Songs and Poems

S ONG S AND POE S M ,

J O HN WA D E THIR LWA LL.

L O N D O N

IS H D BY A M U L F R E N C H 8 S T R A N D . P U B L E S E , 9 ,

u ccessor to T. I] La c . (S . y)

FR 5 a H Q ” 722 9 5 l

12 6c (13

T H E greater number of the following poems were written

and published singly , many years ago , but I have thought

it unnecessary to place them in chronological order . I

have nothing to say , as to their merits or demerits if

they do not defend themselves, they are not worth de fe n di n g . To my subscribers , whose spontaneous assist

ance has enabled me to produce this volume , I return my

Q sincere thanks,

And remain ,

Their most obedient servant,

J O H N T H IR VV L WAD E L A L .

D POEM SONGS AN S .

- R TH E D E L L B O N S T R E A M .

’ - e mbo so m d Within a wood dell ,

’ There g ush d a clear and sparkling spring ” My playmates called it fairy well ,

’ Twas b ri ght as sunbeam on the wing

The waters rose and hurried on , Some unseen power forbade their stay

’ ’ ladde n d lo o k d They g all they upon ,

’ ’ L o o k d joyous too , but rush d away . Why restless from their very birth

’ fi o n r They d nd no happier home ea t h .

’ ’ The waters ﬂow d , and twas in vain

u To arg e, or forbid their course

Each dam we built, them to restrain , They bore down with resistless force

And through the dell they singing went ,

Where wild flowers and green sedges grew ;

On some great purpose they were bent,

But what, perchance , they little knew .

’ se e m d I f so , they still to rejoice, And to the dell gave pleasant voice 2

A shining stream the spri ng 1 8 soon Its banks by bendi ng osiers lined u The waters m rmur happy tune,

- t o The willows, harp strings the wind

n o w By cottage lowly it goes, Most welcome t o the peasant born

I ts drink , the only wine he knows, That simple taste let n o man scorn

n o t Full many need now repine, Had they but known n o other wine !

N o w u o r troubled is that stream f ll s e , Mid rocky hills its cou rse doth lie

’ u ri o er The r gged fts now struggling ,

’ e r Now tumbling o the chasm high .

The thunder rolls, the lightnings ﬂash ,

The rain pours down , and from each height The torrent roars with angry dash Where is that stream so glad and bli ght !

o n The drumly waves hold apace ,

- The dell born stream , ah , who can trace

’ alt e r d Though , still it doth not cease, But wanders on to ﬁnd a home

Earth will not give the waters peace ,

’ A bso rb d o r fed they still must roam

It gains the Open sea at last,

And trackless then to human eye, All record of its fate is past ,

’

die . Tis gone , and yet it cannot

Within that open , solemn sea ,

- The dell born stream must somewhere be .

Oh life is like that pleasant spring , No human fo rce its ﬂight can stay

m e n For , borne on rapid wing , And who can tell to whence away f The lowers that on its pathway grow , Are only for a moment know n

w The brightest moments it can kno ,

’

A re f . almost ere they re counted, lown

Eternity , the awful sea ,

’ o e r Where life seems , though still it be

THOU H O M E O F MY C H IL D H O O D .

Thou home of my childhood , for long years forsaken ,

8 0 c learly remembered , I come unto thee ,

With joy and with reverence , yet bitter thoughts waken ,

’ A home t ho u rt no longer to mine and to me

s ri n kt The Green , p with kingcup and daisies before me, Where Summer ﬁrst wooed my frail footsteps t o stray

’ But where are the arms, o er each hollow that bore me , The loved and the loving All faded away ! 4

’ Our garden s unchanged and the rose -tree is blooming

I planted with pride and with glee when a bo y ;

t he o r Then far away roaming, sky bright glooming ,

o My mother would tend it, her sorrow, her j y ’ Yo n fo rm d rudely stile, fringed by ash and by willow,

r i Was framed by Auld Johnny, sho t time ere he d ed

o f l I knew not death , and when borne from his pi low , ’ — I m arve lld and thought he turned towards me and

sighed .

How little is changed ; all around the same ﬂowers, The o ak and the elm spread their arms as o f yore

’ Warkw o rth s The blue sea is rolling by grey towers,

l o n And white bi lows ﬂash , as they break the shore

! o f And oh how sublime is the roar that ocean ,

’ I s Tis wonderful still , can li t as a child ;

’ And so it will be, when life s wilder emotion , d u . I s stilled , and my steps can no more be beg ile

’ f I gaze on our cot, till my heart s hal believing The walls teem with gladness and welcome me here

’ d t o c leav Thou home of my chil hood, my heart s thee

ing , be The days of lang syne , ah , must ever dear

’ t ho u rt To strangers given , my kindred departed , L ike leaves in the keen blast of Autumn they fell

o ld And I , and feeble , and half broken hearted ,

e re Have come, I die , but to bid you farewell I D

S O N G O F TH E FAT E S .

Seasons come, seasons go ,

Rest we not , night or day

s Re t alone , can we know

’ When all time s past away ; For the Fates never sleep

And the Fates never slept ,

They have seen the world weep , The Fates never wept

Spin the thread , sisters mine,

Coarse and strong , frail and ﬁne .

Mark , this frail thread is new , ’ Tis a life j ust begun

Joy from nations is due , ’ Tis a monarch ’ s one son Their rejoicings are deep

But this ﬁbre is thin ,

The nations must weep ,

’ Cut the thread , twill not spin .

Twist and twine , twist and twine,

fi . Coarse and strong , frail and ne

’ ’ Here s a starved miser s thread ,

Weak is he , weak and old,

Heart he has, all but dead, Panting only for gold 6

r L ove and f iendship unknown, Hoarding o n through long years

F o r himself lived alone,

t o t o . Dead smiles, dead tears ! Cut the thread sister mine,

o r o r . Coarse strong , frail ﬁne dl See, these threads fon y blend,

u Spin them well , spin them tr e

t w o rt There , fond hea s depend,

so . Hopes so bright, joys new And their hopes—must they fade — And their j oys must they di e

’ Twas to mourn they were made, We o u r task but to ply

Twist and twine, twist and twine ,

Coarse and strong , frail and ﬁne .

TH E SHADOW ON TH E B L IN D .

The sky all darkness, the unquiet wind

N o w ﬁt ful darting from its airy bed,

Bounds like a deer when hunters are behind, Now pillows o n some grassy knoll its head

n o t It is storm , a calm appears still less,

’ N o r war nor peace but like a lover s heart

When love and jealousy together press,

o ne to The heal , the other rend apart t l And One , amid e darkness and the wind ,

o . Stays , watching yonder Shad w on the Blind

The light within doth taunt the sullen night

What comfort , what content that window beams ;

The Shadow , now gigantic , and now slight ,

N o w - dreamy , now an angel outline seems And underneath that dark funereal pine

d - Whose nod ing , hearse like plumes so rise and fall ,

The youth remains does hope within him shine , O r hopeless love his drooping heart enthrall !

What sympathy , what comfort can he ﬁnd,

n I n watching yonder Shadow o the Blind .

u The g sty breeze doth fold its wings in peace, A voice melodious charms Night ’ s listening ear

No wonder all discordant things should cease,

’ Tis from yon window I the music hear :

The casement opens , and a gentle face Looks through the darkness up into the sky As if her glance could reach the throne o f grace

- s . The angels, the immortal blest de cry

— o The youth doth kneel g , shield thee from the wind ,

n o o n The light is gone, Shadow the Blind . 8 TH E LAST OW L O F KI R KSTAL L

f l The moonlight grey on Kirkstall e l ,

All at the midnight hour,

w ild The wind shook the rusted bell , High in the crumbling tower ” ho o Hoo, , the lonely owlet cried, From a tomb defaced and o ld ; ” H o o h o o o f , , the vaults death replied,

And the wind that whistled cold . ! And hark with solemn dreary sound,

“ From yonder cloisters wide,

A choral chaunt doth swell around,

And hooded spectres glide .

Still by that ancient, nameless tomb,

The o w lhoots o n amid the gloom .

Says Frederique, my weapon true Shall tame that creature ’ s pride

o r vo w And be it ghost bird, I , ” n o t It shall there abide,

F lash went the steel , the bullet sped,

The sh rieking o w lupsprang ;

o f r The walls Kirkstall shook with d ead ,

Sepulchral echoes rang .

’ L eo da s bell afar doth toll The midnight hour in vain 9

n o t It brings back the lonely owl , And shadowy spectre train

The wind alone through Kirkstall walls, Is heard at dead o f night

Save when some carven fragment falls,

Time trod o n in his flight .

r But why is F rede ique so pale , Why gleam his eyes so wild

’ His infant s laugh to charm doth fail , He smiles not on his chi ld

a All human hopes, all hum n fears , Have ceased to touch his heart To win him back to smiles or tears

S ur ass p e th mortal art .

And o ft he seeks the abbey gloom

ﬁn d And fainly would he , The o w lupon its ancient tomb

Wail to the wailing wind .

w o e But what him ails, or what his ,

n ot Man knows , and can never know

TH E H O UN D AND TH E HO RN .

Arouse brother sportsmen , to horse , and again

’ Sweep o n like a whirlwind o er mountain and plain

’ arn er d The grain it is g the sky bright and clear,

S o a th - hurr h for e chase and t he ﬂ e e t footed deer . lO

“ ’ ho w lo n d fo r Amid fashion and pomp I g the morn ,

That should bring the glad music o f hound and o f horn ;

o f o ld l d With the bold merry hearts the Eng ish bree ,

E ver ready to ﬁght for their country and creed .

Trala t rala m o m la , la, come awaken the

- f f With the soul thri lling music o hound and o horn .

The breeze freshly blows and the dew glistens bright,

’ The hounds bay impatient, the lark gins his ﬂight ;

- as al The mist steals away from the green bre ted v e,

t Tis a morn o f all others true hearts love o hail .

“ Thus my fathers of o ld called your sires from their rest

t o Whether battle or chase, it was j oy their breast

’ -ho n o u r d o ft And those time walls have rung to the cheer, f r ﬁ o o f . When they met the ght, or the chase the deer

T rala t rala la, la, come awaken the morn

o f f To the soul thrilling music hound and o horn .

The time will arrive too, when we must give place,

And those plains cease to ring with o u r glad horn o f chase ;

so And the knight and the squire and the yeoman tall ,

Be deaf to the horn , unaroused by the call

’ ’ revelld So be it, we ve in sunshine so bright,

’ o n When day s the wane , never shrink from the night k The sons that we cherish will eep up the game,

Their forefathers honour, and rival in fame .

T rala t rala la , la , come awaken the morn

- With the soul thrilling music of hound and of horn . 1 1

S S C H R lT M A .

Come in , Old Christmas , through the changeful year,

N o o visit r more welcome, or more dear

L ike an old cloak , we cast away our care

To welcome thee , a blessing everywhere ’ Twould be a sin to harbour one regret

a e are st o r . When thou pp , none should sigh fret

We see the grey , grey beard , the reverend head ,

The wrinkled temples , with scant locks bespread ,

The smile so bland , good nature in each line ,

Religion , peace and love , in love combine

We bow to thee , not as a monarch crowned

B ff . y fond a ection , loving duty bound

When ﬁrst we saw thee , in our early day ,

Thou wert as now , gave hearts their kindest play ,

I n thee is mingled sage and hopeful boy,

’

o f w . The brow Wisdom , brightened o er ith with joy

When age is genial , kind , and memory green ,

No source of greater happiness hath been .

m The spring giv es pro ise , growing summer warms ,

And autumn ripens , through rude blasts alarms ;

But thou art perfect , storm or calm the same , We know thy worth in naught art thou to blame

O r blinding sleet , or snow , or biting blast,

t . Come in , Old Christmas, all our hearts hou ha st 1 2

’ Time s mirror, memory, is ever by,

’ ho w so e er t r We cannot veil it, we y, And in it stealthily will ever peep

’

o e r . Past years, and its truthful surface sweep

Their well remembered features make us glad , Although the light o f j o y gives shadows sad

o ld d We see friends, the frien s we loved the best,

w ho to Friends have done their work , and gone rest,

’ n o t Our labours are closed, life s duties still

o u r l Our energies require , heart, and wi l

n o t We may throw o ur sword and shield aside ,

Because some brother o n the ﬁeld hath died .

