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Cornell University Library PR 4453.C9 1856 Hareshaw Burn, Evening on Hexham "Seal" 3 1924 013 464 155 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 34641 55 Jfa^iMjL4_^ia'&/isn-^Zsti^ ff§' 1. 11^ H mm and Slltf Ji§Utt)er. rCk^vi ^Mawie^ NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE : PRINTED IO.K PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION. H.DCCC.LVI. £ ' f-/> '6 /VM-b^ ^ lilt! £teU\ $lM\tL \ %ui\t\ (flijfawt, IN THEIR AFFLICTION. ---^Sk" THE BUD AND THE FLOWER. t-jlflpltk HEY come and go ! But yesternight* We stood the Household Altar round, And brought upon that hallow' d ground, To Jesus' arms a Cherub bright : — To Christ, who bade His followers not Forbid the little ones to come To Him, this tender Bud we brought, That in His kingdom it might bloom. "With sacred rites, two names we gave The christen'd Babe : — the name of One "Who walketh yet beneath the sun ; And of Another, in the grave. "We parted then — we Brothers seven And Sisters twain — who, sever' d long, Had met, to rank this Child among, Through Christ our Lord, the Heirs of Heaven. ■ October 14, 1855. B HELEN-SOPHIA. We parted — and our several ways Retrod into the world again — New-nerved to know that through life's maze "Warm hearts were ours in joy and pain. ALN waits on Joy. The precious Flower, That in God's garden we had placed, In fragrance blossom' d for an hour, Then died in momentary haste. A Mother's arms enclosed at night The breathing Form that softly lay Upon her breast. 'Twas lifeless Clay She clasp' d, before the morning light.* With baptism of tears, she laid Her Child in holy earth, and thought Of that old lesson, grandly taught By pious David, when he said : — Why should I weep and fast ? 'Tis vain ! I cannot bring him back. But I Will go to him when I shall die, Though he come not to me again. * December 14, 18.5.3. gjmttc-aHcanm;. SOLEMN Stillness fill'd that Bower Of Wedded Love, with Koscs strew' d- A whispering Solicitude Prolong' d the anxious midnight hour. The Mystery of Birth and Life, That dignifies the lowliest cot, Hung brooding o'er the little spot "Where lay that j'oung and gentle Wife. Lay, in her pain and sorrow, there, Sustaining Nature's hard decree.— God grant thee strength thy pangs to bear, And bring thee through thy travail free ! A feeble cry — an infant wail — Is from that inner chamber heard ; And through the house the joyful word Is borne — the ever-welcome tale. The Child of their desire and prayer — ■ A Child — Man Child — is born to them :* Of all their wealth of love the Heir, And of their lives the priceless Gem. How blest — her life preserved — is he ! How blest are both, that gracious Heaven Hath heard them in the Life that's given, This Brother of fair Sisters three ! l'\'l>ruarv -, 1S.3G. ANNE-ELEANOR. What grateful, proud emotions swim In her dark eyes, as from her Boy She lifts her loving looks to him, Her Bosom's Lord, who shares her joy. That joy is full : — the hopes and fears That broke her peace, are now at rest :- Balm-breathing sleeps upon her breast The Comfort of their future years. ^^jf^T was a Dream ! The Sun whose light Illumes the Better Land, had thrown Upon that house its Shadow down : — And her pure Spirit took its flight.* Freed from its fleshly walls, her Breath — The Breath of God — return' d to Him; And in that chamber, drear and dim, lleposed the Mystery of Death. The Shrine wherein so late she dwelt, Lay cold, and motionless, and fair : — Softly the stricken Mourner knelt, And gazed : — no voice — no life — was there. Those eyes — those lips — so eloquent With love, were closed, and mute, and still : Passive the feet that swiftly went, To work her ever-cheerful will. • l-Vlmiarv 11, 18ofi. ANNE-ELEANOR. Gone from her cheeks the summer-bloom, The warmth and flush of her young life : Her noontide happiness most rife, Came the chill torpor of the Tomb. The pickaxe and the spade have made, Sweet