A. m(,t% '»3/8-/l'?^/ Cornell University Library PR 4409.C9S6 Snatches of song, 3 1924 013 453 075 SNATCHES OF SONG LONDOS : PRIXTBD BY SPOTTISWOODB AND 00., NEW-STREET SQUARfi ASD PARUAJUEST STRKET SNATCHES OP SONG JEANIE MORISON (MRS. CAMPBEI.L OF BALLOCHtlE) LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1873 All rights reserved 22 'h % K.\Sob\3 CONTENTS. PAGE 'Drotoned' 1 A Song of Middle Age 4 Flashes 8 Harebells. What is Time? 13 An Ideal of Service. {The Widow's Mite,) . . 13 An Ideal of Sacrifice. (Abraham's Offering.) . . 16 John Brmxm of PriesthilVs Wife 19 Deep-sea Graves. ....... -^ A Nocturne 23 Love Murdered 25 Invitation to the Woodlands 20 A November Day 32 vi Contents. PAGE ' JRejoice with them thai do rejoice, and weep with them that viee}) ' ....... 34 Somaunt of the Hag's Leap . . . . . 39 Ministering Spirits 44 A Neiv Year's Poem 46 Sunset 48 2'his Day a Tear ago .... i. 50 'Floating Away' .^53 A First Birthday 56 The Sea Burial 59 Spring Blossoms ....... 64 ' Untruly called untrue' ...... 66 The Parish Graveyard 68 A ChiWs Reverie 70 The Flight of Time 74 The Greek Girl 78 ' Thy worhy whei'e is thy work ?' . . . .82 Co7itents. vli PAGE Alone 85 Boat song ......... 88 Longfelloid' s ' Reaper and Flowers ' . .90 The Old Ash Tree 92 JacoVs Ladder . . ( . . . .94 The Watch Knoices 96 Adyar ......... 98 Homesickness 100 A Bream 103 'Blind, Blind, Blind' 106 ' He shall lead the blind by a ivay that they hnoio not' 108 Folloiv the Leader 112 ' WUl there be Whips in Heaven^' . . .115 The Lost Note 119 Parting . . . , ... 122 Foreshadows .... ... 125 A Tear ... 127 viii Contents. PAGE The Life Hid 130 Clan CamphelTs Welcome to Princess Louise . . 135 ' By Thy baptism, fasting, and temptation ' . . . 138 The End of Juhal (o new version) .... 143 'BBOWNHD.' They stand amid the stricken crew, They only, qniet and still ; All has been done that man may do, Now they await God's wUl. All hope is past, all fear, aU care; Together, silently, Peacefnllest in the moonlight there, These two girt up to die. B ' Drowned! His arm is round her as they stand, Her Lead upon his breast; They can go gladly, hand in hand. Together, to their rest. ' God has been very good, sweet heart ; One little year ago. We swore to love tUl Death should part,- Death will not part us now ; ' You do not fear to die, dear wife. Thus folded to my breast?' 'Nay, sweet,' she said, 'and fair was life, But this is perfect rest ; 'We'U sleep, dear, in yon track of white, Where moonbeams touch the sea. For I think Jesus left such light. Walking on Galilee. ' ^Drowned! And so they died — all fear, all care, All life, left far behind- Together, in the moonlight there: — Death has been very kind. B 2 A SONG OF MIDDLE AGE. ' He could not atide to hear tlie Spring-tide spoken pulingly of, as if it fades instead of ripening into summer, and youth as if it sets instead of dawns into manhood.' On Both Sides of the Sea. Whae are tlie dew-draps gane, SparkUn' sae rare ? The lark's clear matin sang Cleavin' the air ? Whar's a' the freshness fled 0' day's first dawn, The purple, gowd, an' red. The joy o' morn ? A Song of Middle Age. Whar's the blythe Spring-time noo, Sae tender green, That crownt the auld Earth's broo, Wi' emerald sheen ? Whar's the bit burnie sped, Wi'ts lauchin' glee ? Whar hides the snaw-drap's head Can ye tell me ? Aye are the dew-draps gane Sparklin' sae rare ; The lark's clear matin sang Te'H list nae mair. But by ilk drap o' dew The green Earth's blest; The lark her sang's tint noo To warm her nest. Aye has the freshness fled O' dawn's bricht hue, But the quiet lift owerhead Smiles warm an' blue. A Song of Middle Age. Te conldna the blythe bumie keep Wi'ts lauchin' glee, But in. its staid, a river deep Flaws to the sea. Oh, greet na for the dawnia' Grown into day, Greet na for Spring-time ripenin' To Simmer gay; Spring's made but for the Simmer, Dawnin' for day, Youth's April's the forerinner O' riper May. An' when through life's het noontime We've warked our best. Autumn an' e'en bring wi' them The 'joy o' hairst.' The e'en 'ill bring the dew-drap We've tint sae lang ; We'll hae i'steid o' matius The vesper sang. A Song of Middle Age. We'll see the gowd an' purple We saw afore, Not brichtenin' noo Earth's portal, But Heaven's door, Ne'er fadin' noo' i' common day Thae Kchta aye wun Prae a Blessed Face i' that country That needs nae sun. FLA8EUS. One night 'neath my lady's window — 'Twas in the month of June — The trees cast peaceful shadow, The lake gleamed in the moon — Beneath my lady's window, I sang a quiet tune. A tune Eke the summer midnight. So soft, and peaceful sweet, With here and there a gleam of light, Like the moonbeams at my feet. All dimly, silvery bright. My lady's ear to greet. Flashes. The house loomed large in the darkness, And silent as the grave, No sound broke the night's stUlness Save the lake's rippling wave, No light, ia the summer darkness. Save the light the moonbeams gave. But sudden, across the window Of the chamber where she slept, A bright flash gleamed through the shadow, And my heart in my bosom leapt. To greet the light in the window Where my beloved slept. It gleamed for a moment only, And again the darkness fell, And I turned in the midnight lonely. Afar from her to dwell. But I knew she had heard me only. And my heart said — ' It is well.' lo Flashes. One eve-tide I met in the woodlands, Her, whom my soul loves best ; The sun had gone down in crimson bands, And the wee birds sought their nest, When we met in the dusk of the woodlands. At the gloaming's hour of rest. I had laid my heart, for many a year, Down at my lady's feet, And never a word or look of cheer, Had come my love to greet. From weary year to weary year, As it lay at my lady's feet. But sudden, that summer twilight, As I clasped her hand in mine. And our eyes met, a glory bright Made all her dear face shine, A Kght of love, through the deepening night. Leapt up to answer mine. Flashes. 1 1 Wb.0 shall translate ttat glory Into poor hnman speech ? Yet to me it told a story, A truth no words could reach, — Our souls met in that glory. And mingled each with each. It gleamed for a moment only, And again the darkness fell, And I turned in my life all lonely. Afar from her to dwell. With that light as a memory only,- Tet my heart said 'It is well.' 12 RABEBELLS—WHAT IS TIME? (■WEITTEN FOE A POETEY GAME.) I HAVE two harebells in an old, old book, Dry, -withered, pale, yet fall of memories. The first was gathered in a shady nook. The day my boy first opened his blue eyes ; The last I found far o'er the western ware, Tears after, when I wept upon his grave ; Time is, to man, the space in mercy given. Betwixt these two, to fit himself for Heaven. 13 AN IDEAL OF SEEVIOE. (the widoVs mite.) To me tlie Devil spake one day, And thus I made reply, Let him that readeth answer me, "Was he right, or was I ? Quoth he, 'Ton hring your paltry day, Tour poor threescore and ten, — To Him who fills Eternity, Ton dare to ofier them. What cares He for your bubble Hfe, On whom Time's oceans pall ? 'Tis much to you, 'tis nought to Him.' Said I, ' It is my all.' 14 An Ideal of Service. •^" Quoth he, 'You think with hands or head Some work for God to do ; Wm He who made Infinitude Look at your work and you ? Fool ! cease your labour, take your ease, He whom Creations call Their Maker, think you, you can please ? ' Said I, 'It is my all.' Quoth he, 'Tou bring your heart's desire, The treasure most you prize, — You lay it at His feet, and say, "Behold my sacrifice." Nay, keep it, it will glad your heart ; He, at whose footstool fall Cherubs and Seraphs, sees it not.' Said I, ' It is my all.' ' Get thee behind me,' then I said, ' For One is on my side, Greater than thou ; — a mite, a widow laid, At His blest feet, and He repHed, An Ideal of Service. 1 5 "Well done," — tlien will He not despise, How poor so e'er, and small, This fleeting life, tliis work, this sacrifice, — He'U say "It is thine aU." ' i6 AN IDEAL OF SAOBIFIOK (abeam's offeeino.) As God to Abram. said of old, ' Go take thy son, Thine only son, And on mine altar lay ; Because thon lov'st him, thou shalt not withhold With thine own hand to slay. So unto me God spake to-day, — ' Go take thy Hope, Thy Hfe's one Hope, AU that thy soul doth prize ; Tear it from out thy heart, — at my feet lay, A living sacrifice.' An Ideal of Sacrifice. 