While Heaven doth grant us time , we still must ﬁght

F o r fo r life, honour, recognition , right

Unto ourselves, at least, we should be true ,

’ o u r . Altho the hounds, in full cry , meet view

’ so It would be strange , but that tis always ,

’ chiefe st o in o f w o e Man s j y, hath still a t ge

I Christmas meet, with heart full well inclined, The bo w o f care and sorrow t o unbind

' o e co ﬂ e rs o f o I p the shining my j y,

Out glide pal e phantoms that would all destroy . Begone reﬂection welcome Christmas dear

T o . all the world, a blessing , and good cheer

1 4

And fancy on the rayless sky ,

His cottage home doth fondly trace,

s He hears the mu ic of each voice ,

D wells lovingly on each dear face . Still doth the Sentinel prepare ” And night aff right with Who goes there 9

Brave soldier, thus confronting fate ,

v No moment sure, he ne er quails,

So long as he has limb and breath ,

Our brave defender never fails :

’ His country s honour still he guards,

Counts odds as nought, braves every foe ; The British soldier should have friends

In all that British freedom know ;

f s When age and suf ering how the wear, None should be blind to Who goes there

TH E AU L D WI F E .

The auld wife sits by the ﬁre,

w When inter nights are lang,

And aye , as she turns her wheel ,

She croons some auld Scotch sang .

The wheel , with a birr and a hum , Gaes round as she plies her rock

fi The grey cat purrs by the re,

And tick tac goes the clock . 1 5

The auld wife ance was young , As each auld wif e has been But mickle of joy and sorrow Cam youth and age between

Now she talks and she sings of old times ,

’ n ae bo d s When y bye to hear,

And sometimes the auld body laughs ,

And sometimes she drops a tear .

blt he so me She thinks of the y time , When young herds cam to woo

Alack cries the silly w ife ,

’ Wha d think to see me noo She thinks of the merry bells That rang when at kirk she wed And then of the mouldy stane

’ That haps the guid man s head .

My puir old man is gane , d His bairns have cease to weep ,

’ And sac twill be with me When I sleep the kirk - yard sleep ;

Bells for bridals will ring ,

The auld gie place to the young ,

Summer will come and go ,

’ And auld wives sangs be sung .

Yet still does she srt by t he fi re When w inter nights are lang 1 6

And aye as she turns her wheel , She croons some auld Scotch sang

- o f ul And she talks and she sings a d times,

’ n aebo d s t o When y bye hear,

And sometimes the auld body laughs,

And sometimes she dr ops a tear .

A L L Y MAL O NE .

Night comes in tears, cold gusts are sweeping ,

’ O er the wide waters and mist-shrouded plain

e Weep murky skies, weep with my we ping,

o n Wail ye cold winds, and join my sad strain

Soon shall my voice and my wild harp be silent, A Ithat gave life t o their music has ﬂown

I loved thee dearly , truly , sincerely,

But thou hast left me , sweet Ally Malone .

L oud blows the wind, but in its closes

’ Mirt h s joyous shout from yon cabin doth swell ;

F riends in whose bosoms, bright honour reposes,

L ong may you happy be , true hearts farewell

w as Once in your sports and your mirth I foremost,

Now I am hopeless, complaining alone ;

Joy all forsaking , this fond heart breaking ,

All for thy sake, faithless Ally Malone . 1 7

Green I sle farewell , mountain and valley, Winds and wild waters soon bear me away

n o On thy loved shores, longer I dally ,

Bright hope hath ﬂown , despair hath its prey

r o n Mid darkness and sto m , the shelterless desert,

My heart, with love throbbing , is ruthlessly thrown

no w i But we are part ng and parting for ever,

Be thine my last blessing , false Ally Malone .

SUSPENS E ; A S K ETCH F ROM L I F E .

Will the Postman never come !

’ I ve listened anxiously since morn ,

hO e o ft Sometimes with p , but forlorn , His quick rat - tat t o hear

- The hour glass never seemed so slow, l The sluggish sand forgets t o ﬂ o w ; —I The clock watch its silent face , Each quart er seems an hour to trace Will the postman never come P

Your answer shall I never have

Dear Ellen , wilt thou be my wife ! On that depends my joy , my life

o r ! Shall I be wretched , most blest ’ Will she be m i ne I lo ve the best 1 8

The postman soon my fate reveals,

’ Tho he n o w o e o r transport feels

’ N o d! N O answer, and I m answere , And I must every hO pe forego Will the Postman never come !

- I hear his rat tat now afar,

o f I t comes like distant sound war, Be still my heart—does fortune lour

Oh , dread suspense , distracting hour

’ ’ He knocks no, tis my neighbour s door,

Now blest am I , or hope no more

’ He comes, and o er his precious stock He casts his eye—and will not knock

ru The c el postman hurries on ,

And with him all my hopes are gone .

TH E TWO LAMPS .

Give me the lamp I would explore, The silent region of the past

’ And ere my graveward march is o e r

A glance where I have trodden , cast .

I t seems a desert bare I trace,

All but in v ain my footprints seek ,

’ Tho here and there, a peopled place,

’ ‘ The lamp of memo ry s dull and weak . 1 f)

llit I gaze , years oblivious by ,

Friends rise , their history half forgot ,

Now misty groups arrest the eye ,

ho w . Where known , named , recorded not

Each day , forgotten as it ﬂows,

’ Each joy forgotten when tis gone,

But conscience, keener, stronger grows

And ever at the heart beats on .

e X lo re Give me the lamp I would p ,

’ The Future , and Hope s lamp is bright

It lights me to a happy shore ,

Where discord ends, friends reunite,

Then trim the boat with honest care,

Adown the stream of life to glide,

Let truth unsullied steer us fair ,

We heed n o t storms with such a guide .

F TH E HA RP O I SA B E L L E .

Who wakes the Harp of Isabelle,

Now that Isabelle is dead , And ﬂowers are springing o ’ er her head

It is her lover, sad and pale,

Whose numbers to the midnight wail ,

His quenchless love, undying grief,

Thus lind in living sound relief. 2 0

w ho Ah would rest with Isabelle,

N o w that Isabelle is dead, And ﬂowers are springing o ’ er her head !

It is her lover there would lie,

’ ldi e Should fate him call , he d glad y

More dear to him her ashes cold,

w o , Than life and fame , than cro ns and g ld

o f He wakes the Harp Isabelle,

li wed o n air The lays she are the ,

u d Angelic murm rs tremble roun , The voice o f Isabelle seems there I

Revisit not this cold dull earth , Return unto thy world so bri ght

o f Whilst I remain , the thought thee,

’ ” l . Will make e en sorrow , fu l of light

TH E COTTAG E GA RD EN .

In a garden rich in roses,

Freshest green , and fragrant posies,

o f Stood the dwelling a maiden ,

o f i v - Walls white , some y laden Oft her bloomy treasure tendi ng ’ i I ve beheld her graceful wend ng,

She , the garden most adorning ,

F resh and f ai r as summer morning .

2 2

Above my window once a swallow came, With patien t labour fashioned forth a nest ;

I marvelled such weak architect could frame, A home so perfect fo r her weary breast i f My pry ng gaze at irst her fear awoke , i That vanished soon , and I might watch at w ll

’ d o er Methinks she rea the thoughts that me broke, Believed the bo y would guard and never kill ;

’ rear d Within that nest she her young with care,

’ And oft the c aptur d ﬂy to them would bear.

m Thus went the sum er with its ﬂowers and light, Thus went th e summer seeming but a day

ri Time is most ﬂeet when hearts and homes are b ght,

ri o n t o a . When heavy g ef comes , he seems st y ’ a ear d As autumn laden with ripe fruit pp , i i My winged fr end had more fam liar grown ,

’ s Would by me weep when at its home I peer d, Or w iedi ng through the ﬁelds and lanes alone

’ But rude and keen came winter s herald blast,

’ And o er the scene blank desolation cast

’ shi ve r d r d The forest , leaves like ain rops fell , Thro ’ naked branches shrieked the cruel win d

The swallows, heaven directed, knew full well , A f ar o f sunny clime they no w must find 9 - 30

F rom every quarter came they numbers vast ,

Excited twittering , greeted as they met ,

And when my swallow swept the window past ,

The last time ah I never can forget ; d On , on they sail d upon the wil wind free ,

’

o e r . Out the Open sky , the Open sea

al A star had f len from my little sky , A tear had dimm ’ d where joy was bri ght before

The lonely nest deserted caught mine eye, I never thought to see its tenant more

Bleak winter past when spring rose from her sleep ,

With buds profuse , sweet airs, and grasses new ,

’ o e r As mor ning ﬂung her blushes the deep , I heard a sound—the bird could it be true I Ope ’ d the window twittering there with glee

The happy swallow, back to home and me.

TH E RAI N.

The midnight darkness shrouds the dismal sky,

N o O f rays light through clouds a loophole ﬁnd,

Bright ﬂashes only light the lonely scene,

Revealed , then swallowed by the dark profound l The hack , the carriage , hurried y sweep by,

o r o f H ome, a shelter , thought every mind,

The dreadful thunder, silence deep between ,

- The heavy rain drops from the pavement bound. 2 4

r l Poor ragged sta velings hudd e there,

To l rm shield them from the ruth ess sto ,

Forgetting all their heavier care ,

’ Tho hungry, houseless is each form

T o o f add to such a load woe,

l r Seems need ess, c uel deeper still ,

o However deep , may misery g ,

i . And darts more keen , than those that k ll

And can it be that gilded car, Those trappings bright of rank and power

n o t Can even they tempests bar, Must they endure this fearful hour !

o f i The lightning , thunder , ﬂoods ra n , Alike o n p ri nce and outcast fall ’ t i n o t F or all ear h s kings w ll refrain , ” There is One Kingdom over all .

o f The earth was thirsty, and the food man , And bird and beast was witheri ng in the sun The herald o f a famine that had swept

From earth the things that graze, and those that creep

ai r The fowls that roost, the birds that cleave the , i The ﬂowers that make earth lovely , all had d ed,

r The roots and f uits, the green refreshing grass,

o ﬂ l Must all have perished, from the land cut

But God in mercy sends this plenteous rain ,

To ra s plump the wasting grain , make g s es grow ,

’ And Nature s granary with abundance store . 2 5

F o r u l r u s ch a blessing all shou d thanks et rn ,

Although a dripping cloak or skin they mourn .

- TH E BI R TH DAY C L UB .

r In Birmingham choice spi its meet,

Beneath a goodly roof ; l And night y they each other greet , From meaner souls aloof f By friendship and af ection bound, They seek n o higher range

A happier band was never found ,

t They cannot wish o change .

o f d ub For want better name, they

- Their brotherhood, the Birth day Clu b .

o n da Each member, his natal y,

A baron o f beef must give ;

’ And furnish else , whate er he may, l il . The ru e, wh st he doth live

’ The baron s bone is painted then , As black as nigger’ s face

And hung up in the gaze o f me n

- t o The court yard walls grace .

t o And happy he , allowed dub

H i rrise lf o ne o f - , the Birth day Club . 2 6 F ull many baron ’ s bones are hung Upo n those dreary walls

And time has many changes rung, For he most varied falls Some brethren can their baron ’ s count

t o From youth , decent age ; The fate Of some could not surmount

’ n The ﬁrst bone o life s page.

t o They lived a year, their names dub

i r f - As b et hren o the Birth day Club .

O n winter nights the cruel blast, With rattle and with creak

’ ho n o ur d Pours t hrough these relics fast, And no w they moan and shriek And shadowy forms are seen t o ride Upon the angry wind ;

’ o er These relics sweeping with pride,

Or greeting them mos t kind .

’ i w ho Tis sa d, and the thought would snub,

They once were Members o f the Club .

’ o n e Tis true, each year some departs, Another takes his place

T he missing , dear to many hearts, N one new can quite eﬂ ace 2 7

But still the circle is the same,

There is n o empty Chair ; ’ c Some one s ac epted, who can blame, — He may be less more rare .

He gives his baron , and doth dub

n f - Himself o e o the Birth day Club .

I chanced to see those dreary bones, And asked why there they hung

Their history , told in j ocund tones,

I se ri ously have sung :

’ o f w oe The milestones man s joy and ,

’ ’ As those dark baron s see m d

u o f ﬂ o w Made tho ghts other days to ,

’

N ow beam d . storms, now sunshine

’ ’ n o w ri And twas t umph , now twas snub,

all - With , as with the Birth day Club .

’ o u r Whate er circle, we have found So me diamonds drop away i But st ll , as human we are bound To gems o f living ray m We may not like the quite as well , But can ’ t bring back the dead

’ o u r Whate er regrets bosoms swell ,

Restores not blossoms shed . L o n g life and happiness to those that dub

rt - Them brethren of the Bi h day Club . 2 8

MUSI C ON TH E WATE R .

On the calm river at the midnight hour,

o ur a l We spread s i , but slumbering was the wind

I t scarce had stolen perfume from the ﬂower, And so o ur boat was t o the tide resigned

’ o n see m d I t glided , the river asleep ,

And in its dreams a gentle murmur gave,

The moonbeams faintly through a haze would peep ,

’ The water scatt er d pearls in each faint wave ;

o f Not pearls alone, but gems every hue,

’ More rich and strange than any earth e er knew .

o ur i a ou r Time takes memor es as it t kes years, I hold slight recollection o f o ur crew

o n e But there was , fond memory still reveres,

li e I know not why, time passed her as ﬂew

I think I hear her now, awake the song

r I n that calm night upon the d eamy tide,

Now low and sweet, empassioned now and strong , Her fi ngers tinkling the guitar beside

A living soul seemed born in every tone,

’ Twas worth a life those moments to have known .

