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 Rhoda, and other poemS; 
 
 3 1924 013 464 882 
 
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RHODA, 
 
 OTHER POEMS, 
 
 DONALD ANDREW TAYLOR COGHILL. 
 
 " Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire ! 
 
 That's a' the learning I desbe ; 
 
 Then, though I drudge through dub and mire 
 
 At pleugh or cart, 
 My muse, though hamely in attire, 
 
 May touch the heart.'' 
 
 BuKNS. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 E. & S. LIVINGSTONE, NICOLSON STREET ; 
 
 THURSO : 
 
 W. M. ALLEN. 
 
 18G9. 
 
A.\\o%ivSiV 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 PRINTED AND BOUND BY LYON BEOTHERS, 21 NICOLSON STREET 
 
MOST AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 To ALL young men belonging to Caithness, wherever 
 throughout this wide world their lots are cast. 
 
 By the Author, 
 who is proud to be named as one of them. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following Poems, at the request of a few friends, are 
 now given to the public. 
 
 They have all been written during the very few leisure 
 hours of an occupation not altogether congenial to the poetic 
 mind. 
 
 There will, doubtless, appear to many readers a few 
 errors in Metaphor and in Rhyme ; but the Author humbly 
 hopes they will be dealt with as favourably as possible. 
 
 Some of the smaller pieces have appeared from time to 
 time in Journals, &c. 
 
 " Ehoda" is partially founded on a traditional story of 
 the North of Scotland. 
 
 The Author has also to return his most grateful and 
 heartfelt thanks to the many kind friends who have be- 
 stowed on him their patronage. 
 
 With these few remarks the humble but earnest effort 
 goes forth into the wide world to take its chance. 
 
 D. A. T. C. 
 
 1 1 West Newington Place, 
 Edinburgh, June 1869. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Khoda 1 
 
 The Youthful Shepherd 55 
 
 The Earnest Wish 60 
 
 Thine for Ever 63 
 
 The Faithful Parting 66 
 
 The Emigrant's Address to his Native Eiver 68 
 
 Agartha's Constancy - 72 
 
 May - - - 74 
 
 Song - 76 
 
 There is a Spot 79 
 
 A Dying Sage - . . S3 
 
 Dedication - ... 88 
 
 Lay her Down Quietly - - 91 
 
 Our Little Bark ... 93 
 
 The Mountain Lily and the Traveller - 95 
 
 A Reminisoenee of Youth 103 
 
 The Drowning Man 111 
 
 The Dying Girl 116 
 
 In the Ship 119 
 
 Heaven - 122 
 
 On an Aged Christian 127 
 
 Freedom - 130 
 
 Faded Flowers 132 
 
 The Hallowed Grave - - 135 
 
 Jane 137 
 
 Lord Haimer's Dream 139 
 
 Epistle to Baublan - 162 
 
 Epistle to Davie 156 
 
 Thurso Men 160 
 
EBBATUM.—'Page 137, No. 3 line from bottom, 
 Eead— " He came, &c." 
 
EHODA. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Come, my Muse, and guide me well, 
 Till I this strange old story tell : 
 Oh ! leave me not till it be done. 
 And I be reckoned as thy son. 
 
 Thou didst the Poets of old inspire. 
 And well they tuned their hallowed lyre ; 
 When oft astray, thou didst them guide 
 Backward to thy beloved side. 
 
 For thy divine and needful aid, 
 
 How oft had classic Milton prayed ! 
 
 Ere yet the immortal Poem was done — 
 
 Ere he accepted as thy son. 
 B 
 
10 RHODA. 
 
 Now come, Muse, again I pray, 
 And teach, thy servant what to say ; 
 He loves to learn, though young in years ; 
 Do thou dispel his doubts — ^his fears ; 
 He kneels before thy footstool now, 
 Oh ! lead him to Parnassus' brow. 
 
RHODA. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Man's life is wove with toil and care — 
 
 One day hope, the next despair : 
 
 One day pleasure, another pain — 
 
 Sometimes loss, and sometimes gain : 
 
 Here a friend, and there a foe. 
 
 The one brings weal, the other woe ; 
 
 Always labour, seldom rest — 
 
 Oh ! what are all our lives at best 1 
 
 They speak the power of One Great Cause, 
 Who instituted Nature's laws : 
 Elaborate, mysterious plan, 
 Heaven deigning to give birth to man, 
 
12 RHODA. 
 
 And keep him on this earth a while, 
 
 Te earn his bread by sweat and toU ; 
 
 And when a few years pass away, 
 
 Call him. hence to endless day. 
 
 And this our lives are meant to be ; 
 
 Besides they all are mystery, 
 
 And we can nothing teU. or know, 
 
 Save that we live, we feel, we do, 
 
 As aU our fathers did before. 
 
 And enter then through death's dark door. 
 
RHODA. 
 
 In a thatched cottage near the sea 
 
 A farmer lived, and poor was he ; 
 
 Through generations twenty-one, 
 
 The farm came down from sire to son. 
 
 Hard, hard he wrought from day to day. 
 
 But still the farm would never pay, 
 
 Though all his neighbours far and near 
 
 Were growing richer every year. 
 
 He thought that Heaven did command 
 
 A curse to be upon his land. 
 
 But for what sins he could not tell. 
 
 For he lived honestly and well. 
 
 His mind was filled with honest pain, 
 
 When all his work was wrought in vain ; 
 
1-1, KHODA. 
 
 And oft he wandered by the shore 
 When his weary work was o'er, 
 And wished and wished that he could be 
 In the bottom of the deep blue sea : 
 Sometimes was tempted to plunge in,' 
 But was withheld from such a sin. 
 He had a fond and thrifty wife 
 Who shared the hardships of his life, 
 With as true an heart as ever lay 
 Within a fragile house of clay. 
 
 Week after week brought no relief, 
 
 But sunk him deeper in his grief. 
 
 Until at last he got so poor 
 
 That friends and neighbours passed his door ; 
 
 And if his mind was pained before — 
 
 This was another bleeding sore. 
 
 Poor man ! he comfort needed then 
 
 From a higher source than brother men : 
 
 'Twas hard, 'twas hard for one to be 
 
KHODA. 15 
 
 In such a state of misery, 
 
 Who, once by neighbours great and small, 
 
 Was thought superior to them all. 
 
 But soon would dawn a brilliant morn. 
 
 When he, forsaken and forlorn, 
 
 Should to his old position rise, 
 
 And take the country by surprise. 
 
 4 
 
 When Fortune's car in triumph rides. 
 Our faults and failings all it hides ; 
 And friends who once could see us shot. 
 Have then their feelings, quite forgot : 
 Thus was it with this man to be, 
 Who lived an outcast by the sea. 
 
 One evening by the ingle side. 
 With her in whom he could confide. 
 He said — " wife, where can we go 
 To shun our misery and woe ? 
 For daily nearer it doth come, 
 
1 6 RIIODA. 
 
 And we'll be banished from our home." 
 " Ah ! John," she said, " the world is wide — 
 Let us look at the better side ; 
 For all this world is fuU of care, 
 And we must battle with our share : 
 'Tis sent for some good end, I know, 
 And soon we'll be released from woe." 
 With sorrow's tears then he replied : 
 " Oh that I from the womb had died ! 
 Then grief would ne'er have filled my breast, 
 Annoyed my mind, disturbed my rest ; 
 But, pure as angel's sno'sy-white wing, 
 I with the Ransomed World would sing. 
 grief ! thou plaguer of my breast, 
 How long shalt thou remain its guest 1 
 Heaven ! thy mercy's angel send, 
 And to the friendless prove a friend" 
 
 At midnight, when kind Heaven did deign, 
 In sleep, to ease the troubled brain. 
 
RHODA. 17 
 
 A vision passed before that mind 
 Which day or night no rest could find ; 
 And in the morning when he woke, 
 He to his comforter thus spoke : 
 
 " I di«eamed last night an angel came, 
 
 And took me to the shore ; 
 His outspread wings were pure and white- 
 Around his head there flashed a light, 
 And, oh ! it was the grandest sight 
 I ever saw before. 
 
 ' *I come,' he said, 'from the land afar, 
 "Where goodly people dwell ; 
 
 And as thou strivest to be free 
 
 From all thy cares and misery. 
 
 The King of Nations hath sent me 
 Thy fortune foith to tell. 
 
IS RHODA. 
 
 " 'Be not afraid, my name is Peace, 
 
 To give thee peace I came ; 
 And in this roll soon shalt thou find 
 Ease for thine overburdened mind : 
 Then shalt thou know that Heaven is kind. 
 
 To poor and rich, the same. 
 
 " 'Thy woe was sent to test thy faith, 
 
 And see if thou wouldst fall ; 
 But, ah ! thy faith is sound and strong. 
 And thou thy grief hast suffered long, 
 Whilst Heaven, with all its countless throng, 
 Beheld thee bear it all ; 
 
 " 'And sent me hither with this roll 
 
 I hold in my right hand. 
 I now present it from the King 
 Who aU thy cares hast known and seen : 
 Thou must not read till I, on wing, 
 
 Shall reach the blessed land. 
 
RHODA. 19 
 
 " 'The lands which thou hast lost shall soon 
 
 Be thine again for ever ; 
 The friends who passed thine honest door, 
 Because thou wast brought very poor, 
 Shall wander helpless on the shore, 
 
 And weep and mourn together. 
 
 " 'Thy work which once was wrought in vain 
 
 Shall soon thine heart delight ; 
 Thy crops will with all others vie, 
 And everyone that passeth by 
 Shall cast a glance with envious eye. 
 
 And wonder at the sight. 
 
 " ' When I fly back to yonder realms 
 
 Where all my friends reside, 
 Engage thyself a while in prayer, 
 And thank the Lord who sent me here ; 
 Then, after, read the roll with care 
 
 Beside the rolling tide. 
 
20 RHODA. 
 
 " 'Now, fare thee -well, my saintly friend, 
 
 Thou art beloved, though poor ; 
 The palace or the gilded hall, 
 With stately trees — with guarded wall, 
 Is thought no more by the King of All, 
 Than your cot beside the shore.' 
 
 " Then, like a bird, he flew away 
 To the mansions of the blest, 
 And I was left upon the sand — 
 The fortune roll within my hand. 
 Like the bearer of a mystic wand. 
 And I held it with a zest. 
 
 " I gazed till the wings went out of sight 
 
 Far, far in the realms of space ; 
 And when I could not see them more, 
 I knelt me down upon the shore, 
 And prayed as I never prayed before, 
 For wisdom and for peace. 
 
RHODA. 21 
 
 " And then I rose with quivering hand 
 
 To open up the roll ; 
 And I wondered what was written there. 
 By a hand so lily-like and fair, 
 When something whispered in mine ear— 
 
 'Tis comfort to thy soul. 
 
 " And then I read : — ' Upon the spot 
 
 Where thou didst kneel and pray, 
 In ten days hence a box shall be, 
 And thou shalt save it from the sea, 
 And gently take it home with thee 
 Without an hour's delay. 
 
 " ' For something beautiful and fair 
 
 Shall in the box be found. 
 This is the means that I intend 
 To bring about a wondrous end, 
 And to thee prove a faithful friend 
 
 And spread thy fame around.' 
 
RHODA. 
 
 " And then I thought I heard a song 
 
 That filled the silent air ; 
 But human form I could not see, 
 Until it nearer came to me, 
 When I spied a maid upon the sea. 
 
 With flowing flaxen hair. 
 
 " She sat upon the rolling wave, 
 
 Like the swan upon a stream ; 
 
 And heeded me not, but sang away. 
 
 Like a linnet upon a leafy spray ; — 
 
 When in a twinkling shone the day. 
 
 And, lo ! all was a dream." 
 
 The wife with patience all the time 
 Heard him repeat his dream sublime, 
 And when 'twas done she said — " Ay, ay, 
 Our fortune's coming by and by. 
 I've heard of dreams like that before, 
 And people found things on the shore 
 
RHODA. 
 
 The same as in the vision seen, 
 When hours of midnight rolled between 
 The dreamer and this world of strife, 
 Where woes and cares and ills are rife ; 
 And at the place the dream foretold. 
 They've sometimes found a box of gold ; 
 And this may be the way with you : 
 Come, let us pray it will be too." 
 
