BY THE SAMCE A UTHIOR. FOUR PHASES OF MORALS: SOCRATES, ARISTOTLE, CHRISTIANITY, UTILITARIANISM. I vol. I2mo, cloth, $1.50. ON SELF-CULTURE. INTELLECTUAL, PHYSICAL, MORAL. A Vade Mecum for Young Students. I vol. I2mo, cloth, $I.oo. Sent, P5osltaid, on receiZpt of price, by the Publishers, SCRlBNVER, ARMi/STRONfG 6& CO., 743 6' 745 Broadway, New York. I L SONGS OF RELIGION AND LIFE. SONGS RELIGION AND LIFE BY JOHN STUART BLACKIE PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH NEW YORK SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO. I876. JOHN F. TROW & SON, PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS, 205-2I3 East I2/t St., NEW YORIC. PRE F ACEl THE Poems in this volume may be regardewd as a Second Edition of the second part of my'Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece,' which has long been out of print, along with other Poems not hitherto published, and a few from a volume of'Lyrical Poems' previously published, all having a common object, viz., the cultivation of religious reverence without sectarian dogmatism, and of poetical sentiment tending not so much to amuse the imagination or to tickle the fancy as to purify the passions and to regulate the conduct of life. That the composition of these Poems, as occasion offered, vi PREFA CE. has been a source of intellectual enlargement and of moral elevation to myself I am well convinced'; and I am not without hope that they may act as a salutary stimulus to others, who know that there is one thing needful, viz., the formation of a noble character, and that everything else is vanity. As for the philosophy that lies at the bottom of these Poems-and all true poetry is a concrete philosophy,-it is only a modern expression of the Nineteenth Psalm, recognising, as that noble composition does, the essential unity and divine significance alike of the physical world without and the moral world within, as a glorious biform manifestation of the great uncaused Cause of the Universe,-an altogether different wisdom-at once more profound and more complete-from that meagre dissection and tabulation of the soulless out PREFA CE. vii side of things which, with a forward display of knife and microscope, has in these latter days been palmed off upon us for a philosophy. But it is too late in the day to set up Epicurus on the throne of Plato, however the advocates of our monkey-brotherhood may delight themselves, and amuse a few gaping people, by turning things outside in and upside down for a season. JOHN S. BLACKIE. EDINBURGH, Deccmber I875. In Rtim we live and move and have our being. ST. PAUL. The Kingdom of Heaven is within you. I. H. S. In Christ 7esus there is neither circumcision nor uncircumcision, but a;new creature. ST. PAUL. CONTENTS. PAGE D VENT-HYMN,. YOHN THE BAPTIST,.... 7 HYMN TO THE TRINITY,.. 14 TO T-HE DIVINE SPIRI.T..... 1. TO THE SA VIO UR. 24 ODE T'0 CHRISTIAN LO VE,.. ^8 NIGHT. A SABBATH MEDITATION,. 34 THE SEA,.. 44 LIFT UP YOUR HYMNS, ALL MEN,. 48 THE SCHOOL OF yESUS,...... 54 PRAYER FOR DIRECTION,... 57 THE GOD OF GLEE,...,. 6o LAWS5 OF NATURE,..... 66 WHAT IS NATURE,... 69 ALL THINGS ARE FULL OF GOD,... 73 PREA YER,.... 77 SABBATH HYMN ON, THE IIO0UNTAINS,. 79 TRIMUR TI,. 83 SANCTE SOCRA TES, ORA PRO NOBIS, 96 THE HOPE OF THE HETERODOX,. o02 O HEAR MY PRAYER,. o6 THE SABBATH DA Y,.. 9 b x CONTENTS. HEROES OF FAITH:- PwCR R ULLION GREEN,.... 113 LINES WRITTEN AT MAGUS MUIR,... 12C MAR TIN L UTHER,... 23 PATRICK HAMIL TON, 1. 32 WAL TER MYLN,..... 36 THE GENEROUS EVANGELIST, 150 BENEDICITE,..... 56 THIE RIVER: AN ALLEGORY OF LIFE,. o o. BEA UTIFUL WORLD,.. 65 MOMENTS,... 69 SO W NO T IN SORROW,. 173 THE AIUSICAL FROGS, 179 THE YOUNG MAN'S PRAYER,... 83 A SONG OF THREE WORDS: ORARE, LABORARE, CANTARE,. i..86 GA UDEAM'US IGITUR,..... I89 A SONG OF ST. SOCRATES,.. 92 A SONG OF SUMMERR,... 96 FAREWELL TO SUMMER,. 99 A SONG OF THE COUNTRY.. 204 A SONG OF FATHERLAND BY A TRA VELLER,. 207 A SONG OF FREEMASONRY,... o A REVOL UTIONAR Y ODE,. 6 A DIRGE,.. 222 ADVICE TO A FA VO URITE STUDENT ON LEA VING COLLEGE,.. 224 THE GARDEN: TO A YOUNVG LADY ON HER BIRTHDA Y,.. 231 THE WISDOM OF LIFE,..... 236 CD 4c 0- To L 0, He comes!-Messiah neareth, Jesus comes; Not with pomp the God appeareth, Meek He comes. Pride displays no blazoned banners, Vanity no false, fair manners, Where He comes. Not with Conqueror's ring and rattle, Wild war's glee, Ushered by a bloody battle, Cometh He. As the West wind's gentle blowing Wakes life's mystic power of growing, Thus doth He. A 2 AD VENT-HYMN. Caesar,'mid thy legions' thunder, Dost thou hear? Hark! from Heaven a hymn of wonder Full and'clear:-'Open wide the blissful portals, Peace on Earth, goodwill to Mortals!' Charms the ear! Rome, beneath thy glittering armour, Grimly gored, Iron Mother, bloody charmer, Sheathe the sword! Shall thy natal wolf still claim thee? Lo! I send a power to tame thee, Saith the Lord. Forms of vain will-worship mumbling, Priests, have done! Creeds with creeds incongruous jumbling, Know the one! AD VENT-HYMN. See the end of all confusion, Common truth of all delusion, In the SON I Vainly sundering walls thou raisest. Pharisee! Orthodox in vain thou praisest Bound to thee! Nought is isolated, single, All in brothered rays do mingle Under Me. Subtle Doctors sagely fooling Humankind, With crude dogmas harshly schooling Infant mind, Kick the solemn architecture i Vainly shall a blind director Lead the blind. AD VENT-HYMXN. Wise men, something still conceiving Like the true, Busy brains still idly weaving Something new, Like a star in strength upshooting, I the end of all disputing Show to you! Gape not! gaze not! I display not Dazzling shows; With loud logic I gainsay not Wrangling foes. Noiseless victories ye shall win you! Seed Heaven-planted-look within you, There it grows! Little seed! thy hidden virtue Stirs Time's womb; The bright promise thou art heir to Lights the tomb: AD VENT-HYMN. 5 Now the unvalued dust thee covers, Soon, the sought of many lovers, Thou shalt bloom. Simple Truth! while brilliant blunders Fools achieve, Thou thy quiet chain of wonders Wisely weave: Where strong hate to love surrenders, From the strife that pride engenders, Work reprieve. From the hard rock let the fountain Blithely dart! Cleave the foul mist, move the mountain, Faithful heart! Let the stony frozen regions Blush with life by high religion's Magic art! 6 ADVENT-HYMN. Kings shall own thee; knaves shall use thee; Fools despise; Babbling Doctors shall confuse thee, Witless wise: Rival sages shall, in duty, On thy common web of beauty, Stamp their dyes. Go! and, though my hope deceive me, In thy plan I will hope; I will believe thee While I can. Go and conquer! —If thou win not, Earth may crack, and GOD will sin not Cursing MAN. W HO is he in hairy raiment Clad, i' the wilderness Preaching freely without payment Truth and righteousness? Whoso hears and not despises, Him with water he baptises, In the contrite hour; Whoso hears with haughty scorning, Him he smites with holy warning, And with prophet's power. Swarms the city from its corners, Motley bad and good; Thoughtless hearts and heavy mourners Haste to Jordan's flood: 7 870HN THE BAPTIST. Some for sin their souls abasing; Some to feed their eye with gazing; Some to search and try With captious craft the sh.aggy preacher, And themselves to teach the teacher; Some they know not why. Comes the Rabbi; with a stately, Measured gravity; With a solemn air, sedately Comes the Pharisee; Wide his robe, and on the border Sacred texts, in well-marched order Show his purpose plain, With a nice and fenced existence, Far to keep, at holy distance, Every touch profane. Comes fat priest, and pontiff portly, With a bloated face; Y7OHN THE BAPTIST. Came Herodian, smooth and courtly, With a gay grimace. Came the Essene from' his station Of secluded contemplation With mild gravity; With an eye of twinkling keenness, And a smile of cold sereneness, Came the Sadducee. Comes the soldier firm and steady, Gallant, light, and gay, With his quick hand ever ready F'or the rising fray. Comes the usurer, dry and meagre, Comes the publican, sharp and eager For great Caesar's penny. With a train of silken pages Comes the rich man; with scant wages Come the burdened many. 7O HN THE BAPTIST. What saith he, the wayside preacher, To this motley crew Doth he come a cunning teacher Of lore strange and new? Hath he drawn without omission. Point for point. a long confession, To inform the brain I Piled a proud word-architecture, Fenced it round with fine conjecture, And distinctions vain? Hath lie wove a girth to measure God, a chain to bind The Infinite, and mapped at leisure The omniscient Mind? Hath he trimmed an old theogony, Cumbrous reared a new cosmogony, To employ the schools? Not with speculation vainest Preacheth he;-wwith wisdom plainest, And with simplest rules. _OINV THE BAPTIST. Thus he speaks-' Repent! Repentance Smooths Messiah's way;'Tis an old and weighty sentence, Weigh it well to-day. Hast thou nursed a sin? —confess it; Hast thou done a wrong?-redress it: And, with just desire, Ask no more than what is due thee: Be content, when offered to thee, With thy lawful hire. Say not, with vain pride elated, "God's own people we, Tracing high a hoary-dated Patriarch pedigree." Peopled earth is thickly studded With the children common-blooded, Of the great I AM; From the hard flint, at his pleasure, God can raise up without measure Sons to Abraham. 12 7OHNi THE BAPTIST.' Hear, whose barren trunk hath cumbered Now too long the ground, Saith the Lord, your days are numbered; Hark! with crashing sound, Falls the axe that fells the fruitless! Toils he not with labour bootless Who now smites the tree. He his winnowed wheat shall garner, But like empty chaff the scorner Burn with fire shall he.' Thus he preached to great and small men, Of the human right; Like the blessed sun, on all men Shedding simple light. O! wise are they who hear such preaching, Not too high for common teaching In life's common ways; Not with proud pretence ballooning, Not with gay parade festooning, To catch the vulgar gaze. 7'OHN THE BAPTIST. 13 Flap who will the air-borne pinion, Sweeping far and free; Solid earth be my dominion, Baptist John, with thec I In the plainest path of duty, Stamping daily things with beauty, I with thee will tread; Where thy warning finger pointed I would follow, where the anointed Saviour lowly led! 'Tin l1 to he CVinitv. I. FIRST of all things primeval, hoar Was THOUGHT, self-throned in glory, Brooding with shaping might before Each new Creation's story: An unvoiced strength, a quiet power Still pondering, still conceiving, Unfathomed depth from hour to hour WTith deathless virtue heaving; Exhaustless, infinite to produce, That in its gentle going Weldeth the limbless and the loose To reasoned beauty growing. Hail, glorious THOUGHT, silent, sublime, From thy divinest nature, 14 HYMN TO THE TRINITY. I Sprang worlds on worlds from dateless time First Father, First Creator, Voice forth the hlymn, loud peans roll, Ye thinking souls from pole to pole, And round your centre gather! Far peal his praise from jubilant throat, Soul of all soul, thought of all thought, The hidden God, the FATHER. IiL. SECOND of things the WORD forth-voiced From the o'er-laden bosom Of THOUGHT, that with itself rejoiced And shook redundant blossom; Swift-winged it flew, and journeying far Like wave on wave it bounded, And filled all space with vocal war Of joy with joy confounded. Prophetic WORD what wealth shall be Of star-eyed expectation, r6H YMN TO THE TRIXITY. While Hope and Faith attend on thee, Thou first bright incarnation Of primal Thought divine! thou seed With eager promise swelling, And with strong pulse and measured speed More stable growth compelling! Voice ye the hymn, with paeans brim, Your praise full-throated pour to him From whom all Voices run! Ye swelling hearts.iath high hopes stirred, Hymn ye the prime prophetic WORD, The published God, the SON. III. THIRD of all things forth marched at length The DEED: soft breezy blowing At first; anon to stout-limbed strength Of compact body growing. Infcrming SPIRIT! whence came the birth Of fluent air and river HYMN TO THE TR2INIT. r7 And fire with heaving heart, and Earth That standeth stable ever. The spangled web of vital strife Thou weavest; Time thy story; The world thy temple: human life *Thy battle-field of glory. Soft shod, or with dread thunder pace Thy sleepless march thou goest, The thing that was stamped with thy trace. The thing to be, thou knowest. Forth voice the hymn! from pole to pole Him praise who breathed into your soul The strength which ye inherit! Each faithful heart that nobly strives, Him praise, the life of all that lives The all-working God, the SPIRIT. First THOUGHT, first WORD, first DEED, these three. Intelligential Trinity, That was, and is, and is to be B IS H YMIN TO THE TRINITY. One mystical Divinity! Give ear, O Earth, and know the name, The heart's deep awe commanding! Fall on thy knees, O man, and blame Thy brutish understanding! Praise Him, the great, the Triune God, Ye stable-rooted mountains! Ye forests old, that darkly nod! Ye full-mouthed gushing fountains! Titanic tempests organ-roar, Peal thou the strong Divinity; Unsleeping wave that licks the shore Sound thou the sleepless Trinity! All million-throated things that be, Voices of life's exuberant sea With mingled -hymns adore.! The earthly and the heavenly host To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost Sing glory evermore! SPIRIT that shaped the formless chaos, Breath that stirred the sluggish deep, When the primal crude creation Started from its dateless sleep; Spirit that heaved the granite mountains From the central fiery wells, Breath that drew the rolling rivers From the welkin's dewy cells, Spirit of motion, Earth and ocean Moulding into various life, Within, without us, And round about us Wleaving all in friendly strife: 19 20 TO THE DIVINE SPIRIT. Come, 0 come, thou, heavenly guest, Shape a new world within my breast! Spirit that taught the holy fathers Wandering through the desert drear, To know and feel, through myriad marchings, One eternal presence near. Breath that touched the Hebrew prophets' Lips with words of winged fire, Through the dubious gloom of ages, Kindling hope and high desire: Spirit revealing To pure feeling, In the inward parts of man, Fitful-shining Dim-divining Vast foreshadowings of Thy plan; Come, 0 come, thou prophet guest, Watch and wait within my breast TO THIE DIVINE SPIRIT. 21 Spirit, that o'er Thine own Messiah Hovered like a brooding dove, When Earth's -haughty lords He conquered, By the peaceful march of love. Breath that hushed loud-vaunting Cesars, And in triumph yoked to Thee Iron Rome, and savage Scythia, Bonded brethren and the free. Spirit of union, And communion Of devoted heart with heart, Pure and holy Sure and slowly Working out thy boastless part: Come, thou calmly-conquering guest, Rule and reign within my breast 1 Spirit that, when free-thoughted Europe With the triple-crowned despot strove, 22 TO THE DIVINE SPIRIT. In the gusty Saxon's spirit Thy soul-stirring music wove; Then when pride's piled architecture At a poor monk's truthful word Crashing fell, and thrones were shaken At the whisper of the Lord. Spirit deep-lurking, Secret-working Weaver of strange circumstance, All whose doing Is rise or ruin Named by shallow mortals chance; Come, let fruitful deeds attest Thy plastic virtue, in my breast! Spirit, that sway'st the will of mortals, Every wish, and every hope, Shaping to Thy forethought purpose All their striving, all their scope. TO THE DIVINE SPIRIT. 23 Central tide that heavest onward Wave and wavelet, surge'and spray,. Making wrath of man to praise Thee, And his pride to pave Thy way: Spirit that l'rorkest. Where Thou lurkest, Death from life, and day from niabt, Peace from warring, And from jarring, Songs of triumph and delight; Come, 0 come, Thou heavenly guest, Work all Thy will within my breast! O THOU, by men the Saviour vaunted, Beyond all mighty names that were, Invoked anci chanted! Supreme above all strifes that stir This troublous zone, as high in Heaven, Vaulting the dark clouds thunder-riven, Hangs poised the dome of lucid day Serenely stable; If thou, as when our fleshly frame To thy pure spirit gave place and name, To save art able, Me, thy poor brother-for I may call Thee with what name thou gav'st to all — 24 TO THE SA VIOUR. 25 From lawless thoughts, and heartless deeds, And from the strife of harnessed creeds Save-O my Saviour! Proud temples to the mighty Saviour The boastful sons of men have raised With fair behaviour, With laboured litanies have praised A Savio-r's name. Even so of old, Who tricked the prophets' tombs with gold Thy living prophet's person nailed X'ith crucifixion; And we with worship of thy name Do'cheat ourselves of Thee, nor blame The shallow fiction. Where love is cold, and loose lust reigns, And pride ramps insolent in the veins, Where earthy souls heap earthy dross, And deedless fear shrinks back from loss, Art thou the.Saviour? 26 TO THE SA VIOUR. By the green waves of ancient Constance, Convened in Christ the Saviour's name, With pomp and instance, The scarlet-hatted churchmen came. And kings and kaisers with the cowl Were leagued that day, by fair or foul To smite a just man's truthful front With sore infliction. Erect up stood that pale-faced man, And mildly met the purple ban With contradiction. Hate, Pride, and Fear, with axe and rod, And pious phrase, assumed the god; A solemn sentence then did frame, And burnt the just man in the name Of Christ the Saviour. Even so; and this was then religion! But look within, false heart, and read In that honme region TO THE SA VIO UR. 27 What germs of strange delusion breed; What snake, there lurking'neath the flower, Waits but the tempter's suasive hour, When he in some new guise shall show The dear temptation: 0! then, whom men the Saviour call, From stumbling save and sudden fall, And sheer prostration! From loveless will and untamed tnougnlt, From vain desire and fancies naught, From the deaf ear that hears no call, From pride that pioneers a fall, Be thou my Saviour! be' hr Q thtitiall Bbs. BARDS sins, of love, and songsters of the wood Thrill with strong love the leafy solitude, When Spring walks forth in power; Harsh natures melt; the cold and flinty glow; And close-locked hearts expand in flowery show, When passion's fervid hour Usurps them. But not passion's subtlest flame, That stirs the gentle bard's nice-tempered fraume, Nor mated warbler's lay, That rolls in luscious streams through leafy wood, Nor that soft thrill which melts each harshest mood, Can match thy queenly sway, 28 ODE TO C[IRISTIAN LO'VE. 29 Strong Christian love.! Thou with no partial fire Dost stir the breast; no fitful wild desire Tosses the soul serene, Where thy calm ardour glows; but, like the ray Of that great Light, which rules the constant day, With life-diffusing sheen, So thou, bright-seated on the central throne Of holy hearts dost shine. Thus thou wert known To faithful men of yore; Thee Moses knew, when, through the desert track, He led the unstable stiff-necked army back From Egypt's servile shore, To their ancestral hills. The preacher Paul Owned thy intensest sway, when to the call Of God he oped his ear, And strong by thee, like feeble witnes, he snapt The bonds of custom, and, in transport rapt, Saw heavenly visions clear. Then o'er the Earth. with wing'ed tread he flew, And East and West his burning message knew; The dull barbarian's home 30 ODE TO CHRISTIAN LOVE. With rapture hailed his heart-reviving note; His word with quick regeneration smote The tainted heart of Rome, And subtle Greece with her light-vagrant eye Screens from reproof her fair idolatry, Unweeded fancy's flower Vainly. No more glib Athens may dispute, And Corinth's tinkling harlotry is mute, When Paul, with earnest power, Proclaims the cross.-O Thou inspiring God, Whose shaping virtue doth inform the clod, With warm life teeming ever; With some pure spark of thine all-conquering love Touch Thou my heart, that all my ways may prove Thy strength, which faileth never! 'Icp& N14.-HOMER. H OLY NIGHT! in silence From thy starry throne Swaying, thee I worship, Silent and alone. Holy Night! how calmly Sails the mellow moon Through the deep blue welkin, Fairer than the noon. Mellow Moon! how gently Through the voiceless night, O'er the sleeping waters, Streams thy silver light. 81 32 NIGHT. Holy Night! how lovely Shoot, with sudden birth, Hosts of shimmering arrows From the Slaibent north. Holy Night! thou reignest Solemn, still, serene; Hushed the tribes of mortals Bow before their queen. Now the battling voices Of the babbling throng Cease; and thou may'st listen, As it treads along, To the steps of Godhead Beating march of Time, Slowly, surely, wisely, Beautiful, sublime; NIGHT. 33 Beating thought and feeling, Beating vital power In renewed creation's Pulse, from hour to hour. Holy Night i devoutly While I worship thee, Babbling Folly's echo Dies away from me. THE Sabbath bells are travelling o'er the hill; The gentle breeze across the fresh-reaped fields Blows fitful; scarcely, on the broad smooth bay, With full white-gleaming sail, the slow ship moves; Thin float the clouds; serene the mountain stands; And all the plain in hallowed beauty lies. God of the Sabbath, on thy holy day'Tis meet to praise Thee! In the high-domed. fane, Glorious with all the legendary pomp Of pictured saints, where skilfil singers swell The curious chant, or on the lonely hill, Where, on grey cliff and purple heather, shines The shadowless sun at noon, Thou hear'st alike. Vainly the narrow wit of narrow men 34 A SABBATH dMEDITA Trl0N. 35 Within the walls which priestly lips have blest, In the fixed phrases of a formal creed, Would crib thy presence; Thou art more than all The shrines that hold Thee; and our wisest creeds Are but the lispings of a prattling child, To spell the Infinite. Kings have drawn the sword, Lawyers have wrangled, to declare thy being; And convocations of high-mitred men The foaming vials of sacerdotal wrath Outpoured, and, with tempestuous proud conceit, Shook the vast world about a phrase to name Thee, In vain. Thou, like the thin impassive air, Dost cheat the grasp of subtlest-thoughted sage; And half our high theology is but The shadow, which man's poor and clouded ken Hath cast across thy brightness. I would sing Thy praise with humble heart, and, like the lyre Wind-swept, the comings of thy breath would wait. To wake my rapture. Lift up your heads, ye hills, And nod His praise, ye sharp far-stretching lines 36 A SABBA TH MEDITA ]TION. Of crags storm-shattered, and ye jagged peaks Sky-cleaving! you His mighty power upshot From the red ocean of His nethermost fire, In primal ages: there inform ye lay, In seething lakes, your molten masses huge, In turbid waves, with inorganic roll, Far-heaving through the dark abysmal space Chaotic; thence His word creative hove Your marshalled ridges; rank on rank ye rose, Granite and gneiss, and every ordered kind That careful science counts; the giant frame Of this fair world, of peace-enfolden vales Storm-fronting fence, and bulwark ever sure. Ye mountain torrents, with far-sweeping foam, Ye leaping cataracts, and deep-swirling pools, Ye streams;with the full-gathered grandeur rolling Of countless rills, from huge far-sundered Alps, Ye waters, with your thousand voices, praise The mighty Lord! He of your sleepless floods Is the unsleeping soul. All motion comes A SA BBATH MEDITA TION. 37 From Him. Thou Ocean, with thy living belt Girdling the Earth, whether serene, as now, Thou liest, licking with an innocent ripple The feet o' the green-throned isles, or, like a spurred And furious charger, wild from coast to coast Drivest far-souncding-thou, in all thy changes, Art full of God; yea, all thy works, 0 Lord, Are full of Thee! and who is dull to these Shall from the teaching of the schools come back With beggarly blindness. He shall mount in vain His telescope, to spy Thee in the clouds, Who in green herb and starry flower, beneath His vagrant foot, hath failed to see and love Thy manifest beauty. 0 make clear my sense, Thou great Revealer, to the grand array Of open mysteries that encompass round Our daily walk with Godhead, that no vain And wordy fool may cheat my facile ear With echoed vollies of man's crude conceit, Misnamed God's thunder'! From Thyself direct 38 A SABBA TH MEDITATION. Thy secret comes to all, whom Thou shalt deem Worthy to find it. Councils, doctors, priests, Are but the signs that point us to the spring Whence flow thy living waters; and, alas! Too oft with wavering, or with cowardly hand Back-turned, they point. Teach Thou my stablished soul To seek Thy teaching, Lord, and trust in Thee. The generations of uncounted men Have hymned Thy praises, Lord. Their stammering tongues With strange crude doctrine magnify the power Of Him, whose vastness they were fain to grasp, But could not. Even the folly of the fool Shall praise Thee, Lord. Thou hast a place for all. The wicked and the weak are but the steps, Whereon the wise shall mount, to see Thy face; And mighty churches, and high-vaunted faiths, A SABBA TH MEDITA TION. 39 Are but the schools, wherein thy centuries train The infant peoples to the manly reach Of pure devotion; and most wise are they, Who hear one hymn of varied truth through all The harmonious discord of strange witnesses, Prophets and -martyrs, priests, and meek-eyed saints, And rapt diviners, with imperfect tongue, Babbling thy praises. Egypt's brutish gods, Dog-faced, hawk-headed, crocodile, and cat, Snake-eating ibis, and the spotted bull, Not without apt significance did type Thy severed functions to a sense-bound race. In sea and sky, green tree, and flowing stream, In flying bird,.and creeping beast, they found Pictorial speech, and speaking signs of what They crudely guessed of Thee. To clearer Greeks Stout Briareus, celestial'Titans strong, And supreme Jove, with weight of thunderous locks, Throned like a king, and sceptre in his hand, And ministrant eagle, spake thy mighty power 40 A SABBA THI MEDITA TION. With awful grace. Each seized a part of Thee, And, with a fond assurance, deemed to hold Thy whole Infinity in earthly bonds For human needs. Nor less the Christian priest Portentous erred, when with rash hand he clutched The awful Triune symbol, and defined The immeasurable Majesty Supreme With curious phrase and scientific rule, And with the thorns of wiry logic fenced Thy bristling name, from touch of thought profane; Then, from a throne high-seated, and girt round With triple-tiered presumption, grasped thy bolt, Sported thy thunder, and with thy best friends Filled a far-dreaded Hell, that he might seem A god on Earth, whom awe-struck, grovelling men Might see, and feel, and handle. The pale monk, Wasting his flesh within a cold damp cell, And straining his dull vision, till he saw God's features, in the dim putrescent light Of his own sick imaginings-this man caught A SABBA TH MEDITA TZOiN. 41 A glimpse of Thee, and, with such fiery haste Did hold Thee, and with prostrate worship hug, That nevermore his head he dared to lift Erect, and with proud-sweeping glance survey The riches of thy wide luxuriant world, MIan's privilege.-On so nice a pivot turns True wisdom; here an inch, or there, we swerve From the just balance; by too much we sin, And half our errors are but truths unpruned. The errors of Thy creatures praise Thee, Lord. Not they who err are damned; but who, being wrong, In obdurate persistency to err Refuse all bettering. Hope for such is none. Hope lives for all, who flounder boldly on Through quaggy bogs, till firmer footing found Gives glorious prospect. One Deceiver haunts The hearts of faithless men; his name is FEAR. 0 Thou, who ridest glorious through the skies, 42 A SABBA TH MEDITATION. In thunder or in sunshine strong the same, The Almighty builder of this fair machine, Whose beauty blinds star-eyed philosophy, Whose vastness makes our staggered thinking pant For utterance vainly-Father of all Power, Eternal Fount of liberty and life, Free, measureless, unspent-if e'er my voice Rose to thy throne, in reverent truthful prayer, Slay me this demon, yellow Fear, that maims The arm of enterprise, nips the bud of hope, And freezes the great ocean of our life, That should run riot in the praise of Thee, With wave on wave of proud high-venturing deeds. O may this Sabbath, with its gentle dews Shed by thy Spirit on my chastened soul, Restore my blighted bud of thought, and lift This low-crushed life into a mighty tree, Branchy, and blooming with fair summer fruits Exuberant-clustered!-May all Sabbaths be A ripe and mellow season to my heart, A4 SABBATH fMEDITA TION. 43 Lovely as golden autumn's purple eve, Genial as sleep, whence the tired limb refreshed Leaps to new action, and appointed toil, With steady hope, sure faith, and sober joy. \VJHAT dost thou say, Thou old grey sea, Thou broad briny water To me? With thy ripple and thy plash, And thy waves as they lash The old grey rocks on the shore? With thy tempests as they roar, And thy crested billows hoar, And thy tide evermore, Fresh and free; With thy floods as they come, And thy voice never dumb, What thought art thou speaking to me? THE SEA. 45 What thing should I say On this bright summer day, Thou strange human dreamer, to thee? One wonder the same All things do proclaim In the sky, and the land, and the sea;'Tis the unsleeping force Of a GOD in his course, Whose life is the law of the whole, As he breathes out his power In the pulse of the hour, And the march of the years as they roll; You may measure his ways In the weeks and the days, And the stars as they wheel round the pole, But no finger is thine To touch the divine All-plastic, all-permeant soul, As it shapes and it moulds, And its virtue unfolds, 46 TEE SEA. In the garden of things as they grow, And flings forth the tide Of its strength far and wide, In wonders above and below. Thou huge-heaving sea That art speaking to me Of the. power and the pride of a God, I would travel like thee With force fresh and free Through the breadth of my human abode, Never languid and low, But with bountiful flow, Of thoughts that are kindred to God; Ever surging and streaming, Ever beaming and gleaming, Like the lights as they shift on thy glass, Ever swelling and heaving, And largely receiving The beauty of things as they pass. THE SEA. 47 Thou broad-billowed sea Never sundered from thee May I wander the welkin below; May the.plash and the roar Of thy waves on the shore Beat the march to my feet as they go; Ever strong, ever free, WVhen the breath of the sea Like the fan of an angel I know; Ever rising with power, To the call of the hour, Like the swell of thy tides as they flow. Bift la i ounr )2mnolnn, all fitR. A SONG OF PRAISE FOR BRITISH WORKMEN. (Tune —Old I48th Psalm.) LIFT up your hymns, all men Who scan with lordly eye, And mete with kingly ken The starry-peopled sky; Praise ye the God WVho bade ye tread, With lofty head, Earth's lowly sod! Time was when ye were not; Through lightless depths forlorn The Eternal Father shot His ray, and ye were born. 48 LIFT UP YOUR HYM.NS, ALL 7AMEN. 49 Even Him praise ye, Whose quickening light Redeems from night All things that be. How wondrous each fair form Of life that swarms on earth, Light fowl and ring'ed worm, And stout four-footed birth! But, lord of all, Hligh-fronted man To crown His plan God's voice did call. Look forth, 0 man, and know Thy glorious mission given To rule the earth below With wisdom lent from heaven. To His command Obedience bring D 50 IIFT UP YOUR HYMNS, ALL M1~EiV. Who made thee king Of sea and land! From ice-bound pole to pole, From sunny zone to zone, March forth with venturous soul And claim the world thine own; And praise Him ever Who bade thy hand Rule sea and land With proud endeavour! The granite boulders vast Split with thy mastering wedge, The gusty-driving blast Rein on the billow's edge; And understand By what high claim Thy wit doth tame Both sea and land.. LIFT UP YOUR HYMNS, ALL MERN. 51 With cylinder and beam And fine-conducting skill, Torture the straitened steam To work thy reasoned will; And understand How Godlike Mind The power doth bind Of sea and land! With bolt and bar and clamp And strong-subduing fire, And chymick virtue stamp All things to thy desire; For God in heaven Such shaping skill To man's wise will Hath surely given. Pile high th' embattled tower, And where the huge seas roll 52 LIFT UP YOUR HYMiINS, ALL MfIA,. With arms of Titan power Fling forth the mighty mole, Whose strength doth save Brave hearts from scaith Of yawning Death And yeasty grave! Stretch forth the pendant bridge,'Cross the broad-breasted tide, And round the steep-faced ridge On smoking chariot ride, Even as a bird Well-used to soar His plumy oar Hath lightly stirred. And let thy lordly hest,. And thy heart's hot desire Be sped to East and West Swift through the thrilling wire, LIFT UP YOUR HYMINS, ALL IIEN. 53 O'er earth and sea, Which God the Lord Did well accord A stage for thee! Lift up thy head, 0 man, And walk rejoicing forth, To sway with sweatful plan The stubborn-breasted earth. Thus shalt thou be Liegeman of God, Treading earth's sod Erect and free i de v foro of 3vmo0. COME unto me, who live in cumbrous splendour,'Neath Fashion's despot rule, And to meek Wisdom's kindly sway surrender Your hearts in Jesus' school. No pomp is here of gold and purple flaunting, No banners proudly spread, No trumpet's blare, no victor's cruel vaunting, No field bestrewn with dead. No high-set throne with glittering throngs attendant, No loud far-sounded name, Sceptre or sword, or robe with gems resplendent, To blaze His peaceful fame. 54 THE SCHOOL OF 7ESUS. 55 But contemplation chaste serenely brooding With clear unclouded face, High thought that scorns all baser cares intruding Into God's holy place. And mighty love embracing all things human In one all-fathering name, Stamping God's seal on trivial things and common, With consecrated aim. The godlike front, the mouth of bold confession, The conquering glance of truth,. The hand that works with the sure slow progression Of unrecorded growth. The breath that blows with quickening vans victorious O'er realms of thought sublime, Making our life a golden harvest glorious, Reaped from the fields of time. 56 THLE SCHOOL OF yESUS. In vain, in vain, to rouse your languid leisure, Ye waste ancestral stores, Starring with gold your wide-domed halls of pleasure, And treading pictured floors. In vain from show to show ye drive unsated, And sights of gay surprise; The soul's high hunger rests all unabated From gaze of wondering eyes. Stir the deep wells of life that flow within you, Touched by God's genial hand, And let the chastened sure ambition win you To serve His high command, And cast aside the costly cumbrous splendour Of Fashion's despot rule, And to meek Wisdom's kindly sway surrender Your hearts in Jesus' school. i ravts for iteztiAon. LORD of might, and Lord of glory, On my knees I bow before Thee, With my whole heart I adore Thee, Great Lord! Listen to my cry, 0 Lord! Passions proud and fierce have ruled me, Fancies light and vain have fooled me, But Thy training stern hath schooled me; Now, Lord, Take me for Thy child, O Lord! 57 58 P'RA YER FOR DIRECTION. Groping dim, and bending lowly, Mortal vision catcheth slowly Glimpses of the pure and holy; Now, Lord, Open Thou mine eyes, 0 Lord! Not with lofty thoughts far-reaching, Not with blasts of mightful preaching, But with heart that waits Thy teaching, Good Lord, Let me learn from Thee, O Lord! Not where dazzling glories win us, Not where sounding plaudits din us, But Thy kingdom is within us, There, Lord, Let Thy truth teach me, 0 Lord 1 PRA YER FOR DIREC'7ON. 59 In the deed that no man knoweth, Where no praiseful trumpet bloweth, Where he may not reap who soweth, There, Lord, Let my heart serve Thee, 0 Lord! In the work that no gold payeth, Where he speedeth best who prayeth, Doeth most who little sayeth, There, Lord, Let me work Thy will, 0 Lord! In His name who, meek and lowly, Died to make poor sinners holy, Stumbling oft, and creeping slowly, Great Lord, Guide me by Thy truth, 0 Lord! Aber die Gltter lieben /der lGjenscAhen Weilverbreilete gute Geschlechter. GOETHE. IF a mortal man might sing Theme above all mortal wing; If the creatures of the clay With the name of God might play; If the moulded breath might tell All that stirs the soul's deep well, I would sing a song of glee, Father of all songs, to Thee i Thou art not the awful thing, Iron ruler, despot king, Harsh, revengeful, stern, severe, Child of terror, birth of fear: 60 KTLE GOD OF GLEE. 6i Thou art nothing like to Him, Ghost of sickly dreamer's whim; If I sing a song to Thee, It shall be a song of glee. Fools may rant, and fools may rave, Loudly damn, and loudly save, With a solemn sounding swell, Sweeping honest souls to hell, With church-blasts of mimic thunder Turning every over under; Thou from wrath of man art free, God of gladness, God of glee! What Thou art no tongue may say; I remember I am clay; Scarcely knowing brother man, Shall I venture God to scan? 62 THE GOD OF GLEE. From within and from without Full of dream, and full of doubt, Feeling only lent from Thee, This glad Being, God of glee! Shall I set Thee on a throne Ruling solemnly alone? Shall I dress Thee in strange glory $ Grandly chant Thy epic story? Shall I lodge Thee in the tomb, There to lighten up my gloom. Shalt Thou sleep in death with me, God of gladness, God of glee?'Shall my wit be Thine inspector? Shall my knife be Thy dissector'I Shall I perch Thee on a steeple, To feed the gaze of gaping people? THE GOD OE GLEE. 63 Shall I show Thee round and round, H ere explain, and there expound? In a cold creed prison Thee, God of gladness, God of glee? Shalt Thou be my sworn director, Patroniser, and protector Shall I stamp with Thy great seal All I think, and all I feel? Shalt Thou be a horse to ride For the pranks of human pride.? And shall strife be born of Thee, God of gladness, God of glee? Shalt Thou hug me in Thy breast, Fledgling of no human nest? Shall I be the one pet-lamb Of the terrible I AM? 64 iTHE GOD OF GLEE. I the called and the elect, Thou Jehovah of a sect? Bastards all, save only me, Thou, any Father, God of glee? 0! it is a hard assay For the reach of human clay, And yet every fool will mount Thee to number, Thee to count, With a plummet and a square Meting out the pathless air; Teach me how to think of Thee, God of gladness, God of glee! If my tongue must lisp its lay, I will speak what best I may: I will say, Thou art a Soul, Weaving wisely through the whole; THE GOD OF GLEE. 65 I will say Thou art a Power Working good from hour to hour, I will say Thou art to me Light and Life, and Love and Glee. Thou art each, and Thou art all In Creation's living Hall, Every breathing shape of beauty, Every solemn voice of duty! Every high and holy mood, All that's great, and all that's good, All is Echo sent from Thee, God of gladness, God of glee! E altWu of 4tatuire. T HE fool hath in his heart declared,-by laws Since time began, Blind and without intelligential cause, Or reasoned plan, All things are ruled. I from this lore dissent, With sorrowful shame That reasoning men such witless wit should vent In reason's name. O Thou that o'er this lovely world hast spread Thy jocund light, Weaving with flowers beneath, and stars o'erhead This tissue bright Of living powers, clear Thou my sense, that I May ever find LA WS OE NA TURE. 67 In all the marshalled pomp of earth and sky The marshalling mind! Laws are not powers; nor can the well-timed courses Of earths and moons Ring to the stroke of blind unthinking forces Their jarless tunes. Wiser were they who in the flaming vault The circling sun Beheld, and in his ray, with splendid fault, Worshipped the one Eye of the universe that seeth all, And shapeth sight In man and moth through curious visual ball With fine delight. O blessed beam, on whose refreshful might Profusely shed Six times ten years, with ever young delight, Mine eye hath fed, Still let me love thee, and with wonder new, By flood and field, 68 LA WS OF NA TURE. Worship the fair, and consecrate the true By thee revealed i And loving thee, beyond thee love that first Father of Lights From whom the ray vivific marvellous burst, Might of all mights, Whose thought is order, and whose will is law. That man is wise Who worships God wide-eyed, with cheerful awe And chaste surprise. VT HAT thing is Nature l Well, I don't Assume to make a clatter, Like Hegel, Hamilton, and Comte, Concerning mind and matter. Yet I have had my thoughts at times; And, since you ask the question, I'11 tell you what I think in rhymes That won't hurt your digestion. Nature is growth, a coming forth Into new fashion ever, Of that whose substance knows no birth,'Whose virtue dieth never. 69 70 WHA T IS NA TURE? What Substance?-that which to define My gasping reason smothers; But what is best I call divine, And worship God with others. You're a materialist. Not at all; If I should seek to find The best name for what BEST I call, I'd rather call it MIND. And Mind is one; and what we call The Many is but one, As million rays shoot from the ball Of th' light-evolving Sun. But not to dogmas I incline, And think me not unwise Who fear and love, but not define, The Power that shapes the skies. WHA T IS NA TURE? 71 And you, Sir Doctor, are a fool, With logical appliance, That would take God into your school, And teach Him terms of science; And talk of Nature, God, and Man With technic demonstration, As if yourself had sketched the plan Of the boundless, vast Creation; And dress mean thoughts in phrases grand, And prove, with solemn clatter, That you have got, in your clumsy hand, Two things called Mind and Matter. Go to! You know nor this, nor that; Man has no measuring rod For Nature, Force, and Law, and what The wisest men call GOD. 72 WHA T IS IVA TURE? For law, and life, and all the course Of lovely-shifting Nature, Are but the play of one wise Force, Which Moses called Creator. Think on your knees:'tis better so Than without wings to soar; What blinking Reason strains to know We find when we adore. ,All tIhints art fuRR aoC d arb. O OaX~s T7P K60/hOV BfUXOP brEoTi7Q-rO KCal 3at6vv w-Xhpq. DIOG. LAERT. ALL things are full of God. Thus spoke Wise Thales in the days When subtle Greece to thought awoke And soared in lofty ways. And now what wisdom have we more I No sage divining-rod Hath taught than this a deeper lore, ALL THINGS ARE FULL OF GOD. 73 74 ALL THINGS ARE FULL OF GOD. II. The Light that gloweth in the sky And shimmers in the sea, That quivers in the painted fly And gems the pictured lea, The million hues of Heaven above And Earth below are one, And every lightful eye doth love The primal light, the Sun. III. Even so, all vital virtue flows From life's first fountain, God; And he who feels, and he who knows, Doth feel and know from God. As fishes swim in briny sea, As fowl do float in air, From Thy embrace we cannot flee; We breathe, and Thou art there. ALL 7HIINGS ARE FULL OF GOD. IV. Go, take thy glass, astronomer, And all the girth survey Of sphere harmonious linked to sphere, In endless bright array. All tbhat far-reaching Science there Can measure with her rod, All powers, all laws, are but the fair Embodied thoughts of God. V. And if there be who of blind laws And soulless forces talk, Who feed vain doubts with. fancied flaws, With these I will not walk. But as a child to father clings, Or flower to sapful sod, The living well within me springs Of all great thoughts from God. 76 ALL THlINGS ARE FULL OF GOD. VI. O Thou, who didst the heart inspire Of Thales and his peers, And touched the prophet-lips with fire Of holy Hebrew seers, Teach Thou in great and small my wvill To own Thy sovereign rod, Holding, this faith firm-rooted still, ALL TIHINGS ARE FULL OF GOD. ' J/VHY wilt thou pray? why storm with cries His ear who rides the thundering skies, And passes wrathful by? His laws stand firm; He may not hear; Thy life, thy death, in His career Are but as steps. He will not hear Though thou shalt loudly cry.' Most like, most like! yet the soft tear Fresh dropt upon the senseless bier Hath virtue-nor that small. The sod why dost thou strew with flotwers? The dead man walks not in thy bowers, He will not rise to sorrow's showers, Nor feel when soft flowers fall; 77 73 PRA YER. And yet thou weep'st. Much more may'st thou Pay to the living God thy vow, And pour the heart-felt prayer. Deft Logic is but Reason's tool, Reason a child in Nature's school; We may not joy nor grieve by rule, Nor syllogise a prayer. ,a$fattah hnmn r rt the nntd1i.i PRAISE ye the Lord I Not in the temple of shapeliest mould, Polished with marble and gleaming with gold, Piled upon pillars of slenderest grace, But here in the blue sky's luminous face Praise ye the Lord i Praise ye the Lord! Not where the organ's melodious wave Dies'neath the rafters that narrow the nave, But here with the free wind's wandering sweep, Here with the billow that booms from the deep, Praise ye the Lord! 79 80 SABBA TH HI'YNV ON THE MiOUNTAINS. Praise ye the Lord! Not where the pale-faced multitudes meet In the sweltering lane, and the dun-visaged street, But here where bright ocean, thick sown with green isles. Feeds the glad eye with a harvest of smiles, Praise ye the Lord! Praise ye the Lord! Here where the strength of the old granite Ben Towers o'er the greenswarded grace of the glen, Where the birch flings its fragrance abroad on the hill, And the bee o'er the heather-bloom wanders at will, Praise ye the Lord! Praise ye the Lord! Here where the loch, the dark mountain's fair daughter, Down the red scaur flings the white-streaming water, SABBA TH. HYMN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 8i Leaping and tossing and swirling for ever Down to the bed of the smooth-rolling river, Praise ye the Lord! Praise ye the Lord! Not where the voice of a preacher instructs you, Not where the hand of a mortal conducts you, But where the bright welkin in scripture of glory Blazons Creation's miraculous story, Praise ye the Lord! Praise ye the Lord! The wind and the welkin, the sun and the river, Weaving a tissue of wonders for ever; The mead- and the mountain, the flower and the tree, What is their pomp but a vision of Thee, Wonderful Lord F 82 SABBAT HH YMN ON THE MOUNTAINAS. Praise ye the Lord! Not in the square-hewn, many-tiered pile, Not in the long-drawn, dim-shadowed aisle, But where the vast world, with age never hoary, Flashes His brightness and thunders His glory, Praise ye the Lord! trimnttrti. T RIMURTI, Trimurti, Mock not the name; Think and know Before thou blame! Brother, believe me, I respect thy creed, And in mine inmost shrine of reverence bow Before the men of strong firm-jointed thought Who framed, and with their hearts' warm life-blood signed That paper-thy confession; but to fling Damnation round against all other creeds, And plant myself, draped in most fine conceit, And laced in Orthodoxy all compact, 88 84 TRIMURTI. A model for all forms of thought that be, Is not my fashion, and should not be yours. Thy sun-tanned brother in the glowing East, Where sacred Ganga rolls his ample flood, Bends not the knee to senseless blocks and beasts But to a SPIRIT: and his huge gilded idols Are but the clumsier spelling of a name Which no man spells completely: he believes In his own way, what you believe in yours. Him, too, the power of Universal God Hath touched: he, too, discerns the Soul that stirs The heaving clod: the mystery of life He probes: and in the battling din of things That frets the feeble ear, he seeks and finds A harmony that tunes the dissonant strife To sweetest music. If in the sober West High thought, and awful power of Hebrew faith Hath taught thee much, and seemed to teach thee more, Love more thy brother from thy larger breast. TR1IURT I. 5 Trimurti, Trimurti, Despise not the name; Think and know Before thou blame 1 Look upon the face of Nature In the flush of June; BRAHMA is the great Creator, Life is Brahma's boon. Dost thou hear the zephyr blowing? That is Brahma's breath, Vital breath, live virtue showing'Neath the ribs of death. Dost thou see the fountain flowing? That is Bramah's blood, Lucid blood-the same is glowing In the purpling bud. Brahma's Eyes look forth divining From the welkin's brow, Full bright eyes-the same are shining In the sacred cow. 86 TRIM UR TI. Air, and Fire, and running River, And the procreant clod, Are but faces changing ever Of one changeless God. When thy winged thought ascendeth Where high thoughts are free, This is Brahma when he lendeth Half the God to thee. Brahma is the great Creator, Life a mystic drama; Heaven, and Earth, and living Nature Are but masks of Brahma. Trimurti, Trimurti, Mock not the name; Think and know Before thou blame! Awful SIVA dost thou know? Awful SIVA I will show. TR IMUR TI 8 SIVA, RUDRA, MAHADEVA, One with many a shifting name, BHIMA, UGRA, PASAPATI, Never like, but still the same! Earth is dumb with awe and wonder, When it sees dark Siva come; Nations pale to hear the thunder Of his fateful-pealing drum. When he rides with serpents belted, Pearled with skulls about his neck, Rocks beneath his tread are melted, Mighty empires fall in wreck; In the flood and in the flame Terrible is Siva's name. Dost thou see yon tiny boat Cradled in the shimmering ocean? Summer clouds that lightly float Sail not with a gentler motion. Canst thou hear the merry notes From the jocund sailors pealing, 8TRIi MUR T. Careless joy from clamorous throats, Floods of free ebullient feeling? Suddenly there comes a blast; With short fits of gusty terror Quakes the air: night travels fast; Darkly glooms the briny horror. Where is now that gamesome boat? Where the crew with wild joy swelling? Seek them in dark ocean's throat, In the mute sea-monster's dwelling. Mighty SIVA hath prevailed: On the tempest's wings of madness Riding, harsh and iron-mailed, He hath crushed all joy and gladness. Many mothers weep to-day, Many brides will weep to-morrow,SIVA comes, and leaves his way Washed with blood, and paved with sorrow; SIVA comes: his power adore; Wrathful treads the great Destroyer, TRIZMUR T.'89 Death, his servant, walks before, Teeming Life is his employer. Famine, Fever, Flood, and Flame, Murder and the Grave, Rule by mighty Siva's name; None from him can save. Worship SIVA: when he glares With his three red eyes of Ruin, When his smoking breath prepares Three-pronged bolts for thy undoing. Bend the knee beneath his dart, Huts may stand, while towers shall crumble; Crushing low the proud in heart, Siva oft hath spared the humble. Trimurti, Trimurti, Mock not the name; Search and know Before thou blame! 90o TRIMUR TI. All-pervading, all-informing, Heart of heat within the cold, Widely-working, richly-warming, VISHNU loves to melt and mould. Though SIVA hath passed in the stormy blast,. And, like a crimson streamer, Hath swept the sky, Vishnu is nigh; Earth looks for her Redeemer. Six months and a day grim Winter's sway May last, but not for ever; The grass shall grow, and the bud shall blow, When Vishnu unbinds the river. Long is the sleep that nations sleep; Bleak centuries they lie Confounded, or convulsive creep In wriggling agony. But still the hidden life they keep; Regeneration lurks; A heaving God shall stir the clod Where mighty Vishnu works. TRIZMFUR TI. 91 Deserts, when they feel his tread, Wave with leafy surges,'Yama from their bony bed His refleshed ghosts disgorges. WTouldst thou grasp him? that is hard, With three giant paces Who hath strode the blue girth barred To worms in mortal cases. Wouldst thou know him? that is hard; He holds no certain shape; Soldier, prophet, priesf, or bard, Fish, or boar, or ape, All and each are Vishnu's faces; But the wise behind Each rude mask discern the traces Of the Saviour-Mind. They shall know him who believe That through his incarnation, Faithful hearts and hands achieve The world's regeneration. 92 TRIMUR TI. They shall leave the half-burnt stake, And the half-ploughed furrow, And their portion they shall make With Vishnu's joy and sorrow. They with him shall toil and travel, For him fight and bleed: For Vishnu, though Hell's legions cavil, In the end shall speed. With an iron-pointed will, A steady-glowing fervour, Vanhquished, they are victors still Through Vishnu the PRESERVER. Small as a seed that's cast on Earth Vishnu's power is planted, Wide as ocean's swelling girth Vishnu's growth is vaunted. Like a beggar first he shows, And great and small ignore him; Anon in regal pomp he goes, And monarchs bend before him. TR1MURTI. 93 Where he comes each palsied heart Beats with quick emotion, Peoples into being start, And Earth upheaves like Ocean. Rags of false fair Pride are torn, Truth's bright blazon flutters, Tears are buried, hopes are born, And power prophetic utters The coming glory. Heaven and Earth Pulse with impatient fervour, And reborn Nature hymns her mirth To VISHNU THE PRESERVER I There's my apology for the poor Hindoos: Convert them, if you can, but do not damn; Curse not the beggar when you dole your doit; Preach, like St. Paul, in gentlemanly wise, And do not swear that brindled hides are black To make yourself look whiter. I believe There is much high and holy wisdom hid 94 TRI.UR T7. In what you damn wholesale; but, if you find No sheep outside the Presbyterian fold (All else being goats), and what I take for gold You deem base brass, till stamped in thine own mint, I would not strive with thee: God made thee so; My thoughts would not lodge sweetly in thy skin. Think in thy groove;'tis safer footing so For thee, and all with thee who love to live Soft-fleshed within the fond familiar shell Of customed old tradition; but refrain From blaming me to my own nature true, Who love the broad free range and shifting scene, And still must strive beyond myself to gain Some point of vantage, nearer as I deem To God, and to the wide far-reaching scope Of his rich varied plan. A little bird Cage-born and bred may love to dwell secure Within the wires, and wisely shrink from swell Of wavy winds, and vans of venture stirred In unfamiliar fields: fear saves the weak; TRIM UR TI. 95 But the storm-nurtured freedman of the air XWill scorn to breathe where chains have lamed his wing. Farewell! your creed may nevermore be mine; I hold one God, but many forms divine; Your's best-so be it!-but I may not bind My heart to worship only in one kind; Nor, where flowers prink the mead with diverse hue Let one bright bloom usurp my wondering view; And they are wise who love with like regard Both rose -and lily, where to choose is hard. Leave me, dear friend, the luxury of my error, To think that creeds are but a broken mirror, With thousand Suns for one that lights the skies, And one truth imaged in a thousand lies! uidcte iocratez, ora Aco gobti! DEAR God, by wrathful routs How is thy Church divided; And how may he that doubts In such turmoil be guided i When weeping I behold How Christian people quarrel, Ofttimes from Heathens old I fetch a saintly moral; And while they fret with rage The sore-distraught community, I look for some Greek sage Who preaches peace and unity. And thus I pray: 96 SANCTE SOCRATES, ORA PRO NOBIS! 97 0 Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis! Let faith and love and joy increase, And reason rule and wrangling cease, Good saint, we pray thee! They pile a priestly fence Of vain scholastic babble, To keep out common sense With the unlearned rabble. A curious creed they weave, And, for the Church commands it, All men must needs believe, Though no man understands it; Thus, while they rudely ban All honest thought as treason, I from the Heathen clan Seek solace to my reason, And thus I pray: 0 Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis! From creeds that men believe because G 98 SA NCTE SOCRA TES, ORA PRO NOBIS! They fear a damnatory clause, Good saint, deliver us! Some preach a God so grim That, when his anger swelleth, They crouch and cower to him When sacred fear compelleth; God loves his few pet lambs, And saves his one pet nation, The rest he largely damns With swinging reprobation. Thus banished from the fold, I wisely choose to follow Some sunny preacher old Who worshipped bright Apollo; And thus I pray: O Sanzcte Socrates, ora pro nobis! From silly flocks of petted lambs, And from a faith that largely damns, Good saint, deliver us! SANCTE SOCRATES, ORA PRO NOBIS 99 And some do strongly strive By light of noonday taper, The guilty soul to shrive With many a gest and caper; With candlestick and bells, With postures and grimaces, With wealth of holy spells, And lack of lovely graces; And when I see increase These feats of antic duty, I turn me back to Greece Where truth was wed to beauty, And thus I pray: O Sancle Socrates, ora pro nobis From quaint religion tricked in laces, From genuflexions and grimaces, Good saint, deliver us! And some there be that say, That through their veins a virtue 0oo SANCTE SOCRATES, ORA PRO NOBIS! Doth run to charm away All ills that flesh is heir to; And from their finger-tips A sacred tremor passes, To ope the braying lips Of Apostolic asses; From ferment I abstain Of such high-churchly preachers, And keep myself quite sane By sober Attic teachers! And thus I pray: O Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis / From men that say wide earth contains No truth but creeps through priestly veins, Good saint, deliver us I Such eager fancies vain Shape forth the rival Churches; And each man's fuming brain God's holy light besmirches; SANCTE SOCRATES, ORA PRO NOBIS! IoI And thus they all conspire The primal truth to smother, And think they praise their Sire By hating well their brother. Such wrangling when I see Such storms of godly rancour, To Heathendom I flee To cast a peaceful anchor, And thus I pray: O Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis!I Let love and faith and joy increase, And reason rule and wrangling cease, Good saint, we pray thee! Zhle ajope o thle tiettfbox. IN Thee, 0 blessed God, I hope, In Thee, in Thee, in Thee! Though banned by Presbyter and Pope, My trust is still in Thee. Thou wilt not cast Thy servant out Because he chanced to see With his own eyes, and dared to doubt What praters preach of Thee. 0 no! no! no! For ever and ever, and aye (Though Pope and Presbyter bray), Thou wilt not cast away An honest soul from Thee. 102 THE IOPE OF THE HETERODO0X. I03 I look around on earth and sky, And Thee, and ever Thee, With open heart and open eye How can I fail to see? My ear drinks in from field and fell Life's rival floods of glee: Where finds the priest his private hell When all is full of Thee? 0no! no! no! Though flocks of sacred geese Give Heaven's high ear no neace. I still enjoy a lease Of happy thoughts from Thee. My faith is strong; out of itself It grows erect and free; No Talmud on the Rabbi's shelf Gives amulets to me. 104 THE HOPE OF THE HETERODOX. Small Greek I know, nor Hebrew much, But this I plainly see. Two legs without the Bishop's crutch God gave to thee and me. Ono! no! no! The Church may loose and bind, But MIND, immortal Mind, As free as wave or wind Came forth, O God, from Thee. O pious quack! thy pills are good, But mine as good may be, And healthy men on healthy food Live without you or me. Good lady! let the doer do! Thought is a busy bee, Nor honey less what it doth brew, Though very gall to thee. Ono! no! no! THE HOPE OF THE HETER ODOX. I05 Though Councils decree and declare, Like a tree in open air The soul its foliage fair Spreads forth, 0 God, to Thee! O HEAR my prayer, If I may dare To talk with Thee, Great Spirit, Of mortal mould, To frailty sold, Who (lust and death inherit I What thing am I To soar so high, Such proud conceits to cherish -- An insect born With dewy morn, With dewy eve to perish. 106 0 HEAR MY PRA YER! 07 Yet am I not By Thee forgot, Thou knowest not forgetting; The perfect All Nor great nor small Nor rising knows nor setting. One ocean rolls Whose waves are souls, With radiant-shifting features; That ocean Thou, Eternal NOW, The shifting waves Thy creatures. When Thou art nigh We live; we die From Thy sustainment sundered; Even as the spark Goes out in dark That from its flame hath wandered. xo8 0 HEAR MY PRA YER! Therefore no harm That winged worm Should lofty fancies cherish; Or great or small, On Him hangs all, Who lives and cannot perish. And I will dare To lift my prayer With trust in Thee, Great Spirit, By whose high might Day springs from Night And Death doth Life inherit. THE Sabbath-day, the Sabbath-day, How softly shines the morn! How gently from the heathery brae The fresh hill-breeze is borne! Sweetly the village bell doth toll, And thus it seems to say, Come rest thee, rest thee, weary soul, On God's dear Sabbath-day! Swift as the shifting pictures flit Unscanned, unnoticed by, To those who in the steam-car sit And pass with rapid eye; 109 I IO THE SABBA TH-DA Y. So flits our life with sweeping haste, And hath no power to stay; But GOD makes man His favoured guest On each dear Sabbath-day: And to high converse dotil invite The soul with tranquil eye That numbers well, and marks aright The moments as they fly; The soul that will not lawless roam, Nor with blind hurry stray, But with itself would be at home On a peaceful Sabbath-day. There are who live as in a fair, The light, the shallow-hearted, Nor ask or whither bound, or where They stand, or whence they started; Aimless they live, and thoughtless fling Their rattling lives away, THE SABBA TH-DA Y. II Nor know to poise the brooding wing On a sober Sabbath-day. Such judge I not. But me not so GOD made for light-winged prattle: A soldier I, and I must know Before I fight, my battle. I with the jingling bells an hour Would sport, then steal away, To feel with truth, and plan with power, On a thoughtful Sabbath-day. Stern Scottish people, ye redeem Each seventh day severely; Sober and grave, with scarce a gleam Of frolic tempered cheerly. Light wits deride your thoughtful law, The tinkling and the gay; But wisely from deep founts ye draw Calm strength on the Sabbath-day. 112 THE SABBA TH-DA Y. And safely, if I err, I err, Who on this day with you The hot-spurred bustle and the stir Of dinsome life eschew; Happy, if through the frequent dark Of man's tumultuous way, God in my soul shall light a spark On His dear Sabbath-day. H ERE, on this height, where pastoral Pentland falls, With easy slope, into the Lothian plain, Where silence fills the azure-vaulted halls, And solitude's serenest soul doth reign; Where scarce the pewit's shrill far-plaining cry Disturbs the quiet sleep o' the hill breeze, And the bare brae seems clad, in mockery, With one thin belt of lean and scurvy trees; Here let me pause: Here mighty deeds were done By Scotland's sires; and I am Scotland's son. Say not that they were harsh, and stern, and sour, Or say they were so, but not therefore base; 1I "I4M L RULLTO0N GRE.EN; In iron times God sends, with mighty power, Iron apostles to make smooth His ways; And hearts of rock, close-clamped with many a bar, He plants where angry billows!kch the shore; Thus love by fear, thus peace is pledged by war, (Stern law!.) and gospel paths are p)aved in aore: We reap in ease what they did sow in toil, And rate them harsh, and stern, and sour the while. I blame them that they were not stern enough, Too tamely bore, and waited overlong. They should have checked, with sharp severe rebuff, In the first threshold of his impious wrong, The pedant-king, whose rash conceit did ween With statute-work to stop the strong full heart God-moved. He fell; and in his fall was seen Man less than God, and nature more than art; Old text, which many wars have preached, and more Shall write in blood, ere folly's reign be o'er. RULLION GREEN. I 15 Here, on this slope, the Covenanting men Stood, lifting holy hearts and holy hands And from the hill they looked, with eager ken, To catch the nearing of their brother'd bands. From Teviot's banks, from high Dunedin's brow, Some aid was promised, and they hoped for more; But ah i it was too bold a venture now, And hands were weak, where tongues were strong before: Dunedin closed her ports; and from the west Hung grim Dalziel, avoidless as the pest. But fear they knew not. With an holy bond In Clydesdale they had bound them to their God; Nor do their hearts in danger's hour despond, They bear Heaven's mandate, and they own its nod. Beneath the cold and clear November noon, Their hearts beat high upon the lonely hill; i16 R ULIONV GREENI Souls mild and kindly as the leafy June, Stood cased in stern resolve, and dauntless will; And, when soft pity melts the mood severe, There God doth paint a rainbow in each tear. Hark, from the hill ascends the solemn chant! And hark again the startling war-cry rings! A mud-splashed rider comes with breathless.pant —''Tis he, the grim Dalziel, and death he brings Or to himself, or you!'-Straightway were heard The hungry hell-hounds through the stony dell Hurrying. Their swords the godly warriors gird, With godly benediction bless them well; Then rush to the fray. The hostile horse they beat Back to the glen, with swift severe retreat. And yet again the clattering onset came; And yet again they drave it back in blood; But grim Dalziel, now burning with fierce flame, Gathered his serried hundreds. Like a flood, RULL~OX GREEN. 17 He rolled, and swept the rankless tens away, Whose valour now was bootless. They so few Had boldly hoped to keep a host at bay; Nor vainly-had their plighted friends been true. Not lack of heart, but lack of ordered skill, And lack of needful aidance wrought their ill. Rude warriors, rest! God from that ill wrought good; Your strong endurance wrought strong hate of wrong, Let dark Dunnottar's dungeon-solitude, And the strong Bass, attest your sufferings long; No polished pen, no smooth and courtly verse, Ye need to prove the virtue of your crime; Pentland's green slopes, and the bleak moors o' the Merse, Shall be your record to remotest time; Ourselves, your sons, inheriting your stuff, While we are worthy, shall be praise enough; II8 RULLION GREEN. As ye were worthy of the royal man Whose battle-axe the English epicure Clove with a stroke, when the first fray began At glorious Bannockburn! The purple moor, While'tis our home, the high hills granite-bound, Shall brace our hearts, and make us valiant men; From every crag a hero's tale shall sound, A holy warning echo from each glen. Shall slaves be dull where Wallace' blade was keen? Shall sleeve and surplice flaunt o'er Rullion Green I Needs not this rhyme to tell their pious roll, Who slept in caves, and on bleak hills did preach; Guthrie, M'Kail, strong hearts that scorned control, The soldier Wallace, many-wandering Veitch. These sure did share His brotherhood sincere, The Christ, who had not where to lay His head: He died for all; for some who haply jeer They in this clay did make their gory bed; RULLION GREEN. r I9 Men rude and wild, rough, shaggy, and uncouth, But true and honest, and who died for truth. Thou, Scotland's son, that wouldst be leal and true, This storied stone, not dry and tearless scan: Bleed for their wounds who freely bled for you, And know how good, how great a thing is man. O these did boast no brightly barren deed! One death for freedom makes a million free; And who achieves a self-dependent creed, Has gained Mind's first and last great victory; Gains more than hero's, more than bard's renown-'GOD'S SAINTS DIED HERE, AND GAINED THE MARTYR S CROWN.' Linte IJrittten at 1apge 41Nuir. L AMENT who will the surplice rent, And mitre trampled low, I cannot think the blow mis-spent, That felled our priestly foe. Who sent him here i-a perjured king. His work?-with churchman's art To bind young Freedom's mounting wing, And crush a people's heart. Ill-omened priest! for courtly place Well made, and cold propriety; But here thou found'st a fervid race, Whose sternly-glowing piety 120 LIzNES WRIT7TEN AT MA GUS MUIR. 121 Scorned paper laws. Their free-bred soul Went not with priests to school, To trim the tippet and the stole, And pray by printed rule; But they would cast the eager word, From their heart's fiery core, Smoking and red, as God had stirred The Hebrew men of yore. And thou didst come, a cassocked slave, With windy proclamation, Parchment, and ink, and wax, to brave The spirit of a nation; And with rash plume didst brush the flame, And wert consumed, poor fly!So perish all, who join the name Of Christ, with tyranny! 2 LIAS WRITTEN A T MA GUS MUIR. Prate not of law and lawyer's art When kingly sin is rife, The law is in a people's heart, That whets the needful knife. O Scotland! 0 my country! thou Through blood hast waded well; From glorious Bannockburn till now, The tyrant hears his knell Rung from thy iron heart. And we, In lone rock-girdled glen, Or purple heath, erect and free, From harsh knife-bearing men Inherit peace. Lament who will The mitre trampled low; Not all are murderers who kill, The cause commends the blow. A.~'HO sits upon the Pontiff's throne I On Peter's holy chair Who sways the keys-? At such a time When dullest ears may hear the chime Of coming thunders-when dark skies Are writ with crimson prophecies, A wise man should be there; A godly man, whose life might be The living logic of the see; One quick to know, and keen to feel, A fervid man, and full of zeal, Should sit in Peter's chair. 123 124 MAR TIN LUTHER. Alas! no fervid man is there, No earnest, honest heart; But one who, dress'd in priestly guise, Looks on the world with worldling's eyes; One who can trim the courtier's smile, Or weave the diplomatic wile, But knows no deeper art; One who can dally with fair forms, Whom a well-pointed period warmsNo man is he to hold the helm Where rude winds blow, and wild waves whelm, And creaking timbers start. In vain did Julius pile sublime The vast and various dome, That makes the kingly pyramids' pride, And the huge Flavian wonder hide Their heads in shame-these gilded stones (O heaven!) were very blood and bones Of souls whom Christ did come MAR TIN LUTHE'R. 125 To save-vile gain of knaves who sold Celestial rights for earthy gold, Marketing grace with merchant's measure, To prank with Europe's pillaged treasure The pride of purple Rome! The measure ot ner sins is full, The scarlet-vested whore!'Thy murderous and lecherous race Have sat too long i' the holy place; The knife shall lop what no drug cures; Nor Heaven permits, nor earth endures, The monstrous mockery more. Behold! I swear it, saith the Lord: Mine elect warrior girds the sword; A nameless man, a miner's son, Shall tame thy pride, thou haughty one, And pale the painted whore! Earth's mighty men are naught. I chose Poor fishermen before, 126 6 MAR TINzV UTHER. To preach my gospel to the poor; A pauper boy from door to door That trolled his hymn-by his strong word The priest-bound world shall now be stirred, As with a lion's roar! A lonely monk that loved to dwell With peaceful book in silent cell; This man shall shake the Pontiff's throne: Him kings and emperors shall own, And stout hearts wince before The eye profound and lordly front Where speculation reigns. He to the learned seats shall climb, On Science' watch-tower stand sublime; The arid doctrine shall inspire Of wiry teachers with swift fire; And, piled with cumbrous pains Proud palaces of sounding lies Lay prostrate with a breath. The wise MAAR TIN L UTHER. I27 Shall listen to his word; the youth Shall eager seize the new-born truth, Where prudent age refrains. Lo! where the venal pomp proceeds From echoing town to town! The clamorous preacher and his train, Organ and bell with sound inane, The crimson cross, the book, the keys, The flag that spreads before the breeze, The triple-belted crown! It wends its way; and straw is sold, Yea! deadly drugs for heavy gold, To feeble hearts whose pulse is fear; And though some smile, and many sneer, There's none will dare to frown. None dares but one-the race is rareOne free and honest man: Truth is a dangerous thing to say 128 MAR TIN L UTHER. When high-throned falsehoods rule the day; But He hath lent it voice; and, lo! From heart to heart the fire shall go, And fuse with plastic plan. Proud bishops with a lordly train, Fierce cardinals with high disdain, Sleek chamberlains with smooth discourse, And wrangling doctors, all shall force In vain, one honest man. In vain the foolish Pope shall fret; It is a sober thing, Thou high-blown trifler! cease to rave, Loudly to damn, and loudly save, Sweeping with mimic thunders' swell Armies of honest souls to hell! The time on rushing wing Hath fled when this prevailed. 0, Heaven! One hour, one little hour, is given, If thou couldst but repent. But no! MA R TIN L UTHER. 129 To ruin thou shalt headlong go, A doomed and blasted thing. Thy parchment ban comes forth; and lo! Men heed it not, thou fool! See, from the learned city's gate, In solemn show, in pomp of state, The watchmen of the truth come forth, The burghers old of sterling worth, And students of the school: And he who should have felt thy ban, Walks like a prophet in the van; He hath a calm untroubled look, Beneath his arm he bears a book, And in his hand the Bull. He halts; and in the middle space Bids pile a blazing fire. The flame ascends with crackling glee; Then, with firm step advancing, he I 130 MAR TIN L UTHER. Gives to the wild fire's wasting rule The false Decretals, and the Bull, While thus he vents his ire:'Because the Holy One o' the Lord Thou vexed hast with impious word, Therefore the Lord shall thee consume, And thou shalt share the Devil's doom In everlasting fire!' He said; and rose the echo round' In everlasting fire!' The hearts of men were free; one word Their inner depths of soul had stirred; Erect before their God they stood A truth-shod Christian brotherhood, And winged with high desire. And ever with the circling flame Uprose anew the blithe acclaim:-'The righteous Lord shall thee consume, And thou shalt share the Devil's doom In everlasting fire!' MlARTIN LUTHER. I3' Thus the brave German men. And we Shall echo back the cry. The burning of that parchment scroll Annulled the bond that thralled the soul Of man to man; each brother now Only to one great Lord will bow, One Father-God on high. And though with fits of lingering life The wounded foe prolong the strife, On Luther's deed we build our hope, Having this seal-the fond old Pope Is dying, and shall die. patrek anzuliton. IN St. Andrew's grey-towered city Once was done a deed unholy, When the harsh and haughty churchman Crushed the martyr meek and lowly. Young was he, and gentle-thoughted, Blood of kings flowed in his veins; But with manly mild endurance Stout he bore the fiery pains. And he gave his life a priceless Ransom, to make Scotland free, By the faith which scorns the fagot, Bloody priest of Rome, from thee. Hoar St. Andrews, thou didst witness, When the dark-stoled priestly crew 182 PA TRICK rHAMILTON. 133 Came swift trooping, where the trumpet Of the far-feared Beaton blew. Thou didst see the mitred council Sit, and, with a ghastly prayer, Pray the God who loves his creatures To make foulest murder fair With holy names; and thou didst hear it When, instead of reasons true, Age gave grace to doting dogma, Truth was damned because'twas new. And for burning words heart-kindling, Soulless creeds were grimly read From books, that with a monstrous learning Slaved the living to the dead. They with sounding pomp disputed, Meekly he, and calmly wise; They with curious deft manceuvre, He with short plain text replies. Forth then went that calm refuter, While they muttered spiteful wrath, 134 PA TRICK HAMIL TON. And the mob, with senseless clamour, Hooted round his guiltless path. To the place of doom they led him, In his hand the holiest book; Bright the noon-day sun was shining, Brighter shone the martyr's look. To the bloody stake they bound him With strong bonds, who needed none; Freely to the fiery torture Marched the noble Hamilton. Blessings for their hateful curses He returned; his voice implored' Pardon to his stone-eyed murderers, While the blazing billet roared. God was with him in his anguish, Jesus gave him strength divine; He, like Stephen, saw the glory Through the wreathed darkness shine. And a glorious light behind him Shone —and shines-whose death made free PA TRICK HAMIL TON. I35 Scotland, spite of fire and fagot, Bloody priest of Rome, from thee! And the towers of grey St. Andrews, By the roaring German wave, While we name his name — shall teach us To be gentle, true, and brave. astar Alpitn. Non nostra irpfietas, aut actce crimina vitrc Armarunt hostes in mea fita truces, Soa fides Christi, sacris signata libellis, Quce vitce causa est, est mihi causa necis. Epitaph on Myln by PATRICK ADAMSON, Archbishop of St. Andrews. ONE breezy day, when all the sea was white With hoary crests, that rose upon the brine, Like ruffled plumes upon a fretted bird, Behind St. Andrews old grey towers I stood, And paced with pensive foot the high-raised walk, Which northward looks across the bay, to where The far red headland, eastward stretching, flouts The keen dry blast. As I was musing there 136 WALTER MYLN. i37 Of ancient times and new, bishops and priests, Martyrs and saints, and sage philosophers, And bright-eyed dames, who shine in learning's halls, Like gay birds flitting through a dusky grove; There comes before my path a little man, Smooth and close-shaven, very trig and smug, And well-appointed, not a speck of dust On all his long black coat, which down beneath His slender hams, near to his ankle fell; A snow-white neckcloth with a dainty tie Embraced his neck, whose skin was fair and fine As any damsel's:-with a simpering lisp He spake, and asked me-Pray, Sir, can you tell What man was Walter AMyln. I, like a Scot, Replied-Why ask you that? I read, quoth he, That name upon the obelisk, which stands High-perched above the benty golfing ground, And, being here a stranger, fain would know What names you honour in this Northern land; Our saints in Oxford have a larger fame, 138 WALTER MYLN. And sound through time, their own interpreter. O yes! I said, you Southern Square-caps know As much of Scotland, as a fly that's bred In a grocer's sugar-cask may comprehend Of honeyed heather and of mountain bees. Our glens, you deem, are pleasant hunting-ground For London brewers and ducal debauchees, And our fair lochs and mountains a rare show To salve blear eyes, sick with a six months' view Of peevish faces in a hot saloon! But, since your question hints some stray regard For Scottish worthies, and the sacred blood That glued the stones of our stout Scottish Kirk, I'11 tell you what I know,-though, in good sooth, Not much is known of Myln, and even that little By flippant wits is mostly overskipped, Whose eye is all for courts and cavaliers, Crowns, mitres, coronets, and gaudy crests, Stars, crosses, ribbons, painted heraldries, The pomp and flare of life; but quiet worth WALTER MYLN. 139 In strong-souled martyr, or meek-suffering saint, Like some fair flower in hollow glen remote, Finds not their roving eye. So said, I drew A circle round my thoughts, and them adjured To do their master's will.; and to the smug, Smooth-lipped Oxonian thus my tale began: Myln, like most men, in those unbookish days, Who had no taste for arms, was bred to the Church; And as our Scotland lies remote, a small Creek in the wide sea of the world, where tides Are latest felt, he sailed abroad, and spread The germing blossoms of his youthful thought, To burst before the doctors of Almayne, Most learned and subtle. There, belike, his ear Caught the first stirrings of the God-sent gale, Which, blown tempestuous from the shrilling trump Of a poor Saxon monk, smote branchy Rome With dwindling fear, and from the roots uptore Her pride o'er half the world. Thence he returned, Stirred by new thoughts, and thrilled by poignant doubts, I40 WA/L TER MYLN. To his dear Scotland, where for many years The daily offices of the church he used, And plied the faithful round of priestly service, In Lunan's sandy bay. The outward man Long time was calm; but still the ferment worked Of the new doctrine, which the times had imped Into his budding soul, and his heart swayed With strange discomfort; till his ripened thoughts Grew larger than his place, and he must burst Old bonds. of life. Then, like an embryo bird, One day-he knew not how, but God that morn Had pricked his soul-he cracked his shelly case, Claimed his due portion in a larger life, And stood a freeman in a land of slaves. Like as a man, who, in some dusty nook Of all old lumber-room, amid a heap Of yellowed papers, lavishly bescrawled With silly records of ephemeral loves, And trivial sorrows, suddenly hath spied A parchment signed and sealed, whose. stamp revives WALTER MYLAN. I4I Lost claims, his rusted right refurbishes, And makes him lord of long mislorded roods; Into new life he starts, surveys the world With bolder scope, breathes a more ample breath, And stands a peer, who late had crouched a slave: Even so this simple priest, before the power Of misvouched creeds and a mistutored church, Stood, with the new-found Bible in his hand, Which God's own finger wrote.-Forthwith he went, And preached the precious truth he knew to all, As free as he had found it; but not all Would gladly hear it. Few had wit to know; And of these few, the fewest with strong nerve Could bear the radiant truth, but dubious lived, Fearing the dark, and blinking at the day. Who flings broad truth into a falsbd age Must count his foes by thousands, and his friends By units. So, indeed, the priesthood raised About poor Myln a clattering hue and cry, As he were known a thief, and rent the ears 142 WALTER MYLArT O' the fevered time with fretful bickerment; And him at length in Dysart town-a place More bruited then than now-they rudely seized, And to St. Andrews hoary castle haled, And barred him in yon tower beside the sea, Whose dungeon yet smelt rank with innocent blood Of Wishart, and the noble Hamilton. There first with baits of fleshly lure they tipped Their churchly hooks, and promised him a stall In rich Dunfermline's abbey, there to live In fatted comfort, and to slide at ease Into a cushioned grave. But not such man Such straw might tickle. So, from prison dragged, Before the assembly of the priests he stood, Even in the pulpit of the Bishop's church Impeached of heresy; and fearless there With meek aspect fronted the proud array Of priests and bishops, priors, provosts, all The knighthood of the Pope, with motley troops Of friars, black, and white, and grey, as thick WALTER MYLAN. 143 As flies, that on a sweltering summer day Have scented carrion in a clover fieldEven in the great church metropolitan He in the pulpit stood, a weak old man, But firm, with face serene, and shaded soft With the mild dignity of fourscore years, To answer for his faith. They on a bench Sate lofty-throned, and with full lofty looks Surveyed the people, or with face composed To meek devotion, while high-vaulting pride Housed in their hearts; some only fat and dull, And gross with swinish habitude of soul, That made them grunt, when any cleanly foot Intruded on their sty. Before such court Sworn in God's name, and to their murtherous work Invoking Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Stood Walter Myln. How they accused him, what The counts of his offending, you may read In Foxe's book of gospel witnesses; How he had dared, as any creature dares, 144 WALTER MYLN. To find a mate, and mingle with his like; How he had said that bread was bread, not flesh, And wine plain wine, not very blood of God; How he declared that bishops were no bishops, Who marketed in holy things, to feed Not Christ's dear flock, but their own pride; and how From land to land he pilgrimed, not to kiss The bones of maundering monks, and patter prayers To swart-faced Maries prinked with trumperies, But with free power to preach the eternal law Of truth and love, and righteousness to men! All this he patient heard, and inly wept To think that reasoning men should reason use, To lift flat nonsense into attitudes Of lofty sense, strutting on learned stilts, And weaving curious webs of twisted phrase, Not to reveal the truth, but to conceal. Then, when their talk was done, he rose, and flung Their trivial charges from his swelling soul, Like straw before the wind; for God inspired TW ALTER MYL_/. 145 The old man's heart with breath of truth, that he, His hot youth boiling in his aged breast, Made nave and choir to ring and sound again, So stoutly he protested. Wilt thou recant. Quoth Oliphant-so hight the questioning clerkIf not, the fire is waiting; thou shalt die. Then calmly thus the old man spake: I STAND ACCUSED OF LIFE. I KNOW THAT I MUST DIE, SOME DAY NOT DISTANT. THEREFORE WHAT YOU DO, Do QUICKLY. PROVE ME. I WILL NOT RECANT GOD'S TRUTH; FOR I AM CORN; I AM NO CHAFF. NEITHER WITH WIND SHALL I BE BLOWN AWAY, NOR BURST BY FLAIL; BUT I WILL BOTH ABIDE. And so he made his brave confession, words Worth libraries of tinkling rhetoric, Words that made Scotland free, and eftsoons drave The tyrannous Pope and all his company Of mitred hirelings from our ransomed land. But first he gave, like Socrates, his life To pledge his words; and so with gore they shent K I46 WALTER MYLN. His silvery locks, and for a winding-sheet Swathed him in flaming pitch; yet not without Deep grudge of honest men. The people's heart Was sick of blood, nor wished the old man dead. The minions of the priesthood were constrainedFor none would lend a rope-to cut the cords Of their own tents, to bind him to the stake; Where being fixed, he stood like one entranced With holy rapture and serene discourse. Yet not with dumb submission died; once more, While life remained, and the keen-crackling blaze Choked not his utterance, his free voice he raised For truth and right, and God and Christ. And all The people's hearts were moved; and many weptThough tears were perilous then —and inly curst The priestly bonds they had no strength to break. And so my tale was told. I saw my smooth Oxonian friend had only half a mind To hear my story out; for these Square-caps WAL TER IAfYLN. I47 Give their free right hand to the Pope, to us With grudging grace their left; but I was pleased To blurt a dash of broad-cast Scottish truth, Athwart his lisping lips. Well, well! he says, You Scotsmen are a pertinacious brood, And have that harsh-grained stuff in you, which makes Bigots and martyrs, democrats and bores; Fitly you wear the thistle in your cap, As in your grim theology! I laughed. O we're not all so fierce! God knows, you'll find Well-combed and smooth-licked gentlemen enough In our saloons, who will rejoice with you To sneer at massive Calvin's close-wedged creed, And deem John Knox a boor, who dared to speak Truth to a pretty face topped with a crown; Who hold that preachers should, like peers, avouch Their right to preach, by links of pedigree From Paidl or Peter; whom a fervid prayer, Or a bold word turns to nice squeamishness; Who sigh for liturgies and surplices, 148 WALTER MYLN. And all the frippery of your silken church! Fear not!-the memory of our iron times Frets the fine nerves of this soft-nurtured age. Our very streets are prankt with Prelacy; The squares of breezy Edinburgh show Statues to perjured princes, men who lived Chief captains of a swinish court, and died With rotten souls embalmed in Popery. Proud monuments are piled to eternise Lawyers with supple conscience and glib tongue And frizzled kings, with never a deeper thought Than their rolled waistcoats-but you'll beat in vain Those streets to find one stone to memorise Dauntless John Knox, or faithful Walter Myln. So my Scotch bile I vented; and our ways We parted: he across the golfing ground, Whence blew the railway's screeching whistle; I To hold discourse with sage philosophers Of knowing and of being, and to feed WALTERR IYLN. r149 Mine eyes with pleasant play of kindly looks From bright-eyed dames, who shine in learning's halls, Like gay birds flitting through a dusky grove. WirJ luerzeuo ebXOoarlt.5 W ELL, friend, I see thy soul is hushed; Methought thine eye was weeping, Then when the strong-winged preacher rushed, With thunders in his keeping, Athwart thy thought. Thou doest'Tis rare that English eyes Thaw at the pulpit's potent spell; They are too coldly wise. But thou this day hast seen and felt, In worship's solemn hour, How in the rough-hewn Scotsman dwelt The Word of God with power. The original of this picture is the late THOMAS GUTHRIE, the eloquent apostle of the Ragged Schools. 150 THE GEIVEROUS EVANGELIST. 1r5I No lawn-sleeved gospeller he; no trim Vender of church proprieties, Whence delicate lips may learn to brim With nice new mixed varieties Of sacerdotal phrase. Not he, For every human need, With clipping tongue doth guarantee The stamped and labelled creed Of statutable faith; but strong In the rude strength of Nature, Amid the motley human throng, He plants his manly stature, And flings the winged Word abroad, With large and liberal grace, As one that hath conversed with God: Such glory fills his face. I152 THE GENEROUS EVANGELIST. O'tis a noble sight to see A strong fresh-hearted man, From the cramped orthodoxy free Of the square school-bred clan, Preach Christ's pure gospel! Why should men With bristling terminology Of things beyond all human ken Fence round divine theology? This man smells not of books. A green And lusty show he bears; As one whose foot hath wandering been Where vitalising airs Sweep the far-purpled hills. His God He cabins not in creeds; But feels him where the fir-trees nod, And where the South wind speeds THE GENEROUS EVYANGELIST. 153 O'er blossomy fields. In waves and winds For gospel texts he looks; And in the hearts of men he finds What no man found in books. His doctrines from the streets he brings; From ploughman's lowly cot, From proud palatial halls of kings, From dens where sinners rot In darkness and disease. He hath The wise man's art to borrow Fromn others' life; he treads the path Of each man's joy and sorrow, Even as a brother. What all feel He speaks; and all men see The thoughts their own dim hearts reveal Glow with new radiancy 154 THE GENEROUS EVANGELIST. In his strong glass. As lovers see Their wish displayed in lovers, So to each God-moved spirit he The God-ward path discovers. Would there were many such! But we By narrow walls are bounded Of sundered life: so large and free, So full, yet unconfounded, Are few. The most shape forth a shell Of narrow notions crude, And in this self-spun prison dwell, Strange to all foreign good. Dear friend, our Scotch creed is severe, I grant; but Christianity Hath found one strong mild champion here Who stirs our deep humanity, THE GENEROUS EVA NGELIST..55 And makes the blessed tears to flow, The fount of holy sorrow, Which if thou cherish well, thou'lt know A clearer life to-morrow. Thank Heaven, thou'rt richer grown this day, By one great fact at least; And all who wept with thee may say-'HERE SPAKE A GENEROUS PRIEST!9 GERMAN AIR-A/Zes SrIwrge! ANGELS holy, High and lowly, Sing the praises of the Lord! Earth and sky, all living nature, Man, the staihp of thy Creator, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! Sun and moon bright, Night and noonlight, Starry temples azure-flooded, Cloud and rain, and wild winds' madness, Breeze that floats-with genial gladness, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! BENEDICITE. I57 Ocean hoary, Tell His glory, Cliffs, where tumbling seas have roared! Pulse of waters blithely beating, Wave advancing, wave retreating, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! Rock and high land, Wood and island, Crag where eagle's pride hath soared, Mighty mountains purple-breasted, Peaks cloud-heaving, snowy-crested, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! Rolling river, Praise Him ever, From the mountain's deep-vein poured; Silver fountain clearly gushing, Troubled torrent madly rushing, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! 158 BENEDICJTRE. Bond and free man, Land and sea man, Earth with peoples widely stored, Wanderer lone o'er prairies ample, Full-voiced choir in costly temple, Praise ye, praise ye, God the Lord! Praise Himn ever, Bounteous Giver! Praise Him, Father, Friend, and Lord! Each glad soul its free course winging, Each blithe voice its free song singing, Praise the great and mighty Lord 1 am S ON of the mountain am I, Born'twixt the Earth and the Sky, Where kindly cherished I lay In my cradle of soft mossy green, Looking with, clear bright eye On the clouds that curtained the day, Floating in freakish display With cerulean glimpses between. Son of the mountain am I, Born'twixt the Earth and the Sky, Where the old grey rocks stand out L I62 TEE RIVER: AN ALLEGORY Oh LIFE.'Mid the tempest's revel and rout, Snorting with jagged old snout At the keen winds whistling by; Where the eagle spreads his van, And the white-winged ptarmigan — Fed by rich dews from the sky There an infant of might I did lie. II. Young was I, and lusty-hearted, When first from the mountain I started, Down from the Ben's grey shoulders Over the old granite boulders, Scornful of rest and of ease, Eagerly running and leaping, Scooping the rocks with my sweeping, Tearing the roots of the trees; Swelling with torrent big-breasted, Dashing with stream foamy-crested TIHE RIVER: AN ALLEGORY OF LIFE. I63 Mighty and masterful then: Heaving and hurling, Whirling and swirling O'er the harsh roots of the Ben; Foaming and bubbling, Winding and doubling Through the long stretch of the glen, So lusty was I, Son of Earth and of Sky, So proud of my potency then! III. Now I am grown to a River, With measured and equable strain Rolling my waters- and never To toss and to tumble again; I am grown to a smooth-flooded River, The mighty and merciful Giver Of wealth to the sons of the plain. 164 THE RIVER: AN ALLEGORY OF LIFE. Through meadows and terraces pleasant In triumph of culture I ride, With the home of the peer and the peasant To bless the rich roll of my tide; The firm-poised bridge I flow under, The fair-builded city I know, And spires, domes, and turrets, a wonder, Nod their pride in my glass as I go; And high-tunnelled vessels are steaming And churning the foam of my tide, And trafficking thousands are streaming With quick-eyed despatch at my side. And millions are praising the River As he regally rolls to the main, The mighty and merciful Giver Of wealth to the sons of the plain. BEAUTIFUL world! Though bigots condemn thee, My tongue finds no words For the graces that gem thee! Beaming with sunny light, Bountiful ever, Streaming with gay delight, Full as a river! Bright world! brave world I Let cavillers blame thee! I bless thee, and bend To the God who did frame thee! 165 i66 BEA UTIFUL WORLD. Beautiful world! Bursting around me, Manifold, million-hued Wonders confound me! From earth, sea, and starry sky, Meadow and mountain, Eagerly gushes Life's magical fountain. Bright world! brave world! Though witlings may blame thee, Wonderful excellence Only could frame thee! The bird in the greenwood His sweet hymn is trolling, The fish in blue ocean Is spouting and rolling! Light things on airy wing Wild dances weaving, BEA UTIFUL WORLD. 167 Clods with new life in spring Swelling and heaving! Thou quick-teeming world, Though scoffers may blame thee, I wonder, and worship The God who could frame thee! Beautiful world! What poesy measures Thy strong-flooding passions, Thy light-trooping pleasures? Mustering, marshalling, Striving and straining, Conquering, triumphing, Ruling and reigning! Thou bright-armied world! So strong, who can tame thee? Wonderful power of God Only could frame thee! i68 BEA UTIFUZ, WORD. Beautiful world! While godlike I deem thee, No cold wit shall move me With bile to blaspheme thee! I have lived in thy light, And, when Fate ends my story, May I leave on death's cloud The bright trail of life's glory! Wondrous old world! No ages shall shame thee! Ever bright with new light From the God who did frame thee! f-a i en t O. IN the beauty of life's budding, When young pulses beat with hope, And a purple light is flooding Round thought's blossoms as they ope; When the poet's song is dearest, And, where sacred anthems swell, Every word of power thou hearest Holds thy spirit like a spell; O these are moments, fateful moments, Big with issue —use them well i When a sudden gust hath tumbled Hope's bright architecture down; When some prouder fair hath humbled Thy proud passion with a frown; 109 1_70 MOME NTS. When thy dearest friends deceive thee, And cold looks thy love repel, And the bitter humours grieve thee, That make God's fair earth a hell; O these are moments, trying moments, Meant to try thee-use them well! When a flash of truth hath found thee, Where thy foot in darkness trod, When thick clouds dispart around thee, And thou standest nigh to God. When a noble soul comes near thee, In whom kindred virtues dwell, That from faithless doubts can clear thee, And with strengthening love compel; O these are moments, rare fair moments; Sing and shout, and use them well! When a haughty threat hath cowed thee, And with weak, unmanly shame, MOMENTS. 17I Ignoble thou hast bowed thee To the terror of a name; And then God holds the mirror Where thy better self doth dwell, And thou dost start with terror, And thy tears gush like a well; O these are moments, blessed moments; Weep and pray, and use them well! In the pride of thy succeeding, When, beneath thy high command, Every soul must own the leading Of thy strong-controlling hand; When wide cheers of acclamation Round thy march of triumph swell, And the plaudits of a nation Every thought of fear expel; O these are moments, slippery moments; Watch and pray, and use them well! 172 MOMENTS. When the term of life hath found thee, And thou smilest upon Fate, And the golden sheaves around thee For the angels' sickle wait; When the pure love thou achievest Doth the mortal pang expel, And a shining track thou leavest To dear friends that love thee well; O these are moments, happy moments; Bless God, with whom all issues dwell! bBRD Inot in oxrrrJ. AnK-PNreut euch des Lebens. S OW not in sorrow, Fling your seed abroad, and know God sends to-morrow The rain to make it grow! A fool is he his woe who feeds, And seeks the thorn by which he bleeds, While harmless culled from bloomy meads The rose comes to the wise! The past no prayer can bring again, The future cheats the scheming brain, The present with its golden gain Is garnered by the wise. 1 7. 174 SOw NOT IN SORROW. Let each to-morrow Do to-morrow's work with power; But he soweth sorrow Who lives beyond the hour. While mad Ambition stints his sleep, To scale the skies and plumb the deep, I trim my little plot, and reap My roses with the wise. Dreams you may borrow, From the vasty space around; My work is thorough, In my narrow bound. The Phrygian Midas prayed of old, That all he touched might turn to gold, But thus his dinner, we are told, Was lost to him unwise! SOW NOT IZN SORROW. I75 He found a sorrow Where he hoped a golden joy; From Midas borrow, And be a wiser boy! When storms with wintry muster come, And Jove beats loud his thunder drum, I sit beside the fire and hum The song that cheers the wise. Fear bringeth sorrow;'Mid the world's confounding din, Peace you may borrow From faith that's strong within! When friends are false and patrons frown, And railway shares go swiftly down, Weep not! the cross becomes a crown, By magic of the wise! 176 SOW NOT IN SORROW. Nurse not your sorrow; Though the cloud be dark to-day, God sends to-morrow The bright and cheering ray! When hireling scribes retail their lies, And keen the shaft of slander flies, I see a cherub in the skies That smiles upon the wise. Spur not your sorrow; Though the tempest rave to-day, God sends to-morrow The peaceful beaming May. When juggling statesmen trim their sails To catch a whiff from shifting gales, I wait the hour when truth prevails, And triumph with the wise. SOW NOT IN SORROW. 177 Dream not to borrow Peace from faction's battling waves; He reapeth sorrow. Who trusts in fools and knaves 1 When things once strong go to the wall, And creeds decay, and churches fall, What then? God reigns above them all, The Saviour of the wise! Why should we sorrow, When a sphere reels into night. God can to-morrow Make new worlds more bright. Thus when the world a-warring goes, No fretful thorn my finger shows, While on my breast I wear the rose, The star that decks the wise; M 178 SOW NOT IN SORROW. Sow not in sorrow; Fling your seed abroad, and know God sends to-morrow, The rain to make it grow! BREKEKEKEX! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs! How sweet ye sing! Would God that I Upon the bubbling pool might lie, And sun myself to-day With you! No curtained bride, I ween, Nor pillowed babe, nor cushioned queen, Nor tiny fay on emerald green, Nor silken lady gay, 1 Some dozen or more years ago, while living at Liebenstein, a German hydropathic establishment in Sachse-Meiningen, I took a stroll across the country on a hot summer's day; when coming near some low marshy ground I became aware of a concert of soft musical notes, floating up gently from the pools of water among the reeds. Never having heard anything of the kind before, I went close up to the brink of the water, and soon found that this most sweet discourse came from a colony of green frogs. Their music made such an impression on me, that on the way back to my waterquarters I wrote some lines as a memorandum of the event, and as a sample of the philosophy of enjoyment, in which frogs belike are sometimes wiser than men. 179 I80 THtE MUSICAL FROGS. Lies on a softer couch. 0 Heaven! How many a lofty mortal, riven By keen-fanged inflammation, Might change his lot with yours, to float On sunny pond with bright green' coat, And sing with gently throbbing throat Amid the croaking nation, Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs! Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs! Happy the bard who weaves his rhyme Recumbent on the purple thyme, In the fragrant month of June; Happy the sage, whose lofty mood Doth with fair-searching ken intrude Into the vast infinitude Of things beyond the moon; But happier not the wisest man Whose daring thought leads on the van Of star-eyed speculation, THE MUSICAL FROGS. i8I Than thou, quick-legged, light-bellied thing, Within the green pond's reedy ring, That with a murmurous joy dost sing Among the croaking nation, Brekekekex'! coax! coax! 0 happy happy frogs! Brekekekex! coax! coax! 0 happy happy frogs! Great Jove with dark clouds sweeps the sky, Where thunders roll and lightnings fly, And gusty winds are roaring; Fierce Mars his stormy steed bestrides, And, lashing wild its bleeding sides, O'er dead and dying madly rides, Where the iron hail is pouring.'Tis well; such crash of mighty Powers Must be: the spell may not be ours To tame the hot creation. But little frogs with paddling foot Can sing when gods and kings dispute, And little bards can strum the lute 182 THE MUSICAL FROGS. Amid the croaking nation, With Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs! Brekekekex! coax! coax! 0 happy happy frogs! Farewell! not always I may sing Around the green pond's reedy ring With you, ye boggy Muses! But I must go and do stern battle With herds of stiff-necked human cattle, Whose eager lust of windy prattle The gentle rein refuses. O if!