’ veild Her dark eyes now were , now ﬂashing light, i And when she ceased to sing , the heart was st ll ,

n As when we gaze o sunset splendour bright, fi Then nd clouds gather, evening dark and chill

3 0

’ r But Time s a iver ever ﬂowing,

E ver coming , ever going .

Poor child, he only knew the spring,

With bud and blossom in its lap ,

He beauty saw and not its wing , His heart knew n ot Of Care the tap

The sky was bright and beautiful ,

His heart beat light with health and joy,

u He saw some wights, careworn and d ll ,

And wondered, being but a boy .

n ot He knew time was ever ﬂowing ,

Ever coming , ever going .

At length , when day was nearly done, He rested by a river strong

ati ue d w on F g , the ﬂowery wealth late ,

He threw, the wave bore it along Fleet glided o n e by o n e away

- The blue bell , violet and rose

I n vain regret they cannot stay, And are life ’ s blossoms borne like those 9 n He half imagi ed time was ﬂowing,

E ver coming , ever going . The sunset glory roused anew

His energy and wonder great,

o r A nd up he sprang, and ran ﬂew Up to the hill with j oy elate 3 1

o f What palaces , what hills gold ,

What heavenly splendour greets his sight,

But ere the treasure he had told,

It faded into gloomy night .

u He fo nd that Time was ever ﬂowing ,

Ever coming , ever going .

R A * V E N S P U R N .

Mid clouds of varied hue ,

Red , orange , purple, grey , and green and gold,

The sun went down , and moaning winds blew cold, And o n my mantle heavy fell the dew The breakers on the shore

’ ro ar d r Now sullen , now came with ang y sweep

’ f a o Blue mists a r, m ved slowly o er the deep ,

’ ceas d The white sea gull had to scream and soar .

Thus gazing all alone, fi A gure from the tumbling breakers strode,

I n raiment quaint and dark , that lustrous glowed ,

And mournful , rested on a weedy stone .

’ My wonder ban ish d fear

’ o e r ff Out the pathless cli away I found ,

’ Despite the lo o se n d stones that threatening bound

The vision spake , and I was by to hear

o o n t he co a o f o de e w a ed w A p rt st H l rn ss , sh a ay by th e a It s s e n o w o m t w o to t e se a l o n g go . it is fr hr e m il es f rom

th e sh o re . 3 2

R aven s u rn The sea rolls over p ,

’ ’ o e r O er all I loved , all I mourn

r w Five hund ed years have passed a ay,

t o - And yet my fault is green day .

And ages rise and fall like waves, Great men spring up t o ﬁll their graves

r And yet my fault I still must mou n ,

’ R ave n s Tho seas roll over purn .

My love was beauteous as the day,

u She trusted, how co ld I betray ; f Unworthy I to ill a grave , F ar too unworthy grace to crave

’ o e r She was an angel , her light I spread a darkness and a blight

My fault I evermore must mourn ,

’ Tho seas roll over R ave n sp u rn .

The greenwood where I vowed t o love

’ so re i st er d That vow g above,

n o w I must seek within the sea,

’ Alack , that e er she trusted me .

o u r The ocean hides meeting place, But never can her wrongs eﬂ ace

di e The ages , I still must mourn ,

R av n s u n And seek her grave in e p r . s With solemn tep , and slow ,

’ o e r the The mourner wild waves went ,

To so seek his love, injured bent,

’ Dee p in:the ocean s ﬂow His words should warn us all

Be t o w ho s kind and true those tru t ,

to t I f ourselves we would be jus , Lest such o ur fate befall

A MUS I NG S A FTE R A M Y S HOWE R .

i The genial ra n with sunshine mingled fell, And balmy freshness breathes from hill and dell

Each leafy bough with beaded diamond gleams,

And t o the grove attracts the glancing beams ;

t o o n i That ﬂash from sky earth w ng so light , F leet fancy ’ s eye can barely trac k their ﬂight

’ i s—o ne l Now gild ng cloud eap , they re on the stream ,

’ i o e r r Or break ng the plain , blooms winter d eam

rt So glad and gay of ea h alone might be, ’ l Joy s youthfu spirit from its earth set free ,

These tender ﬂowers , now gazing on the sky,

Drooped o n their beds until the rain went by l Their blossoms shut, w ith thoughtfu , loving care ,

As parents guard their blossoms, maidens fair

’ B u t f now , as if rom parent s counsel given,

The gratef ul bells look up in prayer to heaven . 3 4

w ho t o l And presumes say they cannot fee ,

’ That j o y and sorrow o er them cannot steal ! ’ Refrain Creation s ever wondrous book ,

’ Hath meanings fathomless, howev er we look

’ ri t o Man s vaunted reason vainly st ves form,

o f A simple blade grass, a mite, a worm

a Conj ecture blindly takes a le den ﬂight,

ro slrate And soon is p , helpless, lost in night. d The ﬂowers perchance a gla ness pure may know, When skies are bright and gales refreshing blo w

o f i to The matin song b rds them be sweet, And murmur o f the streams around their feet

’ o e r The dew that glistens them gives a charm, f The herald gu sts o storm excite alarm .

o f f The trembling air may have a sense li e,

t ri That smoo hes in calm , and chafes in tempest st fe,

Each sound that stirs its unseen plumage known ,

’ t o r From j o y intense sor ow s tearful tone .

The wanderer as he tracks the barren moor,

Who sees the future dark and stormy lower,

May err but little , deeming spirits nigh ,

Who fo r . with him mourn , and echo sigh sigh

The thunder rolls, the heavy rain comes down ,

Swift, herd and ﬂock , forsake the heather brown ,

o n But he , unfed, unsheltered , must roam ,

h no And in the blast still ears, home, no home M I DNI G HT .

’ - n o The city , like God s acre , showed sign ,

The vane upon the steeple was at rest,

o f n o r The calm sleep , like death ipple had ,

un O re st The mourner, toiler, slumbered pp Perchance ambition fed the midnight - lamp

’ w ho fo r With some poor student s life , yearned

’ t hro bb d o ut Perchance a broken heart its last,

The end of one, who vainly sought a name ,

Of such the Angels may a record keep ,

’ Such common things di sturb no city s sleep .

o f The lowly shed, the mansions the great, Were undi sturbed as lake when winds are still The Monarch only in his gorgeous halls

Unsleeping , sleepless, nursed his stubborn will

His subjects, heedless of his Right Divine,

Refused the crushing of his iron heel ,

Had dared to think , nay more , to think aloud, As if the canaille had a right t o feel

N O wonder passion scared dull sleep away,

And left Revenge and Fear to goad and sway .

Down Constitution , Press, and people down

’ - I ll have no traitor pen , no babbling tongue ,

The chain of silence settle on their soul ,

Or other chains around them shall be ﬂung . 3 6

What sounds are those beneath my palace walls

i —n ow L ke clashing timber the hammers ring ,

ff d fo r ! A sca ol , and me Vile slaves, begone ’ ' Y o u c an not hang the L ord s anointed king

n ot They heed , and their horrid hammers ply ” b t o di e ! A monarch , like a peasant ase,

i u n re en t en t Thus rag ng , fearing , p still ,

t o fro Distraught , his room he paces and i Believ ng men but as his slaves were made,

n o ill He knows more , and nothing more w know ;

o f The ring iron and the duller wood,

Still sta rtli ng fall on his di sturbed ear ;

He looks into the cold light of the moon ,

ff r Beholds a sca old, hears his slayers nea .

The night is clear and calm , no hammers ring,

’ Tis but the stirring conscience o f the King .

TH E WOOD LA ND FAI RI E S .

t I n the fragrant bells tha untended grow,

t he o r On woodland steep vale below , We hide from the glare o f the noon -day

And sweetly sleep till the day is done,

When evening with her mantle grey,

v Recei es the parting glance of day ,

3 8

’ ENG LAND S B RID E .

‘ ’ mo m o er In her beauty and youth , like the the sea, Comes the Daughter o f Denmark t o England the free

o f And sounds rejoicing awake through the land, F o r beauty and worth every bosom command

o f The harp and the voice the minstrels resound,

’ ri Through England s ch valleys and uplands around,

’ i o f i From the bleak h lls Wales, and from Er n s bright

shore ,

Come welcome and blessing from ri ch an d from poor .

’ S O o o f o er c me maid Denmark , like morn the sea,

T o ri f ! thy new island dwelling , B tannia the ree

N O so o r so fi bosom dark narrow we nd,

One feather O f di scord t o cast o n the wind ;

o ur o u r or What matter clan , Opinion , caste, The proudest that puffs is but man at the last

fo r alli f At least, the time let d f erences sleep,

’ r Should they ne er wake again , a full ha vest we reap

Of peace and good will , what a world were it then , l To ﬁnd such good feeling the ru e among men .

’ S o o f o e r come Maid Denmark , like morn the sea,

To ri thy home and thy dwelling , B tannia the free

i o f a u ld ' S co tlan d re - o ur The h lls echo song ,

o r mn s Where the wild torrents leap , the burn along

o n The shepherd rejoices alone the moor,

’ Tho d i s h w i the ark storm looming , the erald nds roar 3 9

’ ’ f u t h ril From the Chie tain s pro d walls, hark , the pipes

ling tone,

so I n that Shieling lowly , like welcome is shown ; f N The heart o the ation beats high with delight,

l so i . At this Brida Auspicious, the promise br ght

’ S o o f o e r come Maid D enmark, like morn the sea ,

To ! thy home and thy dwelling , Britannia the free

FATE AT TH E H E L M .

O h let no tear -drop dim thine eye When stormy tempests blow The Fate that guards o u r peaceful home

’ Doth steer where er I go ;

Till Fate hath piped all hands aloft, Small danger there can be ’ i I m safe am d the storm my girl ,

As when at home with thee .

S o let the wild wind pour its blast, And lash the roaring sea

’ t he I m safe amid storm my girl ,

As when at home with thee .

It o ft hath been my lo t to brave The tempest in its might

w ho But they trust, are stronger armed Than warrior armed for fi ght 40

’ A sailor s courage mounts, as mount

The strong waves from their bed, i He fearless braves the w ldest storm ,

’ ’ Tho seas dash o er his head . S i O let the w ld wind pour its blast,

And lash the roaring sea ;

’ I m safe amid the storm my girl ,

As when at home with thee .

’ Tis true the deep may be my bed, l The bi lows rock my breast,

But if with thee I may not be, What matter where I rest I f He above hath will ’ d my grave To be o n holy ground

The ocean shall respect my form ,

And harmless roll aroun d .

S o let i the w ld wind pour its blast,

sea And lash the roaring ,

’ I m safe amid the storm my girl ,

As when at home with thee .

TH E L OC K O F HAI R .

’ A n d art thou culled from Beauty s noblest brow, Where locks o f radiant darkness pendant shone

’ H o w t ho strange it seems, neither strange nor new That youth and beauty are so quickly gone 4 1

’ d This tress with winter s fro st is interlace ,

o f A ﬂag care and sorrow, symbol clear,

- TO O few the years to cause this beauty waste ,

o f . It tells grief profound, and sigh an d tear

And she , that was so lovely , joyous , kind,

n i t A living blossom , p by bitter frost,

i n The wit that her charmed accents shined ,

I n withered hopes, and early winter lost,

’ Tis pitiful , that such a morning bright,

’ darke n d . Should bring a day, a hopeless nigh t

r Our paths have lain apart, and silent yea s

Have left us strangers ; error past regret ;

- Our spring time meetings still my heart reveres ,

Their joy can never die, they charm me yet

’ And if that face , where nature s lavish han d

’ o f dis la d Had all her wealth loveliness p y , h Had lost its light, its rose, its hig command,

ff ri A ection here would b ghten , never fade

But why in waking dreams my sorrow wake, ’ Twere better let it sleep within its cell ,

But ah its slumbers heavy murmurs make,

W r ithin the hea t, where it doth ever dwell .

Dear silver lock , unto thy casket go ,

rt be a d o Poor hea calm , accept n bear thy w 42

TH E SH EPH E RD AND H I S DOG .

’ c w i l The winter omes blasts sae cau d,

’ There s n ot a leaf t o shield the tree

n o w And that I am grey and auld,

’ There s nane t o bless o r shelter me .

I sit within the nook my lane, Each waefu ’ chair stands empty by

’ o They mind me the kind hearts gane,

And bring the big tears t o my eye .