Aimc, thy last and softest bed : The Earth shall pillow thy fair head, Upon her gentle bosom laid. Ashes to ashes ! dust to dust ! Above thy head a grass-green sod, And at thy heels a stone ! — To God, In surest hope, thy Soul we trust. OR ever gone ? It cannot be ! With love, and life, and being warm, So late the Comfort and the Charm, The Sunshine of a home of glee ! It cannot be ! We look to meet Her image here — her image there : — To hear her footstep on the stair, To find her in the accustom' d seat. In room, in passage, or in hall, We think to see her come and go ; Arid as we wander to and fro, We listen for her soft foot-fall. ANNE-ELEANOR. We seek her in the sacred nest Where her young brood securely sleep — Where, nightly, daily, she would keep Her vigils, when they wake or rest : We seek her, but we find her not — We do not find her even there : Not hers is now the watchful care That hovers round this orphan' d cot. Not hers, yet beautiful to see The love — the love of Woman still — That fondly floweth in, to fill The place where she was wont to be. 'Tis Nature's Law, Divine, that brings The needed help these lambs among, These feeble, frail, forsaken things, And makes them by their weakness strong. IV. 2*HEEE'EB he looks, where'er he turns, The Mourner sadly sees, around, Not her for whom his vision yearns, But others, on her errands bound. Not thankless for their kindness he, But fill'd with grateful feelings warm; Yet ! what pain to him to see Their hands her offices perform ! AXNE-ELEAXOE. To see her Household Gods profaned By others' touch ! — her place of pride Another take ! — arid where she reign'd, Some other — not the Lost — preside ! He thinks to see her interpose — Her rights reclaim — her throne resume : Alas ! no part in Earth have those Whose tahernacle is the tomh. With all they proudly eall'd their own May others deal. No voice have they Where once their lightest Yea or Nay As undisputed Law was known. ' lKi§E$IS done ! Her work on Earth is o'er ! No more, at morning, noon, or night, By sun, or moon, or taper light, Her form we'll sec ! No more ! no more ! No more with eye of flesh we'll see The vanish'd form — the loved and lost, Who hath the sacred waters cross'd, And ever ceased, for us, to be. With eye of flesh we see no more That form ; but not so gross and blind The inner vision of the mind, Which sees her perfect as before. ANNE-ELEANOR. And through the house, or round the fire, Or when at table we sit down, Although her name may not transpire, Her presence there is felt and known. Her absence makes her but the more In every thought a present Shade, A Spirit, that can never fade Like her frail body, gone before : A Spirit that shall grow more bright As flesh and sense decay and die, And our Enfranchisement draws nigh — Our entrance to her Land of Light. jft IME flies with healing on his wings ; And o'er the woes which make us bleed, gajj As hourly, daily, they recede, With noiseless hand he beauty flings. Our joys, our prospects — are they laid In dust and ashes ? — loving Time Steals on — and o'er the havock made, The field-rose and the ivy climb. Through tears we view the ghastly wound New-made in earth where lies our Dead ; But soon the angel Hours will spread Enumell'd verdure o'er the mound. ANNE-ELEANOR. The grave, -with fragrant flowers perfumed, Will sj-mbol to the Mourner's view, The Hopes and Promises which strew The Book by heavenly light illumed. And angel lips those words of cheer Shall speak, which scatter' d all the gloom Of Salem's consecrated tomb : — That " He is risen !— is not here !" AY not that 'tis a Mystery, S|E For morning Bud and noontide Flower, "'*§!? For Life in blossom, and mature, In mortal eyes to cease to be. Is Man, Divinely taught, so blind, That he the lesson cannot read ? Can fail the secret clue to find That shall to Understanding lead ? Death, with its hard Bereavements, weans The Child of Earth from Earth and Time ; And shall we mark the End sublime, And marvel at the appointed Means ? When, one by one, the old and young Have to the World of Spirits flown, And more and more we stand alone, With anguish' d hearts and bosoms wrung — 10 AXNE-ELEANOR. Arc we not taught how frail is life — How vain this passing show of Earth — How mean a thing, how poor its worth, Bid nought survive its dust and strife ? Through Suffering heavenward we aspire, Through Sorrow are we sanctified : Grief is the great Eefiner's fire, By which His sons are purified. "While smoothly runs the flowing stream On which we sail from Birth to Death, Fann'd hy the Zephyr's dallying breath, Our life is but a listless dream. But buffets of the wind and wave Give us their strength. And they who strive. And in the troubled waters lave, Find health that keeps the Soul alive. The rod that smites our hearts of stone With cleaving blow, doth it not bring Refreshing waters from the spring, And make the Smiter's goodness known? And whom He smiteth, armour wears Of proof, and Man of Woman born And Earth-begotten cares may scorn : A charmed life the Mourner bears. ANNE-ELEANOR. 1 1 {Sf|f AY not, then, 'tis a Mystery ? b Of Providence, for Bud and Flower, DJjf^ For Life in blossom, and mature, In mortal eyes to cease to be. Our Dead our Guardian Angels are : — By other eyes than ours unseen, They come with grave and solemn mien, And tend our footsteps everywhere. We see them in the broad daylight, Amidst the crowded haunts of men : Wc see them flitting round us when We pass the watches of the night. We see them our night-dreams among, When to our pillow'd rest we go : — Ascending and descending, lo ! The heavenly ladder now they throng ! They bend their glistering faces down, And beckon us the upward way, That we, transfigured as are they, May wear the amaranthine crown. 'Twas good for them, they bid us know, And good for us, who still remain, And mourn our 'parted ones with pain — 'Twas good for all that the}- should go. 12 AXNE-ELEANOE. 'Tis good for Thee, 'tis good for Her, That, Brother, she hath gone to dwell With Him who doeth all things well, The Chastener and the Comforter. '%j(Sfufffl0^^ ^\%mt-%m\, (fragment or verses written about 1830.) ES ! there's a harjpier world above, And every opening Flower of Love, "Which perish'd young, shall surely prove Perennial there. The sons of Misery there shall find A balm to heal the wounded mind ; And hearts which long in anguish pined, Have rest. Hail, glorious hope ! — away each fear ! My Sisters, Brothers, Parents dear, Each moment brings our meeting near, In Heaven. What though our bark be tempest-toss' d, Ere life's dark-rolling stream be cross' d, We'll meet her sainted Shade, " not lost, But gone before." 14 MARGARET-ANN. She who in Life's fair morning fled From Earth's dark maze, with thorns o'erspread- In suffering how'd her little head, And died.* Fair Child of Promise ! Sister, dear ! From yonder pure and happy sphere Dost thou behold us struggling here, On Earth ? And will thy smile, remember' d still Through chequer' d scenes of good and ill, Beam recognition on the Hill OfZion? It must be so ! The steady fire On Love's warm altar, high and higher, Kindling with years, will not expire In Death. But from its smouldering ashes rise Befmod, and seek its kindred skies, "Where friends, among the good and wise, Shall find a Home. There, Parting never shall alloy, Nor Sin nor rankling Care destroy Our happiness, but all be joy For ever ! * April 25, 1816. twilight Jftustngs, )1Y THE KUINS OP LEICESTER ABHEY. OW beautiful is Earth in Eve's dim ray ! How sweet the influence of thy magic spell, Soft hour of Twilight, as retiring Day, With lover's fondness, ling'ring bids farewell ! Thee, with a rapt enthusiast's glow I hail, When grateful Rest succeeds fatiguing Toil, Where the still Eiver glides along the Vale, Free from the World's harsh strife, its rude turmoil. Hark ! infant voices float upon the air From yonder Green, and bear me back to youth — My distant home — the