 A female lived down in the dell, 
 Who could read dreams, and fortunes tell ; 
 She was suspected for a witch, 
 And few went near the wicked wretch ; 
 But John thought she could do no ill. 
 And straightway went to test her skill. 
 But as the hill he journeyed o'er 
 That led to worthless Meg Watt's door, 
 He stood and thought would he go in, 
 And thus commit a heinous sin, 
 When Heaven unceasingly had frowned 
 
24 RHODA. 
 
 Upon herself and plot of ground ; 
 And as he stood in contemplation 
 His mind was filled with indignation, 
 And to himseK he said — Not I, 
 Though on this hiU-top I should die — 
 Though drowned by felons in yon stream, 
 I will not tell Meg "Watt my dream. 
 Ten days' time is not long to wait, 
 And I wiU cast myself on Fate ; 
 So homeward did he bend his way, 
 And much he longed for the tenth day. 
 
 Mom after morn, night after night. 
 Stole o'er the cottage, out of sight ; 
 And when the ninth was nigh away 
 The farmer knelt him down to pray. 
 Believing that the dream would be 
 Most truly a reality. 
 He went to bed, but could not sleep — 
 His mind was on the rolling deep, 
 
RHODA. 
 
 Was on the sand beside the rocks, 
 Where he would find that wondrous box. 
 Daybreak rolled sweetly o'er the lea, 
 As the clock upon the wall struck three ; 
 And from the window he could spy 
 A gallant bark sail gaily by. 
 Swiftly darkness fled away, 
 Swiftly onward marched the day, 
 Swiftly now approached the hour. 
 When he would journey to the shore. 
 Hope ! companion of mankind ; 
 No truer — better— can man find. 
 None more lasting on this earth : 
 He gets it when he gets his birth. 
 He has it till the billows roll 
 Between the body and the soul. 
 It cheers him when a boy at school 
 To work until his mind is full. 
 And then upon the world to roam 
 
 Par from his much-loved native home. 
 
 C 
 
26 RHODA. 
 
 If worldly cares his mind distress, 
 It gives him often happiness ; 
 Its radiant beams disclose a day 
 When all his cares are swept away ; 
 When slowly ebbs this fleeting life, 
 And he forgets his cares and strife — 
 His father, mother, friends afar, 
 The sun, the moon, the twinkling star ; 
 All the companions he loved dear, 
 And every songster in the air ; 
 And brook, and stream, and surging main, 
 And lambkins' bleat, and hill, and plain ; 
 And haunted castles, old and hoar, 
 And rocks beside the sounding shore ; 
 And youth with all its thousand glees, 
 And plants, and flowers, and stately trees ; 
 And all things meant to make life sweet. 
 And bitters he had used to meet ; 
 Still Hope attends him to the last. 
 Till from the earth his soul has passed. 
 
RHODA. Ii7 
 
 Then every man one friend can claim, 
 
 And Hope, fair Hope, i? that friend's name. , 
 
 And this poor farmer claimed it well — 
 
 Better than thousand tongues can tell : 
 
 With cup of Sorrows to the brim, 
 
 He clung to Hope, Hope clung to him. 
 
 The sky was beautiful and clear, 
 And songsters' music filled the air ; 
 Cattle were pasturing at their will. 
 And lambs were bleating on the hill, 
 As to the shore the farmer trod 
 With heart and aim resigned to God. 
 Onward he paced in thoughtful mood, 
 When suddenly in awe he stood, 
 And heard a wail, and heard a cry, 
 And saw a form go sweeping by : — 
 'Twas a maiden young, with ringlets fair, 
 Her feet and beauteous head were bare 
 Like a steed, she ran across the plain, 
 
■2B RHODA. 
 
 As if some demon tracked her train, 
 To catch and drown her in the sea, 
 For some felonious butchery. 
 " What can it be t what can it be 1" 
 Loud cried the farmer hastily. 
 But' not a human soul was seen, 
 Save the maiden flying o'er the green ; 
 So he bent his steps towards the sand 
 With quivering heart and trembling hand. 
 
 Joy thrust from out his mind the woe, 
 As we thrust an arrow from the bow, 
 When at the dream-predicted rocks 
 There lay the dream-predicted box. 
 Enrapture filled his wondering eyes ; 
 And, gazing upward to the skies. 
 He fell upon his knees to pray — 
 To thank kind Heaven for that tenth day. 
 And after he had prayed his prayer. 
 He lifted up the box with care, 
 
RHODA. 29 
 
 And homeward hied with happy heart, 
 The joyful tidings to impart 
 To her who, in his hours of care, 
 Did all his melancholy share. 
 The cot is reached, the box is laid 
 With gentlest handling on the bed, 
 When high the wife her voice did raise, 
 Ascribing might, and power, and praise 
 To him who did the angel send, 
 And to the friendless proved a friend. 
 Not knowing what the box contained. 
 Nor yet the fortune they had gained. 
 'Twas opened, and, oh ! what was there, 
 But a beauteous babe surpassing fair : 
 Eich clothing did the child embrace — 
 A snow-white veil was o'er its face, 
 Beneath its head a pillow lay. 
 No royal babe had more array. 
 The wife did lift it up with care, 
 And said — beautiful and fair. 
 
30 
 
 KHODA. 
 
 I'll nurse thee as thou wert my own, 
 And tend thee without sigh or frown : 
 Whate'er our lot, that lot you'll share, 
 As God thy little life did spare 
 For some unknown, but gracious end, 
 And thus so wondrous prove a friend 
 To us who, in our hours of care. 
 Did ne'er forget our evening prayer. 
 Thy name fair Ehoda we will call, 
 And pass thee off to one and all 
 As our own babe ; and none will be 
 Informed of thy dread mystery. 
 
 woman ! wheresoe'er thou art, 
 
 1 would not wish to have thine heart : 
 No ; rather would I drowned be 
 Than place my babe beside the sea. 
 With a perchance that passers by 
 Upon the sandy beach might spy 
 The box before the tide rolled in, 
 And wondering what Avas hid within, 
 
RHODA. 31 
 
 Speed home with it without delay, 
 
 And, opening to the blaze of day. 
 
 See there a babe, and pity take, 
 
 And purse it for the darling's sake. 
 
 woman ! when shalt thou e'er know 
 
 The paths to pass, the paths to go, 
 
 And save thyself from wretched woe t 
 
 Heaven ! guide all mankind aright, 
 
 Make day appear, — dispel the night 
 
 That clouds their mind, that clouds their sight. 
 
 From that day forth the farm began 
 
 To pay the poor o'erburdened man ; 
 
 And when he saw his toil repaid. 
 
 His weary work was easy made. 
 
 The weight that once hung to his mind 
 
 Fell off, and he could pleasure find 
 
 Early to rise, late to lie down. 
 
 And sing instead of sigh and frown. 
 
 His barns, though empty, and his land, 
 
 Though barren as the sea beach sand, 
 
32 RHODA. 
 
 Soon would be filled — he saw the day, 
 
 But how he knew, he could not say. 
 
 Friends who despised liim when so poor 
 
 Began again to find his door. 
 
 And everyone who passed the road 
 
 Stood wondering as the corn did nod ; 
 
 And for a time the whole around 
 
 Spoke of the farmer and his ground. 
 
 This did increase year after year. 
 
 Till the story fled from ear tO' ear ; 
 
 But none the reason could explain, 
 
 Save — " Fortune's wheel has turned again.'' 
 
 He lived in happiness and ease. 
 
 And died in Christian hope and peace. 
 
 With kindly nursing, Ehoda grew. 
 
 Like a lovely rose with morning's dew. 
 
 A smile beamed ever on the face 
 
 Of that fair maiden of the race ; 
 
 And there was something in her eye 
 
 That told she was of parents high ; 
 
RHODA. 33 
 
 And then she spoke as if a guest 
 And not a daughter like the rest. 
 Her lips were bright as roses' hue, 
 Her hair was beautiful to view — 
 Sometimes it lay upon her breast, 
 Like a gallant chieftain taking rest ; 
 Sometimes out o'er her back it fell, 
 Like the tumbling towers of Evandale. , 
 No royal child could fairer be, 
 Than her found by the surging sea. 
 This maid too high, too fine, too fair. 
 To live upon this world of care. 
 In a few parts of life was seen. 
 And then she vanished from the scene. 
 Like most of all great of the race, 
 "We harcfly see their living face, 
 When monster clouds descending pour 
 Their wrath ; and we see them no more. 
 
 Out o er the hill an hoary sage 
 
34 RHODA. 
 
 Who could not work for health — not age, 
 A small school kept to earn his bread, 
 And keep himself from parish aid. 
 As no school near to his one lay, 
 Nor had there been for many a day, 
 The farmers all around did send 
 Their children to this decent friend. 
 Although he'could not teach them much. 
 Yet was his gentle manner such 
 That all the young did love him well. 
 And ever did some stories tell 
 About his ways so odd and queer. 
 E'en sometimes with a loving tear. 
 Well, Bhoda, like the rest, was sent 
 To share this old man's merriment ; 
 And often, often lovingly 
 He took the maid upon his knee, 
 And taught her lessons all with care, 
 As he tossed her ringlets long and fair, 
 And prophesied that she would be 
 
RHODA. 35 
 
 The cause of some man's 'misery. 
 A very few years more passed by, 
 And Bhoda captured every eye : 
 The hoary sage, the sprightly swain, 
 The wives and maidens round the plain, 
 Could not their praise suppress or hide, — 
 For Rhoda's fame was far and wide, — 
 So all with one accord did say, 
 She was the fairest of her day. 
 
 Soon love, that tenant of the soul 
 Which will not stoop to bear control, 
 Began to move within her breast. 
 And keep her from the needful rest. 
 Night after night seme lover came, 
 And asked for Rhoda by her name : 
 Until her sisters all began 
 To warn her of deceitful man, 
 
36 RHODA. 
 
 And Ehoda heard, but heeded not, 
 
 Or if she heeded, soon forgot ; 
 
 For maidens think not man is so, 
 
 When their young minds with love o'erflow. 
 
 And then the mother grave and mild 
 
 Did speak to her adopted child. 
 
 For she did better understand, 
 
 Than all the maidens in the land, 
 
 How love begins to work — to win 
 
 An object tUl its next of kin. 
 
 Strange is the process — oh ! how strange, — 
 
 Scene after scene, change after change, 
 
 UntU the last act dooms the pair 
 
 To bliss for ever or despair. 
 
 Experience, and that alone. 
 
 Can make a teacher truly one. 
 
 Thus, then, the mother true could tell. 
 
 For she passed through the process well. 
 
 And as a real mother, she 
 
 Advised fair Rhoda what to be. 
 
KHODA. 
 
 The maid, who loved to act aright — 
 To walk by faith, and not by sight. 
 With patience listened to her tell 
 How she should act, if acting well. 
 
 One suitor deeper than the rest, 
 (He with excess of love was blest), 
 Met Rhoda often in the glen — 
 A haunt of maidens and of men. 
 He was an old laird's eldest son, 
 And nigh approached to twenty-one : 
 He did not ape things high or grand. 
 As if he owned a world of land ; 
 But plainly spoke, and plainly dressed, 
 And plainly his true love confessed ; 
 And the maiden felt within her breast 
 That he was the most welcome guest. 
 So, though the tale was hard to tell, 
 
'38 RHODA. 
 
 As many maids will know right well, 
 She felt it to be just and true 
 Towards her other lovers two ; 
 And most of all to her own mind 
 For she could never comfort find, — 
 To tell them she could never be 
 In terms of love at once with three. 
 Hard, hard she strove to find a way, 
 How the strange news she best could say ; 
 And after nights of thought and care, 
 This maid-like plan she did prepare : 
 " I'll meet each of the lovers two, 
 And talk as I was used to do ; 
 And when I see their spirits high, 
 I'll put a twinkle on mine eye. 
 And on my face I'll put a smile. 
 Them from suspicion to beguile. 
 Then will I talk of maids and men 
 Who tryst and court down in the glen ; 
 And I will ask them if they know 
 
RHODA. ;iil 
 
 How love begins to work — ^to flow, 
 Pretending all the time that I 
 Know nothing of its verity. 
 Then will I venture to begin 
 And ask them if it is a sin 
 For maidens to court two or three, 
 When one is true as true can be ; 
 And from the feelings they display 
 I'll understand what next to say. 
 Although they know each other well, 
 Their tales of love they never tell ; 
 So that I need not fear the one 
 WUl tell the other what was done." 
 
 Next evening, when all work was o'er, 
 Ehoda went down towards the shore ; 
 She took a book within her hand 
 To read and sit beside the sand. 
 One of the lovers lived close by. 
 
40 RHODA. 
 
 And he the maiden did espy. 
 
 With stealthy step he watched her train, 
 
 As queenly-like she trod the plain ; 
 
 And when he saw her stately roll 
 
 It elevated high his soul : 
 
 He watched till, in a fairy nook. 
 