’ ’ t o Tis hard lose a wife that s gude, She twines sae saftly round the heart

That trial sair hae I withstood,

And seen o ur bonnie bai rns depart

The winter blast they feel nae mair,

ma The storm y rage aboon their head,

N o n o w n o o r sorrow ; want, care,

Unkindness canna touch their bed .

Poor Rover glints at me as fain

w o e As if, poor dog , i t knew my

i s H lightsome days, like mine are gane,

di m . His sight grows , his footstep slow

’ fri en t o n o w My trusty , lose thee Would be the keenest pang o n earth

Thou ever hast been kind and true,

’ N o r once u n grate fu frae thy bi rth . 43

Ding dong I hear the Kirk bells gae;

’ Ere lang they ll do the like fo r me

They made blythe hearts my bridal day ,

’ They ll make nane sad the day I dee ] — Wee , weel why should a lane auld man ,

’ To o n y yo ut hfu breasts gie pain

They could na lengthen out my span , And I but gang t o join my ain

O U R GO OD MA N .

’ di e Our good man s blythe an d hale, and never means to ,

’ can w ho ! But live as long s he , blames him troth not I

w e bai rn ie s all o ld When were ,thus bent and seemed he,

’ ‘ Tho n o w o ur bai rn ie s bairns are playing round his knee

o ld Our kind good man delights to meet some friends of ,

’ You d deem their youth return ed to hear the stories told

o ft And he kindly spiers for some one long since dead ,

’ ’ o n t o ft ri He s heard before, yet wonde ng shakes his . h ead;

’ n o t w His memory is lost, in ravelled hanks tis thro n ,

’ a o f f He t lks yesterday , that s ifty years agone

W o ld And asks if insome Jean be enough to wed,

’ ’ o er Tho that lassie fair some threescore years have sped , 44

H i s ald silver locks are scant, the very wig grows b ,

’ tho n o w so Twas once a glossy brown , grey and auld

’ But auld things please him best, e en stories often told

ff n o t o n e . His sta he would change, for of shining gold

’ o er ci But would you win his heart, chaunt some an ent

strain , Old songs and tunes I ween bring b ack o ld times again

o r o r Then grief joy by ﬁts will dim , light his eye, ld ’ h o . T us hymned by lays of , good soul he d wish to die

- TH E MO SS TROOPE R .

Let my black steed be saddled,

My axe keen and bright, l The clan quick y gather,

- We foray to night .

t o u s The sun sets screen ,

The shrill piping gale ,

Shall front us, nor tell

Of o u r coming the tale . We strike like the light ning

r Unlooked for and d ead,

’ Our path like yo n sun s

Shall be fi ery and red .

’ ’ Tis the moss -trooper s hour to stray k And s w eep li e the eagle for prey .

46 L ike the red deer that wild

’ a O er the d rk moorland bounds, With freedom he herds Though exposed to the hounds Uncurbed as the torrent

' That gathers new force,

’ From the cliff s cloven brow

That it leaps in its course . S o mount clansmen mount and away

And sweep lik e the eagle fo r prey.

V L O E WAS NOT D EAD , B UT ONLY

S L E EPI NG .

Believe n ot Love can ever di e !

’ Tho m for ute years, and seeming dead,

A passing word, a look , a sigh ,

May bri ng back every feeling shed . l The eye may cold y turn aside, And yet there may be lonely weeping

The brow may frown in injured pride , ’l ; n ot . Yet L ove ) dead, but only sleeping

Love cast upon the angry blast,

’ o n l Or thy desert s friend ess waste,

’ May vanish ere the whirlwind s past, f All traces by the storm ef aced . 4 7

But after years , some quiet hour,

Amid a smile, a sigh , or weeping H etilre assu meqhis ancient power

L o ve i i ﬂ ro t dead, but only sleeping .

f Cf O 4 !

TH E BU RNT L ETTE R .

’ At Rosa s casement beats the snow l And loud y roars the winter blast,

’ a n And Ros s tears in sad ess ﬂow, m She weeps for happy oments past.

A letter Ofttimes read before, She reads again with eager haste

o n e o f I t is the page, where yore,

’ ” t I m thine for ever, fondly raced .

” ! He comes no more she wildly said,

And to the lamp the leaf applied ;

’ o e r And her frame a shudder spread ,

’ As o e r the page the ﬂame she spied .

’ L ove s record gone , her dearest care ’ Tis done ! regrets and tears are vain

o n See, the ashes twinkling there ,

“ ’ ” fo r . I m thine ever, still is plain 48

e I n crimson glow the words were s en , Th en gen t ly melted from her sight

And winds that stole the chinks between ,

’ Dispersed the ashes o e r the night .

’ O re ss d But sudden joy her heart pp , That lingeri ng line new hopes had spread

’ t Tap at the door, twas him loved bes , ” i a . And thine for ever, st ll he s id

TH E WOODMAN .

s The woodman with each sturdy troke, The echoes o f the forest woke

w as t His arm strong, his axe was brigh , And swift as arrow in its ﬂight

N o r ceased he till the stately tree,

Down tumbled, lowly as might be

t o t No more rear its lordly cres ,

I ts pride amid rank grasses prest, The proudest o f the earth must fall

There is an axe which levels all .

His labour done, the woodman mused, ’ And thus fate s stern decrees abused :

“ Yes, day by day , my strength I waste, But o f its fr uits I do not taste 49

t his ' re c io u s The Squire p wood will sell ,

’ E n ric h d o o rt et h , whilst I in p dwell

’ ’ o r Twas Adam s fault, I had now

Not have to live by sweat of brow .

to Oh Adam weak list to Eve ,

And make all woodmen toil and grieve .

The Squire was passing through the wood ,

And by the musing woodman stood ,

“ ’ Said he , I ve heard your heavy moan ,

There seems a grievance , I must own

Come h ome with me , and you shall dine

fi sh On soup , , ﬂesh , and fowl like mine

One cover only left alone , And all the Others are your own

But if that cover once you lift , ” I cast you to your fate adrift .

w o o d nran The danced in w ild delight , His fondest hopes were ne ’ er so bright

Thus like a Squire to laze and feast ,

’ m att e r d One cover not the least .

- So to the Manor hall he went , Nor good - bye to his axe he sent

ri Ar ved , he found a goodly board , No Squire had table better stored

He laughed at the forbidden dish ,

’ ’ o n o t T wards it he d e en a wish . 50

D a e d r f r y aft r y, the daintiest a e,

b t . ! u No labo r, there grew a care

o rest That hidden dish his mind pp , And gave much trouble t o his breast ; Beneath that cover what can be

That I mu st neither taste nor see

I t must be better far than all ,

Just if I peep , no harm can fall ;

n o r~ t o n u e m 3 No eye, g to say nay — He lifts a mouse darts swift away . n The mouse was go e, and he was caught ,

’ To gain it back he st O pp d at naught

’ o e rt h ro w n Chairs, tables, glasses, all ,

a The mouse esc ped, his folly known ;

And in came ﬂunk! eys and the Squire

Farewell to all he could desire,

- Crest fallen as the stricken tree, And humbled as a man could be

G O w , oodman , to thy toil again , ” Of Adam never more complain .

B EVE R L EY WOOD .

w w Within a ild luxuriant ood,

One bright blue summer day,

k S A wood man with his een axe tood, L ike brute awaiting prey 51

’ fi ro lld His large erce eyes in anger ,

’ lo o k d d Now towar s the west ,

As wolf might look into the fold ,

When hunger keen o pp re st .

His forehead low , his eyebrows coarse ,

Lips thick , and limbs of fearful force . l Prostrate behind him ay an oak ,

’ His brawny arms had fe lld

And now , the Minster bell awoke

’ s l w e ld . F resh wrath , as deep it

He muttered loud , his teeth he ground ,

And with the axe so keen ,

He smote the trunks and branches round ,

Left space where they had been .

Rave on , he still his meal must wait 9 Poor little Walter, why so late

’ li n e r d The boy had g on the way , And let the food grow cold

N o w ﬂowers, now butterﬂies had sway ,

He hurried not as told .

’ reac h d It is supposed he the spot ,

Where stood that hungry man , But further history we have not

Each life hath but its span .

rt Thencefo h for him they vainly seek ,

’ N o more his mother kiss d his cheek 52

to s L ong years have gone, few care pas

At nightfall that lone wood ;

n o s Where raged the woodman grows gras ,

Trees wither, nought is good

Winds shriek amid the blighted boughs, Owls hoot the Iivelong night

No lover there, will breath e his vows,

Each spring hath early blight .

n o t The woodman lives, but see him ,

o n e ! All memory gone, save foul blot

TH E O LD MAID .

o n o ld Oh , jest not Thomas, at y quaint maid ,

’ ’ o ft Gainst such , too , are satire s shafts arrayed ;

’ Thi n k st o n e thou tis food for mirth , that should be ,

Alone in this wide world, a stricken tree , Amid the forest clad in kindred leaves

’ O er such , sweet pity , outraged Nature grieves .

ff Perchance A ection , in the bud was chilled ,

t riﬂ e r By some base , in such vileness skilled

Deserted, pining , grief she must not tell , Alone in silence doth her bosom swell ;

’ ' Ah w ho can measure o u t that poor heart s woe

That never more a hO pe o r j o y may know !

To be a man , the boy doth ever crave,

u Wo ld leap the distance, halfway meet his grave ;

’ ai n d But when his foot hath g the topmost height,

’ He looks with wonder o n Time s rapid ﬂight

i re ni ai n He clomb the h ll , but cannot there ,

ﬂ eetl The path lies downward, y day doth wane

And as he views L ife setting in the west,

A spirit whispers, Early days were best . ! Ah, me This change must come, turn where we

The eye o f Time and Nature follows still .

’ shri veld At length , when darkening eye and cheek , And palsied limb the journey ’ s end bespeak

ri Some f end to cheer will gently blink the truth , And vow my looks betray returning youth

’ And I in age s , vanity may smile,

- And half believing , thu s myself beguile

’ u Yes , tr ly friends, I m hearty , blithe , and hale , ”

o ld . And not so , that aught as yet should fail

Ah , me This change must come , turn where we will ,

The eye of Time and Nature tracks us still .

Int If to that stage , my shall heaven cast,

’ ’ F riends will have falln like leaves in winter s blast

And memory failed to trace , upon the brain , The once familiar forms ne ’ er met again a

And those around will marvel much to hear,

e I once was young , had loved , nay , mor , was dear

so w ho At age ripe , would not wish to sleep , W ho would not cry , Come , reaper, come and reap

SH E CAM E , AND S H E W ENT .

She came like a sunbeam that wakens t he ﬂowers, Then leaves them as quickly to darkness and showers

ho w Sly Cupid around her his ever plies ,

’ But pangs there are none , till we lose her bright eyes ! Oh why did you come, rather why did you go , Was such loveliness formed but for wonder and woe >

all Yet veil them in pity , those orbs, from sight,

The world better lose , than expire by their light .

- The tones of her voice are like angel harps heard ,

In o t he - calm of the night, by the heaven dreaming bard

And her glances , that melt every bosom to love,

Are hallowed as saints , when uplifted above . d H e r beauty leaves Fiction and Fancy behin , And is only eclipsed by the charms of her mind

But she came , and she went, like a meteor so bright ,

That dazzles , then leaves us to darkness and night .

Thus a Bard swept the strings and his soul - music shed

a o d n o I n r pture , H pe listene , promise had ﬂed ; 56

o f s o f Oh sweet days poe y, sweet days youth, H o w enchanting your dreams t o the cold chilling truth

o f He knew not falsehood, believed not in change, Th u s loving through life they together would range

Dreams quickly dispelled, soon their paths lay apart

o n hi s . And a sorrow was cast, his Harp and Heart

’ TH E CAU LD B LASTS O WI N TE R .

clait hin s Be sure dear wife your g gude, The blasts enough t o freeze the bluid

’ ’ Wi a awfu swirl it sh kes the door, And gars the chimney reek and roar ’ Th o aft beneath the cauld moonbeam ,

’ ’ We ve roam d by frozen bank and stream

N ow thou art grey and I am bald,

’ E en love will scarce keep ou t the cauld .

Time was when yonder murky sky,

And blindi ng snaw drifts whirling by ; l And swollen streams, and path ess moor, A ’ couldna keep me frae your door

n o o Hey , lassie, were we apart,

’ Tho love still lows within my heart ;

’ o n si cn a fa Should I errand ,

’ ’ I d sure be smoor d amang the snaw . 57

And ye that used to dance sae weel ,

han o r And g the lave at jig reel , l Could hard y cross the buckle noo,

’ For blyt he st lilt e er piper blew

But we have danced and we ha ve sung ,

it he rs Like , have been blythe and young

— m fi Our bairns na e better could ye nd ,

t o Troth , heaven us is unco kind .

’ t ho And we totter down the hill ,

Hae borne Of storm and calm o ur fi ll

Still let us creep beneath the bield ,

’ L ife s winter, blessings still can yield

u I co ldna linger here alane,

’ Wert thou my fai thfu partner gane

’ t ho u rt But whilst weel , and to the fore ,

Gainst sorrow I shall bar the door .

L O ST F O R YEA RS .

Lost for years, lost for years,

Mourned in sighs, and mourned tears ;

Never coul d thy faithful lover,

Of thy fate o n e trace discover .

’ o o e r I s thy j y and beauty , Shining on the earth no more 58

Art thou like a blossom shed, Mingled with the silent dead >

L ost for years, lost for years,

Mourned in sighs, and mourned in tears

Or has fate to thee been kind m Round y path each blessing twined,

M in lin su n shin e g g z and the shower, As sweet nature tends the ﬂower ! ! No the blast hath reached thy heart,

’ Keen misfortune s keenest dart ;

Pleasure could not light the breast,

Torn from all that loved it best .

Lost for years, lost for years,

m o u m ed Mourned in sighs, and in tears

’ t h o u rt If by other ties bound,

o L over, child o f f rtune found

Wife and mother, joy be thine , But ignorance and death be mine !

’ If tis so , still may I roam ,

Search on and never fi nd thy home

Or meet thee once but eye to eye , And blest beyond expression die

f or L ost for years , lost years

Mourned in sighs , and mourned in tears . 59

TH E TOWE R AND TH E IVY .

O , harm not a bough ,

the Of ivy true, Let it cling to the crumbling walls

From the wind and shower , ’ Twill guard the tower, ’ Till the stern old warrior falls

Staunch friends I ween ,

They still have been , For a hundred years and moe

’ Tho the Barons of old ,

I n their tombs lie cold , And the castle ’ s pride hath Time

So harm not a bough ,

Of the iv y true ,

' Let it cling to its ancient friend .

I t hath seen the prime , O f the olden time , When the halls with gladness rang

And the hound and horn ,

m o m Awoke the ,

Or the furious battle clang ;

And the sweet young bride ,

’ J re r a I n be ut y s pride , 6 3 Hath twined her garlands there

But time in his ﬂight,

Hath slain her true Knight, And mingled with dust the lady fair

S o n ot a harm bough ,

i v Of the y true,

Let it cling to its ancient friend .

’ I n life s bleak round,

Who hath not found,

’ Some cheri sh d hearts grow cold ;

When his purse grew light,

And his hopes less bright, And Care at his hearth grew bold !

t o But a friend the last,

i v Stands the y fast, T o the tower so worn and grey ’ Tho its strength be gone,

o n And the blast rolls , Through t he rooﬂess h alls in their last

So harm not a bough,

Of the ivy true,

Let it cling t o its ancient friend .

6 2

’ TH E T E T H E R D A SS .

One pleasant morning in the spring ,

‘ - When wildﬂowers blow, and wild birds sing

I took my way mid country lanes ,

’ o e r: Through gates, stiles, and daisied plains

- When from her icy winter sleep ,

so Glad Nature wakes, calm and meek

o n t he The dewdrop gleaming grass,

Who can without a greeting pass .

Health on the balmy breeze is borne,

- And beautiful is young spring morn .

’ I mark d the golden buttercup , And heard the joyous lark spring up l Went, with the winding wood and stream ,

’ And m ark d its diamond -radiance gleam

’ ’ o e r la d As merry sunbeams it p y , And twinkling fairy - circles made And willows bent to kiss its wave

That still a loving murmur gave .

’ o r Tho neither blossom , stream , bird

’ - st i rr d . My heart, the self same spirit,

’ ou r Howe er pride may hold command , The whole was fashioned by o n e hand ;

i ts The primrose, with modest face,

’ I s kin , tho of another race 6 3

\ io le t o The , with its s ft blue eyes ,

No maiden beautiful despise ;

’ If sa it might speak , twould y to thee , ” Thy father, sweet, created me .

Yes , be it man , or maid , or ﬂower , — All all obey the self- same power Amid a fi eld of dewy grass

I found a stubborn , hungry ass

’ t e the r d Fast to an ample stake ,

ci rcle m ake Round which he might a ,

’ H is faild dull perception to see ,

No asses strength could set him free ; l So blind y rushed from side to side ,

Nor for a thistle would abide .

w ho The ass would his tether strain , fi f Doth nd his ef orts worse than vain .

’ C With Nature s law too weak to ope , The ass accepts his length of rope

And then , he took his circle round ,

And much of pleasant herbage found .

Be satisﬁed , poor ass , I said ,

’ From all I ve heard , and seen , and read ,

’ tethe r d t o o The greatest man is ,

He has his limit just as you .

There is a line he cannot pass,

’

te t he r d . One circle , like the ass 6 4

TH E L O ST S HADOW .

o f The red beams the setting sun , The murmur o f the heaving sea ;

’ Tw o o e r shadows the yellow sands, ” Together lengthening peacefully .

When all the storms around me now,

When hope, and fear, and life depart ;

u That peacef l landscape, death will ﬁnd

Engraven o n my lonely heart .

r o f The ocean murmu s as yore, The mellow sunset still is fair

The yellow sands again I trace , But only ﬁnd o n e shadow there

N o more her beaming eyes I meet, N o more her silver voice I hear

t o That gave sweetest language grace,

And made this scene for ever dear.

w ho He idly mourns, mourns in vain ,

t o Her, restore, all tears would fail

Still fancy , paint the happy past .

And cease sad harp , thy fruitless wail .

o f The red beams the setting sun , Tho murmur o f the heaving sea

’ o e r s Twe shadows the yellow ands, Together lengthening peacefully l i i l

TH E O L D STAG E COACH .

The old stage coach hath had its day , And hastens onward to decay

d r n The rail , for strength and speed oth eig , The poor old stage competes in vain When fi rst I left my northern home

o Amid the sunny s uth to roam , I met it by the calm green lane

d w With hope most bright , yet mi xe ith pain

o f m And m unted swi t , a id the cry ,

o - - God bless you John , g od bye , good bye .

Through many changeful years my track ,

Before the old stage bore me back ;

H o w pleased w as I to view again

o The forest , hill , and ﬂ wery plain

T he w lanes familiar featu res ore ,

Their look of gladness, as of yore

My friends were there , with friendly hand,

With well pleased look and voices bland,

— lo w But some w ere missing they lie ,

- Who blessed me as they said good bye .

The o ld stage coach may still be seen

In c o untry nook and ro adside green 6 6

u The group witho t, the group within , The guard with horn o f merry din

o r Some youth maid with friends around,

u r And boxes piled pon the g ound, Awaits the clatter o f the wheel

To o ff w o e o r . mount and , for weal

Thus met, I seem to hear the cry,

- - God bless you John , good bye, good bye .

TH E G R EY F RIA R . ” This storm makes a terrible rout , Said a Grey Friar seated alone

H o w w I pity the poor souls ithout,

n And bless this good luck of my o w .

Thus seated so snug in my warm chimney nook ,

o f o f Never dreaming of penance , beads, or book

Of sack a good store , and a bright roaring ﬁre,

What more could the heart of a mortal desire .

’ re le n ish d Meanwhile he p his bowl ,

But ere the ﬁrst cup he could drain ,

’ A voice from below seem d to roll

Thou hoary old sinner, refrain

rm No more shall you bask in your wa chimney nook ,

Never dreaming of penance, of beads , or of book

’ r Of the good things of life you have had your full sha e ,

N o w m e o u u e— with y m st com toper, 6 7

’ The Friar ro ar d o ut with a ffriglrt

Less ﬁtted to die than to live ,

vo w o u S - I , if y pare me to night , T ’ l o the poor all my bottles Ilgive .

’ a ear d Creak , bang went the door, but no demon pp ,

’ Twas but old Father Tim , whom each toper rever d

For laughter, he scarce could cry Sinner , prepare ” Your sack is divine , and I come for my share .

’ Father Tim , you re a blockhead I trow , And deserve well the scourge at your back

The poor get my bottles through you , But I ’ ll ﬁrst if you please drink the sack

Thus seated so snug in my warm chimney nook ,

Never dreaming o f penance o f beads o r o f book ;

Of sac k a good store and a bright roaring ﬁre ,

What more could the heart of a mortal desire .

THUS GO ES TH E WO R L D A ROUND .

Oh , tell to me you ancient man ,

With wrinkled front and crown so bare ,

Oh , tell to me ,

rlr nre In prose or y , of ancient time , \\7 hen thou wert gay and in thy prime, Be frank an d free 6 8

o r Has life been merriment woe ,

o o r ﬂ o w Does j y sorrow deepest ,

' ’ Is love s truth profound

’ ’ ’ o u rn e d You ve j y far along life s way,

And know h o w the world goes round .

Young friend, if I could tell thee all

The sorrows known , the pleasures ﬂown ,

’ Twould grieve thy heart,

’ Ambition s spur, the promise high ,

o f o f The strength limb , and light eye , D o all depart Death mows o ur friends like grass and

ri The beauty p zed doth pass away, And cares abound

’ ’ ’ o u rn e d I ve j y far along life s way, h And know o w the world goes round .

I saw thy sire, an infant bright,

When ﬁrst his eyes beheld the light , In ancient time

I saw his manly ﬁgure straight,

With fortune , love , and hope elate , In manhood ’ s prime

And at his bridal blithe and gay ,

’ e w I dau d the inged night away ,

And how I loved to se e the storm

’ e f Bend o er the its gigantic orm , With cloudy wing and eye of ﬁre

Sweepi ng the thunder for a lyre .

How o ft I paused in wending home

T o mark the torrent white with foam ,

’ Roaring along o e r hill and dale

Hurrying t o tell the sea its tale .

The thunder cloud, the swollen ﬂood,

o f The ocean voice the valley wood , The lonely tree that braved the blast

’ Tho black and bare its arms were cast The sullen scowl of the gathering night Unto my soul were all delight And oft when toying with the gale

’ o e r t o I longed earth and sky sail , To di stant lands beyond the sea

On its free wing , myself as free .

OU R S I D E Y ET .

’ There s a land beyond the Tyne ,

With its hills and valleys ﬁne ,

d c That I dearly love lang syn , And can ne ’ er forget 71

In s C lre v io t s the we t the blue ,

R - o h ise snow clad the summer thr ug ,

To the east , with changeful hue , The wild waves fret

’ A n d turn where er you will ,

o Tower or castle t ps the hill ,

And each valley hath its rill , Singing sweetly yet

- And at harvest home or fair , d Shoul kind fortune take you there,

s e With our lads and las s rare ,

’ D Y o u ll sing O U R S I E Y E T .

I have wandered from my hame ,

t o And have sought win a name , But the dearest sound of fame Came from Our side yet

I have crossed the stormy tide ,

O n the lonely desert sighed ,

E very danger have deﬁed , And for Our side yet

o When the battle p ured its blast ,

- A nd the death hail rattled past ,

With the brave , I thought at last , My sun would set 72

A ball had laid me low ,

t o Life ﬂickered and fro ,

t o foe But I turned me the ,

And cri ed O UR m E Y E T .

r Stretched upon the go y ﬁeld,

Soon I thought my breath to yield,

Nor again the sword to wield , For my o w n dear land

’ Night stilled the battle s roar,

’ Death knocked at life s weak door ;

’ o e r Help came, when hope was , From a Border hand

The storm has come and gane ,

’ r I ve ecrossed the stormy main ,

L ike sunshine after rain , Joy my heart hath lit

’ T o I m my native hills bound ,

o ld Where friends will gather round , T o the o ld heart - stirring so und ” U E Y E Of the O R e T .

F L I GHT O F TH E MURD E RE R .

Slowly adown the Thames a vessel glides, And o n the deck are some instinct w ith hope

With others, deep and dark regret abides ,

’ A n d ardent souls, who gainst all odds would cop e F A)

o f T those of bold adventure , change is li e , A foreign land must furnish wealth and fame ;

ri But calmer natures fear both change and st fe ,

h . Their home and kindred , all the heart dot claim

Upon the deck , half hid , sits one alone ,

t o t . Whose heart all but self, is as a s one

His restless eyes towards London ever strain , And fretfully he marks each follo w ing sail

t a Each s ep approaching startles hi s wild br in , He curses inwardly the sleeping gale

Oh that the winds would wake and sweep him on ,

’ ri The hur cane , the thunder dark he d hail ’ b F rom England s dreaded shores he would egone,

all . That seemeth heaven to him , let else fail

’ To r m G o d s ﬂy f o or man s a hopeles ﬂight ,

f . Or rom ourselves , when sin hath cast a blight

’ s o e r The ves el now scuds the ﬂashing sea , F ate seems to favour that myste rious man

And all have sought accustomed rest but he , The fading horizon he still doth scan

The gale blows stronger, night hath sea and skies,

The mariner doth warn him down below ;

n o w secu r e And , his mad excitement dies, f And to his couch , he weak and aint doth go .

N o o t thanks to God came fr m his tongue or hear ,

art Success, escape , were of, and by his . 71

The tempest raged unheeded , and that head

i s Upon the p llow , eeming calm was laid

Reﬂection came, convinced him that the dead

Can tell no tales ; how could he be afraid !

’ He slept , but conscience o er his troubled brain Drew pictures both of punishment and crime

u And now he was a boy witho t a stain , And then a planter in a sunny clime

w ff All ended , ith a crowd , a sca old , rope ,

C alcraft o f A , and a death devoid hope

TH E FA L L EN RO S E .

In yonder vale a Rose once grew ,

Of peerless beauty ,

To praise its form and grace and hue, Seemed Angels ’ duty

Its spring was fair, its spring was bright,

And nature nursed it with delight .

’ o e rt hre w A heavy storm this joy ,

ru ﬂ i an A blast ,

Within its wings the blossom drew ,

And laughing passed ;

o The stem remained a sullen bl t , l The rose by a lsave me forgot . J

- o M o urnfully the night breeze r und it ,

o d Thr ugh its wind harp sighe ,

’ P e arld with tears sweet morning found

r Flashed b ight hope , and died

o o The R se no m re will nature grace ,

’ For ever locked in night s embrace .

o 3 a I n y nder vale , mai grew

Of peerless beauty ,

To praise her grace , her form , and hue , Seemed Angels ’ duty

’ The Rose , tis she , of whom my lay ,

But more I may not sing or say .

TH RE E TAPS AT TH E DOO R .

The hour is late , go home and sleep , Thy brother ’ s past a sister ’ s care

to I t is His will , forbear weep , Nor w ring thy hands nor rend thy hair

All consciousness , all sense is gone , I n this world never to return

u His frame for hours may str ggle on ,

t o Be calm , go home , and cease mourn

’ Suspense is w rack ; when all is o er

’ o I ll tap thrice , gently at the do r 76

The sister takes her last farewell , d di And sa ly wen ng , seeks her home ;

o n Each stone she treads , could it tell ,

t o . Might say, Yes, here, he loved roam

t o She prays and weeps, then her bed,

n o t t o But sleep , the years gone by

Flit , mournful greeting , round her head ,

I n each , his worth , she can descry

Then listens, till each sense is bound,

And silence seems excess of sound .

A shock electric thrills her frame ,

St . Paul tolls o ut the midnight hour

She hears her brother call her name ,

Would tend the summons, had she power ! ’ No twas but fancy ; all is still ,

But midnight is an hour of dread ;

n o w And now she burns, and is chill ,

t o Hopes burst blossom , and are shed

a ' E ch tiny sound upon the ﬂoor ,

Sounds like three taps upon the door .

E ach reveller that homeward rolls, She hears his footstep from afar

0 - T her, it is the death bell tolls, Each footstep on her heart doth jar

John holds the proud man as a blot on the earth , And yet there is no Wight prouder than John

He boasts of his country, his wealth , and his birth , Recounts the brave deeds of our heroes gone

One moment his land is the land of the free,

Then , rulers are tyrants, the people but slaves ;

For John , like his forefathers , will not agree,

e . Believes in himself, and oft reason outbrav s

Oh , rare John Hobbs

The time ’ s coming fast when John Hobbs must lie I n the old churchyard where his fathers sleep ” No matter, says he, for we all must die,

Who best doth sow, the best shall reap

’ di st re ss d And still he is ready to aid the ,

As brethren the children o f sorrow reveres ;

’ n e kn o ck d Pale charity er in vain at his breast,

i t He gives with delight, and shines through his tears .

Oh , rare John Hobbs

TH E EMPTY CAG E .

Each morning dawn , fair Lucy sought

The happy bird within her cage ,

And to him food and water brought, And toyed him into mimic rage Tu

Then gushing fro m his tuneful th ro at

C so o f ame strains clear, and full glee ,

’ A soul se e m d born in every note

That smiled and died in ecstacy ,

’ ’ u n barr d o The cage , ar und he d stray , m ’ But never dre a d to wing away . One morn within a leafy nook

- she A thorn entangled bird found ,

o o And pitying him , her ﬂowers f rso k ,

And tenderly his wings unbound . fi k Ah c le maid , ah fatal prize

She bore him home , and caged him too

And tended him with smiles and sighs ,

’ Tho . he still strange and stranger grew ,

Perchance for one afar he pined ,

And longed to seek her on the wind . Her early favourite now forgot Pours forth his tender lays in vain She passes on and heeds him not

Till silence falls upon his strai n . ’ fi Twas love not bars , that him con ned Unkindness liberates the slave His wings soon quiver on the wind And not one parting note he gave !

Love from her cage has ﬂed away ,

A nd w ill n o more t o Luc y stray . 8 1>

J ’ WOMAN S F I RST L OVE .

’ W s - hen the pring time of youth ,

’ U n be di mm d by a care , G ives to woman suc h charms

As an angel might wear ;

’ With the rose o n her cheek

And a bright sunny eye , L ike the fresh tints that blend In the young morning sky With a bosom as stainless

- l As cloud crad ed snow ,

’ With thoughts , that from Truth s

Gushing fountain still ﬂow ; Then her fond heart admits

What its peace soon may sever,

F irst L ove , and it lasts With dear woman for ever

She loves , and her beauty

Commands a return ,

But love , thus commanded , May soon cease to burn

’ And lovers , tis said ,

Often cease to pursue ,

’ retu rn d When their love is , And poor w oman must rue 8 1 Now quickly deserted

t riﬂ e rs F resh appear ,

To ﬂatter and sigh ,

Many false, few sincere

But mourning in silence,

S he o h heeds them , never ,

F o r she has loved once, And that once is for ever

The language of love

Coldly falls on her ear , The lips breathe it n o t That alone made it dear

All tenderness still ,

’ - Icy hearted she s named ,

’ Tho eternal her love , As unloving she ’ s blamed Now perchance a sad change d When all hope has departe , Her smiles come afresh

’ ’ Tho she s half broken hea rt ed

With many she ﬂirts,

fo r And seems faithless , never

Loves woman again ,

f r It is once and o ever . 8 2

WI N TE R AND CHA RITY .

Winter bleak , and winter cold, Spare the forms n o blankets fold

n ot e Pause in that narrow stre t,

‘ Freeze n o t early lambs that bleat

t o h e Fly aunts by fortun blest, V ent thine anger o n the west ;

Tempests hoarse may rave and shout, H eard from blazing hearths without ;

w oe But want and , and hunger meet,

l . Within that disma , narrow street

o h -bo m M t ers, with their babes new , Huddled wretches most forlorn

s ri New year chime but mock their g ef,

n o . Hope is gone, still relief

’ Keen is winter s arrow there, Shot through chinks and roof so bare

ri Shive ng limb and hopeless heart, Death ho w welcome were thy dart

o e m And want and w , and hunger eet,

Within that dismal , narrow street .

n o r Start not wealth , hide thy face ,

’ Children those o f Adam s race

B ro the r si ster ,: , claims are loud , Be n o t deaf nor fortune -proud 8 3

w ho d Each feeds on ainty fare, I n such c ause some pence could spare

Pause not, for the timely dole ,

m a Scanty , yet y save a soul ;

can fi n d And each the narrow street,

w o e . Where want and , and hunger meet

fi o f Want, proli c is crime, Mothe r fruitful througho u t time

’ c re L abour s hild n guard from her,

’ w . Then mong many , few ill err

w Winter, ith its surly roar, Ope ’ s to want poor labour ’ s door ! Charity its step arrest,

Give thy blessing, and be blest .

Fear not , you cannot miss the street,

w o e Where want and , and hunger meet .

TH E FAD ED RO S E .

s I have a faded ro e , Th a t w as given me long ago

The sweetest ﬂower that blows , Could not charm my fancy so 84

H o w is changed it by years, Nature would not know her ow n

m o ft And me ory with tears, Recalls the beauty ﬂown

so But why it moves me ,

n o t ou . Ah I would have .y know

I saw it where it blew, I n the garden long ago

I n sunshine and in dew ,

’ R o ck d by zep hyr t o and fro

I saw its beauteous head, On an angel - breast recline

And ere the bloom was dead , The hallowed rose was mine

so But why it charms me ,

Ah I would n o t have yo u know .

The rainbow hues divine,

Are born in weeping skies ; So memory still doth shine Through bri ght but tearful eyes

That scentless, blighted rose, O ’ er memory holds a spell e And mingl d j oys and woes, Around it ever swell

so But why it moves me ,

Ah ! I would n o t have you know .

8 6

old o h Old Times, Times, , linger yet

N or o n o r i l j y gr ef, wou d I forget, ’ But have them o e r the bosom stray L ike sun and shade on breezy day

’ I d o u rn e t o And thus j y the last,

Till with your light, my light hath past,

r And as my steps d aw near the fold, ’ ld Be lulld t o rest by lays o f o .

A WA L K I N TH E WOOD S .

’ I walk d with Fanny in the wood, f m The ar house stood close by,

mo m The was bright, the path was good,

a The breeze was but sigh .

n ot I had some thoughts I dared speak , S o spoke o f aught beside

’ o f ﬂ o w rs The charm , in language weak, The streamlet’ s rippling tide

o f al The hum bees, the f ling leaf,

From which I drew a moral brief.

o ft if And , as by chance, my eyes

’ o er Glanced her beauteous face,

u But q ickly turned away , the skies,

’ seem d to The woods, I trace . 8 7

’ ’ Tho d nature s charms were spread aroun , They were as nought t o me ;

’ w o rshi d I p her with love profound ,

e But spoke o f ﬂower o r tre .

Oh , what a coward was I then ,

But love makes cowards o f most men .

’ o e rcast A sudden cloud the skies , l I n su len gusts, the wind

o ur Above heads went swelling past,

’ The sun n o longer shin d .

’ The rain came pattering o er the leaves

’ And dimpling o er the stream

n o i The radiant morn more dece ves, l Twas ike a morning dream .

’ Beneath an oak s gigantic arms,

’ ’ We shelte r d from the storm s al a rms .

’ o e r arm I had a mantle my ,

’ That o e r her form I placed ;

’ all I knew twould shield her from harm ,

’ ’ so Twas ne er before graced .

But she refused its ample fold, Unless I shared a part

’ o ft fen c d d I t had me from the col ,

’ N o w it re ve ald my hea rt .

’ S u ﬂ i ce re ai n d u it, I g my tong e,

But what I said need not be sung . 8 8

A TA L E O F YE STE RDAY .

i n o t A fonder meet ng could be ,

t o Their hearts were tuned ecstasy ,

i o n earth t o Such bliss ntense, gain , Would well repay a life o f pain

h r a ! o . Oh happy youth , h ppy maid, H o w bright hath L ove the world arrayed

H o w like a dream , L ife glides away,

’ But tis a tale o f yesterday .

To so so part a pair fond, true, N o power o f earth would dare t o do

’ to Twould melt a tyrant heart tears,

’ ’ A n d shed o er youth the frost o f years

ou Yet think y such a heavenly ﬂame, Endured fo r years and burned the same

R eﬂ e ct — n ot t o , but ask me say,

’ a e f Tis but tal o yesterday .

n o w Perchance their eyes turn aside, Perchance she is another ’ s bride

ho w But yet in life coul d they sever, Havi ng vowed t o love for ever !

vo w L ove in youth doth and sigh , On the wind its records die

t o Faith may be falsehood prey, ' ’ Ah tis a tale of everyday . R E)

’ TH E MO U RN E R S F RI END .

D ry thy tears and weep no more , I shall waft thy g ri efs away

Waiting thee is peace in store, Care shall wrack nor night nor

Dry thy tears, banish fears ,

’ ri I am every mou rner s f end ,

Rich o r poor their woes I end .

V R I N D S H P L O E and F E I , lights divine ,

End in darkness, as the day

Festal halls and ruby wine ,

Baleful lights that lure astray .

Dry thy tears, banish fears,

’ all Tho else thy bosom rend ,

Thou in me wilt ﬁnd a friend .

’ o f IM Thou stand st upon the brink T E , Before thee rolls Eternity

I nstinct with thoughts and shapes sublime , Which thou unaided can ’ st not see

Dry thy tears, banish fears, fi Thou in me shalt nd a guide,

- To that ever ﬂ o w i ng tide . 90

Dost thou fear the gulf between ,

’ Cli n st t o of g thou thy cell dust, E ver be what thou hast been

To ! ho w thyself, ah unjust

Ever tears, ever fears

’ Would st thou such existence bear, When my touch would end allcare !

w oe Worn by want, and , and toil,

h o w - Ah welcome, death like sleep

Sense suspended, dead turmoil , Who would n o t that blessing reap

Dry thy tears, banish fears,

Bettor still , my narrow bed,

When health, and youth , and friends are ﬂed .

BY TH E L I GHT O F TH E MOO N .

o f moon w illou t o - i By the light the y meet me n ght, When the blossoms are closed and the stars are alight ;

no o n e t o n o on e t o With chide, and with hear,

The hopes o f my heart I would breathe t o thine e ar !

o n o f i i If the blush thy cheek prove the tinge d sda n , ff I am silent, and never o end thee again

My heart, like a hermit alone in its cell ,

fo r Companionless, loveless, ever shall dwell . 9 1 By the light of the moon

o u - Will y meet me to night, When the blossoms are closed

And the stars are alight .

But I hope for a blush , with a smile by its side,

o r m ri And a word, a sign , that thou wilt be y b de

n o t o Then hermit my heart in a cavern pine, T o thee my devotion for thou art divine .

Wherever thou art, it must holiness be,

Euch scene is perfection , embellished by thee ;

o h ! r Accept my fond heart, Believe in my praye ,

o r . By thee I am blest, for ever despair By the light o f the moon

ou t o - Will y meet me night, When the blossoms are close d

And the stars are alight .

V TH E L O V L IE S T BOUG H .

A n o n m e Elm , tall and wide, a gentle p stood ,

t o Where the breeze loved sing , and the winds were not

rude ;

There, sunbeams would toy , in the sweet summer time ,

’ F rom the morn s rosy dawn t o the soft evening chime

The green leaves abundant were seldom seen still ,

L t o - o r ightly dancing bird songs , breeze from the hill 9 2

a o f so H ppy family leaves, thus by nature blest,

’ S o so shelte r d open , , such motion and rest

’ so scan n d Those green leaves equal, when by a sage, ’ Who with patience and wisdom had read nature s page i Were found as d vided as parties could be,

’ Tho so r o f the happily placed , child en same tree .

’ o n arra d Those, ﬂoating high , were in sunshine y ,

And those down below, ever in the cold shade

n o w n ow The mid leaves shining , and without ray ,

i o n The h ghest smiled by the sun through the day .

t o t o They danced the breeze, and they danced the sky, With a wing o f the zephyr they sported o n high

’ lo o k d o n t The lowliest branches, they wi h scorn ,

’

su n n d . The mid ones endured, they were by the morn

The seasons still change , and the wild winter blast, Hath brought them all down to the cold earth at last ;

N o e u more x ltation , all silent is pride,

’ n o w . Distinction there s none, they lie side by side

’ ’ c o u n selld athe r d The sage calmly , the group g round ,

o f o w n I n this family leaves, your history is found

However your station by fate may be cast,

’ leve lld b t he One day , all are , borne down blast. yt

o f o f And ye high lineage, and ye high fame,

fo r Shun pride , the humblest the same parents claim

’ o f The bed roses where he d lain ,

N o more a summer haunt adorns ;

n o t I ts blossom will bloom again ,

n a f Youth ﬁ ds it, but bed o thorns

L IG HT AND DA R KNE S S .

’ Tho u rt i walk ng in the sunshine,

to Seem gaze upon the light, But never more shall sun o r sky

Unto these orbs he bright .

The o f o n song birds is the breeze , The meadows ﬂush ’ d with bloom

n o r But thou canst neither hear see,

Dark, silent as the tomb .

’ Thy wrinkled cheek bears passion s trace , As dried up rills leave tracks

o Alike, thy j y and anger gone, The last hope fervour lack s

w ho to The blushing beauty, thee

Seemed life, and was thy bride

Her name , thou scarcely canst recall ,

’ Or tell when twas she died . 9 5

How strange it seems, that thou hast been

A laughing , rosy boy ;

’ Thy father s anxious hope and care ,

’ Thy mother s tender j o y

so That thou feeble, blind , and deaf, ’ With schoolboys gambo lld wild

’ a ski mm d And clomb the mount in , the plain , i A reckless , fearless ch ld .

l n o w Where are those youthfu playmates , Where is that mother dear

’ r o f And where the f iends manhood s prime ,

’ That t ho u rt untended here

n o t Thou canst tell , but like a ston e

’ Reared o e r the silent dead

E ffaced by years, show times have been ,

Whose records all are ﬂed .

fi And yet, as dying res emit Bright ﬂashes as they close S o memo ry may ﬂash back the light

Of youth , its joys and woes

’ n o w Tis sunset thy sun has set, Fate soon shall smooth thy bed

ri And few will miss that totte ng step ,

O r weep that thou art dead . 9 6

I s this the end o f mortal hope ! Doth thus the warrior bend

Forgotten by himself, can thus The proud man homeward wend ! ! Ah , yes all earthly things, as grass, Must wither where they spring

n o t 0 t o G o d Fear Man meet thy , To dust forbear t o cling

HOM E THOUGH TS .

t I chanced upon a winter night,

Within a pleasant, cosy room

-ﬁre A coal blazing warm and bright, A meerschau m t o be lit full soon W A ight whose city cares were past,

Sought quiet, in his easy chair

He heard the wild unpitying blast,

’ ”

N o t o . matter, twas good night care e The hoarse winds threaten as th y pass,

Yet placidly he ﬁlls his glass.

On moorlands bleak where storms are free,

’ He d met them , when but yet a child

’ crush d Knew cottage , uprooted tree,

Mad torrents, brawling , hurrying wild

’ With this same wight no more I ll roam ,

’ Good friends , instead, we ll look at home .

’ TH E RE S MUS IC IN TH E WIND .

’ There s music in the wind,

’ There s music in the waters ;

But sweeter music in thy voice ,

’ Thou sweetest o f earth s daughters The Morning an d the Rose would fain From o ff thy cheek the blushes gain

The Ocean , Earth , and Starry Sky ,

T o match thy beauties vainly try .

’ Away with ocean s pearls, And diamonds bri ghtly shining ;

No light can match her beaming eyes,

Sunbeam arid ge m combining .

’ Arrest the poet s charmed tongue, Her worth can not be said o r sung

Nor yet the cunning limner ﬁnd,

Lest too much gazing turn him blind .

’ There s music in the wind, There ’ s music in the waters

But sweeter music in thy voice ,

’ Thou sweetest of earth s daughters 9 9

And thou art good as thou art fair, And witty as thy charms are rare

I worship humbly at thy shrine ,

No more , for thou art half divine .

N EV E R L O O K D OWN .

’ Tho the future loom stormy and dark ,

ri And f ends ﬂy to shelter, away ;

’ Tho calumny make you its mark , Detraction your efforts betray

’ Brave the world s frown ,

And never look down .

’ ’ IVhe n you re thrown mid the vulgar and And your poverty ’ s scorned as a crime \ Vhen dulness exalted , laughs loud , And with it mean sycophants chime

S mile they or frown ,

Never look down .

The hurricane passes away , Black night ever melts into morn

The lightning soon ceases to play , Detractors are given t o scorn So brave the world ’ s frown

n A d never look down . 1 00

’ t o 00 t o Tis easier st p than climb,

Tis easier t o fall than to rise ;

Look up and look upward in time,

. ’ Tis never too soon to be wise

’ In vain the world s frown ,

o So y u never look down .

AWA KE MY L OV E .

Awake my love, the calm and pensive night I s throned o n high amid the stars so bright

’ ri e B ght tho they be, thine eyes would them outshin ,

So in thy beauty come , oh maid divine .

a The misty hill far , the babbling stream ,

’ n The plumed pines, the broad lake s silver shee ,

’ t ho u rt Will all be joy and beauty when by ,

But wanting thee , all nature seems to sigh .

~ The nightingale love lorn , from yonder tree

Unto the ear of night, plains tenderly

And watchful Echo , bears the notes away , And to the rocky hills repeats the lay

The forest faintly whispers to the wind , The earth and sky are calm as thy sweet mind

’ a This scene sublime , ppears great nature s throne ,

P o sse ssin ever5 beaut5 but thine o w n .

1 02

de save Sure it was not the Banshee, my ears but ,

’ belave That my Larry is dead, och I ll never ;

’ ’ n o w Come home at once t, come home, my heart s

breaking ,

’ ’ I t s never you d di e all that love yo u forsaking

ri 3 o f The b ght morning dawn found a Sabbath tears,

o n o f Its light her heart cast the darkness years,

’ F o r di o f its young rays scovered the corse her darlin ,

’ Borne home o er the m oor t o poor Sally Macfarlane .

I WA S NOT A LWAYS THU S A L ONE .

I know a seat some elms below ,

Supplying shelter, rest, an d shade

And near it waters gently ﬂow,

- And summer murmurs sweet, are made

When seated there I oft recall ,

The times, the hopes, for ever ﬂown ,

o n m And sigh , as y heart they fall , l” I was n o t alway s thus alone

Sometimes I mark at quiet eve

Some youthful , bright, and loving pair,

u The busier ha nts of mankind leave, And seat them half unheeded there lo3

o lo w And as they whisper s ft and ,

’ A ﬁec tio n breathing in each tone ,

so ﬂ o w The words seem from my heart , I was not always thus alone

The sun shines brightly as of yore , C With living souls the ity teems ,

And Beauty hath the look she wore ,

F rom dark and fair alternate beams ;

L ove casts around its silken chain , New links cannot the lost atone

Nor Reason check the solemn strain , ” I was n o t always thus alone !

TH E S I LVE R HA I R .

- Amid her tresses raven black , One silver hair sad Beauty found

a And to her eye there sprang a te r , And from her heart a sigh profound

o f The bloom youth , she said, is gone ,

O O a i rs i n And w nter bleak com ng o .

Her mirror found , some comfort gave , N o w ri nkle o n her bro w is seen

And smiles and dimples chase the thought ,

’ ’ She s lovely as she e er has been . 1 04

“ ’ Ah , yet, says she the summer s gone ,

a 3 o n I know th t winter coming .

on No more ﬂeeting charms I lean ,

- u r o ld Good nat re, t uth , grow never

T o ff l those a ection sti l doth cling,

’ w it her d When charms are , passion cold ;

fo r No more regret summer gone,

’ ’ L ove sta ys th o win ter s rolling o n .

J E A N N IE D O V E .

se a t w o On the wild beach were , One charming summer night

’ r vo w The wind, like love s ,

Breathed soft, and the moon shone bright ;

o n e w as And Jeannie Dove,

A blue-eyed be aut y rare ;

w ho l Ah cou d fail to love , That form and face so fai r 9

its ﬂ o w Yet ocean , in heavy ,

’ M oan d w oe . solemnly, as if in

’ T w o s t o e heart love s swe t music tuned ,

o I n youth , with hope and j y before The darkest omen had impugned

Elsewhere , as on that lonely shore

1 00

ﬂ o w And ocean , in its heavy ,

’ M o an d o n , but heavier was his woe .

SP RING .

o f o No more fr st, no more of snow , The streams have cast their chains and ﬂow i The soft w nds genial , breathe like song

The tender leaves and ﬂowers among .

n o The happy birds longer mute ,

’ Make music sweet as lovers lute ; And love itself pours sweeter strains

Mong blooming maids and loving swains .

A theme more joyous none can sing ,

Than hail to thy sweet promise Spring .

’ ’ To w (1 those ho ve journey many years, Their j o y may shine amid their tears o The byg ne springs have left a trace,

ff . L eft blanks, that nothing can e ace

’ uen ch d The bright eyes q , the warm hearts The shepherd left without his fold

Departed , loving mate and young , ’ N o . wonder, if his lute s unstrung

o n Yet, while that life is the wing ,

With joy he still doth hail the Spring . 1 07

It seems awakening youth to all , Whatever storms their fate befall

F o r nature bursts her seeming tomb ,

All life and sunshine , joy and bloom .

The skies like early brightness shine ,

’ Earth s tend ri ls blossoming entwine

r Birds chi p and trill on every tree,

What joyous, untaught minstrelsy .

ri What time has brought, what time may b ng ,

With joy we still must hail thee Spring .

Suppose like thee , we winter cast,

Leave freezing glances with the past ;

The biting word , the act unkind ,

The passions, wild as winter wind

Forgiving injury with grace , Good - nature levelling every trace

’ o ff And casting pride s iron mask ,

Forgiveness too of others ask .

I f thou such genial feeling bring ,

ho w h i Oh , we ought to bless t ee Spr ng

’ V TH E H EA RT S STI L L O IC E .

Wild wind , that like the solemn ocean swells

in e s w he n ce o Through yonder plumed p , art thou b und

What spirit in thy troubled bosom wells, > What is thy mission , where thy slumber found . 1 08

T he w ild wind hurried on with hollow moan ,

N o w n o w sank in sorrow , in anger raved

Despair and desolation in each tone , And would not grant the knowledge that I ‘ craved

’ But then , the heart s still voice gave soft reply ,

All things in nature run their course, and die .

A maiden passed , a blossom , beauteous, young ,

’ And graceful as the wind o e r waving corn

H er voice a spell , as if a syren sung,

’ The charmed tones o e r moonlit billows borne

’ T he sw a d forest heard, its tresses y and bent,

The singing birds were mute, so they might hear,

And sylvan echo , fond responses lent,

On every bud , and bell , a loving tear

Unto my thoughts returned the same reply ,

o f h F rom that still voice , All things eart must die .

I saw a sage , replete with mystic lore ,

Who o f knew the law stars , and sun , and moon l Could te l when swelling tides would sweep the shore , n Whe comets would return , a curse or boon

o r When seasons would be barren , most rare,

r o r A linge ing winter, an early spring

o r When lambs would perish , rich produce bear,

’ Read in the setting sun what morn would bring

1 1 0

not Wert thou a rose, I could bear, T o see thy beauty fade

t o My heart would break see each leaf,

Drop silent in the shade .

’ Twould be a pang t o see the sun Gain one kind look from thee

Or soft gale kiss thy softer cheek ,

riﬂi n O r honey , g bee .

Nor would I pluck thee from the stem , T o perish o n my breast ;

’ o n But thy blushing cheek I d be , A dew - drop there to rest

And when thy tender leaves should close, As night ’ s chill shadows spread

’ - I d wakeful watch the live long night,

Above thy drooping head.

And when the radiant locks of mo rn

’ Gleamed o e r the eastern hill And nature ’ s matin song arose

From greenwood , plain and rill

Then , as thy lovely face should turn , All grateful t o the sky

’ Dissolved in beams I d soar from earth , ” Or lost in rapture die . 1 1 1

W N ANG E L , O R O MA

I can but wonder, harp and tongue essay I n vain her fascination t o portray

An angel now , but soon her wit and wile

Betray the woman , with a tinge of guile

t d She throws her nets with ar less grace aroun ,

And hearts , like birds, are in the meshes bound .

And all so gentle , innocent, and bland,

Of harm she knows not, could not understand

So sweet a temper, nought to wrath could wake ,

But thwart her will , this seems a slight mistake

Keen anger ﬂashes from her lovely eyes ,

- As lightnings ﬂash from thunder ri ven skies .

Oh when she smiles , what sunshine round her seem

The summer morn not half so brightly beams ;

o n e Love , peace , and beauty blended in form ,

But weigh your words , you may produce a storm

’ t abb lat c l fe at he r d e t When y, § y, caught her p ,

’ o h ! Her looks , her voice , dear, I can t forget

so Peace , rhymer would you have your love tame , Nor wrong nor insult could her breast e n ﬂ am e

So stupid , she no harm can comprehend , ! And calm , when cruel claws her linnet rend 1 1 2

If she you wed can only smile and sigh , You ’ ll wish her less angelic by and bye

H OMEWA RD BOUND .

Faint gleaming , t hrough the morning haze, The white cliffs of my native land

Appear unto my longing gaze , f ’ With magic o enchanter s wand .

’ ass d Hai l , happy shore , long years have p , Since I t o thee breathed sad adi eu

But all my hopes are crowned at last,

Triumphant I return t o you .

Droop not ye winds, swift bear me home ,

’ From all that s dear no more to roam .

’ When on the desert s cheerless waste ,

With dreary blinding sands around , Fond memory oft hath fondly traced a Each haunt recalled , each tre sured sound .

And when by savage hordes assailed ,

And dead end dying round me lay , My country ’ s honour never failed

To nerve me for the fatal fray .

Droop not ye winds , swift bear me home,

’ F rom all that s dear no more to roam .

1 1 4

To the lost it is naught, he is still as a stone,

The loss, and the grief, for survivors alone

’ o f The wealth the world cannot stem fate s decree,

S o t he o f loved ones must fall , drops rain in the sea .

Cold Reason reproves every tear that we shed, — Our hearts we may break that recalls n o t the dead ;

Waves rise in the ﬂood, and they glitter and gleam , Then vanish as swiftly as scenes in a dream

And monarch and serf rise and fall just the same, Save that some lying stone fo r the great bears a name

The monument best, that endures to the end,

f o f I s the record o love in the heart a friend .

o f Dear harp that I waken , the wail the wind, And the sough o f the storm in thy music I ﬁnd

‘ w t o Perchance it is rong thus thy silence break ,

- t o And this melody , broken , half hidden , make ;

so Thy chords uncertain , my griefs scarce disclose , And the world litt le cares for my joys o r my woes m But thy faltering nu bers to some heart may wend, f sw i o . That vibrate ith m ne, for the loss a friend

TH E THUND E R STO RM .

da One pleasant summer y,

I chanced to stray ,

o n e With so very dear, By river Clear ; l

To ask her for my bride ,

My tongue denied ,

For had she answered no ,

Fate , what a blow

Still dear to me that summer day ,

’ Tho many years have passed away .

At length , within the west,

’ O n mountain s breast , f The dark clouds gathered ast, Winds shivered past And heavy pattering rain

’ Leapt o er the plain ,

’ Mid thunder loudly pealed , Flashed storm revealed

Still dear to me that changeful day ,

Tho many years have passed away .

Beneath an oak so hoar

My charge I bore , And whispered to her ear To calm her fear

The storm , the woods that bent ,

Unheeded went,

’ w We knew not till t as gone, Skies brightly shone

Still dear to me that summer day , r I1 ho many years have passed away . 1 1 6

I! E L A .

h ! And art t ou gone, sweet Infant called Ere life had well begun L ike tender bud torn from the stem

When opening t o the sun . 0 death were there no broken hearts,

No bosoms crushed with care, That thou must quench ‘ the new -born light And cr0p a bud so rare !

When last I kissed thy pretty lips,

o n - Sleep thy blue eyes lay ,

’ I little de e m d that never more

’ They d sun me with their ray . In after years thy name shall still

Be hallowed with fond tears,

When in the silent city, I ,

to Am lost hopes and fears.

’ n o t al F or one thy father s sigh ,

’ And mother s pensive brow ,

th Speak memory , y playmates weep

And wonder where art t hou . S o late I saw thy tender arms l A round them fond y twined, And trusted that the coming years N o harsher thoughts would ﬁnd ;

1 1 8

lii s And the Thrasher with ﬂail ,

And the Milkmaid with her pail , Are mingled in the memory

r Of o u cottage in the Vale .

When many years had passed and gone,

Again I sought that scene ;

The leafy wood, the singing stream

o u r r Were there , happy g een

r And merry child en blithe as we,

o ut w ball Were ith hoop and , ! But ah my mates like birds had ﬂown , None answered t o my call

Our humble cottage swept away, The garden choked with weed

Amid the wreck one rose I found ,

ri A p ze, none else may heed

And the Thrasher with his ﬂail ,

And the Milkmaid with her pail , Came mingled with the memo ry

Of our Cottage in the Vale .

BY TH E R IVE R .

’ H u mber s By ample tide I strayed,

When night was dark , and winds were mute, ,

ri The distant cities lamps were b ght ,

‘

The city murmured l . ke a lute 1 1 9

The waters misty music made ,

Most pleasant to the charmed ear,

n o t I was wandering then al one ,

For by my side was one most dear .

The breaking waves in light most strange

Threw glistening pearls upon the shore ,

That night had happiness most rare, A light divine that shines no more

The Humber rolls as it was wont,

ri The city lamps yet b ghtly gleam ,

’ o e r The path unchanged which we trod ,

And yet the past seems but a dream .

’ ri Again I tread the ver s shore ,

When heavy night holds earth and sky ,

And if no tear bedew my cheek ,

The g ri ef profound doth deeper lie .

u ri The s llen ﬂood with se and fall , f Breaks on the shore with retful tone ,

The scene remains, the change but mine,

hO e . Hopes dead , p ﬂed , and all alone

AWAY TA R D Y S UN .

Away tardy sun to thy home in the west, And bring the lone twilight so dear to my breast

For ere thou hast laved thy broad face in the sea ,

’ There ll be One by the valley - stream waiting for 1 2 0 So away tardy sun

T o thy home in the west, And bring me the hour

And the smile I love best.

’ ou The nightingale s voice still is mute while y shine , But in the calm night wakes a music divine

Thus love in the bosom lies mute through the day,

’ And pours out its soulby the moon s quiet ray S o away tardy sun

T o thy home in the west, And bri ng me the ho ur

And the smile I love best.

A shadow steals noiselessly over the earth ,

’ L ights twinkle like stars from the cottager s hearth ;

’ S o love s light arises when storms gather round,

’ d o f Mid the arkness fate, its true brightness is found So away tardy sun

To thy home in the west, And bring me the hour

And the smile I love best .

TH E SHAD OW O N TH E DIA L .

o n A silent shadow the Dial lies,

So slow its motion , that it seemeth still ,

But from that solemn stillness doth arise ,

ﬂ o w Dark thoughts that , and wait not on the will

1 2 2

But what is Shadow, Dial , Time, and Death ,

And what is joy and hope, and what is woe,

o n a And what is life, dependent breath ,

H o w w shall we answer, that so little kno

m a We y not weigh creation , compass cause ,

f c n Ef ects, from day to day , alone we s a

They are His servants then , obey His laws , The un i n ali en able fate o f man

And more to know , a heavy curse would be

’ Who d have the secret o f his fatal hour

’ Who d willingly each coming woe foresee,

’ Who (1 know each moment when his should lour ‘

’ Ere life s brief shadow from the Dial goes ,

Up , watchman , guard each moment to the close . IND E X.

Th o D e ll - B o rn S tre am Th o u H o m o o f m y Childh o o d S o ng o f t h e Fate s Th e Sh a d o w o n t h e Bli n d Th e L a st O w lo f ! irk st all Th e H o und a n d th e H o rn Ch 1 i st 1 n a s Wh o G o e s Th e re G r e c I. h Th e W e S e t t o c b y J . I b Auld if , ( M usi i s a ) ' W lh i 1 l“ a ll a o e S e t t o c b J . Ally M l n , ( M usi y ) S u sli e n se a S ke t c h from Li fe Th e Tw o Lam ps Th e Harp o f Isa b elle Th e C o ttage G ard e n Th e S w a ll o w N e st ' I h e R ain Th e Birth day Club M usi c o n th e Wa te r E ve 1 o m E e G o C in Dg, v r ing R a v e n sp u m M usi n gs afte r a M ay sh o w e r M idnight ' lh e Wo o dla n d Fairi e s ’ E n gl a nd s B 1 i d e Fat e a t t h e H e lm Th e L o c k o f Hai i ' Ih e S h e p h e i d and h i s D o g 1 G s n Ba i n et 01 1 o o d M a n (S e t t o M u i c b v M r . J o h t ) Th e o t 1 e o e i S e t t o M u si c b S 1 1 II B o M ss p , ( y ish p) L o e w a s n ot e b u t o n e e n v D ad , ly sl pi g Th e B urn t L e tt e r Th e Wo o dm a n B e v e rl e y Wo o d Th e O ld M a id ’ Th e Tim e t h a t s C om i n g S h e G am e a n d S h e We n , t ’ Th e C a uld Bl a sts 0 Wi n t e r L o st f o 1 Y e a le Th e T o w e r a n d th e Iv y Sm il e n o t o n t h e P ast Lv rrn x O N CLL’ D E D C .

Th e T et h e r d Ass Th e Lo S a o w S et t o u c b M 1 3 R ow n st h d ( M si y H . la d) Th e O ld Sta ge C oa c h Th e G re y Fri a r (S e t t o M us1 c b y Le v el] P hillips) Thus G o e s th e Wo1 ld Aro u n d Th e Che vi o t Hills O u r Sid e Y e t Fl i ght o f t h e M urd e re r Th e F a ll e n R o se Thre e T a ps a t th e D o or R a re J o hn Ho bbs Th e E mpt y C a ge ’ Wom a n s First L o ve Wi n te r and Ch arity Th e Fa de d R o se O ld Tim e s A Wa lk in t h e Wo o ds A T a l e o f Y e ste rd a y ’ Th e M o urn e r s F ri e nd B y th e L ig ht o f th e M o o n Th e L o w li e st B o ugh Th e Dr e a m o f Lo v e L a n d rk n e i oght Da ss H o m e Tho ughts ’ Th e 1 e s M usi c ln th e Wi n d N e v e r L o o k Do w n w a k e m Lo e S et t o M usi c b “1 We A y v , ( y H ist Hill) Th e B a n sh e e I w a s n ot a l w a ys thus a l o n e Th e Silv e r H a ir J e an n i e D o v e S r p in g . ’ Th e H e ai t 5 Still V o i ce m We o a R o S et t o c b M r. J . Sc rt th u se, ( M usi y h idt) e 01 Wom Ang l , an H o m e w ar d B o u n d Th e H a rp from t h e Wa ll Th e Thun de r Storm

O u r C otta g e i n t he V a l e B y th e R iv er A w a y Ta rdy Sun Th e Sh ad o w o n th e Di al