1 7 As he of old times did not stay To give his son, His only son, Although with bitter tears, So, Lord, would I, though sad, Thy will obey. And yield the Hope of years. As when upon the wood of old, Isaac was laid, The hand was staid ; ' Enough,' God said, ' I see Prom me thou wilt not thy most prized withhold : — I give him back to thee.' Perchance — I know not — ^he may say, 'Take back thy Hope, Thy life's dear Hope, I ask it not of thee.' And I, as Abram, bear back on my way My treasure, joyfully. C 1 8 An Ideal of Sacrifice. It may be — but I cannot know — Lord, Thine own Son, Thine only Son, Thou didst not spare for me, Prom very Death. Can I not then forego This Hope of mine for Thee ? If not like him to whom, my God, Thou spared'st his Son, But like Thy Son, My Hope Thou canst nut spare, Am I not honour'd more, that like my Lord, This, my heart's Hope, should fare ? And this I know, as from the dead. The three days done, Thou call'dst Thy Son, To rise and reign with Thee, So my dead Hope, all earthly dimness fled. Shall live again with me. 19 JOHN BBOWN OF PBIESTHILrS WIFE. They sliot him at Ms cottage door, And his wife was standing near, But never a word o' grief said she, Nor dimm'd her e'e a tear. They tied his hands ahint his back, An' bound his bonny e'en, But her face was white, and still, and oauld As a dead face it had been. The heath, a' purple i' the sun, Shone redder where he lay, When they had warked their wicked will, An' turned to ride away. c2 20 John Brown of PriesthilV s Wife. 'An' wHat think ye o' your gudeman noo, Gnde wife ? ' quoth Clavers rude : — A flash cam' i' the tearless e'e — To the white cheek the blude. She walked with steady step an' prood, To whar her gudeman lay, She laid on her lap the shattered head, An' she wiped the blude away. Aye thocht I muckle o' my gudeman An' far mair think I noo ; He's died for the Lord that died for him : — — God forgi'e them that slew.' 'Twere nocht but just,' quoth Clavers cruel. Gin ye lay by his side.' ' Aye wark your will,' she answered him, ' Was never gladder bride.' John Brown of PriesthiU's Wife. 2 1 She sat there still as the gloamin' fell, An' they turned and rode away, Still, when the heath grew dusk in nioht, On her knees the dead head lay ; But when the first star glimmered out I' the welkin' quiet an' blue, Ae lang look took she o' the een She loe'd, sae sichtless noo, ■ An' syne she shut the eyelids white, An' kamed the clotted hair, An' rowed him in his shepherd's plaid Wi's life blude redden' d sair; She laid him on the purple heath. Gently as babe that slept ; Nae word said she tUl a' was dune, — Syne sat her doon an' wept. 22 BEEP SEA GRAVES. A LITTLE splash in the ocean, A child's form sunk in the wave, And the ship, with stately motion. Steers onward, proud and brave ; But a mother's heart, all broken. Went down to her baby's grave. A little hope-flower wither'd, Cast in the heart's deep sea, And the life goes on nnalter'd, Bravely and steadfastly; But ne'er is such bloom regather'd This side Eternity. A NOGTJJB'RIj. Peace, peace -where thousands rest Day's labour o'er; — On lonely mountain breast, And rocky shore ; Deep down in wooded dell, 'Mid murmuring leaves, The holy starlight fell, Whispering 'Peace.' Peace, peace on ocean wave, Lonely and deep ; Peace, where in ocean grave The loved sleep, 24. A Nocturne Where the low surges sing. Never to cease, — Tell, as on sea-bird's wLag, The moonlight's peace. Peace, peace, oh restless, heart, Longing and lone Peace, ye whose spirits pant For voices gone ; Peace, they are near you now To soothe and bless, — Round each fair angel brow, Sfar-wreathed 'Peace.' LOVE MTIBBEBED. Tea verily, Love is dead ; Tou did not tMnk of this ; Howe'er her sad heart bled, You'd staunch, it with a kiss, When it seemed meet to you Such act of grace to do. Tea, but it comes too late ; Once such kiss might have healed, Why did you wait and wait Till Death the wound had sealed ? 'Twas drop by drop life fled, But now she lieth dead. 26 Love Murdered. You kill'd her — yes, 'tis true, — Tou heard her plead and plead; ■f hink how she clung to you To save — -jsemifet her bleed; Tou thought you'd make her wait. And now, it is too late. She was not eas'ly killed, — Clung to your lifted arm ; Sure pity might have filled Your heart, to work her harm. You showered blows thick and fast ;- Well — she is dead at last. Her pleading eyes no more Will vex you with their pain ; They wept full long and sore. They'll never weep again; The long, white, drooping lid Has all their sorrow hid. Love Murdered. 27 Aye, you may ■wring your hands, Shower kisses on her brow ; She hears not your commands, Feels not your %isses now ; Once she had sprung to greet, Laid glad heart at your feet. It is no use to weep. Ne'er can it be undone ; There, lay her to her sleep, Tou must depart alone. Your life with Love is o'er, — Ended for evermore. Ah ! now you moan and cry, ' Will she ne'er live again ? Must I bear on for aye. This weary, lonely pain? Will not sweet Love be given. Though ne'er on earth, in heaven ? ' 28 Love Murdered. Aye shall she live again, Tor Love can never die ; A Life that knows no pain, A Love that's glad for aye. Yes, Love shall live 'tis true — I know not — if, for you. 29 INVITATION TO TEE WOODLANDS. All in the golden summertide, Wlien the old woods are green, And the sunbeams through the branches ^lide, Gilding the moss between ; And the shadows of the leaves are cast The ash tree's stems around, And the buzzing myriads wander past With a stream's low slumbrous sound; And the tiny harebell's fair head droops Among the grasses gray. And o'er the stream the long fern stoops Watching the water's play; 30 Invitation to the Woodlands. And the glancing simKglit glory brings, Tinging each, leaf with gold, 'An d changing the flitting insect wings To fairy elves of old ; And there is no voice in all the air, But that lulling sea of sound, Above, about, and everywhere. The quiet old woods around ; Then come to the solemn woodlands, Thou, who hast borne thy part. With earnest heart, and labouring hands, In the world's great busy mart. And rest where the chequer'd sunbeam On thy faded brow may lie. And dream, as thou wert wont to dream In the years that are gone by. Invitation to the Woodlands. 3 1 And let life's anxious carefulness Pass from thy soul away, And driak thoii in tlie quietness Of nature reverently. New armour 'mid tlie loneliness, Thou'lt gird on for the fight, And like a shield, its peaoefulness Shall guard thy heart with might. As golden robe about thee, So shall its beauty be, The holiness. and majesty Of Ifature's sanctuary. Then kneel to God in meekness, For strength in earth's earnest strife, So shall the woodland's peacefulnes Teach thee to conquer life. A NOVUMBUB BAT. Deeaet, and dim, and cheerless, The wintry twilight rose, Entering with footstep noiseless A chamber of repose. Coldly and stern and sadly. It touched the sleeping brow, But its chilly kiss fell lightly, The weary resteth now. For the heart, whose longing voidness Had felt its icy breath. Now sleeps in calm and stillness. In the embrace of Death. A November Day. Say not the clasp is wrathfuJ In which the lonely rest, For calm, at last, and bhssful, She slumbers on his breast. She, who had longed so vainly For love in days gone past. Finds in Ms bosom gladly Her spirit's home at last. No more, no more in weakness- Life's lonely path is trod. Loving with holy meekness, Death bears her soul to God ' BUJOIGE WITH THEM TEAT BO BBJOIGE, AND WEEP WITH THEM THAT WEEP.' The Dawn's soft-fingered handmaid, The silver veil of Night, Was drawing from the sleeping earth With her touch of magic light, When o'er a hill-girt valley, Where soft the shadows lay, A Lingerer of Moonlight met A Messenger of Day. ' Where hast thou strayed soft Moonbeam ? The pale gates of the sky Are opened, and thy sisters dream In their shadowy home on high ; ' Rejoice with them that do refoice.' 35 They are waiting but for thee To close the ivory door, And the Dayspring over land and sea Its glory-flood to pour.' ' Seest thou that cottage lonely, Beneath the aspen tree ? There dwelleth an aged Christian, In helpless poverty ; On the open Bible-page, In solemn light I slept, And pointed with starry finger Where 'tis written. " Jesus wept." 'Where yonder shadowy forest Sleepeth in holy light, I have gUded through the leaf-bowers In the stiUness of the night, And breathed to a little wanderer, Whose young heart throbs for love, Of One who ever loveth her, Of a Father's home above. D 2 I ' Rejoice with them that do rejoice, ' And where ou a mother's breast, Was laid an infant head, And a hahy form was pressed In the slumber of the dead, [ have slept on that childish brow With such a holy smile. That the lonely mother knew 'Twas but for a little while. And down in the depths of the solemn sea, Where the ocean cypress weep, [ have twined my veil of mystery Round the slumberers of the deep; Where mermaids chant their mournful psalm, As they strew the white coral bed, T have lighted the mighty sepulchre Of ocean for the dead. But thou of the golden wing Whither art thou away, With light, and song, and beauty, Glad Messenger of Day ? ' and weep with them that weep' 3 7 'I go to the downy pillow Where the mother's idol lies, To open with loving kisses The laughing dew-bright eyes; To leave a sunbeam shadow Upon the golden head, That everywhere around her Its blessing may be shed. And to the early labourer's brow, To smile in gladness there. And twiue my fairy fingers. Lovingly in his hair ; And on the young bride's beauty, In softened glory bright. Around life's future pathway To shed a hallowed light. And in the laughing fountain To mirror my golden wing, And to glance through dim old forests. With lone streams murmuring 38 ' Rejoice with them, that do r^dce! 'Farewell, farewell soft Moonbeam, To botli a charge is given. To bless Earth's sorrowing children, And to lead them home to Heaven; We shall meet when night's solemn music Hath breathed its shadowy spell Again at the sunset's portal, — Farewell, farewell.* 39 BOMAUNT OF THE HAG'S LEAP. Black was her hair, as black as nicht, White was her hroo, as snaw-wraith white, Dark were her een, and wild, and free, Yet saft was the smile o' EUesley She herded her faither's sheep alane, She herded them up the Eosa Glen, An' there, aneath the birken tree. Young Eionald met wi' EUesley. He tauld her, her voice was saft an' law As the wimplin' bumie's gurglin' flaw. He taiild her nae star i' the winter sky Was bricht as the e'e o' EUesley. 0.0 Romaunt of the Hags Leap. Jle keepit a sprig o' the heather bell .SVae the wreath on her snaw-white broo that fell; An' there, aneath the birken tree, He plighted his troth wi' EUesley. He woo'd her when the mom shone bricht. He woo'd her 'neath the pale starUcht Aft, aft they met by the birken tree — Alack, alack for EUesley ! He tauld her he maun gae awa', — Maun gae to his faither's knightly ha' ' But I'll come back an' marry thee, An' mak' thee Lady EUesley.' She herded her faither's sheep alane, She herded them up the Rosa Glen; Wi' a big saft tear in her black, black e'e, Thinkir ' o' him sat EUesley. Romaunt of the Hags Leap. 41 Wtan by there cam' a neebor lad, An' he was whistlin' blythe an' glad ; ' An' what brings ye here sae cheerily ? An' what brings ye here ? ' quoth Ellesley. ' Hae ye na heard the news that came, Hoo young Laird Ronald's comin' hame Wi' the bonnie bride frae the south countree Yestreen he wed wi', — Ellesley ? ' She gied nae scream, nae word said she; But the tear-drap dried i' her black, black e'e ; As she stood aneath the birken tree, Oh, an awfii' smile smiled Ellesley. The moon it shone fu' fair that nicht. An' in Rosa's Glen it glimmered bricht, Whan out frae the hill-side shadows gray A' silently cam' EUesley. 42 Romaunt of the Hags Leap. For by there passed on the t'ither side, Young Ronald an' his fair-hair'd bride, Oh, a bonny, saft-eyed bairn was she To dree the curse o' Ellesley. The shimmerin' moonlicht's glistenin' sheen Shaw'd twice ten feet that yawned atween, But clean across the gap leaped she, — By Bonald's bride stood Ellesley. She cursed her whar she stood that nioht, She cursed her by the pale moonlicht. Oh, an awsome thing it was to dree The woman's curse o' EUesley. She swithered, the bonnie bride, an' fell Doon, doon through that black yawning heU- Oh, ower tender a blue-eyed bairn was she, To dree that curse o' EUesley. Romaunt of the Hag s Leap. \i Ae shriek gied Laird Ronald sae wild an' shrill, That the moor-fowl started frae the hill, An' after his bonnie bride sprang he, An' there, alane, stood EUesley. She saw him fa' by the pale moonlicht, She heard his shriek through the simmer nicht, But a wild gUnt shone in her black, black e'e As back, alane, gaed BUesley. Three corpses by a shepherd boy Were fand on the heath o' wild Glen Cloy ; Wi' his bride in his arms, young Ronald lay, An' his head on the heart o' EUesley. 44 MimSTEBING SPIRITS. ' Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who shall te heirs of salvation?' Theough the hushed air of evening, ere the day's last crimson light. Blent with the first star's silver beauty, had faded into night, A host of angel ministers winging their homeward way, Spake of the work that they had done for the dear Lord that day. Some told of little children on whose quiet hearts they'd laid The hly Innocence, whose hands they'd clasped as they prayed, Ministering Spirits. 4 5 Whose lives they'd wreaiihed -with gladness ; and the holy angels smiled, As they answered low and softly, ' Jesus was a little child.' Some spake of earth's poor wanderers, fainting on life's rongh road. They had taught to lean their weakness upon the strength of God ; Of flowers in graveyards springing, Hope's smiles where Sorrow slept ; And the angel heads bent meekly as they answered, ' Jesus wept.' And some of Death's dark valley their wings had lined with light, Of the crown they held, still brightening before the fading sight ; Of the dead borne gently Homeward — then one low voice replied. While, rev'rently, the holy angels veiled their faces — ' Jesus died.' 46 A NJEW YUAB'S POEM. Another circle added Unto Life's tree ; Upon the sea Another ripple widened ; Tender and wee, First ring on tree, Ripple on sea, Wide ere they ended. A little life, God's making, Cast ia the deep. The eternal sleep Of the great ocean waking; A New Year's Poem. 47 Slow circles creep, Widening each sweep, Over the deep. Its quiet rest breaking. Lord, with each circle added Unto Life's tree, Oh may we see. Another shoot spring upward; Tender and wee Each shoot may be, Tet visibly. May each grow heavenward. Oh may each ripple widening Life's great deep o'er, Still, more and more, Homeward be tending, Till ocean hoar, All circled o'er. On the bright shore Of Heaven, ending. 48 SUNSHT. Upon the heathery knoll we stood ; Her hand was clasped in mine, And, glistening through the antnnm wood, Darted the clear sunshine. My Mower, my Flower, her golden hair Gleamed in that radiance bright. Fit crown, it seemed, for saint to wear Where angels walk in Hght. We stood and watched the crimson ray From the quiet heavens depart. And leave the old woods dim. and gray But light was in my heart. Sunset. 49 I deemed that glory ne'er could pass From my darUng's radiant brow, But 'twas the sunset's light, alas ! The night has followed now. Untrue — oh, child, hadst thoa but died, That light had not been gone ; Thy bright head brighter glorified In realms that need no sun. For faith that shone like sunlight here There had but purer grown. And Love but tenderer and more dear; Now Faith and Love are gone. And thou hast left my heart, my Flower, Lonely amidst the night, — As old dim woods when day is o'er — There is no Hght, no light. 5° TEIS DAY A TEAB AGO. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! The place is little changed, — The swallows skim round the eaves, The passion-flower at the window Shines through its dark green leaves, — And the place is little changed. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! The sun lies on the grass, High spread the arching trees. In the old woods the ' cushey doo ' Moans its sweet melodies, — And the place is little changed. This day a year ago. 5 1 This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! Still circling mountains keep Ghiard over Solway's sand, Blue sea, blue hiUs, blue sky together flow, Sweet mingliug water, air and land, — And the place is Httle changed. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! The place is little changed, Yet something is wanting here ; On scene and on heart rests a shadow, They knew not the by-past year, Though the place is Httle changed. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ' Oh face I loved so dear ! Oh little, tender hand ! It is you I mise, I know. From the familiar land, Though the place is little changed. B 2 5 2 This day a year ago. This day a year ago, this day a year ago Ah never I missed before That loving birthday meeting, — Sure must the tongue be powerless now, When it forgets that greeting. Though the place is little changed. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! Oh loved one you were here, And poor was the love I gave. How poor ! Tet now I think you know My heart lies in your grave. Though the place is little changed. This day a year ago, this day a year ago ! Ne'er can that time return. Yet a better birthday's greeting I shall hear from your Ups I know. When their kiss seals our next meeting, — And the place is all that's changed. DO FLOATING AWAY. 'Pale and unreal in the moonlight, th6 river floated them away.' — Dickens. 'TwAS on. a solemn eventide Beneath, the starry sky, That on a silver'd river's side A man stood silently. He cast on that river lone Eioses once bright and fair, And the waters murmuring on His heart's foad treasure bear. 54 Floating away. Pale and unreal in the moonKght The withered flowers float slow; And with them Life's stream that midnight, Bears hopes of long ago. Near to his heart those flowers had lain In their first crimson pride ; Pale and unreal to the distant main, Bears them the moonHt tide ; A lUy hand he had deemed his own. Itself, with those buds, had given ; — The hand resigned — the buds alone But mock his dream of heaven. He watched them 'neath the darkness Of the o'ershadowing tree, And where the moon with brightness Silvered them quietly. Floating away. 55 And then when the river bore them Far out beyond his sight ; And darkness had closed o'er them, — He turned in the solemn night. And from his heart that midnight Floated youth's hopes away; Yet bright and soft the moonlight Touched Life's stream quietly. Calm on Time's silver river, That evetide's blossoms lay, Pale and unreal for ever. Floating away. 56 A FIRST BIBTBDAY. (Janhaet 6, 1871. A.G-.M.) And this is thy first birthday In the far heaven. I know thou art not given, Poor years to reckon by, In yon bright sky ; Yet we, on earth, who stay, Fain on thy grave would lay A fresh immortelle wreath, and say, ' This is thy natal day.' It seems to bring us nearer Thee, where thou art, A First Birthday. 57 To feign thou still hast part In landmarks on our way; In thine Eternity We lose, thee — our faint sight Seeks stUl our Star, how bright Soe'er the heaven's far height, Where it is lost in Ught. That glory is not tlMU, ; For fhee we sigh. To our sad hearts as nigh, As in the days of old, When we might fold Thine heart to ours — so now we lay Mowers on thy grave and say, ' So bind we thine Eternity To Time's brief day.' Yet e'en the flowers we bring, Proclaim, we know. Not reaUy is it so ; 58 A First Birthday. No fading earthly bloom, We lay upon thy tomb : Red rose and fair lily, For rmr birth-feasts — for thee. Deathless immortelles — speaking audibly Outs but of Time — ^thine of Eternity. 59 THU 8EA.BUBIAL. (&K IBISH LEQEIID.) The tide was out on Erin's store, When, by the sunlit wave. The clansmen their latest chieftain bore To his ancestral grave. Not in the gloom of abbey gray Was stately reqtiiem snng, But the farrowed sea-rocks solemnly To that wild death-keen rung; For by the free, blue, sunlit sea They laid him to his rest, His withered hands clasped reverently, And the cross upon his breast. 6o The Sea Burial. Full many a tear on that aged brow In the glittering sunlight lay, As each clansman his bared head bowing low, From the lone shore turned away. For his burial band eye may not see, Nor mortal ear may hear The song of old Ocean's jubilee. When he welcomes his children dear. The tide crept up, and the twilight star Shone o'er the old man's rest, Silv'ring with quiet light from far. The pearl cross on his breast. And from the waters dark and calm. The sea-king rose that night ; All chaunting a low and solemn psalm, Followed his daughters white; The Sea Burial. 6i Bright pearl- wreaths bound their glowing hair As they floated hand in hand On the moonlit sea, — oh, unearthly fair Was that mystic burial band ! The tide was full, and they stood around. Their long locks floating free, For their pearls the old man's head have crowned For his tomb in the solemn sea. They bore him in their lily hands, Their tresses o'er him swept. When a tone was heard from the distant sands. As the wail of one that wept ; And a crone, scarce earthly, weird and wild. Crouched, gazing on the wave ; Slie had borne him in her arms, a child, — She must see him to his grave, 62 The Sea Burial. But the mermaids ceased tkeir chanted keen, And wreathed up their flowing hair, And faded away in the moonlight's sheen, As a tone on the summer air. The tide was out, but a pale corse lay On the shining sands alone. His hands were clasped as yesterday. But the pearly cross was gone. All moumfiilly they laid him down 'Neath an old cypress tree. Without a cross, and without a crown, Close by his native sea. But every night a spirit white Floats o'er the glisterdng wave, And solemnly, by the pale moonlight. She chants beside his grave; The Sea Burial. 63 And she lays a cross on his earthly bed, That her ocean son may rest, Although no pearl crown decks his head, — Christ's symbol on his breast. 64 SPBING BLOSSOMS. Bear them, bear them softly, Tke youthful to their rest, Whisper, whisper gently, For they are blest; Lightly place them, In kindred earth, Again embrace them. Earth to earth. Weep not, weep not sadly Over their rest. Praise ye, praise ye gladly. For they are blest ; Seemeth life lonely. Since they are fled ? MoTim for thyself only, — Weep not the dead. spring Blossoms. 65 Weep not the dead ! The spring bloom faded Is but the brightness fled Ere it was shaded ; Say not untimely The weary are gone, Though scarce shineth dimly The star of the mom. Nor for thyself sorrow, Long, broken-hearted ; The autumn tints follow When summer hath parted. Weep not, weep not sadly Over their rest; Praise ye, praise ye gladly, For they are blest. 66 ' UNTBULT OALLED UNTRUE.' Am I then false ? Is it untrue True to myself to be ? Then falsehood is true verity, And truth itself untrue. I said I loved her, nor untruly spoke, — I thought I loved her then; I loved as one who dreams — ^bnt when True love was bom, sudden I woke, And a^ the former vision fled away. It was as one who deemed The morning star the sun, and dreamed Its twilight all the perfect day ; ' Untruly called Untrue.' 67 And fixed on it his hope, till far All the bright east on his astonished gaze Glows into glory — lost in the bright rays Of day's true sun, in vain he seeks his star. Is it untrue that he no longer dare Call star the sun? — ^true he may weep The sweet light lost, and gently keep In tender memory its twilight fair; — But who shall blame that iu the glory bright Where glows the god of day, In vain he seeks his star ? or say He is untrue, because it's lost in light ? f2 68 TEE PABISE GEAVEYABD. There's a little parish, graveyard That overlooks the sea ; Below the waves break ceaseless, In glad monotony ; Above the grass is green and soft, — As children we played there. Dear Mary, with the merry laugh, Glad eyes, and sunny hair. Through the little parish graveyard, Above the glittering sea, We passed that summer morning You gave yourself to me, The Parish Graveyard. 69 In the little moss-grown ctapel, • 'Mid the graves of buried men, Where the blue sea sings 'Te Deum,' — Dear Mary, dearer then. To the little parish graveyard Beside the sleepless sea, I brought you once again, Mary, Asleep so peacefully; I left you and your baby, There where the daisies grow. With God in that little graveyard, — Dear Mary, dearest now. 70 A GEILD'8 BEVUBIE. A CHILD sat in the twilight, By a fair summer sea, And she looked out into the night, Sadly and silently. The blue lone waters laved around. Through the soft evening calm, And solemnly they breathed a sound. As a distant battle psalm ; For the wrinkles of day's labour Were smoothed from old Ocean's brow. And 'Peace,' by the hand of the Savionr, Was stamped on his bosom now. A Child's Reverie. 71 But the cMld sat there all sadly, For her lifo look'd dim and cold ; And her heart and her hope drooped -wearily Prom her glorious dreams of old. And the quiet and common duty Seem'd a burden she could not bear, And her soul longed for a beauty She fotmd not anywhere; Then a star rose in the distance Of the far eastern sky. And she heard, in the solemn silence, Soft angel tones float by. And she looked 'mid the dimness and darkness To that pure light afar. And bowed her head to listen, To the song of the Evening Star. 72 A Child's Reverie. It told of many a weary one It had comforted and blest; Of many dark and lonely It had lighted on to rest. To many -weak and stmggHng It had cheered the weary way, To many sad and dying Had bre-thed of heaven's own day. ' Go thou as I have gone, — There are weary and opprest. There are struggling ones and worn, Who by fhee may be blest ; ' Nor grieve if all alone, Still thy deep heart shall be, Go to thy Saviour for the love That others find in thee. A Child' s Reverie. 73 ' And He shall comfort thee — oh, better far Than mortal tongue can tell, And bright and calm as the evening star Shall thy life be — farewell.' 74 TEE FLIGHT OF TIME. ' Dawu in the East ! ' the matin star Sang over land and sea, ' Dawn in the East ! ' the night afar, Caught the wUd melody. Glad was that tone as through Eden's bowers It floated on zephyr wing, And angel Hours to the dewy flowers, Whispered the song they sing. Fair was the land where the sunbeams lay Soft on the wakening earth, Shady the trees where the young leaves' play Laughed o'er the morning's birth. The Flight of Time. 75 Bright -were the flowers in that suimy land, And pure the summer air, For Innocence stood hand in hand, With Truth and Beauty there ; And there were rivers flowing In the light of Eden's day, And with their waters glowing Thou hastedst on thy way. 'Tis long, 'tis long since the seraph's lay Sang o'er thy birth, Since first the rosy portals of the Day Oped on the earth. Thy wing is faint and weary. For now earth's dust is there. Thy path is dark and dreary, Through the sin-burdened air ; 76 The Flight of Time. And tears have wet the pinions Once dipt in living springs, And Sorrow's dark dominions Stretch 'neath thy drooping wings ; And breaking hearts aronnd thee Send np their longing sigh, And death's dark chain hath bound thee To dull mortality. But on and onward hasting. Not long thy course shall be. Soon shall a place of resting Open its morn for thee : Not long shall Earth's sad story Thus clog thine upward wing ; A morn of brighter glory Welconung angels sing ; — The Flight of Time. 'j'j That mom in Eden's gladness, Wliere first began thy flight, That jonmey through earth's sadness. All swallowed up in light. ' Dawn in the East ! ' the matin star Sang then o'er land and sea, ' Dawn in the East ! ' thy Home afar Shall sing to welcome thee. 78 THE GBEEK GIBL. Htjsh ! for I heax them through, the silent hill At the hour when the shadows fall, And their wild low tones o'er my heart-strings thrill, And the blood runs chill, And the pulse is still, At the Toice of their shadowy call. I hear them, they come from the silent streams Of the far-off voiceless shore. On whose deep wave the Starlight beams, And the Morning gleams, And the Shadow dreams Never for ever more. The Greek Girl. 79 I hear them — they call — shall I answer not When the Loved and the Dead is there ? Shall he say that the maiden he loved, forgot ? That she answered not, In his lonely lot. To the voice of his spirit's prayer ? Not so, not so, this wild mountain bed When the day's glad course is o'er, Shall pfllow the faithful's weary head, And the purple heather shed. It's bloom o'er the dead, The weary, for evermore. It was far. away where thou eall'dst me first, Thou voice of the Silent Shade ! In the sunny home where the bright flowers burst. And the starlight gushed,— And the waters husht Heard, as they played. 8o The Greek Girl. Thou call'dst and I answered — I heard thy tone When it spake in love's whisperings there, Of the moonlit sea whence that voice hath gone, And the billows moan, Ajid the midnight lone^ Breathing thy prayer. 'Twas mom on the waters — ^its silver light On my own eastern sea, When thou spak'st again and that voice of might, O'er the waters bright. Called through the night Of Death, to follow thee. I knew where that breath on the waters led. To what doom of dread and fear ; But what to me though Death's wings were spread Above my head. If the Dead, And the Loved were near ? The Greek Girl. 8i 'Twas night wten that shadowy tone stole last From thy bed on the ocean's breast ; Where, 'neath the moon's soft radiance cast, Tonch'd by no sweeping blast, Thou slnmb'rest at last. Beloved, at rest. I hear, I hear, shall I answer not, When the Loved and the Dead is there ? Shall he say that the maiden he loved forgot ? That she answered not. In his lonely lot. To the voice of his spirit's prayer ? Not so, not so, this wild mountain bed. When the day's glad course is o'er, Shall pillow the Faithful's weary head. And the purple heather shed Its bloom o'er the dead. Thine, thine for evennore! 82 THY WORK, WHEEE IS THY WOBK ?' T. Cablyle. When ttese earthly scenes have faded, And this life all dim hath grown, And by fleshly garb unshaded. Thou stand'st before the throne ; When in earth's familiar places Thy footstep's heard no more, And old, loving, kindly faces Look not for thee at the door ; When in 'midst of worlds unknown, In His Eternity, man, while standing there alone, God asks thy work of thee. ' Thy Work, Where is thy Work?' 85 "When the day shall be all over, With its garish flare of light, And about And above thee hover Quiet, everlasting night ; And the gildings and the flatteries That mask'd life here below, Yanish before the ' verities ' Of her still presence now. And the day is done for ever, And thy work m/ust be shown. And other side the river, Thou standest all alone. When through thy soul the starlight Thrilleth with solemn spell, Could'st thou beneath the eyes of night Answer, ' I have done well ? ' g2 84 ' Thy Work, Where is thy Work ? ' Oh help Tis, Saviour, help us, Ere yet the day be gone, That Thy 'Well done' may greet us From the Eternal Throne. 85 ALONK Alone, though around are gathering Proud forms, and bright, and fair Alone 'mid the rejoicing, Of nature everywhere. Alone 'mid kindness gushing From friendly hearts and true ; Alone 'mid bright cheeks flushing With earnest love to you. Alone, although on lip and brow Soft smiles are beaming bright; Alone, although from eye and tone Each other heart gleans light ; 86 Alone. Alone, alone, for tWs is not The love for wHcli you souglit ; Aye more alone, for love must hide From love each saddening thought. Alone, while gently soothing The weary and the weak ; Alone, for in thy heart are tones Thou ne'er mayst think to speak. Alone for from thy heart's strange depths That love-dream cannot part ; Alone but for its mystery Of glory in thy heart. Alone amidst the music That floateth on the air, Alone, for the tone thou seekest Thy spirit finds not there. Alone. 87 Alone, alone for ever, In gladness and in pain; Alone, alone, for never Answers that ectoing strain. Alone, yet when heaven's breezes The Lamb's new song shall bear. Alone no more for ever. That tone shall meet thee there. 88 BOAT SONG. Haste wliere the billows flush with light, Above the deep sea caves, Haste where the sunbeams sparkle bright, Over the rippling waves. Our bark is on the waters now, 'Neath the glad light of dawn, The foam is sparkling round its prow, And laughing to the morn ; The sea-birds on the wave's dark breast Float 'neath the sunny ray. And mermaids to their watery rest Bear back their mourning lay. Boat Song. 89 The ocean cypress far beneath The glancing waves may be, And strange flowers wreath the brow of Death, Far in the deep blue sea ; Young forms and brave may slumber there, The sea weed for their bed, And pearls may bind the flowing hair Of ocean's holy dead. Above, the waters sparkle bright. Beneath the sun's glad ray, The morning awakes in dewy light Over the waves away ! go LONGFELLOW'S ' BEAPEB AND FLOWERS: The tones were soft and touching, The words were sad and calm, And like the moonlight's gushing, Breathed that low solemn psalm. Pure as an angel's blessing, Calm as Death's holy smile, As hope and faith 'mid suffering. Sounded that voice the while. It told of death and sorrow Yet its tones breathed not of pain. For it spake of a brighter morrow. When the flowers should bloom again ; Longfellow's ' Reaper and Flowers! 9 1 To the restless heart all softly, As a stray tone of heaven, As a strange angel lullaby, That holy song was given. And life with its griefs and gladness For a while grew hushed and calm, As the soul bowed down to listen Unto Death's solemn psalm. THE OLD A8E TREE. GtANCiNG in the sunbeams, Skimmering in the rain, Laughing to the hreezes, It meets me again ; The aunhght streameth o'er it, Like waves from a golden sea, Bathing the busy triflers Of the old ash tree. 'Twas thus the sunset lingered, Long, long ago, Bathing in floods of glory- Blossom and bough ; The Old Ash Tree. 93 Breathing wild spells of ligbt, Strange dreams of mystery, As it kissed the little dreamer By the old ash tree. But now thongh the sunlight streameth It is not so, Though still the dreamer standeth As long, long ago. For life's haze hath fallen around The light of childish glee * And the glory all hath fled From the old ash tree. 94 JACOB'S LABBUB. Thet are near and around us ever, The holy and the good, Though our dim eyes see never Their blessed neighbourhood ; Tet amid the spirit's silence Sometimes we hear their wings. As faintly far through the distance The gush of hidden springs ; StiU hear we their steps descending With blessing as of yore. Though we see the path ascending From Earth to Heaven no more ; yacob's Ladder. 95 Though the starry -way hath faded, Where once the angels trod, And the world's wild tumult shaded. The path from man to God ; Yet come they 'mid the stillness Of the weary spirit's rest, While the stars shine in the quietness Of Heaven's glorious breast. They come with strength for weakness, Till life's long wanderings cease, With blessing and with meekness — God's messengers of peace. 96 THU WATOB-KNOWES. (an old ROMAN CAMP, NOW A BURYING PIACE.) ' Till the day dawn, and the shadows flee away.' ' Watching for the sunrise, Over the distant sea ? Or straining longing eyes, Eed beacon-fires to see. Flaming from hills afar, Watchwords of liberty ? Waiting till even star. Bring back thy Love to thee? ' Why waitest thou alone, Upon the green Watch-Knowe, Where Eunio Cross of stone, Marks old Rome's camp ground now, The Watch Knowes. 97 Where stately sentry stood Full many a year ago, Gazing o'er Solway's flood, Why lonely waitest thou ? ' ' Yea, am I waiting here. The sun's first ray to see; On hill-tops far and near. First flash of liberty; My love to greet, though late, At evetide joyfully ; Tea, for all these I wait. Light, Love, and Liberty. ' But 'tis for brighter Day, Than e'er o'er Solway shone ; For higher Liberty Than ever earth hath known ; For Love, more true and deep, To watch and wait alone, I lay me down to sleep, 'Neath the Watch Knowes Cross of stone . H 98 ADYAB. (Madras. Sabbath. Dec. 23. 1866.) The hush of Sahbath evening Stealing o'er Indian seas, The golden sunset reddening ' Behind the dark palm trees ; The arching banyans throwing Cool shadows on the grass, The fitful fireflies showing Bright glimpses as they pass. On the still, darkening river, Slow winding to the sea, Ne'er shone the moon's first quiver On merrier company ; Adyar. 99 Deep, manly voices ringing, And silver, girlish glee, Soft mingling with the singing Of evetide's lullaby. But the River they crest that twilight. Was other river far Than waters still and starlit Of tranquil Adyar ; And the Shore these four were winning, Was other shore, I ween. Than those banks where moonbeams streaming, Made spots of silver sheen. Home, sadly, on the morrow, They brought them cold and white ; But a Home that knows no sorrow. Had welcomed them that night. They have crost the silent Biiver, They have reached the Shining Shore, The Sabbaths, ending never, — Safe Home, for evermore. h2 lOO EOME 8ICKNH8S. Weaeily, wearily, risetli tlie sun, And wearily setteth. lie When all the weary day is done. Over the weary sea. Wearily shineth the eastern moon O'er palm and banyan tree. And bright, bright stars look sadly down, And twinkle wearily. The fishers on the inland lakes Gleam in the sunset ray, And moonbeams glint through palmy brakes. Where bright the fireflies play; Homesickness. loi The feathery casarinos shake, Dark 'gainst the glowing sky, The banyan's hundred arches make, A Forest Sanctuary. The night-breeze trembles lovingly. On sails far out at sea, And there my eyes turn wearily, And tears fall silently. They glide through moonlight calm and white, - Those swift wings noiselessly, And all the lonely track shines bright. My home, that leads to thee. Oh, could I lay me down and rest On that familiar shore, In the old land I love the best, I would not wander more. X02 Home Sickness. Wearily, wearily riseth the sun^ And wearily setteth lie, When all the weary day is done, Over the weary sea. A BBEAM. Oft in the long, long scorching day, Beneath an Indian sky, *%n the still house, all silently. As hour by hour slips by, — Without, while fierce the sun beats down, Within, all still and dark, A fly that buzzes through the room The only sound you mark ; — A sweet, sweet dream comes o'er me Of green woods far away, Where, with a child's wild gladsome glee, Once I was wont to play. I04 A Dream. With grass and soft moss carpeted, And green, green sorrel leaves, And tall trees waving overhead In the soft summer breeze, And water rippling, rippling through, Now shadowed, dim and lone, Now sparkling where the wild ferns grew, Now hid by mossy stone. I see the liitle country kirk, With square uncushioned seat, I smell the mint and southernwood The auld wives find so sweet ; I see the baimies trooping home From school, their wee feet bare ; The lassies curtsey as they come, The laddies tug their hair. A Dream. 105 The day steals on, tlie dream keeps growing — Hark ! then, what sound was that ? Surely I heard sweet water flowing. ' Please, ma'am, done wet the tat.' io6 'BLIND, BLIND, BLIND.' Wandering drearily Faint and opprest, Weeping so wearily, Finding no rest, — Lost in the wilderness, Lonely and leaderlesB, Blind and distrest. Listening so breathlessly, Fountains to hear. Dying all hopelessly. Water so near, ' Blind, Blind, Blind.' 107 Hagar disconsolate, Woman all desolate, — God doth appear. Faint one, aU reverently Drink of that tide, Blind one, all trustingly Lean on that guide ; In the dark wilderness, No longer Leaderless, Close to His side. Lone one, all lovingly Come to His breast, Weak one, all tenderly Thou shalt be blest; Living in joyfulness. Dying in hopefulness. There thou shalt rest. io8 'HE SHALL LEAD THE BLIND BY A WAY THAT THEY KNOW NOT' Life's long road trod, Death's river crost, On Heaven's happy shore, A ransomed spirit, once nigh lost, Dwelt, ne'er to wander more. The angels asked him whence he eame. What weary way he'd trod, Who had enrolled his earthly name. Among the sons of God ? ' Long, long and dark ; dark, dark and long. The road Thou led'st me. Lord, From the far away days of the cradle-song. To the loosing Life's silver cord. ' He shall Lead the Blind' 109 ' A poor blind child in an unknown land, A child without a guide, I stumbled and strayed and saw not the Hand, The loving Hand at my side. 'JTull often I wandered far away, Then wearily turned back ; And often, despairing I fell by the way, That seemed wibhout a track. ' Sometimes the sharp rocks cut my feet, And wild thorns tore my hand ; And through winter's rain, and summer's heat, I groped through the dreary land. 'Bewildered and weary I wandered on, Till I sank in a River wide; I thought that every hope was gone, As I felt the cold flowing tide ; no ' He shall Lead tlie Blind ' But as Siloam's waters long ago Wasli'd dimness from the blind, Beneath that dark Death-river's flow I left all dark behind. ' Safe now upon this blessed shore I see the path I trod, How every wandering step before Still led me tip to God. ' I see the Arm, unseen before, That circled me around ; I see the glorious Head that wore For me, a thorny crown. ' Safe, safe at last, my body laid In earth's green lap to rest. My spirit 'mid the mansions made For those whom Jesus blest.' by a Way that they know not! 1 1 1 The angel throng, at that dear word, With heads low bowed, replied, While all the host of Heaven heard, 'Worthy the Lamb that died.' 112 FOLLOW THE LEABEE. A SONG FOE THE PARTED. He has put us in different squadrons, Old comrade of mine, The rock where stands the City By diflBerent paths to climb. Apart, to fight the battle ; Apart, to face the foe; Apart, to force the bulwarks, The pearly gates below. Ah fain had we shoulder to shoulder Together marched to the fight; Together, the battle were pleasure. Together, each burden light ; Follow the Leader. 