-but all such zfs are vain; I'11 go and blow my trump again, With brazen iteration: And when, by Logic's iron rule, I've quashed each briskly babbling fool, I'11 seek again your gentle school, And hum beside the tuneful pool Amid the croaking nation, Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs! From the German of BARON BUNSEN: written when he was a Student at G&ttingen, in the year I8 I2, 9gth October. THOU, who of what Thou art, And what Thou dost in boundless space and time, Didst plant the thought sublime Deep in the holiest holy of my heart, That I might well employ My strength upon Thy praise, Catching some far ken of Thy glorious ways Through the long march of the uncounted days, Drunk with the fulness of exceeding joy; O draw Thou me Up to Thy world of bright unhindered sway, 183 184 THE YOUNG MAAN'S PRA YER. Me the Earth-born, and shake my vision free From mortal films that blind the face of day! O hallow Thou my heart, That I may see some part Of Thy great glory, as a mortal may! That me such blessed glimpse may consecrate Through all the stumblings of this mortal state, And float me high Above the bustle of the driving hour, Above the passion swelling with mad power, That, with unwinking eye, I may behold the surging centuries roll, Serene with stable soul, Rooted in Thee, from whom my being came, Thee, through all time unmoved, and through all change the same! And, when my thought is laden with rich store, And my heart streaming o'er THE YOUNG MAN'S PRA YER. I85 With what Thou art, and what Thou dost, O then Give Thou my tongue the liberal large employ, That what I saw. I may make known to men, Drunk with tne fulness of exceeding joy! A $ong Mv'Uhrer 1rorb. ORA RE, LAB ORARE, CANTARE. T HREE blissful words I name to thee, Three words of potent charm, From eating care thy heart to free, Thy life to shield from harm. Whoso these blissful words may know A bold blithe-fronted face shall show, And shod with peace shall safely go Through war and wild alarm. First ere thy forward foot thou move And wield thine arm of might, Lift up thy heart to Him above That all thy ways be right. 186 A SONG OF THREE WdO'RDS. 187 To the prime Source of life and power Let thy soul rise, even as a flower That skyward climbs in sunny hour And seeks the genial light. Then gird thy loins to manly toil, And in the toil have joy; Greet hardship with a forward smile, And love the stern employ. Thy glory this the harsh to tame, And by wise stroke and technic flame In godlike labour's fruitful name Old Chaos to destroy. Then'mid thy workshop's dusty din, Where Titan steam hath sway, Croon to thyself a song within, Or pour the lusty lay; 18 A.4 SONG OF THREE WORDS. Even as a bird that cheerly sings In narrow cage, nor frets his wings, But with full-breasted joyance flings His soul into the day. For lofty things let others strive With roll of vauntful drum; Keep thou thy heart, a honeyed hive, Like bee with busy hum. Chase not the bliss with wishful eyes That ever lures and ever flies, But in the present joy be wise, And let the future come! GERMAN AIR. GA UDEAM US igitur! Gaudeamus while you may! While the fleet hour lightly passes, Honest men and bonnie lasses, Breathe unchartered breath to-day! Gaudeamus igitur! He is wise who knows to prize Honest men and bonnie lasses, Kindly cheer and brimming glasses, Blooming cheeks and beaming eyes. 189 Igo90 GA UDEA MUS IGITUR. Gazidenmus! wouldst thou lightly Find the charm that saves the wise, Soar not high to realms supernal, Dive not down to dens infernal, Look a.'ound with loving eyes! Gaudeamus / stray not far! Pleasure walks in trodden ways; At thy feet the fair flower gather, Brightest where it grows the heather Purples all the Highland braes! Gaudeamus / do not puzzle, Whence or whither. who can know? Here we are with hearing, seeing, To make harvest of our being, While the summers come and go! GA4UDEA4MUS IGITUR. I9] Gaudeamus / who will show us, Quoth the Psalmist, any good? Live, and make no curious comment, Firmly grasp the fruitful moment; What thy grasp may hold is good. Gaudeamus! use the present, In the present there is power; Honest men and bonnie lasses, Blooming cheeks and brimming glasses, That's my gospel for the hour! OLD ENGLISH AIR- To Anracreon in Heaven. TO Socrates, seated in bliss with St. Paul, A club of good fellows sent up a petition, That they by his name might their brotherhood call, When this answer came down from the jolly old GrecianMen north of the Tweed, I wish you God-speed, You may borrow my name, if you hold by my creed; And this creed hath been mine, In bright union to join Religion and beauty, wit, wisdom, and wine I 192 A SOATG OF ST. SOCRATES. 193 IL I have heard in the skies that you brave Scottish men For freedom of faith nobly spread out your banners; This thing I approve; but I shake my head when They say you are sour and severe in your manners! Though the thorn with the rose You must take as it grows, No thorn without roses brings joy to the nose, And they only are wise who can cunningly join Religion and beauty, wit, wisdom, and wine! III.'Twas yesterday only, myself and St. Paul, When vespers were over, sat sipping our nectar, There came up from earth to the heavenly hall A lean-visaged fellow, as pale as a spectre; A cross on his breast, And a rope round his vest, And a skull in his hand very plainly confessed N 194 A SONG OF ST. SOCRA TES. That he knew not in mystical wedlock to join With piety pleasure, and wisdom with wine! IV. Such fellows I hate: so I said, in this place All cherubs are rosy, no seraph is yellow; We don't measure worth by the length of the face, So sit down with Paul and with me, and be mellow! With hollow surprise He broadened his eyes, And held up his hand for a sign to the skies, Showing plainly he knew not the cunning to join Religion with reason, and wisdom witn wine. V. To this self-tormentor what after befell, Who looked like a lemon, when nectar was flowing, If he went back to earth, or was trapped into hell, A SONVG OF ST. SOCRATES. 195 I really don't know, and'tis not worth the knowing. Myself and St. Paul, When on earth's cloudy ball, Were never found lagging when duty did call; We stood for our faith, where our life was the fine, Blut we never looked sour on a glass of good wine VI. And now my discourse you have heard to the end, My name you may use, and you know the condition, If wisely you temper and skilfully blend The hard-headed Scot with the quick-witted Grecian; Myself and St. Paul, From the bright azure hall, Will bring your petitions and wait on your call, And teach you to mingle in harmony fine A song with a sermon, and wisdom with wine. 'iAlways in your darkest hours strive to remember your brightest.' J. P. RICHTER. SING me a song of Summer, For my heart is wintry sad, That glorious bright new-comer, Who makes all Nature glad! Sing me a song of Summer, That the dark from the bright may borrow, And the part in the radiant whole of things May drown its little sorrow! Sing me a song of Summer, When God walks forth in light, And spreads his glowing mantle O'er the blank and the grey of the night; 196 A SONG OF SUMMER. 197 And where he comes, his quickening touch Revives the insensate dead, And the numbed and frozen pulse of things Beats music to his tread. Sing me a song of Summer, With his banners of golden bloom, That glorious bright new-comer, Who bears bleak winter's doom, With banners of gold and of silver, And wings of rosy display, And verdurous power in his path, When he comes in the pride of the May; When he comes with his genial sweep O'er the barren and bare of the scene, And makes the stiff earth to wave With an ocean of undulant green; With flourish of leafy expansion, And boast of luxuriant bloom, 19S A SONG OF SUMMER. And the revel of life as it triumphs O'er the dust and decay of the tomb. Sing me a song of Summer; O God! what a glorious thing Is the march of this mighty new-comer With splendour of life on his wing! When he quickens the pulse of creation, And maketh all feebleness strong, Till it spread into blossoms of beauty, And burst into pmans of song! Sing me a song of Summer! Though my heart be wintry and sad, The thought of this blessed new-comer Shall foster the germ of the' glad.'Neath the veil of my grief let me cherish The' joy that shall rush into day, When the bane of the winter shall perish In the pride and the power of the May. tarweXld tor $nremmm. I HEARD the whistling North wind say When it came down with power, Athwart the russet ferny brae, And by the old grey tower: I heard the whistling North wind say, Bright Summer suns no more Shall shine on Oban's dimpled bay, And green Dunolly's shore. I saw a fox-glove in the dell Beneath the crag so grey, One lonely, lean, belated bell, And thus it seemed to say: 199 200 FAREVEZLL TO SUMMER. The glory of the June is past, My purple kin are gone, And I am left a poor outcast Tp die in the cold alone! I saw the long black ragged cloud O'ercap the frowning Bens, And trails of thick blue mist enshroud The green far-gleaming glens; And thus the black cloud seemed to say, Now Summer suns are dim, The stout old Winter holds his sway, And I will reign with him. And is it so — brightest of things, God's beauty-vested Summer, Shall it depart on hasty wings That was so late a comer And I who lived with fragrant breeze, Blue skies, and purple braes, FARE WELL TO SUMMER. 201 On hueless flowers and leafless trees Must feed my widowed gaze? It may not be: up! let us go! I will not stay and look Where gorgeous Nature's pictured show Is now a blotted book. Let Nature die! She'11 live again When six dull months expire; Meanwhile against both wind and rain Heap we the blazing fire, Snug in the chambered town! and call My troop of friends together, And for six months let no word fall Of Nature, wind, or weather; And ply the work of thought or art That helps both self and neighbour, And sing with glad and guileless heart The song that seasons labour. 202.FARE WELL TO SUMMER. And bring the grey tomes from the shelves And learn strong will from Cato, And take high value of ourselves From lofty-thoughted Plato: And, while with friendly cheer we pass The rare, rich-blooded bottle, Give learned flavour to the glass By saws from Aristotle! And then we'11 talk of Church and State, And wish the hangman's rope To wed their necks to righteous Fate Who love the Roman Pope! And blame the loons who gave the sway To the mere polled majority, With clamorous yells to overbray The voice of grave authority. And then,-why then, we'1l go to bed, And wake, above all sorrow FAIRE WELL TO SUMIM4,ER. 203 Of factious brawls to lift our head, By faithful work to-morrow,Work through long weeks of blustering storm, And Winter's gloomy reign, Till the great pulse of things grow warm, And Nature lives again. And suns shall shine, and birds shall sing, And odorous breezes blow, And ferns uncurl their folded wing Where star-eyed flowerets grow; And surly blasts shall cease to bray, And stormy seas to roar On Oban's warm sun-fronting bay, And green Dunolly's shore. ,A ions a ike Contrt. Written near Witley, in Surrey. A WAY from the roar and the rattle, The dust and the din of the town, Where to live is to brawl and to battle, Till the strong treads the weak man down Away to the bonnie green hills Where the sunshine sleeps on the brae, And the heart of the greenwood thrills To the hymn of the bird on the spray. Away from the smoke and the smother, The veil of the dun and the brown, The push and the plash and the pother, The wear and the waste of the town! 204 A SONG OF THE COUNTRY. 205 Away where the sky shines clear, And the light breeze wanders at will, And the dark pine-wood nods near To the light-plumed birch on the hill. Away from the whirling and wheeling, And steaming above and below, Where the heart has no leisure for feeling, And the thought has no quiet to grow. Away where the clear brook purls, And the hyacinth droops in the shade, And the wing of the fern uncoils Its grace in the depth of the glade. Away to the cottage so sweetly Embowered'neath the fringe of the wood, Where the wife of my bosom shall meet me With thoughts ever kindly and good. More dear than the wealth of the world, Fond mother with bairnies three, 206 A SONG OF T'iE COUNJTRY. And the plump-armed babe that has curled Its lips sweetly pouting for me. Then away from the war and the rattle The dust and the din of the town, Where to live is to brawl and to battle Till the strong treads the weak man down Away where the green twigs nod in the fragrant breath of the May, And the sweet growth spreads on the sod, And the blithe birds sing on the spray. AIR-Ho! areye sleeking, Maggie? I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, In gipsy-wise a random roamer; Of men and minds I've known the best, Like that far-travelled king in Homer. But O! for the land that bore me, O! for the stout old land Of breezy Ben and winding glen, And roaring flood, and sounding strand I I've seen the domes of Moscow far, In green and golden glory gleaming; And stood where sleeps the mighty Czar, By Neva's flood so grandly streaming. But O! etc. 207 zo8 A SONG OF FATHIERLAND. I've stood on many a storied spot, Where blood of heroes flowed like rivers, Where Deutschland rose at Gravelotte, And.dashed the strength of Gaul t6 shivers. But O! etc. I've stood where stands in pillared pride, The shrine of Jove's spear-shaking daughter, And humbled Persia stained the tide Of free Greek seas with heaps of slaughter. But O i etc. I've stood upon the rocky crest, Where Jove's proud eagle spreads his pinion, Where looked the God far east, far west, And all he saw was Rome's dominion. But 0! etc. I've fed my eyes by land and sea, With sights of grandeur streaming o'er me, A SONG OF FA THERLAND. 209 But still my heart remains with thee, Dear Scottish land, that stoutly bore me. 0! for the land that bore me, 0! for the stout old land, With mighty Ben, and winding glen, Stout Scottish land, my own dear land! I. GOD save me! at last the grim waste I have passed Of a prickly scholastic theology, And now in a region I float, where religion To common sense owes no apology. But pray don't expect I shall found a new sect, No pulpit on earth I've an eye to! My new patent plan's to be merely a man, And as I was born live and die too! Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Squabbles of High Church and Low Church 210 A SONG OF FREEMASONR Y. 211'Tis my present plan To be merely a MAN, And laugh both at High Church and Low Church! I. I looked and I wondered, I battled and blundered With much metaphysical struggle, With saintly desiring, and pious aspiring, Till reason itself seemed a juggle. And now the poor swimmer, with every vain glimmer Of hope sank more deep than before, Sir! Till I fell on this notion of healthy devotion, That a man is a man, and no more, Sir! Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Squabbles of High Church and Low Church! If no wisdom you see In my masonry free, Then go to the High or the Low Church! 2I2 A SON2G OF FREEMASO0NR Y. III.'Tis new, and'tis old, to no Churchman'tis sold, This gbspel all true hearts believe it, And blessed are they,'mid the sons of the clay, Who with hearty good welcome receive it. O! seek not a spell from the dark depths of hell, Nor let not the bright starry host win you! The gospel of God is at no bishop's nod,'THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS WITHIN YOU'! Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Vain wisdom of High and of Low Church; Though the cock on the steeple Is gilt for the people, And bells ring for High and for Iow Church! IV. A: poor Arab maid may with faith undismayed, Her heart in the desert sustain, Sir! A SONG OF FREEMZASSONR Y. 2I 3 And a Christian may tread on a poor brother's head, And all for most heathenish gain, Sir! In Christian and Turk the deep Devil may lurk, In Kaiser and Tartary Khan, Sir! But I know a spell that will blast him to hell,'Tis to swear by the GOD that's in MAN, Sir! Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Harsh dogmas of High Church and Low Church. For what's in a name?'Tis smoke round the flame To bemuddle both Higlh Church and Low Church. V.'nal decrees and election I can Know as much and as little as you, Sir! But that I'm a man who can purpose and plan,'Tis true, by the Powers,'tis true, Sir! 2r4 A SONG OF FREEMASONRY. And'tis my intention, I modestly mention, To cleave to my kin and my clan, Sir! And do some small good to the brave brotherhood That graces the title of man, Sir i Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Mere quibbles of High Church and Low Church! Your wits run aground, Or in misty profound, You are swamped by the High and the Low Church i VI. My fancy bright weaves it, my firm faith believes it, The time is not far, but is near, now! When strong hearts with glee shall shake their wings free From crotchets and whims that are dear now I A SONG OF FREEMASONRY. 