Come openly against her life and crown,
The chivalry of England, not yet dead,
Had promptly flown to arms, and formed
Around her then a shield impenetrable,
Her sacred person to defend, or die.
From out of England's millions, only one
Was found, so void of all the feelings of a man,
As point a deadly weapon at the breast
Of England's pride--a woman and a Queen!
Then the high bravery of her race was shown;
She blenched not, quivered not, but sat erect;
While, with the lion courage of the Saxon,
Which both their hearts inspired, her consort threw
Himself at once between her and the danger,
To shield the life so dear to him and us.
The loyal heart of Britain beat with joy
At their escape--the young, the loved, the true!
Many and fervent were the prayers breathed
To Heaven, that they might live extended years,
And each year, as it came, their happiness
Increase, and ours! Thus let the traitor's hopes
For ever end, thus fruitless be his aims--
His snares recoil upon himself alone!
How beautiful the trait of filial love,
Of reverence daughterly, was then evinced,
When, freed from danger from th' assassin's arm,
She promptly to her mother hastes, herself
To be the foremost bearer of the tidings,
And, in her own particular person, bring
The proof and the assurance of her safety,
Ere Rumour's tongue had magnified details!
Ah! worthy of her people's love, is she
Who thus could show the veneration due,
At such a time, to her who gave her being!
The ways of men are in the hands of One
Who cannot err; the destinies of all
On earth, peasants as well as potentates,
Are under His sole guardianship and guidance.
A truism this; yet there are men who doubt,
Nay, worse, deny it; even though instances,
Occurring daily, show the constant care
Of Providence o'er thoughtless, sinful men.
How oft does evil o'er our head impend,
And we not know it, till the danger's past!
How oft, when evil comes, provided is
A remedy, we know not how or whence!
Ah! blind, and worse than blind, are they who doubt.
The brutish beasts that roam the fields and woods,
And never heard of God, or gospel truth,
Of Christ and his salvation, better are,
And wiser, than the Atheist and Sceptic.
High is the sovereign's power, and great the sway
Which kings possess; but, higher, greater still
Is His, the King of Kings, who overrules
All things for good to them who love his laws.
Tyrants have had avengers, but the good
Need fear no peril, dread no coming ill;
Their trust in One who fails not, cannot fail;
In whose hand is the breath of princes held,
As much as meaner men's. To Him thy way commit.
I'M NAEBODY NOO.
_The complaint of an old man reduced in the world. Contributed
to the Book of Scottish Song._
I'M naebody noo, though in days that are gane,
Whan I'd hooses, and lands, and gear o' my ain,
There war' mony to flatter, and mony to praise,
And wha but mysel' was sae prood in those days!
Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang,
Wha laughed at my joke, and applauded my sang,
Though the tane had nae point, and the tither nae glee;
But of coorse they war' grand when comin' frae me!
Whan I'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack,
There war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak';
But whanever the water grew scant at the well,
I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'.
Sae lang as my bottle was ready and free,
Friends in dozens I had wha then crooded to prie,
They sat ower the toddy until they war' fou,--
Noo I drink by mysel', for I'm naebody noo.
Whan I'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer,
And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer;
I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast,
In the feasting o' those who came only to feast.
The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie,
I thought a' the time was intended for me,
But whanever the end o' my money they saw,
Their friendship, like it, also flickered awa'.
My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near,
Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear,
I'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that's true,
But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I'm naebody noo.
SONG.
_Contributed to the Book of Scottish Song._
THERE'S plenty come to woo me,
And ca' me sweet and fair,
There's plenty say they lo'e me,
But they never venture mair:
They never say they'll marry,
Though love is all their tune,
From June to Janu-a-ry,
From January to June.
I canna keep frae smilin',
At their flatteries and art;
Wi' a' their fond beguilin',
They'll ne'er beguile my heart.
For nought can fix a maiden
Whase heart is warm and true,
But vows wi' marriage laden,
Though mony come to woo.
That a's no gowd that glitters
I've either heard or read,
And marriage has its bitters,
As well as sweets, is said.
But though it gets the blame o'
Some things that winna' tell,
The fau't that folks complain o'
Lies often wi' themsel'.
The year, as on it ranges,
Within its twelvemonths' fa',
Shows many sudden changes,
And's lightsome wi' them a';
Though winter's tempests thicken,
Spring comes wi' cheerful face;
And summer smiles to quicken
A' nature wi' its grace.
The year of life is marriage,
And we canna wed too sune,
Whan twa divide the carriage,
The wark is cheerily dune.
If one true heart wad hae me,
For better and for worse,
Wi' him I'd gladly share aye
The blessing and the curse.
THE STOUT OLD BRITISH SHIP.
HURRAH! for the stout old British ship,
The monarch of the sea!
That bounds like a greyhound from the slip,
When the sails are loosened free!
That, spite of the storm and deadly gun,
Ne'er yet its course gave o'er;
And never knew what 'twas to run
A hostile flag before!
It long has the bulwark been of our rights,
Of our freedom still the stay;
Then give to the brave old British ship,
Three British cheers--hurrah!
When Nelson trode its quarter-deck,
Its glory was in its prime;
Victory he had at his finger-beck,
As proved in every clime:
Then England was honoured and feared by all,
And nations sung her praise;
But that is a tale we may not recall
In these degenerate days:
For the stout old ship lies idly ashore,
Laid up like a useless tree;
Its battles and cruises now are o'er,
Though it still is fit for sea!
The vaunting foreigner long has felt
Its thunders on the main,
And he smiles when he thinks the blows it dealt
Shall ne'er be dealt again.
But the spirit of Nelson is not dead,
It bounds in a hundred hearts,
And his story of fame is remembered and read,
And studied with our charts!
For cherished with care is the glory it won,
The meed of a thousand years;
And its foes will fly as they often have done,
When the stout old ship appears!
When the brave old ship, as bright as morn,
Hoists high its well-known flag;
The flag that has still been unsullied borne,
Since the days of Drake and Sprague.
Let's see who'll dare dispute its right,
To the empire of the main,
'Twill prove its title clear and bright,
Against the world again!
Then give to the stout old British ship,
Of our freedom still the stay,
That long has the bulwark been of our rights,
Three British cheers--hurrah!
LINES,
ON THE INFANT SON AND DAUGHTER OF THE HON. COL. MONTAGUE.
HOW fair is childhood; like the ray
Of summer morn, the blush of day.
Bright scions of a noble race,
Blooming in love and youthful grace,
In innocence and beauty's pride!
As rosebuds blossoming at ease,
Showering their beauties on the breeze,
On some green mountain's side.
High thoughts are with that lovely boy,
In whose dark eye beams radiant joy;
May blessings on his years attend,
And Heaven its choicest favours send!
Hope of an honourable line,
With feeling heart and mind endued,
May health, and peace, and every good,
And length of life, be thine.
Oh! love it is a blessed thing,
And to the heart doth comfort bring;
But the fond throb that for a brother
A sister feels, excels all other,
Save only that by parents known:
Sweet maid, a pure affection cheers
Thy gentle heart, and still endears
Thy very smile and tone.
No cares upon those brows of light,
Round which the tresses cluster bright,
Like mossy flowers 'mong sunshine blended,
Have yet, with envious trace, descended:
But all is happiness and mirth,--
Ye look like cherubs sent from Heaven,
With hope, and joy, and beauty given,
To cheer this weary earth.
1838.
THE MARTYRS.
FAITHFUL to God, 'mid persecutions dire,
The lion-hearts of old still firmly stood,
Unawed by terrors of the block or fire,
For truth and freedom freely gave their blood;
The path of duty lay before them plain,
And boldly they advanced, nor turned again.
A throne cast down, erected was once more,
An exiled king, a nation, welcomed back;
Planted in blood it was, and tears, and gore,
Its only props the scaffold and the rack;
And there the brave and good did nobly fall,
That Christ the Saviour might be all in all,
Calmly the martyr Guthrie met his fate,
A victim to oppression's cruel laws,
Nor would, for proudest prelate's form and state,
A traitor turn to his dear Master's cause;
With him no joy on earth so great could be,
As thus to die for Christ's supremacy.
On the lone mountains of their native land,
Where blooms the heather fragrantly and fair,
In the green valleys waved by breezes bland,
Struck mercilessly down while met in prayer,
Lie Scotland's martyrs in their nameless moulds,
Sustained by Him who the great worlds upholds. (8)
CALEDONIA, MY COUNTRY!
CALEDONIA, my country! How bright is the fame,
Like a halo of glory, that circles thy name;
When thy children remember their fathers' renown,
Can they, faithless, consent e'er to sully thy crown?
In the battles of freedom, the hot fields of fight,
Thy great men of old stoutly fought for the right;
By their conquering swords, blessed and aided by Heaven,
The hosts of the foe from our country were driven.
In the fair realms of song thy sons also excel,
Midst the gifted of earth do their memories dwell;
And of praise of thy minstrels, from nations around,
Still the echo returns, with a flattering sound.
But purer, and brighter, and higher, by far,
Than of those that have triumphed in song or in war,
Are the names,--never breathed but with love they are heard,--
Of thy fearless Reformers, thy Martyrs revered.
Now thy sword is at rest, and thy harp is laid by,
But the sword of the Spirit still waves from on high,
And the harp of the Lord sounds in majesty forth,
As of yore it was heard from the lands of the north.
Again, oh, my country! on thy hills of renown,
Oppression, relentless, has darkly come down--
On the breeze of the mountain is borne the loud wail,
And the lowlands reply to the wrongs of the Gael.
From the dark page of history shadows are cast,
And the woes of the future loom out from the past;
There are omens of evil, enshrouded in blood,
But in midst of them all, there are tokens of good.
I CANNA SLEEP.
_Written in 1833. Contributed to the Book of Scottish Song._
I CANNA sleep a wink, lassie,
When I gang to bed at night,
But still o' thee I think, lassie,
Till morning sheds its light.
I lie an' think o' thee, lassie,
And I toss frae side to side,
Like a vessel on the sea, lassie,
When stormy is the tide.
My heart is no my ain, lassie,
It winna bide wi' me,
Like a birdie it has gane, lassie,
To nestle saft wi' thee.
I canna lure it back, lassie,
Sae keep it to yoursel';
But oh! it sune will brak, lassie,
If you dinna use it well.
Where the treasure is they say, lassie,
The spirit lingers there,
An' mine has fled away, lassie,
You needna' ask me where.
I marvel oft if rest, lassie,
On my eyes and heart wad bide,
If I thy troth possessed, lassie,
And thou wert at my side.
YONDER SUNNY BRAE.
ON yonder sunny brae we met,
Amid the summer flowers;
And never can my heart forget
The rapture of those hours,
When she I loved forsook her home
And there with me did stray,
Oh! oft delighted did we roam
On yonder sunny brae.
The gushing of the waterfall,
The sunshine of the sky,
The bloom, the balm, and, more than all,
The sparkle of her eye,
Brought to my heart a blissful tide
That drove all care away,
And I was happy at her side,
On yonder sunny brae.
'Twas there I breathed my fondest vow,
Nor told my love in vain;
And I am happy with her now,
Though years have passed since then.
No sweeter scene my eyes shall see
Though far my steps should stray:
There's not a spot so dear to me
As yonder sunny brae.
THE EAGLE'S NEST, AND OTHER POEMS.
HERE FIRST PRINTED.
THE EAGLE'S NEST.
GRACE ADAM was a farmer's daughter,
Her youth in the far west was spent,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a flood that will have vent.
She was a blooming country maiden,
Like those one sees in market towns,
With egg and butter baskets laden,
Dressed in their smartest hats and gowns.
In household work and dairy labours
Her time passed pleasantly away,
A pattern she to all the neighbours,
Healthy and cheerful as the day.
Grace Adam was a farmer's daughter,--
Some share of beauty she could boast,
And lovers, near and far off, sought her,
Each striving who could flatter most.
From 'mong them all her heart selected
One gentle youth who seemed sincere,
He was by every one respected,
And more it needs not saying here.
Within an outfield stood an only
Old beech-tree, lightning-smote, and dead,--
Its branches bare, and bleached, and lonely,
An eagle built its nest amid.
Forsook the mountain's summit hoary,
The beetling cliff above the sea,
Sought not the forests of Missouri,
But sheltered on this shattered tree.
And oft to see this noble creature,
Many there came from parts thereby,
Training its young, as is its nature,
To spread their wings and upward fly.
Among the rest a student, rambling
In woods and meadows, also came,
In search of useful knowledge scrambling,
Wherever he could find the same.
Grace Adam was a farmer's daughter,--
Her father had approved her choice;
For duty and her feelings taught her
'Twere best to have her parents' voice.
Oft as the summer sunset glowing
Came down in splendour o'er the west,
The lovers forth together going,
Would wander to the eagle's nest.
And there in courtship sweet and prudent
The happy hours fast slipt away;--
And often there, too, came the student,
To watch the birds at close of day.
And so they soon became acquainted,
He knew they were betrothed before;
But while their future bliss _they_ painted,
_His_ object still was to explore.
The marriage-day, longed for yet dreaded
By maidens fair, at last came round,
Grace Adam and her love were wedded,
With hope and every blessing crowned.
Their home was in a distant city
Far, far from where her youth was spent,
Where Mississippi's water mighty
Pours like a flood that will have vent.
And never more the lordly river,
Or its green banks, was Grace to see,
The dear-loved farm, no more, and never
The lonely shattered eagle's tree.
New duties claimed now her attention,
New feelings rose at name of wife,
And as time passed, she ceased to mention
The loved scenes of her early life.
Some years had gone, and she could gather
Her children round about her knee,--
Long since in churchyard lay her father,
And fallen was the eagle's tree.
And now in course of worldly changes
Another town their home became;
For business oft-times turns the hinges
Of man's condition and his aim.
And there they settled, growing older,
But Grace aright years passing read;
For the grey hairs appearing told her
Time left its shadow on her head.
Years twenty since the farmer's daughter
Left the scenes where her youth was spent,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a flood that will have vent.
Within that town broke out a fever,
Smiting alike the rich and poor;
'Twas typhus, grim Death's surest lever
To turn the churchyards o'er and o'er.
Many, o'erborne with grief and watching
At couch of those oppressed with pains,
A hurried hour of slumber snatching,
Woke with the fever in their veins.
Spared not the children or the father,
Passed not the anxious mother by,
In one swift grave the parents gather
Their offspring with them as they lie.
Lamented many a one his dearest
Borne to the house whence no retrace,
Mourned high and low for friends the nearest
Soon carried to their resting place.
A time of gloom, and doubt, and terror,
A time of sorrow and dismay;
The breath of death upon life's mirror
All ghastly and infectious lay.
A time of judgment, when God's dealings
Make the most careless cry to Him,--
A time to try the human feelings,--
When even Hope grows faint and dim.
Just at the last, when near expending
Its baleful force ere sped away,
Grace caught the fever while attending
A smitten neighbour as she lay.
Grief in the house but late so cheerful,
Pain on the heart but late so light,
Her husband and her children tearful
Watched o'er her sickbed day and night.
Beat low the pulse with languid movement,
And stopped the functions of the brain,
No sign her eye gave of improvement
As day and night return again.
Hastened the Doctor, if yet human
Aid might avail to save her life,
He saw and knew the suffering woman,
Although not as a wedded wife.
Years twenty since the farmer's daughter
Had met the student at the tree,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a full flood to the sea.
Bent near the Doctor then, and laid he
His hand upon her wasted breast,
And with low cheerful whisper said he
No more words than "the eagle's nest!"
The change was sudden and amazing,--
Opened her eyes and closed again,
And like the keel of vessel grazing
The ground, grated her teeth in twain.
Gasped a long breath, as if a struggle
Were going on, as night with morn,
No sound made but a low faint guggle,
Like cry of infant newly born.
A smile passed o'er her features sunken,
Grasped she the hand beside her then,
Remembrance, just as one half-drunken,
Strove to retrace its course again.
Ah! then came back the well-known faces
Of her young days upon her mind,
The scenes of long ago, in traces
All clear and full and well defined.
She saw her father as he taught her
Her youthful lessons at his knee,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a full flood to the sea.
She saw her mother too beside her
Long, long since taken to her rest,
And then, as opened Memory wider,
She stood beneath the eagle's nest,
With him she loved, in courtship prudent,
And of love's sweetest cup she drank,
She saw again the youthful student,--
All that came after was a blank.
Thus ever Memory touched can bring time,
With its past feelings into light,
And thus the sweet joys of her spring-time
Came rushing thickly on her sight.
Thus, too, doth roused Imagination
Vibrate the tender chords that bind
The wide links of Association
Within the chambers of the mind.
Then turned the fever, as the meeting
Of the free air upon her brain,
Her pulse resumed a quickened beating,
Revolved the wheels of life again.
And day by day she gained new strength then
Beneath the Doctor's care and skill,
Able to quit her bed at length then,
'Twas this she loved to talk of still,
That when Death's dart did o'er her hover,
And she could find no sleep or rest,
'Twas this that made her to recover,
The simple words, "the eagle's nest!" (9)
THE ADVENT OF TRUTH.
A time there is, though far its dawn may be,
And shadows thick are brooding on the main,
When, like the sun upspringing from the sea,
Truth shall arise, with Freedom in its train;
And Light upon its forehead, as a star
Upon the brow of heaven, to shed its rays
Among all people, wheresoe'er they are,
And shower upon them calm and happy days.
As sunshine comes with healing on its wing,
After long nights of sorrow and unrest,
Solace and peace, and sympathy to bring
To the grieved spirit and unquiet breast.
No more shall then be heard the slave's deep groan,
Nor man man's inhumanity deplore,
All strife shall cease and war shall be unknown,
And the world's golden age return once more.