much-loved beings there — The blissful days of innocence and truth. These themes fond Memory loves to wake at eve : — Now do I see my native fields — the stream, The rural haunts, the walks I sigh'd to leave, And dearer charms : — ah ! tis a waking Dream ! Here, on this storied Abbey's mouldering wall, I'll sit and muse upon the Olden Time, Lull'd by the murmuring, mimic waterfall, The soothing music of the evening chime. This once-famed pile — where is its grandeur gone ? Bid the green moss, the ivied wreck, declare ! Here Wolsey sleeps ! — where his recording stone — His narrow bed r Oblivion answers, •' Where r" 16 TWILIGHT MUSINGS. This modest flower creative "Wisdom rear'd, And bade it bloom perennial near this spot : — Oh, human Art ! how frail, with this compared, Thy proudest works ! — thou, Man, how soon forgot ! Thy beauties, Nature ! simple or sublime, Spread o'er the earth, the skies, the rolling main, Endure unhurt the crumbling touch of Time — Survive, while empires rise, extend, and wane ! Calm flit yon clouds along the western sky, Like homeward-journeying Spirits of the Blest : — Fain would my soul from this clay dungeon fly, And seek with them a brighter, purer rest. The Soul aspires — the Body binds it here — Chains it a restless prisoner to Earth ; Till, freed by Death, it finds a nobler sphere — Springs up, rejoicing in its second birth. "What sound awakes me from my reverie ? Time's warning tongue from Margaret's ancient tower. Night's deepening shades enwrap the flowery lea : — Adieu, mild glories of the Evening Hour ! My Jathcr's 1 earth. T Father s Hearth ! my Father's Hearth ! The simple, touching words, Breathe music of life's early days, In Memory's sweetest chords. They fall upon the ravish'd ear Like melodies that break The peaceful slumbers of the night, And heavenly thoughts awake. Ah, yes ! like music of the night Upon the ear they come, And wake the mind from troubled dreams In life's dark hours of gloom. Eevive the sweet remembrance of The Sabbath's peaceful close, "When from a grateful Father's Hearth The Evening Hymn arose. The careless sports of Infancy, The happiness of Home, Across the care-worn breast of Man In after-days will come. The Earth-tired Pilgrim oft turns back, Allien near his journey's close, To gaze upon the scenes beloved O'er which life's sun arose. 18 MY FATHER'S HEARTH. Oft in my youthful prime I stray' d To watch the river roll, As in the West the golden sun "Was hastening to his goal ; And -when he sunk below the hills, And left my world in night, I long'd to view the distant scenes That with his beams were bright. Youth pass'd away — I left my home — My home of peace and love, To mingle with the busy world, Through stranger-haunts to rove. That world I've found more warm and true Than sour misanthropes tell, Yet in my inmost heart of hearts My Father's Hearth doth dwell. I've wander'd on the banks of Forth, Near " Scotia's darling seat ; " By Leven roved in classic vale, Where loch and streamlet meet ; By stately Clyde, and Lomond's wave And Mount, my steps have been ; And where thy foaming waters fall, Romantic Corra Linn. By limpid Trent, my native Wear, And by majestic Thames (Th' unrivall'd Monarch of our Isle's Fair sisterhood of streams'), MY FATHER'S HEARTH. 19 My feet have trod ; and nuiv at eve I wander by the Soar, Where Wolsey sought a grave when life's Ambitious dream was o'er. Yet never have I gazed on scenes So bright, so dear to me, As that fair vale through which the Tees Meanders wild and free — Where lime flew by on lightning wings — Where Memory had her birth, And love was worshipp'd on that shrine, A Father's happy Hearth. 