thee, And to our children's children shall descend The grandeur and the glory of thy name. From rude beginnings thy career has ris'n To be a theme among the nations round — A constellation in the world of Fame — A grand, enduring type of Liberty— Of liberty obtained through fire and sword, Of independence bought by blood and death ! As towers his shrine above old Snowdoun's plains. The Scottish Emigrant. A fitting monument for such as he, So towered the noble Wallace in his life — A power to lead, to conquer, and subdue — A dread avenger of his country's wrongs, An unrelenting scourge of tyranny : Shock after shock his lion frame withstood, Feud after feud his lion-heart defied. Foe after foe he caused to bite the dust, And hewed the way to crowning Bannockburn. Came then the Bruce, fair Carrick's peerless peer. To crush the nroud invader and avenge The foulest murder of a murderous reign — The martyrdom of Scotia's darling son. ' O chequered Past ! dread purgatorial years ! Your blood-drencht fields, your straths and fire-scathed pines. May well grow green and bravely flourish now : Such is the Christian's arduous fight of Faith. That leads through fiery ordeals to the Cross- But there he gains an everlasting crown ! Must I o'erleap the intervening years Sore plagued with woes and internecine strife. The crucial tests that order must forego. 52 The Scottisli Ilinif^rant. Nor breathe the name that Scotland holds so dear — Dear, though detraction level all its shafts, Its venom-barbs, against a woman's breast ? Ill-fated (^ueen ! the plaything of the hour — The shuttlecock which rude conspirer's strove To seize and bandy at their own behest. He must be less than man who reads, unmoved, The sadd'ning story of thy hapless life : Poor, murdered Queen, thou'rt not the first, nor last, Who sought for shelter and received a grave ! But while a halo gilds thy memory still, Fit guerdon for the wrongs thou hadst to bear. And fitting tribute to unrivall'd charms — Thv august cousin's name is stained with blood. And travels through a mire of certain shame. Less wronged was he who bore the Stuart name And found an easy way to Scottish hearts. And lives, embalmed, in Scotland's sweetest songs— Th*^ darling hero of the " Forty-five' — Whose mild, chivalrous bearing, like a charm. Lit up the maiden's eyes where'er he moved. And lit the beacons on the watchful hills To rally thousands round a hopeless cause And one more bloody baptism give the soil. The Scottish Emigrant. 53 Brave covenanting Fathers ! noble Sires ! Your memories are engraven on the rocks Where ye took refuge from the murd'rous bands Let loose like bloodhounds on vour hunted tracks : And on the moors, where ye defied their fangs, There lingers still the solemn sound of praise With which your souls were strengthen'd for the fight. No alien church, no sporting priests, took root In Caledonia's stern and rugged breast, The heather was on fire, and, vermin-like, They fled the North for more congenial skies : Now, bless'd with peace, the frugal country thrives. Though vested rights drive thousands far afield — To plant the Thistle on earth's furthest shores. And must I say farewell, dear Native Land, To all thy lovely and romantic scenes ? Shall I no more sweep down the noble Clyde To greet the vast Benlomond's misty crown — Or climb his rugged sides with panting breath ? Or scale Dumbarton's rock-hewn steps to gain A peep at far Benledi — and Venue ? Is fair Loch Lomond lost to me for aye. Sweet Inversnaid, and all its floating isles ? 54 ^V/f ScoUish Em it; rant. The cave of bold Magregor, and the path That leads to where Loch Katrine shining lies Like a huge amcth3-st amidst the hills ? Sliall I no more the Cowal shores traverse — Or skim along thy waters, dark Loch Fyne ? Or see the phosphored herrings gleaming bright, As the big night-haul lands them on the deck — Gleaming, as if with glow-worms from the deep. Oi millioned diamonds from old Neptune's mines ? Will beauteous Arran never lure me more To spots where I have spent my bridal days, To lovely Rosa's Glen or Goatfell's feet ? On Brodick Bay will I ne'er ply the oar — Or tempt its timorous whitings with my bait — Or, landing, climb the Holy Island's brow And hail grim Ailsa anchored out at sea ? vShall Bonnie Doon no longer hear my voice As o'er the Brig I chaunt the " Scots wha hae." And, with a reverential eye, behold The temple consecrate to him who drove His Plough of Song into the hearts of men. And stirred the world to listen and obey The Scottish Emigrant. 55 God's mandate of Equality in Man ? Brave-hearted Bard ! not always like the lark On verdant fields, or in the sunny sky, Didst thou give utt'rance to the voice of Song — But often 'midst the levin of the storm That strung thy verse with words of living light To brighten ever as the ages roll ! And shall I never more behold the sun Rise in its splendour o'er the Braes of Mar, Rolling his golden glory's lavish waves Athwart their rugged sides and down the glens — Till every bush of whin more golden grows. And every stream like molten metal runs — ? And thou, Edina, dear to Scottish hearts, Their chronicle and casket of the past — The Queen of Scottish cities and the seat Of all that intelledl makes truly great — Must I no more re-visit thy fair streets. No more thy Calton hill or Castle see — No more through Holyrood's deserted halls Muse o'er the changing fortunes it hath known — ? To ancient Roslin shall I flit no more — Where Genius gave all but life to stone — ? 5^) Tl'.c Scottish Emigrant. Or thence to famous Melrose, and the Tweed, Where, 'midst the mould'rinjj pomp of priestlv pride, Old Dryburgh hath entombed the Wizard Bard ? Alas ! no more ! — around the bounding' prow I hear and see the separating waves Thai cut me off for ever from thy shores, My own, my much beloved Mountain Land ! Once more, farewell ! — the waters of my soul Are swelling too, and like to drown my heart. Dear Native Land ! the ashes of my sires Are mingled with thy soil, so dear to me ; And, more than all, beneath its turf are laid Her dear remains who hath been more to me Than mother to her bosom-tended babe — More tli-ii the saintliest sister, or the kin Who sweeten life with pure affection's flow : My constant shadow and my substance she, The life of all my living, and its joy — The uncomplaining partner of its woe ! 57 ROBERT BURNS. ILENT the harp of Scotia hung, No one of joy or sorrow sung, When from her peasant sons up- sprung The Minstrel Burns ! II. He seized the harp with vigorous hand, Each chord awoke at his command, And song o'erflowed the slumbering land In " wood-notes wild." III. At home, afield, at night, or morn. Behind the plough, or 'midst the corn. His faithful Muse ne'er left forlorn Her darling son. Robert Hums. IV. She winged his thouj:jhts with words of fire, And breathed such music o'er his lyre As made the listening world admire — In wonder lost ! V. An inner harp, his noble heart — Kolian-like — took many a part, Vet ever from one note would start — That note was Love. VI. He had a tear for sorrow's tale — Mirth that made mirth the more prevail — A plaintive, dirge-like, deepening wail For mourning man. \ii. By woman's smile supremely blest, Love reign'd and revcll'd in his breast — A surging ocean of unrest — To calm unknown. Robert Burns. 59 VIII. If she. his — meanwhile — fairest fair, But frowned, he sunk into despair, And curs'd, as dire beyond compare. His adverse fate. IX. But when the coy or timorous maid Once more her face in smiles arrayed. Then, quick as thought, to deepest shade He banished care. Though ever, like th' unsated bee. He, searching for fresh sweets, would flee. One modest floweret most lov'd he — His " Mary dear." XI. At labour's close, where none might hear. They strayed by some sweet streamlet near, Each pouring in the other's ear A tale of love. Go Robert Burns. XII. By day th' inspirer of his themes, By ni^ht the anj;cl of his dreams, What wonder, Coila, though thy streams Of "Mary " sing? XIII. One holy morn, in hawthorn'J May, They met, a fond adieu to say — To meet upon their bridal day, Love jubilant ! XIV. Between them flowed a limpid brook — O'er which they held the Holy Book — And vowing Love till Death, they took A last farewell ! XV. Ayr flowed serenely as before Xor wist the tale its waters bore — Yet to be read, as classic lore. In days to come. Robert Burns. 6i XVI. Alas ! that bridal bell ne"er rung, No bridal ode for her he sung, Nor ever, with his manly tongue, Did call her " wife." XVII. O faithful Love ! — O cruel Fate ! Whv from our song-bird tear his mate ? Wh} scatter bliss so truly great. And yet so brief? XVIII. Relentless Death ! why to the gloom And cold caresses of the tomb Consign her youth's unfaded bloom — And pierce his heart ? XIX. Familiar strains on every tongue. The sweetest ever mortal sung. Like pearls upon her love he strung — Sonsc's brightest gems ! 62 Robert Burns. XX. That " ling'rini; star with less'ninj; ray," O how it steals the heart away — As if it would the soul convey To brighter skies ! XXI. Strange ! how a lowly highland Maid Could so his inmost heart invade — That till he low in death was laid, She linger'd there XXII. .And still increasing with his fame Shall be the halo round her name Who, even lost, was still the same — His morning star. XXIII. () chcciucrcd life ! Edina now With hollv wreath adorns his brow, Wit, Beauty, Rank, and Fashion bow Before the Bard : Robert Burns. 63 XXIV. Now — armed with rod, book, pen, and ink — He's taking notes of strong " Scotch Drink," And told " to acl, but not to think," — Poor Poet Bl'rns ! XXV. Thus he, Hke great Apollo, made His way through mingled sun and shade. And man\- Cyclops low he laid — ■ With satire keen. XXVI. O for the magic of his pen — That so enthralled the hearts of men — Then might we tell how deep his ken Of human life ! XXVII. Heroes have been who never drew The sword of death, or foemen slew — Of such was Burns, hence tyrants knew. And felt, his power. 64 Robert Burns. XXVIII. He wielded but a truthful pen — So truthful, that the hearts of men Were willing captives of each strain That from it flowed. XXIX. Of * honest poverty " he sung In words that made the old feel young — And with new life the heart re-strung Of pining youth. XXX. He made them feel that sense and worth Might cope with titles or with birth, And how, ere long, o'er all the Earth, Love should preside ! XXXI. The meanest things to him were dear — The " daisy " of the opening year — The "timorous beastie " in its fear — And " Mailie, dead." Robert Burns. 65 XXXI r. Keen as the hawk, mild as the dove, His heart o'erflowed with human love, And Truth — bright effluence from above — Imbued each word. XXXIII. Far out upon the trackless sea. The sailor's heart is filled with glee While singing some sweet melody Of Scotland's Bard. XXXIV. And, sailing from their mountain land. While fades her fast receding strand, Sad exiles chaunt— a plaintive band — '• Ye Banks and Braes." XXXV. The soldier on the battle field Oft nerves his arm the sword to wield. And makes his breast his country's shield. Through " Scots wha hae." 66 Robert Burns. XXXVI. On prairies vast, in forests deep. Where Scotia's sons home-vij^ils keep, Wi' RoBiE Burns they laugh and weep- To suit the hour. XXXVII. ll At home, abroad, in house, or mart. Within the People's mighty heart — That ne'er can with its minstrel part — Is Burns enshrined ! XXXVIII. O'er every sea his fame hath flown. From pole to pole — from zone to zone — His ev'ry word and act made known — Familiar things. XXXIX. A fruitful theme for countless lays, Eartli still is vocal with his praise Whose genius sheds its dazzling rays O'er every land. Robert Burns. 67 XL. O could his spurners meet him now From whom they turned with haughty brow Who bore the Harp behind the Plough — • The Prince of Song ! XLI. A censured life — a ceaseless moil — Sore dashed with care and slavish toil : A sun flower on a rock_y soil He lived — and died : XLII. No ! still he lives ! BURNS cannot die ! Although inurned his ashes lie, That truth-lit fame still mounts on high — Bright'ning for aye ! 68 FALLEN OTHER, lay me on m}' bed, j|jlA^ 1^1 There to rest my \vear\- head, Nor take me thence till I am dead — My spirit far away, mother. There is a weight upon my brain, And in my head a ceaseless pain — I'll never know sweet peace again Till life hath closed on me, mother. " What, O what doth ail thee, child ? And why those words and looks so wild ? Hath sin my long lost daughter soiled ? " Tell me, dearest do, Mary ! " O mother ! had you heard him cry, Or seen upturned to me his eye — As heaven received his parting sigh. You then could read my grief, mother. Fallen. 6g O God ! it was a fearful thing ! So young, so fair, so flourishing — Death now no woe to me can bring, No deeper woe than that, mother ! " Rest thee, rest thee, sleep awhile — Foot sore, and heated with thy toil, A fevered brain doth sense beguile, And fancies fill thy brain, Mary." O mother ! would that it were so ! I'd rather ever raving go Than feel the truth of what I know — As now I feel it, here, mother ! 'Twas not the long and weary miles — 'Tis not that fever sense beguiles — But deep and damning sin that piles Its crushing weight on me, mother ! " Almighty God ! O grant me grace I And, if Thou canst, her sin efface — O Father! do not hide thy face ! — I'll listen to thee now, Mary." yo Fallen. ¥otl many a month, my mother dear, When he had he)rne me far from liere, I headlong ran guilt's wild career — Forgot my God, and thee mother: Then God forgot — then came the blow. The curse, the spurn, and laid me low, And then that hapless child of woe — The sinless fruit of sin, mother. '' I tremble, dearest, for the rest. Say he was cherisht, lov"d, caresst — Sa\- that he died upon thy breast — A drooping flower from birth. Mary ! O mother ! mother ! would he had ! Such blest release had made me glad. I5ut when I did it, I was mad, — () mother ! pra}- for me— mother ! Mother ! mother ! pray for me ! — His voice I hear — his face I see — O God ! but this is agony — Kiss ! kiss me ! — ere I die mother WON AND LOST. OME one and twenty years ago the warmth Of Love's dehghtful fever thrilled my veins Then ev'rvthing seemed bathed in mai-ic litrht If one sweet presence only lent its smile, Then darkness, pall-like, overhung the world — That was, in truth, no world — without that sun : How far Love's glorious landscape stretcht its lines, Beneath an azure cloudless and serene. Into that radiant future hope foretold ! Nor did I sing in vain — to listless ears — My simple lays a genial welcome met. And ere another Autumn gathered in Its laden sheaves, I wedded with my love : Through one score years of Life's contingencies We joyed and sorrowed on, and then — she died. With busy hands and still more busy brains 72 Won am! Lost. We toil incessantly throughout the years, Yet gather nothing up that can prolong Kxistcnce, or outbid the Lord of Life. To that most ancient of heart histories, Love's consummation and Love's empty shrine, How much have I to add of light and shade ? Perhaps not more, or less, than most of men, If, business-like, the average were struck — But I know that I know, and what I feel : I know that evermore there is a void Within my heart that never can be filled, And feel there is a presence ever near. Impalpable to touch, to vision void. Encircling this my soul and all its thoughts As doth the atmosphere mine outer man : Its spirit-motion seems to move the air Like Zephyr's faintest sigh at summer-eve — Or infant breathings in a stilly room — Kov nKi\- I stir beyond it if I would. That change of living form which wc call Death- Which leadeth all that's lovely to decay — Hath not the power to break the chains of Love Won and Lost. 73 Or shake the hope of truer Life to come : Yet earth's duality of day and night, Its ever fluctuating calms and storms, Its strange unrest and unprogressive whirl. But typify the life of creature-man : The something hoped for never satisfies, There ever is a vacuum to be filled. Fame is a mirage that enchants a while. Yet faileth to refresh the thirsty soul When it hath reached the desert sands of age ; And Wealth, the glist'ning pebbles of the beach Which eager children gather all the day — Yet leave behind when homeward they return : God and the Spirits only can us bring. Through Death, to their enduring oases Of heavenly rest and satisfying joy. 74 ALBERT THE GOOD. OniT. December, MDCCCLXI KNEATH an avalanche of sudden woe, A crushin,i^ weight of sorrow unforseen. The mij;hty heart of England bleeding lies: A glory hath departed from her midst, Tlic pillar of her Throne is rent in twain. And Death holds sov'reign sway o'er all the land. There is no fitting tongue for grief so great, No words wherewith to clothe so dire a blow As that which now hath smote the country's breast The Kingliest Man she ever saw is dead — The kindliest heart she ever knew is still ! A surging sea of sorrow Europe fills, .And o'er the world shall far extending flow Albert the Good. 75 In countless streams of undisguised regret : No splendour borrowing from rank or power, He added lustre to the British Crown, And dignified its greatness by his worth. His brief, yet bright career, for ever closed, Shall henceforth be a model for such men As would be truly great like him we mourn : A fulness of urbanity and grace, A blandly courteous, gentle, winning mien, A cultivated mind with riches stored, A princely patronage of peaceful arts, A deep devotion to our native land. Crowned his domestic virtues — shrined in Love ! Weep world, weep audibly, when good men die. And give thy sorrow unrestrained voice : "Tis fit that lamentations should be heard When from Worth's firmament a guiding star Of gen'rous influence fades and disappears : Void darkness marks the orbit where it moved. And, evermore, there is a solemn sense Of hopeless desolation in the soul— Which but corrodes itself with vain regrets : We almost question Heav'ns sagacity 75 Albert the Good. To thus permit the world's impov'rishment, And dare to think ourselves the things of Chance. The social life of England's millions wore No aspect of ennobling life till he, With thoughtful foresight and refinement rare, Saw Britain's greatness in developed Mind, And, straightway, bent him to the welcome toil Which gave our age quaint Chaucer's House of Glass- More wondrous strange than even he conceived. Its influence flashed beyond our sea-girt Isle, And, near and far. Earth's slumb'ring sons awoke To Art-Religion, with unmaimiid rites. And aspirations which exalt the Mind Beyond the crave of sensual appetite — To throne it in the inner souls of men. For many a joy-reft one she oft hath grieved Whose royalty is now the seat of woe, And many a tear she striven hath to dry Who now herself must weep heart welling tears : If mortal consolation aught avail In such an hour of deep, unfathomcd grief, A Nation's sympathy is wholly thine — Our dearly lov'd, bereaved, and widow'd Queen. 77 ON THE CLYDE CANNOT well but love thee, noble Firth ! Near whose familiar strand my place of birth- A sweetly nestled cottage, fair to see — Smiled forth, half hid amongst rich greenery Of graceful birch, gnarl'd oak, and palm-like pine. With hedge of thorn, sweet briar, and eglantine. Huge masses of grey rock la}- on the shore, And granite boulders which the icebergs bore From Northern coasts — how many years ago ? On these — o'er these— I have leapt to and fro. And in and out the pools that "midst them la\'. From dawn till dusk, how manv-a. manv-a dav ? These hills are just the well-known hills of yore. That spacious river shineth as before— There are the rugged cliffs on which I plaved — Here the bright pebbly beach on which I strayed : 78 On the Clyde. I see the lowly cottage by the wood Still nestling in its leafy solitude: The blue smoke still in filmy wreaths ascends, And still around the hearth may mingle friends — But not the early loved, the lost, the true. The dearest joys my childhood ever knew ! Beauty's blithe spirit breathes divinely here, Clothing in smiles the landscape far and near ; Dumbarton's ancient twain-cleft rock I see — A noble monument of ancient chivalry — Below, the shores of Cardross and Ardmore Bask in the sunbeams as in days of yore : The smiling village next, with life a-throng, Enlivens the fair scene — ^just as the song That follows a rich, eloquent display Yields a fresh charm, nor drives the old away. P^mbosomed in a forestry of green. The Ardincaple turrets here are seen — Confronting modestly the bolder towers Argyll hath reared above the lovely bowers Of fair Roseneath — that simply sweet retreat Where Nature's richest charms, comminglint^. meet. Oil I lie Clyde. yg Inlets and ba_vs indent Kilcreggan shore. Where smugglers oft their hard-earned booty bore: Lochlong is opening up — as round I gaze — Its rugged peaks, hid by the morning haze, Sublimely tower above the point of Strone — O'er shores, once bare, now fully flanked with stone- Close packed, in one long range, the villas stand, Some rattled up at random — others, planned : Kilmun, I know, lies snugly round the way, Frequented scill, though rather in decay : Sandbank, on Hafton shore, the eye can reach — Its mimic mansions and its long flat beach : Below, the Lazaretto house still stands. Though some rude knaves, with sacrilegous hands, Have pulled the quaint old Lazaretto down To form upon its site a villa-town — But no " old Gordon " now doth ply the oar To row as in a trice from shore to shore : O matchless panorama ! rich in charms ! Gazing on thee the \Vand"rer"s bosom warms — While thoughts of the old time steal o'er his heart And whisper, " Childhood is life's better part." 8o MOMENTOUS QUESTIONS. ri \^fe#i II Y art thou happy ? why content, 1^^, When there are sown for thee in ripening fields The Tares of separation in their yields? Thy happiness is only lent To render its withdrawal worse to bear, And make thee feel a more intense despair. One conmion lot — one common road, Though numberless its lanes and byepaths be. Is trodden by foredoomed Humanity : Rush wildly on, or slowly plod. Before thee there is but that Death-crowned goal Which bounds the last earth-effort of the soul. Hence, all that vain and foolish pride Which joyeth only in the World's caress. And empty blandishment, is foolishness : Let true Philosophy with man abide, Momentous Questions. 8i And teach him what a helpless worm found Earth In that frail thing he is, death-sown at birth. Our Love is Passion's Selfishness, Which simply seeketh what it likes or needs To satisfy its longings and its greeds, So clingeth fast to Earthliness : Than which no more delusive food doth grow To cheat the appetite with empty show Of seeming nourishment — Yet satisfieth not, nor ever can, The daily wants of the immortal man. What reck we Punishment From age to age, from sire to son. Since motley Time its race began to run ? Man still is happy, still content, Ev'n sitting in that cell of the condemned. His inward heart, whose walls are girt and hemmed By Death's dark armament Of bristling evils and close-ambushed woes — Which, day by day, around him nearer close. G Hz Momentous Oncslioiis L But are men happy in that mood Which chaseth leav'ning sorrow from the sight, And out of ruin buildeth fresh delight To cheat Joy's early widowhood ? — Masking the spreading leprosy of care With garments fitted for the leper's wear. Some live on Hope, esteeming life A wondrous web as yet to be unrolled — That may be richly wrought with pleasure's gold- And wherefore on tempestuous strife Of sorrow uncontrolled should such embark ? Or leave Hope's dazzling sunshine for the dark ? Why happ}-, Christian, if set free From actual agony of flesh and bone ? Or such soul sickness as doth wring the moan From frail humanity ? " 'Tis not because I more than others know. But that, when thirsting, to the Fount I go : " MomzntoHs Questions. 83 "I nothing know but that I am, And feel that prescience is no gift of man ; Nor can content me with that seer-hke plan Which some audacious giant-sham Hath in a fit of pious fraud unfurled — Fixing a time to blast the used-up world. "Christ is that Fountain of the Soul Whose satisfying waters can assuage Its hottest thirst — or quell the fever's rage That brooks no touch of earth-control : Their healing virtues, fraught with heavenly balm, Inspiring hope and shedding holy calm. " The only refuge of the heart When Time's vicissitudes their shadows cast O'er transient joys, too rapturous to last, Existeth in life's better part — Where active virtues with meek Faith combine, And in the Light of His example shine."' 84 LIFE IN EARNEST. Inscribed to the Memory of the Rev. James Hamilton, D.D. IXGRR not in lanes of sorrow, Si,L;h not midst their leafless trees, Man must live for a to-morrow Till the Master-mind decrees Higher life than is the human — Higher love than that of woman. Misanthropic doubtings never Guide to Wisdom's high estate, But experience showeth ever That they but embitter l-'ate — Till aside from Virtue's gateway The poor doubter turneth straightway. Once within Sin's gloomy portals, All the light of life is gone, Life in Earnest . 85 All the love that blesseth mortals, And he feeds on Vice alone — Burning food that breedeth fever In each tortured unbeliever. Leave the haunts of senseless folly ! Where no summer of the soul, With its aspirations holy, Cometh from their wretched dole — And in path's of honest duty Life will gain undying beauty. Tarry not till it is later, Downward steps await the feet Of the doubting Virtue-hater — While congenial vices meet In the soul-o'erwhelming ocean Of a wasted life-devotion. O believe that Life is earnest ! Be not to Inaction given — Yet, in working, see thou learnest How to mount the stairs of Heaven : For the soul that truly winneth On the Earth its Heav'n beginneth. 86 MEN OR MONKEYS? I() men are merely monkeys after all — |i The fat and clumpy, and the lean and tall — The young, the old, the rich, and eke the poor, The king, the lordling, and the muddled boor — At least we come from monkeys Darwin says, And I confess to many monkey-ways In men and women too — both old and young — The monkey-antics and the monkey-tongue. The tails continued, as continuations. Might have been useful in some occupations ; For monkey-folly largely we inherit, With all too little of his Tail-ship's merit ; And monkey-foolery we ape right well — Although we have no tails whereof to tell. Success to Monkey-dom ! it gains prestige — Men or Monkeys ? 87 Some day 'twill crown a monkey as lord-liege. One who will hold his court, and his levee, Where tailor's tails may float in fancy free. I never more will visit our grand Zoo Without that deference to monkeys due — Lamenting o'er the curse of disen-tail Which hath made poor humanity so frail, For — pray let us be serious for a minute — ■ I do believe there was a something in it ; In what ? — the tail ? — yes, frankly, I believe That mankind o'er the loss of tail should grieve: Adam was but an ape who, when he fell, Lost ev'ry " Vestige " of his guiding tail ; And man no longer is a thoroughbred — He has no tail to guide his erring head. Eve saw, no doubt, that it might prove a flail, And so agreed that Man should lose his tail ; And Satan also had some end in view When he made up that cunning apple stew : If that confounded apple caused th' uproar Why were not apples rottened evermore ? Yet miserable man will apples eat Though 'twas their beauty strengthen'd Eve's deceit : Henceforth, let apples be eschewed and shunned, 88 Men or Monkeys And he who grows them mercilessly dunned — Xo wonder that the Monkeys love them so When they exalted Apes to sink Men low — Throw apples to the monkeys, or the dogs, Who still have tails to wag — -or to the hogs ! What's in a tail ? some ask — a something, surely, Else Adam had not felt so shocking poorly : He cut his stick, but had no tail to turn, Twas wholly gone, and " Man was made to mourn." The tail was gone — and I, its tale who tell. Can hut conceive that it from Adam fell- While Satan planned the wliole affair that he Earth's Chief Gorilla should in future be : He, since the Iiour wiien "twas by Adam lost, Has been possessor of the monkey-boast — And tliis is all that I have leaint from thee. No tittle more, O Darwin tlie-orie ! But worse exists than semi-monkey fun In those b\' loss of tail unmanned, undone — Such madly riot tlirough guilt's wild career, And neither God, nor man, nor devil fear. Do monkeys ever pla\- the pranks of men Men or Monkeys ? 8g Who lie and swindle for the love of gain — Who, one day with their feet beneath his table, The next, will cheat a friend — if they are able — ? All's fair in business, as in love or war, In coal or cotton, tallow, hemp, or tar ; In all commodities — in scrip or shares — In barren mines, or other nests of mares : Freight the prospectus, like a clipper trim it. And clench the money by a prudent " Limit." Or teach a Sunday-school, and preach goodwill, The while you rob a blinded master's till ; Or, higher game, build to your name a church — W^hich means, " my creditors are in the lurch." Do monkeys ever soak their brains with gin, The curse of England and the nurse of sin ? Or add fresh fuel to the per'lous stuff Which never burns inebriate-throats enough ? Or weight the scales that holds the poor man's bread — - Cheating the mouths so eager to be fed ? Or, with adult'rous compounds, sow the seed Of fell disease — for very devil's greed ? Or, for a contract of good honest cloth, Plant shoddy-waddy, ready for the moth ? Such men are princes in the course of time, go Men or Monkeys ? And die embalmed in eulogies sublime — Their names are handed down — I won't say 7cJirre— While titled beggars woo each wealthy heir. Ui) monkeys pulpits mount, with saintly grace, When fresh from orgies that would apes disgrace ? Or boast a lineage, measured by the mile. While tempting woman with a Judas-smile ? Or ply seduction without let or fear? Or murder babes by thousands ev'ry year ? Or stake and lose a fortune in a day — On gambling race-course, or in hidden play ? Or patronise the hells we wont put down ? Or make " Anomvma " the thing " in Town ? " Could monkeys, rudder'd monkeys, e'er do so ? No, monkeys have not fallen quite so low — Tis with the semi-monkey, shorn of tail. That common sense and higher reason fail — Place Man and Monkey, Man is sure to win The race of Folly for the goal of Sin ! gi LET THERE BE LIGHT. (January, i86g.) ET us not pursue the Shadow While we let the substance pass, And, with all our love of profit, Be eschewinsr s:old — for brass. 'o &^ Still the counterfeit is current. And things are not what the}- seem We are fed, but are not nourisht — Finding: much of life a dream. *fc> Acling takes the place of action — Resolutions melt like snow — And the evils we complain of Do but more unwieldy grow. While we tend the brute creation With a still increasing care, The poor Arabs of the nation Worse than kennell'd spaniels fare. 92 Let there be Light. Heedless of their souls— immortal, Of their bodies— like to ours, Wc deny them food or culture, Growing weeds in place of flowers. Let us aid existing action, But let our demand be plain — That, throughout this British nation None in Ignorance Remain. Yet when tongues have learned the lesson- Over words to nimbly run. And the hands to write and cipher — There will still be much undone. Routine learning is but framework For the clothing of the mind — Bv the sterner work of training We must elevate our kind : Man must know himself completely, By the light of moral laws — By the truths that dwell in Nature — And discern effect from cause. Let there be Light. 93 He must feel a self-reliant And a self-protecting man : Safelv armour"d o'er with knowledgre — Pressing forward to the van. Man's self-help is an innateness — An impulse by nature given — And if guided through the darkness, It will find the light from heaven. What a glorious achievement — What a victory to secure — If this constant gravitation To the Workhouse we could cure ! ^^'hy should pauperism flourish In this highly-favoured land ?' Yet till Ignorance be routed They will still go hand in hand : Mark the drunkenness and outrage That from want ot culture spring^ — - See the filth, disease, and misery, That like serpents round us cling ; 94 Let there be Light. While by thousands babes are slauj^hter'd- Through neglecr, or want, or crime — Stamping out the tender mercies Of this much-enlighten'd time. Save, O save the young and helpless ! Do not lose both hands and hearts — Do not squander skill and labour That might swell our mighty marts. Effort, now, is but a conflicl With the adverse forces round — For some oracles of progress Give a most uncertain sound : And with sophistry prevailing, In great " leaders " of the day, We must mould our own opinions Or, perchance, be led astray. There are many platform Christians Who pass want and squalor by — Or. with scant commiseration. See our prostrate thousands die : Let there be Light. 95 Yet we are not seared or heartless, But to habit very slaves — Whose supineness grows to action Digging man}- pauper graves. We must grapple with such evils — Springing from neglected roots — Very upas-plants of Ignorance, Bearing only deadly fruits. Let the cry be " Education," Urged by patriotic tongues — Giving voice to exhortation With the power of British lungs ! — Give it freely and unfetter'd, Free and open as the day, And let no Denomination Place obstructions in the way. Close the pit-fall of Permission, Level up the " ifs " and "bats," Else the Chariot of Progression Will be landed in the ruts. g6 Lei there be Light. Cease to war about Religion, Which belongs to other spheres, Where example hallows precept And to Home or Church endears : Thus the Light will dawn triumphant- Thus the scales fall from the blind- And the Future be ennobled Bv the onward march of Mind ! 97 FADING. ^■giADING away, a^^-ll Fading away, Slowly but surely Worketh decay. A rose in June Blossomed too soon- Drooping and dying — Death were a boon. P'riends ! O how few Prove to her true ! — Death do not tarry, She sighs for you. H 9 8 Fading. Weary, weary, Dreary, dreary. The hours pass away — Still He's near thee. Poor — fatherless — Weak — motherless — Joy in believing, Lord, give her this ! Ever, ever, Comfort-giver, Till her earth-eye close Be thou with her. Beyond the sky, The keener eye Of the soul escaped ^^'ilI then descry A path of light To glory — bright Spirits in waiting, Robed in pure white : Fading. 99 Praising the Lord — With one accord — Who the trembling" soul Will help afford. Fear not, maiden, He hath said in His Holy Word, " Come Heavy laden, " Come unto me — My grace is free — I will give thee rest — O come and see !"' Yes, that frail bloom Speaks of the tomb, But thou shalt never Know of its gloom. Dust unto dust, Dust unto dust, The purest's impure — Liie-pride — eye-lust. lou Fndiiu'. 6 But thou art free ! He died for thee, And heaven shall be thine — Eternally ! Farewell ! to meet In converse sweet — Near the great white throne- At Jesus' feet : Fading away, Fading away — Like a morning star Into bright day ! lOI FIVE HUNDRED. HE spirit-winds are bringing Sad music from the sea, As if the waves were singing Some good ship's elegy — How plaintive is the melody Those viewless couriers bear ! Floating through the mist and gloom- O'er the hapless sailors' tomb — Listen, let us hear : " At the break of day, there lay On the blue water's breast — Like a sea-bird on its way Taking momentary rest — A ship, whose ample, snowy sails 102 Five Hundred. All idly flapping hung, Waiting for the lagging breeze That on shore among tlic trees Playful roved and sung : " When Old Neptune, shouting loud, Piped it away to sea — ' That ship ! go, whistle in every shroud- Obey ! thou knowest me !' vSullenly growling, it blew — Drew down a thunder-cloud — And out to the ship both flew With a hoarse and wild halloo ! As the sea they ploughed. " Five hundred noble-hearted On that ship's deck did stand — Brave hearts who would lia\c jiartcd With life for Native Land : Proud was each hardy sailor, And high each stout heart beat. For tlieir ship was no trailer In the track — none might rail her, Still the first of the fleet ! Five Hundred. 103 " But they did not like the land Still looming o'er the sea — That the breeze would bear a hand, Each praying fervently. They were out to fight the French, And they wished to be the first Who should meet the hated foe — Still the sails swung to and fro. And the calm they curst ! " Oh ! that men will thus forget That they may not command, But submissively await The workings of His hand : Scarce had murmuring begun, When dark the heavens grew. And a gloom like midnight's spread For miles round the vessel's bed, And o'er her bold crew, " The breeze, still gath'ring strength. Reached the ship — a wild gale — ■ And its fury poured, at length. On each mast, in each sail : I04 Five Hundred. It lashed mc until I foamed — Mad-like it made me bound With the j;ood ship on my breast Which but lately there did rest, Till they cried, ' One drowned !' " Then, a moment slept its wrath, It let forth not a breath, But I knew that in its path — Just behind — there lurked death. With a blast that shook the heav'ns It burst o'er me again — The vivid lightning fl}'ing ! The thunder quick replying ! — Hail fell thick as rain ! " Over the side went each mast, Rigging, and sails, and spars — Away they went, while, aghast ! Looked on the stricken tars. From the steersmen life had tied, None went to iill their place — Though conscious of rocks a-head, Powerless stood those living dead — Horror in each face ! Five Hundred. 10 = " She struck ! — bounded off again ! — That cry which clove the air ! — Five hundred death-doomed men Breathing their soul's despair ! Again ! and again she struck ! The keel snapped like a reed : And down through the rent ship then- Down — down came those living men The blue shark to feed ! " This was the work of an hour — Such hours are dreadful to me — When the storm-wind comes in power I heave with agony ! I toss ships up and around, Like playthings on my breast, And seldom repose have found Till many, or all, were drowned — I rest, with their rest 1" ic6 FORSAKEN llvLL, wed thee with another love. And let her bear thy name — Say marriages were made in heaven — Say thou art not to blame. Say thou didst never give me cause To think thy heart was mine : That as a brother thou didst love — No other feeling thine. Breathe honied whispers in her ear, The while her head doth rest — Confidingly and lovingly — As mine hath — on thy breast. . Forsaken. ' 107 And with thine arms around her thrown, Thine eyes fixed on her face — The mirror of the soul within — Seek there her thoughts to trace : To thy bosom press her — closer — And while beneath thy glance Her eyelids droop, kiss her warm lips Till she, in love's sweet trance All fearless sinks, revealing thus Her wish to rest — sweet rest ! — For ever there, for ever so To be by thee caresst ! Forget me, then — forget how oft My head, like hers, hath lain Upon thy breast, while thou didst vow We'd never part again ! Forget me then, and — if thou canst Be happy — happy be ; But deal more faithfully by her Than thou hast dealt by me. io8 Forsaken. If ever — in some thoughtful hour Of searching soHtude — When o'er th' events of former days Repenting thou dost brood — My memory with a frown should rise, Fear not ! my lips are sealed : From henceforth to my dying day Nothing shall be revealed ! And I forgive thee — all forgive ! — Can I forget ? O ! never ! I, willow-like, o'er blasted hopes, Must droop, and sigh, for ever ! log THE MARINERS. LOVE the gallant mariners that travel o'er the Ij deep, 'Mid storm, in breeze, or hurricane, through ocean's waves they sweep. Though lightnings glare around him, and heaven's wild thunders roll, Unshrinking stands the mariner — undaunted is his soul ! No dangers pale his manly cheek, or dim his watchful eye, No tremblings seize upon his heart while wars the angry sky : But 'midst the jarring elements sails fearlessly and brave — The boast of proud Britannia- — the warrior of the wave ! I lo The Mariners. No calm, unbroken slumberings — no undisturbed re- pose — Await the gale-tossed traveller at day's returning close : Though darkness veils the silent earth, and shrouds the vasty deep, Kv n then the hardy mariner his careful watch must keep : But, even then, his buoyant heart is full of mirth and glee As, pacing round the dusky deck, he whistles to the sea; Or tells of battles lost or won to clieer his listening mates — Their bright eyes glowing brilliantly as o'er them he dilates. And though no flowers of language deck, true eloquence adorns Those tales of strife on ocean's fields — where sound no trumpet-homs — Where no strains of martial music stir on the gallant band : Nought fires them but their battle-flag and thoughts of native land ! The Mariners. iii Anon relieved, the hammock-bed receives his brawny form, Then dreams he oft of foreign lands, of danger and of storm ; Of childhood's home, youth's happy days, and scenes of early joy, When first embarked he roved the seas a merry sailor boy! Bound homeward by the favouring gale, his heart beats wild and free As perched upon the towering mast, and gazing o'er the sea. He marks the cliffs of Albion rise proudly to his view — A scene that oft in distant climes unfading memory drew. Elate with joy he gains the deck, while swift the ship glides o'er The fast receding, crested waves, and nears his native shore ; 112 TJic Mariners. Love-beaming eyes and rosy lips already meet his sight — The ardent kiss, aftection's boon, in fanc}- breathes delight — Home ! happy home ! with all its joys, at last the wan- d'rer gains^ Imagination's dreams are fled — reality now reigns : The welcome smile— the glowing kiss — reward the gal- lant tar — From perils free, no adverse gales his Pleasure-voyage mar. 113 STARVED TO DEATH. I EARILY, drearily, comfortless, A girl sank down on a hard mattress, While the golden light of a summer morn Mockingly smiled on the poor forlorn. Mockingly ! said I ? yes, it was so, A hollow smile o'er a scene of woe : A garret, all furnitureless and bare — Save some prized relics of earthenware, An ancient stool, and the old arm-chair Where the lone one's father had breathed his last, Batter'd and worn by many a blast : Fighting for England, he lost a limb. And, generously, it pensioned him. 1 1-} Starved to Death. They had Hvcd on this — with him 'twas gone, Leaving her friendless — poor — and alone : She had stitched all night — two farthings won- " O ! would that this weary life were dune ! " Nor brothers nor sisters e'er had she, None — ev'n to share her misery — O ! what pleasure ! starving together ! — Brothers and sisters — she had neither. She had nor blanket, nor sheet, nor shawl, To cover her poor shrunk form withal — Shiv'ring with cold, though her burning skin Told of the fever that raged within. Then fell the thoughts — scorchingly keen — Of what she was now, and once had been, Hot on her brain — hot, aye burning hot ! — And again she wished that she were not. Her spirit was broken : strength all gone : Even for the pittance bhe had won. Starved to Death. ii Go she could not, and starve she must — Of water no drop — of bread no crust ! Words are feeble, they cannot express How, in the madness of her distress, She struggled for lack of Bread and Breath — Starved to death ! — Starved to death ! She died that night — when the next day dawned, In search of the shirts — she had not pawned — Came one who was callous, yet almost wept Over her who now her last sleep slept : Death — always cold — breathed so chilly there 1 O'er the corpse — the stool — the old arm-chair — That his blood turned cold, his teeth, like stones, Chatter'd together, his very bones Shook, as if he were palsied and old — To be out again he'd have given gold, But his limbs refused, he wished in vain, And his knees knocked at each other again. I if) Starved to Death. He wept— for, at times, the tears will tlow From the sternest eyes o'er woman's woe- Gazing again on that lifeless clay Without one friend to bear it away ! A pauper's burial, half-finished rites — Grudgingly given — favours, not rights — Did paupers' souls require their completion. When, when would they rise to full fruition ? 117 KORNER. OUNG, and brave, and noble-hearted, Korner died for Fatherland, With lite, and love, and fame he parted — Boldest of the Jager band. O who shall tell the deep devotion That inspired his daring soul — Or who its rapturous emotion, Swaying him with full control ! With laurel wreaths his pen had crowned him. Now his sword the foe withstood, And danger ever foremost found him Striving for his country's good. Of that career — whose sun in glory Set so soon, to rise no more. Save in its song and deathless story- Who shall read and not deplore ? ii8 Kiivncr. As o'er his fate I sadly ponder, Wrapt in Sorrow's starless gloom, Upwciliny thoughts unbidden wander To the youthful hero's tomb : Bright groups of seraph-angels hover O'er the venerable Oak Beneath whose shade, life's conflict over, Korncr feels no foreign yoke : Hark ! their glorious Paean sounding — '• Freedom is thy birthright, man !" The chorus, hark ! with joy abounding, " If men would be free they can !" Methinks I see the poet-soldier Standing o'er his honoured grave, And hear that voice — grown sternly bolder- See on higli that falchion wave — *&' " Glorious Paean ! sound thy numbers In my sleeping country's ears, Germany, alas ! still slumbers. She no song of Freedom hears : — Kiirner. iig " How I mourn her worse than slaverj^ ! Kings and priests do lord it still ! But, tyrants, she shall prove her bravery When awakes United Will ! — " Das Volksteht yet shall rise together, Shaking off each galling yoke, Nor rest till every bond they sever. Till they every chain have broke ! — " United Will ! with voice like thunder, Million-tongued, shall strike them dumb. And pale with fear and wild'ring wonder — Fleeing as the Nations come ! " As I then went shall thousands, gladly, Bidding life and love farewell : Fond ones near them grieving sadly, Looking fears they dare not tell : " Yes, Germany, Misrule unseating, Purest Freedom shall attain, Even now her Eagle's wings are beating And that Paean sounds again ! — 120 Kunier. " Then forward ! youths, to death or glory ! Dear though home and friends may be — And dying, ye shall live in story, Living, see your country free ! " Though Fortune's star be brightly shining. Though its cheering influence bind The soul to life, let no repining Quell the ardour of the mind : " By Heaven, it is a sacred feeling ! I have felt its holy fire Through every vein like lightning stealing — Till fresh hope did me inspire. " Though many are too base for li\-ing, None too good for Freedom die : Pure Hearts, while your life-off 'rings giving, Trust that they shall bloom on high : " No soul can be too great, remember, For a great and holy cause ; l'\in then to flames each smoulcrring ember — Forward ! turn ye not, nor pause 1 Korner. 121 " Brave youths ! be rocks on which the nations May their hopes of Freedom raise, Deserve and gain their acclamations, And be crowned with deathless bays ; " What ! tune the lyre to songs of gladness Whilst your brethren bravely fight ? Dance and toy ! — delicious madness ! — Whilst they battle for the right ? '• It may not be ! your God — betViending All the loved ones left behind — His gracious aid for ever lending, Will support each fervent mind : " 'Tis hard — -I've known — Life to surrender, Life and Friendship — Love and Bliss ! — But all, again ! Ld gladly tender To attain an end like this ! • • • • He sheathed the Sword no longer gory, And rejoined the seraph throng — Floating with them back to glory. Borne upon their wings of song : 122 Korner. Hark ! as they rise, the P;can sounding — " Freedom is thy birthright, man ! The chorus, hark ! with joy abounding, " II MEN WOULD BE FREE, THEY CAN !" 123 THE CAGED LARK. OOR prison'd Lark ! all thy regrets are vain. Thou canst not visit the green fields of May Howe er melodious may be thy strain. Here thou art doomed in bondage close to stay. What ! set thee free — to joy with thine own kind — - To revel gladly in the summer air — - To join the throng harmoniously combined To banish from each listener crloomv care — ? Ah ! it were vain such freedom to bestow ! They'd deem thee tainted by thy sojourn here. Would rudely scorn thee — so increase thy woe — But here, though prison'd, scorn thou need'st not fear. 124 '^'^'^' Caged Lark. Dost note my words, and, noting, think them sage, That now thou pourest duI thy heart in song ? Art thou content to warble in thv cage — Means so that note so clear, so rich, so long—? Let it be so ! Til cherish thee, sweet bird ! As fondly as a mother doth her child, Will, daily, from the verdant, dewy sward. Cut thee a turf whereon the sun hath smiled — Will bring thee stores of field-food, fresh and green, Will tempt thy palate with a wondrous choice. Will strive to gladden thee from morn till e'en, And all but satiate thee with little joys : When comes the sun to smile on youth and age. Reviving many a sick and drooping heart. Outside my window, then. 111 hang thy cage — There thou shalt sing till his last smiles depart. What ! — louder ! still more joyous than before — 'I'hou art content, sweet bird, to stay with me! — - Then, so am I. to tend thee more and more, And spend my leisure hours with books and thee. 12' OUTSIDERS. SAVE us — ere we perish ! There is no human heart So foul but it doth cherish Some one redeeming part ! Our souls and bodies hunger — Will no one give them food ? Each day we grow but younger, And weaker in aught good ; Yet stronger we, and older. In Evil every day — Experience making bolder, And pointing out the way : 1 2C) Outsiders. We're idle, very idle, While others work and win : The daylight, like a bridle, Doth hold us tightly in : The Summer shines too brightly. Its days are long and clear — In the dreary Winter, nightly, We plunder without fear : But we do not like the star, Nor yet the quiet moon. For our stealthy work they mar And always rise too soon — Rise soon, and never weary, But shine through all the night, And aye seem coming near ye With their eyes so sharp and bright. To us those streets are lonely Whose lights seem bright as day — The hated Workhouse only Awaits us round the way — Outsiders. izy Or the prison — so what wonder If for money or for bread We risk an open plunder, Even caught, we're hous'd and fed ? Like rats — just human vermin — ■ We, skulking, steal for food : O ye of wigs and ermine ! Can ye not do us good ? O ! is there nothing for us But law's strong, vengeful grip ? Is there really nothing for us But hulk, or cage, or whip ? O save us ! ere we perish ! There is no human heart So foul but it doth cherish Some one redeeming part ! 128 THE POET'S MISSION '^HIS golden truth must be inwove With what the Poet teacheth- God"s Lovk surviveth Ufe and time, And all decay out-reacheth. Imagination's noblest flight, And most sublime emotion, Have birth within the sacred pale Of man's sincere devotion. Religion is no puzzling scheme Of doctrines weirdly mystic — Existcth not in pomp and show, I-'^mblazon'd and artistic — The Poet's Mission. 129 Divinely plain, thus runs its creed — On God be all-depending, Do as thou would'st be done unto, And leave to Him the ending. Those workers must needs earnest be Who seek the mind's dominion — Truthful as earnest, if they mean To live in good opinion. The Beautiful and True, combined. Define the Bard's vocation, And when his wing'd words touch the world How great the world's ovation ! To teach Goodwill and Brotherhood, The love of all that liveth — The Law of Kindness, and the joys That visit those who giveth : Of candour, honesty, and truth, To shew the common duty — Of the forgiving heart to paint The holiness and beauty : K 130 The Pocfs Mission. '\\) dwell on Love's enduring power- On Passion's brief duration — To hiud lln)se pure and lofty lives That render great a nation ; To trace His hand in ev'ry llower — The meanest never scorning — In ev"ry glory-flashing star The crown of night adorning : — 'o' Such teachings ilow like living streams I'rom Poesie's true fountain. And cheer the trav'Uer while he scales The lofty Epic mountain : And many a sweetly simple Lay The heart of man enshrineth — To yield a never ending joy, To speak when none divineth. The Sower may not live to reap Reward for what he soweth, Yet still have faith that, in the end, Good seed to fruitage groweth : 131 The Poet's W^ork outlives his Life- His truths outHve decr\'inir, And flourish green amidst deca}' And Men and Nations dying ! Outlines in Verse, 135 THE JEW OF SIDON. ^'N Sidon, in the olden time, m There dwelt one Abel ]\Iaiht, A man just in his manhood's prime, Of honourable state. Ten years had Abel wedded been To Jessica Nursyee, But child of his he ne'er had seen, And sorely grieved he. One day sat Abel all alone Within a sweet alcove, O'er his broad lands the bright sun shone And warmed them with its love. i}6 The Jew of Sid on. "And must thest- fair ilfmiains descend To one, no son of mine — Lands, gold, and all, to but a friend — Not evn of mine own line — ? " So mourned aloud sad Abel Maiht — His head upon his breast — Much he bewailed his childless state, And much was he depressed ; When, suddenly, his downcast eye Flashed with some happy thought — He snapp'd his fingers and leapt high. With frantic joy o'erwrought — " I have it now ! 1 have it now ! " The Israelite exclaimed, " Dissolved shall be my marriage vow, I'll seek some Rabbi famed." First, and straightway, he sought his wife, And gently to her broke His wish to cast off, without strife. His present wedded yoke : The Jew of Sidon. 13; She wept, she sobb'cl — hot tears fell fast — She wept and sobb"d in vain — " Nay, wife," said he, " this need not last, We must, and shall be twain ! " That day to Rabbi Simon he His downcast partner led. And skilfully, and earnestly, For a diyorce he pled : Stood Jessica, as statue pale. Woe-stricken — crushed at heart — Yet wept no tear, let forth no wail, But felt that they must part. " 'Tis true, indeed," the Rabbi said, "Thou a diyorce canst claim, But think how long thou hast been wed To this good worthy dame." Vain were his words, and vain her woe, The Jew would have his way ; Which seeing, Simon said, " be't so, But list to me, I pray — 138 The Jew of Sidon. " When you were wedded, to your friends A sumptuous feast you gave, So do you now, such small amends For her great loss I crave : " Your parting, like your union, thus Shall duly honoured be. And one so truly virtuous All this deserves of thee : " That done, return to me and I Will grant what you desire — I'd have ye part all pleasantly. And not in hate and ire," They both agreed, and homeward hied The banquet to prepare, And to invite — next eventide — Their friends the feast to share. The cheer was plentiful as good. Of guests there were not few. And all had donned their happiest mood — All sadness to eschew. The Jew of Sidon. 139 Thus all was well, what must be, must, Each wisely had bethought. So held their faces from the dust And set old Care at nought. Soon as the wine did merr'ly flow, Rich Abel's heart grew warm. And very tenderly to glow Beneath its potent charm : " Dear wife- — dear Jessica," said he, " To show we kindly part, I pray thou wilt take hence with thee What most delights thy heart — " My house's richest treasure take — Whate'er it be, 'tis thine — Preserve it for thy Abel's sake — His heart shall aye be thine." The sparkling cup went round and round, Both host and guests drank free. And soon lay stretched upon the ground Asleep — right heavilie ! 140 The Jew of Sidon. Before the potent wine began To muddle Abel's brain, Poor Jessica conceived a plan Her husband to retain : Thought she, I'll keep him to his word When sound asleep he lies, The house no treasure can afford Like Abel in my eyes. The Jew was on a litter laid, And to her father's borne. There placed upon the daintiest bed — Nor woke he till the morn : But such a waking ! — how he stared And started with surprise ! Like tiger trapped, around he glared With wild and wond'ring eyes : " Where — where am I ?" he cried, at last, " How — wherefore am I here ? — What place is this ? — Are my dreams past ?- No ! still I dream, I fear:" The Jew of Sidon. 141 " No dream," cried Jessica, "no dream (She watched him all the night) ; Be calm, nor so bewilder'd seem, This house is Zadoc"s hight:" " And wherefore I in Zadoc's ? — say !" " My lord, be not surprised, Last night thou bad'st me take away Aught from th}- house I prized — " Now Earth holds nothing that to me Is dearer than thyself, Thy gold and jewels without thee Are filthy dross and pelf — " Thou art the wealth which I would hoard, Without thee, life were death- Cast me not from thee, my good lord, Think on my love ! — my faith !"' She ceased — he clasped her to his heart — " My wife ! my wife !'' he cried, " How could I think from thee to part ? Live ever bv my side !" 142 Tlie Jew of Sicion. Home they returned, nor e'er again Was parting spoke of there, And when had passed years — other ten — She blest him with an heir ! 143 AUTUMN LEAVES. UTUMN leaves! why should ye perish, Lying cold and low ? Are there no friendly hands to cherish, And avert such woe ? Lying cold and low, Damp and cold and low — Are there no friendh' hands to cherish, And avert such woe ? When Summer days were warmly shining Ye lent kindlv shade, And many a pleasant hour of shelter In this forest glade — Autumn Leaves. 144 Lying cold and low, Damp and cold aud low — Arc there no friendly hands to cherish, And avert such woe ? Autumn leaves ! why should }-c wither, Wither and decay — Russet, crimson, and rich golden, P'ading all away ? Lying' cold and low. Damp and cold and low — Are there no friendh' hands to cherish. And avert such woe ? • • • ■ • " All of earth must fade and perish. We but go before. And ^hm with all he loves to cherish Falleth evermore — Lying cold and low, Damp and cold and low, — Arc there no friendl}' hands to cherish, And avert his woe ? " 145 OVER THE SEA. ND must we fly our country For earth's remotest shores ? ^lust we, Hke outcast children, Be driven from her doors ? What have we done to merit All but the foul disgrace Of that convicted felon — Crime written on his face ? II. Have we not toiled from childhood, From early morn till e'en ? Have we not racked our bodies, While crush'd our souls have been ? L 146 Over the Sea. We've neither begg'd nor idled — Are honest, hand and heart — Count every man a brother, And with the weak take part. 111. In working we take pleasure, Each of his art is proud. And would exert the talents With which he is endowed : We wish but for employment— Wc wish and ask in vain — Our marts are overflowing — The answer is too plain : IV. We are not discontented, The spirit of our laws — Though needing reformation — Calls forth our hearts' applause We're freemen, all, and know it, Nor do we disagree With those who say no people Are half so great or free — Over the Sea. 147 V. But privileges never Will feed or clothe a man, We must have food and wages — Find them where best we can : Thousands have gone before us Where we are going now, And millions yet will follow To sow and Speed the Plough — VI. Unless they till our home-wastes — Enrich our native soil — Home-acres fit for culture Await the sons of toil — Hill-sides, and moors, and valleys, Need but the human hand To render them as fertile As our adopted land : VII. No need of Emigration, Here"s room enough for all Were but the land delivered From that vile feudal thrall — 1^.8 Over the Sea. \\'h\' lags emancipation ? The man}', not the few. Are destined to possess it And reap thence Labour's due. Strong in this hope we leave thee. Our own dear native land, Warm hearts for us are weeping Upon thy rocky strand — And thou and the}' for ever Shall in our memories dwell — We can but leave our blessing — Farewell ! dear land, farewell ! 149 FAREWELL TO THE HEATHER! lAREWELL to the heather! Farewell to the North, From the home of our fathers The lairds drive us forth; Now the sheep and red deer Are better than men, And there's woe on the hill-side And eke in the glen. Farewell to the heather 1 We'll tread it no more — - Our last hope on earth Is Columbia's shore ; Ere the sun sink to rest We shall sail o'er the sea — A new home to seek Jn a far countrie. I =;o Fareivell io the Heather ! Farewell to the heather ! — The heather's on fire — The flames from our shielings Rise higher and higher ! May his Grace, the Lord Duke, Never feel as we feel — While we turn our last look On the land of the leal ! Farewell to the heather ! Come prairie and wood, Our strong arms we bring you, And strong hearts and good — If soldiers are wanted, Let laurels of fame Be gather'd by shepherds And keepers of game. 151 SHAKSPEARE." HAT glorious victories are here enshrined In deathless trophies of immortal Mind ! What proud exemption from the common doom Are lives that need no costly, storied tomb ! How rich the spoils from Death's cold clutches wrung- Hovv vast the fame that lives on ev'ry tongue ! Such fame is thine, thou first of human kind By whom the soul's deep myst'ries were defined Thou held'st the mirror up to nature's view And proved the false by setting forth the true : Dissecting motives of the hidden will With touch precise and anatomic skill, Unlocking ev'ry chamber of the heart That laughs — or weeps, at bidding of thy Art. Sun of thy system ! whose effulgent rays 152 '' SJiakspcarey Dispel the filmy clouds of mental haze, Clearing the lab rinths of Life's devious way Till darkness seems transparent as the day — Still unapproached throughout the World of Mind, All Coming Time shall fail thy like to find ! 153 MASTER LOVE. ^OVE'S a naughty, changeful boy- Now he's forward, now he's coy — Now he romps in glad excess — Now he sighs in deep distress — Heigh-ho, the fellow ! Love like a chameleon seems Formed of ever-changing whims : Now he blushes, now grows pale — Now he'll flatter, now he'll rail — Heigh-ho, the fellow ! Love's an artful little thing — - Sly the glances he can fling — Now brings pleasures, now brings pains, Now implores and now disdains — • Heigh-ho, the fellow ! 134 Master Love. Would that Love had ne'er been born And our hearts left quite forlorn ! — Better so than thus to be Tossed on an inconstant sea — Heigh-ho, the fellow ! DD MY MOTHER. HE sleeps, her thin pale cheek upon her hand— Her face, towards the light, receives the dawn That streameth gently o'er the placid brow, The closed eyelids, and soft moulded lips So pleasingly disposed into a smile : Repose so sweet, so peaceful and profound, Hath been estranged from her for many a year — Some say that Age a second Childhood knows, Enjoying oft its pleasant balmy sleep. How welcome such must be to her — at last ! She many long and weary vigils kept — Sustained by a brave spirit, and a hope That never faileth in the faith inspired, i=i() Mv Mother And sleeps she now so calmly, and so long ? Alas ! it is a sleep that ne'er shall know Disturbance more — the last, long sleep of all ! And yet I read no closing conflict here, The soul, when summon'd from its shattered shrine. Withdrew so peacefully that dreaded Death Wears but the semblance of an earthly sleep. 157 GOOD WALTER. OBIT. CHRISTMASTIDE, MDCCCLXX. In losing his own life my brother did save two others, therefore he did not die in vain. — A. F. Walter. EROES have been who did not \ield To death upon a battle field — So gave he up a noble life Unsullied by the rage of strife. He loseth not his life in vain Whose loss to others counteth gain, And o'er Good Walter's early tomb The amaranths of fame shall bloom. Who would not envy death like this ? Sure passport to eternal bliss — To welcome from the man above Who sacrificed his Life for Love : j^S Good Walter. Let grateful hearts, then, open wide As falls each holy Christmas-tide — Let rescued lives teach men anew. Do AS Ye wol-ld Be Doni-: Unto 159 OVER THE MOUNTAINS. VER the mountains, '}. Or over the sea, Roam, let us roam, Bold, fearless, and free — We shall ne'er have a care, We shall ne'er give a sigh, With thoughts aye unclouded And hearts beating high. The home of the brave Is where liberty reigns. On huge towering mountains Or ocean's vast plains — Though storms whistle o'er us We'll heed not the blast. But Rovers, bold Rovers, Remain to the last. i6o Over the Mountains. We'll rise with the lark, With the sun sink to rest, And dark sorrow banish Away from each breast : With a blue sky above And a fair earth beneath. We'll scale the steep mountain Or tread the lone heath. O Freedom, blest Freedom ! How bri.i^ht arc the rays That dart from thy sunbeams And scatter the haze — That enrich the proud waves As they dash on the strand — On the bold rocky shores Of our Native Land ! i6i IDOLS. WOULD that I were a child again And my sole delight a toy — Such never could look or speak unkind, But for ever yield me joy ! The hopes of the world are false and vain, Its hearts are hollow and cold, And the cruel blight of some cherisht love A story too often told. The Idols we raise are swept away By old Time's resistless flow, While the broken heart of Bereavement sinks To the deepest depths of woe. M 1 62 Idols. And rest there is none for the weary life Except where the willows wave — No certain peace, no calm repose, But low in the silent grave. 1 63 FAR, FAR AWAY! HE joys of home and youth depart As time rolls swiftly on, And long ere age hath chilled the heart Its brightest hopes have flown ; But most we mourn the absent friends Whose mem'ries ne'er decay — Whose distant home enchantment lends — Far, far away. 'Tis hard to think we may not meet And be as we have been, While yet our warm life-pulses beat In recollection keen : Though oft kind greetings come and go, And each for each doth pray, We still must wish they were not so Far, far away. 1 C)4 ^'^''> /^'' ^'^ ^'^y • The winds that float across the deep And kiss the crested waves Seem wailing o'er the dead that sleep Far down in ocean's caves, Yet oft, when wand'ring o'er the sands, Methinks I've heard them say — " Remember friends in distant lands Far, far away." could we hear them speak again ! And clasp their hands once more, And dear-united friends remain — As we have been before ! That such a joy may crown our lot Most fervently we'll pray, Though absent they are rot forgot — Far, far away ! i6: A WEDDING GIFT. LL that I have this day is thine, A heart whose faith has never falter'd, A love that knew no other shrine And through all changes lives unalter'd. Had I thousand hearts to give Thine all their love and faith should be, Had I a thousand years to live I'd gladly spend them all with thee. There's not a joy in all the world Like that of Love beyond deceiving, Though bolt on bolt be at it hurled The heart will triumph — when believing. 1 66 A Wedding Gift. This day my joy hath sov'reign sway — A joy which hut with thee I know, The rapture of a first, fond love Which, wedded, makes a heaven below ! 167 HOME REVISITED. HERISHT scenes of my youth, I revisit you now With the footsteps of years on my time-trodden brow — With the shadows of care where the smiles of hope shone, Ere the dreamings of youth had all faded and gone. Yet my heart seems as young in the bliss it now feels As it M-as when in boyhood I clamber'd these hills, Nay, I know not if ever I felt when a boy Such vivid sensations of rapturous joy. Though the years have wrought changes on you, as on me, Still unalter'd remains this fair arm of the sea, This world-renown'd frith, my own beautiful Clyde ! O'er whose breast I was wont in my shallop to glide : 1 68 Home Revisited. When I launch'd my frail bark on its shining expanse How gaily, how proudly, o'er it was our dance ! Nor sought we the shore till the sun's dying ray Had fled from the gaze of the long summer day. There, too, still unchanged, rise the old giant hills Interlaced as of yore by their rock-bedded rills, Heather-clad as they were in the centuries fled When the Clans of the Shires for their liberty bled. Should some boasting invaders e'er visit these shores They may not be met with the ancient claymores, But the sharp, deadly ring of our rifles shall tell That the Sons of the Gael love their liberty well ! i6g LOVE'S EDEN. NEVER thought this world could be The Eden that it is to me, Xor ever in my vision"d dreams, My aspirations or their themes, Had pictured bliss so truly great A portion of our mortal state. Give Fashion's slaves their bright display, Give Monarchs empires, thrones, and sway, I only ask that of thy heart Mine shall remain a living part. No outward signs need Love bestow To cause affection's streams to flow — There is a strange mysterious bond Our narrow knowledge far beyond That heart with heart, and mind with mind, In closest union blend and bind : I/O Love's Eden. I^'rom thcc, a kindly word can raise My spirit in its darkest days — From thee, a warm, impassion'd kiss Transports me to a realm of bliss ! Thy truth and love endeareth life, Soothes all its care, quells all its strife, And more thy faithfulness to me Than all the wealth of land or sea. Come, dearest, nestle on my breast ! Be it thy ever-welcome rest — And in tli}' heart I'll make my home W'ithouten wish beyond to roam : Believe me, where such love hath birth There is much more of heaven than earth — And this believe, all things above. Love springs from Heaven, and Heaven is Love ! 171 THE INNER WORLD. HOUGH rays of memory gild the past And former joys renew, Their bright enchantments never last But swiftly fade from view. Thus through the brain will lov'd ones pass Their vacant chairs to fill — Yet ere our gaze is fixt, alas ! We find them empty still ! Unknown to us, from Spirit land, Our dear ones may return And all the feelings understand Of hearts that sigh and yearn — 172 The Inner World. May know wlicn laithful mourners bring Their faces back once more, Or when their voices seem to ring In gladness as of yore. Have such the power to visit us — In spirit though it be — In sorrow and in happiness? In heaviness and glee ? Life is — through Life — a myst'ry seal'd, The Truth but glimmers through, But with the Change shall be reveaKd The Old blent with the New. ^7?> MY LOVE. WOULD like my love to be trusting, As trusting as if she were blind, I would wish her to lean on me wholly. With never a doubt on her mind. With all that pertains to the struggles — The battles and bargains of life — It is fit that a man should be laden, But keep woman out of the strife. Her world is that home where affection Is foster'd and nurtur'd and spread. And the woman that makes it most happy W^orks more with her heart than her head. 1^4 ■'^-0' Love. I would like my love to be cultur'd — Not over, yet highly, refined — Leading me with her beautiful instinct. And not by the strength of her mind. 175 CLOUDS. ET us hope for a to-morrow When the clouds will flee awav- And so from the future borrow Gleams of comfort for to-day. When we know the sun is shining Just behind the filmy haze, Well we know its golden lining Will appear in coming days. We have but to wait and reason That what is is for the best, And at last will come our season Of enduring joy and rest. 1 7O Clouds. Let us hope for that to-morrow Which contentment only brings — And in passing Clouds of Sorrow See the Hands that are the King's. 177 WAR AND CONQUEST. jRITE brutish war and conquest down Ye men of intellectual miq:ht — On wrongs in Earth's high places frown, And flood dark Error's caves with ]!o;ht ! 'o» For Mercy, as for Justice, plead, Let War be intellectual strife — While we have Reason where the need To sacrifice dear human life ? The God-made, God-like, creature, Man, No longer must, by King or Law, Be set up in the battle-van And shot at like a targe of straw. I-S n\zr and Conquest. It" Kinj;s and I'^iipcrDis will li.L;ht With other weapons than the Pen. Let them each t)ther singly smite And cease to slaughter hosts of men. King-crait and State-craft, crying, '• more," Have curst us with a second flood — Their hlind. unholy lust of power Re-deluging the Karlh with blood. Uncounted, countless millions thus Have paved the paths which now we tread- Their very dust re-lives in us — We are but offsprings of the dead. O would that now were shadow'd foitli The joys of that long promised time When all the Nations of the Earth Shall dwell unstained by blood or crime ! When spears shall into pruning hooks, .\nd swords to willing ploughshares turn When War shall only live in books, Or on the mould'ring trophied urn ! 179 UNDER THE CLOUD. A LAY OF THE LANCASHIRE FAMINE. IFE of my bosom ! children of mine ! Do not despair though our fortunes decHne — ■ The clouds may be heavy, the storms may be near. But the heart that is trusting has conquer'd its fear. Home may be humble, but still it is home, A region of peace whence we seek not to roam, A shrine of delight that the world never knows, A haven of blissful and welcome repose. Wife of my bosom ! there once was a time When our hopes of the future were truly sublime. When Want held no place in our visions of bliss— When we never contemplated sorrow like this. l8o Under the Cloud. Wife of my bosom ! I see throus^h the clouds Faint gleams of a joy which the present but shrouds. And as with the sun when withheld from our sii;ht. The warmth of its influence heralds the light. Despair nut, my lov'd ones, the Night will depart, And the bright rays of Morning re-gladden each heart- United in love let us brave out the blast And Faith, o'er Misfortune, shall triumph at last ! i8i CRYSTALLYNE. TAKE away the passion-cup ! I may not taste the sparkling wine, Though told that in the quaffing up There dwells an ecstacy divine. I will not drown ennobling thought. Or drive the reason from my brain, The pleasure is too dearly bought That bringeth after-grief and pain- Kind Nature doth on us bestow A gift more precious than the Vine, And freely from her fountains flow The glorious streams of Crystallyne lS2 Crystallync. Temptation bubbles u"er tbt- Cup, But I'll resist the fatal bliss, Too well I know tht- quaffing up Would only prove a J udas-kiss ! i83 HARVEST HYMN. 1870. God ! for this bountiful harvest Let the souls of Th\' people be joyful. Let their hearts overflow with thanksgiving — Let their lips utter praises triumphant ! As we mow down the full-ripen'd treasures May we think of their Great Creator, As we bind up the great golden sheaves May we inwardh' thank Thee, O Father! We still own the blessings of peace To crown the full comforts ot plenty, While the demons of carnage and death Are slaving our fellows bv thousands. 1^4 Harvest Hymn. Thine Arm hath been so long around us. And thy Right Arm hath so long provided. That we, in the pride of our hearts, Now deem ourselves heirs of security. We suppose ourselves marked out and chosen As those to whom all earthly blessings Shall for ever flow forth in abundance — From the depths of a limitless ocean. O God ! "midst this bountiful harvest, May the pride of our hearts be unharden"d : We bend ourselves lowly before Thee — Our Shield and our only Sustainer ! 1 85 LET HOPE BE EVER YOUNG. HE faery dreams of former years Have faded quite away, And in their place there but appears Some token of decay. Where now the bounding gush of joy From youth's bright fount that sprung? Where now the bliss without alloy When Hope and I were young? 'The fount is dry, the gush is o'er, No trace of beauty seen, And I, bereaved for evermore. But grieve for what has been. 1 86 Let Hope be ever Young. A\va\- ! away ! each gloomy thouj;ht Ik'Iiiiul mc shall be llung — While lite holds on 'tis promise-lrauj;ht- Lcl Hope be ever young! i87 BONNIE INVERMAY. A'E roamed afar where'er the star Of Fortune guided me, But till this day, sweet Invermay, I've ne'er forgotten thee. Time rolls along while sigh and song In swift succession flow. For smiles and tears, and hopes and fears, Are all of life we know : Yet dear to me shall ever be The joy of life's young day. And still shall I, till mem'ry die, Love Bonnie Invermay ! I love the glens, the rocky glens, Of our romantic land, I love her hills, her heath'ry hills, And mountains sternly grand ! 1 88 Bonnie Invcrmay. for the days, the happy days, When Hope's bright cup ran o'er! But all in vain I sigh again — They'll gladden me no more : Yet dear to me shall ever be The joy of life's young day, And still shall I, till mem'ry die. Love Bonnie Invermay ! 1 love the streams, the bounding streams, That Echo loves to greet, That dance and play, and fall in spray. Like diamonds at our feet ; And should Fate's star lead me afar — Or strew my path with care, Till sorrows grow, and age's snow Hath whiten'd every hair — Still dear to me shall ever be The joy of life's young day. And still shall I, till mem'ry die. Love Bonnie Invermay. i8g THE SPIRIT-GOAL. E may not mourn the spirit's flight From darkness to unclouded light ! We cannot wish that it had stayed — Of earth-blights— earth-damps — sore afraid ; And yet, we're human — life-love, how human ! Earthy, how earthy I — strong man, frail woman For ever clinging to this narrow sphere And mocking higher hopes we grovel here. We have a hope— a blessed hope ! With sin and death 'tis lit to cope When link'd with faith — O fearless faith ! That in the unfathom'd sea of Death Leaps boldly from the giant rock of Time — Which it took long and weary years to climb — I go The Spirit -Goal. Floatinj; away away to eternity — Breatliinj; tlic l)lissful air of infmitv ! Her's was that hope, and her's that faith Which lulls the stormy waves of death — O ! how she wished to he away — Awav from ni;_,^ht to lastim; day ! From its love and hate — its joy and sorrow: Now she knows no night — fears no to-morrow : Glory eternal ! — changeless— for ever — Is tlie joy of believers — fading never ! Cease to repine — she is happier far Than ye e'er could have made her- tlian ye are Wherefore be downcast ? — strive to be with lui When ye leave this pilgrim-world for ever : Grace is abounding ! — Heaven without limit ! Struggle on ! — still on ! — till ye are in it ! igi WATERLOO. HE hero of a hundred fi,<;hts All honour to his name ! The champion of our dearest rights Enshrine in deathless fame ! And most oi' all his victories — So signal and so true — Let us remember with delight The one at Waterloo ! Embroil'd perhaps we yet had been With Gallia as a foe Had Wellington with iron arm Not laid the spoiler low : 192 Waterloo. I-Vom Elba flushed wiili hope he came To threaten us anew, Hut, crushed at last, his prowess died On famous Waterloo ! Of glory full, and full of years, The hero passed away — The nation wept a sea of tears — The world bewailed the day ! And though we trust that ne'er again We'll have such work to do. Let Britons never once forget The Duke and Waterloo ! 193 DECEIT. LAS ! that Deceit should e'er dwell 'Neath a smile so angelic as thine ; That around th}' sweet tongue — all unseen — Such a venomous reptile should twine ! Thy lips are as soft still, and bright, As they were when I loved thee so well, Yet, loathing, I turn me away, For within lurks a spirit of hell ! I trust that the power of thine eyes May ne'er draw me tow^ards thee again, The poison which thine would impart My own lips might incline to retain. It cost me a pang to refrain From the fruit I had relished so long. Yet, strengthen'd, I conquer'd myself. And I tender my thanks in my song. 194 CHILDHOOD. IrETTY little fairy creature! Guileless glee in every feature Free from art's deceits and wiles, Full of joyous hopes and smiles. Those sweet eyes, so brightly shining, Tell thou know'st not of repining; They only speak of joy — below That forehead pure and white as snow. Thy cheeks must love the fond caresses Of those playful golden tresses : Mimic sunbeams kissing roses Vac their too brief summer closes! Childhood. 195 O the happy round of childhood ! Sunny mead and shady wildwood — Flowery glens and faery streams : Soothing songs and shining dreams ig6 FREE FATHERLAND. WAKE ! arise ! Great German Land Shake off for aye the iron-hand — Shake off the galling yoke of caste And hail fair Freedom's dawn at last — Germania must and shall be free ! From hill to vale, from lake to sea ! Thy blood has flown in torrents forth — 'IMie life-blood (jf the niiyhty North- And Liberty is fitting crown I''or deeds of deadly-bought renown — Germania must and shall be free ! l""roni hill to vale, from lake to sea ! Free Fatherland. 197 Your Kaiser-King may never hear The chorus pealing deep and clear, But sound it shall with potent voice The list'ning nations to rejoice — Thus shall it ring — Be Ever Free ! From Hill to Vale, from Lake to Sea ig8 PROSE OR PORSIE ? AN liPISTLE TO JAMKS I!AI,LANTINE, EDINBURGH. HAT wordy fallow, Tam Carlyle, In unctuous, mentorian style, The bardic callin" daurs revile, And skys his prose. Nog, I hae tried, and that in vain, An' ettled ower an' ower again, To howk up facts, doonricht and plain, Frae oot his beuks, An' I hae cam to this conclusion — That he's the King o' Phraseconfusion. An' Laird o' Muckleworddelusion — An' ither ilks. Prose or Poesie ? ^99 I wadna gie thae screeds o' rhyme That Burns has handed doon to time For a' the volumes o' sublime By Tammas writ. I wadna gie your " Drap o' Dew," Or " Castles in the Air," sae true, Wi' mony mair I hae in view. For miles o' prose. Mair fu' o' feelin' than o' art, The trenchant lyric, like a dart, Strikes to the universal heart, For evermair. Faur ower the wide Atlantic's wave, Whaur howlin' tempests roar and rave, Our Scottish Sangs hae fand nae grave. But daithless fame ! Sae, brither James, our eldest bardie, Let na yer Muse be shy or tardy. It seems a lang time since we heard ye Pipin' her reed. 200 Prose or Poesic .-' Dinna mistak" this frienly letter, I ken your wee bit lassie better Than think that Tammas could her fetter— Or steek thy mou'. While tons on tons o' leaden prose Sink to a nameless, dark repose, The cheery sang but wider throws Its gowden ray ! " A man's a man for a" that," still The worl's enraptured ear doth fill. An' reapeth hairvests o' gudewill Frae pole to pole. I jist hae heard sweet " Huntingtower " Sang wi a wondrous witchin power — An' noo, ance mair, she's dirlin't ower, \Vi' blvthsome birr ! THE END. THIRD EDITION By the same Author, preparing for Publication, In Crown Svo, THE DAWN OF LOVE. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, ETC. " This gentleman can write poetry really worth the reading. There is a sea-like freshness in many of his pieces, and a pathos and strength of feeling in others, which bespeak him of the class of men whose world within gives ready and healthy response to the world without." — British Quarterly Review. " The eventful years which have passed over the head of society since Mr. Rae- Brown first published have not been thrown away on the poet. Maturity of judg- ment and facility of composition are manifested in the original pieces here pre- sented, which are numerous. There is an exceeding variety of brief, vigorous, brilliant bursts on subjects of the passing hour." — British Banner. " The dedication of your poems confers on me an unmerited distinction. I shall owe it to your hearty friendship. I have always welcomed your writings, because of the warm human sympathies they evince — the freshness of imagery they display, and the purity of the style in which the ideas are clothed. Continue to avoid the spasmodic and obscure. Unaffected simplicity is power. — Thomas de Quincey. " They exhibit much vigour of thought and elegance of fancy." — Morning Post. "The lays and lyrics forming this volume exhibit an amount of poetic ability, and a command of language, which will tend to give them a welcom.e at the hands of a public to whom poetic excellence, in a new writer, appears only as an occa- sional quality." — Weekly Dispatch. "The author is never moody. He does not trill his lyre in strains of mere sentiment. Had we room, however, to repeat his " Faitherless Laddie,' that piece would show that, in a strain that would .have done honour to Burns, he can be indeed pathetic." — Christian Times. " Mr. Rae-Brown aims at the beautiful, and admirably he succeeds. His great school is Nature, and his effusions are full of a feeling both grateful and true. He is ever fresh, lively, full of warmth and happiness. — The verses we have just quoted display a noble development of the finer feelings or sympathies, and prove that Nature makes the poet." — Ladies' Xeii-'Spaper. "An elegant volume. The stanzas exhibit considerable elegance of didtion and great delicacy of sentiment, and their peculiar charm of music and sweetness ot thought will gain them much favour." — Leader. " The volume we have named is by a contributor of ours, and our readers have, therefore, a very general knowledge of its m.erits. On that account we do not quote largely, but the following extracts will show that the style is powerful and diversified." — Tait's Magazine. " Another Scottish writer comes in aid of the proof, that the land of Burns con- tinues to be the land of song. The 'Widow's Daughter' is one of the most tender and touching descriptions; philanthropic as well as patriotic feelings are breathed throughout. 'Lines to a Child Asleep' open with much simple beauty.' Literary Gazette. " He belongs to a school of prophets' who are deserving of all encouragement, especially as among them we do not despair of hearing some high Habakkuk voice swelling up into a loftier and louder strain. Hogg's Instructor. " I have been reading your poems v.'ith much pleasure, and shall begin again from the first page, for already I am aware how well and pleasantly my time will be employed." IValter Savage Landor. opinions of the Press, etc. " Their freshness of thou(;ht and simplicity of style arrest the attention, while they elevatr the mind of the reader. There is truthfulness, warm and genial as surnmer sunshine, dwelling about and reposing among those * Lays and Lyrics.' " Critic. " The author has given us one or two sweet little piftures which are unquestion- ably touched with the magic light that no one but a true poet ever describes on sea or land. The sonnets exhibit, besides, a beautiful serious faith." Glasgow Daily Mail. "Mr. Rae-Brown is a bard of considerable standing and fame. He has con- tributed a variety of productions to the Dublin University and other maga.