 She sat and opened up the book. 
 
 Then, like a frighted deer, he ran, 
 
 Proposing all the way a plan 
 
 How he would slowly pass her by, 
 
 As if he thought no one was nigh. 
 
 A good way over, in a line 
 With where the maiden did recline, 
 He slowly walked beside the sea, 
 Reciting some fine melody. 
 Onward he came, and on until 
 Nearer, and nearer, nearer still 
 To where the maid with ringlets fair 
 Sat reading in the cavern there. 
 
RHODA. 4 1 
 
 Slowly he came as if his mind 
 
 Was to some mighty plan confined ; 
 
 And Ehoda lifted up her eye, 
 
 When there the lover walked close by. 
 
 At once she thought now all was right, 
 
 And one would be paid off to-night : 
 
 So, rising from her calm retreat, 
 
 She said — " O Robert, how we meet ! 
 
 I came to have a silent look 
 
 At this enchanting, wondrous book, 
 
 And never dreamed that I would be 
 
 So happy as to meet with thee, 
 
 Upon the sand beside the sea." 
 
 As if astonished, he replied — 
 
 " wonder, Ehoda, at my side ! 
 
 I came, like you, from din and care, 
 
 -- The peace around the rocks, to share, 
 
 And never dreamed you would be there. 
 
 Come, let me see the book you find 
 
 Enchanting to your matchless mind ; 
 D 
 
42 RHODA. 
 
 And let us read a page or so, 
 For it may charm me too, you know !" 
 Then in his hand she placed the book, 
 When at its name he took a look. 
 And said — " O dear, I've read it all, 
 With laughing sometimes like to fall, 
 As I read about the mighty sea. 
 And that fond lover, Hallardy." 
 
 Well, aU about the book passed by. 
 And she saw his spirits rising high. 
 So on her face she put a smile, 
 Him, from suspicion, to beguile, 
 And said — " O Eobert, do you know 
 How love begins to work — ^to flow,— 
 How all the maidens and the men. 
 That meet so often in the glen. 
 Appear to be so fond and true — 
 
RHODA. 
 
 Appear as lovely as the dew 
 
 Which from the sky descends to raise 
 
 The flowers to speak their Maker's praise T 
 
 " i^ell, Rhoda, I cannot you tell 
 
 That which doth words and speech excel, 
 
 But sure I am you are not there 
 
 Without a great or little share 
 
 Of that strange working in the breast, 
 
 At times of all mankind a guest." 
 
 The maiden smiled a beauteous smile. 
 
 As Robert talked of love the while ; 
 
 And then at last she did begin 
 
 To ask him if it were a sin 
 
 For maidens to court two or three, 
 
 If one was true as true could .be. 
 
 " Oh !" Robert said, "I see no ill 
 
 To have a walk around the hill. 
 
 Or in the glen, or on the plain. 
 
 With any decent country swain. 
 
 Although the maiden might be bound 
 
44 EHODA. 
 
 To take some laird with lots of ground; 
 Supposing then a maid loved you, 
 With both a whole heart and a true ; 
 And if two others came the way, 
 Whom she had known for many a day, 
 And they their visits did intend 
 To gain her right hand in the end : — 
 What do you think she could do best 
 To set her troubled mind at rest 1" 
 " Well, Ehoda, if a maid loved me 
 With heart as true as true could be, 
 Then I would tell her what to do, 
 If other lovers came to woo ; 
 Because I know if she loved well. 
 Her secrets to me she would tell ; 
 For I think lovers ought to share 
 Each other's joy — each other's care ; 
 Though seldom care shows head or hand. 
 Until on wedded ground they stand." 
 Then Rhoda thought that she had done 
 
RHODA. 45 
 
 That which was wrong to the laird's son ; 
 
 But Robert might be saying so, 
 
 Some of her hidden things to know : 
 
 And this idea crossed her mind, 
 
 As he did talk so wondrous kind ; 
 
 So she prepared herself for all 
 
 That from his flatt'ring lips might fall. 
 
 The gloaming came across the sea ; 
 The tide rolled in with rippling glee. 
 As Ehoda said — " The time has come 
 When all young maidens should be home." 
 But Robert said — " I see no fear 
 When you have got a guardian near : 
 I do not like young maids to stay 
 Alone till daylight fades away : 
 But when a guardian brave like me 
 
46 RHODA. 
 
 Is here to shield and comfort thee, 
 I cannot understand or see 
 The cause for such perplexity, 
 But I will grant vnth all my heart. 
 Thy wish :" so homeward they depart. 
 
 By this time Eobert thought he knew 
 He was one of the lovers two, 
 And was ill pleased he spoke so free, 
 To one pretending to court three, 
 However fair the maid might be. 
 And on the way across the plain 
 Rhoda seemed dry towards the swain ; 
 While all the time his heart did burn, 
 And vowed he never would return. 
 They parted near the farmer's door. 
 But not as they were used before : 
 Something had come between th^ pair— 
 The country swain, the maiden fair ; — 
 
RHODA. 47 
 
 Something : what can that something be 1 
 She loved but one — she walked with three. 
 
 woman ! can I call thee true 
 Towards thy vows, however few ? 
 Or can I soar on wings of song, 
 And sing thy praises loud and long, 
 Till all the air shall filled be 
 With sweetest melodies of thee ? 
 Or can I to the world declare 
 " Thy name is frailty," grief, and care ? 
 Ah, no ! I cannot call thee true, — 
 Thou hast thy faults, they may be few : 
 I cannot soar on wings of song. 
 And aU thy praises loud prolong ; 
 But I can to the world declare 
 " Thy name is frailty," grief, and care. 
 There was a custom then as now. 
 That all the brave sons of the plough 
 
48 RHODA. 
 
 Together met on given nights, 
 
 To share each other's fond delights ; 
 
 And very often others went 
 
 To have an evening's merriment. 
 
 A central farm-house, here and there. 
 
 Where there were daughters young and fair, 
 
 Was usually declared the place 
 
 That they should meet the happy race. 
 
 One of those meetings chanced to be 
 
 Held in a farm-house near the sea, 
 
 About the time that Ehoda fair 
 
 Had left poor Eobert in despair. 
 
 The farm of Eobert's father lay 
 
 Between the maiden's and the bay. 
 
 And the steading whetStfiach youthful swain 
 
 Did meet associates once again 
 
 Was further southward on the plain ; 
 
 And Eobert, forid of love and glee. 
 
 Went off to join the revelry. 
 
 And cool his spirits by the fan 
 
RHODA. 40 
 
 Of friendship between man and man. 
 He came cloge to the steading, when 
 Was heard the noise of maids and men, 
 So in he went their fun to share, 
 And left behind his wild despair. 
 Fiddlers and pipers in display. 
 When called alternately did play. 
 
 As aU the men and lasses gay 
 
 . * 
 Danced round the room in bright array ; 
 
 And songs contributed their part 
 
 To the cheering up of every heart. 
 
 There was a friend of Eobert's there, 
 
 He was the other of the pair 
 
 Whom Rhoda wished to know no more 
 
 As lovers on the plain or shore. 
 
 They sat together side by side. 
 
 And each seemed happy as a bride. 
 
 Their parting song, so grand and fine, 
 
 Was soul-inspiring " Auld lang syne ;" 
 
 They sang it with a gallant grace, 
 
50 RHODA. 
 
 With hand in hand and face to face. 
 
 The gathering now are homewards gone — 
 Some had their lasses, some had none, 
 As Robert and his friend began 
 The evening's merriment to scan. 
 And after they had praised it well, 
 Robert said — " I've a tale to teU." 
 His friend who knew fuU well the tale, 
 Said — " Bob, throw over it a veil. 
 For I can guess what you do mean 
 From a visit that I made yestreen." 
 Then they talked of the maiden fair. 
 And cursed the day that they went there ; 
 For from the time they did begin 
 To go, the maid but took them in ; 
 And from that time they both, as one, 
 Eesolved to evermore her shun. 
 
RIIODA. 51 
 
 Deep sunk the love in Rhoda's breast 
 
 Towards its one and only guest, 
 
 And often, often did he come 
 
 To share the comforts of her home ; 
 
 For both the farmer and his wife 
 
 Thought that his wealth and place in life 
 
 Was the best suited to the maid, 
 
 Because he could extend some aid 
 
 Unto the rest as well as she 
 
 Who was his future wife to be. 
 
 The day was fixed when they together 
 
 Should be made one, and one for ever. 
 
 Anticipations high and great 
 
 About their future wedded fate 
 
 Engaged, to every other kind 
 
 Of thought, the whole thought of their mind, 
 
 The future who can understand, 
 
RHODA. 
 
 That dark and dreary speck of land ? 
 For all mankind since time began, 
 Down tiU the latest living man, 
 Could not, nor will, the future span. 
 Perhaps 'tis well we do not know 
 Our coming bliss, or coming woe. 
 Uncertainty, and that is all 
 We can the future rightly call. 
 
 There fell a taint on Ehoda's eye, 
 And on her cheek a blush did lie 
 Which told that something had begun, 
 And with her life away to run. 
 At first her looks did only show 
 That which tend maidens as they grow. 
 But, ah ! day after day it grew 
 Until they knew not what to do. 
 The doctor came, he shook his head, 
 
RHODA. 53 
 
 But nothing to the maiden said, 
 Though well he understood her pain, — 
 And well that medicine was in vain. 
 Her lover came, with heart sincere, 
 And whispered something in her ear, — 
 'Twaa words of comfort — ^words of cheer. 
 She was attended night and day 
 By faithful nurses, who would say — 
 " O Bhoda, be not thou dismayed,' 
 There is a Friend who can thee aid." 
 Week after week on bed she lay, 
 And thought that death was far away. 
 Though it had entered at the door ; 
 And one more week, she was no more. 
 Her ringlets fair, her beauteous eye. 
 Soon in the old churchyard would lie — 
 No more attract the sprightly swain, — 
 She was across the gulf of pain. 
 Uncertainty, and that is all 
 We can the future rightly call. 
 
54 EHODA. 
 
 Sorrow filled all the breasts around- - 
 Sorrow the most refined — profound ; 
 And e'en the jilted lovers two 
 Did weep when of her death they knew. 
 For death takes with it all the scorn 
 That to its victim might be borne. 
 Great was the company who came 
 To pay a tribute to her name, 
 For far and near they all did say 
 She was the fairest of her day. 
 The lover sorely sorrowed when 
 He saw his darling sweetheart then 
 Nailed in a coffin, to be laid 
 Along with all the slumbering dead. 
 And then they laid her in the clay. 
 To rest till that great Final Day 
 When with her shall arise the whole 
 Who slumber on from pole to pole. 
 
 THE KND. 
 
THE YOUTHFUL SHEPHERD. 
 
 Autumnal breezes gently blew ; 
 The sky was wrapt in finest hue ; 
 The Queen of Night was on her throne, 
 And brightly flashed her dazzling crown, 
 As on a hillside lonely lay 
 A youthful shepherd bright as day. 
 No melancholy filled his breast, 
 No noisy crowd disturbed his rest : 
 Far from the busy haunts pf strife. 
 His was a happy, happy life. 
 Near him his faithful dog did lie. 
 And watched the flock with eager eye 
 
56 THE YOUTHFUL SHEPHERD. 
 
 The lively linnets went to rest 
 When the sweet sun sunk in the west. 
 He firmly gazed upon a cot, 
 Where soon he was to cast his lot, 
 With one on whom he ne'er forgot ; 
 And as he gazed with lover's eye, 
 He sang this shepherd's melody : — 
 
 I. 
 
 I see the moon peeping 
 
 At Madalene's brow, — 
 I hear the stream weeping 
 
 For passing her now ; 
 The summer day's over, 
 
 The rest-time has come, 
 She thinks of her lover. 
 
 Or dreams of his home. 
 
 II. 
 Alone on the mountain, 
 I sing of my dove ; 
 
THE YOUTHFUL SHEPHKRD. 57 
 
 For pure as the fountain 
 
 Is Madalene's love ; 
 And sweet as the bleating 
 
 Of lambs on the plain, 
 And bright as the meeting 
 
 Of loved friends again ! 
 
 III. 
 Her eyes gaily beaming, 
 
 Like stars in the night : 
 Her rosy lips teeming 
 
 With honeyed delight ; 
 Her smUe so enduring — 
 
 So -winniag and sweet — 
 Her voice so alluring, — 
 
 I joy when we meet. 
 
 IV. 
 May angels descending 
 To soothe and to charm, 
 
58 THE YOUTHFUL SHEPHERD. 
 
 Be ever attending 
 
 To shield thee from harm ! 
 
 May sorrow and weeping 
 Ne'er make thee repine, 
 
 For waking or sleeping, 
 Thou ever art mine. 
 
 V. 
 The hare shall surrender 
 
 Her life to the hound ; 
 The hUl, her defender, 
 
 Be levelled to ground ; 
 No ship shall be sailing 
 
 Upon the wide sea ; 
 All nature be failing, 
 And mankind bewailing. 
 
 But still I'll love thee. 
 
 "Well might the shepherd — mountain son- 
 Sing, when the world was all his own, 
 
THE YOUTHFUL SHEPHERD. 59 
 
 In strains so happy and so free 
 
 As made the lambkins dance with glee, 
 
 The dog to bark, the lark to rise, 
 
 And send an anthem to the skies. 
 
THE EARNEST WISH. 
 
 I. 
 
 I CARE not for the palace high, 
 Nor gilded castle 'neath the sky, 
 
 Where honoured men recline ; 
 I care not, whether rich or poor — 
 No ! should I beg from door to door, 
 
 If happiness be mine. 
 
 II. 
 
 As sure as time will ever fly. 
 And planets roll in yonder sky, 
 
 Where myriad others shine ; 
 As sure as saints to heaven ascend. 
 
THE EARNEST WISH. 61 
 
 I care not for another friend, 
 If happiness be mine. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tfiough troubles rise like angry sea, 
 And gathered raging round me be. 
 
 That I may almost pine ; 
 Though great the sea the sum wUl make, 
 Yet I wiU gladly cross the lake, 
 
 If happiness be mine. 
 
 IV. 
 Give me a home on yonder shore. 
 Where thousand times I roamed of yore, 
 
 4 
 
 In happiness divine ; 
 Give me a cot beside the stream. 
 Of whose fair banks I nightly dream, 
 
 And happiness is mine. 
 
 V. 
 Give me again the ocean brave, 
 That beats yon castle with its wave. 
 
62 THE EARNEST WISH. 
 
 And worships at its shrine ; 
 Give me again the braes' bright bloom, 
 That I may breathe their pure perfume ; 
 
 And happiness is mine. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Give me again the linnet's song, — 
 The heathery hills to rove among, 
 
 And view them in their prime ; 
 Give me a grave beside the rest 
 Of all mankind I love the best. 
 
 And happiness is mine. 
 
THINE FOR EVER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Though I may roam from west to north, 
 And o'er the seas I sally forth, 
 
 And mighty space us sever ; 
 Thoijgh 'mid the hills of icy row 
 My lot shall thus be to and fro — 
 
 Yet I am thine for ever. 
 
 II. 
 Though kings be crowned, and kingdoms fall, 
 Though vacant lie the world's great hall. 
 
 And changes cease shall never ; 
 Though cannons crash throughout the land, 
 
04 THINE FOR EVER. 
 
 And dead lie strewed on every hand — 
 Yet I am thine for ever. 
 
 III. 
 Though judgments from above descend, 
 And lightnings' flash the earth shall rend, 
 
 And all the nations quiver ; 
 Though mighty thunders groan for long, 
 And all sweet singers hush their song — 
 
 Yet I am thine for ever. 
 
 IV. 
 Though mountains fall and fill the plain, 
 Though heaven cries out perpetual rain. 
 
 Which swell shall every river ; 
 Though sky may lack its golden hue, 
 And sun and moon be lost to view — 
 
 Yet I am thine for ever. 
 
 V. 
 Though all the worlds shall blaze on high. 
 And tears gush forth from every eye. 
 
TfflNE FOR EVER. C5 
 
 And all their heads shall cover ; 
 Though dimly seen descends the Throne, 
 And from the wicked speeds a groan — 
 
 Yet I am thine for ever. 
 
THE FAITHFUL PARTING. 
 
 Lo ! I go, my bonnie Bessie, 
 Yonder waits the ship for me ; 
 
 Fare thee well ! — ^my heart is aching, 
 Till I come 'twiU ache for thee. 
 
 '' Jamie, wilt thou think on Bess, 
 When sailing o'er the surging sea 1 — 
 
 And when on that far distant shore. 
 Wilt thou, Jamie, think on me ?" 
 
 The swan may leave her silent lake, 
 And, changing, wander to the sea ; 
 
 The lark forget her morning lay, — 
 But I will ne'er forget on thee. 
 
THE FAITHFUL PARTING. 07 
 
 The brook where first we met may dry, — 
 
 Yes ! yonder sun may cease to be, 
 But ever till this heart is cold, 
 
 And throbs no more, I'll think on thee. 
 
 I would not go if I myself 
 
 Were as my thoughts — my own and free ; 
 But I must jield — then, fare thee well ! 
 
 Oh, fare thee well ! and think on me. 
 
THE EMIGRANT'S ADDRESS TO HIS 
 MTIYE RIVER. 
 
 Ah ! shall I never once again 
 
 Upon thy blissful bosom lie, 
 Or catch the eels beneath the stones, 
 
 Or see the shadow of the sky ? 
 
 Ah ! shall I never once again 
 
 A wee trout catch and bring it home ; 
 Or watch thy motion rushing by, 
 
 Or stroU along thy banks alone ? 
 
 Ah ! shall I never once again, 
 
 When wintry frost thy waters weave, 
 
THE emigrant's ADDRESS. G9 
 
 A champion slide upon its top, 
 
 Or hardy snowballs make and heave ? 
 
 Alas, alas ! those budding days 
 
 Have brightly bloomed and now are by ; 
 
 The braes may fall and stem thy tide, 
 But they have passed our finite eye. 
 
 And when ia silent thought I trace 
 
 My wondrous wanderings to and fro. 
 It lifts my soul far past the earth — 
 
 That place of mourning, grief, and woe. 
 
 A circle once complete was formed 
 
 Upon that island near thy bed ; 
 And now 'twould not the radius make, — 
 
 Alas, alas ! the major dead. 
 
 Would I could gather all the scenes 
 That e'er those watchful eyes have seen, 
 
70 THE emigrant's ADDRESS. 
 
 Of youthful frolic, pure and true, 
 Which round thy banks have often been ! 
 
 'Twould cheer my heart when solemn thought 
 Its mantle wraps me all in gloom, 
 
 And change my sadness to delight. 
 Like summer's silver sun at noon. 
 
 But, like thyself, the stream of time 
 
 Flows ever onwards, ever on . 
 This morn another hundred born — 
 
 This morn another hundred gone. 
 
 Thus hath it been, thus shall it be, 
 And still thy waters are the same ; 
 
 Thus hath it been, thus shall it be. 
 And thus shall evermore remain. 
 
 Fair are thy waters, rushing on, 
 
 Fair are thy banks, and fair thy bed, 
 
THE emigrant's ADDRESS. 71 
 
 Fair are thy braes, and fair their bloom, — 
 A thousand fairs could well be said. 
 
 Adieu, adieu ! thrice sad adieu ! 
 
 Thy brilliant beauty e'er will be 
 In lustrous glory near my eye, 
 
 Where oft I'll look and think of thee. 
 
AGARTHA'S CONSTANCY. 
 
 The prophets may say we ne'er shall be one, 
 
 And the "Magi" with them agree ; 
 But I will be constant as summer's return, 
 And steadfast as rocks the ocean that spurn, 
 
 Or as rivers flow on to the sea. 
 
 I envy neither the king nor his car, 
 
 However triumphant they be ; 
 Nor the Prince who returns with his wealth from afar 
 Can ever my comfort or happiness mar, 
 
 If thou art as constant to me. 
 
agartha's constancy. 73 
 
 A cot near the stream where in youth I did roam, 
 
 With heart full of gladness and glee, 
 Is all I desire for a peaceable home. 
 Where daily I'll view the ocean's wild foam, 
 
 With true love, my William, and thee. 
 
 And there let us live till life's ebbing tide 
 
 Shall from earth disunite us for ever ; 
 And there let our hearts moulder side by side, 
 While our souls to the mansion of Paradise glide ; 
 When there we shall ever, sweet William, abide. 
 
 To join in the " Chorus" together. 
 
AY. 
 
 I. 
 
 I RISE in the morning with dew drops in hand, 
 
 And I cast them on mountain and lea ; 
 
 The fair lilies smile, and the roses command 
 
 That all Nature shall bow to greet me. 
 
 And forth at the bidding 
 
 Come flowers that are hiding 
 On mountain, in garden, and glen ; 
 
 And all stooping low. 
 
 Their kind favour show, 
 And I promise to visit again. 
 
 II. 
 Then day after day, my promise to keep, 
 I come robed in purest of white ; 
 
MAY. 75 
 
 And scarce do the lambkins awaken from sleep, 
 When they dance with fond joy at my sight. 
 The linnet sings low 
 
 To his mate on the bough, 
 Meaning — who can do better than we ! 
 
 And the wee, wimpling stream 
 
 Starts the dog from his dream, 
 And the shepherd that sleeps 'neath the tree, 
 
 To praise the kind hand. 
 That's so good to the land. 
 
 In sending an help-meet like me. 
 
SONG. 
 
 I SAT, I sat on the old loved braes, 
 With a friend as pure as gold ; 
 
 And we mused on the old loved vrays 
 Where we ran in days of old. 
 
 bring me again to the river's rush, 
 For I love it more than ever ! 
 
 And bring me back to one old loved bush. 
 And I would leave it never ! 
 
 1 stood, I stood at the old burnside, 
 And the castle-wall so hoary ; 
 
SONG. 77 
 
 And I gazed on the ocean rolling wide, 
 And thought on the bishop of story. 
 
 There saw I scenes that raised my soul 
 When the days of youth were bright — 
 
 And I danced as the waves did proudly roll, 
 For I ever loved the sight. 
 
 bring me again where the white waves wash 
 The rocks beside the shore, 
 
 And I wiU cast my praise as trash 
 In the waters of Lodore. 
 
 1 love, I love where the linnets sing, 
 
 And the wee wrens build their nest ; 
 And I long, I long till time will bring 
 Me back to their place of rest. 
 
 bring me again to the heather bloom — 
 The heather bloom for me ! 
 
78 SONG. 
 
 bring me again to the heather bloom, 
 And then shall I be free ! 
 
 bring me back to Caithness shore, — 
 To the home beside the sea ; 
 
 And I will lavish all my store 
 Of love and song on thee. 
 
THERE IS A SPOT. 
 
 I. 
 
 There is a spot — a spot I love, 
 
 And billows roll upon its shore, 
 Their sound still lingers on mine ear, 
 
 As fresh as in the days of yore. 
 There is a bum — a burn that runs 
 
 In endless ripples to the sea ; 
 It passes by the Bishop's Brae, 
 
 Where aft I ran right merrily. 
 Where'er I roam 
 My heart says come, 
 And take me to my native home. 
 
80 THERE IS A SPOT. 
 
 II. 
 
 There is a cove — a cove that looks 
 
 Upon the ocean wild or tame ; 
 And ten times ten, and ten again, 
 
 I've wandered there to print my name. 
 There is a dell — a dell of fame, 
 
 Where trysting lovers often stray — 
 Where lav'rocks tune their golden lyres, 
 
 And sweetly play the lee lang day. 
 Where'er I roam 
 My heart says come, 
 And take me to my native home. 
 
 III. 
 There is a rock — a lonely rock, 
 
 That stems the stormy swelling sea ; 
 And Where's the heart could e'er forget 
 
 That ancient rock the Needle-e'e. 
 There is a well — a rocky well, 
 
 Whose waters run both sweet and clear,- 
 
THERE IS A SPOT. 81 
 
 E'eu now methinks I hear them rush, 
 They to my memory are so dear. 
 
 Where'er I roam 
 
 My heart says come, 
 And take me to my native home. 
 
 IV. 
 There is a hill — a mossy hill. 
 
 And gowans deck the plain below ; 
 The sports of youth I there have shared 
 
 StiQ haunt me everywhere I go. 
 There is a grave — ^the last of all, 
 
 But though the last, the best to me — 
 "Would I could sit and ponder there. 
 Where rest that little company. 
 Where'er I roam 
 My heart says come, 
 And take me to my native home. 
 
 V. 
 
 EoU, billows, roll, — run, burnie, run, 
 
THEKE IS A SPOT. 
 
 And wear the pebbles on the shore ; 
 Sweet lav'rocks, tune thine hallowed lyres, 
 
 And lovers, listen to their lore ! 
 Flow sweet and clear, thou rocky well ; — 
 
 Still gowans bloom beside the hill ! — 
 Though with the eye I see thee not • 
 
 Yet from the heart I love thee still. 
 Where'er I roam 
 My heart says come, 
 And take me to my native home. 
 
A DYING SAGE. 
 
 I. 
 
 They raised his back with pillows three, 
 And placed the Bible on his knee ; 
 Of years he passed four score and four, 
 And now his time was all but o'er : 
 Out from his eye a few tears broke, 
 And thus to all around he spoke. 
 
 II. 
 " When on the sands of youth I lay, 
 And watched the moon in silent grey 
 Her beams shed forth on stream and sea. 
 
84 A DYING SAGE. 
 
 Like thy fair smile, Jean, on me, 
 Then was my heart as free as air — 
 As forest stag, or mountain hare. 
 
 III. 
 If trouble vexed my youthful mind, 
 I gave the foeman to the wind ; 
 When work was done I homeward hied. 
 With cheerful heart, as Wishart died. 
 Or as the lark in beauteous May, 
 Singing his lovely luring lay. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No thought had I from morn to e'en. 
 Unless 'twere thee, my sweetest Jean ; 
 And when I laid me down to rest. 
 Ere I could think my mind was blest — 
 Yes ! as the snow-flake on the eye, 
 That falling melts in passing by. 
 
 V. 
 
 Years have rolled on since first we met. 
 
A DYING SAGE. 85 
 
 But still our love abideth yet ; 
 Thy glossy locks are now like snow, 
 And age has wrinkled all thy brow : 
 Thy cheek is pale, the rose is gone 
 That once in sweetest splefldour shone. 
 
 VI. 
 Dim is thine eye, whose cheering smile 
 Oft did my growing heart beguile ; 
 That tyrant Time all this has done — 
 We'll soon be two — we've long been one : 
 My heart aye said, we'd never sever. 
 But, ah ! we must, and soon for ever.'' 
 
 VII. 
 Then as a babe he wept aloud. 
 And nearer hovered Death's dark cloud ; 
 And opening up the sacred page, 
 Philippians third then read the sage ; 
 While all the mourners round him stood — 
 The gathered tears would make a flood. 
 
86 A DYING SAGE. 
 
 VIII. 
 But ere the last verse he had read, 
 His faithful wife held up his head : 
 " Christ, who shall change," he tried to say, 
 But ah ! his withered voice gave way ; 
 They took the Bible, laid him down, 
 Soon, soon to pass without a frown. 
 
 IX. 
 
 He tried to speak, 'twas sad the scene : 
 " I now am crossing Jordan's stream ; 
 But ere I land on yonder strand. 
 Where soon I'll grasp my Father's hand, 
 Eead daily from the cheering page. 
 That comforts dying youth or sage." 
 
 X. 
 
 And now the breeze speeds o'er the bark ; 
 The day is nigh, but yet 'tis dark ; 
 
A DYING SAGE. 87 
 
 The helm is guided by the King, 
 And now the looked-for shore is seen 
 " The mansion's ready, — enter in," — 
 And now the sage is with the King. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 "In the woods of EldersKe she selected a bush, to 
 which she resorted in the season of devotion, and 
 where she dedicated herself to God, through faith 
 in the Eedeemer, before she had attained her tenth 
 year." — Monthly Visitm, April, 1868. 
 
 I. 
 The famous woods of Elderslie 
 
 Beheld a maiden fair 
 Pray to the Saviour of the world, 
 
 And on Him cast her care. 
 
DEDICATION. 89 
 
 A little over nine years old, 
 
 Beneath an aged tree, 
 She loved to read the Book of Life, — 
 
 A happy maiden she. 
 
 II. 
 
 Alone amid the trees she strayed, 
 
 And worshipped on the green, 
 While round her head the little birds 
 
 Sang joyous at the scene. 
 And there she knelt, and there she prayed, 
 
 With heart so full of love, 
 'Twould move a sceptic to declare 
 
 There was a God above. 
 
 III. 
 O that our little maidens all 
 
 Would thus the Lord adore, 
 And give Him all their growing hearts, 
 
 To keep them evermore ! 
 
W DEDICATION. 
 
 Then would true happiness and bliss 
 
 In every home preside, 
 And all our future mothers be 
 
 To maids a better guide 
 
LAY HER DOWN QUIETLY. 
 
 1. 
 
 Lay her down quietly, 
 Her life time is o'er ; 
 What she's left behind 
 
 We are left to deplore : 
 There's sin and there's sorrow 
 
 Each day that we live ; 
 Besides all our givings, 
 
 We ever must give. 
 But safe are the landed 
 Across Jordan's sea, 
 With crowns and with robes, 
 Singing praise to the three 
 On the throne. 
 
92 LAY HER DOWN QUIETLY. 
 
 II- 
 
 Lay her down quietly 
 
 From trouble and pain ; 
 Sweet be her resting 
 
 Till she wakens again. 
 And on that blest morning, 
 
 With purified eyes, 
 She'll gaze on her Lord 
 
 As he rendeth the skies ; 
 And with him shall journey, 
 
 'Mid torrents of song. 
 To yonder grand palace, 
 
 And the heaven-bom throng, 
 To endless day. 
 
OUR LITTLE BARK. 
 
 I. 
 
 Now we must breast the breakers, dear, 
 
 However wild they roar ; 
 But if our hearts are knit in faith, 
 
 We'll safely reach the shore. 
 Our bark is new, our sails are fresh, 
 
 The breezes gently blow : 
 " Unhook the warps — unfurl the sails. 
 
 And now, brave lads, let go !" 
 
 II. 
 Our little bark is now afloat 
 Upon the wide, wide sea ; 
 
94 OUR LITTLE BARK. 
 
 And I will guide the helm, dear, 
 
 As well as comfort thee ; 
 And I will guide as safely 
 
 As ever man did guide, 
 Though tempests blow, and storms arise 
 
 To lash the restless tide, 
 
 III. 
 There never was a bark that crossed 
 
 The whole life's ocean o'er, 
 But thousand times was tossed and tossed 
 
 Before it reached the shore. 
 But I will guide the helm, dear, 
 
 Though foaming wild the sea, 
 And I will pray to heaven, dear, 
 
 That God may strengthen thee. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN LILY AND 
 THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 A TRAVELLER, who was fond to know 
 
 How lilies on the mountains grow, 
 
 Where only shepherds tend their sheep, 
 
 Where wild beasts roam and wild beasts sleep, 
 
 Said to himself— My skill I'll try, 
 
 And ask all shepherds I pass by 
 
 If they can tell how there they rise, 
 
 To strike a traveller's wond'ring eyes ; 
 
 And should they to me answer — " No : 
 
 All that we know is, tluit they grow," 
 
 Then I myself will try to find 
 
 An answer which will please my mind. 
 
96 THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 'Twas July, and the brilliant sun 
 His morning's work had just begun, 
 As from his home the traveller went 
 To ease his mind and be content. 
 He had not from his house far strayed 
 When he espied a shepherd's plaid ; 
 With anxious mind he speeds his pace, 
 Wlien, lo ! he sees the shepherd's face : 
 " Good morning, sir ; you early rise. 
 The clock has sure misled your eyes ; 
 For seldom at the break of day 
 Do I see men in your dress stray." 
 
 " Well," said the traveller, " that may be, 
 But I am bent on inquiry, 
 And if you can my question clear 
 You wont lie there another year.'' 
 
 " Pray, sir," the simple shepherd said, 
 " What is thy question thus so dread 1 
 
THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 07 
 
 You cannot, surely, think to find 
 A shepherd with a learned mind ; 
 But if about it aught I know, 
 I truly straight will teU you so." 
 
 " Well, honest man," the traveller said, 
 " To walk on tracks our fathers laid, 
 I'm sure my mind was never made ; 
 Or take for granted things which may 
 ^e proved in quite another way ; 
 And thus this morning have I come 
 To ask thee — How those lilies sprung ? 
 Or if all night you gardeners see 
 Who plant them there without a fee ? 
 For yonder fields of waving com 
 Are never out of nothing born, 
 And trees are planted ere they grow, 
 For ere we reap we first must sow. 
 To test this plan the other year 
 I left my beauteous garden bare. 
 
98 THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 When, lo ! instead of lilies fair, 
 Nought came but weeds and thistles there. 
 Then can you, as a shepherd, say- 
 How here they bloom day after day : 
 How in my garden there came none. 
 Though heated by the same sweet sun ?" 
 
 " For twenty years, sir, on this plain 
 I've wandered o'er and o'er again. 
 But thought not on these things you say 
 The tenth part of a single day ; 
 For scarce one Sabbath passes by 
 But we are warned from doubts to fly. 
 As doubts may guide, the parson saith, 
 Unlearned minds away from truth." 
 
 " I thought, indeed, that man could tell, 
 "Wlio always near the mountains dwell 
 Of flowers which bloom beside his door ; 
 Such news I never heard before ! 
 
THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 99 
 
 Good morning, sir, I now must go 
 And solve my problem, as you know." 
 
 He left the shepherd, wild with rage. 
 And met at once a reverend sage, 
 Who, dazzled with the morning rays, 
 Arose to give his Lord the praise 
 For sending sunbeams on this earth, 
 Smce at the first he gave it birth. 
 The morning salutations passed, 
 The traveller thinks he's right at last ; 
 And so, without the least delay 
 He to the parson thus did say : 
 " Much honoured sir, as men, you know, 
 In this great age of freedom, show 
 That things of Nature should be traced. 
 And with profoundest science faced ; 
 And thinking this but just and fair, 
 I rose to trace those lilies here— 
 Which, fearless of all storms that blow, 
 
100 THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 Upon this mountain's side do grow, 
 And neither tended night nor day ; — 
 Oh ! can you tell me, whence are they ?" 
 
 The parson quietly folds his hands, 
 And straight before the traveller stands, 
 A tear fell from his aged Bye, 
 While thinking men could God defy ; 
 And turning round, with youth restored. 
 Thus spoke to praise his mighty Lord : 
 " From yonder hUl to yonder plain, 
 Sing forth their Great. Creator's name ; 
 The lUies on the mountain's side 
 Are there designed to humble pride. 
 For men of learning all combined. 
 How there they bloom, can never find ; 
 The wild flowers, too, unplanted grow. 
 And none can say — How is it so ? 
 Save that the King, whose realms expand 
 From sea to sea and land to land, 
 
THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 101 
 
 Commands them thus to rise, — to shine, 
 And, speechless, prove that One — Divine — 
 Alike respects things great or small — 
 Alike controls and governs all. 
 And to this glorious heavenly King, 
 Who giveth life to everything, 
 And, by His everlasting plan. 
 Deigns to withold no good from man, 
 I rose this mom to pay my vow, 
 And give Him part of what I owe." 
 
 'Twould seem that God had thus designed 
 
 The traveller his match to find ; 
 
 For oft we see when men are rash, 
 
 And through their follies onward dash, 
 
 That suddenly a check appears. 
 
 Which stops, at once, their doubts and fears, 
 
 And turns their minds from evil's road, 
 
102 THE MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 Upwards, to their Creator — God. 
 Those ways our God doth oft pursue, 
 And here and thus it happened too, 
 For no more shepherds passed he by 
 To ask how lilies bloom or die. 
 
A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 
 
 Some stories are na' worth the time 
 Tae write them oot in verse or rhyme, 
 While others are sae fu' o' fun 
 As mak' a purely harmless pun 
 Wi' twa-three freens aroond the fire, 
 Whaun wintry winds blaw wild wi' ire ; 
 But for aught else na' worth a pin, 
 For Ramsay scarce wad tak' them in. 
 But this ane fat I'm gaun tae tell, 
 A guid auld worthy tell't masel ; 
 An' that it's true I'll gie ma' han'. 
 For tae tell lies he's no the man. 
 
104 A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 
 
 Besides, it should be handed down 
 Tae a' folk i' the bonnie town, 
 That each chiel may a warning tat', 
 An' na' on guid things turn his back. 
 
 Now, 'fore the story I begin, 
 
 I'll tell ye hoo he brocht it in : 
 
 We often had a walk thegither 
 
 Up by the dam and thro' the heather, 
 
 Crackin' aboot things o' the day, 
 
 For he had aye a lot tae say ; 
 
 An' mony times I frae him got 
 
 Advices that I've ne'er forgot, 
 
 For o' a' men I ever kent 
 
 I ne'er met ane half sae content. 
 
 Although he had nae wife at hame. 
 
 Ilk lassie spak' weel o' his name ; 
 
 Although he gaed in shabby suit. 
 
 He looked within an' no mthoot ; 
 
 But like a' chiels i' Heelan' hose. 
 
A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 105 
 
 He had his freens— he had his foes. 
 Weel, this nicht we had spok' o' Paul, 
 An' wandered back tae days o' Saul ; 
 We sketched the lives o' Eehoboam, 
 An' his successor Jeroboam ; 
 An' i' the midst o' solemn things, 
 Oot frae a nook a villain springs. 
 He struck ma' freen upo' the head, 
 An' swore he there wad kill him dead, 
 Unless he paid him doon a groat. 
 For mendin' his auld moosted coat. 
 Afore the Sacrament last year. 
 Which he did on that Sabbath wear. 
 Baith for the sake o' truth an' peace. 
 He flung a saxpence in his face — 
 Say in', " Tak' ye 'at, an' say na mair j" 
 So he moved off, we kent na' where. 
 
 " Ah !" said ma freen, " this brings tae mind 
 
 A story o' ma faither's kind, 
 H 
 
106 A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 
 
 An*^ 'cause yer young, I'll tell't tae ye, 
 For ye the like may hear and see; 
 Near Weydale Moss, in days lang gone. 
 There lived a chiel ca'd Willie John — 
 His faither died ere he could know 
 Ocht o' the place whaur Christians go. 
 An' gif there ever was a man, 
 Wha strove to see the gowden Ian', 
 'Twas Willie's faither, godly James, 
 For a' folk blessed his mouldering banes. 
 Each day he lived as 'twere his last, 
 Eememb'ring aye upo' the past — 
 Thankin' the Han' that cleared his way, 
 An' took him from the miry clay. 
 An' like a hillock fast an' sure, 
 His totterin' steps made tae endure. 
 Weel, gif the faither was a saint, 
 The son was just as black as paint ; 
 An' hoo it is 'at godly men 
 Has wicked sons nae man can ken, 
 
A EEMINiSCENCE OF YOUTH. 107 
 
 Tho' I hae heard the same remark 
 As aft as I hae ploo'd that park. 
 But tae ma tale, an' tae be brief, 
 He caused his neebours muckle grief ; 
 His faither's gie big farm he wrocht — 
 What he could steal, he never bocht ; 
 An' aye afore the year was done. 
 His servants flitted by the mune. 
 He never gaed tae kirk or school, 
 An' thocht ilk minister a fool. 
 When roon' the ingle neebours sat, 
 Tae hae a freenly Sabbath chat, 
 Gif he cam' in 'twas aye a hell. 
 For, losh ! he swore like Satan's sell. 
 He drank an' smok'd the lee day lang, 
 An' thocht that life was but a sang, — 
 Ilk day a note, ilk hoor a quiver, 
 An' whaun the last 'twas ower for ever. 
 Ye weel may ken he had nae wife. 
 Else he'd hae led a better life. 
 
108 A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 
 
 Altho' I never woo'd masel', 
 The reason I can easy tell : 
 I aye ma mither had tae keep, 
 So what man's dochter could I seek, 
 Tae tak' her frae her faither's hame, 
 An' just for nonsense change her name, 
 Whaun weel I kent a' I could mak' 
 Wad never brawly clad her back 1 
 It's maddest folly e'er tae woo 
 Until ye ken how things will do. 
 But this chiel ne'er a cumbrance kent, 
 Or else his back had lang been bent, 
 For I was aye thocht unco strong 
 Whaun I ma comrades gied among, 
 But cares an' crosses ten times ten 
 Hae made me strange frae ither men. 
 
 Weel, still i' ruin's reckless road, 
 Eugulphed in ein, estranged frae God, 
 
A REMINISCENCE OP YOUTH. 109 
 
 This wicked wretch ran day by day, 
 An' laughed at what guid folk did say. 
 But, ah ! wae's me, ae winter's nicht. 
 The mune hersel' kept back her licht, 
 'Twas such an awfu' sadd'nin' sicht, — 
 He wi' the palsy was struck sore. 
 An' ilk ane thocht his days were o'er ; 
 The doctors tried in vain their skill, 
 For life was ebbin' fast frae Will. 
 They waited on tae the next day, 
 Whaun lowly he was heard tae say : — 
 " My soul is lost ! I know — I know ! 
 Fetch me the parson — quickly go ! 
 Tell him I'm on the brink o' hell. 
 An' by ma deeds hae done't masel' /' 
 But ere the sainted man arrived. 
 The reckless man had passed an' died — 
 He groaned his weary end away, 
 An' nae mair was he heard tae say. 
 
110 A REMINISCENCE OF YOUTH. 
 
 Ma freen then tapped me unco kind, 
 An' gave advice I'U ever mind : — 
 " Shun a' the roads that lead tae siu, 
 For ilk man has a man within ; 
 An' he is waur than a' withoot, 
 'Cause he can nak' ye wheel aboot ; 
 An' a' yer finest plans be bad, 
 Gif ye but slack the reins ye baud. 
 Forget o' naething I hae said. 
 That whaun ye fa' among the dead, 
 Upo' yer tombstone a' can pen — 
 Here lies ane wha shunned evil men.'' 
 
THE DROWNING MAN 
 
 It happened on a day in June 
 
 As I walked on the sand, 
 That a youth in haste approached me, 
 
 And snatched the nearer hand. 
 
 I turned about, when eagerly 
 He said — " Sir, can you swim 1 
 
 As over by an hundred yards 
 A man has tumbled in." 
 
 Excited by the sad surprise, 
 And saddened by his look, 
 
 I ran, and gazing on the speck 
 From head to toe I shook, 
 
112 THE DROWNING MAN. 
 
 Alas ! dear youth, I cannot swim — 
 My aid is useless — vain ; 
 
 But, lo ! one comes who momently 
 Springs headlong on the main. 
 
 I quivered with respect to him 
 Who thus so nobly dived 
 
 In quest of life now ebbing fast, — 
 Perchance has ebbed and died. 
 
 Ere now was gathered to the spot 
 A small and silent crowd : 
 
 It seemed as if the monster death 
 The man had in his shroud. 
 
 All hearts were beating rapidly. 
 All eyes were fixed on him 
 
 "Who sallied forth commander-like ; 
 For bravely did he swim. 
 
 The speck to us invisible — 
 Alas ! was said, he's gone ; 
 
THE DROWNING MAN. 113 
 
 The diver plunges underneath, 
 And now is heard a groan. 
 
 And for a moment stillness reigned, 
 
 In every heart was fear : 
 And from the lips of all, as one. 
 
 Escaped this solemn prayer. 
 
 " Lord our God, deliver hoth i 
 Thine arms around them throw, 
 
 That if they reach to land again 
 Returning love will show." 
 
 And now again the champion 
 
 Is seen the surface span. 
 With one hand plying through the sea, 
 
 The other grasped the man. 
 
 When such a shout of joy arose 
 From all the lips around, 
 
Hi THE DROWNING MAN. 
 
 So great ijthat with it to compare 
 No joy on earth I've found. 
 
 And at the sight another leaps 
 And breasts the surging sea, 
 
 With manly strokes he soon arrived 
 His manly friend to free. 
 
 And now they both come struggling on, 
 
 Suspicious of their load ; 
 But still advancing with their hearts, 
 
 And case resigned to God. 
 
 They reach the rock, when on the peak 
 
 The crowd a motion made 
 To raise the body which was found, 
 
 Alas ! unbeating — dead. 
 
 I passed a little from the spot 
 
 And said in accents low : 
 0, that all men would turn to God, 
 
 From wise to wiser grow. 
 
THE DROWNING MAN. 115 
 
 As time is so uncertain — short, 
 And life speeds o'er our head : 
 
 It may be, ere the morning dawns. 
 We, too,, be with the dead. 
 
THE DYING GIRL. 
 
 I. 
 
 DEAR mamma, I'm going home 
 
 To join the royal band, — 
 To sing to Jesus on the Throne, 
 
 And kiss His pierced hand. 
 Then do not weep so bitterly, 
 
 For soon I'll see you there ; 
 We'll meet again, and kiss again, 
 
 In yonder land so fair. 
 
 II. 
 dear mamma, I hear His feet 
 Come nearer unto me, 
 
THE DYING GIBL. 117 
 
 And now methinks He is just come 
 
 To bear me company. 
 The night is getting very dark, 
 
 But soon it will be day ; 
 My eyes are closing— closing quite — 
 
 I wish I were away. 
 
 III. 
 dear mamma, dry up thy tears, 
 
 And do not grieve so sore, 
 Although we part on earth just now, 
 
 'Tis not for evermore. 
 For in yon home where Jesus lives, 
 
 And all the host beside, 
 We'll soon, yes, very soon, again 
 
 Be singing side by side. 
 
 IV. 
 dear mamma, I'm going now. 
 Farewell ! farewell ! farewell ! 
 
118 THE DYING GIRL. 
 
 My eyes are closing steadily — 
 
 I hear the chiming bell ; 
 'Tis greeting me to yonder shore, 
 
 And greets all else beside ; 
 I go, but never come again, 
 
 In heaven we abide. 
 
 V. 
 dear mamma, one sweet kiss give- 
 
 The last on earth I get ; 
 But oh ! in yonder bright abode 
 
 We'll be together yet. 
 And now, again, a last farewell, 
 
 My Lord is standing by, 
 And at his word I go — I go 
 
 To meet Him in the sky. 
 
IN THE SHIP. 
 
 I. 
 
 I SAW you in the ship, Ma, 
 
 When I was on the sand, 
 And you were sailing safely 
 
 On to the happy land. 
 I screamed for you to take me 
 
 Into your bosom then ; 
 But, ah ! you were not able, 
 
 Although I cried again. 
 
 II. 
 
 I thought myself so lonely. 
 And you so happy — free, 
 
 'Mong so many joyous friends. 
 While no one came to me. 
 
120 IN THE SHIP. 
 
 Oh ! then I sorely wept, Ma, 
 For that yet coining day 
 
 When we would both as one, Ma, 
 The same sweet prayer say. 
 
 III. 
 When on our Father's bosom 
 
 We would our burdens lay ; 
 I then took up my apron. 
 
 And wiped the tears away. 
 That day since then has come, Ma, 
 
 And I am now the same 
 As you were on the ship, Ma, 
 
 When all my heart was pain. 
 
 IV. 
 The Saviour was so kind as 
 
 My eyes to open quite ; 
 And now, instead of gloom, Ma, 
 
 I clearly see the light. 
 
IN THE SHIP. 121 
 
 The stately ship is sailing fast, 
 The sea is calm and clear ; 
 
 And soon, — ^how very soon, Ma, 
 Our Father's voice we'll hear ! 
 
 V. 
 O, how unsafe are those. Ma, 
 
 Who on the ship just look ; 
 And care not for its journey, 
 
 Nor yet its chart — The Book. 
 They're standing on the sand. Ma, 
 
 The waves are flooding in ; 
 And if they rush not soon, Ma, 
 
 They'll drown in deepest sin. 
 
H E A Y E N. 
 
 FAIREST city in the skies 
 Thy walls are built with truth, 
 
 Thy buildings all are palaces, 
 Just as the Bible saith ! 
 
 Thy King is a King of glory, 
 Salvation, honour, praise : 
 
 Thy people, truly happy, ever 
 Unceasing echoes raise. 
 
 To Him, who, from eternity 
 Thy deathless city made. 
 
 That enter should not pestilence, 
 Nor no fair flower to fade. 
 
HEAVEN. 123 
 
 But from all ages to the same 
 Unending peace should reign, 
 
 And aU the Host around the Throne 
 Shout forth, as one, — ^Amen. 
 
 The glory of thy holiest 
 
 No mind on earth can know, 
 
 And all the paints of eloquence, 
 Though great are far below. 
 
 The beauty of the sky in Spring 
 With all its dazzling hue. 
 
 Is but as pitch compared to gold 
 When once compared to you. 
 
 To picture fairly thy region 
 And all its stars which shine 
 
 Would surpass the mind of angel. 
 And need a mind Divine. 
 
 Because a mind eternal 
 Did draw the mighty plan, 
 
124 HEAVEN. 
 
 And at whose sight the mountains, 
 Trembled and frighted ran. 
 
 How great thy King and Architect 
 
 Must necessary be ! 
 Wlien in and from his great abode 
 
 He all the worlds can see. 
 
 And not, indeed, the worlds alone. 
 But all their movements know, 
 
 Even from the mystic spider's web 
 To rivers rapid flow. 
 
 He guides the beasts of every land 
 O'er mountain, dale, and lake, 
 
 For, were they not all formed at first. 
 When He the word but spake. 
 
 And man, the greatest work of God, 
 Must postrate to Him fall, 
 
HEAVEN. 125 
 
 And pardon ask for sins gone past, 
 As God is Lord of all. 
 
 O, for a palace in thy home, 
 
 0, for a King like you, 
 O, for a word with one who is 
 
 To Israel as the dew ! 
 
 Thy home a Royal Mansion is 
 
 Which stand for ever shall, 
 And all the shots of Satan's guns 
 
 WiU never pierce thy wall. 
 
 Id stands when worlds are lost to view 
 'Mid tempests, thunders, fire ; 
 
 When matter shall be lost in space 
 As if consumed by ire. 
 
 It stands when final judgment's o'er, 
 It stands when doomed are flame. 
 
 It stands when round thy hallowed Throne 
 Redeemed sing Jesus' name. 
 
126 HEAVEN. 
 
 It stands through, all eternity, — 
 Its King is stUl the same : 
 
 Sing — Halleluiah to the Prince — 
 The Prince that once was slain. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED CHRISTIAN, 
 NAMED KITTY COMACK. 
 
 1. 
 
 Aged christian, safely landed 
 
 In thy safe eternal home : 
 All thy work on earth is o'er — 
 Changed to bliss for evermore, 
 
 For thy Saviour bade thee come. 
 
 II. 
 Before thee many winters passed, 
 
 But now they're all for ever o'er : 
 Thou loved'st thy Saviour to the last, 
 With love which could not be surpassed. 
 
 And now thou'rt with him evermore. 
 
^^ .!^^ DEATH OF AGED CHRISTIAN. 
 
 III. 
 
 Gentle christian, Christ now owns th*ee 
 
 As a trophy to His fame, 
 And exults with gladness o'er thee, 
 WhUe the Eansomed all before thee 
 
 Echo loud His Royal name. 
 
 IV. 
 Though lonely thou dwelt all thy days. 
 
 Yet peace and joy were ever thine : 
 Comfort flowed down on all thy ways. 
 For thou thy Lord didst always praise, 
 
 And he said — Surely thou art mine. 
 
 V. 
 Joyful christian, lo ! I hear thee 
 
 Joining in the hallowed song — 
 Well thou may'st for nought can fear thee, 
 Grief or pain will ne'er come near thee — 
 
 Thou art safe amid the throng. 
 
DEATH OF AGED CHRISTIAN. 129 
 
 VI. 
 
 Weep not, pilgrims, old and weary, 
 
 Christ is still the christian's sun ; 
 Though the way seems long and dreary. 
 Yet His rays will make it cheery, 
 
 TUl your pilgrimage is done. 
 
FREEDOM. 
 
 I. 
 
 When the strong chain that binds me here 
 
 Shall snapt in sunder be, 
 Then shall I know what freedom is, 
 
 When Lord, I am with thee. 
 
 II. 
 
 On earth I live, I walk, I work — 
 
 A slave to earth and time : 
 Freedom I'll know not, till I pass 
 
 To yonder realms sublime. 
 
 in. 
 
 Then 'mid the swell of rapturous song 
 
FREEDOM. 131 
 
 A, slave I am no more ; 
 I'll feel that I am free from earth 
 To live for evermore. 
 
FADED FLOWERS. 
 
 I SAT me down to tliink of flowers 
 
 That budded but to fade and die, 
 A sombre feeling dulled my heart, 
 
 Lilie rainy clouds the summer's sky. 
 Long ere their hearts knew love or hate 
 The gloomy warrior sealed their fate 
 And took them, ere they knew their birth, 
 To shroud them in the garb of death : 
 Ah, this is strange beyond all measure — 
 This is pain 'mid greatest pleasure ! 
 
FADED FLOWERS. 133 
 
 II. 
 
 Eyes so tender, never opened, 
 
 Hands so harmless pure and fair ; 
 Lips as guileless as the sunbeams, 
 
 Hearts that knew not of despair — 
 To bud on earth, a moment given, 
 And then are called to bloom in heaven : 
 0, mother ! this is hard to bear, 
 But on the Lord cast all your care. 
 For He does wound and He does heal — 
 He does everything for weal. 
 
 III. 
 
 Eyes with beauty brightly beaming, 
 
 Hands beginning to be strong ; 
 Lips as pure as rosy blossom. 
 
 Learning " mamma " all day long — 
 To bud on earth a year are given, 
 And then are called to bloom in heaven : 
 0, mother ! what a dreadful grief, 
 
134 JADED ELOWEKS. 
 
 But in the Lord you'll find relief, 
 
 For He does wound and he does heal — r 
 
 He does everything for weal. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Wand'ring through that lonely garden 
 Where those buds are laid with care, 
 I often see a mother weeping, 
 For her baby's dust is there. 
 Oh ! the stone that marks the spot 
 Is by a mother ne'er forgot ; 
 And often, often when alone 
 She will journey to that stone. 
 And breathe a mother's fervent prayer, 
 That God may keep her from despair. 
 
THE HALLOWED GRAVE. 
 
 I. 
 
 The grave was new, beneath the stone, 
 The dear boy's mother slept ; 
 
 And here he came, and here he sat. 
 And here the darling wept. 
 
 11. 
 He called to mind a sunny day 
 
 When in her arms he tossed : 
 " But now, alas ! she sleeps down here,— 
 
 To me my mother's lost." 
 
 III. 
 
 " dear young boy, your mother's gone 
 
136 THE HALLOWED GRAVE. 
 
 To walk in robes of white, 
 And with the myriad host above 
 Shine as a star in night !" 
 
 IV. 
 
 He said, " 'Tis true — ah ! yes, 'tis true. 
 But, oh ! my heart is sore 
 
 How can I live ! How can I live ! 
 
 When mother's life is o'er. 
 
 V. 
 " Each morning of my life I'U come 
 
 Upon her grave to weep ; 
 It may be God will pity me. 
 
 And wake her from her sleep. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Oh ! how I loved her — love her yet 
 
 Though she is far away. 
 And if the grave could open now 
 
 I'd sleep with her to-day. 
 
JANE. 
 
 One evening when the sky was bright and clear, 
 
 And all the earth was wrapt in solemn peace : 
 
 The towering lulls sang dumb before the meon, 
 
 That shed its lustre on each glen and brae ; 
 
 Each sUent lake was placid as a babe 
 
 That rests in innocence upon a mother's breast, 
 
 The trees did gently nod before the Zephyr's touch 
 
 And all the songsters in the woods were still. 
 
 On such an evening one would fairly think 
 
 That that grim monster — Death — no work could find ; 
 
 But yet into a cottage near a stream 
 
 Ae came and carried lovely Jane away. 
 
 She suffered long upon a bed of pain, 
 
 But was contented when the hour arrived 
 . J 
 
138 JANE. 
 
 That she could quit this earthly — mortal scene ; 
 For, said she, though death claims my sinning frame 
 An angel waits to claim my soul set free, 
 And I shall be for ever with the Lord 
 Where ransomed sing, and angel hosts adore. 
 Sweet maid ! who would not wish thy portion great, 
 And who would not rejoice, if they could say 
 With thee : when death's dark hand wiU take my flesh 
 I care not — ^to me 'tis immortality. 
 
LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. 
 
 PART I. 
 Ae mornin' in the month o' June, 
 When Nature's world begins to bloom,- 
 When farmers view with special eye 
 The mornin' signs o' wet or dry, 
 Lord Haimer met wi' Sailor John, 
 And thus the mornin's talk went on. 
 
 HAIMER. 
 Good mornin', I Sailor, honest chiel ! 
 I hope that yer concerns are weel. 
 An' that yer crops, which aye are best, 
 Are risin' frae their weel-plooed nest. 
 
1 40 LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. 
 
 SAILOR. 
 Thanks tae ye, Haimer, daisant man ! 
 Ye've aye the news o' a' the Ian' ; 
 As for masel', I kenna wha 
 Can gie ye news 'bout big and sma', 
 So that frae Portlan's mansion gate 
 Tae poor Jack Hanson's dinner plate, 
 Ye ken wha hae ye ken wha wants, 
 An' a' their business tae their pants. 
 In '35 (at's no yestreen), 
 I doon at Dunnet San' had been ; 
 Neist mornin' comin' tae the toon, 
 Yersel' I met wi' Eoukum's loon ; 
 Ye'll min' it weel, I mak' nae dout. 
 For 'fore we met ye cried lood oot — 
 " Fat wis ye doan wi' the san' 
 Ye drove frae Dunnet tae yer Ian' 1" 
 Ye'U min' the answer fat I gave, 
 WhUk made ye run yer croon tae save. 
 But fat's yer ain guid news the day. 
 
LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. Ul 
 
 For weel I ken ye've some tae say ; 
 As aye throughoot the week I see 
 A different coat an' hat on ye ; 
 So come, ma freei^ we'll hae a dram, 
 An' wi' 't a crack aboot oor Ian'. 
 
 HAIMEE. 
 Na, na, ma freen, I'm no in tune 
 Tae crack o' Ian' this morn so soon ; 
 But come, an' let us hae oor dram, 
 An' then I'll tell you something gran'. 
 
 They now are set in Sawnie Gow's 
 An' worthy-like they bare their pows, 
 When Haimer solemnly begins, 
 An' this yarn tae the sailor spins. 
 
 HAIMER. 
 0' a' the nichts that e'er I passed, 
 There ne'er was ane tae match the last 
 
142 LORD HAIMER'S DKEAJVI. 
 
 I've dreamed o' ghosts about ma bed, 
 I've dreamed o' mouse nests i' ma head ; 
 I've dreamed o' Oldfield a' on fire, 
 I've dreamed o' devils i' ma byre ; 
 I've dreamed o' ships i' Weydale moss, 
 I've dreamed o' Kaitness a' i' dross ; 
 I've dreamed o' auld wives taldn' freet. 
 An' roun their backs a muckle sheet, — 
 But, oh ! last nicht aboon them a', 
 Sic glorious things I never saw ! 
 An' sin' we're met so freenly here, 
 I'll tell ye't ower this pot o' beer. 
 Losh, man ! I thocht the roU o' names, 
 That were upo' the kirkyard stanes. 
 Were blotted cot ; an' they a' back, 
 As plump an' fresh as Jenny Jack. 
 An' first, Poostoosh was poor-inspector, 
 Poor Peter Abrach toll-collector ; 
 The Kornal was the laird o' Reay, 
 An' Murray laird o' Buttony-bey ; 
 
LORD HAIMER S DREAM. 143 
 
 Eoutum he built a stately ha', 
 Close by a bonnie waterfa', 
 
 An' i' his carriage drove each day — 
 The coachman's name was Willie Clay. 
 Phadely had turned a preacher great, 
 Feel Sawnie an elder at the plate ; 
 While Kirst an' Tarn were deacons twa, 
 An' Car the treasurer o' a' ; 
 I thocht that Baublan lost his bell, 
 An' whaur tae find it nane could tell — 
 But ither changes saw I nane. 
 Save that he lost his big thumb bane. 
 An' last I dreamed that Nickie Bain 
 Had left the Moss tae gang tae Spain, 
 An be the Premier o' the Ian', 
 At noble General Prim's comman' ; 
 A pairtin' banquet was declared 
 An' toasts an' speeches a' prepared. 
 The haU was crowded tae the stair, 
 An' wha but Phadely took the chair. 
 
144 LORD haimer's dream. 
 
 • * • 
 
 Noo at the last up stood the guest, 
 An' speechified his verra best — 
 He wi' the great Moncrieff could vie 
 In eloquence an' learnin' high ; 
 An' statesman-like he thus poured forth 
 His farewell speech tae a' the North ; 
 While perfect silence filled the hall, 
 As rapture did the eyes o' all. 
 
 NICKIE'S SPEECH. 
 Beloved friends and brethren all, 
 Within this ancient noble hall — 
 Whose breasts o'erflow -with Scottish lore. 
 As loyal as in days of yore. 
 When Harold fought and Harold fell, 
 As truly great historians tell, — 
 I leave you for a foreign shore, 
 And doubtless will return no more, 
 As even now my locks are grey, 
 
LORD haimer's drmam 145 
 
 And age steals o'er me day by day, 
 
 But ever shall my mind retain, 
 
 Though far amid the sons of Spain, 
 
 My homely title — Nickie Bain ! 
 
 Now, farewell friends ! aye, friends indeed ! 
 
 O, may that blessed morning speed. 
 
 When engine whistles shall be heard. 
 
 And nothing their shrill sound retard ; 
 
 May great improvements never cease, 
 
 And all thy people live in peace. 
 
 That when Time's ship has sailed its last. 
 
 With many clinging to the mast, 
 
 May you have all o'er Jordan passed. 
 
 HAIMEE. 
 A clood o' cheering filled the hall 
 As wi' their hats rose each an' all, 
 An' cheered, an' waved, an' cheered again, 
 Whaun I awoke, and — 'twas a dream. 
 
146 LOED haimer's dream. 
 
 PAET II. 
 SAILOR. 
 
 Haimer, yer a queer auld cMel ! 
 An' mony say as 'cute's the Deil ; 
 
 So maybe this great dream ye've made 
 Tae test fat's i' the Sailor's head, 
 Aboot dream-reading an' believing, 
 An' heavy minds in doots relieving. 
 
 HAIMER. 
 May my grey head ne'er see the day 
 That I the Sailor wad betray ; 
 Besides a' foUc ken weel yer fame 
 For reading an uncommon dream ; 
 An' 'twere na for that gift ye hae, 
 
 1 wadna tell't ye mine the day. 
 Noo come and let me hear it read, 
 'Cause aye ma min' is fu' o' dread, 
 Waune'er I dream aboot the dead. 
 I min' tae hear ma faither tell, 
 
LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. ll] 
 
 Whilk on a Fridaw's niclit befell, 
 That efter comin' frae the toon, 
 Whaur he had feed a brave-like loon, 
 Tae thresh the corn, an' drive a pair. 
 An' daily dicht his ain black mare, — 
 He dreamed o' some wha lang were gone, 
 An' roon' their heads a brichtness shone. 
 That same day week a story went, 
 That he was sure on evil bent, 
 For tae a woman he it said, 
 Wha aye professed a dream tae read, 
 An' she went roon' her neebours^a', 
 Sayin' 'at ill wad him befa'. 
 
 Noo, Sailor, ye I've trusted lang — 
 Mair than a' men I've been amang ; 
 An' tae obleege me try yer best, 
 Tae read ma dream — ^tae ease ma breast. 
 
 Anither dram is got an' paid, 
 
lis LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. 
 
 As Sailor scratches through his head, 
 Like classic men whaun grindin' lang, 
 The best o' classic lore amang ; 
 An' as he strokes his thorny face, 
 Thus speaks he tae gie Maimer peace. 
 
 SAILOR. 
 Giff ye had asked aboot the stars — 
 The distance o' the planet Mars ; 
 Or hoo the mune aifects the tide, 
 Or hoo the cloods through space do glide ; 
 Or hoo the lichtniugs flash before 
 We hear the noizy thunders roar ; 
 Or hoo we tell whaun storms are nigh 
 Frae the Phenomena o' sky, — 
 Then ye could ne'er a better find 
 Tae briefly tell an' ease yer mind. 
 But tae read dreams I ne'er was famed 
 Though aften, aften basely blamed ; 
 An' a' ma neebours ken riclit weel. 
 
LORD IIAIMER'S DEEAM. 149 
 
 I ne'er tried to dethrone the Deil. 
 I'd rather sit on Claredon hill, 
 Or wi' a neebour hae a gill. 
 Than occupy auld Satan's stool, 
 An' mak' masel' a worthless fool. 
 But ance Will Manson said tae me 
 That whaun Tarn Angas had a spree 
 He said his faither kent a man, 
 Crossin' ae nicht the Dunuet San', 
 Wha saw a woman dre?sed in black, 
 Followin' hard ahint his back : 
 He turned aboot tae ask her name, 
 Whaun, losh ! she vanished in a flame. 
 That ghosts appear, I ken is true. 
 For here am I wha's seen a few 
 But readin' dreams I ne'er believed. 
 So cheer yer heart an' be na grieved. 
 For could I ony comfort gie, 
 Nane wad sooner hae't than ye ! 
 Giff yer dream means ye ony sore. 
 
150 LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. 
 
 It's best ye should na ken'd afore ; 
 
 Griff yer dream means ye ony gain, 
 
 It's valued maist whaun like the rain, 
 
 That taks a' folk wi' great surprise, 
 
 An' maks them doot their open eyes. 
 
 So ma advice tae ye ma freen, 
 
 Is think na mair upo' yestreen 
 
 Though ilk nicht should resume the theme, 
 
 An' a' yer house wi' dead folk teem. 
 
 HAIMER. 
 May Highest blessings bless yer banes 
 An' Highest Hands aye guide yer weans, — 
 Let a' yer barns be fu' o' grain, 
 An' a' yer actions ne'er be vain, — 
 Lang may the warld o' science ken 
 The Sailor still lives amang men — 
 May ilka day increase yer store 
 0' wealth an' scientific lore, 
 For ye this day has eased ma min' 
 
LORD HAIMER'S DREAM. 151 
 
 , Wi' words o' a superior kin' ; 
 
 An' whaun ma thochts are a' night past, 
 Yer words will be amang the last. 
 
 A last wee drap is taken ben, 
 That they should part like christian men. 
 An' whaun each ither's han's they shak', 
 They scarce a word for sorrow spak'. 
 Haimer went up tae hae a look, 
 While Sailor doon tae Baublan's nook, 
 Tae meet wi' Tam an' hae a smoke — 
 Tae hear the news an' pass a joke. 
 
 THE END. 
 
TO BAUBLAN THE HUNTERIAN 
 PRESIDENT. 
 
 When wintry stars did shine and wink, 
 I aften by masel' did think 
 
 To write a rhyme 
 On a' the days I spent at hame, 
 On a' the chiels wi' a droll name, 
 An' a', in short, that bore the blame 
 
 0' deeds langsyne. 
 
 As lift auld Hoy frae oot the sea, 
 I micht as weal try match with thee 
 
 In verse or rhyme ; 
 Yer worthy words hae ne'er been stained, 
 
TO BAUBLAN THE HUNTERIAN PRESIDENT. 153 
 
 Nor hae yer deeds been ever blamed, 
 For ower the shire yer name's been famed 
 Frae time tae time. 
 
 Yer hall, Hunterian members graced, 
 An' deeds o' ill ye bravely faced 
 
 To fin' them oot ; 
 The " Braehead Question," 'mang the rest. 
 
 Was introduced as a great pest. 
 An' speeches given wi' a zest, 
 Condemned the root. 
 
 Noo guid, auld, honast, worthy freen', 
 Tho' ye got Bill M'Kane's big sheen 
 
 To dander wi', "^ 
 
 I hope ye'U nae forget to ken 
 That wealth an' fame are like the hen 
 That never kent whaun lifted ben 
 
 'Twas killed to be. ' 
 
 But hush ! my muse, come stop yer sang ! 
 
154 TO BAUBLAN THE HUNTERIAN PRESIDENT. 
 
 For I hae dwelt by far ower lang 
 
 On Baublan's name ; 
 For a' folk frae Noss Head to Eeay, 
 Frae Erribol to Lybster bay, 
 Yes, frae the Duke tae Willie Clay, 
 
 Ken o' yer fame. 
 
 I aften wish to see the bothy, 
 An' hae a crack wi' famous Dothy 
 
 Upo' langsyne ; 
 Or wi' wee Credick hae a smoke. 
 An' a' the worthies try tae mock. 
 Or pass a' three a freenly joke. 
 
 Or try a rhyme. 
 
 An' sometimes, too, I think on Tarn 
 As last I saw him at his ham 
 
 Upo' the Kist ; ' 
 I thocht, indeed, tae rise an' rin, 
 Whaun ken ye wha cam' blazin' in. 
 
TO BAUBLAN THE HUNTERIAN PRESIDENT. 155 
 
 An' in his han' a muclde pin, 
 But daisant Krist. 
 
 Qouth Krist, " For that, ye're at yer ham, 
 Upo' the word in fury Tarn 
 
 Uplifts a hook — 
 ' Oot sir, ye blackguard, oot ! gang hame, 
 For manners ye had never nane. 
 Or in yer body I'll mak' each bane 
 
 Like Tammie's book.' " 
 
 Gie ma regairds tae Sailor John, 
 An' Murray, wi' his top coat on 
 
 An' well-to-do ; 
 Accept the same frae yer auld freen', 
 As canty keep as ye hae been. 
 An' may a' good frae e'en tae e'en 
 
 Be wi ye too. 
 
TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. 
 
 My brother, Davie, gie's yer lian', 
 An' I will ever by tliee stan' 
 
 As steadfast as a rock ; 
 Tlio' ance some words atween us cam', 
 Come, let us settl't ower a dram, 
 
 Tae the crawin' o' the cock. 
 
 Whaun I was young an' at the school 
 Ye aften took me on yer stool, 
 
 An' left yer wark undone ; 
 An' showed me aft the Rule o' Three, 
 If I in any plicht wad be, 
 
 Like a faither wi' a son. 
 
TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. 157 
 
 An' hoo ye joked the lee day lang, 
 Whaun I wad sing a Falconer's sang, 
 
 An' lood oot read the line ; 
 Or listen tae Lord Haimer tell 
 Some unco story 'bout himsel'. 
 
 An' honest "Willie Clyne. 
 
 Or whaun George Baublan wad come in 
 An' mak' an awfu' tiresome din ; 
 
 Aboot his woe an' weal ; 
 An' tell some stories lang gone by, 
 Aboot a chiel they ca'd M'Kay, 
 
 As clever as 'e diel. 
 
 Hoo ye wad laugh like ony priest, 
 An' reHsh't as ye wad a feast 
 0' apples or o' wine ! 
 An' gif he had nae mair tae say, 
 Ye'd ask him back anither day, 
 Tae tell ye o' langsyne. 
 
158 TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. 
 
 An' then, poor Car, ye lo'ed him weel ; 
 Tho' poor, he was an honest chiel, 
 
 An' cheated but himsel' ; 
 For he could hae been high in rank, 
 Gif he but hated what he drank. 
 
 An' kept his business well. 
 
 I aften wish, wi' a' my heart, 
 
 These days were back — at least in part, 
 
 An' goan roon' again ; 
 But we may wish, an' wish we will, 
 An' write cor wishes wi' the quill, 
 
 But comin' back there's nane. 
 
 Noo, Davie, freen', ye'll be sae kind 
 As ae half cor tae try an' find, 
 
 Tae answer ma wee letter ; 
 An' I will drop ye noo an' then 
 A wee bit frae my worthless pen, 
 
 Tae oor freenship is the better. 
 
TO DAVIE, A BKOTHEE POET. 159 
 
 An' gif ye tae Edina come 
 
 I'll gie my han' we'll nae be dumb 
 
 For what o' words tae say ; 
 I'll tak' ye oot through a' the toon, 
 An' show ye I'm a Thurso loon, 
 
 Wi' a heart as guid as Gray. 
 
 Then, brother Davie, gie's yer han'. 
 An' I will ever by thee stan' 
 
 As steadfast as a rock ; 
 Tho' ance some words atween us cam'. 
 Come, let us settle't ower a dram, 
 
 Tae the crawin' o' the cock. 
 
THURSO MEK 
 
 A Parody on a song entitled " Thurso Boys." 
 
 Three cheers for oor Thurso men : 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 An' three times three come let us gie 
 
 For Haimer, chief o' a'. 
 
 The farmer loons hae nae timmer croons- 
 They dress themselves fou braw ; 
 
 There's Nickie Bain, a country swain, 
 Ootstrips a lord o' law. 
 
 Chorus — Three cheers, &c. 
 
 The bellman chaps — I say perhaps — 
 No better men ye'U find : 
 
THURSO MEN. 161 
 
 For peace poor Credick's aye been famed, 
 An' Baublan's unco kind. 
 
 Chorus — Three cheers, &c. 
 
 Tam Eeid and Krist, they are the grist, 
 Au' hardships weel they ken ; 
 
 But tak' them baith, an' all in all, 
 There nane mair honest men. 
 
 Chorus — Three cheers, (fee. 
 
 The Sailor, too, tho' always fu' 
 
 O' win' tae blaw his horn, 
 If yer in need tae Murkle speed — 
 
 Ye'U get a sheaf o' com. 
 
 Chorus — Three cheers, &c. 
 
 In every place,* on every face. 
 
 May smiles for ever be ; 
 
 Now then, once more, come gie encore — 
 
 The Thurso men for me. 
 L 
 
162 THURSO MEN. 
 
 Three cheers for oor Thurso men : 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 
 An' three times three come let us gie 
 For Haimer, chief o' a'. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 PRINTED BY LYON BKOTHERS, 21 NICOLSON STREET. 
 

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