'Tis past ! the dream is o'er ! the band Which gladden' d that fireside Is snapp'd asunder — o'er the Earth Is scatter'd far and wide. Yet will the sacred tie which binds All kindred hearts in one, Endure, while each afar through life Must travel lonely on. The fairest flowers which scent the air And charm the raptured eve, Ear from their native soil, if torn, Will droop, and withering die : — The exiled Swiss, when on his ear The Eanz des J'ac/ies doth come, Pines for his Father's Hearth — his home — And sinks into flic tomb. 20 MY FATHER'S HEARTH. There's anguish in the thought To die far in a foreign land, The parting pillow never smooth' d By Love's dear gentle hand : — "With friends to cheer, to nerve my heart, In Nature's last decay, Amid the scenes I loved in youth, Oh may I pass away ! "Where sleep my Sisters in their bed Of Childhood's early death, "Where friends I love may slumber yet The green turf underneath, There would I lie, encircled close By those who shared my mirth, When joyously we gather' d round In youth a Father's Hearth. But far away from that dear spot The grassy mound shall rise, To mark the stranger's place of rest, "When this frail body dies.* No tearful eye shall dew my grave Of her who loved to keep Her watch maternal round my head, In smiling cradle-sleep. No Sister drawing near shall breathe, In whispers soft and low, "Here, Helen, lies our brother : "He cannot hear us now." * Written iu sickness. MY FATHER'S HEARTH. 21 No pious hand of faithful love Shall o'er my early grave Strew summer flowers, and fondly bid The weeping willow wave. Upon the holy day of rest, "When from the churchyard path Or friends or kindred stray to mourn Loved objects lost in death, No step shall pause where low I lie, Unnoted and unknown, A nameless stranger midst the dead, "With rank weeds overgrown. But when the Grave, th' insatiate Sea, Their long-lost prey give up, "When from the palsied hands of Death The Ball and Sceptre drop, The silent Slumberers of the Tomb, The parted Friends of Earth, Shall meet where parting tears no more "Will cloud a Father's Hearth ! t faamboat bonnets WRITTEN IS THE " LINKS .OF FORTH," BETWEEN STIRLING AND ALLOA. AREWELL, old Stirling ! I may never see Thy towers and battlements again. But I, In what remains of life, will think of thee, And have thee ever in fond Mem'ry nigh. •& *? ■%■ -::- ^f & % Lo ! how is this ? "We backward seem to fly ! Onee more thou art before me : onee again Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi meet the eye, Up towering 'bove the broad and fertile plain ! Like some fond lover, when he bids adieu, And, oft protracting, turns and turns, to view The maid he loves, and fold her in his arms ; So do the silver Links of Forth return, Loth to lose sight of Stirling's thousand charms, Stirling ! whose storied walls make British bosoms burn ! "WRITTEN BETWEEN ALLOA AND QUEENSFERltY. OW" very beautiful ! The glorious sun Shines onward to his blue meridian height ; Earth smiles rejoicing in his beams; and bright The waters sparkle as they seaward run. Man gathers in the harvest God hath given,* The rich abundance of the fruitful soil : The Grampian peaks, amid his noonday toil, Direct his heart in thankfulness to Heaven. September 21, 18-13. STEAMBOAT SnXXETS. glorious Earth ! offspring of His great love ! What fairer dwelling-place could Man possess ? Would that he might no more Thy law transgress : That here below, as by Thy sons above, Thy will were done ! Then would this lovely scene An Eden be, undimm'd its glittering sheen. WRITTEN BETWEEN QTJEENSFEKIIY AND GKANTON. \tfOr^S?" OLD bravely on thy course, Man ! for know, All things, in Earth as Heaven, are order' d well ; f iP 'Tis for a season only thou must dwell In this abode of error and of woe. Thou art on thine observed probation here, Destined, if well thou play'st thy part below, At this life's set of sun to upward go, And find, above, a sinless, happy sphere. E'en this dark world His hand hath strewn with flowers, And made it, to the virtuous, almost Heaven. But for thy Home, though fair, Earth was not given. On high, the Father hath unfading bowers : There shall His sons enjoy a world of bliss : — Whv mourn that Sorrow weans their hearts from this ? till, Wh§ launch of the dJlorhma. (April 15, 1843). \OW subtle Mind and cunning Hand have won Their triumph o'er the grosser things of Earth. The forest-oak that flourished in the sun (From aoom sprung to tree of goodly girth) — The iron-ore that had its darksome birth In the deep bowels of the globe we tread — Prom these hath wonder-working Man brought forth Yon Miracle ! to float o'er Ocean's bed, And England's glory over Earth's wide rearms to spread. The work is done ! The huge leviathan prepares To launch adventurous on the fickle deep. The rising river on its bosom bears A restless throng. Now here, now there, they sweep, Impell'd by oar, or sail, or steam — and keep Impatient watch. The ancient banks of Tyne Swarm thick with life. On either hand, the steep Is breathing with the human form divine. "Well may the sight inspire the humblest poet's line ! The pale-faced student from his books hath come, To study Life's not less instructive page : — The lawyer leaves his desk and musty room, Glad to escape the parchment-wars men wage, And here, his heart, his mind, refresh, assuage. The old, the young — man, woman, child — are met ; The same the joy the thoughts of all engage ; Banish'd'the while the cave, the feverish fret Of human life — which none, alas ! may long forget. THE LAUNCH OF THE GLoRIANA. 25 Now hath the tide well-nigh attain' d its height; The waters kiss the lofty vessel's side ; So woos the amorous "Wave his destined Mate. Coyly, at first, receives the virgin Bride Her Lord's caress : — then slow hegins to glide, And sinks at length into his fond embrace. Hush'd is the gazing mass, till on the tide She floats majestic, with a swanlike grace, Towering above her kind, a Monarch of her race. The general joy then finds exulting voice : — The loud huzza, the manly British cheer, Fill the vast welkin with their deafening noise. Hoarse-throated cannon stun the startled ear. 0, glorious scene ! to sons of Albion dear ! How proudly Britain's flag floats from the mast Of that huge bark ! which, dwarfing others near, Sails in their midst with its proportions vast, A noble venture on the treacherous waters cast. High on the prow behold the Vikgin Queen (The Oloriana of sweet Spenser's line), Whose memory lives in England ever green, Whose reign for aye will bright in History shine. Go forth, thou Glory of time-honour'd Tyne ! God speed thy course upon the pathless sea ! May the glad mission be for ever thine, To make this sea-girt isle respected be, And all men love the Matkon Queex ! Queen of the Free ! iF'he" <&m\ dtUctimj" jjevi»it«[d. 1853-54. S in a Dream the Past is reappearing ; Again the quaint old Temple shuts me in ; Familiar forms are round me ; well-known faces Shine out upon me in th' accustom' d places ; The solemn organ, and the sacred song That heavenward rises from th' assembled throng, "Wake up long-slumbering memories in the brain ; Once more his calm melodious voice I'm hearing,* "Whose words the mind convince, th' affections win ; And this the life-long burden of his strain : — Love God and Man. "With Him who shed His blood For you, be found in peace, and without blame. "Who then shall harm ye, if of what is good Ye followers be, in your great Master's name ? HE Dream dissolves ! Not as it was, the scene Appears, but is. Time's heavy hand hath bow'd The manly form : — the young, to thought subdued. The almond-tree hath blossom' d, now, in those "Who flourish'd then, in manhood's summer sheen. Life's moving panorama hath gone round ; New comers on the shifting stage are found ; * Eev. Charles Berry, Leicester. THE "GREAT MEETING" REVISITED. 27 Old friends are gone — gone to their long repose In yonder ground, whose naked trees look in, And preach of fallen leaves and wintry age. Death hath been here, and Change, which ceaseless wage Fell war with Man. Yet, Change nor Death can thin God's witnesses. Still, as of old, His "Word Is taught, His Holy Gospel here is heard. 