.rK.-;v:;*««! Musings in o Moorland and Marsh THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^{fy^Pj-^,yjw^^ MUSINGS IN MOORLAND AND MARSH, Yours faithfully, SAMUEL WILLS. MUSINGS IN MOORLAND AND MARSH BY SAMUEL WILLS {Member of the Dialect Society, Oxford), Founder of the Railway Servants' Orphanage, Derby ; and Author of " Devonia " and other Poems—" The British Chief " — "The Lincolnshire Labourer" — "Life of Garibaldi'' — "The School Board Copy Book, or Hull Prize-Writer"— "Building Society Tables" — "South Devon Songs and Sonnets " — etc., &c. FOURTH EDITION. LINCOLN : PKINTED BY AKKILL, BUDDOCK AND KEYWORTH, HIGH-ST. AN'D SILVEKST. 1895. Ki)-< 'j r\*-\ ^iJ-S ENTERED AT STATIONERS HALL *XiX>tsy^ rgBH- TO The Right Hon. VISCOUNT St. VINCENT, OF Norton Disney, Newark, As A Tribute of Admiration for his many noble QUALITIES WHICH COMMAND THE RESPECT AND ESTEEM OF HIS FELLOW-MEN, THIS VOLUME, WITH HIS PERMISSION IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS LoRDSHIP'S OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. Q«^0S47 ERRATA. Page 24 line 23, for " stains " read " st)ains. ' Page 54 line 14, for " thy '" read " my."' Page 63 line 8, read " dismally." Page 72 line 16, for " murkj " read "mighty." Page 78 line 4, read ' ever." Page 144, line 5, read " arms." Page 197, headline, read " To n Snowdrop " Page 281 line .5, read " That." Page 304 line 11, omit ' the." Page 394 last line, read "his." PREFACE. The writer of the following pages feels bound to ai^ologise to many of his subscribers for the great delay in bringing out this work, which has resulted from many causes, over some of which he has had no control; and while thanking those who have exercised patience and forbearance, he expresses an earnest hope that all his readers may find interest in the productions now placed before them. Nor can the author, as was the case with his first effort, urge the excuse that the advice or solicitations of friends have driven him to publication against his own convictions, but encouraged by the favourable reception of his former compositions, alike from his admirers and the Press, he appears again to ask a humble place in public favour. This volume of Poems, Songs (Sacred and Secular), Sonnets, Dialect Keadings, &c., is presented to the notice of the Public, as a humble contribution to the accumulating store of Poetry, especially Eeligious Poetry, the publication of which, as well as its extensive circulation is a distinguish- ing and very pleasing feature of the present age. As physical strength is increased by constant use of the various physical organs, so mental gifts demand for their expansion and growth the stimulus of judicious cultivation and exercise. Mind — untrained and undisciplined, — the sport of every vagrant thought and wild imagination, overrun by the rank weeds of sloth and indecision, — is a curse and not a blessing. Many of the Poems have already appeared in various papers and current periodicals, and doubtless contain thoughts and sentiments common to every studious lover of nature : some of them have local associations, and others are reprints from earlier productions, on which very favourable comment is made in the " Opinions of the Press ; " while many are entirely new, and it may be said of all that they breathe nothing repugnant to virtue or morality. The longest poem is the result of solitary walks amongst the richness of Devonshire scenery, so aboui.dingly productive of Eural themes and topics for sketches on Country Life. The following — •' We may all Live for Ever," " Hymn for Good Friday," " No Night in Heaven," " Revive Thy Work," "The Dead," Ac, appeared in 1862; "The Orphan Boy at the Grave," "A Child's Prayer," "The Words of a Dying Boy," "A Child at Prayer," "Trust," "There is much of Good to do," &c , were published iu 1866; ''A Few Years More," "Harvest Song," "When Forms are Bowed," &c., in 1882. It will therefore be seen that the subjects are not arranged in chronological order in the present volume. The hymn 972. (" Abide with me ') in the " Wesleyan Hymn Book," was written by the Eev. H. F. Lyte, who at one time resided at Burton House, Brixham, S. Devon, in which the Author for some years conducted a private Commercial and Mathematical School ; and the hymn 522 ("That mystic Word of Thine") by Mrs. Harriett Beecher Stowe, in the '• Primitive Methodist Hymnal," in which several stanzas commence with the words " Abide in me," were titles suggestive of the hymn "Abide by me" (page 421) in the present collection, which is a confession of the Author's forgetfulness of God, and a sincere determination to return to the Chui'ch of his choice, and to faithful service for his Master. When a writer has achieved a literary ^performance he has no desire to see it lie like dusty deeds in a lawyer's office. but rather that it should be circulated among his fellow- beings ; therefore, with grateful acknowledgments to his numerous subscribers, whom he trusts will be entertained, instructed, and pleased, the Author dismisses this Work to the perusal of his kind readers and the destiny which awaits it, not, however, without being conscious that it still contains many imperfections. Nevertheless he hopes to have merited not the scorn but the best wishes of his critics. S. W. Kingsbridge House, Bracebridge, Lincoln, February 28th, 1895. CONTENTS. PAGE A Year Ago ------ 1 Hope and Sorrow ----- 5 The Lincolnshire Labourer - - - H Glossary to ditto - - - - - 16 To Devonia : An Address to My Native County. Argument : Dartjiook ; Thy Rivers ; What I love : Childhood and Home ; School Days ; Morning ; Spring ; Summer Days ; Autumnal E\'ENiNGS ; Winter ; Night ; Storms ; Quiet Nooks ; Concluding Song - - ^1 Idyll ------ 80 The Skylark ------ 91 The Hawthorn (A May Song) - - - 93 An Old Man's Song ----- 97 To a Favourite Parrot - - - 99 Indigestion ----- 101 On Eating a Tough Beefsteak - - 102 A Fop's Lament _ . . - - 101 A Widow - - - - - - 105 Crossing a River - ... - 106 Tommy and George - - - 107 The Moorland Gamekeeper - - - 109 Jim's Stepmother (A Parody) - - 113 My Stepmother (A True Picture) - - 115 Health to an Infant - - 118 The Cradle - . . - - 121 Our Firstborn - - - - 122 CONTENTS. PAGE The Fairy's Song - - - - - 126 Summer follows Spring - - - - 129 When the longing Earth is Thirsting - 130 A Day Dream ----.. 132 The Thorn 133 The Creation - - - - - - 134 A Blind Lady ----.. 139 Some Years Ago - . . . . 149 The British Chief - - - - - 141 On Visiting Home - - - - - 164 Address to My Native Town - - - 167 A Boy's Ramble - - - - - 169 Ode : On the Death of Prince Albert - 170 One Taken and the Other Left - - 172 Wreck of the Royal Charter - - - 174 (Edipus : A Classic Legend - - - 176 A Slave's Lament - - - • - 179 Thoughts on Rain - - - - - 180 Harvest Morn - - - • - - 183 Christmas Eve - - - - - 184 Christmas - - - - - 186 The Christmas Lesson - - - - 188 The Snow 191 Remember the Poor - - - - - 192 To a Snowdrop - - - - - 194 A Withered Crocus - - - - 198 Is IT not Poetry ? - - - - - 200 A Day in Gunby Park, Lincolnshire - - 203 I Remember ...... 205 To the Old Year 206 CONTENTS. PAGE, A Happy New Yeak ----- 208 New Year's Day - - - 209 At My Mother's Grave . . . . 210 Good Night - - - - - 21J: Life is a Dream ..... 216 Nottingham - - - - - - 217 An Acrostic to My Sister - - - - 218 Impromptu in Bingham Churchyard - - 219 The Mute Guard ... - -220 Thoughts on Sunset - - - - 221 The Night Before the Battle - - - 224 Farewell to England .... 225 Ruins : Salcombe Castle - , - - - 226 Past, Present, and Future - - - 227 To My Father ------ 230 To William - - - - - - 231 To Edwin 284 To Leah ------- 237 To John 240 Sonnets : Alphabetically arranged : — A Fisher- man's Widow ; Bereavement — A Mother's Loss ; Change ; Childhood ; Childhood's Home ; Disappointment ; Dreams ; Fallapit — S.Devon ; Farewell ; Friendship; Garibaldi ; Hazlewood — S. Devon ; Industry ; Night on THE Sea Shore ; Our Appointed Time ; Poverty ; Resignation ; Separation ; Social Greetings ; Sunset ; The Banks of The Dart ; Spirits of the Just Made Perfect ; Thy God Reigneth ; Time ; To a Daisy ; Totnes ; The Vale ; Wesley ; Winter 242 CONTENTS. PAGE Impkomptu : Riot in a Church - - - 263 Thoughts in a Churchyard - - - 264 Sow AND Reap ------ 268 Contentment . . - . . - 269 The War in Italy ----- 270 The Tattler 272 To an Honeysuckle ----- 274 Avarice .-.---. 275 Clifton Suspension Bridge - - 276 The Bride ------ 278 Address to Second Love - - - - 279 Flowers ------- 280 Gathered Flowers - ... - 281 Kissing in Devonshire — Dialect Reading - 282 The Cator Cats 287 Glossary .-.-.- 290 Sleaford Election ----- 296 The Blankney Cats ----- 300 The True Son ------ 303 On the Right Hon. J. Chamberlain's Change OF Front ----.- 805 The Holly in Winter - - - - 306 Life's Pilgrimage - . . 307 A Lover's Song . - . - . 308 On an Unscrupulous Trustee - - - 309 The Suicide 310 Loneliness - - . . - 310 A Post Card 312 Rinderpest ------ 313 Wanderings on Bolt Head - - 315 CONTENTS. PAGE Thoughts on Famine - - - . 317 The Bitee Bit 319 Yesterday (A Dirge) .... 323 Absolute Power ..... 324 Eventide ...... 325 I DO not Gather Flowers .... 326 Variety is Pleasing .... 323 The Stamford Election .... 329 Piscatorial Society's Annual Dinner - 330 In Memoriam : Lord Palme eston - . 332 In Memoriam : Grosvenor Hodgkinson. Esq. 336 EowiNG Club Supper, Newark - - . 339 Mayor's Day and Banquet, Lincoln - 341 Some Men can do Without their Wills - 344 " Laden with Mischief " - - - - 344 Appendix : A Sacred Wreath - - - 345 The Orphan Boy at the Grave - - - 347 Orphan's Song 353 A Sailor's Orphan's Song .... 354 " Pray SHALL I Sit BY You ? " - - - 355 A Child's Prayee ..... 357 A Child at Prayer - . - - 358 A Good Determination .... qqq Clasp the Cross and Claim the Crown - 361 Missionary Hymn ..... 353 Sabbath Bells - - • - - - 365 Trust 366 Harvest Song .-..-. qqq There is Much of Good to do - - - 369 Ode to Hope ...... 373 CONTENTS. PAGE " Come YE TO THE Watebs " - - - 375 Revive Thy Work ----- 377 Resignation .---.. 379 When Forms are Bowed - - . . 379 A Few Years More ----- 380 Elegies I., II., and III. - . - . 382 Song ' - - 887 Sudden Death .--..- 388 The Dead ------ 391 The Pjous Dead 393 " How CAN the Dead be Raised Again ? " - 395 No Night in Heaven . . - - 396 We All May Live for Ever - - - 398 Past, Present, and Future . - - 403 What I Love ------ 4O6 Confession and Prayer - - - - 421 Death of a Widow ----- 425 She is Gone ------ 431 At a Funeral -.-... 433 Welcome, Death ! or, The Dying Christian 434 Why Weep at Death '?---- 487 "A Missionary's Farewell ' - - - 438 To A Friend on Heu Wedding Day - - 439 In Memoriam ---..- 441 A YEAR AGO. -o — (Written after an attack of total blindness of several months' duration J. How long and cheerless was the day, How lonely was the night, When I could feel the sunny ray, But could not view the light. Ah ! then each pleasing thought had gone. Each shining ray had tied, Although the warm sun brightly shone Around my droopiog head. Ah ! then I missed my infant's smiles, His face I could not see, I only heard the gleesome wiles Of my sweet boy of three. A YEAK AGO. All broken were my spirits then : My day was turned to night ; No smile stole o'er my features, when I could not see the light. And oft when on the wearied earth Night's heavier shadows lay, I sent such earnest pleadings forth. And knelt me down to pray. And when the twilight air was cold, It gave great grief to me To say " good-night," and not behold My little boy of three. Oft in the darkness of the night Flowed sorrow's secret tears, When I looked back upon my bright And happy childhood's years. What glad emotion swelled my breast To hear his lightsome tread, Who came each morn to break my rest. And stood beside my bed ; Who strove my wishes to obey. Who was a friend to me. Who served me with a constancy, — My little boy of three. He took me where the sweet wild-flowers Would bend beneath my tread, A YEAK AGO. He led me in the noontide hours, Where trees branched overhead. And when beside me on the sward My Httle Willy played, He watched me as his sole regard, Beneath a tall tree's shade. The gentle words, the fond embrace, Would give a joy to me, When sitting in that shady place, With my sweet boy of three. I loved, when I saw not the shade, Thrown by the orchard trees. To listen to the music made By birds and humming bees, The trees were clad in brightest green The waters danced along : I could not gaze upon the scene — So clear, and glad, and young ; Yet many a weary hour would glide Along so cheerily. When on my knee or by my side. Played my sweet boy of three. He led me where the evening breeze Came with its balmy spell, When sunset streamed upon the trees The light I loved so well ; A YEAR AGO. And when the sun, in pomp and pride, Sank down into the west. And Httle birds, at eventide, Were going into rest. And when the dew fell on the land, Homeward our course would be ; Again I took the little hand Of that sweet boy of three. When I beheld the first fair scene, How lovely was the spot, I thought the like could ne'er be seen. Or ever be forgot. When the first ray of light did throw A radiance o'er my heart, I thought it but a transient glow That came but to depart. Yet when the darkful days had fled, 'Twas happiness to me To find that I could roam unled. Or lead my boy of three. Lord ! I thank Thee, Thou didst hear My spirit's deepest plaint. Nor when the days were dark and drear, Didst suffer me to faint. W^hen sore afflictions vex my soul, And doubts o'ercloud my way, HOPE AND SORROW. When fears perplex, and shadows roll Upon my path, I pray — " In all I suffer here below, I may my all resign, Trust in Thy faithful love and know No other will but Thine." HOPE AND SOEROW. Lo, in the clear river, The shy dappled trout, As sportive as ever Are darting about ; But an angler stands watchiug. O'er a wall that is nigh, And one he is catching With his treacherous fly. To the fishes a sorrow. To the angler a prey ; And the hope of to-morrow Is banished to-day. There are birds on the dove-cote. So pretty and rare ; 6 HOPE AND SORROW. But a dark line is marked out Above in the air : Lo, down it comes swooping, Straight arrow of fate, And a pigeon is drooping In grief for her mate. To the dove-cote a sorrow, To the falcon a prey ; And the hope of to-morrow Has vanished to-day. There are plovers swift flying, Low over the plain, The sportsman defying — He has tried long in vain : At last he has shifted, They come near the spot ; See his gun is uplifted— A dozen are shot. To the covey a sorrow, To the fowler a prey ; And the hopes of to-morrow Are scattered to-day. There's a lamb in the meadow, A breeze on the stream, Where the gnarled oaks shadow The shepherd's day dream : HOPE AND SORROW. But a rush and a whirring Sweep o'er and are gone, And the faint wind is stirring The sleeper alone. The fold hath a sorrow, Tlie eyrie a prey, And the hope of to-morrow Is- shattered to-day. High up in the willow, That looks on the stream. That stoops to the billow Where the sunny rays gleam. Two linnets are singing. Ere going to rest ; But a truant is bringing Their fledglings and nest. The birds have a sorrow. The nester a prey ; And the hopes of to-morrow, Are taken to-day. A mouse is appearing Among the stored wheat. And, not a sound hearing, Commences to eat ; But an owl, above perching, Leaves off pluming his wing HOPE AND SORKOW. And takes, after searching, The timid, wee thing. The mice have a sorrow, The owl hath a prey ; And the hope of to-morrow Is shaken to day. See the flowers are awaking : For the soft buds peep, With a gentle smile breaking From each pretty lip ; But a girl, fond of posies, All lovely and gay. Plucks off the young roses. And bears them away. To the garden a sorrow, To the maiden a prey ; And the hopes of to-morrow Are parted to-day. There are many boys sliding Across the broad mere. Woe their path is betiding, Though they have no fear ; They continue their greeting. Prolonging their joy, Till, his sad fate is meeting, A poor drowning boy. HOPE. AND SORROW. 9 The playmates have sorrow, The water a prey ; And the hope of to-morrow Departed to-day. The forest leaves glisten In the fresh sun of morn, As the hart stops to listen The sound of the horn. Come surely, come slowly — A whistle, a start ! And the proud deer lies lowly, The lead in his heart. The herd hath a sorrow The hunter a prey ; And the hope of to-morrow Lies fallen to-day. The bees have ceased humming Their anthems of bliss. Which told of their coming Bright flowers to kiss, For the cotter is taking Their honey away ; Sad work he is making At the close of the day. The bees have a sorrow The spoiler a prey ; 10 HOPE AND SORPOW. And the store of to-morrow Is stolen to-day. A plough-boy is singhig, Upturning the earth, And the upland is ringing With sounds of his mirth. When the soil is rolled over The worms are in sight ; But around the rooks over And shortly alight. To the reptiles a sorrow While the crows have a prey ; And the hopes of to morrow Are blighted to-day. The poet thinks proudly His visions are fair ; And the winds that blow loudly Speak words in his ear : With a deep love he gives — He gives, and 'tis gone ! Cold scorn he receives As the world hurries on. His heart hath a sorrow, The ingrate a prey ; And the hope of to morrow Is slighted to-day. THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER. 11 THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOUEER. My Teddy gtays up late a' neets, an ligs i' bed i' the morn , But a moant hev that, a'm sewer, 'e mun be sawin' the corn ; Fh- if 'e 'addles nowt, sivver, 'e weant hev no money t' ware ; An' a oftens hev telled 'im so, but 'e 'allust says "a doant care." One mornin' a fetch'd my kindlin' in, an' a got my break' st mysen ; A gev 'im an hour to dress in, an' a left 'im to 'issen ; Quite long enif an' all ; sin' 'e war not clear ready then, A tied my herse t' the steel, an' ran hoiim thruff the closins agean. A wembled a sheep trough o' my way, beside the hoam cloas pad. An' hugged a noggin to put i' the grate, an' kep yaupin' to my lad. But a met 'is mother i' the door-darns an' shea look'd rayther clung, An' said — " Thou'rt tew'd sewer-ly, remember the bai'n is nob but young ; " 'E's never been owt but wankle, an' 'e is our recklin' lad. So let 'im lig a bit longer, fir the miiister weant be mad ; Nail doant be sich a nazzle, yow mud see 'tis a houry day. An' 'e 'adn't foast to get up while afe-past seven o'clock a say." 12 THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER. So a went to my wurk once more, but a tbowt my patience tried, To liev sich an a serry, unheppen lad, an' 'is mother o' 'is side. But soon a 'eerd the ga'thman a-rippin' to meek our Ted cum out, Yit my wife war slape — shea knew how to megger't — an' tell'd him to look about. At last 'e fun 'im ditherin', cloase agin the stable door, When 'e called out, " 'Tis a solid shame you li event been down afoor, Maybe if your butty 'ad said that the slurr o' the dayke war glib, A uphold it, yow'd soon a been slitherin' stead o' fillin' the crib. •' Yow mun teck this furk fra me, an' remble the kids by the trays, An' fettle the yard an' look heppen, fir these are very shirt days. Go up the lether to the loft, an' finnd me the fower stun weight, Undernean the skep, or among the wots a skell'd last neet at eight." If a 'ad foast to wait o' my lad a-cummin' to the cloas while now, 'Twould be a very great chanch if we 'ad ivver got off to plow. But sin' my herse would crounch an' crear, a stopped my wurk that day, Fir a 'eerd the owd church clock strike two, thof the thick end o' a mile away. THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER. 13 A stubb'd the five aacre, wbeer a kill'd a foumard an' moudy-warp ; An sin' it war near the darklins, a unpied some tfites an' sharp. A went to see if the lad ad wheeled the mannur fra out o' the crew, But 'e dacker'd, an a thowt it a very niste gam, so gev 'im more to do. A towd 'im to chop the billetin, an' to put the bronkus up. To fasten the stable sneck an' hesp, or a was sewer 'e wouldn't stop ; To see if 'is rabbit 'ad werried, to count up the chickens o' the latest cletch, An' to go t' the gainest shop, a panehan an' blether o' same to fetch. A scraped up the squad an' the sluther mysen, an' med the yard look feat ; Then a called to my wife i' the ramper to git me summut to veat. " Nah doant be in a stiitle," shea said, " yower quite coUywessen to-day, When a've milked the cows, an' fed the cauves, we'll hev a cup o' tay. " I' swaulin' the house a' tumpoked o'er the tub, an' wetted both my feet, So bring in a yule-clog an' kid, fir we'll hev a good fire ta-neet." A took off my sliver all clatty an' clagg'd, an' put o' my toggery soon, Expectin' the butcher woe promised to call a' three i' the afternoon. 14 THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER. A've nobbut kep two pigs ta-year, a oftens liev fed fewer, One a Idll'd but yesterday, an' its mattler the day afoor ; An' toner a mun sell, but which on 'em a hardlins knaw, Th' one that's hangin' o" the stee, or that o' the cratch belaw. We soon got agait a' talking o' the places an' towns we 'ad seen, Ayther o' woalds, i' fens, or marshes, wheerivver we 'ad been. A hev flitted fra Conam to Sollaby, but at Randle a war born, An' it was at Wattam, wheer my lass fost seed the light o' morn. A once went fra Freshney Fen, wi' my fayther, to Louath fair, To see an owd uncle, woe lived up a smootin' at the back o' Eastgate theer. Woe 'ad sicb a curious hype, an' took great strinds as 'e mov'd along, That a tried to git shut on 'im, when a war tired, fir a warn't tiff when young. My wife took Patty to sarvice, to a lady at Cawtrup Manor last week. An' said "No gress, mum, grows under 'er foot, shea- moves about so quick ; That house is a cosher wheer 'er sister lives, by the brig i' Gantrup town. An 'er brother is a confined labourer at Eurby wi' a farmer Brown." THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER. 15 One wottle-day a took our Bill fra Nor Cotes to Lurbur an' back, But a pagged 'im a deal, so a'm sartin-sewer, the next time a'll teck Jack. Owr Joe 'as been playin' at pick an' hotcli, or 'awmin' about o' apiece ; An' 'stead o' usin' the gablic is ridin' that frangy funnel o' 'is. By the spurrin's i' the gatruni, a guess 'e's off to Hogs- trup fur the maister's spur, Yet if it warn't fir fear o' a maleck a'd give 'im a nap o' the knurr. A gev o'er talkin', an' chuck'd a bone o' the cobbles fir the dog to nag, When a seed the bai'ns 'ad broken the band or brusted the millers bag. Those bai'ns. i' tbeir clammux an' play, 'ad slapped a pitcher o' creilm, As Tommy war raavin' Jaane's tidy about an' meckin' on 'er scream. My wife clammed Tom an' spanked "im, then lugged 'is tab an' 'ad im undress'd, When a said — that's rayt, nah wire in a boster, an put 'em all to rest. But Liz 'ad to kill all the clocks, an' to syle the lop- pered milk out o' the sob ; Then a said to my wife, when a suppered up, an' 'ad no more to do, — 'Tis roaky ta-neet, an' cazzlety weather, but to-morrow 'ad foils t to boon, So let us be oft' to bed, my lass, fir a mun git up soon. 1 16 GLOSSARY. A, a, I ; uhen used GLOSSARY. f^''' ^' Cawtrup, Cawthorpe. sounds as in father Cazzlety, (casualty j, change- 'Addles, earns. aide. 'Ad foast, lias forced. Clianch, chance. Afe, half. Chucked, threw. Afoor, before. Clagged, matted with dirt. Agait, started. Clammed, seized. Agean, again. Clammus, clamour. Agin, a(jainst. Clatty, sticky, dirty. Allust, always. Clear, quite. An' all, also, too. Cletch, brood. 'Awmin', lounfjing. Cloas, close, field. Aytber, either. Clocks, black-beetles. Closius, fields. Bai'u, (bairn), child. Clung, surly ; heavy when Band, string. applied to soil. Belaw, below. Cobbles, round paving stones. Billetin, firewood. Collywessen, contrary. Blether, bladder. Conam, Covenham. Boon, road materials, to lead Confined labourer, labourer road materials. hired by the year. Brig, bridge. Cosher, an immense one ; Bronkus, donkey. other intensives are used Brusted, burst. such as Cawker, Butty, a mate. Thusker, Wopper, &c. Cauves, calves.' Cratch, a butcher's barrow. 1 1 ! GLOSSARY. 17 Crear, to rear. i Fower, four. Crew, sheltered place for Frsb, from. cattle in icinter ; yard. Frangy, lively, spirited. Crounce, to prance. Freshney, Friskney. Dacker, to lessen speed. Fun, found. Darklins, twilight. Funnel, mule from male Ass. Dayke, dike. Furk, fork. Ditherin', shaking with cold. Doant, dont. Door-darns, door-post, door- Gablic, crow-bar, (gavelock) Gainest, nearest. Gam, game. way. Gantrup, Grainthorpe. 'E, he. Ga'tbman, herdman who Ear by, Irhy. looks after cattle in the 'Eerd, heard. crew. Enif, enough. Gatrum, marsh road to a •Er, her. farm ; probably gate- Fa.ythev, father. Feat, neat. Fettle, make right. Finnd, find. Fir, for. Flitted, changed abodes. room. Gev, gave. Git, get. Giv, give. Glib, slippery. Gress, arass. Feast, forced. Hardlins, hardly, scarcely. Fooie, foot. Heppen, handy. Fost, first. Herse, horse. Foumard, ffommard) foul- Hesp, hasp. marten, pole-cat. Hev, have. ) 18 GLOSSAKY. Hevent, have not. Mattler, match, fellow. Hoam, home. Meek, make. Hogstrup, Hogsthorpe. Med, made. Houry, dirty, foul, thick. Megger, to get over a diffi- Hype. gait. culty, to get better of an I', in. illness. 'Im, him. Moant, must not. 'Is, his. Moudy-warp, mole. 'Issen, himself, Mud, might. I uphold it, I icarrant. Mun, must. Ivver, ever. My sen, myself. Kep, kept. Nag, gnaw. Kids, fagots. Nah, now. Kindlm', fi-ewood. Nap, knock, sometimes, sowl. Knaw, know. Nazzle, a peevish, disagree- Knurr, the head. able person. Letlier, ladder. Neets, nights. Ligs, lies. Ner Cotes, North Cotes. Loppered, thick, curdled. Niste, nice. Louath, Louth. Nivver, never. Lurbur, Ludhorongh. Nobbut, nought but, only. Lugged, pulled. Noggin, lump of wood. Ma, me. Nowt, nothing. Mad, angry displeased. 0', of, on. Maister, master. ()' a piece, aichile, for a time. Maleek, squabble, regular rou\ Owd, old. Mannur, manure. Ower, over. GLOSSARY. 19 Owr, otir. Shirt, short. Owt, oiiyht, anytliinij. Shut, rid. Pad, path. Sich, such. Pag, to carry on the back. Sin, siyice. Pansban, earthenware pan. Sivver, howsoever ; wivver, Pick an' 'otch, pitch and toss. however. Skelled, tilted over. Raavin', turnimj up, moiliny. Skep, a wooden measure. Ramper, road, (rampire). Slape, sharp, tricky ; slippery Randle, Ravendale. when applied to ice, do. Rayt, riyht. Slapped, slopped, spilled. Rayther, rather. Slitherin', slidiny. Recklin', smallest of a family, Sliver, short slop. brood or litter. Sluther, thi7i mud. Remble, move, remove. Slurr, a slide. Rippin', shoutiny. Sraootin', a passage. Roak, thick mist, like smoke. Sob, a shallow tub. Roaky, very misty. Solid, re/-(/ (as solid wet ;) very Sallaby, Saltjieetby. yreat (as solid shame.) ■ Same, lard. Spank, to slap, to heat. i Sartin-sewer, certain, sure. Spurrin's, footmarks, tracks. Sarvice, service. Squad, muck, dirt. Sawin', soiviny. Stecid, instead. Seed, miv. Stee, ladder. Serry, sliyht, insiynificant. Steel, style. Sewer, sure. Strinds, strides. Sewerly, surely. Stmi, stone. Shea, she. Stutle, hurry. 1 20 GLOSSARY. Summut, something, some- what. Swauled, f/r«ncAeti vcith water. Syled, filtered. Tab, ear. Ta-neet, to-night. Tates, potatoes. Tay, tea. Ta-year, this year. Teck, take. Tell'd, told. Tew'd, teased, moiled. Theer, there. Thick end of, greater part. TLof, though. Tiiowfc, thought. Thruff, through. Tidy, pinafore. Tiff, tough. Toggery, clothes. Toner, one or the other. Towd, told. Trays, hurdles. Tumpoked, stumbled head first. Undernean, underneath. Unlieppen, clumsy. Unpied, unearthed. Wankle, weakly. War, uas. Ware, to spend. Wattam, Waltham. W'eant, will not. Wembled, turned over. Werried, littered. While, till. Wheer, where. Wi', with. Wire, to u-ork. Wire in a boster, to do a thing earnestly. Woalds, wolds. Woe, n-ho. Wots, oats. W^ottle-day, working-day ; as . Sunday an' wottle-days. Yaupin', shouting. Yeiit, eat. Yit, yet. Yow, you. Yower, you are. Yule-clog, yule-log. TO DEVONIA. 21 TO DEVONIA. AN ADDEESS TO MY NATIVE COUNTY. I. DARTMOOR. Never a lovelier scene my eye has viewed Than Dartmoor — that romantic solitude : There momitain torrents rush through rock-strew'd glens, A hundred springs gush up from secret dens ; There rock- piled slopes with rugged chasms yawn, As if by thunderbolts asunder sawn ; There, busy bees their soothing lullaby Hum in the spiral foxglove's speckled eye ; The breeze the purple heath-bell moves in turn, With nodding cotton -rush and waving fern — Fit place for those who find in botany Somewhat to change their life's monotony. There mountain spires uplift their stony crests, And pierce the clouds recumbent on their breasts ; There silvery aspens bend in light arcades, And sycamores wave cool and darksome shades ; And there the ashen trees with beeches blend, And clustering oaks a greener roof extend Above the forest flowers so thick and gay. There watery Nymphs have sung the spousal lay. 22 TO DEVONIA. And ancient Pan hath tuned his reed, and all, The jocund Fairies danced around each fall, While bounding Fauns and mirthsome Dryads wove Some sportive measure in a neighbouring grove. And there, dark rites in bygone days were done On wilds o'er which uncounted storms have blown ; There I have clambered up the dangerous steep Or pathless glen and watched the cataract's leap, Or loitered by the mere, the crag, the stream, When billows flashed beneath the sunset's beam, When shone the stars with their perennial ray. Which brought the joy as of serener day, And from the vault of heaven those first-born lights Bestowed a loveliness to darksome nights. I've seen the meteor's glance with treacherous ray — A moment seen, but fled the next away. 'Tis there the poet finds fit theme for song, Though by the noble bard too long unsung ! And there the falcon builds its lonely nest In crannies where no truant hands molest ; And there the cascades flashing, foaming free. Boil wildly up in their tremendous glee ; And shivered giant trunks to man declare, In rocky crevices firm rooted there. What whirlwind rage, what blasts and tempests rude, And scath of storm for ages they have stood. Bound peaks, at times, dark clouds and whirlwinds throng, And to the strife loud tempests sweep along ; TO DHVONIA. 23 While man recoils before the dreadful rage Of wind, and earth, and sky, which Titan battles wage. Then foamy masses from their ridges leap. And speed their billows through the valleys deep, And terror walks beneath and rules on high, Storms roll their raging pennons through the sky ; And from their secret magazines a store Of fury send at jagged peaks and hoar ; And wildly sweeps their breath from hill to hill More loud than thunder's roar, yet hang there still Amid the peal of each portentous rush. When roll the warring winds in elemental gush, Uninjured mountain brows. Along the vale The night-bird's cries are heard ; upon the gale Are borne the bittern's scream and curlew's note, And whirring wings o'er waste and waters i3oat. And there the clilis form a dark interlune To hide the pale and broad and placid moon ; There streams give life and greenness to the soft And lovely landscapes north and south. Aloft The screaming hawk his eyrie sails around. What subject can more meet for song be found Than Dartmoor, hallowed by a thousand views And interesting beauty as the muse Would fire '? How grand when visited by gales — When mighty tors the tempest fierce assails ! The whisper of the brook swells to a voice Of power ; the thunder's loud terrific noise 24 TO DEVOMA. Salutes the ear, and next the vivid fork Of arrowy lightning, when the storm's at work. Unfailing, greets the eye of him who dares To front the fiend as he his standard rears. There I have loved the spells of summer hours, The joy of sunlight, and the smile of flowers ; To hear glad murmurs from the birds and rills. When with delight were clothed the dales and hills. On uplands near I've seen, along the sky. An eagle, seeking prey, sail heavily ; The eagle sailed into the distant grey ; Down plumped the hawk and cushioned on his prey ; And, with a furtive look, the silent fox Slunk down the covert, as a noise of cocks Fell startling on the ear, with cluck and crow. I've heard the dogs to bay, the kine to low, And sheep to bleat, while up the forest glade A figure came in shepherd's guise arrayed. Before he took his rest, to count the fold ; Beturning when he had the number told, Along the sward, while the whole forest rang With clamour strange — the boy so cheerily sang In clear loud stains ; a staff his right hand bore, And blue the colour of the frock he wore. The weary hunter, hunting in a wood, To close the lengthened chase the horn blew loud. Whilst through a berried, prickly hawthorn bush I heard the chirping flutter of a thrush, TO DEVONIA. 25 And in the lofty branches o'er the brook I saw the chattering pie, or thievish rook. Dartmoor ! thou that art so richly dight In Nature's flowing robe of life and light, I've wandered midst thy bogs and silver streams From early dawn to evening's dewy beams ! At dusk, when smiles of light in rich vermeil The dark-brown surface of the moorland veil, I've heard the wood-dove's shrill and plaintive call, And roaring sounds of Lidford's waterfall. Though other scenes invite me far to roam, Devonia ! thou shalt prove my spirit's home. I stood upon a hilly brow, It was a lovely spot. Where herb and floweret never blow, And Drees befriend thee not ; A rude defile beneath me lay. With rocky fragments strewed ; And strange the scenes I saw that day As I my path pursued. So barren, bleak, and shapeless rose The craggy hills around, Unbroken was their dread repose By living form or sound. Save, where along the height o'ercast With blue of lively shade. 26 TO DEVONIA. In eager search of his repast The soaring goshawk strayed. And now a glen was in my way, Clasped by the rock's embrace, Where stinted shrubs their tangled spray Swept o'er the lonely place. And now were sights to see most rare, From off each rocky heap, Where, now and then, the wild birds are, And lonesome vigils keep. II. THY RI\TERS. ^ The Dart rolls on his glorious course, And rushes with gigantean force One moment down a hilly side, But in the next is calm and wide. That full-summed river, proud and free, Flows on in solemn majesty ; May he no more the truth impart — That in the year he has a heart. The ExE, that loiters in his banks. The first and foremost in thee ranks ; Unmindful of his onward way Among thy scenes he seems to stay. Or sounds of city, field, or hill, Of forest, which thy landscapes fill TO DEVON lA. 27 And on his borders osiers lave .Their stalks beneath his silent wave. Lo ! Tamar's giddy eddies whirl With sound suppressed and rapid curl, Throughout his rough and rubied bed, Between the source and famed Weir Head ; From thence the current smoothly glides, And soon is lost in ocean tides. The Taw and Torridge pour with might Untiring, in their hasty flight O'er pointed rocks, their copious tides. And sheep play on their flowery sides : May ne'er those rivers full of life With ocean find surcease of strife ! Is now complete thy noble train With stately Plym and lovely Teign "? Nay, Sid so short, and Yealm so clear. The shallow Erme, with Avon near, The Ottrr dark, and limy Axe, Where barges navigate and smacks — Are each important, though but small, And worthy song both one and all. Thy wandering, wide, meandering streams. Whose praises well become my themes, Whose waters carelessly flow on Debouching in a larger one, Adown thy rocky ledges leap And on to either channel sweep. 28 TO DEVONIA. They go with plenty's liorn in hand, And load with fruitfulness the land ; Their waters clear the children drink, Keclining on the cressy brink : Their waterfalls of thundering voice Would be the subject of my choice. Were I inclined to lengthen song. Or make this idyll far too long. Enough, the harvest never fails, The rivers fertilize thy vales Which flush with corn and flame with flowers. They green the meads and neighbouring bowers. Where fields of golden promise spread, Upon their ferny sides have fed The fearful rabbit, spotted deer. The cattle and the timid hare. The cottage and the gilded hall. The temple and the tower may fall, And ruin ruthlessly may ride O'er greater works of human pride, — The ancient forests pass away ; Thy rivers in their channels play — They never vanish from the scene, Eternal as the hills between. And they have kept thee sternly free In days of troubled history ; They have resisted warrior bands That oft assailed thy hilly lands. TO DEVONIA. 29 Where mountains fix their lasting root, And rivers through the valleys shoot, There men revere, nay, country love All other spots and lands above. III. WHAT I LOVE. I love to thread my winding way Through lowlands green and uplands grey. And strolling, pass through hazels dense. Or nut along the roadside fence ; To ramble 'midst the beauteous scenes Of pastoral and rural life. Through winding glades, o'er village greens. When nature's incense pure and rife Is wafted in the soothing air ; Enchanted by the music clear Of joyous birds, with open book, To stand beside the limpid brook. I love to hear the hunter's cry. Awaking wildly echoes nigh, To see, aroused by dogs and men, The fox flee from his darkened den. When morn, as dusky clouds unfold. Thy every hill hath tipped with gold, In thy dear haunts I love to rove. Where countless graceful creatures move ; 30 TO DEVONIA. To watcb the merry squirrels sweep Through lofty trees, with heedless leap, — From spray to spray they coolly fly, And look on man with anxious eye. I love thy captivating sights, Thy mountain cliffs, thy rocky heights. Thy towering trees, thy sparkling streams, That revel in Sol's glorious beams ; To see thy reapers at their ease Beneath thy sober ashen trees, At luncheon fast the hedges by. They quaff their cider merrily. I love to see the swallows fair. Speed swiftly through the balmy air, Around thy homes, 'neath bridges glide. As down thy coombs they seem to slide. I love to hear the song of birds, That all thy woodlands throng, The bleat of sheep, the low of herds Thy verdant pasture fields among. I love the Spring for life and bloom. The Winter for its dreary gloom. The Summer for its bright warm glow, And Autumn for its bounteous show. I love to look on meads and towns From off thy tufted heights and downs ; To see thy wilds of gorse and wood, With farms or halls beside them stood ; TO DEVONIA. 31 To view thy fields when spring at morn Walks forth to green them with yomig corn ; Or when in summer's mid-day bright They're charming to the raptm-ed sight, Or when adorned by autumn's skies The harvest ripe before me lies, Or winter weaves a frosty vest Or by her hand with snow they're drest. I love to see when summer comes, Surrounding all thy cottage homes, The gardens of the industrious poor Well filled with recompensive store. I love to see sport on the green Thy children round the housewife clean, While aged fathers at their doors Are reading news from distant shores. And when the pearly clouds do lie Far scattered o'er an evening sky, I love to see moved by the breeze Thy weeping willows and tall trees, Thy shadowy box or hawthorn bowers. Thy shrubs, thy rushes, and thy flowers — Thy flowers spread wide o'er plain and dell, As stars to sparkle and dispel. With all their countless little blooms, Life sad and drear and chilling glooms. I love the laugh of crested waves, The rushing of a swollen brook ; 32 TO DEVONIA. Its bursting forth from sunless eaves Beneath the network of a nook ; To follow on its starry sheen When it had left its shadowy rest, As from its bank in richest green The fern leaves ride upon its breast. I love to rove where wildlings grow, When scented violets cheer the earth, When 'neath the hawthorn and the sloe The primroses are peeping forth ; The velvet sides of hills to climb When countless flowers adorn the way, When foxglove, furze, and broom, and thyme, And daisies make the surface gay ; To see the busy harvester His scythe throw in the grass or corn, When high the sun is burning, or When kiss the earth and blushing morn. I love to think when dull the scene, Though all the sky be overcast, That soon will shed the sun serene His glory when the storms are past, I love those spots which legends tell Of years gone by the Christian throng Came to the still but brook-cleft dell And woke its echo with a song ; — To roam when tremble sunset's rays 'Mid the verandah's trellis bars, I TO DEVONIA. 33 And when they paint on Nature's face A glory Uke unto the stars ; And when the dove's last notes which beat Upon the evening air depart, And when the breath of gardens sweet Is slowly creeping to the heart ; When o'er thy fields the shadows creep, And follow up the misty hill, And when the owl his vigils keep In twilight, on the old barn sill ; Or, when at dawn, Sol from above, So faintly shines with beams of love. To hear the wild bird's early lay Which wakes the landscape cold and grey, Which fills the soul's long voided cells With music sweet as distant bells. I love thy springs — their varied charms With glowing beauty fill thy arms ; Then fields are green, and skies are blue, And countless birds of varied hue Exultant sing, in pleasant strains, Through all thy woods and shaded lanes. D 34 TO DEVONIA. IV. CHILDHOOD AND HOME. My childhood I spent and I sportively played Among thy glad scenes, in the sunshine and shade ; I loved thy bright flowers — all their odours were sweet, They gladdened my way to a favoured retreat ; To open my heart more of pleasure to see, Each token of summer was welcome to me. I heard in the morn the birds cheerfully sing, As heralds foretelling the coming of spring. I've trodden thy hills, I have roamed in thy vales, My boat on thy waters was wafted by gales. How joyous my prospects for many a year, My summers were happy, my winters not drear ; As old Father Time sped so quickly away, My hopes were all bright for a far distant day. How well I remember those beautiful days In spring, when the birds warbled out their sweet lays ; The songsters remind me of childhood again, And then what a madness will burn on my brain — A something will whisper of that which hath been — A something I feel, yet that cannot be seen ; I con o'er the past, when each impulse was glad, And look to the future, all silent and sad. Then, sister and brothers, far down a green lane, We rambled together to find out again Such treasures as "lastyear"weknew had grown there ; We all felt assured by the sweet-scented air. TO DEVONIA. 35 That violets there must be concealed in the shade ; We knew, like the snow-drops, they hung down the head. So pried around closely and found with delight Those flowerets arrayed in their mantle of white. Then swelled our young bosoms to seize each new bliss. Determined no joy and no pleasure to miss, 'Midst spring's budding graces and summer's full bloom, — Their numberless flowers and their honeyed perfume. Whene'er to my bosom the wild flowers bring The glory of summer, the freshness of spring. I think of the hope that my spirit did wear When brightness and beauty empurpled the air. We watched the birds toiling to make a soft nest For innocent broods there to shelter and rest. Should mother be with us she bade us be good, And think of our God who provides us with food — Who bade the bright flowers to rise from the ground — Who spread the green mantle of grass all around — Who made the streams flow and meander through plains — Who taught the grey throstle to hymn such sweet strains — Who bade the bright sun sink at night in the west, And rise in the morn to obey His behest. She led us from smoke and the drouth of the town. To breathe the pure air of the far-stretching Down ; 36 TO DEVONIA. To sport with delight on the mountains and hills, When murmur the birds, and the bees, and the rills ; To stand on the cliffs near our house and gaze o'er The wide waste of waters and flower- strewn shore ; To stroll down the glen when the warm sunny ray Illumed and enlivened the short winter day, When brooks bubbled lowly and streams with dull flow — Those fleetest of days which few graces bestow — And rivers, and becks, and the runnels deplore The blossoms that gladden their borders no more. She taught us that they through the valley's broad waste Impatient to mingle with ocean would haste ; Exhaling unseen thence beneath the sun's ray, In vapors elastic through ether to stray, In mist next alighting, or falling in rain, To traverse on earth the same journey again. Of days long past by, whensoever I tell. With grateful emotion my bosom shall swell ; For then a dear parent whose love was a flame, Deep, tender, and sacred — I honor her name — Was true to her charge, and she changed not with time, She constantly laboured — a pattern sublime ; So pious, so generous, though dignified, free. The fruits of her love are spread wide as a sea ; She wept and she prayed, and, in answer to prayer, May mother and children in heaven appear ! From scenes of my boyhood 'twas hard to remove. But fond recollections I cherish and love ; TO DEVONIA. 87 Though far from my country, my kindred, my friends, Where all that is strange my careering attends, My heart beats with gladness wherever I roam. Whene'er I reflect on the joys of that home. How quiet my dwelling, how humble my cot, The storm or the tempest I heeded it not, For charming and sweet and rejoicing the sound While nothing but peace in the cottage was found. Those days of my youth I can never forget, When pleasures and friendships I ceaselessly met ; When wayward or sad, a kind hand or a heart Was present to guide, that my fears might depart ; But now — may I look for protection above, God's truth be my guide, my portion His love ! Though now in my bosom the hopes of my youth Are withered and dead, yet like emblems of truth From shades of the past, in each wreck 1 can find Some strength for the bosom, some peace for the mind. Let storms gather round me and threaten my bark, Let billows encompass and clouds become dark, My life's wintry journey will soon pass away. And then I'll rejoice through eternity's day ! 38 TO DEVONIA. V. SCHOOL DAYS. How bappy were the days that I A school -boy spent m thee, Their pleasant hours, though long gone by, Are dear to memory. It was within a British school I learnt to read and write, And there I tugged at many a rule Till it was mastered quite. I cheerly did the satchel don When time for school drew near. As gaily rolled each morning on Throughout instruction's year. Where'er I caught the sound of bell, To avoid the master's cane, I scampered off, and tried right well The foremost place to gain. And soon was read the Holy Book, And next a prayer was heard, — That God might on the scholars look And bless each deed and word. TO DEVONIA. 39 Of late ones gathered round the door Who first would enter in, And face the man who, all were sure, Would ask, " Where have you been ? " Those who received the well-earned scold, Or cut across the hand, Were, in another moment, told At all their work to stand. As sure as clock struck four or twelve The wished-for silence reigned ; Each pupil now had ceased to delve, And soon had freedom gained. We in the dinner-hour would play At marbles in a ring. And evenings in a field would stay While kites were on the wing. Or eke we clomb the rocks and cliffs In search of shells and eggs, Or rowed or sailed in favourite skiffs Beneath thy beetling crags. We often loitered at the well. Or 'neath the blacksmith's shed, Or far into the grassy dell We helter-skelter sped. 40 TO DEVONIA. The grass recovered from our tread — The pressure was so small ; The motion of our bodies made A gentle breeze to fall. We switches cut from willow-trees Which by the brooklets stand, And potent instruments were these Of mischievous command. And oft our fingers itched to lay The supple wand across Whatever beast came in our way, To make it writhe and toss. What sweet delights my boyhood knew ! Where'er my will would lead I roamed the fields where daisies grew, Or king-cups filled the mead. How mean the bliss of manhood seems, With days nor golden still, Compared with youth's delightful dreams Which paint no coming ill. The Gaffer stood to mark our glee, Acd heard our notes of joy, When loud the burst of ecstasy Came from each reckless boy. \ TO DEVONIA. 41 When school was done we steered our course Beneath a sloping hill, To where its ceaseless tribute pours Each clear and murmuring rill. We, full of vagrant school-boy schemes. To brooklets would repair. To snatch the minnows from the streams, And bottle them with care. Awhile we gazed, then eagerly We seized with dexterous hand. And dashed so suddenly the prey Upon the whitened sand. At home we placed the tiny fish In glass or basin rare, In canakin or larger dish, To breathe the vital air. Our books forgotton as our dreams, We roamed the meads about. And loved to paddle in the streams, Our task to tickle trout. Or from " The Bolt," whose crested brow Devonia proudly boasts, We watched the vessels far below Approach the rocky coasts. 42 TO DEVONIA. The windings of the coves we traced, We watched the flowing tide, As soon we through the waters paced, Or swam from side to side. In spring we sought the trees among. And bushes in thy woods, For greybirds' or for blackbirds' young. And bore away the broods. And when we found a coney's nest How fixed the anxious stare ! What glad surprises swelled the breast If one for each was there 1 When summer's sun had scarcely set, Or moon shone bright and fair, To game at " hide and seek " we met, Or else at " hound and hare." Then often we from each abode O'er many a rood have strayed. Till high the full moon gaily rode, Or stars their pomp displayed. In autumn time on nuts we fed, On blackberry, or grain ; Meanwhile we caused to ring o'er head Some loud concinnous strain. TO DEVONIA. 48 We winnowed with our breath the corn, Which fell from hand to hand, Which to the mouth was quickly borne — We ate what we had fanned. The winter never came too late, Nor brought too strong a cold ; On ponds, when in a frozen state, Were made some exploits bold. And when the snow was on the ground, Our hearts were filled with glee ; For then we pelted snowballs round — My chosen chums and me. In books I found my chief delight, When free from care-clouds dense ; For this, I wish my school-days bright Would now again commence. Not many years have rolled between, But care has racked my breast ; So far through life those days have been My brightest and my best. 44 TO DEVONIA. VI. MORNING. The fair clear morn was waking In beauty from on high, And the moorlands were partaking In the radiance of the sky ; Her smile, caught by the ocean, Glowed on its breast of blue. And from the trees in motion Fell tears of pearly dew, Whose life depends, as many deem. On moisture and on sunny beam. I love at early morn, to tread Some solitary way, Or sylvan haunt, or dewy mead, Or climb the mountain grey. I love to see day's earliest beam Light up the woody shade, And kiss the clear and gentle stream. That ripples in the glade. To see the flowerets in the mead. When moist with morning rain ; Their early fragrance then is shed Over the fertile plain. I love a merry morn in spring. When all around is gay. And when the birds their chorus bring To hail the coming day. TO DEVONIA. 45 When trees and shrubs are fair to view, And music fills the grove ; When skies are decked with richest hue, And skylarks soar above. When first the sun shines through the cloud, Upon the earth below, To hear the woodlands ring aloud With mirth and music's flow. I love the glowing morn, when the sun flings Its radiant light upon all living things ; When grass and leaves and flowers begem'd with dew, Shine soft and fair through each bright rosy hue ; When air and sky, and earth and ocean, seem All glorious and bright — as life's young dream : When Sol's bright rays, so newly born. Cause the deep blushes of the early mom. Unto the formless void, the word Went forth upon Creation's morn : High o'er disordered chaos heard — " Let there be light ! " and light was born. The shadows rolling from its path. An angel song rose sweet and clear — " Oh, joy ! oh, hope ! for darkness hath Lost half its reign and all its fear ! " The floods are clapping hands ; the rills Go rippling through bird-haunted vales ; The cattle on a thousand hills Come friskmg to the milking pails ; 46 TO DEVONIA. The shy colt gambols through the croft ; The sheep bleat to the keeper's cry ; And waving branches bear aloft, In nests, their nursling melody. Sing ! as the sun's awakening beams ; On fabled Memnon all around, The keynote strike — in gushing streams Do the full harmonies resound ! Sing though faint hearts and voices weak, Despairing fail God's throne to reach. It is a blessed thing to speak — To join — the universal speech. VII. SPRING. S WEET meads and fields, in lively green arrayed P ut forth the promise of the sunny Spring ; E ich hedgerows rise and shoot a deeper shade ; I n every tree the joyous songsters sing ; N ow the exulting universe is glad, G od smiles above. Man should not now be sad. With beauteous lovely form Appears the youthful queen ; Come to defeat the storm, To clothe earth's naked scene. Old "Winter takes his flight, His voice is heard no more ; TO DEVONIA. 47 For Spring has come in sight To still the tempest's roar. The long-pent waters flow From Winter's dismal cell ; Spring lets the captives go, And on tliey joyous swell. As o'er rough beds they ring, Or sluggish drag their way, To Spring they seem to sing And grateful homage pay. The frog no longer sleeps. In stagnant pool 'tis heard ; O'er nest its vigils keep Each joyous twittering bird. The twittering birds remind Us all 'tis time to rise ; They're not to interest blind. As time so quickly flies. Homes for a future race To build they quickly haste ; Behold their rapid pace — For they no moments waste. They stay not : instinct says, " The seasons will not last, Soon end the longest days, The Spring will soon flit past," Spring bids us all be gay. And bids us courage take ; 48 TO DEVONIA. She drives the frost away. And cries to all " Awake ! Awake, your work begin, To work, ye sluggards, go ; Who fight not cannot win, Nor reap who do not sow." With life thy meadows thrill, Thy brooklets gleam and sing And calls each purling rill To wake the woods in spring. The bud bursts from the thorn, The thrush begins to tell His news at early morn. The blackbird of the dell, Beneath the woody hill, Recalls in music clear — Though he has long been still — The warblings of last year. Amid thy vales of green, The cuckoo now repeats His notes from boughs unseen. And matin freshness greets. And now wathin the sky, The lark so cheery sings, With music timed by The beating of its wings. The sun upon the sea Glitters like stars of gold, TO DEVONIA. 49 And now on every tree The blossoms grow untold ; And in the flowery eyes The pearly dew-drops play, Ere morn's bright beams arise To melt them all away. And up ambrosial bells Of flowers bright and fair, The bee, from inmost cells, Her honey gathers there. And now with murmuring fall, Thy purling streams among The reeds so musical Sing out a bubbling song ; Through rugged wilds they leap, And broken billows cast O'er the embattled steep Into abysses vast. Then on with footsteps fleet, Or roll of blithesome flow. Some sister streams they meet In beauteous plains below. Silent through meads and vales Thy lovely rivers wind. And far beyond thy dales Their rest in ocean find. They grow more calm and deep, They cease their rush and roar, E 50 TO DEVONIA. Aud rest in lucid sleep When near the ocean shore. "When spring hath clothed each croft And all thy meads are gay, A thousand birds aloft So sweetly charm the day. And when the star of eve Illumes its torch on high, And boughs the zephyrs heave With a soft hushing sigh ; And when at midnight hour The moonbeams slowly creep O'er town and ruined tower, And brighten up the deep, I love the heath-grown slope, The dark and leafy bowers. As shine the stars which ope To me in those sweet hours, When nought of care intrudes, And all around I see In midnight solitudes Is hanging silently. Thy landscapes teem with joy. And calm the sky above, Thy rivulets gurgle by With sound like murmuring dove. By turns the ear and eye With admiration dwell TO DEVONIA. 51 On all, as rooks wheel by On heavy wing, and well The trout their gambols keep And round the shallows veer, Or pike 'mid rushes sleep, As later in the year. The shallops peaceful sail, The stream's soft dimpling swell, The flirting of the rail. The sheepfold's distant bell, The moorhen's dashing plume, The splendid kingfisher — Whose nest on fishy loom Inweaved and curious are, Charm as Sol's glories shine — He sheds a general charm, For he with beams divine Illumes the town and farm ; He brightens up the hill. Silvers the mountain's brow. And hies, with light, to fill The darksome caves below. Thy leaves, in sunny showers Glisten with blades of grass, And glitter all thy bowers. Thy forests seem to blaze. The pearl of hawthorn falls. With daisies fields are white, 52 TO DEVONIA. Thy woodbines 'gainst the walls Enchant the cotter's sight. Thy willows by the brook Are clothed in silvery light, The dingle, hedge, and nook, Deck the primroses bright. The bright anemone — Of gory grief the sign, Whose leaflets cluster free, And in the sunbeams shine — Reminds of classic deeds. The daffodil displays, Above the woodland weeds, Her pale diverging rays. The peony's vale is rent — She throws her ruby dyes Around, and seems intent To court congenial skies. The tulip's tints adorn A woof resplendent, new, Supreme, she feigns to scorn All flowers of milder hue ; And in the crumbling wall. Grown green and grey with time, Blooms the wall-flower small, Firm rooted in the lime. And now the currant tree Its palest leaves outspread. TO DEVONIA. 53 And bang the blossoms free Of apples overbead. Tby meadows, lanes, and woods, Witb cbervils are arrayed ; Tbe nettle sbarp bestuds Tbe bedge-row's ample shade ; And wbere tbe briars droop, Or matted sedges lie. Are seen tbe leveret group, And partridge brood bard by ; And o'er tby slow canals Swarm gnats in tbe sun's ray, And from tbe cracks in walls Tbe lizards seek tbe day. Among tbe osier beds. Springs now tbe pilewort's leaf, Its yellow blossoms spread, Tbe meadow's floweret chief. The hazel bush has bung Its plenteous tresses there. And purple buds have sprung, Which bearded nuts will bear. Beneath the pimple breasts Of bush and hedge of thorn, In numerous bidden nests, Tbe callow broods are born. Intoxicating gales Of tbe aromatic East, 54 TO DEVONIA. The swallow quaffed, but hails Thee as its home, its rest ; For it hath come once more From Afric's sunny shore. Thou art a favoured spot. So pleasant and so fair. Thou ne'er canst be forgot, So pure and mild thy air. When Spring hath clothed each croft. And all thy meads are gay, A thousand birds aloft So sweetly charm the day. I, fond aspirings brook Within thy gentle breast, Whene'er I chance to look Upon thy scenes so blest. Thy rustic swains across the plains O'er moving ploughs are bending ; The lively noise of whistling boys With other sounds are blending. Beside the dams the joyful lambs Upon the ground are kneeling ; And in the sky the rooks go by That lazily are wheeling. TO DEVONIA. 55 The morn is bright, to shade the hght : No clouds are seen appearing ; And all around are warblers found Sweet nature to be cheering. Its morning song, the copse among, On some tall tree alighted ; The cuckoo sings — and sweetly sings, By which I am delighted. I love the eve, its moments give A solemn tone to feeling ; Its deepening hues the soul diffuse. So gently o'er it stealing. The streamlet flows, its murmur goes To swell the woodland's moaning ; Earth, to the skies bids incense rise, 'Neath loads of fragrance groaning. Come let us sing of verdant Spring, The pride of all the year ; When by the side where streamlets glide The countless flowers appear. A southern breeze blows through the trees. And sweet profusion charms ; And from the clouds, the sun unshrouds, And kindling transport warms. 56 TO DEVONIA. His fleecy care, to pastures rare, The shepherd now directs : Secure from cold, lambs in the fold, He all the night protects. Arrayed in green the fields are seen, And every valley sings ; The farmer's hopes are in his crops — What joys this season brings. We gladly tread the dewy mead, When freshness breathes around ; And in bright hours, the loveliest flowers Enamel all the ground. For daisies grow, and violets blow, And all their pride assume ; The trees look gay, and every spray Sends forth a rich perfume. Adown the sky the day-beams lie, And linger faintly glowing. While from afar each quivering star Is bright and brighter growing. And while I mark, as night grows dark, Those worlds their course pursuing, I think, as they I ever may My Master's will be doing. How lovely, in Spring, do thy children appear. How gaily they ramble at eventides clear, TO DEVONIA. 57 And pluck the wild flowers on the water-brook's edge, In meadows, or fields, on the road's pented ridge, On hills, on the mountains, in woods or in dells, Their store to make up of sweet daisies and bells- — Of crocuses, primroses, and violets blue. Of daffodils yellow, and buttercups too. As slowly increases, each nosegay they prize, To darken the heavens, dull clouds may arise, With each having round it a fringe as of fire, The children look up and the grandeur admire ; Unconscious, perhaps, that behind such a screen May thunderstorms fatal be lurking unseen. Soon tempests, which many a region have stirred, Grow louder, and longer the bolts may be heard ; They start at the conflict so loud and so wild, And turn they so pale now each timorous child. Although through torn skies swift the thunders have rolled , Their grandeur, the far clouds are seen to unfold. The evening star, as they watch it arise. Its threads of pale light stretches out on the skies ; While leans it there still, on the brow of the earth, A host are emerging from south and from north, And on the lone summits are resting above. And bidding their thoughts heavenly power to jprove. Tis thus the gay pleasures of life may be stayed. Some sorrow afresh on our path being laid : 58 TO DEVONIA. We trust and we hope that the storm will depart, Or that a sweet voice will refreshen the heart. How ceaseless the worm feeds on each living flower, They droop and they die — or in some destined hour They're thoughtlessly gathered, or broken their stems ; So death, in like manner, on earth's precious gems, While jocundly sporting in life's early day. May work unsuspected and make them a prey. Again, now the sunlight is brooding around, And breathing a promise on the fructuous ground ; Then let us be thankful, unbounded is love, Uncounted wealth lies in the regions above. A few fleeting hours will be past at the most. When buds shall be left to the mercy of frost, And shrouded in darkness throughout the long night ; But hope points to morning, when scenes shall be bright ; The sun in his strength shall be walking abroad, And birds on the wing singing praises to God. Yea ! death is approaching, yea ! death it may come, Though silent and cold we may lie in the tomb, And firm all the fetters that bind us may be, The hour will arrive when our bodies are free, And time-captived spirits shall hasten away. To live and to love, and be happy for aye. TO DEVONIA. 59 VIII. SUMMER DAYS. When warble birds, at dawn of summer days, Among the trees, Amid the thickened foHage gently plays The early breeze. The joys, that various landscapes give, I feel : I love to feed On Nature's beauties, as sweet noises steal From every mead. The sun his golden tints benignly shed On all around, And morning's incense fragrant odours spread Throughout thy round. Armed with their ready scythes, how cheerly hie Thy hardy swains, That soon the grassy crops may prostrate lie On all thy plains. When sultry heats oppress the mid of day, And shroud thy fields. To wanderers the sun's most fervent ray No pleasure yields. 60 TO DEVONIA. Thy restless cattle seek the cooling shade, Or river banks, And sheep late sheared, go skipping through the glade With wonted pranks. A thousand busy tribes of insects fly. And chase the steed, Nor give, in sporting through the sunny sky. Him time to feed. The blooming heather-bell thy commons crown ; And lucent streams So slowly move, whose water all thy valleys down Ebullient seems. ^ And many frolic passes o'er thy ground From man and maid. When spread the hay, or thrown in heaps around, And work is stayed. From Afric's skies, and from her blossomed bowers That shine so bright, Now the swift harbinger of sunny hours. In ether's height — Koves free, or swooping skims the watery glass Of lake, or sea, Much swifter than the moving zephyrs pass. Though rapidly. TO DEVONIA. 61 The swallows weave in thee their downy neats, When o'er the land, Blow balmier gales, and summer for her guests Her wreaths expand. When mingle colours deep and bright on high. And rich and rare. The loveliest things before our vision lie, And all is fair. Thy dells of vernal freshness and delight Amid the steeps Are clasped, and sheltered by each rugged height, That vigil keeps. The sod's wild flowers are sweetest, and the breeze So joyously Breathes, like a whispered music, through the trees, Its melody. And now unveils the garden's peerless queen Her ruddy cheek ; While lilies bend beneath their awn of green. So pale and meek. There is a charm in summer's mossy rose, And in the rill That through its reeds with lowly whisper flows A music still. 62 TO DEVONIA. At eve, the milkmaid blythe returning home, So gaily sings A merry song of happier days to come, Or brighter things. Beside the murmuring fall of some cascade 'Twas my delight To sit till slumbering plains in gloom were laid, By misty night. And when the setting sun pours forth his blaze On hills afar. And brightly shines amid his Imgering rays The vesper star, ^ When not a voice is on the earth or air Nor boughs are stirred ; I love to wander through thy scenes so fair Alone, unheard. I've often stood beside some lofty rock, "While down below The stream its crystal spread o'er jutting block With hurried flow. I there have studied all the forms around And pages bright Have read, and joy in contemplation found, Till fled the light. TO DEVONIA. 68 When tills enchanting music, evening air, Of joys on high The sign, I think of sweeter raptures there That never die. IX. AUTUMNAL EVENINGS. I see, in the changeable hue of thy sky — Like creation's first light now it beams, A cloudless expanse of the bright and the gay, Or diamally dark, or all sombre and gray — Life's fancy touched picture and dreams. E'en so with this world, often bright it may be. As a region of glory and bliss ; Oft cheerless and sad, as the darkness of night. No comfort or peace, without hope's joyous light. So gloomy as chaos is this. When the vigour of life in my bosom was young. In the stillness of eve have I strayed. When nature was calm, and the moon in her pride. The rock crags bathed in her silvery tide Of beams, on dim landscapes that played. At even I love to retire from the town. And to leave its tumultuous din. And far, far away from the busiest crowd, I love to recline where the evergreens shroud. As sunset departing peeps in. 64 TO DEVONIA. Then, then it is sweet from the city to roam, And to sit near a murmuring rill. Or slowly alone through the meadows to stray And gaze in the brook where the finny tribes play, When leaflets hang pendant and still. And then is the time to reflect on our deeds — Those that brought with them sorrow and shame, And wisdom to gain from the thoughts on the past. And learn to aid more, when our lot be so cast. The indigent, blind, and the lame. When bright are the stars in the sky's arching blue. And the waves beat so softly the shore. When autumn so sadly enshrouds 'neath her wings The pleasure and calm that the eventide brings, I fain would be near the sea's roar. Thy ancient grim forest with rude scattered caves, And the skies which the evening chill, Thy wide woodland ways, and thy dark lofty rocks The deep lonely dells, and thy still browsing flocks, The spirit with sympathy fill. The white shining stubble, beneath the moon's rays, Caught my wandering, wondrous ken. And sweet to my ear was the nightingale's song My soul was enraptured while passing along The forest, the eddish, and glen. TO DEVONIA. 65 In autumn thy mountains are pensive and sad, And how bare all thy scenes are again ; The mist slumbers nightly upon the drear hills- The summer is gone — we face winter's rude ills- Dull hours will encirle us then. The thoughtful reflect on the even of life, For we surely " must fade as a leaf ; " They liken to winter the cold stream of death, But look to that spring where life is no breath, For moments on earth are so brief. WINTER. When fruitful autumn dies away, And changing nature has a brighter glow. Thy wide- spread pastures are engarbed in snow, Though verdant yesterday. The woodbines round thy cots which twined, No longer joyfuly hold up the head ; The flower, the leaf, and fragrance all are fled — Blasted by time and wind. Thy rippling rills, though once so clear. Are frozen now, and with thick ice o'erspread ; Thy meadows, buried 'neath a snowy bed, No longer green appear. 66 TO DEVONIA. As he uplifts his hoary head Stern winter bellows from his ice-built throne ; He speaks — and trees, and hills, and mountains 'Mid storms and bowlings dread. The schoolboy fleetly on his skate Glides o'er thy frozen ponds — his chief delight ; For him shall come too soon the winter's night With such fond sport elate. Thy scenes are desolate and bare, But as protection throws its mantle o'er Thy bosom, vegetation thrives the more Beneath that fostering care. ^ think on this, ye nobles, think ! Whilst ye your nights to balls and banquets give — How many in the bursting tempest strife, And in the snowdrift sink. In gazing on the garb of white, As I from out the lattice casement look. What musings and more pleasant thoughts I brook. Than pleasing dreams of night. Semblance of Eden's pristine rest, To find more meet wherever shall we go ? Similitude of innocence — the snow — Unmarred and unimprest. TO DEVONIA. 67 Stern winter now, With fleecy brow, And dight with mantle folded, Stalks forth on high, And from the sky, Lets fall what he hath moulded. When hushed each note. Day's last beams float O'er dingle, copse, and mountain ; And shades of eve ■ Their colours give Back to the sunny fountain. How sweet to rest, To calm the breast, When labour's day is closing ; When stars are bright, And purple night Is on the earth reposing. XI. NIGHT. At night's approach the zephyrs play, And hush to sleep declining day ; They spread Elysian pleasures round, With many a mellifluent sound. 68 TO DEVONIA. Perchance the rippHng stream may stroll, Perchance the village bell may toll, The meadow-drake may chance to creak, And nightfall's sullen quiet break. Untrodden are thy hill and dale, But still the auburn nightingale May haply sing in music clear, And soothe the wanderer's listening ear. The gentle stars o'er midnight glow And shine with a perennial ray, And to our earth-worn eyes bestow The joys of a serener day. '' Amid the mountains all is still, Save that the streams, which seek the shore. With ceaseless travel down each hill. Gush wildly with their billowy roar ; Or voices of the midnight breeze, Which, like some murmured music, rise Amid the trembling forest trees. Are dying off in leafy sighs. The moon is reaming through the air, Much like a silver tranquil star — Much like to sails upoii the seas, Swift through the tirmauent she flees. TO DEVONIA 69 When her pale beams shine on thy floods, No darkness o'er thy surface broods, Though Nature Hes in silence dead, Nor fades fi'om sight each mountain head. Night is a sad bewitching time, A season awful, yet sublime ; Majestic, yet serene and still. When minds with meditation fill. A season by the studious sought. The hours of night are meet for thought ; They are for contemplation fit, The time when fancy's flame is lit. Then conscience speaks to all the good. And whispers 'mid the solitude, — " Peace for the wicked takes its flight. And rests on those who act aright." Thy brooks their waves in green nooks cast, And often the awakening blast Mutters in distant fury too. As we behold the torchlight view. Thy children close the eye in sleep, And moments by them swiftly sweep ; How soon calls morn to work away. And night is lost in early day. 70 TO DEVONIA. In a sweet sleep how oft we gain Forgetfulness of daily pain ; We then uncounted blessings reap, And hope and joy in freshness keep. A blessed part of life is sleep, If an unbroken, dreamless, deep ; The bliss of life then knows no pain, Its purity receives no stain. Dreams are but mirrors of our life, And faithful whilst they share in strife ; Whilst looking at the darkened glass. Before the mind strange spectres pass. \ We, mortals, close the eye in sleep, And swiftly o'er us moments sweep ; For soon the morning calls — " Away ! The night is lost in early day ! " Could sleep a man of sin relieve, Or hypocrites ne'er undeceive. They gladly would sleep life away. Nor think to w^ake in endless day. Our souls shall live through Time's dark night, When stars have ceased to give their light ; And when the earth no more shall be. The morn of Heaven, oh may we see ! TO DEVONIA. 71 XII. STORMS. When signs appear Of tempest near, Thougli Nature's tribes are straying, Some refuge by To gain they try— Their caveat obeying : While to the ear, In whispers clear. The zephyrs mild are telling Of happy times In other climes, — • For sounds are slowly swelling. Thy waters deep In silence sleep While winds are gently blowing ; But see them wake. They slightly shake — The gale o'er them is going, The channel's breast, By sun caress'd. Had not commenced its tossing Till hurricanes, As trill thy plains. In wrath o'er it were crossing. 72 TO DEVONIA. On earth is seen A dismal scene — The firmament is frowning ; Like some dull shroud, The thunder- cloud The concave vast is crowning. The skies now reel With peal on peal Of roaring living thunder ; And soon the rash Mad lightning's flash The lurid clouds will sunder. The heavens scowl, The tempests howl. The stony towers are shaking ; The murky breeze. Thy monstrous trees Is wafting, bending, breaking, The reckless blast Is driving fast O'er plains, and woods, and valleys It tries in vain A breach to gain As with our roof it dallies. TO DEVONIA. 73 A charm the bar Hath in its jar, To us, within the dwelhng ; We join the rout While yet without The stormy sound is swelling. Though we and ours Spend careless hours In mirth, and song, and thrumming, Oft prayers between The laughters keen Will secretly be coming. A prayer for those Nor find repose Upon the ocean raging, Who are beneath A polar breath In cheerless watch engaging. That on the strand, With ready hand. Their friends may wait to greet them ; And that each crew. In season due. May have the joy to meet them. 74 TO DEVOJIA. That year by year, A calm career — A peaceful one, and lengthened, — All, all may run. And then be won. By those whom hope hath strengthened, A glorious meed, A prize indeed, For labour spent iu gaining The harbour where Keigns toil nor care. Where bliss shall aye be reigning. XIII. QUIET NOOKS. In England's landscapes far and near, What quiet nooks with thine compare ? From Clifton Grove to Lincoln's towers. From Bristol dark to Hampton's bowers, From Nottingham to London's throng, From Manchester to Portsmouth strong. From Bath to Stafford's busy towns. From Winchester to Kentish downs, From Leeds to Belvoir's noble pile, No spots have such a pleasant smile. There may be scenes more solemn, vast. More famed for glories of the past, TO DEVONIA. 75 But these can never win my heart From Devon — of old England part ! To me so sacred and so dear, For I was born and nurtured there. The sweetest, noblest, spot on earth, To me is that which gave me birth. Thy nooks with matchless beauty teem, And they the home of fairies seem ; Of this how well assured I feel, They all stand forth as nonpariel. Spots of verdant freshness, where Combine the tender and severe, Where stern and simple majesty In free and friendly company. Are fondled by all loveliness. And delicate attraction grace. When winds through ruins softly sigh, And sun, or moon, or stars on high, Lend to thy still, secluded nooks Their gay, their calm, their modest looks ; 'Tis when the clouds are bright and red. And when the sun retires to bed, Where nature's voice is calm and still, Save piping breeze or fall of rill ; When night falls on thy cloudless air, And shine those lofty worlds so fair ; Or, when the moon is rising slow Through a long nighly march to go ; 76 TO DEVONIA. When glitters bright the drowsy stream Beneath the light of surcharged beam ; When o'er thy hills the bold wind sweeps, And wails like to a voice which weeps — I fain would roam through ivied nooks, On grassy beds by lonely brooks. How often I, in youthful days, On thy sequestered charms would gaze ; Or, in a sylvan cool recess, Would outlines of the picture trace. Observing all its harmonies, Charmed by an earthly fragrant breeze. Before the sun had drunk the dew, Or clouds were tinged with heavenly hue ; Or by the border of a wood. By rushing rill in thoughtful mood, At noon to drink as one would stand The spirit of the fatherland ; Or in a shady calm retreat Would hide from turmoil and from heat. I, evenings, would upon me feel An inward satisfaction steal, For other youths the gaudy town Would enter, but I wandered down Beside the ocean, to be grave At sight and sound of whispering wave. These hallowed spots wherein I thought, And wrote, when solitude I sought, TO DEVONIA. 77 A language breathe — those quiet nooks — More eloquent than that of books. Such scenes they charm the stranger's eye, They fill the wanderer's soul with joy, They bid the sorrowing heart rejoice. And sweeten every songster's voice. XIV. CONCLUDING SONG. I sing thy temples, marts, and towns, Thy city ever true ; Thy farms, and cots, and villages, Thy halls, and castles, too. I sing thy lofty giant cliffs. Whose summits, bare and brown, Upon the deep, blue, lonely sea So scornfully look down To where the water laves their feet — Where waves in fury foam, Or tremble in sweet harmony In caves, their native home. 1 sing thy sons of industry, Who arm the spade or plough, Who ne'er to wrong nor meanness bend, Who wear an honest brow. 78 TO DEVONIA. I sing thy noble lifeboat crews, Who venture far from land To save the shipwrecked mariner, And every ready stand. I sing thy men whose hearts are touched With Heaven's purest flame, Who visit the abodes of woe, To aid mankind their aim ; Who, with a generous impulse move To do a God-like deed ; Who, for reHgion's sake and love. To misery's rescue speed. Let others sing of warriors, Who daring deeds have wrought With gun, and bayonet, and sword. Full many battles fought ; But I will sing thy sturdy men. Who are to fame unknown, Nor work for glory nor for wealth And avarice disown. Thy men of unremitting toil, I title these the brave. Though most of them may occupy An undistinguished grave ; TO DEVONIA. 79 Those who plough thy barren ground, Who fell thy giant trees, Who delve in quarries and in mines. I call true heroes, these ! And they who for the public good In other countries roam. Whose loyal hearts beat high with love Of people, country, home. Those who have of ocean made A road from shore to shore. Who thus have brought from distant lands Rich argosies of store. I sing thy humble artisans Whose skill should find reward ; I sing thy stalwart cottage swains, Thy shepherds on the sward. I sing thy beaten fishermen. When riding on the sea. And each industrious son of thine, Whate'er his calHng be. 80 IDYL. IDYL. In former times, in this our peaceful land, As chieftains led their tribes to battle, came The wives and child.^en of each warring clan In wagons at the rear, to urge the men To deeds of hardihood and bravery, By their gesticulations and applause. That those so near and dear should still be safe And free, the ancient Britons fiercely fought. Onsets and struggles with such terrible Ferocity were charged, whilst mercy was From their opponents held, that they appeared — Those mighty spirits of the bygone days — More like to fiends or savage beasts in their Most mad encounters ; and when victory Their arms attended, children, wives, and men, Sent up their cheers in thunder-tones of joy. In a dread conflict, the incursions of The tribe Dobani checking, fell a chief. The father of Avagus. Though repelled, Those rash invaders seized his eldest son, A noble youth, and hurried him away A prisoner to their own wild fastnesses, Where, slave like, he was subjected to toil, Such toil as mightier spirits though inured To pain and labour scarcely could have borne. Avagus, a companion had in one IDYL. 81 Canobus, a stout-hearted savage, one Of giant form and brawny limb, at that Same battle captured, whose heart beat high With kindly feeling to the son of his Slain chief. He loved with firm and ardent zeal — As custom taught those rude barbarians With stern enthusiasm to adhere To leaders brave — the youth who shared his fate. He, when the hours of summer days with heat Intense had rolled away, with languid limbs O'er laboured, wandered forth at moonlight, oft Exploring all around, unravelling The secret windings, and determining If possible, the size of numerous Morasses which obstructed his long path Through an interminable wood, as lapse The ages thicker grown. The placid orb Of night looked on his aberrations, and The erst aureate streak of dawn beheld His antelucan and certain returns To his hard ferny bed and lonely cave. Within this antre slept his youthful charge, On whom had rested his desponding eye, And over whom had often bent his gaunt And tattooed figure, with a shaggy skin Of deer wrapped loosely round his waist, and thought Of happy moments fled, when freely ranged Both through their native woods ; he dwelt upon 82 IDYL, The joy of once more mingling with his tribe, And the unseemmg chances of escape. The boy for such emprise was much too young. Canobus watched him therefore throughout three Long weary years, and spoke at times of home, Eeminding him of her who never could Her first-born favourite's doom forget, and who, Perchance, mourned him as long a prey to that Cruel spoiler — Death. Oft contemplation sad Each brow would overhang, and then as oft Would gentle cautious whispers fall within The scope of the lad's listful ear, of home ; But only whene'er solitude was gained. And solitude complete ; he never, but In seasons fit, of that beloved spot Made mention, who, before him, ever one Sole aim of freedom had. Through weary days And meditative nights, loved strongly those Accoupled spirits in captivity. In mutual love the stronger grown as time Advanced, all patient and enduring, well They waited that blest time, the hour for flight Most meet. At last, upon a certain day, In a far distant clearing, tending sheep, IDYL. 83 The savage thus addressed Avagus : — " Boy, We long in this wild dreary place have dwelt, And hard our hapless fate hath been ; and this, My would-be joyous heart, by sorrows sore Is well-nigh crushed. As champs the horse the bit. So am I sick of this restraint, and this Continuous drudgery ; far liever would I fill my grave at once than spend my days In solitary woe. Not seldom starts In front of memory's yearning eye, our laud So distant, with its broad delightful plains, Where we the sun's invigorating rays Have felt, which in this sad secluded spot We seldom see, and seldom ever feel. The music of its streams delights our ears No longer, nor its woods and fields bedecked In freshest beauty and the gayest green Can we behold. Besides, thou now art strong. Thy steps are firm, thy muscles set, and long Ago the rapid stream thou well could'st brave. And swim the river flowing fast beside Thy father's hut. What heavy burdens thou Hast borne, what summer heat withstood, and what Keen winter cold endured. Though tangled woods. Though marshes wide, and torrents broad and deep Obstruct our path, shall we forgotten of Our tribe remain, or forest dare and flood ? " 84 IDYL. Raised fancy fired his eyes and glowed his cheek, And caused his heart convulsively to beat, But soon Avagus made reply, " I long To join my brothers and to see again My mother's face ; methinks she listens for My step, and on her heart perchance my form Is mirrored. How I yearn that blessed part To see, where sheltered nooks by countless flowers Are graced, where the funereal firs aspire To touch the cloudless sky, where hums the bee Throughout the long, long summer days, where kiss The dew-fed grass and graceful fern, where flow Unsullied brooks from crystal fountains, where I oft have clomb the ponderous oak, and swung On branches of the whitened birch, or plucked The burnished buttercups and the flowerets bright, Sunned by the pencil rays of brighter sun ; Where the audacious sparrows gaily dance The roof of every hut, where I shall dream No more, through the deep depths of silent night. Of liberty and plenty ; where I can Commingle with my family, and where I shall be free, indeed. Since thou hast such A winsome way, and art so brave and wise. Where'er thou goest I will follow thee. Whene'er thou shalt appoint a time to flee, Thy mandate I'll obey." IDYL. 85 As knows the tree Its leafing time, the bird the fittest month To build, the bee to gather honeyed store, The babe when to be born, so when the tide Of chance was high, Canobus knew full well, And then the best of opportunities Embraced. When all around, that very night, Was still and dark, and in their wattled huts Their conquerors had laid them down to rest. Then left the fugitives their crypt. They slank With a light timorous tread, all unobserved. The grassy area beside the camp To cross, which lay between them and the deep Kavine, embanked and hollow, and which led Into the forest. " Here," Canobus said, " Are we though darkness sits in majesty Enthroned, ere long will rise the moon ; but let Us all the interim well occupy. And speed our journey on. Pray hold me fast, For should we part, we shall each other lose, And our designs be frustrated." The youth The whispered caution heard, and then in words As low, made answer to his trusted guide, Canobus — " Though ray heart is stout, I feel My situation's perils, so to thee I'll chng, and for the honor of our tribe, 86 IDYL. A flight attempt. I would with liberty Be blest. Sons of the hilly south will not To bondage long submit ; for none are slaves But fools. My great delight would be to stray Beside translucent rills, which purling sweep O'er pebbly beds, and keep their borders green ; Where waft untainted gales ; where skim the birds The liquid air, or warble from the brake ; Where I the butterfly have chased, and caught The jerking grasshopper ; there to inhale The vital air, and cast at night my looks Delighted on the cheerful blaze that glows Upon the hearth at home." As through the air At even swift and silent glides the bat So they went on that night. The younger heart Misgave itself, and inward mutterings Were frequent—" Can be this our safest way ? " To him no cause for fear ; as observant Canobus knew each turn which lay in their Aufructuous path, as well that spot where next The forest lay a vast and open tract Of land. He, a close student of those paths Had been, which like a tangled skein, to an Unpractised eye were quite bewildering ; And when from 'neath his pensile brow, his sight Went forth in peering search, no object passed IDYL. 87 Unnoticed his keen eye. At da"vvn of day When out their nightly coverts darted birds, They a wild bi'ooklet crossed, a rocky bank Ascended, and a gulley gained, where grew Majestic trees, up one of which they climbed. Avagus quickly hid himself between Two larger branches, and as quickly fell Asleep. Canobus up those living rungs The higher went, and like his mate, lay crouched In reticence. But gathered suddenly The storm-clouds, whilst arose a wind so strong As felled a many stately tree ; and rain In torrents fell. Though terrific was The storm, great good it wrought for those who braved Its fury high in that close sheltering tree : The heavy rains had swollen the stream they crossed And made it utterly impassable. At noon the pealing thunder distanced, birds Their songs renewed, the sun the dripping trees Lit up with splendour inconceivable, And all the woods seemed closely wrapt in steam. The youth beheld the rage and whirl and strife Of waters down so far beneath him as He conned the chance of gaining either bank. Then asked his comrade who made apt reply : For, warily by slipping down the tree, Without a word, he motioned to his charge 88 IDYL. To lie both silently and snug ; and then He darted back with great celerity To his own resting-place, and from beneath His pendant brow his quick and roving eye Swift glances threw. Eut all at once both strange And fearful voices fell upon his ear. Pursuit was being made by men and dogs "Which tracked them to a torrent's edge. " What need Have we of further search ? By this, those whom The darkness and the rain betrayed," the chief Exclaimed, " must have been headlong hurled herein. For human power this force could not withstand." He mourned the loss of those who served him weD, Then called his dogs, and with his company His steps retraced. The sun in splendour shone ! And very far from sight and sound had their Pursuers gone, yet still they lay till eve ; And when the moon had risen they resumed Their perilous career. Each footstep told Of danger and of triumph. Kapid streams, The lurking adder, prowling wolf, the dread Lone forests, and the quaking bogs could not Their progress retard. Each art was tried And every e£fort strained. Night after night They journeyed on, and from the limpid brook Sated their thirst. Dried flesh their sole support. IDYL. 89 No dainty cates for food had they, nor cared They for a stimulating condiment. As kingly lions urge with rapid step On through the dark dull desert, eager for Their prey, as pigeons to the dovecote fly, And thoughts straight for their destination go ; So these stern pioneers for Dartmoor's south And sunny slopes were bound. Less dense the woods Had grown, and wide extensive open tracks Of land were traversed, when he who from firm Attachment served the inauspicious youth, And in whose breast simplicity of soul, Affection, and intrepid constancy Lay undisturbed, knew by the polar star Their home was nigh, for he with joy exclaimed, " Another night and we, Avagus, shall Amongst our fi.-iends be found. There we can draw A renovating principle from realms Of ambient air. There ever-living streams From bubbling springs 'neath grots or hanging shades Wind through the pastured coomb, whose waters with An emerald herbage clothe exulting meads, Or sudden dash their foam from rock to rock. There exercise will string the slackened nerves, There sooth shall steal a more refreshing sleep Upon our bodies, and our vigorous limbs No galling shackles shall control." " I long To be within my mother's home and mine,"' 90 IDYL. The youth who changed full oft his little load From right to left, altern, made quick reply. They dreaded now no foe in ambuscade, For lustily and loud tbey sang this song — ' From cruel bondage, and from that cold bed Whereon our weary limbs have often lain, From dire oppression and restraint, we fled. And scanty food to seek our fertile plain — Our ever fertile plain. " We fled the wood and left our foes behind. Nor paused, nor fainted, though we journeyed long ; We swiftly fled from misery to find The land so famed for bravery and song, For beauty famed and song. " That land of flowers, of freedom, and of love, A better land we eagerly have sought ; And still triumphantly we onward move To where are fields on which our fathers fought, — Where they so nobly fought. " Our foes have tried to crush us, all in vain ; And heavy clouds have stood around our way ; But now we see our native vale again, And those loved haunts where we were wont to stray. Where we again may stray." THE SKYLAEK. 91 Now at their journey's end, a bard, ol their Approach, his queen apprized. A home-felt joy, Thrilling, sincere, rushed to her tender heart. A parent's love she felt, and viands she Outspread, to greet her safe-returned son. It was across the hallowed threshold each To each oped arms and heart. In rapture thus They met. So ends my lengthened Idyl. THE SKYLARK. Merkily the skylark soars, Tuneful notes around it pours, Notes which thrill the silent air. Sounds which vibrate everywhere ; Tuneful notes around it pours, Merrily the skylark soars. Hovering round its humble nest. Rapidly it leaves its rest. Now with mtermittent flight. Swift it soars beyond our sight ; Rapidly it leaves its rest. After hovering round its nest. 92 THE SKYLAKK. Lucifer proclaims the day, On bis dew-bespangled way ; Skylarks bear their meed of praise, Dip their plumage in his blaze ; When approaching on his way, Lucifer proclaims the day. See it rise with swifter flight From the shroud of circling night, See it pauses there on high, Nobler, loftier heights to try ; From the shroud of circling night See it rise with swifter flight Dripping dew-drops from its wings, Ever rising as it sings. Far above it wings its flight Bathed in beauty and in light ; Ever rising as it sings, Dripping dew-drops from its wings. Higher, higher, higher still, Singing at its own free will. Resting on the cloudless blue. Singing melodies so true ; Singing at its own sweet will Higher, higher, higher still. THE HAWTHORN. 93 I'd adore high o'er the earth, That saine power which gave us birth, Could I reach on beams of hght Worlds untenanted by night ; That great Power which gave us birth, I'd adore high o'er the earth. I would not to earth return, Where hearts chill and passions burn, To heaven's gate I would away And enjoy eternal day ; Here hearts chill and passions burn I would not to earth return. THE HAWTHORN. (a may song). Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells. In the fields and in the dells ; With its sumptuous array, In the merry month of May, In the fields and in the dells. Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! 94 THE HAWTHOBN. Oh ! bow sweet the hawthorn smells, In the hedges and the dells, When the spring brings on the breeze Garniture for all the trees ; In the hedges and the dells, ' Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells. In the meadows and the dells ; Sweeter than the ash and lime, Than the lilac in its prime ; In the meadows and the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, In the crofts and in the dells ; All the hedgerows it illumes With innumerable blooms ; In the crofts and in the dells. Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells. In the woodlands and the dells ; When the clouds, in passing, spill Eich bequest o'er vale and hill ; In the woodlands and the dells. Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! THE HAWTHORN. 95 Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, On the moors and on the fells ; Though around all else be bare, See it smile with chalice rare ; On the moors and on the fells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, By the brooks within the dells. When it doth from anthers red And white petals perfume shed ; By the brooks within the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ; Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, In the gardens and the dells ; When the bee forsakes each flower Pillaging the hawthorn bower ; In the gardens and the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells. In the forest and the dells ; Linnets warble mellowly 'Neath its flowery canopy ; In the forest and the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! 96 THE HAWTHORN. Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells, By tbe roads and in tbe dells ; Butterflies witb painted wing O'er its face go fluttering ; By tbe roads and in tbe dells, Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells ! Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells, On tbe bills or in tbe dells ; Wben tbe lark witb joy elate, Enters day-dawn's purple gate ; On tbe bills or in tbe dells, Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells ! Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells, In tbe coppice or tbe dells ; Now witbin its bounteous breast, Hidden is tbe linnet's nest ; In tbe coppice and tbe dells, Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells ! Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells. On tbe uplands and tbe fells, Wben are standing in its cups, Countless, pure and gleaming sups ; On tbe uplands and tbe fells Ob ! bow sweet tbe bawtborn smells ; THE HAWTHORN. 97 Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, By the brake and in the dells, When the pearly dew-drops shine, While the bud and flower combine ; By the brake and in the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells, In the dingles and the dells ; Fragrant flowers however fair Cannot with my choice compare — In the dingles and the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ! AN OLD MAN'S SONG. " Come, come to me, my Betty dear ! Come sit upon my knee ; Hark ! Autumn's leaves all fading sere, Are rustling drearily, As in the happy days I went A-courting my true love ! " " Although our locks have long been grey We yet both faithful prove ; And though it is no longer May, Our hearts as fondly move As in the happy days I went, A-courting my true love ! " H 98 AN OLD man's song. " The skylark in bis gladness sang Upstarting from the corn ; Also the night-crow's sad notes rang, All soothed by the morn ; Those very happy days I went A-courting my true love I " " The buttercup and daisy sweet Grew where our feet would move, They made a carpet for those feet, And green leaves waved above ; Those very happy days I went A-courting my true love ! " " And waning time cannot efface One memory of thine, The love that waits on time and place Was never love of mine ; So I'll remember when I went A-courting my true love ! " *' The flowers shall cease to peep in spring, The seasons cease to move. The little birds to sport and sing ; The hawk shall mate with dove. Ere I forget the days I went A-courting my true love ! " TO A FAVOURITE PARROT. 99 TO A FAVOURITE PARROT, Belonging to Mr. A. Macrae, Bi-ixham. In Indian groves from spray to spray. No more throughout the livelong day Thou'lt hop and flutter, chirp and play, Poor Polly. No more with countless little things. Which in the forest spread their wings. Thou'lt feel the pleasure freedom brings, Poor Polly. And never more wilt thou be proud To soar above and scream aloud "Where parrots form a moving cloud. Poor Polly. And never from ten thousand throats Thou'lt hear, as o'er those forests floats The sound of intermingling notes, Poor Polly. Though here in mellow depth of tone, We have such birds surpassed by none, 'Tis thy delight to be alone, Poor Polly. 100 TO A FAVOURITE PARROT. And when the flush of opening day Paints the far east superbly gay, They whistle from the highest spray, Poor Polly. Thou too, sweet bird, would'st have us hear Thy laugh which often greets the ear, And thy sweet notes, distinct and clear, Poor Polly. We hear thy calls exceeding droll, " Come up," " Good Morning," Pretty Poll, Or mocking school-girl nursing doll, Poor Polly. Thy shouting tricks so oft annoy. As " Here ! " " Halloo ! " or else so coy — " Come, Johnny Bovey, pretty boy ! " Poor Polly. To mason's paddy shouting " Mort ! " Whistling to dog or making sport Of passers-by appears thy fort, Poor Polly. Farewell, sweet bird of feather gay, Long may it be thy lot to stay And fascinate us day by day. Poor Polly. INDIGESTION. 101 INDIGESTION, OR, WHAT MY FRIEND AT KINGSWEAR SAYS. " What care I for trees and flowers, Birds and beasts, and butterflies. While I've no digestive powers ? Fact I care not to dis^fuise. ^O' " See the forest trees are shaking In the gentle summer breeze ; But the man whose health is breaking Does not care about the trees. " What to me are springing herbs, Singing birds on every side ? Nature's harmony disturbs One who thinks of his inside. " Listen to the swallows, token Of the zone that summer girds ; But the man whose health is broken Does not care about the birds. " It is selfishness, I know, On one's own inside to ponder, Searching whence the symptoms grow, When I might be looking yonder. 102 ON EATING A TOUGH BEEFSTEAK AT DAKTMOUTH. " See the shining, shaded river, Sparkhng in the sun's gay beam ; But the man with hopeless liver Does not care about the stream. " It is by advice I walk ; Doctors say 'twill do me good : That's the way the doctors talk ; But I can't digest my food." ON EATING A TOUGH BEEFSTEAK AT DARTMOUTH. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! Of all my woes it is the chief ; My jaws are aching as I sit, With trying to demolish it. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! If shipwrecked on a coral reef, I found to eat no substance tougher, From hunger 1 should never sufi'er. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! ' ' Procrastination is the thief Of time " ; alas ! procrastination Can bring to me no consolation. ON EATING A TOUGH BEEFSTEAK AT DARTMOUTH. 103 That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! Detested cause of groans and grief ; The flesh of such an aged beast Affords a most lugubrious feast. o That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! I hope no longer for relief ; Will no one tell me how to treat it '? I'm certain I can never eat it. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef! I asked the waiter his belief — If true or false to tell me whether There can be anything like leather ? That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! I brought it on a cabbage leaf, And asked the cook right well to stew it, There's nought like leather, sir, I knew it. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef ! Is vastly like it, man, and if She told you it was nice and tender, In this she — well, I won't offend her. That steak of beef ! that steak of beef I For lack of rhymes I must be brief, And end the verses which I make On that abominable steak. 104 A fop's lament for the loss of his hat. A FOP'S LAMENT FOR THE LOSS OF HIS HAT. " It surely was a sad disaster ; I wish my tears could run the faster To ease my heart of trouble ; It threw me quite into a fever — The loss of my expensive beaver — Which vanished like a bubble. " Though it was light as any feather, It served me well in roughest weather, Nor soiled if rain should strike it And then it fitted me precisely ; Besides, 'twas lined so very nicely, There's not another like it. *' And should the man who has detained it- That is, if he unfairly gained it — This hat of newest pattern — Possess the impudence to wear it, may a mighty whirlwind bear it That minute off to Saturn." A WIDOW 105 A WIDOW. A WIDOW wept, a widow cried, A year ago her husband died. Who lived to be above fourscore. She vowed that she would wed no more. This widow was both young and fair, And mourning wore with touching air ; Oh ! what a pity, many swore, That she had vowed to wed no more. This widow houses had and lands, While servants answered her commands ; A coach and pair, and gold in store. But still she vowed to wed no more. One evening as this widow cried, A gallant sat him by her side — He must have known her will before — And said, " Say, not you'll wed no more." The widow blushed, the widow smiled Of grief and tears a space beguiled ; " This once," she whispered, though before She vowed that she would wed no more. 106 CROSSING A RIVER. And sure enough this widow wed ; And many like her thus have said : " Although my years may reach fourscore, I vow that I will wed no more." But let blind Cupid come between, Or a true lover once be seen, The tale is turned, it is, I'm sure, They wish them married as before. CROSSING A RIVER. (near Ermington.) The sun had gone, and the storm came on. And the brooks ran down with rain. When a fair traveller said, " My good sir, How shall I win home again ? " And the man replied — " Though swollen the tide, I'd have you fear no harm ; Be merry, be merry, there's not a ferry. But I'll take thee dry and warm : And sayest thou, ' Where ? ' I add — Why here ; Thy boat my arms shall be ; Those bands are sure to carry thee o'er. With a kiss for my penny-fee ! " TOMMY AND GEORGE. 107 " Let thy arms around my neck be bound. Or on my shoulder firm , While the moonbeams gay, so tireless play With the ripples on the Erme.* Cold o'er my feet, the stream, my sweet, May run, I heed it not ; For the heart so warm, in a wintry storm. Shall joyously beat at my lot ; Till I have found, once more, dry ground, How firm my steps shall be ; As I carry thee o'er to the further shore With a kiss for my penny-fee ! " TOMMY AND GEORGE. Tommy and George are two Brixham boys. Who always are ready to fight. For Tommy will boast That he knows the most. And that Georgy can never be right. *This small river and many smaller streams cross the roads at places where there are no bridges, and, it not unfrequentlj' happens, when the stepping-stones are covered, that the traveller has either to wade the stream, or go a great distance out of his way. 108 TOMMY AND GEOBGE. Tommy and George went into a wood : " Let us keep in the path to the right ! " Called Tommy, " You're wrong ! " Shouted George, " Come along ! " But there they were lost till midnight. Tommy and George went out to Press Copse, Ripe blackberries there to pick Their new trousers were torn, And as sure as you're born, They had a warm time with the stick. Tommy and George went to Mudstone to bathe ; Said Tommy, " 'Tis warm, I am told." He went up to the knees ; But George gave a sneeze And ran out, for the water was cold. Tommy and George went down to the Dart, And both played truant from school ; Tom was sent off to bed, And of George it was said — " He was caned for breaking the rule."' Tommy and George sailed out on Torbay, And there they got awfully wet, Tommy said, " I can steer ! " George said, " Never fear ! " But between them the boat was upset. THE MOORLAND GAMEKEEPER. 109 Though each is entitled to think as he likes, He need not be foolishly strong ; For to quarrel and fight, Over what we think right, Forsooth, is exceedingly wrong. THE MOOELAND GAMEKEEPER. (Lines addressed, March 9th, 1886, to Mr. W. French, junr.. Gamekeeper, Gardener, and Caretaker, Spitch>vick Hall, Widecombe-in the-Moor, Devonshire, for Dr. Blackall, of Exeter.) In moorland mansion, 'mid the bowers, Where sweetest songsters thrill The evening's soft and tranquil hours, Resides bold " Keeper Bill." His better-half, in this demesne The passing moments fill, By keeping all things neat and clean, And feasting " Keeper Bill." A fitting post for such a pair, Yet home must feel so chill — There are no little children there To comfort " Keeper Bill "' 110 THE MOORLAND GAMEKEEPER. Bright beds through spring and summer hours. Of crocus, daflbdil, Geranium, lily, and choice flowers. Are ranged by '• Keeper Bill," The fire that lights his eye bespeaks His energy of will ; A sturdy man with ruddy cheeks, Is jolly " Keeper Bill." What if the air blows cold and keen, And blasts wail loud and shrill ? He arms his gun, and dogs are seen To follow " Keeper Bill." His gun with an unerring aim He plies with deadly skill ; And to his master often game By rail sends " Keeper Bill." Through mingled scenes of rock and wood, He gives himself a drill. He covers daily many a rood — This active " Keeper Bill." Returning home each moonht night, He sits him by the sill, And soon appeases appetite ; Then off goes " Keeper Bill." J THE MOORLAND GAMEKEEPER. Ill In breeding time he walks the woods When early dews distil, — A watchful eye on pheasant broods Is turned by '• Keeper Bill." Somehow if a few poaching men Should roam o'er field or hill, Across the moor or down the glen, 'Tis known to " Keeper Bill." They plan their enterprise in vain ; His efforts to fulfil His duties thwarts them, that is plain, — For cute is " Keeper Bill." He warns them on the first offence, And if they heed him still, They hear no more ; good sense Is shown by " Keeper Bill." But if they fail to keep the laws And treat his warning ill, Before the magistrates he draws Them,— faithful " Keeper Bill," This man is not without his faults ; No fault of health — no pill He takes, no dose of Epsom salts. For strong is " Keeper Bill." 112 THE MOORLAND GAMEKEEPER. His politics are his mistake, He should some notions spill ; For good sound principles would make A man of " Keeper Bill." His virtues all his faults redeem, The folk speak well of " Will," And he is held in high esteem, For straight is " Keeper Bill." Of toothache sufferers, not a few While passing through that mill. Search out our local dentist, who Is skilful " Keeper Bill." The Manor's lord — though not unkind- Of all he has to kill, The pedagogue should bear in mind, And so should " Keeper Bill." But let me to my verses give A sort of codicil, — For many bright years may they live, His wife and " Keeper Bill." •hm's step-mothek. 118 JIM'S STEP-MOTHER. A PARODY. Who as the rumour widely spread — Though mother had not long been dead — Was to my sorrow once more wed ? My step-mother. Who might as well have come alone, Yet brought two children of her own, As company for father's one ? My step-mother. Who sharing sweets would inward laugh. Pretending I had more than half. Gave hers the wheat but me the chaff ? My step-mother. Who never beat her little boys — For me were thumps, for them were toys — And punished me for all the noise ? My step -mother. To father's face, who loved me best. But, let him go, how good the rest. And said I was her only pest ? My step- mother. 114 jim's step-mother. Who little cared when I was ill, And never bade her boys be still, Gave them the jelly, me the pill ? My step-mother. My portion bread, but on the sly Whose brats received some jam or pie, That made me wish she soon would die ? My step-mother. When friends did call, who on pretence My father's lad would hurry hence, That her " dear boys " might have the pence ? My step -mother. When my half-brothers went to learn, Who seldom let me have my turn. For sake of coppers I might earn ? My step-mother. Who nicely clothed both George and Jack ? On Sundays, who dressed them in black, While fustain coarse must suit my back ? My step -mother. Who on her sons conferred a trade. While Jim must arm the plough or spade, And showed who were the favourites made ? My step-mother. MY STEP-MOTHER. 116 Who undertook to save my tin, And bad a box to put it in, But spent it all in buying gin ? My step-mother. What woman sooth had ceased to speak, When father, who was ever meek. Told John and George a home to seek ? My step -mother. When both did weep, 'twas but a whim, The house is left to me aud him. How happy father, happier Jim. MY STEP-MOTHER. A TRUE PICTURE. Who was it after mother died, Was standing by my father's side — A blooming aud a faithful bride ? My step mother. When I a helpless infant lay. Who — for his only child — would say " I will parental care display ? " My step-mother. IIQ MY STEP-MOTHER. Who, when I cried, would drop a tear, And when in pain to me was near To call me her own child and dear ? My step-mother. Who led me with a gentle hand. From harm to shelter me would stand. And o'er my fears had firm command ? My step -mother. Who taught my infant tongue to raise A simple note to Jesu's praise. And loved to hear my artless lays ? My step-mother. Who hushed her darling boy to rest, And, when brought to a painful test, Compassion swayed her gentle breast ? My step-mother. Who would my faults with pardon bless ; And who, in hours of weariness. Her pitying hand would on me press ? My step-mother. Who, when I was a prattling boy. Would on me look with eye so coy, And say I was her hope and joy ? My step-mother. MY STEP- MOTHER. 117 Who taught me to shun sin and shame ? And who would oft examples name Of those through sm to sorrow came ? My step-mother. Who often took me through the rain To school, that I might knowledge gain '? Who would not have me mean nor vain ? My step-mother. Though children of her own she had, Who never cast me in the shade ? And not the least distinction made ? My step-mother. Who strictly watched me day by day ? Who would not let me go astray, Nor yet corrupt life's early way ? My step -mother. Who would that I should active be ? Who, by example, willingly Taught me the ways of industry ? My step-mother. Who, full of kindness and of love, For my best interest would move ? Who did to me a mother prove ? My step-mother. 118 HEAI.TH TO AN INFANT. Who, though I am to manhood grown, Will not one moment me disown ? Who writes, and calls me still her own ? My step-mother. May all her life be free from woes, No care disturb a night's repose ; For whom my tenderest feeling flows — My step-mother. I honour, yea, I love her name ; To be a Christian is her aim ; Who prays that I may be the same ? My step-mother. I pray that God may guard our feet, That we in endless love may meet, That there 'twill be my lot to greet My step-mother. HEALTH TO AN INFANT. Hush ! yes, the babe is born : if leaps The father's heart to hear it cry, Oh ! list awhile to me, till creeps The tear from either eye. I ask thee not to love it less ; Far from thy thoughts that thought remove, And wrong me not ; its helplessness Doth plead for all thy love. HEALTH TO AN INFANT. 119 But gracious tears thou well may'st shed Of thankfulness, of hope, of joy, — Of fear, while yet her mystic thread Fate weaveth for thy boy. A pleasure shoots up in thy heart To hear that cry, a cry of pain ; Oh never shall his cries impart Peace to thy soul again. But tears as from the cloven rock, Life to the parched lips shall bring ; As, by the rod of Moses struck, Well'd forth the desert spring ; So they, as flow'd that spring, shall flow In high resolve, and duty chaste ; And all along the banks, shall grow The flowers of truth and grace ! And, even while the warp, all fraught With good and ill to him, is made. In thee, one well-directed thought, May give the woof its shade : Then think — what thou didst hope to be, What thou hast been, and what thou art. The schooled father ; manfully. Play thou the tutor's part. 120 HEALTH TO AN INFANT. Oft hast thou said, — and, to that say, All human hearts are echoes true, — ' Oh ! would I could, this very day, My wasted life renew : ' What then ? Experience shall give Thee privilege from ev'ry pain ; Lo ! now thy wish is granted ; live Thy life in him again. And think what store of mental wealth Thou here may'st heap ; all else resign ; I pledge thee to the infant's health, I pledge thee — not in wine : No ! not in wine ; I've said it ; why Exotic warmth wouldst thou impart ? Eather let nature's breath supply The glow within the heart. Fill me the draught which nothing knows Of deeds that sadden or appal ; Man's heartlessness, young children's woes. And woman's deepest fall. Thus speaking, thinking, feeling, I — Accept the father's pledge with joy ; All blessed spirits hover nigh — A health — unto the boy ! THE CRADLE. 121 THE CEADLE. Upon a pillow, red and warm, An infant's face my vision met, While carelessly its tiny arm Hung o'er the coverlet. The steady breathing low and clear, That indicated sleep profound, Was music in the mother's ear, That stooped to catch the sound. She said, — " sweet sleep hath baby now, 'Tis time to wake, and yet it seems A pity, by his peaceful brow, Disturbing pleasant dreams." The noiseless mother stepped aside. And speedily beneath the eaves. The kitchen window opened wide. Above the flowers and leaves. Returning, she, and holding high A scented posy slowly crept Up to the child, and laid it by Her oflspring as he slept. With fingers on her lips imprest. Gave ear, as she subdued her breath ; And, folding arms upon her breast. Looked on the babe beneath. 122 OUR FIRST-BORN But all at once a murmur fled, The trembling, parting lips amid, That flushed her cheek with warmer red, While peeping 'neath the lid. The anxious mother waited by, As into consciousness he broke, As with a laugh, and with a sigh, My little boy awoke. OUR FIRST-BORN. Ah, we have missed a little face. And we are sad and lone — For from the old familar place Our little boy is gone. Our home is cold — once bright and fair — Where fall the shadows deep, Our thoughts are in the churchyard, where We have a babe asleep. Of our sweet darling everywhere Such touching trace we find, Of pencil marks one here and there, Recalling him to mind. His broken tops, his well-used slate All undisturbed remain ; For little busy hands they wait, Which will not come again. OUR FIRST-BORN. 123 And he is dead, our boy so fair, His violet eyes grown dim, But we have kept a lock of hair. All we could keep of him. We love to think of our sweet boy, Who like an early star, Now shines in that bright land of joy, Where infant angels are. He 'mid a little group was found On every Sabbath day. The teacher gathered them around And taught them each to pray. He never tired nor lagged behind — Learnt all we tried to teach, For nought could weary his young mind. Or seemed beyond its reach. His little arms as white as snow Held me in soft embrace ; His little cheeks not long ago He placed against my face. His lovely eyes, so clear, so bright. Looked up in mine one even ; His lips kissed me a sweet good-night, Next day he was in heaven. 124 OUR FIRST-BOKN. Calm was the morn, the day serene, No sign of storm was there ; The sun shone bright upon the scene Down through the hallowed air. Upon his mother's knees he lay, His lips were moving still, His little hands forgot their play, All motionless and chill. And as he spoke each broken word We waited breathless by. His lips oft parted and we heard As oft his restless cry. Then crowded all our hopes and fears Around our precious child ; Our hearts were full, as fell our tears — Those hearts distracted, wild. Then all was done that love and care. And kindness could suggest, We offered up an anxious prayer That God would give him rest. Death came to lead the happy child Away up through the skies, Death's shadow, as he stood and smiled, Was resting on his eyes. OUR FIRST BORN. 125 It was a dark and bitter hour, When death's relentless hand Destroyed this young and cherished flower- The choicest of ovir band. I could have said, " stay here with me," But my wild grief is o'er ; He is from pain and troubles free, I wish him back no more. He nestles now where children meet As lambs in Jesu's arm ; His bosom is their safe retreat Far from all strife and harm. Christ blest dear children when below, And held them to His breast ; And when they die 'tis sweet to know They go to Him to rest. Why should I doubt, and why despair ? Though skies be overcast ; Where angel voices stir the air Our first-born's lot is cast. In silent sorrow's struggle led, My heart can break the chain. And hope, from what the Saviour said, To see my boy again ! 126 THE faiky's song. THE FAIEY'S SONG. Within the bell of a lotus flower, A fairy sang to the passing hour — " Come away ! ' It appeared to all the trifling throng, A wind that answered the throstle's song ; But a listening poet heard the fay, As she murmured — " Sister, come away ! " That poet was stretched beneath a tree Lulled as a babe to the melody, " Come away ! "' While the fairy sang—" Pray, sister, come ; The bee hath long left my elfin home, And the day-flies now are scared from play, By the beetle's horn ; come, come away, " The stag is bellowing on the hill ; And sparrows at roost are chirping still ; Come away ! And the placid moon is riding high, A cloudspot there in a cloudless sky ; The west is reddened with the last ray Of the loitering sun; come, come away. THE fairy's song. 127 Arouse the bat, that his haggard flight May speed the pace of the tardy uight ; Come away ! Fold thy dark mantle close to thy breast, And chase the fleet swallow to his nest ; My heart is sick of the weary day ; To our midnight revel come away. " Far, far in the forest dark and deep, Where fairies ever their revels keep ; Come away ! There shall the soft and the rapid beat Of our tivy, tripping, tiny feet Fall like music soft snd silvery, On forest columned walls ! come away ! " And we our fairy-boat will guide, Ere mid of night on the silvery tide ; Come away ! Our crew will then woo the nightly gale, And glide along with a rose-leaf sail, Or row till the morning's first faint ray. Is seen in the sky ; come, come away ! " Or we'll the festival prolong With laughter and mirth, with dance and song, Come away ! 128 THE fairy's song. We then shall dance at the dead of night, By the pale, the clear and steady light Of the waxing moon's bright gentle ray, To a streamlet's murmur ; come away ! " Beside a clear and starlit stream, Upon whose surface the lilies dream, Come away ! We'll fill the lily's capacious cup, And then with the sparkhng dew brimmed up. We all, with a rose-leaf soft and green, Will pledge afresh to our Elfin Queen. " Our Queen will hold in her snow-white hand, A charming, powerful, magic wand. Come away ! Thus armed she'll play an enchantress s part ; Unkindness shall from our minds depart, And friendship hold irresistible sway. And we'll praise the potent spell, come away ! " Where nought but the glancing shadows pass, We'll make a ring on the tufted grass ; Come away ! And the owl shall be our sentinel To the little troop he loves so well, And the revel last till the morning gray. Commands each spirit to haste away ! SUMMER FOLLOWS SPRING. 129 '* As soon as peeps the bright morning star, Through vistas from the horizon far, We'll away ! To a sheltered cove our course we'll steer, Nor shall avb aught of intrusion fear, There will we rest throughout the long day. Till eve again bids us haste away ! " SUMMER FOLLOWS SPRING. As the summer follows spring. And the night the day. So when the light hath had its fling Darkness holds its sway. Friends each other fondly greet, Happy now are they, In the future they will meet In the grave's cold clay. Joy and grief keep company ; Smiles recede from tears, Soon will tender infancy Sink in age and years. 130 WHEN THE LONGING EARTH IS THIRSTING. Man may live iia peace and woe, Fleeting is his breath ; Death and life together go, Life preceding death. WHEN THE LONGING EARTH IS THIRSTING. When the longing earth is thirsting For the sunshine and the rain, Then the swelling seed is bursting All the links of its cold chain. And the infant bud upturneth Its meek eye unto the sun, At the morning when he burneth His exalted course to run. And the infant bud while growing, Drinks the dew and gentle shower. Sweetly blushing, brightly blowing, And expanding to the flower. Now the blossom leaf is fading, Now the blossom leaflets fall, And decay is deeply shading O'er their bier with his dark pall. WHEN THE LONGING EARTH IS THIRSTING. 13] But the warmth of nature's bosom Doth all nature's form transmute, And though death may seize the blossom, 'Twill be life unto the fruit. Though the leaves be widely scattered, And the sea- spray rudely tost, And earth's atoms be all shattered, Nothing is there that is lost. ^t) Change with change is always blending. And unending is the chain ; For decay is ever tending To give beauty place again. We, as through this life we travel, Find that mysteries are rife ; But who of us can unravel The deep mystery of life ? Yea, though death is ever sleeping. Who is there, that having breath. Can pluck from his sacred keeping Secrets of the sleep of death. Although death may, like a vampire. Ever drink life's fleeting breath. Life will claim once more her empire. And upspring again from death, 132 A DAY-DREAM. A DAY-DEEAM. There are bright and happy hours In this dwelling place of tears, Summer gleams between the showers, Merry birds and smiling flowers, Hopes that conquer fears. There are many sweets that mingle In the cup of mortal sadness. Fairy bells that softly tingle By woodland way and forest dingle, Moving hearts to gladness. There are fairer, brighter things, Starlike gem the path of life. Sympathy that ever brings Friendship on its dove-like wings, Faithful love till death which clings, A peace the sleep of strife. I have many a loving friend. With their pleasant voices near me. And their sympathy to cheer me ; I will wear life to its end, And when Death hath had his will, Sparkling eyes for me will weep. Loyal hearts a corner keep, For my friendship's memory still. THE THORN. 133 THE THOEN. In woods around Old Warden Hall,* Though giant trees grow broad and tall, And by the garden's sunny bowers, Though proudly stand the brightest flowers, Though lofty tree-tops peer on high, Though silver streamlets ripple by, Though laurels wave so green and free, The humble thorn has charms for me. It charms me when in early spring 80 joyously the wild birds sing. The lowly bush with bloomy sheet Thrown as a mantle over it ; For then I think of youthful days When I my tiny arms would raise To pluck the blossoms, white and red, And twist a wreath for sister's head. When I at night, would bunches steep In water, and at morning creep Towards the jug, with anxious eye To see if they were like to die. In summer through its leafy breast I keenly sought each little nest, Within the closest fragrant shade, The birds a happy home had made. *01d Warden Hall, Beds., the seat of Major Shuttleworth, J.P., D.L. 134 THE THORN. When earth fruit in abundance yields, And ripened corn bestud the fields ; The thorn trees in the autumn spread Beneath their branches berries red, By which, when winter reigns in pride, The thrush and " blackey " are supplied. Though berry, leaf, nor blossom we Upon the nude brown bushes see. Though storms the forest oak may rend, They only cause the thorn to bend ; It bows, it seldom — never breaks. If time, the trees gigantic shakes. And stern decay should lay them low. Still sturdy limbs are left to show. While with them ruin harshly dealt. His hand on it was scarcely felt. THE CREATION. Since in God's bosom, ere affection felt Or mind reflected, infinitely dwelt A boundless everlasting love, I string My willing lyre, of boundless love to sing. Spirit of Love ! with burning thoughts inspire My soul, and breathe in me Thy living fire ; And then with blazing words shall I unfold To man, that — long ere Time a moment told THE CREATION. 135 Or ere had sound to silence given place, Or darkness wrapt illimitable space, Or motion had its restlessness obtained. Thy bounteous mind the universe ordained. As all of being and of bliss Thou wast. Thy glories filling Thy desires vast, Thy grand designs and works could not increase, But only tend to spread Thy happiness. But who the origin of mind can sing ? Or tell when first to life did spirits spring ? Or when at first angelic beauty shone ? Or the first anthem rolled before Thy throne ? Or when thrones and dominions first were raised^? Or principalities and powers were placed ? Or when archangels first before Thee knelt ? Or myriad heavenly hosts first grateful felt ? The formless void with darkness was o'erlaid. But by Thy word the heavens and earth were made. As the Great Spirit moved on the abyss, Uniting, partmg that, or quickening this. He said, " Let light, order and grace be there," And day and night and morn and eve were. He gave the waters their respective bounds ; He spread the firmament this world surrounds. The new earth rose adorned with fruitful trees. By His command out of the new-formed seas, 136 THE CREATION. With grass and countless flowers that decked the land : That word fixed stars on high on every hand, Then Sol as king of day and heaven shone, As queen of night, and clouds and stars — the Moon. Our world was thus a beauteous palace made ; Adoring wonder filled the hosts o'erhead ; And while earth rose in majesty and light, How sweetly sang the morning stars so bright Unto the music of the spheres, and sang The sons of God, while heaven's arches rang — " By all that being has be praised, Great Sire ; Ye stars, sing on, hills tune His praises higher ! And rivers as ye silent flow, adore ! And billowy oceans hymn from shore to shore ! " As yet the land and sea had not brought forth Creatures tbat swim, fly, creep or walk the earth, Nor had appeared the first of human kind, Or they had all with heaven in concert joined. Man was the last, most perfect work of God ; Most wonderful in workmanship he stood. Union of body, spirit, matter, mind ; In Him were heaven and earth together joined ; A link between finite and infinite. The Godhead paused to find a model fit To fashion after this most complex form : Oh ! wondrous love ! man takes the Godlike form. THE CREATION. 137 He had designed man like Himself should be — In mind, in feeling and in equity. The body was the temple of the soul. Wrought from the dust of earth ; erect, in all Its aspects beauteous, stately in mien. When from Himself the spirit breathed within, Man gazed upon the light with open eye, And through the ear sounds to the soul did fly ; Through every portion life was felt to roam. Thought darted to its source as to its home, And the affections kindled to a flame. And pure delight rolled briskly through the frame. Devotion then woke up full hallowed ; His every look and thought, and feeling said, — In posture bent, and with uplifted eyes, — " Creator, Father, Benefactor wise, I am indebted to thy love for all I see and feel, and now obey the call : This boon of being calls for constant praise : All things declare Thy love in earliest lays ; The sunbeams write it on whate'er they shine, The birds sing sweetly of this love divine. The breezes chant it rustling through the trees, Yea, every creature, high and low, agrees, And in full chorus joins to praise Thy love, And laud the Friend of all who reigns above." Man of this lower world was sovereign made. To tame, and reign o'er all of every grade, 138 THE CREATION. However fierce, or strong, or swift, or slow, By special grant from God ; whence powers flow, Dominions come : and not by grant alone, But attributes, man's kingly power was shown. Of lofty stature, strong, and without fear ; Though bold yet mild ; his mind, strong, vast, and clear, And grasping God ; to Him in heart and mind. And will, and wish, and thought, and act resigned. But though thus perfect, man was yet alone ; And though to him all herbs and trees were known, And he the natures of all creatures kenned Yet he had powers that had not reached their end, Capacities untried, that in employ \ Would more exalt, enhance and perfect joy : For the pure fountain of eternal bliss Created man with social sympathies. With love like that with which God moved Imparting gifts to finite man beloved. Adam an outlet wanted for his joy. And God, whose " wisdom's vast," infinite, high, Saw " 'twas not good for man to be alone," Then His creative power once more was shown. Yet no new model out of dust was made : For as before his Maker he was laid In sleep, his nature was divided found. That they together might again be bound ; Numerically two, in nature one, A BLIND LADY. 139 Being of his being, bone of his bone, And given as his partner and his wife. Hail ! lovely woman ! source of earthly life And bliss ; creation's latest gift, of thee Bereft, a dreary blank this world would be. A BLIND LADY. How thoughtful and forlorn she sits Throughout the weary day ; With wondrous skill she sews and knits, To wile the time away. Not marks of age, but those of grief. Are seated on her brow ; The time for sight to her was brief, For blinded she is now. There was a day when other eyes And faces she could see, But as the child beside her cries. Oh ! how bereft is she ! It troubles her — the piteous sound, Resulting from its pain ; And instantly the babe is found Safe in her arms again. 140 SOME YEARS AGO. Though now her heart some sorrow knows, Yet all her love is shown ; That mother's love the stronger grows, To soothe her infant s moan. Though once young, willing feet and hands Were wholly in her power, She yet a firm commandress stands, As in the happier hour. May God preserve her from despair. And give such strength of soul. As will enable her to bear The griefs which o'er her roll. On Christ may stronger be her hold. While that of earth grow less. That after death she may behold Him in eternal bliss. SOME YEARS AGO. My sweetheart bent the thorny spray. She shook its drops of rain away, And reached it smilingly to me. We walked at eve, we kissed and sighed, Our hearts were filled with foolish pride. So glad, so bold, so fond were we. THE BRITISH CHIEF. lil Her hand I took to help her down The broken wall, or bank, or stone And led her on the rocky way. Our eyes oft met, and as we turned, While both our checks with passion burned, We looked into the future's day. We, far away from the busy throng, In soUtude, with laugh and song, Broke silence in a brook-cleft dell ; Beside a rushing swollen brook, Beneath the network of a nook, Would we our love -tales tell. THE BRITISH CHIEF. " Yes, thougli Time has laid her finger On them, still with searching eje, There are spots where I can hnger, Sacred to the days gone by." — Tcppek. Upon the site where modern Grimsby stands, Where many charms of earth and ocean meet. Where the waves whisper and the coast line curves, Was once a British settlement ; and there, Surrounded by a wild and sterile waste, A boimdless forest, and the broad expanse Of ocean, — chief of a rude tribe. Galgacus dwelt. And then the tall and stately trees, around 142 THE BRITISH CHIEF. With mantling creepers clasped and clothed in green, So closely grown that light but stole through boughs Entwined so deeply with unnumbered leaves— Luxuriated in a fertile soil, In all the prime and vigour of their days, And soared beyond a hundred feet in height ; But long since by the hand of man laid low, What honoured names have trod where now we tread, Whose ships have anchored in the Humber's mouth, Who oft beheld the scenes we here behold — The waters glancing inward from the main, The level shore, the ocean's heaving swell, The greensward and the varied mass of flowers ! But Time has changed this lovely spot ; for where Stood dark green forests spreading far and wide Upon the slope, and raved to every storm — So dark that when by chance some single beam Shot through the verdant mass its slumbering ray, The flash just trembled on the dreary brooks Like an uncertain fragment of a dream ; Where marsh and moor so desolate appeared, Where desperate mankind oft plunged into The mud to hide in safety when hard pressed, And plunged as oft into the troublous tide ; Where sedges grew out of the oozy marsh. And where the giant plants nodded aloft, Cluster the houses of the modern town — Beside the Humber — with its coasting ships, THE BRITISH CHIEF. 143 Extensive docks, and rails, and busy mart. Galgacus won a fair unblemished fame By conscious rectitude of heart and life ; His frame was finely strung and his career Was like the genial influence of the sun The boldest he among the bold, and brave Among the bravest. Valour had nursed him As her own. Thus in manly grace he stood, Such as fair woman loves to look upon ; His eye was keen, his motive pure, and his Determination high. He ne'er forgot His native dignity and worth, and aye As public benefactor laboured well. He cleared the ground, and ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, And fed his flocks and herds, and eager hoped For brighter prospects and for happier days. Though bold, and by his powers known, he choose To be a shepherd or a husbandman. He diligently tilled an ample farm, Inviting oft his brother chiefs to gaze Upon his fields and to partake his fruits. Beside a fertile plain his hut was built : Logs roughly squared, wattled all through with twigs. And daubed with clay : the roof with shingles spread. 144 THE BRITISH CHIEF. And these kept down with stones, — a home most rude. A streamlet went its way of peace along, Beside his hut, to find the humblest path, Brawling like infancy, and seeking rest In ocean's arns. 'Twas hei*e Galgacus made His small domain a pattern unto all ; His farm was fair, and the surrounding scenes Magnificently grand to look upon. He wed the daughter of a German chief — An only daughter, wealthy, young, and fair — So fair her frame, that it was wondrous to Behold. Nature had thrown her golden curls In clusters o'er her ivory temples, where They hung rich in their tangled loveliness — A pearl of virtue in a golden frame ; Her bright eyes, glowing large beneath a fair, Calm brow, bespoke a generous flow of soul ; Her youth was bright and promised much of bliss ; So beautiful, and good as beautiful : Affectionate, in loving modest worth. And dutiful ; and when she sweetly smiled, Her very smile seemed to difi'use new joys. How strange the wedding gifts ! — a horse, a shield, A spear, a sword, a yoke of oxen, and A well-accoutred horse, which told of war And husbandry, was proffered by the youth In presence of Valeda's friends ; and her THE BRITISH CHIEF. 145 Acceptance was the simple marriage bond. He did not sue in vain : she gave him her True heart, and was prepared to live or die — Willing to share with him the danger of The battle-field, or labour on in peace. Swiftly the bark glid on, outstripping far The rippling waves that off her prow she threw. Well formed for speed, fleet as a spirit of The waves, she bounded light and free ; and seemed To revel in delight. Now in her rear, The distant shore to sight was sinking fast ; The bright sun gilded o'er the tranquil waves. How lovely ! scarce a breath disturbed the calm Of ocean's breast. The vessel glided on With sunlit sails, and all creation beamed One glorious scene of happiness and love. Her fleecy bosom swelled 'neath breezes from The rear. Aloft the canvass soared ; swanlike, Her wings outspread, an aerial spirit form Majestic o'er the ambient deep she moved Thus noiselessly, till roused by troubled winds, Her plumage waved responsive to the gale. But homeward bound a furious storm arose : The merry morn, which rose unclouded in The orient spheres to bear the records of 146 THE BRITISH CHIEF Another day, and bad not far upon Its journey sped, had on a sudden changed ; — A sultry vapour floated overhead ; And throbbings mystical rose in the air, A gloom so sullen flooded all the air. And lo ! a pit-a-pat of rain was heard, Followed by a fast-descending shower ; And fast a dark cloud gathered and more fast, And floated overhead, discharging such A deluge of bright drops on sea and ship. The wind blew loud, and lashed the foaming main In billows mountains high ; the clouds grew dark ; And loud and louder roared the gusty gale, ^ And rolling thunder pealed athwart the heavens. His hardy bark, in ocean tempest driven. Braved the wild elements, held on her course, And at each bound leapt into some abyss, — Now on the giddy height of crested wave, Now deep in watery valley boldly rode Triumphant o'er the agitated sea — The boiling surface of the stormy deep ; Bright sparkles from its prow dashed round and round. Crossed her fair path of radiance in the brine. And died in stars away. The heavens grew black ; Deep thunders echoed o'er the raging main ; Forked lightnings flashed throughout the darkest shade ; THE BRITISH CHIEF. 147 The welkin shook as at the voice of war. What tides of feeling through his bosom swept, To fill, expand, and awe-inspire his soul, When pealed the thunder to the ocean's swell. All heaving — boiling — bursting — foaming with An earthquake strength, with rude, devouring jaws, W^hile all around the tempest wildly poured Through troubled darkness, as the lightning flashed And burst the thunder's wild terrific clap ! Then from eaeh corner of the lurid sky, Destruction's messengers careering sped, While hoarsely yawning subterraneous caves Terrifically mountain billows heaved. The demon of destruction seemed to smile. And mix the elements in tumult wild ; While huge, unweildly monsters plunged and shook, As parting billows laid their bodies bare. Above the deck, above the quivering mast. The roaring waters and the howling wind. Commingling, met with such a shivering shock, As if in it they did at once combine The sweeping, crushing, all-devouring rage Of mightiest storms which earth hath ever known. He knelt upon the deck, his mantle girt About his form, and fervently he prayed. Say, doubting heart, would Heaven hear his cries. 148 THE BRITISH CHIEF. Poured through the fitful pauses of the gale, And answer all his groanings, uttered deep Amid the waves, in the stern travail of His soul ? and would not such a prayer be borne Up through the starry infinite to God ? It is a truth — that Heaven will not desert The trusting heart in time of utmost need. Methinks he now would cry, " Oh ! for a glance — One glance, if nothing else, of those sand hills Which bound my native shore ; where blaze the hearths, The happy hearths of home ; where dwell the friends I have so lately left — my parents fond. My brother group, whose hearts would leap to spy The distant signal of this well-known sail. How would they look, could they our forms behold ! Their eyes would brighten, and their cheeks would glow. In vain for us the hearth may brightly blaze, And loving friends look out for our return. The tempest riots in the noon of strife ; Hope's very fragments seem strewn o'er the ship ; The mast, the canvas — nearly all a wreck. Oh, Heaven, forgive my doubting, daring thoughts. To will be thine ; but to submit be ours ! " Behind them receded the black expanse, Fringed with the lovely hued and glorious bow — THE BRITISH CHIEF. 149 God's token of abiding love to man, But Heaven heard and answered ; from His throne, Celestial mercy spread her silver wings, And took her willing flight down to this globe. Far as the eye stretched its visual ray The mighty billows slept ; the sun's bright beams Had touched and silvered o'er the watery waste — The bosom of the ambient mirror'd deep. Then the illimitable sea had hushed Each troubled wave, and then in silent awe Eeceded from the land. There was a calm. The shore was seen. Thither the bark had turned Her shining prow, for well Galgacus knew The seven round hills that stood above the strand, Where the low beach re-murmured to the waves. All things looked lovely as they neared the shore, — Lashed by the beating of the heavy seas ; — The level shore, tbe sandy beach, the sward Of rank natural grass, and thorny shrub, Where glanced the waters by the dusky Avoods, Taking their semicircular round or Arrowy flight along the opening land. As ocean's tides poured inward, filling up Each sparkling basin to the very brim, Or, passing outward, left each margin dry. The breath of beauty floated in the air, 160 THE BRITISH CHIEF. And with enchanting fragrance nature woke Enriched with melody and new-born life, And gems of loveliness were lovely there As ever from Creation's womb yet broke, Or gave new birth to holy, high-born thought — Aye ! thought that sees in all created things The hand divine — the impress of a God ! — The wondrous and all-comprehensive power That gives to nature silent, unseen growth. And renders it so lovely in its sphere That e'en the meanest mind, endowed with thought. Feels by that thought raised to transfiguring Heights of admiration and exalted love. The glorious sun had flung its golden rays And cast its radiant wings across the world, When o'er the mountain tops those streams of light. In fierce array, dispel the misty dews. The morning dawned upon the lovely scene. While, lo ! the sun's refulgent orb proclaimed The coming day ; the brighter hues dipt down, And on the ocean's rippling waters danced ; Around were slung the oars to urge the bark In swiftness o'er the calm and mirrored tide, Each shining paddle like a silvery fin The glittering spray dashed high ; and fleeter than The ocean's sprites they o'er the waters sped, They touch the shore, when lo ! along the bank At intervals the watchers stood, as in THE BRITISH CHIEF. 151 The case of outbreaks to convey the news, And as the thunders sweeps in furious haste Along, a shout hke thunder-clap was heard Hard by ; and ere the eclio died away Another and another burst upon The ear, more distant, and with fainter sound, Until the farthest seemed much like some far- Off murmurings among remotest hills. A flaunting swell of music echoed quick And light, a measure wooing the response Of willing feet. Then came the damsels of His native place to cast defiant looks On him, and then to scrutinize his wife ; And after them tumuluously ran The population of the neighbouring hills — ■ A band of natives, naked, gaunt and bold ; They hardly seemed like mortals of the earth. So mad their gesture, as one smote his breast And clenched his fingers, and another plucked His neighbour's beard and rolled his own eyes back. On, on they came ; advancing crowds revealed The state of things ; the tribes were all astir ; Their cry so deep rent the cerulean. And startled all the echoing woods around. Onward with cares tumultuous, they moved To stimulate the loud acclaim, paced to And fro, and thus gave utterance to their thoughts. THE BBITISH CHIEF. Like swarming bees in summer noon, that mass Of dusky forms displayed their savage mood ; Each gleaming eye shot glances of hot haste, Sparks of the living fire that raged within. A being of a gentler sort approached, Who spake in low melodious accents ; — Yaleda came — a slender figure, with Long-flowing vestments on her graceful limbs. With belt around her slender waist, and with A beauteous form, and panting breast, as if She feared the thousand eyes that hung upon Her loveliness. Her coral lips alive ^ With mind ; queenly, and fair, and daring-browed, That noble woman moved, who quailed not in The storm, Strange how she stood before them in The power of inaccessible beauty, With raven hair in silken folds, and bright Fair ringlets like a torrent flowing down Over a rich complexion ; while her mein Was graceful ! and she met them with a smile. Her words were few and wisely chosen, and Harmoniously blended in soft tones. Like the low moan of a far distant shore, ^ here quickly follow wave on wave upon Some rocky reef that chafes their billowy pride. A strange revulsion all experienced in Contrasting her long flowinor vestment THE BRITISH CHIEF. 153 With glittering clasp, and the rich mantle that The bridegroom wore, with their own shaggy dress. She hushed their roar and stayed their mad career : For soon they blithely sung such simple strains As maidens chant at marriage festivals. And then the bards, who from their three-peaked hill Hearing the mirthful strains, came trooping forth With oaken branches and white robes, burst out In an inspiring chorus, which echoed From the great waters of the peopled shore, Back to the silent grandeur of the woods. Some range the beach and others crowd the cliff ; Soft music swelled the air and reached the shore. And swept throughout the sombre range of wood ; The echoes rang and shook the vaulted shade, Or swept in dulcet notes along the plains ; The ocean's bosom swelled expressive in The gale. The fair advanced ; on her all eyes Were bent ; her grace and perfect beauty from Each breast called forth some sentiments of praise. In graceful attitude she came. Her robes Descended now in snowy, ample folds, And its fine texture, soft and light adorned. As fleecy mantles thro -mi around, her fair And sylph-like form ; now on the breeze, aside Her vestments flowed, disclosing from beneath 164 THE BRITISH CHIEF. Their folds a bosom delicately fair. Thus welcomed and attended went the bride And bridegroom to the chieftain's mount, And occupied their spacious stone abode. Forsooth Valeda was the loveliest flower That ever bloomed in Coritanian vales ; She had as loving, kind, and true a heart As ever beat within a woman's breast. Her words seemed cast in love and music's mould, And every sentence weighed in golden scales To match the sweetness of her rosy mouth. The art of spinning she so cheerfully v Imparted to her neighbours, who, in turn, Discarding garbs of hair, prided themselves In flowing vestments which equalled her own. Galgacus, in like manner, won many A stern and listless fellow chief to spend His time in husbandry ; not by precept, But good example ; training oxen for The plough, and introducing implements Unknown to them before. Clearings m woods Were made, and speedily, where densely grew Thick intermingUng boughs, which, heretofore Impeded the sun's rays, extended fields Of com, and meadows where the cattle grazed. The pastures were all populous with kine, And tinted apple blooms spread far around ; THE BRITISH CHIEF. 155 And where the woods had been destroyed by fire Arose upon their sites new wattled homes. To benefit mankind their aim, and to Their purpose here as needle to the pole, Henceforth Galgacus and Valeda sought To humanize old Grimsby's rugged tribes, — Those shaggy people of the forest glade, "Who heeded not the floods of heaven, the strife Of elements, slimy morass, steep hill. Or rapid streams ; free as their native air, No despot's power they owned ; they felt no wrong ; They saw no danger nigh ; nor would they yield Their native soil, and scorned from death to fly. Their minds were like the summer climate — warm, But like their country's aspect, rather wild. Those woad-dyed men would rather wage a war With neighbouring tribes for plunder's sake, than plough. Galgacus laboured hard, as time rolled on, In hewing wood and culture of the soil ; He lived in virtue and in singleness Of heart ; his children sang a merry song ; His paths were full of flowers, and sunshine basked Upon his pleasures. Oft he stood in some Far distant clearing, there to guard his sheep. And taught his youths and maidens all to tent. 156 THE BRITISH CHIEF. Old men would bid their children emulate, And young men strove to imitate their chief, Who often was observed, with stately mien , Moving as tutor to his happy tribe. And when spring tripped o'er the distant hills, And came with rosy cheek and laughing step Amid the shout of joyous waterfalls And streams, mingling with orisons of birds, And low. lute-like murmurings of soft winds, His meads looked verdant, where the banks smoothed down Toward the flood ; and when his orchards and Gardens burst into bloom — a lovely scene. Expanded smilingly in hues of light. He went by day among the farms ; at eve He was at home and happy in the light Of the familiar faces of all those Who nightly joined him at the homely meal. When ceased from toil, sweet recreation was His great delight, and social merriment. In Autumn he went forth upon the fields. And in his apple orchards gathered fruit, For the store chambers of his humble home. In Autumn when men's wants are all supplied. And when the year is crowned munificent With holy gladness, he would oft be seen THE BRITISH CHIEF. 157 Upon his knees, the blest recipient, Giving the fulness of his heart to God. When fading glories crowned the death of day, As evening settled on the silent tops Of the far distant wolds, from hill and plain Gathering the light, and when the silent moon Walked in a modest glory through the sky. The heavens above shone in their brightness, hung With wandering stars in mazy millions — a Long, irriguous labyrinth of light — O'er the blue vault, now here, now there revealed, At times unclouded, and at others hid ; Or, when the night was dark, and weariness Oppressed his frame, would he retire to rest. Thus years passed on in harmony and peace ; His youths and maidens were all glad at heart. But one event filled every soul with gloom — It happened one autumnal day of shade, Ere winter with its finger chained the year. This was the memorable day,* when by Druidic law, each household was forced To extinguish his fire and rekindle it At the Arch-Druid's blazing altar on Toot's Hill. That day Galgacus had performed His wonted task, nor had he once before Forgotten to observe the custom ; well *The last clay of October. 158 THE BRITISH CHIEF. He knew the penalty awaiting its Neglect. Bat, this evening, surrounded by His household, and instructnig them In the Druidic triads, time passed on Unwittingly till each one had retired ; The radiant queen of night — the crescent moon — - Closely companioned by a host of stars, That stood around her like a body guard, Had reached her climax in the firmament ; She lit up drops of heavy dew that dripped From the close petals of each sleepy flower. And made each bough a mimic chandelier Festooned with diamonds, and through trees shot forth Upon the rippling tide a piercing ray, That now fell soft and delicately bright. But soon there intervened a heavy cloud, Which seemed its mighty orb to shade, and then A sighing wind swept past, and moaned forth Its chilling breath, and all grew pitchy dark. And when the moon had set, the ebon night Spread its broad mantle o'er the solemn scene. The hour was calm, and silent solitude Profound pervaded then the ocean w^orld. No living stir or breathing sound disturbed The slumbering main or balmy air that night ; Sublime and chaste seemed all around, save a Dim watch-fire's blaze upon the distant strand, THE BRITISH CHIEF. 159 Which stretched beside a forest dim, and marked A spot within its deep and dusky shade. Along that sliore the watch-fire blazed, and shed A lurid glare. It cast upon the deep A grim unearthly blaze, and glittered through That region, lonely, drear, and dank, and dark. That eve the fire should meet with fire ere the Consuming light died out in broken sparks. The very rills in silence seemed to roll With ripples unsaluted by the sun. The waving shadows went and came — for hours — And came and went in many a maze away. Then he, who often stirred the hissing brands, And closely watched, with shrewdest vigilance. From eve till morn throughout the livelong night, Noting the absentees, would fain have called His chief. The lowering sky with midnight clouds Was dark, and all was dull above, below — Save where the watch-fire's fitful blaze revealed The darkness of the sombre scene. He was About to go when suddenly he heard A sound ; he held his breath to listen, and His eye penetrated the dark ; the low Thick foliage moved ; he sprang upon his feet ; A low, soft, rustling noise, like ebbing tide. Through quivering reeds, then fell upon his ear. The gurgling streamlet moaned as it murmurs by, In doleful cadence, and the beacon shone 160 THE BRITISH CHIEF. Amid the general gloom. Another sound — A heavy tread ; and soon the stern blue eye Of the Arch-Druid rested upon him. With courteous bend and lofty mein, he met The smile or haughty glance. A proud reserve — A pompous air did mark the greeting, chill And brief. Again he moved and then approached : " Have all been here, my son ? " No answer came. " Who then is absent ? Give me thy reply. You will not slight my word ; or now that word Disgrace ? To each according to his worth I will a blessing or a curse assign." With eagle eye, he the attendant scanned, Who shook before him like an aspen leaf. And tremblingly gave in Galgacus' name. "To-morrow," said the fierce Arch-Druid, as He turned away. The dull grey streaks of dawn, Above the dim horizon faintly seen. Heralded with incontestable omen The day of fearful reckoning. The sun Gleamed through the forest, and its first yomig beams Shone on the summits of the western hills. Whose brows were with the cloud-drops wet — that day With wife and children was the chief led out His sentence to receive. Deep sadness reigned THE BRITISH CHIEF. 161 Within his heart, nor did he ask — " But why, Alas ! am I to be condemned "? " He held His over-fevered brow within his hand ; He faintly sighed ; athwart his harrowed brow He drew his fevered hand ; the moisture cold, Clammed to the palm, beneath ;his drooping head. But truly anguish such as his, no man, Methinks, could paint with pencil or with pen. The people mustered and surrounded that Arch-Druid who, with solemn voice pronounced The dreaded sentence, from his judgment seat, "When all was silent, yea, as still as death :— " On you and on your children be the doom Of cold, and darkness. You have failed to light Your fire by consecrated branches from The altar. Not a gleam of fire shall cheer Or warm your dwelling ; all your flocks and herds Are yours no longer ; and the same sad doom Awaits whoe'er may seek to aid you. Though The earth be frozen deep, and storms of rain May rage o'er your cold home — on you is passed The awful sentence that can never change ! " That multitude who on Galgacus looked With pity and surprise, could scarcely bear The thought, to mourn so good a chieftain lost : For there were generous springs within their hearts, 162 THE BRITISH CHIEF. As they bemoaned witb tears his bitter fate. The sympathizing crowd, in one loud voice, Uniting all in one strong bond, cried out — " They shall not die — the father of our tribes Shall not thus perish ; for his noble limbs Have moved for the well-being of mankind ! " When, with one rush, upsprang the faithful tribes To throw themselves on the presiding judge ; Then his foul spirit struggled for command ; But seeing they preserved their 'vantage ground, His giant oak-branch lifted high — which was The symbol of protection and of peace — " Eash men," he said, " why dare you thus forestall The sentence. It was needful these should know The fate to which they have exposed themselves ; But faithful service to our father- land Has pleaded for them in our hearts ; and now The sentence shall not be enforced. Go, then, Galgacus and Valeda, expiate Whatever you have done amiss, by lives Devoted to the Druid, and bethink You of the certain doom awaiting all The future violations of our laws." Galgacus then arose : his attitude And mien expressed a soul supremely bold. Though he had passed the zenith of his life. His gait was firm, his frame was strongly knit ; THE BRITISH CHIEF. 163 And like the oak, that Hfts its lofty boughs In forest pride amid the canopy Of the broad firmament, arrived at full Maturity of growth, stately and grand. Unhurt by wintry snows ; unbent, unharmed By hundred summer storms and lightning-flash. He stood, in ripe old age, and thus he spoke : " My countrymen, the long unslumbering nights And toilsome days I've passed are not ill spent, If this be the result of serving you " But then his heart came leaping to his mouth And choked his speech, when he would tell his thanks ; Yet in his short address was shadowed forth His innate greatness in declining age. The day receding from the heaven's vault Had nearly closed in evening's sombre shades ; The setting sun declining fast, whose rays Obliquely tinged the clouds, the western woods Emblazed ; and on the surface of the calm And silent ocean, long, dark shadows threw. The sun descended, and the day's last streak Serenely softened into sober grey. The wind, which all day long had scarcely breathed, From zephyrs to a gentle breeze increased, And mournfully whispering through the trees Just broke the silence, as the tribes dispersed. And all returned rejoicing to their homes. 164 ON VISITING HOME. ON VISITING HOME. MAY it be my lot once more In thee, sweet Devonshire to roam, My parents and my friends to see. My county and my home. Full many lingering months have gone Since last I trod thy hallowed ground, And still it seems but yesterday "When I was in thee found. Now, as in youthful days, I hear Thy beechy, piny groves among. Proceeding from the feathery tribes A sweet concentful song. 1 walk beneath umbrageous boughs, So slowly through the merry wood And listen to the songsters near Proclaiming " God is good." The giant trees, outspreading wide Their brandies, form a cooling shade, Unnumbered birds are singing in The deep embowered glade. ON VISITING HOME. 165 Thy oaks stand well the test of time, And still they nod to every breeze ; Still wave throughout the rookeries . The " tall ancestral trees. '"'•= I see the aged churchyard yew, The urns of those departed long. The I'uined towert where jackdaws whirl Their drowsy flight along. I see, in mingling with thy swains, How marked the progress of decay ; Its blighting touch hath made of some An easy, certain prey, Some, when I left, were in their prime — Were gaily walking Life's rough way ; But looking round I see the hair Of those besprent with grey. Some have untimely bowed beneath The iron hand of ruthless care ; While some have reached their sepulchres By pathways of despair. But still the toiling of thy swains Has long been crowned with sweet increase, And Heaven hath richly blest their homes With plenty, love, and peace. *Mrs. Hemans. f-'^t Slapton. 166 ON VISITING HOME. may it be my lot once more In thee, sweet Devonshire, to roam, My parents and my friends to see, My native town, and home. While thought remains can I forget The blessed spot that gave me birth v To me it ever must remain The fairest spot on earth. Whate'er " thy faults I love thee still," Devonia ! — my native spot ; Though other counties I have seen. Their scenes I envy not. Thy lofty cliffs, thy verdant meads, Thy gentle slopes and lovely dells, Thy rural scenes and vane-tipped spires. The music of thy bells ; The thousand warblers of thy glades. Thy golden harvests ripe with grain. My happy childhood's home ; — when shall I greet ye all again '? My bosom yearns with fond desire To fill once more the old arm chair, In chimney corner high ensconced, To hear the loved ones there. ADDRESS TO MY NATIVE TOWN. 167 may it be my lot once more In tliee, Devonia, to roam ! My parents and my friends to see, My county and my home. ADDRESS TO MY NATIVE TOWN (KiNGSBRIDGE, DeVOn). Deab spot of my birth ! — I behold thee again — I wander once more on my loved native plain ; I view thee with feelings of joy as of yore, While marking the beauty that graced thee before. The stern hand of Time no sad changes has wrought,. Destroying each vestige of beauty and note. That in the glad hours of my childhood were known. Thy pride and thy glory, thy grace and renown. Ah ! no : Time has left thee such beauties till now As few places like thee can boast of I trow. Here, here on this spot, when a child I would play, For hours in the sunshine of summer's bright day ; Or clamber the hill on which I now stand, To trace from its summit's extensive command The scenery round ; but not now as of yore I view thee, blest town, — thy defects are no more. Thou Kingsbridge, hast woven a chain round my heart. That never through life will be known to depart ;. 168 ADDRESS TO MY NATIVE TOWN. Dear place of my childhood, my earliest home, A change over thee and my spirit hath come — For Time has bestowed a new tower upon thee. And all the stern duties of manhood on me. Since last on this spot I stood, changed though I be. Unaltered is yet my affection for thee. Whenever I wander, wherever I roam, My heart fondly clings to my childhood's bright home, And tears of deep sorrow my eyes oft suffuse, When the future appears in the dullest of hues. How blest were the hours when light-hearted and gay, Ey the clear-rolling streams I could carelessly stray ! They are past — they are gone — like a dream that is fled ! Misfortune will chequer the path I must tread. To sing of my childhood I cannot refuse, Now the visions of boyhood no longer amuse. Increased in thy beauty, thou art the more dear To one who was wont to find happiness here. I love now to wander once more on thy plain, And gaze on thy beautiful steeple again ; Near which I have looked on the mouldering stones, And pressed the thick turf over crumblmg bones. As the hare, when close hunted, returns to its form. And birds seek their nests from the wild-rushing storm, A boy's ramble. 169 So I would return if e'er old I should be, And spend my last days and be buried in thee. Old Kingsbridge, I love thee ! — the sound of thy name Wakes a transport of rapture that thrills through my frame. Since dearer than ever thou art unto me, Then let me present one more tribute to thee Of clinging remembrance,— long may it be thine, 'Mid glory, and pride, and calm beauty to shine ! A BOY'S RAMBLE. Walking down a Devonshire lane, On a summer's day. In the shade and out again. Speeding on my way. All at once I met an ass. Feeding on the roadside grass ; When I tried the beast to pass, He began to bray. Being but a little lad, I felt much afraid ; With the hazel-rod I had. On the " mulley "* laid ; * Devonshire name for Donkey. 170 ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE ALBERT. Donkey kicked and ran away, And to get out of my way Turned into a field of hay, Where awhile he stayed. Then I journeyed bravely on, Thinking me quite bold, But before that day was gone " Ned " was in the fold : Then I said, " There let him be ! Had he not thus frightened me He would not this moment be Prisoner in the fold." ODE: ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE ALBERT. Toll ! toll the bell ! let Sorrow reign ! a dirge Funereal be sung to celebrate! The obsequies of one Lost lately from our midst. The greatest benefactor of his race, Who never hved for self, whose generous heart Has ceased to beat with kind Emotion, now lies dead ! ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE ALBERT. 171 Then let us mourn the absence of that arm Which served the multitude — the arm of him, Who strove to mitigate Unnumbered human ills. He ever had a ready hand to aid, A heart to sympathize, whene'er he heard Affliction's plaintive wail. Or poverty's sad cry. He won a general love, who was so true A friend to science, art and industry ; And where will learning find A patron great as he ? Long may his name be reverenced for his Urbanity, his matchless gentleness, And his unparalleled Self-sacrificing love. 'Twas m the midst of years he passed away : His days were few ; yet lived he long, I trow, For, measuring time by deeds, His life was truly long. His name shall be revered in every clime, Hereafter it shall be Albert the Great, The Gallant and the Brave, Magnanimous and Good. 172 ONE TAKEN AND THE OTHER LEFT. let US weep with holy hallowed tears, And to his memory due deference pay, Who loved our gracious Queen ; And for her sake loved us. May not her grief be inconsolable, Though from her now her bosom friend is gone, And deeply tolls the bell, The summons of the dead. His spirit is enrolled with angels bright. Whose hallowed hymns Jehovah's glories raise. Where parted ones may meet ; Yea, meet to part no more. May God sustain our sorrowing, widowed Queen ; Her precious life to govern us prolong ; Her soul with grace endue ; God bless our widowed Queen. ONE TAKEN AND THE OTHER LEFT. I sat me down one Christmas eve Within my easy chair. And gazed above the mantel- piece — A print was hangmg there. ONE TAKEN AND THE OTHEE LEFT, 178 And as T watched the lovely forms, Which large and larger grew, At once, before my mmd, arose A picture I well knew. Two figures at an altar knelt— For by Victoria's side, There bowed a Prince who far had come To wed a Koyal bride. I saw again those figures fair ; They sat upon a throne. And ruled a mighty empire. On which ne'er sets the sun. Again the scene is changed, for lo ! One sits alone in gloom — The royal matron on a couch Within a lonely room. Our gracious Queen — a widow now — Of husband is bereft ; Though one by death is taken, yet By mercy one is left. 174 WRECK OF THE ROYAL CHARTER. WEECK OF THE " EOYAL CHARTER." ".Stranded on a lonely reef, Overhead a darkened sky ; And around the ocean spoke Of the dead, which in her lie. " Then the doubtful watching stood Night and morn, through dark hours long ; And the feeblest showed us how They in weakness waxed strong. " Love was with them, strong and pure, In each mother's heaving heart. Clasping in her arms the child Of her soul, which seemed a part. " Faith looked upward from the deck, Where no mortal's grave might be ; For as Death had beckon'd one. His corse claimed the waiting sea." Pious Hodge amidst them stood. Earnest, meek, absorb'd, and calm, Offering a fervent prayer, Firmly pressing palm to palm. WRECK OF THE ROYAL CHARTER. 175 As a warder looldng far, Steady to his purpose stands, This man noted cloud nor star, But beyond them heavenly lands. If one fleeting moment, Hope Left a waiting troubled guest, Noble Rogers, with the hawser, Gladden'd every anxious breast. Thrills of anguish pierced the whole, For the time was when the true, Brave, and good, should lend their aid ; — Dangers thick and thicker grew. In the general saloon Crowded parents, children, too, Clinging with a fond embrace, As they gave their last adieu. Rolling billows smote the ship. And the rocks broke in her side. Trembling, leaping, breaking, when Hundreds sank into the tide. The survivors formed a chain Led by Suicar the brave ; Nine he rescued, till o'ercome, Foster next went forth to save. 176 GEDIPUS. Captain Taylor ne'er was seen From his post to swerve at all, Cheering the despairing ones, " Yet there's hope ! " — they heard him call. Whooping billows swept him off. On the surf he loudly cried " Yet there's hope ! " — but not for him — With those words the captain died. Few escaped — a thirteenth part ; For the rest, a watery grave ; From a dreadful death like theirs ^ Save us all, 0, Jesus, save ! CEDIPUS. A CLASSIC LEGEND. The gods predicted by a blow, Antigone, That I should lay my father low, Antigone. My parents would not have it so ; They bade a servant with me go, Antigone, And leave me where the wild winds blow, Antigone. (EDIPUS. 177 " My feet were bored in infancy, Antigone, And by them hung I from a tree, Antigone, Until a shepherd came to me, And said " My home thy home shall be," Antigone, And took me down from off the tree, Antigone. " I, next, a queen's adopted son, Antigone, Was called in tenderness her own, Antigone ; I from the first her favour won, And all I did was rightly done, Antigone, But, Moses-like, fled court and crown, Antigone. '* I, Delphi's oracle would sound, Antigone, The Sphinx a riddle did propound, Antigone, I quickly the right answer found, And then the king of Thebes was crowned, Antigone, And in the stead of Laius crowned, Antigone. M 178 (EDIPUS. " 'Twas proved that I my father slew, Antigone. And that I wed — which must be true — Antigone, The mother of myself and you, Alas ! I find it truthful, too, Antigone, Ivwish the light I never knew. Antigone. " In grief, I then put out my eyes, Antigone. Unworthy to behold the skies, Antigone, Or view the splendent sun arise, Though in my ways were I unwise, Antigone, How sad the king whom men despise, Antigone. " lead me to the grove away ; Antigone, The lambkins in the meadow play, Antigone ; But mourning we go on our way ; We move in dismal coterie, Antigone, For we are doomed to part to-day, Antigone. A sla^'e's lament. 179 " I bless the morn that gave thee birth, Antigone ; But curse the day which gave me birth, Antigone. Before me opens now the earth, I'll cry while plunging in the earth, ' Antigone ! ' And ever cry beneath the earth, ' Antigone ! ' " A SLAVE'S LAMENT. While runlets flush, and meadows blush, My weary soul is pining ; Ah ! sad my lot, ah ! wretched spot, On foreign soil reclining. A burning sky, beneath I lie, Of liberty but dreaming ; Here I am found, a captive bound, No freedom on me streaming. I cannot see my sister's glee, Nor sporting of my brother ; Unhappy morn when I was torn From father, and from mother. 180 THOUGHTS ON RAIN. What swoons endured, what pains inured, Since alien shores I've sighted ; Who will arise and loose the ties By which my hopes were blighted. What ! smooth the flood of ruffled blood. That in my veins moves wildly ? Shall I again view Afric's main ? Will hope shine on me mildly ? What ! heal the smart of this poor heart Oerwhelmed by load of sorrow ? I hope, I pray, that dying may Release me ere the morrow. THOUGHTS ON RAIN. Without the rain, the fields grow sere, All drooped and withered, flowers appear, And human minds are filled with fear. No mist o'erhangs the distant hills, No spring the brook or streamlet fills. And vanished now are all the rills. The husbandman may plough the soil, Protracted droughts his labours foil, No blessings crown his weary toil. THOUGHTS ON RAIN. 181 Some men now say, " This is not right, That every day should be so bright, And free from rain, from morn to night." Let us the aspect now reverse ; " Too little, or to much is worse ; " What can their murmurings disperse ? The discontented are unjust, Thy wisdom, oddly, they mistrust. But show them, Lord, they are but dust. Our God, when needful, sends us rain ; Let not His favours come in vain — His power and love be felt by men. Though school boys on a rainy day, Unwilling remigrate from play, And fain would have the year all gay ; Though skies no longer keep their blue — Dark clouds are seen and not a few — And birds are drenched, and moping too : — Though silent be their every tongue, And we hear not their merry song, The lofty leafy trees among : 182 THOUGHTS ON EAIM. Though cattle shelter 'neath the bower, Where they in summer's brightest hour Hide from the sun's great scorching power Though yoemen watch the weather-glass, Concerned about their new-mown grass, And humid hours so slowly pass : Let clouds and darkness crown the skies, Let torrents fall and storms arise, At God's command the tempest dies. And when upon the blistered plain The heavy showers descend again, How welcome is the sound of rain. Then let us pilgrims wisely love The Lord of earth and worlds above, Since all things for our welfare prove. HAKVEST MOKN. 183 HARVEST MORN. This Song has been set to Music by C. F. Fitz-Loam, Esq., Professor of Music, and Organist of Bridgetown Church, Totnes, South Devon. The stars are gone, the night is done, The lark has hailed the day ; And labouring men cheerly again Hie to the fields away. The morning breeze, that waves the trees, The mist sweeps from the stream, While murmuring rills and towering hills Are tipt with day's first beam, Chorus: — -Hurrah, hurrah, for the harvest morn. The merriest of the year ; Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah. For all things gay appear. While yet the dew, — the diamond dew, — Bespangles ripened corn. To labour true how many woo The bracing breath of morn. No rural sound so sweet is found As clank of sharpening scythe. And mountains greet, — with gladness greet,- The songs of reapers blithe. 184 CHRISTMAS EVE. Chorus : — Hurrah, hurrah, for the harvest morn, The busiest of the year ; Hurrah, hurrah, for the hardy hands Who bind, and mow, and shear. How many throng, with rake or prong, The mower's devious way. And others lead the sower's meed To stack and barn away. The summer sun, whose course is run, Has shed his genial ray ; And golden grain, in vale and plain, Await the harvest day. Chorus: — Hurrah, hurrah, for the harvest morn. The best of all the year i Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, For harvest home is near ! CHRISTMAS EVE. Cold blows the bitter blast. Along the silent moor, The sleet is falling fast. And strikes the cotter's door. The elm and mountain ash. Indignant shake their heads, As to the earth they dash The rime that winter spreads. CHRISTMAS EVE. 185 The redbreast on the plough, Wails forth his plaintive note ; No worm is turned up now. No zephyr soothes his coat. He sees the fire burn bright, Where all is harmony ; His heart melts at the sight, His notes again are free. The boy says, " Robin, come, And be not shy with me, I oft have seen thy home Beneath yon old oak tree." The crystal brook is bound By winter's icy chain. And memory is found To bear us back again. To childhood's happy home, Which time will have us leave, Though there no trials come, No gloomy sorrows grieve. Sweet home, to all most dear, Where centre hope and joy. We turn to thee to cheer Our souls when cares annoy. 186 CHRISTMAS, The mansion windows glow, With charming, briihant hght, Sweet music's rapturous flow Falls on the ear to-night. *Cl' Around the farmer's hearth, Beset with rosy smiles, There innocence with mirth, The fleeting hour beguiles. Hollies and ivies swing In garlands from the eave ; And merry children sing The song of Christmas Eve. CHRISTMAS. The happy time is come When loved ones far and near, Are gathering at home, — For home to them is dear. Young hearts are full of glee, The father's smile is gay. The mother loves to see Each duteous child to-day. How joyous is the place Where friends long severed meet. That, with a fond embrace. They may each other greet. CHRISTMAS. 187 The maiden, as before Awaits her lover's tone ; And yearns to feel once more, His hand within her own : She casts all gloom aside, For joyous words are said ; And laurel hangs beside The holly bright and red ; She twines a pretty wreath With sprigs of mistletoe, That men and girls beneath, May merry-making go. The merry Christmas bells Eing through the frosty air, The sound of freedom tells From labour and from care ; With notes now pealing loud, Now, dying on the ear. They preach unto the crowd The closing of the year ; They chime through cities great, Through town and village small. Their mighty tongues relate Salvation is for all. 188 THE CHBISTMAS LESSON. Why not the coming one A happy Christmas be ? With father and with son No contest should we see ; Bid all your quarrels cease, Cast former hate away, For love, and joy, and peace, Should crown the Christmas-Day. Let thanks and praise arise, And lips be hushed in awe, At the Self-sacrifice, That Bethlehem once saw ! THE CHRISTMAS LESSON. • A CHRISTMAS PIECE. As by the hearth his children sat. Upon a winter's night, A farmer with a faggot came To make the fire more bright. He threw the bundle on the floor, And then he reached his seat, And for the evening lesson looked Around for subject meet. THE CHRISTMAS LESSON. 189 His eye seemed fixed upon the rods, Nor why the reason knew ; At last he said, " this bundle shall For our instruction do." The children wondered but they soon A useful lesson learnt ; " You see," said he, " these sticks that I Have brought home to be burnt." " Now Bill, and Ned, and Jack, and Tom, And Jane, and Mary, try To break those sticks as now they are, Ere I the band untie." Each had a trial, but in vain, To break the bundle strove ; The task was far beyond their powers. They scarcely made it move. The father loosed the hazel band, And gave out one by one ; In turn, the children broke the sticks. Until the whole were done. 'Twas fun to see their hands and knees So busily employed. Their smiling faces showed how they Their easy work enjoyed. 190 THE CHRISTMAS LESSON. The father said, as they sat down, " Thus will it he, as long As you are all together bound, You will be safe and strong." " But if you sever once the tie Of love, which binds you now, You'll be as weak as were the sticks, When they were loose, I trow." Those words, upon the children's minds. Had the desired effect, They vowed to love as children love. What more could he expect ? 'Tis many, many years ago. That faggot was unbound, But, still that farmer's children are True to each other found. The months run on so slowly, but When Christmas comes, at length Is seen how well they learnt that night That " Unity is strength." If loving thus, the children of Each family would be, What happy, happy Christmas days Old England then would see. THE SNOW. 191 THE SNOW. The scholar rejoices as fast falls the snow And his heart leaps within him for glee ; His soul has a rapture we verily know, As his shouts ring so loudly and free : His playmates have joined him in making the ball, And now at each other a-pelting they fall. How sad is the invalid when the white flakes Pass before the clear pane in a shower. And nearer his seat to the hearth-stone he takes, To enjoy the fire's life-giving power. He turns with a shudder and look of affright, And heartily longs the return of the night. The snowdrift is hurrying the traveller on, He hath quickened the pace of his steed. And thinks of the dwelling from which he has gone ; To the blast he is paying no heed ; For ever before him, where'er he may roam, He sees through the tempest the comforts of home. The widow is sighing, o'erburdened with care. As her fatherless children implore ; She looks on the loaf with an eye of despair. And her tears oft besprinkle the floor ; Though trusting that God, Who alone knows thy fate, How bitter, poor widow, in winter thy state. 192 REMEMBER THE POOR. The Christian a lesson derives from the storms, And in faith is uphfting his eye ; He knows that ahove not a hurricane harms, And there no chilly wind goeth by ; When death shall release him, life's troubles are o'er, That moment he steps on the heavenly shore. REMEMBER THE POOR. When Winter is come with his frosts and his snows, And the flowers cease to bloom at the door ; When fields which have lost their green hue in the night, ^ Are sprinkled with rime and are dazzling and white, We ought to remember the poor. We fancy when brilliant the sunbeams appear. That the Winter will ravage no more ; And name that new garb, which the earth has derived, A fleeting possession — a glory short-lived, But let us remember the poor. When blackbirds and linnets suspend all their notes, And the loss of long days we deplore ; With Spring's budding graces, with Autumn's full bloom, With Summer's bright flowers, and its honeyed perfume. Then let us remember the poor. REMEMBER THE POOR. 193 When brooks cease to babble, and rivers to flow, And their banks do not smile as before ; When rime on the trees in large clusters depends. And Winter reigns sternly ; then let them have friends — The aged, afflicted, and poor. When friends meet again that may not have once met Since old Christmas was last here before ; And when all are gay, and are merry and free, — Although 'tis a season of mirth and of glee, — let us remember the poor. Let wealth now be scattered with liberal hand — For the winterly tempests roar ; let us then comfort the needy and sad, Whose hearts thoughts of Christmas can scarcely make glad : Yea, let us remember the poor. ye that may revel amid all the best That the teeming earth brings to your store. Pray treat not the helpless with scorn or disdain, — let them not plead for one moment in vain ; Remember the suffering poor. N 194 TO A SNOWDROP. TO A SNOWDEOP. I L0\^ to gaze Upon thy beauty pure and mild ; In early days Thy perfume scents the hedgerow mild. No sunny beam A touch of warmth e'er gives to thee ; It thaws the stream, Thy friend, thy crushing foe to be. Thy form is bent, And trembles in the wintry breeze ; To die content, E'er spring shall wave her verdant trees, Before the spring Arrives, thy lot it is to die : Poor tiny thing ! I breathe to thee a farewell sigh. Though wild and free, Thou art a flower of humble birth, Unknown to thee Is pride, thou gem of mother earth. TO A SNOWDROP. 195 In silent nooks Thy leaves enchant the wandering sight ; And by the brooks, And in the fields draw in the light. Thy gentle head Thou raisest, where the children tell Their joys, when fled Are other flowers from field or dell. Thy flowers fair, The distant shore which blossom by, So beauteous there, For whiteness, the sea-spray outvie. But soon shall cease Harsh winds to touch thy snow-tint shades ; And will increase The sea-pinks, where the snowdrop fades. Bloom on, sweet flower. Bloom fresh and fair, in beauty's pride, In winter's hour. When dark clouds lie on every side. When Sol nor beams But shrouds his radiant loveliness, Thy beauteous gleams Cheer oft the garden wilderness. 196 TO A SNOWDROP. Thou comest, when Upon the tree no leaf is left, To cheer us then — For earth is of her flowers bereft. Thy snowy head Is charming to the vagrant's eye ; Their radiance shed Thy leaves of brightest, richest dye. Amid the gloom To stand, attired in fair array. Why dost thou come, And pass so fleetly to decay ? As hope makes glad, And bids dark clouds to disappear ; When hours are sad Thou comest, and when skies are drear. To see thee live We mortals love, but nought can do, And nought can give, To cause thee long to stay in view. Thy presence tells A season far more bright is nigh. When o'er the dells Enamoured larks will soar ou high. A WITHERED CROCUS. 197 But soon a change O'er earth shall come, as time along His course will range, When birds, with rivers, blend in song. Of childhood hours The flower, the star in age's gloom ; When death is ours, Fond friend, grow thou upon our tomb. This is thy mark, To man a lesson to impart ; " When life is dark, Strive yet to wear a trusting heart : Nor sink in death Amid the darkest hours of gloom ; Be strong your faith In Him who bids the snowdrop bloom." Thou pale and wan, Art on the drifted snow reclined, Like feeble man, To live 'midst blighting storms designed. May I endure, Like thee, the passing storms of life, And then ensure The haven ever free from strife. 198 A WITHERED CROCUS. A WITHERED CROCUS. Oh I remember when a boy, How I would in my childish way Low bend to question flowers with joy, And for an answer stay. But when the world's experience Was firmly rooted in my breast, That tender, youthful innocence, No longer there had rest. Since base deceit distrust imparts, Let us its eauterisms heed ; Let us not steel our human hearts. But be from hardness freed. How sad to see the light of life That beauty ever throws around. Whilst in the midst of graces rife, One marcid flower is found. That crocus is with withered leaf A toy for every moving breeze, As stern inconsolable grief That nought can charm or please. A WITHERED CROCUS. ] 99 Ah ! what avails the gentle rain ? And what the sun's most genial ray ? These must on it descend in vain As favours cast away. When on a pleasant walk I see A withered flower before me lie, 'Tis then the thought recurs to me — That man must surely die. Invigorating winds may blow, And showers of rain may softly fall, Or orb of day may warmly glow, That flower is dead to all. How changed that once attractive form I I ken its altered low estate ! But yesterday it braved the storm In vigorous health elate. For then it met my downward glance ; The zephyrs stirred its petals bright, Which moved in sportive dalliance Amid the golden light. Although its bud in early year Essayed to burst its wintry thrall, How brief, though bright was its career ? 'Twas destined soon to fall. 200 "IS IT NOT poetry" ? Its fellows teem around to-day, But insecure they're doomed to fade, Long ere the cuckoo's simple lay Comes softened o'er the glade. o Since man must mingle with the clay. And soon must pass life's boasted prime, Let him build for that endless day " Beyond the flight of time." I, too, must droop, as yonder flower — That withered once, its life is o'er — But I, in Heaven's delightful bower May bloom for evermore. Although, like it, I too, must die, Hope points beyond the grave's short reign ; My body in the tomb may lie, I yet shall live again. "IS IT NOT POETRY?" Is it not poetry, when the young earth With its wild-flowers is sweetest, and the breeze Floats like a whispered music in the trees. To hear the birds pour forth their strains of mirth ? "is it not poetry?" 201 To see, ere spring shall climb his palace towers, Chaste flowers upspring — the firstborn of the earth. When round his vernal altars, every birth Gladdens the freshness of the rapid hours ? Is it not poetry to see all fair And lovely things before the vision lie, When there is not a gloomy tint upon the sky, And not a breath of discord in the air ? To watch the starry fires ascend on high, — To watch them at the silent midnight hour. Till ray by ray they pour the mingled shower. Of living glory o'er the quiet sky. Is it not poetry, by some dark rock To stand, and see the stainless waters flow, Which streak with emerald sod their tracks below. And spread their crystals o'er each jutting block ? To see each teeming wave that seeks the shore, O'er bank and mound, in rage, so swiftly sweep. As from their ridge the foamy masses leap, And heights rebellow to their watery roar ? Now lost in darkling steeps, now issuing bright, To leave their native fountains far behind, 'Tis poetry to see fair rivers wind, Throughout deep glens, like long clear lines of light. 202 "IS IT NOT POETRY ? " Standing beneath the universe of blue, Is it not poetry of thought sublime, To see the giant sun exulting climb His hill of hills and blaze upon our view ? To see the radiant painted butterfly, When countless summer groves delighted fling Their richest fragrance round his restless wing, Go fluttering beneath a glorious sun ? The rocks, the floods down gushing from their height. The lofty clouds that veil the loftiest peaks, Are these not poetry ? — a love that speaks Deep in the enthusiast bosom they delight ? Is there not poetry in the awful rage. When ill the solemn midnight loosed among The mountain peaks dark clouds and whirlwinds throng, And earth and sky their Titan battles wage ? There's poetry where'er the eye is free To wander heaven above, or earth below ; There's poetry where'er the wild flowers blow ; There's poetry beside the sounding sea. To me the voice of wild-birds on the gale, The bittern's scream, the curlew's far shrill note, The whirring wings that o'er dark waters float. And the night raven's cries along the vale ; A DAY IN GUNBY PARK. 203 To me the tempest's roll, the thunder's voice, Are poetry all eloquent of power ; And in the storm at midnight's gloomy hour. They bid my spirit kindle and rejoice. A DAY IN GUNBY PAKE, LINCOLNSHIRE. (Ix December.) The changing hours Of autumn have fled ; The sered leaves the ground o'erspread, And vanished are the flowers. Short is the day And silent the glade, The summer birds within the shade Now sleep the hours away. The glassy lake No swallow dips in, And from the sombre clouds is seen To drop the flimsy flake. No floweret tells The birth of the spring, But joy pervades the heart as ring The merry Burgh bells. 204 A DAY IN GUNBY PARK. That icebound are The springs have no flow ; The beck is blocked by frost and snow — Nature's effectual bar. The bee is gone, And bare are the trees, But Time, with his unchanging breeze. Still bears us on and on. But soon shall Spring Reign over the earth. And scenes anew be filled with mirth. And warblers gaily sing. As this month dies. Another appears ; So roll the months, so roll the years, Alternate fall and rise. The year's last breath How soon will be drawn ! But who before the next shall dawn. May close his eyes in death ? 1 KEMEMBER, I REMEMBER." 205 "I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER" (Hood). •' I REMEMBER, I remember," Bright hours long passed away ; Yet how seldom I remember The shadows of to-day. " I remember, I remember," When all was dark aromid. My heart, from some sweet memory, An inward pleasure found. " I remember. I remember," Bright visions of the past, Nor care I for the troubled splendour, Upon the present cast. " I remember, I remember," The sorrows on my way, When my path seemed midst the flowers Of the long, long summer day. ** I remember, I remember," That when I forced a smile, I felt the heart-pulse sinking With some hidden woe the while. *' I remember, I remember," W' hile in this world of fears, I have not always done with grief When I have done with tears. 206 TO THE OLD YEAK. TO THE OLD YEAR. 1859. Though oft thou hast revealed The ardent lover's sighs, Thy seasons in their course Have blasted many joys ; They have of sorrow told, And silenced much of mirth ; We have some loved ones missed, "Who sat beside our hearth. The seat is vacant now That last year mother filled. And many weeks have passed Since father's voice was stilled, A sister with them lay Before a month had flown ; To number with the dead A brother, too, has gone. Now France and Italy, And Austria mourn their sons. And we, in the far East, Have lost some glorious ones. How many homes there be Throughout this happy land, Where death hath not appeared — A favoured household band. i TO THE OLD YEAK. 207 Oh ! many are the friends, Whose love and truth have cheered, And blest the orphaned youth, Since thy first light appeared : A heart, a tongue, a hand. Or sympathising ear. Was lent to all their joy. Their hope, their doubt and fear. Though often shadows deep Have deepened day by day. Though cares and trials have long Held on their torturing sway. Yet hope a whisper breathed, And threw a glowing ray, Upon our troubled path. To cheer our lonely way. Though thou hast ruled us long, Thou hast not night nor day Forgotten once to give While holding regal sway. And quite around our world- This wondrous circling ball. Thou, with a fostering care, Hast nursed and cherished all. 208 A HAPPY NEW YEAE. But now, yes, now, we deck With mistletoe the hall. While sprigs of evergreen We hang around the wall. So let our joys increase, A New Year fills thy place. When thou, the famed Old Year, Shalt ever hide thy face. A HAPPY NEW YEAR. Let gladness beam in every face, Let voices ring and hearts beat high. Another year has ta'en the place Of that which recently flew by. A Happy New Year to all As happy as e'er can be, May nothing of evil befal Our country so blest and so free. As kindness keeps the human heart. As man exists midst want and grief, So let each bravely do his part To aid the wretched : time is brief. A Happy New Year to all, Who may have resolved to bend An ear to the needy who call, That poverty may in our cottages end. NEW year's day. 209 Pray wipe remorseful tears away, Improve the lioiirs —they fly so fast ; And let us learn this very day, A lesson from the sullied past, A Happy New Year again, To those who have done amiss. Last year may be marked with a stain. Avoid, pray, such conduct in this. There is a balm for all our pain. And something still we feel is sweet — Though for lost friends we sigh again. There is a place where all may meet. A Happy New Year we say, To those who have sorrow known ; The year which did bring the sad day Hath into Eternity flown. NEW YEAR'S DAY. Januaky 1st, 1862. Time will not stay, and on his way Hath turned another leaf ; He loudly calls — to each one calls- " Beware, the hours are brief." 210 AT MY mother's GRAVE. The rugged road that we have trod, Is overgrown with weeds ; And many stains that book contains — The record of our deeds. As on the past our eyes we cast, We view a blotted page ; But wipe regretful tears, and let Wise thoughts our hearts engage. Hope upward springs, and poised on wings Outspread she hovers near. And fain would have our hearts be brave Throughout the untried year. AT MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. ' I love to see the lofty down Well clad with upland flowers, That lovely Summer shines upon, And feeds with dews and showers. To hear the sounds of joy and mirth Come sweeping through the vale, They seem to gladdeu all the earth, And echo through each dale. I love to hear amid the trees, And 'mid the hawthorn bower. The whispering of the summer breeze, That kisses every flower. And when, far o'er the dappled lea. The bars of sunlight flit, I love, beneath an old oak tree, Or leafy elm, to sit. I love to see the bees go by, That flowery sweets distil ; And see the gaudy butterfly Wandering where he will. SUMMER. 411 The flowers beneath a Summer sky, Upon a lovely bed, Their beauties to the passing eye So modestly outspread. To see, where many willows weep, And bushes deck the slope, The little birds from nest-homes peep, In mingled fear and hope. To linger in the hawthorn dell, Or roam the groves among. To climb the hill, to pace the fell, And catch each warbler's song ; When zephyrs kiss the dewy flowers That sparkle on the lea. To wander through the woodland bowers And hear the wild-bird's glee. When roses, myrtles, and the vines Are flourishing around, To see old trees, when the sun shines, Throw shadows on the ground. And in those shadows to repose. When fields are robed in green, When foxgloves and the wild hedge-rose And blue-bells may be seen. 412 AUTUMN. To quit the busy haunts of life, And give my soul to song, And, far removed from human strife, To roam the wilds among. To wander unconfined and free, Through field, and glen, and grove ; Free as the breeze, or summer bee, Roaming through scenes I love. I love, when clear are Summer's skies To leave the dusty towns. And feel that study makes me wise, In fields, or woods, or downs. I love to sit upon the grass. Beside some babbling brook. And there, as hours so slowly pass, Read some instructive book. AUTUMN. 1 LOVE beside the hedge to rove When hawthorn berries glow, When nuts in clusters grow above And blackberries below. AUTUMN. 413 To see the foliage-crowded glen Look fresh, and green, and fair, To see the tall bean waving, when It scents the autumnal air. To hear at eve the songsters lull With song the thin-clad bowers, Whene'er I roam the fields to cull The last of Autumn's flowers. To see the many-tinted bow Adorn the weeping skies, Commanding nature's tear-drops glow And drooping flowerets rise. I love when winds with force assail And devastate the mead. To see a flower bend to the gale Its meek, and lowly head ; When past the storm and Phoebus brings His bright enlivening rays, To see it as it upward springs Again into its place. And where the waving corn is seen, And sturdy reapers found Thrusting the busy sickle in. And sheaves lie scattered round, 414 AUTUMN. To see them bend their wilKng frames, And then large handfuls grasp, While the bright hook a moment flames, And the crisp straw they rasp. I love to hear the reapers cry " Hurrah for harvest home," And woods repeat it to the sky And echo " Harvest home." I love who toil in plain attire — The humbly born and bred ; Whose hearts glow with a patriot fire, And wield the battle blade. I love my country, home, and kind ; To hold with a strong hand All the mysterious cords which bind Me to my fatherland. I love, yes, I love most dear The land which gave me birth. There is that aye my soul would cheer My native nook of earth. WINTEK. 415 WINTER. I LOVE to see a kindly face, To bear a cordial tone, To gaze around my dwelling-place, And feel I'm not alone. To see an ample table spread, A cbarm o'er all tilings tbrown ; To feel tbat God tbe daily bread Hatb given to His own. I love to see tbe lifeboat, wben Sbe boldly rides tbe wave, Wben pull tbe crew witli migbt and main, Poor sinking souls to save. To feel wben angry tempests roll Across eacb cbanging scene, Tbat God preserves my inmost soul Untroubled and serene. Tbougb bitter blasts and pelting sbowers Obstruct my rugged road. To tbink tbat tbere are sunny bours For tbose wbo trust in God. 416 EVENING. I love to feel my soul rise free In faithful earnest prayer ; To feel that He who succours me Makes me His guardian care. EVENING. I LOVE to walk in evening's shade, To hail the Queen of Night, That through the wood, and through the glade, Sends forth her beams of light. And when the star and moonbeam play Upon the scenes I love, To leave the frequented highway, And seek the silent grove. To see the sun in western skies Shine on the earth awhile, To see it when its glittering dyes Sink with a placid smile. To see the gentle evening star, The wanderer to his rest That lights, while from his home afar, And cheers his throbbing breast. NIGHT. 417 'Tis thus Hope's blissful reigii extends Our drooping hearts to save, Our weary pathways it befriends, And points beyond the grave. I love to have a peaceful breast. Whene'er I close a day, And feel that when I take my rest, I've trod the good old way. NIGHT. When Sol has sunk into the west, And twilight hours are o'er, To see the moon display her crest, Where fleecy cloudlets soar. When glittering stars in beauty peep From lofty thrones of blue ; When all around are fast asleep, To wander woodlands through. When nightingales in shady groves, Their midnight lays outpour, And warble, as night onward moves, To hear their songs so pure. BB 418 CONCLUSION. I love at night to sit beside My hearth, where oft I've trod, And feel when the fierce winds betide, Secure in my abode. When midnight gilds the chamber round From yonder distant tower, I love to hear the solemn sound. That speaks the midnight hour ; And think when darkest is the night, And silence holds its sway. The sun with his pervading light, Will shortly bring the day. CONCLUSION. I LOVE to see some promise bud, Nursed in hope's fairy bower. That every tempest hath withstood, Become a favourite flower. To know that bright and fragrant flowers Are strewn upon my road, That bitter blasts and pelting showers Shall mar not my abode. When the cold winds of life may blow, 'Tis not in vain I pray. To find my hopes the firmer grow. As the sound dies away. CONCLUSION. 419 I love to bend in fervent prayer, And to be beard on bigb ; To feel my deeds are written there ; My name beyond the sky : That honour all my actions guides ; That I am aye sincere ; That virtue in my breast resides. And pity lodges there. To know, when I have done with care. And life's stern duties close, That in the grave-yard I shall share An undisturbed repose. To know that for the pious dead There is a home above ; Their spirits, when from earth they're fled, Shall glow with purest love. To know whenever Death may work With his tremendous power. And from our heaving bosoms pluck A sweet — a much-loved-Hower ; And some sad desperate ravage make Within the peaceful home, And we the lifeless body take To bury in the tomb ; 420 CONCLUSION. Though that great conqueror be*so stern, As thus to wound the heart, By taking those who ne'er return, And sorrow thus impart ; Although the body may be slain, And silent in the dust, The souls of saints, at once, attain A place among the just. To know when saints have ceased to toil, And finished labour here. Grief will no more their glory soil. Nor trouble cause a tear. That Satan cannot there assail Those whom we loved beneath. That then his power will be too frail To blast their shining wreath. That when the happy soul is gone, No anguish tears his breast ! And sweet the warbling of his song Within that home of rest. That all may join that holy throng, Around the throne above, And sing the grand seraphic song. Inspired by Jesu's love. CONFESSION AND PRAYER. 421 When all are with God's presence blest, No sorrow shall intrude : For every sigh shall be suppressed, And every tear subdued. CONFESSION AND PRAYER. Abide by me, my loving Father pray, Then I shall have no cause for needless fear, However fierce temptation or how near, However long, or rough, or thorny be my way. Abide by me, Thy lost one. Lord, revive ! Thou good and gracious Father can it be That I should still refuse to come to Thee, And foolishly with death and darkness strive. Abide by me, though I neglected Thee ; For two long years my heart Thy goodness spurned. And from Thy kind forbearing love I turned ; But now Thy wondrous offering sets me free. Abide by me, and give my soul relief — The blessed power to seek, the heart to pray Thou would'st this heavy burden bear away Of lonely incommunicable grief. 422 CONFESSION AND PRAYER. Abide with me, and wipe the weeper's eyes — Mine is a truly broken contrite heart ; Pardon, and joy, and peace to me impart : To hear Thy loving voice my spirit sighs. Abide by me, I fain would blot these years Of sin and woe, and wish the strife away ; Yet bid the glory of Thy presence stay. And each foreboding shadow disappears. Abide by me, low at the Master's feet ^ Yes, now in meek abasement I draw near The cross with humble penitence and fear ; Uphold me while I weep in reverence meet. Abide by me. Thy lowly suppliant cries, ]\Iay I abounding grace and mercy share And feel the mighty power of faithful prayer To bring a peaceful answer from the skies. Abide by me. Teach me to love Thee more : 'Twas worldly love that held me back from Thee ; Cast not away Thine own nor frown on me, Then shall my love be deeper than before. Abide by me, — Too long near ruin's brink, But now I worship Thee, and would have brought Into captivity my every thought, And deep the spirit of devotion drink. CONFESSION AND PKAYER. 423 Abide by me, and let me see Thy face ; Thy condescension, Lord, is truly great ; Bestow Thy richest blessing while I wait. In speechless wonder at Thy boundless grace. Abide by me ; Thy wayward child behold ; Than sunshine more ineffable Thy smile : Guide safely through all treachery and guile Thine everlasting arms around me fold. Abide by me — and that through all my days, And bid my drooping heart rejoice in Thee ; Since I confession make on bended knee, Comfort and cheer me, and the mourner raise. Abide by me. Tiiy arms will guard and bless When human eye nor heart is near me, still By angel- hand withholding me from ill : So full Thy sweet undreamed-of tenderness. Abide by me, and let my ways be right. Then through Thy truth, if sanctified, I can Ring out defiance in the face of man, And set Thy gospel in the kindest light. Abide by me, when cares and woes are rife, Give me in every word the Master saith Audacious and enthusiastic faith And give me both new lease, new tone to life. 424 CONFESSION AND PRAYER. Abide by me — Let all around me see, To battle for Thy truth I'm unafraid, Undaunted, unashamed, and undismayed. There's no discredit in confessing Thee. Abide by me. How great the blessing still — The secret which a trusting heart can share, To find the treasure of that soul is there Who steadfast does and suffers all Thy will. Abide by me. Thou makest all things bright : For when my gladdened heart within me burns, 'Tis then I know my spirit's eye discerns Foretokens of that blissful land of light. Abide by me. I own Thy mighty hand Shall lead me safely to the height. Where peaceful souls shall feast on pure delight, And bear the raptures of the heavenly land. Abide by me, and when my loved ones lay My body in the silent grave to rest, And place their flowery tributes on my breast, Thou wilt have called my soul to heaven away. Abide by me ; since Thou dost me uphold, I rise to conscious fellowship with God, And know in my last hour Thy staff and rod Shall comfort me, and I shall join Thy fold. DEATH OF A WIDOW. 425 DEATH OF A WIDOW. She gladdened all around, That came within her sphere, For happiness she made Home's constant atmosphere. Her comitenance was bright, And you might deem that care Had thrown no darkening shad( Across her path to bear. Her every pulse was quick. Love in her heart was strong, Gifted, was she, and fair, But ah ! bereft so young. Accustomed, she, to take Her child upon her knee. And speak to him of Heaven, From sin and sorrow free ; She then would call to mind A long-remembered face. No longer mourned as lost, But absent for a space : But in that quiet home A different scene appears, The mother's frame decays. Though vigorous for years. 426 DEATH OF A WIDOW. As on her fevered couch She lay outstretched in pain, Her dreams of hope and love Faded from sight again. A deepening colour spread Upon each lovely cheek, For suddenly she wept, And quickly turned to speak: — " How shall I speak, and how Command my tongue to tell My thoughts to one whose name's To me a sacred spell ? " Oh. brother! I have words To say, that may thy heart With anguish fill, yet must Be spoken ere we part. My stay on earth is short, My sands of life run low, Protect my only child. Where'er his footsteps go. A faithful guardian be. In thee I can confide. For thou hast proved a friend. Since his dear father died. DEATH OF A WIDOW. 427 " So let me lay my head Upon thy gentle breast ; This head will soon upon A colder pillow rest. Thy feeling is expressed By tears that fall so fast, Let not my weakness grieve Thee, it will soon be past. What, if Death's friendly hand Should still this throbbing heart "? Do not too fondly mourn, 'Tis but awhile we part. '• Oh ! weep not over me, For I am called away, It blessed is to leave This world of misery. With all its wasted hopes. And dark temptations too, When love is often lost, And friends may prove untrue ; For one where love and truth Will eve7- present be, Where weary spirits rest, That rest I long to see. 428 DEATH OF A WIDOW. •' Now, the wild wish to hear Thy loving voice once more, Is all that keeps me back From death's most peaceful shore ; My tone, thy longing ear Will never reach again ! And must I die without A word to soothe this pain ? Without another look Of love from those dear eyes, In answer to my long- Poured tears, and lengthened sighs ? " From anxious thoughts her mind Was free, when he replied : — '• As one of mine shall be Thy darling at my side." In accents weak and low. She next her boy addressed, While in her dying hand, His little one she pressed. " Now, when I'm gone, whence no Eeturn can e'er be made, Allow no kind advice From memory to fade. DEATH OF A WIDOW. 429 " Oh, think of one who taught Thy infant voice to say, * God, hear my simple prayer, And bless me day by day.' The world to thee seems fair, But grief is ever nigh, Then put thy trust in God, And meet me in the sky ; Regard my last request With tender memory. My strong affection then Shall well requited be." She bade her friends farewell, Their adulation chid. She knew her graces all Would in the grave be hid. " Oh ! what avails my gift Of song ? my beauty now ? What care I for a wreath Of fame upon my brow ? A never-fading crown This forehead soon shall wear ; A palm of victory This drooping hand shall bear. I ! 430 DEATH OF A WIDOW. j " And when I reach the home i Prepared for saints and me, To sing my Jesu's praise My chief dehght shall be. I My friends, if trouble here Can make our spirits cower, They, free, from grief shall bloom, In an immortal bower ! " The lustre passed from off Her head of golden hue. But on her forehead white, The white more purely grew. A look of fondness beamed On all her mourning friends. Who watch beside her bed, But now her smiling ends. As the departing sun A glory leaves behind On all the evening clouds, So she her breath resigned. Oh ! may each widow have, Like her, a hopeful end, And may we all in death Find Christ a present Friend. I SHE IS GONE. 431 SHE IS GONE. Lines written on the receipt of a Funeral Card, in memory of the wife of John Hay, Esq., of Tetney, on which the following words were inscribed : " An example of suffering, affliction, and of patience." She is gone ! and we but sorrow Deeply o'er her senseless urn, Oh how darkly conies the morrow To the eyes of those who mourn. She is gone ! where'er her dwelling We, again of hope bereft, Can but look, with heart o'er-swelling, At the blank which she has left. She is gone ! wlio once incited Her's to good in deed and word. And who oft some hymn recited To the little minds she stored. She is gone ! and each sweet story, She hath to her children told Of the Lord of Life and Glory, They will prize a thousand-fold. She is gone ! who was so zealous, Watching o'er the household youug, With an eye extremely jealous, Keeping them from doing wrong. 432 SHE IS GONE. She is gone ! and he who sought her, And four sons stand by the bier, And a sole surviving daughter, Who was her peculiar care. She is gone ! and we weep o'er her, But the ceaseless tears we weep Cannot to our hearts restore her — Cannot break her dreamless sleep. She is gone ! who lived respected ; She is numbered with the dead ; And she is so much regretted Since her generous spirit fled. She is gone ! and o'er earth's bosom Few had patience like to hers, Faith and grace were in full blossom, — One of Christ's true followers. She is gone ! and closed for ever Is her lately sparkhng eye ; Though so long afflicted, never Knew we one more fit to die. She is gone ! although sad hearted Her lamenting friends appear. Well we know her soul departed To a brighter, happier sphere. AT A FUNERAL. 433 She is gone ! and time in rolling Many disappointments brings, Yet we claim one thought consoling — That the saint in Zion sings. She is gone ! and gone for ever, Who was loved by all so well ; Gone to join — no more to sever — - Those who with their Saviour dwell. She is gone ! yet will we cherish One fond hope, nor hope in vain — Whensoe'er our bodies perish, That our souls meet hers again ; "When this life by death is ended, And the resurrection o'er. We, in soul and body blended. May be happy evermore. AT A FUNERAL. God with sorrow's bitter waters. To the brim has filled the cup ; And compelled a weeping household. In our midst to drink it up. cc 434 WELCOME DEATH ! " Even so ! our rightful Sovereign ! " From our deep abasement, we Upward to Thy sceptre looking, Only can reply to Thee. Even so ! our gracious Father ! Faith, reposing on Thy throne, Calmly answers : as Thou chosest, Deal in mercy with Thine own. Yet our prayer receive ! as opens Earth to take its sacred trust ; Ere the last cold kiss we gather From the lip on which is dust — That this deeply-wailing household, And each household, stricken so. May the blessing of bereavement, Sanctified for ever know. WELCOME, DEATH! or, THE DYING CHRISTIAN. Welcome, Death ! Grave messenger, thy sure approach I long to greet ; And thy form that cannot on my soul encroach, With smiles I'll meet. WELCOME, DEATH. 485 Welcome, Death ! Thy certain but thy slow advance, I gladly see, And I firmly gaze on thy uplifted lance, From sadness free. Welcome, Death ! No single frown upon thy face Can I discern ; As a lover waits— to feel thy cold embrace My whole concern. Welcome, Death ! I style myself thy ready bride With secret joy ; And my steadfast soul thy long-expected stride Cannot annoy. Welcome, Death ! Thy stroke from earthly cares and woes Will me relieve. From this world, where disappointment rankly grows And friends deceive. Welcome, Death ! Through space my spirit pants to fly, And rest above ; There, by bliss surrounded, far beyond the sky, To dwell in love. Welcome, Death ! I then shall join a glorious throng In hymns of praise ; Where a rapture each melodious heavenly song Shall sweetly raise. 436 WELCOME, DEATH. Welcome, Death ! Though myriads meet in pure dehght They never part ; And the host beholding that transportant siglit Are one in heart. Welcome, Death ! For Christ, my friend in life, will be My friend in death ; And heaven will at once commence whene'er shall flee My latest breath. Welcome, Death ! My body only thou canst have ; My happy soul Shall that moment life inherit, for no grave Can be its goal. Welcome, Death ! I'll triumph when from pain I'm free ; And then shall ring Joyful shouts through Zion. as I ask of thee — " Where is thy sting? " Welcome, Death ! Thy charge unto thy Master give. Without delay. Now, my Jesus, speak the word, and I shall live In endless day. WHY WEEP AT DEATH ? 437 WHY WEEP AT DEATH? Why weep at death ? Thy childhood long has past, Youth's days are gone, and manhood done. And age has come at last ; The sunny hours of life have sped, And clouds hang round the fated head. Why weep at death ? Though death-damps there Are gathering now upon thy brow — Thy forehead once so fair, And on thy chill and pallid face Pain shall not leave a single trace. Why weep at death ? When death has had his will, Some eyes will weep, some hearts will keep Thy frienship's memory still. Thou hast many a loving friend, Who will prove faithful to life's end. Why weep at death ? Oft in this vale of tears, When smile the flowers, down fall the showers. And hopes give place to fears ; But in the world of bliss above All fear is lost in perfect love. 438 "A missionary's fakewell." Why weep at death ? What though the flesh be frail '? The darkest day will pass away, And soon be crossed the vale. In death the spirit feels its might, And soars rejoicing into light Why weep at death ? • Beyond this world of ours There is a life unmixed with strife, And there are happier hours, Where purest lustre charms the sight. Emitting glory's radiant light. "A MISSIONARY'S FAEEWELL." Loud calls a voice — " At once decline The ease and comforts of thy home, To heathens take the Word, that they May not in darkness roam. " God will protect His own where'er On earth He fixes their abode, Lo ! He is with thee to the end, To share thy heavy load." TO A FRIEND ON HER WEDDING DAY. 439 '♦ Thougli hard my lot I cheerly yield — For duty's pressing voice I bear, Since all to Jesus I commit, He will remove all fear. " Pray let us, friends, be joined in heart ; Pray let our souls united be ; Though we be parted far and wide, Nor one another see. " In yonder world no sickness blasts, No death intrudes, no tempests roll, No teal' nor sigh can e'er disturb The raptures of the soul ! " TO A FRIEND ON HER WEDDING DAY. December 5th, 1894. Mrs. John George Wells, ne Caroline Maria Dales (Carrie), Hawthorn Villa, Bracebridge. Though thou art now become a wife, Bid not thy fears adieu : Comforts there are in married life. But there are crosses too. Thy prospects and thy hopes are great, May heaven thy hopes fulfil ; But thou wilt find in every state Some difficulties still. 440 TO A FRIEND ON HER WEDDING DAY. I would not wish to mar tliy mirth, With an ungrateful sound ; But pray remember, bliss on earth No mortal ever found. Those rites which lately joined those hands Cannot ensure content ; Eeligion forms the strongest bands And love the best cement. Husbands have faults and humours too. So mutable are they ; And thine has failings — am I true ? Then hide them all, I pray No anger nor resentment keep Whatever is amiss ; Before you sleep be reconciled And seal it with a kiss. When there is cause to reprimand. Do it with mild address ; For he is now thy dearest friend, Then love him none the less. But yet God's blessing daily crave, Nor trust thy faithful heart ; Thou must divine assistance have To act a prudent part. IN MEMORIAM. 441 Mutual attempts to serve and please Each other will endear ; So both may spend a life with ease Nor discord interfere. For friendships, founded on esteem, Endure life's flattering blast ; They will not vanish as a dream ; May thine for ever last. IN MEMORIAM. Samuel Cracfurd Wills, who died April 4th, 1866, aged 9 months. " It is well with the child. A FEW days back the boy God gave Was smiling, blooming, gay ; But now the all-devouring grave Lies gaping for its prey. I miss his happy childish smiles. When early dawn is here ; I mourn his gleesome, baby wiles. When eventide is near. 442 IN MEMORIAM. The babe would round me fondly cling, With joy-illumined eyes, Whene'er I brought him flowers of spring- A pretty perfumed prize. And when we placed his picture-book Before his yearning mind, He spoke his thanks in well-pleased look And doubtless thought us kind. His early sense of happiness. The birth of ecstacy, He tried with smiling to express Uplifting hands to me. How like a short-lived day to me The time soon flitted by. When on his steps of infancy Glanced tenderly mine eye. It was but early in the day, Amid our tears and sighs, He left the trafiick-trodden way, Where smoke bedims the skies. Death nipped the blossom in its bloom, And proved his savage power ; This fragrant branch bore to the tomb — This choice and lovely flower. Angels commissioned from on high Flew down on wings of love And took his spirit to the sky — To realms of joy above. IN MEMORIAM. 443 The pulse of life was ebbing now, The beating heart grew still ; Though sad we meekly had to bow To the Almighty's will. Like some fair flower in spring fresh born, Upon a sunny day, — But night-frost came and in the morn He drooped and died away. His gentle spirit pure and free Dwells in that realm of light ; And he amid heaven's harmony Is now a cherub bright. Another spirit gone above. Another palm to hold ; Another voice to sing His love. And play a harp of gold. His taste of human ill was brief, His hours were few and sweet, A seraph now, and done with grief. He sits at Jesu's feet. My weary way I now pursue, My latest joy is fled ; My boy is hidden from my view. And slumbers with the dead. Another lamb gone from the fold ; Its faint and gentle bleat Is silent in the gravelet cold. Where lamb and wolf may meet. 444 IN MEMORIAM. Ah ! yes, the mourning mother wept ; Before the morning broke, A long and silent sleep he slept. From which he never woke. A short time since she could caress Her laddie, young and fair ; Ne'er did tbe spring return to bless A fonder, happier pair. She, with enraptured heart, again His infant form embraced ; Poured o'er his lineaments, and then His father's image traced. " Sleep on, my beautiful, my child ! I kiss thy lineless brow ; A joyful watch my heart beguiled — But it is broken now. The fond caress at early day. The touch of gentle hand, The dawning word, the first essay, No more shall I command. Those lips which never uttered wrong, Which mine so oft have pressed. Are silenced with his clay-cold tongue In everlasting rest. Within that home of joy and peace, Where tears shall be forgot. Where weariness and grief shall cease. And woe remembered not ; IN MEMORIAM. 445 He is beyond the reach of pam, Of care-fraught toil and sighs ; Of fancies flitting through the brain, Or o'ercharged weeping eyes." Above us rang the solemn bell, We heard its measured toll ; The corpse was laid in narrow cell ; To heaven had gone a soul. The day was fine in bright springtime, And all was hushed and still, Save Bingham bells' sweet solemn chime Sounding o'er vale and hill. We passed along — a funeral train ; We paced the churchyard through, And gave to earth its clay again Where countless daisies grew. We, parents, o'er that lowly bed Wept with unfeigned grief, The joy of our sad hearts was dead — God gave the child relief. He nothing knew of chilling gloom, His days on earth were bright ; Though his remains lie in the tomb He lives in heavenly light. Through death's dark vale securely led, His soul a hallowed shrine ; A crown immortal on his head Will in full splendour shine. 446 IN MEMORIAM. Our hearts are mournfully cast down, Griefs rise with double power ; By sad experience felt and known In recent lonely hour.* Here we a glass see darkly through ; Hope is our pioneer, As down a chequered avenue We keep our purpose clear. This is another blessed tie, Held by a cord of love, Which binds our purest thoughts on high, To things which are above. may we meet, though parted here, In bliss to part no more ; And oh ! may all our children dear Land on that peaceful shore. *His older brother, William Nowell Wills, died but 9 days previously, also of diphtheria, aged 4 years and 11 months. See " Our Firstborn," page 122. -^XKQT BY THE SAME AUTHOE, TO DEVONIA, AND OTHER POEMS, (]862). OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " The volume before us is the production of a native of our own town ; and was written, as the author tells us in his preface, in consequence of ' many pressing solicitations from friends for copies of his poems.' The first and main piece is that which gives its title to the volume ; and is composed of thirteen parts in which the author descants with much pathos upon the loved scenes of the haunts of his childhood, describ- ing some of the ' quiet nooks ' ' Where nature's voice is calm and still, Save piping breeze or fall of rill,' in which he had so often found ' a shady, calm retreat.' He gives a description of Dartmoor scenery — a theme which allows full play to his fertile imagination — and relates his wanderings there, proving himself in his poem to have been an observer of Nature in all her various moods. The rivers of Devon he notices successively in one portion of the poem, and devotes other parts to lively descriptions of the various seasons. The author has addressed four pieces to as many young friends, wherein he gives good counsel as to what they should choose and what reject, and how they should conduct themselves in life. These we think are among his happiest productions. "Mr. Wills does best in the didactic and sacred styles. His compositions of that nature are, as a whole, rich in instruction and sound counsel, and contain many very good thoughts." ^Kingsbridge Gazette. "The pleasing little brochure from which we select an Ode on the Death of Prince Albert, is entitled ' Devonia, and other Poems,' the principal one that lends its name to the book being an address to the author's native county. It how- ever, forma only a small portion of the whole contents, which are greatly varied." — Kime's 'Albert the Good.' " This volume is dedicated to Sir R. J. Clifton, Bart., M.P. for Nottingham. It contains a poem on our good old town, and often refers to this neighbourhood incidentally ; and, beyond this, some of the writer's communications have been admitted into our own ' Poet's Corner.' Rather more than a quarter of the two hundred pages is devoted to poems of nearly all metres in praise of beautiful Devonshire. Such lines as those entitled ' A Year Ago,' (in present volume ' Some years Ago ' p. 140), and ' The Cradle ' (p. 121), have a quiet beauty. The book, which has been printed in Nottingham, is well got up, and makes a handsome-looking little volume." — Notting- ham Review. " Mr. Wills, the master of the Wesleyan School, at Burgh, has written a volume of poems which show a con- siderable amount of talent." — Stamford Mercury. "THE LINCOLNSHIRE LABOURER" (see page 11). " Evening Readings, Town Hall, Louth — Mr. Wills gave recitations : one ' The Lincolnshire Labourer,' a compo- sition of his own, being received with the greatest applause." — Louth Advertiser, Nov. 18th, 1865. " I need not say the audience were delighted with ' The Lincolnshire Labourer,' as they testified their approval by a vociferous encore. The ideas expressed, appealed to their domestic feelings, and the language in which they were clothed was in sympathy with their sentiments. I expect none ever heard so unique a description of Lincolnshire life, in language so unmistakably, and, I may say, exhaustively provincial." — Sec. Evening Readings. Louth, Nov. 21st, 1865. " Mr. S. Wills recited his ' Lincolnshire Labourer ' with great effect. The poem is written by himself in imitation of Tennyson, and contains about 200 words thoroughly understood by, and peculiar to, the Lincolnshire agricultural classes." — Stamford Mercury, Nov. 14th, 1865. " Tetney Penny Readings. — The programme of the evening was closed by an original poem, ' The Lincolnshire Labourer,' by Mr. Wills, which he recited. Tt is a very good imitation of Tennyson's ' Northern Farmer,' and is full of provincialisms, which, to a stranger are as puzzling as Dutch, but being all known to the assembly, caused great amusement by their being brought together in one connected form." — Grimsby Herald, December 29th, 1865. " ' The Lincolnshire Labourer ' is a very capital poem in the county dialect," — Lincoln Gazette, March 2nd, 1866. " ' The Lincolnshire Labourer ' is cleverly written in the Lincolnshire dialect, and is superior to any attempt hitherto made to embody the provincialisms of this county in a poem." — Grimsby Guardian, March 9th, 1866. " ' The Lincolnshire Labourer ' is a most worthy and commendable production."— Z)ar6?/ Mercury. " Mr. Wills is the master of the Sailors' Orphans' School in the Port of Hull, and was formerly the master of a Wesleyan school; he is the author of two volumes of verse, ' Devonia,' and the ' British Chief,' of which the local press speak in very favourable terms. In his preface to the latter, the author complains that ' there are persons to be found who do not admire the verse-making habit of a schoolmaster, and consider his scribbling to be a grave ofience,' and finds it necessary to explain that he ' never allowed himself to be diverted by a love of poetry from the most unceasing attention — during the proper hours— to the necessary employment of teaching.' Mr. WiLLS's employers must have been a set of narrow- minded Stigginses ; that the cultivation of any branch of literature should be considered to unfit a man for an intel- lectual pursuit, only goes to prove that the schoolmaster is indeed wanted in a neighbourhood where such an absurd and unjust feeling could find expression.' The poem of the ' Lincolnshire Labourer ' was probably suggested by Tennyson's ' Northern Farmer ' : it is a capital dialect reading, and as it is thoroughly well understood in the county to which it relates, (and where our Readings circulate very extensively), we have pleasure in giving it publicity." — -Carpenter's Penny Readings in Prose and Verse,— \o\.. 10, p. 148.— (1867). DD Foolscap 8vo., pp. 196, Price 3/-, cloth ; bevelled boards, gilt edges, 5/-. THE BEITISH CHIEF, AND OTHER POEMS. " It is due to Mr. Wills to remark that he merits success, many of his pieces being marked with a felicitous rhyme and a fertile imagination. We commend the book to those who would encourage humble merit, and also to those who can revel in the dreamland of fugitive Tpoetvy."— Lincoln, Rutland, and Stamford Mercury, Feb. 16th, 1866. "The 'British Chief (page 111) contains many fine passages, and cannot fail to recommend itself to all lovers of poetry. We must honestly say that its faults are very few, and its merits numerous and varied ' A Year Ago ' (page 1), is a touching poem which will reach the heart of every parent who peruses it"— Grimsby Herald, Feb. 23rd, 1866. Many of the shorter and lighter pieces are interesting and well-written, especially those of a sacred character. The pieces of this description are pleasing, and show, not only poetic feeling, but a truly Christian spirit. The collection possesses superior claims to the former one, and contains many poems of which the author may well be proud ; and we congratulate him on his advance in his poetical career. As an example of the poems of a serious character, we subjoin one— and there are many of equal merit— entitled ' Bereave- ment—A Mother's loss'" (page 2i3).—Kingsbridge Gazette, Feb. 24th, 1866. " Many of the poems are very superior both in thought and execution. Let us take for example ' Hope and Sorrow ' (page 5). The idea is that to all animated beings there is a day of Hope and a night of Sorrow. The verses entitled an ' Old Man's Song ' (page 97) are pleasing to the ear and pixre in sentiment." — Grimsby Advertiser, Feb. 24th, 1866. •' The public must see the liigh aims, the artistic impulse, and the practically didactic purpose of the volume." — Daily Bristol Times and Mirror, Feb. 26th, 18(5G. " ' The British Chief ' (page 141) is written in blank verse, and worthy an honoured place in every Lincolnshire library." — Lincolnshire Herald, Feb. 27th, 1866. " Mr. Wills is already favourably known as the author of ' Devonia and other poems.' Most of the short pieces in his second volume are excellent, and we extract ' One Taken and the Other Left ' (page 172) as a fair sample of the contents of the book." — Lincoln Gazette, ilarch 2nd, 1866. "This work offers a means of desirable investment to those who, without expecting to find a Byron or Tennyson, are content to find the workings of a mind amongst the masses, capable of many beautiful sentiments gleaned from the teach- ing of rich nature. There are in the ' British Chief ' (page 141) many pleasing and creditable efforts of versification. The sonnets are much above average writing. We wish the author a large sale ; his productions are rich m their moral tone, and have in them the charming ring of honesty." — Louth and North Lincolnshire Advertiser, IMarch 10th, 1866. " The principal poem ' The British Chief ' (page 141) is a worthy and commendable production. As an example of the poems of a serious character we subjoin one entitled ' A Child's Prayer ' (page 357), and there are many of equal mevit." —Derby Mercury. " It is always a pleasure to see a person in a humble position in life exhibit poetical genius. The verse is woven with consummate skill." — Public Opinion. " ' The British Chief,' &c. (page 111), is nicely produced, both as regards typography and binding, by a Nottingham firm, and is cleverly written. We strongly recommed it as suitable either for presents or rewards." — Grimsby Free Press. " Some of the poems have a local interest, and are written with great taste and feeling. The author displays considerable depth of feeling in his poem to his native town (page 167)." — Hull Packet. " The poems devoted to sacred subjects are also excellent, and many of them contain very beautiful sentiments." — Hull Times. " Mr. Samuel, Wills has published a volume of poems, which have received very favourable treatment at the hands of a number of provincial critics. We understand that the author has generously offered to contribute 20 per cent, on the price of 100 copies to the Building Fund of the Port of Hull Society's New Orphan Home in Park Street." — Hull Neios, Sept. 8th, 18(56. "SOUTH DEVON SONGS AND SONNETS" (1882). " Prom time to time in our columns we have given specimens of the poetic renderings of Mr. Samuel Wills, principal of Burton House School, Brixham. He has now collected his various effusions in a neat 8vo. volume, of nearly 200 pages. When it is considered that the poems are the result of the leisure time of the author, and mostly written after his scholastic and other duties were over, the little volume before us certainly merits success, for, as he informs us in his preface, from childhood his favourite recrea- tion has been the perusal of our best English poets, and he has occasionally at early dawn or at the close of a day of tedious mental toil, found a pleasant re-action in penning a few lines on such subjects as may have occurred to him. Perhaps one of the most happy of his efforts, from having a local association, is " Lupton Barton ; or the " Song of the Upland Muse." This beautiful spot where — " Nature spreads her beauties. Her blooLii of every kind, Her landscapes so inspiring To a poetic mind," is the property as our readers are aware of Lord Churston, and occupied by Mr. Charles Elliott. The homestead is one mile west of Brixham, the uplands commanding a view of Torbay, the English Channel, and an extensive tract of undulating country, with the Dartmoor Hills in the distance, while the picturesque Noss Valley stretches down to the banks of the river Dart. The "Song" contains many fine passages and cannot fail to commend itself to all lovers of poetry. The sonnet, " A Fisherman's Widow, at Brixham," will be read with interest, being marked with considerable depth of thought. We give it as an example, although there are many more of equal merit. We wish the author a large sale, as his poems, if they are not equal to the productions of more pre- tentious writers, are rich in moral tone, and have in them the ring of thorough honesty."^— Dartmouth Chronicle, July 1st, 1882. " Lovers of poetry, and admirers of things ' Devonish ' will rejoice in the volume before us. jMr. Wills seems to find in everything a reason for rhyme, and whether it be an apprehended attack of blindness (page 1), a tough beefsteak page (102), a stepmother (pages 113 and 115), Slapton Sands (page 251), or any other subject he manages to write a poem thereon, either grave or gay. Apart from the undoubted merit of the productions, Mr. Wills poems will be read with great interest by many^ for the subjects of his pen being mainly found in our district a special and peculiar interest is created. Herrick wrote rather disparagingly of Devonshire, its people, and its climate. Mr. Wills on the other hand writes in praise of the place and the people, but poet as he undoubtedly is we challenge him to write a poem in praise of tlie weather which we are getting. Herrick there gets the best of it. The volume before us will no doubt get a large circulation, but not larger than its merits deserve.'' Kingsbridge Gazette. July loth, 1882. " ' South Devon Songs and Sonnets,' is the title of a neat volume of nearly two hundred pages the work of IMr. Samdel Wills, of Burton House Commercial and Mathematical School, Brixham, and author of • Devonia and other Poems,' etc. The book is inscribed to Colonel A. Ridgway, J. P., of Sheplegh, Blackawton, and contains near one hundred pieces, mostly relating to places and scenes in Devonshire. For some of them we shall gladly find a place from time to time in the ' Poet's Corner ' of this journal. They combine every variety of humour. Some of the poems are deeply pathetic, while others are eminently calculated to excite the ' risible faculties,' and all of them are well composed. The language is clear, well-choi^n, telling, and agreeable, and this, together with the local interest which attaches to the work, should command for it a large circulation throughout the county. Many of the songs and sonnets, the author tells us, have already appeared in various journals, but here we have an exceedingly desirable collection in a convenient and attractive form."— Toines Times, July 29th, 1882. " ' South Devon Songs and Sonnets ' is the title given to a new volume which Mr. Samuel Wills, of Brixham, has just added to his published works. Mr. Wills is a schoolmaster, and poetry is the amusement of his leisure hours. Twenty years since he published a volume ' To Devonia,' and this was followed by ' The Lincolnshire Labourer,' an imitation of Tennyson's ' Northern Farmer,' which was received with favour, and found a place in ' Carpenter's Penny Readings.' The new volume is dedicated by permission, to Colonel A. Ridgway, J. P. Many of the ' Songs and Sonnets ' have already appeared in various periodicals, and if they do not take so strong a hold on the imagination as the author's more heroic ' British Chief (page 141), they contain thoughts and sentiments which appeal to the heart, whilst the local associations will commend many of the poems to the favour- able notice of Devonians. Mr. Wills does not confine himself to the beauties of nature, such subjects as the rinderpest, a tough beefsteak, or a fit of indigestion, being sufficient at times to inspire a strain of song. One of his pieces, a ' Harvest Song ' (page 368), is particularly good, and one of the concluding verses especially appropriate to the present season. Distrust depart ! Hope fill the heart ! Untainted with alloy ; For we who sow in tears of woe, Shall surely reap with joy. ' " — Trewman's Exeter Flying Post, August 16th, 1882. " South Devon Songs and Sonnets." — " Here we have the work of a Brixham poet, who tells us in his preface that when he ' was first introduced to the _ Muse, he discovered for her a sincere passion, which, ever since, has continued to burn with increasing ardency ' ; but deprecating the ' asperity of criti- cism,' he adds that his object has been ' less to please the fancy than to correct the heart.' The best things in the volume are some sonnets. One entitled ' Farewell ' (page 248),. and another ' The Banks of the Dart ' (page 257) may be cited as examples of the author at his best."— Torquay Tiiiies-, August 18th, 1882. " Under the title of South Devon Songs and Sonnets,' Mr, Samuel Wills, late of Burgh and Wainfleet, in Lincolnshire, has published another volume of poetry. We say another, because this is neither the first nor the second collection of poems the author has produced. He is already known to a- considerable number of readers as the writer of ' Devonia and other Poems,' ' The British Chief,' and ' The Lincolnshire Labourer,' all of which have been well spoken of by the press of Lincolnshire and elsewhere. He is also the author of some prose works which have been favourably received. In his- preface to the work before us, Mr. Wills modestly says : ' There is in the poetry no pretension to the higher strains of song, and if the critic discover in them a sterility of classic taste and a deficiency in artistic finish he must not get into & passion and take up his pen rashly and chastise. Whatever he may be induced to say, let him say it brotherly, and let him bear in mind that the author never had the pleasure of dipping his pitcher into a classic well.' For our own part we feel no difficulty in complying with this appeal ; we can honestly speak of the work as an effort of which Mr. Wills has no need to be ashamed. Some of the pieces are not without defects, but taken as a whole they do honour alike to the head and the heart of the author. Many of them are written with a smoothness that could hardly be improved. Moreover, the sentiment throughout is healthy. There is not a line in the volume to which any person, however sensitive, can possibly take exception. Even the pieces in which the author allows his humour fullest play are free from every- thing that is an offence against good taste. We regret that want of space stands in the way of our giving more than a, few fragmentary selections of the author's work, and we confess to feeling some difficulty in making these selections. The following, first three stanzas, however from a poem on ' Oar Firstborn ' (page 122), will touch the hearts of all who have felt the inexpressible sadness and loneliness that follow on the death of a first-born ! The subjoined sonnet on * Wesley ' (page 261) will be admired and appreciated by all familiar with the self-denying labours of the great founder of Methodism. As a specimen of the author's humour we cite the following lines on ' Indigestion ; or, what a friend at Kings wear says,' simply remarking that their truthfulness to nature —dyspeptic nature that is — will be readily recognised by every unhappy reader who is conscious he has got a liver ! — Boston Independent. LIST OP SUBSORIBERS. Andrews, Mr., Long Bennington. Appleby, Dr., Barnbygate, Newark. Appleby, Rev. W. L., St. Catherine's, Lincoln. Atkinson, W., Esq., Cashier, G.N.R. Goods Depot, Bradford. Bainbridge, G., Esq., J. P., South Park. Lincoln. Barlow, Rev. G.. Victoria Street, Newark. Barriball, Mrs., The Limes, Duston, Northampton. Battle, J. S., Esq., Stonebow, Lincoln. Baxter, Mr., Workhouse, Claypole, Newark. Beaulah, T., Esq., " Indejiendent "' Office, Boston. Beaumont, G., Esq , The Hall, E. Bridgford, Notts Becke, Rev J. H., Beckinghaui. Newark. Bell, T., Esq., Normandy House, S. Park, Lincoln. Bennett, J., Esq , M.P., The Cedar.s, Louth Berridge, Mr. Vi ., Newark Road, Lincoln. Blake, Mr. J., St. Andrew's Street, Lincoln. Blanshard, J. D., Esq., D.C., Bardney, Lincolnshire. Blow, W. H., Esq., St. Hugh Street, Lincoln. Bocock, Mr. E., South Collingham, Notts. Bolitho, T B., Esq., M.P., Chyanowr, Penzance, 4 copies. Bombrotfe, Mr., Appletongate, Newark. Bott, George, Esq., Tipton, S. Staffordshire. Boustield, Mr., Castlegate, Newark. Branston, G. H , Esq., Cartergate, Newark. Branston, Hy , Esq., .J. P., The Friary, Newark. Brewer, Mr. W., Fore Street, Lower Brixham, S. Devon. Broadley, Mr. W P., Long Row, Nottingham. Bray, Capt. R., Higher Brixham, S. Devon. Brown. Cornelius. Esq., Magnus Street, Newark. Brown, F., Esq.. Granville Terrace, Bracebridge. Brown, Mr. G., Middlegate, Newark. Brown, Mr. H. R., Wesleyan Day School, Bardney. Brown, Mr. J., Monumental Works, Newark. Brown, T., Esq., Wilson Street, Newark. Brumwell, T. W., Esq., Yarborough Road, Lincoln. Bullen, E. J., Esq., WiUiam Street, Newark. Burnett, Eev. S. E., Wesleyan Minister, Derby. Burton, Mr. P., Allington, Grantham. Butler, Rev. W. J., Peterborough. Bygott, R., Esq., East Halton, Lincolnshire. Carter, H. H., Esq., Solicitor, Nottingham. Carter, .J., Esq., Ferndale, Monks Road, Lincoln. Chambers, Mr. W., Bracebridge, Lincoln, Cherry, Mrs., Castlegate, Newark. Chesters, Mr. J., The School, Burgh-le-Marsh. Clayton, Mr. W., Town Hall, Hull. Clench, F., Esq., Newland House, Lincoln. Cliff, Mr , County Hall, Nottingham. Cobham, Mr. R., Farndon, Newark, Cockburn, N. C, Esq., .J. P., Hartsholme Hall, Lincoln. CoUey, W., Esq., Diocesan Inspector of Schools, Lincoln. Cottingham, Mr. Councillor. High Street. Lincoln. Cooke, .J., Esq., ' Guardian " Office, Boston. ^ Coombes, James, Esq., Vernon Street, Lincoln. Co wen, Mr. G. R , Portland Street, Lincoln. Crabtree, John, Esq., Witham Lodge, Bracebridge. Croft, Rev. Canon, Broadgate, Lincoln. Dailey, Robt., Esq., Moor Lane, Rowley, S. Staffordshire. Dales, Mr. C, Hawthorn Villa, Bracebridge. Dashper, G. J., Esq., Clerk of the Peace, Lincoln. Doubleday, Mr. Coun. W., J. P., Mayor, Newark. Doubleday, Mr. W., Wollaton Street, Nottingham. Duckering, C , Esq., Langton Lodge, Monks Road, Lincoln. Earp, Mr. Aid. T., J.P., Whitehouse, Newark. Ellis, Hy., Esq., Appleton Villas, Newark. Ellison, Rev. C. C, The Manse, Bracebridge. Ellison, Col. R. G., J.P., Boullham Hall, Lincoln. Elsom, A., Esq., Sailors' Orphan Home, Hull. Evison, J., Esq., Alfreton, Derbyshire. Fane, Mrs.. Fulbeck, Lincolnshire. Farmer, Rev. James, Balderton, Newark. Fielden, H. P., Esq., Leasingham House, Sleaford, 4 copies. Flynn, P., Esq., Postmaster, Cartergate, Newark. Footman, M. H., Esq., Solicitor, Lincoln, Fox, F. H., Esq., Bristol Road. Birmingham. Free Library, Lincoln, 3 copies. Free Library, Nottingham, 2 copies. Fripp, J. T., Esq., Dental Sm'geon, Willesden. Gascoigne, Mr. Aid., J.P, Victoria Street, Newark. Genney, F. E., Esq., M.B.. Marchmount House. Lincoln. Gilman, Mr. H., Wilford Road, Nottingham. Goodwin, Mr. Coun., Baldertongate, Newark. Goy, Mr. Coun. J. D., Swallowbeck, Lincoln. Green, Geo., Esq., Horbury, Yorkshire. Greening, J W., Whitting Road, Bowes Park, N. Griggs, J., Esq., J.P., Loughborough. Grimoldby, Mr. C, Little Grimsby, Louth. Grimoldby, Mr. E., East Halton, Lincolnshire. Grimoldby, Dr. G., Great Grimsby. Hack, Rev. G., Higher Ardwick, Manchester. Haigh, B , Esq., Junr., East Retford. Hall, A. E., Esq., St. Catherines, Lincoln. Hancock, T.. Esq., Babbington Colliery Offices, Nottingham. Hardy, Rev. T. B., Bulwell, Notts. Harrison, Mr. Coun. E., Yarborough Road, Lincoln. Harrison, F. H., Esq., J. P., Whitehall, Lincoln. Harry, Rev. J. A. B., Doncaster. Harston, J., Esq., Lombard Street, Newark. Harston, Mr. J.. Junr., Market Place, Newark. Hasnip, Mr. A. .J., Alford, Lincolnshire. Hawksley, Mrs., Wilkinson Street, Sheffield. Hayman, Rev. H. T., Edwinstowe, Notts. Henson, Mr. W., Clifton Hall, Notts. Hewitt, Mr. Hy., Alexandra Road, Heeley. Hext, Mr. Jas., Kingswear, S. Devon. Hext, Mr. Thos., Venn Farm, Churchstow, S. Devon. Hickling, Mr. Geo. "(Rusticus)", Cotgrave, Notts. Hill, J., Esq., Suffield Road, S. Tottenham, N. Hill, W. E., Esq., High Street, Lincoln. Hole, Mr. Aid. Jas., Westfield House, Farndon. Hole, Mr., H., Castle Brewery, Newark. Holmes, Joseph, Esq., Hamilton Road, Lincoln. Hood, S. F., Esq., B.A., J.P., Nettleham Hall, Lincoln Hoopell, W., Esq., Kilburn, London, N. Hopkinson, H., Esq , Flawford Farm, Newark. Horn, Rev. W., Grammar School, Alford. Howitt, Mrs., Farnsfield, Notts. Hudson, Mr. F., Portland Street, Lincoln. Hufton, Mr. R., Lombard Street, Newark. Huskinson, C, Esq , Solicitor, Newark. Huskinson, W. L., Esq., Epperstone, Notts. Jackson, Ed., Esq., Midland Terrace, Newark Jepson, J. C, Esq., Great Grimsby. Jessop, A. L., Esq., Leasingham Hall, Sleaford. Johnson, Sir Samuel, Town Clerk, Nottingham. Jones, Rev. G. H., The Vicarage, Bracebridge. Jones, Rev. J. D., Westtield House, Lincoln. Jones, T., Esq., Long Acre, Bingham. Jope, Rev. E., Bodmin, Cornwall. Kay, .Josiah, Esq., Openshaw, Manchester Kaye, Ven. Archdeacon, Riseholme, Lincoln. Kell, Mr., Waterside, Lincoln. Kirkby, Mr. Councillor H. R., Carlton House, Lincoln. Knight, Mr. Councillor J., Market Place, Newark. Knight, W. E , Esq , J. P., Cartergate, Newark. Knowles, Mr., Slapton, S. Devon. Lawrence, Mr., Stationmaster, Peakirk. Lawrence, Mr. C, Sleaford Road, Newark Lawrence, Mr. G., Sincil Street, Lincoln. Ledsome, Mr. J., Music Warehouse, Ilke.ston. Lineham, Mr., St. -James's Street, Derby. Lincoln, Right Rev. Lord Bishop of. Lincoln, Very Rev. The Dean of. Lloyd, Rev. P. R., Canwick House, Lincoln. Lowe, G. M., Esq., CM., L.R.C.P., Castle Hill House, Lincoln. Lucas, Colonel, Elkington Hall, Louth. Lucas, Rev. V. B., St. Martin's Vicarage, Lincoln. Mackenzie, T. G., Esq., J. P., Newark. Maltby, Mr. Aid., J. P., Garmston House, Lincoln. Maltby, Rev. E. S., Farndon, Newark. Manchester, Mr., Wilford Road, Nottingham. Mantle, H. Esq., Northgate Schools, Lincoln. Marsh, J. W., Esq., M.R.C.S., County Asylum Lincoln. Martin, Mr, J. W., Silver Street, Lincoln. Mather, W., Esq., Trent Bridge House, Newark. Matterson, Dr., Castlegate, Newark. Matthews, Rev. D.. S., Diocesan School Insjjector, Lincoln. May hew, Mr., St. Peter's Church Walk, Nottingham. Meir, Rev. W., Congregational Minister, Chorley. Millington, Mr., High Street, Lincoln. Mills, G. H., Esq , Springbeck, Lincoln. Minkley, Mr. A., Harcourt Street, Newark. Modern, Mr. W. J., Board Schools, Bracebridge. Monks, Mr. W., Monks Road, Lincoln. Morris, Mr. Councillor R M., Newark. Morris, Mr. Herbert Bingham. Notts. Morris, Mr. T., London Road, Sheffield. Murfin, Mr. E., High Street, Lincoln Musters, Mrs , Wiverton Hall, Notts. Naish, Mr. C, Edwinstowe. Notts. Newsum, A. C, Esq , St. Catherine's, Lincoln. Newsum, H., Esq., South Park House, Lincoln. Newton, W., Esq., Clerk of the Peace, Newark. NichoUs, A. C, Esq,, Washingborough, Lincoln. Nicholson, J. T., Esq., Lindum Road, Lincoln. Noakes, Rev. E. S., Grammar School, Newark. Nowell, Mr. W., Long Acre, Bingham, Notts. Nussey, Mr., William Street, Newark. O'Donoghue, D. J., Esq., Clerk to School Board, Hull. Osborne, Mr. H. H., Clerk to School Board, Newark. Paine, C. C, Esq., Stoke Newington, N. Paine, Harry, Esq., London Road, Newark. Palfreyman, Mr. Jack, Castle Donington. Parkin, W., Esq., Sheffield. Parkyn, Messrs. W. & G., Cropwell Bishop, Notts. Parnham, Mr. Kirby, Barnby Road, Newark. Parnham, T., Esq., J.P., Whitfield Street, Newark. Payne, Dr., Newhill Hall, Wath. Pearson, E., Esq., J. P., CO., Gainsborough. Penney, C, Esq., Ecclesbourne, Harlesden, N.W. Perkins, John, Esq., Northampton. Perks, R. W. Esq.. M.P., 6 copies. Phillips, J. H., Esq., Hazel House, Methley. Pickering, Mr. Hugh, Broadgate, Lincoln. Pigott, Rev. W., Prim. Meth. Min., Gainsborough. Piatt, F., Esq., J. P., Barnby Manor, Newark, Notts. Preston, Capt. W., Lower Brixham, S. Devon. Quibell, O., Esq., London Road, Newark. Rainforth, W., Esq., Briergate S. Park, Lincoln. Rawnsley, Rev. E., J.P., The Hall, Raithby, Spilsby. Reay, Mr., Mus. Bac, Song School House, Newark. Richardson, J., Esq., J.P., South Park Villa, Lincoln. Richardson, J. M., Esq., M.P., Healing Manor, Grimsby. Richardson, W. W., Esq., J. P., Dower House, Canwick, Lincoln. Riddell, E. M H., Esq., .J. P., Minster Yard, Lincoln. Riggall, Rev. M., Fernie Knowe, Budleigh. Salterton. Robertson, Major, J.P., Widmerpool Hall, Notts. Robinson, Mrs., Carlisle Road, Bradford. Roper, W., Esq., Old Kent Road, London, S E. Royds, E., Esq., Caythorpe, Lincolnshire. Ruston, Jos., Esq., J. P., D.L., Monks Manor, Lincoln. St. Vincent, Viscount, Norton Disney, 8 copies. Sadler, Mr., Workhouse Infirmary, Newark. Sargisson, J. G., Esq., Market Place, Burgh -le-Marsh. Scarlett, Jas., Esq., Bowden, Manchester. Scorer, C, Esq., Solicitor, Stonebow, Lincoln. Screeton, Mr. W. H , Tentercroft Street, Lincoln. Seely, Col., M.P., Brook House. Isle of Wight, 2 copies. Seely, C. H., Esq., C.C, Sherwood Lodge, Notts. Seely, Miss Mary. Sherwood Lodge, Notts., 2 copies. Sheppard, Geo., Esq., Borough Surveyor, Newark. Shuttleworth, A , Esq., J. P., D.L., Eastgate House, Lincoln. Shuttleworth, Major, J. P., D.L., Old Warden, Beds. Sibthorp, C. C, Esq., J. P., Sudbrooke Holme, Lincoln. Sibthorp, M. E. W., Esq., J. P., Canwick Hall, Lincoln. Simmonds, E. T., Esq , Assistant Overseer, Newark. Simpson, G. F., Esq., High Street, Lincoln. Skelton, Mr. J. Maidens, Alford, Lincolnshire. Skinner, T., Esq., Castleford. Skipworth, W. T., Esq., Bracebridge, Lincoln. Slodden, Eev. H. T., M.A.. The Priory, Worksop. Small, W. T., Esq., J.P.. Boston. Smith, Chas. W., Esq.. Architect, &c., Grantham. Smith, Mr. S., Cropwell Bishop. Notts. Smith, W. W., Esq., Old Palace, Lincoln. Smythe, Mr., Granville Terrace, Bracebridge, Spain, Eev. T. D., Earlsdene, Bath. Squires, Mr. H., Cropwell Bishop, Notts. Steer, E., Esq., High Bank, Gotham, Bristol. Straw, F., Esq., North Hykeham Hall, Lincoln. Stray, Mr. G., Beaumont Cross, Newark. Sugden, W., Esq., C.C, CuUingworth. Swan, Eobt., Esq., J.P., The Quarry, Lincoln. Thomas, A. Clifford, Esq., Torwocd, Lincoln. Thorns, J. W., Esq , Boston. Thurman, Mr., Epperstone, Notts. Tomlinson, H. J., Esq., Whitecross House, Barton-on- H umber. Toplis, Mr. Coun. J. H., Louth. Torney, G. P., Esq., B.A., L.E.C.S., County Asylum, Lincoln. Torr, H. J., Esq., J. P., Bovey Tracey, Devonshire. Townroe, Eev. J. W., St. Peter-at-Gowts Vicarage, Lincoln. Turner, F. J., Esq., Mansfield Woodhouse, Notts. Upton, Mr. E., Market Place, Newark. Varlow, W., Esq., C.C, Bardney, Lincolnshire. Vickers, B., Esq., Longdales House, Lincoln. Waller, Mrs., Groombridge House, Withington. Waller, T., Esq., Eaithby Lodge, Spilsby. Walker, J., Esq., Swallowbeck, Lincolnshire. Walker, Mr. S., Wesley an School, Newark. Wallis, Mr. Coun. T. (Ex-Mayor), Southfield, Lincoln. Warrener, Mr. Aid., J.P., Moorlands, Lincoln. Warwick, W. D., Esq., The Hall. Balderton, Newark. Watkins, W., Esq., The Grove, Lincoln Weekes, W., Esq., Agate Road Hammersmith. Wells, Mr. J. G., Hampden Villas, Hull. Whaley, R N., Esq., S. Park, Lincoln. Wherry, W. R., Esq., CO., Bourne, Lincolnshire. Whitaker, C. Esq., Canwick Road, Lincoln. Whitaker, T., Esq., Balderton, Newark. White, F., Esq., Franklin House, Lindum Road, Lincoln. White, H., Esq., Dental Surgeon, City Sheriff, Lincoln. White, Mr. H.L. London Road, Sheffield. White, H. K., Esq., Lindum Road, Lincoln. White, Mr., Music Warehouse, Grantham. Whittle, J., Esq., Junr., Harby, Leicestershire. ' Whydale, Rev. J. E., Wesleyan Minister, Hull. Whyman, John, Esq., Flintham, Notts. Wills, John Esq., F.S.S., Architect and Surveyor, Derby. Wills, Mr. John, Builder, Lower Brixham, Devon. Wills, Mr. S. Jarvis, Croxley Road, Paddington, N. Wills, Mr. W., Bella Vista, Brixham, Devon. Wills, W^ W., Esq., Royal Arsenal, Woolwich. Willoughby de Eresby, Lord, M.P. Wilson, Mr. A., Portland Street, Newark. * Wilson, H. F., Esq., Greenside House, Wortley. Wilson. Rev. W., Wesleyan Minister, Wilson Street, Derby. Wood, L., Esq., J.P., D.L , The Hermitage, Chester-le-street. Woodcock, Page, Esq., Lothair, St. Catherine's, Lincoln. Woodlitfe, Frank, Mr., Hyson Green, Nottingham. Woodliti'e, Mr. R. E , Wainlleet. Woodlifi'e, Mr. Walter, Moss Side, Manchester. Wragg, Mr. H., Town Hall, Newark. Wright, H. T., Esq., Prof, of Philology, Oxford University. Wright, W., Esq., J.P., Manor House, Fiskerton, Notts. Wyatt, Hugh, Esq., J. P., St. Catherine's Villa, Lincoln. Yarborough, Rt. Hon. Earl of, Brocklesby Park, Lincolnshire. ADDITIONAL SUBSCRIBEES. Ashley, Mrs., Limefield, Greetwell Road, Lincoln. Bailey, J. D., Esq., Sutton-in-Ashfield. Bainbridge, Emmerson, Esq., M.P., Sheffield. Barclay, H. T., Esq., Sysonby Lodge, Melton Mowbray. Barlow, .J. B., Esq., Solicitor, Grantham. Barratt, G., Esq., 22, Sotheby Road, Highbury Park, N. Barter, Frank, Esq., 42. Parharaent Street, S.W. Bates, Mrs., Church Walk, Newark. Bayley, T., Esq., M.P.. Peveril House, Nottingham. Bemrose, H. H., Esq., M.P., Derby. Bestwick, R. H., Esq., Grantham. Black, D., Esq., Barrow-onSoar. Bourne. Rev. S. E., Dunston, Lincoln. Bower, J. H., Esq., St. Catherine's, Lincoln. Bradburn, Isaac, Esq , Liverpool. Bramley, Rev. Canon H. R., Precentory, Lincolu. Brett, Dr., Bridlington Quay. Brewin, Mr. A., Market Place, Newark. Bridger, Mr., Orby, Lincolnshire. Broadhurst, Miss, The Grove, Lincoln. Brocklebank, J., Esq., Bassingham. Brocklebank, W. E,, Esq., Cavlton-le-Moorland. Bromhead, Miss, Greestone Place, Lincoln. Burland, Rev. W., Fyfield Rectory, Essex. Burton, Mrs., Greestone House, Lincoln. Bush, Mr., J. P., Boston. Butt, Mr. W., Nurseryman, Balderton. Carrington, Mr. W., Fish Docks, Grimsby. Carter, Mr. G. Waliis, Dixon Street, Lincoln. Chappell, W., Esq., Tuxford, Newark. Chappie, Rev. J., Wesleyan Minister, Banbury. Chappie, C. A., Miss, B.A., Wesleyan Schools, Lincoln. Churchill, Rev. W. D., Waddington, Lincoln. Clark, Geo., Esq., Liverpool. Clark, Miss, Wesleyan School, Withnell Fold. Clarke, Mr. Hy., Cross Lane, Salt'ord. Clarke, T. W., Esq., Hull. Clarke, Mr. W. , Melton Mowbray. Cole, J. A., Esq., Roxholme Hall, Sleaford. Corbett, Mr. J. T., National School, Dunston. Cowham, I. H., Esq., Master of Method, Wesleyan Training College. Cox, Mrs., High Street, Lincoln. Craske, E. .T., Esq., Bank .Manager, Slough. Crosfield, W., Esq,. J.P., Liverpool. Cullen, ReT. Dr., Rectory, Radcliffe-on-Trent. Davis, Mr., Clifton, Nottingham. Disbrowe, Rev. C. P., Vicarage, Skegness. Doncaster, Mrs., Silver Street, Lincoln. Dowson, Mr. R., Asfordby, Leicestershire. Duckering, E., Esq., East Barkwith. Eaton, T. G., Esq., Cavendish Bridge, Shardlow. Eddleston, Mr. Thos., Ordsall Park, Retford. ^ Elcum, Rev. E. C, St. Agnes, Liverpool. Ellis, S., Esq., J.P., Great Grimsby. Emmerson, Mr. W. C. M , High Street, Lincoln. Enderby, Mr. M., BoBton. Euerby, Mr. Councillor, St. Mary Butts, Reading. Evans, Mr. F. W., Penarth Road, Cardiff. Fardell, Rev. H. W. K., Thurlby Rectory, Lincoln. Finch Hatton, Hon. Stonnont, Sydenham Hill. S.E. Fletcher, A. J., Esq., Solicitor, Donington, Spalding. Fletcher, Miss. Chaplin Street, Lincoln. Footman, Rev. H., M.A., Nocton, Lincoln. Fotherby, A. Esq., South Park, Lincoln. Fowler, Rev. Canon W. W., Grammar School, Lincoln. Fox, W. S., Esq., Potterhanworth, Lincoln. Francklin, .J. L., Esq., J. P., Gonalston Hall, Notts. Frayn, Rev. G., Wesleyan Minister, Horncastle. Free Library, Derby. Free Library, Plymouth. Free Library, Sheffield. Freshney, Rev. F., M.A., J. P., Withcall, Louth. Garfit. T Cheyney, Esq., Kenwick Hall, Louth. Garner, Mr., 229, Regent Road, Salford. Gawn, Rev. W. W., Risley, Derby. Gawthorpe, Rev. J., Wesleyan Minister, Louth. Ghent, Mr. W., Belton, Granthaiii. Gibson, J., Esq., Sleaforcl. Gladding, Rev. T. Wesleyan Minister, Lincoln. Gladstone, Ht. Hon. W. E., Hawarden Castle. Goddard, Mr. Hy , Clifton, Nottingham. Goodwin. Mr. Geo.. Barnston, Notts. Grant, Mr. J. A., Kent Street, Grimsby. Green, Mr., Lissington, Lincolnshire. Grenfell, Mrs., Pickwell Hall, Oakham. Griffiths. Mr J., Norton Disney. Griffiths, Mr. J. W., Tower Cafe, Blackpool. Hall, T., Esq , Railway Servants' Orphanage, Derby. Harris, Mr., Draper, Heckington. Harrison, Mr. J. M., Contractor, Lincoln. Hart, Major H., J. P., Stamford. Harvey, Rev Canon, Rectory, Navenby. Harvey, Mr. Councillor T , Leamington. Hawksley. Geo., Esq., Red Hall, Bracebridge. Hay, Mr. G. G., Shelford Lodge, Notts. Hay, H., Esq., Ashwell, Oakham. Haywood, Mr R. 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Wakelin, W., Esq., Organist, Horncastle. Weekes, Mr. J., Stebbin Street, Latimer Eoad. W. Weekes, Mr. S., Sulgrave Eoad, Hammersmith. Welsh, Rev. 0., Wesleyan Minister, Horncastle. Westwood, H. 0., Esq., L.R.C.P., Bingham, Notts. Wharram & Co., Messrs., Burgh-le-Marsh. Wills, Mr. Wilfrid. Stow Park Station. Wilson, Porter, Esq., Solicitor, Louth. Wilson, T., Esq., M.F.H., Reepham, Lincoln. Winchilsea. Earl of, Haverholme Priory. Woodiwiss, Geo., Esq., J.P., Hazlewood, Bath. Young People's Institute, Hull. Younger, W., Esq., M.P., Melton Mowbray. ^x^K-m* UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32ot-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 IS^ Wills - 5834 W67946m 1895 Musings in moorland and marsh SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACiyj AA 000 386 794 2 m 5834 W67946m 1895