215 When every true man shall bless brother man By Bible-law and by Koran, Sir! And each true heart brim with free worship to Him Whose image shines brightest in MAN, Sir! Orthodox, heterodox, Luther, and Laud, and Knox, Vain squabbles of High Church and Low Church! In God and in Man I believe; but I can Subscribe to sheer nonsense in no Church! ' I will overturn, overturn, overturn it! -EZEKIEL.' Break up yourfallow ground, and sow not among tAorns.' JEREMIAH. I DID dream a bodeful dreaming; Thunders rolled, red fires were gleaming, Earth did quake. And I saw God's angel winging Earthward, earnest message bringing; Fearful in my ears'tis ringing: Thus he spake:'Rouse thee, Wrath, and be a giant I People's Will, that hath been pliant Long, too long, 216 A RE VOL UTIONAR Y ODE. 217 Up! and snap the rusty chaining, Brittle bond for thy restraining; Know the hour; the weak are reigning; Thou art strong.'Rise, and right the wrongs of ages, Balance Time's unequal pages With the sword! Velvet-cushioned fools have slumbered, Wanton weeds my garden cumbered; Now their barren days are numbered, Saith the Lord.'Hear, ye loveless, narrow-hearted, Few for whom the many smarted, Hear my word! I have heard the people's moaning, I have known the poor man's groaning, I have vowed a red atoning, Saith the Lord! 218 A RE VOLUTIONAR Y ODE.'Who have lived in pillowed pleasure, Ye shall now, in righteous measure, Eat the dust; Who beheld the bondman sallow Pine, that ye in lust might wallow, Ye shall fat young Freedom's fallow! So'tis just.'People's heroes, mountain-breasted, Looking lightnings, tempest-crested, Seize the sword Bellow with a vengeful thunder, Turn each topmost over under, Let Pride's purple minions wonder, Saith the Lord!'For their hopes a strong delusion, For their plans a dark confusion, I have stored; A REVOLUTIONA4R Y ODE. 219 Pride with folly shall be mated, Wisdom still shall come belated, Mercy shall not find the fated, Saith the Lord I'Iron men and unrelenting, Who shall do, without repenting, Deeds abhorred, For my vengeance I have chosen; Them no wheedling words shall cozen They are hard, their tears are frozen, Saith the Lord!'Sudden fear shall seize the palace; Every wile of witless malice Shall be tried. Things despised, the weak, the nameless, I will fire with fury tameless; They shall smite, themselves not blameless, Blameful pride. 220 A REVOLUTIONARY ODE.'Kings shall meet and band together, Despot spread for despot brother Solemn board. What they vow they shall pursue it, I will spur and goad them to it; They shall do; I will undo it, Saith the Lord!'March, mine elect iron warriors! Strike! and old Pride's jealous barriers Stand no more. Ye shall judge the kings with rigour, Ope the lists to strength and vigour; Earth her increase to the digger Shall restore.'Tear the patch-work, rend the rotten, Let the useless be forgotten, Earth the dead! A RE VOL UTIONAR Y ODE. 221 Time'tis none for square and bevel, Those I send shall raze and level; Terror through the courtly revel They shall spread!'Wit I sent-the fools did scoff it; Love they kilew not; now my prophet Is the SWORD. With stern hate I have begun it; When strong Love bath bravely won it, They shall know that I have done it, Saith the Lord!' Spake the God-sent, thunder-knelling, Feeble hearts of men compelling, And upsoared. I with salved sight awaking, In swift ruin's overtakinrg, In the firm Earth's fearful quaking, Knew the Lord. AIR-Vom hoh'n Olymnp I. AND is she gone; lost, lost to us for ever, Gone back to mystery and to God, And shall we look upon her beauty never, Laid'neath the cold unfeeling sod? Pour the sharp sorrow,'tis human to mourn, Never, O never, the Dead may return! II. O she was fair, to nice completeness rounded, Soft as a flower, bright as a star, 222 A DIRGE. 223 Of every diverse human good compounded, To make choice music without jar! Pour, etc. Il1. Now she is gone; Earth quits her grace for ever, And native Heaven reclaims his child, Bright mirror of the glory of the Giver, In stainless radiance undefiled. Pour, etc. IV. O my lean eyes! she's hid, she's hid for ever, Dark, dark with mystery and with God; And all my weeping can recall her never, Back from the cold unfeeling sod! Pour the sharp sorrow,'tis human to mourn, Never on Earth the lost Dead may return! Abbia ta ar fabet ltifi. tulclrt an heabing (Sollee. DEAR youth, grey books no blossoms bear; Thou hast enough of learning; For life's green fields thy march prepare, And take my friendly warning. I would not have thee longer stay, To read of others' striving; Wield thine own arm! —the only way To know life is by living. The brain's a small part of a man; Though thought has wide dominions, Thou canst not lift the smallest stone By Speculation's pinions. 24 ADVICE TO A eAVOURITE SYTUDENT. 225 Who learns an art by lifeless rule, Through mists will still be blinking; The subtlest thinker is a fool, Who spins mere webs of thinking. The times are feverish; mark me well! Have faith and patience by thee; Unless thou curl into thy shell, Thou'lt find enough to try thee. But that's a weak device. I know Thou'lt face it free and fearless; But 0! beware the greater foe, A spirit proud and prayerless! I love a bold and venturous boy, Who, full of fresh emotion, Launches with large and liberal joy On life's wide-rolling ocean. p 226 ADVICE TO A FA4VOURITE STUDENT But there are rocks; and blind to steer Were thoughtless folly's merit: Curb thou thy force with holy fear, And keep a watchful spirit. Where eager crowds contend for pelf, The seller and the buyer, Each one free range seeks for himself, And cares for nothing higher. Make honey in an ordered hive, Nor join the lawless scramble Of men, with whom in life to thrive Is with good luck to gamble. We live in days when all would climb With hot, high-strung employment; Some rage in prose, some writhe in rhyme, All hate a calm enjoyment. ON LEA VING COLLEGE. 227 Freedom's the watchword of the hour; But O!'tis melancholy When every bubbling brain has power To drown calm thought with folly! The age is full of talkers. Thou Be silent for a season, Till slowly-ripening facts shall grow Into a stable reason. Pert witlings fling crude fancies round, As wanton whim conceits them, Pleased when from fools the echoed sound Of their own folly greets them. Nurse thou, where eager babble spreads, A quiet brooding nature, Nor strive, by lopping taller heads, To raise thy lesser stature. 228 ADVICE TO A FAVOURITE STUDENT Eschew the cavilling critic's art, The lust of loud reproving; The brain by knowledge grows, the heart Is larger made by loving. All things we cannot know. At sea As when a good ship saileth, Our steps within the planks are free, Beyond all cunning faileth. So man as by a living bond Of circling powers is bounded; Within the line is ours, beyond The sharpest wit's confounded. What thing thou knowest, nicely know With curious fine dissection; The smallest mite can something show That chains thy rapt inspection. ON LEA VIiVG COLLEGE. 229 Allwhere with holy caution move, In God thy life is moving; All things with reverent patience prove,'Tis God's will thou art proving. What thing thou doest, bravely do; When Heaven's clear call hath found thee, Follow!-with fervid wheels pursue, Though thousands bray around thee I Yet keep thy zeal in rein; despise No gentle preparation; Flash not God's truth on blinking eyes, With reckless inspiration! Farewell, my brave, my bright-eyed boy! And from the halls of learning, Thy face, my long familiar joy, Take, with this friendly warning. 230 ADVICE TO A FA VOURITE STUDENT. And when with weighty truth thou'rt'fraught From Life, the earnest preacher, Think sometimes with a kindly thought On me, thy faithful teacher. qht Garben: TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY. MAIDEN, on thy father's garden Thou dost look, and thou dost see Growths of green and golden beauty Many, but their types are three; One the tree, the strong, tall-bodied, Branching forth with arms of power, One with foodful root or fruitage, One with fragrant-blooming flower. Maiden, all things are a symbol; Tree, and flower, and foodful weed Quaintly preach a pictured lesson, If thine eyes are wise to read. 231 232 THE GARDEN. Lend thy hearing; sixty summers Not in vain have wisdomed me; I will show thee what the garden Quaintly teaches me and thee. In the tree behold thy father; Strongly built is he to stand Ip the brunt of life unshaken With an eye of cool command. In the tempest's face he tosses Forth his arms; and gentle things Gather round his bole, and glory In the lordship of his wings. In the foodful herb, thy mother Finds meet symbol, by whose care All the household fed and nourished Stands so firm, and shows so fair. THE GARDEN. 233 She is toiling late and early, Working where no eye can see, Like the root,'neath earthy covert Growing healthful food for thee. And. thou, laughing Henrietta, What remains for thee? the flower; Growth the fairest and the sweetest In the green redundant bower. And the flower with fragrant blossom That so aptly symbols thee, What with pictured text it preaches Hear, thou dainty maid, from me. Youth is lovely; cherish beauty;'Tis thy dower; not in vain God with lavish blooms of beauty Spanned the slope, and sowed the plain. 234 THE GARDEAT. Goodness is the soul of beauty; Cherish goodness; it will shine Through the glooms of life the darkest, Like bright rubies in a mine. Loveliest flowers have sweetest fragrance; Let sweet fragrance flow from thee, Vivid breath of pure emotion, Flame from smoky passion free. Lowly reverence, gentle pity, Every gracious thought benign From the loving heart of woman That makes human life divine. Maiden, thou hast heard the lesson, As my tongue had strength to tell, Typed for thee, in flowery garden; Take it now, and use it well. THE GARDEN. 235 Winged words are lightly spoken, With the breath the sermon dies; But the precept of the moment Tasks a lifetime to the wise. VOULD you lead a happy life, Free from melancholy, Gnawing care and thorny strife, And plunges of blind follyI will tell you how to live Heartily and truly, With sweet honey in your hive, Like a bee in July. Like the bee, be out and work When the sun is shining, Never in a corner lurk, Whimpering and whining. 236 THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 237 If you scour the fields, you'11 find Thyme, or mint, or clover; Something to a willing mind God will still discover. When the sky is grim and grey, Though the clouds rain fountains, March; and molehills on your way Don't mistake for mountains. If a ghost beside you stand, Make no fearful comment; But face the shadow boldly, and'Tis vanished in a moment! What the folks of you may say Never mind a rattle, Spin your quiet yarn, while they Waste their wind in battle. 238 THE WISDOM OF LIFE. Lies that float on windy wings With windy haste will perish; But the seed of truthful things Time's fruitful womb will cherish. Hold your head erect, but not Haughtily, to all men; When your fair fame they would blot, Never answer small men. When they spring with hissing harm, Madder still and madder, Shake them gently from your arm, As Paul let drop the adder. Storms will have their gusty way, Fools will have their ranting; But sense outrides the roughest day, And sees the end of canting. THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 239 Wrap your mantle round your breast, And when the storm is loudest, Lightly fling your brightest jest And let your gait be proudest. Wouldst thou Truth's fair semblance see, All viewless to the rabble, Keep thy soul unbribed and free From Whig and Tory squabble; From fretful faction's hoarse debate, From foiled ambition's canker, From seas of never-ending prate, And floods of sacred rancour. Let your eye range freely round To spell the scroll of Nature; But ever with an awe profound Revere the great Creator. 240 THE WISDOM OF LIFE. Let no phrase thy wit delude, Let no dogma fetter; But though to know all things is good, To love all things is better. Wear your heart not on your sleeve; But on just occasion Let men know what you believe With breezy ventilation; Prove the good, and make them thine, With warm embrace and ample; But never cast your pearls to swine, Who- turn and rend and trample. Make a penny when you can,'Tis useful as a tool is, But who says, Money makes the man, A meagre-witted fool is. THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 241 Rich is he whose genial breast, With liberal salutation, Hath welcomed all that's bright and best Throughout the wide creation. When you've got a willing steed, Use it meek and mildly: Soon the best will slack his speed If you spur him wildly. Race not with a ramping might, Like puffy Boreas blowing; But like the glorious lord of light, Be gentle in thy going. Now my Muse must clip her wingRhyme's a fluent preacher; But how to do the proper thing Life's the only teacher. Q 242 THE WISDOM OF LIFE. Only he may know who tries; And if you now determine So to do as I advise, You ii never rue tne sermon. A BOOK WORTH READING. BLACKIE'S FOUR PHASES OF MORALS: SOCRATES, ARISTOTLE, CHRISTIANITY, AND UTILITARIANISM. BY JOHN STUART BLACKIE, F. R. S. E. PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. One volume, I2mo, $I.50. SELECTING Socrates, Aristotle, Christianity, and Utilitarianism as the four great types, Prof. Blackie shows how the theories of the ancient schools intersect the activities of every-day life, and where they fall short of meeting the demands and necessities of the human soul. The volume is remarkably clear and incisive in style, and vigorous and stimulating in thought. CRITI.CAL NOTICES. From the Boston Daily A dvertiser. The Professor succeeds in bringing out with great perspicacity the salient and distinguishing features of the four most remarkable phases or schools of moral science which have had and still have influence in determining the speculative opinions and practical conduct of the present civilized peoples. The style of these lectures is for the most part plain and always directed to the thought. From the Boston Watchman and Reflector. We regard this book of Prof. Blackie's as containing by far the ablost vindication of the divinity of Christianity which the year has produced. In the wide sweep of its thought it takes in all those principles which underlie the various forms not only of ancient error but of modern unbelief. The spirit of finest scholarship, of broadest charity, and of a reverent faith, pervades the entire book. From the New York Christian A dvocate. The author is eminently orthodox, both philosophically and theologically. ~.. It is a thoughtful work, and must prove highly suggestive of thought to all who may read it appreciatively. From the New York Examiner and Chronicle. His style is very readable, often beautiful, - at once adorning and illus. trating his themes by varied allusions to the best ancient and modern literature. From the New York Evangelist. The volume shows a large acquaintance with the subject, and is uniformly clear and often eloquent. Sent j5ost-,aid uNon receiti5 ofiprice by SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO. 654 Broadway, New York A l/ade Mecum for Young Men and Students. ON SELF-CULTURE; INTELLECTUAL, PHYSICAL, AND MORAL. BY JOHN STUART BLACKIE, PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH, AND AUTHOR OF, "4 FOUR PHASES OF MORALS~, ETC. One volume, I6mo, cloth, $I.oo. CRITICAL NOTICES. From the New York Evening Post. We cannot here particularize Professor Blaclje's precepts. Everywhere he teaches the desirableness of healthful action, of a buoyant outlooking energy. He is always fresh, never flippant, never dull. There is not a page which would not repay quotation. The reader himself must go to this little volume. It is full of excellent sense and fine suggestion. The style is forcible, simple, and elegant; the thought clear and scholarly; of the high nioral quality of the book we have said enough. Fromn the Boston Transcri5t. Prof. Blackie's little book is so full of strong Scotch common-sense and of judicious counsel in regard to the aims, studies, and habits of young men, that it ought to find its way to the library, and to the head and heart of every young man - and young woman too - in all English-speaking countries. From the CongregatioeaZist. To speak moderately, Self-Culntre is positively admirable. From the New York World. As a whole, the book is a plain and forcible statement of rather obvious truths, and it will doubtless prove of more practical service than the reader who does not himself stand in need of its aid will be at first sight disposed to think. From the Churchman. The volume is one which every young man ought to read. It sets forth in a way which no recent writer has equalled, the relations between intellectual, physical, and'moral culture, and will truly serve as a most valuable vade rmecum. From the Watchman and Reflector. This last volume from Prof. Blackie's pen, bears the marks of the same fertile thought, finished scholarship, large, earnest spirit, and strong, vigorous literary style. The book was written especially for young men, and every line is like a bugle call to all that is truly manly in the young nature. From the Christian ZnteZigzencer. Full of sensible counsel and wise suggestions for young men, especiallythose preparing for or entering upon literary or professional pursuits, on the subjects of the culture of the intellect, physical culture, and moral culture. The wisdom of Prof. Blackie's counsels consists in their common sense and practicalness, and also in their condensed brevity. Will' be sent.ost-paid on receipt of the price by the publishers, SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO., 743 & 745 Broadway, New York.