'IS Christmastime! The sacred fane is deck' d With laurel, holly, and the mystic bough Of Druid rites, old England's misletoe. One-half its round the century hath run Since the mild Pastor here his course begun. And now his first and only flock collect, With grateful gifts to offer at his feet, Emblems of Faith and Hope and Charity, The apostolic Christian sisters three, Who in his precepts and example meet. Offering their thankful tribute to his worth, With heartfelt praises, thanks sincere and fervent, Heaven its own judgment hears pronounced on Earth By Man : — Well done ! thou good and faithful servant ! ajtourn, England, "Vim! 1854-1855. OTTRN, England, mourn thy gallant dead, Thy loyal, brave, devoted sons, "Whose blood for thee was freely shed Where Alma to the Euxine runs. From Castle and from Cot they went, Eesponsive to their country's cry ; And Lord and Peasant's blood was blent, "Where Freedmen made the Eoemen fly. Mourn, England, mourn thy gallant sons, Who slumber with th' heroic dead : Where Alma to the Euxine runs, Their blood for thee they freely shed. Mourn, England, mourn the slaughter'd host Of Balaklava's frowning steep : Of them shall History make her boast, As men who knew their faith to keep When Honour and when Duty call'd ; Nor blench' d a certain death to see, But grandly rivall'd, unappall'd, The martyrs of Thermopylae. Mourn, England, mourn thy noblest, best, Thy slaughter'd sons, who proudly keep Their faith in death, and glorious rest On Balaklava's frowning steep. MOURN, ENGLAND, MOURN ! 29 Mourn, England, mourn thy thousands slain On crimson field of Inkermann, Where Russian hordes came down amain, To try what countless numbers can. The shock thy children firmly stood, And France was there thy true Ally : They backward roll'd the raging flood, And made the serfs of Eussia fly. Mourn, England, mourn thy thousands dead, Who left the Loom and Plough for thee — Who bravely fought where bravely led, And, conquering, made the Russ to flee. Mourn, England, monrn thy loved and lost ; Yet onward hold thy fearless way, ]S~or let the Czar, at Freedom's cost, O'er Europe spread his tyrant sway. Shall Alfred, Hampden, Sidney's race, Resist the God-implanted hate Of wrong, oppression, and disgrace, And court the craven coward's fate ? Mourn, England, mourn, if that shall be The rule of thy degenerate isle, And the proud birthright of the free Fall to the abject and the vile. (§he Jm aiity. ; IS Sabbath morn ! All Nature smiles Beneath, the sun. The air is balm. Above the city dovelike hangs A holy calm. The morning mist its fleecy veil Casts o'er Kinnoull ; and not conceals Its charms, but adds a bridelike grace — New charms reveals. Earth rests from toil. The din and strife Of labour are no longer heard. Hush'd is the turmoil of the world. Man keeps Thy "Word ! Unbroken is the silence, save By the soft cushat's crooning note, The lowing kine, the matin cock, The sportive trout. And thou, fair Tay ! thy voice we hear, In gushing, gurgling, murmuring song, As grandly thy full waters roll Green banks among. Green, wooded banks, that downward gaze Into thy mirror, and survey "With pride their shadow' d loveliness ' In silver Tav- THE FAIK CITY. 31 Sweet, fertile plain ! a Paradise By sheltering mountain walls shut in, Where men might walk the Earth like gods, And Heaven hegin ! North Inch of Perth, August 12, 1855. (Fluj ikiiml dfane.* T Horn and Eve, on holy Sabbath, came, From Hall and Cot, their prayer and praise to blend, A little Flock, strong in the faith that where But two or three are gather' d in His name, He, in their midst, will evermore be there, And Heaven to Earth will downward listening bend. — Quench' d now the Elame that on the Altar glow'd ; Silent his Voice who minister' d ; and dumb The Worshippers. Forsaken God's abode.— Who rcar'd these crumbling walls — who knelt below The roof which now is not — no annals tell. Oblivion wraps them in its thickest gloom — Wraps them from mortal eyes. But all is well, If, here unknown, the Book their names shall show. * Gibside. / 2^~e^rr^S > * *: