Watching the sand-glass slowly wear away,
While Death at hand, amid her waning powers,
Counts, as a monk his beads, her numbered hours.
Upon her brow, o'er which the tresses wave,
The cold dew gathers, dankly, of the grave,
And in her pale mild eyes a lustre shines,
As if her spirit, as she wastes, refines;
While ever and anon her sunken cheek,
Life's fading beauties delicately streak;
As the departing sun from ocean's brinks
Sheds out its glories brightly ere it sinks!
CHANGE.
GRIEF and change and sure decay
All on earth are doomed to know,
What the Past's memorials say
Must the Present undergo.
Time but shifts his glass about,
And the sands their aims adjust,
In Creation's bounds throughout
All that is returns to dust.
On the bud and on the flower,
On the child and man grown grey,
Change is passing every hour,
Death has set his snare to slay.
And the feelings when they glow
With a taste of joy intense,
Soon a tinge of sadness know,
Dimming quickly all the sense.
Vainly do we strive to keep
Such scant solace as we feel,
Blight unseen on all doth creep,
Pleasures hidden stings conceal.
Weary soon become the things
That at first make glad our way,
And To-morrow never brings
The same joy we knew To-day.
Toil exhausts, and strong Desire
Wasteth both the heart and head
With its strugglings, as the fire
Fastest burns the more 'tis fed.
Life is all a chequered score,
Death and Time direct the chess,
One hath not a triumph more,
Nor the other one the less.
Thus amid Mutation's range,
Man, impatient of relief,
Learns himself to long for change,
Even though bringing with it grief.
VIRTUE.
HE was a sage old man who said,
While in the public way he stood,
Virtue is best of all, because
Without it there is nothing good.
He was no stoic who thus spoke
A word so practical and true,
Nor sophist that would grandly say
What he would ne'er attempt to do:
But one of those wise heathen men
Who Reason followed as a guide,
And by it he was learned a truth
So humbling to mere human pride.
Yet even to him, with all the lore
Philosophy amassed of old,
Was the full meaning all unknown
Of what unaided Reason told.
A wiser man than he hath said,
By God's own spirit taught the same,
That wisdom is the chiefest thing
Deserving of man's fervent aim.
Wisdom and virtue both are one,
And only are attained aright
In their whole fulness and intent,
When sought in Revelation's light.
By it the sage old heathen's word
In all its breadth is understood;
Wisdom is best of all, he said,
Without it there is nothing good. (11)
VAIN HOPES.
VAIN is his labour who begins to sow,
Ere he has well prepared the soil below;
And vainer still his aim who hopes to win
To Heaven, before repenting of his sin.
Weak is his wish who looks for full crops grown,
Who has prepared his land and no seed sown;
But weaker still his hopes who thinks to win
To Heaven, with mere repentance of his sin.
To till the land and lay it out for seeds,
And yet none sown, will bring forth nought but weeds;
And wanting grace to fill, the void within
Breeds, with self-merit, all presumptuous sin.
Fruitless his skill who would a vessel steer
Without a rudder to direct and veer;
More fruitless still his aim who seeks to win
To Heaven, when wanting prayer for light within.
Hopeless his task who seeks to safely go,
Without a chart the dangerous rocks to show;
More hopeless still his aim, who seeks to win
To Heaven, when wanting faith to lead him in.
THE VALLEY OF LIFE.
IN the still midnight hour I sat alone
Within my chamber, sunk in reverie,
No sound disturbed my musings, all was hushed
In silence and in sleep, the light near done,
A dim uncertain flickering threw around.
The waning fire was but a heap of ashes,
While there and there a feeble red remained,
That now and then threw out a fitful gleam.
Something like slumber fell upon my eyes,
And a dream passed o'er my spirit stealthily,
As, in the early grey of morn, the mists,
Gathered in masses, up the hill-sides creep,
Ere they dissolve before the sun away.
Remembrance cannot all its features tell,
Though vivid and particular they seemed
When that dread vision on my senses came,
And I could trace the shadowy details,
As one might mark a phantom army march
O'er its last field of battle, ere it passed,
Into obscurity,--could note it then,--
But afterwards cannot recall the place,
Order and rank, of each brigade and file.
