LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/christmasdayotheOOpearrich CHRISTMAS DAY &nb 0%r |) 0ms, JOHN SKIRROW PEART. ALL RIUJITS It E8ERV RD. LONDON BIMPKIK, MAB8HALL, I is?!. 1.0AN STACK LONDON : W. H. AND L. COLLINGRIDGE, CITY PRESS, ALDERSGATE STREET, E.C. PREFACE. In submitting this little volume to the public, it is with the hope that, if all be not acceptable, some stray thought or expression may be found to give both pleasure and profit. The poem " Christmas Day" is an attempt to describe what Christmas Day is to nearly every man, woman, and child in England — a laughing, happy time. So far the poem is a national one. The religious phase of our great festival has often been set forth in verse, but what may be called the worldly one never, except in a passing line or two. If it fail to recommend itself to the reader, may I be pardoned the failure in the respect for the motive. If it b€ successful, and a desire should be felt to know whether the description bu a true one, I say, ask the Vicar or the Squire. .! B. R January, 1871. 543 REV. WILLIAM F1DDIAN PEART, M. A. VICAR OF MTTHOI-MROYD, THB FOLLOWING POEM 18 DEDICATED A8 A TOKEN OP AFFECTION AND KE8FB1 T BY Hit NEPHEW, THB AUTHOR. CHRISTMAS DAY. 'Tis Christmas time, the snow lies on the ground, The wind blows chilly from the northern sky. A village Squired mansion may be found, Snug in the hills not far from Banbury ; The well-built walls the biting blasts d And all is comfortable, bright within. Its lord — a polishod gentleman is he. Dissenters though he owns amongst his : Yet doubting Clnmh and state, is to him mortal 8 CHRISTMAS DAY. The household meet to share the morning meal : The father in the pride of forty-four ; The mother's lovely face does yet reveal Its girlhood's beauty, tho' now near two-score ; The daughter, Helen, some fifteen or more, Displays to all a maiden's little airs ; The younger ones throw Kobin crumbs, or bore Big, patient Pompey, or talk play affairs : God bless those happy hearts, their day will come for cares ! The grandame joins. Those venerable hairs Deck the calm forehead with a silver splendour ; That chaste expression on the face she wears Which only years and simple faith can lend her. How often we impatient service render To age, the link between us and the grave ! Then let us towards them be more patient, tender : Our being, health, was it not they who gave ? Our children will to us, as we to age behave. CHRISTMAS DAY. 9 The Postman's ring ! Away the youngsters fly, To seize the bag, and bring it to the table ; The father knows his power and dignity, And looks as weighty as he well is able. He feels inclined to foist some little fable ; But seeing all their glad expectancy, His kind heart will not brook a moment's trouble ; So he announces, pleased as pleased can be, u Bertie and Tom from school, and Charlie home from sea." Then wild the mirth. The mother's happy sinih m Full well the flutter in her heart attest ; Though tonder love for all her bairns she feels, Charlie's the scapegrace, so she loves him best. Tho servants share the pleasure with the rest, Have fits of laughter, yet they know not \ By soino k«MMi thinker, the', it may be guessed That thoughts of sweethearts are not far away ; The S.jiiin s wonl h, ing pledged for early holiday. 10 CHRISTMAS DAY. They gather round the fire on Christmas Eve : Charlie amongst the children bears the palm ; And homage as his right he does receive, Both from his heirship and his uniform. He talks of wonderful escapes from storm ; Of " jolly larks " enjoyed when free on shore ; And should an enemy invading come, With patriot fervour does that foe implore As British midshipman, to let him know before. The Eugby boys have much whereof to speak : How Doctor Hayman, simple truth to tell, Knows more of caning than he does of Greek ; How Bully Smith had thrashed Tom's chum, Eoupell ; How Tom had fought till Bully conquered fell, And how the Tutor said, " 'Twas very wrong, Still, to be just, Tom used his mauleys well." Then cricket, boating, on the memory throng : Tales such as ever will to schoolboy days belong. CHRISTMAS DAY. 11 The others listen with a proud delight, The grandame nods her head with meaning wise, As if to say, that, should she please, she might Tell still more startling feats of enterprise ; The parents* swelling hearts transported rise, As silently they watch the happy brood ; Each thinking of their offspring's destinies, A holy breathing wings its way to God — " Give them all other things, but make, make them good ! " The morning breaks — the natal morn of Christ : As one by one the family appear, From tongue to tongue that greeting old is passed — " A Merry Christmas and a glad New Year." Tho father bids them in remembrance bear Their many mercies, when compared with those 12 CHRISTMAS DAY. Who have no home, no bread, and scant to wear ; Think of the bitter wind, the drifting snows, Then weigh their own blest lot — warm shelter, food, and clothes. Once more the Postman shows his welcome face, Then Christmas Cards are opened with a will ; My favourite Helen gets some good advice, She's bid " Heap on more wood, the wind is chiU ; " The picture shows a redbreast on a hill — Robin ten times the size the hill should be ! But children are not always critical ; And notes inviting their society At gatherings of all kinds, till past Epiphany. Now to the village church they all resort, Whose spire, the sentinel of centuries, Points, like the precepts old beneath it taught, Unerringly and calmly towards the skies.* * See note A at the end of tbis volume. CHEISTMAS DAY. 13 The ivy screens the time-stained buttresses, To lend antiquity a softer glory ; Death counts his conquests by the mounds that rise, Marking the resting-place of young and hoary : Most have a cross, or stone, to guard their memory. May I in some such quiet spot be laid When my last work is done. Let me not have A stiff, cold marble reared above my head, But let a yew-tree grace my humble grave. Far rather there than in a stately nave, Where Honour keeps dull vigils o'er Renown ; No such distinguished burial I crave. My requiem bo the song-bird's dulcet tone, And childhood's happy laugh, wild in its sporting grown. The villagers are loitering round the gate, And groot the manor part v with a smile, 14 CHRISTMAS DAY. Perhaps more pleasant for the next day's treat. All enter reverently the cloistered aisle ; The glorious service echoes through the pile ; Communion succeeds the Litany : The Curate then announces from the rail That " all the parish will expected be To-morrow at the Squire's for dancing, and for tea." The aged Yicar now the desk ascends : Time but small havoc with his frame has made, A vigour rare his eighty years attends ; And like the ancient monarch of the glade, Yet upright stands, majestic though decayed, And waits the tempest that shall lay him low ; So he, for death nor eager nor afraid, Serenely to the Master's will doth bow ; He fears not for the past, to come — God will bestow. CHRISTMAS DAY. 15 A simple sermon his : — " We meet this day To celebrate the Saviour's birth — His praise Is hymned where winter holds eternal sway, And where the sun his fiercest might displays. Wide are the tongues in which his loved ones raise Their Alleluias : black, white, rich, or poor, Jesus to all an equal heeding pays ; The song's the same from London's busy roar, As the uncertain note from Patagonia's shore. 11 Does trouble weigh you down ? Go, ask His aid; He shall accord it ere you form the | Has sickness caused the hopes of years to fade? No hand liko His to smooth the bed of care : Is wealth your blessing ? Then to Hiui rv\ To seek direction fof itsusoful spending: 16 CHRISTMAS DAY. Is poverty's affliction hard to bear? Beneath the same our Lord on earth was bending : You never can be wrong, on Him for help de- pending. " Has one of you a fault still unconfessed? Has one of you a foe still unforgiven ? Before you go, assoil the laden breast ; Let anger from your heart by love be driven ; Our Lord forgave till seventy times and seven ; The Evil one's temptations must be borne, These are the pitfalls on the road to heaven ; Remember, if within them you be drawn, You add to Calvary's wreath another cruel thorn. " I've tried Him long, and always found Him true — True as the needle to the distant pole ; Not doubtfully I preach this faith to you, Within a stone's throw of my earthly goal : CHRISTMAS DAY. 17 Full soon the bell of this old church will toll My passing hence to joys untold above, That distance far Conception's weak control ; My parting prayer is, that you all may prove The first, last, surest good, to be the Master's love. " How sweet to mark to-day's reunion Of scattered families ! This surely may Prefigure that foretold communion, When all Emmanuel's mandates shall obey. The emblem, too, of blest eternity. And now, beloved flock, for many an hour Go raise the merry dance and roundelay ; I »<' prosperous your lot, content your store, And may the Lord be with you now and ever- more." When home again, arrivals follow fast; The Squire beaming greets thorn ifl the d 18 CHRISTMAS DAY. First, comes the white-haired clergyman to cas An apostolic tone on the affair ; Next, a self-satisfied and portly pair, The authors of three pretty, budding lasses, And many more, whose tale I must forbear ; Instead, here is a sum for Rugby classes — Join youth and mistletoe, the answer will be — kisses. They spend the daylight on the manor pool : The elders romp till they feel young again — Unconsciously confirm the Bible rule, — The spirit dies not, though the body wane. To use some gallant aid the maidens deign ; Then, silly girls ! shriek in affected tones ; Loud laughter meets their falls, and shams of pain, — No nostrum like a laugh for bruised bones ; Old Christmas is sworn foe, to bigots, prudes, and — groans. CHRISTMAS DAY. 19 The dinner bell ! If animals wrote books, How they would damn our blest festivity ! Goodwill to men ; to cows, pigs, fowl, and rooks, A Saint Bartholomew of butchery. The Jewish priesthood, too, were wondrous free, In sacrificial frame, at letting blood. The Squired table was a sight to see ; All was abundant and old-English. Would That all my country's poor had such substantial food! Now for the good old game of blind-man's bull" : The men tho girls hold longer than tlnv i Of course it is from dread of being rough That hands so tenderly on Thm do tho nimble E speed — Tho "Lancers" and the grand "de Covrr Then by the willing m< -»»ed t To please tho b Be stripped— when each miegetswh -oast useful be. 20 CHRISTMAS DAY. Oh Youth, how blest thy portion ! Thine the time When what to men seems worthless still can please ; Ere long simplicity will blush, a crime In thine eyes and the world's. Now prompt to seize Enjoyment's passing moment. sweet Ease ! — No care for future, careless of the past ; All ignorant of Fortune's strange decrees. Pleasure her motto at thy feet hath cast — Enjoy, enjoy to-day, to-morrow cometh fast ! The ocean volume rolls with gloomy roar Unlike the tributary of the field ; — The streamlet cannot float the ship of war. The oak-tree doth his rising sapling shield : The sapling can no strength for vessels yield. So Care from Innocence will stand aside ; CHRISTMAS DAY. 21 Not far away, but just his shape concealed, Awaiting calmly Passion's certain tide ; Then claim his ripened prey, nor will he be denied. The grandame marks all with delighted face, Already has three matches in her eye ; Tho' knowing times have altered for the worse, She's loth to judge with due severity. Then treacherous thought along the past doth And opes again her long -closed girlhood's home ; From there, through forward years full rapidly. She kneels beside her mate's far-distant tomb j She checks a falling tear, of hope, I ween, not gloom. Old Christmas has to answer for a deal Of hoart-diseaso as well as happiness ; •Beneath the mistletoe how many feel The blush of love's first bashful ecstasies! 22 CHRISTMAS DAY. Together picture, oh, such matchless bliss ! In which papas and portions have no share ; Soon to be dashed by servile prejudice : Must we our idol from the bosom tear ? No ; though the shrine be sealed, the first love's ever there. 'Tis two o'clock, and time the scene should close, For even Christmas joys must have an end ; The servants wait to lead them to repose : The Yicar solemnly the knee doth bend, And prays — that happiness trslj each attend From purer source than earthly: lest they fall The grace divine may plenteously descend, And keep them ready for their heavenward call; Then rising, spreads his hands, and says, " God bless you all! " CHRISTMAS DAY. Before those holly-boughs are taken down, The busy world will thread its busy way Of thought and carefulness again to crown A year of toil with well-earned holiday. Long hold this festival a rightful sway — That in its blessings equally may share, The sons of Want and of Prosperity. And now, perhaps, the Squire will grant my prayer, That he next Christmas-time invite me to be there. STRONG DRINK: If Parliament should read this rhyme — The thought is impudence sublime : ♦ • • * • • So I won't ax 'em. — Ver. 17. The pride of Scotland stooped to sing, In words with genius glistering, Encomiums demonstrating The joys of drink ; Forgot how many at that spring, Young, ruin. -.1. • See note B at the end of this Tolume. 26 STRONG DRINK. I'll tell thee, though in humbler verse, Of its insidious, hidden curse, That hurried me from bad to worse In rapid flight : There's ruin both to soul and purse In " getting tight." Some call it venial — any name But that which is its right one — shame ; They say, " We must not strongly blame The faults of youth!" Oh, habit in the man's the same, I've learned that truth. My cheek runs hot as I confess, That my first cup was called — excess ;* The quaffing of the draught was bliss, Its dregs remorse ; Long, long, 'twill be ere I shall miss Its baleful force. * For this expression, " That my first cup was called excess," I am indebted to J. B. Gough, Esq., the Temperance Lecturer. STRONG DRINK. What is there in the fiendish skill That tricks my palate 'gainst my will, That leads me on from fill to fill, From more to more ? Each time a bottle nearer hell Than that before. 'Tis not for me — the social glass An hour with pipe and friend to pass ; And — just to oil our intercourse— A nip of grog ; A lord of God's great universe Chained like a dog! There's, maybe, pleasure in tho \\ For when half-drank you're half-divine ; Song, Music, Painting — all tho Nino,* Are at your call ; Then drop from angels down to swine in ope * Sco note C at the end of thii volume. 28 STRONG DRINK. Next morning, " just to put you square, Of that which, bit you take a hair : " So it goes on from year to year, Until death come. Tipsy at Judgment ! Can ye hear Your righteous doom ? Yet, ah ! Eeflection won't be quelled ! The retrospect of hopes dispelled No agony has e'er excelled In depth of pain ; But by that gripe demoniac held, You writhe in vain. You promise nothing shall you force To seek again that fertile source Of fault, sin, sorrow, and remorse ; You swear by oath. What comes of promise, vow ? Of course, You break them both. STRONG DRINK. 29 All wrong ! all wrong ! That fatal thirst Ye cannot ultimately worst ; And so I counsel from the first — Reserve your mettle. No pugilist but Jesus Christ Can thrash a bottle. Those chords in every human heart, Which make us God's own counterpart ; That quiver with convulsive start At sorrow's pine ; Ecstatic thrill at some sweet thought From source divine : — The charm of Love's pure, genjl e sway, The surest guard in youth's wild way, I M manhood's heart the laithtul en tempests lower; llm light that lends now brilliancy 1 » pleasure's hour : — 39 STRONG DRINK. The sense elastic that the Spring, The Summer — different seasons bring, Alike for peasant and for king, The mossy brink, The wood — wide nature's following : — All dulled by drink. Or when the eager mind would fain Burst this flesh prison, and attain Those fancy realms of gorgeous sheen, Of song's renown; Why hang a bottle on the brain To drag it down ? Who cares with senses steeped in wine, " To see the rose and woodbine twine " ; To cull the scented gems that line The mountain path ? May such delights be always mine On this side death : — STROXG DHIXK. (If Parliament should read this rhyme — The thought is impudence sublime — They'll stop my walks in right quick time ; So I won't ax 'em ; They'll find the hills I love to climb, And then — they'll tax 'em.) And aye hereafter ! This my pleasure — To roam the heavenly scenes at l< And there to con my darling treasure, A simple song ; The bliss above I cannot measure If tliat be wrong : — blest reunin To see departed loved one*. Ti. And ever witi i remain Through Mi Katli Some nobliM — 32 STRONG DEIJSTK. To talk of long-past times, when we Together stemmed life's heavy sea ; When trouble's surging seemed to be No moment lighter ; There's nought like pain and poverty To make Heaven brighter : To know, to hear " the mighty dead," Those who have writ, those who have bled, To twine around their country's head A deathless glory ; Whose sacred names are registered In many a story : — And last, not least of Heaven's reward That, there will be, my trusted Lord, Whom I have served and whom adored But small at best, Familiar friend ! as well as God — Thought must the rest ! STRONG DRINK. With, me it was the death of prayer ; When laden with a weight of care, I would to God's great throne repair, My want confessing ; With brain afire, how could I dare To ask a blessing ? Yes, Man, in God's own image made ! In immortality arrayed ! To whom the right of angels' grade Is freely given, Will let a bottle barricade His way to heave A folon raves in that cold cell, < Hi, pity him ! He knows full well There's no1 an hour 'twixt him and hell, For overman- ; Can ye ool hear hi i yoll Of dark despair? 34 STRONG DRINK. There stands a man on Thames' side — Or from despondency or pride He cannot God's command abide, For his long home ; So leaps into the rolling tide, To snatch his doom. Poor Perdita walks every street, With aching heart and aching feet, She seeks maybe some safe retreat, And gets — "For shame !" But thinks hereafter she may meet Those virtuous same : — A wife forsaken yonder lies, Hearing her babe's beseeching cries For bread, bread, bread ; away she flies For him to steal ; Nature breaks Honesty's last ties, But brings a meal. STRONG DRINK. Yes ! thousands are their woes bewailing, Either through theirs or others' failing ; Of most (how many lack detailing ?) Strong drink's the devil; Who'll nerve his right arm for assailing This blasting evil ? I can't quite reach the Royal ear, At present mine's a humbler sphere, So I'll address my cousins dear — The Parliament ; And ask them cordially to bear A compliment ! Your Legislation, each ono knows, From d( oply-pioui Feeling & Yet some may venture to suppose You'ro not quite blameless ; Let me a thing or two disclose, Which I call shameless, o 2 36 STRONG DRINK. There's something in the liquor laws — Yic. L, cap. 10, the millionth clause — (But here I think 'tis best to pause My legal lore : Lest you create me — with good cause — Lord Chancellor). You've everywhere an institution To breed theft, murder, prostitution, And spread abroad that destitution Which you bewail ; So, then, by way of restitution, You build a jail. With one hand pay a preaching parson, The other feeds'a crime — say arson ; Thus far you've helped the monstrous farce on In generous halves ; Till cleverly you've set one class on At t' other's calves. STRONG DRINK. 37 I really cannot help but wonder That you and rogues remain asunder ; But, no ! you turn with looks of thunder, Kejoice you've caught 'em. You feel no mercy for their blunder, And yet you've taught 'em. Bob Lowe should take one by the hand With gratitude, and say, " Dear friend, The liquor money this year's grand, I thank you kindly j You've scattered wealth thro' this great land, Though maybe blindly. II You'll go to gaol — you've been before ; On coming out, go, drink somo more ; Our schools stretch thro' from shore to shore, From north to south ; The richest taxes that I score Go through your mouth." 38 STRONG DRINK. Shame, crying shame ! that cruel flout, The senseless, mad, triumphal shout, When told the balance brought about For small requitals ; That revenue is torn from out Old England's vitals ! Shame, crying shame ! a " Christian " nation Should cherish her inebriation ; Should hold, for swift and sure repletion, Of wasting purse, That source of revenue, damnation, And England's curse. Britain ! highly-favoured land, Strong by the Sea-god's mighty hand, Thy laws obeyed on every strand, Great is thy power ! Prouder than Gaul or Allemand, Thou art yet lower. STRONG DRINK. 39 Let me thy son, with tender care, A parent's fatal failing bare, Though its destruction mayhap tear Thy frame with rigour, Yet soon thy future shall repair That needful vigour. Dear isle of Freedom ! Why endure A vice which must ere long ensure Thy fall ? When, lo ! thou hast the cure In thine own grasp ; Then, Britain, turn from its impure, Its loathsome clasp. Are not thy children faithful ? Where Is the high people that shall dare A step on England's sacred shore With hostile trea Thy living sons their blood will pour, Lflca thos.> bug dead. 40 strong drink. No foreign foe thy cliffs shall breast ; But in thy borders stalks a pest That vitiates the strongest, best, Of thy life's blood. Oh, battle with it ! and the rest Leave thou to God. They call thee Albion, blest of heaven. Much is required, if much be given ; When from thy soil this stain be driven, Fair shalt thou rise ; Nobler, that thou hast nobly striven For what is wise. Thy sons are great ,• but canst thou guess How many of them through excess, That doth all noble aims depress, Are lost to fame ? Will England future ages bless, Or hug her shame ? STRONG DRINK. 41 'Tis said all nations bow to thee In wealth, art, science, poesy, In pity and in liberty, In high command ; Wilt thou in pureness backward be, My native land ? And if religion form the crown, Wider shall spread thy wide renown, Until, from pure to perfect grown, Jesus descending Shall claim thee as His cherished own, World without ending. ROLANDO, When first I bid farewell to England's shore, And on Atlantic billows westward bore, I fondly thought in other realms to find Some happier spot than that I left behind. As the lone traveller on Sahara's strand, Wearied and thirsty, toiling o'er the sand, Some fancied haven far ahead descries, He strives to reach it, but the vision flies. The earth seemed brighter, and the flowers moro fair, When viewed through novelty's deceptive glare ; The cascade's music and the warbler's strain If ore sweet when wafted from a distant main. 44 ROLANDO. Such are the idle dreams of youthful years, Though gloomy now, the future bright appears ; The lessons taught by sages gone before — Youth's wiser now than old men were of yore ! Life, like a landscape on a summer's day, Has sober tints commingled with the gay ; Thus pain and joy alternately are given ; One tells of Earth, the other speaks of Heaven. Youth see the sunshine, not the darker shade, Laugh at the errors which their fathers made, Till, by the same experience taught, they rise To dear-bought wisdom, and in turn advise. Mine's been a restless life, a life of care, Few friends to comfort and no love to share ; Through many a land, by love of moving sped, Eolando's Arab foot has marked its tread. And yet, methinks, a life is better spent In gaining knowledge than on riches bent. ROLANDO. The business man, who has no thoughts be- yond His ledger, balance, or his goods in bond ; The office drudge, within whose narrow mind A row of figures, and no more, we find ; The struggling lawyer, poring over books As faded as his weary-hearted looks ; — Shall it be said that these fulfil the end Of noble life, yet others be condemned ? The man who lives for self, and self alone, Denies his destiny, vacates his throne. For self alone ! I mark that quiet form Thread yon close alley's uninviting gloom ; An angol he, though in man's humblor gu To ease, if not to banish, miseries : Vice, Dostitut' in triumph there, Disease, dirt, diaadation, oh&rge th«» air. Some faces yet refinement's ruin show, Others suspicion keen, or vacant woe. 46 ROLANDO. They all have seen Humanity's dark phase — How few have turned its brighter to their gaze ! I mark him as he treads that weary bourne, Bestows a flower whence he plucks a thorn, Contrives to drop some useful lesson, while He calls the long-forgotten, banished smile. Nothing too hard for him — the lost, sick, dying, — Not one he leaves without a balm supplying. Yes ! threadbare tho' he be, unknown his name, I'd rather have his lot than wealth or fame. Ye rich, ye great, whom luxury surrounds— In whose abodes unthinking mirth resounds, Draw but the curtains of your noble halls, And listen to Despair's heartrending calls. Take from the trappings of your needless state, For those who bend beneath Want's crushing weight ; The blessing of mankind ? a priceless treasure ! But ease is dearly bought with God's displeasure. ROLAJSDO. 4 7 Mark ye the blackness of the nearing storm ? Can ye not see grim Revolution's form ? Have ye not felt aught of the smouldering fire Beneath you ? Does not Cowardice inspire, If Justice will not, some relenting deed ? Or is fatality your impious creed ? Mark Discontent approach with angry eyes, The strong-defiant greater strength defies. Hunger and Right have often asked their own; Instead, as to a dog, you threw a bone But now, with Resolution in the van, They come again. Refuse them if ye can Or dare! That word once spoken — then the last, Brief, day of toleration will be past. Howiong will legislation count it due To grind t ho many to exalt the few? Reversing Nature's law — the law Divine — Ami then stand wondering at polo d« 48 ROLANDO. But have the few impetuous seemed to aim At right unquestioned to exalted name By laws beneficent, by lives unstained? Alas for faith ! faith human in mankind. Two rulers pledge two nations : these we call William, Napoleon, Grermania, Gaul. Solemn their coronation oaths ! They swear, By all the powers of Heaven, Earth, and Air, Never to violate a people's faith, But keep it sacred till absolved by death. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp ! resounds the martial train — Squadrons on squadrons close, yield, close again — The Ehine runs blood, and corpses strew the plain. Fair France's fertile fields of grain are shorn ; Her orchards — deserts ; villages forlorn. A starving, bleeding peasantry appears, Content — at discount for a hundred years ! ROLANDO. And why ? lest perjured pride should have a fall, A hundred thousand slaughters were too small. Thus did a patriot flame these rulers grace ! Noble example from exalted place ! The one, to bolster tyranny a day ; The other, hoary baby, just to play A silly hour as Kaiser — then decay. Mark ye tho laden vessels leave our shore, (Succeeding months extend the number more) Freighted with what the dullest mind must own The very life of England — her backbone. The labourer, the artisan, must leave His native country, hopefully to strive In some more thankful land for daily bread, A humble roof to shield his honest head. Industrious, finds here no room for toil, He plants his bitterness in foreign soil. He takes his tools, his skill, Mi strength, his all : Once gone, that wealth is ever past recall, D 50 ROLANDO. And thinks of England only as the place Where crime or starving stared him in the face. The mother spurns the offspring from her breast, Then whines of duty, love, and all the rest ! And thousands more less fortunate than those Who have no means to leave behind their woes* The only remedy, our statesmen say, For starving is — to ship the starved away ! A remedy ! 'tis treason better called ! A crime against the commonwealth I Behold The fields extensive, stretching through the land, Asking small labour of the planter's hand In all the lavishness of wealth to smile : Seek there the cause of Industry's exile. The few's injustice keeps these wide preserves ; The pheasant fattens while the peasant starves : Demand a piece, out comes the entail scroll, Which holds for ages what the Norman stole. Dead Cobden, rise! and shake the senate hall, Till this iniquity shall totter — fall ! ROLANDO. 51 Turn we from effete systems to a spot No monarch envies, envious though its lot. Its wealth — simplicity, its strength — its sons, Its poverty — its soil. And yet there reigns Contentment — happiness. No exile train Winds through those defiles for a richer main. While Justice stays, so rich and yet so poor, Shall Swisserland's small domain stand secure. For self alone ! stay yet a time with me, While, by the occult power of poesy, I call some witnesses. Though bare these walls— Though no reflex from gilded carving falls In splendour round me — yet they shall appear. But hush ! attend ! the " famous dead" aro near ! " Ilolvetia writhed in Austria's iron grasp, And all but yiolded to his hated clasp. The point which piorced base GessWs tyrant hv \Y r as 1ml despairing Virtue's last resort. D 2 52 ROLANDO. My native country, mistress of my soul ! Thou gav'st my life, it was at thy control ! With eagles cradled my first breath was drawn In Freedom's eyrie — slaves were ne'er so born. Life without liberty was death to me : A mountain nursling ever must be free. I pressed upon my rocks a sacred kiss, And vowed no tyrant e'er should make them his. Those rocks, to others wretched, barren, cold, Were fairer far to me than burnished gold. The heart clings always where the treasure is — My treasure was my country's happiness. And now I go, Magician, fare thee well, Thou know'st the name I bear is William Tell !" " No genius was mine ; that altar flame Shed no refulgence round John Howard's name : Yet, without influence or genius, may An earnest worker benefit his day. ROLANDO. 53 To some is given the power to wake the soul To ecstasy ; to others, the control Of senates, or a nation's destinies : My proper sphere was humbler far than these. I know my life by many, hard, was viewed, — Oh, no ! there's ' luxury in doing good.' And yet I did but turn the opening sod Of that long road where many since have trod With equal ardour. I now hear men say No scope is left for wide philanthropy : Wrong ! wrong ! the love of race is ever wide, And scope for every creature is supplied ; God never yet gave being to a man But what He marked for him some useful plan. Hear me, ye listeners — but seek, ye'U find A work for every one, of every kind. And, nuw, who comes? — farewell! — let him b« hoard — 'Tis David Livingstone awaits thy word ! 54 ROLANDO. " They stamped my work as useless — waste of time And strength. — hypocrisy — nay, almost crime, To take the sextant, and to leave the school, Some said, enthusiast, and others, fool. The multitude discerns not future good. They only ask, i Will this bring money ? food ? \ A noble few were willing to believe That the long warp might yet the woof receive. A pioneer first must tread the way For civil good and Christianity. Then let them say I struck for world-wide fame ; To me is now as one their praise or blame. How long will man with others interfere ? Fix his hereafter, when they've damned him here ? Or when will all accept this simple creed — That conscience, God, or both, may prompt the deed? None ever yet accomplished lasting good Who fearful of the world's decision stood. ROLANDO. Rouse me no more, man ! I must away, For spirits have their work as well as clay."* A blest reflection ! When life nears its close, When duty done has earned its long repose, When age's locks and furrows give the face A beauty rarer than all manhood's grace ; When early friends have nearly passed away, And only youth reminds us of to-day — That the long road has not been trod in vain, l>ut deathless footprints in our track remain. Soft be the dust whereon he lays his head, And blessings hang like incense round the dead ; While those who courage have " to do and dare * Learn, like Elisha, then the mantle wear. But in succeeding numbers let DM iwtU intrios seen ; of differing peoples tall. Perhaps some worthy lesson I may teach ; 1 i i rooted error reach ; • Seo noto E at the end of thi* volume. 56 ROLANDO. Some folly that in greater freedom grows, Disguised in Reason's drapery, disclose. If this be so, imperfect though the strain, I rest content — my words have not been vain. Columbia, then, must first a notice claim, Carving with eager hand a mighty name ; And if the Maker's bounty can insure A nation's might, Columbia shall endure. There Strength the man, while Beauty is the bride, To sum her charms in one — Creation's pride. Show me but one who ne'er has felt the power Of Nature's beauties in some pensive hour ; Her sterner page to noble aims inspire, Her tempest moods fan Resolution's fire, Her gentler features often to impart That happy sadness which refines the heart. If such an one there be, then is his soul Dark as the grave, and frigid as the pole. ROLANDO 57 Her sturdy children, in the eager race For earthly greatness, hold a forward place ; High in design and urgent to attain, They scorn discomfort, while they laugh at pain. And whether found on the Antarctic strand, Braving the dangers of an unknown land, By Niger's flood, or on the mystic Nile, They bear the impress of their mother isle. Had it not been that England's deeds are theirs, That our great teachers schooled their rising years, Columbia had rushed to wild excesses, Or quickly sunk in luxury's caresses. Cradled in wealth, their failings are not those That the rough blasts of poverty disclose ; But rather such as insolently tower In tlu< proud livery of conscious powtt POP, likr I w.ivwMi.l « hiltl. too early freed Prom master's discipline, Off mother's heed, 58 KOLANDO. They revel in their freedom newly gained ; Their mien is haughty, but their wisdom feigned. Already may be felt throughout the land, The urgent need of some strong pruning hand. The harmless decoration of a name, The homage which exalted titles claim ; These are desired, now Wealth and Power unite To gild the structure, dazzle vulgar sight ; While Education's pride delights to show That legislative power degrades the low. The nation's wisdom rests not with the wise, Her early dignity, uncared-for, flies. These evils, gathering vigour from neglect, May slowly spread, but none the less infect; Until a despot rise, and with the sword Scourge, till a humbled people own him lord. 'Tis but a while, Columbia, bowed with grief, Wept o'er the body of her murdered chief: ROLANDO. 59 A pall of mourning hung around the land, Deep was her sorrow, paralyzed her hand. The murderer's ruthless stroke that laid him low Wreathed but enduring glory round his brow : The cruel hope which urged that fatal aim, But crowned a patriot's with a martyr's fame ; And in a nation's heart his memory stored A fond but sad possession. Then record This simple story over his remains : " His fated hand destroyed the bondman's chains." No pompous sculpture o'er his burial frown, Leave the approach a portal of renown. In future years the noble and the brave shall drop a grateful tear on Lincoln's grave. Liberty, thou " fairest of the fair," Let me iliv laureate's proud title bear: My soul, impatiou:. t he strong dosi re ; B6ltOW tho boon, und then tho WOtdfl llMffrt 60 ROLANDO. Borne round the earth on Fancy's active wing, The dirge of woe I chant, or bliss I sing. In different realms, behold a monarch's state, Surrounded by a people's silent hate : The helpless prisoner for no crime atones, And martial music drowns despairing groans. Behold the noble's arrogant display, To scorn the source of his prosperity ; An angry scowl pervades the peasant's eye, As his more happy brother passes by ; Perhaps a new-led bride, a daughter fair — His fondest treasure — hope of many a prayer — Is snatched to gratify the brute desire Of some base wretch whom love can ne'er inspire, And vain the wronged one should the wrong unfold, When Justice smothers Conscience under gold. Behold the slave, with heaven-directed face, Implore a curse on his oppressor's race ; ROLANDO. 61 From him e'en Hope, that fond deceiver, flies, As round his future darkening horrors rise : Forgive him, then, if, maddened by his woes, He grasp the sword, and spring upon his foes. Methinks I hear, from many a child of pain, The echo of the patriarch's complain : 11 Accursed be the day when I was born ; Let Death's dark shadow stain its future dawn ; Let awful blackness o'er its passage loom, Nor light nor sound relieve the angry gloom. Say, why doth life its tedious periods roll O'er him who groans in bitterness of soul ? Oh ! wherefore when I left my mother's womb Did I not sink into a ready tomb ? The only haven by no storm opprest ; Tho wicked cease from troubling there, tho w« are at rest." Thus turn tho realms honcath tyrannic s\v,. Now brightor prospoets beckon mo away , 62 ROLANDO. And as a bird from northern rigours bound, The distance past where Winter pales the ground Alights awhile on some dividing plain, Where lingering Summer owns disputed reign, To bask delighted in the sunbeams' play, And trim his feathers ere he hold his way ; So linger I, my sullied pinions plume, Breathe new existence, and my course resume. Yes, Liberty ! where thou art wont to dwell A myriad blessings thine attendance swell, Far richer good thy magic presence yields Than famed Alpheus on Arcadian fields. Thou great Protectress, in thy circling arms Exulting Genius, free from mean alarms, Throws grateful vigour into works sublime, And leaves unfading monuments for time. And who like thee to touch the hidden spring Which prompts the sacrificial offering 63 Of wealth, home, comfort — saving honour, — all, At a loved fatherland's unrivalled call? To-day despotic power, wherever seen, Turns pale at thy approach. Ere long, I ween, The swarthy Saracen shall welcome thee, And the slow Othman wake activity ; Thy benefits on Libyan plains descend, And Braraa's offspring thy great shade defend. And as the Maker with almighty skill Impressed a perfect beauty on His will ; — Not only made the matchless orb of day, But, to give finish to His mastory, Put forth the moon with her more gentle light, That each by contrast might bo more complete ;- So thou, Liberty ! to bo more blest, Take thv sedater sister to thy broast : Freedom and Faith, be thy joint flag unfurled, A twin effulgence sway a willing world. MAGDALEN'S APPEAL.* The ship is ready ; ere a day be past, My fatherland will vanish from my sight ; The scene of both my happiness and woe. But, as I leave, I cast upon the shore My hapless tale, and breathe to Heaven a prayer. In one of England's fairest villages My father's peaceful rectory was seen ; And every Sunday in the dear old church Whose spire was bent as with declining age, And cast its shade o'er centuries of dead, • Seo Note F at the end of this vol I 66 magdalen's appeal. He preached of love to Christ and love to man. Of how our blessed Lord no sinner spurned, But said to penitents, " Go, sin no more." How He rebuked the vaunting Pharisee, But justified the humble Publican ; And taught the noble lesson that we ought To lean to mercy when another falls. My long-lost home ! The honeysuckle twined Around its porch, dispensing fragrance there, The foretaste of the happiness within. And in the garden, where with childish glee I gambolled with the neighbouring noble's son, Bloomed England's floral brilliants — Passion flowers, The Laurestinus, and the sweet Moss-rose. I knew them all, their every name and place ; But strangers tend, and strangers pluck them now. An only child was I, my parents' hope ; The burden of full many a pious prayer. Magdalen's appeal. 67 And with what care they watched and shielded me, From all the influence of worldly pride, Those who have loved an only child can tell. Methinks that angels circled that abode, Which caught its tone from heavenly intercourse. Oh yes ! the homes of England's clergy are The fairest pattern we can emulate. Our land would sadly fare without her Church, Let noisy scoffers babble as they will. God bless the Church of England, and preserve Her sacred walls from insolent ati And, if her faults be great — take this to heart — Lot thoso that perfect are first mock at her. Her virtues far outnumber them, and though Ero long the owl may haunt her cnunblii towers, And poets wander through deserted aisles, And itrangen by her l>roken altars stand To gaie upon her past magnificence; 68 magdalen's appeal. More beautiful, more strong, in death than life, She, like the fabled Phoenix, shall ascend From her own ashes in renewed strength . My childhood new by like a happy dream ; Though Sorrow oft-times loitered at the gate, It turned away as loth to enter there. My playmate's home was mine, and mine was his ; Of long descent, and proud historic name, Nor he nor I felt difference of rank, For children always are republicans. Together on the hills we roamed, or else We shared each other's different sports at home, Or sometimes went amongst the villagers With some small bounty for the suffering ; Or conned our tasks together, for we had The hours set for work as well as play. Thus winged the time its rapid backward course, Until he went to England's greatest school : We met no more again for many years. magdalen's appeal. 69 From time to time I heard how he advanced In knowledge both of books and of the world. Then that he left his college and took arms (To serve his country, as the saying goes, Though soldiers serve her less than other men). Then that to wildest pleasures he was given ; But that which wronged him I would not believe. My first great grief was when my mother died ; She who had watched me with such tender care ; And, looking on her thin and lifeless form, I thought no lot was ever hard as mine. So all of us in trouble do forget To reckon up our many happy days ; When tempests howl, surrounding gl<> vades : It seems as if no sun had ever smiled. The grave is but tl by which the soul ESnten on mrlasting MiM or woe. 70 magdalen's appeal. Away, then, with those unbelieving moans, Which equally for bad and good are made. Away, too, with that funeral circumstance. Which .tells us not of hope, but dark despair. Death must be grevious, for it tears away Those who have twined themselves around our hearts ; Unfeeling would it be to scorn a tear : But all the hideousness of funeral pomp Speaks of annihilation, not of life, And casts a slur on Christianity. My nineteenth summer came, but ere it past My father rested in the parish church, Where he so long and faithfully had preached. Four years had slow disease crept surely on ; While many heavy losses, and the thought — When he was gone I should be destitute — Hastened the sinking of his shattered frame ; My one stay died, and I was left alone. magdalen's appeal. 71 'Tis said when Fortune frowns that friends grow cold ; As if afraid the goddess might depart From them, unless they bow to her caprice. And so it is with many, but with those Whom I accounted friends it was not so ; For doors were opened, welcomes warmly given ; Hard to refuse, but harder to accept : For charity, however kindly given, Destroys the pride of independency. My story darkens when to earn my bread I took a place as governess, and there First felt the bitterness of servitude. The lady was deemod Christian, for her name Stood high on lists of numerous charities. Sho hud the Bihlfl virtues all l»y heart, And longed for the conversion of the world, Which she helped forward by judicious poi Donations gave to send two I »rth 72 magdalen's appeal. To bring some unknown tribes within the fold ('Tis said they showed a tendency to turn Upon the hands like counterfeited coin ; But one would think that were impossible). But let me hasten on, for every word Now wrings my soul with speechless agony. I had not long been there before I met My early playmate, idol of my youth. He spoke to me of those past happy times When we together wandered on the hills, Shared the same tasks, and tended the same flowers ; Of all the dear remembered haunts at home, And named them one by one, as though he held Their recollection with some fond delight, And touched those chords which open lonely hearts. For, like the exile, when he hears the strain Of some sweet melody of early days, Melts at the music waking thoughts of home, magdalen's appeal. 73 And listens long in weeping happiness, So I, so much alone, and desolate, Looked to his coming as my only joy — The sun that chased the clouds around my path . No wonder that I loved him, for he was Handsome, commanding, courteous, and kind, And seemed with ease to conquer every heart. But when my lady found he sought me out, And talked with me both long and frequently. Her righteous indignation roused itself : " A governess ! a paid dependent ! dare To aim at marriage with a noble's son, Heir to a title and a vast domain, When she four marriageable daughters had Such base ingratitude was never known I loo long had she protected and sustained A serpent in the bosom of her home ; A mean usurper of h<«r children's rights! M — Bhfl tamed me Ottt — then rung for evening prayers. 74 magdalen's appeal. My lover — so I deemed him — followed me With offers of assistance. Then he spoke Of his enduring love, of how he hoped Ere long to call me by the name of wife. From time to time he came, and then besought That I would give him the last proof of love. Few can resist when man a suppliant kneels : Temptation swept across my soul — I fell. Oh, that some kindly power would blot that page From Memory's volume ! or still " keen remorse," Or call that fatal moment back again ! A moment's error sometimes blasts a life. Oh, then, reflect ! and when fierce passions rage, And wreak their violence upon the soul, Remember that the Master's arm is strong — That He has felt them, and can feel for us, And, casting our own useless strength aside, Lay them before the Lord in humble trust : His arm shall shield us though we see it not. magdalen's appeal. 75 Then he deserted me. Strange though it seem, I loved him then — must love him to the end. A woman's love once given never dies. But language has no power to portraiture The changing moods of anger or despair, That rent or strung my heart, or tell the depth, The bitterness, of unavailing grief. The knowledge what my future lot would be — That I must live an outcast shunned by all — As one to whom no mercy could be shown, Had almost shaken Reason from her seat. I recklessly frequented dens of sin, Then deeply drank to drown my load of shame. Yet in those haunts (of pleasure falsely called), Where Luxury and Crime go hand in hand, Are many of my sisters who can tell A tale of iuisory as deep as mine; WhoM gentle* naturos never can be lost; Who, when some passing thought of purer da 76 magdalen's appeal. Has flashed across the mind like fire from God, Have left with bursting hearts the laughing throng, And in some silent chamber, on their knees, Have prayed as none but broken hearts will pray ; While rivers of repentance wet the cheek. God hears those prayers, and turns a frown severe On those who spurn such from society ; For when the penitent looks round in hope Some path will open for a virtuous life, All doors are closed, and prudish Virtue sneers. My tale is told. A Christian lady came — May Heaven's choicest blessings on her fall ! And led me to her pure and happy home, From whence I go to a far- distant land Where none will know my errors ; where, I trust, Peace, if not happiness, may yet be mine. magdalen's appeal. 77 My Prayer. Almighty Lord, the Father of our race ! The Father of the good and bad the same ; Oh ! not in anger turn from me Thy face, As in my lips I take Thy mighty name. With penitence I own my sin and shame ; In wretchedness of heart before Thee bow : Yet hopefully Thy soothing promise claim — That sins like scarlet may bo white as snow. Offended Lord, forgive, and bless — yes, bless — me When far from England's rocky shore I dwell, My exile self-imposed by past misdeeds, In mercy grant one ray of peace may fall On my poor heart, which now so sorely bloods ; And as the sense of misery recedes Through hcaliug time, bo mino the task to savo 78 magdalen's appeal. Some erring sisters from that path, which leads So swiftly whence there can be no reprieve ; And bring them, like myself, Thy mercy to receive. And, Lord, do Thou the hearts of all incline To be more merciful to those who fall. May they remember that the Great Divine Encircled in His arms the worst of all. When prone to harshly judge, may they recall Their many sins observed by none but Thee ; Which, though their magnitude may seem but small, Are often in Thy sight of deepest dye : Bestow both Faith and Hope, but chiefly Charity. And may Thy presence guard that noble band, Which braves the coward's doubt, the cynic's sneer, That it may stretch a loving, helping hand, To check the outcast in her mad career ! magdalen's appeal. The Master will to such be ever near With His assistance and benignant smile : Hear thy repentant daughter's prayer sincere ; And as they labour, may there rise the while "A virtuous populace in this my much-loved isle!" A VOICE PROM THE CONVENT. Id y hair is grey, but is not grey with age ; n My heart beats slowly, but 'tis not with time; A prisoner, I pace my narrow cage, Though those thin hands liuvn n< ■ i ime. Will no one burst these bars and set mo free? mj last hope, d 82 A VOICE FROM THE CONVENT. When young and ignorant I took the veil, Which was my thoughts from worldly things to sever; Ten long, long years but yet they will assail With wilder and more deadly force than ever. Oh, some one burst these bars and set me free, Ere my last hope, death or insanity ! I yearn to clasp some loved one to my breast, To share his pleasures and to bear his woes ; The greater sacrifice the farther blest, How woman can love woman only knows. Will no one burst these bars and set me free ? Ere my last hope, death or insanity ! I long to join in childhood's merry game, To hold a bonny boy upon my knee ; To hear him sweetly lisp his mother's name, To soothe the simple griefs of infancy. Oh, some one burst these bars and set me free, Ere my last hope, death or insanity ! A VOICE FROM THE CONVERT. 83 How sweet to rove the woods and fields, to hear The wondering questions that my child would ask, Or seat us in some shady nook, or fear To see him eager on some climbing task ! Will no one burst these bars and set me free ? Ere my last hope, death or insanity ! How sweet to listen to his faults confest, To form his rosy lips in infant prayer ! 'Tis deepest desolation and unrest, No husband's and no offspring's love to share. Oh, some ono burst these ban and set me I Ere my last hope, death or insani My life is one long penance, for these thou Confession's cruel probing layeth bare; 1 1 these be sins, my hope of Ileaven depn; ilny cannot be, for God hath placed them there. Will no these bars and ;oe, last hope, death or insani 84 A VOICE FROM THE CONVENT. No convent walls can shut out Nature's power- Can keep affection from the human soul ; That vow recalled, made in one fatal hour, My life might yet some happy days enrol. Oh, some one burst these bars and set me free, Ere my last hope, death or insanity ! THE POET'S CONSOLATION. All hail ! to the heart-easing Goddess of Song, So faithfully ever the bard's consolation ; Let doubtful ones pause ere they say it be wrong, To kneel down before her in fond adoration. When wanting a sixpence, I turn to my rhyme ; In pity my Muse will accede to my wislios : The vision of poverty fades for a time, And while the song lasts I am rolling in riches. When out at the elbow, and out at the h< I list to her voice so soft and so winnin' ; 86 the poet's consolation. If she deign her presence, what wonder I feel No wish for the finest of purple and linen ? When sorrow — when fears for my destiny press me — When anxiousness broods like a cloud o'er the feeling, My lovely one chases the doubts that distress me, A work for mankind in the future revealing. She speaks — and the words seem to soothe my pained brow — " Oh, ne'er pen a line at which Purity blushes ! " With my heart wildly beating, I make her my vow, And through me a torrent of ecstasy rushes. May that resolution be always as strong, As when I first made her my dutiful promise ! To me may my treasure for ever belong — My riches, apparel, and unfailing solace. HAPPINESS. 'Tis the penitent tear, redeeming the heart From the dark-coloured stains which sin loaveth tli ore, A purity greater by far doth impart Than that when no backslidings needed repair. I is the penitent sigh, from the grief-laden breast, Thai disperses before it the bitterest care; Phougl) fierce bo the ordeal, 'tis for the beet, LSke tho African whirlw in.l that purgeth the air. 88 HAPPINESS. 'Tis the penitent prayer assailing the throne, In accents imperfect, heartbroken, unceasing, Which turns to a smile Heaven's pitying frown ; 'Tis wrestling like Jacob that winneth the blessing. What language can picture the feeling of bliss When the sense of forgiveness steals over the soul ? Beware tho' of testing that sense to excess, For, too lightly treated, 'twill fly thy control. 'Tis the fond kiss of love on my mistress's cheek, Each clasping the other in long, long embraces — I'll try it again ere its taste I can speak — Then tear, sigh, and prayer commence running races. Methinks that above there be numbers of lovers — The Master for Mary had strongest affection ; The veriest child in the passion discovers That where we feel most we are nearest perfection. HAPPINESS. 89 'Tis the exquisite thought that true pleasure affords, When the mind boldly soars on the wings of Conception ; The treasures of poesy coins into words, And casteth them earthwards for mankind's reception. Or when Fancy stretches her numberless charms, And lets me half catch some gem of expression, I seize the enchantress, dispel her alarms, And playfully hold her till perfect my lesson. Men may talk as thoy please of their K ino-bibbiug mirth ; 1 : true love, religion, and poetry be mine — The far sweetest joys we can taste upon eurtli : All throe lead to Heavon, all three aiv divine. SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES, THE JOUBNEY OF THE TWO LEAENED TUTOKS. ( )i all the joys o' human life, I count the chief to be a wife : Not ono like Socrates' enchantress, Bui a sweet, gracious, household goddess. of all the woes Fate may consign us, I ('(Mini the chief to bo wife minus. I a i\t thoso two polos thoro's much to please I And just as many Hi t.> tease us. N" t that Woo was Weal's twin brotl And came forth but to pkgtM the otk 92 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. And some events in all careers Leave clearer marks than their compeers. It is so, but the reason why I leave to dull philosophy. The motive of this hasty sermon, My story's sequel may determine. From Weston Town, then, it befell — A sort of half-way house to hell, Where drink and dullness rule the day, Where beauty's seen but in decay, Where nothing thrives but what will pay ; Where people snarl at people's heels, And kick or bite each champion feels ; Where blacks and whites have separate churches To follow their Divine researches, And go to heaven or hell in factions, According which best suits their actions ; But here there is small room for blame, In other places 'tis the same, — SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. 93 Two learned tutors chanced to start A journey in a two-rnule cart ; The one a deep and grave professor, The other his profound successor. Though young, their depth is reached by few ; All said they knew " a thing or two." The one could drink by hydrostatics, The other carve by mathematics ; Between 'em swear in full eight tongues, And sing a hundred serious songs, Knew all the mythologic failings, But on their own spent no bowailings. A deluge of the day before Had soaked tho roads three feet or more; To comfort thrm when felling \vrai\. On pilgrimage so wot and droary, Throo woll- filled ilasks were stowed handy — For even learning Hem its ; 94 SOUTH AFRICAN SKTECHES. Water for mixing was not heeded, That lay upon the roads — when needed. Crack! went the whip; jog! went the mules, Jolting the wisdom of the schools ; Wide and more wide the water stretched. The toll outside the town was reached ; The donkeys thought, 'twas time to rest, For which, in Latin, they were blest, And, lest they shouldn't understand it, A Dutch translation well explained it. The town by distance soon looked small ; Shall wisdom's blessing on it fall ? The car was stopped, a solemn glass Ensured for ever its success. Betimes a mountain came in view : Mentor remarked, " 'Twas very true That mountains were the largest objects Noticed in geologic pandects ; SOUTH -AFRICAN SKETCHES. ( JO This one contains exhaustless wealth.' ' Meceenas cried, " Then drink its health ! " There's much in Afric's wastes to please, If mind and body be at ease ; If not, the fairest earthly scene To grumbling vision seems but mean. Its aged flower the aloe shows, The pretty blue-bell humbly blows, North, south, east, west, ericas bloom, The marigold grows by the broom ; Acacias, armed on overy side, Lift their round forms in despot pi His woolly ehargo the KittdNIUUI His carol with their bloating blondl . Seeks heathy pasture, whioh ih Witli timorous antelope and iiare. i i the plai The bustard tunes hex 96 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. The secretary's loathsome prey Hisses at times beside the way ; Gray tribes of songsters grace the scene, Bousing the echoes in their spleen ; And on this day, fresh after storms, The sun the face of Nature warms — Like Beauty blushing at her charms. Slowly they toiled through wet and slime, The roads were bent on spiting Time ; The scent of flowers got in between The puff of pipe or cigareen ; The lack of speed was borne with patience, By notes of previous recreations ; Of gracious lassies left behind, Of small flirtations called to mind. Then future prospects. One had done — The other only just begun — His duties. Fervently they swore Friendship and faith for evermore. SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. 97 How many lasting bargains pass Without that strong cement — a glass ? A King and Kaiser after dinner Hob-nob — and Peace will be the winner ! The freedom of ten millions may- Lie in a goblet of Tokay. Hi ! There's a ditch with three feet water ; The driver held the ribbons shorter. The fall was steep, the farther side Grimly the strength of springs defied : The mules, by skilful tickling maddened, Nearly upset the cart — but didn't. A belt of trees now offered shade, Both rested in the welcome glade. Hero comes ono of the Bulged r A oontraet he with the pale-face ! The brutish head, distorted I Beyond i freak of nature seem. 98 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. And yet, 'tis said, that Bushmen claim An origin with us the same Though ages of debasement may Have swept the stamp Divine away. But to our friends, all but forgot. They drank a professorial " tot " Co celebrate the famous spot. The sun was waning on his round — They still must traverse miles of ground ; Wisdom got fired, the mules got tired, Mentor Mecaenas then desired To sing a jolly roaring song, To help or scare the mokes along. When wine runs in, the wit runs out, — The melody became a shout ; The passers-by, with prescience dim, Joined, thinking it must be a hymn. The startled echoes spread the sound, An eagle in his eyrie swooned — SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. 99 Ten springboks died of palpitation — Nine hares endured extravasation — The mice, heart-broken, sought their holes. In answer to their friends the moles, They said, the noise concisely summing, Building Societies were coming! A napping owl a long breath drew In deep disgust, and cried, "Tu-whoo I " But even distance yields at last, Though yards and miles be slowly past; They went back some four miles, to find A package they had dropped behind. Nor wine, nor brandy, made 'em head y At every glass they got moro steady, And only looked a little tired, Bui proper as could bo desired. On I on ! for it was tailing dark ; At last the watch-dog's welcome bark ! o 2 100 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. The hut-fires pierce the thickening* gloom. Wo ! the professors are at home, To charm the company that evening With converse moral and enlivening. Well ! Bishops are not free from fault. And Methodists can do their malt. The best of men have imperfections, 80 leave our friends to their reflections, We none of us so perfect are, That Pharisaic pride should dare To say, " I holier am than thou," Or flaunt the dec'logue on the brow ; But bear in mind in every case If slapping Virtue in the face ; That Sin by Sorrow is pursued, For Satan knows no gratitude. SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. 101 THE EPILOGUE OF SPORT. TO A SPRINGBOK BROUGHT DOWN BY THE RIFLE, 1864. So this is Sport ! Poor bleeding creature ! That agony in every feature, May surely be the plaintive teacher From Mercy's throne ! To others let it provo the preacher ; Not me alone. That wondering eye from mo decline ! So som lvpruachiiil, yet benign; 'I'm 1 Wink that this is work of mine, EUmOrac doth 4110II im> ; Poo* tiling! I'll join my tear with thine, 102 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. When thou this fatal day began, None freer was on earth's wide span ; That deadly messenger of man, An ounce of lead, Has stretched thee on this barren pan, Thy life to shed. Thy little one will call in vain ; Its newly-nurtured strength will wane ; Ere night, 'twill famish on this plain, Or else be caught ; Two innocents caused wanton pain, In manly sport ! I'd rather now the gales caress That graceful form, that light foot press These heathy regions measureless, Where, at thy will ; A miserable triumph this Of science' skill ! SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. 103 But thus we learn from hour to hour, That every one who has the power Delights to see the weaker cower, From some strange cause ; Maybe this is the strength and tower Of Nature's laws ! But looking higher, thon I find That He to all is just and kind ; The workings of that Mighty Mind Are always even ; How few to mercy are inclined On this side Heaven ! There ! thou art gone ! thy pain is past ; Though dumb and wvukly, yet thou hast A lesson taught me, which shall last Through my career; In turn, I mint the moral cast i far and near. 104 SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. I'll never more in sporting frame Do such a tyrant deed of shame ; Henceforth my chase be nobler game — The good of man ; Full happy if I reach my aim In life's brief span. NOTES. Note A. " Whose spire, the sentinel of centuries, Points, like the precepts old beneath it taught, Unerringly and calmly towards the ikies." I think it due to myself, as well as others, to say th sj lines were written many years ago, forming part of a poem since dostroyed. The idea, whatever it may be worth, is entirely my own. But, two or three weeks back, I took up a volume of Wordsworth's u BiettniOQ," vhil h I have never had the patience to travel through, and came by chance on the following line — And spires, whose " silent finger points to Heaven."— (l&rcurtum, b. vi., ver. 19.) Where t lie i| notation comes from I know not; but u* "Christ- nttfttthi time. 1 confess that tho discovery of the above lino gave me some uneasiness. 1 .in the < titirs would .say that it was plagiarism. My three lines, though further <1. \ .-loped, bear a strong resemblance to thu one in Word ITOrtsV Hj tirat impulse was to re-writo 106 NOTES. the verse, but, on second thoughts, decided to leave it ; because, as far as I am concerned, it is perfectly original. Hence this note. If it be decided against me after this explanation, let the three be put between inverted commas — I care not ; — but with even-handed justice let the following passages in Goldsmith's "Deserted Village" be put between inverted commas in every future edition. Goldsmith. " Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place ; Unpractised he to fawn or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour. Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. ********* He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain. ********* Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." Chaucer. " That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche, His parishens devoutly wolde he teche. ******** But rather wolde he yeven out of doute, Unto his poure parishens aboute, Of his offring and eke of his substance. ******** This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf, That first he wrought, and afterward he taught. ******** He sette not his benefice to hire, And lette his shepe accombred in the mire, And ran unto London, unto Seint Poules, To seken him a chanterie for soules. ******* But dwelt at home and kepte wel his folde. ******** He was a shepherd and no mercenarie. NOTES. 107 And tho' he holy were and vertuous, He was to sinful men not dispitous, Ne of his speche dangerous ne digue, But in his teaching discreet and benigne. To drawen folk to heven with fairnesse, By good ensample was his besinesse. ****** Him would he snibben sharply for the nones. ******** But Cristes love and his apostles twelve He taught, but first he folwed it himselve." One more instance : — Burns. " It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast.' " That gart my heart-strings tingle." Capern. " Make all the heart-strings tingle." Notb B. No our can fed a morn profound admiration for Robert Burns than myself. I look upon him as the greatest poet that ever lived ; far above even glorious Shakespeare, like we shall never see again. El is, indeed, the pride of Scotland. Scotland has produced, and is still producing, many great men; but .she will never see another" Hums. With every desire to speak well of this extraordinary man, I cannot con- coal from ui\ M-lt that many of his pieces have been the means of anything but good. His u 8cotch Drink" is a notable instance. All tin 00*06 of expression and the pungency oJ are brought to bear for tin habit appear less so. Whj I'.urns show the < side ! dessnoss, I suppose. That he saw the curse 108 NOTES. of drink is evident from several passages in his poetry. In " The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer" he speaks (it seems to me), contemptuously — ' Tell them wliae hae the chief direction, Scotland an me's in great affliction, E'er sin they laid that curst restriction On aqua vitas. But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, Say, such is royal George's will, An' there's the foe. He has nae thought but how to kill Twa at a blow. Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him : Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him ; An' when he fa's, His latest draught of breathin' lea'es him In faint huzzas." An under current of contempt is, I think, evident here, more especially in the last. The poem which I have called " Strong Drink "is an attempt to show the dark side of the question, and dark it is. Let me observe, before I go further, that it has been written in the first person solely to give it greater force ; it must not be taken in any way as applying to myself. The motive has been that, if it should haply fall into the hands of any one addicted to this fatal passion, it may apply more di- rectly to his case. Hence, I have put some of the truths in the very strongest form of which I was capable. I do hope that it may be the means of making many, both young and old, look at this easily-acquired vice in a true light ; if that be NOTES. 109 so, my aim will be accomplished. I have called drink Eng- land's curse ; and so it is. I believe it to be the source of more than nine-tenths of our crime. Could I have put this more strongly in the poem, I would have done so ; for this is no subject about which to mince matters. It is difficult, nay, per- haps impossible, to get at any result showing the exact connexion between drunkenness and crime; but all our judges, our magis- trates, and our guardians of the poor, are unanimous in their testimony. Let me be allowed to give the following quotation from a well-known publication : — " Drunkenness and its attendant evils seems to be keeping step for step with civilization. The time has long gone past when it was considered respectable to get drunk ; but the time is apparently far distant when every one will consider it abso- lutely infamous to be even " half-seas over." Not that our friends the total abstainers are doing nothing. They have fought and are fighting a good fight, but against fearful odds. For in- stance, we learn from statistics recently issued, that in belaud In the year 1869, 88,878 persons were charged before magis- trates with being drunk or drunk and disorderly; the numbor is above 7 per cent more than in the preceding The return shows aim that In England and Wales in 1868, in i population of like Dumber with thai of behind, the number of porsons charged with drunkenness (being drunk, <>r drunk and disorderly), trai bat J s , > s l , or not a third of the numi.fr charged in Ireland En 1869; i>ut the comparison would bays been Less unfavourable for Ireland ii it could hare been made with the English return for 1869, for tl I issued shows in 18G9 an increase of such charge* 1868 amounting to m sent \ comparison oi QUmb |OS Of drunkenness in the oonntrleak nstsn land than a comparison ot the nu: d, as the rates of convictions to charges is greater in Ireland than in England The numbers are these: in England and Wales In .ar ending at Michaelmas) i i sons were charged with drun 110 ness— 89,859 men, and 32,451 women ; and 93,638 were con- victed — 72,869 men, and 20,769 women. In Ireland, with little more than a fourth of the population of England and Wales, there were in 1869, 88,878 persons charged with drunk- enness — 72,408 men, and 16,470 women ; and 78,693 were convicted — 64,986 men, and 13,707 women. In hoth countries a much larger proportion of the women charged escaped con- viction than of the men ; but that is no novelty. It would be difficult to show in figures the connexion between drunken- ness and crime ; it is not done by a return which is annually made up, classifying the persons proceeded against for offences according to their known character. It is shown how many were known thieves, prostitutes, tramps, or suspected persons, and how many (that is, how many not already included under one or other of those four heads) were habitual drunkards ? In England, in 1869, out of the 440,431 men, and 106,722 women proceeded against summarily or on indictment, only 26,445 men, and 9,233 women are thus classed as habitual drunkards ; in Ireland only 8,894 men, and 2,105 women, out of the 201,426 men, and 43,965 women proceeded against. It would not be right to state the gross numbers proceeded against, without adding that the apprehensions for indictable offences were 29,278 in England and Wales, but only 600 in Ireland. It is the persons proceeded against summarily for minor offences, such as drunkenness, that swell the Irish list, the whole number proceeded against summarily being 517,875 in England and Wales, and as many as 239,390 in Irelaud." This does not represent the evil in half its magnitude- How many are there of whom we never hear — private drunkards — and of those whom perhaps we cannot call drunkards, but free drinkers ? Have I, then, gone too far in saying— " You've everywhere an institution To breed theft, murder, prostitution, NOTES. 1 1 1 And spread abroad that destitution Which you bewail ; So then, by way of restitution, You build a jail!" Look at those hells upon earth — the gin -palaces ! See how alarmingly they are on the increase. When will the Legis- lature discover that by giving every encouragemement (not only security) to these places, where black ruin is dispensed at so much per glass, they are hastening the fall of that country which they profess so loudly to serve ? Be it observed that I would not cram teetotalism down any man's throat. I think liquors are given us to be used, as we use any other agreeable thing. The above remarks apply only to those who cannot take moderately — that go on " from fill to fill, from more to more" ; and heaven knows there are many such ! The only hope for them is — total abstinence. An habitual drinker said to me not long ago, " I do envy a man who can drink a glass of grog and then think no more about it"; to which I replied, "Then give it up." It was that remark of his which prompted the verse — "'Tin not for mo, the social glass, An hour with topi- IBd Msnd to pan," &c. A word as to the stanza. Few of those who, like myself, IN infatuated enough to elink rh\ mes, know its diflh unles8they have tried it fairly. The only Mn^lish poom I remember at the moment of writing) in this M.tn/.a [fl Words- worth's lament for Robert Hums. Hums used it freely, as all are aware. The use of tin | dating to hln (Hums), who is ablo by t liege tO man \ the most opposite and discordant rhymes." I must le \ • the reader fee judge whether in "Strong Drink ' the l.iuli h language has altogether failed to adapt itself to the 112 NOTES. Note C. "There's, maybe, pleasure in the wine, For when half drunk you're half divine ; Song, Music, Painting— all the Nine Are at your call." This may appear far-fetched, but it is literally true. There are some men who can hardly get out a dozen words when sober, but when primed with a glass or two of toddy will talk divinely. I was staying, some years ago, at a hotel in South Africa, when I met with an instance of the kind. The gen- tleman (for gentlemau he was) could not, or would not, con- verse when sober ; but when half drunk, I never heard such a talker! Erudition, refined criticism, wit, engineering, poetry — nothing came amiss ; and all in perfect taste. Bums seems to have felt the same intiuence : — ' ' Whisky ! Soul o' plays and pranks, Accept a bardie's grateful thanks. When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses ! Thou comes ; they rattle i' their ranks." Note D. The greater part of the poem called " Eolando " was written some years ago. This will account in some measure for the imperfection in its design, and perhaps for a little extravagance of expression here and there. It was my first effort in verse. The origin of its title may be very simply explained. M. Janfret's charming work, " The Travels of Rolando," was my first prize, obtained, so says the writing on the fly-sheet, for " diligence ;" which, I believe, in schoolmistress's vocabulary, means stupidity. This book made an impression on my mind which will last through life. In giving a name to the indi- NOTES. 113 vidual whose opinions are set forth in these lines, I thought that of Eolando was peculiarly suitable. Whether he will ever complete the tale of his wanderings, the writer knows not. The intention was to take him through South America, Palestine, and Italy ; at present he has only reached America. The slight sketch of the character of the American people was not written at a moment's notice, but after long reflection. It would have been impossible, in so short a limit as I have allowed myself, to mark every virtue or every fault — the prominent features only have been taken. I do not think any keen observer will deny the truth of the following : — " The harmless decoration of a name, The homage which exalted titles claim— These are desired ; now Wealth and Power unite To gild the structure, dazzle vulgar sight." Will any one— oven an American — deny it ? Where do we find more extravagant homage paid to rank, merely as such (unaccompanied by distinguished qualities without which rank is utterly contemptible), than in this wonderful nation, except, perhaps, by virtuous dowagers in our own happy land ? We in England aro anything but faultless in this respect, and I bclievo it results in America from old habits or associations, not likely to be broken through for many a year, in spite of their boasted oung, for any length of time run to such excesses as would hopelessly involve them. They too have had a thought of those who should come after. Hence the absenco of entail has been as great a security as entail it^ If, with this obvious ad- vantage, that the exercise of restraint, economy, and foresight has been promoted with a honeticial effect on tho chan Kntail, on the other hand, is u premium on dishonesty and ex - ancr, and tlinrioir an injustice. A man with strong pas- sions is not very likely to exercise the virtue of self-restraint when hi loses m itluM- potion nor property, The system is im- moral, • does away to a very large extent with the OOQMqutJlOM I hi.h ought, in every well-regulated community, to follow the breach of those virtues which are considered the safeguard of tint < omnumity. It is unjust, also, because all class privileges are unjust j and further, because while n- nally the owner, I .ally so. What is a man's own 118 NOTES. he can do as he likes with ; but an entail owner cannot sell what he calls his own. It is therefore not really his, but he holds it as steward for heirs yet unborn. The owners of en- tailed estates must have felt this repeatedly. This brings us, of course, at one bound to the conclusion that there must be free trade in land. Any one must be able to sell to any one who is able to buy. Yet those who advocate free trade in iron, cloth, or any other commodity, oppose it in this case. They shudder at the very idea. Free trade in land is what England must come to, if she wish to retain her position amongst the nations. Let us see, then, whether it would result in the " parcelling " spoken of. We will suppose the law of entail repealed to- morrow, without any saving clauses, giving years of compen- sation to the holders. A great deal of land would undoubtedly come into the market ; which for a short time would be glutted, but would right itself more rapidly than any other market. Necessity would be the supreme law, by which sale would be regulated. The estates of bankrupt owners would be purchased either by several small capitalists or by one large capitalist. In the former case, it would be built upon or cultivated to that extent ; in the latter, the probability is in favour of its remaining a private estate of the class first men- tioned until some spendthrift put it under the hammer. It would then gradually work into the hands of those who undoubtedly have the only right ; but the process would cover about 500 years. As the population of Great Britain is now said to double every seventy years, we will assume that the greater stimulus given would double it in fifty years ; then, taking the effective male population as 4-44 of the entire population, and making allowances for those in trade, those who emigrate, &c , &c, the alarmists are endeavouring to bring the year a.d. 2400 or a.d. 2450 into the year a.d. 1871 ! ! The grounds of the calculation may be found at length on pp. 46 — 49 of the work above quoted, to which I refer the readers of this note, two pages being too much to transcribe here. NOTES. 119 Note E. It will be seen that I believe Dr. Livingstone to be no longer alive. Had he been, I feel sure he would have returned before this. I know something of the character of the country, having lived there nearly six years. No one will be more glad, but no one will be more surprised, to hear of his return than myself. A remark is necessary here to explain the tone of his address. People think very differently of him there from what they do in England — at least, as far as my experi- ence goes. They cannot understand why he went out as a missionary, and then turned explorer. They acknowledge his perseverance, but see no hardship in his life ; the latter naturally, for almost any colonist would bear the same amount of fatigue. I do not think I am going too far in saying that he is anything but popular in the south of Africa. If Dr. Livingstone should turn up, I have made him say nothing that he need bo ashamed of having uttered. Notb F. In "Magdalen' s Appeal" there has lnvn DO attempt at ; it is a story put into a versified form, that is all. If it bo the means of inducing any one person to think more charitably of the penitont numbors who so seldom meet with anything but scorn or contumely from those who themselves are not and cannot bt fcnltlBMj the writer's purpose will be answered it he the means of inducing some to stretch | helping hand, or to give tltnu ■ dated} mflfl in place of the closed door and thf blaek frown, the inter*! azpeetationi will be pleasurably