And nations now that, with Oppression's hand,
Are to the dust of Earth with sorrow bowed,
Shall then erect, in fearless vigour, stand,
And with recovered freedom shout aloud.
Along with Truth, Wisdom, her sister-twin,
Shall come--they two are never far apart,--
At their approach, to some lone cavern Sin
Shall cowering flee, as stricken to the heart.
Right shall then temper Justice, as 'tis meet
It should, and Justice give to Right its own;
Might shall its sword throw underneath its feet,
And Tyranny, unkinged, fall off its throne.
Then let us live in hope, and still prepare
Us and our children for the end, that they
Instruct may those who after them shall heir,
To watch and wait the coming of that day.
LINES,
SUGGESTED BY A WALK IN A GARDEN.
BALMY as the dew from its own blossoms,
And soothing as the fragrance it creates,
Comes the sweet influence of this summer eve
To my o'erchargëd heart--there is a breeze
Moving amid the foliage, soft and low,
As cradled murmur from a babe asleep.
It is a time for holy thoughts to spring,
And contemplation fill the awakened mind.
Lo! a bright sunbeam stands 'tween heaven and earth,
Taking its farewell look ere day departs,
And seeking still to light the gloom below,
As Hope,--even when the darkness comes, and Joy
Hath fled,--to cheer the heart, still lingering, smiles:
And when it goes,--ah! no, it ne'er all goes:--
The sunbeam fades, a moment, and its light,
All shed, dies still-born, swiftly shone and o'er;
But Hope, blest Hope, ev'n when it seems away,
Is near, evermore near, it cannot live
Apart, 'tis wedded to the soul for aye,--
God joined them twain, and nought can sunder them,--
Near, ever near, and ever bringing peace,
Groping among the dark things of man's spirit,
And shedding o'er the troubled mind its light,
As a stray ray of sunshine wanders 'mong
The shattered arches of a fallen ruin.
Ere sunset leaves the world, and sinks behind
The illumined ocean, let me muse awhile.
'Twas in a garden that that hideous thing,
Sin, first was born accurst, and now all through
The wide wide universe it ranges fierce.
Where man has placed his foot its trace is seen.
The serpent's slimy trail is everywhere,
Disfiguring, polluting, and destroying,
Death following in its track inseparably.
But oh! my soul be humbled, yet rejoice;--
It was, too, in a garden that the great,
The only all-sufficient, all-atoning
Propitiatory sacrifice for sin
Commenced its consummation, when the Man
Christ Jesus swat for thee great drops of blood,
(Even he, the Second Person of the Godhead,)
And prayed in agony that the cup might pass,
If so his Father willed; but none on earth
Or yet in Heaven could drink it, none save Him;
And when the sacrifice was all complete
On Calvary, and satisfied was Justice,
Mercy and Hope held out their hands to man,
And, in Christ's name, showed him redemption's way.
The shame and misery that Adam felt
In Eden's garden, when the first great sin
Was challenged, was as nothing to compare
With the deep agony which on that night,--
That dreadful night in which he was betrayed,--
Our Surety felt, when in Gethsemane
He took upon himself to pay the full
Ransom and penalty of that first sin
Which Adam sinned, and all his race in him.
Of that first sin did Adam put the blame
On Eve, "the woman whom thou gavest me."
Eve on the serpent shifted it, and proud
Was he that he had circumvented both,
Doomed on his womb to crawl in dust, and bruised
His head by woman's seed, short-lived his pride.--
Christ took upon Himself the sin and all
Its anguish, nor like Adam vainly strove
To shift it to another, knowing well
No other could redeem it but Himself.
Sinless, a sacrifice for sin, that sin
Might from the souls of men be washed away.
'Twas for that sin, and its infeftments wide
That Jesus died, that its entail cut off
Might be from Adam and his lineage, far
As generations yet to come extend,
And man restored to his lost paradise.
No flaming sword waves at its portals now,
Entrance to bar to the redeemed on earth;
No angels guard the gates to keep them shut,
But open ever are they to the elect,
And there bright angels stand, with joy
To welcome all who come in Christ's name in.
But now the sun hath bade the world good night,
And gathering darkness warns me to my home.
SONNET.
SUNSHINE.
ON the old forest, bright the sunrays play,
And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leaves
With golden light that downward interweaves,
Past branch and stem finding itself a way;
And on the greensward, and among the fern,
Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,
A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astray
Among the wild-flowers, where they nestle close
Within the long grass, or the woodland moss,
Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.
Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,
And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,--
A share of it at least, if not it all,--
To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.
SONG.
AT E'ENING, WHAN THE KYE WAR IN.