Methought I stood upon a bare hill-top,
And overlooked a vast and fertile plain
Peopled with many multitudes,--there met
Men of all tribes and nations that the globe
Holds in its wide extent, of every kind,
The Mongol, the Malayan, and the Negro,
The red American and Caucasian fair.
Among them Evil strode ubiquitous,
And threw its shadow wheresoe'er it came.
Its Jackal, lewd Temptation, went before,
With angel face and soft alluring eyes,
While close behind Guilt, Anguish, Care, and Pain
Followed incessantly, and left on all
Their mark impressed as with hot iron seared.
As then I looked upon the scene below,
Meseemed that wheresoe'er Temptation came,
And she came everywhere,--no spot escaped,--
That many, most indeed of these vast crowds,
Themselves threw madly in her way, and sought
To win her smiles, nor deemed them poisonous;
And once within her meshes, few had will
To fly them, or to manfully resist,
As a strong man confronts his enemy,
And strives to overthrow him where they meet;--
And she the while assumed all shapes and moods
That suited were to their intents and aims,
For, with a penetrating eye precise,
Intuitively still their minds she knew,
Tendencies and dispositions, and wore,--
As snares in readiness she had for all,--
The very guise adapted for their lure,
But carefully concealed the stings they bore.
Disease and sorrow on her victims fell,
Too late they felt the curse that is entailed
On all who to the Tempter yield, and thus
Become an early prey to Evil, whose
Inheritance is misery and woe.
And I beheld some 'mongst the various crowds
Who stood aloof from her, and would not be
Entangled with her witcheries or wiles.
These with a resolute will refused to come
Within her reach, and so escaped the first
Of Evil's followers, Guilt, though more or less,
They had their share of what the others left
Behind,--Care, Pain, and Anguish,--for the doom
Pronounced on Man was on them, but they knew
That these, to all who hold out to the end,
With a pure conscience and unspotted mind,
To their endurance will be tempered still,
And, in due season, turn to lasting good,
Which to their spirits consolation brought.
The valley watered was with goodly rivers,
Upon the banks of which were many met.
Prudence was one, and on its grassy sides
Sat some who, calculating every chance,
A deaf ear to Temptation, when she came,
Turned, unseduced from their proprieties.
Repentance was another, near it lay
Those who Remorse felt and a wounded spirit,
Seeking relief from agonising thought
And racking self-reproach. Beyond these two
Was Perseverance, where returning health
Was found by all who there due time remained.
And farther still, with borders ever green,
And fresh flowers ever springing, ever new,
Were two sweet rills, Virtue and Faith their names,
Where peace of mind was known and purity:
And those who sought their banks,--they were not few,
Though, midst the mighty myriads around,
They seemed but small in number and select,--
Remained unshaken in their constancy,
Resisting all enticements of the Tempter,
And gladly following the path of duty,
Which brought to them a sure and high reward.
On these, whate'er their griefs and trials were,
And they had many, to refine their souls,
And make them nobler after victory,
Enduring hope and perfect peace abode.
But whereso'er I looked besides, was seen
The power of Ill, shedding on all who bore
The fated impress of humanity,
Torment and fear, and bitter agony,
And pain intolerable,--At the sight
My spirit shrank, and, starting, I awoke!
AFTER-THOUGHT.
MAN values many things far more
Than their own worth told o'er and o'er,
Computed at its highest score.
He counts his gold with anxious care,
As his whole heart's desire were there,
And hoards up treasures for his heir.
He gives his labour, time, and health,
To add still something to his wealth,
And life enjoys as if by stealth.
When pleasure's mood his thoughts employ,
He plays with every passing joy,
Just as a child does with its toy.
He does not to reflexion call
What after reckoning may befall,
For how he has possessed them all.
In the lapse onward of his years,
Ere age or grief his spirit sears,
He keeps no note of hopes or fears.
Nor does he estimate his days,
That each its after-mead conveys,
Whether for censure or for praise,
As they deserve especially,
Each day it is his lot to see,
As bearing on futurity.
At night he tells up all his gains,
The more he gets the more he strains,
Or at his losses he complains.
And then, as one who does his best,
He folds his arms upon his breast,
And with contentment takes his rest.
Thus daily should he estimate
His bygone hours, and calculate
Their good or ill upon his fate;
That when his days all vanished have,
They may no bitter reckoning crave,--
There's no renewal in the grave.
NOTES.
NOTES.
NOTE 1, PAGE 55.
"_The Alpine Horn._"
Reichard, a German writer, affirms that when the sun sets, the shepherd
who dwells on the highest part of the Alps, calls through his horn,
"Praise God the Lord!" and the other shepherds, hearing the sound,
hasten out of their huts and repeat it. This continues for some time,
and the name of the Lord is thus re-echoed from mountain to valley.
When the sound ceases, all kneel down on the mountain, and their
prayers ascend together to the throne of grace. The shepherd from the
summit of the mountain then proclaims "Good night!" which is instantly
repeated by the rest. They then retire to their homes.
NOTE 2, PAGE 69.
"_But come not near the hollyhock._"
The flower of the hollyhock contains a species of poison, which is
fatal to bees, and round its nectaries and petals several of these
insects are frequently found lying insensible.
NOTE 3, PAGE 85.
_Loch Awe._
A lake in Argyleshire. My earliest years were spent in its
neighbourhood; but I have not been there since I was a mere boy.
"Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;
On chieftains long perished my memory pondered,
As daily I strode through the pine-covered glade."
BYRON.
According to the Guide Books, Loch Awe and its vicinity, more perhaps
than any other district in the Highlands, abound with memorials of
former ages. The lake is thirty miles in extent, and of the average
breadth of one, although in some places it does not exceed half a
mile. It is surrounded by mountains finely wooded, and like many of
the Scottish lakes, its surface is studded over with small islands,
beautifully tufted with trees, and some of them large enough to admit
of being pastured. Upon the island of Innis-Hail are the remains of
a convent; and on a rocky promontory at the eastern extremity of the
lake stand the magnificent ruins of Kilchurn Castle. This structure,
which still exhibits the vestiges of a castellated square tower, was
built in 1440, by Sir John Campbell, (second son of Argyle,) Knight of
Rhodes, and ancestor of the Breadalbane family, and in later times it
became, from the extensive view it commanded of the lake, the favourite
residence of the chiefs of the family. In 1745 it was garrisoned by
the king's troops, in order to defend the pass into the Highlands, and
secure the tranquillity of the country. Emerging from the ocean, and
rising on the north-east bank of Loch Awe, soars Ben Cruachan, the
largest mountain in Argyleshire. Its perpendicular height is 3,390
feet above the level of the sea, and its circumference at the base is
upwards of twenty miles. On the south, the ascent is gentle nearly to
the summit, where it rises abrupt, and divides into two points, each
having the form of a sugar-loaf. Before the storm, "the spirit of the
mountain shrieks" from Ben Cruachan, Ben Doran, and some other Highland
mountains. When Burke made his tour in Scotland, he declared that Loch
Awe was the most picturesque lake he had ever seen. It was in a narrow
pass in the vicinity of this lake that King Robert Bruce defeated the
Macdougals of Lorn, in 1308. In Loch Awe are found salmon, trout, eels,
and other fresh water fish. The lake discharges itself by the river Awe
into Loch Etive at Bunawe Ferry.
NOTE 4, PAGE 87.
_The Wolf._
Wolves were once the scourge of England, and are still numerous in many
parts of France. The Poem is founded on an incident which occurred
some years ago in Picardy--the details of which were similar, with the
exception that the peasant shot his mother instead of his sweetheart,
in mistake for the wolf of which he was in pursuit. The last of these
ferocious animals seen in the neighbourhood of Guisne was shot by a
woman named Louise Vernette, nearly fifty years ago. During a severe
winter, when the whole country was covered with snow, a she-wolf,
urged to desperation by hunger, had entered her cottage at an early
hour of the morning, and carried off her infant, as it lay in the
cradle. The mother, on returning from the labours of the field, with
frantic lamentations searched the neighbourhood for her child. During
her wanderings she encountered a peasant, breathless from a long and
unavailing pursuit of the savage beast, which he had seen entering a
wood about three leagues distant with the child in its jaws. The whole
village immediately renewed the chase; the mother, arming herself with
a gun, was, as might have been expected, the most indefatigable, and,
penetrating into the recesses of the forest, encountered the monster,
which she shot dead. No traces of the miserable infant were ever
discovered.
NOTE 5, PAGE 105.
_Mount Horeb._
Mount Sinai stands about 120 miles south from Jerusalem, and nearly 260
eastward from Grand Cairo in Egypt. The mountain is of no great extent,
but extremely high, and has two tops; the western of which is called
Horeb, and the eastern, which is about a third higher, Sinai. There are
several springs and fruit-trees on Horeb, but nothing except rainwater
on the top of Sinai. The ascent of both is very steep, and can only be
effected by steps, now much effaced, which the Empress Helena, mother
of Constantine the Great, caused to be cut in the marble rock. At the
foot of Mount Sinai, on the north, and near to the ascent of Mount
Horeb, there was a monastery dedicated to Saint Catherine, but now in
ruins, not far distant from which there stands a fountain of very clear
water, formed like a bow or arch. A little above which is to be seen
the Cave where Elijah rested when God spoke unto him, 1 Kings xix. From
the top of Sinai, God proclaimed his law to the Hebrews amid devouring
flames of fire, Exod. xxiv. The Rock Rephidim, which seems to have
been a clift fallen off from the side of Sinai, and lies like a large
loose stone in the midst of the valley, gives name to that part of the
desert nearest the mountain. There are twelve openings in it, whence,
on being struck by Moses, the waters gushed out for the supply of the
Israelites, during the forty years they tarried in the desert, Exod.
xvii.
NOTE 6, PAGE 116.
_Dryburgh Abbey._
The ruins of Dryburgh Abbey are surpassingly interesting, from their
antiquity, history, picturesque appearance, and more than all, from the
GREAT MINSTREL being buried there. The grave of Sir Walter Scott is
in St. Mary's Aisle of the Abbey Church of Dryburgh, which is in the
form of a cross, and the Poet lies in the left transept of the Cross,
part of which is still standing, and close to where the high altar
formerly stood. This transept is divided into three burial-places;
that of Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, in right of his grandmother, Lady
Haliburton's family; that of James Erskine, Esq. of Shieldhall and
Melrose; and that of James G. Haig, Esq. of the ancient family of
Bemersyde. These, with the tomb-house of the Earl of Buchan, in St.
Moden's Chapel, and that of James Anderson, Esq. of Gledswood, form,
I believe, the only cemeteries in Dryburgh. These venerable ruins
stand on a romantic peninsula, formed by one of the great windings
of the Tweed, commonly called the crescent of that river, in the
south-west nook of Berwickshire, where the river divides that county
from Roxburghshire. The land rises in a sloping bank from the margin of
the Tweed to the top of Dryburgh Hill, about 800 feet high, on which
stands the colossal statue of _Wallace_, erected by the late revered
Earl of Buchan. The trees in the neighbourhood of Dryburgh have a very
luxuriant appearance, and some of them are rather remarkable. There are
many vestiges of old oaks to be found, and the ash and the yew have
grown to a surprising height and circumference; and there is still,
in the cemetery of the Abbey, a yew-tree of uncommon beauty, which is
upwards of ten feet in circumference, at six feet from the ground. In
the grounds opposite the mansion house of Dryburgh, there are also some
fine trees, particularly a noble cedar, which has been much admired.
Many interesting remains of antiquity have been dug up in Dryburgh
Abbey and places adjacent.
NOTE 7, PAGE 140.
_Sonnets on Danby's Picture._
Mr Danby could scarcely have chosen a better subject for the display of
his great powers than that of the Deluge. In this highly effective and
beautiful work of art, an Angel of light is introduced, weeping over
the lifeless bodies of a giant and a female, who, floating above the
swelling waters on a hastily constructed raft, were crushed to death by
a fallen tree. This part of the scene is evidently illustrative of that
passage in Scripture which refers to the "Sons of God," who "saw that
the daughters of men were fair, and they took them wives of all whom
they chose." The "Sons of God," according to the best commentators,
were a race of men favoured by God, but who generally incurred his
displeasure, and perished with mankind in general.
NOTE 8, PAGE 157.
"_Calmly the martyr Guthrie met his fate._"
Mr James Guthrie, minister of Stirling, was executed at Edinburgh, on
the 1st of June 1661, for his adherence to the Covenant. In his dying
speech, he solemnly declared,--"I take God to record upon my soul, I
would not exchange this scaffold with the palace or the mitre of the
greatest prelate in Britain."
NOTE 9, PAGE 167.
_The Eagle's Nest._
The incident here versified is founded on fact, although I have taken
the liberty slightly to alter the details,--to change the scene, as it
were, of the heroine's birth-place,--and to give her a name of my own
choosing. The case is thus narrated by Dr Rush of Philadelphia, in his
"Lectures on the Utility of a Knowledge of the Mind to a Physician,"
lect. xi.:--
"During the time I passed at a country school, at Cecil county, in
Maryland," says that eminent medical philosopher, "I often went, on a
holiday, with my schoolmates, to see an eagle's nest, upon the summit
of a dead tree in the neighbourhood of the school, during the time of
the incubation of that bird. The daughter of the farmer in whose field
the tree stood, and with whom I became acquainted, married, and settled
in this place about forty years ago. In our occasional interviews, we
now and then spoke of the innocent pursuits and rural pleasures of our
youth, and, among other things, of the eagle's nest in her father's
field. A few years ago I was called to visit this woman, when she was
in the lowest stage of a typhus fever. Upon entering her room, I caught
her eye, and, with a cheerful tone of voice, said only--'The eagle's
nest!' She seized my hand, without being able to speak, and discovered
strong emotions of pleasure in her countenance, probably from a sudden
association of all her early domestic connexions and enjoyments with
the words I had uttered. From that time she began to recover. She is
now living, and seldom fails, when we meet, to salute me with the echo
of--'The eagle's nest!'"
NOTE 10, PAGE 193.
"_Our history records, 'with sorrow and with shame.'_"
Marshal Ney was shot in violation of a solemn capitulation--the
Convention of Paris;--by the twelfth article of which an amnesty
was granted to all persons in the capital, whatever might be their
opinions, their offices, or their conduct. Marshal Davoust, who had
concluded the Convention, explained it in favour of Ney,--and so
will impartial history. The Duke of Wellington, however, on being
appealed to by the unfortunate Ney, during the trial returned the cold
and lawyer-like answer,--"That the Convention was merely a military
convention, and did not, and could not, promise pardon for political
offences, on the part of the French government." And so Ney, the most
heroic of all the marshals of the French Revolution, was most foully
murdered in the garden of the Luxembourg, to satisfy a point of mere
military etiquette! Like the Dacian captive of old,--
"Butchered to make a Roman holiday."
That the Duke of Wellington did not at once strongly remonstrate
against the illegality of the act was unfortunate for his own fame. It
required but the saving of Ney's life to have made him the greatest man
of his time. That the act was illegal is acknowledged by the ablest
jurisconsults of Europe. Well might Ney himself exclaim, when he found
that his death was resolved upon:--"I am accused against the faith of
treaties, and they will not let me justify myself. I appeal to Europe
and to posterity!"
NOTE 11, PAGE 241.
"_He was a sage old man who said._"
A sophist, wishing to perplex Thales, who was one of the seven wise men
of Greece, asked him many difficult questions; to all of which the sage
replied without the least hesitation. To one of those questions,--which
was the following,--"What is the best of all things?" Thales gave
this response: "Virtue; because without it there is nothing good."
Such is the conviction of mere unassisted and stumbling reason, the
voice of nature, and the unequivocal and direct assertion of a heathen
philosopher.--_Preface to Piety and Intellect Relatively Estimated, by
Dr Henry Edwards._--An excellent work.