113 We think we had sealed far quicker The rock where the Ramparts stand, Had our Leader thought fit to let us Chmb upwards hand in hand. Ah, comrade, He knew us better, Our Captain kind and wise ; Alone on the gates of the City Each soldier must bend his eyes. Beneath the rock's cool shelter, In pastures green and still, It had been so sweet to linger, We might never have climb'd the Hill. Courage, then, fellow soldier; Be brave and stout of heart ; Who follow the self- same Leader Can never be far apart; Who fight 'neath the self-same banner Will sure the same triumph share; Who besiege the self-same City WiU meet when they enter there. I 114 Follow the Leader. We'll meet in our Captain's presence, Who led us the long fight through ; When both reach Him we follow, We must reach each other too. With stedfast faces forward, Climb then, till the Siege be done. And with Him, and with each other. We rest in the City won. 115 WILL TEHEE BE WHIPS IN HEAVEN f ' Will there be wtips in Heaven ? ' said A. prattler at my knee, "Witli earnest eyes and flaxen Lead Uplifted anxiously. I had been telling of a Land With streets of golden sheen, Where walk the white-robed angel band Fair pearly gates between ; A Land where a living river Flows amid pastures green, Where cloud nor tempest ever Shadow the radiant scene. i2 1 16 ' Will there be Whips in Heaven ?' And ' Will there be whips xtp yonder ? ' Is the question he asks the while, With blue eyes wide with wonder — I pause e'en while I smile. The answer seems so simple, yet. When I meet the anxious eye, And see the small hand fondling it, His toy bought yesterday ; I cannot tell the little child, That, amid the glories given To bless the ransom' d undefiled. There are no whips in Heaven. For what were Heaven to baby mind, Without his whip to-day ? ' My darling, all you want you'U find In that bright Land,' I say. ' Will there be Whips in Heaven ?' 117 And he clasps his new whip fondly Close to his little breast, And the blue eyes brighten gladly, And the little heart's at rest. But the simple chUdish wonder Wakes many thoughts and deep, And I sit me down to ponder, When the little one's asleep. ' WUl there be whips in Heaven ? ' Why SmUe at the childish prayer ? At the eyes so blue and anxious ? — My whips, can I then spare? Methinks God smiles on my treasure, even As I on the blue-eyed boy, He knows tha,t Heaven would scarce be Heaven To each without his toy. 1 1 8 ' Will there be Whips in Heaven ? ' And He answers my own wild yearning, 'Will the joy I so cling to here, My nature's rest and crowning, Be mine in yonder sphere P ' As I answered the child's qnaint question, ' When babes are grown to men, Their playthings are forgotten ; You may not wish it then. ' Peace, foolish heart ! by a Father's hand There shall all joy be given ; If whips you want in yon bright Land, There will be whips in heaven.' 119 TEE LOST NOTE. The lark is in tlie sky, Mary, Tlie dew is on the grass. The gowan's starry eye, Mary, Just opens as I pass. The burnie ripples sweet, Mary, Over its rocky bed, The mirror'd birch-trees meet, Mary, The birch-trees overhead. I wander down the stream, Mary, This bright September morn, I wander, and I dream, Mary, Of days that ne'er return. 1 20 The Lost Note. On such a mom as this, Mary, Once we stood hand in hand, And life seemed one Avith bliss, Mary, And earth with Heaven's land. Our hearts kept time and tune, Mary, To Nature's matin hymn; Our sun rode at its noon, Mary, Without one cloud to dim. Heart beating close to heart, Mary, Hand clasped in hand we stood. Till tears began to staxt, Mary, From joy's o'erbrimming flood. Now too my cheek is wet, Mary, But ah ! with other tears. The sun of Hfe has set, Mary, Over the darkened years ; My heart has lost the tune, Mary, Of Nature's melody. The inner joy-note gone, Mary, Makes false the harmony. The Lost Note. 1 2 1 The heart is empty now, Mary, Tour love alone could fill, A heart that hungers so, Mary, Its pain but Death can still ; But Death, — or life and you, Mary, Its longings can appease, The lost note strike anew, Mary, Ee-knit the, harmonies. 122 PABTING. A FLEET of ships on the summer sea, Of ships with sails all set, To voyage bound, The wide world round, Earth's costliest stores to get. They sailed east, they sailed west, They sailed south, and north. And their hearts were sore, For they dreamed no more To meet upon the earth. They sailed north, they sailed south, They sailed on and on. One west, where rest, The i^les of the Blest, And one to the rising sun. Parting. 123 And one where the Southern Cross shines brisrht. And one where the glaciers gleam, Nor hoped more Their native shore To see save in blessed dream. They sailed by day, they sailed by night,; They saUedJ on and on, By clear sunlight, And by moonbeams white, Round, round as rides the sun. Tney thought they were sailing east and east. They thought they were sailing west. And north, and south, But they found in truth. They had steer'd for one haven of rest. For as they sailed on and on. Still they sailed round and round. And glad surprise Met in their eyes, As their native shore they found. 1 24 Parting. So, sail we north, or sail we south, Or sail we east, or west. Life's perfect sphere All rounded here, May we meet in one Haven of Rest. 125 FORESHADOWS. • And behold the axe is laid at the root of the tree.' In midniglit solitudes Wandered a Spirit wHte, All through the solemn woods, He passed by that night ; Pale was his face and shrouded, And his eye none might see, Por there shone, dim and clouded. The light of Destiny. His footsteps noiselessly Trod through the sleeping wood. As pale ghost restlessly Troubling its quietude; 1 26 Foreshadows. In shadow, then, where moonlight O'er silver mosses strayed, A phantom axe that spirit white By a proud tree hath laid. When Morn all gloriously, Walk'd through the solemn wood. Still there majestically. The mighty oak-tree stood ; Around its stout stem, lovingly. The fair soft mosses cling, And in its branches merrily The young birds sit and sing. But doom was writ that night, When the phantom axe was laid, In the solemn pale moonlight. Of that dim, ghastly glade; And the proud oak, quailing never, Boweth his stately head. And the fair moss, faithful ever, CUngeth around the Dead. 12/ A TEAE. One by one to the far-off porta], One by one* to the pearly door, One by one to the Land Immortal, Come they whose pilgrimage is o'er. But one bond all uniteth. Thus brought from far and near Their brotherhood bespeaketh One sign alone, — a tear. As dew-drop on the daisy, The silken lashes keep A tear on the child's fi'esh beauiy That cried itself to sleep. 128 A Tear. As raindrop on white lily, A tear blendetli the while, On the sweet, dead face of the maiden, With its pure, patient smile. As diamond her coronet Decking with radiant grace, A tear, with gem-like. lustre, Shines on a queenly face. The slave at last unfetter'd, King, commoner, and peer, The learned as the unlettered, — In each eye stands a tear. Oh, pledge of common brotherhood. At Heaven's door as here. All children of one family, United by a tear. A Tear. 129 Nor earth's sad children only Bindeth that glittering ring, In it, oh joy and wonder ! Stands Heaven's eternal King. Oh pledge of common brotherhood, Oh marriage ring most dear ; Thus Earth with Heaven uniting The circle of a tear ! Close bound to one another Within that mystic sphere, Within the diamond circle. The circle of a tear. i:,o THE LIFE HID. ' for I am dead, and my life is hid with Christ in God.' I HID in my heart my Life, Of all life the fount to me, My Life that was more tiian life, I said, ' God shall not see.' I buried my Idol deep. And I took none with me, When I went my guard to keep O'er the Life that was life to me. And round .that hushed recess Bloomed out all lovely things, All Hope, and Joy, and Tenderness, As flowers round hidden springs. The Life Hid. 1 3 1 I said, 'For my dear Life's sake,' All life is dear to me, My heart, God's garden it shall make.' Yet said I, ' God shall not see.' As when in Eden, long ago, Oar parents strove to hide, They heard God, through the sunset's glow, Walking at eventide ; Through my heart's garden, hushed and still, Aglow with that Life of mine. Sounded His voice with sudden thrill, ' Give me that Life of thine.' I heard, and I could not fail to know Whose voice was speaking there ; But I shrank in dread from the sudden blow. And turned in my fierce despair. k2 132 The Life Hid. ' Nay, not my Life, oh Lord,' I said, ' Or you make my heart a tomb ; If the spring be dried at the fountain head, How can the garden bloom ? ' Can a desert praise thee, oh my God, Where an Eden fair might shine ? ' But still came the voice, the voice of God, ' Give me that Life of thine.' I tore my Life up by the root, I laid it in His hand ; I said, ' Can a rootless tree yield fruit. Or bloom a springless land ? ' He took in his hand that Life of mine, Firmly and tenderly ; His face beamed with a Love divine. As he said, 'It is hid with me. Erratum Page 133, line 10 should read thus ; Where I thought my life was dead, The Life Hid. 13: 'Why weep ye the bubbling fountain, That the summer sun has dried ? It returns to the thirsty mountain, In dewdrops purified ; ' And not in one green spot only Wells then the living tide, But all the desert lonely, Shall blossom glorified.* So in my garden, hushed and still. Where I thought my Life my dead, 'Twas but that God had kissed the rill, And borne its drops o'erhead ; And the flowers I thought would wither. When their earth-bom spring was riven, In beauty wider, rarer, Bloom, watered now from Heaven. 134 The Life Htd. And I hear God's voice repeating, ' Thy Life is hid with me ; Leave it in my safe keeping, Tenfold I'll give it thee. 135 CLAN CAMPBELL'S WELCOME TO PBINCESS LOUISE. Mabch 2], 1871. (an ossianic ode.) To the Black Knights of Lochow comes a daughter of morning Like the soft folds of igiist her white arms clasp the mountains ; At the touch of her fingers the rock's heart is melted, And clear crystal springs burst out from the stones. As the harebell blooms out at the dew-kiss of morning, So bnddeth Love's flowers at the touch of hor lips. 136 Clan Campbell's Welcome. The lilies on Loclian Luskia are less white than her forehead, The sound of the Duglas less soft thnn her voice. As the boughs of the birch trees droop over the waters, Over her swelling bosom is the fall of her tresses. Welcome, oh! Daughter of Princes, to the land of the mountains. To the land of the mist-circled hills. The eagle from his eyrie in the clouds flaps his wings at thy coming, The shy eyes of the deer watch thee over the brackens, They start not away at the sound of thy step. Daughter of Princes, the rocks bid thee welcome, And spread a purple carpet of heather for thy feet. Clan CampbeWs Welcome. 137 The wliite mists of summer weave a veil for tliy bridal, The torrents have learnt a new song for thy greeting. Welcome fair child of Victoria and Albert, Prom the far sunny south to the land of the heather. To the stout hearts that beat under green tartan plaids. In the heart of our hills and our heroes we'll guard thee ; And the mountains shall perish, and the heart's blood cease beating, Ere they fail to enshrine in the depths of their bosoms The Daughter of Princes, the Bride of Lochow. 138 'by thy baptism, fasting, and temptation: In Jordan's wilderness, the voice of one that cried To Israel of old, Two baptisms foretold, For all whose hearts imto his mighty words replied. Behold who cometh now, up through the wilderness The first his call to meet ? Hear Him the prophet greet, ' How shall I, sinful, wash Thee, King of Holiness ? ' ' Nay let it be so now,' and wherefore saidst Thou so, Oh Lamb of God most pure ? Oould Jordan's wave secure Cleansing to Thee, whose soul no earthborn stain could know ? ' By Thy Baptism^ 1 39 Nay, but TTiou would est tlius proclaim in Jordan's flood Thy service, by man's sign Of baptism divine, Awaiting Thy true baptism. Thy baptism of blood. For e'en for Thy life's work, O Son of God most pure, Thon, Holiest, didst require A baptism of fire. To save the tempted. Thou temptation must endure. From the baptizing wave, straight to the wilderness, From the descending Dove, a \lod's words of praise and love. Thou went'st to desert's gloom, silence, and empti- ness. And there Thon wast an hungered ; all Thy nature faints For food—' Oh satisfy This hunger, or I die.' The black rocks hear not; who is this answers Thy plaints ? 140 'By Thy Baptism, A low voice whispers ia Tliine ear ' Why shouldst Thou die ? These stones Thou canst make hread, And all Thy soul be fed. "Why hunger ? it will all Thy longing satisfy.' We know not if for earthly food alone, Christ, This hunger sore of Thine, Or if Thy soul divine For light, and joy, and love too famished. Thou criedst. Starved in Earth's wilderness, Thy nature made for Heaven, Thou wast an hungered ; But this we know, and bread Was offered, satisfying bread, but not God-given. And all Thy soul cried for it, yet tumedst.Thou away From that base offering ; T]\en wast Thou crowned King — Then Thy true baptism — that Thine anointing day. Fasting, and Temptation! 141 Wlaeu Thou didst turn back to Thy hunger, didst Thou know Midst its sore yearning That hunger was Thy crowning ? Or dream amidst its pain what glory lit Thy brow ? But men beheld it, when, forth from that awful fight, Victor, by angnish great Baptized and consecrate Thou cam'st, of this dark world for evermore the Light. It was not sin, Holiest, that Thou shouldst feel That sore temptation ; Not sin, but consecration ; God's baptism, of Thy new name 'The Christ' the seal. Thank God, oh Christ, that thus Thou wast an hun- gered, That thus Thy nature cried And was not satisfied, That so the Tempter came, and said Thou might'st be fed, 142 ' By thy Baptism! And that Thou felt'st the pain of taking Thy desire Back to Thine empty heart ; That thus Thou bor'st Thy part In both man's consecrations — of water and of fire. For not for Thee alone, Lord, the Prophet's voice, Two baptisms foretold ; Thus sealed, now as of old. For all God's work, are still the servants of His choice. Christ, by that dread baptism, that hunger sore. By that temptation dire, That bafl&ed heart's desire, That glory of self-conquest, aid us evermore ! 143 THE END OF JUBAL. (a new veesion.) The sun went down, and round him as lie lay Dim twilight gathered ; hoary, old, and gray, The weird woods towered above him, dead the light In them as in his heart, all, all was night. He moaned not, moved not, but as one entranced. Felt not the slow hours creep, nor knew when glanced The first pale moonbeams on the black, deep pool That slept beside him ; the soft fingers cool Of the night-breeze, unfelt, toyed with his hair ; As when some kingly lion seeks his lair When wounded sore, to die, so Jubal lay. Voiceless and moveless, numbed with misery. 144 TJie End of Jiibal. The niglit wore on — leaf-cliequered moonbeams shed Broad floods of silver radiance round his head, Glistering with fairy light the mossy bank That pillowed it ; the wild fawn came and drank ITi'om the dark starlit pool, her liquid eye Upon his prostrate form gazed fearlessly, So motionless he lay, enwrapt in agony. So the night past — but when first twitter woke Amongst the woods, first stir of leaves that broke The starlight's stillness, with presage of dawn, Ere yet the birds, to greet the coming morn, Had opened their bright eyes, as yet no light. And yet the dark was lightened ; — in the night Of Jubal's heart, came likewise the presage Of Dawn that should not tarry, as though old age Were sUpping from his soul as fading night. Merging the dark in twittering dreams of light. Soft stir of leaves, faint carol of first bird, . Sweet lightening of the darkness, scarcely heard. Dimly imaged, buzz of wakening life crept on his soul. The End of Jubal. 145 As dream on infant's sleep ; then o'er him stole, As crimson streaks hrigMening the east, strange hght Filling Ms heart, ah, softer far, more bright, Than e'er earth's dayspring broke. The voice of bird, Twitter of leaves, morn's melodies aye heard With rapture all these years, took deeper tone Than ere before had thrilled him — the wild moan Had passed away — his ear that yearned still For more and more of song, now drank its fiU Of deathless music — that sad minor key That underlay all earthly melody Was changed to rapture. Men said Jubal died — Nay, now, at last, Jubal is satisfied. LONDON: PRINTED BY SP0TTI8W00DE AND CO., KIUV-STUBEi' SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET