Professional Documents
Culture Documents
/.-ssimm'imm'iwM->7m'immmmmm^:.
PR
/"fOS
needed
within 4 weeks.
Borrowers should not use their library privileges for thebenefit of other peryons. Books not needed
idurihg recess periods
ments made
,
for their
on the reserve
of
special
Books
value and gift books, \ when the giver wishes it, are irot allowed to
circulate.
PR 5459.S18 1902
Poetical works.
The
tine
original of
tiiis
bool<
is in
restrictions in
text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013552611
THE
POETICAL WORKS
OF
WALTER
C.
SMITH
D.D., LL.D.
friTH 'PHOTOGRAVURE
Br
SIR
LONDON
M. DENT & CO. ALDINE HOUSE, BEDFORD STREET
J.
MDCCCCII
yxusv^
Printed hy Morrison
&
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
The
various
into
at
difFerent periods during the last forty-five years, with the exception
of the portion of
it
which I have
called
"
of old age.
Though some of
had
my mind
that they
had served
other
their
turn,
human
productions.
On
do
so.
Some months
they
me
now
are.
They were
Yet
I
it
came
varying shadows of thought and feeling during the latter part of the
nineteenth century, on the whole
so
;
but I found so
much
it
to blot,
and
much
would
involve,
in
even while I
that there
was some
good work
first,
them
I
At
therefore,
de-
do
as
my
friends wished.
into details.
They were
the
work
that could be
done
for
me.
Of
course, they
vi
Introductory Note
I
day, for
suppose
in
my
secret
heart
half wished
them
to
win
it.
of
The " Ballads from Scottish History " are the only new portion the book. They had grown up lately since I was laid aside
ill-health,
by age and
to float the
production.
I sincerely
who have been bold enough hope this may prove true.
also to Messrs.
have to acknowledge
my
WALTER
Orwell Cottage, Dunblane,
October 1902.
C.
SMITH.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The
Bishop's
Walk
1-2
Part
Part Part
Part Part
The Cathedral Town II.The Walk III.The Bishop IV.The Meditation V The Incident
I
,
i6 '9
The
Bishop's
^2-37
22
From
the Bass
Rothes
^7
3
3^
Witch
33
35
36
M' Kail's
Olrig Grange
Farewell
Book
First
...
Editorial
36
39-86
39 41
Loquitur Thorold
Book Second
Editorial
Loquitur Hester
47 49
5S
S6 62 64
69
71
Loquitur Pater
Book Sixth
Editorial
.
77 79
Loquitur Thorold
BoKLAND Hall
87-143
Life
87
92 99 100
Borland's
Widow
vin
Borland Hall
Contents
continued
PAGE
Book ThirdThe Funeral The Will Book FourthThe HowfF Paul Gaunt Book Fifth Visitors Andrew Downie, Esq. Book Sixth Milly Gaunt
.
no
113 118
34
144-216
144 146
59 180 19Z
Book First Claud Maxwell, Poet Book Second Hilda, Saint-Wife Book Third Winifred Urquhart, Materialist Book Fourth Luke Sprott, Evangelist Book Fifth Rev. Elphinstone Bell, Priest
204
215
Epilogue
L'Envoi
216
Raban Raban
.
217-288
217
the Square
Preludes
223 224
228
Sermons
233
Litterateur
Endings
Stray Leaves
244 256
271
.
289-369
289 298
305
Wee
Curly
Pow
31Z
316
323 328
331
The Mad
Morgana
Earl
Provost Chivas
.
Mrs. Coventry
333 335
339
343
345
The
Poetaster
Parish Pastors
Amory
The
Hill
.
Village Philosopher
Contents
North Country Folk
IX
continued
Contents
Ballads from Scottish History
continued
page
Presages of a new philosophy Mt friend, I bring this little offering To thee, assured, how small soe'er its worth, Of history made meaningless, alas prompts thou me And lacking human interest, for lack That for the love which
1
Of its diviner import, waiting still And with thy love wilt make it beautiful. The Epic soul. And ever with our speech Mingled the interval of silent thought, How oft among thy flower-beds we have Not without reason, and the blithesome
wilt love
it.
laughter, which had reason too, nimble wit and repartee, and apt Quotation from the poets who have sung Prolific of its gifts the long year through, Unchanging wisdom to a changeful world. Breaks into beauty, or the myrtle rare With orient perfume scents the nimble Then, by and by, along the breezy heights breeze And lichened crags orange and grey and
rose,
ring
Of cheery
And
Now
in
the
Spring,
when
faint-sweet
brown.
violets
We
eyes, coy,
in the
amid the
strolled, where mountain ash and sombre pine Crest with their various plumage thy loved
Autumn
hill;
We
Of
could spy the far-oil the red creeper flushes all the house. May Save where the ivy clasps around the Dim in the sea, the Lomonds' shadowy tower. heights Or trails, with wandering shoots, about Crowning the winding shores of kingly the eaves Fife, And gargoyles grim, fantastic, fearless North Berwick Law, the grey sea-withered homes scalp Held by old swallows on a lease of love Of Bass (where the wild sea-mew wings Unbroken, immemorial. And at times. amidst When Summer rain pattered upon the Heroic memories of a nation's sorrow leaves. Still haunting there), and nearer Arthur In the green cloisters of the ivy-walk Seat mused, with ample range of large Shouldering the dingy surge of mist and
now,
Whence looking we
When
smoke
;
Of
forces correlate,
his great flanks, while the old Castle looms Darkly above the city roofs and spires.
From
Xll
Dedication
Of Keats, whose senses were a kind of pillared Calton veils amid the dusk soul, His monumental forms, and at our feet Living at every point of his fine frame. Nestles among the chestnuts and the elms Jeffrey's green turret and thy happy home. And clothing subtlest thought in imagery Tinted and perfumed and melodious So as we wallced amid the beautiful, And shaped our speech about the beautiful Of Shelley, with the skylark singing, soaring, In art or nature, evermore we found, Though years of ripened wisdom lay be- And now in cloud invisible, and now Without a cloud invisible, but still tween us. And varied rich experience, rare agreement Throbbing with passionate music, when
And
And
like instruments
the sense
half articulate
:
Of Hunt,
An
Filling the chord, to make a perfect strain. And when the Winter early closed the day. And the log crackled, and the lamp was lit.
About
And
the long wind howled through the groaning trees, the great arm-chair to the fireside
And
drawn
Allured to mild repose, which yet the
glass
Of
pling quaint old flask of Venice-work, forbade To become vacant idleness ; then we Held high discourse of God and Destiny, And the dear Christ of human love and
The
life's surface, cheerily singing, genial And very human, and yet now and then Unconscious, childlike, lifting up the veil. And glancing at the holiest with wonder Soon lost among the pictures and the pathos Of our familiar life of Tennyson, Dropping so calmly down a quiet stream witched river, yet an English stream 'Mong the broad lilies, and the whispering sedges. Musing and singing, noting thoughtfully The passionate throbbings of a troubled
:
heart.
And
With
passionate struggles of a
all
all.
wondrous
hope
age.
Gathering the weary wandering ages round a cross, and conquering passion till Theology By His meek Stript off its sorrowful garb again, and
These
we
Nor lacked
still
grew
Of people's Epic, and the learned muse Of Milton of the tragic sock, and eke Of tragic symbol, tracking through the
;
An
Or at times maze We talked of those whose songs had Of sorrow and temptation the footprints Mingled of God and man. So Goethe sang charmed our youth Who of them were forgot, and who were His Faust and so in Runic strain, unimpotent scholastic.
;
still
measured.
Guttural, yet with rarest tones of beauty. Wailing the broken idols and the shrines Even while he hurls them down, our modern Titan
Daily companions, faring on the road With us, and with a deeper meaning speaking Unto our deepening wants Of Wordsworth doing tuneful ministry of love to all God's common creatures, till the hedge:
life's
mystery.
fellowship, and
heard Manifold wisdom, truth profound, and With choiring seraphim at cottage doors pure Of Coleridge dreaming, and discoursing Utterance of taste which I delightedly words Recall and treasure, and delightedly Mystic and musical formative fire-mist Look forward to, making a threefold joy Luminous, with a star or two in it. Deeper in heaven than any star we know, Of hope and memory and present gladness, And sweeping over vaster breadths of I, grateful, bring mine offering to thee, Assured thy love will scan it lovingly. space
rows sung
THE
PART
I
BISHOP'S
With
Hall,
WALK
squalid
lane,
and
flaunting
tall
You know the place wherein The weary toil and spin.
S
and
in the light
With
jalousie
oriel
downward
to
the
And And
sea-winds
streets.
;
bridge
blow.
light parade,
face.
haunt of plea-
With
Its tide
the
:
gray
minster
for
its
And
crown
Its pleasuring
And
With
That
beautiful the
of work has ebbed away ; was never gay Yet there the morning broke, And the new world awoke.
tell the tale of pious work Beneath the spire and round the kirk. And growth of Law and Right Where Christ had come with
light.
And it is well, amid the whir Of restless wheels and busy stir. To find a quiet spot where live
Fond
pious thoughts conservative.
ring to an old chime,
4
Begrimed with smoke, a monotone
That
Of equal
And
The
Bishop's
Walk
The Walk
i8
And And
you hush
hear the slow still waters gush Incessant and unseen, Beneath the branches green.
Through
ridge
river's
down
the sloping
Where
waters flow
A pleasant path
With
light
at
noonday
bright,
To
arching boughs to
;
screen
the
A pleasant walk
PART
II
at close
With
way.
red
lights
of day. glancing on
the
THE WALK
Where
Unto
looks the western window far the liquid evening star.
Here
swell
the
Ochils
green
and
And And
can Benledi dimly view. the gray mists on Benvenue, And long brown uplands, felt In distant air to melt
there
The Cromlex
bare;
20
Irregular branch
Benledi and Benlomond far Front the rude crags of U-am-var And by the shady way Still towers the minster gray.
There where the green ash interweaves and slender leaves, For umbrage soft a pale green shade
25
With broken
There
The
And
The
below the waters clear Murmur their presence on the ear, Scarce seen for dipping boughs that seek
far
light, or
26
only
when
a streak
And
wall
high
the
above
light
the
churchyard
Of sunshine
Upon
cometh home
Springs
tall,
western
window
And
A pleasant walk,
Upon
An
when
singing bird.
is
be it window, be it niche, almond form with carving rich. Set on the gable high.
heard.
Looks
; ;
The
Bishop's
Walk
PART
III
27
And
in the roofless nave you see Lofty light-pillared gallery In vista long, and windows still
THE BISHOP
32
Of lances And
skill,
Two
and
gone,
Since that
mused alone
28
gargoyle
lacks,
and
quaint.
Where
33
Slow-pacing, with a lowly look. Or gazing on the lettered book Of Tauler, or a-Kempis, or Meek Herbert with his dulcimer. In quaintly pious vein Rehearsing a deep strain
:
And And
29
And o'er the dim old centuries The minster bridges, unto these
Dull times of
From
toil and commonplace, days of chivalry and grace. Spanning the vague abyss With memories of bliss.
34
he read
what was
said
Of Augustine's
30
Oft Leighton's subtle fancy sped Far back unto its youth, and read, In sculptured forms and texts and rhymes, The secret of the ancient times.
Or
experience. of the Gospel's grand defence Before assembled lords. In Luther's battle-words.
35
Slowly-pacing, with a downcast eye, Which yet, in rapt devotion high. Sometimes its great dark orb would lift. And pierced the veil, and caught the
swift
divinest sense
reverence.
31
law ; Its dim light bade with awe admire And thought soared heavenward on
in its pillars stedfast
And And
in its
Where
of the
Lamb
they sing
the spire.
36
The Meditation
And
lines
of weariness and
strain,
The
46
Bishop's
Walk
; ;
The Meditation
61
!
S6
" Yet that were light, if I might serve all for what ? alas, the while deal in wrath, and hate, and The blessM Christ, and never swerve guile. Nor do I grudge the sacrifice And these to madness yield them, all Of all that I esteem of price For forms ecclesiastical To do Thy will, O Lord, And for the seed of grace According to Thy Word. but the husk embrace.
;
We
62
57
" Ay me
An
I seem to see look down on me ; The fleece is dewy on the hills But dry and dewless now all else ; Nor reverence, nor fear. Nor touch of grace is here.
!
ay
me
angry
God
" I care not for the weary care, I heed not of the hate I share, I would not murmur or complain At cruel wrong or bitter pain
;
For
thou,
O Lamb
63
of God,
"
Of
I pray
Whom
are
Thou
wilt send
mine eyes
:
dim
and see
will suffer
Thy work
For
I
now
in
me
A king
His
in folly sunk,
!
am
all
alone.
64
59
" And I alas I was not meant For tasks of crafty government
!
" Alone,
And
Too
His
To moderate the angry stir Of troubled kirk and presbyter, And settle wordy jars Of harsh polemic wars.
60
no gift that way ; I think At good men's errors I would wink ; good man's foible should be borne Yet shall I get but double scorn
1 have
lorn.
heritage a
common
hate.
"
my way deplore The men I loathe do hate me more With whom I live I have no ties With whom I left, sad memories
I love
;
From
those the
wrong
that do,
I the
power
And
To
The
66
"
Bishop's
Walk
71
" This people will not be constrained Yet, Lord, let not the scaith be Except by truth and love unfeigned ; Thine But give them doctrine undefiled. They love me not and yet for them And you may lead them like a child This dark and troubled tide I stem That holds its father's hand.
doubtless
all
And
the blame
is
mine
And
I could almost be
for
And
is
grand.
Accursed
67
"
weary heart
of
hapless fate
I know them and their noble deeds. Which still are more than all their
"
evil times
strife
and hate
creeds
The
To
'The
sad dove
flutters, fain
know their patience to endure The evils which they may not cure, While they may go their way.
I
To
And
and pray.
68
73
;
" Lord,
In
take
me hence
what
?
profit I
" Set up
of misery
And
By
;
1 am but tempted to repine At mine own doings. Lord, and Thine I have
lofty aim. they will put your soul to shame. readiness to pay the price for
them a
no heart
to live.
Having no help
to give.
In suffering and sacrifice. That they the Lord may serve, Nor from His Law may swerve.
69
74
"
I
" For
lo
know them,
but they
know
not
The
of the commonweal I was beguiled to be the tool Of those who now hold sway and rule In this distracted land. They nowise understand.
evils
me,
And
How
And
Although
my way
is
not
Along
70
me
not
rulers
75 " I heed not much of forms ; I thought 'Twere well indeed if we were brought From our lax ways and hot debate.
How
plot
could
when
these
To crush their freedom, and discrown The only King the Church may own As Lord of conscience here.
Whose
right
is
To
primitive episcopate.
And
By
The Meditation
76
The
86
Bishop's
Walk
91
"Yet oh, I love not man's device Of policy and statecraft nice
;
Nor would
I plant
what
I love most,
Of hate
" I may not bind me with their creed. Though some of them are free indeed. Or only thrall to heaven above ; And oh they bind me by their love Of Him whose name on earth Is ointment poured forth.
87
92
And I had been content to try What Christ's flock wished What care I
"
for.
For
priest or presbyter, or
lawn
And
nowise drawn By words and names and shows, But what they do enclose.
mitre
?
am
When Faith is young, and doth rejoice, And goeth all day long
Singing a quiet song
:
93
88
"
From bride, whose Bridegroom " But men of crafty policy, is near That neither love the land nor me. Nor God, nor Christ, nor prayer, nor In her mysterious mirthfulness.
praise.
And
trembling
joy,
and wondering
Have dragged me on
grace,
And
That
torn
bosom
lying.
94
" But yet they wrong me much who say That I have erred, and gone astray From Christ, the Way, the Truth,
the Life,
"
Ay me
ay
me
that I should be
The
And
The
Because I shrink from civil strife. And schoolmen's quirks, and faint Cobwebs of argument.
90 "
95
Oh
that I
were
in still
Douay,
"
Among the quiet priests that pray I love old ways, but Christ far more In chapel low or chancel dim, I love the fold, I love the flock. Chaunting the plain-song or the hymn. But more my Shepherd and ray Rock, Perchance the ' Stabat Mater,' And the great Book of grace Perchance ' Veni Creator.' That mirrors His dear face.
; ;
; ;
The Meditation
96
"
lOI
II
" just to seat me by the tide sweet the story and the psalm, Of life, and see its galleys glide, And prophecy is healing balm, With every sail on every yard. Like virgin-comb apostle's lips. Like Heaven the grand Apocalypse ; And speculate their whitherward Upon the shoreless sea. But sweet above all other, Dim with man's destiny His words, our Saviour-Brother.
97 "
;
102
To stand apart, and set my heart " Once my soul wandered for I lent upon the better part, Alone argument. faithless ears to Mine Yet not my heart erred, but my head. And hear far off the idle din Of evil tongues and bruit of sin, For still my fainting spirit bled
And
soar to
Thee,
holy
Lord,
!
High on Thy
Word
103 Thee,
had clung to had kept Thy holy Word I did not seek to 'scape from Thee, by 5 But Thou didst fade away from me But from a ruder finger fly And all Thy glory seemed The long-drawn notes, and men had dream which Harsh and unmusical. dreamed.
fain
"I
Lord
I fain
" I was not meant for action ; I Like wind-harp in the window sigh. When breath of Heaven is passing
fall
99
104
Thy
breath
may
not for crime.
be
all
Tremulous
day long on me
That in his fever Thy poor child Raved wildly in his fancies wild For still I found no rest
Save lying on
So So
shalt
shall
Thou
my
For
this
of
me
Thy
breast.
would
might be
To dream beside the dreamy wave, And choose me out a quiet grave,
Where
the long ocean chime Tells the slow march of time.
; :
The
1
Bishop's
Walk
whispering winds were tripping
the high pillared gallery. sighing as they pass
grass.
06
And
A A
free
Down
Or
The
107
poor life storm and strife. Nor skill to order the debate, So long maintained, of Church
I
for this
have no help
Still was the hour the evening still Peace slumbered on the distant hill Peace, dreaming, smiled upon the
Of controversial
cloud
;
!
And
and
aloud,
As
108
And
life is past.
in
What,
if
To
To
Old memories have a witching power. Old times come back, old faces look
at last.
And
fruitful
branches wave
Up to us from the unread book The very grave seems made To yield us back our dead.
Above
US
PART V
THE INCIDENT
109
So dreaming, there appeared to rise certain form before his eyes. Personal, real ; and yet he knew 'Twas but the mind's fine shadow grew
Thus musing to and fro he went. Dreaming of kirk and government While cawing rooks were homeward
winging.
From
With
And
114
singing.
bird on leafy
And Was
They had
ship
;
been friends,
when
friend-
is
no
And
kine stood
listless in
And
Unto
the stream
tender sacrament
the house of
And
Where the
The same
The
13
Incident
115
Their busy day was a delight
120
ye, if ye were living yet Nor less the thoughtful studious night, foolish youth, and cursed pride. With high discourse, and large debate. That kept me from a brother's side Unmixed by bitterness or hate
O O O
bitter grief
vain regret
Their
fellowship I ween,
What
is
Worth
so great sacrifice
121
He
Seemed now
in Dalkeith, a guide of
at
hand
that
friend of
men,
youth.
And
Who
He An
truth
knew
but an
empty shade.
;
image which the mind had made Yet shook with hope and fear. As if he might be near.
117
fate
122
Bishop ? " Where is he In lettered Utrecht by the sea ? Among the wilds of Annandale ?
In sorrow deep, disconsolate, One got the mitre one the rod
Then
said the
loss,
Or where
sail.
And
118 123
Alas
!
if
" No man of
Where some
changed.
some
Of cunning
are
art
and
politic,
Or
But
And some embittered and estranged, And some you wronged, perchance,
A man
of thought, and calm and meek, of men wert thou Of the great eye and brow.
124
"
119
And
still
:
where
art
thou
we need
thee
hill
Thine own folk need thee on the For counsel and courage to meet
fate
their
Than these remembered faces wake, When, silent as the falling flake,
Ghostly and pale and dumb, In twilight dim they come.
And
thou
art
needed
in
the state
;; ;
14
The
125
Bishop's
Walk
130
To
And
But
loathe
;
the
heaven
ill
have been hunted stiU, From heath to heath, from hill to hill, No time to sleep, no time to eat,
I
No
pause for
my
unresting feet,
faint,
world and us
And
Without the
Alas
!
salt
we
it
rot,
My
feeble life
spent.
and heed
not."
131
126
" Yet
as he spoke, one straggled through The wild-rose white with blossoms
if I
Even
new,
With
And
trim
And
and panting breath, on his face the brand of death, Pallid and pinched and dim And stood confronting him.
tottering step,
Though
127
"
face to face
No
matter
all is
well
still
thou art
in
They gazed
moment
Still
mine old
friend,
my
heart
He
tall
and with a
stately grace
ended, home is near ; And, as we part, the lights appear, Flashing from sapphire floor Through heaven's open door.
My journey
133
And
grieve
not,
Robert
would' st
"
My brother O my brother
!
thou weep
He
could not
but the
To
Hushed on
And
As
Now
129
134
"
came
to seek thee in
my
need,
;
" And
all is
well
And
well
And come
For me, For
too late
;
yet that
is
I think
What
thou wilt toll the passing bell For a poor brother, who hath run sorry race that now is done. And with thine own hands lay
life,
and
live to rue
Me
'
The
Incident
IS
135
140
" That was our covenant ; for you Promised beneath the dark old yew,
o'er
sweeps
" You love the old Church primitive. In the old manner you would live. But yet I know that Christ is more
you than
Ah
all your learned lore be not joined with them That harm Jerusalem.
!
141
136
" And, Robert, hear me ere I know thy clear sincerity.
I die
The
night
alone
Thine old love of the Old Church ways. For weeks among the moorlands bare. Yet not alone, for Christ was there And the old ritual of praise. Eerie they were and sad. And that thy fancy still But yet He made them glad. Dwelt pure amid the ill.
137
142
Would
doubted thee ; when some have it thou wert almost come. In feebleness and false compliance. To seek with Rome a base alliance, I held their words but light, Knowing thy heart was right.
I never
"
"
How
here?
dark
it
grows
Is
Robert
No matter, Lord, if thou art near And yet I wist that he would say
A kind word,
With
138
I die
"
thine,
used to go down with a soul Into the valley of death and dole Farther than any I ever knewj
He
And
there
Its vain
many
a troubled heart
to part.
144
And
And
consecrate them all with you Think of this poor afflicted realm,
all
" But, Lord, I think that I have fought good fight, and Thou wilt allot To me, a frail yet faithful child, crown unfading, undefiled.
The Lord's
beloved sons.
ones.
And
that
Thy
dear
'
well-done
;:
i6
The
Bishop's
Walk
150
Thus wandering,
but right-hearted, he Never again, oh never more Sank on his friend, and peacefully Shall they hold speech of learned lore.
Gave up his spirit unto God, His body to the earth it trod Each turning to its source When it had run its course.
146
And And
saintly hymn, and pious work. hallowed love of holy kirk. And duty to be done
As
151
And And
as
That beamed with such a tender grace. There passed a look of quiet, quaint.
subtle
humour,
all
too faint
Never again, oh never more Together shall their thoughts explore Far-reaching wisdom, deep, divine. Hid in some mystic word or line.
Nor
Of man's
147
152
And
But Leighton knew it long ago ; Shall taste the joys they knew of yore, as he watched it flickering low. The fellowship of love and truth. Lightening the eyes as they grew
dim.
It rent the very heart of him,
Never
again,
oh never more
The
The
To
That made
Gleam from
PART
148
VI
As
one
that, in a
Cobwebbed, and
left in
BESIDE THE
IS3
DEAD
(For we from
borrow
The
Then cried the Bishop, kneeling by The dead, as if himself would die,
In broken tones of wrath and grief
That
149
So Leighton,
as
And Had
if
while
Old
times
154
gave deeper pathos to the grave, keener edge to grief That now found no relief.
and
his
how
and
When
shall
i
this
sorrow
cease
wrong
Beside the
Dead
17
pitiful Christ, who lovest all, Hope of the hopeless, shall we call Upon Thy name in vain
159
" But we
To
And
IS5
worth ; mean, and bad. growing dark and waste and sad
thriftless too are
For
we
" Unhappy country thou art left This day to mourn as one bereft
!
Of wisdom, counsel, courage here, And antique faith, and lowly fear. And skUl to guide the way
In wild distracted day.
160
" There
is
no one
to
whom
the eye
Of all
But
little
men, with
little shift.
Do
156
let
the groaning
kingdom
drift,
Through
fallen
fickle
change
and
on either
haughty
chance.
To
Montrose
in
insignificance.
The Great
pride,
161
And
isle
"
A noble land,
read,
a path of
And
Small
men
wisdom high
And blended
157
" But thou,
true,
my
and
in
law and liberty But now become a scorn. And helpless and forlorn
And
had' St the
scope
of things
view Equal to greatest times, and still Full of their good, free from
ill;
162
"
their
Christ, to the
in
oppressM dear,
Who
And And
Thy
Too good
Driven
to
have part
in
it.
every drop of blood and sweat, every scorn, and word of hate, Keepest for evermore.
Numbering
158
" In
troubled
times
of
kirk
or
163
state.
Hurrying on change
precipitate,
God sent the peoples heretofore Of great and good men ample store.
wasteful strife
Thou who sittest on the throne, 1 know Thou wilt avenge Thine own Thou seest not as mortals see. Thou lovest them that trust in Thee, And Thou wilt yet befriend
"
with noble
life.
Thy
i8
The
164
Bishop's
Walk
169
built a Babel tower, fainting voice that cries Presumptuous, in an evil hour ; From earth, afflicted, to the skies Sorry foundation we have laid. Helpless, the cause is now appealed Who in the blood of saints have made From desolate home and stricken field Altar, and priest, and shrine. To Thee, the Lord of might. Hateful, O Lord, to Thine. And Judge who doest right.
i6s
170
praise,
some great destiny work out Thy This ancient land was led by Thee, Through foreign war and civil strife.
for
" Surely
And
all
To
life.
With
fi'eedom for
its
crown,
Who
Their
And
near at hand.
171
166
"And
look,
thou,
brave
soldier
of
thy
Lord,
Sleep in the peace of his sure
Sleep,
for
Whose names are written in Thy Book, And who are standing in Thy sight
Robed
in
Word,
gone
thy
works
have
the
garments
clean
and
before,
white,
Sleep on, but not for evermore ; For thou hast vanquished death In victory of faith.
172
Although
Thy ways
in
darkness be
And
Hear from
Shine forth
168
173
of ours.
this land
And save it from unhallowed powers Of darkness, that enthroned be, And stablish foul iniquity.
Yet
call it
To see the arts of government And law unto oppression bent, And lies, and cruelties, and slights.
"
Breed treason unto human rights. And mockery of Him Between the cherubim
!
And
The
174
; ;
Conclusion
For with the hope the sorrow
19
strove.
;
" Lord, take me hence, if it may Away from this, away to Thee Where, in exulting angel strain,
;
And
be,
And
on
He now
To
Lost
Thee,
179
In old Newbattle 'mong the limes. Where they had walked in happier
times.
all
eternity."
PART
VII
THE CONCLUSION
175
friend of youth he laid Beside his loved ones, by his dead Then turned him to the strife And weary task of life.
Slow
its
mournful knell,
coffin fell
180
As
earth
and stone on
Still
tolling slowly,
while,
meek and
'Too
long,
long," he said,
oppression,
"have
I,
too
for
lowly.
He
Witnessed wrong.
grieved
holy.
Where
the dark
yew
sadly waves
And
graves.
burning.
:
And
and dust to hope and
dust.
trust
pity in
me
181
yearning
We yield
Who Who
in certain
sleep in Jesus
only
"
sleep,
shall reap
Of
have indulged me with the thought peace on earth, when peace was
a dreamland for
stern
not.
And made
Where
control.
my
soul.
God's
law
held
no
177
Of fact
trump of doom
" Cometh
ill.
To
tomb
182
Cometh the judgment, and the throne White, exalted ; and thereon
Sits the
Lamb
that died.
"
P'orgive
me,
Lord
Thou
gavest
For
sinners crucified."
me
A warfare to
And
For vagrant
178
And
With
falling tear
; ;
Bishop's
The
183
Walk
188
" Vain
sense,
wisdom
his
presumptuous
Lo
;
!
"Yea, I will hope, O Lord, in Thee That faithful work shall fruitful be
:
Who
may
fall
like rain.
j
And
own
kindling.
shower upon the earth in vain But the true work is never
The mighty
age sweeps on
A profitless endeavour.
189
He
184
" May no man leave the solid earth. And call his dream a thing of worth May no man lightly turn away
" Perchance the fruit is not to-day. For the quick growth hatkquick decay; But we shall sow and others reap.
And
they shall
in
joy though
we
did
From strife or sorrow of his day The godlike is to do What God has laid to you.
185
weep Yet
Be
gladness unto
190
" Then, what
be
if
allotted thus
my
We have a task
But he
appointed us ; Nor culture of the mind and heart Shall be the Christian's only part
shall
Reaped
And
bend
his will
Who
To
present duty
still.
To
186
of others we do live. in all the joy we give ; If mine own soul alone I cherish, soul shall in my brother perish Living, alas I die ; But dying live thereby.
life
love the
life
divine
" In
191
And
joy
" What
;
if
my
little light
now
lost
My
In our wild turmoil, tempest-tossed, Should gleam upon another age. And beacon, on their pilgrimage
Of hope
Who
187
come
.'
" So
let
me
gird
my
loins
with
'
192
prayer,
And
for the
What if the shadow I project Upon the clouds that now deject Our weary times, seen far away By kindlier eyes some distant day,
Should lead them
to be just
?
To make my
labour lighter.
When
am
in the dust
The
; ;; ;
Conclusion
Strive for the duty to be
fit.
193
Then
"Or And
what,
if,
to rebuke
my vain
the
foolish
thoughts,
I
Lord
with might to perfect it Think not what thou hast done. Think of thy task alone.
toil
maintain
do or
say.
198
And me
Wisely
and
my
poor fate
?
" Enough,
thine
if
such
poor
work
as
obliterate
194
" Oh what am I, or aught I've done, That I should 'scape oblivion ? That Death, when he dissolves this
frame,
Hath place at all in His design Enough in Temple grand, divine. To hew a stone, or hold a line High honour thou hast got Rejoice and murmur not.
;
Should spare my shadow and my name Lord, as the ages run. Still let Thy will be done.
199 " So let rae sink to nothingness, For I am nothing I am less Nought have I, for I am in debt Nought would I, Lord, but to forget
195
My
hast
"
We
Unto
Eternity.
nought
And
wrought.
200
"And
again
I
thou,
my
friend,
farewell
weep no more,
eye
Who
did
it all
erect.
But, if from
spheres
of light thine
misery.
O proud ambition to be known Envious that he should be alone. Still on our little self we brood, Still boastful of our little good.
"
Still
As Or
panting for a
name
On
Can look upon our poor endeavour. Me no more dreaming shalt thou
see
197
Thy
;
;
"
And
Is the
The
Bishop's Times
THE
There were
the road,
three of us,
BISHOP'S TIMES
I pricked up my ears for news, the while took Our priestling stood with a greasy smile Wrinkling a countenance sallow with
So
To
that the
hawks were
bile.
abroad.
"
in the
Ho
now,
sir
curate,
'tis
our time at
to feast or
And we
place.
met by chance
market
last,
And
we
Or
Whigs
thought to grace, Some day yet, with an honest face. black night, I remember me The wet wind roared in the creaking
the gibbet
Under
fast,
bell,
Or
in
heaven or
tree.
hell.
Where
the
hoarse
raven
bestead
To
was hard Hast heard the news, man ? At noon a crew dead man's Of psalm-singing villains beset and slew The good archbishop on Magus
Moor
And clapping
cheek more Grimly at each sudden gust. Answered his prayers with a rascal " Hist " quoth my neighbour Irwine, laugh. "Hist! And split his skull with a Jeddart staff. To the hornet's nest in the castle rock There's news makes your ears to tingle. They're stirring now. God help the Ho! folk What crop-eared dog have we here, I On the Pentland Hills to-night "
! : !
trow Eavesdropping
crash,
"
Then
heard a
a sabre-
Quoth
I,
At
St.
sunset I
was hurrying by
And
white
there
;
came on
my crown
Giles,
when
the
courier,
slash
with spray
And
haunches sudden
street.
and forth
my
to
had been
dead
from his For
all
And
With
patters
the
prayers
painted missal
a squeaking voice like a
Was
penny
"
Now
will
our
vacant see,
whistle.
Nodding
his
wig
like a
downy
thistle.
the Bass
23
From
So, neighbour Irwine, you well
say,
may As
this
I say, I
in troth,
till
of
late.
"
We
Tippet and rochet, church and state, Missal and Bible, bishop and priest. Mitre and altar, fast and feast. parted then, each with a burden Little recked I of them, better or worse. If they left me only my hound and of thought As a gust of wind from the castle horse, brought broad brown moor and a stag to The din of arms and of clattering hoof course. From the rough causeway far aloof; Nay, I had been mettlesome, given to While the raven croaked his rusty caw, frolic. Cawing over the soldier's law And once on a day gave our bishop a
God
It
was ever
friend to
the raven's
colic,
maw.
;
By
Never another word crossed our lip In Episcopal raiment, rochet and hat, Only we knew by the steadfast grip And sending her out to hunt a mouse, Of each other's hand a certain Just as his Lordship left the house. token But my wife Meg I was courting her That each had a matter as yet unspoken. then Would not hold nor bide from the I was the youngest of all the three westland men And they should have left this gear to And I never could round a word in
me.
And
them
plainly If I
too
her ear. went not with her to pray, and hear Saintly men in cellars hidden.
What
it was in my heart to do. And Gospel truth from lips forbidden. But somehow or other that courier's So I followed with never a graver
sabre
thought,
Rang
in
Till found of
Him whom
had not
sought three For, mirthful and meddlesome, God's Might not meet, but the devil would be own grace Right in the midst of them, syne or Plucked me a brand from the burning
soon,
place.
And
then
two or
In the shape of a curate or dragoon, To worm the secret out of your head. Yet I was the youngest, and should have said
Plainly out to
them
all
my
will
there was a rumour that Christ would spread table next day by the watershed Of the Pentland Hills where curlews
Now,
And the
still
me
bred.
And
ing
hum,
And
the
they were
The trumpet call, and the rolling drum, The pawing hoof, and the jangling rein,
dabbled
Up
in the castle
rock again,
24
" They
;;
The
Bishop's
Times
are gathering here for deeds But when I glanced up, where she stood with our child, accursed They are gathering there with hearts Looking wistfully out on the tempest
a-thirst
wild.
life
;
And
hushing the baby that wept on her breast, keep the wolf from the lambs of And moving about with the strange
and
must to
And
God.
Here's Turner with his hireling loons,
unrest,
And
standing by the
window wrapt
in
light. And Clavers'e with his devil's dragoons. And Grierson o' Lagg and Dalzell o' And peering
darksome
the Binns,
night,
saints
With
the
blood of
leprous skins
And the
Moor,
Magus
would go
No harm could come of a word and a Pricking them on for vengeance sure. kiss And there, by misty glen and rock. Old men and maidens, the best of the And how could I leave her in wretchedness ? stock Our land ever bred be the others who But alas when I found me in her embrace. may In maud and bonnet they gather to pray. And the babe on my knee crowing up in my face. AndGod sees all: butthebishop's ghost Will be in, I fear, at the winning post." And the fire blazing cheerily there on the hearth. So I mused down the street, till I And her eyes glancing clear, and the light-hearted mirth reached my own door. Where I swithered uncertain, a minute Gleesomely singing about the room. Blithe as the birds in the early bloom or more Then I crossed to the other side, I had not the heart to break in on her hoping to see joywife busy as wont at her house- So the hours flew by ; she cradled the wifery ; boy For she had no thought of what was Asleep on her round and dimpled arm. Asleep on her bosom soft and warm. astir, And it might be the last I should see And held him up for a parting kiss, With a look of beaming happiness. of her. Then I took up my stand in a dark- And then with mingled smiles and tears, She spake of boding thoughts and fears. some nook, Where the rain guttered on me, just Weird dreams and tales and luckless rhymes craving one look
My
Of her
bonny
the road,
Of murdered men in the olden times, Which haunted her the live-long night;
And
and the
And
blessing of
God.
! ; ;
From
She
had heard them grandam's knee ;
last
the Bass
25
by her Phantom-lights were twinkling late. Quenchless either by wind or wet. thing was she, I was troubled at heart for I thought
;
of
me
at times
be sure I had much to do, Of my wife, with her dreams and her Hearing her speak, to keep steady in luckless rhymes, view That would not go out of her head all The thing it was in my heart to do. night And once or twice it' was on my And whether she slept till morning
tongue once or twice the devil had sung pretty lying song in my ear : But I drowned it quick with a word
light;
And
And how
bitterly there she would weep and moan. When she waked and found the bird
So
till
the midnight
And
child,
and be
this
And
orphan,
made
well
And
To
crept
from her
side,
like
And
then
my
conscience pricked
me
guilty one,
sore
speed
on the work that must be That I should have been there long
hours before.
done
God
one
bless thee,
Meg, and
the
little
hireling
On
the
Borough-muir road
Nor any of Claverse's devil-dragoons had Leave the flagon ere break of day,
Till they slept the fumes of the drink
stabled a roan.
away. I thought 'twould be hours ere And just as the lights of morning they were astir. broke And silently gave my roan the spur, By fits, like a flame leaping up in the As she snorted, and pricked her ears smoke forward, and strode Of a fresh green log, I was trotting With her long round pace on the along. plashy road At a great round pace, with a silent Holding on bravely by tower and tree, throng By Glencorse water, and WoodhouseOf stars overhead, beheld now and then lee,
plenty of
With
bone
So
Through
rift
in
the
clouds,
or
And
befell
A chill eerie
its
night
breath
creep, like the air in
Made you
the westland folk and the bloody DalzeJl. a room And I never drew bridle and scarcely
'Tween
where Death Is busy at work and here and there. Ghostly glimmering through the air.
:
life
and
26
The
;;
Bishop's
Times
late
;
And
felt as if
my
neighbour
pace
Could quiet
When
all
The From
saints
were
;
slain,
were fed
east
steed,
Who
never yet failed me in hour of need, Sprang right from the path, with a cry of quick fear frightened cry and frightful to hear While caw, caw, caw from under her hoof. The raven lazily rose aloof; Lazily rose on his broad black wing,
rode.
And And
And
and the
trooper his
a beagle,
God
wherever the carcass was there was the eagle And the crook and the mitre were
serfs to the
sword,
And sanctified slaughter with texts As loth to leave some horrible thing from the Word And I fell without sense of life or pain On the brown heath 'mid the plashing And old men and maidens, preacher
;
rain
The
and people. kirk and from kirkyard, from pulpit and steeple, They must take them to hiding, where
From
How
By
hiding
:
is
sure,
By
Annan-
But when
stiff
dale moor.
To
limb,
And now
worth
the wilderness
all
that
is
withers and wanes, as the meek and the brave overhead. Wait for the dawn, or look out for agrave. And the sunshine on the moorland But I have no part in their struggle or
Of us,
played.
hope.
Like
up
in a
Though
I hear
now and
then, some-
face.
Whispered low
waves pass
man
lay.
And
his hair
;
the
sea - bird
screams
on
the
was gray me laid by my neighGrisled locks in a pool of blood ; While sleepily gorged the raven stood, And they tried me with boots and a Blinking dull in the golden sun. cord on my head. And God sees all : and the deed is That started the eyes from their pits
done
but the twine
old man's race at length
is
And the
run.
Wrung
not a
word from
lips
of mine.
; :
Rothes
27
And
my
wife
was then
When
men,
me.
And
it's
that
;
which
drives
me
to
drink
the crafty
And whUe
lawyers
plied
With
less
To
help
me
to hiccup
she stood I'd face a cannon, I think. Sooner than come in her view.
And
she held up the boy, with a blush without shame, shall be proud of his Saying
"He
father's
name."
she's a
at
ROTHES
What
She
will
phrases
now ?
saymg
will be
mad
at our doin's
Good
Her
lass, she'll
bow
We are
Not a soul to hear even a word Alone in the dark there at night, She will keep it up with the Lord
And
If she
It
I wish heard
just
the the
Archbishop
old
would but just rap out an oath, would ease her, as much as a
How
she
prays
Ethiop
white.
prayer,
And
be very
loth
much
how,
but
I'm
Ecod
meek look of despair
if
she
knew him
as I,
To
face her
She'd leave him alone in his skin. Why, lass, he wishes to try screw on your thumb by and by. And his boot on your tight little
And
to
know
on her
shin.
knees.
She
and the
kirk,
And And
keys.
the crown and the sword and the But, curse him, before he does that I'd give him an inch of cold steel the sinners that sit at their Right through the ribs and the fat.
ease,
As
the
man
in the
Judges
gat.
Times
28
The
Bishop's
14
could have told the kite And there will be nice pickings too, That I warned your chickens to By Jove, for me and the like ; run? Ay, ay, Bess, the test will do And he threeped it on me, in spite For me and the Bishop and you. Of my swearing black and white, Rather more than our prayers Which a gentleman wouldn't have belike. done.
Who
IS
She's a rare one that for gold wouldn't you just, my Lord I wonder how Noll got on With the jade Archbishop, rejoice to twist she's bought and Round my wife's forehead a cord. sold And wring from her lips a word Fat Lauderdale, foolish and old, With a wedge on her poor little And he can't call his soul his own.
!
10
wrist
16
Ah
well
but
commend me
still
;
To
don't
think
the
much,
For, do what you like, good or ill, They only just pray for you still. care And sweeten the bitter of life.
Though
it
found
in the
Leven such
afloat.
.
A pious Archbishop
'7
;
There's
It's
my Anne now
I swear.
Though
our
when we
;
give
up
me
as
bad as
affair.
breath
And when
To
But you make a hell for each Who differs from what you teach. And you don't put it off till death.
offer a prayer
evil.
18
13
And
must be tried, snare and a lie though it be For Lauderdale's Bess must hide. With acres of land and pride. Her sins and her pedigree.
Still that
ugly
test
And
No
her dear
sad.
little
heart,
when
it's
But a
29
Rothes
19
24
Ho
may
bring
me
a bottle of sack
Which
I
put her
know
lady waiting upstairs ? Say I'm off and can hardly be back, Say I'm searching the pedlar's pack, Say I'm gone, if you like, to ray
Is
my
With
appeals to the
Lord and
the
prayers.
future.
20
still, and content her preachings, her psalms, and her prayers, And to live like a sweet little saint, And leave me to judge what is meant By the things which they tell her
25
I can't see her face to-night
Why
can't she be
With
am
sure
she
suspects
what
is
doing;
And
and they
Me
at council,
and say
all
in their spite
That
bring
their
plans unto
are snares
ruin.
26
nobody till And where is the text and the line I shall be as drunk as a lord, For thus causing domestic strife ? And then I'll see nobody still Is there Father, or Pope, or Divine Who will say that her God should be But the parson may go, if he will, Unless he would stretch a hemp
I will see
Now,
mine.
And
that
?
man should
give in to his
cord.
wife
27 22
all
Ah
well, but
it's
have none,
gruff.
Or
Yet a gentleman
too,
of his kind.
And
For a change
my
Than
chose
me
With good blood in him, and stuff To make a good fellow enough
If he had not a twist in his mind.
priest.
28
Say, I don't want his blood on my And they shan't touch a hair of her head. head. And am very much needing liis While I have a hand and a dirk : prayers. Bishop As I mean to go drunk to my bed. ay, he's a Bishop we made To bless all the blood that we shed, And am apt to be wild in the head, And to rule in the devil's own kirk. If I find anybody upstairs.
!
23
";
The
Bishop's
Times
29
dreary place that den Between the Lomonds bleak But better for ghostly men The ghostly and eerie glen
It's a
And
Than
And
it
And I wot not whether I may. Let the Archbishop gloom as he will Though I sought the Lord, when we Let Lauderdale rant and swear met I've but kept them from doing some ill, Near the black Moffat water, to get
;
And
we'll
still,
all
my
way.
And
them
to
When we
declare.
know
" Content ye now. You shall be where I think best " Yea, Lord," quoth I, " but Thou
But he
said,
!
Compassed on every
side
With
I never did bow Baal with the rest, Nor took the black, false test " But he said, " Content ye now."
Knowest
To
And
hand
The Lord
On
a faithless land
was
sitting alone
on the
hill
Dark is the day but worse The night that is drawing near. With Death on his pale white horse.
;
By a thunder-blasted tree. Where a corby had gorged his Of a lamb that was lying ill
in the red light he Stood winking drowsily, With the blood and fat on his
fill
And
And the dead lying hid in the gorse. And floating in river and mere.
While
bill.
Red
the streets of the city appear with the blood of the corse.
The gray, cold mist was creeping At gloaming over the hill. The whaup in the stank was sleeping.
I see the lean dogs creeping
And
lone
To
their
;
feast
in
the
dark
Its
street
And
The
watch where the pool was still. slow and gray and chill gloaming mist was creeping.
31
32
The
Bishop's
Times
And
17
the gray mists eerily Crept, ghostly and slow and chill,
And the corby gorged his iill. As the word was given to me.
OLD GREYFRIARS
All
of us from the western shires.
And
They
marched
us
into
the
Old
Greyfriars,
As
blind as others or
more
And
It
sometimes I've thought, before. was but guessing in me, And nothing of prophecy, Shrewd guessing, and nothing more.
About the stroke of ten Hungry and wounded and worn and
:
weary,
We wist
it
was but
for a night
light.
19
So
the
Tempter
will
sift
like
wheat.
Till I say to him.
A bonny kirkyard
sweetbriar's
is
the
Old Greyfriars,
Get
thee behind
:
Or
And
trample him under my feet bless me not when you meet, For it's not all blessing, I find ;
liefer
When the wallflower blooms in June, And scatters its scent with the fresh
Under the glint of the moon And we ranged us on the green
:
Yea, I had
be blind.
grass
When
Satan will
sift
me
like wheat.
there.
Or
And
prayer
And
guess or grace, I
am
sure
To
Jacob's mighty
God.
There are dark days near at hand For the Lord's afflicted poor And the Lamb's bride to endure. In a waste and weary land. From gaol and gibbet and brand,
But long
ere the
And
21
For
It
if
God
Of all who came from thewestern shires, The fifteen hundred men. Had you reckoned us well in the Old
hill.
was
on the
tree.
Greyfriars,
As
I sat
by the blasted
Not
;; !
33
The
There were some that died in summer tide. Rotting away like sheep ; There were some went mad with the
She on a broom, and I on a straw, " Horse and hattock " o'er North the Berwick Law We rode away in the mirk.
visions they had, It was Pastern's Even, Between awake and asleep And we lichted down on a grave, And some were traitors to the faith. Where an ape preached loud to a And signed their hope away ghostly crowd, Better for them had they met their death Surpliced well with a bonny white
On
shroud,
And
" The covin " all was there Bothwell Brig that wert so big With hope to us and more Thirteen of us with " the maid " ; O Bothwell Brig the westland whig She was Bessie Vickar from Kelvin May well thy name deplore. side And ye who would guide the stormy And wow but she botched in her tide. unco pride Think well ere ye begin ; Deil thraw her neck for a jade. For ye scrupled away our lives that day, Ere we the bridge could win.
! ! !
It's
oh
for courage
And there was Pickle-the-wind, And there was Over-the-dyke, And Ailie Nesbit, Able-and-stout, And Elspie Gourlay, Good-at-a-bout
Buzzing
all like
And
That Ere yet the day be lost. Here were we from the western
a byke.
Good
fifteen
hundred men
us
And
reckon
now
in
the
Greyfriars,
There
Black Jock was in his tantrums ; And hech but he was daft Old Alick Flett, with his chanter het, Fizzing whenever his lips it met.
!
laft.
And we
Were
3
;-
in Yester kirk. supped on the toad and the hooded craw, Daintily spread on a coffin braw. At midnight in the mirk.
A' doon
34
The
Bishop's
Times
were
good, And a black tom-cat for bethral stood, And the foul fiend took the chair.
the warlock's grave Withershins gangin' roun'. elders And kimmer and carline had for licht The fat o' a bairn they buried that
nicht,
About
13
And
Elspie Gourlay
first
;
And Bessie Vickar allowed that she Whummled a boat in a quiet sea.
With a bonny young
stern.
And
to
bride in the
chill.
14
And
their cantrips
;
And my gudeman
Wi'
was
sleeping,
Wi' poor
And And
one had made an image good, it on holy rood. That the Laird's ae son micht
crucified
pine.
And
My
hech but he kissed the bonny broom. braw gudeman, my auld bridegroom,
I lichted
As
10
doon
frae
my
ride.
us baith
priest
and me Crack crouse o' Yester kirk. on the And how she on the broom and
;
on
a straw,
Effie
When
o'er
North
16
Hech
sirs,
but
we had grand
fun
But what
if it all
was a dream
to
Wi'
chair,
Of things I had heard before. And I only said what they wished
be said. When they twisted the cord round old gray head Till flesh could bear no more ?
And
A'
my
And
; ;
;;
35
Birse
For
silk to
busk
my
lady
fine.
Or brandy in the flask. Or a drop of the kindly claret Or malvoisie in the cask.
5
wine.
and their I've a lugger good with Tarland wood For Flushing ready to sail covenants both And their preachings long and rife And my dainty smack, by the almanac, Should be home from Portingale ; I wot not how many a test and oath But what with their kirk and their I have ta'en for a quiet life. covenant work. First I must swear to Master Cant, Hardly a wind blows right And then to the Solemn League ; And then they would have me both And we'll never have luck till the
PLAGUE on
their
kirks
recant.
ancient kirk
And
join
some other
2
intrigue.
Comes
to her
own some
night.
outright,
;
I cared
And
me
am
to-day,
Or what was the last I swore But hey! for the friar of orders gray! He's ready to clear my score.
3
When
A cargo
To
Hee
!
he sends me a cargo back of canting preachers for't. sell in the new plantation ; they set me once in a sackcloth
A plague on them
bishop,
all
shirt
their mitre
and
!
To
win
my
soul's salvation.
Their presbyter and their Book Can't they leave me alone to barrel
A plague on
grow
In
them
all
fat
A bonny kirk
And
as poor as a rat.
as ever a beagle,
my
a
hungry
With
A
I
brat that an
imp of the
devil begat.
would be
The
Protestant wallydraigle
And who
gold.
likes
chink of the
to die
4
want
to trade in timber
And,
and hide,
And salmon from the Dee, And the bonny white pearls
Ythan
side.
Who
from
It's
down my
throat
hey
Who
assoilzies
me
all
for a groat.
"
; ;
36
The
Bishop's
Times
MARION BROWN'S
LAMENT
"What
think you
?
Weary and eerie the night went Ah woe is me Dark and cold, and so was I,
! !
by.
And
goodman
Over
aye the wind moaned drearily the moor, and back to me.
Ah
woe
is
me
My heart was high when I began, My heart was high, and my answer ran, And "More than ever he is to me."
And And
aye as
chair.
!
looked
at
the empty
Ah
Mickle thought
brave,
I of
the
left
open there.
my
bridegroom
bade
all
me
cast ray
Ah
woe
is
me
On
!
the Father of
Mickle
I thought of
me
grave.
When he waled me
Me,
out
among the
lave,
And
And
aye as
!
my Mary
is
and
little
Will,
Ah
But there on the greensward lying dead,
woe
!
me
Ah
woe
is
me
My heart
was
like to break in
me.
was
me.
It's well for
men
to be heroes
!
grand
Ah
My heart was
Ah
!
woe
is
me
But a and
is
her country,
I was so proud of my brave goodman. Never a tear from my eyelids ran. Although they gathered in my e'e.
A desolate home
And
he was
is a
all
M'KAIL'S
But when
I laid
is
FAREWELL
friends,
him on
!
his bed.
Ah
And
And
woe
me
spread the
face-cloth beside
ray
and parents
head.
sat
dear
me down
my
dead,
And weep
but
my
heart
grew
sair in
me.
; :
M
Farewell,
true
'Kail's Farewell
37
my foes
know
I pray for
you
art
And
farewell,
Church,
the
Lamb's
blood
Shew mercy,
Alas
!
Lord, for
Thou
now
with
they
With
3
blood,
too,
washed
and
purified
where I have
And
farewell, time
welcome immortality.
incorrupted
life to
me.
moon and
fiery
stars,
Him,
And And
planets pale,
and
comets dire,
Who
:
sits
hymn
" Worthy the Lamb for us that died. With crown of thorn and wounded
side.
feet to be.
Farewell, thou
Book of grace
divine,
So loved and pondered every line. I hear the strain, and would away Book of the world's best hope and To them who neither preach nor pray, mine But praise for ever, night and day.
13
Soon, face to face,
I'll
see with
awe
The gospel truth and holy law, Which yet as in a glass I saw.
My
OLRIG GRANGE
And
scaly coating
yet
four-footed
BOOK FIRST
beasts
Opened
EDITORIAL
I,
stunted,
and
Herr Professor
Kiinst, Philologus,
Editor
of these rhymes
to
having
And
It
nipped
by
sharp
slim,
sea-winds.
grey, old
no
Without a
ran
turn.
tall,
up to a
make my words
crystal of ray
house.
blinking windows, row on row, thought, And high-pitched gables rising, step Face answering to face, and so built up by step. By inward force of Law inevitable Above heraldic beasts with beak and Care not to tag mere fringes to my lines. claw.
With many
Or none
that
makes a
at
every corner.
The
Broken with
side dropt
flower-plots,
on the one
;
measure,
And 1 keeping
timbre].
time
with
Castanet or
Down
to a brattling
brook
upon the
firs
other
all
When
reared
are one
But enough
without
for
And
And
chill east
wind
the
garth.
Which
acre.
covered
scant
an
God
giveth speech to
song to the
few.
Eastward,
the sea.
quaint
old
gateway,
flanked
on
And
either side
tall
:
By grim,
claw
church
40
Olrig Grange
with twin steeples high above Aloof from citizen's
wealth,
villa
Loomed
shorn of
the smoke
Of
brisk
burgh,
sea,
offspring
home
And
Of
the
salt
By
Where
it
the door.
God,
And
letters
and adventure.
On
the
sprays
And
porch,
a goodly space which once There stood a youth, at early twilight, had been making Waste moorland for the curlew, and Impatient gestures, switching thistle-
Embayed
the snipe
down
marshes.
Lately, growing
Haunted
and dandelion, and whate'er stroke might reach ; yet From fleets of fishing craft, and humorous ventures far Rather than fretful, for the art was his To Greenland and Archangel, had To break vexations with a ready jest. subdued As one that, on the stirrup duly rising. The peat-hag and the stony wilder- Rides lightly through the world.
its
And
nettle
wealth.
His hasty
ness:
graceful youth.
And
And And
life
tall,
and
slightly stooping,
with
features high
Stood
among
:
fields
where
still
cattle
thin
and colourless
yet earnest
browsed, or corn
Was
rustling
yet there
full
and there.
Stretches of heathy moss and yellow
gorse.
And
desert places strewn with white bleached stones. And grey rocks tufted o'er with birch
From his great lustrous eyes, tfcough now and then They swam into a dreamy, far-ofl^ gaze, As seeing the invisible. He was A student who had travelled many a
field
and hazel.
And
The
Of
and stone.
brook leaped downward
to the sea.
foot
On giddy ledge of speculative thought. And searched for truth o'er mountain,
shore and sea.
The
slim, grey
house with
its
beasts,
thing
its
Nestling in
Where he might
of
And
God
his
elm-tree drive.
With
own
Stood plainly
meaning.
Loquitur Thorold
Intent he
41
The work
know, and knowing do His Faith inquisitive, he rent the Creed hand ; yet ever- Trying to fit it on, and cast it from more, him; As he toiled up the solemn stair with Then took it up again, and found it worn Caught by some outlook on a larger With age, and riddled by the moth, world. and rotten. He seemed to pause, and gaze, and Therefore he trod it under foot, and dream a dream. went These moods I noted when he was my Awhile with only scant fig-leaves to
to laid to his
pupil.
was
clothe
strange vocable from India,
And some
And
His naked
spirit,
longing after
for
God,
Or fragment of the old Semitic speech But striving more Would suddenly arrest his eager quest. for faith.
sunder us, like the ocean or the
knowledge than
;
The
Priest
was
left
behind
grave.
of Glory
Became
So stood home.
he, in the twilight, near his
light
pursuit of
Fame ; and
From heaven
sister,
kept
hovering always
that
And
smote the
over him.
weeds
Impetuous,
mystical.
humorous,
bright,
and
had gone
the glory of the place, Scarce out of boyhood, yet the pride
LOQUITUR THOROLD
Quick, Hester, quick
!
Trained for a
the pride
priest, for
that
is
still
cloak
And
The
silken
hood
And
high ambition of the Scottish mother, There was a kind of priestly purity In all his thoughts, and a deep under-
'Mong
rock
sun is but a little rim the hill, and twilight dim tone Is setting o'er the leaping brook Ran through his gayest fancies, and Where we our summer pleasance took. When youth was light of heart and his heart Reached out with manifold sympathies, limb. and laid And Life was the dream of a Fairy Fast hold on many outcast and alone Book.
Above
I'
the world.
at the
Of
Quick
let
us
spend
the
gloaming
Temple
to
indue
there
himself
and
pins.
With armour
to clothe
And
That
last nice
With
articles
of ready-made Belief
To
Women's
sins
;:
42
Olrig Grange
they do,
ills
And
to,
must gird
me
to appear
But those
you
While
you.
A man among the strong and brave, A man with purpose high and grave,
Still fronting
Wonder what
And
!
Well, minx
at last
to dream as we have dreamed Together in years long ago. And me a brute this half-hour past. When Life might be as Fancy Now, did you ever count the price deemed. When each new grace costs some new For aught the happy child could vice ? know, You fondle a curl my wrath I pet bright illusion, and a show You finger a ribbon I fume and fret You'd ruin a husband worse than dice, Create at will, and shaped to meet Each changeful whim, and quaint Buying your beauty at such a rate.
'Twas sweet
nice,
conceit.
Look, how the slanting sunbeams long And varying mood of joy or woe, Gird with light-rings the grey birch Nor ever with tragic end complete.
trees
And
The
from
But
ill
for
him who
to be a
The dream
dream indeed.
Shakes down his fluttering melodies The coneys from their burrows creep.
The The
troutlets in the
still
pools leap.
And life a fateful mystery. And iron fact the only creed To lean on in the hour of need.
The
child
gums
release,
may dream
the
man must
And
dewy
act
sleep.
With
fact
shall hear again. hand, the swift brook
Perchance we ne'er
And
And
look to
toil
and
all
sweat
and
Thus hand
flow,
in
bleed,
compact.
dreams when we are fain To haunt the fabled long-ago ; For ere to-morrow's sun is low,
Except
in
Why
Here
might I not ray battle fight by your side with pen and
?
I haste
me
Where
Than
book
show
And
sweet.
Nay, dear my heart is full of hope Bid me not stay in my career. Our little Bourg hath little scope For aught but gossip in the ear
; ;
wisdom brook Experience of a harder law, And learn humility and awe : And books are mirrors where you look But on shadows of things which
for a larger
others saw.
: ; ;
Loquitur Thorold
43
How
sweet the old brook tinkles still But never found the wicket-gate daisy mead and golden Distraught, our mother wandered late. broom, While we beside the mill-dam lay. Where once we placed our water-mill, And saw the newt creep 'mong the And heard it clicking in the gloom. bulrushes great.
:
Through
Hushed,
Yonder,
room
we caught
Our
first
All day,
complaining of
There, too, we dreamt a lonely isle, With white waves girdled by the sea
And
gone out.
That stormed along the beach, the doom, while life were good ship struggled gallantly
There are no traces of the mill But lo our garden in the nook.
!
I alone must saved be, thou wert Friday, by-and-by. Whose mystic footprint caught my The walks we shaped with simple eye skill. On the brown sand ; and thou to me Bordered with white stones from the Wert slave ever ready to run or fly. brook And there are still some flowers we And we had Genii of the Lamp took The lamp was ne'er so rubbed before From garden plots, and planted here And jars and crocks we left in damp Odd corners, all the night or more. Our works decay and disappear, Which we as fishers hauled ashore, God's frailest works abide, and look Down on the ruins we toil to rear. Listening to hear the prisoned Jinn Bemoan his captive fate within Here is the sloping mossy bank. And what, if he were free to soar With slender pansies purple-eyed. Like a dreadful giant with smoke and And drooping hare - bells, and the din! rank Ay me What happy dreams we had Plume-fern in all its palmy pride And yonder the still waters glide And still they linger fondly here Where big raspberries and brambles The air seems nimble with the glad Quaint fancies of our childhood dear ; grew : The stream was deep and broad for And here, at least, they do appear Half-real still ; it seems profane you,
: ! !
And And
And there my imping manhood tried To reach at them for my sister true.
Lo
!
To
reason
all
them down
as fancies vain.
Where
we dreamed
the Pilgrim's
again.
To
seek the
New
Jerusalem,
Along the
Tangled
spray,
strait
with
our
;!
44
Olrig Grange
Along
We
the stretch of rippled strand Spotted with worms of twisted sand, The white gulls, and the shining sails. Nor would be brave and true and wise, And the thoughts they all brought from the Wonder-land And hoard all treasures of noble thought. And fondly watched our mother dear, The dawning promise of our youth, The heroes of historic age
To No
Nature's
fruitful mysteries.
life
us on to glorious deeds hardy training, and to wage Victorious war on foemen weeds And now we breathed on oaten reeds.
Beckoned
Lilting a ballad
low and
clear.
And
meekness, piety and ruth, charity and womanhood ; For so she said, that to be good Or conned, apart, a secret song, Ashamed as if the deed were wrong ; Was to be rich in very sooth ; And now we rubbed your amber beads And the good Lord gave His children food. For trial of their attraction strong.
:
the unfailing laughter pealed We gathered wild flowers in the woods, And We wandered miles for heath and fern. At homely jests that ne'er grew old We found in brakes the callow broods And we breathless" heard, and
still
;
still
the erne
to learn
thrilled
All Nature's kindly providence For all its creatures, and the sense Of all its changes to discern. With all the infinite why and whence.
call
We
turned
the
glass
to
moon and
the light
stars,
the
Milky Way,
fiery
and
Mars,
:
O
In
happy childhood
wakening
first
;
And Venus
We
Of And
We
In science that refrained to glance at old faiths so we could once crops Believe we heard the mermaid sing. hammered, eager for a prey And that the deft Fays shaped the ring, Of moss or fern from the old-world Footing o' moonlights in the dance. copse. And that the Spirit lay hidden in every thing. And oh those days beside the sea The skerries paved with knotted Nor need that early faith be all
haunting close of day bent the glass to watch the play spasm-like life in water drops ;
moony
And
thirst
where
the
red
stone
upward Scorn
shells.
Iji
clear defined
knowledge
lost
Though
never
Greek
to Ilium's wall
In the swift ships the sea had crossed, Each wrathful king with banded host,
; :;
Loquitur Thorold
45
The
of Troy were true to me, than bare fact of history There is more truth than is engrossed In your musty sheepskin guarantee.
tale
yet
More
And
And
But
there
is
seems to vanish as we think And most of all, when we are set To fish for Faith upon the brink Of Nature ; we draw, link by link, line of close-plied reasoning
He
Elaborate, and hope to bring. Besides the baited thought we sink, God from the depths at the end of a
string
beyond
Its ladder,
Its summit on the felt and seen Ah who shall find the perfect But ever our hearts their rest have sought Whole In that dim Beyond, where it hath not In the small fragment that we see ?
!
been.
man
soul
To
the storm and darkness driven. Yet Wisdom also in its plan Cry out for God to earth and heaven Embraced the child's great wondering But what if all our answer be awe Only our cry by the echoes given ? Which found the Unseen in all it saw.
and
stedfast
Law
Amid
Whom now we
Of longing
As
Tossing our barren chaff and straw In search of the old diviner grain.
light outside the Temple vast Coming and going with sudden gleams
On altar, pillar, and pavement cast, Down on our lower world he streams
Can
it
be wisdom to forget
An
exteme
glory.
So
it
seems
But who can tell? The things that What wisdom taught us yesterday ? press What if the form may change, and yet On our dream-life's half-consciousness. The truth abide that in it lay ?
Were but the form of highest truth The Father's parable for youth,
Are
the
stuff
nevertheless.
To
I
teach that
am
Law
days of Faith! when earth appeared Bethel sure, an House of God, And in the dream His voice was
heard. And hath been groping round the wall Of mystery, perplex'd and toss'd, And sorrow was His chastening rod In search of, making many a boast, And stony pillow and grassy sod
Yet conscious
and laws is scarce God's living world ; yea, is at most His graveyard, whither she drove
facts
Of several
His
Seemed, lying on the Father's breast had many an angel guest. where the pilgrim trod near him, The Highest and
hearse.
46
Olrig Grange
Enough
Great days of Faith and miracle When nature might not be explained,
!
The
And
We
But there was worship high, unfeigned, Nor praise And men were noble, and God But we have loving been always. reigned They were not barren though we And earned some little fame, and hope For more where there is ampler scope laugh. And swear their mills ground finest And you will crown me with my bays, Sweet sister mine, when I reach the top. chaff; For peace and love and truth unstained Are more than steam and a telegraph. Nay, say not that I shall forget.
we have not yet redeemed ; promise of our early days ; are not all that we have dreamed, crown with all that she would
And
How
Has
is it
that our
modern thought
truth
is
joy in
me
We
Thou art my fulness. I shall be bought some Faith and But half a heart and head and will. Except thou be beside me still. Praise ? light our earth with the quenched For in our being's mystery Ever the better part thou didst fill. rays
:
Of heaven and yet we only seek Not jealous, say you ? but afraid Truth for the strong and for the weak. About my principles and views ? Loving it more than length of days. Why, it was you that first betrayed. Or the ruby lip and the blooming
cheek.
You
little
Our
science, with
its
several facts
And
The
fragmentary laws, hath lost all compacts. And makes a cosmos of the host. Force changes, but its changes cost,
unity that
unsound doctrine I but use The wicked weapons that you made Even as a child you never prayed
And
With
half
my
And we
your head.
And
But my Faith is not gone, although Conserving transformations are At times it seems to fade away. So wasteful. Time shall one day boast I would I were as long ago ; But a burnt-out sun and a cinder star. I cling to God, and strive to say The devil and all his angels Nay Well, well ; our mother knew no laws. But in the crucible of thought Except the Ten Commandments clear, Old forms dissolve, nor have I got. Nor talked of First, or Final Cause, Or seem to wish, new moulds of clay But walked with God in love and fear. To limit the boundless truth I sought. And always felt that He was near Can the great God be aught but vague, By instinct of a spirit true ; And she had peace and strength, in lieu Bounded by no horizon, save What feeble minds create to plague Of that unrest and trouble here Which break like the billows on me High reason with ? ^We madly crave.
:
in the elemental
war
and you.
For
definite truth,
Editorial
47
certainty precise,
And
For
BOOK SECOND
EDITORIAL
She sat alone at evening by the fire In a dim parlour panelled with brown
pine.
Too
For forms of
God,
And
walk
in lucid
realms of death.
Some sewing
in
her lap
yet
she
and
And meekly bow beneath the rod, My Hester, as she sits beside me now. When the day is dark, and the burden His sister, twin in birth, in culture twin. sore. And with a marked unlikeness,
What
strangely like.
soft,
low
In the soft glories of the moon Soft winds are whispering in the air. And murmuring waters softly croon
For he was
hair,
tall,
To
Of
borne
Over the fields of waving corn The large grey eyes beneath God's still small voice, we drownatnoon.
not
Which
Hush
cruel- grey.
in
the even
let us go.
The
But swimming dreamy eyes that seemed to gaze Into a world of wonders far away. And she was fair, a golden blue-eyed
maid,
The
tree
A
Of
slight, small
girl,
of some belated bee Sways as if lost ; I seem to hear boding murmur in my ear Of coming storm. What, if it be
The hum
aspect frank,
And
sunny and
;
intelligent,
and firm
purpose
Omen
of tempest in
!
my
career
Strange
that
whene'er
the
hour
arrives.
A lady practical,
possessed.
imperative.
clear
and
self-
To
Fades
And And
there are
omens
the
air.
!
voices whispering
Beware
And
But
in the fight
thought.
loyal, true
Heeded
and womanly.
Wherein
48
Olrig Grange
unlike likeness lay you could not
The
mitred abbots lorded there supreme, But as you travelled with them day by But Vikings from Norwegian fiords long day, Before the cross or mitre or the light And grew familiar with their looks Of Christian Faith left but the names
tell;
While
and ways,
of
tenor of their thoughts,
Thor
and Balder clinging
to the
;
And Thing
shores
The
twain were twin alike in mind and In later times they gathered from the sea Wealth that the land denied, and body. swept the coast Deft is she to detect, and to dissect Folly and foible and weakness, and With net and yawl, and had their ironShaft
bound
or
bolt
fleets
Can reach
she says
marrow
and walrus
fierce in
That if her hero is but brave and true, battle, Sheknows herself to besolittleand poor. But faithful and piteous to its uncouth And knows the world, beside, so mean, young and false. And thereof many a stirring tale was told And knows how hard the battle to be Of perilous combat, touched with
:
true.
pathos rude.
That
By weather-beaten
mariners
at
home
In the long nights beside the winter fire. worship For seams and flaws that only show So they grew rich, and had enriched
And
But the last Burgher-laird died young, love. and left Many large ventures on the perilous sea. And in those years her brother she And in more perilous mines. His adored. gentle widow. And he was worthy ; and she loves Harassed by alien cares, retired at
closer to our
the land
me now
With
all
length
sins
my
and mine
infirmities
With
her
twin
children
from
the
loves
'wildering task.
side.
And
in whose features, scanning one Somewhere she knew not where by one, falling scrip. I trace, amid unlikeness, likeness strange And flooded mines, and meshes of To him who halved a common life law.
in
the
with her.
Of
But from that hour, a happy mother, she an old stock, lairds of the barren Lived for her children, trained them
faithfully
moorland
:;
49
Loquitur Hester
With generous
Giving them
culture to
all
nobleness,
But
it is
For
there's
Of
the
old
makes
is
my
heart ache.
research
And
with the dead, and the old arm-chair. Were last of all the Asgards of Olrig. And all I meet when I turn my head And so she sat that evening by the fire, In every room, on every stair In the dim parlour panelled with Their eyes gaze on me everywhere,
then she also died.
like living
Hester
These
pictures,
And all so silent ; yet I seem pine, nothing seemed to do, and At times to hear, as in a dream. Dear voices calling here and there. nothing see, But all the more she was alert to hear, And mocking my heart as I stitch and seam. As if she listened eager for the coming Of one who yet came not ; she only I must not turn a silly maid, heard feather-pated girl, the prey The far-off moaning of the restless sea, Of weak nerves and an empty head. The nearer rippling of the lightsome That sighs through all the vacant-day. brook. And trembles, in the evening grey. The rising breeze that tossed the Over a dull dog-eared romance. brown Scotch pines. To see the stealthy moonbeams glance. The rooks that cawed, high-cradled Or hear the wind in crannies play. by the breeze, Or the mice in the wainscot squeak The creak and slamming of a wicketand dance.
brown
And
gate.
The The
Why might
I not
We
cock,
And
Than
and lobbies
o' nights. in
fretting here.
Oh,
it
was sore
When
the
wind
stirs
To stand upon the windy pier, And try to wave my hand, and cheer. And With something in my heart's wild core
That surged with
and
I
fear.
it
old
deem
barbarous, this
way
LOQUITUR HESTER
So he is gone, and I am left Alone, and very lone it is, To keep the dear old home, bereft Of all that made it home and bliss, Of all on earth that I should miss. I almost fear my heart will break ; And yet it must not, for his sake ;
the enterprise of
life,
Its hardship,
and
its
generous
at heart,
strife.
and hold
That
And
Are
all
we need
till
we're
fat
and
old.
: ;
; ;
Olrig Grange
yet they want us, ne'ertheless,
And To
With
I'm
cold,
and
yet
the
night
is
think
all
their
thoughts,
and
warm
yet the hour is still haunted by a vague alarm, Of souls that would be true and wise. Yet all is hopeful, and he will To laud them when they win the prize, Surely a glorious fate fulfil. To cheer them if they strive and fail, I dare not doubt it. He is true To the high aim he has in view. And gird anew their glorious mail. And then sink back to house-wiferies. Intolerant of hoary ill. To shirts and flannels, and beef and But open to all that is good new. ale.
sympathise
And And
restless,
and
What,
if
I were to follow
him
To To
Of
that great
London
I have tried
think
doubts of venturous thoughts have cast I might Uncertain shadows o'er his mind
The
swim.
His soaring
spirit
With
Above
the
the
tale, a
that
keep
The
tide
And
insight into
Not deeply thought, but keenly That were not, surely, too lofty
:
But he is pure and undefiled. Unworldly as a little child. And still amid the darkness blind. Clings to the Lowly One, meek and
mild.
a part.
But it would vex him and his love Is more to me than all the world
There's nothing he dislikes above
He
He
Of
A Greek-like taste,
And And
ill.
calm, purified has the poet's delicate sense beauty, ever with good allied ;
and impressible
:
a double-barrelled A
men
:
Too much
little
will,
Terror, he says, to
that think.
beside, that would never do He And then he has more sympathy. There's plenty of other reasons. Would keep the old household by Perchance, with truth and beauty than my side. The power creative he would be And all things as they used to be stronger, if a narrower man. The plants, and stones, and library. Less balanced ; for his equal plan. The fossils rare, and etchings nice, Diffused on all sides from his youth. And other things beyond all price And there's another might long for Unto all wisdom, grace, and truth.
So
me.
And
twice.
Into most just proportions ran. once or With risk of being but graceful and smooth.
:;
SI
Loquitur Hester
A perfect
critic
of
all
good,
to be
more
Of genius, finding every door Of knowledge open, and the lore Of ages to his insight free,
But he esteems all women pure. Can spy no craft in looks demure. Holds them all angels good that pine For heaven in aworld they strive to cure.
And so I fear for him ; I dread That he may set his love on one For he has still the master-key ; Yet would he launch out from the shore. With little either of heart or head
And
And
plough for himself an untravelled Save what he dowers her with, and run After a shadow in the sun,
Only
there
is
to learn his
weary
fate
mind
When the great heart is desolate. And the fire burns, and there is none
Cometh
to cheer
And
The
in its equipoise
may
find
him
early or late.
And
His
all
Embarrassing the purposed will. Until the shadows gather late. And the mist is folded about the
The
hill.
With
grand, fine lady, scarcely graced outsides of hypocrisy True to the flesh she seemed to be :
Yet
It
if
is,
him then
as
now
And yet he made a god of her. And girt her with an atmosphere Of incense, light, and poesie
But the glory was all in the worshipper. were another mind than his. Other, not better then, I trow : 'Tis strange, the finest insight still He hath such courage to avow His faiths, such knowledge to impart, Seems blindest to a woman's art. The base get love unto their fill Such boundless sympathy with Art, Such fancies, like the blossomed bough The noble thirst for that true heart That clasps the fruit in its fragrant heart. Whereto they may their life impart.
And
brave and beautiful In manhood, radiant with the might
is
Then he
find in it their solace meet But clothing with their fancies sweet wanton or a fool, they start
Of that rich life and grace which The admiration and delight Of Fashion ^witty, airy, bright
rule
To know in
complete.
sorrow
And And
Out of the world he lives afar him a woman's wiles. cunning arts, and winsome smiles. In chivalrous ideal trust. trifling with the heart and right. Enshrining woman like a star Tangling his love in her loveless toils. For worship of the good and just,
I dread for
Where no unworthy
I
to love
though he has a sister made. Another, dearer life than mine : Like other girls, of sorry dust. Let but a maiden worthy prove. And with his love my love shall twine He never would see that our gold was but lead. To clothe her with a joy divine.
May And
52
Olrlg Grange
Oh
men knew us only knew cowardice and common-place, petty circle of our view, meanness and the littleness That lie behind a pretty face Thank heaven, I was not bred with
if
!
Then
will
he
die,
He
had not
And
dreamed which
;
streamed
gii-ls,
Along
scents and curls.
A thing of ribbons,
And And
pearls.
his. morning pilgrimage, Broadening and brightening every stage, No forecast true shall be esteemed
Of
the
battle
to
wage.
trained
Our mother
me
up with him
Hence,
true.
idle
fear
To
lamp to trim, With patient toil as well as fire rhythm of numbered What fruitful effort can, he'll do Greek, To crown with triumph high desire, And in the world of God to seek And make the wondering world admire. Wisdom in knowledge of His ways. And win himself a lofty name. And gladness in the song of praise Yet what were all the pride of Fame Which rises from the strong and If he were linked in bondage dire To a heartless flirt, or a haughty weak
The
And
trace the
To
all
our
dame
days.
The Herr
Professor says
I'm not
And
this,
at
least,
I've learnt,
Of girls
godlike far than we. more glorious than
In his pure-hearted chivalry. Entranced with his own spell of might, Blind with his own exuberant light.
Lost
in love's rapture
girls
Which
night.
only
trifle
on the wind. beauty on the eye, bloom, and ripen, and then die ; they are lovely, and we are blind If we think that the world is not better
their sweetness
flash their
thereby.
Therefore I fear his life may be disenchantment day by day, glory that he seems to see.
A A
am
Only
to see
it
fade
away
And
The
With
then perchance he
great part that he
may
not play
in life,
And God
would
in a petty strife
little cares,
meant her for an help-meet true, But men have quite another view Let her bright eyes like diamonds dart. And she may be hard as the diamond
too.
Of fretful
53
Loquitur Hester
Yet one may harden, he
avers,
;
Can
By thought
Have
as well as thoughtlessness
Thorold
And women's
minds may equal theirs, wit as keen, nor reason less Only they will not bear the stress
? and could I charge he would by-and-by Love with a love more deep and large
this be love
that
Than
sister's
all
And
was
Of manly toil, and keep the good Pure quality of womanhood And logic is not more than dress For the sweetening of life in its weary mood.
The Herr Many odd
Professor speaks indeed
quips and crusty jokes.
But taxing him to hide my own Lapse into passionate depths unknown? Nay, but this foolish thought would die If I were not left here brooding alone.
And
I
He
To
vows
much
;
creed
daily
yet I know not. Heretofore used to bring my thoughts to book. And opened every chamber door. And searched my soul through every
have shocks
much
faith
and
this I
shrank to look
My
And
mad paradox
he sees
came with
still
silent,
owly
flight
In the
But an old bunch of rusty keys. I heard the wind, I heard the brook, Hung at the belt of the Orthodox, But the love slid into my soul like light. To open a dungeon which they call
Peace.
And when
know he
with
loveth much,
in truth
I found
it
nestling there.
And And
And
It
yet, I
Like swallow twittering in the eaves. It felt like summer warm and fair.
and
walks
God
And
blossomy
spray,
and
fragrant
right
if the world had many such, were indeed a world of light. All radiant with a glory bright
leaves.
which
is
but
German
:
swallow. And sometimes, in his quaintest words. Guttural-speaking, big and sallow He seems to touch the deepest chords. Only his heart with great thought And with a master's skill and might heaves, Holds high discourse of the Lord of And there's nought in him little or
Lords.
But,
poor or shallow.
psha
?
what
matters
what
he
still
thinks
And
yet
why do my
thoughts
veer.
I ashamed to say I love. Yet proud of him I love so well ? strange proud shame ? yet hand and glove Could fit no better, truth to tell.
Am
fear
How
And
appear
used to laugh at girls who fell Blushing and lying time about.
1
wherefore do I watch for him In the elm-tree walk at evening dim. As he comes singing loud and clear Burschen song, or a Luther hymn
And
Or
?
sware I would love out and out. not at all ; yet now the spell
in
Holds me
doubt.
54
! ;
; ;
Olrig Grange
What
can it mean, this love and fear, To mine own soul let me be true This open shame and secret pride. I love my love by night and day, The yearning gladness, and the tear I love my love- the sound is new. That comes so often by its side ; But oh how sweet it is to say This thought we fondle while we hide. I love my love it is like play. This trembling dread when he is late. But yet I love with heart and mind. And pouting joy that makes him wait, And passion trembling, fond and
And And
blind
the
feeling
of
overmastering I love
my
Fate?
I will to
And
Thorold's
room.
ever in loving
new
life I find.
Nay,
I cannot rest
that
may
not.
have
the pale
moon
in silence sat
So ghostly on the
the
great arm-chair.
woe
Among
wind
old
in the
chimney moaned,
at
Who
the
pine
the
window On
Seine,
Danube,
and
the
groaned.
Rhine,
Would
stair.
A
the
flame
from
their
heart to kindle
I dare not
room he owned.
mine?
back, come back, my brother I should as soon have looked to see dear: Some bright star from the stormy The storm is gathering on thy way. heaven.
Come
And
The
mine
mist
is is
And I am friendless and alone, And doubtful of myself, with none To counsel me and day by day Fear is chilling my heart like stone.
;
Glide down to earth, and rest on me. From all its glorious comrades riven. So strangely fates are interwoven And how he loves his Deutsch-land
!
dear.
Its
patient
thought,
that
knows no
fear.
Its
Am
On
grown
fanciful, to
muse
foolishly
?
For
Luther, Goethe, Heine, given lights to the ages far and near.
school-girl
whimseys
fear,
except to lose
I will
go forth.
The
moonlight dim,
the silent
hill
me
go up, and think of him, With tender strength, and manly care, Where the old brook is tinkling still. And modest hope his lot to share. With memories of our water mill ; And share his thoughts, too, high I think he sometimes strolls that way. and free, With pipe and book at evening gray And bear all the burden which he But memories of childhood will must bear ? Pleasantly wind up a weary day.
Editorial
55
To BOOK THIRD
fashion,
And make
it
EDITORIAL
Lady Anne Dewhurst
couch Lay, with a rug of
knees,
on a crimson
Beside her, on a table round, inlaid
o'er
sable
her
With
precious stones by
Roman
art
designed.
In a bright boudoir in Belgravia Most perfectly arrayed in shapely robe Of sumptuous satin, lit up here and
there
Lay phials,
pill
book
With
lace
scarlet touches,
Nice
- fingered
Brabant And all around her spread magnificence Of bronzes, Sevres vases, marquetrie. Rare buhl, and bric-a-brac of every
kind.
Apocalypse ; for she was much and with costly Addicted unto physic and religion. And her physician had prescribed for her maidens knotted in Jellies and wines and cheerful
Literature.
On the
The book on the Apocalypse was writ By her chosen pastor, and she took
the novel
From
Rome
and
Paris
and
the
With
pills
centuries
prescribed.
Of
Or
far-off beauty.
All of goodly
A gorgeous,
sins,
colour,
graceful
all
the sins
the nation's
the eye, In orderly disorder lay around. And flowers with perfume scented the
And
And
all
and State,
all the sins of all the world beside, Bore as her special cross, confessing them Stately and large and beautiful she was Spite of her sixty summers, with an eye Vicariously day by day, and then Trained to soft languors, that could She comforted her heart, which also flash, needed it, Keen as a sword and sharp a black With bric-a-brac and jelly and old
warm
air.
bright eye,
jet.
She had Beside the fire, her elbow on the mantel. A weary look, and yet the weariness And forehead resting on her finger-tips. Seemed not so native as the worldliness Shading a face where sometimes loomed
Which
blended with
it.
Weary and
a frown,
worldly, she
And
of tears,
but
fully
sometimes flashed
daughter
stood
;
gleam
of
a
Had
bitter scorn,
Her
no
more
meant
graceful girl.
56
Olrig Grange
in the glory of her
But
womanhood,
A A
have been
A noble woman
in
a nobler world,
But now was only woman of her world. Ghastly, with intertwisted roots, and With just enough of better thought to things know Amphibious haunted, and the leathern It was not noble, and despise it all. bat And most herself for making it her all. Flickered about its twilight evermore. woman, complex, intricate, involved Wrestling with self, yet still by self
And
Please draw So, there you are at last. yet unable to be that she would Uneasy with the sense of possible good That odious curtain, will you ? Do. hideous thing as e'er I saw Never attained, nor sought, except in
;
one such a corpse-like hue. Ending in failures ; conscious, too, of But I might be a corpse for you It's little any of you cares power Which found no purpose to direct its How your heart-broken mother fares, Burdened with sorrows old and new, force. And so came back upon herself, and As the world entangles you all in its
fits
It gives
grew
snares.
An
inward fret. The caged bird Please, no excuse it does no good. sometimes dashed Against the wires, and sometimes sat Of course, you have your morning calls, and pined. But mainly pecked her sugar, and eyed Your shopping, and your listless mood After late dinners, drums, and balls ; her glass. And trilled her graver thoughts away My world is these four dreary walls, My body, but an aching back, in song. i My life, a torture on the rack. Mother and daughter yet a childless My thoughts, like dizzying water-falls
:
That never
;
for the
slack.
I get my jellies, soups, and stews. world what need I more ? gashed a chasm between, impass- My little wine My morning paper with the news able. And they had nought in common, That everybody Jcnew before. I hear the street calls, and the roar neither love. Nor hate, nor anything except a name. Of the town traffic, and the clash Yet both were of the world ; and she Of milk-bells, and the angry crash Of brass bands, and the drowsy snore not least Whose world was the religious one, Of an organ as dull as the flat seawash. and stretched
Had
: ;
57
And
then the night falls, and the clock Ticks on the mantel, and the wheels Crunch the hard gravel, as the flock Of weary revellers homeward] reels, Until the opal morning steals Up in the sky. So, day by day. My life crawls on its weary way No hope it stirs, no joy it feels But it's all like a foggy November day
;
:
And
Your
beetles
More
than your
Poor
fools
that fain
would break
spear
And And
Nor
But
luncheon time.
for
Of doctrine,
But
:
'Twould break my
the
Book
and
Day
are
still
happily ours.
Ah
what were
I don't complain
it is
the lot
Appointed me by wisdom best 'Tis meet that I should be forgot By all of you, and learn to rest Content, while ye have mirth and
And
I
I religion.
Still I feel
A den of wild beasts, dark and gory A being quite devoid of grace, A heathen with a tattooed face.
!
I hide the
I cannot heal, That burns his widows I implore you. keep my sorrow unexpressed Set your heart. Rose, in the proper But I'm not quite so hard as a lump place. of steel.
wounds
religion
My nerves
And
none.
and cords,
Where arrows
My patient
And bleed unseen but yet it bleeds. The clubs, and hear who's in and out. And all the more that no one heeds. And which is " Favourite" this year, And all the more to see your loss And bet, and are dreadfully wicked, Of sound evangelical views and creeds. no doubt.
I only dead and gone hard to live, and see the way That all of you are hurrying on
!
its
cross.
my dear If you had not a heart of stone, You could not leave me lonely here. And men may do, who have not clear Decided views ; they go about
It
is
Oh, were
lost their
Faith
It's
Are
angels
who have
You
when
a lecturer rings
S8
Olrig Grange
His
bell.
But
go off;
;
You
cannot be a hypocrite.
They take a mission or a cough For men will marry a fool that sings
Sooner than one that has learnt
scoff.
: you go in common-sense, And think a woman sure to win Because she knows the why and whence. And looks at vermin through a lens And yet you've seen a score of girls With empty heads and silly curls. And laughter light, and judgment
You
For
don't believe
me
science, culture,
winning horse ? you cannot, and of course But yet. I never meant you should. You might feel true grief and regret For sin ; and could be none the worse
Only
to be the
Of course,
leaves in a coronet.
You wonder
at
me, with
my
views
Of doctrine
That For girls whom Romish arts allure, Through Ritualism to Babylon sure.
But did
dense.
Wedded
Earls.
to
Marquises, Dukes,
and
Or Or
I say their views were right did I call their darkness light ? did I only try to cure heart,
Your
which
?
is
And why
you
:
They
as
started
fair
with
Gospel quite
It's
You
grace you need. Rose, to illume What an age nature. as handsome and well-born, Since I have seen you in my room too. Though I have nothing to engage And you had wit like sparkling wine thoughts, except the sacred page. But they all took to things divine And that sweet book which is so
dressed
well
for
that
was
Your darken'd
My
Like sober, pious girls. I know clear That some were High Church, and Upon the Beast and
would go. Like nuns, with beads and
fine
year
crosses
his
numbered
Yet all the while there's quite a rage For some wonderful May-fair novel,
hear.
But they
all
were wives
in a season or so.
Men may
be bad, but
still
lives for
may
shine,
they like And after all I have done for you heaven ; But daughters are not what they your beauty were.
!
And
But not to these their love is given. Ah had you with your prayer-book
!
What
driven
you are only proving true all the Prophets do aver. Oh had you heard our minister Upon The Signs of the End, and
of the saints shall grow
!
To church, and kept a Sunday-school, how And visited, and lived by rule The children
But
that
is
wickeder and wickeder Though you played your cards like a Till all to the Beast and the perfect fool. shall bow.
past
all
and
forgiven,
Still
Woman
59
my
trial
fulfilled,
And we
The
are in the Seventh Vial, Witnesses will soon be killed. And all the land with blood be filled And Papists ; and a cruel fate
And
By
Shall separate the Church and State, then more blood is to be spilled
Nay, tell me not you do not care Although the end of the world were come. It's very wicked to despair ; You should be gentle, patient, dumb. Thinking that any day the hum Of myriad angels, leading saintly
the
Frogs,
that's
friends of late.
May
It's clear
the
Woman
Coming
among
the clouds.
Are Buonaparte and the Pope The Prophets won't explain the
Without them
;
least
We
live
wondrous
times
such
times
Of
I
and
hope
The world
know my
find
its
Still
the
Book
With earthquakes
Is sealed,
and you shall vainly look meaning and its scope, If the Jews don't return, and the
To
kingdoms shaken
to the core,
;
Pentateuch.
appear
a sermon on it Vicar's wife she was not there She had not got her new spring
!
The
You
to
buy pens
and sealing-wax,
dreadful dear.
bonnet
But all the world was. For the new mode ? must wear
!
Do
You
you care
blondes
Ritualists our
Church
defile.
Our very
;
And
Pink, shaped like tiny little shells So natural with silver bells.
!
Went
But that great sermon I declare, I can't for the world think of anything
else.
He So searching and pathetic Soaked two clean handkerchiefs in tears. While clearing up the prophecy,
!
Nonconformist say was a mere Jewish day I left, of course, and had to fly In the rain, but I hailed a cab by the way.
!
And
there's
your
" Robertson
of
Brighton,"
The And
and it still appears That this Napoleon is the Beast That was and wasn't, you know
Daniel
:
He's lying now on every table. With Ecce Homo to enlighten Our carnal hearts, and minds unstable. at We have no anchor now or cable Our admirable Liturgy, least The Armageddon swords and spears Our very Bible is not free Were long ago shipped from Mar^ From criticism lamentable
mystic number, and the years.
;
seilles to
the East.
And
everybody
is all
at sea.
6o
Olrig Grange
What next ? The land is rotten And infidel and Papist too
:
quite,
Eh
What
?
With
Mr. Your
say you ? That puling boy the Scotch brogue and hungry
There's
Bright,
Gladstone
ruled
by
look
whom you made a toy very Bishops hardly true. Last winter at your drums, and took And the Queen knows not what to do. About with you by hook or crook But prophecy is coming clear. I do not like your set Tush, tush The awful end is drawing near, But what's come of the baronet ? And bitterly this land will rue As for the writer of a book, The way it has treated the Jews, I fear. You're not come quite to the curates yet.
genius
The
Last week our Vicar plainly told He's a converted Jew, I know
Oh
yes,
:
you love
him
that's
of
course
How
Even on
seven fine ladies should lay hold It's your fifth season, isn't it, dear ? the man that cries " Old But really you are little worse : Clo'," And I am sure you loved last year.
in the day of woe ; Sir Wilfred with his rent-roll clear. from the Prophets clear. person at St. John's Wood ? So then I thought I'd ask you, dear, Shame The poor man looked so shabby and No proper girl should ever name low person there or person here ; If you knew any Jew of the better And, no doubt, she is the one to blame.
class here.
these creatures.
Ah
!
heaven it is quite plain. As stars with different glory shine. There shall be people poor and fine,
Yet even
This wicked world we're living in There should be some severer law For low-born creatures who would win Youth over to the ways of sin. But there's that shameful act which
frees
Their
vice
from
want
and
from
For
disease.
And
You
the line.
one would not like to go over Although they neither toil nor spin, Right in the face of all heaven's
decrees.
come
It's
shameful, shocking
bring
quite enough
To
:
down on
us wrath divine
Nor
and
stuff,
heaven or hell My dear, that's hardly spoken well. But what, then, did you come about
a lecture, or a rout A A flower, a beetle, or a shell
call,
? ?
Of millenarian
know
it's sin.
And
I opine
Gladstone our morals means to sap And then, his wickedness to cap, The House of Lords he'll undermine
Or
prodigy found
?
in
some country
And
bring in the
Pope
like a thunder-
lout
clap.
; ; ; ;
6i
Sad
but
it's
true
To
You
So bad
Undying
Though
don't
like
your baronet's
quite, I confess.
you
He
shying
when
it
comes
in view,
Upon
He
wants to open the Museum the blessed Sabbath-day ; wants the bands to play "
should go
to
Now,
Whom
hear me. Rose give up at once fancy for this boy you have led an idle dance, I daresay, only to annoy Sir Wilfred ; and for once employ The arts that others use for sin His erring heart again to win Back to a purer life and joy, Which you're certain to do if you'll
:
Te
and
church
;
silly
His views of
from sound.
He
way
Is altogether
on dangerous ground.
!
just begin.
Be
patient
now
leave
all
to
me
me
see
Don't
But then, woe's me you're all the same All turned from Bible-teaching quite. All snared in folly, sin, and shame,
;
You'll need a
new dress
let
Of some soft, lustrous, dainty stuff; Made Christian-like and low enough You did not get a bust like this
And And
Old
he
at least is
of the right
And
Or
To
horses.
hide like some raw country miss Say poplin of a delicate buff;
happy
sight,
A man
It's
With Honiton
You You
Your
The
We're
school.
And
them. never think the times are set They're just the one thing that you For the Jews going back to Jerusalem. cannot do.
as for gloves,
That's shocking, even to look at it colours somehow never hit, They never match themselves nor you They're always out of fashion too ;
Your
marry Lord or Baronet, dress and dine, and vex and fret. strive the tide of Fate to stem Which Prophets had revealed to
Anyhow,
leave
all
that to
me.
Could I but see you settled well, As, sure, my daughter ought to be,
I'd die in peace unspeakable.
we
read
Why
am
I here
why do
I dwell
upon the sea, Made of bulrushes and we need. Unless you think I'm blind indeed.
62
Olrig Grange
Unless I'm blinder than a bat, With a good conscience, conscious No prophet to interpret that, that they speak With a steam-boat running at full speed True to the idea, if the facts hang loose On the Suez Canal, like a water-rat. At one point, at another have been
joined
There could not be a clearer sign Men are so troublesome Ingeniously. That now the end draws near in view. Rose was not faultless, as her lovers
!
it's
Providence' design
-Now,
Nor
swore. yet
so
faulty
as
my
Hester
;
shame
To
women
hardly
hit
The
likeness true
enough by
instinct
Such
as
hit.
The
like
soul of character
no shading,
No
softening
tints,
no
generous
the picture
To
things like you, who heed more The murmur of prophetic breeze
make
human.
And And
And
true
because
so
human.
Rose
Than creaking of a rusty door ? You walk along the solemn shore Washed by the tide of awful doom,
While
lights
was human
for
a
a
a
woman woman
born
of such a
mother,
for
and shadows
flash
and
reared in such a
gloom
world.
And
neither
And
for
woman dowered
and buzzed
with
But stamp and "pshaw" through the queenly beauty drawing-room. Set out for sale,
flatterers
by
All her
life
long,
BOOK FOURTH
And
been.
EDITORIAL
So stately as she
I
left
my lady's chamber.
WILL
reports
not
answer for
in
my
wife's
Her
full
Quite
true,
no doubt,
true at least
her scorn the main, as Contending to retain a mother still, If no more shrined in natural reverence. can Yet cloaked with charity.
hall like
;
As
the
But
in the
report
not
Her
heart failed, and she pressed her forehead flushed On the cold fluting of a marble pillar. And wept to feel her life so desolate.
Editorial
63
And
wept still more because the world And puzzling o'er a paper wearily Of circles, squares and pentagons, and had made it lines So desolate, yet was the world her all She loathed it, but she knew it was Of logarithms, he strove to disentangle. He was a little, brisk, bald-headed man. her all. Thus she with passionate rebellion wept, With fiery eyes, and forehead narrow and high Printing the fluted pillar on her brow.
And
then with
weary,
lifeless
steps
And
far-retiring
one
who
could have
she went
led
father's
Heavily to her
chamber door.
mouth
ordered when ; or might have headed The cheery hunt across the stubble field. mews. small, close chamber, lined with Taking the fences gallantly, nor turning dusty books And dingy maps ; and savage crania From the wide brook to seek the safer ford. Grinned from high shelves, with clubs But being held in London half the and arrow-heads year, And tools of flint, and shields of hide And with no taste for politics or embossed. There were great cobwebs on the fashion. Or such religion as he came across, windows dim. Where bloated spiders watched their He took to Science, made experiments, webs, and heard The blue-fly knock his head against Bought many nice and costly instruIf wisely
the pane.
ments.
And
buzz about their snares. And Heard lectures, and believed he understood through the room, On table and chair, were globes and Beetle-browed Science wrestling with
glasses tall.
the fact
To
find
its
meaning clear
but
all
in
And And
batteries,
vain.
thought he thought, and yet he did not think. shells. But only echoed still the common Disorderly and dusty ; and the floor thought. Was carpeted with papers and thick- As might an empty room. The foreprisms
balances,
plants
He
and
dust,
head high
grey old
man
sat in that
dim grey
soft
He
of
all
knowledge
OJrig Grange
64
that
set
spoiled
The
strain
By
But yet a
crisp
of noble chivalry
Ran through
his nature,
and a
faint
And of that brutish maid whose soiled And sooty fingers used the tears Of genius and its hopes and fears.
Page after page, to light her fire Rippled his thought, and would have horrible and impious pyre So all my laboured thought appears been a joy Had life been kindlier ; but his cheer- To melt, like the snow, into slush and
humour
iest
smile
a sneer,
Verged on
laughter.
say
it's
Yet under
And
of beautiful youth. deeper than his feeble cynic sneer. This waste of thought long- waited for. Lay a great love, to which he fondly This fruitless birth of still-born truth. clung. What matters for the silly, smooth. For Rose, the stately daughter of his Meaningless face of widow trim. house. Slow roasting to a drowsy hymn ? But you do rob the world in sooth. When the lights of Science are quenched or dim.
all
The
sacrifice
LOQUITUR PATER
it. No more I'm busy, as I said You come and knock, knock at
Besides,
my
door,
drive all thought clean from my head. Of chattering girls ? Only last night Just when at last I've caught the thread, I found my favourite beetle quite Subtle and brittle and sought-for long, Crushed and mangled upon the floor That would most surely bind a throng And the jade held to it she did quite
And
not enough to have your maids Scrubbing and brooming at my door. With whispers shrill, and sudden raids On cobwebs that have taught me more Wisdom and beauty, than a score
Is't
firmly
wed
clear
right.
Science
and
plague on
first
maids
!
I labour
I methodise I
and experiment, and meditate, watch the bias and the bent
wait
a blank
Invented them
I've
tried
curst,
the same.
tried
them
Of the mind's idols. Still I And verify and speculate. When rat-tat-tat my mind's
!
I've tried them sluts, and tried to tame Their natural instincts, and to shame Their ignorance, and to abate Their furious and unfeeling hate
And
it's
always you
women
I have to
Was
thank.
;;
: :;
Loquitur Pater
Whate'er they do not understand Is dirt, and must be brushed away They'd broom all scienee from the land And scour from heaven the Milky
65
Way.
I plan
by
night, I
work by day
electric
and beggars superfine! Why he has hardly means enough To keep you in gloves and flowers and wine. You could not dress, you could not
!
story,
Rose
the
silly stuff
And
Of
Force, tremble as I watch the course Nature ; all in vain, for they
dine.
Baffle in
some way
my
best resource.
You could not keep a maid or horse, Or drive but in a cab, or worse The man's a fool no child of mine
; ;
like
him, of
And now
Of
you come,
course.
I marvel at his
daughters,
trained
with
A fellow with
Hundred
skill.
a-year
And schooled in Science to fulfil The part of Cuvier's daughter true And when I hope and trust in you, You fall in love, and coo and bill, And want to know what I mean
;
A grain of sense
see
The
silliness
of plaguing me.
?
His genius and his prospects Well Can you eat prospects ? Will they sell
And
will his
trumpery genius be
?
to do.
A dinner,
to
or only a dinner-bell
me, and
love,
don't cry
do not
He
is
not
all
that
As
he thought I did not see He meant just settlements and cash. But there's my banker gone to smash.
if
A handsome fellow, as
And And
true and
it is
Begged
Cents
off,
and half
my
should your old father lose Three per His one ewe-lamb ? Why, should he
why
choose
Gone
to save Charlie
from a smash
To
steal
my
And
where
?
is
the
money
for Since
settlements
Jews?
yes He did not care for that. And that reminds me, Charlie says He did not woo you for your gold. Your friend's a screw, and awful close He wished for nothing, cared not what But then he's poor, and no doubt pays
!
You
brought or did not bring him ; told His way, which Charlie never does. prospects, and was bold That makes a difference, for those
To
May freely
I
whose purse
Would work
cures,
miraculous
works and
Keep you from hunger, debt, and cold, And all the evils that man endures.
How
wish I knew their secret, Rose, never to pay, and be never the
worse.
Olrig Grange
66
Well, yes
I liked him, as
you
say,
;
And
he
praised
him
to
my
friends
and This
wonderful what now we do is a mighty age indeed, With march of Intellect so true,
It's
May wed
He
But
likes,
their daughters
that's
From
And
fraud,
and
worn
- out
creed
My
Rose stuck
in his button-hole.
We weigh
We comprehend the wandering gales, And shunned, like any stained soul. We summon spirits at our need By a world that hates all poverty And the world is perfectly right, on From the shadowy world which love
the whole.
bewails.
I don't
But tush
The Medium
me
at the door,
The
That
spirits
science.
Who
To
more
bore.
She photographed by
My
The
old
Grandmother's
ghost
last
night,
While
by me there
bolt
That Milton proses about Hell, That Scott has lost his wizard spell. That Plato has forgot his Greek, That Byron's dull, and Goethe weak But then, deal tables could not well
Utter the thoughts they might wish to
speak.
upright.
I did not see
Her
but I saw
The
We
And And
kind of creeping awe, old religion back in me ; hand was laid upon my knee. And there was music in the air. The very song she whiled my care Away with in my infancy And she lives in some kind of a sphere somewhere.
Wind
Sweet
spirit
hand,
No
In the dim walls of the spirit-land. Maestro with his cunning wand Beethoven's symphonies could get From bones and bagpipes. are
We
yet
Of the
And
For
spasm.
had no
faith
In anything but protoplasm ; I held that spirit was but breath. And all the Future silent death. And what, if Science shall restore The faith it robbed me of before ?
At any rate, this is the age Of miracles proper, wonders done By careful reading the dark page Of Nature, searching one by one Her secrets till there shall be none. And he who reads them is the true
Prophet- Apostle of
For
call
it spirit,
ghost, or wraith,
Annus
in
mirabilis,
its
One was
there
who
did not
come
Shines
great
light
now on me
by the door.
and you.
67
Loquitur Pater
Wonders of Science marvels high, Beyond our wildest dream or hope, Found in the sunlight and the sky
!
And
You
By
spectroscope and telescope Miracles in a dirty drop Of water from a stagnant pool And every lichened rock is full Of history ; and there's a crop
!
still beneath the grieving saint. found the nether millstone hard ; She's not a fool, nor given to faint, But maundered nonsense by the yard. Until she had you off your guard.
Then
lisped soft
sore,
And
You
hints
that
maddened you
still
Of marvels now
Now, go
give
in a table or stool
more.
bit the
Cracked
core.
Heaven's name Right worldly wisdom, as I live. And all in pious phrase and frame. I wish I knew that little game. It is a secret worth the knowing.
Excellent counsel
in
know
it all
Of pious As loose
as
some
all
fantastic
To
The
Oblivious of
right
clothe
with
Scripture
language
glowing
devil's plain
Here swirling round in eddies strong 'Neath twisted roots of old dead
thought.
common-sense, and
claim
The Word
throwing.
There
of truth for truth's o'er-
slushing
And
The
chill as salt
tremblings
highly
What ? You
wrought.
Well, I'm a beast, a perfect brute. Our modern science has not left To fret and fume and stamp and stir leg for faith to stand upon ; With fretful word, and angry foot. Of all its miracles bereft, While my poor girl stands still and Its history to myth all gone ; mute, Yet would it surely hold its own With that mouth,
taste in her
where
all
Nauseous bitters scriptural Are mingled by a branch-and-root Right Low-church Evangelical. But come, now, tell me what she Yet what needs asking that ?
course.
said.
But for that nether millstone bit That lieth in the heart of it. little mercy would atone For failure of reason, and lack of
wit.
Of She
is your mother, and my wife ? Well, yes and may be I have been
!
Her
was broken, and she prayed For " Death " to come on his pale
heart
horse.
No To
A A
wise guide for a troubled life. lead it to the peace serene. brighter girl was never seen ;
And all the world was waxing worse And then she blamed your wicked views And touched upon the elected Jews
Zion back in force And they can't go sooner than would choose.
to
Going
There's none of you who may compare, moment, with her beauty rare. Her perfect sense, and insight keen. I How she headed the hunt on that wild black mare
; ;
68
Olrig Grange
well
Ah
that's past.
And
am
vexed
If I have added to your pain. I did not mean it. I'm perplexed With Charlie's gambling debts again.
And had no
If perfect
If I could think you loved like this, half-heart for the world,
Love were
perfect bliss,
Whose
spotless flag
And
At
its
Do He
what
plays
I will,
'tis all in
vain
toil,
contempt,
to-night,
and
prays
to-
great
morrow,
Now
tries
preach,
and now
is
to
Your love
is
borrow
And
;
fain
wait.
to
comes
My
me, Rose, and
thoughts.
let
dear,
is
you know
the
truth
;
it
not
I've
but yet
That
read
your
fret
Now,
kiss
me
go
surely
heart
And
away
You
are no heroine
you would
Out of your
know.
You
'Tis easier far for me to say yea to any one than nay ; And yea to thee, was pleasant
stUl,
To play a common, obscure part. To watch the coming baker's cart. To tremble at the butcher's bill, To patch and darn and hem, and still To make yourself look neat and smart
In a twopenny print and a muslin
frill.
And
But
nay, against
it
my
would quench
my
We
leave
me
for a
home,
I daresay, if
it
came
to blows,
Happy and honoured, it will be The last bright day shall ever come With sunshine to my home and me
Almost
Who
;
won
might
our
his
And
Like drift of dry and barren sand Along the shore, between the land And the low moaning of the sea That creeps with the great mist, hand
in
We could not win them if we tried We can but shoot and fish and ride.
And And
lightly spend
I don't
what came
so light.
beside.
hand.
Indeed, you must not think of it. For us there's nought but commonplace.
Which
[f
to itself
is all
in all
dinner good, a dress to fit, you were lapt in blissful dream. ride to hunt, a pretty lace. Which wakens not at any call, Old wine, old china, and old lace But still loves on whate'er befall can no more. I've tried If worldly custom, pride, and show. know And all your wonted life might flow Science, but Science will not sho^ Past you unheeded, and the small Tattle of fools, like the winds that Her secrets to the trifling race
A A
We
to
blow
Of Dilettanti,
brisk or slow.
;;
Editorial
69
don't
like
this,
you don't
like
that;
BOOK FIFTH
fat,
don't like parsons sleek and don't like those whose only
the
:
EDITORIAL
Dressed, like a penitent, in sombre black That hung about her limp and scrimp, and all
lace, or tucker,
;
fires
quenched
ashes
of
their
sires
Nor do you love this Thorold so. That you with him, like Eve, would Without relief of ribbon,
go
Into a world of thorns and briers,
braid to fold
Glad
That
to be with
him
in
weal or woe.
is
Rose
jewel
We
And
cannot dare a noble fate, yet our hearts find no repose In all our empty show and state : can be neither small nor great
A book, a pencil,
And
arrayed,
We
We
so
With
Like
power
hanker through our weary hour, nun-like woman over all dull and sad. flowers that try to blossom In tragic dress of studied negligence. Which covered not the less a tragic late, In a sickly struggle with frost and pain, shower. For there are souls that live in symbolisms. Our race is run : the Norman knight And are most true in most dramatic Is distanced by the engineer seeming, The cotton-spinner beats us quite Thus Rose awaited for the sacrifice.
When
That
all
the battle
is
to clear
:
rest,
but
paced about
Now Now
drawing curtains
close, to
dim
And no bad glory either, dear, As glory goes among saint and
Our
life is all
the light
sage.
the clock.
a poor illusion.
is
tardy
And
nothing
that seems to be
pace.
Our knowledge only breeds confusion, Or its unfeeling haste; now sitting down, Our love is moonshine on the sea. Holding her side, or white, spasmOur faith is but the shadow we choking throat
Cast
And
With
frown.
And
will"; If we have not the funds when the But soon she drooped her head, and bills come due. sobbed, " I cannot
Is trouble, plague,
"
; ;
70
Olrig Grange
God, pity me, a creature pitiful I dare not say, God help me, for this
business
Is one
As
fall
Home-coming
cannot help
the
in.
He
am
to
his
coming.
!
choose
Deliberately
proven.
Ah me how
mean
life
have
To
hear
it,
heeded them And knowing it so hollow, heartless, Dully haw-hawing, which he never did; Stupidly flattering, which he never vain, And knowing, too, the better life of love. did; And knowing it may break a noble Or peddling in the devil's small-ware,
heart,
gossip
And make
heart,
And And
For he
mine own death-warrant.
it ?
am
innuendo, which he never did is gracious, generous, and true all the time my spirit was not
:
And
As
sign
I
here,
Can
Is there
do
all
they
me ?
how
to
this.
in,
hate
And, hungering
the more.
them
back
to
like a rush
shall hear
And
no more.
right
O
To
Forsake
strong
me
ply
me
?
so
No
will
not
see
me any
why do
Was
ever girl
?
The
gold-thread in
my
life,
and make
!
So hard
it all
Was ever girl so drawn by cords of love Leaden To break the cord of Love ? Or can I hate
it
it
be,
all
thing,
and I myself I know, ere all is ended. How I Half feel, yet hate myself for feeling it. dread That this poor world of Custom is my The future they have fashioned out Fate ; for me. That I must be what yet I scorn to be ; And fierce rebellion of the best in me That empty as it is, it is my all Against the doing what is bound on That I should only wreck another soul. me Trying another life ; that I have lost, Heaven help me to be true at least to
As
they do
aver,
With
woman?
him
hood
When
strength- of love
!
falsest
to
myself;
my way
is
And
patient
Too
know
hard."
late,
too late
Then
his ring.
step,
and calm
To
look
a marble monument.
; ;
:
:
Loquitur Rose
I loved above myself
71
LOQUITUR ROSE
Nay,
I
sit
above
Mine own
capacity of soul,
As
down
there,
;
am
not worthy
in
me
not
one that with an earthly love Seeks Heaven, yet spurns its high
control.
I did aspire unto the role
In
my shamed
put
I would kneel, Of a great blessedness, unmeet thy presence. For such as me. 'Twas very sweet, neck beneath thy heel, While the dream lasted round and If Nature had her way, and youth whole. Its old simplicity and truth :
Burn
Or
my
But the sorrow of waking is more But the wolf's gnawing we conceal complete. 'Neath a surface passionless, bland, and smooth. Yet do not let me wholly pass Out of your mind, though I must be No more ashamed of doing wrong. We are ashamed of feeling right, Apart from your true life, alas And from a meaner level see. Ashamed of any feeling strong, As one looks where the stars go free, And of all shame ashamed quite And I am like the rest ; the light Its struggle brave and triumph great. Laughter of fools arrests my shame For you will strive and conquer Fate And self-contempt and bitter blame And think not bitterly of me When you take to your bosom a So we must meet as if the might Of passion and pain were an empty name. worthier mate.
! :
Ah me
And
hard for me to speak, hard for you to hear Yet do not comfort me, nor seek To soothe one pang or stay one tear. No fear of that, alas no fear ;
!
'tis
But
will be
me
speak
all
For
must say
it,
And
Ignoble
I have
as
To
me But
picture
wrong
it
it
yet scorn
And know
smart hated than quite Will follow
night,
and
as
know
the
as
surely
day and
No more as I have been again And my most cherished memory Henceforth shall be my keenest pain.
;
sham ; let bad be bad. good be good for evermore Who doeth right, let him be glad. Knowing the good he liveth for
I hate a
And
doeth wrong, let him, too, pour The treasured thought of all my prime. Unshrinking light upon his ill. The treasured grief of all my time ; And do it with determined will And I have loved, and not in vain. Our devil clings to his role of yore.
I have been loved
;
Who
Though my Love,
was almost crime.
in
Love's
vision,
And
is
fain
to
still.
72
Olrig Grange
a girl
Why
In
do
I dwell
on
this
Much
Nor
'Twas not
her.
herself, but
no precious pearl,
And
soon there
came a
Or
perfect flower of
womanhood
pause
Our
And
would have
The spell was broke, In her hot zeal. once more, her old self awoke made a charming With yearning for the former days.
And
wife,
Had she been only gaily wooed By a fine red-coat and a drum
fife.
and
The laughter crisp, the empty praise. The dressing, dancing, and the flock Of butterflies sunning them in her rays.
Then by and
by, in her old place
first,
We
But
met her
matron meek,
;
Priest
grave,
high-thoughted
Come
man.
Who
to When did not lag behind his day, seek to lead the van The old smiles, and the banter light, Of Progress with a lofty plan. And midnight chatter sparkling bright Not counting for himself the price. With airy bubbles ; while a bleak Up the great stair of Sacrifice, Loneliness reigned in her home all Trod by the meek and lowly One, He would lead our gay world into night.
Paradise.
He
What would you ? There was nothing wrong came across her path, and she Caught up his dream, and dreamt In our sense, only flirting gay. Meanwhile the grave priest went along, awhile With heavy heart, his weary way. She came across his path, and he
;
Found dreams
Heavier-hearted every day. angelic in her smile ; Till, as a shield for her good name, no knowledge, she no guile : Weary and dreary he, too, came Leave that to satire-novels ; both But dreamt a happy dream, not loath ; To ball and rout and drum and play And she squandered his life in her There was no woman's art or wile reckless game. When she gave to him freely her
He had
plighted troth.
His vow
to cherish her
he deemed
;
And
His
First of
all
duties binding
so
And
Not
and meekly played her part for a while she tried to give
The
glorious
dreamed
dealing them a deadly blow. To sacred work and thought and art With a brave woman by his side. To help the poor, the sick to cheer. And breathe sweet love instead of fear Became a mournful strife to hide
Of a And
let
her
know
To
all
men
God
was
near.
; ;
; ; ;
Loquitur Rose
Now,
hear
73
me
I
too
had
day
my
dream,
Framed
fondled
life
ill
I do.
The
It
which
mood
night,
When my
my
the gleam
light
sore heart
would most be
shed upon
all in
true
Of a new world
Nor
I see as I
And
I
vain, for in
life is mean Without the purpose and the might Of a noble Faith, and a Hope
Before
I see that
faithful and tender unto you. have done wrong, and hide it not, But yet it was not in my thought And bitterly your heart would rue Blending me with your life and lot.
And
yet 'tis but a dream with me, Vague, feeble, and unsolid : I of the world, worldly ; I can see
Am
Admiring
still,
Therefore my dream I must dispel, Therefore my love I must refuse ; It was a sweet and tender spell Of soft enchantment I did use I was to blame ; I therefore lose The one great bliss I ever knew.
The
false
made me
true.
world confessed
lie,
Bathing
me
But
know
But the owl sees the sunshine and winks in its nest.
I
to you.
it
it it
;
was
I
right
to live your
life,
You
have seen
I I
I
not meet to share your thought, not able for the strife
glorious lot,
to be brought
heed not custom as it goes. heed not what opinions float. heed but the light that high Reason throws.
Often the anxious, doubtful light Of those true eyes when I have been Showing a nature small and mean I've watched the shadow of regret. The pleading look when our looks met, The pain and fear you fain would
screen,
And
and cannot
yet.
I will not be to
you a
you a
care,
And
I
am
not old,
;
know my years
told.
snare.
;
And
lest
quaint thing,
sister,
not
tremble
the
By many
That That
she did
I, in
Of slander dim a wife's pure name, And feeling shame deny the shame. And sadly smiling bear the scaith
Of
a nature too shallow to get
wanton
idksse, angled,
art,
And
entangled
Your love, and strained upon the line. much Nor cared how your heart was torn
and mangled.
blame.
; !;
74
Olrig Grange
knew
Little she
Perhaps I played
at love
perhaps
!
enough to part with pain, But not enough to wed thee poor
I love
I
The game
lapse.
Who
dare not face the way of men nobly labour and endure.
The
And And
Seeking a great life high and pure. But I have one true purpose yet
I will not lead thee to forget
there was no escape, and we, Enforced, clasped the love that wraps
its
Forgetfulness in
ecstasy.
The splendid hope of glory sure, Which was all your thought until we
two met.
Yet mine
is
Which Which
wine.
brooks no rival, fears no ill. Ah you will not believe the truth. time would mellow like old Because it shows me poor and mean
You've dreamt
that I
am
all in
sooth,
Which
Which I have dreamt I might have hath no separate end or will. And is content with loving still. been Such life would grow insipid soon And should, perhaps, if I had seen To me, and tiresome as a tune In early years the generous life Ground on a barrel-organ, till Of aspiration high, and strife change were as welcome as flowers For truth and love and faith serene, in June. Which oft you have pictured for you and your wife. It should not, but I know it would ; It seems as if some evil spell But this it was not mine to see ; Were on me, holding me from good, household ours where Home is And from the peace unspeakable ; not,
There
is
that in
me
like a bell
We
!
we
Cracked Shaming
swings Never do anything we ought. its office, for it rings. Ah happy was your sister's lot For Christmas cheer and passing brother idles, trifles, spends. knell. And here he borrows, there he lends. The same false note for all truest And I, like him, have never thought things. Of doing a thing that makes or
in the belfry,
where
it
My
Women Women
Even
are fickle
mends.
I
are contrary
am more I am worse
;
Yet we must
eat
dress.
ficklest
in
women
can adore,
stedfast
And
And
Which
course
In Rotten Row, and crush and press. Bejewelled at St. James's, tied Fast to the chariot of our pride.
mine eyes
their
Have
Have
To And
fare.
And
waiting-maids
and grooms
to
source.
share
to weary of folk that are good Our vicious idleness, and hide The dull stupid ennui shot with and wise.
care.
Loquitur Rose
It's all a lie, this life
75
we
lead
;
Upon
And
breeds in
all'
The coachman wigged and tippeted, The maid who cannot sew nor spin, The brawny giant that let you in.
their splendid works, and praise Their genius, and we long to hear About their naughty vices dear, So charming in our books and plays,
in another sphere.
Who
And
should have been a grenadier, They're good for nothing before a year. Save lazy gossip, tippling gin,
You do not like this tone ? I know You hate a false, affected vein What, then, if we were bound to row.
;
beer.
How could I
Like Like
all
all
taint
am
just
devoured with
rust
Like galley-slaves, together, twain Linkedeachto each by loathsome chain; And by that union sundered more. Until the fretting bondage wore Your heart, and left an aching pain, As the only trace of the love you bore ?
It
Of idleness a hollow crust Of sentiment, and surface wit, And scraps of knowledge. I am
may
not be,
it
may
sin in
not be
'Twere grievous
fit
me
to
wed
For no brave life of love and trust. Or a home where the lamp of truth is
lit.
And now
this parting
word
is
said,
You
think I
draw
my
portrait
ill.
Beclouded by some fitful mood And fancy you could raise me still Into a nobler world of good. 'Tis kindly meant ; but as I brood Over the thought, I seem to see You failing of your destiny And for myself I never could Live the life you have pictured to me.
I
We, being twain, may still love on. Who, being one, had turned to stone
We loose
Our
our vows, but link, instead, hearts more surely to love alone.
!
A sad love
Who,
Lost
all
storm of sleet and wind, her sons at one fell blow saw her go. Three stalwart men. Don't you remember ? with her dead.
in the
We
Where Bloomsbury
smoke,
Side by side the corpses laid. Three long black coflSns in a row, On the bench of the boat, head touching head.
The
Than hearken
And
The
flit.
Never a word came from her lips She took the helm, and bent the sail. And silently slid by the ships.
While shabby
fellows broke
Across the bar she caught the gale. And sped on o'er the darkening wave 'Twas nice, of course, to hear from you Into black night she never gave One sign, but tearless, hard, and pale. About their wild Bohemian ways Sailed with her dead to their father's One likes to know how people do
silence with laughter loud
and
Who
We
gaze
grave.
; ;
76
Olfig Grange
I go like her, with all hopes lying cold in me ; great mist cometh, like a wall
And now
Helpless
among
My dead
The
And how he saw the grim crags loom. And heard the big waves crash and
boom.
sea
Through
way.
and
my
dead hopes
all in
row
Into the moonless, starless gloom. Into the grey and trembling cloud.
And how his heart in him grew cold. As still the boat went hurrying on.
Past
foaming
skerry
all
and
headland
Night closing o'er me like a tomb, The wet mist clinging as a shroud, And the wind wailing dirges loud Men will call it a wedding gay.
bold.
alone
And
stone.
And maids will flutter, priests will pray, Looked on, And joy-bells gather the village crowd. dread. To toast the dead on her bridal day. As hungry
sped.
Or
I
dead or worse
they drive
me mad
;
And
leaped on
fain
:
him
And And
gone ; And he
instead
known such, yearning to be free That they recked not either of guilt
or blame.
And how he lifted up his hand To pray or curse, as it might be, And in that moment grazed the land. When something smote his palm, and he
Grasped a strong rope unconsciously
it
means
but
now
Down
And
of your grey North Sea Keep running in my head, somehow And weird and eerie tales they be.
The
Was
it
Or some
one
else
it
me ?
do not know
How
Aie
'mong the
isles
Even so am I on fateful tide the tide-waves Borne on, and by the surges tossed.
flow.
And
steeds that franticly
;
Like maddened
And how
Caught
helplessly I rock and ride. Alone, and in the darkness lost. Haunted by many a mocking ghost No help without, no help within. Forsaken in my way of sin. Forsaken by myself the most. But I reach out in vain through the gloom and the din.
;;
; ; ;; ;
;;
Editorial
77
as the
swallows
help for rae ; I touch the shore They only push me back again The tide sweeps on, the waters roar. head is dizzy, my heart is sore ; I reach out, but no help is near, clond is on my soul, and fear. And hate and madness evermore
No
Round
and twittered
in the eaves.
My
White-throated
there
he lay
in
his
Are
my
ear.
his wasted cheek. a fire burning in his large grey eye; Waiting, he said, for that uncourtly
And
Amid my
There's
prayer,
no cord of life for me darkness and despair Pity me, look not cold on me
There
is
valet
Who
robes.
cursing
in
the
air.
?
heart
had
my
And
You
Yet
and say
life
it
had no
me
once
relish.
still and ever ? Nay ? And hope was broken ; and the Wherefore should I care springs of life To chafe back the life which were Being gone, he only longed to see the better away. end Of its hard jolting. Then the Doctors O heart, lie dead, and feel no more came. So best. If I must stUl live on And tapped, and stethescoped, and
me
So be
The desert life that lies before Were best to have a heart of stone.
spoke of
riles,
And
Cells,
lesions
Now leave me
And And
I accept I
I would be alone.
yet,
parts.
stitches,
and
free.
and
my
destiny.
blisterings
We had a dream,
And
day
then,
with
their
kindly
head,
knowing
and went
helplessness.
They shook
upon
their
way.
full
BOOK SIXTH
in
persuasion
that
the
EDITORIAL
Home
! in the grey old house beside the brook !
Had
Not
kind;
with this world, nor greatly
yea, he
troubled
the other:
Home
bis
in the
had great
me, and
settle-
peace
by
his
Thinking of Hester
laying plans
and
side.
And
a fond memories
throng
of
clinging
78
Olrig Grange
knows
It did not
change
fill
what
From
till
Still
heaven knows where, but restless tragedy. he saw it Much pitying himself; it only set him glad to hear no murmur of the Doggedly to his task of work, with
force
see no pile of books
streets,
And
and sorted Unbroken, undivided, unrelieved task And therein he had lived, and therein Urging the o'er- wrought brain, and found hold no more joy and fulness of life, till something The sluggish pen in weary, fevered cracked hand. With the overstrain of so unresting toil. Could he but sleep a little Oft he Moreover, he had planned a scheme lay,
Seeing old faces flit by as in dreams. so vast That only a Goethe-Methuselah, with Hearing old voices talking in the air. All senses strangely keen, and fancy a power Of vision, and a power of masterquick. Yet, as it were, a passing instrument work. Played on by passing sounds and subtle Prolonged a thousand years, had seen smells the end on't. And lights and shadows, and all But now it is not given to any one
fleeting things.
To
God,
at peace
overarch
the
structure
of
all
At
knowledge.
And
how
to sleep.
Only he had
I'm not a poet ; I have no romance. But stand by facts, and laws o' the
Universe
crown it with its dome and golden cross Nor is it given to any one to work, As God does, leisurely, because He
draws
Upon
rhyme and rhythm
like utter
Though
doubtless
He
Alone may say "'Tis
and
Are
We
But what I mean is, if a man abuse Stomach and brain, they will revenge
themselves
And
come
and
mend
it.
Thorold
Too much
nights,
a cosmic
For
sleepless
and
hastily-
work,
And toiled to do it in his week of days must That had nor fresh-breathed morn, nor restfiJ eve not think For him. So he broke down, a Of a heart broken, dying in despair wreck, at last. Of unrequited love. He loved, and lost Achieving but a fragment of his That sweetest relish of laborious life thought, Which henceforth was all labour that porch, a pillar, and an outline dim. was all.
snatched meals.
life
And
at
fever-heat.
You
Loquitur Ihorold
Some
79
deemed he was a failure Than all completed thinking. saw Thorold thus The germ of grand discovery in his Pushed at the gates of God, and
others
thought,
And worked
well, well
it
to their profit.
There
are
who
give us
all
through the chink Caught, wondering, some gleams of inmost Light they have, Transcendent, and some chords of
Ah
complete,
harmony
Nothing omitted, nothing lying behind. Entrancing ; unexpected mysteries All formulated, tidy, docketed. Of unison and beauty, heretofore Tied neatly up in ribbons, laid in Or jarring, or divided, blended now
drawers.
LOQUITUR THOROLD
:
In double entry
rae
Thanks, Hester
;
dear, this
;
little
hand
gentle
Can smooth
no shadows " upon them, and
foot-lights
a pillow in
the land.
No Of
Is
infinite possibilities,
Or
the
but
God
of
their light
row
and Now,
reflectors
The dainty fingers up, and see The red light through, as in days of old.
How
the faint
Achieve
all
in
suggestion.
They
lie
as
Ruth
his
Who
What
longed for
upwaking, and
;
Pink curtains of the dear old room. Like heaven-sent visions of a saint Tinged with the nature they illume You've kept all here as fresh as bloom, Just as it was long years ago
!
yet feared
Lavender-sweet since
so
fateful
doom
window
Lured me abroad
to a world of woe.
And
The
yearning
wait,
till
God
shall
The
speak to them
thing they cannot utter, save in
toss
fragments,
Knock
at the pane,
And
the
Or
visions
momentary
behind
veil;
Yet more suggestive of Divinity, More helpful by their infinite reaching Falls on the sense, and makes me think
forth
yellow buds, too, smile and blink sill ; and as I drink The fragrant breath, an airy jet From the sweet-pea and mignonette
Over the
Of the
dewy
wet.
8o
; ! ;
Olrig Grange
should, at times, a passing scent,
Why
Just sniffed a
Its sensuous
moment on
the breeze,
Have you forgot your Greek, and all Our quarrel ? How you would have
sent
power
so swiftly spent.
Come laden with more memories Than the low hum of honey bees. Or sound of old familiar strains, Or rustling of the autumn grains, Or voices from the whispering trees, Or the running brooks, or the pattering
rains
?
Fair Helen from the Trojan wall Back to the King of men, nor spent
One arrow though the bow were bent, Nor borne a dint on Hector's shield. Nor planted banner on the field. Nor shouted from the battlement.
For
a
woman whose
faithless
heart
could yield.
of these moss-roses sweet, aught meets the ear or eye. of old times, and seems to
:
You held the men unfit to rule Who'd launch their galleys on
sandy shore and rocky steep. For leman false, and lover faint And white-capped matrons leisurely Yea, were she pure as purest saint. Trudging along to the house of prayer. Better have died than so to keep The kings from their high task of government. They are all gone, all sainted now. All clothed in raiment clean and white With palm-crown on each grave sad What scornful beauty you would show In scorning beauty and its charms brow. They stand before the Fount of light, How eloquent your words would And praise His glory day and night grow No wrinkles on their face I see. O'er lordless realms and vague alarms.
I see our mother on the
stair.
;
!
kindly from the days gone by There by the window you and I Hearken the kirk-bell in the air,
Me
the deep. And leave their realms to mickle dule. And lonely wives to watch and weep.
By
No toil-rough hand,
Yet clinging
Is
feeble age with rusty arms Fending the matrons, while the men the scent of the sweet thyme and Were bleeding on the sand or fen. rosemary. Or dreaming of their homes and
to their glory bright
And
farms.
fattening the lean wolf in his den. have dusted them all day To keep them so from moth and I think you should have been the boy, You were so politic and wise. mould. Those were school prizes near you Impatient of an idle toy. And piercing with those stedfast pray
Give me
my Homer,
that I
may
eyes
The
heart of
I
And
Greek
torrent pour.
While
ah me
up
all
great enterprise.
!
my
life is
sped.
;
Already numbered with the dead Like plashing waves on shingly bay. As the King mused, wrathful, along And with the vanities and lies
the shore.
Clasp
it
; !! :
JLoquitur
I know you'U say me nay ; You still believe in me, though I Have lost faith in myself, and pray
Ihoroid
8i
Yes, yes
The
But a
blithe
;
home, and
still
the
kindly
hearth
rarer light
in
peace to die.
When
And
be forgotten by and by. &ith, so fond and true, StiU hiding failure from our view ! Close-clinging ivy green and high.
sister's
happening on this tender flower, I found an impulse that gave birth From an aimless life to a life of power.
new
Dear, there's a small flower lying in My Terence, near the fortieth page : 'Twas the first honour I did win In science, and my youthftJ gage
power ? Ah no ! This life hath been Feeble and fruitless, like the faint And watery glimmer you have seen Of broken rainbows, never bent In glory athwart the firmament
Of
a stone
Upon
I
it blooming all alone. an eager pilgrimage : was first to discover where grown.
And now the bootless years are spent. And the darkness cometh on me like
night.
it
had
Oh
I
for
am
so
mark
to
know
What
I saw
then I
its
felt,
So many years for gathering lore. So many for my work in hand My Book which, with a purpose grand. Our fragmentary truth should knit
A coy glance,
Had
The
In cosmic clearness, wholly lit almost where my heel crushed the treasure ; and I drew And by one sovran doctrine spanned it will never be writ. long breath, trembling ; and I knew And now, alas
!
passion of science,
broaden the realm of the known How strangely Destiny is ruled This small pale flower became my lot and true. And all my wandering fancies schooled, I found it : but the shepherd lad And gave my life a fixM thought, Had found it centuries before. Which to one centre all things And made his rustic maiden glad brought By gilding with its golden store Her golden hair nor cared for more. And henceforth this base earth was all We find we know not what ; we know, Instinct with meaning, prodigal Of riches ; yet there cometh not And idle blossoms, as they blow One full-ripe fruit to my blossomed By mountain burn or cottage door. wall. Fashion our life into which they grow.
To
That
little
all
So be
it ;
God
had
hath ordered
life
all
The
best years I
was
led.
To
Nor
care I
now
82
Olrig Grange
sleeping with the glorious dead.
Or
And
listed
no more
to appear
Meagre is all the work. I've done But I have lived, at least, and fed On that which the noblest live upon.
With hammer deftly bringing forth The buried records of the earth. Or to enhance their facts with clear
Thought, which gives to them
their worth.
all
And now
Sweet
that
sister, let
And
went forth
from
thee
and
any one As unto you. Can you recall lovely girl, stately and tall, maiden with a queenly look.
I could not speak, to
them
A A
praised
of
my Fame
little
Of Wisdom's
air
The
Of serene Of a wise
brook
Adam's
fall
By wisdom made
You
And man forgot what we now recall. did not like her much, I know. But there was never maiden fair Seemed worthy, as queen flower, to Heaven help me I used all the slang Of penny-a-liner big words then ; grow Well gardened in my heart with I guessed 'twas cant, and yet I rang
!
care.
The
and glory there. Hester you could see
!
The
chiefest treasure
foolish
changes on't, like other men ; Sweet, you may count that nine
ten
in
Fond,
No Eve my help-meet fit to be Of all that breathed the common Unless God should fashion
purposely.
Have nought to
air.
The
pious kind
more
in
terrific,
much
people
when
They
are literary
and
scientific.
And I deceived you, Hester dear. And spake of loving none like you. And talked of seeking a career Of ardent toil and science true. When all the while I had in view
Her stately form, her glorious eye. Her high imperial majesty Of sovran beauty for I knew
;
Abhorred
it is
She was
my
Slow-pondering a leaf or stone ; But fashion has its torrid zone Where sages in a week shall grow Ripe and ready, and seem to know All that long painful thought hath won From the heaven above, and the
earth below.
home.
I left
precious
scroll,
and cherished In
me
and
you
;
little
is
truth
truth alone
power
tome,
gatliered wealth of
I left
many
a year
For her
: ;
Loquitur Thorold
Bee-haunted
in the
83
not One.
a lot
coteries
sunny hour,
And London
Of cliques
Where
is
It
is
With
a great crown of wits and beaux, And varied hum of verse and prose Encircling her, while she would shower
Several influence as she chose.
A group of villages,
Long time the Or thought as
brain
may
not
science,
Their thoughts all tangled in a net Rogues sweat their sovereigns ; fools, Of hard, dry fact ; the pigmy giants I wot, Hurled at the gods their proud defiance. Clip smaller the thoughts of their Tracing fit genealogies wisest men. Far back among the cocoa trees. But she ? Well, she was like a spring And fondly hugging brute-alliance With the monkey tribes and the Of purest water, cold and clear.
chimpanzees.
Where
bright
birds
come
to
preen
their wing,
All heresies of art came there, All heresies of science too. All theorists were free to air All social heresies, and new Commandments that a man should do, And women who had wrongs and rights. And patriots from disastrous fights.
And
owls and ravens too appear all as they drew near. And they all drank, and left no trace ; But each man deemed he saw his face Deep in her heart, and had no fear That the shadow changed when he
She mirrored
changed
his place.
And
Me
honoured with
Rehearsing every night a myth I was, and how I grew In a lone country-house, and knew Science like Pascal, with no aid.
Of what
That blamed the air, and not their state Except the quaintest little maid All fain to mend the world and fate. Who was a delicate genius too, All hating labour, and the slow And how she had drawn me out of Results that from its patience grow ; the shade. And oh, the froth was very great As they swirled and eddied to and fro. 1 tired of this ; 'twas weary all. And all unlike the glorious dream, Yet wherefore should I speak in scorn ? Which now with smiles I can recall, God made them in their kind, and He Of a fair woman who did seem Had use for them, at least had borne Down on my lower world to gleam. Like something from the heavens With their most flippant vanity
As
A province for
To
Universe we see all meanest things Even for the earth-worm's twisted rings
in his
untainted,
And for whose love my spirit fainted, And would all lowliest worship deem
Too
poor for her I had enshrined and
sainted.
84
Perhaps
Olrig Grange
I judged her wrong ; her way !And oh the cruel, bitter throng harder than at first I knew Of haunting memories that came. Her young life panted to be gay, Still summoned by her cherished name, Her young heart panted to be true, .Sweeping like mocking ghosts along. Her home was all divided too. As the drear night wind shook the window-frame False science false religion met, And lavish waste with scrimping debt Seemed now the world a weary waste, Poor heart the wonder is she grew heartless world, a thing to scorn Half so noble as she was yet. 'Twas only coldness made the chaste. You did not know you could not guess; And Cupid was of Plutus born ;
Was
And
With
evermore
my
soul
was torn
We pledged
One
it
in a
long caress
evening on the grey sea-shore, thought came surging like the hoar. Wild, bursting waves upon the beach
As
It
The dainty prig, so spruce and trim, Whose acres made my heart forlorn, Whose love was nought but a summer
beyond speech. whim. and the more Dumb, that its hope seemed so far Then turned I mine out of reach.
was
a passion
Ne'er quite
articulate,
to
my
work.
Not
;
woman's love
With searching thoughts will I entwine Round Nature's porches ; I'm above
Being a slight girl's silken glove Shaped to her hand, and laid away,
The
sorry issue of
:
my
I spake
Or
may
and
set in
And
my name
the same.
And
gather,
Would win
array.
Alone, through many a weary day. on it ? She chose. Alone through many a silent night, I wended on my patient way, After her kind, one of the set man of blue-books, cold and close, Groping through darkness into light.
Enough
why dwell
Now
sore
perplexed,
now
staggered
quite,
Her
pottering
among chemicals.
Yet slowly working out a thought That all to clearest order brought
It
held
me
And my
forgot.
all
was
over.
had
striven
!
'Gainst clearest proofs, to prove them Happy, for I forgot Ah me ! I met her one day in the street. wrong, Had fought with doubts, as if for Heaven, Looking so sorrow-stricken he
!
To
Was
feet,.
"
;;
; ;
i^oquitur
Ihorold
85
with his ready smirk would greet I had of old this hectic spot heavy-laden : but I hid Our mother's gift of delicate bloom : sorrow as a thing forbid, And it is Well she 'scaped the doom And while my pained heart madly beat, Of early widowhood. I sought Silently into the throng I slid. To wed her young life to a fated tomb. Again I met her in the Park ; I was then thin and worn and faint And as I loved her, you will love. It was about the gathering dark, And gently scan her, hap what may Sweet, as we hope to meet above. And scarcely did she know me bent With toiling day and night. I went You promise, ere I go away. Close to her carriage, and she said, There, kiss me in pledge of it. I lay " Cruel I hoped to crown your head wager, that's your Hermann strong. With laurel ; must my care be spent His deep bass booming a Luther-song On pallid flowers for a grave, Out of a heart as big as gay
And
Me
My
instead
What
great
life
is
that
coming
tramping along
Would I be like him ? Nay, not ; then muttered I, now " So, the stony heart has an unheard Best as it is, dear : all is best. wail I've lived my life ; and gladly bow Low moaning on the midnight gale. Unto the high, supreme Behest, And sighing now for love like mine. As I draw near the hour of rest. When love alone is felt divine. Leaving no care behind me here : And life is flat, and riches stale. Soon all the mystery shall be clear. And the soul awakens to long and Or in high fellowship of the Best
A weary look was in her eye, A wasting grief on her cheek so pale
in ray heart
And
pine."
God
An
evil
thought
God
pardon
fell,
me
The
My
No
of
A lurid light,
hell!
The gateway of the endless years, Where we, long blindfold, are
Nay, be not wroth I loved her well. bound, Loved her, and love is ne'er in vain, And lay our swathings on the ground, Loved her, and found in all its pain To face the Eternal. So I rest dew and blessing, and the swell Peacefully on the Strong One's breast. Of a life that joyed like the bounding Even though the mystery profound main. Ever a mystery be confessed.
:
And
At
had died
rate.
in early
any
Oh
My
old doubts
fret,
make
my
path
my
lot.
know
my
yet
; ;
; ;
86
Olrig Grange
the locks,
It
all
seems as
to
its
if
my
lingering feet
moss and grasses sweet, And ferny glades, and golden days When cowslips and ladybirds made
our hearts beat.
Whoever would
But
all
Where
There There
breath
is
no gain except by loss, no life except by death. And no full vision but by Faith, Nor glory but by bearing shame. Nor Justice but by taking blame ;
is
Throw up the window let me hear The mellow ousel once more sing. The carol of the sky-lark clear. The hum of insects on the wing, The lowing of the kine to bring The milk-maid singing with her pail. The tricksy lapwing's far-off wail, The woodland cushat's murmuring.
;
And that Eternal Passion saith, "Be emptied of glory and right
name."
And
and
of the pines
in
the
me
all
; Anselm and Luther, Tauler, Groot, The half-notes and the tremulous fall With reverent search and solemn awe. Of her young voices, and the free Saw each some angle of God's great Gush of full-throated melody thought, And, like a child, I'm loath to go. Saw none of them the perfect Law, And leave the elders to the flow And, in defining much, some flaw Of speech and song and memory. Marred all their reasoning nor may And take me to sleep in the room below.
;
harmony
which they Only in broken fragments saw But I can yet take up the prayer But the way of the just, is to trust and Of childhood at the mother's knee.
pray.
And
breathe
it
Faith and Piety, I wonder how the twilight shines Its meanings deepening as I see On the tinkling brook that cleaves the deeper needs. His deeper light hill. For wonder grown to wisdom, might great lines And how it rays with broad Find there fit utterance, and a key Through rifted clouds that slumber still. To the thoughts that reach to the
Of truest
My
And how
Around
the
fall
Infinite.
Glistens, and
the
Our
Father, lo
in
And how
And
Thy
presence I
am dumb
meadows we loved of old. Have mercy on my lowly fear. And Father, let Thy kingdom come I thank Thee for my daily crumb, ever loved our earth, and still
The
Forgive me, as I do forgive ; its scaurs and brooks and braes. long bleak moor, the misty hill. And in my dying may I live And all their creatures, and their ways. And when the hours of trial come, Help and deliverance do Thou give. And many waters sounding praise ;
I love
BORLAND HALL
BOOK FIRST
O'er the College Chapel a grey stone
COLLEGE LIFE
There's an old University town Between the Don and the Dee Looking over the grey sand dunes, Looking out on the cold North Sea. Breezy and blue the waters be, And rarely there you shall fail to find
crown Lightsomely soars above tree and town, Lightsomely fronts the Minster towers, Lightsomely chimes out the passing
hours
To
The white
the wind.
horse-tails
lashing
out in
the solemn knell of their deeptoned bell Kirk and College keeping time, Faith and Learning, chime for chime. The Minster stands among the graves.
its
Or
And
The
shadow
is
falls
on the
silent
snow
Creeping over them
river
and slow. room. The student hears the lonesome boom Of the breaking waves on the long
Sitting o' nights in his silent
Chapel
the
girt
waves.
And
pulses
of
passioning ever.
And
But death is in life, and life is in death ; the chirming of pebbles along the Being is more than a gasp of breath : beach ; come and go, we are seen and lost,
sand reach.
We
And
gazing out on the level ground. Or the hush of keen stars wheeling round, Yit feels the silence in the sound.
So, hearkening to the City's
stir,
Now
in
glimmer, and
now
in
gloom
And oft this body is the tomb. And the L ife is then with the silent host.
In the old University town. Looking out on the cold North Sea, 'Twixt the Minster towers and the College crown. On a winter night as the snow came
Alone
in
some
still
house of
God
Whose solemn aisles are only trod By rarely-coming worshipper. At times, beneath the fret and strife. The far-off hum, the creaking wain. The hurrying tread of eager gain,
down
In broad flakes tremulously. Falling steady, and falling slow. Nothing seen but the falling snow, youth, with strained and weary looks. Sat by a table piled with books,
And
all
life.
catch the Eternal Silence best. And unrest only speaks of rest.
87
We
88
Borland Hall
rarely trusting, never leaning, and bold and true
;
But
self-reliant
As
he lifted his head, and hastily- Where dashed long, The hair from a forehead broad and The deepest silence also dwells. high: And there are brightest mossy wells For there was a crash and a clamour Among the nodding heather bells : and ringing So in his stormy spirit dwelt In the room overhead, and a chorus The hush of that religious sense. singing, The silence of that great reverence As the bell tolled midnight from near Which the strong and brave have the graves, always felt And ere its slow deep note had died, Nor less the tender beauty wrought The chime from the College crown By fresh well-springs of feeling deep replied. And Love, that whether we wake or
the rocks and fells, most the storms rage loud and
among
And then
sleep,
ing waves.
lot.
had In the room overhead a clamour rang. But hushed for a moment, as some one
clearly, each note like a
Or more perchance 'tis hard to tell sang The age of a face so strong and keen, Cheery and The years of a form that was hardened bell
;
well
off,
By
heat,
And
PARTY OF STUDENTS
IN
THE UPPER
ROOM
First Student.
;
Look, how
:
Darrel
ask him to sing ; is moping power They are dull fellows poets, unless they In body and brain and passion strong can get Over his square brow fell a shower Of black hair, waving and thick and All the say to themselves there he
long.
It
stands in a pet,
was
a great
pliant
brown hand
quill
that gripp'd
The
o'er
the
blotted
sheet,
No
soft
and clerkly
finger slipt
Cupid
I
hit
alone
Over the
More
like that of a
equipt,
Grasping the
An
To
heard the sharp twang of his bow, and it broke his Poor Muse's wing, who came down, in sad plight, With a flutter of anapaests, dactyls, and trochees.
College Life
89
Third Student. Ralph, come, pluck Beaming with beauty along the way up heart, man, and give us a stave : Is it her wit so nimble and gay ? Love is life to the poet, like wind to Is it her grace ?
a ship.
It will
of them truly, but one and all. the something unseen Which you'll sing at her wedding, or Which should lie behind beauty and else o'er her grave wit and art For the song is as much as the Love The noble nature, the soul, the heart, to the poet ; With its joy serene. 'Tis the fruit, and the passion was but
give you a song, though she
slip.
None
And
soil to
grow
it.
Hear
a
Song
She
is
Woman
;
See her bring Light to the eyes of the old and weak ; And oh how wisely her lips can speak
is a woman to love, to love, As flowers love light. And all that is best in you is at its When she enters your heart
She
As
That
well as sing
is
best,
a to
woman
wonder
to love, to love.
at.
as
And
For whether she talks, or walks,or rides, 'Tis as if she had never done aught
besides
woman
to love, to love
But
perfect that.
fig for your loveCupid's an ass. the wise man will drown the
!
With
a love sincere.
For all that is bad in you hides away, Like the bats and the owls from the
glory of day.
First Student.
ditties
And
When
She
is
she
is
near.
woman
to love, to love
Second Student. Ha, ha lads, I told you our Ralph had been hit Now, guess the rare mixture of beauty
!
of her
life.
she
Nay, we name
more
;
not
;
you.
name of
a damsel of honour
To
perfect
Enough
ing
come showerstirring.
upon her.
I
Now
for something
where
In her
gait, in
and gorse.
Sings
Up
;
IN
THE North
Up
What
Is
is it
in
in
There
it
her face,
and worth
Borland Hall
;:
go
ourselves, and our the wind sweeps over moorland And praising and glen, crusty old land. But truth is trusty, and men are men, Come, set us a catch with a rattling good chorus. And hearts grow warmer the farther Third Student. Nay, none of your you go, catches. Ralph, let's have a Up to the North with its hills and snow. stave Ho for the North, yo ho With a touch of the pathos, like that which you gave Out of the North, out of the North, All the free men of the nations came At the Doctor's last evening I
Wild
noted his eye Kings of the sea, they rode, like its he sipped his glass daintily while it was dry waves. Crash on the old Roman empire of How he gulped it in tumblers a frigate
forth
How
slaves,
might
float.
And
the poor
cowed
serfs
and
their
With
the
tear
in
his
eye, and
the
Csesars
saw
its
lump
ruins, our
in his throat
Rise from
roar
out
chorus,
lads
Law.
my
thinking.
Ho
Up
for the
North, yo ho
There
All.
is
steady drinking.
in the
Ay,
feelings a bit
white briar-rose,
And
let
weepplease
to
And
it
dew which
be.
clasps as
it
blows
Darrell.
But
sing
nothing
their
will
;
There
are no
you.
the
north
The
birds
trees
the
Ho O O
to
for the
North, yo ho
for the
Song
Mysie
is
Gordon
?
Now
where
forth
What
The less that the myrtle or rose is given. The more do we see there the glory
of heaven
men
lasses,
dafEng
my
face
to
the
old
At
North wind.
the well, are blithely laughing. Dinging a' the chields at chaffing:
Ho
song
North, yo ho
!
your patriot- Mysie lo'ed a student gay. only sonorous ; And he vowed he lo'ed her well And, besides, people laugh at us talk- She gave all her heart away, ing so grand. He lo'ed naething but himsel'
First Student.
Pshaw
now
is
College Life
91
Then he went
to
woo
his fortune,
Second
Student.
wonder
now
!
courtin'
We
Mysie Gordon.
Every night across the moor. Where the whaup and pewit Mysie seeks his mither's door
Ralph, you can look in my face asked you for pathos, and lo commonplace. Silence there Third Student Ralph, you must try it again.
!
cry,
Hark
how
give us
a strain
Wi'
Proud to tell about her Johnnie, Every word's a stab to bonnie Love-sick Mysie Gordon.
Song
The False
I
;
Sea
A'
his letters she maun read, A' about the lady braw Though the lassie's heart may bleed, Though it even break in twa Wae her life may be and weary, Mirk the nicht may be and eerie.
; ;
Singing to you,
And
Yet she'll gang, and fain luik cheerie, Bonnie Mysie Gordon.
Whiles she thinks it maun be richt She is but a landward girl He a scholar, and a licht Mickle thocht o' by the Earl. Whiles she daurna think about it. Thole her love, nor live without it,
Sair alike to trust, or doubt
it,
Where its lip kisses The sands, they are bare. Where its foam hisses,
Nothing
lives there
;
When
It
is
it is
smiling.
Hushed
as in sleep,
beguiling
to weep.
Some one
free,
And
of the daring That's bred of the sea It crept up the inlet. And bore them away Where it laughed in the sunlight, And dimpled the bay, Singing to them.
full
:
But moaning
Tripping
it
to me, came.
Weary
feet
by ane anither
The
sell
sell
:
why,
I've emptied
my
glass
And
it's
The
lass.
heard her bows part waves with a rippling That went through my heart.
I
92
: !
Borland Hall
wringing their hands For the dead that were sleeping That night on the sands For nothing is true In the false cruel sea
And And
Breaking
in
on
tlie
long-rolling
boom
of the sea.
Which
is
singing to you,
to
And
Long and
moaning
me.
to do with their tramping and chorusing so Through the still hours of thought, with the lamp burning low ? Let me read as I will, I read nothing
What
but
words
;
:
ne'er
would
close
they run into quavers and chords Metaphysics in music, crabbed Latin
in tunes,
And somehow
And
Thus
clear
:
meaning than so
trip in
At
AUSTEN LYELL
College-Musing
Crash
!
light measure,
crash
But shake from their folds the fine thought which they treasure. there they go, Ralph, What to do ? Why not join in their
Darrel and
Hugh,
jolly carouse
And
girls, and thud As of some one that falls in the slush and the mud Then a rush up the stairs, and tramp, tramp overhead. With a Babel of speech that might
Guild, and that jovial Ralph's a splendid "young scamp, and crew. has plenty of nous, First, cups in the tavern, and brawls in Ay, and more Greek and Latin than the street, half of the fellows springing of rattles, and scuffling are cramming for honours, dull, of feet, bilious, and jealous.
little
Tom
Who
here,
and
saw
And
travail in pain
with a theme, or a
as
trope.
And
with pulleys
his jests would go crack like a whip on their flanks clinking of glasses, and ringing But for Ralph there the Greek eye of bells. would brighten to witness And song after song till the daylight His beauty and vigour, his swiftness draws near and fitness Ralph sings like a bird, how his voice For wisdom or valour, for pleasure or trills and swells power,
How
waken
the dead,
And
chorus that For speech to the Demos, or maid in her bower. Love song and drinking song, madrigal, For bridling the wild horse, or quaffing glee. the bowl,
the rogues
a
make
;!
Austen LyeU
Or
93
holding discourse of the gods and Shell-tipped her fingers are, taper and the soul: long. For dear to the sage was a beautifbl Tripping she comes to me, lissom youth, and strong.
the wholeness of
I too
is
And And
With
too
too,
precious as truth-
I kiss
am young
all
and
my
blood
The
hot
bUss.
the lust of
is
pleasore
got.
They
think
me
bookworm, a winner
phantoms of
sunniest hues
of {Mizes,
Full of priggish decorums, and learned snnnises;
Precise as a Puritan; feeding onScholia,
Hang
the
And
Elzerir
classics,
and
is
black
warm
face
it
Melancholia
Of our
youth, as
comes, in
its
morn-
gnawing
to dally
And
the strong
sin.
human hanker
dew;
Yet
all be but shadows, and nothing be true?
with
All but vanity, dream and inanity. a flask of old wine, grey with Nothing to shower down a blessing on cobwebs, whose scent you Made the grim spiders jolly in bloated
Ho
content.
Rare
topers
no
fly
buzzed their
How
was
it
that
Goethe
in
Ml
measure tasted The grossness of appetite into their All that Life had to give him, nor thought missed aught, nor wasted ! Nor bubble nor bead marred the Sat Shakespeare alone thus, and heard rapture dirine. the dogs bark. But they netted aroma, and breathed Like an owl in a bam staring into the the bright wine. dark. And folding the cork in their mouse- And warming its five wits to find out coloured wraps. the mystery They boozed on, and dreamt not of Of this wonderfiil world, and its time and its lapse. wonderful history And oh for my Horace's Daphne or Did they shrink from love-tryste, Phyllis, song, or bright-beaded wine. Low- browed, and breathing of As if only the dulness of life were divine ? wreathed amaryllis How her eyes beam, and her golden Nay, their nets swept the stream of curls break. our full-flowing gladness, Like tangled laburnum drops, round Its still pools of thought, and sideeddies of sadness her white neck
darkness, or brought
!
; ;
94
Borland Hall
was
its
Where
They
life
the
deepest,
and
To
passion
was
strong,
sorrel-stars.
cramped with rheumatics, and bending with age, And so they were rich in the glorious His grave father sweats at the ditch and the hedge, sense Of a wealth of world-wide experience. And sisters and brothers are patiently drudging And what is it all for this heaping of From day-break till dark, unrepining, ungrudging ashes On the hot fire of youth till you And all, as they stint food and raiment
fished in
there long,
and
hopeless
fire.
Have
to see the
Kirk
spire
And
the
when
old folios
crossing the
There's
my
old
school-companion,
Lo
farmstead and mill, Dick Gow of the Glen, With the brains of a half man, and From the shepherd's
labours of ten
How
And And And
he volumes
toils
on,
and
hid
in
the
patristic.
dim
and he
rites
forest glade,
dogmas
fictions
forensic,
eucharistic.
of
law,
that
calls
All to hear their boy preach the great Gospel, and sever Himself from the old home and old
life for
gospel verity,
tries
ever.
That's the end of his struggle, when Priesthood has riven sincerity. Meanwhile in the glen where his The fondest of earth's ties, that bind us to heaven childhood had been Stands the lowly turf hut, where the Has sundered those hearts that were loving and true. house-leek is green Near by it, the burn rushes hurrying And linked him now fast to the Laird,
to
believe
he believes
in
down
Through
the rocky gorge headlong,
who have
nothing
tO'
do!
Or
with long moss, Where the maiden-hair tresses stretch half-way across.
Or
there
is
young Barbour
his factor--
ing father
Or
sleeps in the pools where the Heeds of nothing but charters, and' wadsets, and leases, speckled trout play, And leap to the fly when the evening Rotations of cropping, and how he
is
grey.
shall gather
Or
woodland
its
few Biggest
rents
for
my Lord
whose"
plaintive bars
;;
; ;
Austen Lyell
But
his
95
for a high life of courage
Or meet
duty
and
our
questions of
Law,
rubric,
will
pay
for
Load
his
memory daUy
with cases in
to
Not
to
point,
some per
We
touch on
all
topics,
we know
We open
questions,
and
still
Or
of his
to the
not abide Great the thoughts of his youth, to By the issues we raise, but glance ever aside determine all right By the law which the landlords have For there is not a lie, spite of God's voted is light. high decree. For ever immutable, sacred, divine. But has made its nest sure, on some To the serf of the glebe, and the thrall branch of our tree. And has some vested right to exist in of the mine. So his days and his nights shall be the land. And some who will have it the tree spent, and his youth
wits.
Dried up
truth
broad
acres
could not stand If the sticks, straws, and feathers, that sheltered the wrong. of Were swept from the boughs they
And
the heath-purpled hills where the wild deer are born, And the fish of the river, and bird of the air
Let me
toss to the
To
whom
is
let
me know
All that
is,
Whose
whose
the
money,
Nature iiill-blooded, fiillhanded, can show Let me touch at all points the whole
life
And whose
is
its
milk
that
man
lives.
And taste with a relish all pleasure it and honey. gives. So he squanders bright youth with its Link the sweet notes of music with wonder and awe sweet words of song. For a wig and a gown, and this vision Wreathe the arms in the dance, and of Law go tripping along. Oh, but Culture? and what all the Kiss the peach-blossom cheek, rich with life's glowing dyes, culture we get ?
Old
furniture
crammed
in
ings to let,"
Nothing blending
in beauty.
the wild rapture of lovegleaming eyes. harmony, graceful Crown the cup with its flowers, purple lip with old wine.
into
" Lodg-
And know
96
Borland Hall
And
let
in
its
gloam-
passion divine.
ing peep
Ah
we grow
hydrocephalous, swell-
At woodland nooks
keep.
dewy
tryste to
At the
ing
cost of our
pain,
manhood,
till
think- Stole
my
young
life
away, and
in a
is
heap
And
the surfeited
through
deep.
like burglars
in
which the healthful Greek Dark, robber hours, lightly would do the night. Lightly and laughing, for subtle and
task,
strong.
They broke
sleight.
into
my house,
by cunning
spell
He
was
a song.
And And
The The
The
bound me
reft
fast, as
with a
of
might.
is
this,
with the
my
life
away
ere morning
light.
That pleads
rose
spell
leaves
to a
Cross
in the
scentless be.
is
Awful names,
great
that are
?
named
!
broken
hours
lo
mine eyes
Mystery
can
see
that stole
foul fiend
Hence
thievish
my
life
romance
from me
!
Of
the demi-monde
mists,
low
trailing, screen
The
seen,
Than Hark
sit
And
and mean
sings
Ralph
again,
but
and
And
the
young
soul
to
darkness
is
hopelessly wending
this is the dream that I dreamt, and its ending Brown, gipsy hours, with white teeth But why was it ever dreamt ? How
Song
The Hours
And
Came
could I spirt
when
stole
a child
The
its
stir
up
And
my
life
Ah
we
strike a
away
Where
day.
was
idling all
Austen Lyell
97
Dreamily over the keys, till they find Here and there, in the distance far. The melody shape itself clear in the He caught the gleam of a throbbing mind; star So we dream, and from dreaming we And away to the north was a band of
glide into act,
light,
And
our
life is
And
That wavered like the sheen of spears Swaying about in some ghostly fight mine, For all was ghostly in that wan night,
moan
it
And
laps the curved sand
the
shadows passed
like fears
Of the
sea as
Wan
the
moon
looked, and
wan
the
or the stone
cloud,
In the moon-glimmered bay, while its And wan the earth in its snowy shroud. So, as he gazed, his eyes grew dim. far depths are stirred By the throes of the storm that is And moon and stars were hid from him By some strange mist, and then the mist coming ? I've heard That the knight, ere he buckled gilt- Shaped itself into forms, I wist
spur to his heel.
And
he saw
his old
Or
belted
his
wooded
mill.
hill,
And
it,
sleepy and
still.
were creeping.
And And
all
cold;
All the long night in the darkness alone, All the long night, while fiends in the
air
there.
of
bell
Plied
terrors,
or strove to
weeping.
ensnare
And
as it
But
I,
tolled.
Was it the bell ? or only the boom Of the waves that mixed with his Here suddenly he rose, and stood dreamy thought ? Close by the window in dreamy mood.
The snow had ceased to fall, and lay Whose face was that in the darkened room ? White o'er all the level reach, White to the sand-dunes and the beach The features changed in the shadowy
Where
the tumbling breakers
fell,
gloom,
passionless calm,
it
And
changM not.
Sometimes, he thought it was his own ; Sometimes, it had his mother's look It was hard for the eye to tell. The broad white moon was hurrying And his quivering lip gave a low,
spray,
swift.
faint
moan
its still
Trailing her pale skirts over the drift Of the flying clouds ; and through a
rift,
At
the pathos of
rebuke.
Had
he took
7
;;
; :
98
Borland Hall
this
be a dream I
Yet
From the old University town Looking out on the cold north sea
the
moon gleaming
He
down
:
On
Lo
the stars
!
To his home in the hill country And proud was the mother that
him
then.
bore
Mars
to shine in
through an
was
oak-panelled ceiling
the glen.
in her
Which
is
solid
and
real,
with a weird,
it
When
Walk
alien feeling.
goodliest grey.
As
if
on Sunday, knew
alone true.
Or was
I
the
saw
old not
Whether
mother's
On my
She
is
chill sense
of awe
what she was, and her the service stayed till afternoon. have strange This once at least, she would not hear Longings of late in them, hinting of For the voices of triumph that filled change. her ear She used to be hard, though as true as And bonnets, too, might be gay and
letters
Or Or
the doctrine
the steel,
bright.
And
is
may
And ribbons flash in the gleams of light. And eyes might turn from the pulpit,
too.
Now
me
with her,
;
is
weary alone
In the wild winter evenings she is gone
There
is
so
much
and ere For once the sin would be forgot Of garment gay and wandering thought yet I must And sooth to say, they blamed her not. They liked the youth ; and learning
the
Is
still
Or
the
work
am
at.
somehow
its
Who
more esteemed among the folk till the glebe, or watch the flock,
fades into
night
In lonely glen, or silent hill. wealth of gold ; and also he Was wont to mix with them pleasantly
Than
And
it
was
all
as if
To
the
When
and
ing in
Help me,
True
to
God,
that
my
life
may At
yet prove
green,
Thy
her love.
thought, and the hope of Hurling the quoit, or rolling the ball, Foremost scholar the year had seen.
Borland Glen
Far at the end of the narrow glens,
valley,
99
open three
features,
BOOK SECOND
Each with
its
BORLAND GLEN
As
you come over the down, the road
hill,
own marked
charactered clear as men's ; Each with its own fair water finding
little
way
lo
!
its fitting
way.
still
Rough
one
side,
Through
it
its
water
as
a cataract, rugged, of stones down-rushing as if they would fill rapidest bounds and shocks ; The glen with grey desolation; and Now with a clear rush on, and now half-way down a thorn
broken by rocks
With
And
boulders, cleaving
its
way
by
recoiling again,
To
barrier huge,
it
has
hammered
as it stayed the torrent, and was bent with the weight and worn. Only that thorn on the hillside grapples
Seems
Only
and
its
root.
scraggy hazel bushes Then swirling away to the bank to straggle about its foot. bite at the softer loam. Only the curlew wails there, and the Yonder an old peel tower, hid in grouse-cock crows at morn clumps of the ivy green, Only the goat and the coney poise on Perched on its crag like an eyrie, and those stony heaps, there the whole valley is seen Only the parsley fern along their barren Not an approach South or North, spaces creeps. East or West, but the watchman's And far below in the hollow the eye stream goes plunging on Would catch the sheen of the spears, From the rocky steep to the rocky and the banners would well descry. pool, and the rumbling boulder stone. And sound the alarm in time for The middle glen is wooded ; there the hoisting the drawbridge high. ancient lords of the land. Away to the right on its lawn, close- Leaving their high-pitched eyrie, built shaven by mowing machines, a stately house and grand Stands the house which the great Right under the Murrough-crag, pinecotton-lord built out of his bobbins clad up to the top, and skeins And they belted the woods all round Brand-new, all gables and turrets and them, and bade the highways stop. chimneys, stack upon stack, And they made them a goodly forest, Something top-heavy it looks, and stocked with the wild red deer. bare too and cold, but the lack And they drew the stream into fishponds, Of trees is made up, by acres of glass and swept with their nets the mere. for magnificent vineries, The wild deer bound in the woodlands Palm-houses, ferneries, cucumber beds, now, but there is none to care,
:
Only
some
and
great
melon-frames
and the
And
pineries.
Borland Hall
is still, Hid in its bosk of trees, under the and the terraced gardens fine, shade of the hill But the young lord comes not ever Where the river sweeps clear from the he is drinking the beaded wine. bridge down to the red-roofed mill. Or pigeon-shooting by Thames, or Austen sat there with his mother, alone at the close of day. marking the red by the Rhine. Fair is the glen to the right, in its Sat with a visage perplexed, while she looked hard and gray. pastoral beauty still, Green in its holms and hollows, green With furrows drawn deep on her forehead, and temples fallen away to the top of each hill line of alder and drooping birch Into blue-veined pits, and you plainly saw the shadow of death on her face marks where its river flows. But in its bare upper reaches only the But she sat erect in her high-backed chair, and sternly held her place, juniper grows The stream comes out of a tarn on the As if she would say. While there's breath in me, lo in weakness I will hill, whose oozy edge show Is fringed with a ring of lilies and an Weakness to no one, but keep at arm's outer ring of sedge ; length the terrible foe. And there is no road beyond that, only So, with a Bible before her, and a a mountain high, spinning-wheel at her side. And a cairn of stones where the withered bones of Three brave Hardly and sharply she spoke, and he, Martyrs lie. with bated breath, replied.
Now,
at the mouth of that green glen, hid in a bosk of trees. The oak and the beech and the chestnut, and lime, honeyed haunt of the I AM your mother, and Scripture saith bees. Thou shalt honour me until death ; And the yew and the ash, and many a Yea, not even death shall set you free From the honour and duty owing to me ; shrub, blossomy, fragrant, green. Nestled a quaint old mansion ; bit by For what I have willed, and signed, bit, it had been and sealed. Built now and then, as they could, yet Ere I go to the other world, worse or
BORLAND'S WIDOW
it
better.
Picturesque, here a
step
low gable
rising
Though
it
wound with
it
wound
that
upon
step.
There
a long
corridor
broken with
Thou
shalt carry
letter.
most
An
Now, wilt thou promise me this, or no ; rough fighting men ; And get my blessing before I go ? But the front is all draped now with creepers, with scarlet and golden Yes, there is something upon my mind, flower. 111 to keep there, and worse to tell Till it looks in its summer beauty like Yet it's borne upon me that I mu^t find way to utter it, ill or well. some fairy-haunted bower.
old square tower of rough rubble,
built for the
"
Widow
101
Borland's
To
Small rhymes like a fool with a cap you of all men, and only you. and bell, Sooner than speak I could die the Or an idiot bird in the dewy dingle death, But death will not come to me till I do ; Squirming away to the gaping forms And oh I am weary of life and breath. That care for nothing but slugs and worms. Yet my lips shall be sealed, as death Baby or boy, it was not from me can seal them. And the devil may shuffle the cards, That you learned to be mawkish and womanly. and deal them To all of you, as he did to me. You have If you will not swear to me faithfully, Cautious and scrupulous no doubt Over the Book here, to do my will, You can do what I wish, but you just Whether you reckon it good or ill. wish to know it Oh you will do all that a son may do. Go, leave me alone ; I can die here without In honour and right, for his mother's love that has nothing but fine words name to show it. Fine words But " honour and right Ay, ay ; you'll do well for yourself in from you the end. As if your old mother would set you to Work of dishonour and deed of Ne'er to sign a blank cheque for lover or friend. shame But perhaps you have reason who Treat the dearest on earth as a possible
!
can say
rogue.
Maybe
I taught
you to
lie
and cheat,
'
Trust
none
but
yourself
it's
the
And
drink and steal, as well as pray rogue is but half a rogue, incomplete
:
wisdom
in vogue.
The
Till
he burst
out
full-blossomed
for those
hypocrite
Of the
So
I suppose.
way.
And
you the
old
better
men
To
for deeds
of
in
my
day,
are
dishonour
That none
mother had taken
kiss!
outwitted so easy as
all
Your wicked
upon her Nay, none of your fondling and ing and weeping
;
Who
And
men
as if
they
to
in
caution, and
watch
way
detect them.
far wiser
Your
fine-scholar
than I
tricks of speech
Go
the quick, and
Though they
I
bite
old mother to
In
the
death-grips
it
of
nature,
and
fire
your mother, and loved you well, But I never could babble and prattle,
or jingle
am
wrestle
out,
With
in
her brain,
Borland Hall
in life, alone
102
In death as
without.
Alone with
the
devils
Ah
these
were
men
but
your
:
minister,
A
As
It
minister
stands
With
soft
bands.
my
as
widow and
wife
As he
was the thing that we had to do. Ever as Sabbath or Fast came due, Girl and boy, young man and maiden, Burning with passion, or sorrow-laden Though why we did it I never knew.
;
Given by the
divine.
prophets
strong
wine and
That's the one miracle he can do. Turning the wine into water true.
Leave
the
minister,
:
then,
to
his
Only that others did it too. For the Parsons are dumb dogs,
ing round.
turn-
We
of
earnest
to
determine.
their
And
scratching
hole
in
the
warmest ground. So you promise me now to do my And laying them down in the sun to will. wink. Whether you reckon it good or ill. Drowsing, and dreaming, and thinking There, let me see how best to begin they think. The old, old story of trial and sin.
As
Like
gnawing
their
Look from the window, boy, and see The bonnie green braes of Borland
Glen
;
corals.
Gnawing their corals to soothe their Cornland and woodland and lily-white gums lea. With the kind of watery thought that Up to the skyline, hill and tree.
All will be yours to the waterhead Where it flows from the bosom of big luha. Knockbain, All about loving, and nothing of law ; And the Kelpie's pool lies dark and All about Gospel, and nothing of hell. dead All tinkle-tinkling like a bell. Under the great rocks, towering red. And telling you ever that all is well. And only the ripple of water-hen I heard their sough ; but all the time Stirs its surface, now and then. I would con the words of the Hebrew As she oars her way from the outer prophet. edge That crashed on the soul with an awful Through the bending ring of spotted chime, sedge. Like charges of guilt and sin and crime. And the ring of water-lilies, within. And burnt them in with the fires of That fringes with beauty the dark pool Tophet. of sin.
whilly-
:: ;
; ;
Borland's
but Borland
It cost
Widow
And He
103
Glen
;
is
dear to
me
me
dear
its
Nor
yet for
somehow.
round hills, or its meadows flat But summer and winter I've been there, He was a widower, and he had Till it filled my heart, and unaware Only a girl to heir the land Never before had they failed of a lad Its beauty stole away my care. There are green oak woods on Briery- To follow his father, good or bad, And take the reins from his failing brae, hand. And sleek are the kine on Fernielea, Blithe are the holms of Avongray, And it irked the Laird, though he loved her dearly And the sheep-walks good on ArdAs well he might, his bonnie May, na-shee, And wild thyme blooms, and pansies For meet her late, or meet her early. Ever she met you blithe and gay grow On many a knoll where harebells blow Ever so dainty, white and saintly. And I sat, and dreamed there long ago. Scented ever with perfume faintly. Yet somehow this day I cannot see Flitting like butterfly over the green In clouds of muslin soft and clean. Green oak-scrub, or milk-white lea, Or the drooping birch, or the red pine- With a flower in her hair, and a song tree. on her lips, Thrilling with joy to her finger-tips. Cows knee-deep in the aftermath, Or lines of sheep on the mountain path, Yet fondly as he loved the maiden Nothing of all I cared for then Tripping about in the garden trim, Nought save the frightened water-hen Like a gleam of light, with her figure Rippling the pool beyond the edge slim. Of water-lily and spotted sedge. Now and then he was heavy laden But all the long, green glen is mine. That Borlands of Borland should end And I'll pay the price that it may be with him.
Its soft
thine
1 counted the cost
And I
due.
to do.
bill is
from the first, for she me and a thought Growing up in my heart, and warmI liked her not
Came
ever between
ing
me
With a hope that gladdened my when I came here. And I was a widow of half a year, widowed lot Poorly left when your father died But soft and silly, she knew it not. But I was not one to sit down and And vowed she should be broken-
You were
a baby
pine.
hearted.
be like me from my baby parted. her not, but I will not lie, It was partly because she was better than I, For I was not good, and I did not try.
I liked
is
Was
in
Hall;
honey
;!
; :
I04
Borland Hall
people whose veins are
filled
And
with
And
But
It
it
fear or
gall;
pain
I
As some are born to the gold and silk, And some must be beggars, and go to
the wall
knew
in
me
then.
not for myself I wrought, not hate that prompted me, She was gentle and good, and I was It the love I bore to thee : not; I only sinned, if sin was done, But I had the wit and the keener For the love I bore to my only son. thought. And yet you look on your mother's
we
that orders It
It
face
So all the while I hated her With a' horror-stricken and ghastly She stood between me and the thought stare That silently in my bosom wrought, I tell you I was not near the place Like the leaven that makes so little When her stifled scream rose in the air stir, But I ran, and drew the silly fool, Yet changes every grain of the meal Draggled and dazed, from the Kelpie's I knew it was there, but did not dare pool. To bring it forth to the open air, That night he vowed that he would And face the thought which I liked make
home for you in Borland Hall, can ne'er forget And love you for your mother's sake. She bent across the Kelpie's pool, Only next to her who was heir of all To seize a water-lily wet. And what less could they do or say That shewed its egg-cup, yellow and To her who had saved the bonnie
to feel
Till one
day
full.
May?
water-hen
oared
As
was that you came here. my way of life was clear. When plunge into the loch she fell. I saw you playing among the flowers, And I felt my heart leap with the I heard your laugh in the ringing woods. hope of Hell. O'er the tiny nests, and their tiny
the
from
the
Thus
it
muddy edge
And
then
At As
first,
broods.
I sware that the land should all deep she sank in the muddy slush ; be ours. little more, and there had been You were but a child, not two years But a bubble of air, and an awful hush. old, And the whish of the sedges in the But your looks were sunny, your ways wind, were bold. And the laughter that rippled my heart And the Laird was fond of you. Had and mind. she been Nay, stare not so with horror ; I baby like you for a moment I Wished it, but did not let her die ; thought of itj I was not wicked enough for that. Till I plainly saw that I could make Though I felt my heart go pit-a-pat, nought of it
I ween.
And
; ;
loS
Borland's
Widow
he came and
I
father forbade.
doll of you, petted and
And
kissed you,
lad.
Told you
stories,
dressed you,
Through
the
evening grey. Called you her wee pet darling, and won Your love so, she turned my heart into Looking so listless till the hour, Looking so fevered when it came ; stone For I I was selling my soul for you And I just stood by my drooping flower And there was she,, coming between Quietly seeing her play my game ; us two. I was not a young mother, and had And who shall say that I was to
but you,
blame
all
And
The
she,
The Laird
would
his wrath,
And
Coming about
the house just then woke. one of your fine-feathered, gay And the little bird was not found in young men. Curled and scented, ringed and gloved, her nest, Selfish and useless, and feeble of will. Nor flitting about the garden path. With nothing to do but his time to kill, Nor came evermore to be caressed. Take care of himself, and be tenderly Or to fasten the dewy flower in his
terrible was the storm which broke That morning when the household
Was
loved,
breast.
sing the
his bonnie
May
younger sons and their After she wedded her popinjay.
And
talk about
wrongs
In the
evil
When
One
a fool
He was sharp
a fool.
grocer's son
still
of the sort that fathers hate. With scheme after scheme he was But girls will fancy to be their Fate. fever-smit. Idly he loitered shooting and fishing. And somebody always made him a And mending the world in the eventool ing with wishing ; But when he was most in his logic-fit. Idle and listless. What could I do ? Then most of all would he play the Was it my affair how he came and fool. went ? Now, he would lay you out plans I could not be keeping her always in sagacious.
view
Of
planting,
draining,
and
strange
And
did tell the Laird, and I manures warned her too. Brimful now of reforms audacious. But she only looked injured innocent. Oh but he had new-fangled cures.
I
io6
Borland Hall
Would
have poisoned the sweet- And prints and pictures must be breathed cows in the byre, bought. Only we flung the rank trash in the Wherever the money was to be got,
fire
When
his
he had
artist visitors,
stood on the floors, And quietly heard what he had to say, And crowded out in the corridors But none for a moment thought to Dusty rubbish that cost a ransom. And our rhymers and fiddlers and obey.
actors gay was never so happy as when he Were always borrowing something had handsome. Poets and painters, good or bad. And always forgetting the time to pay. Actors and fiddlers and editor folk, Fishing the water from bank and rock. But the Laird must be patron of ail
He
And
gathered
at
evening
round
his
the arts
table.
When
was
able.
ploughs and carts And story-telling with laughter long. And food and drink were never Till the early cock from the roost spared The factor's books were never squared ; would crow, And the laverock lilted his morning And groom in the stable, woodland
song,
ranger.
And it was time for the maids to go Away to the kine on the meadows low.
was no care or thrift. Only how to spend, and how to shift, How to borrow, and how to lend And nobody looked to the bitter end.
but there
;
at
Oh
With
fire
And
had
There would be
botanists
now
to dine.
Dry
We We
and So I looked into this, and saw to that. And had my eye upon everything did not stint their meat and wine, There was not a tinker, or beggar's did not grudge the weary hours. brat Pottering along the glens and brooks Got handful of meal from the kitchen
as
their
!
withered
leaves
flowers
With microscopes, or fishing-hooks bing, But when they spoke of shrubs and trees Nor a toothless
;
Was left to lie on a rug or mat. In other lands beyond the seas. Nothing would do but the Laird Doing nought for its meat and drink, must send, But only to lie in the sun and wink. And bring them here from the far I taught the household, man and maid,
world's end.
To
to plant
Though where
knew.
them nobody
bread,
To
And
day.
dew.
Gadding about
was
their
way
;;
Borland's
Widow
what would he do when were grey, And the fiddlers had fiddled
107
rise with the sun the whole year round, And to work with the sun in house
But to
And
his hairs
his land
or ground
God
heart to see
They
Sabbath as
The wanton
well as
beast.
He
They must do
man and
and land."
Thus it was that, day by day. Ere they get food or wage off me I would not see their master And bit by bit, I got my way. I scraped and pinched, but I saw to it fleeced, And brought by their waste to That the Laird was served with all
And
poverty.
things
;
fit.
He
that I took to have
was
I
just the
man
to be nice and
The ways
my
will.
dainty.
And
gathered moneys,
bUls
here
and
:
He
there,
complained on that he was grieved and pained ; For Borland Hall had always been
I counted
To meet his
He had careless
To be able to And resting on He had more
knew.
when they came due grown from very care pay was something new,
Noted well
for
its
kindly ways
the best of their daughter,
as
so he brought
me
;
And
from
mother to
each had grown. Service there had been handed down. I only said, must begin To save the money we cannot win And all had been waste, and spend-
He
had
tried to
make
out, but
he
it
tried
in vain
"We
They
till
ached
thrift all.
That was
what I wished
bills
so I
In stable and bothie, in byre and hall But service should be service true, If I had anything there to do. Fitter it were his father's son
summed up
his debts.
And And
At
made him
give
and heed
bets to the
plans I laid
least
and pare at the other end Where the waste was most, and the ruin done But they were neither kith nor friend. That saw, and did nothing to make or mend. Was there not a bond on Brierybrae ? And a wadset heavy on Fernielea ?
clip
Should
And
We
The
he agreed to all I said. on me, and leant. thinned the woods, and raised the
learnt to lean
rent
And
And
running
cent..
bills,
with
their
heavy per
all
:: ;
! :
io8
Borland Hall
began, at once, to be clearing
off.
We
sent,
Learning never to mind the scoff Of fools that trust in a chance to-
And signed and sealed with the Notary, And over all the land he went
The
land he had orderly willed to me, hold and keep, sell or dispone, And the shabbiness of the debtor's Ploughland and pasture, hill and wood, Fishing and messuage, every rood. shift. So happily now the days went by All the rights that had been his own, Our geniuses were not so many. And his fathers before him, ages gone, From the big Nine-stanes to the But happier we for the want of any Kelpie's pool. Always hungry and always dry. And along the hills to the skyline Always hankering for the penny,
morrow.
thrift,
To
Always
clear.
We were not patrons now of art. We heard not many sayings smart We got not dedications fine.
Nor long
And
The
for kine
and
steer.
We We
accounts for costly wine : were not the great man we had
And
It
been
down
in
a clerkly hand.
all
seen
But plack and penny we paid our way, And were not afraid of the reckoning
day.
writ
me
heir of
the land
as
sane in
you.
went to kirk and market too. Boy, look not on me so glum and
He
I did nothing was wrong ; or if I did me, and took to you ; But he came in the end to stint and pare. It was all for you, that you might hold Now that he had not a child to heir Your own with the bravest, and none forbid. The hoarded wealth, as it daily grew And I think I scorned him for his And so you shall too, whatever they say greed Of me, it's little I care for them ; Even more than for his wastefulness For if I have sinned, I am ready to pay It was myself that had sown the seed, The stake that I lost when I played And yet I scorned him none the less ; my game. He was less of the gallant gentleman, But I did nothing wrong, I did my Since all his thoughts upon money ran. duty; He grudged my wage, he grudged to And the girl was vain in her wilful you beauty The schooling meet and the clothing And he would never have named me
leant on
due.
heir.
it
hope to save, If the thing that I did had not been fair. keep together his goods and gear, That he wedded me, when he saw his And your right, at least, has never a
I think
in
And And
was only
grave
flaw
things drawing near.
It
is
sound
in morals,
and clear
in
law
My
Borland's
Widow
only the
devil
shall
profit
109
soul
may
suffer
that's
my And
by
it?" concern ; how the wind is howling see It can hardly be worse than it has Hark The sun is out in its maddest riot been of late, It can hardly be worse though it How the great trees moan and creak, and toss frizzle and burn In the quenchless fires of the sinner's Their big arms, hairy and rough with moss, fate. But with me and my guilt, you have And shake to their roots with the sudden shocks nothing to do ; And you've pledged me your word, if Terrible to the cowering flocks. I knew they would come, and let them they plea it with you come She and her popinjay husband are dead. I never had faith in the dainty hum But there were children, people said, And it's not to be doubted they'll try Of new-fangled doctrine buzzed about. As if hell and the devil were all a the law. doubt. And search the will for a loop or But let them come ; I am well content flaw But you'll grip to the land, and be Eternal justice should be done. And the guilty reap their punishment, laird of all The bonnie green glen, and Borland And the Lord be true, and He alone. But I have your oath, and I hold you Hall.
! ! ! :
What
do
say
it!
you? what?
You
to
it,
cannot
And
earth or heaven
it,
Your oath on
the
You
keep it truly, take back your word that you And grip to the land I have willed gave ere you knew it you duly. You palter with faith, and play with If her bairns are poor, there is money an oath. in hand. Hard on your mother, and false to Quite as much as the worth of the land your troth You have scruples, forsooth, to do my When I took the charge of it ; give
!
will.
them
that
But never a scruple to break your word. I have not squandered goods or gear. Nor wasted any gift I gat Never a scruple, although you kill The mother that bore you, and loved On belly or back, this many a year But seeing the break-neck laird of you still
Better, woe's
me
Rhynns
Lord! Can it be
Racing as fast as horse and bet I have sold my soul for Could run him into the black Gazette, I thought we might add his scrubs nought, and whins. Counting the cost, and ready to pay ? Shall I fail in the thing so dearly Some day yet, to our bonnie glen They're better sport for gentlemen. bought ? And you will you be the one to say, But give them the gold, if they make " She gambled away her soul for me a rout
; :
Borland Hall
no
Maybe
it
were a good turn to me, With the ice-grip upon its fret and them a bit in their strife, poverty, So fixed was he, and changed as into But that's little better than papistry. stone. Only grip to the land, and plea it out Stony his face, his feelings stony too, It is yours by right, there is never a Stony and icy was the hard, set eye.
If you
helped
doubt.
And
felt
would
were the words from her And all his weary world a desert mouth, when, lo the hand with its grew, puckered skin wilderness of stones, where dead Powerless fell at her side, her side hopes lie. that was all drawn in By a sudden stroke, and her eyes were Hushed were the household, as they hard and set, and she tried came and went - tiptoe Vainly to say something through dim lobby, and more. Wildly he pled with her, cried dusky room. For pity to the great Heavens, but And whispered low of that heartshe nor they replied ; breaking woe And so it went on through the night, Which lined the young face as it until at cock-crowing she died. sternly leant On the clenched hand, and never changed its gloom.
Scarce
!
BOOK THIRD
They
THE FUNERAL
All
he
the day long, and the next night
sat,
The
They
rare;
happier hours,
With
laid them near him with a silent awe. And neither stirred nor uttered any But they all knew he knew not they word, were there. Nor ate nor drank ; and much they
in
the
dread
Presence,
that
And
chamber dim.
grieved thereat
Two
days he
silence,
sat
with
that
awed
to
And
Nor
Silence dread.
him
spake, nor stirred, nor gave one
life.
Death's
alone.
deeper
than
be
And
sign of
Or knowledge
of the
life
that
still
like
a frozen
Which
Form
with
eyes of stone.
The
Funeral
For
and passed His forest-land that stayed the desertband The charm of terror made them pause And drifting sand - storms from the fields which he and look, And by the sight rouse to more utter Cultured and kept that God might
as they
went
in pairs,
his door,
fright
them
that trembled so,
inherit.
Him
And
And
him unto
low
Billowed the carpets high on lobby
and
stair,
And
mouse
went
pattering
The
timid
stern law.
And
through the house. from the roof a spider dropped Yet for that all she taught was surely below. good. Knotting its thread to his unmovinghair. And for that she exalted God supreme The dog howled from his kennel, and In all she did, and all that she forbid.
his chain
And
owl screeched
for
that
love
wrought
in
her
Harsh
grated, as the
hardest mood.
To
And
the
wood
the
amain.
And boomed
lonely tarn.
from
its
main
And truth and right, and all things clean and white. heeded not, for nought outside Angel and saint, and the Eternal he knew. crown. Swept by the rush and whirl of All, all seemed lost in thickest smoke maddening thought, And deaf and blind, with agony of of Hell.
He
mind,
At
grew,
which ever darker Gone the fond vision of his:trustful youth. Gone all the awe of natural reverence.
And
the pure love that seemed of heaven above. For she had been his bulwark 'gainst Gone all the certainty of worth and
all
Gone
the sea
truth
Of
The
fell-mist
clouded every
higher
sense.
112
Borland Hall
that
Could
be
true
?
which
she,
in
And
cast into
falsehood, taught
new
ill,
Could
she praised
And
To
oh the
!
bearings
now
of sea
and brain
and naught.
On whom
For
God's
stern witness he
had gazed.
still
our
common
Heaven
is
seldom reared On solid arch of reason, firmly built. would drop. But the high Faith that has to And laughter too that made them vanquish death creep with awe. Rests on the lap where first we prayed, and feared. Far stranger than the silence and the And wondered in the dawn of thought gloom and guilt. Seemed now the order sharp, and
All saw a change, and yet with pain they saw For lightsome now, the cloud swept from his brow. Words fierce and bitter from his lips
words
Still lies
its
precise,
weight on mother-love
if
And
And
And
Still
fail!
of season. satire grim that mocked the very tomb. And clear, cool sense, prompt with its
fit
commands
advice.
And
Finds
oh
!
break
when
they
Seemed
never
madness
like
that
its
Heaven
perfect sense.
night-winds wail
On the third day, he went out on the hill, So out of grace And wandered restless, yet un;
wearying
Even
dull,
dim
souls
that
were of
Then
sat
judgment dense
a rigid
frown
Drew
off,
estranged,
fear
;
and shivering,
Gazed
on
the
yellow
and with
tormentil.
And
Long
little
the ling.
And
sharper scorn,
there he sat, as one by some Till they were all met for the funeral. blow When the mad impulse taunted them, Stunned, which had loosened every and tore joint and band. Away the mask from every face forlorn.
fell
; ;
The Will
This was
his
"3
am young
;
bours all have known The shameful fact, and silence kept
the chief
They made no
gild a sin
;
din,
for wealth
Whether
chief,
to bury
my
face in handker-
Or stand up silent as a marble column. hounds, and I ne'er was at a funeral before, I never saw such faces as I see, round her crept. I never heard such creaking of a door. Hollow and false our life, and this And no one swearing at it furiously Perhaps I should be silent, or should they knew groan Hollow and false, although I knew it All of you did it when our Pastor here not They never
told me, that I might atone.
like beaten
But fawned
left alone.
I did not
which
had
The moment
he
spake
that she
left
our lower
not used
So
bitterly
from
bitter
sphere
thought.
am
THE WILL
Kinsmen and
all
Which
of
rest.
And
of you
the blest.
excellent
I
Giving me the sad honour of your The Pastor spoke good words and
presence, I thank you, as I surely ought to do,
For judged by
for pleasance
looks,
:
you
hope his name is mentioned in the Will; will be hard to have canonised a
saint,
see each
face
shaded
by doleful
Yet find no church or cleric codicil I hear but dismal whispers round the For all the charity that did by her Handsomely, as became her minister room ; And therefore the good custom of our Yet everybody groaned, and looked
gloom,
land
Offers you wine and cake and potent
spirit.
as sad
As
Now,
is
if
the
glorious
crown
were
something bad.
the sad
heart,
Which
Should
cheer
by
scriptural
for myself,
when once
the wick
command.
take
it
crushed,
is,
upon
and
occasion
stint
fit
to
which
not,
Drink, then,
not
hushed,
the
cost
is
Nor where
forgot.
memory which
is
soon
; :
;;
114
Borland Hall
to
hell
Death comes
heaven and
all
that's
certain
And
seated
at
the head
of that
full
board.
believe,
Are
just
:
as
you
or
believe
on
is
fire.
But Faith
vife
Young Austen
ale,
quaffed
the brimming
will leave
and laughed
That
A scornful
to tell
life
or
death,
we
all
laugh, and bade his guests accord Good heed to duty ere they fed desire.
And come
good
And
be
We'll take the Will first, as a toothsome whet her gathered savings yours It's hanging o'er us like a pending
or joy or sorrow, wine
is
or mine.
debt,
The Will
must needs be read and Spoiling all appetite, forbidding rest With hopes uncertain of a rich bequest: understood And therefore when we've laid her in Lo here are cousins thrice- removed,
!
the ground.
but blood.
And
smoothed the turf upon the lowly Thicker than water, sticks to one like mud. mound, We'll dine here, if you please, and When poor, they wounded not my mother's soul read the Will And by my Faith it will be rare With humbling gifts of money or of
to see
dress
glass of
How
At
sinks the
if
they shrank
with
sorrow to
charity
condole.
this bequest and that odd codicil. They failed not to congratulate success. Pray come ; I've killed my beeves But when she needed nothing, nought and broached my wine. The living die, but living, they must they spared
dine
The
The
remain.
In costly tokens of their fond regard. Will, the Will, then! she was good and wise
virtues,
To
and
relieve
Their blushing
forgot,
no doubt, they
Some
" Shameful " murmured Shocking " " Bad, too bad "
!
And
it
did
not
all
this as
And
You
"His
mother's
funeral
"
Will will be a glad surprise. you, her Pastor, faithful to your charge.
so the
scrupled not to
large.
tell
her,
round
us
all
"
;
and
hinted
that
And
Yet
others
;
he must be
How
As
mad
all
to heaven.
came back
to feast,
who
bore
camels
eye
the bier.
are driven.
"5
let
The Will
She liked not sermons much, I must The Will, the Will, then; confess,. have the Will ; Even slighted them as marrowless For all our hopes it surely must
dry- bones, And wanting bread, gave her stones,
fulness.
us
fulfil.
she
said
they
faith-
They
felt
the
tone
Nor
Of irony that hardened all his speech. And mocking laughter that, coming her call. yours, good quickly after, But never called, because she physic Crept fast, and tingled keen through hated. flesh and bone. Moreover she was never sick at all With shock of shame as deep as words But still the yearly fee was ne'er abated.
doctor, ever at
Though powder,
or small.
might reach.
pill,
or potion, great
knew
in
her
What
healing
virtues
they
might
bequeathed.
lands, unto her only son.
minister.
Monies and
Nor
But where
belongs.
is
other
bitter
name named,
taunt,
but with
mark
she to
whom
the place
of shame
Or
so dear to all the glen,
biting
scorn that
never hid, and spared Prankt with her flowers, and tripping to none ; to her songs In those white robes that witched the hearts of men ? Straightway they rose in wrath, and Old neighbours, ye whose lives are left untasted memories The ample viands, scowling as they Of better days, when all was sunny went and blithe. And silent long, remembered now the And in the wet grass ye would stay
the scythe
wrong
To
Done
hasted.
sunrise
His urgent
and
faint.
were weak
heart,
and made
There was no
enough
for her.
mate
seemed
good
Surely they needed food, and must not go Till they had tried his beeves, and
;
Nor any fate but that she would confer drunk his wine Would not the priest Honour upon it, as religion brings
Glory and beauty
to the highest things.
say
grace
for
them
at least
Of
course, you're
is
here to
see
wrong
righted.
And
justice to the
orphan
is
requited.
not some strong waters break the blow ? But only the cool lawyer stayed to dine.
! ;
! .
ii6
Borland Hall
to
He
dine,
and unrepented
!
this
wrong unrighted,
For
the
heir
Dead!
and
!
to
me
faith,
this
horrible
village
poor
feast,
bequest
unblessed by Christian
To eat the
priest
Dead! and my
her death
!
too,
dying
in
And
and
mother
is
if
you
for
had
or
relented
forth, indignant,
And flouncing
the door.
banged But
rest
now "
!
there
no joy
me
maimed
And
at
dawn he
rose
and
blind.
And all the pauper world for The feast was high, and noisy And with their songs they
the night wind.
house,
and every
window
barred,
And every door he locked on every floor. And with the keys his weary way he
And
shook their tattered duds with bent drunken shout. Along the mountain pathway, rough and hard.
strange, wild recklessness
All weird and eerie thoughts to feed with red, his mood, Faintly the spring-birds fluttered into And nought too grim or gruesome song. seemed for him ; The mountain stream rippled as in a Maddened, that night, by memory dream.
He
So
of her, shrank
And
from
all
pure springs of
kine fed
bright or good.
On
morning broke
;
along.
it
went on
until the
And when
alone,
And
passed,
The
household
the Hall
Atthestrange coming of thebeggarfolk, Until he stood beside the old pine- wood Andnowagainhefelthis heart like stone. Above the red crag which its shadow
cast
One
only
word he spake
"
O misery
water-lilies
Never to see her, hear her nevermore. No hope of change oh pitiful and
strange
still
And she went drifting on that sunless sea. And she lies wrecked upon that silent
shore
Broad leaves of
within.
lily
The Will
The
water-hen, unconscious
herself,
117
now
May,
men,
Like
rippling
a soft
morning
star
whose melting
mine early
Oared
outward from
ray
the edge.
Hung,
day;
lingering,
dewy
o'er
And
And
the
pine -wood's
and pure,
darkling shade.
A
keys down,
search would
He
And
hurled
the
with a
not endure,
mighty curse
Which
his soul in dark eclipse,
ever
changing,
ever
seemed
Upon
his lips
unsure
had made,
Yet ever
gloom across the moor
It
in its
And
But
strode in
brought to
and furze.
as he sped along that trackless way, Stumbling o'er snake-like roots that twisted white On the black peat, and caught his
wavering loveliness. a sense of tender bliss. that from the past clung with
me
downy cheek
that
warmly lay on
me
a light
hurrying
feet,
The
its
strong-knit
moral
fibre
claimed
sway.
A shadow, and
behind
its
brought a sweeter
me
but find
left
children
humbled him,
calm rebuke.
and shed
No
Upon
bind.
And made him hate his anger passionate; And by and by he lifted up his head, Or
look.
do, better the curse I bore bind upon a mother evermore Knitting his forehead with a resolute This bitter wrong, and bolt her prison
if it
Than
door.
Lord God,
belong,
to
whom
Too
burdened, darkened
spirit,
late
know
not,
for
He
Pardon
long Prying
my
at
changeth not
Burdened and darkened, mad some light, And in my madness making deeper But be
night
late ? Our hearts change, and they change our lot Who ever changed, and yet no mercy to find got?
Too
it
fruitful
it
And
heart,
be
fruitless,
of a curse on mother,
is all
me now
;
to
Calm Thou my
do
right.
and help
me
to
thee
It is the right,
and that
we
see.
;;
ii8
Borland Hall
A
BOOK FOURTH
sister
Kept house
THE HOWFF
And And
A LITTLE
The
cottage, trim
and
neat,
folk,
Around, beneath them, and above Found kindred souls and faithful
friends,
simple
home of simple
Stood by itself, well off the street. For that they had the master-key Not far from where the two roads meet The love that all things comprehends. Beneath the dingy Town-house clock And opens every heart, and bends The Howff, or haunt of favoured All to its clear simplicity Artless and gentle, wise, and true. youth. The envy of the lads who yet All wise and gentle souls they drew. Had to make good their love of truth, Whether the way were rough orsmooth, Yet he was but an artizan. By fearless thought or searching wit. And hardly twenty years had seen ; It was an University humble, absent, dreamy man. For all the spirits bright and free. Whose mind on mathematics ran. Or planned some new machine Weekly they met, and held discourse And guileless as a child was he. Of science, and its march sublime. Yet daring as a man who walks. And what is Matter, what is Force, In his most meek simplicity. And what Creation, and the course In a far world of theory. Of its development in time ; And with the hard world seldom talks. Nor was the policy forgot Or tests his visionary thought Of nations, though the man was more. By the experience it has bought.
:
The nation less than in the thought Of many, and they counted not To remedy the ills he bore.
An
And And
fill
his
none like him could make and shape it true. And polish it for perfect view Of far-off hidden stars that break
Inventive
The
optic glass,
their
converse
verged
on
The
in
the sky.
things.
More sacred, where the reason passed From common earth, and needed wings Upon
fit.
searching eye
must
lie,
To
That
Where God
light
And And
With
seek
his
name
its
Unto the
And some of them beheld the light. And some were in a chill dark night, And some were hesitating, fain To give old words a novel sense
;
And
But
all
were
full
of reverence.
he was greatly loved, but still loving, and by all esteemed For upright walk, and curious skill. Inventive thought, and steadfast will. Yea, even for the dreams he dreamed
More
Paul Gaunt
So So So So
true
119
truth,
Here had
their
widowed mother
spent,
By
It
So humbly
humbled them
watch
his eyes.
But
and brave,
In patient toil, her latter days, Days sweetened by a blithe content. And by a household love that lent Sunshine and song to all her ways And by respect of all the wise, And by the love of all the good, And by the faith whose hopes arise. Like evening stars in darkening skies,
Soft-pulsing o'er the
And
dewy wood
Who
And
And
Still
proudly curled her lip, and gave Such glance of scorn, with head erect. When some one risked a thoughtless jest At his abstract and dreamy mood She held him wisest, truest, best
PAUL GAUNT
In the
still
And
in protecting,
but expressed
Her reverence for a soul that stood Above the common world as far
old town
Where
Toll the passing hours the chiming College Crown, glorious girl, high-thoughted, bright Sat the sister and her brother And beautiful, with woman's sense, In their quiet room, And woman's tact, and keen insight, Amid the gathering gloom loving heart, and gay and light Of murky storm-girt weather ; In her assured innocence ; She restless fingers twitching. scholar eager still to learn, And he absorbed in sketching.
serene and distant star.
As some
To
wisdom
to discern,
And
in the pleasant
evenings pluckt
And
With
the fisher-women.
in bands.
Gathering
men
conversed.
the cry of
human
Anguish wrung their hands, With youth in noble dreams immersed, Gazing seaward ever With a yearning and a shiver, And sages, rich in lore, who erst Had dreamt like dreams of life and art As they searched the wave and spray And therefore she more womanly For the boats that sailed away At the dawning of the day. And gentle was than other girls
gossip is with women ; she Enshrined in her clear modesty. Deep wrapt up in schenling Was his inventive brain, And walking pure amid its perils. Was worshipped like a saint, and grew While his sister, fondly dreaming. Seemed to nurse an aching pain, More womanly the more she knew.
Whose
; ;
I20
Borland Hall
And
the women's eyes were streaming dread of the to-morrow, Tears upon the sand like rain. And the forms upon the sand. But mastered by the craving I am heavy as I think ; Of inventive thought, I am dull and scarce know why ; How the sea was raving But I feel as on the brink Then he heeded not, Of some unknown misery. Nor how hearts were braving, You must be weary Shall I sing ?
Or
lot.
And
With
that pencil-scratch
is
dreary
On
I'll hum its monotone. Something just as it will come. Something just as it is sent Never mind the instrument."
And
features sharp and lean Features thin and pale and lean Fingers long and steady Held pencil ever ready
Late,
late.
May
ween.
And her restless fingers twitched As he brooded on, and sketched. And the fisher-women gazed
From
the
sand-dunes,
felt
numb
bloom. Long searched by chill blasts from the nipping East Late, late the fire-balls flamed upon the broom. and And golden-barred bees began to feast.
Late, late the bluebells in the forest glade Made skyey patches, starred with primrose sheen,
nor wondered
At
silent sat, and pondered Tracing o'er and o'er again Novel figures from his brain. So he often found relief From the bitter thought of grief Which his heart was keen to feel, But his hand was weak to heal And the world was all forgot In his novel forms of thought. Though its passion and its pain Gave the hint on which he wrought.
Only
And
Turned
serpent-folds
to
plumes
of
waving green.
Late, late the bright fringe tipped the branching spruce, And golden fingers sprouted on the pine
were
sun-
Of
gay laburnum
in
the
clear
Then With
shine.
his sister, turning slowly.
a wistful melancholy,
Late,
late
yet they
As As As
of one with listening weary. of one with waiting dreary. of one who had a pain
eerie.
came
at last.
Lying where a joy had lain. Said, " The sky is wild and
And I fear there will be sorrow On the sea, and on the land
sweet Forget-menot; But waiting for my summer, summer passed In flowerless hoping, and in fruitless
thought.
Lilac, laburnum,
Paul Gaunt
Came
sunshine to the blossoms and the
121
; ;
122
Borland Hall
to your
fight-
out
are, in the
do you good
will drift
to rest to
main, and
Thought
away
In a brain too hardly pressed And this strihe so long has been That my little purse grows lean.
The
quarrel
is
are stout.
And
And
it's
every one
about.
knows what
it's
all
Paul.
Ah
the strike
dreadful, I
know
it is
war
yes,
A fairer
It is
is our might wage, and a shorter day, time we had time to think and pray.
our patience
rich,
but the
of the poor
warfare, and holier
is
right
it
is
war, of
And
by hero pure
in
Than
and blows
star.
and
who
Or
battled
It is
stands
gathered
in
brains
Only
But true
and
more
I'm
a
to
workman,
be;
dear,
mean And
fuller
and
richer
than
ever
before.
I like the
saw.
Ah
heart
well, I
do not know
And
the feel of a
to see
my
hands, and
I see.
Work
neatly done, as
it
ought to be.
And my
Of
is
failing
me.
Turned out without fault or flaw. Nut and rivet and nail and screw
All
driven
true.
Have you
and
Some will have it he is wrong. Though he sings with all his soul.
Till
my
blood
is
tingling hot.
lot.
scamps
his job.
False
work never
yet
won
the day
steal
Song
The
Coal Famine
it,
and
and
Coal, nor wood, nor peat.
mob,
the
Nothing
And
land
that
good Dashing the windows with rain and In its wool and cotton, and iron and sleet. And sifting through roofing and slate. wood.
is
work
Paul Gaunt
123
Hitherto, to me they seem duds so worn and thin. The lean kine in Pharaoh's dream, For all the day long, all the night Eating up the bigger wage through. By their idleness and debt. Shaking the soot from the smokeless Hurrying down another stage flue. To a sorrow deeper yet.
bairas to do,
The
gusts
come
roaring in
Oh
do not understand
We women never do
Oh
But I somehow think the land I miss their noisy din, Was kindlier to the hand That once had made me scold. For now they are sitting so pinched Of the workman long ago. and
thin,
With
When the fiirnace ne'er was quenched. And the work was never flinched.
Nor
the bellows ceased to blow
all
within.
Silent,
On
the cinders
aglow.
was,
For
when we wake.
Why, of course, it MUly for master and man Were brothers, and stood by
Paul.
:
each
Little to
As
other then
They
ate at the
The great lord's iron heel, The rich man's selfish pride They were hard to bear but
;
And
it's
the Master
artizan.
was
The
And knew all the craft of his men He was not a fellow that handled quills
With
a head for nothing but
heart
of
" doing
bills."
To
the poor
man
at his side.
Milly.
So Darrel
have
it
And
sings his song
is
;
to him, not
Some
will
he
wrong.
And
The
Who
Than
Yet the
is
more
their only quarrel was who should smite deftest blows where the anvil
often understood
stands
By
And
commands
Off to the
left
Of the women at the doors. And the wail of the small children
Lying hungry on the floors. While the lads draw in their breath With their lips as white as death.
Great
their patience to endure.
and
right.
Ah
little
cure
out
That's what is wrong, dear. The wealth of the land Comes from the forge and the smithy and mine.
124
Borland Hall
chisel,
Austen.
And And
the
skilful
thinking
brain,
hand,
In
this
how
we must toil and pine, That one may be rich by driving All
yet
quills.
And
To
As
They call that capital it is a lie The capital force of the country still
!
for
Is the
eye.
Book of Job,
The And
With a tinker, given to drinking, and the knack of well-trained skill his company was low. These are the source of all our gains ; But he taught me one or two things Much your credit will do without that are happening on our globe ;
brain to perfect machinery.
And my
Than
worthy more of
We
With an
With
grew
thin.
And
and the pine-scents in the air. our beds were white and fragrant
with the hawthorn's
falling bloom, our caldron daily smoking with the coney and the hare
:
flushed o'er
all-
her face.
With
And
As
a worn and haggard man Dragged his form into the room, Coming from the murky gloom
These
With
a ghastly face
and wan,
And
And
And
great eyes
all
aflame.
Seemed the gaunt and lanky form Like the spirit of the storm, Haggard at the work he came
have an eye for the picturesque and pleasant. a gentlemanly taste, too, for partridge, grouse, and pheasant. he taught me no small wisdom,
fellows
which
is
good
for
human
souls.
To
It
is
perform.
:
Then Paul
Lyell
is
of night-birds, about weasels, about moles. About salmon in their season, and to
call
About the
He
But
wet and
I fear
:
About
all
:
stalking
him hearty cheer Welcome, brother, come along Never welcomer to me Face of one long lost at sea Coming unexpectedly."
we'll give
tinkering of kettles, and cookery of game. About doctoring of horses, and transmuting of the same,
About
; :
Paul Gaunt
About spaeing
people's fortunes, and
125
By
the
first
And
They
are
but the
is
of an
anguish that
Yet we had to part and also I hope Natural throbbings of the sorrow which your life has overcast. never more to meet him. He was such an arrant scoundrel, Yes, of course, you have the right to work or idle, as ye will, vermin worse than any rat And though I'm not particular, I To quench the blazing forges, and to stop the humming mill. really had to beat him, And there's no gospel surer than that And all the other rights by which you hope to right your wrongs. I was right in that. And by and by to turn the people's
sorrows into songs.
Now,
Yet there
which the
the
And
the
arm
that
beat
the
'loflg.
cannot
use
the
chisel
and
lad
;
have the right of battle none more sacred that I know the Than the right to take your weapon, and to hurl it at your foe,
but
The
made
in
God,
And
trample a grand being underneath the reeking sod. Will you find me work to do, then ? Yet the wanton use of battle is the shame of history. I am tired of working brains, Like a treadmill yielding nothing but Turning back the tide of progress, and of man's prosperity. my labour for my pains. This is now your day of power and I am glad that it is yours
handle
pick and
shovel,
and
To
strike
among
the
workmen
But
shall
workmen
That's unlucky, I confess I don't much wonder at it, but I'm sorry none the less Sorry for myself, perhaps ; for it rather mars my scheme ; But like other hopes I've cherished, it
As
And And
Get
scatter
shilling
was maybe
all
dream
And
I
keener than
my own
it
For another
more
or
less
and like it, get to hate both spur and bridle ? is not Lose the habit of hard labour, with its manliness ; and then Comes the wreck of all you hope for one in the wreck of noble men ?
; ;
126
Borland Hall
you organise a you organise
strike, it is
When
But
for
also
may
whine ; if I have grief I can be dumb. labour of the wise, To bind it all together in the bundle Can you help me, Paul ? I must have work, and yet some leisure too ; of one life, Manifold in gift and service, linked as Some day I'll tell you more, perhaps yet wherefore burden you ? husband unto wife,
to organise our
At
fund of skill and thrift. Enough ; I must have leisure, for I have a task to do. That partly was my thought When I came to you I dreamt that, Paul, with sorrow, caught the tone if I shared their weary lot. If I got a fustian jacket, and a hammer, Of the sorrow of his friend ; and a file, Yet he made as if its moan Or wheeled the hodman's barrow, if Were a thing for mirth alone, And it seemed that he would spend for nothing better fit. And ate the bread of labour, maybe All his shafts of homely wit sweetened with a smile. And of ridicule on it. And faced an earnest Universe as To think of Lyell with a file earnestly as It, Grinding slowly at a wheel Then some day they might trust me ; Or with hod of lime or tile. for I know that they are jealous Tramping where the gangways reel Of the patronage outside them, but Or smiting with a hammer, will hearken to their fellows 'Mid the clangour and the clamour have laboured at the bench Of the anvil and the bellows with them, and handled the same And the smithy, and the fellows tools. Who can nothing more than play And who know the hearts of work- Mighty hammers, day by day men, that they are not rogues He, the scholar of his year. nor fools. Knowing Latin, knowing Greek, Ah well ; no matter now ; I dare- Knowing all you'd care to hear.
With
common
Who
all
dream
Knowing
Paul
all
But
now
the sky
there,
rain
is
is
overcast.
Of number and of form. Of the laws that guide the storm. Of fluids and their powers. And of how they may be ours
!
out
pelting fast
to
As
And
I
Mocking
feel
at
it,
scorning
it.
change in heart I
The more obscure my life is now for me. The more mechanical its
happier I shall be
;
Which a loving heart will hit. Though of humour knowing nought. Then he said that one who knew him
the
Had
Paul Gaunt
; ;
127
A newspaper which,
Was
ridiculous,
of course,
And
Wild
and worse
Loud amid
But it was the very thing For Austen with his free Flowing pen, and fresh discourse. Oh the pleasure it would be, Reading leaders every night Sparkling with a modern light, Yet with wisdom from the ages Mellowing all the thoughtful pages
Of the
and
rain.
Yet they bade it not to cease. For it was the way of peace.
Left alone, ere long, she went Softly to her instrument, Touched a chord or two, and then Deftly warbled forth a strain. Not without its shade of pain.
Would
Austen's papers on the strike ? And perhaps himself might pen Just a letter now and then. In silence Austen heard, Never uttering a word, But the strong lip gave a quiver. And his head bowed very low. And there was a tremulous shiver,
Mllly
{^alone) sings
shifting
Like the
ripple
on
a river
When a passing wind doth blow. And the tears began to flowTears that sorrow failed to bring, But the touch of love unsealed, Like the coming of a spring
Deep
into love.
Oh
it
healed.
are
that a
first
maiden
And
As
words
weak
To sigh with a heart love-laden. And long and thirst And mad at herself for her longing,
Hard things she said, Then was mad at herself for wronging The love she had.
And
they saw Something touching them with awe. Something more than natural grief, Something more than met the eye.
in his grief
He
relief
Now,
He
And
What
Of better
thoughts that rushed along Through every open door, And every chamber of his mind, Uncontrolled and unconfined. Wild, without, the wind was roaring. Wild, without, the rain was pouring. Battering on the window pane ;
Oh
So she went
Day
after
day
shifting,
128
Borland Hall
done
I
it
bought
it in,
let
me
say,
When we
sold up old
Drumkeller
drifting, drifting
He was
And
But the
famed
With
the
Duke
rest
came
my
poor
cellar.
BOOK FIFTH
VISITORS
That
night,
was I that wound up his affairs. a pretty mess they were in He had gone on 'Change, and the bears
It
And
Turned his acres quickly to shares They'd have robbed him soon of
still
his
raging,
skin.
Arm
It
in
He
was
chill roaring
was nine on the Minster-clock as Wheal-Bwbl, Wheal Wuhrst, they knocked at a staring green
door,
I lost a big thing
And
Dydl, Wheal
burst
when they
Grass-green
and
The
name,
Andrew Downie,
Esquire,
With his wife sticking fast to the with nothing to do : pillion. Prosy and garrulous he, and his face brightened gladly to see I told them to wait ; peats may blaze. Paul and his student friend come to But they don't fly away in a hurry : give
him
their
: All staring out of the panel, shining And he did not hold out long and big as a targe. Yet he was kindly and human, a Heart, they said but it was his liver. plump, little man by the fire. Slippered and cheery, drawing the Had we waited, instead of a loss. He might have been good for a wine and the walnuts nigher. million Not without kettle on hob, not without There was shale in those acres of moss, spirit-case too. The laird and his pony would cross, For an easy bachelor evening,
sold him up for a song a stupid stocking-weaver ; I always thought we were wrong
We
To
lonely,
company.
And
in those days.
to
watching your
ANDREW DOWNIE,
It cost
Esq.
So we
it ought to be good. Well, I bought in his port, as I said. of money ; And it's sound every bottle as yet. It's been twenty years out of the wood, Every cork with a wig on its head. With a taste of the olives it should And a bouquet might quicken the dead, Go down just like new milk and honey. Or savour a bailie with wit.
;
; ;
Andrew Downie
But you
sip it as if
129
One
has
written
reviews
for
the
You'd prefer it perhaps with more body ? Times, Old port for old fellows ; the young One, paragraphs for the Spectator, Like the smack of the wood and One encloses a copy of rhymes,
the bung,
Or
Not drink
and a man in your line Well, I don't set up for a teacher. But a lad that don't take to his wine Will not do for a learned divine. Or a popular, orthodox preacher.
All the sound,
solid parsons, I wist.
Almighty
as not,
Do
Drink
their port with a kindly
they
good
Clever fellows, Sir, wonderful clever
;
!
will;
But your cold water dulls them like mist. But I want an original mind Or they get some heretical twist. And these run in the same rut for
ever.
And
Oh,
mill.
And
you're not in the preaching
amount of lungs
for
wind.
way
You
have come here about the news- You see, I have nothing to do : paper ; I made a bit money, and stopt. But these Editor fellows, they say, Then I tried this and that, with a view Must be soaked, like a wick, half Of getting some happiness too. the day Ere my blossom of life was cropt. Ere they light up their evening taper.
I had hard lines, most of my days, Well ; I'd not have believed it before Rose just, as they say, from the gutters,^ That so many men of ability Knew little of children's plays. Could be standing about by the score. Or country-folk and their ways. Looking out for an open door, Since I learnt how to take down the
And
a job with a
there,
:
little gentility.
shutters.
Look
at
that
huge
pile
of
We are
So
is
letters
And And
am
sure
greatly
my
betters,
political matters.
all of us self-made here every one worth his meat And I don't know I ever was near So happy and proud as the year That I swept the rooms tidy and neat.
Then
thought
myself
something.
What
In this
I'd stop
Which nobody
For
a
And
me
Looking down on the boys in a shop And oh what a glory of Hope Seemed floating then all round about
130
!;
Borland Hall
But what human soul could exist On a vision of shadows and crows. And the trailing of clouds and mist,
Well, 1 made some money, and then I thought I would travel a while ; That enlarges the mind of men ; So they say, but nine out of ten Might as well sit and swing on a stile.
Or
worms
as they
twist
Where
Those French fellows gabbled so fast I could not make out what they said,
So
mangold grows
And
they shrugged
past,
went
flies round my hat out and in ; and smiled, and Sticking But the trout picked the bait from
When
I
I spoke their
own
tongue,
till
at last
flies in
their nooks.
was well-nigh
losing
my
head.
to
boy's
empty Kirks, Well, of all stupid sports that I know and pictures and shows. The absurdest is catching your fish. the old German towns with Getting tired as you walk to and fro. their Storks, Getting wet, too, for nothing, although And Rome with its wonderful works. sixpence would get you a dish. And the Alps with their guides and
I wearied of big cafes
So
And And
snows.
As
mind, did you say
;
Enlarge
my
to shooting, no bird would remain For a good steady shot ; but as fast As the pointers would point, they
went It was six months of wearisome play, And some photographs got by the way.
a bit, Sir I
as I
Not
came
were
fain
And
To be off, and I peppered in vain As they rose with a whir, and flew past. No
;
After
I
bought an
estate.
The
Running still in a rut like the rest had better have bought a bad debt, For my money ran down like a spate. And my bogs grew an absolute pest.
Rural Seeing
life, lads, is all
And
Or
horse.
a mistake.
and In the country I never conld get What the country is meant to produce And sleek, stupid cows half awake ; But I got in a hank of debt. And the birds your morning sleep break, Till I advertised it to let. And weary you with their monotony. Or to go, if it must, to the deuce.
but grass fields
botany.
I used to
nothing
go sauntering round.
Ah
the
town,
lads,
for
me
And
stare at
my
turnip drills.
don't care
Or watch
ground,
Twisting worms
the fresh-ploughed
Or
the shadows
flit
over the
hills.
Andrew Downie
Rural
!
131
But the Newspaper well, here am I women with butter on blades, In the town, and with nothing to do, Fisher- women with loaded creel they chaffer with wives and And I hear it is going to die Of a Radical scamp who must try, maids ! they storm through the varying Forsooth, a halfpenny Review.
How
How
Of the
Now,
It
the paper
is
part of
thfe
Town
down
You should see the gardeners too, With their carrots and nosegays red
Their gardens always dd
fell
And
there's
Let it cost me a plack or a crowd. nothing you want but you We'll print it, sir, never you doubt
it.
Then on
It was always here, as I say. Fair-days and hiring-days Coming out every week like
the
Ah!
It's as
good
as a play to be there.
I can't see a
way
As
At
To
Or
have accidents fresh every day. eclipses each Friday and Monday.
is
But business
business,
it
and so
Or on great days, just to see The trades all out in procession. The man who is armed cap-a-pie.
We must make
And
I
pay, if
we
can,
want
one whose
pen
will
And Adam and Eve, and the Tree, And the Serpent, and all the Temptation
!
not go In a rut of set phrases, you know. But a real original man.
As
Oh,
life, lads,
to politics,
life.
The The
stir
They go round and round like I'm a Tory myself, but I find
Nothing pays so well
respectable
as a
kind
And the small boys with trumpet or fife, Of steady And the gingerbread and the rock
!
Whig.
bit.
You may
They
talk of the fine country air.
;
to themselves.
But it never agreed with me And don't spare their hearers a whit, I'm a town-bird, you see, and don't care But I won't have an infidel wit, For the daisies and butter-cups there. Like that fellow Voltaire on the As I do for the dulse and the sea. shelves.
whatwalk could you take I'm not pious I never had time. Like a stroll to the point of the pier. Though I learned all the Proverbs at To watch how the long tangles shake. school. And the gull and the kittiwake And some of the Psalms too in rhyme, Dive and bob till your dinner hour's And I know that Isaiah's sublime.
As forwalks
And
Borland Hall
132
You must
I'll
let religion
alone
We
have nought of the infidel kind, must write in a sound moral tone,
not like that halfpenny drone.
original mind.
all,
What we want is the news of the Town To know all about ourselves clearly
;
And
And
I like your looks, I own. And I don't care although I comedown. With a hundred-and-fifty yearly.
Now,
Must be always
Town's
affairs
How
And
Each
Each harder to read than the other ; Oh, they're all of them Peters and Pauls,
Apostles of Wisdom that calls In the streets, always making a pother.
call
nobody
cares.
Then
sense, for
you can
;
And what's to be done with the bar, And the kirks with their empty pews,
Oh, For
there's plenty of capital
news
far.
Be silent while others are speaking Now, I've told you all of my plan. Only mind, it is always a man
Of original
powers
am
seeking.
Then there's accidents, railway smashes. When they came out to the street, And how the poor shareholder smarts. Austen burst into a shout And the folk struck by fierce lightning- Of such riotous, loud laughter, which
he strove to check in vain, and then mercantile crashes. That neighbours to the windows came Or children run over by carts : with curious peering out. As peal on peal rung, echoing, till the There's the Circuit-Courts, and the mirth grew very pain, Member, And when he would have ceased, it And the soirees wound up with a dance, only louder rose again.
flashes,
And now
And
And
With
the the
College,
of
the
course,
in
November,
Why,
Queen
will
kill
woman
little
me
remember.
her three
babies at once.
Don't you know, man, I'm an and real " original "
editor,
A
There's the stocking-trade, and the
police.
respectable
Whig
Editor, with
right to bring to
book
The
;
The
And
Who
And
and
war or peace
?
the small
When
If you like, you may give us a claver About folk of the Town long ago. Or a song with some body and flavour.
tell
And
that I never
don't know.
the nosegays of red carrots, and the current price of wool. To describe the hiring markets, and the lasses, and their fairings,
Andrew Downie
And
And
profound examinations of
the doings of the Councillors
133
is
me
who
Is
it worth while living longer after you have reached the stage Was there ever luck like mine ? and When life at last is possible, and you are purged of all I just come from playing tinker Oh the fresh thoughts I shall utter about The nobler thoughts you cherished, and the hopes of a great age. the whaling ships
knew
that a true
Coming with
Was
to
criticise
speeches, and
trips
!
And
the soul
is fairly
harnessed to the
?
and
!
local
And how
if one could only leave it, ere all higher dreams have left There's my destiny at last found, in Could but die before the death of that which is our life indeed this queer Universe, To play respectable Whig on a Could cease to be or ever one is utterly bereft hundred-and-fifty a-year ; man of powers original paid duly Of that gleam of something better, which may chance to be the seed to rehearse
Ah
The
Is a
Of a
hearts,
when
!
ours
and bleed
man of no condition, and a brewer Nay, I do not rave and maunder of small beer.
while he Well, we come into this world, wrapt is whining through his teens ; up in superfine cocoon. Soft and silky, and our business is to But there's that has come upon me, which has taken all the joy reel it off again. And to know ourselves but worms, and From my being ; and when one has care for nought beneath the moon. lost the staff on which he leans But to look about for what will eat, and Well, he finds that he is lame, and maybe knows not what it means. eat it there and then. And get rid of all fine feelings, and high dreams of gods and men. Perhaps I'll tell you more, Paul, on some day by and by. I've been winding my cocoon off quite Perhaps I'll keep my sorrow to myself
I cannot tell very nearly naked, and ready I know that I can trust you ; but then to devour I know not why All that I can set my teeth too and I should bind upon your spirit that I am not delicate which binds me like a spell, Heaven and earth, they say, shall pass Or lay on you my crushing burden, crushing you as well. away, like fading autumn flower,
rapidly of late.
And am
Borland Hall
134
am
weary, oh
how weary
of
all
Then
the
starting up,
stair.
There's no nature in my laughter, and Singing with cheerful heart a lightno sweetness in my thought, some air [ seem to have no Faith or Hope ; my lightsome air about the gallant lad. lights have one by one Who fired the heather with his white Died out, and left an evil smoke : God cockade. help me, I am not Good company this evening ; better High beauty her's : a face as marble
leave
me
to
my
lot.
white.
braids as black as
But
full
of health,
grace,
and
and
clear
in-
BOOK SIXTH
telligence.
And
cultured
woman's
MILLY GAUNT
After they
left,
delicate sense.
spirit, meet to be helpmeet of a noble destiny. Now brooding thoughtful, now with Strong in all duty, in ambition high. Open in thought, and broad in flickering smile sympathy, Playing about her lips, and in her With nothing little, save the little ways eyes. As the flame flickered in the fire Which brighten home, and are a
A noble, generous
The
she
likewise.
woman's
praise.
And
Thus
or lay
teaching
in
Over the
the school.
she
a while
tribute
to
happy
sweet
fancies
And
still
at
night,
though weary of
sullen dulness, she
yielding
the rule
willing
building.
in the
of
castle-
and did it cheergleaming coal a hero strong. fullyAnd a fond lover, and a blissful throng Training deft fingers to the finest Ofvaried circumstance and generouslife. chords. When maiden blossom fruited into And wedding the flute-voice to liquid
Saw
wife
Till looking up, behold an hour
words
had
Of
Scottish
song, or
German
lieder
passed
And
wondering
fast,
how
the
time
She had the artist soul and artist voice. She wondered on a little more, to know And in the gift of song she would rejoice If still the happy clock as quick As doth the skylark trilling forth would go its lay When fancies grew to facts, and she At early dawn and noon and close should be of day. All that the fire had pictured curiously
flown so
;
! !
: ;
Milly Gaunt
Thus
giving lessons in the evening, she
I3S
Which
came
to
my
it,
father
this
evening, and he
to read
and gave
it
to
glad as
summer
And
girl,
with sunny hair That loosely rayed about a joyous face Like a gold glory, tripped with win-
Now
all
amazed.
her wits
if
The double reading doubling some grace pain. About her room, when Milly entered
singing.
her
And
picked
letter
up,
and gaily
as
it fell, it
It
a country
town
and
flinging
To Lawyer
it
down
The
And
high
clear
How
And
Died somewhat
suddenly not
long
"A
Now
letter,
Miss Milly, a
so,
agone.
left estates
letter
don't
stiffen
up
as
if
you
all
They were
by law
for a letter
that's
Such a wonderful letter, and every she breathed. word true Freely she might bequeath them, as And it makes you a lady but you're bequeathed. that, dear, alreadyHe knew the facts, for he had drawn But it makes you out clearly a somethe will. thing that's nearly And Austen Lyell's claim was good As good as a Princess, my own as skill Cinderella, Could frame a legal deed to sanction Who trots every night, with that wrong. horrid umbrella. And rob the orphan, which had grieved Through the sleet and the slush to him long poor me who am nothing Yet had he only done as he was bound. But a commonplace lassie with nought Giving his clients valid law and sound. of romance. Now at the funeral this son went mad. But I always felt sure that you went Insulted kith and kin, was wholly bad
Prince who was fuming and frothing. Till you came to the ball : and now
it's all
Mocked
at
at the minister,
and laughed
Heaven,
barely civil to his lawyer even.
Was And
gathered
all
the
rogues
and
true
all
beggars near
in
And
it's
all
To
made
about you.
bier
; :
136
Borland Hall
reft.
Then on
lands were good, and free from bond and debt, No orders given, no charge to anyone, And some loose monies too there were to get No single duty of a landlord done ; Nor had they since heard from him. Could he but find the children any way He was seen. Of Gerald Gaunt and Borland's "Bonnie May." Indeed, that morning on the hillside
Inexplicable, unless of reason
The
the
morrow
afterwards he
left,
green Beside a lonesome tarn, and for She closed the letter with a moan of pain some days Walked with a gipsy poacher in His name was there, and burned into her brain, wild ways, They had His name, who was her secret glory Thigging and sorning.
:
And
The
and pride
And And
belied.
in a
Hall-keys brown,
the
misei-y
from
her,
as
the Saint
Also the Will that made the place Shook off the poisonous viper ; she was faint. his own, Which no sane man could leave in And sick at heart, and rose, and said, " Good-night such a place But of himself they had not any trace. These are strange tidings, and my head seems light." Some thought him dead, but most believed him mad, Some held it a good riddance, others " How could he ? Oh, how could he ? " still she said, sad However that might be, he had to say " My dream of life is gone, my hope is dead. The next heir, who was true heir, went away Torn like the honey-bag from humble Twenty odd years ago, and had been wed bee, To Gerald Gaunt, and both of them Nought left me but a short, sharp agony. were dead. How could he ? And my brother But there were children ; so, at least, loved him so. 'twas said. So trusted him in all of weal or woe, Now, would the city lawyer look about, So held him stainless of ignoble And make inquiries, and resolve the thought.
doubt
The
dead,
ever true
life
Were Austen
brought next of kin ; Oh, it is not the loss of heritage If mad, as he believed, from pride That makes life poor ; it is that, stage
the
they were
and
sin.
by
have rights to see
itself to,
stage.
They would
the Trust
and
Some
in
man.
of love than when our
life
Would
right
charge
And
and
just
began.
; ;
; ;
137
Milly Gaunt
Till
one day
all
shall tell
stars
how
How
held him Easy to break, easy to bind again, 'Twas pity to waste pity on such pain; Trained by the age for what the age So children wept and laughed, and must do, that was good Full of its spirit, loyal to its hopes. But men she wist had been of sterner
And
hero true,
And
stage
in
which
it
mood
when
guide
she was dull, ; no doubt But saw not what there was to jest about
It
all
he craved.
And
that for truth and right all risks he braved. And that he had a noble wisdom proved And so I loved him but 'twas this
To To To To
looked to her a noble task for one chronicle the common life of man. tell the daily sorrows of the poor. mirror all the ills that they endure. watch the tide of mind, and guide
flow,
its
To
I loved.
How could he
still
is
speak brave words that made the brave heart glow. It was the man made service great or
small,
she said,
gone,
For
still
all
" My dream of
dead."
my
hope
It
touched,
it
and
little
natures
made
in
less.
And
And
the
so
a great heart
was throbbing
prophet's
roll
jesting
up
the Press
Which
stair.
And,
of
there
And
record, he
might read
moment paused
explode.
who
ran.
it
was a
jest
Their laughter
jarred
on
her,
and
Some
of scorn.
such mean tasks ; and yet she once had hoped thoughts, and biting words No matter what her hope was there
till
of the sore
should waste
his
On
she stopped.
Sure, of a sudden, they were wondrous
Why,
Milly,
what,
is
wrong? her
the
brother said.
And
she uplift
again
drooping
head
:;
138
Borland Hall
had, a moment, sunk
to
at that
Which
And
sad look
untried poverty, and utter need, Thinking you would not break the
That seemed
read
is
her
like
an
bruised reed
wrong
For there had fallen on me a hapless fate, knowledge that has made life what
desolate.
think
that
was
the
burden
of
As when
the iceberg
drifts
on some
the song
green shore.
Which
sung
its
wooded
ing o'er
sunny meadows, till it lose itself. Melting on sandy beach, and rocky
shelf.
all
are not, or
the
bright
flowers
with its breath. And wrapping all the scene in wasteful death.
I said
all
that
So had
In bitterness of soul I uttered what You echo now in sharper tones than
Which
or act
on me, without
will
mine. Of mine, and clung to me, and will Big words of little wisdom ; undivine not part Because inhuman ; yet they were not Till its death-chill has frozen all barbed my heart. To rankle, nor in mockery were And when my soul was wrung with
garbed
its
They were
not not
good words
words
were
to
to
re-
And
all
member, yet
my
brain.
They were
move
;
a
I
deep regret.
No
matter
well
they
foolish
am
Rebuked
sparks,
that, I thank you what has changed your mood I know not, but I owe you only good. the hot In such a gloom even briefest gleam
From
fell of light burning passion, being fiercely Is something, though smote. night
it
sink in deeper
And
sputtering
words when
all
But there
of thine
is
more behind
this
what of joy your life has shed on mine wrath And peace and hope be doubly poured on thine."
un-
And
Than any
of mine.
What
I
is
?
it,
Milly
blame
came
to
you
in
shame.
his voice and trembling he spoke. And its great sorrow answering chords sorrow and broken awoke, And almost all her angry purpose broke
Deep toned
as
Why
this
bitter
"
Milly Gaunt
For
was ringing with the
truth Suspects the secret there in
139
it
what
is
hid.
I
sincere,
And
beat with the beat
holds
the
rest
but
trash.
And
Her
In
of
is
perfect faith
all
he
said,
to tell
you
all
as death,
And
There
are
perchance
subjected
Wronged
To
man's construction,
howsoe'er
and,
circumstance.
suspected."
And
that you
may
not
tell.
Did
it concern my brother who loves Again in silence where the faggot you well ? blazed. " Nay, surely not 5 nor part nor lot But Paul said. Never mind, now let has he it be In my life, saving in the best of me Milly was wrong ; I never doubted thee; Dear Paul was never sunshine to a She will be sorry ere to-morrow come. scene But she apart, biting her lip, and dumb. More than his fellowship to me has been. With vehement finger crushed a harmBut if you care lo hear, perhaps less crumb.
; ;
!
'twere well
The
story of a broken
it
life
to
tell
Then he
upon
again
For broken
the sea
is,
like
hold me rich and proud, Miss Gaunt, and scornful of and scattered common crowd.
foam
"You
the
Which
to
never was
common crowd
me.
With
lips
And now less so than ever, for I see No hope for me except in hope for those
stir your pity with their unvoiced woes. he gazed I too am poor once reckoned heir In brooding silence where the faggot of all blazed. goodly pastoral land, a pleasant Then in low tones " I know not how Hall, to speak And the respects and honours which If I say little you will deem me weak; they bring If I say more, the more will only blight But think not I for these am sorrowing. Another name to set my own name I had no peace until I cast away right. claim that could not bear the light Sometimes the half is better than of day. the whole. The deed of law that was a deed of sin, And sometimes worse than none ; the Which now is gone to pulp and dubious soul blotches in
that
wrought
Who
And
quivered
; :
I40
Borland Hall
The water-lilied haunt of tern and coot, Our mother was May Borland; and Or folds its slush around the brown I feared"
sedge-root.
He
when
its
But
life
is
poor
old faiths
for
never
sky
Of
man can
it
wind
trust
himself
and sun.
Unravelling
She
started, for
had spun,
So suddenly as he from utter sadness, thought echoed, though he touched a Sodden and dreary, passed into a gladness deeper note ; But silence kept, as he went on to tell Of joyous gratulation, that forgot How he had sworn to one who loved All but the whole relief her words had
He
An
brought.
to break,
and dared
day,
not keep,
Which
With
till
him
by
and
had
their
he
nigh
distraught with
his
Was
great
Of Borland nestling in its bosk of trees. Of the great lime filled with the hum
of bees.
misery.
Enough
what Milly
said
was
just
Of the
Where
tall
and true ; There was a noble work which one might do, Wielding a truthful pen with heart
sincere,
dainty
throstle had,
Of
river
was
clacking ever.
Bor-
The
water-lilied pool
May
And
narrow glen and water-hen how the Borlands had been lairds
And
then no doubt but Heaven would of all guide his way. Since the wild Scots drave at the Then she rose pale and trembling, and Roman Wall her eyes And how her joyous girlhood had Quailed at his glance of questioning been there,
surprise
Honoured and
forgive
petted
still
as
Bor-
me ? "
in
piteously she
land's heir
And how my
it
heart, yet
my
the goodly heritage was lost All for her love, nor did she grudge
the cost.
for
and
her
children sometimes
love,
wronged you
Oh
grieved,
I
And
for
her
father's
which
ill.
was deceived.
;;
! ;
141
Milly Gaunt
These
tales
the
ear intent
growing
design
to a higher sense
and man's
omni-
potence. Children are fain to know how So would he silence her : but all mothers spent the more Their childhood, and to chatter of She cherished in her heart a secret the day
When
And
Or
store
as they,
Of
through
the
hopes
Saw all she fondly dreamt about to be ; twined her daisy chain, or sought But the bright cloud which gleamed,
afar, like gold.
And
Milly, in
her
secret thoughts,
Felt
would dream That some day she should look on and stream.
Or
hill
that
round her
limbs enfold.
Silent
and
humbled
she
and
And
trace
her
as
mother's
all
footsteps
ashamed.
o'er again,
And much
Laird of
the long
fool
herself
questioned,
With Paul
But
green glen.
he, impatient, called her
set
little
for
woman's
To
hill
pool.
and Is prone to low prostrations of remorse. Close in her bosom that hard letter
lay.
Where
And
life is always only half awake dreams, he said, are fetters hard to break Though they be only shadows you have made, The life seems passing when the
And
life
seemed
to burn,
O
"
unhappy day
"What
shadows
fade.
should I do?" thus in her heart she said For what love hides is raised as from
the dead
As
Abide a
Some
Whose
talk
of
kills
And
oats
And
is
more than
subtle
will yield.
wit:
And how
the hares
his snares
it
will
him knowing
!
that
know
1
that I should the shame judge him so I will be lord of nothing but my mind, But Paul, you will be noble still, and I will be held of nothing that can bind true To vacant drowsiness the busy brain, To the high thought that always Or dull the sense of pleasure or of pain. guided you ? " days must be where thought has Then Paul, unconscious of a great
i
My
stedfast rule.
intent,
And
But simply
;;
Borland Hall
142
Of
fine
instinct
of
May
be, unreasonable,
may
there
be,
skill,
Worthy
" Milly, you may go now
than
things
are
more good
Said
reasons for,
But beautiful, at least, and in its trust Turn a fine lady, eat and drink Nobler than money-bargaining and lust. the best. What of your commune, with its spade Drive in your carriage, lord it like and hoe the rest To till the field, where every man You've always had a leaning that should grow way; I Enough for simple life, and still the
you
will.
live
till
nature
thrive
bids
loud.
city's
die
than
Have
Here
falling
I not heard
Of
one I loved."
on
On
lonely
glens
his neck,
frequent.
kissed him,
vowing Once
He
had so
filled with homesteads, furrowed by the plough. And clothed with rustling grain and fruitful bough.
as
And how
the
men whose
hearts,
to
fathers
The land is
far-off
An
banishment Loss of high opportunity likewise. And bore to rolling prairies in the West Loss of ancestral love which clings rankling sense of wrong in many
to you.
a breast.
Loss of a work which only he can do Which made our nation's foes the men Who has men's heart, already on who loved it best ? his side, Surely you will not cast from you Looking to him, and willing to confide. the power Think, Paul, your heritage is more To test your cherished thought, and
than
fields
at the fruiting. As for me, thrown off a load of misery. 'Tis something which could never have You call it wreck I call it haven
Of grass
When it is
I have
land yields,
at last,
all
the
people which
The
closer round
of wrong, Righted at
Paul^ I
have
felt
last,
which
you
in
have
Of
suffered long.
And
there
is
something
the love
Of cold
With
our folk
all
had sent
'43
Milly Gaunt
have not known
the
sleep
of a Needing but righting of this wrong to be Or ate or drank with honest human The tide of a new life of joy in me." He looked at Milly here, and she kind, at him. Or felt as if I dared, until this night And you, Paul, would you quench the And as she looked, she felt her eyes
right mind,
and With something gathering in them, then looked down. breaks in With better hope on this dark world Conscious that he was conscious of the crown of sin ? Now I have found my work, good With which her love had crowned him in that look work and true, And I have found the heart good work Which dimmed with pride and gladness. Then he took to do, Milly was right; it is the man who Her hand, and said, " One day, when I have done makes Noble or mean the task he undertakes, Good work, Paul, work which you Who breathes a godlike spirit into that can look upon He has to do, or makes it stale And say. This true man truly played his part and flat. I see my work before me, and my way You'll give me this soft hand ; I have her heart Free from embarrassment, and dear
silver,
grow dim
even as she has I think, already ; as day. mine, Bright with a throng of hopeful services That stir within me with a sense Worth little, but hers to take or to decline." of bliss.
dukes
PROLOGUE
It
is
and
earls.
Resting now from their plots and quarrels, Church of the Ages, all Arched and pillared and grandly But they mix not their dust with the
a
towered,
rustic carles.
With many
wall,
And
From
delicate
tracery,
scrolled
and
And
One
dim
flowered
fly
And
the
pinnacles
to
high.
Who
great
cross
points
And
solemn sky.
With grimy visage, and bearded chin. Rude and unmannered, with noisy din ?
stately
all
Some one
is
wailing
through.
Down
by
a
in the
dim
aisles far
is
away
he intoning The great Athanasian creed to-day ? divine. With symbols of Him who is Just Silence that chatter and laughter there. and True, And do not stand bonneted up to And emblems of Him who is Bread stare Hush that is surely the voice of and Wine It is dowered with wealth of land prayer. and gold. And memories high of the days of old. First Voice And of sheep that were lost, gathered They have made Thy Temple a place into its fold.
is
Everywhere
thought
Who
that droning
abhorred.
their slumber
They have mocked Thy Christ, for His own betrayed Him And now they have taken away
;
There
are
brasses
the
my
warrior saint
Ah
;
woe
Lord, and
!
have laid
I know Him.
Prologue
145
If there be angels good or bad, I very much doubt, and I do not much care Now that the gods are certainly dead Brahma and Zeus and the Father, But yet what a pitying look it had. Beaming down from the oriel there and all With a desk and a lime-light overhead, Will no one silence that idiot's chatter might use this up for a lecture-hall. About laws, forsooth, of health and riches ? could show them things on the
Second Voice
We We
altar there
I'd
rare.
rather
Wonderful transformations
Mater If we had
witches,
the
but
old
the
priest's
Stahat
for
ordeal
now
Would
beat
the
priests
with
their
hocus-pocus
Wouldn't
I souse
him
into the
water
or three chemicals
we
could
Fourth Voice Nature her miracle-power surrender. Hark And a glass, at the angle fit, would Anathema Maranatha Be he sinner or be he saint. wake As gruesome a ghost as the witch There is no place in the saving Ark For one who keeps but a cobweb faint of Endor. Everything here would give point to Of doubt in his heart, or doubt in
! !
my
At
hits
his head,
faith,
the
monk's huge
and
his
little wits,
As
About any one article I have read. " Credo," that is the key of heaven ; The more incredible, so much more
Virtue
To
raw youth.
Thurifer,
let
" Hoc
Third Voice
Christ
est
is
the censer wave corpus," lift it high ; risen from the stone-sealed
grave;
A pest on
all the reforming crew, Savant or Puritan, old or new See how the rogues come tramping in. Now that they have not to praise or pray Faugh what a breath of tobacco and gini They crowd to church because God
! !
with him, and die comes thereby. In high procession the priests will go Chaunting the D'us Irae low. Dies ilia, sad and slow. So the Church in the days of old, Robed in linen and purple and gold, Foiled the devil, and all his tricks.
let us forth
life
Now
Into the
that
is
away
they've
And
smashed
that
drove
out
the
swine
with
And
pitying
crucifix.
angel's face,
That touched
grace,
None of
replace.
their
First Voice [far away) " They have taken away my Lord, And I know not where they have laid him "
!
10
146
So
now
the
old
familiar
walk
aisle,
lone with awful silence are th( evening hours I sit And a shudder passed through the I think I should go mad, but for thi massive pile, trick of writing books. From the low-groined cr)rpt to the Though I care but for the writing, no cross on the steeple : for that which I have writ. And the glimmering lights on the
Mixed
hum
And
the people
altar died.
No more
sighed.
Dead
is all
dead
th(
Though
yet,
I
the
humour have
its
pranki
heed not
BOOK FIRST
Nor
shadow
that I casi
upon
my
way.
my
it
when
laid
on
my
breast,
And when
Though
drifted,
I watched the leaves unfolding, and the tender blushes flit Now my rose is broke and withered aimless, among and I broke it whom it blest
And
clear-purposed men,
my
it.
life
still,
Where
where,
darling
my
still.
darling?
my
So gladsome and
so winsome, and in
!
I do not blame you, Hilda ; we were both of us so young. And I had a peremptory way, un-
No,
gracious, unbeseeming.
left
it,
waiting
And
a petulant
hot
humour, and an
betokened anger
my Love
corner
to
fill
Her
by the
seat.
fireside,
or
the
Which you
thought
sunny window
But nevermore thou comest, though But I had no right to dream when I evermore I go was called to play the man. Where thoughts of thee shall meet me And to cherish, with fond love, the
I
as a sure-returning pain love that put its trust in me : cannot keep from that which only Better lose the wayward Artist in the keeps alive my woe, drudging Artisan And I would not keep from it until Than take the yoke of love, and live thou comest back again. as free among the free.
147
And
oh,
how
heart in pieces,
all
;
Which
consecrated
the
homely
Who
What
up again
;
duty of her days. And winged quick seeds of hope beyond the bounding wall of death To make a life Eternal, full of peace and full of praise ?
can break
as
and
all
Would
many Hildas
in
the mirror of
my
mind.
Who
the pillow of
leave
it
sitting
me,
flitting
Or
break beneath the unfledged soul the shaped and sheltering nest. And bid it on the bare bough sing, when it can only sob ?
Here
Or
an echo of old mirth. a face out of the darkness with a sad, rebuking gaze.
young morning Ah me, but to remember how I placed breaking forth, you with your back And look out on its misty gleams, as Against the old wych-elm tree in the if the noon were full golden summer tide, And the Infinite, around, seems but a As we went, with slate and satchel, larger kind of earth down the dim, green Lovers' Walk, Ensphering this, and measured by the And half in fear, and half in jest, you
But we wake
in
the
when
the light
is
self-same
handy
rule.
vowed
to be
my
bride
And
doubtful shadows come and go, But with me it was right earnest ; I and we, of nothing sure, exulted from that day Have yet no qualms in trifling with a That mine thou wert, and mine alone, tranquil faith and true and ever must be mine ; Ay me it was her quiet faith that And I played protector grandly if our
! !
made her heart so pure. schoolmates in their play Yet I troubled its calm waters with Did but touch thy finger roughly, or the wanton stones I threw. lift their eyes to thine.
But oh, I loved you, Hilda, and will Oh, had we ne'er as children played love you evermore together in the street, I cannot choose but love you, be the Never waded in the burns, nor plaited anguish what it v/ill. rushes on the lea. For the very pain of loving is all other Never busked us with the bluebells, joys before never chanced on earth to meet, Though you broke my heart in pieces, Till we looked upon each other when every bit would love you still. our Love had eyes to see
148
For
grow
to
And
And
the
the
tall
perfect
wedded
love
weather-cock that from the spire. ; It fits too easy on us, like a worn, And the red glow on the window familiar glove. panes ; and then the quiet mood And we tend it not so nicely, though That came on with the stars, and we hold it all as dear. drew us closer to the fire
gilded
I cannot but
remember
we were
buy the
still
those
to
ring,
labour
recompense of rest, Half-afraid and half-ashamed to ask And how we watched the laden bees about the mystic toy, amid the honeyed flowers : And how they all slipped loosely up Yet I hardly seemed at home in life, and down the taper-finger. but somehow like a guest.
how
fain
we were
to linger.
Then
Now,
to
it
There was a
all
we came
ere the
apple-blossom fell. of the brain And the bloom was on our love as the It did not look like fact, but like a bloom was on the bough. dream that only knew And there was singing in the trees, lawlessness of Fancy, and had The and in our hearts as well banished grief and pain.
Singing of our happy fancies, singing So passed in tender bliss the weeks of our joyous hopes and months of love and peace. All our life was filled with singing, as And I wondered when I should awake, the skylark fills the sky and find the dream was gone Oh the music of that gladness, in our So passed the year and day, and still hearts and in the copse. the wonder did not cease. Swelling with a tender sweetness, and
!
An
feeling haunted me, that might be untrue unreal, phantom idyl an illusion
came thereby
frustrate
hope
alone.
Then,
the
as
lengthening
summer
passed the time
in
twilights,
we looked down on So
in
services of love
the river
Gleaming
the
shallows,
!
And
And
there
was no cloud of
of wearing
strife
its
trouble,
;
glooming darkly
in the pools
and no
its
still
fret
And
memories cling to me, and clothe with dreams of beauty, blue smoke curling ever Welcome sight to weary labour plod- As with ivy green and wallflower, the
the
silent,
its
tools
dim
ruin of
my
life.
149
cheerful
Nor
a dim, grey ruin where no Bit from days of early childhood with the love of rhythmic song, work is done, sound of gladness heard, but only I had yet a curious shame for that
lonely desolation
sits
And
With
for
aweary of
little
which was my secret pride. And would hide ray work in midnight,
the sun,
little
Though
my
kind.
doing something wrong, I hoped the world would yet admire the thing I strove to hide.
as if I covered
know weak
that that
is
it
wrong
that
it is
How
I
reams of paper
!
how
to yield to
might outgrow the fancy, yet was loath to let it go life is cold and grey Duty never half so noble, nor so How I watched the moods of Nature, as I lay upon her lap, strengthening and fit, As when the clouds have gathered And she spoke to me by flowers and birds, and streams that murmured thick, and darkened all the day.
its
duty even
when
know
that I
am weak and
poor,
A
I
my
;
winter and the summer and the morning and the night, All seasons and all creatures brought
The
have no heart to struggle only can endure, And let the tide sweep on,
clinging to
now
as I sit
my
grief.
her messages to me ; loved the very newt that crawled among the lilies bright. And the tiger-branded wasp, and the drowsy yellow bee.
I
What was
it, first, that broke the spell, and showed that we were twain United, and yet sundered by a strain of character ? trifle, yet it smote me with a dis-
unutterable things
silence in
close to
appointing pain
it
at those stiff
thought to make her famous, and she did not care for fame And 1 often sat a-dreaming, and
I
Where
And
thinking
how
I treasured
them,
flit
With
the
river
its
flickering
And even
somehow
them, and
went against
my
heart.
; ;
ISO
stuff they are enow a drift of All common things of natural birth dry and shrivelled weed, He sets forth in a novel sense ; Marking where once the tide of froth But never leaves the common earth and flying scud had been ; To seek the dim Omnipotence. Yet will I keep this fragment, for He gathers knowledge hour by hour. scrawled on it I read, " My husband's nicest verses, though I Forgetting nought that once he knew, And handling it with conscious power scarce know what they mean " As matter certified and true ; And all he knows gives added might Contrasts That still with harder thought com
:
Poor
Twain
each,
from
bines
We
He
Though
light,
it
shines
He
He He
The same
days.
sun
warmed them
life
all
their
not proud, he
is
not vain
They
serene
They walk
But he
Some
He
;
And
The
For what
The
And
That
what
He will not go or will not fear To search into the mysteries, And bid the haunting shadows go And yet, with all he knows and sees.
;
No
Or
envious grudge is in their hearts. Detracting from the honour due To nobler worth, or greater parts.
larger grasp, or clearer view
:
And And
And
But
thought, nothing
is
by either seen
it
dim daybreak. of noon ; He sees the process Warham saw. But to the Power he is not blind, Beholds the working of the Law,
oft in
silent oft in blaze
not.
And bows
to that
which
lies
behind.
With
vision keen and thought complete Seeking what knife can ne'er dissect. Cool-headed Warham holds his way. Nor flame- wrapt blowpipe can set free, Nor chemic test can e'er detect, And all that lies about his feet But only kindred mind can see. He makes it his, and clear as day ;
He
finds in everything a light
; ; ; ;;
: ;
151
Which, shunning finest power of sense, that lay Does more to make a man of might In all the rich and wondrous
that
the
Why
or
compassed us about.
At
And mnch
thinks,
In our
in
our
But he
is
more than
aspiring,
For
still
still
he knows he drinks
for verses
thought
More carefid that the man should grow And would rather some more money Than that the mind should understand than be sung about in rhyme
He loves
And
all
Yet she
kissed
my
touches
He
pities all
head, and vowed that she was sure I should write a name immortal 'mong the great ones of the time.
And
unhappy
fate
Simple and true and brave and meek, Oh, she knew that she was stupid ; how He does not know that he is great I ever came to wed He looks to heaven with wondering Such a silly girl as she was, she never gaze. could make out And earth with awe by him is trod But she could not keep the garden, if marvel at the words he says. I would have every bed He, at the silences of God. Free for birds and beasts and creatures
We
Thus on
their several
And
Yet it was God that made them so. And they do serve His several ends Tiiat seeks for light to walk in it.
And
One The
this for
God
to live in
Him
dim.
all is
to watch the short, sharp rushes of the blackbird on the lawn But there would not be a cherry left upon the loaded trees. And the pease were black with cawing rooks about the early dawn.
And
Where each is good if one is best ? And who shall say that this departs,
Restfid, unto Eternal rest.
A shadow on me at for love, yoimg love, had thrown A glamour about her, wreathed a
fell
this
all
While he who
loves
down
Into the darkness of the night ? Life grows unto its perfect crown,
Sought
and
That
And light
and a
little
; ;
;;
IS2
me and Hilda ; there was and nothing more And trustful and sufficing ; so it did But some ballads I had written, brought not matter much me praise and also pay ; But I sat the more alone, and hid my Then she changed her mind about labour from her view. them, as she tinkled o'er and o'er For I felt the poet's shrinking from The little store of guineas that had dropt upon her way. unsympathetic touch.
Vexed, and
still
disappointed
Not
so with
love,
her,
Surely
but I
enforced humour to
laugh
And
welcome were the guineas had not writ for gold. the gold was all she cared for,
and I could have cursed the thing But she had the care of housekeeping, and troubles manifold. the higher sentiment. Turning pathos into laughter, and That were bound upon her spirit by
away
Of
course,
it
for
me
I
I should
have thought of
that, for it
Belying
my own
Her
knew
;
care
until she
when But
to
me
that everything
went
And
And
small economy.
And
only there was Then, the handling of those guineas seemed to turn her little head ; But silence bringeth sorrow where the She was sure that I could write a score of better songs a week. trust should be complete ; Love likes not shallow mirth, too And she need not vex her heart about the milk-books, or the bread. and a fear sprang up amain. That in the deeper life of life we yet Or the men that came with nasty bills, and looked so sharp and sleek. might fail to meet.
just
on
this point
Not
that spinning
life
is
And
bit
the deeper
Though
it
may
wear ; But if heart must mate with heart to make the husband and the wife. Mind should also match with mind to
that deeper life shall
some fresh furnishing to room ; And we named them quaintly after, each, its poem, as we spent
dress,
brighten up a
The
little roll
of gold that
made
her
make the
perfect
wedded
pair.
life to
153
Triste," was a ballad of the But she scarcely read my verses ; even of Mexico, some that I had writ And also a chintz curtain in our little Of our wooing and our wedding, gave parlour hung her but a passing thought And a band of scarlet ribbon, knotted I was pleased to see her pleased, but up into a bow. still there was a sting in it.
Had
its
When
she prized
it
my
had bought.
! yet they lit our home with Yet I would not be disheartened ; my lamps of sweet significance, purpose only rose Made every chamber live, and put a The higher, and my fancies were but soul in chairs and stools, cherished more and more ; That linked them with our highest, as seek out fresher fountains I would the moonbeams where they glance whose living water flows, Silver with heavenly beauty even the Unnoticed, in a land where song had common water-pools. rarely been before.
Trifles
little
homely
;
trifles
fireside
I
in
way
life
Out of doors
their
yet
what a pathos
I saw door ;
the world
On
passion and its longing, its error and its sin It was fresh, if rather sunless, and it deepened more and more ribbon fastening As I tilled the field whose harvest I was fain to gather in.
Twice-paid I deemed my verses when Thus, long and the trifle they had brought
late
I brooded, well
resolved to make my mark Brightened her evening muslin then, On the great age we live in, and my and made her face to shine silence deeper grew ; And now it all came back to point the I went musing in the day-time, and misery of our lot. sat mooning in the dark, As with a twice-told sorrow, in that And the rush of sudden fancies made ribbon's fate and mine. my slumbers broken too.
Hilda scarcely read my verses, never sang a song of mine, Though her voice was like a plaintive bird's, and thrilled you through and through I have wept to hear her evening hymn, or Psalm with crabbM line. Ring through the open casement as the
stars lit
For the vision grew upon me, the more I did attain.
Dwarfing still my poor achievement with some glimpse of nobler fruit I scarce had caught a measure when some diviner strain, A-singing sweetly in my heart, would
sing the other mute.
up the blue.
154
invention,
find
when they
first
;
spadeful,
Innocent
down
the street,
has by and by to crush the quartz Singing the broken fragment of some to grind the barren mind, weird old melody, And pick a little precious thought As he drifted, to and fro, with vagrant
One
feet.
fruitful
times,
when All
thought ran faster than the pen, And moulds of quaint invention shaped
a
hundred dainty
strains.
the smug and well-conditioned, growing rich and growing stout, And the men that fussed and wrangled about the Kirk and State,
genteel, superior people, dressing
As
And
odd
characters of men.
With
kindly humours in their hearts, I found them very dull, though their content was very great.
If I have won a little niche I know I stored up thoughts and pictures ; for it is but small I knew that Art is long, In Fame's proud temple, it was then I That you cannot rear a temple like a won it, being true. hut of sticks and turf And sparing not myself, and without But I did not think what perils on a effort natural. woman's life may throng. And singing ever from my heart, and Sitting lonely with her thoughts that only what I knew. chafe and murmur like the surf.
more and more absorbed, I hardly noted as they came And also to the error, and the failure, The changing moods, the chills, the and the strife ; frets that daily did increase ; heart had tasted sorrow, as it clung I would dig the deep foundations of to love and duty, a long-abiding Fame,
to
all
Ever
My
And
I felt
my
art
the deepening of
my
life.
And wist not that they undermined my home of love and peace.
common facts
Ah me
that
hungry passion
and
it
What
chanced me in a corner, or what met me in a crowd, For the undertones of pathos murmuring softly by the way.
quaint, droll humours, mirthful with
our day.
petty care
To
gild the
of
life,
and
homely
incident,
Or
As we
sat like
our troubles
all
summer away
birds,
!
and sang
155
And
yet
it
it
was
self-seeking,
let
me Turned
the
ever to the
kirkyard where
paint
as I will.
little
But the poet's eager craving for the That buried her young hope, and made vanity of Fame, her motherhood a wail. But the witchery of Art enchanted Silent and yet unceasing, for the bliss with its own sweet skill, that might have been. Seeking less to better life, than just But now was lying in a shroud, and to make itself a name. nailed with coffin-nail.
And
little then ; and brought an old school friend And was truer to the fact, in all her To cheer her in her sorrow but the seeming commonplace, girl was hard as steel. And the simple, homely method of her Who tried, I fear, to mar the peace I quiet life, than I hoped that she would mend. With my thoughts away in dreamland, And blended coldest sceptic thought and its haze about my face. with strangely burning zeal
as I
its
have not won the glory which girl so unlike Hilda that I wot not my peace to gain ; how they drew The critic world has praised me in a Together for a moment sharp-witted, kindly sort of way. and without But I have not struck a chord that An atmosphere around her mind ; but thrilled the common heart of men. many things she knew, Nor blazed forth as a star upon the And had not any light of faith, nor forefront of the day. any shade of doubt.
For
I lost
And
in
me,
not to be gainsaid,
Of
course
we
did not
know
it
but
it was unlucky fate In spite of all misgiving, and the verdict That brought into my life then such of the crowd. a thread of unbelief. And I do not care for poverty, neglect, Confirming troubled fancies that had or little bread, come to me of late, If I may but spin my verses, though I And brooded o'er my life with dim only spin my shroud.
foreboding of
new
as I
grief.
first
night-frost
life's
that
young
tender
For pondering,
bloom
to
Not much
and we had love enough throw it off, had I But taken thought of the pale face that
in the silent
To
piece
lo
them
bit
by
bit
into
some
to
fit
And
into
fast
room
my
plan.
Turned ever
And
hard and
narrow
had
got.
iS6
my baby-creed, just, as a Could every heart be wholly wicked, thing of course, till now. every soul untrue. Unthinking if it fitted on the grown As if it were a spark from hell that
had worn
man
as the child
kindled
for
all
desire
be set to rights again when yet unshadowed brow God had gleaned a few. Was crowned with sunny curls, and While the harvest of the nations was faggoted for fire ? the young soul was undefiled.
My mother
made
it
me when
the Could
all
But it was a thing apart from me, At first I feared the venturous thought, and compassed round with dread and laid it quick aside ; Unquestioned and unsearched, it lay But still it would return, although in bathed in an awful light, other form it came. Sacred as writ which had been sealed Is He not ever merciful who loved us all, and died. by the beloved dead. And beautiful with memories of piety Gracious to-day and yesterday, and evermore the same ? and right.
;
my mind was darkened o'er Trembling, I fluttered to and fro, with dim, disturbing doubt, like moth about the flame. And many roots of faith appeared to Now saying, " It is light, and I strike no further down must come unto the light " Than customary thoughts that I had Then pausing, for the moth unto a swift destruction came, never reasoned out. Nor felt their pressure on my soul to When, curious for the light, it left the dim and dusky night. own them, or disown.
But now
:
Could any juggling art transfer the sin that I had done. Unto another soul, and give his inno-
I think
grow
to
be strong-
me
I only dared to doubt, and then made pictures of my doubt cence to me ? Could any claim of other's right be This way the better reason drew that I might clearly see mine to stand upon. And urge His sinless sorrow as ray That way old custom dragged, and bade me cast the reason out. justifying plea ?
And
Seeing it folded in it covered all the beach ; kept with tender care ? Or that the Father's love could grasp I saw old landmarks vanish, yet that smote me not with pain, an everlasting rod. Nor falter as it hearkened to the wail Nor leaped my heart with gladness at the truth it hoped to reach. of dim despair ?
all So wave on wave arose, and burst, and eddied back again. God, His light, and But still the tide swelled higher till
;; ;
157
was the one decree, that God should yet be all in all. been And in the Christ would reconcile all tossed about, for ages past, things in earth and heaven, From surface-minds that vainly claimed And a new Paradise arise more glorious from the Fall, alone to understand The mystery of the Light that is And bread of life be sweeter, raised
;
but
all
like
shadow on
say
that
us cast.
from
They
doubt
is
is
weak
but
By
at this
The
living
doubt
To
quaint
conceit
of
know
ballad rudely
rhymed
Pulp and jelly of the shell-fish, clasped It put her friend in raptures, and she in bony mail without, vowed it most divine, Crack the joinings and the sutures But it seemed a sorry jest to her, and that the life within may grow. wicked and ill-timed.
Could
my
But
heart
faith
have just believed with all Well i it was a foolish trifle, burnt and soul and mind well-nigh as soon as writ, was slowly breaking up, and dream of death, and how all life
shall
come
to fulness then,
And
through
the
And how
earth,
the
love
that
sweetens
it
and mirth that brightens Looked sickly in the wavering mist Could never darken Heaven, for that wrapped it like a shroud. had given them unto men.
rifts
God
zone of large indifference, then, I Was it strange, when Hilda frowned, made, where easy hope that I should turn me to her friend. Linked faith and unfaith, arm in arm, Who clapped her hands, ecstatic, and and sung along the road would have me read again ? AH would somehow yet come right Perhaps she overdid it ; and it turned at least, I did not mean to mope. out in the end If I could not feel the lightness, yet That she was false and faithless but I would not feel the load. I did not know her then.
God
was larger than the creeds: they Maybe, I should have seen that there were the cunning compromise was nothing in my rhyme For unanimous decision of the many To lift up eyes of worship, softly and the few swimming in a tear.
Rafts
that
leaked at
every log,
:
so
Or
the time,
But they
As the humour
upon the
listening ear.
iS8
No
turning up I had
And,
trail
besides,
my
floating
doubts,
which were
;
With
She looked
startled
O'er the mountains, adding mystery and grandeur to their shapes. deer
Were
in her a
chilling drizzle, or a
among
the bracken at
Hiding sun and moon and stars, and all the shining seas and capes.
filled
after
that, she
could not cast her off, but yet I how soon She took herself away now, with that up the sloping, shingly shore. bitter sneer of hers ; And along the quiet sands, and softly She was as coldly chaste as are " the lapping at your side. glimpses of the moon," Girds about you ere you wot, and is But she laughed at all the faiths of behind you and before.
the tide
the
I
waving
tangles,
heeded not
men, and
all
their characters.
She would look through books of reference, and mark the places right.
And
And I saw that Hilda pined away she did not fret nor frown. copy papers nicely, and be useful But whatever our discourse, she let fifty ways a pallid silence linger And sometimes on the darkling thought would glance a piercing On her lips from hour to hour, while moving slowly up and down. light. Or with woman's nice suggestion From knuckle to the point, the marriage-ring upon her finger. touch a sentiment or phrase.
looked to her for sympathy, I leant For Hilda had a faith serene, clear as the evening star. on her for aid Fanatical for Reason, still she loved Keen-piercing through the changeful glow with its unchanging gleam. the poet's Art, Or vowed she loved it dearly; and Wheeling in some calm zone where neither doubts nor tremors are. how cleverly she played, With artillery of praise upon the out- Nor shadowy, dim misgivings, that perchance we only dream. works of the heart
I
Ere long,
And now
came
because
To
be mere ejaculations, monotonous, With little feeling of a loss, or hope of higher gain. without Any critical discernment ; and I felt With little sense of sorrow or regret or poverty. a growing shame At the lauds which she kept singing, But she beheld the change with fear and shivering and pain. and the things they were about.
Hilda, Saint-Wife
IS9
Why
BOOK SECOND
a
Why is
HILDA, SAINT-WIFE
Hilda's Diary
March, iS
so bright as a
Why
her
like to fallow
And
Winifred Urquhart and were tall school-girls,
I,
starve
on housekeeping cares
?
that he ought to be, Chatting of wooings and weddings Worthy of love and devotion, almost while twisting our hair up in curls. worthy of me. Or whispering some hush-secret, which Yet oh, the young love of girls it is purer, truer, and better was not secret a bit, Only we were confidential, and made And so she concludes with a prayer a secret of it for a long and an early letter. Winnie and I made a paction, silly things that we were That she would be sure to tell me, and This has set me a-thinking that, maybe, I must be sure to tell her, I ought to write Whoever, first of us, wedded, all the The things that my heart is full of, as the noon of heaven with light, bitter and sweet Of the life of marriage that makes the The thoughts that I had not before, life of a woman complete ; which gave me a larger life. The hope, the fear, and the bliss too, And the bliss that never I knew till he
when we But
she
is
sure that
mine
is all
we were
to set
down
all.
called
me
his
own
little
wife.
none of our Gardens of Eden be Not that I mean to keep a silly promise hid by a hedge or a wall. like that Winnie is clever and scheming ; I know what she wants to be at. So now she writes me a letter, all Give her a word, good or bad, and underlined, to say she'd spin such a web from the hint. She trusts that I do not forget the And colour a meaningless phrase with promise I made that day ; so suspicious a tint, Hints that, perhaps, I might keep a That folk would begin to whisper, sure Diary locked with a key. there was something amiss And sacred To Early Friendship, which And then she would write me, bewailno other eye should see ing the world and its wickedness. And hopes that I will not act like Dearly she loves a mystery, dearly she commonplace wives, who drop loves to be thought Their friends and their French and To know what she ought not to know, pianos, and put to the Past a full stop. and to wit what none else ever wot : So to begin a new paragraph all about For Winnie is clever and scheming, beeves and muttons. even when she looks like a fool Darning, and troubles with servants, and She was not liked by the girls, and gentlemen's shirts and buttons. she was not happy at school,
:
And
i6o
But I came to be fond of her, rather, It seems like an unreal echo, ever so by having to take her part, far away When others were hard upon her, and From the clear realm of nature, and said that she had not a heart light of the sun and the day. Which is not true, I am sure, nor yet Yet it sounded to us, at the time, like absolute reason and good. the tales that they told Of wicked books she had read before As we chattered of woman's rights, she was twelve years old. and babbled in wrathftJ mood I have heard that, since she came home, Of Maries, thoughtful and wise, that often were met at school. she cultivates science, and writes, And lectures over the country, most of Changed into careful Marthas under a
the winter nights.
husband's rule.
short,
and her Heedless of mental culture, losing finger-tips black with ink : their nimble wits. But Winnie could never forget what To be housemaids dusting the rooms, is due to a lady, I think. or cookmaids turning the spits. I thought I am going to write in my book, but Winnie was great on that not for her eyes to see she was eloquent even. Ought I to hide it from him who keeps As the small face kindled up with a light, as it were, from heaven, not a thought from me ? Oh, there is something in marriage, like Vowing the wife became a traitor to the veil of the temple of old. woman in this, That screened the Holy of Holies with Betraying a noble cause for a petting blue and purple and gold word or a kiss ; Something that makes a chamber where Wronging her husband, too, by giving none but the one may come, a lower aim sacredness too, and a silence, where Of self- indulgence to life, which joy that is deepest is dumb. he knew not at home till she And it is in that secret chamber where came. chiefly ray days are passed. What greater wrong could she do him With a sense of something holy, and a than teach him only to care shadow of something vast. For dainties, and kickshaws, and slipTill he comes, who alone is free to pers, and naps in the easy chair ? come and to go as he will, But Nature is more than Logic, and Till he comes, and the brooding silence wedlock is more than we begins to pulse and thrill. Dreamed of then in our folly Oh come, for my heart is weary, and great is the change now in
Having her
hair cut
waiting,
I will lock
my love, my bliss
shall
for thee
me
but
my love
from the world, Motherhood, if it should come, will have ever the key. work more wonders still. For love it is all in all, and it does
March, l8
whatsoever
it
will
When
remember the way we girls Dusting, darning, drudging, nothing is were wont to talk great or small, Up in our rooms at night, or out on Nothing is mean or irksome, love will
I
hallow
it all
Hilda, Saint-Wife
i6i
Sacrifice there
is
none
is
if
only I see
if
For
all
him
glad,
we hoped
pleasure
sad.
And
all
my
gone
heavy and
Past
it
is the honeymoon was not so good blushing, about, As the home-coming together, in While Claud was looking so handsome quiet, thoughtful mood. and self-possessed, like a king, Then our life truly began it was like Proud and tender and ready, and a dream before seeing to everything. dream in a boat, while the pale
; :
smirk at the new-made bride ; Scarcely a railway porter but knew my trunks to be out and I think Fresh on a marriage trip, and led me,
April,
sea to shore.
It
is
went swaying about still under the stars, and heard Dreamily plashing billow, and dreamily whispered word. Why should we go a-jaunting when
And we
that
As
I
they smile and whisper together, and scan you from head to feet.
in our little
knew
till
we
sat
From
know
arm clasping me round. bosom I leant to feel all the thither, like peace I had found And he said, " We will fold our wings birds flying far from the nest. now, for here I have made you a nest. Hid in the bosk of the greenwood, And lined it warm with the down of where they are longing to be. the love that warms my breast." And cosy and warm, and sweet with Oh, he can say such things And I the scent of the sheltering tree. cannot say them to him I did not like then to say it, because I am quietest when I am gladdest all his plans had been laid but my heart was filled to the brim. To visit some beautiful spot which Just a moment before, and my trembling poets had famous made. would not cease. Or to look on some ancient Abbey But now the shiver was stilled in a that sweetly went down to decay. thrill of bliss and peace. Wrapt in the ivy green, amid trees in
strong
Close together, and watched the stars coming out of the gloom. In the hush of a raptured moment, his
As
on
his
And And
all
with
it
me
for
April, 1 8
view.
Our home
is
bright
little
cottage,
half-smothered in yellow rose. him in a light which Not yet blooming, however for ever would make it new. a still river sullenly flows Therefore my voice was silent ; but Deep at the foot of a broomy brae, and oh, how I wearied to see the leaping trout The house-fire which love was to kindle, the home where my life was Ripple its gloom in the evening as
bathe
;
to be!
gay
flies flicker
about.
l62
;! ; ;
; ;
Nor
be always so happy ? of grief; It leaps and sparkles and gleams o'er Yet there is laughter of sunshine, to the stones of a pebbly beach, see the crisp green on the leaf. Under the birch and the hazel, just Daylight is ringing with song-birds, and brooklets are croonirig by night coming to leaf, and there are Blue-bell patches of sky, made bright And why should I make a shadow where God makes all so bright ? with the primrose star. Behind is a group of great fir-trees, Earth may be wicked and weary, yet cannot 1 help being glad ; five of them, red-armed firs, Druid sisters he calls them, that moan There is sunshine without and within me, and how should I mope or be sad ? when the night-wind stirs Last of a great pine forest that stubs God would not flood me with blessings, meaning me only to pine the heath with its roots For miles, till you come to a tarn where Amid all the bounties and beauties He pours upon me and mine gulls and little round coots Are dipping and diving all day in a Therefore will I be grateful, and thereall
so sullen, for
down
in a
Am
wrong
to
farther reach
This world
is full
quiet solitude
There
My
heart
is
singing within
me
sing
and the lapwings brood. I hear the curlew scream, and the grouse-cock crowing at dawn.
blithe,
on,
May,
18
And
yet
when
she
offers
a visit in June where the cowslips laugh on the Some day she must come, I daresay lawn but that is an age too soon. It is only a patch of green turf, enough What could I do with her ? I should to pasture a lark be like one reading a book. I see the sleepy old town, and the Lost in the story and passion, while spires of the Minster dark. she would be eager to look And catch a glimpse of the sea-waves Over my shoulder to find out what was white on the yellow sand. Where the river leaps at the bar, and absorbing me so. the coastguard houses stand. And why, when my heart is so happy,
We
have a bright little garden down on a sunny slope. Bordered with sea-pinks, and sweet with the songs and the blossoms of
hope.
And now
would
now
my
And
week
and I know it would end in grief. Oh, it is all too good for me ; often I Alone I must be alone, to read my catch myself singing romance, for the plot In very lightness of heart, and I seem Is only slowly unfolding ; and oh, what a hero I've got like the birds to be winging Merry from room to room, as they Noble and true and brave, all that a flutter from bush to tree. hero should be And each has her mate a-coming, as So much better than I am ; and great is his love to me mine, too, is coming to me.
!
Hilda, Saint-Wife
163
Yet not greater than mine is, save that Children play at the door, they are his mind is more, dirty and happy and fair, For oh I love him, I love, as a God I Sunbrowned all of their faces, suncould almost adore.
at times, for
The mother
What
dog lies coiled in the sun, Truly The fowls for the roost are making and the labourer's day is done. my heart it would break. What, if heaven should be wroth at Sometimes we rest on a bank, and hear in the evening calm, me shrining and sainting a man Yet God too Just as the stars come out, the sough of Sinful and mortal as I ?
an idol I make,
if
I love,
all
is
I can truer to
My
heart
Him
the
more
am
Often
we go
belt
the And surely He cannot be jealous of love To a He has bidden and blessed.
June, 18
crags,
The
Or
We
where still they mine and beat. Perched on the cliff is a village and the air there and pure far in the cove below Among the brown heath and the bracken that now from its snake-like bonds. The boats are beached on the shingle,
walks as the evenings lengthen ; sometimes over the moor. Many-tinted and shadowed ; brisk is
have
gurgling in
black-throated
caves
Under
is
slowly
uncoiling
fronds
Hard - visaged,
bunchy
women
are
Close-packed now, by and by they, baiting the lines in hope, overlapping, will hide Or carrying laden creels, slow, up the The flower of the slender orchis long, shelving slope. Or spreading their fish on the rocks, or purpling close by their side. welcoming men from the sea. Dry on the knolls is the whin-bush, massing its golden bloom ; As the lugger trips daintily in, and the The cotton-grass low in the marshes flapping sail is free. tosses its small white plume ; And from the hollows is wafted the One thing strikes me about my husband's way with the folk. scent of bog-myrtle or birch Fragrant after the rain ; but, best of Whether the moorland shepherds, or fishermen perched on the rock. all, is the search Among the roots of the heather for Freely we enter their homes, for he stag-moss' antlers green seems to be known to them all. Branching over the earth, far- spreading, And knows who is there in the corner, and rarely seen. and who in the bed in the wall, Here and there is a cottage, too, And the idiot dreamily singing by the looking just like the heath, grandam racked with pain. Green on the roof with house-leek, And the lad that went off to the sea, brown with its turf-wall beneath. and has never come back again
164
All the home life of the people, their Yet somehow, all the time, he seems good and their evil hap. as if reading a book So every door flies open just after a Full of nature and humour, and leaves warning tap, with a thoughtful look. And everywhere he is met with a welcome glad and free Once I hinted that I would gladly be The dogs come fawning upon him, the doing some good children get up on his knee. Among these neighbours of ours : and Great, rough hands are held out to give he said in his gentlest mood, ." Yes, I suppose it is right to do all him a hearty grip. And the mother's face is shining as he the good that you can ; kisses the baby's lip. Only don't break up the peace of their Of course they are happy to see me, homes, with a cut-and-dry plan too, for my husband's sake. Of tracts and visits and lessons, and scolding the women for dirt. Only they daintily touch me, as fearAnd tramping on everyone's toes, and ful perchance I may break. And, making ungainly curtseys, they sitting on everyone's skirt. have not a word to say ; For when you know them as I do, and But oh, I am proud to see him so loved all their sorrows and cares. in this lovingest way. The brave hearts they keep through it all, their patience, their faith, and
the prayers.
Sometimes
would
on
room.
bit,
To
of the smoke and the gloom. To teach the children a lesson, or read a page from the Book
and get rid For those on the stormy sea, they never may look on more. Then you may feel like me, halfashamed of the good you can do. To the sick man tossed on his pillow, Compared with the good you are getting from lives so human and true. or the old man propped in his nook. But he does not try, in the least, to do But try it you're better than I only mind they have hearts like your own ; any good, and yet Somehow they seemed to like him all And hearts philanthropic, at times, have the trick of the old heart of the better for it. stone." He is just like one of themselves, and talks of the weather and crops. November, 1% The ewes and gimmers and lambs, or What is it ails me now ? I hardly the luggers and nets and ropes. have written a line The take of fish, or the beds of mussels For days and weeks and months in this they have for bait, private record of mine. Or the old man's aching bones, or the I seemed to have nothing to say, and I teething baby's state. did not seem to care. Laughing and joking with all, or telling And the days have gone wearily by, a story, perhaps. though there was not a cloud in the To the children gaping around him, while grandfather nods and naps
open the window a
Hilda, Saint-Wife
I think that
is little
i6S
my
love
is
more, yet
life
life
And
and low.
the thing he
fain to write.
And
surely a fulness of
from a Can
For love
is
summer, when
all
be a-blooming and singing ; Yet none of the old things now sweet bliss are bringing. I go a-dreaming and weary, every day
be right to conceal the work he is labouring at ? should I want to sit up beside him, but he will not listen to that the old Yet rest I cannot ; I lie there, sleepit
When,
is
and feigning to sleep. in the hush of the darkness, soft to my side he will creep, Fearing to rouse me lying, broad awake, all through the hours.
less,
duty that once I Watching the moonbeams flitting, or hearing the patter of showers, Tripping and singing, light-hearted, all The grey owl screech to the bat, or through the hours of the day. the moan of the throbbing sea. Everything burdens me now ; and I Or puzzling over the house-books, could cry at a kiss which will not come right with me. From the dear lips that I love so are not rich, and, maybe, I do not What is the meaning of this ? keep house as I might. I am not unhappy ; at least, I have Though I want to be thrifty, and debt nothing to make me is a thing that I hate outright and yet gladness is broken and dashed, and Still there is waste, no doubt, and he comes by the mood and the fit has a right to complain, I weep when I'm left alone ; and when And maids are so careless, and break he comes home, there are tears things that cannot be mended again ; That mix with the smile of my greeting, And will have their young men comand fill him with fond, loving fears. ing : and how can I say them nay. 1 want to be cheerful and happy, I When I recall how I longed to see want to be busy and good. him at evening grey ? Yet I lounge through the day, doing I scrimp and save, and, at times, I am nothing, and plain like the dove in almost weary of life the wood. It would have been better for him had What can it be ? And my ring, too, he married a managing wife. will slip to my finger-tip. Yet all my cares were as nothing it And it gives me a catch in the throat, only my husband were right. and a pain, and a quivering lip : If he were not so silent by day, if he I know it is silly, and yet I cannot get were not so dreamy at night. rid of the fear Cared for things in the house as he That his love may grow loose as my cared for them once on a time. ring, and be lost while I think it is Sat by my side in the evenings, and here. made my life sweet and sublime, Did he not joke at my questions wife is not meant for sport, I wonder if every student sits brooding Always put off with a jest ; and jesting
Of commonplace
We
My
is
;
;
66
and I For oh he loves me, loves me, ever so tender and true Only the hunger of love ever breeds And yet if he loves not God, too, dream-visions of pain. what shall my poor heart do ? What is he always writing!' Somehate myself
when
I complain,
December,
?
Last night we went to Thorshaven ; and the things that I heard and saw Of falling away from the Faith, and Of the " work " now going on there the way which his fathers trod. have filled me with wonder and awe. And, as the minister told us, out of I had been told of their meetings, and the hand of God ? how they rarely would cease Rarely he goes to Church, though he Till many were conscience-stricken, tells me I ought to go, and many were filled with peace When the kirk-bells on the Sabbath How the whole village was changed are chiming soft and low its drunkards sober and calm. " You have your window," he says, Lips that were wont to blaspheme now " for outlook on all the vast. thrilling the air with a psalm ; Dim, everlasting hills, and the shadows Boats were launched with a prayer, on earth they cast, and the oars were timed to a hymn ; The old church-window that shines And when the lines were set, or the with white-winged angel forms. ropes and the sails were trim, And martyred saints they are bearing Someone took up the tale of the fishers from earth's most bitter storms ; on Galilee, And life would be dark to you, And told how the Lord drew nigh to dear, lacking them walking over the sea. the light that it brings. These were the marvels I heard, and Even though the cobwebs dim the oh my heart longed to be there Where the good Spirit was working, aureoles now, and the wings. I have my outlook too, but not so and grace was like dew in the air pretty as yours Dropping on thirsty grass, and making With dreams of the saintly souls, and it live anew. the love that all endures ; Maybe my husband, beholding, would Colder my light and harder, but see that the Gospel was true Maybe his soul would be touched clearer, at least, to me. and maybe my own dull faith For cobwebbed angels somehow help Would be refreshed and revived, for it not my vision to see. But to the same Eternal, we look for seemed at the point of death. The night was starry and cold, but the breaking day Of an age that is surely coming, when just a night for a walk. shadows shall flee away." Brisk, in the tingling air ; and at first
What,
what,
if
am
was
fain to talk.
though mean.
hardly
know what
may
they His coming had made me so glad then, only my thoughts would not rest,
twitter around their nest.
And
truth
which
my
; ;
Hilda, Saint-Wife
167
And
then skim
away
to the river,
and
He
beetle-
Clear in the glassy calm, which they flick with their wings as they fly
So would
chatter a
little
our village the folk, and by His voice half saying, half singing the
faithful message he bore. and by thought was away To the village perched on the cliff, Weirdly and hoarse, like the waves that were crashing down on the and the people there gathered to
pray.
shore.
was not aught that he said he was man. On by the beetling crags, till we came Earnest, I thought, and acquainted with God and the wonderful Plan to a low rude shed. Roofed with the upturned hull of a Of saving by surety of Him who hung for our sins on the cross. wreck that had drifted ashore. Battered by surf on the shingle there And tasted death for our guilt, that we might have gain in His loss for a month and more plain, blunt man, not a scholar Gallantly once she had ridden the sometimes his sayings were odd. waves, and the tempest braved, And true hearts then had been lost in Nor could I help a smile though he spake of the great thoughts of her ; now in her wreck they were
So
arm
in
It
arm, swiftly
we
sped
saved.
God;
it
;
But of the fisher-folk no one smiled, let him say what he would Singing a hymn that blended well with It was not a season for laughter, nor were they at all in the mood. the wash of the tide wail of sorrow for sin, that swelled " The strength of sin is the law," he
there
;
said ; " it is like the tree hope ; heard some one praying, but Serpents take for a purchase in lands caught not the words nor the scope. where the serpents be For many were sobbing aloud ; we Clean and straight is its trunk, as the squeezed a little way in. law too is right in its scope. Under a guttering candle stuck in a Slippery the coils and the folds round sconce of tin, its bark that are twined like a rope. The flame blown about by the wind, Crushing each bone of its victim, and grinding the life out, within and shedding uncertain light Down on rough weather-beat faces. So is the purchase of Law, for breakto a yearning
Then
Clear and cold was the night Outside, the passionless moon and the
quiet stars
;
Oh how
feeble
in
but here.
its terrible
grip
Oh
Law
Oh what
Throng
a peace, at
last,
that folded
street,
saw the
wings on a calm
of
spirits
and
i58
know,
cunningest art by a
light as the
Carved with
wise
his
Then
another
Greek
ages ago,
But there to save His children the In her thin nostril, it seemed, and Father was wrestling grim, pallid and cold as death Here, as the serpent gripped them, I thought she was gone, till at length they were all worshipping Him. a smile of serenest grace Yes, I have seen the old serpent, the Broke on her lips, and beamed all
;
he had not a hoof or a horn, or She was the first to find Peace, and a tail to whisk at the flies ; she said, " I have seen my love ; Old men were buying his curses, He's not in the depths of the ocean, children were taking his fire but high in the heavens above Home to their mothers in bottles, as His head is not twined round with briskly as hell could desire. tangles, but wreathed with a wreath Busy he is at Thorshaven, sails in your of palm. luggers with you. And lo in his hand is a harp, and Never a boat goes to sea but the devil loud in his mouth is a psalm." is one of the crew ; (Her lover was drowned last spring, You carry him too in your creels, and and his body had never been found. he is defiling your way, Till she saw him by faith, in her With swearing and lying and cheating, trance, robed in white raiment, and and breaking the Sabbath day. crowned. And sins that I will not speak of, sins Thus it went on for hours, at first that all of you know. with the women, but then. But oh the blood of the Lamb, it will Ere long, the power and the wonder wash you whiter than snow." smote the strong hearts of the men Always he came back to that, the Awed and amazed I stood, unable to blood that was shed for sin, stir from the place, Cleansing our way on the earth, and Sometimes thinking my heart might purging the soul within ; be touched by its marvellous grace, He showed to me all my guilt, he Sometimes feeling my flesh creep at
!
And
showed me the love of God an unearthly voice. Until I wept at the plague of my heart, Sometimes thrilling to hear their songs and the way I had trod, who for joy did rejoice. And the pity that sought me out, and At length there fell a great calm, and the grace that died for me ; the lights were glimmering dim, And all were sobbing and swaying And the moon was low in the heaven, about like the waves of the sea. when we sang the parting hymn. Then one dropped on the floor, and writhed in a foaming fit " Glory to God," cried the preacher, On the way homeward I said, " Surely " He'll snaffle the fiend with his bit; the Lord was there " ; Let her alone ; while the devil is And he, "No doubt, and up in yon star too, and everywhere ; wrestling with her we will pray ;
169
Hilda, Saint-Wife
Hard to
derful
say
?
where
He
is
not.
Won-
he was
Yes, I admit
it
of a poet.
Why,
I have wondered for hours at a flower, or a lichened stone, writ for our marriage-day, Or star-moss red on the heath, or a " Orange-blossoms " he calls them, star-fish dry as a bone wreath for a wedding gay." On the grey shore, till the tide-wave I do not know that I care for poems though hymns are sweet brought back the pulses of life. But does not yon queer evangelist I do not want to be talked of, or sung
in secret, and hoping that no one would know it. So then he brought me some poems,
"A
tell
some day
in the street.
Done them some good, you think ? And at the time I was plagued with Ah well, we will hope so at least; these horrible tradesmen's books. God is a chemist who works with And maybe my words were dry, and
!
stuff that
would sicken
a priest.
girl
listless also
my
looks.
verses, I
bills
!
I think
lover
it
whose They
was drowned at sea. Gave her some comfort she needed " but it would not do good to me
!
are nice
enough
fancy
And
he
just laughs at
it
my
of
trouble,
and
calls
Thus
he
still
faithless
bakers
and
always
Unworthy
sound divines.
December J 18
Now
know why he
sits
so late and
And why
that
his
shadow
falls
Which
sudden haze
all
ORANGE BLOSSOMS
with a dream-like fix^d eye. Seeing not what we see, for the outer vision is dim. It was the gloaming of the day. As he looks on a world unseen, and And first pale glimmer of the moon.
hears it singing to him. The fishing-boats were in the bay. Often it filled me with fear, for I And to and fro they seemed to sway. thought he was wroth with me ; Rhythmic, to a mystic tune, But he is not angry at all only trying, In the pale glimmer of the moon. he says, to see
Thoughts
that are hard to get at, and sat us on a thymy bank, hardly worth getting when done ; Wheresea-pink and the wild-rosegrew. But the fool's habit of dreaming he And blue campanulas were rank. learnt when living alone ; And wild geranium blossoms drank
We
170
Red
And And
And
used to drip
in its grip.
fronting us the broad sea-sand crew, Spread, ribbed and freckled, to the spray Chanticleer at barn-door Geese were gobbling 'mong the stubble, Crisp-curving to the curving land.
plashing on the pebbly strand Beyond, the vague, vast waters lay Lazily heaving in the bay.
in circles round me flew, Barking loud at its shadow-double. And ploughed the crisp frost with his
My dog
nose
cluttering partridge
With
laughter,
as
the
small
waves
rose.
broke
I heard their laughter and their speech
Crowding
sheep
Nibbled by the bridled brook. Though fear and trouble in me woke The hare pricked up her ears to leap Like the waves surging as they broke. Behind the ricks to a quiet nook. Knee-deep in straw the black ox lowed. I told my love, and for a space His every breath like a steaming cloud. She gazed out far away from me.
throbbing heart,
how
lit
still
the place
?
Was
Or
her face
but the
the sea
Jenny, looking tossed and tumbled, Stept out with her milking-pails
To
me
before
to tell.
You
And
For
that
that I also
knew
before
The
But I laughed
It did not
tell.
bleak
November morning
bare,
chill.
Winter in the world I find Love, my life is filled with thee. And all is summer now with me.
;
!
ripe
my window
And
ran
A twitter
With
white,
borne
The
fields
snow.
The
The
poet
now
More
171
Hilda, Saint-Wife
We
wandered in a dreamland fair, At large on the shopkeeping world, Beside the huge, coiled willow trees, exempt from all action at law ; Discoursing of a life to please Honouring bakers and butchers enough The Man who took our grief and care. by eating their things ; For angels pay not a jot for repairing Not ours the dull, ignoble ease the plumes of their wings. Of cushioned seats, or routs and balls, And bees are not charged by the Brain-dulling dinners, civil calls, flowers they visit for tapping the And poor respectabilities ; honey I am not quite sure what he means, but Not ours to care for marble halls I know he is loose about money. modest home, and frugal fare. May, 18 With love for cobwebbed wines and
rare.
Sick
am
sure death
is
;
coming
And
never have
Such giddy sinkings and swimmings, and fainting away into bliss
!
ours.
Life
in the
swooning of
life,
as if the
And And
pious use of
all
our powers,
knowledge,
all
soul fluttered within. Panting, exhausted, in hope to escape from the body of sin
!
Knew
the
beasts
O my
life
heart so unquiet,
?
why
flowers
And with our best we'd serve the Best, And in His goodness find our rest,
Untroubled through the years and hours.
April, 1%
Clinging to this
ing from
These were the first of the poems he read to me up in my room By and by others came, soon, like the coming of spring with its bloom
;
And we
are rich
now and
happy, and
;
do
keep them
all
in a
;
life of trouble, shrinkof the blest Better to be with Jesus yet husband and home too are dear ; And oh if my love be a sin, I cannot help sinning, I fear. All other idols are broken, this one I never can break. Could I be shut out of heaven because of the heaven that I make Out of my true love to him, and out of his great love to me. Arching as deep blue sky still over a deep blue sea ?
!
them
often alone
when If this be
fain
death, as I take
I do.
it,
one thing
critical tone.
would
for now I Ere I go hence to the world where all nobody's debtor. things are made new : Paying odd things with a verse which Again with my husband I'd walk, on he writes me as fast as a letter. the quiet Sabbath day, He laughs at me, vowing that poets When bells from the old kirk chiming should never pay bills, but draw call Christian souls to pray.
am
;!
172
Down
the house of the Lord Leading his flock to stUl waters as through the clover-scented meads father leadeth his child. Under the high - arched roof there That day of all days, to preach terrors meekly to sit by his side. of wrath and hell. In love to remember the Love that Darkening God's house with the bled for us once and died. smoke of those in the pit that dwell ? Oh it were good to think, if I should Oh it was dreadful to listen The be taken from him. very Psalms that he chose That once we sat there together, where Rung in the ear like curses hurled at falls the light chastened and dim the heads of foes ; Through the tall thin-shafted windows, The prayers were dry and dewless, and on hallowed, bread and wine. hard ; and my heart grew sick. And vows that we vowed together, of To glance at my husband's face with life for the love divine. its curious laughing trick I cannot die till we do it : God would I knew, in that furtive glance, that my not call me hence, hope was worse than lost, broken life and unfinished, with a And that, in my effort to save, I had fruitless influence. perilled and harmed him most. Pained there we sat in our pews, the June 18 victims of one man's mood. Ah me we plot and plan, but the And vainly tried to be patient ; and great God orders all vainly tried to be good And that is not good to Him, which E'en the sweet symbols of sorrow and good we are fain to call. love of the Crucified Oh how I longed and hoped for the Failed to lighten the gloom, for he high communion day took not his place by my side. Oh how my heart leaped up when he Never I sat at the Table so barren of did not say me nay grace as then. Oh how I prayed, and was glad and Joyless and undevout, and wroth at tremulous through the Fast the thoughts of men. Oh how happy I was, with my hand I had brought to the living water a thirsting soul with care. on his arm, at last. As gravely we paced together, down And there was no living water, but a by the broomy brae. broken cistern there. Along by the sweet-briar hedge, and the clover-scented way. All the maids robed in white, and the When we came home he sat alone in his room for a while ; men in their sober black, Sweet birds a-singing, and sweet bells But all that night he was gentle ; and said, at last, with a smile, ringing ; and Paradise back Better I never had spoken ; better he "You want to know what I think of our minister's work to-day ; had not gone Better a yearning sorrow than a heart But shrink to ask me outright, for the wild words you fear I may say. that is turned to stone
! :
',
Hilda, Saint-Wife
173
Why
dark moment of Time when must cease to be. So did the parson, no doubt, if he But will you hear what I thought as only had understood that sermon thundered on. The right way of going about it. He With lurid flashes of horror, and God's made a mistake ; that is all ; heart turned to stone ? Hell is the weak point, you see, and a
should you dread me, Hilda
to
?
Any
You wished
do
me some good
Hope
cleverer general
Were
where So then he read to me this " Otherworld ballad " he calls it But he is honest, and plays his tune by Of the meek soul that for love heeds the regular score. not what sorrow befalls it. You are vexed that I happened to hear Heeds not the bliss and the glory, but only that loud devil's chorus longs for them that are lying Very well done by the way which Dim in the outer darkness, tossed in
fain to conceal the spot
him
sore
brought
all
When
you had hoped to have only the lyric of love and endurance,
What
can I think of
it ?
what
who
will guide
Swelling out high, at the close, to the Me, a in the joy and the hope and assurance. straight pathway of Light ? But it is all of a piece, love, whether Sometimes it rings in my ear as deadly you like it or no, as error could be All of it close-knit together ; branched, Sometimes I feel in my heart it is true but the branches grow as the gospel to me, Out of the same deep root. I heard thing I would do, myself, just then but the part of a whole ; when my faith is most. I know that the chorus needed the As I remember the love that suffered lyric to melt the soul, to save the lost. The lyric implies, too, the chorus But through the years and the ages, whichever you chance to hear, the Church, unchanging, cries. Always the other is present to fill the Sad are the foolish virgins, and glad heart or the ear. for ever the wise.
not an unbeliever, love ; only I Dare I trust my heart's voice against cannot wink the voice of the whole ? At things I had rather not see, and Yet should the roar of the crowd ever thoughts I had rather not think ; drown the true voice of the soul ? Does it not seem, too, an odd way of Oh, if clear it were only quickening love and faith. Picturing wrath that refuses e'en the
I
am
THE SELF-EXILED
The
of God, the There came a soul to the gate of Heaven and pray ; The better I seem to know Him, the Gliding slow broader appears the way soul that was ransomed and forgiven. God and charity grow together ; and And white as snow
higher
vision
my
more
I can trust
I cannot see
And
the angels
all
were
silent.
: :
174
may
not pass
bitter pain,
A mystic shade
And
As
So
the angels
all
maid To where they be, there lay on its tender grace Though the wail of their
radiant
:
alas
silent.
were
And
sunlit clouds
silent.
by a zephyr borne
stir,
Seem
not to
may
not speak
distraught
morn
My
soul's desire
They
And
"
are
lying
fire
"
Now I'll open the gate, and let her in, And the
wide. she hath been cleansed from stain
fling it
all
were
silent.
And
For
"
also another
of sin,"
St. Peter cried
Whom
What
if,
I loved well
And
the angels
I
all
were
silent
other
"Though
am
cleansed
from
stain
And
"
"
my
praise
to enter in.
Nor may
And
the angels
all
go " : were
Would
warps
silent.
Of their
"
?
"I come,"
door.
And
she said,
the angels
were
silent.
"
see the
loved
who
?
are sorrow-
To
Where
Floor,
Throne
on the Sapphire
sits
the
Lamb
alone
all
And And
"
yet be glad
I
With God
While
am sad?"
all
And
"
I
the angels
were
silent.
the angels
were
silent.
come
to hear the
sing
To Him
And
And
" But
spring
that died.
note where
the
healing waters
Oh clear as glass is the golden street Of the city fair. And the tree of life it maketh sweet
The
lightsome air"
all
:
From His
the angels
I
pierced side
all
"
And
:
the angels
were
silent.
were
silent.
"And
their
saints
with
may not
Are good
"For
I must go
And
:
Across the gulf where the guilty dead Lie in their woe " And the angels all were silent.
psalms
But not
for
me "
And
the angels
all
were
silent.
Hilda, Saint-Wife
"
175
come where
there
is
no night," she
176
Sometimes I try to think, oh, what a Trusting to pick up a husband somejoy to have given where away in the bush, Child of mine to the host that serve Or, maybe, to set up a school, or to and praise in heaven open a shop at a push. He did not need to be christened, his May Grant, the wildest of us, has robes were clean and white, married a Low Church vicar. Touching the earth but a moment, he Who holds by the orthodox faith, and passed to the realm of light. port as the orthodox liquor ; Sometimes I shudder to think of the While Helen, her sister, is all for earth and the little grave chasubles, roods, and stoles, Under the great church tower where Liftings and bowings, and Catholic the budding poplars wave. manner of saving souls my baby, my baby whether in Elphie Deering has sold herself to a heaven or there. widower. Why am I here, and my baby left And drives in her carriage past his son with no mother's care ? who once courted her 1 thought I was dying at one time Others are strumming pianos, or would I were dying to-day working in Berlin wools
!
O my
baby,
how
?
could
the youthful fools she was jilted Lizzie Morrit is dead August, 18 by a dragoon. Winnie has come : my husband When all her fortune appeared to be thought it might cheer me a bit. railway shares in the moon. Having an old friend near me, clever Winnie is clever, but sharp and and sparkling with wit. sarcastic ; and lays herself out Sharing old memories with me, full of To please the men by her wit, which the gossip of town she scatters like sparks about
take thee
away
The
last
new book
or
picture,
or
No
matter
herself
smart,
if
only
And
first,
with her
With her
and gleam like wine. When we were schoolmates, and I do not quite like her way with my sauntered under the oaks and limes. husband ; but all the same And heard the hum of the bees, and I laugh, and she does me good, and I the hum of our future in them. really am glad that she came. Or watched the swift, brown squirrels September, 18 climbing the grey beech-stem ; Bright little pictures she cut me out of Surely Winnie is changed ; we ne'er the old school-world had been friends together, All about how we were dressed, and Had she always been ready to sting drilled, and scolded, and curled. like a wasp in October weather. And lectured ; and then she knows I think there is hardly a name she has where all the girls have gone not some story about This with her husband to India, that Of all that we knew long ago a story to New Zealand alone. suggesting a doubt.
chatter about the old times.
Hilda, Saint-Wife
Each
177
face that I used to remember as Like witches, ghosts, and miracles dreams of the slumbrous night beaming with kindly light, Is smirched with something or other, Which the great dawn of reason has and no one escapes her spite. driven away with its light Sneering with scornful laughter, turn wherever she may. All the glory is dimmed of all that Thereto my husband made answer and oh I was proud and glad ; come in her way She creeps on the noblest natures " Look you. Miss Winnie," he said, " it's your method of science that's stealthily as a cat. Now with a bite of venom, and now bad; Good for its own end, of course ; but with a wanton pat. here it is clearly at fault Leaving them not till crushed. And God is not found by the tests that one thing I cannot abide. detect you an acid or salt. The way that she flatters my husband While you search only for secrets that even when I am beside, process of science sets free. Now flopping down on her knees, and Nothing you'll find in the world, but staring up in his face. Clasping her hands, and feigning an matter to handle or see. ecstasy quite out of place ; Here is a book I am reading now Pumping up tears at his pathos, or what can your method find there ?
it, or burn it, dissect it, let microscope scan it with care What does it show you but paper and when his humour is wickedest. He is weak enough to believe her, ink and leather and thread. which makes me colder in praise, All made of chemical simples that, no doubt, you have in your head ? And I care for poetry less than I ever did all my days. But where is the thought, which is all She flatters him daily with words that the end and use of the book. are silky and soft and sleek. And which flows on through its pages And no true wife can be pleased when clear to my mind as a brook. seeing her husband weak. Rippling and singing sweet music to him that hath ears to hear ? Have you an acid will test it ? a glass 'Tis growing quite dreadful to hear that will make it all clear ? her now and then, when she speaks Or scalpel to cut it ? And yet paper Jauntily of a Faith that needs no God, and leather and ink nor seeks All are but trash, if I find not To trace His work on the earth, or the thought which the writer can follow His way on high. think. Noting His glorious footprints clear in What, now, if Spirit and God are the starry sky the thought which is written out For Nature has in herself the reason plain for all that is. On the great page of the world, And God is an unscientific, needless and your method of seeking is
Boil
Or
hypothesis,
vain
"
178
I'll
know
mine
Yet I heed not her sneering ; but oh to be once more alone, To lay my head on his shoulder, and
thrill at the old true tone house no girl shall make my life sicken and pine. Of love that cherished me once, ever When dead which may soon be petting his fond little wife, they may do what they list ; I And, making a nest for me, rounded off shall be all the angles of life. With my sweet baby, who now smiles Not that I care for petting I'm not of the March-blossom kind. out of the darkness on me ; My baby, whose soft little hands pull Best in its velvet-sheath wrapt up from
But
in
my
steadily at
my
heart,
the blustering
wind
I
To
But
Rough weather
his heart
could bear,
if
only
The is what troubles me most. time was I prayed him to read If she respected herself she might see Daily the Book where my soul found that the west and the east help in my sorest need. Are not more sundered than he from a Light when my day was dark, and
this is my home while I live, none shall bring trouble to it And he is my own while I live, she, with her saucy wit. Shall not come between him and me. That
were true and Unto the love he once bore me, and unto the God he once knew. and
He
woman who
stings
and pricks
strength to
my
fainting will,
of wit, but he Comfort in time of trouble, and healing sees through all of her tricks. from every ill. dread so much I know what is due to a wife ; she Now there is nothing thinks me a poor, silly fool, as a text from him. But I can be dignified too, and I don't It is as if all the old stars of heaven
laughs at her
sallies
He
mean to sit down and pule. were changed and dim, Only last evening my ring slipped from Were not in their old places, and had
my
finger,
and ran
chair
Under her
my
how
put
it,
spirit the dews which gave it a gladness intense. before Changed is the meaning of all, though he keeps to the words and names
thin
Nor dropt on my
it
fitted her,
They
are
new
now
now
Just as if
this
meant
was
my
And They
are
sings
How
in
can she
sit
by
my
?
fire,
and smile
And
strange
is
my
now
!
it is dreadful, a woman who has " Lo as the rod of Aaron," he says, innuendoes and arts. "to minds perplexed And looks so simple and eweet, while The critical art brings water e'en out of the flintiest text. she is breaking hearts.
Oh
; ;
Hilda, Saint-Wife
179
Clears a
way through
which
I very
much
doubt,
And
quickens anew to life the faith It is in this new resurrection the critics would fain bring about, that was well-nigh dead." But when I'm fain to learn the faith he Laying aside the grave-clothes,
is
fain to boast,
Oh
No
but
it
God
dogma, miracle, myth. All the dust that the ages have covered
and died, Loved and loving and worshipped, and hated and crucified." the wages of sin No more is there a curse now crucified So does she cap his wild words with others more wild, and a sneer on the tree No more any Redeemer, nor ransom Hardens her voice as she speaks, and grates on my heart while I hear. paid for me. Nothing is as it used to be ; nothing is November 18 what it seems Nothing says what it used to say ; and Winnie has left us at length. I had the old Faiths are all dreams some trouble about it Blindly the saints read the Scriptures, He laughed at her flattery, vowing he hardly could live now without it, and like dotards obeyed them They've taken away my Lord, and I Called her a nice little goose, his Caberfae, with the head, know not where they have laid Him Brown, of a startled deer just raised Now when I say this to him^ he laughs from its ferny bed ; And not a thing would he do, and in his good-humoured way, Putting me off with a jest, as one with never a word would he say It was no business of his ; the girl a child might play. Which is not fair to his wife, however might go or stay silly I be, He would have nothing to do with it And I am no fool, although I be not women had ways of their own, so clever as he. No man could venture on trying, of But Winnie, seeing me vexed thus, letting their wishes be known. silently smiles where she sits, He trusted I did not think his heretic Turning her eyebrows up, and sharpenheart was smit ing her scornful wits, By a girl, because her tongue had a Adding perhaps, by and by, " Ye trick of heretical wit buried your Lord in a creed. Sure, he was sound in heart, whatever Dark as the Golgotha tomb, and there his head might be ; He lay dead, indeed And, if not very devout, he was devoted Should you complain that He is not to me ; there for you still to embalm And held to the saying of Paul as the With unguents and spices, the while strong hope of his life. ye praise your dead Christ in a That maybe the faithless husband was psalm ? saved by the faith of his wife.
as
^
speaking to men not lost more the gate is strait, nor heaven is hard to win, No more the world is fallen, nor death
the simple
man
He lived
i8o
is the way that he speaks now, Till the slighting of him made me always with some poor jest, wroth, as a wife should be. Leaving a text in the mouth with a Pity I lost my temper ; but, all the strange and a bitter taste. same, truly I would So he left me that morning. Oh, how Lose it to-morrow again if they say of my heart beat wild him aught but good. As I went into my room, and prayed Altogether it was a weary and heartto be kept then meek and mild, less day, Speaking the truth in love ; and I said But there is light towards evening, and to myself a psalm peace, too, for she is away. That nerved my soul to be patient, and
That
dignified too
and calm.
followed.
tell
;
Hardly
know what
BOOK THIRD
meant to be
And
for her
own
sake
it
her
the
my mind
only,
Winnie
wrath.
Made
on the mind.
And
And And
Just
I met Hilda Dalguise, thought her enchantingly fair. With drops of blue heaven for her
was there
eyes,
bands of sunbeams for her hair. the form of a dainty, round dove
made
part in his genius, meeting I was not of the gushing-girl sort no play of his wit. My soul with ambition was fired. Standing outside of his true life, only a My tongue something sharp at retort. And the people were few I admired drag upon it Vain and weak as he was, had he met And I know I detested a saint but a woman of mind More than gambling and powder and He yet might have run in the race, paint. but now he is left far behind. Thus she broke out in her wrath, and Yet I once had a fit of devotion. packing her boxes the while, And worked in the Sunday school. Stole a look as she stabbed me, hiding And whipt up a frothy emotion. And prayed, and behaved like a fool a venomous smile. Furtive; but I was heedless of all Till ray eyes were opened to see I was growing a small Pharisee. that she said about me.
:
Having no
:;
i8i
How
What
much
Some whine for their childhood again. Some pine for the quiet of heaven
:
Now to kiss her, for love, anywhere. To pat her soft hand, or be near
The
pink, pearly shell of her ear.
But
my
tent,
it
have no mind
to
strike
it.
Sweet-breath'd as a baby, her mind Old Prinkle I took for a prude. With her hands in her black threadSmelt all of the mother's milk still Infant prayers, childish hymns, and mits, the blind. Chap-fingered, and painfully good, Yet half-scared out of her wits Pretty faiths they are fain to instil And she seemed, in her white, fluffy And at first I could not make out
dress.
What
caress.
'Twas not the mere burden of care For a score of commonplace girls,
Knowing life as I thought that I did. With her pure soul as yet undefiled, Always doing the thing she was bid.
and
their
And believing all hearts were as true With their As the one little heart that she knew. laughter,
'Twas her
was just a year older than she, But twenty years older in thought She hardly knew more than the bee That wots where the honey is got, Nor dreams that the great purple bell
I
morals
Has
poison hid in
it
as well.
But parents and guardians then wanted. For girls at a " Finishing School," The old wine of Faith well decanted Into flasks which must also be full Of the world, and of woman's ambition
To
Yet now I'm not sure that I knew So very much more than she did
:
So she had
to
be worldly-wise,
;
There's an
is
true,
And
I
for
all
Which
deeper than such wit as then For the earthly young soul must be life and of men. given I was young, and I thought myself At least a top-dressing of Heaven. old;
is
And train us for " marrying well " And she had to put on a disguise. And warn us of Death, too, and Hell
had gathered of
fool,
I ran
my
That
me wise ; 'Twas against the grain, I admit, crude thoughts in a mould For she'd fain have beenhonestandtrue shaped the crude thoughts She had neither much culture nor wit,
and conceited
into lies
With
She was simply a woman that knew About womanly ways and things.
grief.
In a world
of baseness and
Such
as colours
rings.
l82
just, And taught us to wet our hard pillows But timid, and living in ways At the lightest of light peccadilloes. She would never have chosen, but must, If she meant to live out all her days Oh, the old-maiden morals we had, In the highly respectable station So scrupulous, prim, and demure
!
Of finishing
sound education.
What
Our
Not a person to train the young mind, For she was not at all intellectual.
And
All
oft
its efforts
were quite
ineffectual
the
To
fix
Or show
Which
felt as if
boiled in a copper
To take all the flavour away Thus, when sermon was over at noon And the colourless paragraphs writ On Sunday, she'd question us on it But her speech would wander off soon Without reason or fancy or wit To a ribbon, a gown, or a bonnet Yet the poems were worse ; they Or anything pretty or new were so She had seen in the minister's pew.
Lack-a-daisical pretty-sublime.
She used to bubble and bell About ladylike manners and ways.
In soft purling accents that well Suggested her own brighter days ; Then sighed and looked timid about. As if sure that she should be found out.
Spurting upward in little jets d'eau To fall with a musical chime ; And we mouthed the sweet verses,
Good Heavens
How
Then
we mouthed,
all
at
sixes
and
And Was
the darning
Lane,
as
stitching.
Who
snow
The
When it thaws in the drizzle of rain. The Berlin-wool figures bewitching. And sharp-eyed, and wanted the school. And the wonderful trees that we And held our dear Prinkle a fool. made.
Lane had laws
for all that
we
did.
And
hour of the day ; This and that we were strictly forbid. So and so we were always to say ; And we lived, like nuns in their cells, 'Mid an hourly ringing of bells.
for every
And
Till
the
scales
that
we
practised
for hours.
we
And
With
like flowers.
We
On
never did any great wrong. Such as schoolboys would do on a hint And therefore she had to be strong
the tithing of anise and mint
teas.
music, charades, and advices, While the parents had biscuits and
;;
183
French was taught by a starved refugee But Hilda you could not help loving She was not too prosily pious ; And a student, who stormed like And often our ways disapproving. the sea. Yet she always stood faithfully by us ; Administered globules of science And did not pretend to condemn Well wrapt up in texts to make sure Earthly things, while she coveted them. That the bane should have always its cure. She was not at all clever, except That she warbled a song like a bird And thus we were " finished " at last You'd have sat through a whole night, On principles strictly religious. and wept Made ready " to come out " and cast In a trance of delight, as you heard
Our
lines in the
ocean prodigious
The
thrill
of that exquisite
strain.
And begin the true business of life. To find some one in want of a wife.
I
Like the
Why do I dwell on all this, Recalling those tender, low notes ? do not blame Prinkle the least She did what they asked her to do And why would I give for one kiss They did not wish knowledge increased Of her lips all my long-treasured thoughts ? Of the wise and the right and the true But they would have a gloss of devotion Pshaw who ever yet understood On girls who had not a notion. The why of each whimsical mood ?
; !
Except
just to
marry and
dress,
Besides,
it's
not true
it is
only
And
to see to their
dinners,
And And
live
on
in soft idleness,
call
on Sunday to
sinners,
my mind, as I sit rather lonely Recalling the days that are gone themselves But now is far better than then. For I live in the thoughts of great men.
When
" Life
good, and
I'll
seek
my
good
They were
Hilda;
all
odious
girls,
except
in it;
if my hand and my head Cannot work for success there, and win it But I have not much beauty to boast,
'Twill go hard
pest
Amelia, Joan, and the rest For her conscience was sure to forbid Many things that we all of us did.
I never liked saints, as a rule,
I shall ne'er be a
"
belle
"
or a
" toast."
Always flapping
eyes and the forehead might pass. For they were an intelligent creature's ; be dree'd in that sulphurous place Meanwhile they do no good in this. But the mouth had a sneer rather bitter. As they strain at their glamour of bliss. When a young-lady simper were fitter. dule
The
To
184
But
my
brains
could trust to
to write,
for
thinking,
My
fingers
were clever
I had " finished " my education. But I found it was now to begin For formless and void as creation,
And And
For
I
thus
when my
heart was
half
With
sinking,
It rose again higher in
On
might
and gold.
that I
the
how
I should do.
vowed
treasures of silver
So I read from morning till night. Brows knit, and with resolute brain.
Till darkness turned slowly to light
do not
affect to despise
The
With
riches that
make
full life.
pictures
fair eyes,
Yet For
Till
it
I passed not a
it
pain. a jot.
treasure of thought.
A mansion, a maid,
But
it's
The
right path
And
And,
not the same thing to be sold, perhaps, to be laid on the shelf,
to have
chattels
and to hold and goods for yourself; And, besides, I was tired of the way Then the first thing I learnt was, Men talked, who had nothing to say. to know I had everything yet to learn So I gave up the young-lady life. To begin with the taproots that grow The novels, the calls, and the moping. In the life we can faintly discern. And the hope to be somebody's wife. And trace from the great mother-earth And the cherished girl-dream of The growth of our thought and
it is
As
in mist metaphysical haze. Till I went up to town, and began The true science-study of man.
Of a dim
These
eloping.
our worth.
dull
Or
Unlike the
I said.
commonplace
thing.
It
was
to an uncle I
went,
Whose
as
Though
theirs
minds
be
as
subtle
In converse with
men of renown.
alliance
For they train the high Reason to While we put on fantastical airs.
see,
science.
And
Our
of
the
small
and the
great.
But I would be
true to
my
sex.
They spoke of the near and the far. They searched the dim secrets
of
Would learn with the boldest to think, Fate, Would grapple with things that perplex. They traced through the fire-mist Would stand on the verge and the brink and star Where the seen and the unseen are met. The growth of the marvellous Whole,
There
to gather
what
And
birth of the
soul.
i8S
They They
To
asked for no God to explain, All realms of dear nature I sought. asked but slow shaping of time Far and near, both the vast and minute, account for the thought in the What from depths of the sea had been
brought,
brain,
And the conscience of duty and crime. What had lain in the rocks at the root And the rich, varied life of the creature, Of the hills, and the dead and alive
With
its
What
a world of high
all
wonder was
this,
!
Growing Crowned
bliss
at length
Of life in the earth and the ocean And all by the pure force of law,
Without error or
failure or flaw
!
The treasures my patience had stored, And talked with a simper to me Of the wonderful works of the Lord, And the beautiful butterfly wings. And the fishes andinsectsand "things."
They knew
not the thoughts that I
So
I turned to
I had tasted it But I broke up that foolish alliance. Seeking truth, and the truth does not need Poor safeguards of faith to secure That the heart shall be humble and pure.
thought.
They dreamed not the visions I saw, They wist not that, still as I wrought
In the footsteps of
infinite
law,
Their creeds seemed as vanishing cloud Which had wrapped the dead mind in
a shroud.
Truth only is good for the, soul. Truth only is safe to pursue. And Truth will her secrets unroll But to him who is fearless and true.
How
I
now
knew
high priests of nature serene.
but the clear and the true,
The
Who sought
Where
a
And
will
search
out
the fact
is
with
his test.
And the law which for ever hath been. And scorned every meaningless phrase
lie lay,
the reason
best.
perdue, in a haze.
I thought how they spent their rich clear courage of truth, lives, plunged into H'ackel at once ; The way was not easy and smooth Sweeping heaven for lost links in the stars, As they make ways in England and Or brooding o'er bees in their hives. France Or watching the ants in their wars. But then it was thorough, and that Or peering with keen microscope Was the end I was fain to be at.
had the
And
Where
had the key, Or freezing through chill Arctic And gathered up fact and example winters, How the world opened up unto me As knowledge grew lucid and ample Ice-bound in the Polar sea, Or daring wild beasts and adventures I hewed through the jungle a way For a tropical bird or a tree From the dark into clearness of day.
I toiled
How
now
that I
; ;; ;
i86
While
wheezy and
fat,
Not
And
The
Where
a lapse, but a law of survival. the fittest treads down its weak
rival.
and martyrs, I said. we keep wrapping our Of our new modern world are these Poor fools They have struggled and suffered minds and bled, In the old tattered rags of the Jew, They have sought neither honour And shiver and shake as fresh winds. Cloud-driving, make larger our view nor ease. But they lead the great march in And we draw our rags closer about.
;
!
the van
Though
doubt.
the faith
be as chill as the
Of
But
this
is
They gather, which surely declare The law which all beings fulfil. And how through all ages they fare From the cell to the organ, and soar
Ever up from the
less to
Can save from the fever and fret. That the high law changeth for none. That it holds all enmeshed in its net.
And
the more.
How my bosom
swelled high as I rose And life is the fuller for each To the height of that formative thought. Whose death makes it richer for all And saw the dim fire-mist disclose Immortal the race, bound to reach
The worlds when as yet they were not. Ever onward but singly we fall And the life which was one day to Into dim silent graves on the road. flower As the weary soul lays down its load. From its subtle and manifold power.
;
silent graves
by the way
What
a
it
there
How
being in one.
the footprints of progress for man And we are not so selfish as they
Are
The tree and the bird in the air, Who only will die, if they can And the lichen that tints the grey stone. Hope to knit up again from the dead And the coral that builds the wild reef. The old tangled hank of their thread.
With man and
his glory and grief!
for
we know
That
grow.
plotting
will
But we
in,
They
have
When Eve
But
of
sin.
live.
truth, searching out the old myths. Sees growth evermore going on, And, breaking old fetters like wyths. Finds death when no sin could be done
We work for the good of the whole We work, and the rest cometh soon We work with no fear for the soul We work in a light as of noon
;
187
And
Of
be
Even
so
ours
the
long
drowsy
grass
and the
flowers.
As I walked in the law and the light And so was I not very sad When I wandered at times from the
right
We have faith
the mist
we have
passed from
And And
Of doubt and
kissed
realms that are I did not sin and repent. And then fall a-sinning again. By the sunshine of certainty clear ; As if conscience were properly meant And the great thought of duty is To keep up a blister of pain ; But I tried to walk in the truth. freed From the dross of a self-seeking creed. And to lose not a joy of my youth.
calm
Oh
the gladness I
had
as this
grew
They
That
Into clearness now day after day At first, I shrank back from the new.
Startling thoughts that
play.
it
Makes
say that a vanishing creed the heart very weary and sad.
its
wounds
must
open
and
brought into
that
it
bleed.
That
courage
And And
the
of
it
truth
needed,
the loneliness as
its ways must be evil and bad But I ne'er was in happier mood. Nor so true to the right and the good.
proceeded.
just then, I heard, by the ; way. That Hilda was wedded, and wrote I flung off the shivering fit well-meaning letter to say As the current swept stately and wide. How it pleased me to think of her lot. And I cast myself wholly on it Reminding her, too, like a fool. And slowly the loneliness found Of a promise she gave me at school. gladsome life gathering round.
Well
But plunging,
at length, in
the tide,
No
Lay
No
I
struck
dumb
;
The
In the joy of a life that I loved ; But I fancy she did not just care To be kissed and " honeyed " and
had conscience
course.
prompt me,
of
But never
Till
honeymoon
sweetness
was
gone.
The
Does not
errs
who So she put me off for a year With this and the other excuse.
;
As
Or
the long swell throbs and stirs But simply, by night and by day.
Not one of them simple and clear, But all of them shifty and loose And yet when she finally sent.
;
The
needle just
tells
And
asked
me
to
visit,
I went.
i88
Then
really a
man
Not
But
And my
At
the
The
world,
and
the
men,
and the
times,
commonplace
that
was
And
The
dawning.
I cannot describe
He was not the least of a saint but I know ; country was not picturesque ; But worked, with a patient might. In the Artist's unconstraint, granite lay barren below, And a broad moor, as flat as my desk, With the Artist's frank delight Stretched inwards, and down to the In the quaint and the unexpected Moulds which his thought selected. sea
The The
There was hardly
a
bush or a tree.
Still mooning in twilight dim. His humour was just to croon Any song that was pleasing to him, Fresh words to the old, old tune,
But inside was pretty enough The rooms all so fresh and so sweet Not a jar, or a word that was rough. Not a thing but was dainty and neat. And Hilda so gentle and still. Though the meek little fool had
;
will.
He
much
take to her
had ever a kindly touch In his quips and tricks and mocks.
I did not
now
She seemed
flat,
to be stunted in growth,
A pale, sickly bloom on a bough, tasteless thing in the mouth A A chaste, cold, passionless ghost.
Weeping much
lost.
smote
With
had
the
sharp
battle-axe
of
his
for
babe she
thought.
he was a poet hardly could flatter enough And you did not need to show it. But she did not interest me ; He could swallow the rankest stuflF; She never did smack much of wit. Though he laughed at himself as he But now she was dull as the sea When the east wind blows its grey did it. haar, Yet next time he did not forbid it. As it moans on the sand and the bar. He never was thorough or strong. But fanciful only, and odd, It was always that baby, forsooth Never sure of the right and the wrong. As if blossoms had never been nipt.
I tried to cheer her a bit.
He
You
As if lambs never died in their youth, And he still would believe in And talked, with a vague As if no other babies had slipt beauty. Away to the peace of the worm Of the soul, and its hope and From life, and its trouble and storm.
God,
kind of
its
duty.
; ;
; :
; :
189
But that
am
it
For
wrote
it
all
down
day
out
Here
It
is
it is ;
and a sorry
affair
to have
made such
it
a fray
And
must be confessed
jest.
to grieve.
To make
I played
And made
on his foible awhile ; myself useful to him, giving a touch to his style,
setting his papers in trim.
JUDAS ISCARIOT
The very Prince of Darkness Came once to Heaven's gate. Where Peter and the angels
Talk together
glancing at nature to
show
it
new
to the poet.
But he never could cast off the shapes Or shallow and silly romance
And
spirit
In a very dismal
:
The
it
drapes.
Our window, and hides from our glance Then Satan " I'm in trouble. And come here to get advice The beauty of truth, and the story I've been going up and down there Of life with its wonder and glory.
think
we
be a child.
the sun
to his
And And
curtain
And they will not have this Among them at any price.
fellow
slumbers
took him first to Lamech the bloody race of Cain, But they rose in flat rebellion, That so mean a rogue should gain place with gallant fellows Who in simple wrath had slain.
And
Yet
liked
him
but
Hilda grew
jealous
"Then
thought
of
those
wild
Herods She cared not for verse or for rhyme. With their burning diadem. Except as the wind in the bellows, That brightened her hearth for the time And their spirits, ever haunted Yet she would have the whole of his By the babes of Bethlehem But they would not have the traitor heart. Coming sneaking among them. And was touchy and sniffy and tart.
And
looked to Ahab,
And the panther Jezebel As we sat the work-table around. Which his humour composed like a salad But she sprang up like a fury, It were shame unspeakable Of any green stuff that it found
'
To
oil.
Where
; ;:
go
" I'm afraid there's not a corner Into which they'll let him in
;
The common
of Galilee.
To confound them with his sin, And my people are excited, And the place is full of din."
Then Thou
Peter
:
And
" Traitor
what he
Judas,
once
my
heart
was breaking.
I lied
;
For
I
I cursed
Him, and
hearest
says,
How the
Who
Then
I wished that I
had died.
Satan,
duly.
of Days."
He He
is
me
; '
will get
it is
his
own
place
Judas answered meekly " Yea, Peter, they are right Cain and Lamech, Ahab, Herod, They were godless men of might.
And
But not so
vile as I
am
Oh
As if he had sinned the great sin Which is not atoned or forgiven. And no touch of pity can win.
Fawned not on the life she stole Ahab only smote the servants. Not the Lord who bare our dole
And
She
nobody knows what it is. But her soul sat and trembled for
said,
his.
"
It
was
And nothing but grief came of that Few may play with the devil, and win.
" Let my
horror,
Let my Let me
with Whatever the game they are at And Heaven was not surely a place For one who despaired of its grace." place be wrapt in gloom. even be hell's lone outcast.
name
be
named
With
a solitary
1 that kissed
I said,
"
It
bizarre.
betrayed
To
Him And its humour was what I liked best And I thought they were much on a par.
Who
Then
Satan: "There's the mischief, He goes whining like a saint I could keep my people quiet. But he'd have them penitent. It's as bad as if a parson
spoke, or in earnest or
souls of the
jest,
Of the
When
of dust."
Made
grow
faint."
She fired up at that " Did I mean That the soul was all one as the brain
;
Had
But, as Peter looked on Judas, Sunk in utter misery,
Lo
men of God."
!; ;
191
blamed
useful to
me
because
;
Her
look so bewildered and scared, When her anger broke out upon me, As if I had her husband ensnared In some terrible plot to disown All the gods that have ever been known.
made myself
him
But what could I do when she chose To be distant and silent and prim In truth, she was never his mate, Poor thing she was only his Fate.
! !
"
I
It
was
made
him
mock and Of
course,
he was nothing
to
me
blaspheme
Whom
"
I
him low on her than the cat been bright as a dream knee. And serve with the breath of her life Till I came with the dusk like a bat For I hated the name of the Lord, And there's nothing I ever abhorred Like a man for my Master and Lord. every true woman adored.
was impious,
false,
his wife.
My Master is science divine. and cruel My Lord is the truth that I seek. and sing My service is Freedom, and mine I would fain rob her life of the jewel Was ne'er the poor heart of the meek She prized above everything Yet all that she might have forgiven. I would lean upon none, for I live But I mocked at herGod up in heaven." On that which great Nature can give.
I could sit at her fire
Poor Hilda I give her my pity. he behaved like a man, soothe her, and smooth And I pity her husband still more ; He will rhyme away life in a ditty. matters down, She will make of her soul a heartAnd then, backing out of it, ran
Of course,
Tried to
Away
sore to some job of his own ; Religion will quarrel in time But he got me persuaded to stay When I should have at once gone away. With Romance and he'll put
;
it
in
rhyme
Was
That was weak, I confess but the place nice, and his humour was
;
And
The
pleasant.
And
there
was such a
Now
That
wife
was
not present,
With
his
leaf;
rhyme.
He
;
will
tear,
And
But her temper got worse every day Now I think of it, somebody said. She feared me, and her I despised And he still let her have her own way. That the crash had come some time ago; meekly She had either gone off, or was dead, and her, Only soothed And a poem from that was to grow, advised Which was certain to touch every heart So I left them, at last, in a trance With its feeling of fine tragic Art. Of piety, love, and romance.
192
Manichee,
blundered back to Church, and that he was orthodox, And stormed at modern thinking as the raging of the sea That cast up mire and dirt upon the
And that other to set people right On the subject of Molars and Tusks,
I think, I
He
deemed
would
What
BOOK FOURTH
everlasting rocks.
was right, although thought was so confused tangled knot of broken thrums he Evangelist and village smith,' a man could not extricate of good report. All ordered thought of reason and And cunning among cattle, known to of science he abused. all the country near, But he was full of pity, and his love Luke could make the bellows snore, was very great. and also painfully exhort. And feared the Lord, and had a new And because he was so earnest, and religion once a year. because he spoke good words He had been a Chartist leader in his Whose meaning none searched nicely, hot and hopeful youth. and because he seemed to stir Talking gunpowder and bayonets about Serious thoughts in careless hearts, as the rights of man, if he touched their higher chords. Until he got converted, when he He was sought, and he was looked to preached about the Truth, as a chosen minister. The Blood and the Atonement, the Covenant and Plan. great broad-headed fellow, working Tired of his parish kirk, he tried tlie hard through all the week. Baptists for a season, And thinking hard, the while he Tired of them, and turned a Methodist, worked, upon the fate of man. recanting all the past. He was fain to save the sinner and Tired again, and took to shady faiths the erring, and would speak that shun the ways of reason ; world about the chaff and wheat, And every change, he vowed, had and sifting with a fan. brought the peace of God at last.
yet his heart
LUKE SPROTT,
EVANGELIST
And
his
every change had left a stratum There was a thick husk in his voice of belief on him. that weirdly rose and fell, With fossils here of Presbytery, there As with a knotted fist he smote upon of his Baptist time. a horny palm. Then traces of the Methodist, and And poured his prophet- burden about
And
now
the footprints
dim
sin
hell,
Of
creatures that
the later
mud
pleading Gospel,
now
Psalm.
;;
; ;
193
Luke
The man had
Sprott,
Evangelist
power, for certain, for Not that it was good to hear him, for he had a human heart, it did not raise you higher Gleams of humour, tender touches, It showed your baser self, but did not too, of pathos, and throughout rouse the better part vein of clear sincerity whose might He could search the hidden evil, but is more than art. he never could inspire And the firmness of a soul that had Unto any nobler life by his unveiling not any wavering doubt. of the heart.
And when
Man was
The
at first, I liked to
God
breeds
;
His pithy words, good-humoured you did not say him nay ;
cynic
sees
its
thought
mostly
And
From
stories
Who
no beauty
but
little
in
bears
human load
glory where the
tempests
unknown
away.
He
had
it
There was
humour
in
his
sayings,
though he meant them not for jest With the meaner part of nature, and Too earnest he for mirth, except a was blind to what is best hard and bitter grin ; He put his finger on a blot that Yet his shrewdness had an oddness shamed and humbled you. being quaintly oft expressed. And thought he read you truest when And I laughed with laugh the keener that I had to laugh within. you showed unworthiest.
mostly had to do
always
in his
mouth
feel the
awe
Which hangs
about the Presence when he spoke of the Supreme ; He was more at home with Satan leaves, dog-eared and brown, then he spake as if he saw ; But to me his speech of God was Held bits of the rough poetry that about our feet. like an echo, or a dream.
fresh to me, to follow slowly up and down The windings of his tangled talk, and make the thought complete I perused him like a volume whose
'Twas something
lies
And
yet I liked him, swinging with There was a rude ideal struggled to attain, long strides at gloaming late, poem floating in his And stretching his vast limbs beside
which
mind,
he
but
fire,
With
Of ordered
That never ceased to flood the house, and never seemed to tire.
13
And
he blundered
into
broken paths
194
about him was, to Priest and prophet try to save, and so their work is blessed ; but mine So changeful, yet so certain that his Strove only just to see, and reproduce way was always right the picture true. And that his vision was so dim, Making sacrifice of duty for the trimalthough his heart was pure. ming of a line. And that he could so grossly err, yet Heeding not of higher wisdom in the be a child of light. itch for something new.
see
What
me
him
so sure,
and its misgivings I am never wholly sure. Dimly traced upon the vellum under Was the art of Greece so perfect that monkish hymns and prayers its life was also high ? And trumpery tales of wonder ; and I Is the heavenly vision only seen what understood him best time the heart is pure ? When I watched his human kindness Is the poem but the poet as he dares taking up our human cares. to live and die ?
I read his
meaning
partly, as
one reads
Oh my heart
a palimpsest.
He
fancied
views,
when
his
Could
see
Nay,
Could
that
could
never
come
to any
me
in
by
to trifle with the Better wield a pick or spade, or drive of a friend. a furrow in the soil. Or to play upon his humour to find Bear a hod, or hurl a barrow among matter for a book ; fustian-wearing men. I might have known that that would Win humblest daily bread by daily come to some unhappy end. sweat of honest toil. For to toy with human hearts, is more Than live to find in life but stuff for than human hearts will brook. scrawling with a pen
But
had no right
follies
'Tis the sin of art's fine passion that only seeks to know.
it
One
evening
I
Luke,
as
ills.
usual,
held
discourse of
human
Not
to perfect,
And
turned
me somewhat weary
from
lot
he may
fulfil
any rankest Monotonous, like sheep among the solitary hills. weeds that grow Unto any picturesqueness, and to leave As he mooned away to Hilda sitting on the window seat. them growing still.
It has charity to bear with
Luke
Sprott,
Evangelist
195
Something, I know, had fretted me But he was sure of all things in earth I cannot now say what. and hell and heaven, Only living among dreams, and sitting Sure that we were devil's children all, far into the night. and heirs of wrath to come, With none to bid good-speed unto the Sure that on the bitter cross a sum of labour I was at. ransom had been given And a pained, though dumb suspicion To purchase men from Satan, or at that, perhaps, I did not right least to purchase some.
To
peril
all
home
And
this
so
certain
dogmatism she
for such
an aim,
took for
Infallible,
faith divine.
Bred an
not
all
it
irritable
alone,
And
so
fevered
me
to hear
though
and
Her weary
stitching needle,
believed in him entirely, while she turned from words of mine As from henbane, hemlock, nightshade, his or other deadly weeds.
And
on, ceaseless, in
He
The
His
that begets a
that
Broken snatches of his doctrine, like awes her with belief the melancholy moan God was not the Father that giveth life and breath. Of the wind that in the crannies sounds so dismal to the ear. Yet she looked to him for guidance, and for comfort in her grief.
Luke's Discourse
Women
cling
to
any
a
spirit
that
is
It
sin,
is
heavenly choir. an untrustful mind souls as sweet as the summer air And 1 was sure of nought ; I saw the And to their lips in the lake of fire. Up shadows round me fold, And felt that life was very dark, and Stained with vices, as black as night. Some shall be found on the narrow I was very blind.
Taking doubt
to be
the sign of
There
sinners
as
bad
in
the
way;
was not
and
is
to
abounding grace.
196
one wronged you, meaning Children make-believe anything, whiles They have got plenty to eat and drink, What, if one hurt you just by a word ? Make a grand feast out of slates and tiles, No great credit to wipe that blot, And water is wine if you only wink. Or to forget what you need not have Oh how nicely they carve a stone heard. Oh how pretty they drink the toast
it
What,
not
if I hate you, make you a liar, This is the shortbread, that the scone, Slay your dearest, and mock at his name. There are the platters of boUed and Oh, the mercy that rises higher roast The higher the sinner's guilt and blame But let the thirst and hunger come, And give them for bread their slates
But
Only
believe in the
in
Lamb
that
they slew.
And
Only
the
blood
from
Him And
is
all
their prattle
did flow
believe that
it
dumb.
make-believe ends
in
He died
for you.
And
as
tears
and
And
shall
wash you
as
white
the snow.
whelks and clams Passed by the door like a hideous Of rational thought and virtuous deed. dream But let him see the guilt and gloom. Blood on his raiment made the Priest But let him smell the burning lake, Holy to stand where the Lord was And hear, as it were, the billows boom seen ; Where is no shore for them to break. Blood on the altar wrath appeased ; Only the Blood then that atones, Only the Blood can give him rest Blood on the sinner, and he is clean. Science and learning are but snares. Hence with your make-believe slates Reason and knowledge they are traps ; and stones. Better lie down with wolves and bears He must have truth, for truth is best. Than with critical principles, books, Hell and the devil (I thought the words and maps. Once I starved in the Hebrides, Came from his lips with a kind of smack. Nearly a month, on whelks and clams. And fishy birds from the grey salt And round and rich, as the singing birds Dwell on a choice note, and call it seas. While I tried to think they were beeves back) Hell and the devil will have their due and lambs Oh, you may rush at a ditch or hedge. So is the soul that feeds on stuff And scramble through with a scratch Reason gives it instead of bread ;
shall
it
Oh, but the Blood is the life of Faith So Even one drop would a world redeem. So Blood on the lintels, and ancient Death So
!
is
till
or two. is the man who is swollen with flufl^ And a tattered skirt to the other ledge ; Science is fain to put into his head. But there's no bottom to yonder pit, These cannot take one sin away, There is no other side to hell, Bring no peace to the troubled heart As well down on your knees and pray There is no make-believe in it. To the graven image of heathen art. And there for ever the faithless dwell.
So
Luke
Sprott, Evangelist
197
A terrible picture
I
aye, and whiles I thought it was righteous to rebel, have almost thought that it could I thought that it was for God I spoke.
!
not be,
When
its
pains
As
sunny
smiles
Glinting over the laughing sea. But who am I to reject His word There the fishermen trim their boats. That tells of the deathless worm The wives at the door are baiting lines, and fire ?
Mirth of the children blithely floats And where were the mercy of the Lord Up from the beach as they touch the If it plucked not brands from the
spines
burning pyre
Of round sea-urchin under the dulse. Or hunt the crab in the shady pool, Here I And the small waves beat like a heard
tranquil pulse,
broke in. You should have your heart, for it was true ; I think it was the voice of God for
pity pleading then.
And
cool.
And
Bobbing his head above the sea. There where the white gulls dive and swim.
And texts
meant
for quicken-
And
He took no notice of my speech ; I on the grey horizon dim. wot not if he heard, Then I have thought, till my heart Because there rose a gust of wind, grew faint. shrill-whistling from the sea ; And myhead swam with the vision dire: But by and by there came a lull, and " O beautiful Earth, is it really meant with the lull a word Thou shalt be wrapped in the flam- I was not meant to hear, though it was ing fire? shrewdly meant for me. These happy homes where I oft have sat. Truly you tell me his faith is gone. These hands I have held in friendly Truly I see only doubting in him : grip. He has buried the Christ, and sealed
that be
Hung
Those
the stone.
night 'mid the shadows dim, Can they be fated one of them even That none may quicken his soul again, Yet in the outer dark to lie, That none may quicken his hope anew Far away hid from the glory of Heaven, And I have noted the sorrow and pain And gnawed by the worm that cannot Of the great love that was wasting die? you. Oh, the anguish that thought has sent Lady, as slowly the cloud came down, Thrilling all through my heart and Slowly and coldly the mist was creeping brain Over a soul that is dear as your own ; And Word and warning and argument And angels were watching with you and The Spirit has pleaded with me in vain. v/ceping.
to press their
Or
ful lip.
198
; ;
: !
Yea, I have grieved for him, and I High in the heaven he would sit and have prayed brood. Through the long night, as I watched With a flickering smile on his dubious
afar,
lip;
life
that he
There he
is toiling,
You
are
wroth with
;
me now,
for the
Which when he
touches
shall
be
no more. You would have Reaping the harvest of sorrow and and cringe,
trouble,
me
to smile,
and beck,
And
till
not
let
Here Long
I will pray
as
well-oiled
soul.
his
lamp burns
mine
that
for
folly
of fame.
And
his soul
silently close
just
on an erring
So long
shall
With
a snap
when
the
deed
is
may win
?
done
Shall he unwearying toil for a name. And then I must whimper and condole. And I grow weary to save him from sin With a lying hope that the goal was won.
Although he never had run the race. Never so much as made the start. All the more that he laughed at me. But I cannot be sweet before your face, Just that his soul might to me be given And false to you in ray inmost heart. All the more we could never agree. Tell me not of his love of truth. I see that he mocks me, and flouts me, Kindly spirit, and thoughtful care. and jibes Or the pure love of his noble youth
I
Thus have
stormed
at
the
gates
of heaven
At all the things that I honour most. Tell me of faith, if faith be there. And seeks the lore of the clerks and Water the coals, and they will burn.
scribes
it
will flame
More than
your turn, He would put me into a book, I know, And make you ready for wrath and That wits might crackle their jests shame. Faith alone is the master-key so droll. And laugh at the preaching smith whose To the strait gate and the narrow road ; The others but skeleton picklocks be. blow Could smite the iron, and miss the soul. And you never shall pick the locks of God. Yet I have loved him, oh so well Yet I have prayed for him, oh how long His thunders are in the But he would risk all the terrors of hell But hush
virtue or vice will serve
!
Holy Ghost. So
For the
rhyme of
heaven.
Rumbling low through the clouded sky, a song. Oh, he is just like a schoolboy that cares Like the roll of wheels that are swiftly driven Only to hear his whip go crack In the dim streets, and the silent squares. With flames from the whirling tires that fly. While the echo comes ringing back
;
;;
Luke
Sprott,
Evangelist
199
Who
To
knows
They
are
maybe
sent
men remember long awe and fear In the dull undated life of Close we the windows and sing a hymn, country town.
for him,
And
Well Well
Lord
is
plainly
When
forests
fell
before
the
wind,
here.
to improve the solemn hour.
to smite while the bar is hot Surely the Lord is great in power,
ing
down.
stricken,
Woe
to
him
Awe -
yet
entranced,
He
to her,
and
though I heard I heeded not, my And movement as it registered itself thoughts were so intent upon the mind. Watching the signs of coming storm While the strained sense, exulting in that darkled far and near. the wonder and amaze. And all his words fell off from me, like Jarred at a common sound amid the arrows blunt and spent. thunder and the wind.
And
From
Thus when
I heard his husky voice 'mid nature's grandest tones Of so transcendent harmony, for
harmony was
and breathless
as
there
And
earth lay
still
In
all
awe-
they mustered there on high, thrilled my joints and bones, Nor lark nor throstle noting the dimly It smote me like an insult dying day. suggestion of a prayer.
-that
Now,
all
was wrapt
speak at
wrist.
first
his
bony
down in And
whisper to be
silent,
warning drops
to his seat,
Beneath the silent trees the silent kine Imperious in a wrath whose stern were grouped, and far resolve was only hissed The sea moaned, and a shiver passed Into his ear ; and he was cowed, and
along the
tall
tree-tops.
sat in silence
meet.
little
And And
then
it
burst in fury
rain
by and by
hailstones
coughing, he spake something about the wrath of heaven ; With awful lulls, and shattering peals Then I said. When God was preaching that nearer grew and higher ; other sermons sounded dull. And one great ball of hissing fire fell And I wanted no " improvement " of almost at the door. the lesson He had given.
across the stony moor.
came a
lull,
And
; ;
200
And God
was good
to
me, I
said, in
And doubted
the
if
he could
;
at all
work of God
wind
But
he thought the wrath of heaven That He cared to feed the hungry every against himself was moved. pious heart allowed. He might pray there like a worm on But He must doubly care to feed the whom his Deity had trod. hunger of the mind.
if
me.
The
It
mercy The more he stared and gasped at me, the more I pushed him hard the volume Saying, Surely the book-harvest was
that I wrote
A great
I
the ripe fruits of His orchard, and the flowers that made it fair
had
just
come
to a point whei'e I
And
required a thunderstorm.
sunny
heaven was kind to send it in the And histories were wholesome oats, very nick of time ; and essays were the rich And I was very grateful not to be a Clover-fields that fed His kine, and trampled worm. made the butter that they yield. But a favourite of the gods who gave While sermons were the small weeds me matter for my rhyme. growing in the hedge or ditch ;
And
He And
To
tracts
were
may
And
be
munched up by
and dry If winds were sent to farmers for the But songs were his ripe apples ; and winnowing of their stocks. his apricots and pears Surely poets might get weather for Were ballads and the lyric strains of
savourless
why
I chattered so
amid the
and
sullen lull,
Or
its
breath,
make
For
a publisher's
good season up
in
Paternoster
Row.
was his face that tempted me, it looked so blank and dull And partly I revenged me for his talk with Hilda, first.
Luke
Sprott, Evangelist
world was blind and faithless, and full of vain conceit What no one else had dared to say Of wisdom which was foolishness, and would not know the Lord ; without her proud rebuke But any thing that called itself a And I might write brisk words that, one day, I would fain delete Christian minister She heard as she would hearken to the When He came in His glory, whom the Universe adored. Volume of the Book.
Because he was a preacher, she had
let
The
him say
to her
Low
see
in
my
him
stay,
although the
storm burst forth anew. and gasp At that imagined book for which the And snapt a grand old pine as if it had been but a reed ; thunder had been sent, And at his puzzled horror as I buzzed There were five behind our cottage, and I loved them, and I knew like stinging wasp, Too swift for his slow movements, in Their features and their voices, for they spoke to me, indeed. my wanton merriment.
him
stare
No
book then was I writing that needed storm or calm. Nor could I copy Nature in that hard
and
soulless
They were
me,
Barely cataloguing
untamed Druid times although I I heard them sing their skalds at night unto the raving seas, heard, as 'twere a Psalm Of awe-inspiring joy, the grand And moan their rugged lyke-wakes in the ancient Runic rhymes. orchestral thunder play.
way.
facts,
lie in
in a jest.
that they
its
sisters, for I
wist
And
black priests in the forest, and the and the smoke ; And solemn fools shall talk to you And in the evening still they talked to me of what had been their wisest and their best. wit
may
lend
The
reverential thought
altars,
And
leave
Roman
startled by the sudden crash, I did not think of him. That might be smote with judgment But of the tall grey sister who was growing bald atop, for the blasphemies I said : Would I jest at the Eternal, while His And grey with clinging lichen that had feathered every limb. thunders rolled aloof. And His awful sword was flashing in And in my mind I saw her bow her
At
Now,
lofty head,
and drop,
; ;
202
While
moan
;
In unrestrained anguish
bid him stay The night was wild and fearful, and the road was dark and lone,
looked out from my window to Orion and his belt so I did not She looked out from her window to the lone star near the Pole
And
in
instinct to
not a word we spake as yet, but heart I felt shadow creeping coldly, like
my
eclipse,
across
my
soul.
And
so
let
him
I
go,
and then
There she
sat, pale
thought that
did right
Could any
soul have sat there to be That seemed to shrink from me, aldrenched with commonplace, though she neither spoke nor stirred Slushed with dull ditch-water preach- There I sat, dull and listless, with my ments, when the awe of that great eyes upon a book
night
Had
strung the
mind
to highest pitch,
?
My
Very
heat, and he
so.
;
and I
silent were we both ; but how I yearned for her I loved As gazing through the candle-light, I
!
lip.
And
when
And how
silence, if
the
great
tears
gathered,
and how the loose ring moved, Unconscious, from the knuckle to the
slender finger-tip.
sermon
stale
and
flat.
had done right ; but I was not so sure next day ; sweet and thoughts are stride Morning tender and I whispered my regret into the stormy night I sat in silence, ordering all the pictures I had been vexed and angry ; and I might have bid him stay I had got. Or glancing now at Hilda through the But hinted that his head would be the
Thus he went
forth in wrath,
and
I thought I
glimmering candle-light.
By
Ah me
Ah me
ah
!
me
moon came
In a clear breadth of heaven, with all the countless host of stars, And nature did assert the calm tranquillity of strength, And bridled with the Pleiades the
what a
little
!
sense of
Ah me
Words
grief
the woeful
weary
always
new
Luke
Sprott,
Evangelist
203
That day was full of rumours sad, of And what she saw, or what she heard, boats swamped out at sea, or what had touched her wits, Guns booming in the offing, and Our handmaid wist not only, she wrecks strewn along the shore, came home so ghastly pale. And the fierce-rushing river had And spoke not any word to her, but
flooded
all
the lea.
fell in
swooning
fits,
And
And
the clover
grew
before.
Weary and
and a
with
home, with
My
budget of ill news, to find yet worse awaiting there. For Hilda, with a face that did my
very heart appal, Sat, white and chill, beside the with fixed and stony stare.
fire,
in
thereafter
burden there
the floor.
And
me was
fixed and stony stare at me I They had been going home, and think she knew me not. turned to look at the old pine But shivered when I spoke, and Thunder-blasted in the tempest, when seemed to shrink from me in dread ; they saw him lying there And but for that long shudder my Poor Luke he was a godly man, and unwelcome presence brought, eloquent divine, I hardly could have known if she were And also shod the horses well, and living then or dead. acted just and fair
! ! !
life
misery to think the only sign of So clumsily they should be speaking, sad at chiU and shrinking quiver at the Losing a faithful tender words I spake weary grief and
! !
lowof
friend
in
days
care
What was
it ?
it ?
me
as I
me
And now
reel,
Of his
fell
of
But bit by bit, I gathered that she had Scarce had he left my door, or but a gone out at noon score of paces gone. To walk across the moor, and see the That evening, when a sudden fate had shepherd's sickly wife. laid him with the tree. And nurse her sickly babe a while, And Hilda, coming home, had seen the dead man lying lone and sing a quiet tune To still its ceaseless wailing, for it had Among the pools of water, with refaint hold of life. proach of her and rae.
204
And that
had driven her from her and now she sat and stared,
BOOK FIFTH
and
I spake to her,
and prayed,
PRIEST
vowed, too, that I shared Her sorrow and her faith and hope, " Yea, the world is very evil, full of vanity and lies. and would be as a child. But the Lord is very patient, and the
Yea, I would be a child of God,
I
Church
if
is
great in might.
traditions,
she
would only look, her sacred mysteries would believe whate'er she said, if She can cleanse your sins away, and she would only speak, turn the darkness into light. would not care for fame or power,
for glory or for book,
With her
orders, her
and
If she
would only
kiss
me
with the
seal of Power the grand device. Handed down through all the ages in a long unbroken line.
it
was,
un-
The
glorious
right
to
minister
the
bloodless sacrifice.
Through
And
offer
it
for
you
in sacramental
me
the day
" Only her Priests may wear the robes began to faintly stir befitting that great act With faint gleams of returning thought When bread and wine become the body as lights upon the sea. and blood of God's true Son, Only her prayers avail to realise the But from that day we were estranged : awful fact she spoke no word of blame. And put into your mouths the life that Or only blamed herself, but she was by His death was won.
silent
and apart
We
we " What
they
can
you
But yet his shadow coldly lay between But the child me and her heart.
may
So you
It
pine
away and
little
was
her
as if
my fate
had been
to drive
prayers are
worth
Without the priestly unction, and the away, from all emblems and grace that comes thereby. helps of things Divine ; And she must walk without me now " You build an ugly barn, which you along the narrow way. call a Kirk, and then And she must make atonement for the One preaches in Geneva gown to men guilt that had been mine. predestinate,
God
To
part
her
a ;
Rev. Elphinstone
This to go
Bell,
Priest
205
down
with
all
And
And
weekly
at all
in
the
Kirk the
pulpit
And
that with all his sins to pass to heaven with heart elate,
or the
"
And
this
you
call
the grace of
will,
in
God,
His
pretty Church-revival
up, with dainty
sprang
electing
whom He
hymns
And
sung, and prayers with high intoning read, And the ransomed sing the praises of And holly-wreaths at Christmas about that grace inscrutable, the cherubims And your angels tune their harps to That smiled with puffy cheeks beside laud that monstrous sovereignty. the tablets of the dead.
passing
by the others
Artistically
absolute decree,
"
Little help such teaching brings to that wrestles with the lies,
altar,
there
The
all
A reredos, and a
up
like a mast
crucifix that
towered
our days
Therefore do
we
lift
And
And
Church
To
minutes'
preaching,
we
were coming
right at last.
So preached the Preacher to us once Then he needed a new organ, and we an Oxford scholar, young, had a grand bazaar. With bare, thin face and sallow, bare And raffles winning money as you and shallow too his mind might at whist or pool
A narrow
spirit,
And
a lady-volunteer
who
carried on
high-strung,
a pretty
war
Something
stale
very telling of
kind.
Rounded
periods,
rarely
natural
fit
Nor
To
In
yet the stately worship of the custom Catholic, But a modern imitation, smacking of
but
with
women
These had won the hearts of many, To me it felt all hollow ; but yet the youth had zeal. gathered crowds into his pews, Though he had little light to give, and Played pastor very diligent, had he had aught to say, none at all to me ;
206
Spent days among the sick, and by the fevered bed would kneel, And patter o'er his little book, and hurry on his way.
all
to
What was
it ?
me
he
And
was verging toward Rome work, and But Roman or Genevan, mattered
now was
Quoted
full
home
little
unto
a
me
his
pretty words,
was
out at nurse
of church
as
affairs,
many
home,
And when
to
I jested at
him was
as crisp
Who
me
foam.
Day
by day the church she haunted, That could never work this mischief; all the churches had their popes ; Took to wearing dingy dresses, russet- And I cared not for Pope Calvin more
quite forsook her parish kirk.
brown or iron-grey,
Fasted often, made her penitential work,
life
than Pius
a weary
as for beads
And
crucifix
and copes.
With
all its
natural brightness
now
carefully away.
Scarce an hour but had its service of reading or of prayer, Scarce a day but was a saint's day, and her saints were very grim ; They frowned at every pleasure, and they smiled at every care. And still she spoke to me of God, and
giving
all
What was
it,
then, that
chilled
her
for
Him.
now. As days went dimly by, without the wintriest gleam of mirth To brighten up her wistful look, or clear the clouded brow ? And wherefore did she sigh like one a-weary of the earth ?
into frosty silence
We
all the more the For all the house grew silent, and her was obeyed. laugh was never heard. The lonelier life was growing, and we That wont to ring so cheery, and she sang but doleful hymns drifted more apart had not any words, but something About the pilgrim's travail, and the
Keenly I
felt that,
priestling
And
on her spirit preyed, ever-widening waters seemed to sunder heart from heart.
comfort of His
Word,
is
And
the
home
that
eternal,
and the
shining seraphims.
led her on a way divine which was not human too, And that, I wist, was not the way that Christ had walked of old
;
He
comprehend now
better
what
it
was
As
; ;
Rev. Elphinstone
BelJ,
Priest
207
Whom
atonements, as the betrayed God had taken from her arms Their failure in the cravings of the into the heaven above. still remorseful mind.
fresh
restless heart
to
God,
too worldly for so
And
She was daily in his thoughts, and she was ever in his prayers He watched her sickly thought with pride, and nursed the deep disease
;
:
Oh
To
reward of all his cares. have the training of a days like these
for the life But this I knew not at the time ; and as I cast about not here, And love that death can never touch For any likely reason this new sorrow to explain. with withering of its bloom, And for the tender blossom that she And could not find it in my work, nor laid with awe and fear. in my deepening doubt, Yet with absolute assurance, in its There sprang up in my brooding heart
little
grassy tomb.
her daily musings soared in For calling up the former days which happily had flown, wonder, hope, and awe. The heavenward meditations of a heart I paused at Winnie Urquhart, with her talent and conceit that found no rest. Save in thought-reflected vision of the Hilda was jealous at the time, I saw it in her frown. glory where she saw The children with the Father folded And heard it in the tapping, on the
in
Upward
among the
blest.
All
this I learnt long after, when I Was this the shadow on our life ? and could her love expire read the secret Book Of her solitary musing, blurred with In fumes of jealous anger, and in selftormenting thought ? many a tearfiil stain ; I had thought her cold unto me when Had she so little faith in me, and in
I saw her absent look. But her soul was longing that cometh not again.
the altar-fire
for the lost
Which
My
heart
for a
moment from
saint
place
Eager
to
make
now
of the
My faith
mediaeval kind,
208
But now a chill crept o'er my soul, a And my heart went back a-dreaming gloom came on my face, far along the changeful road. And my distrusted love became a deep Till thought passed into tears, and all distrustful power. the scene grew dim and grey.
And
thus
the strangeness
grew
Oh,
silent gulf
between us twain,
flush of leaf
A wan,
A
still water, drifting us yet more Sad the winter of the spirit with the summer's wealth around ; and more apart life of wrested meanings, and of And the weird feeling came again upon keen mistaken pain. me in that hour. While each, with wistful longing, That life was but a shadow flitting wondered at the other's heart. dimly on the ground.
Yet once
I tried
is
to
draw her
close
Shadowy
strong.
shadows
!
And
oh my love yearned for her love, The and oh my heart was sore on me again ; But cold love is slow to warm again I had dreamt, and I was waking, and and now the nights were long. the morning air was raw. Like a stretch of barren sand upon the Or perhaps I only dreamt that I was day's unhappy shore. waking up to pain.
and shadowy sorrows and saw old sense of unreality came back
joys,
all
!
I felt
a fate upon me, and it drove on and on. I sat in the green arbour looking to the And I must "dree my weird," alas, sleepy town ; whatever it might be Slumbrous-sweet syringa-blossoms hung Yet was I but a shadow among shadows
all
There was
brightness
me
And
about me in their whiteness. the summer in its glory bore the burden of its crown.
sitting lone.
that
moaned
me
Sat the coney on its haunches 'mong Then Hilda came up softly, and softly the grey sand near its hole. sat her down Crouched the hare in the long furrow I knew that she was very pale, and very often sighed. where the tenderest barley grew. And I bade the living creatures loving Although I looked away from her unto welcome in my soul. the sleepy town For life was not so lonely with them Expecting that sure fate which from frisking in my view. afar I had descried.
A
A
yellow bee was drumming in the foxglove, where it showed spire of purple-spotted bells upon
the sunny brae,
'Twas
all
as if
knew
;
before
the
startled
me
to hear
Rev. Elphinstone
Bell,
Priest
209
Yet 'twas as if a shadow of no moment And there was that Greek-feeling of unto me, the coming on of Fate, fate and yet a dream and very Which dulled me with its shadow like the gloom of an eclipse. strange, yet very right.
under all there lay the petulant, brooding sense of wrong. While leaf by leaf she plucked the That her jealous love distrusted mine, that trusted once for all, flower in pieces at her waist With thin and trembling hand; and And had been true to her as is the
sat,
we
a short
And
Senseless
with mechanic foot I traced music to the song scores upon the gravel, to That subtly links its movement unto every rise and fall. be speedily effaced.
" I would do right," she said, " and Then, something seemed to break in yet I know not what to think, me. I thought I heard it snap. For things are not the same now as Like string of lute or viol, and I did they used to be before; not seem to care ; And from the cross appointed us we There was no more to win or lose may not dare to shrink, my life had lost its sap, Nor close the ear to Him who standeth And shook but leafless branches creakknocking at the door." ing in the wintry air.
I
knew
this
know what I answered, but it had no touch of grace ; sunshine 'Twas something about making crosses where no cross was meant
I scarce
drove
like
of her
And
the commonplace
fell
on her
a heartless argument.
And oh I
I
should have
let
still
blue eyes,
should have met her longing, and From out of her pale face, as she made mingled it with mine, answer with a moan ; I should have wooed her o'er again, " At least, I shall not have to pay the pleading with all that stirs price I dreaded most The woman and the human, till she God's love will break no human heart,
felt it
was
divine.
unless
it
break
my own."
me
her burden, vain
But
I was never ready yet, was always She had brought to wise too late and she brought it
all in
my
pen,
my
lips
noble feeling
14
A A
little word of kindness would have She, hoping not for motherhood, had saved a load of pain, tidied all she had. little word of love had wrought a And writ out full directions for the miracle of healing. time of her release.
to tell me all her grief, and They say, the strange new life that her young heart's care. throbs beneath a mother's heart And all the fond atonements she was Feels often liker death ; I cannot tell minded then to try but when I came
all
She meant
then, on the sorted drawers, and understood, in part, On a scrupulous, troubled conscience Their meaning, oh the anguish, and that was sorely vexed thereby. the fear, and sense of blame !
She meant
By chance,
And
I, I had not heard her; but And now again she hung above her with blankest commonplace boxes all the day, Had turned away from eager eyes that And went about the house, too, with pleaded as for life. a look premeditate, Had spoken in tones of iron, with an Silent, counting all the linens, putting
unmoved
iron face.
And
And
by the
less disorder
making home
a cruel knife.
more
;
desolate.
then she Books were gathered from the tables, and shelved in order due, And by and by I rose, and passed Things that crowded on the manteldown to the moaning sea, piece were laid aside in drawers, Until the moon arose, and spread long Familiar old disorder now took shape
sighed, and
tresses
Now
And
silent
as neat
and new.
sad
rebuke,
And
Next
day, I watched her going, calm, She wrote out for our maid some about her household work, thoughtful counsel for the days Putting everything in order, sorting all When I should be alone, and where
letter
mask.
place, as
While she
put
all
what I might need, what my special likings were, and what my common ways, one And ended with a prayer that Heaven might bless her in her deed.
to find
And
remember how, when hope made us glad, Which ended in a little grave in the dim land of peace.
I could not but
knew
not this
till
after
and
could
that
The
; ;
Rev. Elphinstone
Bell,
Priest
The
linens, neatly
fine,
Now
never see the light. And careful noting of accounts, and Now praying for the light to scare the clearing of her debts. horror of the gloom.
Only the days went by, as haunted by I have it now, that letter it is brown and tattered now. a coming Fate, That well I knew was closing on me, Often read, although its every word is
like the darkling night.
burnt into
evening,
nest
I
my
brain
Till
reaching
home one
And
And
amid
every blot
is
in
my
heart a scar
Instead,
there
was a
letter
on
the
THE LETTER
Husband and Dearest, be not wroth Against the marble clock a blotted with me. letter, sealed with black ; Because I leave you for a little while I did not need to read it then, to find Only a little one day to return, out what it meant, better wife, and make a brighter
As
And
stunned me for a while ; I And secretly, for it would break your my hand. heart Staring at the superscription, though I To let me go ; and yet I needs must wist not what I saw ; go. I know I locked the door too ; for That worse may not befall, and we, my sorrow could not stand the more The gaze of the scared housemaid, rub together, be but more half in pity, half in awe.
yet
it
held
it
in
We
estranged.
Alone my soul would be alone it Often I thought to tell you all the was a lonely lot thought That henceforth must be mine; but That brooded in me. But you did now I wanted solitude ; not care Like wounded deer that leaves the To speak of what might grow into herd for some secluded spot debate
!
To
me
in,
and
felt
And
To
was
fearful,
that
was good.
and read
I
much
Upon
I broke the seal,
knew
not
what, but
all
the night
your mind, and that it is not well the current of your larger thought
fret
down With
small
is
obstructions.
What
mean
this
212
Had
I but loved
my God
as well
you
My
Unworthy
for
wherever I
may
be,
Him,
I
My
I
The more
of
seemed to lose
my
hold
Him,
soul,
vowed
you
And drifted as
Your
as
right well.
day
they were Slipt after day, with ever dimmer sense with us Of things unseen in me, and harder Somehow the light has gone out from thoughts our life. In you, until I felt my darkening way And we, together living, live apart Was darkening yours, and dropping In joyless solitude. I blame you not, into death, Except that your too tender cherishing As we more alien grew in all our Fostered my self-love, making much thoughts. of me. In feeling more estranged, in ways Petting myself, and pitying myself more sundered.
as
Too much
blame
already.
Mine
alone the
And God
us both.
Of
The
that
dim
separateness.
For
That
is
the
end of
all
my
was not
wife you needed, though I tried
to be.
striving
Harm
to
my own
soul,
cruel hurt to
thine
And
never woman's love was more than mine. I have not shared the burden of your thoughts,
I
And
only I tried
;
A
Do
work beyond
the Lord,
my power
except
have not understood you, nor forgot in vain. Myself in your high purpose; my small lamp Bear with That feebly glimmered, failed, of reproach,
course, to light
me
am
full
of
self-
As
life.
well I
may
be,
past, ere peace Perhaps, will come. I never should have been a wedded I have shunned sorrow, comforting wife myself Perhaps it had been better had I Till I have lost all comfort in myself died, And now I must seek sorrow for When God took baby from us. I a while, have been And wear the crown of thorns, and Foolish and fretful, selfish, useless bear the cross.
The two
For
that so fruitless
only loved
excuse.
so
absolute
And
that
is
find a
new
life
in
them.
Do
my
my heart is set.
213
Which
will
redeem
its
my
life
from
shallowness,
You cannot doubt the love I bear to you, You cannot doubt the grief that weeps
for you.
And make
helpful,
homely
;
service,
by
You
both to thee more
self.
cannot
for
you
school
Would
my
heart
by
earnest
And
discipline
little
back,
A
As
little
little
Wiser by
shades the Eternal fold around man's life. Saying, Be still, and know that I
Of
read
in
its
while and but a little while, Not long enough for either to forget. Yet long enough for you to look beyond, And find the fountain of a surer peace Than ever I could give. little while.
little
am God.
Again
stung with
Why
had
was
night,
when
Which
and restore
misery
!
my
darling yet
to
And we
a
shall
wed
again,
and make
misery
have been
home.
will dwell with us, as
rich indeed.
to have wasted all that wealth of love by cold distrust This break of our young marriage. And what were I without her, but a Farewell, now shivering, withered reed 'Tis hard to write, and could not With the glad water at its roots all have been spoken gone to summer dust ? And yet it must be : farewell, my beloved. 1 did, not wish a wiser wife I only I have gone over all the house, and left wanted her ? Some tears in every room, and take How could she think I cared for with me bookish women or their praise ? Its picture in my heart. I think If she only saw my heart, and if she that all only felt the stir Is left in order ; if there's aught Of pain and shame and self-contempt
And
forgotten,
had for
all
my
our
ways
my
heart
was very
I
hurried
sure
to
priestling
was
;
he had
to
do
know
With
I
flowers
my life
and
Around
ing
;
the
yet.
little
grave.
He
When
I return I
would not
And
when
Another
; ;
214
found liim high and haughty in a saintly kind of way, But he allowed that she had joined a
I
came
down
in
plashes,
gusty, sputtering in
my
face,
And
little,
gushing
runlets
;
flowed
pious sisterhood
down by me
to the sea
Who
from a distant harbour would I felt their chill, but recked not, and be sailing on that day, shivering for a space To nurse the wounded in the war, and Sat on the dripping stones, and leant do the dying good. my face upon my knee.
followed then I cannot tell, cannot tell how long He had the true ascetic heart that Sounds that made my blood to tingle, laughter mingled with long sighs knows no tie, or care
I waited not for
;
dispute with
more him
'twas idle to
What
I
Of wife
was
And now
choking
was
athirst,
fain to sing a
hynm
in a throng.
For " those in peril on the sea," when I was fain to swear.
And
me
the that journey to the seaport thoughts that surged on me ! the the reasons I would urge triumph I must surely win But the anchor had been weighed, the ship was dropping out to sea, And I only looked on crowded decks, and heard confused din.
! !
!
O God
my
God
was
be good to thee
it
give to bring
the sea
on me,
my
very heart.
saw the ship sway o'er the saw the hurrying crowd,
the
sailors
bar,
Where
art
thou
And
sang light-hearted,
The wounded
1 ask
tell
and the landsmen gave a shout But song and shout were in my ear lamentings low or loud. And whether all were truth or dream,
I could not well
them of
my
me who were
Of
make
out.
sisters,
;
but they
Where
angry waves
were
whom
waves whose crashing drowned Rubbing a sleeve across the eye, and talking of the stir. came from me mocking waves that heeded not, When they broke out of the trenches to assail the great Redoubt. but bore my love away.
cruel
!;
;;
;;
;;
Epilogue
I wait and ask, and wait in vain
215
she
passed
away from me
glimpse
that
Hark to the call of the bugle horn, Or the quick rattle of mustering drum!
!
The
last
had was
when
Swift to the summons, at even or morn, Bronzed and bearded, the gallants
Balls
And
And
all
down
it,
into the
stormy
sea,
come. from the rifle-pits ping about. or Great guns boom from the big Redoubt,
EPILOGUE
and smoke
streets.
Far on the
And
over the tent a great red Cross Balls lie round, but their force was
spent
Nothing but tents in all the plain. Long ere they rolled o'er the silent Nothing but bronzed and bearded men. moss; With clashing sabre and jingling spur. cross is over the silent gate, Plume of feather, or crest of fur. cross on the arm of them that wait. Emblem of pity and healing and peace, Here are banners, and there are flags Bidding the wrath of war here to cease.
A A
now
is
stained
As the wind
1^0
!
One comes
out of
it,
grained
What
:
now ? good
or
And
Is
it
bad?
Still
How
Then
she lives, but the fever burns. again silence reigns all about. the
twilight
pales,
are fat.
And
perch
or
and a
star
to pulse and to
at a tent- door steeds are Now and again, with a stifled sob. champing, Now they are galloping forth with Sudden, the sob is turned to a wail speed What is it ? where is it ? Hush the Down the long streets there are comdoor panies tramping, Opens again now, and all hearts fail ; Grimly silent, on some fell deed He too is weeping, for all is o'er. Some in the wine-shop are drinking It is not night, and it is not day hard. Calm in the twilight she passed away. Some are gaming with dice and card Just as the star, where the cloud was Many a jolly stave trowls from those. riven, But these are coming to oaths and Pointed her way through the opening
Now,
blows.
heaven.
2l6
;: ; ;
L'ENVOI
I
ran
One
said,
" There
not
man
in
How
DO but paint a picture, just to show cracks the old crust of Faith
our troop
beneath our feet. Partly by light from heaven and fervent heat.
fierce
for her
so
would Partly by
Broken and maimed, she was worth Here but many more of us
;
fissures
there
a rent
God
is
now
she
I
gone
last
To
water
its
flowers
But ever)rwhere
great bewilderment.
well, nor
When
The
it
was told
at the
drinking bar.
flagon untasted
He
wait.
Hushed was
And see His fallow lying all unbroke. the chorus of glory and Because another's heifer takes the yoke, war Nor is His furrow always clean and Others were trusted, but she was adored. straight,
one shuiBed the cards again. Rattled the dice now, or called
main.
for
board
No
a But
still
He
maketh ready
for
His
sowing.
the trenches?
time, lads,
to
"Who's
have
it
we must And
try
scatters
out
Now
is
the
Redoubt."
And gathers cloud and sunshine for its growing. Belted with hell-fire, and shrouded with smoke. Oh, weep ye for the Home whose Girdled with rifle-balls as with a tottering wall wall. The trembling heart with unfeigned Yet with a yell from the trenches anguish saw. they broke. And with untempered mortar daubed Plunging through rifle-balls, hell-fire, its
flaw.
and
all.
'Twas not for glory they stormed the Weep, yet Redoubt deeds. 'Twas that the grief of their wild
hearts must out.
for
and they
as
words,
have
bidden
each
And And
led
him
the soul of
all
RABAN
smiles upon his words he knew Affairs and books and men, and it When first I knew him, Raban was was like Great music just to sit beside the fire. already Verging on age, yet full of lusty life And hearken his discourse.
Flitted like
RABAN
With
One of a race. and the sweetness of the Often much slighted, often serving earth, much. And all its beauty ; and with all his mind Who miss their aim in the first spring, Perfect to do its work to reason well. and fall, To play with graceful fancy, or season, out of sight among the waste
all
The
fatness
mirthful jest
Of
like spark
prodigal
life
from
back
In the young bud, than in the bloom of promise soar To be frost-bitten, for he found a way, Still into realms of thought that touch And filled a larger space by having
the clash of argument
:
and he could
the
stars.
;
failed
first
And lie about the Eternal and his heart Than Was very young, and nothing loved He
80
success
had given
office,
him.
much
well content
As
youth
The humble
pastor of a
humble flock
hills,
Not yet desponding of a glorious world. Of shepherds 'mong green Trim and erect, with locks of iron-grey, dull hinds
or of
A large eye
thin
full
Whose
Hard
the calves
beauty speech
a
for
And
Or
breezy;
ready
of
sharp retort.
to lift Heavenward. But he was not made For the Priest's work, whose Sundays domineer
flowing period
delicate
given to dainty
The week
about
with preaching,
till
as
he goes
humour.
Where
touches
of
quaint
Slow sermon-grinding
is
his thought
character
thin
; ;
2l8
Rabat!
As
As the fresh art of a new age still holds All past achievement in its scheme And hears the parish-gossip, and grows of progress. small And moves on the old lines. He
the shrill
fife,
his rounds,
With
its
small
interests,
only,
now
kept their
joinings
spirit
rigid
that shoot
Clamped,
as
with
texts,
;
iron,
by much-
From
all
which opens
for
hammered
men.
He
loosened
for
was there. Orthodox? Well; I think he had But yet in forms too rounded to be true, not any And clothed as with an armour which Cut-and-dry scheme equation nicely grew not framed Though the man grew within, till With plus and minus quantities and what was meant powers. For a defence brought weakness. Subtracting or dividing human sins Thus, at times, And sorrows of the Highest, till the end He seemed to assail their most secure Brought out salvation neatly. Somebeliefs, how he And sap the main foundation of their Could never work the problem out hopes. so clear, When he was merely setting free the Having an Infinite quantity to deal soul with. Of Truth, on which they lived, and That would not balance with a sum which he loved
of
littles.
it
However
multiplied.
husk.
No
live
on
it
without
Which
to,
while he
would
And
from
Old pulpit-dust beat from the cushion when Thought is most lacking ; also he
would
try
like an
odorous
^dew.
So have
by,
his flock
their
heard him
tell
that,
by and where
his pasture
eyes,
one
a cloud soar up,
They wandered
and fade away
yet his faith
left
fire,
off to
sit
beside the
Watches
And Was
true to
Or saunter in the fields considering The lilies how they grew, or to rehearse
Questions once learnt beside a mother's
knee.
behind,
219
Rabat!
And
pray for the old gospel of then- That played about our cloudy politics
youth.
With
were right,"
he said;
ridicule
like
reason
now and
social
"And
they
" man cannot live Without his formulas I was a fool Your disembodied, unfamiliar thought. Like disembodied spirit, frightens him
new depths of
And
hopes for
men
dull brain
Or he seems
And
Of rural squires believing in their game. And rural priests believing in their
teinds.
ing ice,
And polar fogs wherein he sees no light. And burghers cushioned in old customs, But the ice-glimmer everywhere. And good
yet
but quickened
'Tis well for you to-day that I was left To play the fool ; I think ye have
more That I
larger
light
lie
And expectation in the poor oppressed. Soon this man grew, by writing and
in the
shade
your
life is
That
mine
was
straitened
A
freer
unto some he
set
through
I found
my
bonds."
his papers
to
the world
sundry traces Class against class, and all against the Faith ing faith Which anchored men to God by Just as he learned it, day by day, and oft prophet-forms. Erasing one day what he writ the last Where prophet - vision was not : but Upon their puzzled minds ; a hint to some or two He brought the hope of better days Of hope and failure, and some things a-coming,
among
Of that old
time,
he called
"Crystallised sermon," tied up with
a string.
And
done
work,
well-earned leisure
Scholastic tasks, and in his leisure hours Cheerfully, as a man who had not lived Penning brief essays, quaintly humorous. In vain ; but could look back upon Or thoughtful with the flavour of a soul a path Fresh from the vision of a dewy world Troubled with battle and turmoil, hope That still seemed very good : and and fear, people noted And frequent disappointment and
The
promise in them of an unknown defeat. power. Yet brightened, too, Ere long the breakfast table mirthful success
by trophies of
grew
By growth
incisive
With an
220
Raban
to
And power
he had
grow
still
more, wherein
his restful
On
No
little part.
Now, round
love
greylike
years
Honour
and
out
were
gathered
French
gratitude
Grew
But
of
service
lightly
esteemed.
in its full
And many
achievement plainly seen Imprints
tiny Elzevirs
and Scotch
at
Capmahoun
tall
copies
A happy lot
in the
scarce
Of him who,
monk,
hear
Fair tomes emitted by the press beloved praising Folly, smote the
calm
steal
over you,
And
Of
see
them speak
the
ill
grinned out of his hood everywhere, times you helped to better Folio and quarto, duodecimo,
And
books
for
them.
first,
With
I
when hunting
for
stories,
poems
Among
loves
And
and
as
there I revelled
who
we had
so
happy
Now
its
I?
joyous hours
there as
joy
I,
What
being fearful that he sought
at
And
for a curious
him,
My
That for an autograph, one for a comma Oddly misplaced, another for its margin.
Its type, its title, or its
till
he
colophon
Who
slender means.
we grew
friends ere
taste
while
he fondled some
loved prize. Having a common love of curious lore. Thus meeting, by and by, I found Quarto or folio,
my way
Into his home, which once had been
And
search,
and
capture.
made
bright
And how
:
he brought
it
home
like one
By
who walked
L ightsome as flowers
now.
was lonely
And silent,
had gone before found his rooms All lined with books, and littered too with books
for they all
We
And
friends
grew fast friends, for all his were young. that which linked him with the
Raban
I've mostly ancient lore, was less than that And yet who knows ? which drew found His heart to the opening Future ; full That secrets are but sorry stuff; of hope And those that lie beneath the ground He hung about the dawn, like morning Perchance are commonplace enough.
Of
star.
And
fearing greatly,
larger
my life it has not been What once I hoped, nor what I feared And why should that we have not seen
;
Be other than has yet appeared ? change, And deeper movements in the thoughts There are no breaks in God's large plan. But simple growth from less to more ; of man Wrestling for birth, than centuries had And each to-morrow brings to man But what lay in the day before. known.
But falling sick, at length, he slowly sank Beneath a wasting ill that broke his
strength.
The river has its cataract. And yet the waters down
below
flow
:
Yet not
he
still
was gay,
And And
on
like those
above
it
so the
new
life
may
begin
Where this one stopt, with finer powers. less grew. Cheating the worms, he said ; and Perhaps, a subtler thread to spin, And years to work instead of hours. under all Lay a great calm of Faith and surest What has my life been that my heart Hope. *
by the fire Should be so tranquil at this time, me, black-bordered, So free to ply the careless art Of guessing, and of tagging rhyme ? sealed With skull and cross-bones, yet his Here on this solemn brink of doom writing plain, I seem not much to fear or care. I opened it in fear, and there I read But peer into the gathering gloom. And mostly wonder what is there.
evening, sitting lonely
One
A letter
came
to
THE LETTER
I begged hard for an hour of grace
through
From
who
plies
His wherry
fore-doomed place
Of all
Nor
the foolish, and all the wise. But not an hour the churl will give.
That never yet would life appear So real that my hand must do Its work with earnestness and fear Still I could dream and speculate.
I,
Who
And And
Or
turn
it
nothing
perfect way.
Another
sun,
and I
shall
know
well
The secret Death has kept so What wonders in a day or so A letter writ by me could tell
and
failed
;
At
! ; ;
222
Raban
But they
that hold
by the Divine,
And now
their fire
is
burning low,
Their smoke
Clasp too the Human in their faith. And with immortal hopes entwine The silence and the gloom of death.
and trifling gains I read, and, hastening to his house, I by the abysses played. found And partly knew the griefs and pains 'Twas even as he said. In his last hours That from the depths their moaning He wrote, and gave strict orders not to made, send And partly felt them too, and yet The letter till his final breath was drawn. Could be content to dream and write. And now he lay there mystic, beautiful.
!
Ah Ah
wasted
gifts
life
that
Or
my might
Never,
in
all
dreamed
That
by the
score,
had
Do
with
to
it
as
you
;
will
I give
it
My all
you
perchance
may
When
with fun ; Beacon another soul to live More wisely through its changeful day. But never passing word, or tremulous
they are notlarge Hinted of Love's You'll pay my debts You'll bury me where the poor folk of song,
sleep
tone.
sweet
sorrow, or
Long brooding o'er the tragic bliss only charge o' the heart Is that the dear old books you'll keep. Till now I found these lyrics scattered, If ghosts come back, mine will be met most. Upon the steps among the shelves, Loose in a drawer, and cast them into Searching for mildew, moth, or wet shape In the small quartos or the twelves. As I could trace the thread : and gathered up And now farewell, my lad ; fear God, The broken fragments with the care And keep your faith whole, if you can. of love. And where the devil has smoothed That nothing should be lost of a true life. your road. For he that truly lives, and clearly sees Keep to the right like an honest man The truth wrapt in his life, and can See that your heart is pure and just.
And
my
See that your way is clean and true ; By and by we shall all be dust, Yet by and by I shall meet with you.
set forth.
Amid the trivial and the commonplace. The soul of truth for which he dared
to live.
The world
is
losing faith in
God,
Leaves
And
thereby losing faith in man. For now the earthworm and the sod Wind up, they say, our little span
Than
he kindles
Lights on the dim, uncertain
way we go.
Here
Preludes
223
PRELUDES
DREAMING
I
trough
For
brutes
by the wayside
to
quench
their thirst,
DREAM beside
at first.
Which
From
low
me
;
One
And
waves, with measured beat, Drift up the slow wrack, to my feet. Faces gaze from it, sad and sweet.
as the
of twin marbles from the quarry brought One serves the earth, one glows with
altar-fires.
So come they, as the stars appear There's something Even while you gaze on the blank
the soul
in
high purpose of
to
its
night
you wis, lo far and near The dusk is all agleam with light mighty host, uncalled, they come. And without sound of trump or drum. But yet their silence is not dumb.
ere
!
For
To
art that
kind can
They speak
That
to
yet can
To make
heart.
his cattle-trough
with honest
and
touch
still
lives to
me
could not frame the god with gleaming eyes. As nobly plays the more ignoble part.
And
still
I see
More
And maybe, as the higher light breaks in And shows the meanertask he has to do,
he
strives to
win
true.
WORK AND
Is
it
Only the
and
SPIRIT
life
the
work
?
that
makes
great
can.
and true
Or
it
Does
And
faithfully the task it has to do. Plodding his dull keepeth faith alike with God and common earth,
round
rising
on
in
the
the
man?
Ah
Or
well
the
work
something
And God
now
into a coin.
works
fashioned
lips
Now
To
panting
; !
! !
224
Raban
And
see
CONSTRAINT
I
with motherly heart she would sweeten our care O'er the mild cup of tea, and the
What
now write,
homely
fare
in the Square.
hear.
Of the House
Then wherefore do I write it, being clear To her all the way of our life we laid bare To me, unwrit ? and oh the pain to me Its hopes and its fears, and she made
my heart, and yet unbare it here. hide what I have writ, and mean to burn I gather life's grey ashes in an urn. And brood o'er them with many a dropping tear. Dreading to keep, yet shrinking to destroy
I
hide
Then
And
soothed
us, or
cheered
in
us, as
one
depths of
light-
And we
somer
all
air
The
treasured relics.
bliss
O my
Love
?
From
the
House
my
Is
kind
it all
were
girls
Leaving no other joy to me but this. Bright That I must open the old wound, and Loo
take
our
rare.
Nimble
it,
or else
my
heart
too.
of birds,
Of
would
up the
stair
THE HOUSE
O
! !
Of the House
in the Square.
THE House in the Square dear Never maidens more frank, never maidens more fair, House in the Square With the little grass-plots, and the Never maidens were simpler or truer than they ; mouldy green tubs Where the hoops fell away from the They could think as we thought, yet
pale-flowering shrubs
their hearts
were
as
gay
But the widow was kind, and her daughters were fair. And all the day long there was sunshine there.
When
you speak as we spoke long evenings there At the House in the Square. Logic we
aired,
the
A poor
Of
scholar's
widow who
still
splitting
her share
life's
many
a hair
girls, skilled
vexing troubles,
life
how
kindly
And
the quick-witted
in
book
mellow-toned Greek, busy with Reading just what we read, of their Plato would speak.
; ;
The House
Or
they sang an old played a blithe air,
discussion
affair
in the
Square
225
song, or
they
How
When
Yet she looks haughty all the while. grew hot about any And beams on you in the goddess style.
in the
In the House
Square.
scholar,
would have
lives
Whoever spoke to Muriel, thought Her looks are nothing to her speech
That
girl
How
They
on
to
And
And
Was
soars beyond the common reach Yet with her high and daring mood.
in
human good,
?
At
the
House
care.
in the Square.
;
it Mary Stuart, or Joan of Arc, Or Charlotte Corday that lived in her ? Did she bewitch with glances dark. Or make your noblest pulses stir ? Shall he who seeks her love to win,
We
were
all
of us poor
but
we
its
harvest
in,
?
not
much
Be
best
great in
spirit,
or great in sin
riches
of
fair
enigma
Low-browed,
small.
With
courage of faith, and the Yet walking in her queenly grace. You would have vowed her stately, tall. ardour of youth And with Homer and Shakespeare for Like Dian coming from the chase. With bow unstrung, and flushed with friends, we could bear pride. The dust of the carriage that passed
the
with a
stare
The
in the Square.
At
the
House
Every
its
How
it
home with
scholarly air
Was
Entangled hearts with cunning wiles ? Those brave, gentle souls 'mid the Or was she maiden without disguise. city's turmoil. Bright with sunny and artless smiles ? All so earnest in thought, and so patient
in toil.
What was
wrought.
the
subtle
charm
that
And
and so patient
as I
to bear
So
I
that, hopeful or
hoping nought.
?
Ah
would
were now
wont
!
to
Still to
be there At the
House
in the
Square
held them
fast
MURIEL
Whoever looked at Muriel, said That girl has soul, her heart is high.
;
What was
them
cast,
to smile anew,
And she has great thoughts in her head, And close to her again they drew And scorn of meanness in her eye Holding her all that is good and true ?
15
; ;
: ;
226
Raban
extremes of good or
bliss to
ill,
Still in
Loo, Loo
she will
toil at his
Greek,
speak
She seemed
Help
his prelections,
and
fittingly
do her
will,
To
scholars of
Homer,
in
to
Burschen
in it
an aching heart
of beer,
Plato the reference-
Will search out them joy or let them ache. passage, The task she set them they would make
at her lot,
And
mug and
the old
Nor cared for incense that she got, Nor heeded what the world might say
Unwittingly her spells she wove, And proudly lived apart, above All the surmise of hate or love.
Loo, Loo
Can
boil,
she can sew, she can spin. stew and fry, see to flagon
!
and binn,
the " Birds " and the " Clouds with fine sense of the fun. Grasp Aeschylus' thought of the Fates,
Read
"
And
As
Muriel, with the dark bright eyes still her beauty seemed to be
and the
Human
gleams out
in
That
softly
Euripides'
Woman,
seek the Beer-garden, and knit
in the sun.
inspired
LOO
Loo, Loo!
pretty.
at
Loo, Loo what will she not do For a husband she loves, ever faithful
!
rather
handsome
than
Is
she'll
study
Veds
Deft
Quick
And Babylon's stone-books and arrowhead letters. and keen in retort Oh, she'll find the trick of them as soon Knitting her brows now o'er polyglot
a pudding, or stocking, or ditty.
at a riddle,
learning.
as her betters.
Then
toiling
hard
at
And
darning.
or beds.
life,
Brimful of
or at
work
or in sport.
Loo, Loo where on earth can she be Frau they tell me in Germany, Seeing to Saur Kraut, plump and fair
!
Loo, Loo it was always her way She said men were failures, and had had their day. But women were versatile, nimble as
!
Now
in
the
store-room,
now
at
the
air.
dresser.
fit
for the
Kitchen-maid, waiting-maid
Professor,
her
the
highest.
Pouring
at
life-blood
driest.
into
themes that
Just as she
was
the
House
in
were
Square.
Happy
; ; ;; : !;
227
The House
in the Square
MYRA
LOVE
Oh, what is this that in my heart is She was the fairest of all the three singing, Yet not at first she caught the eye, Like sweet bird, caged there, carolling For in her maiden meekness she all day ? Wooed shadow like the primrose shy, And seventeen summers hardly brought Oh, what is this such gladness to me
Her
bringing
And
Too
shot
That
life
is
bliss,
and work
!
is
merry
play,
Yet she was fairest of all the three. E'en were she nothing at all to me.
wisest of them, though Not so nimble and deft of wit But her heart thought, and made her
sunny flowers
As
go singing, singing on
my way
O
Ah
!
know
what
this that in
my
heart
is
What
was fit And when you touched on higher Like captive vainly moaning to be free ? Ah what is this so heavy in me lying ? chords. No rest there is, nor any work for me. With eager eyes and parted lips, You caught her listening to your words, And leaf and flower are drooping now and dying Quick mind the finger-tips
for the loving heart
!
sighing.
with
to
wisest of
ail
the three.
As
Had
at all to
me.
O
What
sweet
thing
this
my
foolish heart
is
I sigh or sing,
is
clever thing.
Wisest, sweetest, fairest she. E'en were she nothing at all to me.
gleaming As in high glory where the angels are I but a glow-worm on the earth dullbeaming. While she is gleaming, gleaming there
afar.
And
And
she was
all
the world to
me
it
knew
not.
she loved, though I did not see She gave me back the love I sought loved, and yet we never wist Till many years had come and gone ;
We We
SPEECHLESS
O
thou fire-edged cloudlet
never spoke
it,
never kissed,
But loved
in silence
and alone.
all
Brimming o'er with light Like my heart thou hangest 'Twixt the day and night.
;:
228
Rabat!
How
fresh
in
powers,
in
faiths,
in
Seemingly
at rest,
thoughts
is
strange tumult
How full
The sum
in
thy breast.
We jotted down
of
all
pregnant notes
O my
heart o'er-brimming
With burning thought of her, Could' St thou only speak it, How her heart must stir
!
The scholar's aim we held aloft. The fearless search for what is true. As fresh discoveries called us oft
Old schemes of Nature
to review.
But my love is surging. Like the hurrying wave Breaking on the silence
And And
And
make room
for
growth yet
act
Of the
more,
to believe that
dripping cave
God may
In ways
we had
We had
upon
itself.
our passing hours of doubt, But did not nurse the shadowy throng. For we had work to go about That would not hold with doubting
long.
THE LICENTIATE
DILL'S LODGINGS
I SEE the little dingy street.
on those brave years, Unspotted by the world and free. Meagre and poor to-day appears. When earth is so much more to me.
The The
little
little
high.
neat.
With
CONFIDENCE
Strange, that for
the shore,
all
The paper chintz, the staring prints. The bird whose carol would not cease. And the cracked china ornaments
Ranged
stiffly
on the mantelpiece.
And
all
sea.
We
never
dream
that
With
sluttish
women
at
every door
light
!
life
that
may
be one
Gossiping
in the
waning
Yet oh the nights I there have seen The humour kindling every face,
hope comes
The
That
as light
!
homely place
little
Dawns on
waves.
Simple our
life,
with
change,
With
And
yet
it
Fresh with the wonderful and strange Of youth's enchanted golden trance ;
lie
buried
out
The
Licentiate
229
And we are sure, and eager for the race, And crowd all sail, and deem not for
an hour
WAITING
That
life
is
power
not worth living, or that Wearily drag the lagging hours To him who, waiting to be hired.
and space.
Is
More
Is
it
The hope
worthy
part.
art.
And
than break them,
Or worse
when
the
soul departs
fight,
he waits forlorn.
jest.
And oh it irks him sore to rest. And watch, too oft with mocking
we
desire,
all
Though
deceit.
hating
And And
all
we we
?
hear
is
but our
own
heart's
Things done that fill his soul with scorn, As he with folded hands must sit. While lesser men, with scanty wit. Get all the work, and tangle it.
life
beat,
all
see but
grows
a
bitter
or perhaps
in his face.
inspire
Hope
flirts
moment
SCATTERED
Scattered to East and
Then
trips off to
its
another place.
And
pours
Some with
stout,
Of some
dull soul,
whose easy
eat.
feet
Each
And
alone
we must
fight
out.
And lo the work remains undone. And work is what he hungers for.
!
We
But cannot
find an
open door,
the sun.
fire,
grange.
And
Still
loiters idly in
From
moorland farm,
and the
terraced street.
And
Not Not
A WISH
Just a path that
is
of the
Shall
we
ever
all
meet again.
in the
sure.
Or
But
be as
we were
days of old.
Thorny
or not.
And a heart honest and pure. and more cheerily go Keeping the path that is sure. Having changed tidings upon the sea. That be my lot So I am richer by them, I know. Life is no merry-making, And they are not poorer, I trust, by me. Hark how the waves are breaking
as ships cross,
!
::
230
Raban
Just plain duty to
know, Irksome or not, And truer and better to grow In doing the duty I know. That I have sought Life is no merry-making,
To-day, I
so
And
!
lo
to-morrow,
it is
like a
dream
How
the
stiff
Of restless
nights
And
Weary
or not,
Sure of the Right alone. As I keep battling on, True to my thought Life is no merry-making. Ah how men's hearts are breaking
!
which I should have found Before I tried To preach, with unfixed heart, the faith profound
I seek a gospel
Which
tells
the
captive
that
he
is
SELF-CONTEMPT
I bear a
unbound
And
message to the sons of men, Faithful and true, it should drop on earth like tender
set
him
free
misery.
true
!
rain,
heart that
would be
O
my
hard
estate. But yet I bear my message all in vain, To falset bound let For me do Whate'er I may, and plead howe'er I This only comfort is there
in
fate
can,
I touch
My
To
no heart of man.
I
?
message I did ne'er prevaricate With tinkling sound tickle ears, nor played with showy
How
Is,
should
Though
bear a
trick
message
true.
Of tinsel
live,
rhetoric.
The
thing I want
room for me to
and work to do
I've
;
mocked
And
so I go about to places
new
bitter jest
;
At much I saw With patience scant. And tell my tale, and then go on my way. But yet I kept a true heart in my breast. Nor turned, in all my trouble and unrest. And life grows dull and grey.
From
And
Thus,
am
full
of self-contempt and
Of present
scorn
To
the high law duty ; and my peace Even in this hard estate.
is
great
go about
forlorn,
HOPE
To
Shall be found out be no prophet whom the Lord hath sent, Or for His service meant.
little
hill.
With
elm-trees,
; ;
The
Licentiate
231
In a still, pastoral land of brook and rill, To stand beside the cradle and the grave. And broomy knoll, and sleepy, dripping And tell them how the meek and true
mill.
and brave
stir
of
cities
and of seas
Turn
is
sweet.
!
And
copse,
O happy lot
fire.
With honeysuckle
little
garden slopes
the
pebbly
And And
desire.
How
long.
happily
the
days
and
years
Dream
of
!
the
golden
morning of
might flow
the day
Among
Dream
ing star
know,
From
ful
the river rippling soft away thoughtful silence into thought- Into the tremulous moonshine which
in
song
dreams
are.
smoking
To take the little children on the knee. And bless them, as He did in Galilee
stream
from
the
heath-purpled
Who
came with
;
mountain
earth
From
its
fountain,
Breaking the hush To speak to them of Duty and of God, Of the silent, songless mountain. And of the Love that clasped the bitter
Cross,
And
Pewit-and-curlew-haunted,
Foaming,
it
flows
rod.
And
He
in
trod.
Who
its
with the rowan and bracken grey lichened stone. To share in all the joys and griefs But never its pace will it slacken. they have, Still hurrying on. To bless the bridal, not else thought Though it plays with the rowan and
And
complete.
bracken.
; ; !
232
Raban
And
hums meadows,
to
bee-humming
He
is
And
That
And nothing
bleats
shadows.
There
is
rills.
Down
And
to the
still
river hastens
The
swift-flowing stream.
And creak of frightened pewit's wing. And bleat of young lambs on the hills.
Heard only when
And
aye as the distance it lessens Its bright waters gleam, it leaps and sparkles and hastens
The
soul,
and
all
What made my
Till in the calm-flowing river
eyes
blind
Softly
it
sinks,
And
What
Ah, when the heart is heavy and low. The beauty that on earth we find. Or strain of music on the wind.
Shall touch
it
like an utter
woe
O
O
love
my my
river full-flowing.
Wait, wait
love
!
for
me
I will
love, ever-growing,
to thee
SUBMISSION
remember
it
Hastens
For
rest in
for aye,
Though
It
there I
FAILURE
I see the
Kirk beneath the hill. elms rustling in the breeze. modest Manse, so calm and still. dripping of the sleepy mill
tall
A A
sunny day, And under stars and moon. It was the only hope I had That unto near fulfilment grew while it made me very glad while it made me very sad
haunts
in the
me
And then I knew 'Twas but another thread He wove In the mixed web of Father-love.
down, with
hungry
heart.
On
The The
MORALISING
fair
and the May flies dart Roses About the slowly eddying pool.
trout leaps,
And
they
tell
Low
Sorrows into
grow
Heigh-ho
from
the
flinty
It was a stroke Brought the stream Peeps to another star far away. rock. And the hill is wrapt in a misty shroud.
Sermons
common
folk
Crystallised
233
with
And
Frosty winter kills out weeds they tell me, evil seeds
that bleeds
For
common
And
To
sorrows, and
no reaching out
of hope
find a larger faith in Charity
;
And
Yet notable
Starting,
valise
for a Licentiate
on
Saturdays,
with
little
Ah
As
the loss
Bitter bliss
And
threadbare
garments, for
some
village
homely kirk
Heigh-ho
Among
green.
to
the hiUs, or
on the
me.
Then
passed
away
again,
and was
CRYSTALLISED SERMONS
forgot.
NOTE
SACRIFICE
He had no written sermons, only took " And there he builded an altar unto the Brief jottings upon any scrap of paper Lord that appeared unto him." Gen. xii. 7. Bits of old letters, envelopes, or Is there Bridge-maker who can throw labels And there the thought was scrawled, An arch across the gulf of years.
That we may travel back, and know roughly etched, a kind The brooding thoughts, and haunting fears, Of hieroglyph whereof he had the key, Now lost for ever : etchings strongly And clinging faiths of them who raised Their altars 'neath the evening star. drawn, With a clear eye for form, and touched And offered to the gods, and praised. with humour And drave the dogs and birds afar ? Or pathos ; so he penned his similes. But certain thoughts that took his Vainly, I seek to know his mind Who smote the lamb with gleaming fancy more,
but half the matter
illustration
Was
And,
as I guess,
knife.
more.
And
and put
in
hoped
to find
As
sermon-matter crystallised, spoken In amplitude of phrase, but compact Not to be preached, but crooned in I gaze back from the brink of time On shadowy forms of early days, quiet hours Of musing by the fire. Poor sermons That in the morning, loom sublime, God-guided on untravelled ways truly
! ;
peace of a diviner life. Far off he seems, I cannot tell once Whether beneath me, or above. Or compassed round with shades of hell. now Or trembling in the bliss of love
The
234
Raban
And piled the logs upon the hearth. And called the gods, in stormy words, To send the hungry ravens forth To fatten at the feast of swords.
Yet darker rites were theirs who kissed Their hand unto the placid moon Or who the Tyrian Moloch wist To pacify with choicest boon Of babe or maid ; or where the Priest Stood grim beneath the Druid oak Or Aztec fed with ample feast
;
But o'er the vague, vast chasm that parts Their thought from mine I cannot go I wot not how their troubled hearts Were calmed by making blood to flow.
Yet once wherever man had Or sin had grown from base
trod,
desire,
He
built
And And
an altar to his god, laid the faggot on the fire. brought the choicest of the flock
frolic
From
And
The
The The The
laid
The
throat
was driven.
What was
it
blood was sprinkled on the stone. To give it calm, or promise bliss ? smell of fat went up to heaven, Strange that the ages, as they roll. That on the leaping flame was thrown ; Have dropped behind a thought like this. And he before his god was glad. Which held the universal mind And prayed, and sang his evening hymn, Of all the world when it was young ! And laid him down to sleep, and had For now the key I cannot find Bright dreams until the stars grew dim. In all that men have said or sung.
Hebrew on the plain In mocking scorn, the Prophet laughed while Heaven, many-eyed, Loud at a hungering, thirsting God Unweeping, saw the throbbing pain. craved the flesh of bulls, or quaffed Or smiled even as the victim died. The reeking blood that died the sod. And smelled a sweeter smell from blood, For every beast is His, and all He wist, than from the myriad flowers The cattle with their clover-breath. That breathed, from shining bell and And Love, that quickened great and bud, small. Their incense through the dewy hours. Can feel no pleasure in their death.
Thus did
the
Of Moreh,
Who
The
subtle-wltted
Greek with
art
They
all life
Was And
He
gives.
sprouting horn.
Flower-garlanded, into the grove. And there by crystal fount or brook. Into the life of Nature wove The slender thread of life he took.
gash some other thing that lives they are sure, and they are clear. While I in dizzying darkness grope,
trust that God will yet appear In star-gleams of a nobler hope.
The Norseman slew the mighty steed That bore him in the battle fray,
Had
roots o'er
all
the earth,
And And
and drank the mead, If they were withered now in death feasted Hella-thoughts away, As having no abiding worth
ate the flesh,
:
Crystallised
Sermons
^35
But from those roots still branches spring High on the heath are the Standing Stones, truth and
Great, gaunt stones in a mystic ring. Girdling a barrow where heroes' bones Crumble to dust of death that owns
And still of Sacrifice we sing, And blood that maketh clean and white.
There was some passion, fear, or guilt That emphasised expression thus. As by a mighty oath, and felt
it
?
Them
Not
faiths
and
thrones.
far off is an oozy spring Feeding a black and dismal pool There slow efts crawl, horse-leeches
A peace
To On
I
;
But what
had done
cling.
yet spent
And And
wing.
near by the adder
is
coiled in
Into the
the ling
I know the Cross must be his lot once an oak made a shadow cool. Who thrills with Love's redeeming kiss. And Woven of its green boughs overhead.
But when the Lamb or Bullock fell 'Neath the keen blade, or shattering
blow,
Now
But
How
Or
Or
that could
make
I
Croaks on
the sick heart
stump from
May to
Yule.
well.
nearer
God
do not know.
of
yet the
Lamb
God
was
slain
wrapt
all
all all
man
silently watching the silent dead Stands the grey circle of sentinels. Scarred and lichened, as ages sped With snows, and dripping rains overhead. And suns, and the wasteful life they
life,
bred.
the dead
man
in that Everlasting
Ought.
The
Or
living
And the
Altar-fire of the
Unseen
tells,
bells
Summon
Lauds and
Canticles.
abode lapwing and shrill curlew. To circle and cairn they carried their moans. load Eerie and weird, to the curlews there. Of burdened thought, as they wearily And the greedykiteand the kestrel scare trod Singing birds from the lightsome air. On to the brink where they lost the road.
there, of old, in that bleak
A rolling upland, open and bare, A blasted heath where the night wind
And
Of wily
Raban
;;
236
Seek but provision of bread and wine. High-ceiled houses, and heaps of gold. His earliest beams ; and there he met Fools to flatter, and raiment fine. The Bel-fire kindling its answer true^ All the wealth of the sea and mine Light for the light in heaven that grew, And nothing of God shall e'er be thine. Worship-light to the Light-god due. But who seeks Him, in the dark
in the dripping
dew
their
and cold.
In the old days, to the powers above. Giving back that they were fain to get. shall hold. And piling the faggots, dry or wet, Though round his spirit the mists Still as the keen stars rose and set. may fold, With eerie shadows, and fears untold.
With heart that elsewhere finds no rest. Some fringe of the skirts of God
Was
wove
Fire-worship thus for the god of fire ? Give from below what ye get from
above.
Light for the heaven-light. Love its Love, holy soul for the Holy Dove.
for
Heb.
j.
There is a long, green spit of land That juts into a loch ; the sea
His
praises
show
will desire.
He
He
Not
Or
Ever new from the trembling wire. Ever new from the heart on fire.
But here the peace is very great. Small brooklets murmur as they list.
Back
to
its
fountain let
it
flow
;
oft-enfolding mist,
The The
hills
And if your
joy
He
has
made
to grow.
Up
to
Him
Shows
let its
gladness go.
And
So in all faiths there is something true. The more her silver branches shine ; And here and there the rough-kneed oak Even when bowing to stock or stone Something that keeps the Unseen in Spreads its sharp-dinted glossy leaves
view
Where
Its
Beyond the
stars,
And
notes
His
gifts
shadow with
on the
spit
And
With
of land a stone.
due.
For where the spirit of man has gone A-groping after the Spirit divine,
Stands on the tufted grass alone. Its face graven with a simple Cross
Somewhere
Throne,
or
other
it
And
is
seen by none,
Nor Nor
Butwho
seek
Him thatissittingthereon.
A simple Cross,
Crystallised
Sermons
237
Not other is the stone from those That in the mystic circle stand An unhewn slab, and yet it shows
And when
knife,
New
Unpitying, smote bare head or breast. They sweetly sang themselves to rest
In monumental speech, it tells The story of the ages gone. The story of the Pagan stone
With
Crown of
Life.
By
Christian
New-charmed with
spells.
sacred
They conquered
them
those
who
vanquished
And corn grew on the waste war-path. Men had been giving blow for blow. And nets dried where the long ships And wrath for wrath, and tears for tears, came, And reaping duly grief and woe And there was wealth where had
Through the long
years
Still, with
tale
of blood-stained
been
loss.
And ringing bells for clash of swords. And needing no explaining words. On the old stone they graved a Cross.
They conquered yet for many a day The fierce old spirit lingered still,
;
And
men
they feared.
In vain the coracle was hid In cove beneath the branching trees In vain they practised rites forbid. Or sought the hills, and shunned the
seas
;
the hot passion had its sway, the old war-gods wrought their
rites
will.
Amid
They Upon
The
the mists, and on the moss had but scratched a shallow Cross
ship.
And wrath and sorrow came with him, Ah me and still we hardly know And many a shining eye grew dim. The depth and glory of the Faith And quivered many a smiling lip.
!
That opens
life
to
man by
slow.
;
then there travelled o'er the sea, From the lone isle where saints were
!
Lo
Meek
We
To
still
bred,
Content to scratch our shallow Cross brought good news of God, they On the rough surface of old life.
They suffered much, yet did not grieve, And there it stands, the cross-charmed stone, They laboured much, and wearied not, On the green spit beyond the trees They bore with joy a bitter lot. And sang their hymn at morn and eve. It hears by night the faint sea-moan. By day the song-bird and the breeze, They sang about the dim grey seas. And Christian bells, and sounding trains. And One that walked upon their wave; And the hard grinding of the wheels They sang about the streams and trees And now and then a pilgrim kneels.
In a far land beyond the grave
;
And
tells
to
it
Raban
238
THE ABBEY
at sundry times and in divers spake in time past unto the fathers." Heb. i. i.
Some went hunting the red-deer stag, Some would travel with beggar's bag,
"God
And some
sat
manners
Near by the
river the
fruit
Abbey
stands,
fat
Among
With
old
trees,
and on
And And
still
found cause to be
from
green lands.
a weir
home,
near to St. Peter's costly door
all
not all bad, and they were good And cunning cruives at the salmonWho wore the Monk's girdle and leap sandal and hood, And the beeves on the clover are But some of them padded the Cross
the mill, not
fetlock-deep.
They were
And
'Tis
they bore.
hill.
fruitful stage
In the slow growth, and the ripening age Broken gable and cloistered side 'Mong lichened pear-trees and Spanish Of the long history of man For beaming Virgin and Holy Child nuts,
now
wide
Here
Or
niche where
:
sculptured lords
And
mind began.
recline
Long
and huts.
Oh, stately the Lady-Chapel there Once reared its cross in the upper air Near by the river among the trees,
The footsore pilgrim there found rest, The heartsore too was a welcome guest. And who loved books, got helpful store. It is God who guides the world's affairs.
And sweet bells rung, and censers swung, And matins and vespers and lauds were
sung.
And
ever
life rises
its
by winding
stairs.
Screwing
way from
With solemn-chaunted
He
litanies.
who
reads
Ever
O'er the high Altar a meek face shone, Sprouting up to a nobler end. And God's long patience working still Through all the good, and through all Fashioned by art beyond the sea;
the
ill.
priest
And
fessed.
to bell the wild bee strays. Seeking the sweets of the sunny days. somewould pore over vellum books. Probing deep for the honey-cell
And
some would
the sharp fish- Yet well for his theft he pays the flower, For he brings to the blossom a quicksee to the sheep ening power.
and kine;
And
a richer
life to
bud and
bell.
;; ;
Crystallised
Sermons
339
the old
Church-
As it
And many guests there come and go, themselves at home in it. With scourgings many, and fastings And make Some restless, hurrying to and fro. new; Some lounging where the sunbeams flit. It knew no letters, it spurned at Art, Some with a curious craving smit. It had no pleasures, and lived apart Doomed to die the world's life grew. Some with the laugh of careless wit.
strife,
prayed in
its cell,
as
All through the woods they hunt the But something of wisdom the Monk game. would know. Or snare the fish in brook and mere. Something of gladness here below. They bake the wheat by the ruddy Something of beauty, and what it can flame. He was not sinless, and yet he brought Or roast the flesh of the fatted steer. larger heart, and a freer thought. And draw from cellars cool the clear And a fuller life to the sons of man. Old wine that has ripened many a year.
not the end are a stage too This stately mansion is their inn, Others will come yet our work to mend, Where many fret, and all make free And they too will wonder at our poor They set the tables to lose or win. ways. They tune the strings to dance with Ah Life is more than our sermons, glee:
!
And we
prayers,
Only
machineries,
multiplied
their
Bourses,
And many
They
wares
away. by right Still is a feeling of something in me They think, if He were coming, they Which yet I am not, and I ought to be. Could bear the searching of His light Vaguely reaching for more and more ; They think He is a dream of night. And the gain is loss, when I do not win That morn will banish from the sight.
Still
think that
He
is
far
And
is
theirs
A larger A
life
And
But there are some grave men and wise lead the guests to a silent room. Wherein a golden volume lies. PARABOLIC DISCOURSE And picture of One in youthful bloom. Whose face a glory doth illume ; "A certain man planted a vineyard, and And by His side are a Cross and Tomb. let it forth to husbandmen, and went into a far country. " Luke xx. 9. And this, they say, is He who made
hopes of an ever-opening door.
Who
First
Head
of Discourse
The
great house
limes.
A stately mansion in
And He is living who once was dead. its park But far away in heavenly climes. Stands fair amid the oaks and limes. Where are no stars or tides or chimes. Throstle and ousel, cuckoo and lark, And flowers and shrubs of many climes, Telling the seasons and the times.
340
Raban
some of His guests
And
He
keeps for
He
bliss,
He
And
some of doom.
He
And
and brooded
still
and mute.
Some He
Tomb,
Until he saw, as 'twere, the white Thin sickle of the new-born moon
Meekly dying
room.
That
yet holds
all to
all
These He loves of very grace But those He leaves to die in sin, Not evermore to see His face,
;
And And
That
him grew
he came singing,
tune
Nor
For
ever hope of
all
life to
win
Wrath
the Eternal Word, He The glory and the life of Heaven, Which his entrancM soul had heard.
deemed
in.
Lo
have sought, he
said,
and
striven
And
should bow the knee To find the truth, and found it not. At the glory of His might. But yet to me it hath been given, And glory of His justice see. And unto you it hath been brought. That surely doeth all things right This Host of ours our Father is, And so in Him should they delight And we the children He begot.
therefore
Whether
Upon my brow
Second Head of Discourse
Once, pitying much
lot,
I felt
His
kiss.
His love
is all
And He
their
gentle
And
burdened
with
thought.
For though He comes in many shapes, His love is throbbing in them all. no soul escapes, long-brooding And from His love And from His mercy none can fall.
speak.
foredoomed
He
deeply questioned them ; and they Replied that he was vain and weak
this
Now, when
rose,
For
faith
alway
And
And
That
Of all the martyrs and the saints. And all the ages stretching grey
With many
all all
drove him forth into the night bitter words like blows said that all would now be right.
their trouble
now would
full
cease,
Among
Or
And
Yet Out
the house be
of peace.
Since Luther held the world at bay, Paul was busy making tents.
silently
Then
he turned away.
And
dark and in the cold, among the dews. He ceased not fresh discourse to hold Amid the limes and elms and yews ; It was " a still small voice," and yet They heard it in the wind and wet.
in the
in the night
Crystallised
Sermons
241
He
Or
trees,
And
Of Nature for a witness true, Affirming what thy words have said Of Him who liveth, and was dead, And liveth to make all things new ?
In vain,
He
is
And
And
It
man
He
died.
we
try to reconcile
His
somehow, ever as he sang. seemed as if the great Book shone.
mystic, pleading yoices rang
Who
And
Is brought
And
And And
About
it
gets
no chance
tears
Look
out on
And And
And
That
But
lies
Laughing or lounging in the sun, And vowing that they had great peace But no one heeded now the old
Strange story that the wise
God
is
love, and
it is
God
is
light
this is faith,
And
men
told.
yet the wise men were content, said that they had faithful been ; to the chamber door they went. not by them the lights were the
Though
seen,
'Tis vain to wrestle with the doubt, Or think to reason it away, As well go wrestle with the grey Cold mist that creeps the hills about.
Yet I can
trust,
praise.
read
Book and
sang
and
prayed.
ate their viands
undismayed.
When
on the
bitter
Cross I gaze.
1
Fourth Head
of Discourse
fellest
Ah
Yet
!
in thine
which is truth ? The sovereign Will That worketh out a purpose vast. Beyond our ken, to end at last In severance of the good and ill ?
ELIJAH
z
Or
would enfold
It
Kings
ii.
z-ii
All creatures in a large embrace. And with the tears that blot its face.
Blot also out their sins untold
?
was the great Elijah in the chariot of heaven, With the horses of Jehovah, by a
Dear
Is
it
story of the Cross and Book our fabling hearts that speak
in
And
we
Fond dreams
seek,
Thee ? and
field
shall
Through glory of
and nook
242
Raban
was the great Elijah but meek and And was not that the road by which was he, from Carmel he had run For he trembled at the glory which Before the chariot of the king about his flesh was soon to see, the set of sun ? Going, girdled in his sackcloth, as the Yea, God was backward leading him prophets were arrayed. to heaven along the path To the splendour of the Presence where Which he had erewhile travelled o'er
It
still
Unwonted was
its mingled memories his heart Master would accord He might prepare To his true and faithful witness, For the grandeur and the glory and the bravest servant of the Lord ; crown he was to wear. Yet better had he borne, I trow, the Now, as they drove, careering, with
That by
sad, old
human way
by the gates of Death
had he borne
into
Of entering
Aye,
better
from the horses' flashing heels, he was aware of a throng of men face unto the wall, lay strewn along the road With his kindred in their kindness And straight at them the angel drave gathered round him, one and all. the chariot of God. And to lie down with his fathers in " " then cried Elijah,
to turn his
eternal day.
Lo
Stay,
stay
some
brief space
"
rein
For
It
now
they are sleeping ; or their thoughts are far away. In the presence of King Ahab, and And they do not hear the wheels of his Councillors of State, God to whom perchance they pray.
not
;
bowed its head in lowliness, as if " Full oft have I been praying so, and dared not cope chiding His delay. With the terror of the glory, and the And lo the work was done, or ere my wonder of the hope. lips had ceased to pray Away from earth they travelled ; yet For our ears are dull of hearing ; stay, he somehow seemed to know and put them not to proof The road, as if his weary steps had Beneath the grinding of the wheel, and trampling of the hoof." trod it long ago :
it
!
Now
And
was not that the wilderness to "Nay, it boots not," said the angel, which he once had fled ? " they are but the ghosts of those And that the lonely juniper where he Three hundred priests of Baalim who had wished him dead ? fell
beneath thy blows
And
was not that the cave where he That glorious day on Carmel ; let them had sat in sullen mood. perish, as they cry Until he heard the "still small voice" To the gods that cannot help them when that touched his heart with good ? they live, or when they die.
Crystallised
Sermons
243
and mocked you, and I
"Drive
I flouted you,
deemed
now
along,
see him once again in the " But He hath no pleasure in the death triumph of his faith. of any man that dies. And hear the bitter mockery, and taste He delighteth not in blood or smoke the bitter death." of such a sacrifice ; It was the great Elijah, the prophet Yea, not a worm is crushed, but the stem and grand. writhings of its pain Faithful only to Jehovah he in all the Touch a chord of His great pity who faithless land. made nothing live in vain. Zealous even unto slaughter for the " He had patience with thee, Sidon, God of Israel and patience I had none 'Gainst Ahab and the minions of the For the art of Tyre,
Let them
perchance.
Tyrian Jezebel.
He let
the sin of
Tyre
alone.
But he answered, " Stay thy running, Something He saw to stay His wrath ; and let me here descend. but I would nothing see For the Lord has brought me hither Ye were the Priests of Jezebel, and surely for this very end hateful unto me. Ah this thing I had forgotten day " I did not think how hard it is to find of glory and of dole the way of truth ; And I wist not what did ail me, but I did not think how hard it is to shake its weight was on ray soul." the faith
;
!
of youth
down from the chariot, Yet, if I was walking in the light, the looking oh, so meek and mild, credit was not mine, For the burden of the glory made him But God's who in His grace to me humble as a chOd had made the light to shine. And he lifted up the prostrate head of " If ye were walking in the dark, and
stept
;
Then he
was
in the light,
have brought its help to you, and plied you with its might " Ye priests of ancient Sidon, and of But I made my heart a flaming fire, my purple Tyre," he cried, tongue a bitter rod,
I should
"
I have heard a
still
And
still
small voice
hushed the storms of wrath and pride, which is the voice of God. And God who was not in the fire, and " I said ye might have right to was not in the wind. Tyre beside the sea. Was in the stUl small voice that spake But not in high Samaria, or to the unquiet mind. Galilee
live in
fertile
"
worshippers
of Ashtaroth,
and
And
priests
of Baalim,
I thought,
by His commands,
I thought to please
grievM
Him
Jehovah, and I only But I smote my own heart also when your blood was on my hands.
244
Raban
as
choicest songs of angels are the anthems that begin And in an unloved loneliness I nursed With the sorrow of a contrite heart unhallowed pride a-breaking for its sin. And I wist there was none faithful on the earth, but only I, And ever as the prophet wept, the And sat beneath the juniper, and prayed angel sang more loud. that I might die. And his face was shining more, the more the prophet's head was bowed ; " For Jezebel and Ahab did as they Until the task was ended, and the had done before.
For the
me
died,
were exalted, and were more. And the land was nothing better for the blood that had been shed. And I sat beneath the juniper, and wished that I were dead.
the
idols
And
flesh
was
lo
!
crucified,
idolaters
When
they were at the gate of heaven, and the door was opened wide.
Lo
" Then
it
still
small
voice, and
bowed me
Ten
to the ground,
their shout,
Humbled by the
Lord
Lord remembered he was flesh, and downcast for his sin, or with And Enoch who had walked with God
came
forth to lead
abide.
him
in.
Till ye
humble with your pardon him that smote you in his pride."
Then, one by one, he bore them gently from the angel's way. And, one by one, he laid them down, and kissed them where they lay And he never was so human as in his So
meekness then. And he never was so godlike was like other men.
till
LITTERATEUR
NOTE
he forsook the
in time.
priesthood
just
he
And
only just in
time
for
there
there,
And he said in
yearning pity,
about Doctrine unsound, unsettling, dangerous. Hapless souls that are in darkness, and In rural manses, and at cleric meetings ; who know not what they do " And the tearful eye was swimming, and In smithies too, and where the shuttle clicked, he heaved a weary sigh ; Sharp wits discussed him, and the He was very near to glory with that ploughman even
I might die for you.
!
"Oh that
in the
furrow, brood-
and
ing o'er
toiling long.
The
And
From
soil.
Litterateur
245
! There was Which stood in peril from the hand of one peace While the tea-table gossiped, and the should have stayed the ark. smith High Cardinals Told his coarse stories to the laughing Bourgeon in all the churches ; there red-stockinged, clowns
Who
(Heard
also
And
crimson-hatted
here
in
sober
the linen
black
Upon
peace when
and blood-
the weaver
his thin
And gravity and mostly portly men Of large discourse, and excellent taste
;
Starved into revolutionary dreams peace while men grew brutal as the steer They harnessed to their plough ! Then
in wines.
And
They
cultivate
the
wisdom of the
serpent.
And
to
Church
dove, alarm the Fulfilling thus the scripture by division Of labour, as the modern law reless
quires
You do
the simple
dove,
as
Christ
enjoins.
And
I will do the serpent. For the Church, As a world-kingdom, they are worldlywise.
We
But
may
strike.
Of crafty
For
its
men
ourselves,
Nor dream
in
it.
there
selves
are surely times when there Would bleed at the same altar ; yet alas nought They offer sometimes, what is holier So needed as unsettling, just to get still. Out of old ruts, and seek a nobler life. That charity which is the Church's life Raban forsook the Church, whose For the world-kingdom which they call God's Church. service once Had been his fond ambition. But ere that Men of long sUence, they will seldom There had been meetings of the speak Till they are ready to strike ; and so cardinals At the headquarters, moved thereto they held by letters. Many a quiet meeting, letting not Representations, visits, urging them whisper of its purport from their lips. That something must be done to save Only they looked more grave than the Faith customary,
Yet there
is
246
Raban
they
As
.
who have
grave business on
Of
ill
reports, of plans to
wreck
his
their hands.
hopes.
In truth, they wist not what they ought If hope still clung to him ; nor any to do brother The evil might be great; but then Came in a brother's love to him, and
he was
said
So
slight a
man,
so inconsiderable.
;
Unbeneficed, unpopular
and
to break
Lo we will reason it together then God will give light perchance, and
!
fly upon the wheel was apt to rouse thou shalt be Unreasonable laughter, and such men Saved from much sorrow, and I shall Like not such mirth. And then as to be blessed. these views They looked askance at him ; they Who could pin down a shadow to the crossed the road. ground, And passed on the other side ; they And take its measure ? who could try lifted up the notes Their eyes to heaven, and saw him Of a wild bird by proper rhythmic not ; or with laws? Broad, brazen stare they sUently wenton. Or say if the wind whistled by the He noted them, but heeded not, or gamut ? thought They understood not what he would But ho w the herd sweep past the stricken
be at:
deer.
the wild wolves, padding o'er no laws that they knew ; but they the waste, were sure Eyeing a wounded comrade, note how That he was vain and foolish, and soon would melt The time may come when they shall Like sugar in the mouth, and be forgot lap his blood, Save by some sweet-toothed children. Or gnaw his bones. But nothing then Let him be he knew Contempt would kill that, like a nipping Of their complaints, or of the storm frost. a- brewing ; Which, grown notorious, might live on He only thought that people had not
a while,
Or how
And work
The
knew
some mischief.
cardinals,
very wise.
portly
and yet
loved preaching, and would hear his voice no more they Else had he stayed it out to fight
the fight.
not
of trumpet and the clash of swords Works sometimes from without as from Roused in him joy of battle, even then within. When hope of victory was none in him.
the truth
Meanwhile, he wist not what they So, wotting not his peril, he forsook communed of; The pulpit where they welcomed him None spake to him of trouble in the air. no more
Litterateur
247
tent
SECULAR
Who
In some fresh home, where children laughed and sang. And all the hopes that like the ivy
once has worn the priestly robe, and seen The upturned faces with their look grew of awe, Green about old church towers : and As unto prophet giving forth the law sat him down Amid the hush which, even when In a small garret with a new-made pen. thought is lean. Once they complained his sermons were Devoutly listens, having erewhile been 'Mong holy things within the altar rails.
like books,
Might read
tate
;
Essays original and quaint, which men in print, and wisely medithey said
his
Is
fain to
he
fails.
And
And now
books did
Unfrocked
of
his
own
will.
He
shrinks with fear somewhat smack From buzzing critics carping at his wit. Of homely preaching, such as long ago past he drops a tear, Spoke to the times. He brought a And on the buried
sacred spirit
UntU he
is
is,
knit
Unto
And
haply,
men
To
follow lofty
than his
life before.
Even when he laughed at fools, his mirth would be CONTENT Pitiful, and when he would edge his tool Howe'er it be with some, the broad Sharper to smite the wooden wit o' highway
the time.
it
Yet was
in
Or
large
me
was
my
task,
from day
been
day.
Theme
devil.
To
And
common
and pray, might have grown a Pharisee, Pumping my heart, when it was dry
official pieties,
do
I think I
as dust,
life,
And
For words of
I must.
faith
and hope
because
sphere
That changed them both, and loosed Then are we at our highest, when we touch their bonds, and wrought As none might work within the Temple The Infinite and Good in worship due. Bowing in lowly reverence to such gate ; For oft the Church must learn from As we deem holiest, and trusting much
those without
Who
its
paste the
wall.
Because the holiest is most pitying too prophet-broadside on Nothing so nobly human as the quest
That
on the busy
street.
seeks true
man
in
God, and
there
Or
finds rest.
248
Raban
But he who all day handles sacred tasks, For the cloud-incense of the altar hides While his thoughts travail with the The true form of the God who there world, and he abides. Nor hopes to get from God the thing he asks. But now I do my work with hand
Nor
God
the heart
soul to be
he masks
To others
sin
how
And
it
wounds his
heart
Praying-machine,
With
bread,
done therein
;
And And
it
work
apart
in
Against the
perils that
my
yet
too,
the
And when
I sought.
felt
no worship, wor-
But willing
shipped not.
And when my
heart
heart is more calm. more Entangling jests like gay moths in a net. And laughed, and made laugh, though My Sunday more
I saw, the while, to
My
at
one,
my
soul
welcome
joy
me.
rest
is
They
fancied
not
a priest so
given
Whose
palm.
to smile.
The bended
Be the road stormy, be it calm and
Yet
are mild,
psalm.
dug
While once it was a fretful troubled sea Vexed by the thought of human praise
or blame.
The
pious
child
Great Name,
May
undefiled.
Dreams of a
snug.
DISCONTENT
Sitting apart,
I
Where
the world comes not, neither any snare ; Yet world and flesh and devil, too,
are there.
we
task
onward rush, and foaming strife, Yet bid my heart young String dainty words in fancies quaint.
Its
do
And
be content.
What
And
And
Lying abed, marvel they remain so true, I dream, with method in my dream, Freshening the old, and bringing forth And catch up any lights that gleam Into my head. the new.
tried
oft I
life still
grow-
And
ing
wide
As by
a child.
;;
Litterateur
249
Poring o'er books, Dingy, old volumes, by the hour, Which only I and moths devour. My eyes find hooks In each dim page, and I have peace
In their increase.
And now
I laugh, and
now I wonder at
will I
make
is
my
nest.
!
Ah me
cold.
and
But sticks and thorns whereon there is no rest. And never love its weary wings could
fold.
And make
A
The
There
is
little islet
that I
Blue with forget-me-nots a lonely spot. And no bird nestles where their gold
eyes
know,
grow
'Tis just a
For man
or'
God
So lonely and
Still
Ah
Rebellious
!
vexing heart,
all
sleeps.
Though broken
To win a name that shall not be forgot And that is all it either sows or reaps.
Thou
In
life,
hast no part
Autumn
hills.
SUCCESS
I
is
Scotch
lingers lovingly
And
have done well, I found
in
among the
My place in life,
And
have Knee-deep in golden bracken, and golden grass the work that I can do. That tints the moor, what time the
said, for
my
low
purple heather
ground,
I can, at least, be manful, free, and true.
Withers to brown, and golden pendants hang On the slim, drooping birch the
Nameless, I go about, and sometimes golden time hear Of all the Northern year. The whisper of a fame that is to come They wot not who I am, and I appear You shall find spring. All unconcerned with that low-gather- Joyous with bursting life, in English
ing
hum.
lanes
Where
and hearing what Verdict of history may one day speak ;
It is like being dead,
the
May- blossom
hedge
wafts from
straggling
white-robed Thurifer,
250
Raban
the
While
soul,
meek
Around
the
window-eyes
Hid
green obscurity, breathes out Yet I was glad, for I had found my and the pale primwork. rose woos And when I reached the country, and The shadow at the foot of lush bluebeheld bells. The loaded wains with the last harvestin a
are the meadows there, and green the leaves Opening, with various shade, in chestnut whorls.
Green
sheaves
And
By
felt
my
feet
among
And
And
feathery birch,
leaves
the
wayside,
and watched
the
the
many
shining spikes
Of frost in
colours, yet one flush of I
Like many
green
and
From
the young
life o'
the year.
laughed at nothings In very joy of life ; for anything Serves for a jest what time the heart
is
The
The
gay.
the
And
and black.
My
air
The
The
shaws,
pen should win for me, as the slow years Ripened the powers which circumstance disclosed.
critics
and nimble
cloud that
upon the
across
moor.
And
scuds
now approved.
had the
The
Its
flying
trick
the blue.
Of hoping
Of
to the full,
and building up
Of
adverse
in
fact
and that
day
was
a
dream
of coot
The mood
to
Or
leaping trout
And
stag
love
his hinds to water at the
made
glad.
Leads forth
dawn
hills
of slag
close.
Rose
bare,
at
their feet.
Where no
I
lights
ever glowed,
came upon a
mean and
poor.
Litterateur
251
Which no one cared for, save to draw I had not seen before a place so dreary. much wealth So God-forsaken in its ugliness. From seams of coal, and veins of Each house alike, the people too alike
:
Dismal and brutal ; and the only spot one long string With any brightness was a drinking of huts. house Ugly and dirty and monotonous ; Shining with glass and brass and painted And no bell rang there on the Sabbath barrels. morn. And only Death e'er spoke to them Therewith the thought again knocked of God. at my heart. Swart, stunted men were plodding Urgent and loud : Was thy life given from the pits. to thee Weary, with little lamps stuck in their For making pretty sentences, and play
ironstone
That undermined
it
caps
Of
;
dainty
humour
;
for
the
mirthful
savage
heart
To
be more merry
or to serve thy
Were
Did
kind.
Redressing wrong ? And all the long of them run to meet their fathers, and be way home That thought kept ever knocking at kissed Say heart. And borne home shoulder-high ; the mothers, too. Were fierce, and smiled not when the
LOST
my
lost
Love everywhere.
while, with shamed and broken his girl, mind, Curly and sunny, chattering at his side, And by the baby nestling on his breast. I hid from her, content to find And by the mother smUing at the door Her shadow nightly on the blind With the mUk-pail ; and often watched Content to hear her even-song the fisher. Hard-faced and weather-beaten, leave Go up with tremulous note or strong. Go up the angels' hymns among. his boat. At early morn with children gamMeanwhile I stood beneath the lamp, bolling, Barefooted, on the sand, or leading And fretted on the pavement damp At the slow Watchman's patient tramp. him Home in the pride of love, with the Or noted where the shadows flit fresh spoils Of the old sea ; but such a sight as this, On quaint old gables, or a bit Of carving by the moonbeams lit. So without hope or heart or any joy
252
Raban
Unutterable things, would tread Earth, after, in a trance of awe. Nor might he ever bow his head To bear the yoke of meaner law.
lo
!
dawn of a new
day.
Yet now the day has come, and It is like morning creeping slow
Into a blinded house of woe.
With none
!
But preached
world
to
come.
Gone
left a trace
And damned
saints
:
And Oh
!
And
there, I said,
work
for
some
fool
and coward
not to see
trusted
That
love,
thee,
Must
die
if it distrusted
BAD TIMES
An evil time And thoughts
!
CHANGE
Ah
!
larger
life.
to have lived at L ove's high pitch. When bread was dear, the sore distressed And then fall back on level lines Of commonplace to have been rich. And work was scanty, and As one who ventures deep in mines. rife. And then to toil at hedge or ditch, And dream of costly fares and wines Often, at night, I walked
! !
poor were
the taxes
about the
silvering
Gone from my
strain
life
moon was
That gave
it
all its
And now
But
I
its
gladness
my
face
and square. And all the loathsome now was lovely grown. For only light and shadow brooded
there.
To
And
;
No muddy
But
fill it
full
And with
not
night.
filled
the present
Who
sup
is,
may
On
that
not
still
divine.
And
in
dream of history
went
sin
He
To
Along the centuries of pride and That me o'ershadowed, till my who was caught up, as he said, was rent the third heavens, and heard and
heart
With
saw therein.
; ;
253
Litterateur
For
And And
the cold
The spawn
dusky
Where
nook,
with hoarse clamour cried aloud of Tyrants not to spare ; from the throng he took his
way
and children Into a waste and desert land. told In loneliness to brood and pray. Their misery in a wan and wasted look. And bring back order and command. Then coming from the desert place. And pest and hunger there went hand Again the market square he trod. in hand. With shining glories in his face, Invisible but strong, and some went And laws that had the seal of God mad, "Behold," he said, "the gods While good men licked their lips, and command looking bland That ye shall keep these statutes good. Over their port, allowed the times And they will give you fruitful land were bad. To dwell in, and ye shall have food." And they had faith, and writ the
:
Gaunt
laws
In
And
of gleaming gold. order every plea and cause But that was in the days of old.
letters large
To
His heart was high,
!
Nor did he stint an angry word " Ho lurdanes, earth is full of bread, An ye will work for its increase,
But an ye
idle here, instead,
hand was strong. But now this pinched and sunk-eyed mob, 'Tis work they ask the Powers to
give.
Hating But
'Twere
cease.
Ashamed
may
live.
silent is
Get
to the mattock
And
The distaff and the spinning-wheel The flaming forge is quenched in Ods life who will not work, shall gloom. know The mill is grinding little meal. The bitter taste of cord or steel. The ships are rotting in the dock, Away with crutch and beggar's The cage hangs listless o'er the mine, whine The hammer rings not on the rock. Away with ballad- singing rogues The spade rusts on the unfinished
! ! !
And lo ye shall have flesh and wine, line. And hosen warm and leathern brogues And gladly would they toil and sweat. And there shall not be rags or debt. Without the taste of cord or steel, Or hunger in the land, or cold. And gladly keep the order set
!
If ye will only dig and sweat But that was in the days of old.
"
By any law
And
One
looked upon a wrathful crowd That surged about the market square.
My way
As
;;
Rabani
laughed as our doings
254
HOW WE
Erewhile
our
oppression,
But sometimes
DID IT
hating
so
common,
the words
forefathers,
were so grand.
bows and arrows, and slings, muskets and swords, Scoured the old musket, and took to But just that we now should be the hill. peacefully weaving Loomed in the front of them scaffold Far mightier spells by the virtue of and halter, words ? Hunger and weariness, battle and death, Only the mists of the mountain for
Confession,
shelter.
plea
and
By
Only
the raven
to
watch
STORM-BIRDS
their
last
breath.
O
;
when
the
winds blow, Felt his heart swell 'mid the trumpets And fish of monstrous form and spears ; Which the long rollers on the sandAnd if our commonplace way is more beach throw. pleasant. And with the tangled wrack drift to Yet we have lost the great soul of and fro
those years.
You
- meetings,
well I know.
We
And
held
monster
all
signed
tons of petitions.
the
country
desires
creatures of the storm with That creep out of your holes to meet
!
tracts.
all
the rain.
Setting
our
and
And
bristling
facts.
with arguments,
figures,
And to your proper dark return again, When the sun shines, and merry birds
are fain
and
To
With weekly
committees.
pennies,
sing amain
and working
And
and printing large. knit together the towns and cities, And rallied the battle, and made our
secretaries,
also brings
to
We
The
guide,
Aiui shape her course amid the wind Heroes we were not ; they were not and tide. wanted And so the best and worst are side Power now must yield what the people by side.
charge.
And
demand
While storms
abide.
; ; ;
! ;
Litterateur
25s
she told of madness,
the
story they
And when
sin,
RUMOUR
Open-mouthed
street to street,
or crime.
The worse
Rumour
ran
believed
from
the more
foolish world, be-ruraoured of thy
mice
Telling of old stacked corn by wet and heat Wasted, while waiting for a famineprice
;
wits
How
Amid
set thee in a
blaze
and
chills
and
trembling
And
Telling of fortunes speculators made Out of the miseries of the hapless poor ; Telling of mothers starved and lying
TRIUMPH
Upon
a
dead,
While
babies
gnawed
will shout.
in
their
breasts
upon the
And
set
a-ringing
the
floor
steeple.
Telling of men devouring grass and hay To stay the hunger that devoured
their bones
And And
people.
windows round
Telling
how gamesome
children
now
about.
would play
They must
on the paving stones
squib,
At
funerals only
noise
of
cracker,
Telling
how
And
soldiers did their sabres
at
hurrahing,
And
And
and bands of
night.
And
They
is
now
the day
won.
people met.
Ready
quench
in
of right
home with a
quaint
And
Telling of speakers threatened for true
shut
me
in to
reading
words
Telling
pleas
;
That was
of lawyers framing treasonStill
my
payment, for
restful, quiet
my
soul
was needing
waters in a
;
nook.
Well
of
statesmen
each
man
Telling
who were
ill
was mine
1 could not care for fizzing squibs
at ease.
and
crackers.
And men
Many-tongued Rumour had a busy time, Hallooing crowds, and empty boastful talkers were greedy for the tales Made eloquent by vanity and wine. she bore.
;;
256
Raban
I
Tramp, tramp,
With
And
with noisy So Raban judged it, when he summed his days that surely calm In broken ends whereat the once full life Oozed out, and he went on his way Fresh clamours rose with rockets in alone. the air. Making no loud complainings, blaming none And at my door they paused a while, But himself only, and seeing good in and gave allringing cheer that set my heart Some touch of grace which showed a- beating. that they were human, And flung their caps on high with Or broken link which proved them kindly greeting, once divine. And slowly ebbed back like a broken wave.
strutting bagpipe, or
With
RETROSPECT
As
As
they were glad, I
let
them have
their
way
glad, I took
The
was
my own
pleasure
And
while they bawled and shouted Ere Fate had lured, or driven him on without measure, Into a wan and wasted land I read old chronicles till break of day. Of Wadys where the streams are sand.
And
back
ENDINGS
From
That
NOTE
Rarely
is life
way
compact
into a plot
And it is water that I lack. And there was water for my thirst, When failure of my hope was worst.
no life so commonplace you search it, you shall find secret chamber of the mind. Enshrining some fair sainted face. Where worship still is done with tears That freshen the grey dusky years.
is
Dramatic unities, and characters Entangled in a tragic Fate that works To a foredoomed catastrophe, and melts All hearts with pity. Unto most of us There comes no great event for winding up
There
But,
if
The
story
only
And, one by
thread,
ours, making it full and strong. And now by loss enfeebling it, till life. But oh, the desert wastes that spread Grown thin and lonely, tapers to its close Where L ove lives on, and Hope is dead
its living water once. Sweet-singing ever by the way, And gleaming through its darkest day, The glory of its young Romance
Endings
257
Who
rubbed
a
his
sleek
chin with a
OMEN
Afairwhite dove came to my windowsill In the faint morning light, Preening its feathers with a pale pink bill
Daintily
in
vulture-like claw,
And
grin
managed
job,
Which made my
So
I stood
my
sight,
up
!
to speak.
What
a greet-
pretty curtsey
still
ing I had
They
ill
hooted,
yelled,
whistled,
and
O fair, white dove, I meant to thee no Why did' St thou then take fright,
And
vanish from
Hissed, jeered
my
sight
throat sure
it
up
me, howled ; cried " is bad " " Try an orange "
at
! !
Then
At my
back was
solemnly
Of
held
my
ground stoutly
re-
broadcloth
hall
respectables
plied as I could.
stewing.
was
filled
At
then got
I thought
a laugh,
to the floor.
And
they swarmed, thick as bees, at each window and door. And I knew, at a glance, that a storm was a- brewing For my certain undoing.
mood
by,
when they
all
With
unruffled
the chafl^
Yet
stood
up
to
speak.
Almost
Of that
stormy
under
my
feet,
With
notebook,
Some
the
hit; and I
would
not be beat. Then students and snobs and the cads As I watched that long Limb-o'-theLaw looking grey of the street,
With
woman, perhaps,
a child,
While he
And
I
now and
then.
signalled his Claque ; so I stood there at bay, Though the Kentish fire rung out from three thousand feet
was not ta'en aback, in the least, With a fierce dust and heat. though I saw That the meeting was packed with a But scanning their faces, I saw that loud senseless mob, the most And standing near by, was a Limb-o'- Were brainless or beery, or big-jowled, the-Law with low 17
2s8
Brute foreheads, and must be lost
Raban
our cause Rose in clouds, until hardly a face could be seen a white-chokered Chairman as they roared themselves hoarse
felt that
!
With
How
Each
pale as a ghost,
What
respectables,
a coughing between
!
And
those
in
broad-cloth
a row,
ranged
for they
must
rust.
Never mind I would try ; I had lungs that would shout Like a boatswain's, and ring with the
;
was
all in
so I stood
And
patiently
edged
in
word here
storm
at its height
and there,
I knew people liked me ; and half of the rout Was the clamour of friends who would have me hold out.
And
Now Now
now
half-
understood,
Though
had
to
gesticulate
till
caught by the grinning reporters, good. the But as often bad ; and I did not much
now
daylight
care
that stormy night.
It
Broke on
air.
So
I plucked
up
my courage,
What hope
back the hair there to speak From my brow, scanned the Lawyer Words of reason to men who all reason from top down to toe. eschew ? Who gave back my gaze with an Highest truths to such ears were but impudent stare Hebrew and Greek, Then I nodded, and smiled to my And logic no more than the doors friends here and there, when they creak. While I watched the dim crowd as it And pathos like wind in a cranny that swayed to and fro. blew; Seeming wilder to grow. And they'd laugh at it too.
Now,
Then
a score of cocks crew, as to Leave the fools to the fate they arc
fain to
provoke
distress.
They
will
know what
it
is
in
the
the dark
coming
;
then
in
When
And
they've damped down the furnace, and cleared off the smoke.
Or dogs
horrible way.
As if all Ark
emptied the yards, and begin then to croak the creatures shut up in the That taxes grow bigger as wages grow
a
less,
yelped
and howled
Came
save the
And
be
till
the
workshop
is
Queen,"
of
boots
empty and
keeping
still.
With
tramping
And
time.
How
the dust
; !
Endings
259
And And
The
the
fire
does not burn, though the I have stood for an hour in the roar
winter
is chill,
pawn,
and I
will stand
at
till
its
light
my
feet
pale and pinched children that But she shall not go home with her cry at the door, faith sinking low Or squat on the floor In the dear long ago.
down,
lull
came, and
stir
of shouting, some
joke,
setting
Lips parted
a smile
with So
in
some
in a roar.
eyes
tickled their
humour
were
still
hissed, there
!
divine
That warmed me
all clear.
face
had loved
!
the Square
it
up
Ware
Who
was
inspired.
As we
read of the heroes of old who could dare The rage of the Demos, when madness His cheek grew more
would drown voice of reason with clamour and shout With the laugh on my side now, at each hit I saw
livid, his vulture-
at
the chin
it
went
feeling about,
And
As my
I
out.
my
dreams, as
Tyrants to gag
in vision,
what
And
our free speech. the sign of a bad cause to shrink from debate
there she sat, and I saw in Let them look to their freedom when her eyes those who should preach The fond love of youth without let or Law and order, brought rowdies whom disguise. nothing could teach, Till she wist that I saw it, and trembled Beered up to the lips, to roar like a
And now
spate.
Then
She
I said in
my
heart
" No,
Then
I tossed
him
aside,
and took up
they thrilled
me
so
till
Raban
flush
26o
on her
face,
flushed
Of the
That
in the
With
and
all
on
?
bush
swords
tree
And now
longing for war which the had nursed They had roused up the wild that still had his lair
Could my eyes have played false ? Could there be a mistake ? No there was none else with those
;
In the civilised heart, without cause that would bear The quarrel of nations ; and with a
blood-thirst
wonderful eyes. beast And there was none that could make
'
else in the
world
My
And
her sake.
was none
else
could
my
The
Then
I
ringing
soul so surprise
With
'mid
a
dear memories.
down
!
at
last,
Hurrah
And
As
I
and a
carried
;
hum
and
of content.
Later on in the night I sat by the fire, Alone, and in silence,my heart verylow, All the triumph gone out in a longing
desire.
motion
was
hasting away,
Watery light of the moon, till of them went Very weary and spent.
not her gaze.
I saw the moon pale, and her glory expire In the dull drizzling rain falling steady the last and slow.
As
When
met
I
mused on the
the Square,
on the House
in
On the hope that had clung to me all in each bonnet, but the long years. she was not there. Unspoken, 'mid struggle and failure point at me, white figures heard Saw and care
Poked my head
And
But
And now
in the
hour when I
felt I
or a chaise
my
me
in
very
she
to
had gone
as
despair.
phantom appears
And
I
And my
Then
there
eyes
swam
in tears.
came
my
door
just the
her again, faintest of taps. Through the storm she had burst like Like the sound of small fingers that timidly knock ; a sunblink on me ;
;:
;! ;;
; ; ;
Endings
261
"Come in";
moments
In
stillness
;
I look
up,
me
that
would
elapse
have gone
at her feet.
And
tljree raps,
or to be
it
she
On
And go dainty and neat wanting to bed No wonder, poor drudge " So I Did she speak of a husband ? I opened the door groaned at the thought. " No supper to-night, Jane," I wearily Sick at heart I who loved so had said never once kissed But it was not the housemaid I saw Her lips, save in dreams of a happier in her stead lot; Was the white oval face of the sweet And now all my loving and waiting days of yore. had brought Gazing at me once more. What was it ? a vision that passed
she
is
!
ere I wist.
breathed a long breath : was I Like a vanishing mist. dreaming ? or what ? Tongue-tied there I stood, as if bound I rushed out of door, up the street, and by a spell then down. Then she dropped me a curtsey ; still But saw not a form in the dull drizzstood on the mat ling rain, Called me Sir " ; and " Felt sure I And heard not a footfall the watch had seen where she sat of the town And she could not go home without Flashed his bull's-eye upon me from coming to tell toe up to crown ; I did bravely and well. " No, no one had passed " ; so I crept
I
:
out in
home
again
And
me
my life, and
its
light
Had
Who
her mother but witnessed my was all gone triumph complete, She had gone from my life, and I saw had always believed in me " her no more Then, with a sweet it was eerie Drip, drip let it pelt Smile, she glided away like a ghost and lone out of sight. So was I ; and my heart lay within
!
Ere
I
my
senses
came
right.
me
like stone
And
had been quite bemazed
curtseyed to
:
she had
pitiless
pour
me
262
Raban
me
all
thy
MISGIVING
Has he done wrong, who,
go
past,
wealth.
Of love's
as the years
rich treasure,
service,
And now
stealth,
by open
now by
As
In loneliness, knowing it all in vain, he has loved before, to love again. Brings to his home another bride
at last
?
Were't
fain to pleasure
My
from
sickness or
my
health
faithful heart
me
Observance only
Tender and kind, he cherishes his mate More tenderly, the more he feels that
she
And
thy wistful, hungry look would be Like one who, lonely. Gazes far out at sea
still
The
bliss
of wife's
estate.
Gazes
sail
far out to
And
he
is
But only ocean, fretting in the gale meets his gaze She sets her eyes on. stung by words of love
or praise
And
known would darken
hears the
sea-mew
had
;
wail.
Which
with
the truth
eclipse.
1 gave thee
what
not
that,
while he
What
beside
in
And when
the silence hears
for
heart sought.
Thy
The
And
calm to her
whom
he has made
I took thy gold,
his bride.
my
brass
REMORSE
When
she did not long with me abide. But pining slowly. Like waning moon, she faded bymyside With melancholy,
Alas
let
thee pass.
Or
even fretted
should'st sigh, alas
!
That thou
I
And
1 lifted
in
our
fifth spring,
died.
my
kiss
was
And
I
dainty dresses,
Upon
Stony and
its
beauty.
still,
For thy
caresses.
As
if
; ; ;
263
Endings
Opening its gates to show thee all the But that alacrity which doth prevent truth Our wishes even, And all the folly ; That pleasure which on pleasing still The secret of the sorrow of thy youth, is bent, And melancholy That was not given. Which touches me with ruth. Which might thy soul content.
Thy
mine had
No
and breath.
love to give
it
Though
I called
it
truth
The truth was hidden. But now before the majesty of death My soul, God-bidden, Speaks out its better faith.
sentimental,
it
wrong
grew more
But yet
nestled
it
The
closer,
and
I think
AFTER DINNER
Returned from had found
Ballarat,
strong
The more
I wrestled.
where
he
And
Gold nuggets
pardon
that I
was not
it.
true to thee
1 tried to will
in the early rush, and more Golden experience, Martin Lusk, one
And
in
day,
me,
in
upon
Where
mine
knew
Ah
Yet
ancient friends
!
her!
I could not
to
Was
communing.
not.
At
first,
do
him
it
be
And
In
life
I should rue
it
!
and character
From
we wot
the knot
have grown
Into this son of
So
life is
Anak.
I
So we
his
fell
And
To
disentangle
we make
lot.
found
mind
With
fresh,
quaint
pictures
of that
Digger-life
my
sorrow
stirs
and Fortune,
in
me
With no
self-pity.
Thieving and
squalor.
pistolling,
dirt
and
But Brutal-heroic, yet with touching gleams Of human tenderness, and gradual sway
The Holy
Opening
its
City
gates to thee
264
Rabat!
And
were all This keen observer was a thinker too, Eager to hear of pouched kangaroos, Patient and tolerant, with the stuff in And duck-billed quadrupeds, and great him emus For building up an empire. Being Piling their eggs amid the sandy scrub. lonely Black fellows, and the pig-tailed In his hotel, and so conversible, Chinamen, I made him promise he would dine Bush-rangers, and the cradling and with me. the crushing,
Reluctant he agreed, reluctant came, And sat uneasy and silent, changed
as
And
listen at
their
best.
For they
And nugget-finding
loam.
in the
deep-delved
much
the
clear-sighted
And
As
From
at
man
met
of
life.
As
youth
for
the
less
early days.
The more
up and
was bold and confident, An only son, spoilt by a doting mother. Yet there you replies Spoilt, too, by sisters proud of him,
Lusk,
sat,
feather-heads. even spoilt They'll vow admiration of his college mates That my old friends are stupid as For a rich nature foremost in all games. myself: Well forward too in studies and in And oh, if they had seen what you speech. had seen And yet not greatly spoilt by all their If girls might only do what men may do.
As
frightened at their
By
spoiling,
tongues to
tell it.
But now he
Nothing
ails
me,
At
her
first
and hardly
alone.
?
He said
life
I did not
know I was
so rude
we were
you,
Then
What
aUs
to
Martin
their innocence,
is
like the
What
passing.
Dumb
as
moulting
girls,
My
Your eyes
is
It
home-bred
Untravelled,
when
long they heard that you Since I have sat beside pure-hearted
were coming.
maids
Donned
to their words, my thoughts went back Meaning to show their best, and talk To dear old times ; I seemed to hear
their
and
And,
listening
gayest ribbons.
their best,
again.
; ;
Endings
Dreamily, echoes of old
fireside mirth,
265
in
rusty
And And
chatter
?
of the
it.
table.
Was
rude
And
mean
I did not
half I
We
wondered
the
word
How
might break the charm.
'Tis
If,
the world-school
reversed
Of mine
classic school.
strange that
we
fancied what
pair
May
were
met, Till those fair customs which were That evening, in the bush, beneath native to us, the Cross, Grown unfamiliar, make us pick our Or Indian dusky city, or London club. steps They might of us be saying, as we
with them.
of them Laughing, I replied Then we sat silent, musing for a space. It was the last thing I'd have dreamed, that he Then he : What came of Muriel Who, like a young Greek strong in Lumisden ? grace of raind You used to haunt the widow's house, And manhood, used to fire young I think, maiden fancies. With the fair daughters. What a flirt While he himself was cool amid their she was tremors, And how she kept a score of silly lads Should sit abashed with home-bred Dangling about her, every one quite
silence.
!
In fear and
girls.
sure
To
talk
He
friends
was the favoured, and the rest were gulls Flirting came natural to her you could
!
one was mossing in a drowsy see it manse In every movement, every dainty curl Another loud on platforms, half a priest. And fold of her black hair, in every Half demagogue, who played on tone. prejudice And glance and turn of the eyebrows, With evil skill ; another, wigged and and in all gowned, The gesture of her lithe and supple Bade fair to lead the Bar, and win beauty.
the
How
Bench
this,
And
Was
Some
Even
as a child
she'd
make
eyes to
speech
her doll
And
just to
in, I
have
Public
the east
others
That
sent
to his calves.
266
Raban
all
And
yet there have been times when Rankling, unhealed, through she has seemed changeful years, noble creature to me, all compact Wronging himself and her.
grace, with
the
What
Of womanly
heart
that
answered true every noblest impulse, and inspired bear ? High-souled enthusiasm, till I have felt Or the fresh anguish which the truth I could have will give ? been content to do some deed But I So my mind balanced it. That she would smile upon, and then resolved ;
To
to die,
Keeping
smile for
!
ever.
How
Even though
!
it
she fooled us
Then
!
I said
Yet oh how
scorn
Melting with
so
And
!
At
any baseness, and those lips for all Emotions eloquent But such a flirt
flirt.
Hearing this passionate strain, which So high an inspiration, yet so mean had been lying nature too Well ; maybe ; only In wait for opportunity, I think, flirts All through the night's discourse, the Have not such souls as make one feel
one's-self
So unexpectedly,
I called to
mind
and
Little beside
them
as a rule, at least.
Some
passages
between
them,
And
a
the talk
flirt.
How people
a
life
had wrecked
And
Shall I
tell
you
promise ; how they pitied I fear, may pain alike by gain and loss ? him. All blaming her, and >yet they nothing Then he What mean you ? Loss knew. is long since lost, But that he loved, and that he loved And gain can never be from her to me.
:
Of splendid
in vain.
And And
that he
when
had
her not as I did. What remains When bubbles burst i' the hand ? not his luck even the glitter. Is she a maiden still, and fancy-free ?
You knew
To the
on
far
Musing Why,
ever.
so
am
I,
this.
And
I marvelled
on his passionate upbraiding now, Is she a widow ? I should gain a loss. how he kept this open Indeed, to be her second. Is that your
riddle
?
wound
Endings
; ;
267
Or is she mated to a life-long sorrow ? She must not What else could come of such a way was gone. as hers ? And sit apart,
:
when he
as ticketed " Engaged," But take life as it came, like other girls. Listen, I said You were not gone Not making him, far off, a haunting fear, a year shadow on the sunshine of her days. When one came from New Zealand, But being joyous in her truth to him. who had been Which was her freedom ; so would Sheep-farming in a patriarchal way he be glad. To win his Rachel, long since won Thinking her glad.
to love,
What
her father's.
time,
when
songs are in
And
and full of trust In Muriel, though she went on as before With speech and smile and charm of
too,
he broke
;
in
of course, a
;
blessed pair
Of doves
haunted
And
they By no regrets for broken but behind the They twain sat cooing.
thing else
It
lives,
They knew
her love
me
'tis
all
common.
Was
his alone. He liked to see her Tell me about yourself, for you alone worshipped, Have made a name that even our Being proud of her, and sure of her. wild lads Perhaps Have kindly in their mouths. She liked, too, being worshipped ; who But I : Nay, you can tell ? Must hear me out, seeing I have You say she was a flirt and you begun knew best There came a day when hemust go again I tell but what I saw. Well, by and by. Back to his flocks : there had been The wedding came, and every one summer droughts was bidden, That parched the grass, and heavy And every one was there of her old winter snows. friends. When many weaklings perished in Or lovers, and the joy was very great. the drift But from that moment she became to all And over all the Colony a cloud The staidest matron, with a kindly Hung lowering, for the Maori distance threatened war. And dignity of noble womanhood Fenced his strong Pah, and sent his Hedging her round. It seems that fighting men he had said To waste and burn and stealthily to kill
268
Raban
off together
:
So they went
at
first
he urged That she should stay behind, for war was ill To face, with wife and children in
the rear
And
wharf.
And
crowded
deck.
in front
i'
Channel
at every
Or
foe.
cunning Yet in a quiet sea. The sailors thought. With the next tide she would be floated
off;
all
he would
sell
his run,
And many
heeding
went
home
love
her.
or
swam,
if
they
right
Was sore at
him,
parting.
But sleep and dieam of home. by and by. But she answered The Master grew uneasy, muttered
feeling,
though
And
somewhat
which used
to fire
With
scarce
would
float
our youth
fight
ponds.
docks
of
useless
That
and one ; heard him To bind his wounds, and to call pitying Murmur a prayer for wife and babes, thoughts the while Up in his mind, amid the storm of wrath. He paced the deck alone, and resolute For savage women wailing in their Issued his orders. Then a whisper went, kraals ; Gloomy, that she was leaking, and Exile would be to part her now would soon from him. Break up amidships ; but as yet there
his wife his
bound
was near
And home
was
just
where he was
was
for herself.
No
lose a year of happiness.
was not
far off.
on the fog. Nor give a year of loneliness to him. The timbers 'gan to crack, and great For worlds ; and life was there where seams yawned. duty was. And with the rushing tide the terrorrose. Not elsewhere ; and their God was Then hands unhandy loosed the painted
eerie,
But
day broke,
also there,
I'
boats,
So they sailed
Endings
269
Try, dearest
but yet
Be
to us.
and
God
?
their hands.
them not
Muriel stood with her husband and Fain would he still have borne her first her babes, to land Calm, on the poop. She saw the dim With her two boys, but that she would grey sea not hear of. Deceitful, and the shore loomed through Thrice, therefore, from the ship he
the mist. swam ashore, Uncertain, for there was no gleam of Burdened with chUd or mother, light with both ;
or
From
fisher's
hut or farm
a lone waste
Strong swimmer borne up by his work Of unthrift and neglected husbandry. of pity, Where neither glebe nor sea was For nature makes the brave heart
land
harvested.
strong to save.
fast
Then, holding
face
her
little
ones, her
And,
at
Lowered the children to his loving it was always pale She said in a low voice You can swim, arms, Malcolm ; Her great eyes swimming in the The shore is near, I think a sandy shore pride of him By the dull thud o' the waves ; could And love of them, until she hardly saw you not save
:
the poop
her
?
child, setting
Aught
else, or
and then,
Oh, we're
not Just as he, confident and cheerful, held The children, and was waiting for
;
her coming,
come too
spar
fell
from the
falling
mast,
comes. The Captain says the ship will an hour At least, and it is misery to see
and smote
float
Him And
up his
arras, before
her
eyes
Those faces, and to hear the bitter cries. Nay, not us first but speak a word
!
He
Yet
to them,
we
can
For the
in twain.
;
But they are frantic, and their madness In death they were not'separate soon works Their ruin ; we will wait in patience The quiet waters, smiling in the Rippled where they had been. here.
and
sun,
; !
;!
270
Raban
There's healing in such sorrow; but Here Martin rose, Pale as a ghost, and shivering as a reed. to-night Alone in withered Autumn, that is I could not meet your girls ; I have smote done wrong By sudden gust of storm. Unto all women by my thoughts, and dare not And I have railed. He gasped, at such an one as this Look in their eyes. And I must for years be alone : Have rated her and called her Beg my forgiveness ; I must be alone I will to the old worthless flirt God help me Who broke my worthless life have seashore, quoted her And hear the dull waves thudding on To lads who still had faith in truth the sand and love, As my thoughts break in me. O Muriel To cure them of their folly, and have held With that he gave my hand a silent Myself the one wise man grip, God, my God And gulping something down, pulled To have so wronged the woman that his hat low I loved Over his brows, and strode into the To have so 'stranged my nature from dark.
! !
! !
all
love
have so grossly slandered truth and love Alone, alone, I fell into a strain God's beautiful one Of musing melancholy, My broken life, forsooth Recalling, with keen sense of shame poor self-pitying fool But lost and pain, is lost man whom, living, I had reckoned vain. And this is gain though it be shame to me, And to his calling holy Sorrowful gain by loss of evil thought, Untrue, until I read, with blinding tears
! !
To
And
love
restored
yet
better
so
Which
restored
his fears
Amid my self-contempt, than as before And clingings O Muriel, weary years. Blurred in my self-conceit.
yet
1 loved
unto
God
through
Till peace
you through
!
it
all-
a hateful
And
To
said.
love
But clinging to thee, seeing no one worthy Save thee, and thee unworthy, and
with
this
still
true.
has gathered with the wronging thee blessed dead. And put the crown of glory on his yes, you have head.
!
Whom God
And
am humbled
too
Stray Leaves
271
But by
this
shame,
Lord, thou
with
And
must
all
range
the
them
like
his
teachest me,
regiments.
He
who walks
Though
him.
country
laughed at
Ere long
to Parliament
He
went
and made
Which
And
speech,
STRJr LEAVES
The
speakers
sat
and
;
the
members
as
they
NOTE
Riding
the
To
but that I
would
not
one
And
sir,
was
how
I took to horses,
hill
Me who
days.
had lived
in forests all
my
loved the trees, and knew their forms and times, And every sound of every swinging branch Well to the setting sun, grotesquely When the wind blew ; and I must planted handle brutes With various forest trees oaks, elms, Because my lord would have it he and pines.
Of
And
Upon
Just
the
must serve
squares
The
no
nation
soldier,
fighting,
though he was
touching each a
in the
little
other.
Or
parliamenting,
!
though he could
believed
that
And
Or
not speak bay between, a single tree group, but on the heights If he had
interspersed with
just
God
above
made some
Were
stay at home, and see the farming done. Carelessly strewn about. And look to cottar's houses, and " Queer woodcraft that," consort Dick Ostler said ; " and yet I planted With neighbours on the market-days them. But he, You see, our last lord went a soldiering He was my lord, and must as other In his hot youth, and brave enough he lords.
solid masses,
To
some
looked.
Though
not
much of
;
a soldier
And
that
in trees
needs headpiece
Duke
battle so at
Ordered the
Waterloo,
Sprawling about the estate for folk to laugh at. Then That's how I took to horses." he gave The Brown another flick on the left ear.
272
: ;:
Raban
screwed
his face into a look of
And
strong
Disgust.
I laughed,
Old customs live there, unaware That they are garments cast away, And what of light is shining there
wonder
At
his
displeasure
:
but
he
set
musing
me Never to her the new day came. Or if it came she would not see
life
:
Had
not
my
likewise,
This world of change was still the same To our old-world Penelope
Planting along
its
border
not
New
But
Of verses
In
like so
many
daisy-flowers
still
memory of his
preacher,
failures.
He was
writ
patch upon her face, A sermons, nor A politician, though he joined a party. A tinge of colour on her cheek, service. Better sure for A frost of powder, just to grace And did
little
it
though he
lace of Valenciennes or
Ghent made
him
The
he believed
to write,
life
Had And
Or
God
with
makes some
gleams
men
brighten
life,
better
oil
wheels with humour. seemed Her scorn of upstarts to conceal. To me, when turning over articles, Reviews and essays, and the odds But of a Bailie's wife would speak As if she bore the fisher's creel. and ends Of verse, that lay among them all She said it kept them in their place. Their fathers were of low degree ; confused. Whereof some samples follow, like She said the only saving grace Of upstarts was humility. the thrums Remaining when the web has been The quaint, old Doric still she used. wrought out. And it came kindly from her tongue And oft the " mim-folk " she abused, LEITH Who mincing English said or sung : MISS She took her claret, nothing loath, Her snuff that one small nostril curled ; Last heiress she of many a rood. Where Ugie winds through Buchan She might rap out a good round oath, But would not mince it for the world braes treeless land, where beeves are good. And yet the wild word sounded less And men have quaint old-fashioned In that Scotch tongue of other days ;
its
:
it
poor without reproach ; But from the causeway she was sure So To snub the Provost in his coach In pride of birth she did not seek
;
A stately lady
of
PENELOPE
ways, every burn has ballad-lore, every hamlet has its song. on its surf-beat rocky shore
eerie legend lingers long.
'Twas
And
At every fair her face was known, Well-skilled in kyloes and in queys
Stray Leaves
273
she would ne'er have
And well she led the fiddler on To " wale " the best of his strathspeys
Though
;
harmed
fly
Lightly she held the man who rose For buzzing on the window pane. While the toast-hammer still could And she had many a plaintive rhyme
Of noble Charlie and his men brought her gossip to a close, For her there was no later time, Or spoilt her after-dinner nap ; All history had ended then. Tea was for women, wine for men, And if they quarrelled o'er their cups. The dear old sinner yet she had They might go to the peat-moss then, kindly human heart, I wot. And fight it out like stags or tups. And many a sorrow she made glad,
rap,
And
And many a tender mercy wrought And though her way was somewhat
odd,
Yet
in
her
way
And Was
But
the minister,
at
stiff
And
As
if
her.
holding Pharisees abhorred. being honest, fearless, true. And thorough both in word and deed,
But yet
Well
she lived a dubious life. his sick her cellars knew, stored from Portugal or France,
a savoury soup and stew
to the
And And
by despising what
is
new.
And many
But
Manse.
WAGSTAFF
With
supple form, and radiant face,
Above
And shock of swirling Auburn hair. And brown plaid, worn with careless
To have her quiet game at whist grace, Close to the window, when the Whigs He sauntered, loitering everywhere ; Were gravely passing from the Kirk, For his swift-glancing eye must look
And
some on
foot,
Would
stare at her
On all that met him by the way. And every street was like a book
;
She gloried in her "devil's books" That cut their sour hearts to the quick
Rather than miss their wrathful looks
Which he could read the live-long day Nor sun nor moon nor star nor chime
Set punctual tide for him or time,
For
all his
habits
were
at strife
life
;
With
orderly mechanic
in the
shai-p wits
Her
politics
And
seen.
Of Claverhouse
Still at
Where
And
Dutchman she would rage, keen, Grahame she spoke. His wayward thoughts were oft astray. She swore 'twas right that Whigs Brooding with Ruskin on St. Mark's, should die Or dreaming on some broomy bi^e
the
still
of gallant
Among
18
; ;
; ;:
274
Raban
flower that in the garden grows
all its
No
But
And
Than
still
more
him,
way of
No
wilding in
lay in
familiar sense
And we who
young
gathered
round
But he could tell its story true And where birds nestled, how they
sung.
And
And where to find the honey bees, What varying notes were heard among
The beech-woods and
trees.
the
stiff
pine
And
some
All sights and sounds of Nature, well Their nicest difference he could tell For where the careless footstep trod He saw the glory and power of God. All beauty thrilled him like the kiss Of young love in its early bliss And so his life had great delight. For beauty everywhere he met moss would make his eye grow
He He
lives in us,
is
when we
are best.
bright,
PEPPE
Ugly was not the word for Peppe His cheek was scarred with a crimson
:
A cowslip or a violet.
The The
music of the ancient days,
pictures of the age of faith.
gash,
When
He
of
had
Song was
had
still
the
voice
step.
Praise,
And Worship
And
its vital
breath
In forms of loveliness divine Virgin and babe of tender grace He would be drunken as with wine On holy hymn or saintly face. And oh to hear him (when he met. With some new loan, an ancient debt) Come back to Keats's picture-words
a long lip furzed with a red moustache. Sharp-pointed teeth, like a saw, and black
Finger-nails, like a vulture's claw.
And
all
the skin of
slack,
fruits
and singing
silkier curls
;
of Truth, Scented and glossy and soft as a dove And never silkier voice among girls Lisped, in soft accents, of beauty and All nature wrapt in love and awe love ; Or Shelley's strains, like lark unseen Oiliest curls, and the oiliest speech In mystic sweetness rippling on ; Or the choice words, and vision keen. Talking the wildest thoughts ever I heard And perfect art of Tennyson
!
He
Thoughts of a kind it were fitter to screech, had large weajth of curious lore. And freely would his wealth dispense. Dropt like the notes of a singing bird.
; !
Stray Leaves
275
Sofdy he spoke about fell Revolutions, Jewelled and furred like a Rotterdam Of Rank, Rule, and Title and Capital Jew, gone. Hardly I knew the fellow at first Swift overthrow of our old institutions, But he came up with a smile, and a look And blood from the Barricades splash- Nothing could ever the least embarrass, ing the throne. Saying, " Ah here is your wished-for Burning of churches, and burying gods, Book,
!
Treating the
their holes,
priests
like
the rats in
its
Ruin of
all
our old
life
with
modes
Of
him
it
souls.
A book so scarce
off,
straight in charge
Offered for sale I so longed for it just at the sight, expected, I felt a knocking about my knee : But to come back, when as little desired. And in the fury of that wild night. Now looking haggard and lean and Strange that the rogue should have dejected. thought about me Tricked now in garb that he plainly admired ; I knew that one in the Louvre lay : Leaving, he went where no seeking Oh what a hang-dog look he had could find him. And something within me tried to say, Returning, no care could escape from " Now, if you buy it you're just as bad." his view. Yet I must have it ; there is a score And when he went, he left trouble Will give him his money if I refiise behind him. To think of me, now, in that wild And coming back, he brought trouble uproar And he saved it perhaps from the
!
Sometimes he went
when
little
Ah
Petroleuse
For, be
his luck
what
it
might,
we
were sure Storms would be brewing the moment he came. Chills would be falling on friendships Alas
pure.
JOHN MEFF,
!
M.A.
cast
upon
he had outlived respect. the sharp sting of cold neglect, cared not wisely to reflect
his ways,
Upon
Mischief followed wherever he went, And some bright eyes would with
tears be
More happy
days.
dim
And yet he looked smiling and innocent. Once a rare scholar, ripe and full. And we never could bring the thing Famed Latinist in Classic School,
home
to him.
Whose
With
Last time
;
lash of scorn
we met was in seventy-two. An Epigrammatist by Just when the mad Commune had burst And native-born
rule.
;
7$
Well could he
tilt, and featly Opponents with quotation fit
Raban
hit
All
else forgetting
A happy home,
And God
blame,
Of Attic
Or
Sneer
or Horatian wit
and
He
His
frail
lip,
old mother
know
the shame
Well could
mocking
slip
Of want,
or debt.
at the sciolists
who
On
niceties of scholarship.
Nor would
abate
The
whip
For love
or hate.
She wots not how his days are spent, But fails not of her yearly rent. Nor homely fare, nor clothing sent From him threadbare. Nor weekly letter kindly meant
she tells of him with pride. with the minister he vied Until he stood. In learning, and had never lied Having nor lover, friend, nor wife. As boy or man. In solitude. Nor from his mother aught would hide Since life began. Then nights and suppers, deemed divine Symposia of Falernian wine, dutiful and loving son And Syren songs that turn to swine scholar who great fame had won Who list to hear. She other wish on earth had none To these he greatly did incline Except to reach Both heart and ear : Some place, before her race was run, To hear him preach ! At first with shame ; but soon he fell
still
And Had
So wrath had gathered round his life, love had fallen away, and strife grown its crop of quarrels rife
To
And
How
A A
spell.
taproom Oracle
well
mystic shuttles,
life's
how
ye dart
!
To
yokels fuddled.
Through
that art
Still
dim web
thou
'Mid
from him Professor's chair, And High School with its classic air. And to the Kirk he may not dare Lift up his hopes ; For he is bound to shame and care
far
Now
And
heart,
Believing long
LATTO
By
Yet
far
devil's ropes.
away
first
Where
His
a hurried pace
Has
ne'er
grown dim.
a bright green spot
And knew
As
if
And
there
is still
no
leisure
On
; :
; ;
Stray Leaves
277
For his too daring Reason wrought Dread of itself, as on the brink
all
to
birth.
all
Of
fain
would
shrink
grass
Much-pondering, his soul could see But God in all the things that be. In subtle matter, and changeful force, In joy and anguish and remorse No dual empire could he find. But all was matter, and all was mind. So had he lost his early faiths.
bees.
All were but pictured thoughts which shone As sparks from rapid wheel are thrown, And gleam out in the dark, and then
Pass into nothingness again. Yet while the world he thus refined Into fine forms of subtle mind.
And And
glory of his simple youth. this had been like many deaths,
into larger truth.
The
Though dying
This world, he
subtle mind he made again Gross by material forms of thought, And chemic forces in the brain Our vices and our virtues wrought.
Are
but
the
is
great
God's
uttered
Still
thought
His work
Unwearying
Which
It
is,
He
Till
have wrought
yet out of
scarce one
way of
life
seemed
Him
light.
is
not.
right.
He
makes the
limits
it
He
;
makes the
yet light
shade
in a helpless plight. at
That
with form
made
Although he held her mission grand He scrupled at all paths which lead
in
By
an ancient land
Whose
And shadow
too
is
nothing.
is
Why,
;
My
shadow
surely
not I
'Tis nothing;
yet I
make
it
well
and features it shall tell. And yet I use no art to make This nothing, which for me you take. Thus dreamily the mystic spoke. And ever as his thought was spent, It rose again like wave that broke In never-ending argument.
My form
scrupled at the tricks and lies, Unscrupulous, of merchandise ; And while all science he pursued. He held no art or practice good. Till, as by threads of cob-web dim, All paths of life seemed shut to him For still the scrupulous conscience stood And barred the way when it should
lead.
He
For
all
That he from
evil
might be freed.
Fain would we laugh his scruples down, But there his truth rebuked our mirth He sought not riches or renown Nor any fatness of the earth, Might he but keep his honest worth ;
!; :
278
Rabat!
No No
envy had he of the great, drop of bitterness had he. He was contented with the state Of noble-minded poverty. Well-pleased of no account to be.
Now, Now,
the love
I have sought,
at
length, I
shall
bask in the
bliss
I have got.
And my heart shall have rest. To hammer great thoughts out of stones, And fossil leaves, and scales and bones From me thy life came, and by me Shall its young powers be nourished, To give imagination wings. alone And frame the universe of things No wanton shall poison its pure springs From chaos, or from nothing that to thee Was all he cared to labour at. With milk of coarse passion, but it And so he drifted still along.
;
Having no
shall all be
Self-fettered
by
as
my
own.
wise.
And
His
so,
life,
MOTHER-IN-LAW
O my boy
And how
So
!
And
!
with pained pleasure, he drew day by day, out of mine. mine was the one tender hand
that he
1 suffered
like
knew
none
else, for his
O my heart,
!
it
will break
sat
kiss
was
he
dew.
sweet wine.
and
And
not shake,
When
Of a
Not
he shattered
my
life
and
my
my beauty my hero
!
1 dreamed, as
he smiled
in
What
hopes
lit
my
life as
ing sun-gleams.
that
it
matters
My
to
poor dregs
are
When
With
but
screams
What
we mothers made
croon
a slow-breaking heart
?
Now,
I pictured
him
soldier of
fame
a statesman whose eloquence kindled a flame Woman whose love is thy life. That fired all the land, till they Thy love-life is sorrow and pain ; shouted his name As the girl's love dawns, so her As the symbol of right.
Now,
troubles
grow
rife.
And
I sighed,
and
said.
Let him be
is
good.
And
But
I heed not
!
what
else
in store
My
ah that was not what the mother's heart would. my boy and I hoped, when they And still itwent back to its loftier mood. brought And panted for more. baby to lie on my breast.
!
;;
Stray Leaves
279
And
what, if God, wroth at my pride, That another Has humbled me now for my sin ? caressed For I knew in my heart, when I said With the love
it,
could
ever
be fondly
I gave him.
I lied
And
The
I
knew
it
was
And
I
to hide
went back
and
case,
And
then as he grew up apace, to schooling once more, took up old studies of number
the great tale of Troy, and of
gave up all, all for my boy All the world where, they said, I once shone
And
By
that
haughty race
the
brown Tiber's
shore.
And
the
girl-wife,
tremulous,
timid
and coy.
For
in the pride
I trembled to think
Grew strong
great joy.
of a mother's
What
And
for
him
lived alone.
And
I grudged every
I
moment away, grudged every task not for him thistle-down seed, As he lay on my lap, I would croodle Fly about in the air. and play, As he lay in soft sleep, I would watch O my boy Oh the bliss of those days. him and pray When I pored o'er his Latin and Till my wet eyes grew dim. Greek And I knew all his thoughts, and I I grudged even his father, when he saw all his plays. Would toss up my child in the air. And I noted him manly and bright in Or when he would ride the high-horse his ways. on his knee. And gentle and meek. Or the little one laughed aloud in his glee. And now comes this woman to steal As he tangled his hair. All the fruit of my life and its bliss, All the joy and the hope that I ever shall feel, But sometimes, I thought, it were good That another should come to divide Ancf plants me a death- wound, nothing This so jealous love with its passionate can heal.
!
with care. be smirched with some grossness of word or deed, Or filled with false thoughts, that, like
mood
Yet what other baby,
could
like him, ever
With
She
pride
?
her Judas-like
kiss.
is
Be my joy and my
And
to
her guile.
Then
there's nothing he'll hear now, and nothing will see And kiss him, body and limb But goodness in her, and unfairness It was wicked to dream even, or say in me. it in jest, As he basks in her smile.
I'd
clasp
him
close
my For
breast.
28o
Raban
!
Poor boy
smile
if
you knew
that
woman
her child
Has been tried upon scores before you ; 'Tis a well-worn look, you might see
by
its style,
been
duty for years, for her eyes, the meanwhile. Are not smiling nor true.
Has done
I've smiled.
And
making me bad.
Charm
ay,
such
as
practised
ones
Oh,
she well
knows her
;
wield
And
hungry look
in
is
meek
;
With
a hard,
her eye.
She
but loves
all the same Every one that he loves, every one of Which no love can touch, and which his name. no love will yield. All the days of the week Till the day that she die. And that drives me mad, for I know Of course he must marry her now ; He believes every word that she says. He has gone quite too far to draw back ; If only by word or by look she would But oh, what a sorrow is hid in the vow show To love the unloving, and make his The false, scheming heart that is hidden heart bow below To the yoke till it crack Her soft, silky ways
And
and a heart
that
steeled,
his
mind
And will poison it more if she can Oh that poor jealous heart of hers
:
Can he not
can be
see.
?
her cunning is breeding hate. wickedest thoughts in me : She might be another man's happy mate, But to me and my house she is like a But no one dark Fate That I shudder to see.
against me,
!
And And
Half
so blind as a man.
sin
and wrath
No
their
wedding I
will not
go near
Had I lived in the old Greek time When hate killed the King of men
have sown
!
in
Nor
break bread of hers, nor partake his bath, of her cheer I too might
his bier
the dread
aftermath
To
his rest
evermore
Of a
horrible crime
A baby of his in my lap, Who knows what the heart might do A baby of his smiling up from my knee. Oh the thoughts of guilt I have someOh,
to nurse both
? ?
mother
!
and.
baby
would be
The
blessedest hap
guilt to screen
!
:!
; ;
Stray Leaves
28r
And my
Daffing
he can.
the rogues
may
be learning to
Ay,
that
Of playing
his part.
And
Well
play, too,
;
and drink.
And my
boy grows like him in that, Liker him every day And oh so cruel and cool as he sat And oh so light he jested at
me
until
I said
and yet
it is
true
your
What
I tried to say.
Once how I hoped he would wed For I know that she loves hira dear That saintly child of the sainted dead
And And
Than
I've sometimes
to purse
as I
be thought I was
for
each
other,
happier so
The
But
I
self-same year.
glum
up go
my
my
am
are
For
At the things that I see. wishes are nothing to him But your mother is virtuous, lad blind, of course, as a bat. Whatever she is, she is that my eyes with the tears of love
dim
is
And
filled
to
her
at.
soul,
till
it's
really sad.
this
For a
wooing you're
She won't let me rest till I speak whose love is such bliss My mind on't, and here's what I say : While the baby lies soft on your knee. Maybe her reasons are poor and weak. With each fond word, and each rap- And she's hot and hysteric, and not turous kiss. very meek ; Ye are sowing the seeds of a grief But she'll have her own way.
mothers
like this
Which
has
come
to me.
Don't insist upon your way, at least, It was always my plan to give in, And to make as if I would do as she
pleased,
FATHER-IN-LAW
Never mind what your mother may say She was always hard on the girls
:
down a bit ; for her keenness ceased As she thought she would win.
Till she cooled
Your
virtuous
Of saying
About
It
is
Well ; I know that she always meant women have all a way the bitterest things they may You, some day or other, should wed That putty-faced doll of a baby-saint. them and their curls.
With
different,
and
The
better he
I think.
As
if
Raban
glad you are out of that mess ; If she had but a trifle of cash would never have turned out well I don't mind the two or three years ; She has not the breeding, the mouth, They're not here or there; but it's
I
!
am
It
or the pace,
A.nd what your mother can her face I never could tell.
see
in
To
see,
with a
When,
And
you should choose your You have not between you, I think. Enough to pay for your tour ; And how you're to live, and to eat I did it, and every man should and drink. It is hard that another should tie you for life. Is more than I know ; but it's all rose-pink Maybe to bother, vexation, and strife To-day, to be sure. Though she means it for good.
it's
right
own
wife
But you'd better give up your first Now, I have not a shilling to spare. "flame," Not a penny to play pitch-and-toss ; Nearly every man does that I know ; And you'd not like your mother to sit down with care Your mother is wild when I name but her name. Before she is Dowager, and you are heir And it would not be nice for a girl, if Of the peat-hag and moss.
To
so.
You must
But
as
I'll
not count on
me
I never could
And
is quiet and good. handsome and ladylike too, She can ride too, and talk and dress
I allow she
tree
Long held
three
honour, and
bills
two or
all
of hysterical mood.
That
And
There's the old coach I had to renew. horses not fit for the road, see And the cellar quite empty ; and what That don't go for much, I admit could I do ? Our mothers are fain we should For the rents were all spent ere a guinea always be was due, Still the small babies that sat on their When I last went abroad.
you
The
knee.
Admiring
their wit.
You'd not wish to see me drive out With a chaise, and a pair of old screws.
older than you
;
is
And
do No,
Of course, that's a matter of taste. And old or young, they will always
Just
of stout
there's things one must have, and yet cannot, without The help of the Jews.
what they
like
yet
it's
also true
You
; ;
Stray Leaves
But one should be able to do Without luxuries, now, like books, And pictures and china and ormolu.
283
DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
So, there
And
a wife
that
will
always
want
And
looks.
Your
great,
but your
free,
if I
purse
like,
at all
how
is
you're
And
you leave
me
With taxes to pay, and your rent ? From my word You may run into debt, and your
tradesmen grieve
to fall
to you.
if
am
not free
?
To
take
my
freedom again
What,
Rather
that long.
if this foolish
heart in
me
far
But
ticklish
work doing
Without
It
its
And you can't trust thecards or the dice. And betting without ready money is
wrong And what can you do
old song.
that
is
is
worth an
And
I hold
it
When
you've tried
twice
A Lawyer that has but one brief, A Doctor one patient who tends.
May
By
marry,
in
am
hope that
in
turning
the leaf.
bound, be your lot what it may. t would not be free. love that will have its
will hold
He may
make what he
And
me
spends.
But there's no kind of work nowfor you. And nothing to hope that I see,
Unless I should die for fond lovers
and
true.
is
Which
With
to do.
be richer without have given to you ? be abler to go about. in his sixties Doing your work without fear or doubt.
I less true
You must
She
think of
it
better
and mind.
is hot and hysterical, and blind. part, But then she's your mother, and ever While I pined away with was kind sick dart, And that is enough. And its life-long ache.
well ; it might break my heart. But yet I could let it break. maybe, If I thought you would play a nobler
!
Ah
this
love-
; ;
; ;
284
Rabafi
not ? Your life would be With the son who made her life full wrecked ? and bright. Nay, I dare not say that yet I fear And to think that another woman It would not be good for your soul has right to reflect, To his whole true heart. How the bloom and the glory of love I know what you must be to her. had been checked For I know what you are now to me In the spring o' the year. I can feel how her bosom must throb It is bad, having once known the right, and stir. And the impulse of nobleness prized. As if some robber of love I were To accept the less worthy, and order With a master-key.
You would
meaner, and walk But I will not part her and you I could not enter a home To sever old ties so tender and true ; Yea, [let me rather bring fresh and new I am not afraid to be poor, For the days to come. I am not afraid of toil, With you I could labour, with you too Ah me we are often unkind. who live for our love alone endure think of ourselves, and are cold But I fear to lose what keeps the flame
For
is
We We
To
As
Or
and blind
oil.
mind
fret.
;
Half-turned to stone.
Love
be
Like the dew in the heart of the flower That bends with its burden of bliss.
And
are wet.
And
and the dews Folding it close in the petalled bower, You have lain in her heart from the first mother-hour the night winds moan.
the stars
come
out,
And
That which
is
the
first
mother-kiss.
heart's
Home
and friends and affairs. Father arid mother mine and thine I have thy love, but I long and pine To have also theirs.
And now
from that
warm
core
?
shall be
Than
Your mother
dislikes
all
that
me, I see
set
As
man
or a boy.
I like her the best
?
Her
But
face
is
hard and
Do
love will
do
it,
mean
that she
Your
Shall love
me
yet.
With
light
Be
It
still, is
his pleasant talk and his lightsome jest. But he speaks and smiles unto all the rest
As he
does to
me
"
; ;
! !
Stray Leaves While she has a freezing look Whenever I come her way,
285
And
the formal
I see,
book
I cannot say the wedding prayer speech of a printed I cannot lie ; nor God nor man Could ever make them truly one
in a quiet
Though
with a friend
Her Not
face
is
pale, her
hand
is
cold,
gold.
I paused
I
; and all was still as death ; looked around, but where was he ? I watched the quick heave of her
And And
I like her
I love
breath
you too.
I think that her love of be as true When she comes to know.
me
will
She dare not lift her eye to me. 'Twas all a lie the solemn vow.
The
And
Came from me
Daughter
to her I will be,
Love me
Thoughtful and
My love
will find
For broken faith that breaketh hearts There was no blessing in its words, There was no oneness in its parts.
It
was a
jar
of broken chords.
Shall call
me
a friend.
Let her be
if
she
will,
scold, I will
at.
walk a mile
There were two brothers loved a maid, Well-a-day Side by side they had grown and
played.
me
she shall,
it
if
Is as true as I think
her heart to be
I play
Yet were not liker than sun and shade And the woods are green in May.
Be
patient,
and see
how
!
my part,
perfect art.
One was
Well-a-day
From
the heather
hill
to the rippled
sands.
A MINISTER'S DILEMMA
" Does any one forbid the banns
I asked
; :
And
the
woods
are green in
May.
and something in me cried. And cried Yea, I forbid this man's One was sullen and hard and proud, Well-a-day Unloving claim to loveless bride. She is my friend's he loved her well. The other he mixed with the common crowd, And they were plighted years ago. Blythe as the lark that singeth loud. And still their coming marriage bell When the woods are green in May. Rings hope into his heart, I know.
;
!! !
! ! ! !!
286
Raban
tree,
Oh,
a maiden's lore must be wooed Merrily by the trysting Well-a-day with care,
Well-a-day
It
flits
She
and there,
told
the
tale,
with glee
Hard
to follow,
That
she.
night, the
And
the
woods
May.
When
dainty wiles,
May.
Well-a-day They went to the Kirk in the summer and its mocking smiles. tide, And is fain to linger by lanes and stiles, Well-a-day When the woods are green in May. gallant lover and graceful bride. Walking together side by side, The laird he came with a high demand, Oh, the woods are green in May. Well-a-day And mickle he spake of his house They went to the Kirk and vowed and land. the vow,
And the
sand
And
woods
so green in
priest,
And
the
May.
laird that
I trow.
And
And
bough.
the
woods
are green in
May.
When
I sell
my
scorn.
It shall be for more than cows and corn And the woods are green in May.
trust complete,
And
But
the rains
beat.
may
fall,
may
it
When
But
I sell
my
set,
Well-a-day
it is
And
the
woods
are green in
May.
And
Ah
Fate is subtle and deep and dark, Well-a-day 'Tis not on the ship that he sets his mark. But on the tree that shall wreck the
!
And
the bonnie green braes by the yellow sands. And the woods are green in May.
barque.
When
the
woods
are green in
May.
laid,
bent,
they
went.
That day when the light heart gaily said And all but their wealth of love was spent His cowsand corn might not buy a maid. Ere the woods were green in May. And the woods are green in May.
! ! ! ! !
!! !
Stray Leaves
287
He
For
would coin
of gold,
his
was bold.
his
that might not be, Well-a-day She would be content her boy to see heart Now and then by the trysting tree, Where the woods were green in May.
if,
Or
alas
How
And
the
woods
are green in
May.
It's
WeU-a-day
Years came and went, and youths were men, Well-a-day They were ageing now who were
stalwart then,
The
while she pleaded so meek with him. And her eyes with the great salt tears
And
May.
are green in
May.
And
Wily and
Though Grim
With
in
as a bear in his
chimney nook,
lip,
Well-a-day
a curse on his
a pipe
in his look.
had been cunningly plotting at that," he said, " is your bastard brat"; and a frown And the woods are green in May.
He
" So
And And
clasped book;
and a mug and a great " 'Twas an ill market, I'll be sworn, Well-a-day the woods are green in May. When you sold your love for a wanton's
scorn.
not
sell for
my cows
And
it
And
Oh,
the
woods
are green in
May.
And white as the daisy undefiled When the woods are green in May.
With
a woefid heart that
pale as death
cheek,
WeU-a-day
was
like to
And
And
then
it
break,
streak.
Well-a-day
died, to take
meek
Her
little
And
And
the
woods
are green in
May.
he
ill
And
the
woods
May.
the glance of her scorn could brook,
Might she
Till
but keep
him
for a space,
Well-a-day
heaven should take her,
to look
in
its
grace.
Again
Well-a-day Crouching there in the chimney nook With his pipe and his mug and his great clasped book
And
the
woods
May.
the
woods
are green in
May
! ! !! !
!! !!
288
Raban
right and round about, Well-a-day
And And
widow and
all
alone
woods
are green in
May.
as stone,
She could not breathe for a fearful doubt, Yet oh so stately as she went out, " O mother, your hand it is cold And the woods are green in May. Well-a-day
O
Stately and grand she turned from him,
it
will crush
my
Well-a-day But I would not heed if you would not But her head was dizzy, her eyes were moan " ; dim. And the woods are green in May.
As
"
in
He
it
he
could not
May
know,"
Well-a-day
groaned, and her voice was hollow and low,
And
she saw the deer in leafy glade 'Mong the tall green fern and the foxglove wade
And
set
with a death-like
woe
O
"
the
woods
are green in
May.
And
But
the
woods
are green in
May.
My
Well-a-day Well-a-day You never must dream he had that And her thin hand shook, and her heart to tell grew faint Which might have sunk a soul to hell." As over the great paged book she bent O the woods are green in May. And the woods are green in May. She led him out by the low kirk-door, For wedding record there was none, Well-a-day Well-a-day She led him down to the yellow shore, And the grey old priest was dead and And they were not heard of evermore. gone, But the woods were green in May.
; ; ;
Out
in their
shall
And
you'll
know
it,
that stand
and weep
You
are wondering who that child and what she can be to me,
is,
A dull
angels ever
ill
And
all
house
down by
the sea
? ?
you had no
:
You do
thoughts in your head If you had, you would only have thought have beards ; they fly With beautiful wings, and their hair is what scores of people have said. Nay, no apology ; none is needed like sunbeams up in the sky ? I've learnt to bear Oh, you're a learned wee maidie ; but Harder suspicion than yours, sir, and yet it may well be true never to turn a hair. That I do not know about angels so I've nothing to be ashamed of; if all well, my darling, as you. the truth were known, There ; off with you now ; that's the
not believe
that
last,
It
may even go
to
my
credit,
when
hardly
sir,
And mind
Draw your
there
is
my
debt.
and I reckon alone ; Only that, good folk tell me, an orthodox thought
:
God
is
fire,
friend
Not
that
care,
in
the
least,
Hark
how
19
the sea
is
moaning
God
utter a
word
:;
; :
; !
290
But
me, I
am
far
Down
which
brattles
our minister's point Trouble has taught me, like Job, that
Worst farmed land hereabout, all scarred like a pock-pitted face sometimes the veriest lies Get them a hiding beneath the well- Grey and unwholesome to look at poor soil it is at the best. ordered words of the wise ; And wee Curly Pow is my darling, But starved too, for money is scarce there, and work not so pleasant wee Curly Pow is my bliss as rest. God gave me her in my sorrow, as one Anyhow Lizzie came there, at Lammas seals love with a kiss.
!
past.
Oh, my Lizzie
Except
ours
my
yet
as the thing
that
we
love
is
is
by
a right divine,
his
Except
you'd see, sir, and merry and chaste ; At kirk or at market you could not meet such another, nor find At kirn or wedding to dance with a
As bonny
a lass as
clever and
who has eyes to see, Though not an acre he owns, much as a bush or a tree
;
nor so
Always
so tidy
and
neat,
and always
as blithe as a bird.
And
so
my
Lizzie
is
which
Yea, a possession which nothing can rob me of evermore. Blavick's wife was a
Perhaps I should tell you the story it is an old one now, And it calls up things that are best left
sleeping, I think
;
slut
or she
to
had
keep
been, for
now
And
come
for they
grow
them,
fat,
of a
when you
again.
stir
mudding your
Just
life
when
it
seems to be
settling,
No
matter ; you have a right to know Littered the floors along with the milkwhat it all may mean. pails, peats, and logs friend friend, and a you are my For Hard to pick your way through, for should see what there is to be seen the place was dark with smoke, One should have no dark closets locked And that had been hard to breathe, in his heart to hide but mostly a window was broke. Aught from the wife of his bosom, or Oh the dust on the settle oh the soot
:
But she was a black-a-vised person, bony and hard as flint and Yet such a house as she kept, sir pigs and hens and dogs
tried.
on the wall
It
is
some ten years now since Lizzie Pet's mother, you know
to be servant at Blavick
And
I
Came
that's
live in
it,
hence
perched on a
bit
of a
hill
lost all a
: ;
Wee
Curly
Pow
291
Blavick himself was always lounging Blavick used to be hateful ; but now it grew pleasant to me, about the place, hulking lump of a man, with a huge At first, I hardly knew why, but just that I liked to see expanse of face And if talk could have done it, all The change that Lizzie had wrought for that I would sit for hours would soon have come right. How he did talk, to be sure, through And hear old Blavick's chatter, as if it were sweet as the flowers. the long day and the night Maundering on about lime and guanos, Many a time when I went out just to look over a field. rotation of crops. Soils and subsoils, and ploughs, and And see how the corn was ripening, or guess at the turnip yield the makers of them and their shops, And all the new-fangled ways but Many a time when I came away from the thronging fair. none of the old-fashioned work Ever he put his hands to : there was Pleading I must go home for the task that I had to do there ; not a rake or a fork. Plough or harrow that was not broken, Many a time when I left for the kirk on the Sabbath day, and out of repair Just when they needed it most, and It was not the kirk I went to, for Blavick was in my way waste was everywhere. Somehow or other, something was always drawing me there, But Lizzie began at once to make As the tide runs after the moon and oh but my moon was fair everything nice and clean. To put everything in the house in its Then I knew that I loved her loved her with all my heart, place where it should have been ; Pity the pig that ventured to grunt As only a strong man can whose love is his strongest part. inside of her door Pity the hen that entered where it She was only a servant maiden, but oh she was my queen : used to cackle before The kitchen was like a parlour, none She was only a cottar's daughter, and I was the farmer of Plein ; of them dared to tread With mucky shoes on her earth-floor fathers had been here, sir, for five generations back, for she had a tongue in her head. Women need to be able to scourge a And never a lease ran out but the laird would renew the tack, fool with speech That is their only weapon to punish For they had money to farm with, and they could farm with skill, him or to teach ; And it was worth while hearing her And never a lease ran out, but the land looked richer still. hit them ofi^, one by one. Every phrase just a picture, lit up with Yet she seemed high above me ever so high above a touch of fun. Making them all, shamefaced, to do It never came into my head that I honoured her with my love ; her bidding at once. Till, at the last, she needed no more Nay, but she was my moon, my chaste and beautiful moon, than a hasty glance.
My
zgz
he
neither
ought to have been ashamed to speak to an honest maid. I on And she too ought to have known the the earth below. weapon with which she played. Folk said that I might do better? I Ought to have known the fellow would thought, if she'd condescend lead her a devil's dance. To smile on me, I would follow her But now there was no getting speech on to the wide world's end. hardly I met her once ; of her
so bright, quick-witted, and
She was
He
at
Blavick
and he
he
sat
black - leg,
she
Fain to look
jaunty hat
like a jockey,
wearing a
wherever you happened to meet was far away. Ay and he made her tryste him But in his eye was a hot moist leer, beside the " Dancing Cairn," and he had a chin Although she had heard the story of That dropt inside of his necktie, and Bessie Lusk and her bairn ; a hard and tight-drawn skin. But she said it was all a lie ; the Other folk called him clever, but I sheriff had let him go.
And
!
her, he never
1 call a
should say only smart man smart when his head does not feel the want of a heart.
And
it
Bessie had fallen asleep, and died the drifting snow And even the minister found no fault has laid the that he could blame.
in
And
conscience high on the shelf. And it was wicked to rob a man of Regarding not God or man, and caring his honest name. for none but himself. All this I saw going on, and yet like
a fool, one
day
What
is
it
women
their
can
see
in
once
way
herself,
;
warm
by
I asked her
she had said me nay, ere I turned to my lonely life, taint, nor Partly because I loved her, and partly dread what is hidden within ? because I feared 1 never could comprehend how such What might happen, if things went on things come to be. as they now appeared, And now it is more than ever a mystery I warned her of him, as none but a
my
wife
And when
men that are foul with sin. Nor shrink from the outward
fool
sir,
Of course,
country
knew
it
true
293
Wee
Curly
Pow
there's nothing
'Twas gossip of wicked people, and some folk's meaner spite ; And she would believe in him now,
though
I
When
Tasteless and dry as proved it clear as the light chew, and you don't know why And she would hold to him now, and It's a bad way to be found in if the sink with him or swim. devil should hap to come by. I felt there was something grand in her womanly faith in him. So the spring passed with the tender Felt too that I had been little at green of the sticky leaves. least, that I must look small. The songs of the mating birds, and Though I said no more than the truth, the swallows' nest in the eaves ; and had not said nearly it all So too the glory of summer with the But then I should just have taken mine smell of clover and bean. answer, and gone my way. The hawthorn white in the hedge, and weary way now it was, sir, of lifethe daisies white on the green less work all day. And autumn also went with its wealth And brooding by night o'er the fire, of well-stooked corn. and eating my heart like a fool, And the kine that low for the milkTill things grew over my mind, like pail duly at even and mom. the weeds in a standing pool, Natui-e passed through her changes,
And
I scarce
or heeded a
fished
pool
and market, and never and I fired not a shot at the game once turning my head People were wedded and buried, but I Doing my job of business, doing my was not there to see. bit of prayer. At harvest-homes the lasses might With a changeless thought in my heart, none of them dance with me. and a changeless aching there. There was nothing I heeded, except People, I daresay, wondered why I to put cash in the bank
to kirk
Going
brooding alone did it matter to me ? I let them go wondering on. I hated the talk of the market, the glee of the curling rink. And the rough jokes of the smithy, the ale-house too and its drink ; Yea, and I hated my life so brightened once by her smile. So haloed and hallowed to me by the dream of her love for a while.
sat
Not
that
either,
at
What
least not
much
I
but I thank
Heaven
But for
that
my wee
But there ; I am going too fast there was not a Curly Pow yet But I never can think of those days
without thinking too of
my
pet.
had all gone dark, and I And what she has saved me from, and did not seem to mind how I am in her debt What the clouds might be gathering, Perhaps she was given me for this, to or what might be in the wind. keep me from being a churl. Maybe, sir, you have known, now a For my heart was set on the gold, feeling something like that. until it was set on the girl.
For now
it
294
Well
one evening
that
all
winter
it
Why
was
sure
that
heard
her
moan, though the raving wind And now with the dry small drift the Shrieked till ray ears were as deaf as wind was making rough play, my eyes with the drift were blind ? Rolling it low o'er the earth, and toss- Heaven only knows, for I had no
day,
ing
it
high
in the air,
it
And
Not
whirling
over the
to toss
Was
Yet
there.
a night to be out in ; but I thought I must go and look After a hirsel of sheep that were pasturing down by the brook In the hollow there where the rocks have opened to let it through ; There the pasture is good, sir, and the pools for trouting too.
was certain of
it,
as if
it
had
So
had seen
to the sheep,
and was
fighting
my way
again
through the blinding drift that smote with a stinging pain. When something flitted close by me, and moaned as it made for the shore Just where the rocks stand up, two hundred feet and more. Out of the wild wan water, with only a narrow ledge.
Home
been revealed Clear by the word of the Lord, and with miracle signed and sealed. So in a moment I rushed off after the fading form Into the pathless night that was dark with the blinding storm ; And not five yards from the cliff I passed her with labouring breath, And stood in front of her there, stood between her and death. Pallid she was as a ghost, with a wild gleam in her eye. Gleam of the madness that drove her out that evening to die : Ah, poor soul so lately rich in a fullblooded life.
!
Here and
build,
there,
where the
sea-gulls
And
bee
merry
as bird in the
summer, or
all
and their nestlings fledge. Even in quiet weather it is perilous walking there At night, for the cracks and fissures you come upon unaware, Where the waves rush in so madly, tossing the white foam high But on a night like this, one who was not wishing to die Would have kept far off from the windswept cliffs, and the drifting snow. And the loud roar of the waves that were plunging down below.
:
when the clover is rife. Glowing and singing, and laughing through the work of the day.
Ah
spirit
so blithe
What
cruel
That had not a moping doubt, and felt not a shadowy fear i " What did I mean ? Let her pass.
And what right had I to ask Whither she went, or why ? And, forsooth, it was not my task To
be her keeper," she said. not a time for speech :
It
was
What was
it smote my heart, that the Vain in the tumult of feeling to order form, which dimly fell your words and preach : White on my eyes through the snow, So then I tore off ray plaid, and was the girl I had loved so well swathed her in it, ere she knew,
Wee
And
lifted
: :
; ;
Curly
Pow
295
Kittywake Rock. Ah! that was a moan of life, I think ; Wilder, fiercer than ever ; and after Can I do anything, mother ? If he struggling a while. were here now Well, She lay as one dead on my bosom for It would only be doing God's work to most part of a mile. hurl the villain to Hell." Ah was it only thus I should bring Then she " Leave God Himself to my love to my home ? do His own work, my son Only thus to my bosom now was she Vengeance is His, and surely, if slowly, ever to come ? His judgments are done No gay bridal for us, no Kirk's blessing Do not the thing that you ought not,
her up in
arms, and
strode through the tempest that blew
! !
my
Of the
or bells
But a dead weight on my arm, and And sorrow, I fear me, will come yet something of sorrow that tells. from doing this thing that ye ought. How I got home, I wot not but I But happen what may, ye did right: strode on, slow or swift. only now you must saddle and ride ; With a great black fear on my heart, This will need doctor's skill. 'Tis a as I fought with the wind and drift. wild night, lad," she cried. " And you are down-hearted and cold and yet it is better for you My mother was living then ; and when Than sitting, helpless, at home, to have I laid down my load something set you to do. There on the sofa beside her, saying So let not your horse's hoofs tarry, but that Woman and God mind the bridge and the shore. Must see to the rest of this gear ; she And speed him as fast as you may, or gave me a sudden glance. death will be here before." With plainly a question in it, and something of doubt, perchance, As if she would say. There's something Four miles' ride to the village, but the wrong here ; can it be you wind was then on my back Has wrought this evU, my son ? God Four miles home with a gale in our
:
help
me
if that
be true.
I said,
Once
"there has been villainy here. Double-damned vUlainy, sure, and the
truth of
!
it yet shall appear. growled at a gouty foot pluck his heart out to get at Yet we were back in the hour ; ay, the secret within ; that was the staunchest mare Oh I would have given my life to Ever yet stood in my stable, or ate save her from sorrow and sin. from the manger there. But something has to be done, or after But we were not in time ^Wee Curly all she will die. Pow came that night. Is she living ? I thought that I half- Came from the sin and the shame to
Ay
if I
me as an angel of light. Strange that out of such to the brink blessing should rise.
evil
such a
!;
; ;: ;
296
That from the very heart-breaking came the heart-healing likewise. But Lizzie was taken from me; she
never looked on her child,
trcvubled
And how
a mile through the drifting snow could have ever believed that in the tempest wild. Plein would have acted so ? Seeking to hide her with God, where I laughed as the tale was told, but I hiding is found alone ; tried to be still and mute. And oh so still as she lay now, trouble For the grief was more than the wrath, and tempest gone so the story had time to root And you cannot fight with a rumour
The
And who
Mother looked sadly at me, and gravely which nobody stands to quite, For that is like hitting at shadows, and the Doctor too beating the air at night. Hinted that tongues would be clacking or ever the day was through. That the farmers of Plein had been Then it was that I found a blessing in always men of an honoured name
Curly
all
Pow
all of my love that remained, of Lizzie that I had now. What was there now to smirch it ? Every day she would lie for hours and Drily he smiled at that, hours on my knee Turned up his eyebrows, and said that I was but an uncouth nurse, but she the day would tell me what learnt to trust in me ; Meanwhile my heart within me was And I got to love her somehow, and wroth at the villain's deed it would have broken my heart. Meanwhile my heart was breaking to Had anything happened on earth to have failed her now in her need make me and the baby part. For I had loved her truly, and now I They might think what thoughts they was left alone pleased, they might say of me what And oh so still as she lay there, trouble they list. and tempest gone When she crowed up into my face, and learned to look up and be kissed. Not long had I to wait for what their It was all of my love that remained, it foreboding feared was all of my Lizzie I had. One day quietly passed the lull ere And Lizzie had been my all. But, of the storm appeared ; course, they said everything bad. like among burning the next, fire But on
She was
ricks, It
it
ran
was told by every woman, believed by every man. How I had played the deceiver, how I had brought disgrace On the good name that was honoured
Of
The
minister once
at
came
in.
And vowed
my own
sin.
fireside if I did
must cut me off from the Church ; he was sorry, but what could he do ? o'er every name in the place How Blavick's son had been blinded. Some one, I said, must confess, for that sin has been done is true and all his people beguiled
He
; ;
Wee
Curly
Pow
297
Sin of the shamefulest kind, and covered I'll take all the vows on myself which with perjuring lies, I'll faithfully strive to fulfil. Sin that came nigh to murder, no art Will toil for her, pray for her, teach can ever disguise. her to walk in the way undefiled Sin malignant that shifted its guilt on Though there's not one drop of the Plein blood flows in the veins of the the innocent too.
child. Sin that took up ill reports, and spread I cannot lie even to get you to bless the false word for the true the babe that I love Verily sin all round. But for me I It is not my child but it's God's have nought to confess, and its name too is written above. Save that in pity I saved a life in its
great distress.
He was
For binding the traveller's wounds, and But I did not heed him ; I knelt there bringing him home to his inn down by my wee little mouse He saved an enemy's life, and it cost She was not my Curly Pow yet, for him money to do it hair on head,
;
It
act, for
only the
she had not a her But she always got some pretty name
as I took her upstairs to her bed,
it.
Who
Enquire then did it ? he asked. at your Elder's son. The horse-couping scoundrel, it's not the first of these jobs he has done ; You've had him through hands before.
As
anything dainty or sweet. Or the Star, or the Song of my life, or my Lamb with its tender bleat So I knelt, and prayed to the Father Yes he swears he is not to blame ? to help me to train her for Him, But when you last had to deal with Since worse than orphan she was, and him, did he not swear the same ? I felt that my eyes grew dim. Yet he was guilty, you know, and was While I sought for the better baptism held to have doubly sinned. that she might be pure and good. And sat on the stool of repentance, and As no Kirk water could make her. stared at the girls and grinned. And then in a happier mood What do you think, sir ? It strikes crowed and played there together, me, that did not do him much good ; until it was time for bed ; And who is the better because her babe Where I lay and dreamt of my Lizzie, is unchristened ? or would who lay with the silent dead. Be worse if it were baptized ? It is
!
We
nothing, of course, to
me
:
who has Well ; yes, the house now was lonely ; but that I did not much mind should be Brought to the water of God, then People must go their own way ; and for me I was never inclined why should this little one bide Like one who inherits a shame, while To mix with the folk round about here, who mostly have nothing to say, her father has none to hide ? See, I will hold her up before all the Save about cattle and crops and the prices on market day. folk if you will.
But
if it is right that
sin,
the babe,
sinned no
298
them should For I found it was best for myself just ways be changed to let the thought of him go So they might do as they listed ; and Out of my mind altogether it was a most of them were estranged. dead fly, do you see ? But I always had wee Curly Pow to Spoiling the ointment, of course workhelp me to carry it through, ing no good, sir, in me. And life is as happy to-day as on ever He left the place by and by, with the a day that I knew. constable hard on his track. Ay neighbours leave us alone, and Making it certain enough he would not the Kirk has cast us away, be in haste to come back And every day of the week is as still Then there were rumours about him as the Sabbath day he had been killed, they said. Worse thing they had not to do ; it In the big Bull's Run affair, and found was all the length they could go. in the field 'mong the dead ; Baby don't mind, but at first I felt it a But others averred he was caught terrible blow horse-stealing, and lynched on a tree. To be shut from the table of God, to Bah he is out of the way, sir, and
Not
my
be held as an outcast man, that is the best thing for me : To be looked at askance like a branded There was nothing I dreaded so much sinner and publican. as to meet him some evening alone I went still to Church for a time, and Where I met poor Lizzie that night. sat on the square Plein pew. Ay, it's well that the fellow is gone. And heard the old Psalms, and the prayers, and bits of the sermon too.
Meanwhile
wept
like a child,
as I
DR. LINKLETTER'S
SCHOLAR
and mother and all of us loved the old Kirk and its ways. I WAS his master ; and from me But I stayed here at home ere long ; He learnt at a sitting his BC for I found more of God in the child. And step by step I led him through As I looked on her sweet pure face no Grammar and History, Latin and shadow of sin had defiled ; Greek, My Sundays were better with her than And the science of Form and Number there where my neighbours gloomed. too. As the minister preached at me some- And Rhetoric that he might fitly speak times, and I sat and fretted and As only the well-trained orator can. For speech is the noblest gift of man ; fumed. I don't say it's right, sir ; but God seems But speech that is not by the laws and nearer me here now than there. books My thoughts are sweeter and better Is but as the cawing of jays and rooks. Or the meaningless babble of running with wee Curly Pow in her chair. brooks As we read in the old Book together, and kneel for a brief word of prayer. And from the first it was plain to me What his role in the world must be. What came of the horse-couping black- It was my mind that was stamped on his. guard ? I never cared much to know : When his was soft as the melted wax ;
father
When
; !;
299
And
breathe into
it
life
so rich
The author of it shall hardly find What of it now is his, and which
mind
And
Just the
mind that is sure to win Whatever the tussle it may be in, For in this world they only tell
No shears had ever yet come on his head. And his mother could hardly bear to see
Who
learn to hit out straight and well. The golden curls which at last were Therefore I follow his proud success, shed, Day by day, as he rises higher, That he might be like the rest of Read what he says in the public Press, the boys And note what the critics all admire ; Who jeered at him, till she polled And this bit and that, which the whole his hair. world praises She kept it among her treasured joys, For its lofty thought, or its happy Wrapt up in her marriage lines with care. phrases, And I felt with her, as I must confess : Or its insight clear, or the counsel wise He was so beautiful before. That in its large suggestion lies So touched with a sweet and tender I could not have said it so well as he, grace Butlknowthere is somethingin itof me; And now we had made him commonI could not have worked "out so perfect place, a thought. Like the louts that were playing about But I gave him at firstthe true key-note ; the door. For I was his master, and from me little ago he seemed just a child. He learnt, as I told you, his Thoughtful yet bidable, gentle and mild.
ABC.
My little
Ah,
sir,
With
his
Had not the fitting words at command hair unpolled To utter the thought that you felt And I felt he would be my Samson yet.
And
Not
it
and clumsy
may grow
in a master's
sport,
At times, When it
flower,
But for his humour, and for his wit. Quick to reason, and keen to retort,
And
for a
memory
that forgot
had been only a trifling weed by sun and shower. In the poor soil of a mind like mine hair Yet the germ of it all was there, I know, And now as the small face looked at me, Though onlyhe could have made it grow I thought, ah what if his strength Into a glory so divine. was there ? Wonderful, sir, that genius should And I felt my eyes like her's grow dim, Transform your thought, like its natural He was so changed when we gazed
it
For
If
left to ripen,
might teach him never a jot. Already I saw what he was to be. When he shook the curls of his golden
Of all you
food,
at
him.
300
That was a foolish thought, but love Makes all of us foolish now and then,
We have to be pedants
Or
nothing would
!
flourish
And
he
who
thinks he
when you chance is men to find Fond may be foolish, yet love is wise One who can answer to all your mind. They call it blind, but the seeing eyes Who hungers for learning, as hawk
Such things
;
far
above
in
the
heart
And
never forgets a
skill.
word you
to
say
trained
A
Oh
For
but our
bright young
soul
be
with
Ready
to take
bough,
all
Came
As
And clear as a mirror the truth to show. the lore of the ancient times But not like a mirror to let it go. with as natural ease to him song to the thrush on the stately That was a gladness he gave to me
From
the day that I taught
limes
him
his
Piping aloud in the evening dim. It was not work, it was liker play.
ABC.
Only once had
I ever seen
He
all
The gods and heroes mythical, They were all so real to him and
Such another, who so combined Memory, fancy, and reason keen And he from'the first had always been
;
true.
had hates he knew, Ah the sorrow I had for him. As he wasted slow with an inward fire, Better than what went on around Among the boys on the playing And his eye grew brighter, as mine grew dim ground With the dying of hope in a deep And in his innocence he would talk desire Of Jove and Leda in our walk. beautiful spirit and when he parted And of the foam-born beautiful One, And the myths of the all-embracing From the shrunken form, and the
And all
their loves
aching pain, I said, as I sat down broken-hearted, pure to the pure in heart. And chaste as the marble of highest That I never should love, as I had, again. Art.
Sun.
But
all is
Ah How
!
sir,
it
it is,
down
to
my life on him day by day. Only to steal his life away. For I ought to have noted the hectic
Spending
streak.
the bone
To toil through a summer day like this. When first it flushed on his pallid cheek, Sharpening fools on the grinding stone. And I I had only worked him still
While
fits.
stolid or sullen
And
nothing
will
their wits
they grow by Because he worked with so ready a will, And his mother, I kept the truth put an edge on from her And what, if I had been his murderer ?
; ;
! !
301
like the
if
first,
And
and now
he
rooks.
Were
And how they were better than musty proud mothers that heard of me. books. Therefore I said, it shall not be That was not true ; but you have to hide will not always be poring on books. Your thoughts from the eager ones at will not study with sickly looks your side. will go up to the breezy hills,
also to die, I should be accursed
Of all
We We We
And
in
Harvest of wisdom from the wise. the sea-spray flies, Harvest of pictures for the eyes. and fills Harvest of song for the heart within The air with a breath that is also good. Harvest richer than all before. It is stupid indeed to be spending hours For it was not books that we read alone. Only seeking for vulgar health ; But God's handwriting, on earth and But then we can gather the lore of stone. flowers. Penned by Him in the days of yore.
And And
Though
it's
only
now we
begin to spell
wealth.
The
Death with the weeds
in the sea
and
Oh Oh
Or Or
And
Watching the
So rarely a day then came and went. But we heard the plash of the rushing
swallows.
wave;
And often a
Where
day on the
hills
was
spent.
Or noting the woodman and his craft. As he felled the pine trees, and bound
the
raft.
trees brave
Or
The
poled it shallows
down through
the rushing
wind's shock.
With
I
the grey-
At first, I grudged the hours it took. At first, I sighed for the half-read book,
Until I found that we could not see The world without for the world within. I watched if a flush ever dyed his cheek Nor gather the health we were there to win. Not his mother herself would have So the books and the maps were laid watched as I
fire
burned
in
Yet
1 did not
aside
forth open-eyed.
may
bring
disease.
As Homer did, on the world wide. And good are the pictures still, I find.
in the
And And
trees,
the
bright
sea-pools,
and the
What
a career
was
it
running brooks.
Never the
like of
seen before.
;;
302
Ah
a defter spirit than he
is
there
anything
leaves
no
sorrow
on its way. In Letters and Arts and Philosophy ; The mark of the human Medals, scholarships, honours poured When the hope, that brightened the looked-for morrow. Down on his head with one accord, And yet the small head was not turned. Drifts past at length into yesterday ? But only for yet more learning burned. Well, well it is idle to moralise. People would glance at the Honours' Wasting breath upon empty sighs ; List, And we have ourselves, no doubt, to blame, And say, " Is there nothing he cannot When bubbles burst we have fondly do?"
!
blown if you have properly played the His name was the first that came in view gamej In Classics and Logic and Rhetoric too, Shall you grieve that one of the tricks
For
ne'er at
the head of
it
was he
missed
And
Which
are the
things
is
gone.
to
Yet some
I
Or vow
I
knew
dim,
better.
Night Night
after
night,
and
vain,
sir
for
I
after night,
:
was
filling
his
mind
like an
empty
and
the day
would
bottle.
break
When we
wrought
read
Justinian
now,
For
My
he will carry to many lands name like Ascham's, and for his
I said,
At
sake I too of fame shall yet partake For I am the clockwork, he the hands.
;
But he was not a vessel that I could fill He was a man with his own strong will. And I was wrong when I took it ill.
Oh, I was proud of him who but he ? Why is it people smile at me For was he not also a part of me ? Of course, he was more than I yet so In a pitying, patronising way ? What I, too, might have been, he They've always done it, even when they Were learning with my eyes to see would show. And when at length he was capped, The beauty of classic verse or prose
;
:
town Gathered to
the
praises.
see him,
and shout
he
his
They tried to hide it, but yet I saw. What can it be ? I am not like those Beautiful youths, I know, who draw
And blushed at
phrases
All hearts to them by their witching look. In a drawing-room now I lose my head. the Principal's eloquent Till I get in a corner, and find a book. And lose myself in its thoughts instead.
in prize-books,
sat
; ;
;
!
: :
303
is
am awkward
in
company,
ourselves, to
And blush if a lady but speaks to me, think And never do find the right word to say, That only for him did we keep our And my legs or arms are in my way, lamps trim, And I've no small talk, nor a spark That all our wells were for him to drink. of wit. And all existed only for him. And my laugh is not mirthful can And oh, what a mind he had what
that be
it ?
;
power
I
Well, well
shall be.
am
Unless
my
pupils interpret
me
What subtlest insight to detect The hidden analogies few suspect As the wild bee travels from flower
flower.
to
Of precious wisdom and curious lore. So would he And those who learn it a name will What made
make. But I hoped that he would esteem
more.
yield
it
indeed.
Yet
So it came at last that, in gown and wig, mother herself would some- I heard him plead in a fitting cause. times say. How the words rolled from him round He has no heart ; he is only brain and big There is nothing he loves in a perfect Not Tully himself more versed in the way. laws There is none that he would not grieve Of Rhetoric, how to turn and wind and pain Round judge or jury, and win their ear. To gain his end. And I also felt. Then flash a metaphor into their mind. Though he had no passion of youthful Or a stroke of wit that they smile to
his
vice.
hear,
But was ever as pure and cold as ice, And, when he has got them well in Yet was it ice that nought could melt hand, And he never was young like other boys. Close with a peroration grand Nor made them his friends, nor loved Or touching, if that is the vein most fit
their joys.
know
Hard reasoning, and a harder hi t and to dispute. Even when he saw that he was wrong Will often farther than pathos go. It was idle his arguments to refute, Or pictures of clients in stricken woe. For when he was beaten by reasons He hit the nail on the head, I saw Not once did he miss a point of Law, strong. He would ride away on a jest or two, Or fail the heart of the case to seize. In the triumph of laughter mocking you. Or to persuade and rouse and please At the lowly in heart too he would sneer, Nothing was showy or juvenile. And the simplein heart he held forfools. Nothing merely for ornament And there were times when he made Every word was in perfect style. Every plea to the marrow went. me fear He cared for us only as his tools. Clenched with a telling precedent.
was
fain to argue
He
304
Oh, what
that, to stand
And
Before the majesty of the Law, of me, And hold your argument clear in hand. And what in the future he yet might And state the matter without a flaw be: I had studied the case myself at night. Still it was wrong, and I see it now, And seen it, I reckoned, as clear as So to intrude with empty and vain light: Thoughts of myself ; and I ought to bow But I felt, as I heard him pleading now, To the fit rebuke, though it gave The cold sweat beading upon my brow. me pain.
And And
I
was a ringing in my brain. was dark, till he made it plain. could not have spoken a word for awe
there
all
As
I crept
away home
in the dripping
rain.
I surely
know it.
time to
Of the
likes, in the hour of he finished, looked down. his pride. And complimented his able friend To have shabby old friends creeping The Bar had done, he was free to own. up to his side. All that the Bar could to defend weighty cause in a weighty way. What a brain he has for clearness and And to fulfil the hope which they. power And all who knew of his honours won What a grasp of principles and details In other fields, had formed of him. What would take you a year, he will So thegrave Judge. When he had done. seize in an hour My head went round, and my eyes And then his courage too never fails. grew dim. He may be Lord High Chancellor yet. And something I said I know not well But he will write as a scholar no less What it was, but a silence fell ( To think that a part of me may be set On all the court ; and I seemed to see To give law from the woolsack, or little boy at his teach from the press Sitting thoughtfully at ray knee. None of your idle poems, or flash
Now when
ABC,
Of course,
it
was wrong
in
me
to
go
But
solid
In the hour of his triumph thus, and show Writ with a golden pen and true. threadbare coat, and my withered I know it is in him. I put it there, And he will bring it out clear and fair, face At such a time, and in such a place ; When legal briefs and affairs of state Though it's true my coat was thin Slacken enough to give him leisure. But that must be soon, for I may not wait and bare That he might be garmented fitly there. Many more days for the Psalmist's date. But it cut me, at first, to the quick, When years are a burden, and not a
My
when he
pleasure.
Hard, hard he works for the fame he Turned with a freezing look from me seeks Maybe, I had said something wild ; My head was dazed when I thought Through the busy term, and the holiday weeks of the child,
Dick Dalgleish
^et he never
is weary, never complains, nothing of sickness, or aching
305
With
his
hands so
full,
Knows
Or
so strained,
pains.
And
for
rest,
a wish
is
or
bile-clogged
brains.
That
By
wooded
!
braes.
gained ; For they say he is not more in request At the Courts of Law than in stately Halls, Where his wit has made him a
welcome
guest.
And
!
Drop me
leisure to write, and can hardly reasonable, I know. In me to be looking for that, although hearth-stone. But I do not grudge him ; I only hope. I spent the wealth of my life on him. And all the knowledge of studious years. When his cup is full, he will spill me And filled his cup, as it were to the brim. a drop. With the lore that now in his life For my work is done, and my days appears. are dim.
!
When
It's
he has
Beauty swims through its routs and balls. Ay, ay and still I am sitting alone Among the old books by the old
heart grows thirsty to hear from him, Were it not for the scholar I trained to fly As the shadows of the Eternal fold With the bravest of them that mount Around my head that is grey and old. up high Riches and honours and fame to win ? And he has won them, and shall win yet DICK The ermined robe, and the coronet. And a noble name, and mine shall be Just a mechanic with big, broad head, Blended with his, too, in history. Carpenter, maybe, or engineer, And I've thought, now and then, in Deft with a skilled hand at winning that coming day. his bread. When they talk of us, they will maybe Scornful of varnish and show and veneer; say, Rough-handed, plain-spoken, strong in I was the Moses that saw the Lord, his youth. He but the Aaron that gave the word. Loyal to all of his order and craft But that is when I am vain and proud, Loudly maintaining the fact and the And sit by the fire, and think aloud. truth. Wondering why he only writes At all pretences as loudly he laughed scrap to say that he has no time Laughed at quill-drivers, and whiteAnd I'm ready to think that is nearly fingered dandies a crime. Measuring ribbons with yard-stick As I brood and fret through the long and tape dull nights. Laughed more at frowsy men doctoring But I ought to be grateful, indeed, brandies. that he And calling their drugs the pure fruit Finds even a moment to think of me, of the grape
I
But what of that, sir ? And what had Been but a grave to bury it in.
And my
DALGLEISH
; :
3o6
He
And
and
the
steering.
And
What
by the way.
could do
shrewdly projected a wonderful dream, Clean-washed, clean-shirted, his wife Into the future, of iron and steam.
And
Out on
by
his side,
With
a small
to her
I scarce
know why,
breast.
To
the
And
chirped to, and watched with a the fond Young pride which his wife showed motherly pride. every look. Proud of her baby, and proud of her
Man,
All her young face was
to see
like sunshine
Than
ways
No
folks, sickly vapours had she, nor a wan Fine-lady look, but was healthful as he. Each with his newspaper where he read How she looked up to him Who The markets first, and the price of
!
stocks.
as her
true
He
what at the bankrupt court sitwas said but then he They carried their business with them
?
Dick
It
And
tings
Harm
worm
or a
fly,
if
and
small
knew;
And And
he read everything
science,
life
and
its
plays.
poems, and
all
that
the news-
And
So
paper says.
and
I
Out on
a holiday, sailing
down
broiling
The
took my seat, with a frank good-day, By the big mechanic in homespun grey.
I
;
was
and
To
the birch-clad
hill
trade,
But he went rather at first for books Shrewdly he glanced at either shore. Lined with the half-finished skeleton Did I not think that Darwin made
ships.
worms
as
against the
afore,
rooks
their
What had
like these
the
earth
Plainly
knew
all
about
this
one's
Dumb,
soil
silent
ploughers
who made
its
the
gearing.
The
For rooks
to nestle to live
on
high
trees.
toil
?
screw,
And man
by
his sweat
and
37
Dick Dalgleish
That was a man, sir, with hardly a rival Their brow never sweats with the work they have done. For his power to see, and his grasp of Unless at some queer job that looks thought
And
as for his doctrine of fit survival, That's the new gospel this age has got And we must be rid of the drones in
rather
ill,
And
then
it
is
the hive.
That the
thrive.
true workers
may
They're nearly
here to-day
all
drones
now
they run. When they shuffle the cards for a trial of skill. live and Now, I come home at evening, Kate, dirty and weary. on board But my conscience is clean, and my head, too, is clear
I don't
sit,
Our
lads went off with an earlier boat But wife, sir, and baby must have their own way.
As some
I
And
It
is
when
the year;
she's afloat.
my work
or
you're fain
my
play
a pail of fresh water will not
Which
damsels come prais-
wash away.
sell
And
With
if
for
the rise
rather appear
should be. Filching a profit still, great or small. Than stand at the judgment with For the doing of nothing that I can see. Dick, Tom, and Harry There's a little chap sitting yonder Not more than half-sobered with gulps look of the sea He's bulling and bearing all the day Oh, how can I say so, when you chose long
respectable folk, pretty-mannered
and mild.
And
a
they're
fain
to
glance
his
at
his
jotting-book.
For
it
guesses
are
I call
this soft-handed,
him the
commerce,
wish me, old girl, us, all our winters be just like these. and summers With broadcloth and white linen worn Swarms of them, sir in the handevery day, somest trim. And to saunter through 'Change for They make their game, and the stakes an hour at my ease. are laid, And call that my work, though it looks And they rake in the gold which the so like play ? workers made
Would you
these are the sucking him now, to And they live upon
And
little
fleas
blood-
;;
Men
; ; ;
3o8
world
to
make
to be
him a brute
?
Of
betting
and hedging
want
Though of
we ought
all
And whose
With
That
their
life
?
keep our good humour and manhood to boot. helped by the jobs But those who have tasted of slight
And
they are at
and neglect.
sharp
arithmetic
they
When
folk
grow too
civil,
are apt to
fashion a blade
cuts a big slice of our profit
suspect.
away
it
And
our line saving of labour to quicken the trade. And bring in more wealth than the his "gig-men," gold in a mine. And I still like the old fellow's rough Well, I spoke to the head of our firm ; tongue a bit but he turned. But he never yet said how the
in
except trade On the folly of some, for which all have to pay I used to read Carlyle, and laughed at
But
a
at
one
thing
What was
me
new
With
at
a big oath,
and bade
me go work
at
last for
the
men
my
tools
who
are
fit.
That's Darwin's discovery ; and how can you doubt These chaps, like the dodo, are bound
to die out
?
had heard such tales once till his were burned, And he found that your workmeninventors were fools. But afterwards, learning more truly
fingers
He
about
it.
When
About
you spoke
us, the
to
me
first,
wishing to
know
working men
;
brought forth my model as proud, do not doubt it. thoughts are And whereto our strikes and our unions As Kate of her baby there, and with a swing grow And how near the end is, or, maybe, Of the big hammer, I dashed it in bits, Saying, What could come out of a how far. working man's wits ? Ah, folks are grown curious about us,
what our So I
who
once
had
toiled at
it, sir,
hurried
them
past.
sort, I
a year.
allow
seeing
my
We
are crustier,
at last.
now
Turned now
out clear,
into
iron,
and coming
inspiration
come
Than we should be. That comes the way we've been living
;
of
At
last,
through
plain
I got
Dick Dalgleish
39
not
God
inspire
And
quaff
my
i
champagne
as
it
were
bottled milk
As
\vell
as to preach,
and be praised
and a
thrill
flash
In a moment of
adrift
failure,
when
hands that could work out the thought of his head I was It is true that he had a bad weakness
for drink.
And
As " the
still small voice," which the prophet must hearken. Because it was God's, so the thing
and wish he were dead ; But he took to that line, and had everything
fine,
light
when
that
did darken
is
And what
was
as
And
their gain,
To
when
saw
carriages, horses, and flunkies, and wine. And heaven knows what that he had
it
not before.
all
You
think
it
ripe fruit
But the ladies were shy of his wife ; and the flunkies was childish to waste the The lazy fat rogues, I'd have sweated
thought.
Of my
whit;
labour and
it's all
Not
them well
here
At
As
clear in
my
head
as that day,
and
to boot
the back of his chair stood, and grinned there like monkeys. And down in the kitchen they laughed
at his bell
;
Some
riper thought
still
that
may some
time appear.
And
he had not
moment of comfort
him bare
as a sheep
But I told you this only to show how, in vain. Folk think all at once they can heal the huge rent In our social order where one's heart and brain Find seldom the right places for which they were meant. But why don't I patent the thing 1
invented
?
of
its
fleece.
No,
I'll
sir
I don't
care to rise
we
of the Carpenter now, He was wise In the old town of Nazareth long, long ago. are not very pious, we workthe world, as they say,
The Son
We
men,
I fear,
And
have a grand house finely papered Don't go much to church, but we read about Him and painted. And mount me a-horseback to land And the things that we read are not
in a ditch,
quite
minister
like froth
from
the brim
310
pot of small beer. Nay, I don't Not to take to the nice ways of lawyer blame the preacher ; or clerk. It's just what we want that we find Not to turn from the hammer, the file, in our books ; and the fire As the sun is a painter to some, and a But to stand by our order and stick to
Of a
bleacher
our tools,
it is
To others
You open
as the
eye
is
that looks
And
And
Not
still
of our brow,
to organise labour
by Christianall,
And
for
message that
God
meant
like rules.
me.
may
be
better than
May
To
lives
fine
And
to
lords
of
in
read,
and
to
think,
and
to
well
understand.
And
sit
As
The
a Judge, or a Parliament
man
to
to get, like us here now, some holiday pleasure For they do the work that enriches
the Jew.
the land.
No
till
but
He
The
His head.
heeded not purple and sumptuous
fare.
with me.
And And
He
lay
You're a Christian, sir ? Well so am I, in a way, Though some of our fellows, and good
!
fellows too.
it
Though
mayn't have
Have no
say.
other gospel or
God,
as they
not seek
brain and
reckon
my
through.
that their
ills
trade
He
May
be
my
is
church too,
if
the right
selfish
heart
there,
And
And
to bear.
Well, that
our Ark,
is
Not
to rise
from our
is parson and priest, though his apron be leather. but to raise And he tuck up his shirt-sleeves to do
is
He
Dick Dalgleish
Whose
; ;!
; ; ;
311
heart is most loving to sister And to leave all the rest of His brothers and brother, to pine Most ready to go where the sorrowful There's yoiu- thimble, and Christ in't dwell. but presto begone
! !
And
to
show
Lo
the devil
is
there,
way of truth,
divine
And
bring
them again
their youth.
if
money
Now,
And
And
meek
they stand
to their rights
all
The
its
sorrow
who
milk
and
sin.
and honey,
\
Would wake up
the world from its For they are the salt of the earth and wealth-loving dream its lights To seek the true riches of manhood that's the new gospel, I call it,
Ay
of Gold In wisdom and worth, and the peace But we working men wiU hold which they bring. to the old. That's the word which I heard from
within.
fast
But now
Yes, I know we're divided, as other folk are. they sing. And what is yet worse, we are cursed And the light of her heaven has aU with that drink
old mother's
it's
my
lips
suffered eclipse.
Oh, we
rise in
do not think we've blundered, 'tis true, and in the state, been wrong now and then, A-driving in carriages, scented and And done what we should not as who curled. has not done ? Or making their bow to the Gold- But we'll learn by our failures ; we're Stick-in-Wait. only poor men, And where shall you find, now, a sight Kept like children till lately, now
And we
who
that's so grand.
trying to run
Except
in this
?
truth-loving,
Christ-
serving land
sometimes, of course, we get tript up and tumble But stUl on our clouds, lo ! the rainbow
is set.
And
Well, well
what
rare tricks
we do
play, to be sure.
And
cards,
With our
conjuring
!
and our
here,
in
the hearts
and gladden
until
To
think that a
cross to
and endure
make
and
ladies
like these,
is bitter
and hot.
!;
312
That's the
don't
put
it
And
Who
They'll
its
with a light heart turned from all once had loved her, and now looked cold.
me
all right.
Oh,
hands
its
so deep, etc.
Oh,
and
And
mouth and
!
its
nose,
and
And And
by his side she shared his lot. gazed on his face with a tender
precious eyesight
pride
see, sir, that
Well, well
do you
green glen, the strip of dark alders, that show where the stream Flows on in its loneliness far from men.
narrow Poor they were, yet she murmured not. But with a smile would her troubles
hide.
With
Oh,
so deep, etc.
And
a
ripples,
?
dream
had she died when her Love was young for of course you For she trusted him, and he was not
in
! !
Ah
can't hear
it,
true
Though I hear it singing away to itself. Oh that she had Or sobbing at times like a sore troubled wrung
!
spirit.
Or
I
laughing perhaps as
there, sir
slides
down
she knew.
a shelf;
Oh,
;
so deep, etc.
was born
to try
A week
Kate
There came a day when a beam of light and Searched his soul, and at length revealed Heart to heart, and she saw him right. And all the lie he had long concealed.
LOST AND
Broken
WON
And
Oh,
so deep, etc.
clear as a printed book. never a word to him she said She trusted him with her whole true But shot at him only a sorrowful look. As her heart sank in her, cold and dead. heart. Oh, so deep, etc. She trusted him as we trust in Heaven,
Whatever they
And
said, she took his part, loved with the love to the noblest Broken in faith and heart and mind. Yet no one knew it, but only he. given. For she was true to her womankind. Oh, so deep as the water flows And no one felt it, but only she. Oh, so pure as the lily grows Oh, so deep, etc. But Love it is deeper and purer
!
than they
Well-a-day
She turned her from all joy and mirth, In wifely patience silent, pale.
her father's Hall,
left
And
But
And
the happy
life
earth.
old,
life to wail.
!;
Lost and
Oh, Oh,
'
Won
could she give him her love.
313
How
And
But Love
than they
he so unworthy of it ? What were the great gods above Thinking of there where they sit.
Well-a-day
When
it ?
Parted
she passed. The one gold-thread that was there Out of his life at last
life
Ah
the gods
know what
life
they do,
Out of his
Whether
giving or taking
that
is
away
true.
They They
waste no
lose
How
He
She dropt with her burden of care had she ever come there ?
was not worthy of love Such as she gave to him
;
And
For
cast
And
dim
for the first time he saw All her meek love and her faith. And there came sorrow and awe As its great beauty he saw.
!
Lo
World
that
was dear
to him.
she so cast away The love that was born of God, The wealth in her heart that lay, On a man who only trod
How could
Yea, there came sorrow and awe. As the gods entered his life.
And
Cut
?
the great
word of
the
Law
Mean ways
His For
that
were
far
from
God
had taken
be shaken.
And he lay low on the earth, When from his side she had passed.
Loathing all gladness and mirth, Loathing himself now at last. When from his life she had passed
Stricken in heart, as he thought Of the waste of her love and trust,
And
trust to
And
brought
Of thegracethat to him she had brought. Of the glory he laid in the dust. When he slighted her love and her
trust.
to
it
him
was
like a song.
silent
now,
Stricken
Ah me
my
?
he
said,
loss
for such
For he was selfish and cold. For he was earthly and hard. For in the guerdon of gold Only he sought his reward
Poor
soul, so earthly
Thou
cross.
And
!
it
is
thou shouldst
no
longer be
and hard
Comrade
to me.
314
I judge not others
few
so
bad
as I
little
Nay, but
Enough
heart,
to
know my own
poor
it
might
that
'Twas
nature
deceives As here in self-abasement now I lie, And feel that it is best for thee thou art Had I been faithful I had surely The better hopes, for which my From me apart.
grieves.
seen
spirit
love
true
my love
Gathered
in sheaves.
false,
Yet
now
of youth
Too
too
late,
when
But
we
are
false
them, and
fall
My way with
I
away
From
their
high
purpose,
following
praise
the smooth was not always worldly, hard, and cold, World-lies that win us empty I can remember yet a better day and pay, When love was dearer to my heart
than gold
And
I cast
it
!
lead astray.
been, ah
My
so
away
Woe
me
they
Ah me
The
visions of
my
youth.
nobleness, the glory of
Its purpose high, its
not, and our life is poor and mean, Achieving only loss and empty show. truth. And shame and woe. Its hatred of the thing that only seems, And falsely gleams ? woeful They might have been ? word is this Where the fond hope of holy love I might have been a nobler truer man, and pure. That, in a cultured home, afar from I might have laid up memories of
strife.
bliss,'
With
patient
service
of
the
and poor.
helped, but
sunless
Reckoned
fect life
to
make
With
a sweet wife
And
Was
but a cloud. it all an illusion Sun-painted in the morning, far away. And filled with lark-songs, by and by to shroud With mist and drizzle all the dismal
day.
glory
Grown
dim,
and fading
telling
'mid
the
earthly smoke.
My
Of
fond dreams
thoughts
now
a sorry
story
ill-marshalled,
and die
battle
broke
stroke.
Without a
Lost and
Won
life,
315
heart, that
was so rich
in
noblest
Which mars my
heart within
and
taints
my
wealth
Of love and
thee
health.
joy
to think I slighted
And
full
of
I
It
is
The
a
life in
God.
heart
that
How
in thy grief
my
bitter
shame
coward
pain,
shrinks
see
God,
pity me.
from
Humbled
But not from wrong hope to reach a purer air, God, I would say, lay on, and do not
Could
I but
Why should
1 have not
life,
spare
When this
made
spool
done
so
much of
that mortal
men
Worse
had a grace
than I merit.
that should have
heart,
made
me
great
enough
Of this
Would
More
I
poor stuff?
for ever, fain to
this gear
Which
and
me
loving,
I thrust
gift
go on
of
weave
The
More
the dust.
more broken
God
stretched
More
knot
again to heaven
What He had
But oh,
if in
An
Of sorrow
this.
We yet might
As in And
I
God
And
Or
me
if
I'm only
just to
do
As
lay
heretofore.
Down
And
to
at her feet,
say I
was
me down
in peace,
and go
not true
sleep
To God
For evermore
Yes
!
day
as that
With
in the
patient
hope
Would heaven
I could find
but grant
me opportunity
some comfort
Of
clear
repentance
thought
could see.
scourged.
this
Of being
Were
filing sin
live
no more
As
heretofore.
3i6
That's
how the
that ne'er
our Earl
known him
poor
fellow a
bit,
depart
lord
Had we
much
But
he
is
lady
three
coming
wit,
least, so
at least
bloated and
brown
as a toad,
And
have a reason ; every snow when a thaw comes down on Everything must fire once had a spark the road. And what like the judgment of heaven It is years now since I have seen him, for clearing up things that are dark ? except in the woods far away None of his neighbours throve, and Pacing alone where the close trees none of his race had their wits
;
:
his brains
gone to
Easy
still
to patch
up a
tale
coming pat
to
Shunning
all
your hand so in
bits.
more a woman
Ay, ay
upon him that Anyhow, certain it is that the Stateshas to be dree'd by his race. man Earl had a son, gallant and gay young soldier, These grand old families now, there's
!
the weird
beloved of every one, a story about them all ghost-room, a tragedy somewhere, Till one day his charger stumbled, and they picked him up for dead a writing upon the wall Of course they are shy to speak of it, Better he had been, for henceforth he never was right in the head. but, on a winter night,
It's
They tell
of the
Statesman Earl
dim rush
light.
he made the house so great and he shambled too with his shrewd-witted Parliament man, and feet; Councillor high of state But he knew the right side of a penny, How shifty and clever he was with and looked to his farms and woods ; the turn o' the tide to swim, Only nobody saw him at last, and And how when a Bisset or Cheyne they say he had wild-beast moods. died, their lands fell somehow to him.
followed this one's father; he slobbered a deal at his meat. 'twas His tongue was too big for his mouth,
Then
Folk
called
him
But
this
drew
near.
And
boy, for he took buzzed about him like flies, for I a rare fancy for me. he was the big man here ; And play ran high in those days ; you Chose me to go with him fishing, as well he might, for I knew might gamble a good estate Between the wine and the dawn ; and More about trouting and fly-hooks than idle keepers could do. his lordship's luck was great.
317
The Mad
I
Earl
was bred, you see, from a child on So Ughtred would not be like him, the bank of his choicest brook. would rather be lavish than mean. And fished it with crooked pins, when And scatterhis gold, like the best, where I knew ne'er a word of my book. the nobles of England were seen ; And my father too could busk you the Alike open-hearted and handed, had daintiest deadliest flies ; he only the brains to know And the young lord saw that I knew Among all the ways that were miry the pools where the fish would rise. where was the safe one to go.
as we tramped Wild, then, he was for a season forand the heather. sooth, he must bet and race. Or dropped the spoil in the creel, or Though he scarce knew a horse from lunched on the banks together a cow, sir, unless she had horns to And what would he not do for me, her face So the blacklegs got at him early, and when he came to man's estate ? For still he would go off a-fishing, and sold him the weediest screws Which he backed, of course, at their I must still be his mate. bidding, till he fell in the hands of fine, frank lad, sir, he was ; and he the Jews. would have done all that he said Then he got frightened, poor fellow, It was not his blame that he did not but he never was strong in the head and something or other he did He had not a turn for books ; and he I never could make out what to men used to have dreamy moods of his order forbid ; But his heart was sound at the core, They did not say it was wicked, but as the healthiest oak in the woods. spoke of it as of a shame. And the great folks pitied his mother, It's true, he turned wildish awhile and shook their heads at his name. as all of his race have done He was handsome and wealthy and That don't go for much with me ; for young, and guidance wise he had I've lived on their skirts all my days. And I know that their honour allows none; them to walk in the doubtfulestways, I sometimes wonder myself, could I And I know that their honour forbids carry a cup so full, what conscience does not refuse And not spill a drop by the way, but And he never was strong in the head, sir, keep my head steady and cool ? and he was in the hands of the Jews. By this time his father was dead, but But it touched his mother ; who was he never had been of much good ; among us like a sov'reign law Vice was engrained in him, only he did Her pride was something the people it as cheap as he could ; whispered about with awe. What little mind e'er he had it never And now to be pitied that made her was much to be sure more haughty than ever before. Had been given to hoarding and hiding the pennies he screwed from the And she held up her head the higher, and hardened her heart the more. poor.
a ;
3i8
Then,
just
Lady Ion
to
she
but
came of age
that year
But my lady and Lady Ion, would not hear of the match
;
they
splendid creature
also a
look
at,
They mocked
at
woman
to fear,
Features clear-cut as in marble, an eye For there was nothing to steal there, but only a wax-doll face that was bright and cold, Blooming on bread and milk, and just And a perfect seat on the saddle
fit
was
and
it is
Ah
pride,
sir,
is
hard
as flint,
and
not for
But the
the sparks struck from it are hot. that the strong Here and there flying unguided, to
to the
And
burn where little you wot came They hurt not her in the least, but see what they've made now of him. from the big house then. Better for him had he faced the wrath Moping and mooning about here whereshould be helpful
if all
still
weak
is
dim.
she who's her ladyship now Cast on her morning sunshine, stigma That she had her wits about her was writ on her sharp little brow ; on her proud name ; But he was the head of the house, Pretty and clever enough, with a
to
have
Then came
that's
And
though ever so weak in his mind. they were strong and cruel, who should have been strong and kind.
Ay
hard blue eye, she would see to herself face was not wholly a lie.
glittering
!
if
her
he fancied, sweet Colonial manners are frank ; she would talk to any she met All other girls in the county were only Cadger or molecatcher free, as she walked through the dry and the wet. as stars to her moon. All other girls in the county were but And oh but she won folk's hearts, for she neither was haughty nor shy as weeds to the rose That in the bloom of its beauty in But I liked not the cold blue glitter of steel that I saw in her eye. stateliest garden grows.
There was a
girl that
as a rose in June,
Her
fathers
the great Earl's house was small As the stable where their horses stood
were barons here, when She thawed the Dowager's frost like a breath of the coming spring. And toned her speech till it seemed like
in his stall
champing each
It is
not for
me
to say
how,
if certainly
What
the songs that the spring-birds sing could she see in her now to sweeten her manner so.
so much of a girl hardly a lady, you know ?
acres
had dwindled
grew.
And make
who was
The Mad
Colonial
girls
;;
319
Earl
are
free,
sir,
that
is
my way
is
You
neither like
me
Bank
well
And
And
am
on
this
weak-witted
girl.
earl
Racing and
As
if
way
that the
Hebrews
at a
mere colonial
The Dowager, then, looked sweet, Now, I've told you the truth, you help me ? These women and the Lady Ion was bland, drive him mad As they led her over the Castle and
will
will
Their nagging and sneering and mockshowed her the goodly land. ing have broken what spirit he had. Earl Ughtred to her, and the race from which he grew Folk talk of the fourth generation, that it would bring back their wit They were not clever perhaps, but I'm not superstitious, mind ye but their hearts were good and true. what if there's something in it ?
Meanwhile he mooned about but Most of the old stock here are needwould sometimes go fishing with me, ing fresh blood in their veins. And then he was like himself, and And I'm sane enough to set up a score would laugh with a boyish glee. of their weak scatter-brains
:
To
land his
Till
What
he turned him homeward, and then Might get a new his face looked weary and blank.
in a rational
might I not risk say you ? just on the chance that they
start in life to
it
go on
way ?
Well
; one day she came up to me You smile it's a dubious smile, I've with the daintiest rod and reel, noticed it often on you casting-line twined round her hat, Oh, you do not trust me, I know, yet and hung by her side was a creel. you might, if you only knew Boots of porpoise leather, and petti- No matter ; you'll take me with you ? coats not too long, I'll not spoil sport if I can, In trim for a day of sport, and hum- I just want a lesson from you how to ming an angler's song. manage a moody young man."
"I want you to take me with and show me how you do There's nothing our Earl now
;
you,
cares
So we went
sport
off
on our
that
fishing, but
our
was
little
day
except an outing with you ; Of course, I am fishing for him, and they too are fishing for me, AJl the big house are in love with my money, save only he.
for,
was not once at his ease, and I saw that he wished her away Nor did she manage him wisely, she had not the delicate touch. As she chattered and laughed so briskly, to know when it was too much.
He
320
am
certain
meant landing her fish, if she could, But yet to make life to him brighter, and banish his gloomy mood
a merry time then, they rode to the hunt by day. And kept up the ball till morning, or
That was
And
shuffled the cards for play, she bit her thin lip at the failure, All but the Earl, and he went moping and mooning about, when he went off in a dream ;
last
time that ever he Alone in his dusky chamber, or alone in the woods without.
How
The young wife did as the rest, she it came round then, I know not rode to the Meet, at least, they wanted to wipe off the debt, And she with her millions of dollars Saw them throw off, and then came ambling home with a priest. would buy her an old coronet They settled it somehow among them, Chatted and laughed in the parlour, sailed through a waltz at the ball. and got him to church one day, Where he stood like a man in a trance, And, thinking nothing of Ughtred,
but he said what he had to say.
made
So
it
herself pleasant to
all.
The young
went
on,
till
day when
bills
time, as their
And
We
snow-flakes white on the old house cast, in Paris, And duns had been prowling about it, threatening letters been sent and then in Rome, for a while, By and by on the Rhine river, then What could it mean, these people off for a trip to the Nile. growing so insolent ?
the
too, after a
way is, you know must be settled at last Dowager followed with Ion They had been falling like
At
last, they came home, and were followed by visitors, princes and dukes. And priests with the subtlest smiles, and the sleekest of sidelong looks,
Where was
the chamberlain
Why
Black
bearded
foreign
nobles,
had those men never been paid ? Where were the millions of dollars for which they had boldly played ? What had " my Lady " to do with it ? and was not her money my Lord's ? Had she not titles and honours for her
squatter father's hoards
?
And
You
Then they learnt what it meant, that was not an heir as glitter of steel in her eye Surely poor folk must be paid for the there did not seem like to be things that the rich folk buy. Our young lady, she wouldbe countess And her lady mother and Ion had and now there was money to free ordered everything nice, Every acre of debt, and to leave the
see, if there
Australian girl
And,
the
The Mad
As
for her
Earl
321
honestly had
money her father, who What could they do ? They might rage, but she shrugged her shoulders, come by it,
and smiled
;
Had
Her
tied
it
own trades-
men, why, then she had been bemarriage was not a joint-stock guiled ; each managed their own affairs ; Not a dollar of hers was Ughtred's, She had known that he was not burdened with brains, nor in vigorous health. and never a penny was theirs. But she took all their stories for gospel, Ay they had met their match ; it when they spoke of his greatness
!
and wealth. was even so as she said The lawyers had warned the Earl ; but So the ladies and princes and dukes he never was strong in the head. and priests all vanished like smoke. Folk even doubted, at times, if he And our clever colonial countess had knew what his marriage meant.
And
of papers
sent.
he
and
all
her
the folk,
And we And
So she
way
two years after the wedding there came a young heir to it all.
had honestly
tried to help
Soft lisping words that were daggers how could she know but that they
I think she
She was but a squatter's daughter had only to clap their hands, And slaves would bring dresses and
jewels,
fits
And
moods, till it plainly appeared he was fairly out of his wits. Harmless enough, but nothing was left
lands?
But,
And
if
of course,
their
money was
of his brains but the husk. he muttered a deal to himself as he wandered about in the dusk.
way;
No
ladies,
as
him for years, till I met him this evening, by chance. she supposed, would In the wood, and as soon as he saw
;
me, he looked with a fiirtive glance side and that, like a wild beast, as free from the burden of cares. to find what way he could go, In a hut with a maid-of-all-work, as For we were on the narrow path 'tween in a great castle like theirs. the rock and the river below.
This
Oh
yet
it
So he turned
for the Is longer
right round,
sir
;
and made
showed too a gleam of fun. As she told them of mutton and damper
and tea on her
father's
beech wood,
but
my stride
Cooked by
It
" run," walking along by his side ; with a wild Irish I hoped that my good Lord was well ; and his folk would be glad to see girl who saw to the fire ; was spitefiil, no doubt ; but the More of him now and then : and did he remember me ? sketch was cleverly hit off by her.
herself,
21
322
We used
to go fishing together and And there as you stand, at last, lookwould he not like now to try ing north and south and west. The stream was in beautiful trim to Far as the eye can see from the crag cast a line and a fly of the eagle's nest, " I seem to have seen you before," he Cornland, woodland, moorland, every knitted his brows, and said, acre is his, As if he were catching at something And the villages down on the beach " My friend, have you long been where the wild wan water is dead ?
Why are
And
you
all
so restless
this place
there are three old burghs too, paying him stents and dues. With hamlets maybe a score, and
farms and crofts and feus. over the highland border there No one sees them, but I ; it's the are miles of moor and moss. second sight, you know. You cannot see from the Ben, where Sir Lachlan brought when he married the deer their antlers toss. the heiress long ago."
night they are trooping in hosts
;
but at
And
And yonder he is, poor fellow, wanderhad been fumbling ing by night in the dew. a while with his seals and chain. Hurrying by day through the thickest Still looking this side and that for a shades of the pine and yew ; way of escape, but in vain. once It's Nebuchadnezzar more Till now when he suddenly plunged out
Poor fellow
!
He
deep-sunk dell Strewn with bracken and moss, where the shy deer love to dwell.
into a
down
Among
summering, wintering the black horned cattle, or where the screech owls shout.
a heritage that, sir a
saw them leaping up near, and laying their horns on their back
they sought for a lonelier dingle, while he went on in their track ;
there
What
cup
filled
As
And
sir,
was
lump
in
my
throat,
There
is
as I sat
And
and
me down on
a stone.
Earl's
is
fact at least,
but the
it is
only a dream.
Think of
sir
it,
?
sir
Is
it
Up
through the oak and the pine Our Lady is shrewd, and they tell me the young Lord takes after her. wood, and the birch and juniper, then Up through the belt of heather, and Is more of the squatter kind than the noble of high degree. past where the moss only grows. Till you reach the bare scalp of the But good at his books, and his manners, like her, are frank and rock with its lichens and rifted
free.
; ;
; ; ;
;;: ;
Provost Chivas
I have not
323
much
faith in weirds,
it is
though
It's
true.
And
may Old
would
talk with
you about
The
Yet
reap the
wrong
that you
do
!
does not do much cursing, What will you take, now ? Nothing nor tie it in long entails, nay, Not in the female line, but still to be I know what you are about to say heired by the males. You know your place : but that is
God
And
it
I have
some
faith in
Love, that
its
pride
all right.
You
As
And
Your
sir,
think you are quite as good as I so you are ; there, don't be shy
place
is
play of
warmth and
light
here,
man,
at
my
side.
And
Look, Martin ; we are growing old should you be so stiff and cold. I cannot get over the thought, And look as if you hated all
Why
The
life.
Never a pleasanter lad, sir, nothing The Turkey carpet 'neath your feet, The very pictures on the wall ? was wrong with him then Cast e'er a line on the river, or stalked I stopt you on the high street once. the red deer in the glen But they must thwart his first love, But you you gave me not a chance To tell you what was in my heart and none to give him had they And then, forsooth, it was Heaven had Though I was Provost at the time.
You looked
at
me
as if a
crime
the hang-
Ay, ay God and heaven, it's little man's cart. we heed their say. When good might come of our keeping And Bailie Webbe was at my side. the strait and narrow way. And vowed for such contempt and
But they're handy to lay the blame on, pride when things go wrong at last. He would have had you in the dock And you need a glisk of religion to Of course, I did not dream of that. glamour the days that are past. But yet you might have raised your
hat,
to
PROVOST CHIVAS
Come, Martin, don't stand stiffly there Be seated now, and draw the chair
And
done
for
Nay, Martin, do not turn away Our day is short, our hairs are grey.
It's
little
Why
' The story of Peter Williamson revealed, in the last century, a strange tale of the kidnapping of boys in our towns
time to grease our boots for going should we fall out, when we meet.
snarling
on the
quarrels
citizens,
and
sending them to the Plantations virtually That is the origin of this poem.
We
space
for
;; ;
: ;
324
I
mind me, we were boys together ; In summer's sun and winter weather padded, barefoot, to the school Boys were not nice and dainty then With shoes and hats like little men They bred us on the Spartan rule.
of course.
The footman
We
And And
so
we took our
ways
I grew rich, and you were poor Yet you've the best of it, I'm sure. My money, man, it's like a curse no, I don't I wish you had it As lads too we were seldom parted. blessing on't. is no there For sure True friends and loving and oneAnd it would only make you worse. hearted,
then
Each
Then
Yes, Martin, houses, lands, and gold Bring little comfort when you're old. which the world can give you needs must Or honours But you've had love to sweeten life,
stars.
we had
our
A happy home,
Though
grieve.
that
and
faithful wife.
Or
On
Or
of the sermon we had heard Sabbath from the Holy Word, of the minister, good and true.
christened us, and
Now, do
me
Who
made
us
fit,
sit
Together, when the time was Down at the holy table too.
!
Folk call me Lord by courtesy, But not in scorn, nor yet in sport
Remember
Ay, ay It's good to think of these Old days and high solemnities, You should respect my office, even That linked us close when we were If to the man may not be given
youths
:
And And
I've been Provost twice. given the government advice. was presented too at Court.
Why should we
Together
still,
The honour which he thinks his due; not have many a walk And for your son, no doubt, it's sad. and cheerful talk Although he was a worthless lad,
?
About
If
all
accounts of
him be
true.
grant the
blame was
They They
At
first,
yet lately
it
was thine
to
With them
the
County
Who
heal
BankWell, well
;
breach
it's
natural for
;
you
And, man, it does not mend one's song To say that's false they say it's true ; To know that one was in the wrong, And sure enough he swore and drank.
When
friends
went
drifting
out
of
reach.
It could not well be helped, besides This man must walk, while that one
rides
Only
a thoughtless
boy
more shame
!
To bring dishonour on your name, And vex a mother fond and true And she was all that, I am told
Indeed, I know as good as gold And such a comely woman too !
And
325
Provost Chivas
Ah
To
They're
?
liker,
man,
to hold that
he
find so excellent a
Is guilty of lese-majesty
Give me a grip, man, of your hand But death is our appointed lot.
of change ; Were 'prenticed to some honest men and strange. With ups and downs, and loss and gain, In the plantations, now and then And here to-day, and there to-morrow. Good riddance too as can be shown.
!
Ay, ay
this
A tangled hank
Enough
world
is full
it is,
and
brain.
And
The
;
Nay, nay don't go yet, Martin, stay You've heard about your son, you say ? I'm glad of it for your sake, man And pious ministers and good But for this trumped-up story now, Who guide them on the better road. It's quite absurd, you must allow, And you must stop him, for you can. 'Twould do your heart, man, good
; :
read them I will lend they send About their happy life abroad. With plenty wage, and plenty food,
if you'll
to read
He'll get into worse trouble yet Unless he holds his peace on it,
I
What
lead.
;
wholesome,
useful
lives
they
warn you
fairly
while
it's
time
street.
bits,
They
He
And
say that from his earliest youth ne'er was known to speak the
Now begging bits, now stealing And living badly on their wits.
With
ill-clad
truth.
feet.
And
That may be
false,
or
may
:
be true
You
And when
!
they do,
it is
To
charge those
men who
represent
And
Or
!
Order and law and government, That they at any crime could wink
And
I
And men
of Quality, beside.
Who
And
Was
Crown,
tinkers will have law on you ! sometimes wish that I were there, Free from the burden and the care Of thankless work I have to do.
for your son, you'll stop his plea
it's
it's
But
?
Could be persuaded these had set Common and Statute law at nought
Of course,
Although
hard,
when one
is
old.
326
; ; : ; ;
To
have been Provost once, and then They'll plea it in the inner court, stealing boys and men, They'll plea it to the last resort And selling them for lust of gold. Before they let the game be lost.
Be charged with
I'm glad for your sake that the lad Turns up again, though he was bad
Before, and seems no better
Law
Nor
is
is it
now
But gold
makes
its
But
if
he
will persist to
blame
And
ere
the
Inner
His betters, there's against his name Enough to hang him yet, I trow.
Just
tell
through,
I doubt
it
will be
him,
if he'll
Who
For
The town
little
And
work and
Which
is
moon.
A bribe A
no, no
it is
not
fit
that
way
at
it
Martin, you pull me up too short I only meant, if he should want job of work and work is scant It's well to have a friend at Court.
do not say the thing was right Exactly, now I have more light.
it at the time very ministers would say. Each time the laddies went away, It saved them from a life of crime.
;
The
And
he must chance
choose
between
this
We gave them
meat,
clothes,
we
gave them
And being
Through
courts of
Law,
for
crimes
And
Which seldom
stouthrief,
common
We
shoes and stockings for their feet. they had known before : saw too their indentures writ,
Smuggling, and heavy claims he left For gambling and horse-racing bets.
And signed and sealed as sure as wit Of man could do. What could we
more
?
Or man
or boy,
it
matters not
And when
the ship
would
sail
away.
We
had
oh,
a minister to pray
And
With
Think
Clerk
ye
that
Provost,
Bailies,
And
That
the poor laddies, as was right. how earnest they would plead
Will let a messan-dog come bark Right at their heels, and never mind
It is not reason,
Of righteous
?
light!
And now
Because They'll play their game, and find a cure pence For their hurt honour at any cost It was a
:
man
be sure
we
made,
perhaps,
some
trifle at
the most
; ! :
:
Provost Chivas
Clearing
thieves
327
our
streets
of
rogues
and
And House
Than might
mouse.
Who
my
property
give
house-room
to
to
be charged with
all
who have
lived here
my
!
time,
It's war and all is fair in war Things can't be worse than now they
:
Respected
in
my
see
native
town
are
And, maybe,
my
little
gear.
Gathered through many a busy year. Escheated some day to the Crown
That's hard, you surely must allow
And
For
we'll
all
all
And Was
all
for
what ?
!
Just
tell
me how
and
I to
know
fiends
We
will
scaith
and
these Chippeways
Incarnate
would
shame,
hack
:
hew.
And
That
gutter bairns,
far
if all
is
true
he says
like that.
And he is like the rest, no doubt. Of no more use than bracken ferns.
yes, it's true that I did make Some statement once aboutyour child
Ay
It
leave
shames
was wild
rat.
And maybe
I
was
?
a mistake.
and Quality,
wronged him
yes
been All that you say ; for I am clean Distraught and maddened now about This business ; will you not have pity 'Twill bring shame on your native city And you could easily pull us out.
I thought at first
heart.
Some sense, at least to play the part Which any man of judgment would
?
: :
Give me some
drink, then, if
it's
But there I'm done with you away You'd better make friends while you may, you'll not You'll need them, for our names are
!
Take
it
yourself:
some I got
once again
not to be
let
good.
To
But
seems,
is
:
My
Yes,
me
see,
Woodside and
:
it's
plain
Durn
You mean
Will
fight
and I and
Inner
till
Beeswood,
Bailie
too,
and Otterslack,
Webbe, and
Clerk
the
Town
Bailie
Sym,
take note of
Through
House,
Outer
House
him
He
at his
back.
; ;;
328
And
of these
a skep of bees
how
crew
Upon
And the cushat croodles high unseen, And the cuckoo calls from the bracken
green sweet are the smells that the wind-wafts bring. When the morning airs are keen.
And
all
And
Take thought,
It's a
e'en yet, while it is time grave thing to charge a crime On honest men and Magistrates Better your son had never come Than bring such ruin on your home. And also waste our braw estates.
But woe is me for the Barleywood There's a pang in my heart for every
!
tree.
And
Remember all our early days. Remember all our kindly ways, Remember that bit post of profit. With little work and plenty wage
might engage That you should have refusal of
I think I almost
wood
that
dwells.
And
:
woodland
smells
The pang
For
all its
memory
bells.
it.
For
fairest things
may
dreariest be.
You
will
not
Nay, then,
off with
And
you do the worst that you can do I've been too humble to you, sir.
(
And sweetest of songs most sad to hear, When tree and blossom and bird and
flower
And
Solus.
)
The
land and
Woe's me
gear.
lovers
that sought
And
And
my
love
!
year
Ay me
make an awful
stir
!
but
it's
oh, 'twill
MORGANA
Oh, green wood,
are the pines of the Barley-
young and brave. But the other was noble and rich and grave And how should a silly young maiden
beautiful,
One was
know
Fittingly to behave
?
And the drooping birches are fair to see, I had no mother to guide me right And bonnie the carpet that summer Ah, woe for a thoughtless girl like me weaves And my father he left me all the day. Of the green overlapping bracken And went to his sleep in the evening
!
leaves
grey
And
You
And how
;!;
Morgana
I loved
329
what
it
my beautiful youth
!
and brave
his
words might
and wild.
:
Lack-a-day I was still in my teens mean. Yet I longed for the vi^ealth and the But oh his look
noble name,
It frightened
was
fierce
And how
should a girl
evil
know what
?
and low.
My
And
him No.
Lord, he came, when the day was high But by and by a low whisper ran And oh but the hours went heavy and It should have blistered every tongue
slow
Ran through
stole quietly
up to
the
my
feet in
my side, Whisper wicked of foul disgrace evening And I so simple and pure and young Oh it was vile and base.
My
my
worsted
He was a villain, I said, and lied Ah me what can a poor girl do He lied, he lied I had nothing to hide
!
hank.
Yet, he struck
side,
me down
with
!
there by his
a
Pleased
plied
when my
would not hear of work do When he was with me, and well he knew To make the happy hours swiftly glide With love that was always new.
to
But
my Love
falsehood
Oh how
My
And
he clasped
me
?
once
Oh
what
so sweet as a love-embrace
Lord, he came of a noble race, yes his heart it was noble too now, he said, this lie has gone All through the city, and there are none, But only I, that believe in you, And still keep loving on.
And Lo
!
My Lord, he
Of my little And then smile prettily into my And let the little hand slip.
would only touch the tip But hand with a dainty lip,
face.
Yes, I
know you
true.
doubted you ; But my love he clasped me once and I scorn the women and viler men twice Who lie now as they do. How I thrilled all through in his fond Then let the wedding bells ring out, embrace And he vowed, if ever my Lord should And let the priest make haste and come Our name was ever without a stain. dare To hold me so, that he did not care And they will tattle and talk in vain, What might happen of foul disgrace. When we to the altar go, and home He would not leave me there. Return together again.
I should die if I
!
And And
;:
: ;
33
was a hard and a
every
spoke,
It
Where
man of
neighbour
evil report
of sin or wrong
Grew
Till on
as it went along, some happy life it broke, silenced its happy song.
louder
still
Sweet smelled the pines of the Barleywood, And oh I shall never forget the birds. They gathered about me, and had no fear.
And
His
sang
the thought
of
my
heart
as clear
I only thought
But
my
cost
him dear
was hot
am
certain
For
there were
And
I
sang as
was not glad was not so the mad folk I have known
:
Sing,
when
their heart
is
like a stone.
But
I could
fell
But
I
is
was mad
No
:
and I
he
lies
Oh
there none
will take
my part
Ah me
this
how
they ring in
a
my
heart
day
shots,
Two
my
heart
and
Him
For
grass
heart
my heart, how
sank, alas
Slowly, slowly
my Lord
Oh
he rose
day
!
oh but he looked grave and sad he bent him low, and he went Well did I know what had befallen his way. As well as if I had seen it all Never a word then did he say. Great Lords have asteadyhand and eye, And my heart leaped up, and I was glad. They sleep, and they do not fear to die Until the close of day. But my young Love for sleep would
:
And And
That brought
call.
But all that night I found no sleep. And it would not come nigh. Tossing in restless, troubled thought I said I would love my Lord truly Well did I wot what had befallen and well, As well as if I had seen it all I said I was happy and yet there fell And out of the wood I rushed, and there Such gloom on my heavy heart as My Love lay dead in the morning air. brought Close by the mossy brambly wall. Horror on me like hell. Upon the moorland bare
;
!
on him, and I clasped him close Oh how the love of him all came back And rose at dawn in a troubled mood, Men were near me, standing about. And hied me away to the Barleywood, But I only saw the blood oozing out And through its dewy glades took my From his dear mouth in a thread-like way. track. Where the air was fresh and good. That killed all hope and doubt.
tossed.
All through the night I lay, and Wearily longing for the day,
1 fell
; ;
:! ! :
; :
Mrs. Coventry
Beautiful there in death he lay,
331
They made
boughs
his
brow
!
Oh my
young, and brave have dug your grave And oh that I were but with you now For Death is the boon I crave.
I
beautiful,
Ay me
sweet
!
the Barleywood
are
it is
I that
was
kissed
his
mouth
love
!
And
I
they bore us
down
to
my
Father's
kissed
his
seat,
cheek Love,
my
The
red blood stained my mouth Yet I lived on, who would have gone and chin, And the stain of it was on my soul So glad with my love to his early rest My hair grew white, but not with years, within ; And I lived down all their lies and For I was his murderer yes, he lied sneers. But oh my sin, my sin But with a heavy heart in my breast. And many sighs and tears. It was in the madness of Love he lied
: : !
And
I loved
him
in spite
:
of
it
Come
my
For
Love
come back, Never I saw my Lord again, Never I wished to see his face in my heart a Yet he was sure of a noble strain.
yet.
; but it would be pain Recalling the tale of foul disgrace,
And
be his
own
And
it
all
glad and me One thing only has made me Leave us here : how I hate you now ; After the healing mercy of God The day of the Duel now is past There's a lock of fair hair on his brow And never shall maiden stare aghast. 1 have curled it oft on my finger ; see As I did then, on the blood-tinged sod It knows my finger now : Where my dead Love was cast.
He
lied,
too.
Had
he been
that lock of hair your lordship and your land But bury us both together here And come not hither to drop a tear, You who slew him with your hand. And me with the murderous cheer.
I
Oh
For
all
MRS.
Whisht
!
COVENTRY
;
John
why
to
him
complain
from a breaking
it ill
Of trade and profits being bad. And cry about your little gain, And moan at every loss you've
Your
had
He
You have more money than you know What to do with, man. God has blessed
labour, and you ought to show His bounty has not been misplaced.
And
away
is
to a foreign part
Where he
wandering
::
332
North Country
!
Folk.
Sometimes I almost pity Him, you give me all I need. O' ay Sometimes I'm clean ashamed to pray, And more than all I care to get Seeing our cup filled to the brim, For gowns and gawds, and meat to feed And so much goodness thrown away Us all, and ne'er to be in debt It must be hard to bear, I think. There's plenty on ourselves to spend. To be replenishing folk's store E'en more, I think, than's good for health With wealth of clothes and meat and But, think ye, was that God's chief end drink. And hear them crying still for more. In giving you that heap of wealth ?
!
how to win, I've heard you say it's hard to find wealth as we should and thought that odd Investments safe And though we gain it without sin, But here is one just to your mind, It's sin to have, and do no good good investment, John, with God With what we have ; and, what is worse, They never lose who lend to Him, It eats the heart like rust or rot They get good interest, indeed ; Think, now, if there should be a curse And that poor man who broke his limb. Wrapt up in every hoarded note. Has five wee, helpless bairns to feed.
It's easier learning
Than how to
use,
When we
poor.
Nay do
not grudge
giver
:
it,
man
God loves
; That you can help the bonnie doves no beggar from the door. Left hungry there at home and sad Nor grudged the wage of working men There ; take it back ; I want to get We had enough, and some to spare blessing for you, John, from heaven ; For them that were worse off than we ; But they who grudge to pay their debt And there was sunshine in the air To God, shall find no blessing given. Each night when you came home to me.
And
yet
we were
then
A cheerful
A
e'en be glad
We
sent
But now the pocket's buttoned up. The beggar comes not to our door, He knows there's neither bite nor sup
:
We have no
Ah well
To hanker for the gold they see young. Yet none were driven away like dogs ; No ; this is not a house to nurse And even tramps' hearts may be wrung. God's little ones, as they should be.
:
For tramps, as used to be before maybe they're mostly rogues They'd only worse, There were rogues too when we were
!
God would not send His children here To folk whose hearts are full of pride, And set on hoarding worldly gear.
learn,
And
Are
who's
to heir
?
it all,
it
since
we
Am
free to do,
who
and
lie
With And,
a false
John, but your wealth has made on that breast for me. And lift up for the days to come, That does not give an easy head, Maybe, some hapless child or wife And is not as it used to be.
A hard
bit
not a sin To leave a fruitful legacy Of quarrels to the next of kin, When we could gladden many a home. And brighten many a sunless life,
childless
Is
?
;;
;! ; :
333
How freely,
John,
we
used to give
O
;
To every holy cause and good. When it was hard enough to live,
For then you would do as you should The Kirk was never then forgot.
man, let 'Change and Market be Let others get their turn ; and come.
!
Just think
how
Once more
To
You You
never did neglect the poor, pitied too the sick man's lot. And sought his comfort and his cure.
Together mercy to invoke. To walk together to the Kirk, And do some good to other folk.
to
you
I'm weary of
;
this
grand display.
your live-pound note to-day. For there was something you must do Without, to give the mite away
is
Than
And hearing of the rise and fall Of prices would I were away
From
Oh,
ships
all
You wore
if
the
take.
!
That some one might get warmth from And lift our hearts to things above you; Or else some bank, perhaps, would break And I I thought the old coat sublime. And leave us nought buthealth and love ? Because the heart beneath was true.
The poor what they have need to eat Oh my baby, my sweet, my Own And cost you too you used to speak Oh joy, to have one to love like this Of books, and made me blythe and gay, And love like this to be so bestown
But now
it's
funds through
all
the week.
And
Oh the wonder of it, and bliss L ook at me, baby, with those deep eyes.
!
soft lips
And you must buy a fine estate. And shoot your rabbits and your hares. And dine and visit with the great. And sometimes even put on their airs. And send your poachers to the gaol. And set your keepers o'er the fish
:
At
And
yet
you
fill
me
God's
little
child, that
To
how
well
?
Ye
rear you up in His Love and Law, For the life that is, and that is to be Lo, Heaven is looking out from the
blue
That's a braw greenhouse ; and it's true And solemn depths of those great eyes ; How shall I keep you pure and true ? 1 like the bonnie flowers ; but yet You made me happier, John, when you How shall I make you good and wise ? Brought me the box of mignonette. The greenhouse speaks to me of gold. I promised to mother those babes of his, And oh, I have tried to pay my vow And it may bide, or may depart But still I keep the box that told But I did not know what a mother is, I did not know as I know it now. About the kind and thoughtful heart.
; ;;
;; : ;
334
I loved
and always
Still
I never
have seen
it,
and never
the
blood,
will;
may,
in
Poor motherless babes, I love them yet Yet these things run But motherless babes they must be still. I'm told. For I cannot love them like you, my pet.
He
They're very
so good.
nice,
much
to
me.
to his children,
which
they really are fond of me, as they say But they're not like my blossom of ladyhood, And they have not their father's gentle way. No doubt, they take after the mother,
And
him to do it, and sometimes he by their beds, and talks at night. For oh, were I taken, my pet, from
tell
Sits
you,
I should like
you
:
to hear
of
me from
a step-
your father
and she
Was And
vulgar
Should I like him to give you mother too ? her picture shows that Nay, let us die together rather.
right;
there's something in
them
it
is
plain to see
They never
Well,
yes
;
will
grow
to be ladies quite.
Unto no
my
pet
There's a nook in
she
my
heart which
my
was
curls,
pretty,
and so
own good
man
are they
And
he's
very good
has
not been
his former
in yet
It is there
where I think of
And the picture up in the nursery, and grey. And her lips are parted to show her teeth. And wonder if they had peace or strife. She has dumpy hands, but she thinks And if he could love her as he
them
fine
And
her eyes
are
meaningless, cold
wife.
loves
me.
her picture, baby, dear And the painter has hinted a sullen line Across her brow, with a shade of fear.
It's all in
it's
!
hard to
fill
my
her
post children
I will love
now
as
it
They
lost
you they
Which
hangs
in
the
nursery,
should,
One
for
And
the
watch
the
faint
line
on
before.
brow
When
1 cannot give them my own baby's part. her children are ever in angry That's yours, my darling, whatever
befall
it,
mood
I never have seen
I'm bound
yet,
to say,
filled
my
Though
it
may come
as
they
grow old
the love of
all.
; :
Bailie Butters
335
BAILIE BUTTERS
Two men
By
While
in a
AND
sitting
YOUNG DINWOODIE
cosy Hostel
fire, in
Hating a rogue and a thief and a robber, And playing a fairly good knife and
fork
For
a sea-coal
a cheerful light,
He
past the
I admit that if one is dyspeptic. cannot well live as a good man should
:
flitting
will
make him
sceptic
November Of
all
that
is
good
let
Were cracking their walnuts after dinner, With dry-palate olives to flavour the But
wine.
willing
Hardly feeling like saint or sinner, But that it was good for a man to dine.
To
work,
his
he should,
till
his sixty
years.
With
wits
One was
bellied.
shilling.
And know
good
thing,
when
his
Clean-shaven man, of a portly mould. chance appears, With tremulous cheeks, as if nicely Let him be civil, and follow the leading jellied, Of common sense just, whatever he's at. And coloured with port-wine rich And his life shall be pleasant as novel-
and old
reading
The
And
am
myself
now
a proof of that.
sprawling
on an easy soft-cushioned seat. I was poor enough when I was a Lisping his words, and slowly drawling lad, sir Thoughts that ran on at a fever-heat. Hadn't a copper for some folk's pound ; Yet most of them, by and by, went to Quoth the pot-bellied one : " You were the bad, sir. saying And God knows where they are now Life's not worth living ; you're wrong, to be found ; sir, quite But I worked at anything that was This world, though it's not just for
idling
Low
and playing.
worlds
if
going,
you take
right.
And I saved up every penny I could And my ventures grew as my cash was
And
Yes
growing, whatever I promised,
It is not the
When
they
in love at
a country
my word
dance.
was good
its
!
first
I started.
still,
And
I'd live
it
again, if I
had the
And
If
chance.
poor
Not worth
sober.
living,
sir
If you
are
all
But
to
do
its
work.
we do
; ;
And
I lay a
calm head on
my
pillow
Where
the balance
came
right, as the
at night.
He
could So in
me He
fulness truly
To
order things rightly, because I That I am not like some who have wasted His gift. did right. That I never gave way to a passion
if I
Now Do
am
With
had taken
to
gambling and
unruly.
drinking.
And when
I always
made
shift
funds in the Bank and the Stocks they're sinking Almost a quarter, I'm sorry to say ?
though
But there's a God Never, sir. in heaven Who always takes care of respectable folk
;
believe in His providence ; and I have seen it. For every thing throve with me well up from the first I am sure not an hour of my life, or
To
a minute,
And what
I feel
better proof of
?
it
be given
But He faithfully saw to my hunger could there and thirst. But it all depends, sir, on doing your
placed firm
duty,
that
my
faith
is
on a rock.
I
And
shilling
carefully laying
your doubts on
the shelf.
had not a
determined
once
but
And
keeping
it
your
beauty,
head
all
clear
of
women and
I
To make
To
him
meet,
the best of
worlds
for yourself."
And
look to
me now
port
not a
judge
then,
ever ermined
the Exquisite
" Ah,
Drinks
better
wine,-
with
it is
pleasant
To
children are
now and
is
then, an exceptional
really
My wife
My
is
model
is
my
;
case,
pictures
A
my
home,
all
man who
his present,
content
with
in
business
thriving
come and
see
How
And
its
your strictures.
tells
Not
that I think,
;
my Maker
contented
sir,
and me.
had your
that
luck,
Oh, I'm
There
is
grateful to
Him
;
Yes
of
Of
course, I've
had
losses
was ever
until
no
life
no one
happy,
he
here below
dead.
; ;; :
Bailie Butters
337
but
rather
You've not seen the end yet. The cup running over May be dashed from your lips, and its
treasures all spilt
likely it will ; and your friend then and lover Will look on your trouble as if it
it's
bewildering
When
ills
we have
Most
You
think
you your
treasures
were
guilt.
And
And
all
We
are
playthings
is
of
Nature,
and
Consols,
is
Nature
cruel
to break
mixed
still
in
pleasures.
is
And
a vague longing
in
us with
some
is
its
our souls
Why
What
To-morrow,
curse.
the jewel
of
life
give us
lost,
and what
fills
up
our peace
We
We
have pure thoughts of love, we have high thoughts of goodness. glow with fine feelings, and call
raging in wrath, or in
And why
does
He
grudge
all at
once
to relieve us,
And
Was
The
to cease
it
?
tiger
And
dark
And why
made
it planted the teeth in the jaws of the shark ? to a happy Or the love that created those lizards
When
and dragons.
sure of
its
sorrow
And
It
when
earth
was
has been
filled full
Oh, your
Wife and
life
all
could wait through long aons for ploughshares and waggons, But for carnage must not lose a that your moment of time
of has been
trust
We
We
blame our
fierce
soldiery lusting
kind and caressing, And how can you praise and admire
for battle,
Him
enough
number
aghast.
Well
; I hope it may last, sir ; but We mourn the waste land, without homestead or cattle. sometimes one's children Have broken the hearts that they once Through which the fell march of their
made
so glad
!;
338
Nature
A happy
all
life
the days
in fever
A
its
noble
in the
life
racked scrambling
gout-
or tossing
for pence
For she
either
is
battling, or else is
mire
pity the poor Chartist cobbler
renewing
Oh, you
for
Her
strength
its
or weaver,
woes and
tears.
What
to
And
Our
in
then,
sir,
grated prisons.
gibbets and soldiers and batoned
police.
go
Or
the corries
As
And
meek
it
reasons
And
In the best of
this,
perhaps
midge and mosquito But that the stronger would keep down That curse the bright warm summer the weaker,
day
to us all,
And And
the the
wasp
to
it
the fools.
owing mossy
too,
too.
centipede
wall.
is
fierce, sir,
But that the poorer of us and the the old meeker Must needs be their victims, or else be their tools ? and false
And
her
realm there
Well
is
war
to the knife.
is
manor-house,
Or
lot
of trim
villas
sure
God
in
must be good
The
life.
Ay
but
what
of
the millions
And
worth
and
When
each creature takes what advantage he may Of cunning or sickness, and no laws of honour Can stay the fierce hunger, or shelter
the prey
?
raiment
that
and
are
light,
sir,
And
And And
the
babes
suckled on
whisky or
fever.
knew
Oh,
it's
is it ?
He
he
is
bound No,
it is
obey
life
Though
But there
bear on,
his to aspire
339
Oh
and
the light
sir
;
is
gone.
Thou
art not so
good
trying to
and true
dream on,
In
spite
Oh
the
facts,
life
well rewarding
the
the prudent
travail
of
in
fool's
and
thrifty.
paradise
How
a
deity, sure
shall
Christ-spirit
But
if
there's
he's
demon
Who
anguish,
with you ? Oh worst of all worlds to the proud or heart and faithless And yet thou canst perfect the meek and the brave
a
Well spoke
the wise
Greek
Strange, sorrowful
in
life
his
is
that in dying
Glory and majesty, found in a grave. he pictured the brave heart Fate held in his mesh. Evil the world is ; Life a long battle, Hurling his scorn at the gods and Wrestle with anguish, and warfare salvation with sin, With the spikes of the Caucasus Proving the heart of us, trying our
tragic elation.
deathless,
As
High-souled the Greek was, moral and fearless. And his gods must do right or his soul would rebel But we must be weak when our life is most cheerless,
:
mettle
By
troubles
;
without
us
and
terrors
'tis
worth
living,
to-day and
in
to-morrow.
The
life
which
God
lived
the
With
all
lie
in
is
well."
So they
sat there
the two of
them
wealth of His love, Life He made perfect in patience of sorrow, God-life on earth like the God-life above.
And
eyeing the
ruby light-gleam of
the wine,
their talk, for they This is the saw that cut him down. thought they were thinking. The last in our place that was hung And each deemed that he did the in chains. secret divine Left to bleach in the suns and rains And each took his bottle there, On the gallow-hill of our Burgh town. pleasant and merry, And each with an easy mind then had What he had done I remember not
his nod.
And which
claret
was the
?
best
judge of
Which
and sherry
twain was the farthest Nought can appease, but to see the
man
rot.
"
;
340
Of course,
to
kill,
was wrong In a wildish way o'er a drop of drink. And the gallows, at any rate, spoilt
our play.
Yet murder often escaped the rope ; But for him there was not a gleam
Who
A dismal night
The
sullen
remember well
the restless sea, plashed on hill
moan of
rain
And
and
the
tree.
that
am
not
And how my
midnight
bell
heart
thumped
at the
might be.
Ugh
left
how
the corbies to
bare.
was not
;
we
cut
him
shroud.
down
at the
end of
Now
The
and then from the town we heard night-watch call, but he came
And
it
spoilt
not near,
rinks,
grinning
And once we paused with a thrill of fear At two or three notes like a singing bird.
What was
it ?
where was
it ?
Hushed
And we
Or
But
chose
it
might hang,
they
with awe.
or shoot,
We
living
stood for a
head the
rogues, as
breath
When
tripping up
loathsome
Who
And
was like a savage to punish those were tried already, and dead
death
Two
Wild
a girl
we
saw.
to boot.
it
eyes,
law
Came, weirdlike,
Which hanged
with him It was only the English that left the grim Corpse for the kite's and the raven's
man, and was done Singing a merry song, They saw us there
surprise.
with
blank
"Come
do
ye.
hither,
now, children:
what
At
midnight here,
?
by the gibbeted
dead
We
now,
I said.
of the sallows
think
341
but what
now
"Why
When we
us
all,
He is our father, sirs," she said " He is our father," said they all.
There was
throat.
And my
it
too. a lump,
sir,
rose
in
We
was
a
And
there
something
that
there
by
glad this
We thought
"
?
him
again to land.
" Mother will soon be here, they said. She is coming to curse the Law and
the Judge,
We
wall.
near,
wakeful,
But there is no blessing that she will grudge If you give us our father back instead.
And And
the
crunch
of a spade would
tell
waken him,
a glance would
him about
we will haste, and bid her come. Yea, we will haste, and drive the cart, For she will have drunk to cheer her
!
" Lo
it all.
heart
"
Were ever men puzzled so much before By getting the thing they were fain
to get
?
Then
left
us
An'
if it
dumb.
It could not
more.
So we It was
may
cut
him down
I
And we
rain,
We We
Under
we
did rob.
could not carry the creature home. could not leave it upon the hill Oh, but it's strange to get your will. And wish you hadn't for days to
come
But the wild
large eyes.
elf-locks,
Then up by
And
by the shooting-
song.
We
we
Then laughed
believed their
we
could
have
And came
still
the
place
where we
abode.
;;
342
And
And And
a gipsy
Straight and
tall,
the
Law,
saw the Thing that lay
fell
crowd
Who
Till she
at
tree
our
feet.
And
on the earth with a
it,
When
she
vost,
he
like a minister long like a
Spoke
as
and loud.
!
we
Oh how he fumed
turkey-cock
We had done despite to the sacred law. We had robbed the gallows of half
its
And
laid
it
there on the
donkey
cart
We
Who
shall tell
me
wild heart
Nobody knew
town
when
her
half so eloquent
law
- defiers
"
am
down."
she said,
blessing
my
lips
can
May
For
it
By and by they should find that he The law and its majesty would maintain. And hang the rogue in his chains again. And make those rebels a sight to see.
the river, they searched the
and
live.
that ye
have given
dead.
"A
what
They watched
else
kirkyard,
night
by
night,_
They
he loved
us
But rogue or
well
quite
Lost
tell,
of us just threw out a hint. must have been witchcraft and it " Fear not the Law shall find out what took Ye have done this night ; go home With the ministers like a baited hook, Who preached on it without let or stint. and sleep. Sure that your secret is buried deep I have them near by who will see That Sunday, sir, we learnt far more Of the Witch of Endor, and her arts to that." For the making of dead men play the parts She did not weep, and she did not pray, Of living saints, than for years before. There was not a tremor in her tone,
It
Who
Then one
343
The
Poetaster
Ah
life.
Pshaw
Let the
ministers preach
Which move
and catechise
;
And
Behind the laughter there are tears. thoughts which in the after years.
What
saw But
for
it
me I heeded
rung
in
For That
my
And
The
oft
it is
an accident
day long,
eerie snatch of a gipsy song.
Whether you chance to laugh or weep. But when you call it back again,
laughter has a twinge of pain
All the father she ever knew He was a poor dull-plodding man. In earth or in heaven that gruesome So poor he kept not even a bird thing To cheer his solitude by song. And she had come up the hill to sing And voice for him the silent throng Her song to him as she used to do Of thoughts that find no word.
Oh
it
was
pitiful
but
when
its
I thought
Of that wild
The
night, and
madcap
job,
we
did rob
Nor Nor
dog, nor cat, nor bird had he. wife nor child had ever
come
To
sought.
Which he
fill.
daisies
had watched
to see
him
die
mock
hill.
he had lived all his days. Alone he passed from human ways their hearts on the Beneath the All-seeing eye.
gallow
And And
Of a
Links
saw that cut him down, There was a little loaf of bread He had not died of hunger then little fuel too, and oil.
And
water
in a
can to boil
again,
Now
and again,
in
If day should
come
THE POETASTER
There was a pathos in it, Though you might smile,
friend.
as I
Which
never sought
press
came
and when
we
Through
to give
did too.
To
So
Him
As
strangely from
its
decent burial with the dead. he had always held his head
that decent live.
Brought suddenly
to view.
'Mong them
344
Nor gold nor silver there was found, Nor plack nor penny life had gone
;
Just as the
little
He
bottled
it
like wine.
But when his fellow-labourers met With pipe and tankard at the inn.
had
He
to his attic
would
retire.
fire,
Through
careful scrimping
day by day
had no debt, he had no kin. And there was nought to lose or win. When thus he went his way.
But
for the
He
we
found
a pile
good old age, never begged a bit of bread. cheered his loneliness with these Bald rhymes about the birds and trees, And living men and dead.
Of papers writ
Some
loose,
in careful style,
There
is
no sacred
fire in
them.
sense and
shrewd
of every Imperfect lines, imperfect rhymes, kind, False quantities, mistaken chimes, Backs of old letters, envelopes. Yet all the feeling good. Half-used account books, paper bags Picked up among the ash and rags There is no envy of the great. And refuse of the shops There's praise of patriot and saint If now the story have no point. And every tattered scrap close writThe reasoning now be out of joint. With pen or pencil, as 'twould bear. There is no vain complaint. With verses on a hundred themes. With pious arguments and dreams. Hai'd toil it was for that hard hand All rhymed with patient care. To hammer out these limping lines.
:
Oh To No
he had no message, none. wise or foolish, good or bad prophet's burden-word he bore. Which he must speak ; and what more. He never thought he had. no
;
Or Or
is
Yet night by night he must have writ His verse or two for forty years, L ong poems some, some meant for songs.
Some
he went about His daily task, and every night Back to his dingy attic came. Nor dreamed about the coming fame Or setting this world right.
silent soul,
common
own
people's
sad fears.
None
ever heard
him
;
hint a thought
Of fancied
greatness
never line
How
never showed the rhymes he writ. tried to see their clumsy wit it might look in print.
Parish Pastors
Enough Enough
him the
345
Nor Doctor to physic their mortal ills. Nor Lawyer to draw their deeds rhyme, Now pleased with this, now touched and wills with that, Ten miles off was a town where these He knew not why ; he knew not what Might be {lad by them when they please
for
silent task,
Was
pathos, or sublime.
Strange passion thus to jingle words, unsought. And hide them in a big old chest 'Twas but some hours before he died Spotted with flies in the window pane. The last was written, and beside Easily went the world with them,
!
And farmers, going to market, brought What letters arrived there, nowand then, Which maybe had lain for a month,
The
rest in
order placed.
in
it,
friend
on
my
road.
They made no struggle its tide to stem. But slumbered as in a quiet bay, And heard its murmuring far away, And grew their oats, and ground their
here.
But the tears got the better soon. It was so innocent to croon His bits of verse to God.
And And
But
caught the fish, and fed the steer, noted the changes of the year.
had
and learned pastors three ; Not that the way of their life was bad, LONG AGO Or that more godly they sought to be Than their neighbour-folk by the wild There were some five hundred, young North Sea and old. But just that it had been so of old. Souls in the parish, when all were told. And they never thought to enlarge Cock-lairds upon the landward braes. the fold. Scattered farmers, and cottar folk. And gather the flock together there
PARISH PASTORS
Of pious
And
the fishers who kept to their own With ampler room and a freer air. old ways So had their fathers done, and they In the village that huddled beneath Followed of course in theirfathers' way. the rock. And the pastors three with their
a
sheltering
Where
For
the
cove
made
of
scanty flocks
safe retreat
brown
the
little
fleet;
'Twas
only
ten
break
good
AJl of them busy in doing good. wedding, and burying, each miles, After the manner his Church did teach. And trying on Sundays truth to preach.
a Christening,
souls,
and
they did
Dr. Boyack
Though
was
neither a
Low
The
there.
346
With
And
The
but yet
And
wood. it was the parish kirk, But what it was there was nought to tell. Save only a belfry and tinkling bell, Above its rough- cast rubble- work. humble Kirk, and a homely Manse On the haugh among the trees and rooks Where the white-thorn hedges had
paintless
They burdened
of debt.
too
with
fear
Easy-natured and kindly he, Respectable always in everything ; Nothing he did but it had the ring Of cultured mediocrity In talents, in morals, in learned lore Respectable ever, and nothing more. No special mission had he to preach grown, perchance, Unpruned for the sake of the ricks No special faculty his to teach ; Nor special power of the priestly art and stooks. For the stooks of corn and hay Or to console, or move the heart There seemed no reason why he are more should be Than a well-trimmed hedge to a household poor God's servant there in the parish Kirk, But they helped to make more Instead of dealing out tape or tea.
wildly
fair
Or
driving
the
plough
from morn
The old Manse-garden, breathing there Of thyme and every sweet herb
that grows,
to mirk.
Save that he read some Latin or Greek, wrote good words that were smooth and weak. And the pink and wall- flower, and cabbage rose. Yet he did his task in a patient way. Oh, there the strawberry beds were With doctrine solid, if stiff and cold. Ready, by day or by night, to pray good. And the gooseberry bushes had With the sick or the poor that were golden fruit. in his fold And the apple-tree boughs were Mostly the farmers and cottar-folk. To all of whom, as they hung about stayed with wood, They clustered so thick upon every After sermon, the minister spoke shoot. Of the weather and crops, and the sheep and nowt, And the jargonelles on the gable hung And their rheumatisms, and their Sweet as honey the leaves among girls and boys. Just a garden for boys and girls. And all their commonplace griefs Ne'er while they lived to be forgot and joys. And sunny faces and golden curls Flashed through its trees when the sun No high ideal had he to raise Their souls was hot from of the level Eight wild boys, and as many maids. common ways. In homespun dresses, with unkempt Nor passion nor power to stir the mind As with the rush of a heavenhair. Laughed and sang in the grassy born wind But well he knew all their homely lot, glades, Or gathered the fruits of the garden fair, Their joys and sorrows he ne'er forgot.
And
Parish Pastors
347
Could
son,
tell
It
many into the fold. did not lead astray. Had ever the fitting word on his lip. If it only lit up half the way. And gripped each hand with the No lofty purpose in life had he. proper grip No spirit earnest and brave and true That bound their hearts to him fast The glory and hope of God to see ; Nor yet a-craving for something new and true But he walked with them in the way As surest cords of love could do.
where had the married daughter
led not
it
And
And
gone,
But yet
Was
talked with them of the things they knew. When it ran dry, and the weekly need And his speech was easy and natural too, Rang in his head like a warning trump. Yet though he made complaint Save when he spoke of the things of God. that wealth wholesome nature, and fain to please ; Of letters, alas, was not for him. Being rich in children in hungry Saintship in him had been like disease Which he was ever upon the watch health, Though he hardly needed it not to I trow he was not a man to dim catch His eyes with poring on musty books ; Far better he liked the cawing rooks, For to be called Fanatic he The smell of the hay-field, and Dreaded like sin and misery.
mostly
sermons
they trod.
his
And
pump,"
the talk
Of farming
But
Dean Duffus
Down
Of the
It
in the cove,
And now
was
somewhat
rent
He
And
to
were only
as
corks
nave.
Wreck
as easily as
And
And
ing wave,
his
way;
fight.
And And
And
within
altar,
it
was
fair
and good,
and carven font, were wont. If h^ could only get through the day. Under the great black holy Rood. Yet he was reasonable, and shed Long it had been but a ruin grey. sort of light too along his path, Which not from the heavenly founts Roofless, and wasting in slow decay, ThemuUions all fromthewindowsgone; was fed. Nor yet from the baleful fires of The carven niche, and the finescrolled stone wrath
with the world he would not Marble
silver vessels, as
348
By nettles and long grass hid from view And or And the font had been broken and
overthrown,
He He
place,
and
fitted it on.
And
too
pillar
mended
bit,
And the cunning fox had made his lair, And the rook and the jay had nestled
there.
Living himself on sorriest cheer This trophy again for his Church to win
:
Some Some
laid
;
the
blame
wrath
it stood there fair to see of graceful symmetry ; bell once more from the belfry rung, swept from the And matin and vesper were daily sung, Cromwell's And the organ pealed, and the common to
upon Knox's
And now
In
lines
prayer
to
And
But
some
a raid
of
the
High- Was sweetly toned to the fishers there. Yet all the wealth of his worldly gear
the
had
searched
lost a bet,
Was
less
than
three - score
pounds
a year.
Read how
Lord
And
and melted Near by the Kirk was a cottage small. With a red-tiled roof, and a whitewashed wall, And sold them to pay his gambling debt. garden plot that was bright with After the new Kirk was built away flowers, Landward, far from the little bay. And all agreed that a Kirk was there An old sun-dial to tell the hours, From the days that the Culdee Some carven stones that were broken launched his boat, quite. And came with the voice of psalm And might not fit in their places right. Yet were too sacred to be thrown and prayer.
off the
roof,
the bell.
And
But
Among
a
the rubbish of
common
stone.
From the lone Isle of saints that lay With Where ghostly mists on the waters slept. all
fence
God shone out of the mists by day. These had And spake in dreams to them when
they
slept,
found.
the rest
that
It
And
Of
huts
there
With
But
an
the
attic
it was neat and clean, chamber for a guest Dean's own bed was in
the wall. As the ivy loves round its walls to gi"0w. Had clung to it with a longing heart. Hid behind volumes, And with his own hands cleared a part, In the little room
great and
tall,
where
that
he read
a
pastor
Casting out nettles and grass and earth. Till he came to the pavement of solid
stone
;
and wrote.
And
did
the
work
ought.
Parish Pastors
349
There on the shelves were folios piled ; His well-brushed coat had a shining There Benedictine fathers smiled glaze. In snowy vellum, crimson-lettered And his great thick shoes had been These, he said, were his golden mines patched and soled And high on the upper shelves were White was his lawn on the Sabbath
scattered
Big quartos too of the great And tables and chairs and
littered
divines,
floor
all
was worn
were Into so
It scarce
could
be handled without
With books
scarlet lines
that
;
a rent.
For he was
And
wine
were
Yet had he ever so stately an air rich and poor did understand, in the Whatsoever his raiment were, He was a man to hold command, bottled And none might slight him in
That
all
the land.
With
The
room was
a kitchen clean.
And
there no woman was ever seen. But once a day, about noon, his man cherished, Lit up the fire for a little can Old were his hopes too, past and If it were not a fast, and a fast, at least. perished. Came twice a week to this humble He held that it was a sin to own priest Other than Stuart to sit on the throne.
Old was the world in which he lived, Old the evils at which he grieved. Old were the things that most he
And made
sweet.
for
him
pulse or porridge
And
still
Now
that
But the Church's Feasts had sodden to reign. meat Therefore a strict non- juror he And if a guest by chance was there. All the years of his youth had been, There might be a glass of mildest ale Doing his constant ministry And an evening pipe to soothe his care In hidden ways, and in spots unseen. Was the one luxury did not fail. Praying for him who in exile lay Yet was he healthy and strong, nor kept " Over the hills and far away." Ever his bed for a day, or slept Now law and order he kept, 'tis true. After the dawn, but rose to pray Giving to Cssar Cassar's due, For his fisher lads in the stormy bay. But the loyal heart that would have shed tall, lean form with lank grey hair, Its blood for the kings of the Bushy his eyebrows, and grey his eyes. ancient line, Deep sunk in a face that was pale Clung to the memories of the dead. and spare And the vanished rule of the Right And he dressed in a threadbare lowly divine. guise. He fasted still for the martyred Charles, One apron had served him all his days. And him who perished on Magus His newest hat, it was ten years old, moor,
35
; ;
;;
And
The
the
Parliament
men Another
were
carles,
Among
on
to
pricked
gallant
delude
right
tempest- torn
the poor,
And
to
that
Dundee did
The
But
maul Westland
for the
all
Whigs
who
its
Church of the Wilderness it was named, Built for a prophet-pastor, famed were For his doom-speaking words, and his
stedfast faith.
And
rebels all.
And
hopes
ways. of the
When
ing death
But he lived through the evil times, latter days, and saw, Their science and its expanding views. Though he would not allow, a New-fangled craving for latest news. better law And workmen striking for higher wage, And all that mostly our thoughts And the bonnet-lairds on the rolling
.
engage
braes
For them he kept strictly a yearly Each year bitterer than the last It fell when Culloden day begins
Fast,
Had
been
Cameron's
men
in
the
troublous days.
And
he called
it
the
Fast of All
its lines.
own
the
ideal, there
Grimly
read
He
And
chaunted
psalm,
and
There ministered one who held his head as the Dean, and would not brook From Latin Fathers and Latin rhymes, King or Parliament, living or dead. Unless the Covenant oath they took Till scholars came from far and near William or George, Charles or James, This primitive Pastor to revere ; Stuart or Guelph, it mattered not, But hardly ever a point was found Where he touched the life that went Nor what their characters, what their
the prayer,
High
on around,
aims.
Or whence their claim to have rule Moved it, or felt with it as it spoke. was brought Or heeded how its passions woke. Or how its bubbles swelled and broke. Whether from Bishop's anointing oil. Or from the people who sweat and toil. Or from a long ancestral line Lapt in the dream of a right divine The Reverend Richard Rule
;
He
Landward upon
the rolling braes.
would
Wind - swept,
and
apart
from
the
Unless the Covenant it would own. For this was a Covenant Land, and
bound
stretched
a moor-
But now it was covered with grass Should ne'er have authority, great or small. and corn,
;;
Parish Pastors
3SI
Nor should Erastian preach the Word So he deemed he must faithful be Where the martyred saints of old were Unto the little flock that he heard. Tended and fed amid sore distress
He
Not Apt
was a
a whit
gloomy or morose,
Gay among brethren and jocose, And hardly would he restrain his
wit
When
sit.
From which
their
souls
would have
shrunken back.
Yet in the pulpit he would groan About the defections which he saw, And that he would soon be left alone Even as Elijah to stand by the Law, And by the altar and truth of God, For which our Fathers dyed the sod
He was not
At
least,
way.
And did not feel it, but made a jest Of what would have broken their
soundest
the
rest.
that were his Might have the gospel pure and free. flock, Then would his tremulous voice swell They were as hard as the flinty rock higher, And minded to have their gospel cheap. Like the sound of winds among trees Letting him sow if themselves might
their
Red with
own
we For
wee cock-lairds
As
reap moan. though some Power did his soul And, maybe, dealing with them had inspire, been Nor even the Dean could so finely The blunting of feelings that once were intone. keen And maybe the children's hungry cry He, too, was a man of learning, skilled Quenched the gleam of his watchful eye. In all polemics since Luther broke Her sleep, and the Church from Five hundred souls, when all were told, dreams awoke. Dwelt in the parish, young and old. And wrath was kindled, and blood Well shepherded surely by pastors three Who lived together in amity. was spilled. Well had he conned each mighty tome And had no quarrels, nor sought to rob Of Calvinist, Lutheran, Doctor of Each other's folds of a sheep or lamb. Rome, And lived, far ofi^ from the noisy mob. And what the Philistine-Prelate writ. In a world of their own that was full And how the Puritan-David hit of calm. The boastful giant with sling and stone, Yet what could they do for the landthat
struck down the mitre that ward folk, wrecked the throne. Or the fishers beneath the lighthouse The faintest shade of Arminian error rock ? Well could his watchful eye detect. What help to their welfare could they And he thundered at it, in wrath and bring ?
terror.
And
What
road
; ;
; :
352
What
to sing
And
not many more And spur them to run for the grander Souls in the parish than were of yore, Yet the pastors three have grown to goal In the world beyond these falling leaves ? four; And their thoughts are run in a
Now,
changed
there
are
sharper mould, Respectable one, and easy-hearted. And a spirit is there which was not went about in a kindly way ; One lived in a world that had long of old. It may be, their faith in God is more. departed But they have not the same faith in And one was eager the slain to slay. each other ; Meanwhile the people grew their oats, And mended lines and nets and boats. It may be, they love Christ as before. And made their malt, and brewed But they walk not so lovingly now
He
their ale,
together.
drank at wedding-feast and fair. harvest-home, and auction-sale at the funerals took their share Of heavy wines and waters strong. As they bore the dismal bier along. But there were mothers that were not
wives,
And yet a milder gospel tells Of love that in the Father dwells. And sweeter strains of praise are sung. And bells in graceful spires are rung. And they all walk in stricter ways, And they all spend laborious days.
For
life is
it
there,
and that
life
is
good.
its selfish-
And
there were
widows soon
tired of
weeping,
Though mood
be young
in
And there were prodigals wasting lives. And sorrowful hearts that lay unsleeping,
Through
keeping.
weary
nights
long
vigil
Life is there, with its warmth and power. Its yearning hope, and its eager strife, Its thought unfolding like a flower.
Its craving
still
And
they had their thoughts about life and death. And sin and mercy and God and faith ; And, now and then, from the world
without
for a fuller
life,
and confidence.
a misty wraith.
There came
to
their
souls
strange
Ghost of some old forgotten sense Life with its loves, and hates, and
fears.
wafts of doubt.
And
things
that
were not
in
catechism
the Its wondrous joys, and its bitter tears, Its follies, blunders, useless fights.
Its
brooding
shadows,
and
mystic
schism,
lights
But wist not what of these thoughts Life has broken the slumberous spell. were true, And it is not all good, yet it is all Or what, if they were, they ought to do well.
Amory
Hill
when they
353
older
folk,
AMORY HILL
And
Were
the
felt
the stress.
fain their ignorance to hide.
off,
And
What
sent her
Does any one know about Amory Hill ? an unrestful mind she had, Somehow she never took
!
Back again
it ill.
Questioning everything, good and bad, Whatsoever you chanced to say Subtle in thought, and firm of will But not in the least did it change her but what Beautiful, too, in her way
:
way
What
Oh, you remember the large grey eyes a keen look in them did lie,
Fain to be told the reason
why
!
She soon had another question still Never the same one twice, for now She would puzzle it out by herself somehow.
true or wise
would What could come of a girl like that. Who would not walk on the common
road.
Somehow
Who
fretted at
bearing the
common
Under the
Word
she
load,
Thing, Never content with the neatest phrase ; The coin might be of the ancient days, But still she must try if it truly ring,
And did not know what she would be at. And was not sure of the common creed, And gave not her dress a moment's
heed
?
And
For
bite
it
it
Amory
Hill
Amory
Hill
beneath.
And
how
old a lie might be, could not make it true
No
No
how good
matter
With
;
Age, she
said,
matter though truth be fresh and Loving the truth, and not afraid new. What has come of the grey-eyed maid It was the pleasanter sight to see. Like a fresh star your eyes behold II Where never a star had been seen of old.
Liked
how
girl
1 thought
Who'd
squat her down in a quiet nook It made at the time a mighty stir. Out of the way, with a folio book. While all the rest of us were in a whirl But nobody now-a-days thinks of her. Of work or talk ? And she did not We wonder at nothing, good or ill, After two or three days are past heed. That is enough for a comet to last. If only we left her at peace to read.
Hill:
Of course,
tried
Amory
From
elf
; :
354
To
herself
Then one
back
laid hold
About
Elect,
From
About
brink. to think.
Doubting the more, the more she read. Told her that now she must cease
lack hold of her for a little while ; If to the Church she would only bow. And she sang their hymns with an It would do all of her thinking now.
At
a Revival
And
then no
wisdom her
soul should
angel's smile.
And
tried
to
live
on their shallow
thought But back the questions came,'and then Oh, she was deep in her doubts again.
Bland his speech was, and mild his look; Was he an angel come from heaven
To
save the
soul that
was tempest-
driven
tried to read,
it
And what
There where in terror and pain itshook? had all of her thinking
all
certain thought
Into the darkness of thought and deed. So straightway into his arms she fell, Cast away Reason, and swallowed the And heard them in the silence roll Creeds, Back again on her yearning soul.
Mumbled her
Poor
girl
!
aves,
she
wandered,
here
and
beads.
And said
their
it
was good
peace to dwell
in
there,
From
pastures green
not a thought
Way
but
living or dead
And
finding
despair,
Till she
came
Going about
in that quaint
Faith,
With
the
little
dress
fingers
press
much good
Star after star had all gone out. For Araory Hill was always sweet. Darkest night was on all her sky And came like a sunbeam along the And moaning as one who is ready to street.
die.
Ah me
God
she said.
Must
I live without
Ill
Hill,
divine.
plague and the tease of School, of Querying lesson, and breaking rule ? And yet I fear I am Amory still.
Hill
355
Amory
Under
the white cap and the
is the hour when they sit and talk, and not without such nothings Touches of malice too, all about I've tried, tUM think there is no use What they saw in the daily walk trying To visit the sick and the poor, To be anything other than I was made ; when they I've sought the light, and I've sought Looked world and its on the
hood
This
Of the
Oh
the shade,
I've crushed
wicked way.
my
thought,
when
it
rose
defying,
I've nursed
pain,
But
submission,
why
is
?
the world
more wicked
and fondled
again.
than they
They were
the vow,
Weary, I'm weary ; what shall I do ? And they're just as sUly sisters now. away. Oh, will that chatter of theirs not cease? Ribbons and gawds may be put Here I had hoped to have quiet peace And love and marriage be counted
In the daily round of duties true.
shame.
And
the tranquil
and
mind
may
be
still
burden
of trouble
and care.
How
Once With
and
should they differ from what they were ? Hear ! how they chatter as schoolgirls do,
weighty
faith,
problems
life
of
truth
With
And what we
we ought
was there
not to think
blame them not, if they did not blame The world as wicked for doing
the same.
to see than
wink ?
that
we
Are
all
the people
who
try to
do good
The burden
a life
of thought
or
fashion
As
known
!
Of peace,
Ere I came here, how I used to groan At Dorcas meetings in angry mood
And
I'm
?
the
sure.
District
Visitors
need,
And make fresh conquests, if it may, On the realm of darkness, day by day
Oh, but So they
this is rebellion, this is sin
tell
Quite as
much
Oh, how I shrank from the vulgar talk. The fuss, and the hard mechanical way me, and I have tried To crush it out, and have done, beside, Of saving so many souls a day By dropping tracts in a morning walk Many a penance for letting it in. Not so, I said, would the work But is it sinful ? and can it be right be done To close the shutters, when God Here by the consecrated Nun. is Light?
!
;:
356
But here or
the same,
gave up
the
my
The
talk alike,
And And
The
Of
rush
my
ing debt,
For doing of
faintest
Over the weary swimmer's head But now if I leave this, it will be work, without thought what you In scorn of its dull vacuity.
are about.
Ay,
if I leave it
but dare I go
And
and
then
lips
!
this
drilling
of
hands
Do
I not
it
be said
Better
were
dead
Than
pine
mind
ting,
pain
swing,
bell
with
its
Ah
The The
coming here
?
vacant
day,
effort to
thought away.
Was Was
I
I mistaken in
it
a hasty step I
free to
made
for a
am
still
go back,
'tis
said
I fear.
But for the work 'mong the sick and poor It is among them that I find ray
And
Nun,
good,
gratitude.
But they are all pleased with their If they would not pain me by happy lot, And what would they think if they
knew my thought ?
MISS
nonsense what people were wont to say About the misery vows may bring. About the hearts that are suffering, And the glad bright youth as it wastes away There is nothing to waste, for they
It's
BELLA JAPP
We
are
all
hungering,
sir,
for truth-
ful
words
mocking-birds
would be dumb If they might eat their meat, and do no more And yet I feel that I am not free. And only come. Oh, the subtle threads that are wound And sing again what we have heard
Who
About
us here
till
before.
And there's nothing for it but just to As silly as all the rest, and make
be
And
grind
again
the
same tune
at
the door
A merit of
it
To
Miss
Bella
Japp
357
Oh
; ;
358
And
we
must, to
God
is
Oh,
his side
fools
down may
:
to roar
scoff.
But he laughs
last
who
truth has on
But take our sin Right by the throat, and its name.
call
it
by
Nor mind
;
the din
Where
such
folk
are
it's
at
your
The
his
very side,
game.
to shame,
And
souls
drop
in, as balls
are
to slide
I' th'
holes at golf.
are the holes,
There
To
To
And
Come
They have
sing
to
:
the birds
if
he plays
them,
that
is
what
For thoughtless
dropping
in,
souls
with
some
bit
pleasant phrase.
And
this
Each hour
have
been our
An easy job
For
ill
he's
had
many
a year.
it's
poor play
As
;
truth
We've had
against
him
God's been
served here,
it's
with bated
And
me mad
to hear
Like
But you have come Fresh and hot-hearted, from College, Freighted like some
knowledge.
But,
true
that
we may
see
hear,
them
bare.
And
The
it,
and
to share
Its pain and loss. Should sorrow fill our cup unto It's not your metaphysics that we need. the brim Watery and wan For on the Cross Just take the Book, and with your We see the glory as the eye grows dim. own eyes read. Only we're fain to hand it on to Him And drop the spectacles of an oldWho clasped it close. world creed
O my
man,
Believing
much
it
The
Cross,
that
is
all
our
help
And And
and hope,
will not touch with our finger, fain to
We
the floor.
let it
drop
;; ;
The
And
Village Philosopher
359
The
it
therewith cease And in the window there appeared. grace and bliss and riches that For weather-glass, a wondrous phial. brings, Its neck was partly ground, and then
And
wings.
all
increase
sing about the angels'
filled
Meanwhile we
rain,
And
it
soothe the
stings.
sickly conscience as
But
if
it
shrank, the
clouds would
scatter.
And
call this
Peace.
He had
THE VILLAGE
PHILOSOPHER
He kept the village school
Whose
a glass that showed the moon mountains looked like inky a box that played a tune.
rightly
blotches.
notches Of boys and girls, with little primers He had a round electric wheel Their fathers he had taught before. Could give a shock to all the village. Had called their mothers "idle That made their elbows ache, and
some
He had When
score
touched
at
certain
feel
hard names. But still in blandest accent spoken They never spoilt the children's games. Nor yet by them their heads were
to give
As
He
until
he drank
At working
broken.
For when he came to byre or fank, The sight of him was half the battle In very fear the ewes grew well The moment that they smelt his potions, And cows to healthy sweating fell
:
To
To
and
lotions.
silly,
So blandly
as
he pinched
his snufF
!
When he did horse or bullock handle To barter cloth and combs and tea And spades and rakes for eggs and So careful as he mixed the stuff By light of flaring lamp or candle butter
!
So wisely
And such
They
Of
alliance
or
Staggers And if the stubborn brutes grew worse. He glared at them with looks like
daggers.
Kirk a
of the Equator.
that hast
with
faith
and
Before the school door he had reared piUar-stone and true sun-dial
;
;
;;
36o
What
thou but the world in small i There are clouds on the hills of Mull, its prophets more than And the mist over Morven streams thine are ? And the heart of the Celt, like his Perhaps an inch or two more tall, day, is dull. But hardly even a shade diviner. Or its lights but the fitfuUest gleams.
And
what
ALTNACRAIG
THE HIGHLAND HOME OF PROFESSOR
BLACKIE
hills
And And
That Dear
of Appin and Lorn, green foamed-girdled islands. pools where the rushing streams
sing to the lonely
are born
poet.
all
Highlands Gael Are loch and stream and Ben, And the eerie legend and song and
to this friend of the
With
about.
tale
And
it
glen.
Behind, is a ridgy hill. And a burn leaps down the brae. Elf-like his locks and grey. Where the sleepy clack of a little mill That wave o'er a Greek-like beauty Low-pulses through the day. Tokens of wisdom ripe, whose day
Fair without, but within Is a rarer nobler beauty Womanly grace the heart to win. And patient doing of duty And manly thinking and wise, And lore of the ancient times,
Was
spent in
But the
spirit is
As in its dewy morn. And ever the bird-like song As the fresh new thought is
And
Still
free
true
soul
That fresh as the sun he rises. Song in the mist and the flying shower. Song when the light surprises. Song on the lonely road. Without and within, all fair Song in the thronging street The form alike and the spirit He blithe and gay as the bird of Ever singing his thoughts to God, For his thoughts are pure and sweet. the air.
disguise.
that hath no
singing
its
careless rhymes.
She calm
in
A self-assertive Greek,
Brisk to reason or
jest.
And
Espoused
to a
And
patient
whether of Clachan he speaks Crumbling in dell of the Forest, Or the rich full life of the grand old Greeks, Or Him whom thou surely adorest.
Green Kerrera lies below. The torrent of speech high-wrought. You can see the green tower of Dunolly, Perchance with some froth on it,
Lismore is green where the white Is ever a power too of generous ships go thought, Sailing by Appin slowly. With flashes of sparkling wit.
Cobairdy
361
Now Now
From ^schylus'
Plato
tragic pages
COBAIRDY
converse
and
Goethe
hold An old Scotch house, only one room Across the years and the ages ; wide, But four storeys high, with " a turnOr Duncan Ban and the deer " Sweep down the rocky dell, pike stair And burning pleas from his lips you That corkscrewed up a round tower on its side, hear With the outhouses made three parts For the Celt he loves so well.
of a square quaint coat-of-arms o'er the bighaunt of the good and wise, nailed door Had roughly been carved on the red How oft have thy walls resounded With eloquent pleas for the Celt that sand stone.
lies.
And
life
By Or
a sordid
surrounded.
his
soul's
which
true
Was
health
Should yield to the bigot's spell. Or the meaner sway of vulgar wealth That lords the hill and the dell
The
laird
was a squat
in the
little
hard-
featured man.
Something deaf
Beautiful
hearing, and
home of truth
taste
bowed
!
in the legs.
all
Shall
Thy
we
he can
oats and his here, and his and eggs ; His mother lived still in the kitchen
For
his
of youth. Thy wise and thoughtful sadness ? Shall we sit no more at thy board
butter
As
there,
With
the
lightsome
jest,
and
the
And
parlour was draughty, the dining-room grim. With no sort of comfort, the laird
For the
would
declare,
From
Farewell
!
that
On thy brown rocks, crisply foaming. And friends will sit on the far-viewed For some
seat.
And
gloaming
of them had red coats, and whips in their hand, Some, gay powdered heads and lacerufBes fine.
talk as
we
Under the red pines had. And, I think, I shall never more
care to see
And
The
acres of land,
could
not think
of,
and
The
cheerfully dine
; ;
362
the " Madams " were worse, And night after night, his mother with their head-tires and frills would not fail And satins, every yard of which had To set forth the draught-board beside cost hira dear the peat-fire For the clothing of their backs they Only on the Sundays, when they came from the Kirk, had stript half his hills. And they were not like his mother And saw to the kye, and their fodder
Yet
Rarely in the parlour, then, Cobairdy would sit. And never in the dining-room, for
that
And maybe
just a
would
get
wink.
their
To
think
how
his forebears,
men
for
of
all
Few
With
were
the
words
at
as
they
sat
little
wit.
his
there alone.
acres
Had
no idleness was there ; Racing and dressing and rattling at And five and forty years now had thus come and gone. the dice. To rob him of half his bonny green hills, And the gear was aye growing, but Drinking card-playing, and the laird had grizzly hair ; and Then his old mother sickened in the dabbling in vice. fall of the year Till there was little left him but When most she was needed, as the wadsets and bills. long nights came. Each night by the big kitchen fire And before the oak leaves were yellow all and sere he was seen. Where an oil-cruse and rushwick He laid her in the kirkyard with the bleared through the reek. rest of his name. He and his mother, with a draughtboard between. He laid her in the kirkyard, and turned round his head, Playing a long game would last near With a lump in his throat and a tear a week in his eye, 'Twas a saving of fire, and a saving of light, And thanked ijs for the honour we And twice as much comfort, and half had shown to the dead. And also he was glad that the day as much care had been dry And as for the game, if he lost in a night Could his mother but have known, the house had been right penny to his mother, it was neither
friends to receive, as they surely ought to be, And day after day, with the sickle or And a proud woman she would have the flail. been that night Or the harrow or the plough he To witness the respect of such a good would toil, and not tire ; company.
His
;;
;!
Donald Toshach
Then he took
ofF his hat, and took. from its crown yard of red cotton, and bowed to
363
And
us low,
how, when she gave me a check, she would look And we had not half finished the game we were at."
and
Just
So the laird and his Jeanie sat down where the coffin lay a little while by the fire. ago; With the cruse and the rushwick to And home came the poor laird, and light up their play went to the byre. And she played her game well both in And patted brown Crummie, his old kitchen and byre. mother's pet, For Crummie grew sleek and Cobairdy And stared at her hens, and her ducks grew gay. in the mire. And now she's the " leddy," as braw
then sat hira
down
And vowed
What
as
the best.
sits
And
in the parlour,
and dines
in
the hall.
could he do then
He
tried
is
hung by the
laird's,
with the rest The Fourfold State " of the children Of the red coats and farthingales high of men on the wall. Good were the words, and the doctrine
for a time
who
could
DONALD TOSHACH
into
Of
all
that the
good man
tried hard
Big and burly and jolly and strong. more that he read, the more Nineteen stone if he weighs a pound. he grew blind. Yet as he strides, with his gun, among And oh but his old heart was " dowie The corries and hills where the game and wae." is found,
to say
And
the
At
My
How light is his step o'er the heathery " looking round to " the lass ground at her wheel, " Jeanie," he said, ' will ye bring For his wind is sound, and his heart your stool near ? is gay mother's awa', but I think she There's a dash of Norse blood in that
last,
would
feel
light-haired Celt,
she was here. I've tried hard to read, but, instead of the book,
I see her old face, Jeanie, there
enterprise,
He
dwelt
where In the
sea
where the
she sat,
smelt.
3^4
Great
is
his laughter,
glow
the half
in the
dawn,
Of a joke to set it in roaring trim And the wasted torrents shall all combine And as you list to that great, glad laugh. To be a power and a slave of mine.
You would
like him.
it
" God made no part of His earth to lie seems to go rolling through Waste as this is, with idle men Watching the wild birds as they fly, every limb. Orred deer cropping the brackenedglen, Shrewd at an argument, always keen, Or the salmon seeking the streams
For
again.
Yet not, like the Celt, upon faith to lean. And pelt you with Scriptures line " The corn may mildew, alas, on the field. upon line For texts to him are like sips of wine And the hay lie wasted there where it grew; Yet something there is which the land So he goes groping
:
Half in
it is
should yield.
deep mine working stark. By a flickering lamp that shoots its ray, And shows the dark, if it shows not Then the way.
Something there must be for man Other than sport the whole through."
will
to
do
yeai'
the
shire,
But
And men
his strength
is
come
at
in action, in setting
his call.
the folk
ing trees.
trench it, and fence it with stone and wire, Five hundred Islesmen strong and tall. the Able workers at ditch and wall.
To
Or reaping the harvest of the seas, Making the idlest busy as bees.
And
Watch him
slicing it up into small estates. Planning houses and carriage-ways, And winding paths with their wicket
gates.
sitting
And
planting thick
toils
on the
hills
and
as
he broods
is
braes.
alone
Of
He
where now only heather
forests
days.
at
grown,
And
it
shall
him,
call
him mad.
Mock
"Yonder
its
at his
glad
The
hills shall
their
and pine,
;;
Donald Toshach
Till
36s
some day, lo ! the five hundred men Then will he turn and say, " 'Tis time Shoulder their picks, and march away I made a nest for myself at last Back to their Western Isles again I have been changing soU and clime But twenty freeholders come, and they Only for others, but that is past " Pitch their tents, for they mean to stay. Where shall my own lot now be cast ?
They
Yonder a waste and lonely land love not idle folk there to see. But they pay for work with their Of bog and rock by a spreading lake There shall a goodly mansion stand, crowns and groats And they would have people strong And glade and garden he will make. And all the hills into leafage break. and free With kindlier crofts, and warmer cots. And they are many and they have Yet when he looks on his finished home, Garth and forest and mansion too. votes. How shall he spend the days to come. Now there is nothing for him to do ? But steeped in pride from the toe to Ah, he must find out something new.
:
the crown. Steeped in debt too up to the lip. Fair is the house beside the lake. The neighbours askance at them look And it rings with the voices of child and frown, and guest And try to hold on with a firmer grip. But there his pleasure he cannot take, Lest from their hands the County slip. It is no pleasure for him to rest ;
But not for that does he toil and scheme What cares he for their party wars. Could he but rouse them from their dream To care for the people, and heal their
scars,
Making
Sell
it
new world
still is
best.
off for a
will
There
life
Bleak as the land is, it shall smile For ragged children and drudging wife. For there the wealth of the sea is rife.
ripen,
and barley
is
fails.
in the glens
green and
a solitude,
And And
the
Lochs
shall
common
good,
fishers' sails.
Where may
*_'
But only a desert of bog and rock. the antlered stag and his hinds
flock.
neat,
While
gilliedom
are
in
the
glen shall
browse and
our
Rocky
So he vows in his stormy way, " Making the lazy clansman worse,
Now
ten
listless
slumber
is
And
spray.
!;
; ;
366
hundred such as he And in the sunny coves brown flocks me he will be ruined soon Of wistful seals are lying Pity and yet his work will be The waves are breaking low, Stirring and brisk as a merry tune, Hardly their foam you trace ; E'en should he wane like a waning All hushed and still, as if they know This is a sacred place. moon.
Oh
They
!
tell
Industry has
And
its martyrs too, one might die in a worser cause Yet do I hope he will live to view people living by wholesome laws.
The
;
diving guillemot
Is preening his
dappled feather
The Red
great merganser
in this
shows
his throat.
And
For
thriving
sea-
And
Are
That
gull was.
his
brain
is
shrewd,
and
his
As
call up the past with a might, To tell of the meek and brave.
of
hills
And why
ing of
Heaven,
No fitter day than this To look on thy mystic beauty. And brood on memories of the
Of faith and love and duty, Of the hours of quiet prayer, Of the days of patient toil. Of the love that always and
where,
bliss
Now
that his
evil
every-
altar stones ; Burned like a holy oil. But what do they know of the Gods and Fate, lone green Isle of the West, More than old wives from their aching So oft by the mist enshrouded, bones ? 1 have seen thee to-day in thy quiet
best.
lONA
Lone green
Isle
Not
noisily
of the West,
their
in flooding light.
in perfect
Where
Could
the
see
monks,
Yet am I sad
as at the sight
steering,
Of mummy
no more, o'er the wave's
that
men embalm.
white
crest.
;
Their own loved home in Erin Shrouded often in mist. And buried in cloud and rain Yet once by the light of a glory Which nothing can dim again
!
The
life
Thy And
kissed,
best
Yet thou wert a power erewhile. O'er the great world's mind and heart But where now the priests of the Holy
Isle
The
And
the skill of
its
graceful
Art
367
The Cry of
the
Maiden Shareholders
Nor the Art
plaintive song,
Cunning the hand that wrought Your traceried tombs and crosses,
And
silvern
brooches, that
yet
are
Nursed
in the
rushy glens.
brought From depths of the black peat mosses And theirs was a holy work
Who
And
kirk,
God
Our' heathen
to cure.
With
sorrow and fear is dead That drove the saints, with the sacred Day and night sitting, we've not laid Word, a head From the peaceful ways they trod in ? Down on a pillow this week and more ; Was it the Saxon's sway. Trembling has seized on us, shrinking Brutal and selfish and strong, and dread. That swept the beautiful Art away, To hear the bell ring, or be seen at And stifled the Celtic song ? the door.
the ships of
Was And
head.
it
Five of us waiting
for our
Well
Only
this
do we know,
!
O God
The
And
Celt brought light to the Teuton, Pity us, God when our father died. ever the knowledge of God did His mind was at ease, for he left us
grow
In the land he set his foot on ; But as they throve he pined. But as they smiled he sighed. But as they grew he surely dwined.
"
shares,"
And
and
life's
And
in their life
he died.
!
but
now
feeble
O
By
And we
!
lift men's thoughts above and cross and steeple Through stormy seas ye passed. And moor and marsh and fen,
Dying
to
altar
to do right with our and gold. And the poor had their portion, the Church had its due.
silver
To
be
left
As weak
They
at last
O God
On
the level
With
brain.
Like eagle out of his eyrie Btt not the mind and the heart That grew by the Lochs and Bens,
I These Verses appeared in The Scotsman newspaper at the time of the failure of And now I the City of Glasgow Bank. reprint them, chiefly because I wish to make grateful acknowledgments to the unknown friends whose generosity enabled me greatly to help those poor ladies till their affairs were finally settled.
368
Pity us,
we would work
stitch
if
And
we
could.
and hem
Pity
span and knitted
?
us, pity,
O God
Though we
for
day
them
We
never
knew work,
but to keep
ourselves neat.
IN
knew want,
but our
And we
And
never
wants are small. there's bread in the house yet if O SWEET and pure and tender heart. we could eat. With the child's gift to pray and play, But the sickness of sorrow is mixed Thou, artless in thy perfect art. with it all. Could' St blissfiil tears to us impart. Pity us, pity, O God And smile the blissful tears away.
!
Pity
All
God must our little things go ? even our mother's things, cherished with care ?
us,
Must we
the one
surely
house that
not there
?
we know I
We were the better for the mirth. Could they not wait a while ? we We were the better for the tears, will not keep them long We were the better seeing worth. We would live on so little too, cheer- In the dumb creatures of the earth. ful and brave Their loves, their efforts, and their But to leave the old house where old fears. memories throng For the poorhouse, oh rather the Not all could comprehend thy mirth.
Oh,
What wealth of love accrued to thee To thee dumb creatures looked to find The meanings which their wistful mind Was groping for, and could not see.
!
O God
for
Thy
!
dainty
Pity us,
God
as
those
have wrought
to thee
This
it
wide and deep. Oh, how could they do it, and know
terrible ruin so
We are
The
prove.
so
little
God
requires.
not
greatness
How
of His
thoughts
to
could they
?
know
it,
and think
us,
or sleep
But we would
this day.
not,
one of
change,
altars
choirs.
Our
souls
shun
the
common
clean
groove.
;;
In
Memoriam
Dr.
And And
John Brown
369
And thou thy smile was like a prayer, That cloud is past of fear and doubt Thy humour like a psalm of praise But ah this other cloud that lies
;
!
all
about.
wistful
To Him
that
Ancient
is
of Days.
eyes
Yet oftentimes
that smile
was seen
We
Kindling the near edge of a cloud That gathered o'er thy soul serene, And haunted thee with anguish keen,
Vain
No And
at it with brimming tears ; our yearning looks and fond smile upon its edge appears
gaze
all
is
is
And
bitter
A voice say,
All
24
; ;
KILDROSTAN
ACT
Poor
fishers
SCENE
I.
Chorus.
on the wild west shore
And shores where fickle waters toss, And birch-and-hazel-fring^d rills, And foaming cataracts like snow
That
in the gorges leap
and run,
Where
slow mists trail along the hills, That gleam like waters in the sun. from the mist comes evermore And gorgeous sunsets that enfold The sound of rushing brooks and rills, The mountains with a purple robe. Are plodding, grave, with lingering feet. And dash the crimson and the gold About the high hot noon of day. about the globe
And
And
In billowy spray the place of wayside cairns Of resting for the biers of death 'Neath crags and hills the long loch And tokens of a fading race. And relics of forgotten faith winds Through rocky isles where sea-birds Legend and rhyme and mystic rite.
Along the circle of the street That straggles round the circling
bay.
A land
flock;
The
slopes the grey birch finds
Along the
Stealthily
By
every ledge there grows a pine With roots that cling as the branches toss,
On
Oh marvel
For
And
Are
moss.
Behind the
still
Not stiller almost is the grave Those villagers beneath the hill And But the peaks are ragged and jagged That looks down on the long sea-wave Rude are the huts of stone and turf and barred Cloud-capped often their stormy tops. That straggle round the circling street, While ridge and corrie and crag are The thatched roofs soaked with rain
scored and scarred, up their gullies the adders creep,
bare,
By foaming torrents
or surf.
Or
While
heights
rise
clear in
the
And blackened with the smoking peat. No ploughshare tears the scanty soil.
Enough for them are spade and hoe 'Tis on the waters that they toil, And in the seas their harvests grow.
upper
Kildrostan
371
The moors are for the hare and grouse, First Fisherivomart. He wass a The corries for the antlered stag, good man, and a faithful minister. He But shaggy big-horned cattle browse wass not a dumb dog that will be
On
the fringe
flag.
of bracken and
and
rush gnawing the bones, and will not bark when he should.
that,
and then a snort of steam Sounds from the headland far away But never shows the world' s proud strife. passing my shop door without getting pickles of snuff for the old men, and Its strain of power, and rush of thought
Mrs. Slit. Och yes he wass all though he might not preach like Black Rory of Skye, or big John of Strathnaver. But he would not be
!
Time
life,
Yes, yes
But comes andgoes, and changes nought. it will not be the same shop now that Yet men have grown there, true and he does not come here any more. Second Fisherwoman But what iss brave. Bronzed with weather, and horny this, Mrs. Slit ; Miss Ina will not be
for burying him in the kirkyard, but in of hand. wrestled with the problems grave Isle-Monach, where my Donald would be seeing ghosts at Yule and Pasch. That at the porch of Wisdom stand Mrs. Slit. It iss your Donald that And you shall find in low, thatched cot. Round - angled, and with smoke would be having the whisky, then. For they are quiet men, the monks, when begrimed. they are living, and they will not be Love that can sweeten every lot. And Faith that hath all fates sublimed. frisky now that they are in their graves. But they are in But why are the long-oared boats afloat ? Second Fisherwoman. tolls the bell from the steepled Purgatory, whatever ; and our minister had no faith in Purgatory, or organs or kirk? saints or good works. would It is not the hour to launch the boat, And it is not the Sabbath of rest from she be for burying him among them ? Iss it Papist she will be turning ? work And why are the children sad and grave. First Fisher-woman. Or Pagan, Mrs. With no ripple of mirth by the rippling Slit? For our May wass saying she
Who
Why
Why
wave?
And
Moses ; and May wass maid in the While the women gather in groups manse till Candlemas last. Mrs. Slit. May will not know what and talk ? young ladies have to know. And Scene Village Street of Kinloch-Thorar. which iss more, she might do better
away do
the
Abraham
or
First Fisherwoman.
this
iss
Ochone
Loch
a sad day on
Slit.
Mrs.
Slit.
Mrs.
You
than to be talking about her betters. As for Purgatory, it iss not any more, Thorar, since the laird's great grandfather forbade it, or it will only be for the poor
!
but
may
say
that,
cottars at
Glen Chroan.
it,
And whether
sure.
too,
nothing to do with
you may be
Kildrostan
Second Fisheriuoman.
not a
fisher.
Slit.
372
Miss Ina never wass just But her heart iss good, whatever, yes and which iss more, it iss soft and warm as a lintie's nest, and sweeter as the bog-myrtle. Third Fisheriuoman. Och yes it will be warm and sweet, but not good, Mrs. Slit. None of our hearts iss good, as he would often say, who will never say it any more. But many a time, when the lads wass out fishing, it iss Miss Ina that would hail them from her bit boatie, and she would have the kind word for each of them ; yes and she would call at our doors too on her way home, and tell us about Dugald or Donald or Alisthair and the herit iss
But
true
But
he
iss
Mrs.
your
He
will fish
more than
Donald, whatever: for when Donald iss in the humour, the loch iss never in trim ; and when the loch iss in the humour, he hass no inclination.
it iss not for you, woman, to be speaking of the laird and a shroud in one breath, and him a brave young
But
gentleman, and which iss more, just growing the beautiful beard too. Yes But why will First Fisheriuoman.
iss
she
be for
burying
there
him among
a
?
the
monks,
when
Slit.
Christian
Mrs.
-Who hass a
better right
rings.
Och
yes
heart, whatever,
and
one
this day.
For he comes of the old she hass the kind to lie there ? it will be a sorry stock that built the Abbey Kirk ; and all their graves are there, and there iss
First Fisheriuoman.
Yes
;
monks and
she ministers and superior persons, which would have the making of the law, it iss proper. There has not been a would be the better for us, though it burial there since old Sir Kenneth's,
the kind heart. Miss Ina
and
true she iss for making the men the day of the great storm, when half carry the peats, and wade out to the our boats wass wrecked, and the poor boats too, which it would be a shame lads were bobbing about the loch, like
iss
for
women
to see.
Second Fisheriuoman. But boat will she be having, now ? iss a rhyme I heard long ago
Third Fisheriuoman. Ochone whose For it and it is myself will mind it, if
spared to
that wass to be married just the
after, drifted
yes
I
am
Coffined corpse in fisher's boat Make ready a shroud when it's next afloat.
among
the tangles
before his Mysie's door, and she will ye were in never be herself again since that fery your shroud, woman, to speak of such hour. And it wass Miss Ina that a thing Do you know that it iss Sir would have the bodies carried to the Diarmid himself that will bring his gig, kirk, and the funeral there ; for they and his gillies, and his piper too, all will preach to us, said she, better than in the brave tartan, with plaid and the minister, or an angel from heaven. sporran, as if the minister would be a First Fisheriuoman. Sure, and she chief, for he was not more than third wass right there, for there would not cousin to the laird's grandfather. And be a profane swearer or a Sabbathit iss the chief that you would be sing- breaker in the parish for six months ing your carline rhymes about, and after, though the whisky wass wanted making a shroud for him too for the sore heart sometimes, maybe.
Mrs.
Slit.
The
de'il an
Kildrostan
Mrs. Slit, Yes it wass a great sermon, the lads lying in a row, and
!
373
the sun flashes,
Where
and
now
in
the shade
just the
and which
with us
day before they had talked to us, iss more, they had laughed
The
birch-feathered
rocks
;
and the
made
; and now they looked at us, Slowly and silently onward they pass and would not know us any more. Over the calm spaces shining like glass. Och yes it wass a great sermon, and While the wild wailing strains of the coronach swell. it wass God himself that preached it. But there, now ; they are leaving the And fall with the breeze and the slow!
manse.
It iss our
own
tolling bell.
is
the
first
of
and Sir the train. and ferns. Och Diarmid and Miss Ina make the hand- With six bending oars keeping time to the strain some pair, like the brown pine and the bonnie birch tree. She iss liker him In it a coffin, and by it a maiden moaning sea moans than that Doris, with her mouth that Who to the sorrow-laden, is always smiling, and her eyes that never do. As they drop down to the dim abbey First Fisherwoman. But they will be pile saying he must marry Doris, whatever. Lying half-hid in a cleft of the isle, Mrs. Slit. Maybe yes, maybe no. Ruined and roofless, 'mid tangle of trees It iss not every fish you hook that comes to the creel ; and the stag iss That dip their low boughs in the wave,
wreaths
!
not on the spit because Donald has but the breeze loaded his gun. And that will be her Rustles their higher leaves over a tower uncle, the Doctor, that wass the ne'er- Green with massed ivy, and crown'd with wall-flower. do-well, and nearly broke his brother's
and which is more, emptied his There, with his forefathers, peaceful to sleep But he iss come home too. now, they say, as rich as the English By the white surf of the unresting lord at Loch Eylert. deep. Sure they will rest the coffin somewhere for his cairn, Where once the Culdee monk toiled, and for the drop whisky there. And prayed, and died. now Eachan Macrimmon is playing a Where once the galleys oared out in coronach as it were for a chief: their pride. "Peace to his soul, and a stone to his Where still the clansmen their high
heart,
purse
cairn."
Chorus.
Slowly the muffled oars dip in the tide. Slowly the silent boats shadow-like
glide
good
priest
of
the Gael.
cross was reared above his head. requiem was sung or said. Past the grey, steepled kirk, past the hope was spoken of the just In glory rising from the dust low manse. Now in the ripples that glimmer and In silent awe they did their part, Yet the good hope was in every heart. glance
No No No
Kildrostan
;;
374
ACT
SCENE
Chorus.
To
II.
puzzled.
Weary and
What
can he
little
And
And
wiry man, with grizzled hair, withered face that wrinkled was
clear,
and bare,
keen eyes that had no look
of care,
Sat with a maid
Uncle, what
is
wrong
All robed
Beautiful as the
moon
in starless
night
Whose
light,
silent
Am
I suppose.
And
Blunt in his speech, a careless nature his, wanderer driven by restless impulses.
years
And
And
had not
loss
yet
toned his
And can I help you ? Yet if it is dark To you, I fear that my poor head
to-day
heedlessness,
Nor
reveres,
nor gain
Can
bring but
little light.
Dr. Lome.
Oh, never mind
I should not speak of
it
:
it
does not
And
stumbled
fears
in his talk,
with doubts
matter
and
Not
in the least.
Of giving
pain.
Ina.
He would be gentle, if he but knew how. And helpful, if his gold could help
her now. But wist not of the deeper Patient and meek
life,
What
matters anything.
? ^
Dr. Lome.
I trow, I shan't
And
And
know what
;
strange to him.
down
unused
to
weeping,
now
grew dim
Seeing her eyes
in shining
waters swim.
people die, but still the world goes on, And those who live must eat, and pay
their bills.
And
And
Scene
tear-stained cheek.
And
think of things.
Ina.
LORNE
and papers.
Dr. Lome.
Ay
To come
it
straight
This clean bewilders'me: it is like being and the lights. Lost in a mist, and wandering round The awe and mystery and sacred
and round,
: ;
Kildrostan
About the grave, to life's commonplace Not yet, at least, I cannot do it
375
poor
yet.
Dr. Lome.
No more
Of
Or
to
did he.
Dr. Lome,
Well, no drop
;
him speak
many
mines, I daresay
silver in
copper mines
how
;
in
Spain,
and
:
Peru, and
?
had
Fine dividends
did.
No, no
The
battle,
or
be
beaten
one has
their fingers
some-
hardly
Time here
for feelings.
Ina.
Ina.
one come to that ? I have known papers come to him, Were it not better not to be than live which he To find no time for what is best in us. Flung in the fire, saying that it What purifies and elevates and makes was well larger world than our small round He had no gold to gamble with.
May
of tasks
Ah me
a dreary outlook.
Dr. Lome.
Quite right
Dr. Lome.
Not
But for
it
at all
One
this business,
now, no doubt
know
the
game
to play
will
What
Oh,
nothing.
business.
is
there to clear
Well ; no doubt, he never printed learned Book now one that would not sell. Was never meant to sell, but just to be splendid monument of erudition,
Sharp fellows.
A A
Dr. Lome.
With
not
You
must
troubled yet
Now
But your
father
which
With
now,
or
he sent
he never
Went in for iron " rings " " corners," did he, Ina ?
no sharp him over, And blew him
And
the letters of the alphabet, voted him their thanks ? He might have done it fellows ever talked But no, he didn't ? I'm at my wit's end now. up with hopes of And after all, he could not drop
all
To
Who
boundless wealth.
that
collapsed,
way
Which by and by
him broken
?
and
left
More
Ina.
I
Ina.
do not understand.
376
Kildrostan
Dr. Lome.
Oh, nothing
stupid,
never mind
I'm only
else.
Since he and I were boys, and went to school Well ; I must see the Chief, of course, and thank him We're It is worth thanks, although that
don't
strutting piper
There
dry your
to
eyes.
As
not, uncle
;
e'er
wild
cat.
After that
Ina.
we'll go
but I
Off
to
my
house
shall
That
I could clear
it
up your perplexity,
At
Whate'er
be.
Dr. Lome.
Was
matter. By the way. not the Chief most kind to do him honour.
No
last its mistress. Never wind blew yet But it brought luck to some one, though 'tis sad My house is filled by emptying of his.
Ina.
men
And
pipers,
kilts
good uncle. But indeed I have not thought yet what I ought
to do.
It
You
and
pipes.
seems
for
as
if
I'
could
not think,
when
I try to knit
He
was
his pupil
once
My
all is
Dr. Lome.
Dr. Lome.
learnt
!
But
either.
there's
'Twas
all
thinking
You
me.
You
shall
have pretty
There you are wrong, sir And nestle like Oh, he knew many things, and taught In a blush rose. me much
I
a dainty lady-bird
now remember
it
only to regret
better.
Ina.
my
dream
Of life
Dr. Lome.
That's the
way
I'd prove a restless lady-bird. I have my work to do. Death sets one thinking
;
With me
too.
What
a deal I have
What
to
make of
it.
one's
life
how
best
forgotten
to use
Kildrostan
Dr. Lome. Oh, your mothers'
schools,
377
wipe that leaves them
A
meetings,
folk's
hasty
as
Work
Sunday
ways
Sick-visitings,
mending
is
And
ours
We
As
need
it.
Well
our clachan
Dr. Lornt.
as like
Me, Ina
It
is
hardly in
my
line
To
They'd
turn and
like another
preach at me.
I give the priest his dinner,
filled
and the
hard-featured
children
Who
Work
children
enough there
Ina,
to
Ah, poor keep your hands With none to care for them.
sin.
folk,
full,
And
see
no end to
it.
Dr. Lome.
But now you're coming Home with me, and they'll maybe do for you What is like sowing corn upon the rocks Among the whelks and limpets, when
I try
it.
Ina.
Have they no
minister
'
Think that a minister is everything, I've not a bit of sentiment in me. That if you plant a parson on a moor. And never had I take my stand He'll make an Eden of it, just by on facts. dropping And do not blow my feelings into His texts and preachments to the right bubbles
:
and left To see them break, and break my Well, yes, there is a minister, but he heart for them. Is twenty miles away, and might as well But see, my house is nothing but Be twenty thousand. They are mostly a house, there Till you shall make a home of it Of the old Roman way. a nook
Where
Ina.
the old
dog may
his age.
curl
up
in
the sun,
?
But there
And
sleep
away
Dr. Lome.
Ay, he comes now
their souls
Ina.
The wealth
378
Kildrostan
Dr. Lome. Whined at his door, I wager, but he fingered Well, there is ample work in our Some of his coppers. He was never wild Clachan wise. Souls to be saved, and bodies to be healed. Ina. And dirt enough to cleanse. And as Yet goodness has a wisdom of its own, for wealth, And oft sees deeper than a shrewder wit. We'll ruffle it with the best, if that And since I saw him lying cold will please you. and dead, The idea of his life, which my Ina. poor breath That is not what I mean. High- Had sometimes clouded, seems to land maidens come out clear. Like independence, uncle. And pure, and shining with a saintly
We
beauty.
rather
Dr. Lome.
of your own than hang on me ? Yes, yes, a saint ; but saints, you know, are not And so you should have had, and that For earth, but heaven. I pray you, is just
What
puzzles me.
Your
father
made
do not
set
a will.
The
to will
pretty
fountains
of
these
eyes
a-playing.
Or you
at sea
shall quite
unman me.
I'm
About that will of his that you should be could he Have aught to leave, with only this Left penniless, and even more, that I Should somehow have been cheated. poor parish ? Did you never You know his hand was open.
How
in India
Had
how
bitterly
hand never.
Ina.
Dr. Lome.
uncle.
He
was
good man,
And
Although he feared 'twas in an evil case. Far too good. He might have risked the heresy upon There should have been a world made The chance of giving me alift somehow.
just for
Dr. Lome.
him,
rogues
No
grew,
for
matter.
Was
?
there nothing
Where no
idle
came
never
to
him
India then
tramp
From
3l9
Kildrostan
Ina.
Of your
but
No, nothing
Of
yours
they
some debts
done
he
To
good name, and would have more know that you were living.
far
had
to pay,
Which pinched
Dr. Lome.
But
it
looks
to get
Dr. Lome.
The
Some
debts
rial else
devil
it
of mine, and no
brother
!
death
that
is
bad.
Moreover,
'Tis plain I have overreached.
Of his dead
Ina.
And that I
Dr. Lome.
True ; but you see I was the prodigal O' the family, and had eaten my
swine's husks
;
can't abide, and never could. They'll need their wits who play that game with me. I daresay now you did without a frock, Until those debts were paid, and turned
Old
My
And
calves,
I thought of him,
You
the
be dressed
the handsomer
lass,
for that,
elder brother.
at
Who
At
that will have ghosts convenience to be dead, betimes Or to be thought so for a while at least, If you come not to lay them, and I'll tell you more some day. Old a waste uncles, Ina, Of meat and drink for lack of Are mostly useful when they're dead house-keeping. and I, 'Tis somewhat lonely too ; old faces flit Living, had been a sorrow to my folk, About i' the gloaming, that I'd vagabond that had no touch of grace. rather not And now, it seems, my dying did Be seeing there ; and if you do not no better. come, Well ; I must see to this ; there's I'll sell it, and be off again. I'd rather
It suited
that time
my
Squat
ferret out,
by a
jungle
fire,
and
hear
and
I will
the tigers
do
to
it.
!
sit
there alone,
No money
pay
they were
No, Uncle,
And
cheerfully
he
paid
them
the honour
not go off wandering again, for Although a life of indolence and ease Fits not my humour.
You must
Kildrostan
! !
38o
Is just a
idleness
Fain to put from her aught that yet might quicken Her hope again.
Sweet scents
are
wafted
from
the
Nay,
Chorus.
hope
not.
\Exeunt.
Did
Truth
Was
it
solely
and sky. Sweet lights are lingering on the Loch's calm bosom. Far off and nigh
;
Work
that she
life
Ah
The
swifts
blame her If she was haunted With the young craving For doing and braving
In the world's battle. weary of mountains. Lakes, woods, and fountains, And slow sleepy cattle ?
And who
the
o'er
eventheir
ing light;
And
glossy pebbles.
And
shining.
In
crimson
wrapping sea
sits refining
linger
While she
hunger
?
Gnawed
so within her
Was
there another.
O O
her
?
More than a brother, Hoping to win her ? Ah, who shall blame
O
and
chair,
now and
dead.
And
ACT
Ay me
!
SCENE
Chorus.
III.
from that dead past points a warning finger Bidding her 'ware of that which she
loves most.
And
on his
silent lips
but
linger
Love and be
Scene
lost
Ina (aloney
The
In
the
silent corse
old
home,
now
still
and
sorrow-stricken.
Ah me!
That half-told where all
tale,
She
sits
just
broken off
pain,
;
;
Kildrostan
381
Now
left
to
Of such
a presence, if
it
only hovered
that night
And
me
;
knowing
all,
My love
wrong
did comfort
that
was not
at all.
Or
work no
faith
God dropt it in my cup to sweeten it, And I was grateful for it, and I thought
That
it
at all
Better for
him "the
better
mansions"
so I
he
told him.
So loved "
to speak of,
But he
No
for
me.
misery
is
him, child
Evil will
told
The
I
the
silence
and the
its
should have
silence
Is never broken.
peace,
Let
life
!
Ah me
all is
sounds Our little thoughts fly forth like But half-articulate ; and then the awe ing sparks. Of thedread change, the veil impalpable, Hammered from our hot hearts, and Inscrutable, came over him, and he straightway die Carried the secret with him to the grave. In the blank dark. What meant that And I may ask, but can no answer half-told tale. And whispered " Doris " ? have. They talk of spiritual forms that float, Enter MoRAG,
unseen,
Around our
about us.
Morag.
lives,
feel
of gloaming Nothing or anything just as we wish. Our thoughts grow eerie, for But these are bubbles which the stream shadows look of thought. Even bigger than themselves. Fretting against its limits and obstruc-
tions.
Ina.,
dark eddies. There's Nay, this is best nought in them. Fittest the sombre light for sombre What though my father haunted this thought old room The glimmer of a day that is no more Where he kept company with other To brood upon the loved that are no spirits. more. Wise in their day, embodied in these No lamp yet, Morag. books Morag. So fondly read ? Yet if he spoke to me
in its
Throws up
I should not
know
:
if it
were he that
I
Ina,
spoke.
Or my own fancy
the better
To nurse this sad and melancholy mood, To dream all day in settled loneliness. To pass, untasted, dishes from the table.
382
Kildrostan
threads o' chill October
To see no callers coming in all kindness, On gossamer mornings. To sit with folded hands and do To
no work, look with blank fixed gaze
old books,
I
am
at these
rumour of the
Yet reading
right
Beyond
its
hoped
to plant
thoughts God's providence, but hardly judging Among the heather, where they will not grow. Him Morag. Because He does the best for us He can
And that's
not much.
The
that sicken
women,
for their
Casting their horns, yet make their profit of them. Eating them up to make their bones the starker, As we should with our troubles.
Ina.
To train them
to keep
housework, and
them
From
bearing burdens
women
should
not bear,
Leave me then
Truly
To
feed upon
my sorrows,
Morag.
and
in truth
They
They would not heed me, neither men nor women why It was the way their fathers did
;
And
you'll find
it
easier
To
God's
letters
down, that we
into
Morag.
may
put
to that,
And
That was
to
?
the
new
stone-pier
This one
words.
make
the boats
Ina.
Ina.
Waits till the lads are drowned, for Indeed, I am not pitying myself; some would rather But the brisk current of my life is fallen The people went away. They told A-slushing among reeds and rushes.
me
Morag.
girls
What,
practise
Has come
righting
of
all
your
wrong
crofters,
Among
folk
?
the
and the
Ina.
Dreams,
idle
dreams
vain dreams of
fond conceit.
Ina.
As
fruitless as the
That
strung
They
say he
is
Kildrostan
383
be brisk and hopeful.
uncle
?
And
So
generous
heart.
And
oh, the
You would
Are
heart can
little,
do
except
you meaning
wish.
To
live
Morag.
You
Wherefore not?
Morag.
Loch, on some They
say
there
is
no
Sabbath
in
evening.
his house.
Mirror each stone, and twig, and tuft of fern, Well And orange lichen on the rock, so clear
Ina.
;
we
could bring
it
with
us.
Morag.
But they
It's like
tell
me
You
scarce could
blur
tell, till
suddenly a
there
breeze
With
it all,
Would
and
was
ing dogs.
And
So
it
cursing drovers.
Ina.
is
with
me
me,
now.
plain to
Nay, he
is
not
strict.
As we
what was
fancy,
fact
are
here
but
that
can
hardly be.
And what
now
all
was
only
and
Morag.
Is like those
shadows gone.
My heart
And
no one thinks of
God
but the
Who
a tailor,
Sitting
it fail
Morag.
But why should
Ina.
I did neglect plain duties here at
upon a cow.
Ina.
you
Mere
But home,
of
truly I
gossip,
Morag
am
not enamoured of
My
uncle's house,
best
And
therefore
met but
failure out
have thought
doors.
'Twere
if
you
could
run away.
And
your heart
sits
is
find
a roof
Who
To
down
in
stirring
For Kenneth till his student days low, as one will be are past. a mist instead of Perhaps a woman has no fitter task
just
to
help
man
to
do
work.
384
Morag.
Ina, I have dreaded
Kildrostan
Ina.
you would go You would not have me lay aside To that old heathen, and I could not my grief, do it, Which has its healing virtue, for And yet I could not leave you. But the set
to live
Kenneth
to
Who
Morag.
And
write
my
look
out
Well
first
for us
Do
Of
Nay, there
is
not speak
heart
is
Doris.
best,
When
the
at
its
No hurry, Morag
nothing yet
is
clear.
And
feelings tremulous
it is
bliss to feel.
There
are
some
people
mostly
is
women
in you.
too
the spring of
Who touch
and lo
what
worst
a happy dream,
Ina.
Enough of me
There
is
no armour but
it
has
its joints,
And
; where the joints are there She's like a wasp whose drone has arrow sticks, little sense. And you who know me best know But its striped tail can sting. But where to seek My weakest points and maybe I then My Lady
:
lost
Well much by
;
am You me
fickle.
Was
with her.
Ina.
cannot than
think
more poorly
of
1 think myself.
they always are together The more's the pity. Can she have some hold
!
Ay
Morag.
I don't think poorly of you. Although I see your faults.
will
On Lady
Margaret?
I've
marked
Why A
here
you shut
to every caller,
as a seal in
and
sit
of late change in her a kind of frightened look And pleading way, and hesitating
speech.
Could
Kildrostan
385
Of
aught but
my own
troubles,
she Dead-weary of himself, as when he sat There at his table, scratching with
a quill
Morag.
To make
can do.
Of
yourself
Is hardly thought
:
and when
not meet that you should speak, Or I should hear such words. He
;
Hush, Morag
'tis
was
did;
my
father,
when
it
dies
You do
not understand
you
never
Begins
to
die
all
through,
in
Isle -
and we
And
oh, I
am
so lonely.
Monach.
Morag.
We had
ladies
a call too
books you read, what thoughts they bred in you. What hours you kept, what friends Oh, they came to note you had, if any, way, my looks, and specially What schemes were shaping in your my dress, busy head. And to retail the gossip, as they went Or even how you dressed But you Their round among the neighbours.
Ina.
At
Corrie-Eylert.
What
My
Morag,
Let me
Folk's hearts
their habits
tell
you
than
that's
might go With any one, and anywhere, in And he would never notice.
yourself
rags.
And
are
often
better
Have
for
told
me
that
he scarcely heeded
Thejr're
sorry
you,
but
aught
Firstly, except Secondly and Lastly Write, writing, every day and all
But
day long.
Moreover, when I said that, 'twas not he Why should you grieve for him, I blamed, for he was good oh, so much better Because he is in heaven, and has Than I and still with conscience no care made his life Of writing sermons now, and is not so
Whom
That's a hard saying, Morag. Can Ina. you think I will not hear you, Morag, this is cruel. My grief is for myself, and not for At such a time. If I was a malapert, him 'Twere fitter to rebuke than second me.
I
have
lost
Morag.
25
386
Kildrostan
it all
Which you were fain had been forgot. Come jarring back upon your ear, Come jarring back upon your heart.
To
It
what was
his
office
The The
And smite it with a keen remorse. When you would shape a better course. And hope to play a nobler part.
There, day by day, his hand would
write
Made me
speak.
But
yet
spake amiss,
New
now
sermons, but
the
thought was
And
rightly
am
humbled.
old-
Dear father,
Fresh- minting the same brass or gold, you wantonly And careful but to coin it right In petulance of youth. I had no For with unshaken confidence He stood upon the old safe ground. mother. And turned the problem round and Morag,
Pardon me.
that I judged
Scold
me
well, Ina
it
will
do you
round.
good. I thought to rouse, and I have only crushed you. Nay, spare me not, an old conceited
fool!
And
still
sense.
And hoped
By
rounding periods ; and she said That it would be by sleep instead Only, you are my bairn. Oh, better that she had been dumb For now it all came back again. Ina. The scratching of the patient quill. There ; go away. The paper that he needs must fill. I daresay you meant well, but there All changed into a choking pain. are sores
May
not be touched but with a skilful hand. Not with rough loving even. You think I pity I hate myself, when I reMyself!
ACT
I. SCENE IV.
Chorus.
All from the many-moulded door member On to the three-cusped window high, The failure of my duty and my love To him and yet the burden of my Every stone on the pavement floor Marks where the chiefs and their sorrow kinsmen lie Is bound on me by what is best in me. And when I part from it my good Dark slabs carved with the great Cross-sword, departs.
:
Therefore I clasp
hearts.
it
to
my
heart of
And And
the
fish,
and the
galley,
with
Chorus.
Holy
Word;
Ah me
The
but it is hard to hear But all in the damp moss swathed and echo of your own wrong thought bound.
!
Kildrostan
387
lain,
You
you, Kenneth
?
are sad
and
Kenneth.
And the tread of time, as it hastens past, Oh, these thoughts will come And the seeds of life, and the wrath When nothing ails you, as the clouds
Casting
do when which is fair to see. The sun is brightest. Some day to grieve that he never can stay long ? Bring back the glory that wont to be. Ina.
of man
down
that
You
will not
There
at
No
but an hour
is
grave
Sadly a youth and a maiden stood, And only the lap of the rippling wave Broke on the hush of their solitude ; Beautiful she, but as marble white. And looked like a monument planted
there.
Yet
it
may
be. Miss,
Too
For
these
isles
Till a broad
beam of the
garish light
hair.
Are hollowed by
you
sit
sea-caves, and
when
Musing
rushing
alone,
IsU-Manach.
Ina.
Around
Thanks, Kenneth.
be alone.
makes
Now,
had once
isle,
Come back
for
me
an hour hence.
Nigh lost his wits ere morning, for he Yes, Miss Ina thought It is good to be here ; yes, for there That every streak of mist, and gleam are of moonshine Good thoughts among the graves, and Pointed and mowed and mocked and in the Islands laughed at him. Better than in the towns. So weird-like was the feeling of the
Ina.
place.
?
Kenneth.
and he
What
Well
kind of thoughts
Ina.
Are you
and
you a
you a scholar
poet, born
And
To
dreams
on
and
memories are
all
But I am not
like
we have
live
in the
To
Highlands.
of
388
Kildrostan
We judge a stranger
ways,
right.
by our home-bred
rule of
You
lost
a friend in
sleeps here.
Kenneth.
I lost ray hope in
life.
And
Ina.
so did I,
taken
to be
We've
hills
not so the
with her.
Perhaps
rare
'tis
we
With
of genius, and
things beautiful,
the love
And
and of
all
my
little
maid
to
Of letters,
for lack
make
That we should
let
A
Its
Of needful
culture.
am
very sure
My
And
life
How
to
thank her.
Ina.
Mairi
Kenneth.
And
still
your pretty
Mairi
And
wild-flower.
Only with
brighter hues.
Ina.
Kenneth.
Ah
You
gloom
have fallen out, and hence your thoughts are sad. But how should she be lost to you
because She's with her cousin
?
At all. She is too grand to now And Doris only mocked me.
Ina.
see
me
Nay,
Kenneth.
in that
She's a lady.
With
dreamed
And
footsteps tread Shall
am
But you
There was a
And
it
down, and
leave
stUl
note
As when
Which
sing.
had writ
it,
And
in
loved
it.
for
my
it
in the great
Kildfostan
389
And Doris made a comic rhyme of it, These fishers' homes, which you do And said it over to me ^very clever, know so well. And funny, but there was no heart in it Dear to the world by your recital of Yet it was like my own oh, very like The patience and the pathos of
Only the
soul
was gone.
Ina.
their lives.
Ah that was cruel But Mairi did not know of it, be sure.
!
The tragedies enacted on the sea. And hunger of the body and soul alike Where bread and books are scarce.
Kenneth.
Kenneth,
Do
you think so
That
?
I will,
Miss
to
you
to help us
Ina.
Nay,
She
is
am
Ina.
certain of
it.
a girl
whom
Nay,
neither wealth,
truth.
That
is all
past
and gone.
nor arts
Kenneth.
Why
for that.
is it
gone
Thank you
Ina.
Ina.
This
trust in her.
is
a man's
;
work
have been
a failure
Be
And made
I loved,
whom
sure
its
And
death
Come
My
Kenneth.
I will remember.
way of
did no good to any one, and now life must needs be far
isles.
Grey
Ah
Ina.
Sir Diarm'td.
a name.
As
Are
am
songs
brooks,
How now, Kenneth ? thought you never left your books, except sure you wLU do, for your To trim the boat, and set the lines.
I
like the
murmur of
wind
the running
Kenneth.
to
Or
like the
that breathes
upon I had
sir,
Isle-
the woods,
Monach.
And
Was
it
note
that
they must
Going now
the boat
I'll
this,
Kenneth
you
see
39
Kildrostan
Kenneth.
Ina.
Yes,
Sir D'tarmid.
sir.
Nay,
it is
The
place
yours
but yet
it
holds
Good-bye
[Exit Kenneth,
my
Ina, forgive
me
that I followed
I
Into your
still
retreat.
And
Our
Making
crag,
It
is
not so long
parted.
And
What
Gathers around these mouldering abbey walls. Draped with pale lichens, and with
graceful tufts
Yes
Sir Diarmid.
!
know.
Of
By
small-leaved
ferns,
embraced
that
my
answer,
now.
reverence
dutiful,
With
brightens
Their sad and tottering cunning hand the river Carved these dark tombstones with Scorns not the stream that their pregnant symbols
Nay, do not wrest my words. I only meant sustains and That we were once of the same stock, and still. What age. After our kindly Highland way,
left to turn
the mill,
And
?
right
But gladly welcomes back had an Art and a Religion, sense of beauty and a hope in God, The mill-race to its bosom, having been Nobler than ours. shallow and a stony brook without it. Do you come Ina, you will make an empty life often here ? Once more a flowing river full and glad. Ina.
Oh
yes,
the
isle
is
Ina.
And
it
yet
love
it
more
for
what
This
1
is
hides
for the grace that hides
it.
like these
Than
stand-
Where
Sir D'tarmid.
know
but sorrow.
Ah
Forgive me. be alone.
know.
rather
Sir Diarmid.
You would
Know
Why
Kildrostan
391
When What
is it,
Ina
Something troubles
Broken and
should
it
spent,
ebbs
the
do
with
its
you. back, what You used to be a leal, true-hearted girl. And frank and brave and not fantastical.
But
mingle
in.
new
wave Have
flowing
And
swell
volume
lost
Should not
blend with
No, indeed
Whom
you have
now
You
other love.
changed
to
me
;
nor
And make an undivided absolute bliss. I never trusted you as now I do To fill and glad our life ? Yet it Nor felt before how desolate life will be
is
true.
This
place
get
is
all
too
sombre
let
us hence.
Without you. Yet I came here now to make, Over his grave, a vow that weraust part.
And
the
sunshine
Ina.
round
us
Which
well
may
be the breaking of
as within.
one heart.
Sir Diarmid.
in
me.
am
if
it
come
truly
most unhappy maid ; and what Yet why should any hearts be broken, was said Ina? Must be as if it never had been said. Ina.
Sir Diarmid.
Listen our
Ina.
we had
not
told
him
of
it.
What
It
Love
Sir Diarmid.
wrong
Do
me
still ?
was
his
sudden
illness,
not
my
will
Ina.
That kept me
?
silent.
Do
Yet
Ina.
Sir Diarmid.
thus
Yes, indeed, I know But when he lay a-dying, I becalmly thought me, Not witting that the end could be
so near.
That
you
:
it
to
know
If
it is
best for
our bliss
you while I live And it is bliss, whatever come of it. and have no hope But oh, instead of comforting, it made in love. stormy bar across the river-mouth Sir Diarmid. Of life to him, and trouble and alarm. If it is best for me But it's not best Sir Diarmid. It is the worst and bitterest could But why befall me.
I cannot cease to love
Yet I can
live,
:;
392
Kildrostan
Clear in my mind, to you,
Ina.
it
He
And
Something
all I
but
it
was half-articulate
And
I
that
through
his
heard was
" Doris."
am
sure
That was
Sir JDiarmid.
meaning.
Sir Diarmid. Doris, said you ? Well, now my heart is light again, and I Well, it is a riddle Couldlaugh like children at apantomime. That puzzles me to solve. Shall we Why, how could Doris come between then shape us two ? Our lives by their hard puzzles ?
Ina. I cannot
tell
;
Ina.
No, indeed
But yet
it
Sir Diarmid.
would be
selfish if I
shrank
From a plain duty for the pain it costs, But what has Doris Cattanach to do With us, and with our love ? And do Or clung to that which would bring hurt to you. you mean, Ina, that you could give me up to her Sir Diarmid.
.'
Ina.
me most were
Ina.
Ah,
life is
very hard.
Sir Diarmid,
me
with
and thunder.
Nay,
life
with love
Or wed a Upon an
:
know.
Now
think no more of
Ina.
this.
right,
If I were only
The
mind
often does
Sir Diarmid.
On
the
You
said plainly,
Nay, he
"
It
must
not
be
you
must
not
my
love him."
Sir Diarmid.
And
Fate meant us
for
Well
But
that's past helping, Ina.
Ina.
But
if I
were
to be a
burden to you.
Ina.
Sir Diarmid.
Yes, I know.
left
this
want that very burden, cannot rise Without it to the heights where I would soar,
I
Kildrostan
393
Sir Diarmid.
More
tail.
its
loaded
There,
Ina, cast these fears away, and
now
'tis
good
Come,
To
speak,
yourself,
on that happiest day of life to me When first our lips were framed to tell
our love.
As
A Highland
Chief.
I
I think,
And you
home
bore
Amid What
a busy life, like this old house. But yet the task time the monks lived in it, and
hard.
the folk
Ina.
Learnt of them letters, arts, and piety. You have a dainty fancy, and it made For I
That
have
failed.
know
well.
A pretty picture.
Ina.
And
yet the
lie
hindrances
To
But
it
In our
own bosoms.
Sir Diarmid.
Diarmid, you
here
is
may do
May be.
greatly needed.
Where work
They hold
And
I take
Could
To work
as
much
as sport,
and had
A patient,
According
have not
They
to their
have made
But they
You need no
provides.
Nay, do not think of me The place of eminence and influence. help but what their love Which love has kept for you. Besides,
our age.
The
past,
The more its spirit is religious, cleaves The more to secular forms, and will
not take
Its
And
all their happiest memories cluster round Those of your name and you. They
shape from
priests.
may
false
To men
;
Sir Diarmid.
But you
will help
me, Ina
it ?
WUl
say,
be
my
inspiration if I try
and they
Ina.
are yours.
Oh,
if
What other inspiration can you need Than to redress old wrongs, and help
the growth
And
of love.
Rooted
Of civil
polity,
and
self-control.
394
Kildrostan
glad
by
fruitful
What
has
Was
all
And
The
Sir Dlarmid.
There
every
I
word you
say but
I
Hear you the low sweet laughter Comes rippling from its lips ? shows
not
me more
How
Only
much
;
need you.
am
a hero a
What has come over the waters ? What has come over the trees ?
Highland
laird, as indolent
As
all
men
are
whose
Ina.
life
is
in sport.
And
So
I but a
weak woman
their
1
;
I can
is
do
little.
And
life
an old
my
heart, or thou
growth
Of time
to be
a heritage of history.
their
Not shaped by
intention,
nor
ACT
II. SCENE
Chorus.
I.
Fond of shooting,
fishing, hunting,
Now,
Sound of bagpipe, drum, or fife, Yacht and sail and flying bunting There's All the ways of savage life ;
shall
nought so strong
As
a clear-sighted
as
woman.
you
in
You
Do
will,
when
Sick of clubs and jolly fellows. Play and pantomime and clown, Novels bound in blues and yellows All the idle ways of town ; I Tired of all the strife of Parties,
This
hand
it
mine.
Ina.
Solemn dinners, routs, and drums. Public meetings where no heart is,
And
?
a chairman
youth do
when the
river
lie.
His
last
words, mind
Sir Diarmid.
And the sun is shining ever. And the trouting streams are dry, And the grouse-cock gaily crowing
:
And
Were
No
Chorus.
truly.
\_Exeunt.
What
Fears not either dog or gun. the partridge broods are growing. While the corn grows in the sun ? Weary he of fly and feather. Weapon shining on the shelf. Weary of unchanging weather, Weary maybe of himself; For he was not meant for daily Bringing basket full, or bag.
And
Kildrostan
395
Shooting grouse or capercailzie, Stalking of the timid stag. What shall he do, weary-laden. If in such a vacant hour He shall happen on a maiden Lovely as a sweet wild-flower, With a noble nature truly,
Pointing him to noble deeds,
All sensible folk are tiresome. Have you heard That ever any of our ancestors Mingled their blue blood with a gipsy
witch's?
Lady MacAlpine.
What do
Plucking up the thoughts unruly Growing in his mind like weeds. Opening to his soul a grander Life than he has lived before. As among the hills they wander. Or beside the grey sea-shore ?
Sir Diarmid.
Only
this, that I
Am
And
Or
with the
first
crisp
bursting of
the leaf.
Ah
That now lifts his heart above Vacant mood and vain complaining, Lapt in bliss of early love
!
ing yet
Scene
Kildrostan,
Sir
Diarmid (singing).
"
Begin to feel a stirring in my veins. As if I must be off into the woods. And hang a kettle on a tripod o'er fire of sticks, and steal my own young hares. Yet here is half the summer past, and
still
I'm
at
the chimney
nook.
Had
Why
baronet, I should have been a poacher Goes pit-a-pat to hear it; like the merle In shabby velveteen, and had a lurcher That sees a gled o'erhead. Surely Close at my heels, and half my days you are not in jail. Tired of me yet. And half i' the moors and woods. I
My
not been
old heart
wonder we Sir Diarmid, Can hate them so, they are so like Nay, mother, not of you ; ourselves. You're always pleasant company but somewhat Lady MacAlpine. A-weary of the weather which is bad, Don't talk so idly, you do let your Being so good, and of myself a little. tongue And of the world in general. Run off with what small sense you have.
Lady MacAlpine.
Don't be
Sir Diarmid.
I think I never
silly.
Sir Diarmid.
But how
was more
sensible.
About that gipsy, mother ? I am sure There must have been one in our
family tree.
But
to be sensible is to be dull
396
; ;
Kildfostan
While they are old i' their Yet I must go. Lady Margaret Mer- Only I would not leave you
from
it
Was
Or
she
dropt
as
a rotten
teens.
branch,
christened
rilees,
quite
alone.
Lady MacAlpine.
?
Hold your
Your
born.
peace.
A promise,
Far rather would
you.
I
mother
be at
home with
And
best
blood of
the land.
Sir Diarmid.
I mean to spend my days In sheer respectability, and go Duly to church, and play the justice too.
Well, mother, do not frown atme ; I do But jest, and yet it was a foolish jest.
And
and
lecture
sit
rogues
and vagabonds,
The
Having
nought to do, On Boards, and manage every one's I've seen you bring old rubbish from affairs. your drawers Like a true Chief. But there's a Scraps of brown lace, housewifes, and College friend baby linen. Who worships Thor and Odin, when Buttons, old dingy letters, battered he tires
thimbles
And
litter all
the
Of Zeus and Aphrodite and Apollo And I had 'promised he should see
the land
my Of
mind About me
too,
and sorry
stuff
it is.
From which
adventures.
Lady MacAlpine. So now he writes me he is coming Well, well ; you might find matter for here your jests To-day, and I must get the old yawl
Fitter than those to
whom
you owe
'Tis
in trim.
your being.
And
stay at
Norroway.
home.
age.
A friend who
the
Why,
man
a pagan.
Sir Diarmid.
Must be
Old age
Sir Diarmid.
I meet.
My little
something of a pagan and a poet. mother. You never can grow old, your heart's Yet no bad fellow, either, in his way. He will not sacrifice the sheep, or kids, so young.
Well
he rather
is
Kildrostan
397
Pagan
but are not sure
Or
horses
Incline to
cults,
Content with fruits and flowers and Whether is best the wine libations. Barbarian
Greek
or the
to
Lady MacAl^ne.
While some
both,
that
prefer
pure Atheism
Is
what
And
will
have neither
life,
At
College
now ?
Sir Diarmid.
day,
and
other
on
the
Yes
Boating
or
hunting.
lives.
Lawn-tennis, or to
Lady MacAlpine.
Diarmid, you have not
lost
your faith
not
my
Lady MacAlpine.
mother
:
Now
I
you
know
it
by your
look
As
jest
Sung
if
o'er
my
parents'
homes with-
You
fiend ironical
?
hold to that.
mocking
ful things
better thought
and even
Sir Diarmid.
It
may
their
As
if it
homes
stript
cussed.
There's Ina
Lome
hair
reads books
would
pass.
man
And besides, To
make my
stand on end.
Sir Diarmid.
May
wish new clothes, who is not wholly naked. May feel he has outgrown his baby
robes.
No
Her
fear of Ina,
mother
that re-
And
May be ashamed too of his rustic fit, And fain to dress his soul in the last
fashion.
minds me now. She is It was of her I meant to speak. Alone in that dull house, and for a
while
alone:
And wear it jauntily. So we are grown You too will be you not To be a sort of dandies in religion, At present. Have her with Affecting the last mode.
solitude
l
why
should
398
Kildrostan
We
common fault among our Highare her kinsfolk, and I've heard landers. you say She makes a good day in a drizzling We're not enthusiasts for the people s
rain.
rights
Lady MacAlpine.
She
sees no and claims
visitors,
More shame
to us that she
is
so alone
Lady MacAlpine.
Diarmid, what will Doris say
not taken kindly to each
Sir Diarmid.
to it?
The
Sir Diarmid.
They have
cannot
be,
rude
she
other.
Of all
to you.
Why, what
:
it ?
Lady MacAlpine.
Well, no but what means this This new-born care for cousins who would scarce Count kin save in the Highlands ? You're not wont To speak so warmly of them.
Sir Diarmid.
Lady MacAlpine.
She'll think
It is her place to
keep
me company,
And
Sir Diarmid.
Why
That
For some
are
bores,
is
true
should it be her place I and why should she And Resent your choice of Ina ?
indeed
gossips born,
That
butterflies,
girl is too
much with
you.
And
some
are
are wasps.
Lady MacAlpine.
But Ina's not
And some
like
are geese.
them.
Draws
somewhat
flighty,
is
near
and
Lady MacAlpine.
No
but
?
she's
she not
Sir Diarmid.
How
mean you
What time ? what do you mean ? What is there to arrange with her?
Lady MacAlpine.
Oh
yes
Well, she always has some new About her shootings I will see to Enthusiasm some pet scheme or other, that. To remedy the lot of our poor folk. Lady MacAlpine,
is
Which
yet
it.
Her
shootings
nonsense
'tis
about
Sir Diarmid.
herself.
Yes!
Sir Diarmid.
all
Maybe
For
likes
her
not
Now,
the more
if it
fault, at least it's
many fathoms
Than my
Kildrostan
;;;
399
Lady MacAlpine. Did not your father tell yon. As he lay dying, how things stood With
between Doris and you
?
Lady MacAlpine.
A spoilt child
that
Sir Diarmid.
; he was very fain That I should wed her some day, and I promised For that I saw his heart was set on it That I would try to love her if I
untamed But unripe fruit is bitter oft mouth, Yet mellows with the months.
Sir Diarmid.
the
Well
But has she mellowed ? could not bear to leave you here with her
Ina too so lonely.
could.
And
if I
Lady MacAlpine.
Never
fear
Lady MacAlfine.
And was
Of hard
that
all I
was
in the old
sterner hint
necessity
'Twere well
to plant
to feather
it
softly, not
Sir Diarmid.
Lady MacAlpine.
A
me
thorn.
Oh To
To
it
on
never stings
blur a father's
memory.
promised
love
her,
Lady MacAlpine.
and you'U keep your
promise.
Sir Diarmid.
Why
you,
her be.
house, of course, will be mother ? strangely moved. He's rich and solitary. If you have I said that I would love her if I could. nothing And I tried hard, but she would never Against poor Doris but her childish let me. freaks. Even as a girl she always spited me. Would you for them neglect your Threw stones into the pool where I dying father's was angling, So earnest wish ? Tore down the nests I watched with Sir Diarmid. tender care,
Troubles
And
Nay, not for them alone. rode my pony till she foundered Mother, no man, that is a man, would him, care Cruel as well as spiteful.
40O
Kildrostan
Lady MacAlpine.
Diarmid,
To To
you
love
your
father's
her humility
When she is bitter, I cannot abide her. And yet I loathe her more, when she
is
sweet.
;
Ask me no more
.
indeed,
tried
Sir Diarmid.
and
failed
my
Indeed I would. But who Can take from me the picture of his
goodness.
wares.
Hung
in the
inmost chamber of
my
heart.
You
As men
about
set
Diarmid.
For worship.
This
girl,
Then
harms not
memory to me.
'tis
a liking that I
I wot not what to do. This task Should never have been left to me. I leave her Eden tell you All to herself, than company with her. Have I not seen you frown, with You have no choice but marry Doris now. mingled shame Sir Diarmid. And anger, at her reckless speech ?
never shall. one Eve In all the world, I'd rather, for
And
The
Lady MacAlpine.
my share.
Ah me
thorns
and
briars
outside,
and
for
still
Her
if
You
love
And
What
would not
time
like,
I think, to
sit
on nettles
my
to speak.
Me
has her faults
to
tell
Diarmid,
have
we
love,
When
mend them.
death has hallowed love in youth Had wasted his estate with cards and dice;
his hot
Sir Diarmid.
What must
Must
to
it
be
And
also
so be
You
speak in
me.
my hand, which brought much wealth, riddles He promised ne'er to gamble while he lived.
why,
; !
Kildrostan
401
Happy
his
our
life
And
live
like
him
word
ever,
closeted
Only the spirit, cheating conscience so He never had a secret thought from me With words depleted of their natural But now he kept me in the dark,
sense.
and that
this
Then came
my
love.
It
soon appeared child, and very This clever, scheming man had led rich him on He had been born a crofter in Glenara, Who knew no more than I to speculate Was a contractor and a money-lender, In foreign loans, and mines, and for And there were strange things whisthe rise pered about him And fall of markets ; and he, all I know not with what truth, of course, unskilled but men To watch the turns o' the tide, bought Were shy of him who had been in in too soon, And sold too late, and gambled all away. the East, As many here had been. But 'tis Ah me the weary days the anxious looks too much ; The fretful temper and the settled I cannot go on with it. gloom, With the fell crash at last Sir Diarmid.
Quite right, mother Sir Diarmid. Let Doris and her dubious father drop But why recall Out of your mind ; they only give This story now, since, after all, we you pain.
have
Lady MacAlp'me.
Would
tell
that
were
wring
possible
I must
you
all,
it
for all our wants ? What need to cry O'er our spilt milk, when all our pails
Enough
Howe'er
my
heart.
He
are
full.
settled near us
And
though his
the
cow
yields as ever
Costly,
luxurious,
ways
gone.
a bit
all
were coarse.
One day he
told
me
that
my
was
And
The
Your
fitting
And
dim Highland
I,
like you,
said lightly.
Never
mind
glens.
We
stUl,
and our
old love.
At the
Which none
therewithal.
rob us
the
of.
But
and
He
gloomier,
402
Kildrostan
Lady MacAlpine. Himself, his friend, and all the ravenous crew I thought your father told you. Of jobbers and promoters. Then I But that's not all. There is another
said.
bond.
Now,
let us
have no secrets
Of
that full
indeed.
if you claim her hand ere you have passed all our losses, the decay Your four and twenty years, then she trust that made us one and all Her gathered wealth are yours.
;
that has
That
may
find a
way
I
To mend
At
Sir Diarmid.
was sore
his concealment, sorer than I said,
How,
heart
is
if I fail
For empty
purse,
Lady MacAlpine.
That
will be very ruin.
And
Sir Diarmid.
neglect.
But when
Cattanach
found
that
Malcolm
every acre
What,
if I ask,
Had And
Of
led
him on and
o'
on,
till
Lady MacAlpine.
every stone
the
house,
and
To
every right
fishing,
land.
But she
bond To him
heart
for
moneys
lent
and
lost,
my
all this
Sir Diarmid.
I daresay not.
Lady MacAlpine.
Yes, years ago.
Sir Diarmid.
Are we
beggars, then.
On
Doris' charity
Ah
Lady Mac Alpine.
I
My jointure,
After your father's death. Not otherJust driven to the door wise youth, Could you have gone fo College.
friend
handsome
But yet
Sir Diarmid.
a bit effeminate.
I'll see
him
At
this,
dinner time.
Sir Diarmid.
It
is
Had
I
known
would not
years
so
have wasted
all
these
unfortunate
His coming
fruit
Be
civil,
For wintry
days.
; !
Kildrostan
403
his rating well,
Chorus.
Although he did
he
is
Vain
for a
man
to think that
fain to
know
!
'Twould need a wiser man to tell. Still Zeus to him was Great and
Mighty,
Still
Still
dream that she does not see, Because her seeing she does not show
cannot lie with a guileless look Of innocence pure that falters not, And she will read like a printed book The riddle of his most secret thought.
He
Dian brushed the evening dew. Naiads haunted fount and brook. And life was like a fairy-book : Well she saw where his love was given. Or Odin stern came back again, Saw that her tidings had quenched his And Thor, and noble Balder slain By Loke's dark counsel, and the Tree. light, Saw that he grasped, as if for heaven, Great Ygdrassil, of Mystery, hope that would leave him in sorry And all the Myths of ancient Night, Myths of the dawn and growing light. plight.
Still
Still
And oh that Ina might be her daughter Oh the dread of his fated wife Oh the hopes that were writ on water Oh her boy, and his shipwrecked life
Myths of the
And
! !
life
and
eternal war.
Scene
Kildrostan
Park.
Sir
Durmid
and Tremain.
ACT
Ah
To
!
II
SCENE
Sir Diarmld.
II.
So we give up our
'Tis well scarce
;
Chorus.
for, as it
happens,
it
would
what
Have
suited
it ?
me
to go.
You'll not
volcano as a boon
its
regret
Tremain.
O O
moods
!
Why
And
horror of
its
lava floods
'Twas
left.
sudden
So troubled and amazed were they. So feared what he might do or say. That youth fantastical whose wit With the old Pagan cult was smit.
sudden
Sir Diarmid.
No
What
other reason
And
swell.
Tremain.
bell.
divine.
Must
a club
And
To knock down
The
vapour
off,
Daily their simple souls were shocked With fleering scornful words that
mocked
I choose to
have
It
my
is
whims, and
let
At Faith and Unfaith, nothing loth, At God and Science, lightlying botlv
But what the shallow heart believed Of all it praised, and all it grieved.
them go
E'en
as I
list.
a folly, man,
404
Kildrostan
loom darkly, and the waves Lashed into madness, which I master so But there's a nice breeze tripping on That by the sense of power we relish the loch, more Tipping the waves with foam. Have The soft delights of love. But your
Sir Diarmid.
Ideal storms
As
you
like.
To
in a
merry
And
faugh
;
they give
life is lost,
gale
blisters first,
Trema'm.
Nay,
that's
all
past.
hate
and
lose a perfect
boisterous
life.
Give me the calm of Tempe, where 'Tis needful for my Art that I should have no wind Blows on the vine-stocks roughly, and Nice touch and taste and smell and sight and hearing, where love gates may fine Pants in the sunshine dreamily among That through all
The
lotus leaves
and asphodels.
sensations pass
Into
Sir Diarmid,
my
!
being,
and enrich
my
lifp.
What
Are
all
then
Sir Diarmid.
?
Tush
man
efl^eminate
sea.
As you
aflPect.
And
of
life
there,
and
in
With
Nor
storm,
A
I
held a tiller, nor yet mean to do harp, even, blunts the finger-tips. You think be effeminate is to be weak : hold that manhood only then
To
Moonshine
But poetry of course.
fellows,
!
is
surely no
perfect,
you
dull
And
to facts,
absolute
refinement,
and
will
Tied down
you
answer,
Like
part.
the
wind- harp,
in
tremulous
sit
and
response
dream
To
pinnace with
Of lying in a On a pard's
dyed
my
love.
How then
Employ your holiday
are rough.
?
shall
you
Of
Our ways
by
use.
Nor do we
down, Tremain, And watch the pulsing globe, and If I might just go on as now we do, tangled arms Bound to nxD method, held to no Of myriad Medusas. Then I see set plans,
;;
405
so
Kildrostan
Floating as fancy wills, or Fate decrees
Those
hills
are
beautiful
in
the
freckled
and
purple lights
To
upon the quiet
the
Of
evening, glassed
for
me
loch
And
weird-like
are
Sir Diarmid. wavering Never was such a plea for barbarism Pleaded before.
Tremain.
in the cloudland of old
Which hover
times
Ajid yet
as
good a one
worshipping
As you
a maid.
;
shall
find
for
And pleasant is the swaying of the boat, And lapping of the waters and I
think I could write something smacking of the life Of the young world, while yet the
Until she
is
Why is
When
barbarous a savage,
it
with
in
her
the
gods were
in
it.
Washed
white
linens
sparkling brook. As I look round and see the fisherAnd lovers lay upon the grass, and women noted Wade through the surf i' the twilight The dainty feet that splashed the to the boats.
or her sweet-
shining spray
maybe,
Welli you
Sir DiarmiJ.
Borne pick-a-back.
Sir Diarmid.
may
A barbarous custom
Have
tried to
these ways,
And
at
The way
The
of progress.
But
you'll not
persuade
me
Tremain.
do not mock
at
them.
I never felt
More Than
Ay,
be.
in vain
Let
it
drive your modern ploughshare reason. over all But how about this Doris you should The ways of primitive custom, making wed.
Why
We
hope
to
master
prejudice
by
them
And
so
will not,
loyalty to love
her
a link
life
Sir Diarmid.
Of
a
loyal
service.
Had
but such
Naiad
As
4o5
Kildrostan
As Of
certainly
know.
there-
we
men
know
and I hate
dare
lips.
girls that
my
Their
It is a
life
Is love
the
touch
o'
th'
wedding
ring.
Doris
is
Tame and
Troy
she's just a
Highland
And
Or
strain.
You
cheek.
beautiful
Sir Dlarmtd.
Truly
yet
with
dangerous
kind
But you
said
of beauty, Hers was a dangerous beauty, like Beauty as of a panther or a snake. the serpent's. Lustrous and lithe ; or so at least And that is what I like above all things. she shows Serpents twine round you, clasp you Her To me who love her not. in their folds.
father wedded And charm you with a gaze that does In the far East a Hindoo girl, and so not flinch ; The daughter is not, like our High- Firing you as the many-husbanded land maids, Helen was wont to do, till men Ruddy and large with amber in would lose
their hair,
The world
and supple, and the sun
with
olive.
for
one
brief rapture of
But
slight
her
kiss.
has dyed
Sir Diarmid.
Her cheek
most
fair.
Yet she
is
you misconstrue
me.
Tremain.
So fancying
me.
'Tis just
her.
Ah now
!
you
interest
the kind
Tremain.
Who
Egyptian Queen's conquered the querors, and the sun I like to play with adders. I had one Had softly dusked the snow of cheek I loved once as you love your dog, and bosom, and had
^
Helena's There's nothing else against her, the grand Except that dangerous beauty, which is only world's con- The prejudice of people commonplace.
That
chills
our
northern
women.
Subtler
communion
with
it,
richer
There's no joy
thoughts
: !
Kildrostan
407
you womanly,
From
its
uprearings, and
shall
its
wondrous
Whom
call
to
me
is
eyes
watery
get
Than you
hound
touch.
With
its
rough shows of
Sir Diarmid.
How
changed from the grand creature Nature made For joy, and music, and thegiddy dance. There's a And glorious passion
!
My
dog should jump on me, and story of wheel about Pelagia, leader of the mimes at Antioch Barking for joy, than have an adder On the Orontes how she came one day twine Up from the silvern baths with her Slow folds about me. But tastes differ. fair troop
;
Tremain.
Of
is
girls,
life,
all
of
a worse
They
and
differ
yet
there
And
better.
is
lures of love,
For
taste
The crown of culture is a perfect taste, The Which lacking, men are blind and
The
cannot see higher wisdom.
of
it
down
of his horns And as she came, arrayed in purple skirt 'Tis the want Of Tyrian, golden bracelets on her
That
floods
the
world
with
wrists.
stale
stupidities,
And
tinkling
anklets,
and the
flash
And
mind
bosom,
on her brow of
Of misbegotten fallacies. Tastes differ And so do faiths and policies, but yet Lo
Their differences are not
Sir Diarmid.
indifferent.
baked
You need
used
it,
man.
dirt of some dim cave where he had burrowed With bats and owls, looked wistfully I
With
on her.
one
does
A
Not
common
current coin.
And
craftily assailed
Upon
the counter.
Another Magdalene
to
serve
his
Tremain.
Lord Wherewith
leave
penitent.
doubt the taste that shrinks from such a girl As you describe your Doris that is all. The kind of woman, bred of Christian
:
To
And
Of
her robes
and
her
bright
and
joyous ways
cult.
So winsome, and
in squalid
garb arrayed
4o8
Kildrostan
!;
Of
And
give
fit
houses,
Pale as a
In rhythmic music.
a
shadow
called a saint.
What
Trematn.
think you
now
of such a work
?
as that
To
pleasure
Heaven with
While
the
'Twas but an echo you and others tossed From mouth to mouth, and thought that you had thought.
Sir Diarmid.
earth.
make of
her
Sir Diarmid.
Echo
I prithee,
peace, man.
know
This
is
Tremain.
but spinning
moonshine for
Nay,
for art
is
not
the love
The
is its
own
excuse,
Interrupt
And
me
What,
not.
if
Sir Diarmid,
your leader of the mimes had been chaste pure maiden, daughter of a
home
mother-love enfolded her in Ideals good or evil, as you call them customs Art doth fulfil her office, but comes As sweet as lavender, and that she met short Some gay apostle of the flesh, and as Of her vocation when she aims at aught His penitent, became what you But perfect form and colour and have known ? harmony. The world is bad enough, and false Sir Diarmid.
Where
gloss to prove
The
devil
is
up to that
: I did not count on getting such Art-lectures from you. Keep them and does for the freshmen.
Enough
its
dark-
not need
Tremain.
You make
Let
you
this
When
For
he goes masking.
;
Of
that
which
stuff alone
in nature.
will,
Or weave
think
it
into verses, if
The The
Shop-keeping
in
my
stir
youth's
fond
As
ethics, Pharisee respects high Art must minister to them. Like a fair tablemaid who must not
if
speak.
Kildrostan
But
409
Tremain.
Girls like that
let
I hate
it all.
For
and good, yea sense and Can't walk about the shore incognito : nonsense, Art, You surely know her ; think of it again. Soaring above them in her own bright I did but pass some pretty complimentevil
realm.
Thrown
in
at her, to
be picked up
if
she
Yet
Not spoken to her an impromptu verse and music and divinest vision. That sprang up to my lips at such a But you are still in bonds to commonvision
chose.
Of light
place.
Of might
And
When
As
if
me
such
o'er
a look,
Nor
in
me
Bedlam
less conceit
the crag Into the pool, then leisurely swept on. is she? All the fisher folk
For
Who
of wisdom.
Tremain.
would say
Was, "It
will be
Miss Ina."
By
the way.
Sir Diarmid.
Upon
There's one thing more I wish to Ay, that was know. Last night. Ever her favourite walk. Now, if Or rather in the gloaming, as you you chance have it. To meet her there again, best let her
the heights, beside the waterfall
like a tremulous white veil
That wavers
pass
Of
I
rock,
They
Oh,
But
belike
hills.
The
purple glow
was on the
Who
Her
is
she
Sir Diarmid.
Tremain.
Well
Nay, but
and
beautiful,
no matter
my
kinswoman.
lately
A maiden passed me
Robed
all
father
was
our
pastor,
tall
dead
in
black.
Her
step
was
No more
Doris
far
?
of her.
When
shall
we visit
like a queen's,
Pallas- Athene
more
to your taste.
Tremain.
Of strength and
is
courage in her.
Who
she
Sir Diarmid.
How
shotild I
know
No
matter.
Kinswoman,
said
you
;;
4IO
Kildrostan
Sir Diarmid.
With
crafty head.
And
heart elate.
Spinning a thread
Like
hers.
Tremaln.
The
parson's daughter
To baffle Fate Twirl the spindle ever so fast. Let the thread be ever so fine. Fate will rend thy web at last,
Fruitless labour surely thine.
Sir Diarmid.
Sir, I tell
you
She
Sore against thee are the odds Wrestling with the immortal gods
Tremain.
So
I see
Why
That
Doris' beauty
is
so dangerous.
ACT
II. SCENE
Chorus.
III.
eyed.
is
your
style, is't
\_Exit.
a heart undivided.
Sir Diarmid.
And
is
Pshaw
For
why
vexed by no discords of thought. But calm in the hope she had got.
that the grief
should I care
?
for a fool he
is
With
genius,
which
but a trick
Of stringing words
together musically.
How
Of
home
pious, pure-souled
was forgot. were ended. But that the sorrow was blended the With love, and the bliss which
Not
Or
self-reproaches
it
women.
Yet
brought.
he'll serve
My
Once more,
Its feathers,
And
she to him
she
is
not over-nice.
But is it fair that I should plot and scheme To save myself from a detested fate
And And
pondered her favourite books, read with clear sense of their meaning
the fishermen, plying their hooks,
in the
By
And
Would hear
to-
by the mutual attraction of Their kindred natures let them coalesce, If so they will and surely so they will
And
Manse 'mong
the rooks.
is
short.
Yet such
folk
Once more, from her Dante and Goethe, She came into clachan and cot.
My
And
still it
Though her
and duty
be well.
For oh,
Chorus.
The
!
grace that
O O
cunning schemer
idle
Or
the
low
dreamer
Perfect in
soft voice
Kildrostan
Scene
411
Street
Post
Office
Door,
Ina,
Mrs.
Slit,
Doris
Mrs.
iss
Slit.
;
and
it
They are saying he I think. a great bard or Seannachie, though I never heard him sing, or even whistle, as our lad Kenneth will do.
Loch,
iss
a light there will be in the shop this day, because you have been in it
again.
Ina.
Ina.
But Poets make songs, and other people sing them now. However, I must bid you good-bye.
sure
for
to
old
Mrs.
Slit.
it
Good-bye
that will
but
iss
Miss Doris
Och
And
tea.
be coming along the street now ; and which iss more, she will be yes, I will remember them. picking her steps, and sniffing as if her Ina. father would be a Chief instead of a Maybe you will not be Dugald's snufF, and Alisthair's cottar's son.
Mrs.
Slit.
Mrs.
Slit.
Ina.
should I not wish to see it iss the porridge that iss good enough Doris ? But even if I did not, I for him, and more than he deserves, cannot help it now, for she has seen for it would be the whisky that brought me.
And
Why
him
to this.
Mrs.
Ina.
us get
just
Slit.
And
he
take
easier
Mrs.
That
iss
Slit.
true.
Yes
Some
get
teeth.
more, and some get less; some have a penny's-worth for their halfpenny, Good-morning, Doris.
Ina.
You
are early
astir. and some only a farthing's-worth for Doris. their penny ; and it iss the scales of Providence that would not do for a Well, this is pleasant, Ina, seeing you shop, whatever. But I will mind. Abroad, and like yourself again. They Miss Ina. told me Ina. Your eyes were red with weeping
That
going a
is
right.
Diarmid's yacht
trip
is
were so
of
That's right.
What
is
the good
Mrs.
Slit.
injuring
that gets
Och
day.
it iss
that
Poet-man
The
He
will not
be for leaving
tlie
of that.
412
Kildrostan
Doris.
Ina.
Ought one
think of
I don't
know
that I did
it.
:
did not think of cards, I daresay ; yet you've no idea how right, They get you through the evenings, when your heart
Is like to break.
You
Doris.
you look
Ina.
No,
mournmg
Doris.
the blinds, the silence. Well, it's a pity not horrible The people whispering, thedismal looks? give you
I
now;
was so sorry
for you,
and I called
sure.
The
A score of times,
The
Oh,
to
I'm
Ina.
I'm vexed
servant only told
at that
me
about once.
Doris.
twice, at least.
kind of mild excitement which you need When you are low not staking much, you know. Only what will give interest to the game. And when I called that day I meant to try them. In case you had been very bad.
But then
meant
Ina.
;
come
I
and you would not let me in Indeed, I thought of you from morn
So
often,
till
night,
And
I
could
not
my
Oh, thanks daresay you meant kindly, but you do not Quite understand me.
Doris.
sleeping dreams,
was so grieved.
the time
?
How
;
You
hear
folk
say
prehend you.
Why,
half of
Mudie
I day. But that is their stupidity, and when Tell them I see you through
and
You
are so simple.
Ina.
Oh!
Doris.
And
Upon
Pilgrim's
Progress,
just
like
prisoners
And when
I
you shut
Your door, and would not see a visitor, I said it was a proper thing to do.
quite,
Well,
Condemned
to
that
And when
I
the
proper
time
came
are,
Worse company.
my
dear.
Kildrostan
413
do
A miracle
are in
it.
of beauty.
think
it
That
dress,
As
he would like
to
only he
!
rages
how
?
perfect
Where was
dresses
fit
made
But
all
you Ever so eloquent and beautiful At those who overthrow their shrines your and altars.
Ina.
you.
?
Was
this
Doris, you surely do not lend an ear To one who, for the Jiving God,
would
do you mean
?
thrall
you
What
To
He
there
Who
is
Tremain
must be
A shallow
Doris.
are
!
I think
for
some
genius, like
and he
a
Whose
There
is
marsh-light,
you
as
heathen
quite
as
flickers
where
goddess
Not Venus,
handsome.
but
another
And
am
only half
name.
Christian, half a
Brahmin, and a
Why, what
daughter can Diarmid mean, that Goes with the mother mostly, and I like he has never The folks you call poor heathens. Brought him to see you ? What he says, Ina. Besides, is that it does not matter much About our gods, whether they are or Oh, I am not seeing
are not.
Strangers at present.
Or what
Doris.
they are.
The
one thing
call forth,
But
which they
all
And
And
Has
Has
ours
is
now
says.
wrong.
The
of
come
Church, he
;
Which
not often
so
then
he
is
so so
consecrated
grief
instead
handsome,
gladness.
And knows
like that
many
Charmingly wicked
is
people,
and
is
but
you'll
not
cast the shadow of the cross where heaven Poured down the laughing sunshine
;
Of
grown up
to
in a
Manse
every
is
Where
Tremain
one
bound
miracle
is
full
of
good, of course.
quite a pagan, but his gods
;
o'er facts
Are
all
that.
And
worship
Zeus
414
Kildrostan
flowers and
just.
Doris.
They're inseparable. 'Tis strange he has not brought him to the Manse.
Ina.
Do
I
fancy that
a cross
hope
Through sorrow,
morseless Fate
is
you think so ? which tells of Nay, it were stranger to have brought him there better than re- Its air would not agree with him.
Doris.
to
Chaining
I
the
folk
soul
rocks
pleasure
and
piercing ice.
wish
had more
He's
in
quite
revelation
something
Indeed,
new
Entirely in these parts.
Ina.
their lives,
More
flowers and sunshine, though I'd rather not More foxglove, hellebore, and deadly nightshade.
What
Yes, I should hope so. revelation only of the darkness. Not of the light. I think I saw
Conscience
He
thinks
it is
a blister that
it
I took
him
for a
coxcomb
The The
soul so sensitive
cannot bear
Doris.
touch
that
nature
enjoy.
He's very
scornful of
it.
Ina.
So
I fancied
The trifler would despise its inspirations. Zeus never had much conscience.
Doris.
Doris.
Then he
and when You're bridling up
fun
No, indeed has the daintiest fancies, beautiful. Poetic ; and he makes you gasp for
He
brings you
fear
Of what
so nice.
is
anger,
'tis
such
Is it?
watch him sailing off, as if he ing is sure had not Than on the thin and perilous Seen the improper thoughts which bending ice. made you pause. But as you will he does not interest Ina. me. And does Sir Diarmid like a man Doris. like that ? That's odd ; I think I never met a
:
To
cannot think
it.
man
Kildrostan
So
415
Chorus.
interesting,
so
fresh,
and
so
mysterious.
Not
mystery
Ina.
in a
for a
moment
all
distrustful
;
Don't you
like
man
Was
she at
of her lover
Truth,
Doris,
first,
;
and
and manhood
Yet, as she listened, a shiver. As from a cloud passing over. Hike Chilled her and darkened the glory. reverence Radiant, shining above her.
all
And
Doris she knew to be cunning. False too, and deft in her malice, But now, adieu. I am not given to Clever at brewing of poisons. preach, Secret, to drop in the chalice ; And young men, they do say, are And she had masques, like a player's.
is
the true
man
reverent to
women.
not be, I do
No, no, she did not believe her not know. But Doris, were I you, I'd hold aloof Yet was the sting there remaining Oh no her lover was noble From one who grazes improprieties, And does not blush to make a woman And yet it was rankling and paining
:
!
blush.
Who
Horis.
could abide
in
such friendship,
?
Farewell.
are you going, Ina dear ? Isle-Monach ? Yes 'tis natural You should go often there, and Diarmid too
Where
Oh,
to
ACT
Where Where
III. SCENE
Chorus.
I.
of
all
his
Ganges
fathers.
Slowly
Ina.
crumbling bank.
Nightly through the jungle rank. Where the hooded cobra sleepeth I laid My dead in it ; and if Sir Diarmid goes Dreaming of its victim's pang. And its deadly venom keepeth Often, I cannot tell. 'Neath the folded hollow fang.
I
Doris.
I fancied
In a city many-towered a garden gorgeous-flowered, a marble- builded mansion and then, by Stood upon a terrace high.
you
Was And
Where
there
is
so
much
to
attract
you both
Of the
feeling
garden's greenery.
common
kin.
of your
common There the Eastern sun, combining With the Northern snow, entwining
But then he is so busy with his friend Subtle brain and passion hot Whom he admires so warmly, dear. With the will that bendeth not. Made a woman strongly daring. Adieu.
\E.xeunt.
Reckless
in
her self-reliance.
Kildrostan
4i6
Wanton
in her world-defiance,
to
am
Far away now from the sacred stream, Rose from a And the land that was growing to her
like a dream,
Doris.
Beneath the
There's no need stars of a moon-filled night. Reminding me of that; but, never mind. lady sat in a chamber bright. Scented with odours and flooded with After this week I'll hear no more of it.
The
light.
A cloth of gold for her seat was spread, A leopard's skin at her feet was laid, A jewelled fan was in her hand,
Mairi.
But they
fill
where
Do And golden filigree in her hair And all about her was rich and grand, Of ebon and ivory, carved with care, And gorgeous feathers, and carpets rare. To
Ah
!
Doris.
who
the smiling sacred river
its
To
wave. wave.
And
Oh,
but
Wiles
And
Mairi.
Through
Nay,
But,
am
not a saint,
Doris,
we
might
both
be
better
women.
Doris.
Scene
Boudoir
in
Cairn-CailUach.
Doris
am more
and Mairi.
Doris.
Mairi, you are a fool.
quit
I'll
better
Of these
Parlane,
poor kinsfolk
Glenaradale, Who'll
be.
You
are
And
starve you on his rhymes and rebuses. Rehearsing them to clowns in alehouse
parlours.
lady-like,
trick
you
root
Inspired
of
usquebagh,
might
meanwhile
his wife
wed
a lord
Who
did
not
know
from
Mairi,
You do
Mairi.
I
not
but
no matter
to
wed
lord.
Why
should
we
part
in
bitterness?
You meant
Kildrostan
417
Friendly by me, although your way Doris. of life Oh He did not use to be " The sea hides Quite so fuU-handed. Cannot be mine. much," they say,
!
And
much
Doris.
that
love
will
Tremain.
in
love
And
a
no one cares
to
look on when
will.
game
after
Adieu
Exit Mairi.
Enter Tremain.
he has thrown
Tremain.
Doris.
Why,
You
You
have
!
palms me off on you, then, Doris, what a pretty maid Having no taste for such poor gear But beauty still should
himself.
;
He
wait on beauty.
twin
stars
are
Or
else
Doris.
How Who
have
Nay, I
rude
said not
word
like that.
for a
Tremain.
Doris,
A week
all
Did you
not
tell
me
my
days
He
To
?
had thrown up
his cards,
and did
The
not care
see you play his game ? So you have come To take his cast-off, and relieve
his
a blank.
How
Dor'ts.
mind
perplexity
!
Oh,
and then.
Of its
Sure,
A gracious
are
office
now
and
gentlemen modating
!
most
accom-
Making
noise
with
spoons,
And
doubtless I
it,
am
honoured, could I
being petted
see
kissing
And
spoilt
by
I ?
women.
What And
of Diarmid
Where
is
he
doubtless you are favoured, when you think on't People keep poets sometimes do they
Tremain.
not?
;
A
To
Well ; man of
and sheep.
For
In
their
own
and
beeves
wares
rhyming
fancied,
to
advertisement
the
quaintly
With
tenants,
?
gillies,
keepers,
and
what not
see to.
Or
relieve
tedium
of their
greatness.
27
4i8
Kildrostan
So
have heard.
But
'tis
new
Doris.
vocation
To
Oh
And
fly,
yes
you are a
It
is
poet.
of course.
among
the
clouds
Tremain.
Ha
And
As
yet a miss.
a clever shot,
How
on one,
a lithe panther lurking in a tree.
lips,
Or
mousing-owl,
who knows
You
Licking his
tail,
Might
leap
down from
nape
and
bite the
A
I like to
the blue
Of
is
heavens.
dug
That
And
all day singeth to his love below, only can be silent by her side.
?
watch
Your eyes
sleepy
such a time,
lids,
at
first
so
Doris.
then
flashing
Self-satisfied,
With
half-closed
Something you
said.
out so fierce
With sudden
lightnings.
You
have
and
;
Of deadly wounding
yet I
play to you
who
place
Doris.
A pachyderm,
Wearing
his
perhaps, or armadillo
Tremain.
bones
outside.
Some
play.
it
may
As
my own
my life
hide.
Upon
are shamed.
that throw.
And
Doris.
Just so
;
he
casts
me
;
over,
Though
You
And
me up
he's done
you aim
Perhaps
So very low. I feel when I am hit Like other men, and may be hit like them; But then my feet are not among the dirt To be hurt there. So you have sped
Tremain.
Nay,
I said
it is
not so.
Wide
He
he did not love you, which is true; said you loved him not, which I
believed
Kildrostan
419
Tremain.
And
for
so,
because the
way was
clear
me,
Doris,
and over all. And I wUl challenge in the tournament Within, without, in heart and brain, afire Of song all poets in the land to match My Queen of Beauty or be hushed With a consuming passion which no sea Could quench, but it would make its for ever. waves to boil Doris. Though they were ribbed with ice. But that's your trade. Fine words
I said I loved you,
little
am
all,
Tremain.
Doris.
The
Words
The
art, at least,
how
them.
In paradox and high superlative. To speak the thoughts that swell and
surge in
with hearts.
if I
some
me
More simple test than boiling seas of ice, It would not much amaze me though
it failed.
When I came
Hither to gather pictures and sensations Among the mountains, and beside Nay, put
the sea,
Tremain.
me
to
the
proof;
and
if
my
life
from dim caves, and from the whish of pines. Pray, let your And lingering mists, and from the that
setting suns,
And
Doris.
life
alone
men wager
least
Most
But
I
if
freely,
when they
intend
That
to pay.
should entrance brain-fagged world, then studying words But To trade on them.
you cared
I
to pleasure
me, you
was
could.
And
having
coidd
love
the
man who
pleasured
me
Tremain.
lighted on
As
My Helena, my
The
Only tell me how, forest trees, Or trailing mists, or glory of the sunsets. And if a heart's devotion, and a will Resolved, and some small skill of nice Or curious felicities of speech. invention Or swing of rhythmic phrase, or
anything
But
To frame To work
plish
such dainty plots as poets use out fates with, can accom-
love.
it.
Doris.
Count
;
it
already done.
There
that's
enough
I half believe
Doris.
I hardly
you, though I fear I should not even half believe. I think you love me just a little.
know
girl
How
I should put
it.
There's a
you know,
420
Kildrostan
At
least
Ina
at the
And
manse
I hate her.
hope
too.
That
is
not
my
meaning.
Doris.
And
Even then before
you
Tremain.
Then
If that
is
I'll
what you
will.
Who
Doris.
Tremain.
Oh
Like a
Yet you
Is in your
root,
May
And
way.
readily be plucked
up from the
Let's
to
soil.
planted
elsewhere.
I
Dorb. Well ; what if I would be Revenged upon the gamester who has
scorned me,
And she comes in between me and my wrath May I not spite him where he most
?
Tremain.
What, an
Pallas-Athene
is
And
it is
I adore.
would feel Cut to the quick? more of this. You'd give your life
but
But there;
for
no
me, of course
Which
perfect
?
here.
What
when
you are scrupulous.
Tremain.
alone.
I ask a trifle,
Let
She's in
it
have
me do
Balked
I am not so poor In every purpose that I set my heart on. Oh, nothing. friends brought out all the worst in That I must beg of strangers. me, until He hated me, who should have loved
in
And
me
Tremain.
best.
Tremain.
Am I
Become
should
a stranger to
?
Ah
you
well
'tis
clear
why you
would you
like her
ill.
But not
so clear
how
I can meddle.
Would you
That
I should carry off a rival beauty.
that
is
that
is
vour ^
: :
421
Kildrostan
But she
love's
is
in your
way
^yet
How
this,
of forgotten vows.
wiU?
Tremain.
sack,
and sink
Nay,
I will
keep it.
Some
in
the
silence
And
Of
mid loch?
Or
shall
go
Dons.
I fancied that a
to wUl,
Of the lost art of Medicean poison, Having a And with a kerchief or a pair of gloves, Had but
Subtly envenomed, so assail her life That straightway she shall pine away
woman.
find
and he would
the way,
His the
fair
Besides
speech
Have
About
plied a maiden's heart, and mischief came on't. But hush there's some one coming.
!
one's heels.
Enter Factor.
Doris.
Factor.
Prithee, have done with this
I
might have known that you would I am not marring better company trifle with me. May I come in ? She said you were a coxcomb.
Doris. Tremain.
Good-evening, lady.
?
By
the heavens.
Factor. more seriously inclined to Well, I have heard you Than mine is, if I only knew the way. That these Glenara folk will have a grand Doris, Function of their religion there next May I believe you ? Sabbath,
And
But what
I
all
heart
serve
Tremmn.
Is there
I will
Can't you
Doris.
Prevent them
.'
Oh
yes ; and break it. any kind Sit easy on the soul
takes
Oaths
that
of
Factor.
them
That's not easy, if they come easy In thousands as their custom is, and get The drink once in their heads.
422
Kildrostan
Dorh.
Doris.
Newspaper men
reports
Oh
To
she's
a fool
and
it
was
like
a fool
About
the country.
the byre
Into
Factor.
the
drawing - room.
Factor.
But
let
her go.
AH
more than they would wish. But you might give me The gillies, and authority from you Surely. To warn them off the ground with threats of law If they refuse. They do not like
the
And
have your
full
Doris.
But run no
risk of rioting.
Factor.
[Exit Factor.
Law,
Oh
never fear.
Nor
does the
Law
like them.
Doris.
Doris.
By
gatherings;
all
means do
And now you would not mind Walking across the hill, perhaps, on Sunday ? dangerous
You'll have rare fun, and you could
serve
me
too.
Thanks
will
see
to't.
By
the
my
poor
way, I met
Your
From wretched
the sea.
to
settle
by
Doris.
Where
a
they can
fish,
and better
their
How
mean you
ago.
estate.
little
And
Handsome
as ever.
Factor.
Well, she's on the way now Across the hills, and Kenneth Parlane About it at this preaching. The factor will with her. Dressed in the rags she wore when Report, of course, but your account
she came here.
Barefoot,
better, too, my rents by foresting Their ill-tilled, scanty fields. They do not like it. And I would fain know what is said and done
would be
with
her
bareheaded,
hair,
More
picturesque
perhaps
trifle
snooded
truer.
And
the small
Tremain.
Certainly, I will go.
kerchief
Her
Doris.
letters,
prose
You will
"
Kildrostan
423
Chorus.
Cat-like,
purring
of fur, With just a pat of the claw, now and then, for a needed spur, Touching the quick of his vanity, making him keen to go Whithersoever she would, though whither he did not know. Seeming to answer love with love, though her heart was cool. And the clear-working brain was practising as on a fool. So she played with her victim, who thought he was playing with her. For there was not a heart between them to master or minister. Clever he might be, yet would she wind him around her thumb, Reason soon to be blinded, conscience soon to be dumb For when a woman is good, she doth
to all
softest rubbing
From what mean sources great events may flow The tramp that lays him down among
:
the straw.
shall
fill
your
peace
Plague-stricken, or from
him
its
cot
may downit.
The
stately
hall
that neighbours
We are
All members of one body, and a flaw Or lesion here, the perfect whole
shall mar. Therefore let justice
rule,
and love
all desire.
inspire
Wise
of
Scene
The Manse,
Morag.
Please, Ina,
good
inspire,
!
But being
evil, alas
fire.
Away
for these
soul like
thee, man, for an effort; what though her speech be smooth. What though she smile too upon thee I in splendour of beauty and youth. There is no pity in her ; look at her hard, cold eye You she will use for her tool now, and mock with her scorn by and by.
Rouse
Yes, surely, go
shall
do
nicely.
Morag.
That
Ina,
is
very well.
You do
well
" Very
drily
ACT
Our
Like
fates
III. SCENE
Chorus.
II.
Sounds e'en
en.
Morag.
it is
are
very well.
and low,
ravelled,
knotted
silk,
thrums
of
Ina.
various thread.
Indeed
yellow and green
am.
Homespun and
and red. And no one
is
Morag.
But
it is
sudden
alone, nor
yes
it
will last.
; ;
424
Kildrostan
Ina.
Ina.
fear
Oh, never
'Twill
back.
I
last at
Oh,
that's
it
any
rate
till
have
my
books,
my
music,
course
Of
any bird.
Though
Morag,
Oh, very
well.
Ina.
earth and heaven and all around you were Why Filled full of light and song ? should not joy too Come whence you cannot tell, nor for
What ails you, Morag ? Would you But just that wells are springing Rather that I should sit me down your heart. and mope ? Whose waters lapse, and ripple You scolded me of late for being sad they lapse ? Are you displeased to see me cheerMorag.
;
what
reason.
in
as
ful now. Yes, maybe. Only you were changed Blaming alike the sunshine and the that day cloud ? You visited Isle-Monach and his grave Morag, And was it there you found the well I see the gulls and pellocks in the loch of gladness ? Busy and merry, and all the boats are out Ina. Letting the nets down, and the wives You are too curious, prying into what are watching Upon the shore, and talking loud Concerns you not. Enough. There you may go. with glee And why ? Because they see the I do not ask you why you wish to go. Or where you mean to go.
herring
come
the
Poppling
shining
water
driving
with
up,
Morag.
their fins.
As
The
You
if
shower were
is
although
sky
at large.
Ina.
I'm glad of
that
;
Nor
is
servants let
The
now have
to
bread
it
do with us
not so,
Morag
Morag.
am
mistress
here or
They have
A reason
Which may
trust you.
be doubtful
I can wholly
Kildrostan
Morag.
Ina,
425
Morag.
there
was
a
all,
time
when
you
No,
do not
would take
Know that
and
our
the
to
all
An interest in us
Our comings
our folk.
our doings,
The
That
I will enjoy
You
and
goings
cottars
and
the bread.
others
eat,
and which
is
not
sees
The
crofters
and
and
for
the fishers.
The
you, and you
I
life,
you hungry
is
not happy
when he
them.
Parts of a
common
you
said.
Ina.
Ina.
Ay,
I
was a
fool,
and thought
then to shape
Oh,
forgot.
My
father
always
Who
your lives, Morag, that you were wrong there, could not guide my own, like keeping back some poor trader From that which yet you hungered for. Who, being bankrupt in his own estate. Morag. Is fain to take the helm, and guide
affairs
thought,
It's likely
For
all his
neighbours.
Do
better
to tell
me
I've no right
So
came
Yet
less right
As
then
when he
is
lowland folk
Whose kirk
it
Know
all
Ina.
spoils
them
That
suits
me
best;
I think I dare
not go Unless they have authority on them ; And better a bad mistress in a house Except where all alike are free to go. Than let the maids go gadding as Morag. they will. Well, you are free, and it would do But for this business calling me away. you good Do you not know, Miss, that to- To hear the sound of psalms among
morrow
is
the hills
at
The
great
all
Communion
the
Glenaradale,
When many
and yet
thousand
voices
join,
And
Oh,
country will
be
there,
and half
Or
Ina.
Ina.
Well, I hope
know
You
will enjoy
it,
Morag.
That must be
fine indeed.
426
Kildrostan
Morag.
Tells
at
Ina.
And
And
He's
called
what of him
Morag.
fair,
he has
no fine points ; Offering his ware so high that none But well he knows may bid and deceit For that whose price is costlier than
rubies
doubling foxes
for
Of
hearts
that
;
are
But in the end the treasure which no wealth Of man could buy is proffered without
their
wUes
And
does
lose
not
his
fearful
money
Ina.
To
And
without price.
up your very thoughts That's as it ought to be Into their holes and secret hiding-places, But I shall hear the same free And hunts you from all coverts, till gospel here you lie From him who soon will be our pastor.
Low
at
his
feet,
and
feel that
you
Morag.
are lost.
Him!
It'sathin gospel that you'll get fromhim. I do not envy I bought a pencil one day from he drive the packman, Folk to despair ? And I was fain to put a fine point on it.
Ina.
him.
Why
should
But ever
Just
I
when
had
it
nearly right
Morag.
He
Is
to
hold, truly.
left
And
For
on
the
latch.
'Tis
very good
sinners to despair a while.
And
Is whittling
down
Ina.
My father
point on
it, till it
stump of wood.
a
hope
and comfort
Morag.
paper
Och
And
music-notes for collie dogs at sheep with But the
!
there
in
Of having To bark
faithful
his day.
But there was some good work. Can do without a paper. If you heard any rate Black Eachan of Lochbroom I care not for your " Searcher."
dog
At
Kildrostan
Morag,
But when he Has done with you, and you are groaning, maybe. Over your sins, then Lachlan of the
427
To
care
much
for him,
when he came
at times
To
help
my
father here.
Morag.
He never seemed Himself when he came here. Your father was take you up. And like a prophet speak the word Too critical, with commentary books That suck the marrow from the bones of power,
Lews
"The Trumpet
of the
Gael"will
That
stirs
despairing
hearts.
He
;
of truth,
you
God
that
said
to
first,
and then
And
Nor
of triumph
shall
"
Come
several
parts
If there were prophet Could move one so But no, it cannot be. 'Tis vain to hope for the old faith again That shone about our childhood.
!
: so it is with him ; must have Eachan first, and Lachlan next. And then your heart will glow to Neil of Raasay.
You
Ina,
Morag.
May
not doubt
I
be
I'll
stay at
Do
for you.
home.
these
am not in the mood for strong excitements You'll tell me all about it.
:
Morag.
he played
Sweetly upon an instrument, to tell About the golden streets, and gates of
And walls of emerald and amethyst And topaz, and the river and tree of life, As if the birds of God had left its
boughs,
Held
in Glenaradale.
Ina.
They
to earth to sing about their
And come
glory.
And
Nay, not the last. have been there a century at least, may hold on another, if there's
the land, or
linger
faith
Ina.
Still in
maybe
if there's
none grown poetical O'er Neil of Raasay. Yet you did Such customs not seem gone.
are
when
the
life
is
428
Kildrostan
Morag.
Why
The
country's
told
you not
this story to
me
Have you
not heard
it.
first,
ringing with
preachings
Ina,
What
What
is
there
Morag.
Only
and your "Trumpets," old Neil Raasay droning about heaven But these crofter After his whisky ?
And
folk people from their houses, which In green Glenaradale they touch my even now heart. Are empty, bare, and roofless. She Yes, I will go with you ; I will get would crowd them ready Upon the strip of shore already thronged With fishers, and they mean to go away. I' the instant: they shall know they have one friend They have been used to tend, and Who shares their grief and wrath. handle sheep
The
cattle, and they have no skill Morag, with boats ; But, Ina, think And now they are just waiting for It is a twenty miles across the hills to-morrow. Housed on the beach, or in the birken Through moor and moss.
And
wood,
With
breaking
hearts,
before
they
Ina.
And
girls
if it
Ina.
Highland
? They fought for Charlie once. they have grown like native Misled by a belated sentiment. heath or bracken And by their trust in those who should And they her kinsfolk have wisely Led them, and only brought them Morag. into sorrow Ay, but near of
Where
May
who
them now
pride.
we
the
are
all
sprung they
from apes.
let
my
voice be
And maybe
disgust us
that's
reason
For
on the
More than
Glenara
is
dog or
cat.
At any rate,
for deer.
Morag.
a desert
now
No,
Ina, no
it
must not
Ina,
be.
Imeu
What
may go
to the
must not
preaching if I
will,
429
a ripple of laughter at her prow. a rush of bubbles
Kildrostan
But not
miles
With
That's not
?
Oh,
it
is
the twenty
And And
upon her
lea.
Well, I
is
could do
it,
for
my
heart
high.
And
One
A jewelled
turf
does not weary as on dusty roads. And every corrie, and rock, and hill, But there's no need of walking. How's Was veiled in pink or in purple, till the wind ? The glory was quenched in the gloam-
My
ing
still.
sultry night
With
Morag, only think of the old men their long memories clinging to
When Kinloch-Aradale rose in sight. And on the beach there were fires
alight
soil. Fires alight, and to and fro babes and mothers on that home- Forms among them moving slow. less shore And on the breeze was a wailing low. 1 would not bear their curses for the wealth Kenneth's Song.
the
And
Of all
the world.
There
Morag.
is
no
fire
On
But
is
it
They
Is true,
There
you say
the wind
fair
the boat
no lowing of brown-eyed cows the green meadows. Nor do the maidens whisper vows In the still gloaming,
is
On
Glenaradale.
There is no bleating of sheep on the hill Trimly speeds the dainty boat Where the mists linger. Swinging o'er the foam-tipped billow, There is no sound of the low hand-mill Where the keen-eyed sea-mews float Ground by the women. Sleeping on their watery pillow. And the smith's hammer is lying still. Past the low black Cormorant's Rock, By the brown anvil, Where they crowd in hungry numbers Glenaradale. There a great grey heron woke. Ah we must leave thee, and go away Sudden, from its noon-day slumbers, Far from Ben Luibh, And beyond, the threshers rose High above where the whale had Far from the graves where we hoped
!
Chorus.
sickened,
to lay
their
crashing
fathers,
As its labouring
The
Lowly
together,
Glenaradale.
43
Kildrostan
wind
on a wild March day, hill and rock That rarely a storm on its stillness
hardly
felt
Was
It
flat prairies,
On
broke.
Only
hill
make
and
their lair
Among
Content with the croft and the were we.
there.
the
bracken
Or
Or
the stealthy fox, or the glede and the blue hare and ptarmigan on the
As
all
our fathers.
fish in
kite.
the lake to be
Carefully netted,
height.
garments spun of the wool from Slowly the mountain shadows creep Across the hollows, across the brook ; And to the right in the rugged steep O black-faced wether Is a narrow gap where you can look Of Glenaradale. Right down on the glimmering loch that clings No father here but would give a son To the roots of The Hill of a For the old country. Hundred Springs. And his mother the sword would have girded on But it is not the red deer that haunt To fight her battles ; to-day Many's the battle that has been won Corrie-an-Liadh, and crowd the brae. By the brave tartans, Here in groups, and there in tiers. Glenaradale. Till hardly a patch of stone or heather. But the big-horned stag and his hinds, Hardly a green bracken leaf like a
thee,
And
we know.
feather.
And
Through the close-packed ranks In the high corries. the throng appears. the salmon that swirls the pool
It is
of
below
Where
Are more
and so
the old.
than
the
hearts
of men,
Some with
their gold,
snowy
some
or snood.
And
stalwart
sire
with
his
strong-
ACT
Near
to the
III. SCENE
Chorus.
III.
limbed brood Men of Glenara with heads bowed low. Men of Loch Thorar with hearts aglow. Men of Glen Turret, Glen Shelloch,
The
Glen
Shiel,
And
lads
from the
Isles
which the
there lay
mists conceal.
Kildrostan
431
Right bay
at the
mouth of
that mountain
The
factor,
with
gillies,
and dogs,
on
and whips.
is
There
And
the poet
with heathendom
Whereon
his lips.
And And
They came from walking to and fro Upon the earth, as long ago One came with the sons of God, we
know.
Throng of people Ina, Morag, Kenneth, and Mairi in front of Factor, Tremain, and others behind the J^inisters,
:
offered sacrifice.
Bringing their sick to the healing well, And the kid of a goat for a ransom Scene
price
Corrie-an-Liadh,
leafed on bant
To
the spell.
There now a table is seemly spread With homely linen, but clean and
white.
among
the prophets?
Factor.
bread.
Why
Book
that giveth the blind Saul found
not,
Dugald
the
them singing
in the dance,
their sight
And
down, who had
days of yore.
" Man."
This
is
Far other
no day for
sport.
Factor.
mound Oh, that depends : I've known some on holy ground queer folk now One with a great black shock of hair. Whose acid looks would sour the One with a smiling face and fair. cream on Monday, One that was pale, and lean, and Yet make rare fun with sermons on the young, Sunday. With a fire in his heart and a flame on Man."
Pastors four on the swelling
Sit, rapt, as if
his tongue.
day Will not be long, though With grey locks streaming around a wink awhile.
face
the old pastor of the Gael Driven out of the green Glenaradale,
One
You
but
your
God may
a light of tender
I'll
Factor.
take
my
chance.
The
^vink
may
grow
a nap
As you
pray, Dugald.
Few
can stand
that long.
They were
But
jest
" Man."
Blasphemer
!
to
pass.
the rest.
;
Factor.
raiment drest
Hypocrite
432
Kildrostan
Trematn.
Factor.
;
they're
They would tell you " The Lord can work by many or
So be
it.
and grim,
by few."
And
Are
You do
their knuckles
Tremain.
great
brown
fists.
Somehow
win.
the
big
battalions
Factor.
Nay, never fear, sir. them well ? The law is powerful them
Don't I know
;
And
doubt
if
God
is
on
not a
man
of
Let them
"
The people
I
sing, to
Celtic tune^
Dare wag
his
tongue at me.
Trematn.
mine eyes, From whence doth come mine aid. My safety cometh from the Lord,
to the hills will lift
Who
Tremain.
'Tis a pathetic strain In a barbaric minor, long drawn out So the Greek chorus might be sung, when they Played a fate-drama in their sacred
feasts.
What
if
The
I'll
the wrong.
Hush
There
will
keep safe with the law. Lads, be cracked crowns give the dogs If this go on. But what proud nip, and set them howling, when face
pallid
you hear
The
Is that
among them
Oh, my
stately
Beauty,
Pallas- Athene of the waterfall.
Trematn.
Why do
you
that
Factor.
But
love.
feet.
I think
I'll
throw me
at
As bumming of an organ in their ears, It is a Or tuning of a fiddle for the psalm. Than
Trematn.
I pray you, stop.
her
face to
here,
too,
not reserved.
[^Crosses to
man
Grasping his staff? thousand there For one of us.
Factor.
There
is
a White-livered fool
But
?
let
him
go.
What's
this
is
The
minister
after
Make
a speech
Who
the prayer
433
sadness
Kildrostan
Without a text!
the like
?
of their
And
what's
come of
Be And with
regretful memories.
ready, lads.
Minister.
Factor.
Take
speech Against the law.
Minister.
care,
sir.
My
friends, this
is
a day of solemn
sadness
With us, for we shall ne'er all meet again Here where our fathers met these
hundred years,
We do
Him who Even when
it
Remembering
the love of
it should bind came, In power of sorrow, to redeem from Closer to home and country. Neither sorrow. would I And sin which is its fountain. It is not Pour Mara water now into the cup That sere and withered leaves shall Heaven sweetened with the wood of drop in autumn ; His dear cross. That always will be : nor that tender Who loved us. Men may wreck your buds. happy homes, Frost-bitten, die untimely in their But God is building better mansions spring for you. Nor that the hale and well may also fall, They make a desert He a paradise \ all that They drive you over sea, but He will Reft by the stormy winds; may be bring you Where there is no more sea. And To any people, and at any time
it
shall
divine.
As
to
Which
land
for
man
world.
And
replenish
and
subdue
its
Ay,
that
is
right.
They'll find a
that.
world Straining the rights of those who own In Canada you hook them on to
better
;
wildness.
the soil
By writs
it
Minister.
Be silent, sir. I wUl not speak of her Whose high imperious order drives had no property in it to give, you forth. Has torn up by the roots a band of you. Homeless Loyal and dutiful and fearing God Factor. As any in the land ; and nevermore
over
Who
Shall
we
Nor
praise here.
Who
is
people. break the bread, or drink the cup So shamefidly abused. I tell you, sir. of blessing. Therefore is this a solemn day with us, This is mere cant, fanatic and illegal.
Or
28
! !
434
Stirring
Kildrostan
ill
blood in those
should
who know On
better.
the
high places
to
pollute
the
no better
land?
By
those
who
know
Another "
It is a
Man."
Jt^nister.
Pray you,
sir,
Have
patience
And
amiss
Do
Minister.
Sir, I
warn you
The
!
people
now
:
look dangerous.
Be
Worship
call ye't
quiet,
You
call
Or
leave us
that worship
Against the landlord, and worship too ! 1 will not hold my peace.
people, hear
that's
Away
Ye
I
are trespassers,
You
well!
will have writs out to-morrow.
Go
Or
you by
to your
kirks.
it
will
worse
for
you.
This place
Is not for people to
to help
in
their
A Fisherman.
to
That
will I do,
Dugald.
And
is
speak no
clear
evil
There
A Crofter.
!
Yes, and it iss not you will be alone. He tore my shielpretty Away with hira
ing
down,
Minister.
And
You
Take
For
heed,
sir,
Another Crofter.
have no law
this.
And
The
Factor.
!
he
insulted
minister
iss
Yes,
it iss
fery well
There
you, or
I'll set
Away
The
the Tod's
tell
the
Iss
Loch
it.
deep below
^ "Man."
Och
!
Crowd
!
(^rushing forward^.
ochone
and
is
The
Lord,
?
too,
banished
from
To
the Tod's
Glenaradale
Minister.
To
Canada
Another "
Man."
will
it
O my
people, I entreat
Ochone
Do
Will ye not
Kildrostan
435
Listen a
moment
O my
murder
!
God,
that
So
tragically
moved and
fall
beautiful,
men
Should do foul
On
the
To
jutting
Heaven have
Tush!
Morag.
Well, this man
is
For they
Ina [rising
up').
He
would
kill
how one
Is frightful.
might look.
Tremain.
;
Nay, not how you would look is no grand See, they drag the
Pathetic grace in you.
Ina.
there
They move
the gap
in stern
grim silence to
Now, who
is
that
Standing upon the sharp edge of the rock In the black ragged rock, that looks At the Tod's Hole. Ah Diarmid. right down All is well. [To the Otter's Hole. Into
!
And
Can you look on, sir. Sir Diarmid. your comrade murdered ? Go back, now, lads, and hear the You came with him minister To find your sport, and lo he finds Vengeance belongs to God. You
Tremain.]
see
!
a death.
Too
horrible, instead.
Tremain.
this.
What
They
in Gaelic,
A Man."
Out of
our way. Sir Diarmid
;
we
How
this man's cup should they heed me with my iss full. English tongue ? Sir Diarmid. Indeed, I tried to stop him, but in vain. Think you that, if I sung an Orphic I will not budge an inch, and you
bone of him
and that
You would be loath to do. There sweet strain, you have given These grim and silent executioners Of Nature's law would listen ? Truly The scamp a fright he will not soon forget I would Do anything, fair lady, for your grace. That's all you meant, and he deserved it well. And yet, to see your pity and your Bully and coward terror
436
Kenneth.
Kildrostan
Minister,
is
right
Be not
profane,
sir
my people, Let him go now. I'll make a ballad of His teeth that chattered like a Castanet. Ye have been
greater wrong.
saved
doing
"J Man."
;
and how
He hass been like an iron flail with teeth To all the folk, sir but it iss your will. The
Sir Diarmid.
Still
we
sing
our hearts
Let
us
Yes;
Such
him have
us, confessing all the sin. a shake \_Return to their seats, as your terriers give an ugly rat. And then have done with him. You Tremain. would not make Diarmid, the factor now will hate reproach This day a day of horror and you almost So : that For such a cur as that. As much as he will hate this pious mob. is right. \Thei^ let him go, You saved his life, 'tis true, but only
showing him a thing to scorn and loathe ; Minister. You should have had more tact. Now, God be praised, who brought He'll not forget it. you here, Sir Diarmid, Ere that was done wliich never could Sir Diarmid. be undone, And put the heart in you, and gave What care I for his hatred or his love? But how came you, of all men, to you power
hearts
saved
it
By
Over
the
people's
hearts
to
move
be here
them, like
Of all
An
instrument of music, at your will. I marvel not that they were wroth
at
him
is
Why
Enrich
should I not
The man
of an
And And
Only
it
insolent
servile
ing law
to
hateful.
Of life and passion, to be moulded duly and cruel to the poor. Into pure forms of art ? I came to see to the great, and knowThe Christian superstition where I heard
its
evil nature,
hard
my
strain
The
in
thing
was
really
living.
Up
town
And
come
poor survivals
or else
it is
small
dissenting
shop
where
laird.
they
retail
Kildrostan
437
would scarcely care
left
Long
yards an ounce
of worn-out logic,
syllabub
is
or Doris
to
think
you
Her
different.
Tremain.
was back Doris must learn to put up with a heart With Cyril in the Alexandrian desert, That loves all beauty, and has room And throngs of howling unwashed
I could have almost fancied I
for
all.
A Neo-Platonist
Is
no philosopher.
Sir Diarmtd.
Be
him
?
off, I tell
Came you
not with
you down,
'Stead o' the factor, from the Tod's Hole yonder. Well, yes ; he promised I should have [x/V Tremain, some sport And there was Doris' tenantry to see to. The jackanapes! Yet, if he speaks the truth,
Tremain.
Sir Diarmid.
I
I
am
near happiness.
Now
for Ina.
Are you
Ina.
Tremain.
Diarmid
Sir Diarmid.
And
She
Come
is
a glorious
galley.
Freighted with gold and gems, and silks and spices, And all the treasures of the fabled East, I And at a word she struck to me.
Sir Diarmid.
with me, Ina ; let me take you hence This scene has been too much for you.
Ina.
Ah!
yes;
know not if your courage, or my fears Shook me the most. It was a daring
thing
That's well To stand up in the breach, and brave You poets are the men to win your way their fury. Into a maiden's heart by flattery. Sir Diarmid. Now, you must go and see the Nonsense ; I knew they would not
factor
home
are
stiff,
harm
I fancy.
a hair
His bones
Of my
fly upon The dog that herds them; and you Nay, there is do not call lady in the crowd Pallas- Athene She sought mine aid, and I must go The collie quite a hero.
Tremain.
to her.
Ina.
Sir Diarmid.
Do
see to Diarmid, I
Leave her
to
me ; you must
know
'tis silly,
your friend.
So weak and
trembling.
438
Kildrostan
was upon
leave
is
Morag.
Ina, you're not going,
It
my
it
And
to
Just
all
ready for
Of this
Sir Diarmid.
wise To say what I should do. But then I thought It would be mean to shift my burden off And lay it upon you. Now it grows
Do
clear. Yes, Morag, she must go. you not see her shaking like a leaf? However, and a day or two will end it. Trust me till then, and then I'll never
Morag.
They'll think It strange if we should leave now.
Sir Diarmid.
leave you,
life
leaves me.
trim,
But
there's the
boat
all
And
brisk
breeze
will
take
us
swiftly
home.
Chorus.
Never mind
There,
is
Ina,
lean
on
me
my
arm
off.
strong,
\_M(nic
And my
lately.
it
has
Oh that sail on the summer sea Can she ever forget its gladness ? been Yet oh the haunting memory Of those bright hours, when
came
to
they
For
be
sigh
our love.
Ina.
The
see
that
wistfullest
of
the
day
of sadness
Yes,
could
something
I.
Chorus.
Sir Diarmid.
Close
And
asked
me what
beneath
long-
was wrong.
I
planted
me
if
there.
To know
share
I held It
it
to
Only
my
is
not
For
backed hill. There, by no care oppressed. The wanderer now found rest Who had seen many cities, many men,
perils
a die
all
trust I
thank you.
of
living
now
and then.
Kildrostan
Skimming the
439
surface lightly and alone Chundra, exactly in the seventh year. Gaily he took what pleasure might And it returns no more, because they be got have not No higher life the stirring West had Lips, cheeks, or eyes to smile with, shown, though the teeth The brooding East called forth no Grin horribly. But, now, I'm rather deeper thought. busy ; Yet could he shrewdly use his wits, I am exI'll hear you by and by. And had his cautious, prudent fits, pecting His memories also and regrets visitor on matters of great moment That touched his heart with lights You'll show him in, and see that no from heaven, one enters Though he sat easy under debts While he is here. Have tiffin ready,
Of duty, that had surely driven too. To their wits' end respectable good folk On the
instant notice,
mind.
Who
Scene
Dr. Lorne
\_Exit Servant,
his servant.
Dr. Lorne.
I partly guess
Chundra.
The Begum,
sahib
Dr. Lorne.
Tush!
We have no
her mother, doubtless. Well, I've got pill to purge her devilry, if she Is at the old one's tricks.
She's
like
Begums
here.
Chundra. Chundra.
I
saw her
her
Enter Bennett,
Dr. Lorne.
Dr. Lorne.
Bennett.
?
Why,
Had
And
pleasant journey
more.
Chundra.
Bennett.
Yes, sahib, dead ten years ; and yet So so ; your nags are good enough, I saw her, and she smiled ; and then but then I said Your roads are somethingperpendicular, What devilry is brewing ? And what with ruts and rocks they make hard driving. Dr. Lorne. Dr. Lorne. I never knew
Of
any ghost
yet
that
had
been
years dead,
And
There ; how you lawyers grumble If you knew And They The roads I've gone by dak
ten
!
44
Kildrostan knew
dark,
it
You
Thought
now, Bennett,
But
Our Highland
air
air is
ordered.
Sometimes
first,
cured, but
failed,
how, I could
or
work
not
tell
it
Sometimes
Bennett.
and
why
did
Let
us to business
all
except
He
build the
and digestion
To
At
house
They
it.
So
the skull
I took
My fee,
and
silently
Dr. Lome. Nature medicatrix, and the mors So be it, then ; and yet That beats with equal foot at every I fear your patience may be tried beyond door. Endurance of your appetite. You know Bennett. Old travellers claim the right to be Quite right ; what other could you do ?
long-winded.
Bennett.
Dr. Lome.
Even
It
I can recruit
me
at
so
Dr. Lome.
All
right.
seemed. And yet, if Nature worked the cure, Nature should have the fee too ; and
besides
tale.
You know
twins,
My
conscience
got
entangled
with
we were
in
empiric, no hap-
mind
and I the
to heal-
it
showed
Ah! weU;
way
it
He
saint,
And
So
oh,
had so
little
way
to
show
pickle
I lost faith in
all
our Therapeutic.
From
So he took
ing souls,
Bennett.
And
And And
As
now
aches
he
lately
I did
my
gown
off.
He
work,
others did,
by
rule
went
feeling
And
buried
his
gods,
he
said,
pulses.
and saw
at tongues,
Looking
No
who came
hardly
prescriptions
to church.
With
And
prayers, and
of wisdom.
Kildrostan
441
At any fresh
negation
traded, feasted,
And
gossipped as before
nor
And
now
up,
worse
now down.
Making a
fortune one day, losing it Another, now in rags among the miners, Then swaggering from a " hell " where
nor better,
would be
a lie
the croupiers
Dr. Lome.
Hated the
What
pretty game sight of me. Life is now, if you only have the pluck To brave the worst it can do.
Bennett.
Maybe
so
how
that scrupled
Authority so full, and absolute law But the To preach the gospel.
fellow went
At
physic
Could
it
swallow dice
and cards
And
that a it I take Quite readily: Yet it is odd that ministers and doctors conscience Should be so sceptic in their own Is like an Arab horse that frets and
affairs
:
he
Dr. Lome.
is lost.
fidgets
streets
You'll never find a lawyer acting so. In the strait I have my doubts, like other folk, but congregate
where people
it
keep them
Clear of
But
business.
let
it
free
i'
my
The
doubts of
lightest touch.
At
last I
obeys found
Dr. Lome.
Some have
Bennett.
it.
myself After a run of luck in India Up ia a native state netting one day Some hundred thousand, odds.
Ay,
Bennett.
To
law
is
right.
And
bide
unmoved when
:
all
around
a bit of
it.
shifting.
" Now,
if
But to my story like your parson, I 'Twill vanish wheel ; Flung up my craft, but did not take to
writing.
at the
next turn
o'
the
game up yet, down, respectable, to grow Fungi and mosses on my brains at home. No faith in physic, I had faith enough Therefore I went But there's my brother, dear old fellow, In my own luck.
I cannot give the
And yet
Or
Having no
that
way
and
settle
abroad,
starving
442
In the old manse, where we
in youth,
I'll
Kildrostan
all
starved
Bennett.
send well."
it
he will use
it
Dr. Lome.
Surely
;
The whole
of
it ?
And
that
is
why
know
Dr. Lome.
Well, pretty nearly
so.
He
dealt
in
money,
managed
;
our
Where
am now.
But
listen
am
a smart
coming
Straight to the point at
last.
knew Jobbing
and everything
Brought money
gift
him
so they said
from me.
at least.
my name
But
to
my
plot.
Having
he had
right.
No
notion of investing even and so If things went wrong, as they had often done,
it
As
I supposed, I
myself.
Bennett.
take
Why,
would go,
as other gains
gone.
To
hungry
creditors.
Dr. Lome.
Bennett.
Next day
But how
man's
a white
I see.
Avoid
gift?
that, if
From
the
river
up-country somewhere
with
a
floated
down
pocket-book of
not
Dr. Lome.
That's what I had to
there
settle.
The
Well,
mine
was
partners with
of my decease In the newspapers, one day, in Japan, They gave me Railway-contracting, money-lending, Months afterwards. on the whole what not ? character for enterprise and honour. I took him for my friend, for I had brother read at home with grateful done him
me
My
A good
man
I
turn
This
charge
tears.
And
in
Tokyo
with
mirth and
My
to
banker
giving
it
in
laughter.
Bennett.
him
?
To send the money to my brother here. What could you mean by such When he next heard of me, which trick
should be soon.
a foolish
How
.'
Kildrostan
Dr. Lome.
Don't you
see
?
443
Bennett.
The
papers
now \
To take a gift of eighty thousand pounds write Was one thing to a kind of thin-skinned Your brother ?
conscience,
And
Dr. Lome.
From
in his
grave.
No he thought that I was dead And I thought oft, when things were
; ;
tight with
a
me.
be
in
mad
What
fellow.
the
old manse,
And
that
Dr. Lome.
of more.
My clever
state
The
in
vouchers
Had
married
the native
woman
Dr. Lome.
We
used to call the Begum a volcano Well, here they are ; it was a native lawyer Incarnate, an embodied thunder-bolt. Fat, greedy, false, and cunning as a Drew them up for me, but I think
serpent.
they're right.
And
I've no
Bennett.
;
She set him on to write that I had died Leave me alone a while quiet. In debt, and hunted up some old
accounts
doubt
at least
be
Which
They the poor parson paid. were but trifles, Yet he would wear a shabbier coat for them. I almost could forgive the theft, but not
That
dirty trick on him, the scurvy
Was
You
too
much
for him.
Opportunity
Makes
worms
in
rogue
Bennett.
carrion
Ah
a rascal.
always.
A most mad business Had you but consulted A lawyer, now, you might have had
to
your will. Dr. Lome. And he might have been honest Oh, she died this day. ago ; and Cattanach came Dr. Lome.
my
half-breed daughter, and Nay, but he was a rogue in grain, I fear. And never took the straight road, when
;
and then
a crooked
Came handy
to him.
444
Bennett
Kildrostan
Instead of what
(^reading').
it is,
a certainty.
There is no lawyer could refuse so neat. ; clear as day. Who could have Compact a job. It's really beautiful.
Dr. Lome.
shall
That a brown Hindoo could have Then we made a case So tight as this ? There's only one
thing now.
go and dine.
Bennett.
How
Read
I see.
about
?
tliat
same drowning
in the
river
Dr. Lome.
on.
Bennett,
A
;
means dine. and conscience So sweetly go together. If you have bottle of old port, you're safe to
all
By
draw
it
Witnesses certify that you are you. And that the dead man was not you. All right.
Chorus,
So they
sit
And
now,
sir,
we may
minds.
Dr. Lome.
Then we
can do
it ?
Bennett.
Of the threescore and ten Appointed for men To labour and think. And to eat here and drink.
can wring
Do
Both
principal
heirs
it
we
and
interest
from
his
Oh the night that they spent And the stories they told And the bottles that went
!'
Like shorn sheep to the fold I have not time What did the ordered household say ? sum it, But it wUl take a many Highland acres And what could the old men think Of hill and moor to clear it; and next day ?
the last mite.
to
To
there's nothing
Will
ACT
to lose.
IV
SCENE
II.
Dr. Lome.
Chorus.
He
Then you will for me ?
had none
When
defile
frank,
straightforward
hearts
And
crafty stroke.
Will I consent to eat your venison. In their own gin they are oft ensnared. Pick well-kept grouse, and drink your And better they had onward fared dry champagne. With simple folk. Or orderly draw up a long account The choicest and wisest For a good client ? Will I consent, Of all the world is he quotha ? Who talks still, and walks still Why, if the case were only half a case, In clear sincerity.
Kildrostan
445
Let moles work underground, and mine, Doris. Let adders creep with supple spine Enter your complaint then ; Through grass and ling, Get the ringleaders clapt in jail. The Let pewits lure you from their nest sheriff
With
And
those
Who
not
be
slack
in
dealing
with
And,
artless,
;
jog along
The highways
Yes
They might
If
be brought
before
perhaps the
Scene
Calrn-Cailteach,
Doris and
higher court.
Some
less.
There,
not
DufFus,
hurt.
never
mind
this.
you're
Doris.
I daresay.
much
Well
And
At any rate we'll make them rue this job. Gentle and simple of them. Now,
good-bye
But
all
my
feelings
bones are whole. Drive to the joints are aching, and my warrants out.
that
My
town
Factor.
and
get
your
count
I'll lose
no time.
\_Exlt
Factor.
Well, well
to heal
Doris,
A letter from
:
Sir
Diarmid,
cannot be
life
Your wounded
law on them.
we'll
stiff,
it
asking an interview.
?
mean
It
You
this riot.
And
He
Mocked me,
insulted
did
that
;
Too
trifling,
though
I'll
make them
affair
suffer for
it.
He
seemed to
arranged before.
Had never less of promise, as I think. What can it be. He is too much a man To beg remission of his debt. What
then?
Doris.
And
Ina
Lome
that
have
given
my
heart
would buy
With
To
Well,
if that's
446
Kildrostan
But now I think ails you ?
on't,
As I half think it is, being And like a man's dull wits ask me
so shallow,
if
is
there aught
he will
You
scarce reflect
the
radiance you
In the fond hope that I will now refuse, Being love-pledged to yonder popin-
are pleased
To
see in
me.
jay, Sir Diarmid. Oh, the flat fool! Do I then love Oh, I am always strong him truly ? And healthy as a ploughman. But I hardly know ; it might have been we men
so once,
Had
I'm
my
of
love
Have
;
cares of business
on us
and,
besides.
but this
sure of, that I hate with all
girl
The
Her
that
robbed
me
my soul They
him.
is
Our
are horn-lanterns,
stable.
and
their light
Could I break heart now, though I wrecked my life on it, Would I not do it ? Once I thought
to send
Doris.
Oh
I never
That popinjay to her, in hopes that he On business. Yet Might babble a love tale into her ear. like a man. And make her public by a wicked poem Boys only think of Or false or true, it matters not. But that sport.
I'm glad:
it's
shooting, fishing,
Had
for she
And
girls
But
moves a man Like some clear star in the serenities. You see how wise So far beyond his reach he could not his task
smirch her
grow
takes up
Even by
hour
is
his praise.
But
there.
The This
from
Of duty bravely,
near.
smooth the
ruffles
Sir Diarmid.
Nay, I know
innocent, and yet
not
That I'm
may need
all
my And
mother
reason to be proud of me.
Has any
Sm
Diarmid.
work to do,
less
and the
you
Sir Diarmid.
like
You
?
are
The more
troubles you.
How
do you
Doris.
Oh,
Doris.
To
like
it,
Diarmid.
Well, of course
How
And
That
question
is
a superfluity
my
Of custom,
at a loss
what
else to say.
and make
447
provoke sharp comment.
In
Kildrostan
It will
jump
right
these days.
the world, and public sentiment with us, let Law say what it will. For we have made it in our interests.
Well
Will hardly
set
my
affairs
me
Doris.
public
sentiment
it's
whate'er
Leave you
so light of heart.
that be.
And
Doris.
suppose
just
newspaper
babble
Oh, by
here;
the way,
Back up a threat of murder, and a brutal been Assault on one who simply did his duty?
Sir Diarmid. Poor man his bones are full of aches No, surely. But was Duffus in the line and bruises. And he complains of you that you Of duty, jeering at the poor folk's
!
encouraged
worship.
to
worry Setting
his
dogs
a-howling to their
to
I hardly
psalms.
And
aid
ordering
them
leave
the
the
rabble
in
hallowed place. So linked with their most sacred thoughts and feelings, Where they had met these hundred
years
?
He
Your
ears
in
saying this.
abused I saved
Doris.
Of course.
You
have been hearing Ina
his life
And
Lome.
She'll find
Doris.
His
side,
is
Be
it
so
case
He
I'd rather stand with those poor men, has gone to the Fiscal to complain. and bear
The
Sir Diarmid,
sentence of the
Law,
than feel
the verdict
E'en
let
him go
he'll
not
make O'
comes But
the general
conscience
cover
me
with scorn.
the truth
it was not my errand These matters with you.
to discuss
Same
natural
leadership
which never
Doris.
for
leads.
And
What
the fleece.
448
Kildrostan
Doris. merits?
Sir Diarmid.
Who
gets
his
Some
all
folk
too late.
the
Doris.
Too
slight to be
accounted
of.
Your
?
friend.
noticed
that
you
have
that
Was
excellent habit
Of business.
Sir Diarmid.
Nay;
Not
boasting, only glad, as well
he
What
meant was, that my errand Might be too late, forestalled perhaps, and useless.
I
fair
prize.
And my
it
small merit
Is nothing beside his, nor could
gain,
Doris.
I fear,
?
by
my
poor
that
telling.
It did not
What
What
us
is
I cannot
think
matter there could be between
so,
Astonish me plucked
one
so
brilliant
The
fruit
from me.
Doris.
To
and
hesitate.
Was
this
To know if I am
Whom
all
I'll
?
hear
and
confess
my
him not
I
claims
to his, for
he can
were
left
To
curious
women.
Sir Diarmid.
in the capital.
my
errand
Who
And
rightly
appreciate
your But
were
true,
would make
rare beauty,
of mind.
Well
?
my
errand
to say
About
;
yourself,
question
me
of love
Which,
till it
scarce be asked
Sir Diarmid.
To my
friend
break
its silence.
had heard
Sir Diarmid.
Your
love, as well
he merits.
He To
said as
much.
Well, I did not come speak of love, though love should be the theme
Of such
than
Doris.
Kildrostan
But
449
discourse.
truth
is
more
all
Yes
you have a
right to get.
they put
And
that
Our
hearts in
pawn
to ease
them of
their straits.
Doris,
Please don't Sir Diarmid. sounds so dreadful serious. There No, Doris, that is what they could is always not do, Something unpleasant in the wind, And that's the truth you have the when people right to know. Tell you they'll speak the truth. In No one can bind the heart ; it is as schoolgirl days free 'Twas always the preamble of a scolding, As air, and laughs at seals and And sitting in a corner to commit covenants.
It
Our hearts they could not pledge keep ? And could you yours now is free, not for once Or given to another, not to me. Say something nice, even if it were I come not then in this I will
Will
it
Irregular
not
not true
be true
Sir Diarmid.
To
offer
mine
Nay
said
what now,
my hand,
a poor
as they
would
have
it,
Unless
your Tremain.
hand
Doris.
is
plighted
to
Knowing
to
it is
Almost an
insult, to
me
Doris.
to say,
In very scorn.
Sir Diarmid.
And maybe
It as I under-
were returned
so.
If you
Till
knew of
it, it
Sir Diarmid.
I did.
That
between
I to
But
if
you scorned
might
feel
our fathers.
the less
That we two should be wedded. judge them not: They thought they had a right
They
The
Why
give
should I
you
least,
that
it
were
me
all
You
;
lands together
whatsoe'er they
thought.
They bound
A
He
and yet I
29
45
Kildrostan
Doris.
I do not
But, Diarmid,
father's sake,
for
your
yours an opal
but
that's
Or
is it
it
mere
now
it's settled.
You
sacrifice
yourself.
Then why
With such
Sir Diarmid.
should I, Since sacrifice comes natural to woman, Fall example ? short of your Frankly, you Offer a heartless hand, as frankly I
Doris.
Why,
Has
happiness
business
business
Sir Diarmid,
to
what
It's
Accept
hearts
it
so
we both
do with
its
it ?
Which,
as
you
And And
has
is
profits
or
its
not pledge.
losses.
Or
raise a sixpence
on them.
if
the gain
?
clear,
what would
you more
Sir Diarmid.
Sir Diarmid.
Do
This
truly,
you mean
It's sin
Doris
Dorb.
It's
It
is
Your own
could not
The
com- Lure me
mandment
Is rightly honoured, though the
is
We
By
Law
cloth.
broken.
is fulfilled
Which
In
by
love.
They do
ours.
these things
Framed
Look! France, and find they answer Here are our lands, that lie so close admirably together. simple piece of business, and there Fast-bound to us and to our progeny needs I am Lady, or shall be; you, No more about it.
My
the Laird
Sir Diarmid.
Of
more
?
all
Does
Think
there need no
would
again, Doris.
To
have
hearts
Yes
Rings with
our hearts.
Are free to seek it where it may be we might exchange found. each other, since we keep That was your own proposal, was
!
Doris.
it
not
Kildrostan
45
Sir Diarmid.
It's
like a dream.
And
:
the
Doris.
gazed.
['ra
Wondering, over the mossy wall But not an ugly one not a dream, and some folk think Then for a little he paused and ponpretty.
me
dered.
to
do
And
know
bracken and blaeberries wandered. Nor slackened his pace till he came
off through
in
view
still
We
To
can imagine
not try
silent
love
is
grand.
silly.
Loch
that lay as
in a trance.
Do
utter
Perhaps Yes,
It is the
now the feeling that is in you. we might just kiss each other.
custom, I believe.
;
III.
Now,
go.
call
Good-bye
to-day
With
a heart unquiet
To-morrow
Of vague
From
shadows
presentiment
Now
Revenge
this;
I'll
I'll
have
without
form,
that
at least,
whatever come of
girl's heart
with-
So the
daisied
meadows
in
Chorus.
Make
when we
To To
on
light.
deep,
And
noble, tumbled in a heap,
Nor very
And And
your hope laid low By one who was less noble still. Yet only took you at your word.
all
you on and on, until She held you as a snared bird, And while you scorned your mean
led
resource,
is fond and true ; In a love-light reading All that he might do Pleading, but the boding fear ever back anew.
He
came
Is
it
not a treason
whether
To
The
like a fool.
452
Kildrostan
Scene
The Manse
Study.
Ina {akm').
Ina.
\
I shall hardly
Ina,
Take you
Down, wicked
like hounds,
me So
And soil me
I
My
Well
your
own
Sir Diarmid.
know,
is
He
Until I have your pardon and a Tender and brave ; and now he is blank one. my own, be filled up by utter idiocy To And, honouring all women, loves but Of mine I cannot even tell you, Ina,
But
it
does.
And what
is
more.
me.
And
I love
is
him
all
as a
woman may,
life.
The
Whose
love
her
Why
Well
Except a change
in yours.
;
comes he not ? This day was to deliver him, he said. From all his cares, and make me all
his care.
I think
Who
fort to
care, but
com-
But hush
gravel,
upon the
And
The
same, has
I have
that
is still
never
wavered,
nor
What
is
yet shall.
Though
wandered
in a brain-
Now
Or
let
me
gird
my
sick
dream
burden.
take
it all
Of
myself, if so I may.
Diarmid.
self-delusion.
One
thing
more,
and then
You
B.nter Sir.
shall
know
all
my madness.
?
Can
you dare
Sir Diarmid.
Ina, shall
To
So
lovingly again
Ina.
Ay
And
all
Nay,
!
every day.
wife.
day long,
delight
?
I hope, if love of
Wooden
mine
Can aught
ails
you.
But what
you now
Come
handier to
my
goblets,
Oh,
Have
me,
1
Sir Diarmid. have been a fool, and properly for I conceited been befooled
!
And
I thought
My
was the
an
ass.
cleverest schemer,
though
Can you
No matter now
I'll tell
you by and
by.
Kildrostan
453
Sir Diarmid.
Ina.
It is not that Nay, but if you do hint that for my sake This lot must come to you, I could Will make me poor. You are my
not be
Now, and
cling
my
all,
The more
love seen
For had
I never
The
face I
deem
earth.
Nor known
It is not
You The
Or Or
treasures, your regret I fear to meet fate had This own. but it is my are too noble be mine. thought that I had lowered him
been mine.
It must
I loved.
that I
Whether you
to
share
and sweeten
alone.
it
was a burden
to his
life.
me.
to keep
place
And
my
I
my
place
do,
sake.
That would
me.
To
do
be
it,
except with
self-
I dare not
And open-eyed dishonour, and the loss Of all in life that makes it worth the
living
Sir DiarmiJ.
And
Yet what
poorer
if,
lacking you,
my life
were
promise
To
do
very thing.
Ina.
And
you.
care for
?
You
done
Ina.
?
frighten me.
What
have you
it
Yon
you're fain to
have.
it
sins, 'tis
Yet
one's way.
Can know
Sir Diarmid.
and judge
With
less imagination.
is
But what
this
Ay, truly it is but a choice of wrongs. I made a promise that was false to love.
And break it
that I
may
be true again
should you
Be poorer
Is a poor
for
the choice
Caught in the snare which I myself had laid, your choice, but that I must break from it, though I break
I
one enough
my
troth,
454
Kildrostan
course
I see
For only being false, can I be true. Not even from Diarmid, who of Oh, I am humbled and ashamed, as well would be I may be. But you do forgive me, Ina? Clumsy at telling it. Yes, yes,
You know
Itia.
his ring
he put
it
on
my
finger
But
am
per-
What
An hour ago, and made me, oh so happy! Now will you not congratulate me
?
is it all
about
Enter Doris.
Sir Diarmid.
Ina,
Doris.
Hear me.
dear.
to clear like that Myself.
I wish
Oh, Ina
Why
Who
Ina.
Sir Diarmid,
cannot even nicely tell a lie To visitors, but sends them from your door.
Or
not to do
in
right
Gruff
as
a bear?
(Starting.)
You
think
Ah! Or wrong
?
you
have done,
for
me
Why
should
you bring That both of us should turn at once You, either of you these affairs to me, to you Settled between you ? Doris, I am sure To be the first to hear the happy news You came not here to give me any joy. Of course, he has been telling you. And if you wished to pain me, you have failed. Ina.
know
not
And
I
lost
your errand.
to
Now,
do
in
pray
What you
mean, Doris.
Doris.
you leave me
have
time.
!
much work
briefest
me
be
And
You
Truly no
;
you must hear me out. should have heard the story from myself
No,
Ina,
am
not good
at riddles.
my
own shame.
Doris.
hear
all
it.
Listen
land
But
not
then.
riddle
my
hear
it
An honourable
lips,
From my own
stranger,
No
mean diplomacy,
Kildrostan
love another man,
request,
455
Sir Diarmid.
Plotted to
make her
And
Not
But
get refusal of
my own
Ina, I
was a
fool,
and dealt
there
is
in craft,
for her love, for that I never asked. for her hand, the
Only
more
which
seemed
is
an end of
want.
that
in
Doris, there
An
offered
insult
marriage
Unasked.
without
Doris.
love
I thought Frankly avowed. you will, I hoped that she would cast
We
nay,
if
I'll
for myself
I
am
not
it
with scorn.
As
it
deserved.
one back To throw away a lover or his lands, While I have wits to hold them.
!
Sir Diarmid.
;
Be it so As any woman with a woman's heart Take or refuse, it matters not to me Would have despised to touch it. My choice is made. From henceforth
No, I do not I will be Accuse her to you, or defend myself. Honest, however poor. I have done that a man will scorn
And
me
pardon
mockery,
had no
offer
right to insult
you with an
Doris.
Which
terms
you,
I, at
perhaps
in
Handsome
!
accepted.
For one who, unsolicited, besought My hand an hour ago You shall not
Which
any
to
rate, in
simple man-
mend
Matters
in this
have made.
Take
all
way,
sir.
my
my house
;
and
Sir Diarmid. I
lands and
all
To
My
but understand
right in
me for
evermore.
Hear me
Frankly I do accept the poverty My father has bequeathed me, and I came, Ina, to you to tell you this resolve.
Doris
" The king
I'll
Ah
Oh,
that
is
right,
whatever
else
was
wrong.
Doris.
yes, of course he'll give
up
all for
{^singing).
you.
Ina.
says to the beggar maid, clothe me too in duds, And we'll go mending pots and pans, And camping in the woods."
'Tis nought to me. I have no interest Only I In any of these doings. Would grieve to think of one I
reckoned true
:;
:! !
456
Kildrostan
And
The
Which
else
had
been
as
the
poor
gambler's luck
But
fare
to his ruin.
Doris.
Ina.
Oh,
it is all
May And
if it be, there's
it
be so
The
very
air is tragical
we
stalk
And
strut,
when
More
than I shall, to
know
that this
walk. Only a passing cloud, which we reCast to Moral-sublime's the role member the wind Not as a cloud, but as a freshening Houses and lands and honours all for
!
has been
love
shower
And
That
land.
Sir Diarmid.
And leave
we
Meet
to you.
Good-
If shame can
resolve.
be.
;
but
morning, Ina
Good-morning, you.
shall scarce
Sir
Landless
Knitting
battle.
its
again soon.
\_Exii Doris.
May
of hope
Sir Diarmid.
Is this the end then, Ina promised to forgive.
?
To
brighten patience.
Ina.
You
There
is
hope of mending.
Of
Ina.
I have forgiven
to be.
Though
this
was
the scope
That
for
is
a broken
Of
possible
thought then.
?
But can
you forgive
Yourself as readily
the broken
Sir Diarmid.
Ina.
you let me go In your esteem, that you should think Perhaps the broken cistern truly is this shame. The only broken heart. Farewell Like a boy's blush, shall vanish, and he scarcely Sir Diarmid. Know it was there? I have done Farewell wrong, but from I will do right though this be hope's That wrong I trust to shape a better sad knell.
I pray
life.
Have
I fallen so
low
; ;
Kildrostan
457
Ina (^ahne).
And
Ah me
this,
to
Have many
No
years of such a life to live warning of it the volcano smokes Pick up the fragments, piece them well together. Before it bursts in flame, but here the fire Broke suddenly beneath me, and my Tenderly fit them each into the other, Raise now the Fish-god, Lord of world war and weather. Is blackened, scorched, and burning High o'er his altars. under foot. And not a blade of all its former beauty, And not a little well of all its gladness Ah but your heart sank, shattered as he lay there. Remains, and no horizon to its darkness Except a far-off grave ! O weary life! Peace you had none then, wailing all
Love, there
bringest.
is
no joy
like that
thou
Yet
Nor any
behind,
as you look now, can you go and pray there Where you once wended ?
Being gone.
so
God
pity
me
was
in
happy
while ray heart
And
Of
it
was singing
the light
its
Once he was glorious, your gilded Dagon, Throned on his altar, or borne upon his waggon ;
But he was broken, and how are you to brag on
this.
What
must
do
What
Here
were
can I do ? No, there is nought to do. But only try to look as if the wound Hurt me not, and to bleed so silently. Girding a maiden's modesty about
What
though
he did
And
as
precisely
A
1
may
find
out.
;
At
was
truth
that
he
garish.
played false God pity me, But oh, it is too hard. For my glad life is turned to misery.
[xif.
Dim
As
light
is
fittest,
when
the
soul
would cherish
a thing sacred that which can perish, Patched up anew now.
so
Chorus.
What
your Dagon, falling down, Broken her dream is, faded all the glory. is broken, Dagon, to whom your daily prayer All the cloud-castle fallen a ruin hoary was spoken.
if
4S8
Lost too the thread, and
the story
Kildrostan
interest of
No
it
perfects
with
its
touch
Late so entrancing.
No
to her
vision
Yet
splendour of a
life
were
dull
Robed
Power
out such
Elysian
Lights on
he, feeble of decision,
face.
Only a man,
Foolishly chancing.
Scene
Post
Offict,
Morag
Slit.
Mrs.
!
ACT v. SCENE
Chorus.
Bears
still
that will
I.
which
hill
it
be a wass
it
sight
for
sore
eyes,
when
mist.
salve, Mrs. they can do without me, and without the spectacles too, for they The well-trained hireling deftly plays are as keen as a hawk's, though you are not so much younger than myself her part. But clumsy service, fairer far thou either. But I have been very busy, and I have had my troubles and my art, tempers too. Love moving thee.
heart
The
what-
Slit
Mrs.
Slit.
" Oh,
'tis
our bargain
in
so
much work
as
Yes,
troubles
fly
yes
We
are
all
born
to
the
bond,"
you
as
the sparks
Ay
but
the
unwrit bonds of
set
engage
More
than
is
down
in
page.
just like the seal I am. I head above the water maybe the formal for a minute, and turn this way and that to see about me, and then I'm
God
It
get
my
Or Law
" Yes
it is
!
can bind.
down
crabs
and the tangles but they are a plague, and troubles and tempers.
among
that's
the
the
To
free
Mrs.
it
Slit.
spoils
Ay, love takes liberties, may long For one true heart amid a
throng
but
you
heartless
Morag. Will she not ? But she brings out mine whatever; and it is all the
same.
On
some dark
night.
Kildrostan
Mrs.
459
or
tinklers,
Silt.
heathens
that,
Och!
yes.
Morag. she
iss to
be pitied.
Morag.
Girls are not angels, Mrs.
Slit, as
Morag.
No, she
is
you would know if you had any. be roused up, and told her duty, and Angels will know their own minds, to be respected, Mrs. Slit. And for at least, and we have four and twenty her uncle, he will be giving her a minds in the four and twenty hours. house and a down-sitting like a
Yes, I to be left
duchess, when she will go to him and he is not to leave Glen Chroan great change any more.
;
Mrs.
alone
Slit.
Morag.
But she
than
is
be going
not more
now
For he ever she was before. would be always at his books and his She would
Mrs.
water.
Slit,
Morag.
as
ill
do without me,
without the
Mrs.
as
Slit.
the gull
That iss true, but then he wass always there, Mrs. Morag, which it difference. just makes the
Mrs.
Slit.
My Yes, that iss true, you have been And it iss with her all her days. useless body Eachan would be a riding in your coach you will be, and sitting there by the fire for years, living like the princes and rulers of cramped and twisted with the rheuWhen will you be matics. But he wass always there to the earth maybe. going, now ? be seen to, and to be wanting this and Morag. that ; and it wass not like the same I do not know when we will be house after his arm-chair would be empty. Poor thing it iss myself that going, or if we will ever be going, and I do not want to go near a house can be sorry for her. which is no better than a heathen's.
!
,
Morag.
But
calling
it is
Mrs.
Slit.
poor thing, like any But she will have to go somewhere fisher-lass in the clachan ; and her a soon, for we will be having the new lady, and a minister's daughter too minister, and he will need the manse, no doubt, but I hear there iss no wife Mrs. Slit. to come with him, whatever. pitied, Morag, Surely she iss to be
her a
!
for she
iss
in trouble,
and which
iss
Morag. more, she iss an orphan, and which Minister Is it the lad you would iss more, she will have no one to look to, but that ne'er-do-well uncle be having two Sabbaths ago you call who iss here to-day, and nobody a minister ? To think she must leave knows where to-morrow, away among her father's house for the like of him
! !
460
Kildrostan
But is plenty Gaelic for his purpose. Mrs. Slit. to-day ? wrong with him, Mrs. there no letter for us Morag? He iss a very pretty man, Mrs. Slit. and, which iss more, he hass the Och yes, there will be one for
What
iss
beautiful Gaelic.
Miss Ina.
am
thinking
it iss
from
Morag.
Maybe he has : but has he the used to Gospel, Mrs. Slit ? blame the old man because he was more dainty about his words than his But this one, he will have doctrine. no doctrine at all either about God For I heard him tell Miss or devil. Ina at her own fireside that the devil was a myth of the Middle Age. As if he was not as busy with young folk as he is with the like of you and me,
him
all
to
We
among
own
folk
Morag.
How
take
should I
to
him
London
an English wife to turn up her nose at But why did you not tell me of us. the letter before ? and me wasting my time here that never gets out of doors
till
Mrs.
Slit
Mrs.
Slit.
Mrs.
But
this
it
Slit.
till
Och
Mrs. Morag? You should know that have lived in a minister's house so long.
But what
a myth,
And
at this
Morag.
I be here for
swallow diction-
house
do not know what it is. and wafered, and blue paper, and will But it will be something bad, no doubt, be an account, no doubt ; they are not or it would not be spoken about him, fery welcome at the castle, I fear. middle age or not middle age. There iss no hurry about that. This Mrs. Slit. iss from the gamekeeper to the factor they would be for drowning in the will something But it be bad. Yes, loch. It can wait; he wUl not be he hass the good Gaelic. caring for letters yet, I'm thinking. Morag. And there iss half a dozen for the And the devil has the Gaelic and long-haired poet-man that will be courting Miss Doris. It iss a bold the English too, Mrs. Slit. man he iss, or maybe a blind one, Mrs. Slit. whatever.
?
letters).
It iss thin,
That iss true too but he wUl have more English, Morag.
;
Morag.
Who
I
is
Morag.
Maybe,
do not know.
He
has
But he
will
be
461
Kildrostan
getting
it
came
to her easy.
The
quaint,
odd
satire
and
fun,
to please ye.
Morag.
Is
Or pleasure in its being done. Hard and grave were her features, Though lit up with love now and then,
For
laughter was not for such creatures
sinful
Mrs.
As
Slit.
they are like clam-shells The natural shape of her thought. no parting them. And he will While it looked as if cleverly seasoned speak sense to her maybe, but it iss With a sharp biting wit she had got. just heathenish gibberish he will be O ye that strive to be witty. talking in my shop. And hunt through your brains for a
!
Och
It
women and men. was simply the way that she reasoned.
there
iss
Morag.
quip,
That
letter.
will
do now.
There
is
Ina's
When
I have been too long away from her. But I was to be sure to ask about your Oe that had the fever.
Silence
ACT v. SCENE
Chorus.
II.
Mrs.
Slit.
Yes, she iss a kind lady, and thinks Shall not a woman insulted have her of everyone. Allisthair iss better now, revenge on the man. and will be at the fishing again soon. Mock at him, laugh at his anguish, smite with what weapon she can. Morag. And how is the fishing and the Cut where the wound shall be quickest,
whisky ?
Mrs.
always too whatever.
Morag.
!
smile as he writhes in the dust, Mirthful when he comes a-begging an obolus now, or a crust ? usual, Morag, but Does not the feeling of injury strike of the whisky, out seeking redress ? And why should the gods plant in her
Slit.
Yes They will be like Donald They know their business, and did not Levach who was drowned in a ditch fashion our nature to be and his last words would be You are soft-hearted, soft-headed, milk-and-
a passion she
is
to repress
changing the drink, and there much water in it, Jenny, too
water.
[Exit
is
too
water philanthropy
a hard grit in
it,
much There's
Morag.
villains
may know
the
Chorus.
bad
taste
of crime.
kiss the
Truly she did not know it. Dreamed not of humour or mirth.
Oh, be
Made
And stint
keenest of
that
we know
462
Kildrostan
Drive the winds over the ocean, yet Tremain. say to the mad waves, Peace Ay, he's gone Why should you lift up your heads But why and whither has he gone, now ? there, let your murmurings and left cease His guest to seek for other quarters, Easy to say, Forgive, and lay up your just wrath on the shelf: When one was taking to the place, But how, if you take it so tamely, shall and felt you respect yourself? Its strangeness, which at first was like
!
!
If you're a
to be trod on, trod a dream, be again ; Growing familiar, with a taste of life Never a woman insipid found chivalrous Fresh as the salt sea breezes ? spirit in men. So did the wild heart brood now, Doris. passioning so in her wrath, Gone already And plotted to sweep her victim I did not count on that. And she's ruthlessly out of her path.
worm
on you
shall
off too.
Scene
Room
in
Cairn-Callkach.
Tremain
and DoRI?.
Much
sir.
help I
every
At
Doris.
Well,
sir,
this gear
Baffled and
mocked
I'm weary of
at least.
Think, Doris
I
am
there's a social
Tremain.
Shaking
things
my
all
down.
and mystery,
While darkness
and
silence.
What's all This rage about ? It is a pretty play, And it becomes you rarely, as indeed All that you do becomes you yet
;
I like
?
There's Diarmid,
My
By
Doris tender
fierce.
Off
Although the
softness
more
beautifiJ
And
leaving no
more
of bird
Doris
the impassive air
;
Through
his
mother
Pshaw
!
give
I've
me
had
of
Deeds and not words packing enough of them To follow him, and not a word to
explain.
You were
all
to
get
that
girl
out
day long.
my
And
way.
Tremain.
out of
it
she
is
So he
is
gone already.
I daresay.
Kildrostan
463
Doris.
!
Doris.
But not well for you, that she You take my ring from me Should drive off like a princess, Sir Diarmid's ring! yes, his engagefollowed by ment ring The prayers and tears of all her I'd sooner part with life than part
subjects here
with
it.
The
and the
Tremain.
idiots,
Who
What do
this
you mean
burden
poor land.
Doris.
Tremain.
Oh,
ill
I forgot.
Why
She has not
left
You know
not
for
me
The
we have been
a legacy of these
playing.
Which
ing
is
to
end
in fateful tragedy.
insult-
me
his
That's as you will. With offer of But he who should have humbled, heart
broken her. mere wired flower to wither on my cast her from him as a thing of bosom naught Hoping to be refused, and keep his Well, him I could have loved ; I hate lands her so. And sweetheart too, because he heard Tremain. I loved you. And yet you went to see her lately. As if I could not see through such
And
Doris.
I went because I
a thin
And
Yes; colour had no man to go. With any show of likelihood do mine errand, and to smite
Tremain.
blight
her with
A
As
word should
I
her
life,
and
Of(
You
would.
had hoped
it
But with
Doris.
the look
Of a me
No
but at a
word
A
And
his
own
dutiful
affianced.
my
by
Would you
Tremain.
!
had
me do
the
strip
Affianced, Doris
am
I then to take
fair
He
Of
hoped
all
that I
finger,
and
myself
my
?
rights that
he might wed
Here
in
its
room
that girl
!;
464
Kildrostan
Tremain.
Well
you, Doris, you accepted only as a ruse ; My clever Doris meaning, by and by, But love like mine will hardly serve To wreck his hope more wholly. for padding.
To
Thank
Doris. Doris.
What
Not
at all.
ails
you now
A badly written
life life
have its very essence and its appendix. And my paint without you You see their eyes and hair, and hear Were dull enough with him.
all,
book
little
do you know
May
you're fain to In
the
their
words
minds they are too
I
fine
But
for their
Tremain.
for you.
You
think, can have so
straight
Men's
brains,
no
and
To
marry him
really.
convolutions,
They go
at
things
Doris.
stupid, like
Indeed I did, and would I should have made his life a misery Perhaps, and seen him bitterly repent
since
we both agreed
and
it.
You
To
And
join
our
hands,
keep our
hearts apart.
really I did
love.
mean
Why should
because
Tremain.
Beautiful tigress
Doris.
the Tigress, if
fate
Should
1 not need,
and prize
it all
more.
That
it
my
you will ; but who has lost Her spring, and turns more savage on
her prey.
here.
sealed our bargain by exchange of rings. The pulse of high imagination, having And other pretty No passionate music in it. I must have Of kindness and customary forms affiance ; and straightSome poetry in my life, and you could way
stirs
denied ? I've heard you say that love is poetry, And marriage languid prose that never
Look
from you
We
give
it.
Tremain.
He To
To
hurried to that girl who set him on break his plighted troth: contake
Yes
I
So
Like
verses in a magazine,
fill
tented she
might come
in to
a space, a blank,
him
in
Between the story and the criticism ; Not even like the Chorus in the Greek Drama, to fill the passion up, and cry
dishonour.
Tremain.
How
know you
that
:;
Kildrostan
465
Tremain.
Doris.
How
I found
do I know
it ?
Why,
Even
them closeted together, heard His own false lips renounce the vow he made or evD, An hour before. Oh, he was most Like a volcano, having on
a grand and proud and terrible beauty, matchless strength of passion good
so
;
its
slopes
polite
Fair
!
vineyards
here,
there
burning
My gentleman
How
And
It
is
villain- work
lava-floods.
Like preaching
for of course
he had
And
howsoe'er you
show, you do
been schooled,
best to lay the moral varnish on.
transfix
My
spout
fine
sentiment.
hate
sentiment
the flimsiest lie that walks the
thin ghost of truth.
his
offer
Doris.
Oh
You
think
earth.
The mere
He
was
my
fires
And now
He
boon.
not ? You know that poets a lady with the always were Alike the favourites of the gods and
Why
demons
And
he
I
is
gone
here
whom whom
love.
of like
While
am
said
you loved.
did not
lesson
know What
Tremain.
I will pull
down
So he parted
Each
all
stone
scatter all
The
Doris.
too
!
gatherings
pictures,
tapestries,
And you
To
You
take
up
the
Arms,
tragic style
glorify a fool
And
ing
them
Tremain.
Where
Give
all
never can he hope by any chance To pick them up again: and then
I'll
your love.
make
his threshold.
said I
Over
466
Kildrostan
Tremain.
Go
seek
another
love.
You know
Go,
You
well, Doris,
When
that,
he
is
bound and
Doris.
fettered.
Ay
he
shall
find
who
has
flouted
me.
Tremain.
Are you
so
Where
is
he
now
what was
Doris.
You
that best.
said
about
an
uncle?
She
has none.
Her
father
Was
is
something to
not
is
?
my
father
in India
agent,
know
factor
not.
There
only Celtic
What
wailing
scant-o'-grace
and
ne'er-do-well.
Down
in the village.
Tremain.
I tell but
what
I heard.
Doris.
Some
I
one
at least
He
And
she,
too,
is
is
gone
at least
away
perhaps
Carried
her
;
off last
night.
saw
them go
with
him.
Tremain.
They
said he
Enough
so hate
of her.
Nay, she went with her uncle yestereve I know not why you should I saw her go, and thought her lookher, Doris,
ing pale.
Or
Doris.
so hate anything.
love,
'Tis so much
all
better
Oh
yes
Like
others,
To
which sweetens
Doris.
things
like a flower.
her looks Perhaps, too, you are fain to sacrifice If you have any such to offer up
Ay
Which,
Houses
and lands
and
honour
for
her love.
By
all
means do
you have
my
full
consent
To
like your English rivers, creep along Oily and dull and muddy. But for me love is hotter than can boil in your Slow veins, and yet I hate more heartily Than I can love.
My
Tremain.
When
can love.
shall I call
you mine,
The
fool
but
not Doris?
Then you
shall see
how
for her
I think I
am
Clinging
bids
as. for
Doris.
Why,
that
you
call
me
twenty times
me
a day.
Kildrostan
467
Tremaln.
468
Kildrostan
Ai me
ai
me
in
Doris.
And
pray
I
Who
is
this
peremptory gentleman
Ai me
It laughs
ai
me
And when we
Yet
in
its
hold
it
up.
My
I've
name
is
of
your father's.
Doris.
but heard of such a person he died Was drowned, or drowned himself
shall perish.
Scene
Room
in Cairn-Ca'illeach.
Doris,
Doris.
relief
?
What would
time
is
you,
gentlemen
My
brief.
You ask an interview, and fix the time, Only his Nor wait to know my poor convenience.
to
plague
No
matter. Only let us to the point Without preliminary phrasing. My Mare yonder waits for me, and grows
impatient.
Bennett.
Who
his presence.
And who
That
welcome
quiet
him
like
other ghosts
can't lie
in their graves.
And now
About
those papers. Miss
?
Oh
Dori
1
Here
is
my
factor coming,
and he does
What
papers
Oh!
to
And
Let me introduce you.
Bennett.
claiming
monies trusted
my
father
did
not
read
them
they
are
too absurd.
gentleman ; but we And you may have them back now if Crave audience of yourself for this affair. you like. Which he can scarcely order, not They're somewhere i' the waste-basket.
at least
Till
you
shall give
I'm advised prosecute you for conspiracy, well he should If you are he that sent them ;
To
but
the writer
Is fitter sure for bedlam.
Dr. Lorne.
Dr. Lorne.
Miss Cattanach, of course You got the papers which I forwarded, Acquaipted with
You
their
are well
for
purport,
And
a person
Kildrostan
469
Who
As
I never
Dr. Lome. So be
said, I
it,
word,
must
then ; apprehend.
you knew
Come, Bennett,
That
will shorten
let us go.
The
facts already.
matters. Bennett.
Bennett.
Listen,
Miss
affairs
Cattanach
;
these
are
Do
grave
snarl
purpose
we
are here
fair
we may.
You
know
Those documents.
Doris.
The chances
if
Law
had a
while alone
Well, no ; I told a lie, Yes, I read the trash With laughter as it merited. It seems You'd rob my father of his honest
Now
He
plain
gives you
advice.
Doris.
Who, you
he
is
say,
when
dead.
No
And
cannot answer for himself; and next You would rob me, and being but
a
Would
To
But
I prefer
woman
of course,
Weak - nerved
you point
And
The Law
Doris.
would leave
My
money way-man
or
!
my
life
brave
high-
pull
the trigger,
sir,
Dr. Lome.
So that's your line. And now Your factor here, does he approve of it
Doris.
Sir, I
?
your friend says, I think there needs no more. This gentleman who went and drowned himself To benefit his family, that did not Profit much by his living, turns up now Modestly asking eighty thousand pounds.
As
With
For
interest
and compound
interest
am
Yes, I do endorse
All that
But payment Of all these monies would go far indeed To beggar me, he is content if I Will give up to Sir Diarmid house and lands
ten
since the
my
lady says.
Now
forfeited to
me.
470
Dr. Lorne.
Kildrostan
I bear no grudge, if she had only I like a clever girl Ina alone. paper which you did With pluck and talent.
left
Ay,
so I wrote
In that same
not read,
Bennett.
And
Was
So
reckless
and unreasonable
?
yes I understand it better than you think As thus : I read between the lines
:
Oh
An
angry
woman
Dr. Lorne.
She means
to get
that
you
a covenant to
Have made
niece,
wed your
she wants.
who
is
my
Cost what it may, as your philosopher Will burn his diamond just to prove 'tis nought But charcoal, and we call him wise.
It all
will
fight
it
to
Comes
to the
same
at last.
One
toils
And
will
not
stint
my
I
vengeance,
for fame.
though I starve
And
from
his garret
where he gnaws
;
My
Are
life
to
feed
it.
believe
your
a crust
stories
lies
from
first
to
last
about
my
But
another
father.
them
on
hook whose
iron
From
first
digs
your
snares.
Who
As As
Into the flesh, and he too laughs at us live by reason ; she is fain to have Revenge for love insulted ; and perhaps
they
are
clean
impossible,
Each
it
gets as
as
much from
life
i'
the
end
we
That
girl shall
never
sit
Who
My lady
fawn
in his house,
Upon
See, on
the
man whose
finger.
Only the pursuit pleases ; the possession Is empty or bitter always. But these
aims
intense delight,
I wear.
my
There
is
and
in their
my
Our
answer.
business
now
ended.
[Exit.
A kind of tragic
now Has lived,
at least
grandew.
That
girl
Dr. Lorne.
A high-stepping
Filly,
As
three
that
is
now.
sharp,
But though
her
Fiddlesticks
tongue
And
me somewhat on
She
is
the raw.
a fool,
sir,
Kildrostan
471
Are
Madly
'
And
up
as
rocky
road.
him
so.
Mad
him
in
And
lash
her tantrums.
T)r.
Lome.
Now,
Ride
Ah
if
the quick smoke from her nostrils burned. And the evil white from her eye
And
had
it
fled,
instead.
She
As
Ghostly root
lay,
where a
young lamb
path.
Picked till each several rib was bare By hungry ravens that haunted there.
Past the old mU!, at every hoof a brush Of fiery sparks ; she's near the ashtree
now
a
lovers
whispering
That sends
the way.
low branch
right across
Among
Where
the bracken beside the brook. the juniper bush, and the
By
ragged sloe Jove she's taken it like a fence, Made for lovers a sheltered nook and crashed Right through the twigs and leaves. There were two ravens that did croak
!
Well
ridden, girl I
ribs
Now,
could
but
supper there ? forty years, I'd risk a ride through life with such Clatter, clatter upon the rock. They heard the hoofs of the sorrel a mate. ring, She's out of sight now. There's an Only a muffled thud they woke. ugly bit Of road along the crags, above Loch Now and then, on the moss or ling. Lovers and ravens then upsprung. Dhu. What's that ? I could be sworn it was As nearer and nearer it came with speed, a scream ; And there's no tramp of hoofs now And a wild shriek 'mong the echoes
it is
fallen
silent.
rung,
Terribly
But
Bennett.
it
it
was the
steed.
All
now was
Let
us go and see.
Only
Chorus.
To
hill.
Up
472
Kildrostan
Morag.
ACT V
SCENE
Chorus.
IV.
A low-arched bridge,
All
green maiden-hair,
tufted
Oh
moss
and 'Neath
with
heavy
the
burdens,
while
their
lords, forsooth.
Lie
in
sun
and
watch
;
them
like
sweltering.
I could not live here,
Morag
it is
and
fair
A
hiUs,
life in
And
That nothing
nought.
See, the
along,
cares for,
and remembers
sleepily
On many
Silent, the
a knoll,
The
golden plovers kept their seat. And in the stream That lapsed as in a dream heron slumbered, cooling breast
air all
The
trout
yonder
in
the pools.
The cows
eyelids,
lie
tremulous Languidly chewing, and the yellow bees Wheel drowsily about. These inland
lakes
Ah
More
is
our unrest
restless
grows when
doth seem
Are
all
around
peace
For
like our sea-lochs ; there's them. Motion and waves and pulsing of the
life in
not
life
To
tide.
lapse as in a
dream
Which hath not any fruit ordue increase, And we do fret the more that the calm
doth not cease.
And
The
on
their shores
we know
that
we
are near
O
With
tinted
Morag.
o'ergrown. And thou slow stream. Lapsing as in a dream. More hateful ye than perilous stepping
stone
You
used to
call
Loch Thorar
Ina.
sleepy
too.
Ay,
And
drive,
And
Are waited on by
Like gods
that
;
This
is
here no
and eve.
man works.
Or
thinks.
lived
Kildrostan
473
zenanas
At
the
full pitch,
man Among
They
are worse,
is
kept
I think.
crofters'
ways.
yardstick,
Or
Morag.
Machine of
You
Morag,
I
am
thinking
to be just
where
But then
to live
is
Grateful, yes
We're
to be nursed And tended like a baby. What am I, our feet. To get all this observance and respect ? As we might do our slippers. I want to be at work. This idleness Ina. Is like the waste of water-power among Maybe so Our hills, which might have brought And yet I willingly would lose myself the people bread. In work which is not wholly for myself, Morag. And thought which is not all about
more than
shadows from
myself.
Yes, I
am weary
But
of that.
Morag.
there's your uncle
:
You're weary of being an idol to be worshipped And they do say a woman's soul was meant Rather to worship man, and maybe
guide him
a bit
To make
him
worshipful.
Are you
sure, Ina,
He
will not let me. He is all for It is the worship, or the guiding of him wrapping That you have dreamt of? girl in cotton-wadding to be kept
Like a wax-doll.
to fetch
He
:
is
my
slave
Ina.
Oh,
all
that
is
past.
And
His
I
me
am
his
morning There was a time of fond idolatry When I did shrine an image in
heart.
my
must not
yet
let
Nor
the
night
or
lamp
And never wearied burning incense to it, my skin, And offering sacrifice, and singing lauds, weary my And building temples of imagination
For other votaries.
and the
burnt
I
'Tis always
about,
Me
that
to ashes
are stirred.
And
am
Me.
?
Where
did
have no wish
Either to guide or worship, since the stream
In the East
;;
474
Kildrostan
To
battle
with
and
sailor,
place.
God
gone dry and muddy and common- Rather a gale of wind than lie becalmed. But there ; enough of me and my help me
!
Morag.
Ina, one
affairs.
Have you
sailing
heard
aught of Kenneth
day I was
By misty Morven in the early morning, And as I looked I saw upon the mist
lately
Morag.
My
And
Ay!
Kenneth, poor
again ; His pipe
is
all
lad,
will
never
sing
the
they were only shadows flitting dim, But on my head there seemed a golden
and
rusty,
Just as the
summer comes.
Ina.
crown
Flashing with diamonds. with all
So
it
was
How
You know
together
Sitting
do you mean
Each saw a
And
So
is
all
his neighbours
Morag.
that
shadows
the vanity of youthful dreams.
Ina.
among
When
The
the bracken on the height Doris took her last mad ride
hill
along
old
road.
'Twas they
at a
that
In
my
my
sudden
Morag.
But, Ina,
Upon From
all
Where
can you go
They
said the
You
Ina. not come ? stand upon the beach, and there I do not wonder. the waves It was a scene of horror. Tumble and foam, and, looking sea-
ward, you
Morag.
Are
is
Yes
but
now
He
of hoofs
But
there, at least,
you
find
yet,
he
started up
o'
Ropes
to
be hauled, and
sails to reef,
and waves
Kildrostan
And
And
he will have
it
rising,
done.
as
The
job you
wished,
and
you
wished it done Whose labouring flanks were white Yet a bad job, I fear. with creamy foam.
brute.
And
it
its
Ina.
made
fatal step,
The
Nay, I am
to
sure
brink
way
Of dark
Craig-dhu.
Ina.
It
do
it.
No
so,
other
way was
?
possible.
Does
he know
Dr. Lorne.
and yet
might be
No
blame to him.
He
No
Or
knows
that,
when
a search was
as
duly made.
Morag.
But he
will
he had
supposed.
blame himself.
And so
And
then his Mairi is the heir of all Her cousin's wealth, and she, he says, could never Wed him that murdered Doris, nor can he
that
is
claimant for
his heart
With some
that girl.
Touch gold
blood.
so
stained
with
Ina.
It is best for us, That's as it should be. And keeps our hearts the sweeter, that
Ina.
Poor lad
the lights.
And what
soft
nothing
It
is
E'en
like a patient
lies
Dr. Lorne.
Nothing.
not right
I
That
wish
he
did.
to him,
And
If
glad to put her heritage away, he will smile again ; and that
in
he cannot.
Ina.
mood
wronged him, with no
Of
threads
her
that
recognition
Ah me
what
of
sorrow
everywhere Run through this tangled go now, Morag. Here comes my uncle.
\_Exlt
Of her who set all right. It is too fine For my taste. 'Tis as God had done
his
life!
But
work.
let
it.
And
of
Dr. Lorne.
all
the credit
to.
Morag
and
enter
Kildrostan
476
Ina.
I don't
it
There's
fish
could not Be otherwise, for he's a gentleman, And could not take a gift like this from me. There was no way except to burn her claim And yours in the same fire, so blotting out That chapter, as it never had been writ.
Yet
nothing here
For man
Ina.
Oh, he
and now.
me
hence.
For
me
There
at least,
is
no work here.
And And
It
is
Men
are not
Anywhere, anywhere
this.
but
away from
dainty about
a
marrying money,
when
handsome
it.
Dr. Lome.
What
with
to tell
him
his Italy
never thought of that. Yes let us go. And see the picture-galleries and statues.
I
!
Ina.
The
past for ever.
That
is
Temples of the gods, the Colosseum, The towns perched on the hills among
the olives,
castles, and the ancient civic grandeur And every time I swore I had to break Of merchants who were princes ruling states oath. For Ever Never, that All that you oft have told me belongs
For
ever's not a
lips.
The
it oft,
My
To God
alone,
who
Ina.
about
Rome
and
His mind.
And
1
?
Venice
Verona and
fair
Florence.
Does he
Dr. Lome.
and I wish to learn. book with many a page Wondrously written, and illuminate
so useless,
am
And
Italy's a
He
says
that
he
With golden
go there.
letters.
Yes,
we
will
Chorus.
work
That's here among his people
in
London.
Kildrostan
But now the goats are making,
477
yellow bee was drowsily
as the
humming.
And
As
away
from
are breaking,
ring.
her
too
had ebbed
far
neighbouring
she
lattice
one
its
past.
A
Sadly she gazed on palace, cot, and tower. And mused upon the Empire's fading days,
was strumming
poor
a
guitar,
knew
that
he
was coming.
And
new
or of
And
on Theodoric and the Lombard Yet she was sure that he was near power. at hand, The rush of barbarous peoples, and That he came swift as one who the dower goes a-wooing.
Of beauty
old ways.
Thoughts
mingle
of
stUl,
nearer
fruitless
past
would
at
her
feet
Nor did she startle, only answered low work and " I knew that you had come. I had
:
the feeling
And
yesterday
would
all their
write
upon
fill.
And
lips
past
is
past."
And
then their
the pages
Of History,
and
margin
" O give thanks unto the Lord for He good because His mercy endureth for
; :
ever."
-Ps.
cxviii.
i.
would
rich
How
should I always pray, Although I always lack ? Were't not a better way Some praise to render back ? The earth that drinks the plenteous rain Returns the grateful cloud again.
Thy
Why
shall see
for they
One
Be
it
Lord
fire,
desire
For
my way
We
less
by water or by
Oh, make me
clean.
Erewhile I strove for perfect truth. And thought it was a worthy strife In heaven they do not pray they sing, And they have wealth of every thing. But now I leave that aim of youth
For
perfect
life.
And it would be more meet To compass Thee with song Than to have at Thy feet
Only
a begging throng
If clearer vision
Thou
impart.
soul shall be
;
my
Who
Alike
take
clean
May
:
And Hymns
of grateful praise
I'll raise
For mirrored
The
I
things divine.
A song to
Yet
still
Thee
When
lauding
Thy
great charity.
And
Pure
478
stanch
the
spring
of
guilty
thought
But where
shall I begin
? ?
With
am
not.
: : ;
479
for
Sunday Evenings
; ;
Or
No
must watch and pray, I must work and war, I must shun the way
I
Die
Where
temptations are,
I may.
mar
of the field, how If the lamp I do not trim they grow ; they toil not, neither do they Soon it will be fouled and dim. spin : and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed Yet I wiU not mope. like one of these."^MATT. vi. z8, 29. Yet I will not fear.
blow
Yet
Makes
Solomon
a goodly
show
with hope, be of good cheer, Ready still to cope With the danger near : Care, that broods with drooping wing. Only broods of care will bring.
But be
filled
And
in glory bright
Was
"
Is
"
Mark
vi. 3.
May
Once they sought the Cross of shame Where He bore the sinner's blame,
And
Have
I only just to be
What
make of me ?
they battled for the sepulchre holy by His name ; But oh to chance upon Some work that He had done, The carpenter of Nazareth, The Father's only Son
Made
Lilies have
Were
it
No
within
Any
And
if
evil
way
canker come and blight. Nought will ever put them right.
Fashioned by His hand and tool, The carpenter of Nazareth Who Heaven and earth doth rule, 'Twere something just to view Handiwork He deigned to do ; 'Twould shed on all our daily tasks glory ever new.
ill,
know.
being blent Are in And good or ill may flow From mine environment
my
Would
be
all
without a flaw,
And yet the ill, laid low. May better the event
Careless
lilies,
ye do,
it.
Let
it
But
careless life
And And
! ;
480
for
Sunday Evenings
I must, but
Worship
aught
may
not worship
Which
I can bind
And
The
yoke
to
do me
its
service, having
caught
secret of
fraught,
Did
labour consecrate.
And
Very dear
the Cross of shame
Where He
But without mind while I comprehend it, I must be Higher than that which comprehends not me.
not need to worship ? Maybe so I judge you not Only, they say, the dog that does not
Until the third day came He bore the self-same load. And He went the same high road, When the carpenter of Nazareth
You do
Made common
things for
God.
know
his lot.
And
is
is
his heart,
There
mind.
It
is
the fashion
now
for wits to be
And
of
this
lot
men
we
see.
Like heat or
light or electricity;
In any
God
grieves.
should hear of wrath or hunger from that thinks or loves or the crowd. Or paeans of self- worship vain and loud.
odd, Oracles,
Without God's fear Their home would soon be as the wild beast's den. All the fierce self resuming sway again
who
still
And we
cries
But
But
core.
Of reverence,
Which somehow
to
will not
bow
;
Save us from that self- worship Poor, indeed, Is he who knows down Nothing more worthy than himself
to lead
adore
mightiest force in Nature
The
is
what His
heart
to
purer
thought
and
Of
nobler deed
ever rose
self- contemplation,
and
those
Blind
makers
of
the
world which
The
soul to
prayers and
hymns and
science knows.
holy vows.
for
Sunday Evenings
481
482
for
Sunday Evenings
and fret and and doubt. His way, being dark, must bode
ill ?
Him
More
As
if
Attached
me.
thee If thine
own way be clearly pointed out. All creatures have their natural gift Leave Him to clear up His, and be and form thou still. In God's great plan, Was ever yet thy trust in Him misAnd nought will give the grasshopper
or
worm
Stamp of a man.
placed
And
The
so I must be
Even
still
as
;
He
made me,
to rest,
Though
Holy
Changed, yet the same. in heart, and dutiful in And high in aim ;
perchance
will,
Be
road
still.
Yet
man
that once in
dull
me
be rough which might be smooth ? Is not the rough road best for thee, until Thou learn, by patient walking in the
if
What
the
Was
prone to err
trath.
monotony
To
trust
and hope
in
God, and
to
Of character.
Earth
hath
not
be
still ?
more
variety
than
little
faith
is
more than
have
ocean
clearest
Heaven,
views
Though
To whom
given
Would'st
babbling
thou
rill ?
like
Be
without mystery were not good news; Wrestle not with the shadows, but
God
be
still.
And
Yet
all
in their might.
Be
still,
He
is
God
indeed
dour are
Who
light.
His borrowed
reigns in glory on His holy hill, Yet once upon the Cross did hang
And
"Commune
with your
still."
and
own
heart upon
was
Ps. iv. 4.
Be
still,
and
know
He
doeth
all
things well.
" Because ye are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father." Gal. iv. 6.
!
Working the purpose of His holy will. Abba, Father O to think that I, And if His high designs He do not tell, Not in my pride of mind and vanity, Till He accomplish them, do thou But by Thy Spirit unto Thee may cry,
be
still.
Abba, Father
! !
for
483
Sunday Evenings
am Oh
not meet
To
even beside
close to
Would
Thy
feet,
And
Thy
Oh
!
Abba, Father
Oh help me,
and
fear.
And
Oh
Thy
house, and
For
this too is
Thou
art near,
Abba, Father
'Tis
not
in
What have I made of you ? What garment have I wrought of praise What robe of honour due ?
me
to guide
my
aright,
me
wilt
to quell the
Tempter's
Or
will
it
mend
To
me
uphold, and give
But Thou
me
light,
Though
Abba, Father
Thou hast redeemed me living, I am Thine And dying, also. Thou art ever mine Nothing shall part me from the
;
;
misspent and ill. Let me not clothe myself with shame By what remaineth still.
Of time
"The
flesh is
love divine,
weak."
Abba, Father.
Made
who
is
one
with Thee
Oft, Lord, I weary in Thy work. But of Thy work I do not tire. Although I toil from dawn till dark.
The
Him
o'erflows
From
on me.
And O
Ah
who that tends the altar fire. Or ministers the incense due. Or sings Thy praises in the choir. Or publishes good news, could tire
!
Of that
(
he loves so well
it
to
do
Eph.
v.
i6.
Sweet
BARREN
fruitless years,
is
the recompense
brings
is
The work
For
!
done;
all
And all the fleeting hours have wings. And all the day is full of sun.
for
484
Sunday Evenings
And
Or
he labour not
in vain,
If souls are by his message stirred, If he can comfort grief and pain,
bring repentant tears like rain
force of his entreating word.
task.
look not back, nor hunger for coarse abundance of the Nile Think rather of the yoke ye bore
The
A cruel while.
There is no freedom and no peace Except in making progress true.
By
The hand may weary at its And weary he may drag The weary frame may long
In needful
rest
;
And
every
increase
The
heart to
Forward to learn the higher truth Through harder tasks of duty done, What though the way be rough
smooth
If Life be
or
Ex.
Israel, that
won ?
xiv. 15.
Lo As
this our marching order still, on that day of God's great power.
I !
"The
thee."
Forward
it is
for
The
Saviour's hour.
The Master
comes, and
Go forward, trusting in the Lord, New trials will bring mercies new, For certain. He that gives the word
Will go with you.
Behind, the foe
is
Let Him not wait outside the gate. Knocking to get an entrance free. For that were but scant courtesy.
It
is
thyself
He
fain
would meet.
hastening on.
fulfil.
Eager
his purpose to
And Forward
Not raiment fair, nor braided hair. Nor dainty hands, nor sandalled feet. Nor features framed His eyes to meet.
Just as thou art, go straight to
In standing
Him
Across your path a stormy sea Is breaking on a waste of sand But God's ways on the waters be As on the land.
In sorrow's dress of carelessness. It will not matter what thy trim. Or that thine eyes with tears are dim.
Haste
to
grieving heart
to find
And
Your
thirst
shall
make
;
And
Help
vex^d mind,
the
Him
for
part
bruised
and wounded
art.
Yet there ye from His hand shall take Both food and drink.
The mercy
of His healing
Forward Wherever
And
to
He will be with you there Thou needest Him, He calls for thee, He would have you go. For when thy need is worst, indeed, your fear and your despair He comes in watchful care to be
!
The
485
for
Sunday Evenings
Oh would' St thou
get
And
all.
Make no
Named
Pour out thine heart to Him, and His lo\x be poured out into it.
fight
of
faith,"
is all
I ask,
Thee.
Tim.
vi.
12.
There where
And
lie,
Give me
my
With
fight.
fearless heart
Matt.
the
v.
14.
Light
Mine
My little
It
part.
When the nights are dark and long And the storm without is eerie And the household gathers near ye
For work and the tale and song : In the world are sin and sadness. Bringing misery and madness ; Light your home with Christian
gladness.
be just to watch and wait. Like sentinel to keep the gate. And so outwit the cunning sleight
may
Of crafty Or
it
foe
thrust
and smoke. and stroke Light the lamps through all the city, Until the bands of sin are broke. Twinkling in the crowded street. Or lying low. Where the foolish and the witty, And the wretched seeking pity. Perchance 'twill be a humbler post. And rogues and righteous meet Only to serve Thy chosen host Keep your lights there clearly shining. Who fight the battle, never lost. Truth and right and love combining. In strength divine All the common highways lining. And sword or spear I may not wield. But travel o'er the stricken field. Light the lamp, oh, keep it blazing,
be, 'raid dust
may
And
Who
Where
the storm
is
raging high.
And the shipwrecked soul is gazing To the clouds that are erasing
fate,
in the
sky
terror.
Or
live the
triumph to relate
In
after years.
And
Enough to battle in Thy name, For truth and right, but not for fame,
And
Were
our lights thus shining rightly In the home and in the street
486
Through
for
; ;
Sunday Evenings
gloom
that
cometh
" Wherefore is there a price in the hand of a fool to get wisdom, seeing he hath no heart to it? " Prov. xvii. i6.
nightly,
And
our beacons gleaming brightly Where perilous breakers beat, Little then should men be needing
that life-light
With
Godward
you bring money in your hand. Fain to buy wisdom ? You are clear leading. There's nothing gold will not com!
Ah
mand
Jesus, the finisher of our faith." Heb.
"Looking unto
all
things here
z.
Looking unto
Jesus,
And And
it.
For
For you
And
Till
mind
Yet I gaze on
daily.
dollars,
store
and
you
with
my
eyes
grow dim,
to
squander well
Him
Looking unto
Jesus,
Try.
That the soul must travel. Going home to God Yet I lag and linger,
Till I scarce can see
Of wisdom many a precious gem And you may have them, gilt
bound.
and
My
Beckoning
me
Looking unto
Jesus,
But not the wisdom wrapt in them. Yet buy them, fool so men have got Credit for wisdom they had not.
:
And
likely that
is all
you want
Nor
Cares not to aspire. for all their splendour Would be any higher
!
The credit, not the thing itself. Then hold your peace, and do not vaunt, And you may purchase with your pelf.
If you have wit your tongue to rule,
though a
fool.
What
is it
that ails
me
Why am
And my
I so dead
my
head
The
heart so wanders. Caring not to see Him, its fount of gladness ? Jesus, look on me.
sold.
There is no Wisdom, or
command
poor with
all
your wealth.
; ;
for
Sunday Evenings
487
" All things work together for good them that love God." Rom. viii. 28.
to
Another and another still I tried, and all the more I read
The
less I
Learn,
O my
soul, to use
Nor any thread to lose God wove into thy lot, Nor yet to pick and choose
What
He
leads thee by His way, That thou may' St truly learn Gives thee thy work each day, Thy daily wage to earn ;
It
is
And
;
hour by hour, and day by day grew colder than before. And for one doubt they took away They left suggestion of a score.
My
heart
The error of thy thought Had yet some truth to The sorrow of thy lot
And And
;
taught in Galilee, peace unto my soul was brought, all my faith came back to me.
There's light wrapt in the cloud, And heat in frosts and snows, voice that speaketh loud Where silence awful grows. And life that doth enshroud
times of weak and wavering faith That labour pleas in His defence, Ye only dim Him with your breath He is His own best evidence.
:
Oh
" It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." Lam. iii. 26.
No
Sometimes
Full as the
my
is filled
Which
If here
sun,
it find no use Thou'lt find it yet in heaven God's teaching does not lose,
And And
Only
eagerly
my
glebe
is
is tilled.
strenuous
work
done
Hid
in
EccLES.
is
no
And fain would haste the expected Of fruit, which seemeth far away And patience I have none.
day
xii. ii.
One
His thoughts
I read
it
book
it
My
doubts, and
my
faith
shook.
for
488
Sunday Evenings
we
fear
if
A sodden
With
bound
to
cope
How
Or Or
not drop, But without any heart or hope. Or any joy or might.
daily toil I
may
He
be
at
His face
feel alone if
He
Ah
Works
hope that hath no patient force in the end but stir and fret.
and regret
" No chastening
And
Of deadness
and free. Fount of a larger life in me. That waits and works and hopes
for a Spirit, strong
Oh
righteousness unto them which are exerHzb. xii. 11. cised thereby."
When Thou
Lying on the
gavest
me
repose.
The
pastures green
Where
While
Ye
shall leave
32.
' *
Me
alone
John xvi.
Alone,
is
And the voice of pain was mute, And the bloom was passing fair I am
;
But
it
yielded
little fruit.
sad the hours have been In the Valley and Shadow of Death, Where no light mine eyes have seen ness here. But the far, cold stars of faith. Forsaken of the friends He held And my heart, with haunting fears. so dear ; Almost sank into despair Yet never less alone, for God was near Yet the harvest of my years Mostly has been gathered there. So in the waste, dim wilderness at first
to face the
Dark and
Powers of dark-
faint
Not where
Tempter
fain
And
the
fell
to
do
Do
But where sorrow of our life Waters with its tears the ground. There we learn to look above Lonely His sun rose, lonely too it set, For our happiness and peace. But round it trailing clouds of glory met. Learn the comfort of Thy love. For God was with Him, and His peace And in life and strength increase. was great.
his worst.
Not in the
forest grows the noblest tree All highest life a solitude must be. Apart, with only God for company.
"Where no oxen are, the crib is clean but much increase is by the strength of the ox." Prov. xiv. 4.
;
Were there no oxen feeding in the stall, The crib were clean
:
Upon
the Father's loving care alone, But without oxen harvest would be And left to lean against the eternal small. throne. Housekeeping lean
for
;;
Sunday Evenings
489
" Though
in
yet will
trust
Were
it
Send Thy light to guide my way Thou canst give the blind their sight. Thou canst turn the night to day
: :
;
!
children, lo
Yet if dark my path must be, the hearth Let me still hold fast to Thee.
Jesus, in the hour of grief.
And
neat,
to cheer
For only
in
their
mirth
is
He can give the heart relief. home He can wipe away the tear
Yet if sorrow be my lot. Let me be still and murmur
complete.
not.
Were
would
Jesus, in the
Be Thou ever near to save But life were brutish if it were without Thou canst shield from perils rife. Thou canst pluck me from the grave. Its thinking part And to be Godlike we must risk the Yet if I am doomed to death. chance Mine be still the fight of Faith. Of doubting much that we believed
once.
war of
life.
Am I
stir
At His mercy ?
Were
there no there
surely no
among
;
the
dry Did
He
bones, then
Death
me
to overthrow
Were
But
if
the
And can I doubt the love which much peace Spirit move not. Death's Witnessed on His cross for me ?
never cease
;
He
dull reign
Would
'Tis the sun that brings the cloud. Shadows of the light are born ; in starched pro- Let the clouds and shadows shroud Life to me in grief forlorn.
lie
Still
know
Something, I
to give
reckon,
we have
my
lot.
In sacrifice
That we may
live;
hypocrisy."
Luke
xii. i.
And
To
For
'tis
a vice
makes
our
being
Whatsoe'er I be or do. Let me honest be and true Never wear a false pretence, Never speak with double sense.
49
Claim a grace
noblest
Or
When
Am I
Pitiful, stoops to
distress.
Or
to impress
And
if
and
sold.
sore.
Nor
let
him
He
and
As
if
And make
There
to
!
him
feel
In tribute to the
God
of Heaven.
is
do
Life to renew.
Hence with oily phrase and smooth True men know the ring of truth Think not God can be deceived,
;
"The
Son
ministered
of unto,
Man
but
came not to
to
minister."
"Therefore leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection ; not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms, and of laying on of hands, and be of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal
judgment."
Heb.
vi. i, z.
Mark
x. 45.
Not
to
be served,
Lord, but
to
serve
man
I can.
Ail that
And
as I minister unto his need. Serve Thee indeed : So runs the law of Love that hath been given
sent
To
earth from
Heaven.
But thou
do well
What, if mean?
the
task appointed
me
be
To
Wherein thy
as
may
dwell.
was
More
To wash the feet Is the house we need Of Thy disciples, whom Thou would'st Lay them well, and leave them
befriend
there,
They
?
for
Sunday Evenings
the Virgins, are they waking
?
491
And And
Truth
infinite
Be not babes with milk content, Take the strong meat that is meant For the man of might.
When His
Would
Yet
the ages, young or hoary. coming back in glory not cover her with shame
?
Lay
not
still
foundations,
faith.
life to
And
For
a larger
know.
grow
As As
Is not far
from death.
above the busy hum. of expectation failing. of sorrow unavailing Ah the Lord is slow to come
Still
!
'
'
What
shall
Even "Surely I come quickly. come, Lord Jesus." Rev. xxii. 20.
so,
toward
I
What
shall
do
for
all
the
grace
and truth I HAVE heard a cry of wailing That I have known Running through the troubled years, E'er since the error of a wayward youth As of expectation failing,
Led me,
fears.
alone.
!
For the Church is weary, waiting 'Mid the world's unceasing hum.
And its scorning and its hating. And its fury unabating And the Lord is slow to come.
;
that was on a way, alas not good. Through bog and quagmire and bewildering wood. Where I did seek for bread, and found
Forth
not food.
left
Ah
me
not
To
Well Well
What
the
shall
loss
do
to
make up
for
redeem-
To
That
vain,
proud ways
life
made my
barren
land
of drought.
492
Wet
in
mists of doubt,
Which
hath pleased the Father so all fulness we should grow, Where His fulness doth abide
It
To
light without,
Nor
Yet
me,
and
Lord,
In the Christ, the crucified Fulness of our life and health. Peace and hope and joy and wealth,
love divine,
call,
And
Oh,
still
Thy
May
find in
Him
their all in
all.
with mine.
I
itself."
Cor.
Myself to Thee,
Now
An
be
Thine, whether
die
or live
And
to do,
Thou me
Which some
Thy
will
And
meek and
true.
And
True
things
new
let
might have done as badly As they who did the worst I might have plunged as madly Into evil from the first.
And
Sealed
me
the
be
sacred
to the consecration
my
with brow.
Who
knows himself, and yet Will say he could not be Entangled in the net
Of opportunity
springs
are
in
"All
my
Thee."
Ps, Ixxxvii. 7.
Or that the storm, assailing The virtue he achieves. Would smite it unavailing.
And
All
the springs of
to
God
are found
Here within
Founts
this hallowed ground. quench the thirst within, Or to cleanse the soul from sin. Streams of healing to restore Hearts that have been wounded sore. Living water making glad All the weary and the sad.
The
ill
Is mostly
what
fight
is
wrought known.
he fought.
Or
grief he
And
Or
none are
evil all at
Whatsoe'er our ailments are. have not to travel far To supply the need of each
We
"I go
a fishing."
John xxi.
3.
Here to get the dumb their speech, There restore the blind their sight.
He
As
Or
its
might
Upon
For all springs of God are here That His glory may appear.
The
Lord
to see.
for
Sunday Evenings
little stir
:
493
Fain to make a
Where once such blissful days he had, His soul with haunting memory
How
And
It all
all
came back
the happy
past,
How
named him
Rock,
Is the senseless
all at last,
And then
The maid
How could he meet the Master's sight, Whom he with curses did deny
?
More to Him Or the raging of the sea More than reasoned thought
me ?
:
Yet if he met Him not that night, 'Twere better he should die.
Then
He
Nay, such measurement were mean He is great whose soul is clean He is mighty who has Mind Nature's Force to loose and bind He is worth the saving cross. Whose death were an eternal loss.
;
breaking heart
"Quit you
CoR. xvi. 13.
like
men:
be strong."
The shame and anguish to forget. Thy Lord was seeking thee meanwhile
To
His
Gird your
net.
And in our failure and despair. When hardly we dare think or Lo He is looking for us there.
!
feel,
loins about with truth ; Life will not go always smooth. Singing lightsome songs of youth : Play the man
to heal.
Learn with justice to keep pace, Spurning what is vile and base,
And
heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the ordained what is ; stars, which Thou hast man, that Thou art mindful of him ? and " the son of man, that Thou visitest him ?
I
To
"When
consider
Thy
Ps. viii. 3, 4.
Fear not what the world may say, the strait and narrow way. In the open light of day. And play the man.
Hold
What am
To
Or
turn
They
Thought or care in heaven for me. That the Father's heart should long
will call you poor and weak. Being merciful and meek
:
Heed them
my
To
It
Such a
mine from
sin
And
What am
I
?
A pigmy form.
Loving him
! !
for
;;
494
Trust
Sunday Evenings
God, and
let
them mock
They will
And not to-day alone, but evermore Oh let me feel the burden of the debt
The load of sorrowthat the Master bore, The load of goodness that He keeps
in store.
And
"This do in remembrance Luke xxii. 19.
of
not forget
Me."
When
Which
So
forget
Thee,
rain
like
" new commandment I give unto you, a sun- That ye love one another, as I have loved
parched land
neither
you."John
nor
xiii. 34.
dew from
my
soul withers,
and
I understand
this
To
Bind on me. Lord, the new law given bind and blend the earth with
heaven.
high
command Not to
And
oh
that I
may
hast
forget.
As Thou
is
lovM me
the
death which
How
and
weak
fret
am
how
They serve Thee best who love Thee most, They love Thee best who serve the host
full
of fear
How my
strife
Of weak and erring ones and lost. For so Thou lovedst me.
If they reject
With
mists
gather If I
round
me
When
Ah, how can
I forget
me and despise. am hateful in their eyes, Let me with kindness them surprise. For so Thou lovedst me.
forget?
And
is
yet
thought
hard
or
And yet for me did Jesus die Oh let me not the cross deny Which proved Thy love And And
to the blind to the
it it
to me.
Bred
in
meadow,
life
will be sight,
will be might.
the mart
Yet Thou
glory
art.
my
weak
and
The love
As
Though
I will
Oh
remember all Thy Love divine; meet Thou with me where Thy
met, with
love,
"Out
thee,
Lord."
cried unto
Ps.
cxxx.
i.
saints are
the
holy
bread
HEART,
my
heart, that
burdened
art
and breaking
God,
lay hold
With
For
forsaking
sharp remorse
faithlessness
and
failure,
and
ne'er forget.
;; ; !
; ;
495
for
Sunday Evenings
if
And oh,
What
Than
O my heart,
art.
The
life
Mercy-seat
heart,
my
remember
There
guilty past.
It
Thy
Yet
is best,
Or look into full many a secret chamber Thou had'st locked fast
heart,
my
heart.
And
debtor unto
Thee must
rest,
They were
Or
O
He
heart,
my
But though Thy mercies be not sold, might be Yet we may serve Thee with our gold.
forgotten.
So
let us
bring
it is
it
to the
;
Lord,
For
His
is
With
Yet
will
lust or pride.
Heart,
O my heart,
it
sting
and smart.
forgive
When
And
it
can bless
rest.
O
So
God,
a sinner
Such deep
In penitence
God,
O my
God,
" I have glorified Thee on the earth and now, O Father, glorify Thou Me. " John xvii. 4, 5.
Thy
rod.
He
To
or
or blame
Matt,
shame
Father, I
glorify
"
is
My
have
glorified
Thy
name.
Lord, there
Which Thou
For
all
Now
No
lips
Thou Me."
like
but
His a word
that
And
The
from Thee I did receive. Which I have got even the very life I live
Thou
did'st allot
might dare. So meek and bold, so free from doubt and care God spake to God, and yet he spake
in prayer.
As
Thine
Ah
He
could justly
The treasure Thine They are a trust for Thee They are not mine
;
I hold.
meed
for
496
Sunday Evenings
And And
But
He
on their heads
it
He
would
this
the hearer of the word. But the doer, he is just. He who, knowing not the Lord, Keepeth yet his soul from rust. He who doeth what is right. Bravely stands by what is true,
Not
We look
and
life,
see
Dark
Error and failure, sin and misery ; And we can only cry, ah woe is me
!
He
!
is
Who
although it seem to you nearer God than they know the truth, and disobey.
Be merciful, O God But now we dare pray, glorify Thy Son, Crown the meek Victor who the fight
!
hath won.
There
are
thousand
crowned
in
crowning
One
Who
Ah me
That
lurks and
false
The
" Not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall
be justified."
fair,
it
willing
room
sure
it
How
bloom
bringeth blight.
frost
Rom.
Like nipping
by night
its
ii.
13.
That withers
in
the spring
early
Oh we
Glory in our gospel light. Pity those who cannot draw Fresh the living water bright
Oh
hidden, cherished
lust.
We are favoured, we are blest. On We have heard the joyful sound. to God and me We are sons of God. confessed, What if the weapon good We are free who once were bound Unto the sheath be glued
;
;
but
Bless the
Is in
us
On
battle day,
and I am shamed by
mercy
thee?
Ah but what if we are still Walking on in sinful ways. Keeping a rebellious will.
!
Lusting for the world's poor praise What, if we are growing old. None the wiser for the rod ? What if we have faith in gold.
take
away what Thou would'st away Leave not the sharp-toothed moth That is devouring both
put
the
soul
it
doth
Not
in either
man
or
God
for
Sunday Evenings
497.
But never backward may I look, " Truly, if they had been mindful of that Or feel regret country from whence they came out, they That I the way of sin forsook, might have had opportunity to have reAnd heavenward set turned. But now they desire a better
country, that is, an heavenly wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God." Heb. xi. 1 5, 16.
:
My face
God,
And
comfort of His
and rod.
Not
one regretful look behind Lord, would I cast, Nor hanker with a faithless mind For the dead Past
" If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God." Col. iii. i.
Who
would
When
Higher
still,
and higher
Oh to leave the clouds below, And the creeping mists that throw
Doubt on
all
the
way we go
aspire
!
Not back
back again To that old road So haunted by the fear of men, No fear of God The hungry wilderness of self, Whose love was the base love of pelf
again, not
As we would
Higher
still,
Higher
still,
Ah
how
little
way
Forward,
my way
lies
forward
Plunging where the black bogs quake, Slowly hewing through the brake Tangled with old briar Higher still, and higher
! !
still,
To
From
Where
get release
sinful stain,
and wayward
peace
will,
find the
flesh
with
still, and higher look not down to see high thy footing now may be, Upward set thy face where He
1
Higher
!
Courage
How
shall not
be shamed in me.
Calls thee to
come
nigher,
Higher
still,
and higher.
My
work
is
my
rest,
Higher
still,
and higher
fast.
And
And And
For
I have
Lo And
!
the sun
is
sinking
come
cast.
the
last
'Tis no time to
tire
!
and higher
And
if to-night mine inn be good, I shall be glad But if to-morrow's fare be rude, And lodging bad,
Higher still, and higher Sweet the air is, pure and clear,
!
And
the
Lord
is
ever near
I hear
It shall
To
And
Higher
and higher.
32
for
; ;
:; ;
498
Sunday Evenings
" Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death." Prov.
vii. zy.
Hast
thou wandered far, my child Whither did'st thou go. That thy feet are so defiled.
And
amiable are Thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts." Ps. Ixxxiv. i.
"How
O Hast
thy pace so slow ? thou been among the wild Mountains and the snow ?
Dear
to me the Church of Christ, Mountain steep and snows were sweet Sweet the memories lingering there. For me to tread again Sweet the place of solemn tryst. But I've been on the stony street. Sweet the house of prayer, Among the haunts of men ;
Where
my
feet
Through the
Within the
lion's den.
Solace of the spirit vexed. Refuge of the contrite heart, Helper of the mind perplexed Evermore thou art Oh that I might always dwell Where I hear Thy Sabbath bell
In the haunts of men are found Kind and loving hearts. Wisdom springing from the ground. All entrancing arts. Homes that do with peace abound. Songs in many parts.
at the door Called me to come in Where the vine-blood stained the And the song was sin And another victim more Perished so within.
There they brought me when a child For the cleansing of the Lord ; There I came with garment soiled
floor.
But the light of love divine Flooding all thy fane. That is what entrances me.
But thou hast returned at last. Sad and penitent Snaky arms hast from thee cast, All their power is spent
'Twas an
Hushed
in
its
high mystery.
Wake
Not
Ah
the Past
still
cleaves to
me
With
a leprous force
But the
Wayward
That
is
what
Then
know
that
God
is
near.
Tainted thought that will not be Cleansed out by remorse And the goodness that I see Makes the anguish worse
: :
for
499
Sunday Evenings
come, Lord,
throne,
in
Thy Kingdom
"Thy kingdom
come."
this
Matt.
vi. lo.
heart of mine.
Set there
Thy
and reign
true,
in
the
at
reign
of
right divine,
And make me
wholly Thine
wholly
and
Where
Creep
lies,
amazed
into
the
searchout
ing light,
Thy Kingdom
come.
back
the
darkness
of sight
Thy Kingdom
Thy Kingdom
reign alone.
come.
"Willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." z Cor. v. 8.
shalt
come, when
Thou
Waiting
graven gods of stock
for the
day to dawn,
With
all
the
or stone,
Peering through the darkness far. Here and there a cloud withdrawn,
Here and
there a star.
Dark and silent is the hour. Not a whispering wind is Not an insect in a flower, Not a twittering bird. Thy Kingdom come, when wrath and
Thy
throne
Thy Kingdom
come.
heard,
war
shall cease
And swords
of peace.
Long
rule,
Spite of good,
And
love
and wisdom
And my
With
is
shall increase
Thy Kingdom
come.
Who
is
with
me
Only Thou,
Thou,
my
never-failing Friend
Lay Thy hand upon my brow. Thy Kingdom come, when all shall Hold it to the end. do Thy will. And gladly haste Thy purpose to Lo is that a gleam of morn
!
fulfil.
Touching yonder
meekly
all
trailing cloud.
And
faith take
ill
life's
forlorn.
and
Thy Kingdom
come.
Yet within that cloud there lie All the glories of the day The Kingdom come, where peace and Light, and life, and song ; and pity meet. Long for them and pray.
And
Like
let
Thy
folk
mercy- seat
pity
show
to those
who them
entreat
Give me, Lord, the grace I need. That I yet may die at length
Into
life
Thy Kingdom
come.
indeed.
Soo
Thoughts
arid Fancies for
Sunday Evenings
"My
work."
And
John
v. 17.
I would work with Him whose mercy lasts For ever, and His love is everywhere.
in
Who
preached to
spirits in prison,
and
daily casts
Well
My
- earned because the battle has His nets where souls are sinking in despair been won. heaven were with Him there. fight has been a poor one at
My
the best,
And now
I trust to have
it
better
done Perchance,
in
that
new
life
we
shall
be born Children at first, and have to slowly What need of rest, except to be grow. And its unfathomable wonders learn, refreshed For further work, and carry on our Like children, singing gladly as we go Where living waters flow. task. No more with sin enfeebled and ennever sets the sun.
Where
meshed
Yet
must we
have
our
come
to
manhood's
us
better hour,
And
work
appointed
to do.
So many failures I have made on earth. And do it with more So many hours have wasted of and power,
heart,
and hope,
my
So So
oft
day,
And
far
morning dew
little
life
renew.
astray
At
any
rate, to sit
From
Way
On
Or
listless
thrones,
shining gold.
Oh To
To To
to
redeem the time that I have lost, right whatever wrong I may have
publish
psalms.
done.
With
peace unto the tempest-
and cold.
tossed.
hope I hold.
ing one.
"If
you."
it
would have
told
Who
And
Went What
knows
Christ,
The
I
Father worketh
hitherto.
Oh,
away?
whom
would serve
in
And know
dim with
they
tears
how
?
away
to rest
Him,
but to do
than here.
sleep
?
through
all
the
And
;;;
Sunday Evenings
would'st have told us had
it
501
Not
Thou
not
floor,
been so,
Or
sift the slag and cinders of the Thou wilt not let us yearn for some moon. dear face. Tell what the sun for fuel has in Or voice remembered fondly long ago.
store.
To make Thy
eclipse shall
heaven to us a lonely
Or when
noon
:
darken
it
at
place.
From
up
concealed having faith in Thee, Lord, I would hold Or to unwrap the cerements of the soul. And search the close-kept secret of The hope unspokenas the hoperevealed. the tomb.
its
gloom,
And
They may be
far
away
I cannot
tell
And
nothing
of
my
grief can
" I exhort therefore, that, hear prayers be made for all men."
first
i
of Tim.
all,
ii.
or see
They may be
near me, holden by a spell O'er land and sea love follows with fond prayers will yield no
Its dear
and cares
There is no spot which it does not drop this tender dew, body, and appear as it appeared When its haunts were among the sons Except the grave and there it bids adieu. And prayeth not. of men.
But near or
far,
the spirit
is
ensphered
Alone and
again
On
Yet Thou
and
life.
Lord of death
Wilt Thou
not
clothe
should that be the only place uncheered them with By prayer, which to our hearts is most
endeared.
friend
Why
familiar frames,
And
Living,
sacred
grown
for
we
head
sought
lips
blessings
on
And
and
call
them
their
by their names
Why
wert,
be sealed
?
when
Changed
as
Thou
Thee
Thy
friends
And we
their
alone
discovered
By
wounded Idle ?
doom
is
fixed
Ah who
!
side;
And Thou
that
can tell ? wilt leave some mark on us Yet, were it so, I think no harm could
well
we
the glory
Amid
may
be verified.
Come
of
my
prayer
S02
Thoughts
oh the
Sunday Evenings
And
its grief,
grow
finds therein
From
Shall
its
despair.
Less meet for heaven when followed by a prayer To speed them home, like summerscented air
God
call
ill
be wroth because
we
love
From
long ago.
the heart's desires
them
still.
And
upon His
love
to
shield
Who
shall forbid
from
Our
Beyond the
limit
of the things we
know
their pain.
In heaven above
The
incense that
And
Nay, I
pray
will
give
them
rest
bear
Is the sweet perfume
from the
saintly
not
believe
it.
will
prayer
Of trust
and love.
A HERETIC
AND OTHER POEMS
A HERETIC
Together the words of the dead grave, Epic and drama and lyric bold,
classic
Yes, he was there at the and we Eyed each other with meaning look. Wondering what he had come to see Yet we pitied him, too, ere long, as he Stood by himself alone, and shook While the earth fell dull on the cofKn lid. But why had he come where he was
And
and
sage
true.
discourse
tale,
of
the
wise
the faiths
And many
the past life of the world they knew, How much of the gods and the wits not bid ? He might have known he would mar of Greece, And of Rome with its arts of war our meeting. Who neither its love nor its grief and peace. Oft wandering, too, by brake and could share. brook. And how could we give him a word Or seated on lichened boulder stone, of greeting ? He the last man that we looked for They read as in an open book How earth was fashioned, and rocks there.
!
How well
And
So, lonely and silent he took his place, silent and lonely he went
had grown.
his way. But what was the shadow that lay on his face
?
By frost and ice, by fire and flood. From the weltering slime of primal mud
the
Was And
It
it,
And what the records of nature bore Of the struggle of Life from less to
more
tender grace,
day?
puzzled us then
;
What mosses in the swamps grew rank, What fishes stirred the long sea-weeds, What great beasts on the river's bank Went crashing through the giant reeds.
So they had searched, through ages vast.
They had
had read
been
friends
youth,
The
Past.
: ;
A
and
:;
; ;
504
Heretic
With Fathers
Schoolmen and
And And
With no more change than the passing knotty Creeds, breeze Councils, where subtlest wits were seen Makes when it tosses the creaking bough ; Busily sowing the fruitful seeds Of faith and doubt, and love and hate. And prosperous, plentiful, full of ease, And all that chequers our mortal fate. To-morrow he shall be the same as now. The fall too of Empire, the dark Another shall flow like a freshening stream, sunset Of learning, through lust of power and Flashing there where the sunbeam flies. Eddying here in a brooding dream, gold.
And
The
yet
and cord,
all its life in its movement lies This the law of his being strange. Ever he grows by flux and change. What would you ? Nature will have
And
God's
her
way
Will mend by night what you mar by day. These, too, they pondered, laying And laughs at the man that would say up store Of late born science and old world lore. her Nay. So had the Kirk for her sons designed Tree cannot pluck up its roots and go.
pure
Word
That the
in
full
mind.
settled near
this,
the high
Law,
given
To
They
each other, In a rural parish of easy bliss.
That, in a neighbouring city, the questionings of
Lord
of Heaven.
And some read many books, and grow keen Wiser and better by all they know young life From thoughts of other men their own They walked together side by side, Get warmth and colour and richer tone. And each of the other would speak And what is old they make as new with pride From the shaping mind it passes How one had treasures of learning vast, through And one had thoughts that were sure It was but a seed when it was sown. to cast But a goodly plant in their souls has larger light upon life and death. grown. And gird up the loins of our dwindling For all that they gather with patient
rife
With
faith.
strife
first in
Brothers
life.
Brothers
Each
now
be.
Another shall read and heap up lore, Yet be no wiser than ever before Folios mighty he knows by rote, And each edition, its date, and size, Page and paragraph well can quote, And where a word on the margin lies
;
;
505
Heretic
Hardly a question up shall spring, Sudden as startled bird on wing, But a loaded sentence is up to sight
Say, you are set to pasture sheep Taught where the short, sweet grasses
grow.
With
it
the tender ewes and the lambs keep Yet never a thought of his own has he. From the wily fox and the hooded crow, Nor any mind but memory. And how to shift them from hill
And
to
right
to dale.
So
And how
that
ail,
to"
bring healing to
them
of the other's
And when
far
to fold
them,
and feed
field
lies
deep upon
in the
grave
his service
so you tend them with care, and they Trust your shepherding, as you strive To keep them safe in the good
And
By
Which
old way change and sorrow, the sacred way the dull, slow book-worm But somehow not thrive
or
other
as
they
do
never discerned.
They do
not
grow
they ought
He
in brilliant
to
grow,
youth. Eloquent, earnest, eager to tell Just the old story we held for truth.
And many
fat
But pine where the quiet waters flow ; are ailing, and none grow
and liked Could you be well content with that ? Nay, you are not there to be liked him well and praised. Praised the round periods shaped But to see that the sheep are fitly grazed. with care. And the brilliant tropes that he did Or say that you go a-fishing, well not spare, And liked the man and his modest air. Equlpt with a handy rod and reel. What And the temptingest flies that ever fell. Praised him and liked him Like light, where the rippling waters would he more ?
praised
And we
him
for
it,
Welcome
door.
his
knock
at
the
cottage
steal.
you know all the likely casts and pools, Welcome at school to the children gay. Welcome his presence at wedding feast. And to ply your art by the latest rules. Welcome where sickness restless lay. Could you be satisfied now to see Welcome as Comforter, Prophet and Shoals come sniffing about your hooks.
And
As it were a pleasure for them to be he more than already Playing there, in the shining brooks. With the golden wings and the he had ? scarlet dyes And why should his countenance now
Priest
What would
be sad
Of all
those beautiful
summer
flies.
5o6
Heretic
If never a speckled trout would touch Part of the earth, and part of the air. The dainty things that they liked From the small fine threads of their logic bare ? so much ?
Shepherd,
then,
we Now came
Of
his heart desired.
teaching
halt.
and
And
meetings
And
therefore
with
sorrowing eyes
oppressed.
he gazed
Round and down on the thronging pews. For the week As one who had failed in telling
his news.
he was fighting
all
the
As
before.
to more,
fight
And now
went
Till
anew it went
this
way, now
it
and
serving
that,
our sins,
we
hardly could
felt
tell
what he meant
and groping
to
to be at
But we
he was
real,
And
Can
so
I
he began
spend
?
to ask,
"What next?
on a
fruit-
about
my
years
less task
My
soul
is
Will
God
not give
weary and sore perplexed, Slowly the light came; slowly it grew; me the boon I ask ? Not without questionings, Could it
straight furrow,
Better go
Andfaint heart-misgivings, What might be the end ? Better the broom of as crosing-sweep. Must he lose for the sake of it lover Labour of any kind one can see and friend ? Good coming out of, than this for me." Some would have laid all the blame Sometimes resisting it when it seemed clearest, on the flock. And called their hearts hard as a Sometimes afraid of it when it felt dearest. flinty rock Sometimes persuaded it could not But that was never his way ; for he Searched himself and his work, to find be right. What might the cause of his failure be. Else the saints nearest God would have glowed in its light And whether it were in his heart And sometimes defiant and scornful, he. or mind. Was it the good news of God he As one who knew what the cost must be, had spoken ? Was it the true Bread of life he Hurled it at us, and went his way. To kneel in his closet, and weep had broken ? and pray. And the Christ he had preached, was But he settled at last in the lucent calm He God's own Son ?
;
be true
Or
whom
the school-
Of
a
a restful faith
as
men
Psalm
; ;
A
Heretic
It
507
blest
tears
causeth
And
If the
of
also
crosses
and low
enemy
sowed
his tares,
it
At
first
ing fear.
Was he hitting
beliefs
?
our cherished
truth,
was
clear.
And
the
to
Was
power. he came to us speaking good Was he shooting heretical arrows words of good cheer in sheafs ? That dropt on our souls like a Was he driving shafts through the summer shower. Catechism How we waited for Sunday then, To undermine our old Calvinism ? eager to listen Some held it was only the truth To a message that made the heart glow and eye glisten he sought, Truth which at any price must Oh, the hush of the multitude, breathless and still. be bought And some, that he ne'er should have As their souls bowed before him, and moved at his will come to preach If he had not already the truth
fathers dear
?
he sapping
our
And
to teach.
Meanwhile,
home
And so,
each fireside the battle raged Read many a clasped, white-vellumed tome. Which he with himself in anguish Black-lettered, and with red-edged waged leaf. And we searched the Book, "and we And never a sentence clear and brief. gathered store Of other books, and we deemed Mickle he read, but little he grew ; dwarf in giant's armour he ; them good. Not for the wealth of their learned lore. And all that was old he held for true. But for help that they gave us in And all that was new must error be Fresh lights indeed on the earth living more might shine, Nobly and truly, as Christians should ; But nothing fresh upon things divine ; That was his test for every thought,
at
Will
it
lift
you up nearer
to
God And
little
he
heeded
the
voice
or not?
which
said,
Oh,
Seed
that
I am living, and these are dead. was a springtime of sowing Then some came to him, whispering,
seed
"Lo!
of
the
better
life
surely
The The
hour
is
for
mind
quickened by him, and the soul
traditions
know.
friend
astray
that bind
Was
and
From
way.
A
others to
5o8
Heretic
always
left Will follow the out. he tries Heaven trained thee for this task. O'er his own shadow in vain to leap. And see. That which the Fathers held for truth In the faith-sure days of the Church's There is glory and honour awaiting
they scoff and mock, and and flout bell-wether, when If a date be wrong, or a jot
do likewise,
sheep
And
fleer
silly
youth,
thee,
That which
When
faith
the
true
champion
of
the
With
age,
Has
link of
it it
Every Every
strong as fact,
fitting tight
They
men,
were
at
not
many
- thoughted
joint of
As
Nor wise
winning
them
Making
wily net
Would
that
down on
our heads,
in
was how the leaven wrought sat down by the fire, and
I
we
men crushed
a falling
May
die like
"How
thought can
do
it?
He
is
my
mine.
friend.
is
Tender and true, and a saintly spirit. the harvest come at last prayer, to Living, by work and sowing of fruitless seed ; mend been guiding thee in the The ills and woes that we all inherit. past To help His Church in her hour of They'll call me a Balaam, a Judas,
But now
He
Truth should
me
not.
Up,
spoken,
Or
take
thy sling
and
the
pebble
Even
at
?
the
risk
of
friendship
stone.
broken
deal with
And
The
him
but
Marring the ancient doctrine so. without And leading others, too, far astray ? lore of the ages, known to thee. 'Tis pleasant to find my work at Hardly her way shall be plain to see last For the critical, carping spirit abroad Lies ever in wait for the Church's Appreciated as it should be And what if, indeed, through the tripping. busy Past, If she miss but a turn of the changing
road.
God
slipping,
Or
as
me ? men of sense.
mouth come
ways of Providence.
A
Heretic
509
It
is
right
to
to
requires,
do what the Church One word only he spoke out plain. But that word measured the bulk of
his brain
:
And
fires,
"That
then,
I
Aorist,
;
now; he
is
clearly
How
And,
painful
;
must
I
wrong
point
speak
in his
my
besides,
he Greek."
a
is
clearly all
wrong
strong."
Followed
sharp
faith and the hope of men, he wist. Remonstrance, All hinged on the turn of an Aorist.
For the
charged With high authorities, and enlarged With customary polemic hits
Remonstrance led to
course,
Rejoinder,
of
The shallow trick of barren wits As " love of novelty fickle mind
Failure of logic,
if
Hunger
kind
for
fame
Deftly handled with point and force. And equal learning and dainty wit. And there was not an unkind word
in
it.
"
that
Pleasant," he writ,
life
" was
quiet
Knowledge
grace,
among
big - margined
folio
books.
either,
Not
accurate
its
busy
place.
You know
once
the style
to-day,
it
larks,
and the
to
Than
it
is
when
And
well
for
his
friend
have
dunce
Is of little account.
lettered ease,
As
" proof,"
he read the For the Church to have scholars ripe and good, unkindly his Though it is not for any themselves
to please.
And
sit
in
brown
study, and
dream
and brood.
crooned and swelled in a vain Fighting the battles of long ago fond dream With ghosts that are wandering to Of all the honours that he should and fro, win. When they ought of rights to be When scholars his learned volume lying low. read, For himself, his task had been plainly And the wealth of praise that it might set bring in. Where the eager throng in the market And the name that should live when met. he was dead And the rush of thoughts into men's
He
But he did not remember the love he lost The broken seal of the Holy Ghost.
vexed minds
Was
March winds,
5IO
; ;
A
would not be
settled
Heretic
And
Or
by tense
"What
told
have I done?
I have only
or mood,
nice grammarian
but doth enfold must serve his time, for he did All that on earth have their abode, All in the Universe that dwell not think God had mistaken the time of day, In the heights of heaven, or the depths of hell And set him forth, like an owl to For there is no shore where that ocean blink breaks At noon instead of the evening grey ; But to look in the face of man, and And finds its limit : God is not there
could.
He
Where Love is not, that our burden see takes What was aching his heart and brow, For God is love, and is everywhere. And where the shadow of Mystery And I told them, that God and His Lay on the face of the dial now.
grace and
work
" Fresh
lights
and heaven.
Are
And time had its ancient secrets given Nor yet bound up in a printed book, Up to our search, from the earth and For all good thoughts that visited them.
stone
That held the story of Babylon. Not now could any one wholly read
All longings for the pure and true, All from His inspiration came ; And there was not an erring soul
The
but knew no heed which the Fathers could not The pleading tones of the Father's love Calling calling him from above. know The lights which out of the ages grow. And I taught moreover that they who hear. And ere the brief hours of his day And turn from the evil of their ways. were run. He would like to feel that his task Shall find that His mercy is ever near, was done And sing to Him yet in a song of
truth aright, if he gave
To
that
With
praise
Wasting nothing on mere by-play. For among the living, among the dead, But filling his place in the plan sublime Yesterday, to-day, and for ever, God worked out in His own great He is still the same, as the Spirit said. way. Pouring forth love as a flowing river. Others might come to mend it soon, Is it heresy to have taught them so ? To-morrow a different work might I glory in it, and ever must. need. Ever with Christ my faith must go, Men must change with the changing When He seeks the living to make them just, moon, And life be sung to another tune. Or joins the dead where they lie in
And
shape
itself to a larger
Creed.
dust;
Faith in
And
to
For He must be doing His Father's was the only way, will, there was no last word on that Bearing the message of mercy still." say.
God
; ;
A
Process of heresy then began,
Heretic
was there on
night
that
S"
chill
I
fit,
December
And who
man.
they gave their verdict, and spake his doom With competent knowledge to handle By a single candle's glimmering light it? That was only just seen in the dusky Oh they were grieved, for well they wot gloom. The man was good, and the work Many were weeping, and some men he did ; swore. saintly spirit in deed and thought. But a low laugh rose when the light Though he plainly taught what the died out.
When
Church forbid And we said, " Here we seek for the But never a heresy yet had thriven truth no more. But what some holy man had given They have left us in darkness to tone to it that appeared from wander about." Yet were we glad that the end had Heaven. It was all the worse for the Church, come.
they
said. And the torrents of foolishest speech a man of God from the old were dumb. paths broke ; But in the name of God to smite But there was little to fear or dread. When the heretic was like other folk. Him that was walking with God in
When
light
And
Daily
And
the
in the
name of
God
to
wreak
Wrath on
business too,
And
and early and late. the case anew. Never such stir was known
meek name of God to pray O'er such a work as they did that day.
the lowly heart and
in the
We all debated
place
Little witting
in
the In
Never such searching of chapter and Outcast now from its fellowship. Still to the Kirk he fondly clung, verse Never such talk of election and grace, And often he said, with quivering lip. Never such arguments clear and terse How good it was, when the bell was rung. Never such stores of theology, brought From hiding-places in old men's heads. To go where the grand old Psalms were sung. Never such troubled and anxious And to be where lowly hearts were thought. bent As we walked by the way, or lay still
;
in our beds.
To
we
In prayer and holy Sacrament held For the Kirk made brave and earnest
:
so dear.
Badgered as if he were fool or rogue But at length, in the cold dark end of
the year.
And
as
he loved
So he
They
cast
Nor wasted
512
Sabbath Evening
another sect to claim the true Jerusalem,
in his
Long Ago
But who was the heretic kept apart From the truth and life by his faithless heart
?
And
rear
its altars
name
He who
was
loved on
? ? ?
Or he who
them with the love of
truth.
Ah
gave up his love, and won would you read God's meaning
the
bright,
And And
At
to
look
to believe that
God
is
Love.
only few
Not on
shining
lies
page of
first,
of course,
we were
dark on
And* work
Of some
calls
tragic
failure,
some proud
disgrace.
And
Became
a goodly
company
For the loss is gain, and the gain is loss. the shame is glory when He wills That thou shouldst shine in the healing
Cross,
all
And many
And
Which
the
Law
by love
fulfils.
sounded forth the message grand That Love had vanquished sin and
death.
Child,
I
And And
AGO
SEE the
walked with sinners, undefiled. with the wicked had made His
old
home on
the Sabbath
grave.
night
It smelt of heresy to call
it
Sunday,
A heathen
right
name, although
we
held
it
And
The
might join the battle brave Who heard, and would obey His call. And we grew bold, and dared to greet
all
To
The
meet,
tears
cruse hung on the jamb, with poor rush pith That, soaked in whale oil, dimly kept a-gleaming ;
filled
writing
More shadows
the
room
than
lights therewith.
the yoke.
And how
set
And now behold the seed had sprung. And over all the Church awoke The same glad strain which he had
sung.
me dreaming
sea-coal
fire
glowed on the
old
Dutch
slates.
settle near
mystery of truth, whose hour is its day of power. Which but accepts its cross, and then Rides forth in its might to conquer
And
Of sorrow
men
the doorway,
Long Ago
the
small
Sabbath Evening
513
Still
mind chafed
at
the
strenuous thought
often
those stern Puritans who faced, unwincing. For the much-preaching sharpened the The darkest problems of our human lot. desire And solved them with a text, as allTo satisfy the flesh we had been convincing.
spurning.
Of
But while the grave old father questioned on, In the big chair the father gravely sat, And round the fire the household I marked his dome of forehead, time had wrinkled. gathered quiet The dog wheeled round, and, coiling And to myself I kept mythoughts alone. And the dog dreamed on, and the on the mat. rushlight twinkled. Slept through the lesson, profiting not by
it.
faith
serene and
And
then we went right through the " Catechism," From " Man's chief end," to "Amen " in conclusion Heaven's white light broken in a logic prism To clear our thought, and end in dire
confusion.
strong,
In
me
Yet
The
kindness
Mostly
And love,
wisdom would
its
earthly
Of comrades
doubting.
at a
game of
bat or ball
it
set
me
And
it
did
store
the
mind
with
furniture
So those high orthodoxies came to bej In forms antique, forbidding peaceful slumber, Quick seeds in me of heterodox opinion, And, ere I wist, my thoughts were all But morticed well, and fashioned to
at sea.
endure.
And
I
drifted,
holden
by
no
wise
Hard
dominion.
cumber.
not how those Westminster I wot not what our later faiths may do For us, what time our troubled lives Divines may need them. To Scots beyond the Tweed their faith But through that stern old creed a had given.
knew
But I rebelled
to travel
on those
lines
nation
grew
staunchest in the fight
Which made
to
Heaven.
33
God
5U
Creeds
The
Discovery of
From
CREEDS
Ah
Who
!
And
brow
these old creeds,
?
And
Vain
and they
Creed-making now
In these latter ages of time Would yield stuff, I trow,
Made men
the
wounds
?
Which
or the sap
On
as
small
poet's
Critical
grounds,
hints and guesses, no more, With a deep, settled doubt at the core.
What
not to believe.
is
That now
the stage
we
are at
But the
spirit
has risen
in a prison,
making of creeds
Where
slept
And now we
They
can soar high above All the Creeds, but the Credo of Love.
are things of the past.
But ours
is
an age
taking things
Of unmaking,
For
down
the warfare
we wage
fortified
We
And
out of date ; The men were not cast In our moulds, who endured such a weight. So linked and compact let them go,
:
Survivals, and
now
spread out, to find air and room. walls and their gloom.
to
Yet we have faith In the Right and the True and the
Good,
And in Him whose last breath Was the prayer of a pitiful mood,
skilfully
wrought Which smites the meek spirit with awe, And with Love, the true life of all
And
Any
in touch with our thought they will not allow they have found spot where they have not sure ground.
Law.
Did
in
now,
For
The Discovery of God
Making
it
51S
e'er forget his
plain that,
on a time,
on
Could mortals
name.
Or
'
history
fail to
tier,
?
And
When that dread veil was rent away. And God a proven Truth became ?
One
finds a new world^ one, a star Undreamt of hitherto, and men Hold high their names in honour then Through all the ages near and far.
Or did he trace, with curious skill, Nice-fashioning touches on the clay That man was made of, and the way
That
it
was modelled
purpose,
its life
to
fulfil
The The
artist's
when
at length
But what
are these to
pulses of
And And
should beat, find the eye and ear complete, hand with delicate touch and
?
The The
truth in
central
which
all
thought
all
which
makes
complete.
strength
And
facts
clears
up
And
as
he traced the
and laws,
The will which shapes what may befall. The power that wrought whate'er The The
hath been. light wherein
life
all
An
infinite all-designing
Cause
light
is
seen.
that
is
the
life
of
all ?
Thus, step by step, did he go on, Groping through darkness toward light, Nay, no Columbus here may boast That, plunging in an unknown sea. Until the vision of glory bright Dawned on his soul, and doubt was He made this grand discovery. Being sore-spent and tempest-tossed. gone.
And
The
in the splendour
of the day
its
No
seeker sought,
till
he did
find
universe revealed
sense.
And And
throbbed with clear intelligence, bade him worship now and pray,
!
The secret hid from ages past, The mystery of the First and Last, The Peace that filleth heart and mind.
For lo the wondrous Book, no more By links of patient reason brought Out of the sum of finite things. Anonymous, disclosed to view Its Author and its meaning too. He reasons ill whose reason brings Which were a secret heretofore ? Such outcome from his partial thought
Ah
From
light
light.
ill,
When such a thought first broke on him. Pure good from mingled good and From tokens of mechanic skill And filled his being to the brim
With awe of what
his
Illimitable glory
and might.
idle
was the grand discoverer ? age was honoured to contain This man of subtle and daring brain-
Who
Vain dreamer of an
dream
What
The
In logic forms ! Did any one Discover by his quest the sun. That seeks us with his searching beam
Si6
The
pries about the
Invention of
God
world to find And so man's fear invented God heaven ? who mines For thunder-clap and stormy blast, The earth in search of frequent signs And fire-stream from the mountain cast That shall suffice to clear his mind, Seemed the fell strokes of His angry rod;
Who
Proof
that he
is
in
certify the wondrous power, And pestilence His deadly breath. That burns upon the morning cloud. And war a game He loved to play And makes the song-bird glad and loud. For pastime of an idle day. And paints the shining leaf and flower ? That gambled with our life and death
And
didst not find God hidden there Wherefore men crept up to His feet, In problem of His acts and days ; And licked the dust in abject fear. But He reveals Himself, and lays And howled their prayers into His ear, To the pure heart His glory bare. Or gashed them, and their bosoms beat.
Thou
Strange savage,
in the nutting
Who,
just
emerged
framed
us that, in evil hour.
all
Our
fears invented
God,
the dread
And, brooding
Invented
in a troubled
mood,
are
Of our
Or
God
Our triumphs
That sendeth
and drought.
But trifles it were best to hide. But poor mechanic toys, beside
And storms and desolating wars. And horrid glare of baleful stars. And grief and pain, and fear and doubt
The
trophies of
!
Thy
fruitful
war.
thou hadst a dream that we can reach. Wherefore the troubled spirit dreamed For thou invented'st God and Speech, Phantom stood upon its path, And we have only compassed Steam. And hastened to appease His wrath And Thou dark Phantom of our fears, By whatsoe'er it most esteemed.
semi-brute
Transcending
all
How
Man
did not
is
know
with
to
Thee
?
Whatever
all that
was,
And
The
drying of
its
And
blinding tears
And foams along the rock-strewn Sat shivering in his dirty rag, course, And deemed some godhead held a bag, Can never rise above its source. Filled full of pain and misery. But creepeth down by grange and town
Which he let loose on hapless men, Yet from that spring of coward dread, What time, an hungered, he would dine That Phantom born of wrath and death. On ample flesh, and bread and wine, Come holy love, brave-hearted faith,
down.
And
found his
And
; ;:
; ; '
The
Vision of
God
The
And
I
Burden of God
was
fain to be alone,
517
THE
O
THE
VISION OF
GOD
silences
How
Now
riven
!
fill my soul, as with a breath That concealed where He abode Yet its clouds were once around Him, That from the Eternal life is brought Let me but be alone with God And I sought Him in despair, little while on some high place. And never there I found Him,
Oh Oh To
Till I brought
Him
with
me
there.
Not
Him,
Where rarely foot of man hath trod. That I may see Him face to face. So did they long of old, who built
High
altars
No
on the
hill-tops bare.
Him
With
a vision
more
precise
Only lowliness can merit That His secret He should Only spirit seeth spirit,
tell
Then
Past
And
Never
Like one
men,
till
thee.
Along
around thee, Till He dwell within thy heart. Not without thee, but within thee Must the oracle be heard,
Vain to seek
Him
all
the swiftly rushing stream. Past the white kirk with ruddy spire,
And
solitary
wayside shrine
Where peasant mothers did admire The mother of the Babe divine.
Black-muzzled,
his taU,
As He And
seeketh
still
to
to guide thee
When
I found I
Then
While men sat in the tavern near. With flask of wine or mug of ale.
In the bud and in the blossom. In the earth and in the air And He spake to me with clearness
And And
heard the sharp luhish of the scythe, dragging of the patient rake, I heard the children singing blithe.
I
felt as if
From the sUent stars that say, As ye find Him in His nearness, Ye shall find Him far away.
They
my heart woiJd break. sang the song of Bethlehem, glad their voices were and clear
I could sing like them.
oh that
only
knew
that
God would
hear
could not reason it away It might have no right to be there. Yet clung to me by night and day.
And
Still on, I bore my burden on. Finding no help in kirk or shrine. Or crucifix of carven stone. Or picture of the Babe divine
5i8
;
;
Alone, I must be all alone, little speech, a little rest, Beyond the mighty wooded slopes cup of goat's milk at the door ; I would have company with none, Bid me not stay and be your guest. But those vast, silent mountain tops There are a good eight hours and more. Which held me with their snowy spell. Before the sun dips in the west. And bade me come to where they stood. And I must on at any price. And in their white robes, worshipped To see his evening glories rest
well
A A
The
Good.
Upon the pale green glacier ice. And on the web of pallid snow
That wraps the hills in raiment white, winds And on the changing clouds below Through the pine wood above the That catch the fringes of His light. I did not tell my inmost thought stream, High up, the grey-green glacier grinds. Those neat-herds could not well divine Far down, its grey-green waters gleam, How I, in search of God, was brought Away from kirk and cross and shrine. torrent from a neighbouring clifF Leaped down, and disappeared halfway, Still up and up ; the Alpen-stock To fall in tremulous mist, as if Oft buried in the turf before. Nature to me was fain to say Now smote upon the living rock. See how the rush of lofty thought, And from its heart the fire-spark tore The higher that its way appears.
I took the steep rock-path that
The
Still
deeper that
its
rest is sought.
And
Still
With
up the rugged path I went. panting breath and trembling Lo, then
'Neath some snow-crested precipice. And glanced round, with a passing hope Of chamois fleet or Edelweiss,
my
step
grew lightsomer.
knees,
And
weary limb, and back low bent. in the brisk and tingling air of great pine trees, I could have broken into song. I came upon a sunny glade And this I took foi' omen true. Open and green, with brooks and wells. That I was on the"way of peace. And crocus fields where cattle wade. That doubts were' where the pineTill, past the belt
And And
With
noise of
many
jangling bells.
piled
woods grew.
And
flat-roofed
chalets,
with
stone.
For winds
are boisterous there and wild But kirk or steeple there was none. Only the Virgin and her Child, Kept in some homely box for shrine.
And
But
look.
How sweet
And
Served, through eternal holy weeks. About the altar of the Lord,
Him
face to face.
Awful
in their
; :
519
What
Silent, as if
Pilate
Thought of
It
Wrapt
with one accord There is no scene of earth fulfils hush of speechless prayer. The high hope of the soaring mind. There was no sound of man or beast, And in the quiet of the hills Nor hum of bee, nor song of bird, The peace of God I did not find And more the silence seemed increased And sweet it was with weary limbs. What time the avalanche was heard. Ere long to sit i' the kirk, and hear
in the
The
Once they had held me with a spell, That And drawn me with a mystic force, Those hills, as deeming God must dwell
There where the waters had
source.
their
Christ
God
WHAT
What
Which made
glad;
meadows
PILATE THOUGHT OF IT
my
Lucius
?
There where,
Here our
No
Which you
Rome
There 'mid
Should
snow
and bright
By
And look down on the mists below. And gaze up to the fount of light, And find my burden fall away. And feel at last the perfect calm
That broods
in
sword
Clings to the scabbard, only to be drawn Too late. Oh, thus and thus I should
have spoken
And
How
And
But
Am
cleverly
We
as I stood
manage, when
fire.
we
the
pat,
sit
down by
to
the
And,
having
all
dialogue
ourselves,
That answered
It did not ease
We
I'
find the
answer
which does
But you do
me
of
my
load,
;
not
th'
come
strain
I had left the world behind was not any nearer God By being far from humankind. And up amid the bands of ice
That
I
of acting
not
know
This people
in that
Would
I were like
you
And
The
I could
of clinging snow, have purchased with a price Virgin and the Babe below.
silent fields
Are
there none
To
For not
in nature's awfulness.
And And
But
majesty and purity, not in her dread silences Shall God reveal His depths to thee
in a heart that throbs to thine.
No
;
to
fence
with
demagogue
To
trip
up
in his talk
no
Schemer
lawyer
to
countermine
politic
or
wily
To follow through his trick and artifice Of rhetoric, and exercise the brain
"
Thought of
Would
It
S20
What
Pilate
We
a good
one
as
Priests, plotters,
demagogues
flies
leave the Gauls and Britons, and let loose Oh thick The sword upon these Hebrews.
?
as flies
to be
on But for my hungry creditors once Your eyes to sting and blind them. more But they are not I' the Campus Martins on unruliest Like other men. You cannot count steed. upon Or scouring the Campania, rather than I've Their motives, or their methods, or Managing these cursed Jews their aims. lost my nerve What they may love, and what they Among them yet their daughters are may abhor. most fair. The oaths that bind them, or the gods But of this prophet, Jesus. You must they fear, AH are most strange and baffling. know, 'Tis as if I had been supping late with Rufus You dealt with beings of another world Naso, Whose passions are not ours, whose And young Cornelius, and the In Egypt, and like
they
settle
!
ways of thinking
Advocate
modes.
!
Are
So
to
The
Rome
all full
of
methodical In lying, with a reason always ready. Yet full of contradictions, as the way
pious and so
wicked
my
best Cyprian
be even
in
adepts
let
deep
practitioners.
loose
too, Caesar
The
I have served
when
About
the
Augurs,
Seneca's
neat
phrase.
And
Of
and
Nerissa's
Whose women
of the palace.
strokes
and
Lydia's
languishing,
Backed
by
their
money
- lending
The pleasant life about the Mammertine, every one a traitor at his heart. For which one longs in this Jerusalem. Impeaching me of rapine and of blood. This growing slack, i' th' hush we And thereon comes a rescript. What heard a song, can I, great " Hallel " about the Temple But let them plot, looking as if I saw gate.
Trastiveres,
And
till
with
my
legions
all
through
musical,
in
Jews are
And
linked melodies
What
That
i'
Pilate
Thought of
It
S2I
and
fro
th' air,
all
And
my
With
dallying
that witch, Leila,
their notes
whom
I half
suspect
To To
"
be
fall
the
crass fool
into his
power
Of booths
when
and bonfires
in the
Autumn
jest.
Ho
man
in
!
the walls,
draw up the
They
guard
arms
"
!
We
Pshaw 'tis no riot, only some mad mad. prophet had well drunk, and were in The priests are haling to their courts. merry humour He must be So nought would serve but we must
travesty
An
By
may
Bacchus,
'twas
the
cost
honest
The
rite.
him preach
Truculent
lies till
rarest prank.
doomsday.
Though
it
me
dear.
About
Well
my
head
not so clear as it had need to be Each girt his coat about him, donned After that bout, nor were my nerves well strung, his sandals When there rose clamorous outcry at As ready for a journey, with a staff the gate. Handy, for so their Priests had ordered it And 1 must to the Judgment Hall,
midnight
Was
And
But
in
where stood
the feast.
for a
and weary. lamb we had a roasted swine. Some poor men Which is abomination to the Jew, And sweet - baked fruits instead of or shepherds
bitter herbs.
fishers, as I
deemed,
Flitted
about
to
i'
th'
shadow, looking
him,
yet
afraid
scared,
As
loth
leave
Hallel,
Till far into the morning.
to stand
As
day Right
at his side.
All
his accusers
were broke It heard the loud tramp of a throng Clamouring outside the court. would have tainted of men Fast hurrying through the streets. Their sanctity at such a sacred time. And barred them from the worship That sobered us. of their God, Were those fierce Jews, then, musterTo cross our unclean threshold ; for ing to avenge we all The insult ? How could I so play
We
the fool.
Caesar and
all
his Prsetors
and their
courts Knowing the crafty Annas had his spies About me that they tell him all I do. Are in their
522
What
be forging
lies
:
Pilate
Thought of
And
all
It
They might
they were
no doubt,
Poets
They seldom do
They Conceive
;
them,
and
our
in
sculptors
fashion them.
that
his look
and bearing Such things are trifles to your grim That overawed me. As I looked fanatic. on him. But they must not be tainted by the touch There rose in me a memory of my Of Romans O my Lucius, how mother the gods, White as a lily and sweet, and of the If any gods there be, must laugh at us days Who hold them bound by such nice When I was like a white bud on her bosom. ceremony. And free from conscience Would I That now am so bedraggled. What were a god could it mean ? Those women of the Court who rave about him I found my prisoner was the Prophet, Jesus, Cry up his beauty; but whom they Whom I had sometime heard ofas a kind admire
!
Of Hebrew
But
They
clothe
with
loveliness,
and
Socrates
doctrine.
Apollo,
then, like
Had
reached thistledown
i'
me now and
air,
Not like
And
which had the
:
this
man's
beauty, if beautiful
Blown
in
th'
ring
he were.
them
philosophy
;
Was
but other
part,
Of true
Were dreamy
part too fine
young Augustus.
in-
I could
nocent,
But
In this mad tragi-comedy of life imagina- Playing the part of Judge, while he tion stood there Whate'er it be which filled their To plead with me for life But that minds with wonder. he did not. So that some deemed a god had come No, not so much as one word did
Of
healing
them
by
faith,
to earth.
Half LiK?
curiously
clad,
scanned
him.
To
in
Homely
fellow -
workmen
Silently searching
say,
me,
as
who
!
should
until
By
and
travel
my
Judge,
Thou "
What
Pilate
Thought of
Of Acheron
friend.
;
It
523
Feeling the mockery of justice, where mine, the righteousness was his. But how to save him,
their guile
?
" Thou
art
not Caesar's
If thou
guiltless,
let this
from
back.
Knowing
that I
and asked them " What have ye Against this man ? " He called himself a King, And they would have no king but
I
So
went
forth,
might dash
there
me
And
The
stood, this King o' th' Jews, bent low and bound. Yet with that lofty, overawing look Which made my eyes droop Majesty uncrowned Of noble manhood, not yet stained by falls
His
Prastors, Publicans,
at that
And
"Art
But not
It
thou, then, a
King ?"
treasons
a syllable
Gazed on me
was
my
scorn.
Since
foolish question
for of course I
when had they knew. Become so loyal to the imperial throne ? Not for such crime had Annas brought So deep devoted to the power they him here.
cursed
At
all
their
Thereon they
and poured
And
And
clenched their teeth, The consecrating oil on any head muttered something about blas- That in brief triumph had been
phemy. lifted up making himself God. Therefore Against great Caesar. Oh, I know I bade them the man Take him away, and judge him by Nothing were less a crime among these Jews their law They had no power o'er life because Than treason against Rome. I've had to crush our law score of their rebellions, and this Held it no crime for one to be a god Annas Cassar was one, so were the great Was in them all, although his hand twin-brethren, And Hercules, and other mighty men. was hidden foolish Chief plotter he of all. I had no jurisdiction o'er the gods.
And
I
this
question
for aught
why
%ate
But
knew
or cared.
Then
rose a yell
Do
these
your countrymen
accuse
so
you that
fierce,
malignant, from
They do
you
falsely
somehow,
524
What
Pilate
Thought of
It
Then I went forth Seeing that broken, poor, and pitiful Rival of Cassar, I must say to him : Once more to face these Jews " I King, then, are you?" He find no fault Worthy of death, by our law, or of despised me for it. bonds And held his peace, which partly fretted me, In this your King, or God, or what:
"A
And
partly
my own
:
sense of being
soe'er
wrong.
The
" Dost thou
not
?
poor man
let
calls himself.
So, I
So then
that I
I said
know
But
And
to take thy life
him go"
though
why
he
Have power
should be scourged calmly he : 'Twere hard to tell, except to humour " Thou hast no power, but as 'tis those should have had the scourge on given to thee ; their own backs So much the more their guilt who brought me here." Laid roundly ; but a man who is What could he mean ? These Jews accused. are cunning dogs come to think has reason to be
"
Who
We
Of course,
I got
thankful,
Anyhow,
From
Cassar.
What,
if
bitterly
to drive
me
The mob
large commission
To
it
stretch
rent
?
my
roared at me.
And my weak
My
nerves had
been unstrung, Just then came a note. I tell you, or I had not heeded them. Sent by my wife, and bidding me Pilate was never coward. take heed. Then some one said Nor harm this man. She had some Something about the Nazarene, whereat dream about him, I grasped as any drowning man. " He is And dreams are from the gods, Pshaw let the women Galilean then, King Herod's subject. See to their own affairs, not meddle with And Herod is in town to keep the The course of justice. No doubt, feast Chusa's wife 'Tis his affair : letter shall be writ She's wild about this prophet guard ho came take him to the king
I
!
must be wary.
to her.
let
Herod
And
It is none of mine." The law by this device. I'd half happy thought that! Herod had a mind been cool To do the very thing they wished Of late, or worse than cool ; and this me not. would please Just for their meddling ; but thought The old fox's vanity, delivering me
to stay
better of
it.
My
From me
the
so tangled
hank, and
let
break
What
My
fast
Pilate
Thought of
As
It
525
in
peace.
laid out
and dates,
Weary he looked and broken, as a man and half in and Done with the world
;
pity I said,
?
And
The
grasp
old Falernian, and I longed to " So thou art come back crowned " king then truly ?
A
I
he answered ; " Yea, King ; At this rare stroke, I hurried them away. Only my kingdom is not of this world, But scarce came from the bath re- But therefore am I come, to witness of freshed, when lo The truth, and who are of the truth The wave rolled back. Herod had hear me." " Truth been well pleased what is truth ? " I asked. " Where is it ? Can With our sweet courtesy, but could
silver
it.
say' St,"
ing, then,
am
not think
see,
it ?
or
touch,
or
taste,
or
smell
Of
meddling
with
the
Imperial
jurisdiction dreamer, being no In treasonable affairs ; so sent the man. longer boy, After some rough and ribald jest- But wearing beard unblemished, that ing back. he spake Robed in a mockery of regal purple. Of truth as of his kingdom where And crowned with thorns. irony he reigned of Fate Supreme ? an airy realm, ungrudged, even the gods escape not I ween.
Whom
Led
on
I
what
fell
spite
By
now
Caesar
We
;
were youths,
my
thee
to
Lucius, once.
me ?
fool to look for
barren talk
was a
From
Herod.
He
About
ago
the truth
when
in the
Agora
We
breathed the
air that
Plato used
had killed to breathe Another of their prophets a brave man. While Athens still was Queen, and And eloquent, and true. I heard wore her crown him preach With majesty; but, since we came At the King's Court once, and he to manhood. made us all We've had to act, not dream. Nor
Willing, for half an hour at least, to strip did this man Our purple and fine linen off, and send Look like a dreamer ; and I must admit The banquet, getting ready, to feed These Jews, whate'er they be, are not the poor. like some And since that deed, his conscience Of those strange Eastern peoples whom pricking him. I've seen. The crafty Idumean had turned coward. Squatting for years in some uneasy
And
And
posture,
Fed on
amaze
his murderer,
Talking of
the sun
and dreaming
in
haunt him.
What
Pilate
526
That
the
Thought of
in
It
blistered
moon
all
Crucify this
" Not this man, but Barabbas Crucify, I saw the one, or "
That
the
bedewed them,
most
a
old Priest
being held
Divinely
Is
wise
because
Writing upon his tablets, with a cold mad. Clear eye, and half a smile upon
the thin
The Jew
shrewd,
and
has
bottom of
And
good sense Beneath his superstitions, like the stones And gravel over which a river runs. He trades, and lends on usury, and gains Shekels where you'd scarce find an
obolus
What bloodless lips of him. could I do ? He knew of last night's frolic, and other things I need not name, which might look
bad
in
Rome
and worse when
Even
to one's friends,
Keen
And
this
man
truth,
for
my
it.
post
It
they
Could speak of
they
knew
was hard
dom
" Truth
what
there
To
is
do, for he
had
interested
free
me
truth
"
So
I went
forth again.
him, they
The man
no fault in this man. He has broken No law of Caesar's, nor may Caesar dread His schemes, or be he Prophet, King,
"
I find
fierce
And
The
if
in pieces, such was their temper he died now, while his dreams
had
still
or
God.
better so
But you've a custom, good or bad Than after that bad schooling he most part will get Bad I should say, or only good Among his people ; like enough at heart for rogues He was a traitor also all Jews are To get release of some offender now And only got his due ; but that
At
Pascha.
rebel
thought called
and
A blush up in my soul,
knew
it
for secretly
rate.
I,
was a
lie.
At any
I will
he than
him go."
had done
And
for a little
more
or less of blood
So
To
Nor
In
ways Upon my hands, that did not trouble me. Although I washed them there before
the
a word.
mob
sought for
my
!
aged
me
nor
"Yea,
thing
his
my endeavours, my deed.
happened then?
sullen wrath.
approved
our children
"
What
The
growl of
I
was
done
so,
not
to
be undone
wish
it
were
;
to do,
Low
Caesar;
As
it is
now
! ! ;!
What
Pilate
Thought of
It
527
There was not one to say a word They find in these fond dreams. 1 for him know he's dead. He was alone, not backed by any man, My fellows never leave their work And yet he had for years been healhalf done
ing them,
I
Their
lives
should answer
for
it,
if
wot
not
by what
power,
only
the fact
a spear-thrust
Was
however fancy coloured it. in the heart Their deaf and dumb, their lepers and Made sure of that; he'll trouble us their blind, no more. Their fevered and bed - ridden had 'Tis a strange thirst these priests have
clear,
been cured.
And some
By him
all
averred
their
much of it
it.
as
we,
been raised
They'd
but that, of course, was ; a dream Something to learn if Annas' blood Of fond imagination, or, it may be, is like trick to catch their faith at any rate. What flows in other men. I hear The land was ringing with his them shouting " The Lord is risen indeed " mighty deeds. I
: !
And
And
yet there
to speak
wish he were
for him.
'Twould take
load
off
me
But
to see
Had any man stood up, and said to me, Him living, " Lo I was blind, and now I see," And what I did, undone. or "I past hope Was mad, and am in my right The dead are dead for ever.
!
that's
Speak well of me, and behold I walk. My Lucius, to Sylvia and Nerissa, And this man did it," then it would What time you sup in the old tavern by have been The Pincian, and the wine and mirth case to send to Csesar for decision, are free. Being past my wits, and needing a divine Caesar will hardly trouble himself about Insight like his. But no these This prophet's death, since it has
mind again,"
Or " I was
cripple,
grateful
Jews
but,
Said
for
him
he died sweetly, and
risen again,
truly.
And strike
They
they talk
Annas.
good deed
Oh that I
of his
to
To
certain
the priests
Rome
they have
rind
o'
Would have
the law.
But
sucked
me
rather,
leaving only
Nay,
let
the
The dry
the orange.
Fare
comfort as
thee well
528
A
A PULPITEER
Pulpiteer
But That was his first thought. hardly had he reached out for his
book,
Sat
in
And
settled
him down
nook.
in an easy chair
little
man with
the look,
in the cosiest
Withered and shrunk, of one whose With a big cigar in his mouth, and cloud-smoke round his head moisture was dried, like a brook
the
Where the sun burns hot in the tropics but now he was home once more
Curling
in
wavy
rings,
when
once
more he looked up and said In the place where he first drew breath " Yet we were fellows at College together, and friends too once, near the sands of the North Sea This famous preacher and I, and he shore was not a bit of a dunce, And he held in his hand a " poster," But fairly well up in his classics, big-lettered in black and red, though logic was always his forte; Which he read with a cynical sneer rare, good hand at debate, ever then low to himself he said
prompt with a clever retort Not very strong in science, but skilled door will be open at ten " : with his pen to write. That means a crush to get in, with And making his half-dark thinking screaming of women, and men clearer than other men's light Barely just kept from swearing by smart rhetorician truly, with a dread of the Sabbath day, ready tongue in his head, And swearing the more in their hearts ; Though he looked so clumsy and it were better for women to stay loutish, and homespun and countryAt home, and see to their children, bred. instead of losing their wits Crushed in a trampling crowd, till they He is starring it here, as I learn ; has come to revive their faith, go off in fainting fits. To stir up the fire whose embers were smouldering nigh unto death. No, I'll not face it. How should I sit still in a narrow pew I care not much for your stars ; and For an hour, with my legs a-cramp, for starring parsons least and with nothing on earth to do The better they are at that, they have But stare at the white-washed walls, less the true heart of a priest. and gasp for a mouthful of air. But they say that he gave up a living And smell the hot peppermint breaths, to be free to go here and there. and the oil in the young bucks' hair. Where a boat was wrecked, or the And watch how faces grow purple, and Devil broke loose at a rural fair, bald heads are smoking like censers ? Or where the state of religion needed Nay, I will sit by the fire here, and a trumpet blast read that last volume of Spencer's. To rouse them up from the sleep into There's more in a sentence of his which their souls had been cast than in all that this fellow can say, By the abundance of bread. queer sort of life, no doubt Though he preach for an hour by the clock." So he kicked his boots out But everyone to his taste. So, freely he goes about, of the way.
'
Service
begins
at
eleven,
but
the
And
:;
529
A
passes now for a That means not much, Once great men took to
great
I allow
Pulpiteer
man.
And And
all
with the
the
now
One-eyed
Still
through if they
among blind folk. Dreaded that something might mar followed by throngs. them before high noon of the day. And speaks, they say, to the age of There was more than a Sabbath hush its duties, its rights and its wrongs ; in the listless fields, as he passed Not pulpit commonplaces the leaden Leisurely into the town, whither groups tokens they mint were hurrying fast For everyday use but sayings news- By twos and threes and dozens, like rills and streams that flowed papers are fain to print. Eloquent, flowing periods balanced Together at last in a river along the
he
is
men
and pointed
like sonnets,
And
his
too,
pews
he pictured
the
bonnets.
That's what they tell me, at least, and they say that you even shall grin. Now and then, at the hits which he
I
women
The
How
of ghastly smiles. in the house of prayer ; The reeking and moping of bald heads, 'Tis so easy with smallest of jokes to the coughing and taking of snuff: spread ripples of laughter there Yet were they grave too, and patient. But yes I riiust go, after all, and hear It was God's house : that was what the man has to say enough. He was not a fool, and 1 daresay it well he remembered it all tKat will be as good as a play. quaint old chapel of ease. 'Twill be very bad if it is not, as plays With its high-pitched pulpit, facing the Ah me go now. high deep galleries, the bloom and the gloss get rubbed " And the sounding-board overhead, and off everything here that we see the dove with the olive branch, So he threw down his book with a
!
makes when describing a popular sin. The blaze of peony do not much care for humour or wit
and glimmer
How
And
in
was hung up
memory of the
first
launch
Not
quite in the
to the
mood
for a mortal to
Of the
go
house of God.
Proud was the gallant skipper of the port from which he hailed. And the kirk where he had been glorious sun in the blue. christened, and the ship where he Though clouds were massing all round held command, it, lurid and sultry in hue. And there was not a breath to stir the And the minister whom he reckoned the foremost in all the land thirsty and drooping leaves,
brilliant
34
53
Pulpiteer
And
it,
He
he modelled his ship, and hung And woe to him that came late, or and rigging and blockwho drowsily slept a wink. had married the minister's daughter Or lost a head of the sermon, or dared
hull
They were
sturdy Protestants
all
Or
fidgeted for a
constraint
moment, weary of
stiff
Of
all came back on him now, with might bring in. humour and pathos blent, It was not like vowing candles, or And a something moist in his eye that hanging up waxen limbs somehow dimmed his view, In honour of healing saints, with As he thought, where now are they all chaunting of prayers and hymns that sat in the old church peW ? And it grew to be almost sacred in all Some at the ends of the earth, some men's memories. farther even than they When ship and skipper were crushed Low in the quiet graves, by the surfin the ice-packed Greenland seas. beaten sandy bay. Then he drew himself up, and muttered. But more than the high-pitched pulpit, Pshaw why should I yield to this ? and the dove and the olive twig, I am a man of the world, and not a And more than the many-sparred sentimental miss ? whaler, so neat and trim in its rig. And the great square pew where the I tell the tale as he told it me in the
the evils
long
coat-
It
sat and smoked together by a was lined with green baize, handsome, guttering candle-light. and studded with bright brass nails More than all to the stranger was the After sitting well-nigh for an hour, he pew where he used to sit said, with a mind to go, They filled it once with a household, Could I only have seen my way, but
As we
now he knew not a face in it. the close-packed throng said No But, as he looked, he saw there brothers There was not room for an eel to and sisters true wriggle itself outside, All in their order duly ranged in the So I shifted and shifted my legs, and old church pew ; a change of torture tried ;
Here
door the father, guiding That was the most you could hope for, one side or other must be Each in his Sunday raiment, each with Prickly and stinging, or cramped and a well-clasped book, dead from the foot to the knee
at the
While
At
last
The
nestled
some fellow enough. or Not like the country lout in his homespun rough
had known
Wet
or dry, they must be there, Butterfly is not less like its caterpillar morning and afternoon, than he Ere the bell had ceased to tinkle, or Looked like the memory of him I'd the clerk gave out the tune carried about with me.
;
; :
Pulpiteer
531
Then he was ruddy and strong, and Only one fancies, if earth and now he was pale and thin could be left out of view.
its
praise
Was
it with brooding of thought, or And the soul looked straight up to penance endured for sin ? God well, its words would be Spectacled too, though once he had simple and few. seen like a bird of prey While his were many and dainty, and That from its rock-nest watches the every one said they were fine. near and the far away ; Perhaps they were real : who knows ? Whiskers trimmed to a hair, and hair but I could not quite use them
as mine.
in his
white
as a several pearl.
his text
from the
said
in
fool
hath
He had
his heart,
to their finger-tips.
No God "
i :
and
after a pause,
with a
stroke of excellent art. Could make them speak to you plainly Repeated the three words "Fool! as ever he did with his lips And his voice was mellow and deep, No God " 'mid a breathless and clear and full as a bell. awe
!
And
touched
in
the
higher tones a
An
orator's
trick,
of course,
yet
Perfect in rhetoric truly, verging on; Pity he did not stop there
just that
something more. Could he only have boldly ventured, and cut right into the core Not much amiss with the thought too, or wrong in the argument, Could he only have once forgotten he had to be eloquent.
Why,
.
'
To
hint their many suggestions. But some men have a way Of not knowing when to stop, and of unsaying what they say.
He
read like a
man who
well hadj
That would have been the effect of his conned the words that he read. eloquence then upon me. Giving the meaning clear ; and his prayers were fine, they said Had the sermon ever been finished, which it was not fated to be. Likely I am no judge, but I thought them a shade too fine ; For mainly it was but a weft of Paley, Rhetoric is not for God, any more than and woof of Paul, Calico-printed with anecdotes, wholly are pearls for swine. apocryphal. The voice, too, was more than the thought ; and I asked myself some- Of Shelley and Hume and Voltaive,
times.
What
find there,
now, for
?
his
set forth with manifest trick, Clever enough in its way, of artfulest
voice to be quavering at
rhetoric.
skill,
that there were not at times touches of,something higher, or quite When the man's own soul broke out, with gleams of a ce'ntt-al fife.
Not
532
A
were some strokes
Pulpiteer
Through the
also there
fatal
rush, the
to
minister
Of a
grim
satirical
humour
they were A
high tremulous
hand
heaven
jewelled one, by the by More like Elijah's biting scorn of the And sang, in a loud, clear voice, one Prophets of Baal, verse of a well-known psalm, Or the ring of the spear of Ithuriel, Joined in by some few near, which
not exactly jokes,
smiting the steel-clasped mail
Of Satan.
They were
Then he
brought back a moment's calm ; cried out, " Do not fear ; not a hair of your heads shall fall
I seemed to look on the devil discom- If you do as I bid ; for God has given fited then with a jest me the lives of all. Wholly sincere and natural. But that Let no one stir, till I tell you the doors only came now and then ; are opened wide, And after a while I was wishing me Then silently go, while I pray that the home at mine inn again, Lord may meet with us
that latest volume of Spencer's, outside." That wrought like a spell on them ; he and wondering what came next, When something went crack somewas not like a man inspired, where, as the minister quoted his Yet the people gravely and silently did text as he had desired. To clench a paragraph with ; and Slow moving along the aisles, and down surely the gallery swayed by the narrow stair. Forward a bit, and the startled crowd Out by the several doors, and into the rose up dismayed. open air. horrible moment that, when murder- In their disciplined self-command ous panic appears. which their faith to them had given. That tramples on pity, and heeds not Meanwhile in the pulpit he kept praygrey hairs or the tenderest years. ing for them to heaven. Nor kith nor kin nor aught, but the Not at all " fine prayers " now, but wretched self it would save, the downright honest cry At the cost of its better self, from the Of a man who longed and hoped that coward-dreaded grave the poor folk might not die. They had sprung to their feet, and I did not hurry myself, for I did not moment in breathless stood a lose my head fear, But when the last had vanished, I drew So silent that out on the roof the rain a long breath, and said, " Well done. Parson and people was plain to hear Which now was heavily falling; and That was a sight to see. And better than any preachment the then there arose a scream man could have preached to me." That curdled the blood in the heart, For as they stood outside, ere taking and I saw, as it were in a dream, their homeward ways. Faces of men and women ghastly with They sang to the Shepherd whose terror, and all The galleries swaying, I fancied, away mercy had followed them all their days. from the solid wall.
!
With
A
straight into the vestry
Pulpiteer
533
It was quite an impromptu thought, an inspiration plain, he went By the door behind the pulpit, and I Like a burst of sunshine gleaming out followed him, for I meant of the clouds and rain Partly to compliment him on the ready minute more, and the throng would wit he had shown, have trampled the old and the weak. Partly to claim acquaintance, as a friend Though I was not very much frightened
in
old joisting
is
apt to creak.
But he hailed me at once by name, for And seats will crack with a weight mine was the one face he knew. they have not borne for years So he said, in the thronging crowd, as But how people lose their heads, to be he glanced from pew to pew sure, in their panic fears And where had I been ? and had I It is lucky for me, however. Somecome back, to the old Home again. how, I was losing my hold After long years of wandering far in Of the folk, and my tellingest hits the sun and the rain ? seemed to fall on them lifeless and And was he not glad to meet me, and cold to recall the times And there needed much advertising When we pored over Homer and which means a heavy expense Euclid, or hammered our brains for To gather a crowd worth speaking to, even on Sabbath. rhymes ? Hence It was pleasant to get such a greeting I was thinking what could be done so cordial, cheery, and frank it must be striking and new Like what you may find in your banker, To waken their interest in the things when your balance is good at the that are right and true. bank. But this now will set me up quite ; they will talk of it all through the week, I was yielding then to the kindly feeling we have for those And I shall have congratulations, and
!
invitations to speak
Every evening
at
And
rough horse-play he had borne village, when they Read in the morning paper from some of us then, I felt Some twinges of sharp regret, and ray happened in church to-day.
heart
what
was beginning
to melt.
When
And
"
down
to a mill-
mood, till " visiting each sick-bed. what it meant. "Now, tell me," he said, "was that Catechising the children, and comfortnot a right smart stroke of mine. ing them that mourn. To sing that verse of a psalm which Blessing the young folk's weddings, and christening their babes when born. they all knew, line by line ? It saved some score of their lives, and I tried it, of course, for a while ; but I very soon came to see, will be a good thing too for me, For the crowds will be bigger than Though it might be all right for some ever wherever I happen to be. folk, it was not the work for me.
A
Pulpiteer
534
your racehorse to
a,
Am
So,
whom
it
My calling
fire
was
clearly to
will be
good
to hear.
To
By
put
new
in
God has often sU|Stained me, vihen my heart was faint with fear, And made me feel that He means me
the art of the Orator, skilled to still to be doing His work. Dealing out bread to the hungry, and to persuade. Leaving the task of the pastor to men rousing a slumbering Kirk.
of a cpmmoner grade. Therefore, I have to be popular, have " Yet I admit there are tinies when to be followed by throngs, doubts do trouble me sore. And to hit at the sins of Dives, cry 'Tis not like a full day's woJ^k, this preaching an hour or more, out at the poor man's wrongs. And drop the hum-drum of the pulpit, And I don't write sermons oftefl the and maybe to startle men's ears old ones do as well For no one would heed \yhat I said, When the place is new, and it's likely there's no one there could tell if I did not bring laughter or If they be old or new. M\ich study tears-
hard on me, too. I have to be careful of health. But if you knew Men's lives any purer and truer ? or Life is precious. souls from their bondage break, My thoughts now and then, you would And walk in the freedom of Right ? not envy this popular fame
it
Does
win any
souls fpr
;
God ?
you
is
are fain to
know
does
it
make
And
Who
The
seed of the
He
Which musters its thousands just at the It is ours to sow kingdom and God, trumpet-call of my name. For oft when I take up one of these only can make it to grow.
knows
?
;
I leave that to
Now and then, sermons so carefully writ, hush of a crowd, All of them yellow with use, and One will go off in a faint, and one lyiU glance at an eloquent bit. Meant for some passing event, which take to screaming aloud But if their lives are bettered, I wot told very well at the time, The pathos seems to bave vanished, and not. In every fight There are scores of bullets that miss, it sounds without reason or rhy?ne. for one that kills outright. And I ask myself. How wiU it look, No doubt the vanities flourish, and sins when the reckoning comes, to say, are not less rife ; There, that's all the fruit of my vineI plant and water, but man cannot yard the harvest of my pppr day ? quicken to newness of life. Five score, more or less, of old Why do I yet hold on to a fruitless sermons And then, when my task ? But is it spirits were low, So fruitless, sir, after all ? These folk I have wished I had stuck to the croft will remember toy visit where my father made barley to grow Here now, and talk of that psalm, I Instead of the rush and the ling. But believe, till the day they die. of course, that was foolish, ant} came You would wonder how many things Of a jaded mind, and the strong recoil happen to make thein reckon that I of an o'er-tasked frame
Him.
in the heat or the
"
;
535
No, I Ah well ! I gave him his hire to can never repent put in the plate, no doubt Choosing the grandest of missions, on But I'd give it him ten times over not which the Apostles were sent, to have found him out. To preach the great gospel of peace.
To
know not if you will care wait on the afternoon sermon ? I told him I could not be there ; But I would remember the plate The
I
RUGGLES,
THE SALVATIONIST
Nay, nobody converted me
I
least
get
my
desire.
And And
must
live
!
What
half
That he
I did not drop by happy chance augurs Into some "Bethel" or "Little Salem," To be arrested all at once, that joked at their craft on the sly But he has not even that help to relieve And get up in a pew, and tell 'em.
knowing himself
is,
Roman
He
mind. must try to believe he believes, Nor did some precious preacher meet My arguments with words in season. and therein his comfort find. Hard for a small pretender to be And bring me home in triumph sweet, The trophy of his cogent reason. preaching a faith that hates downright Hypocrites more than Good Christians did not sing nor say sinners, and nothing abates For one's poor circumstances, but will Their joyful hallelujahs o'er me. Nor did their magazines display have a man to play The hero, who has not a touch of the The work of grace that did restore me.
his troubled
hero to moisten his clay. Yes, I am sorry for him. now he managed that job
How
Nor
!
The
I
singing
steeple,
I did not turn me inside out clearing out of the terrified mob wish that I had not gone after him For pleasure of the pious people. into the vestry
;
so
Why should one, I could not do it. might have believed in him now, With open wound, be fain to show it. for it is not good to know That your very worst thoughts of men And spread his heart out in the sun. That folk may stare, and flies may are the truest after all. blow it ? And when you've painted a hero,
I
him, and, if you would keep I don't deny that some may find him, you must not look closely at him. Their sure way home in such a manner Though, I grant you, that life feels poor when the glow and the glory But I was never of a mind To march beneath that kind of banner. grow dim.
You made
536
had not sinned the common way, was a base deceiver, I ne'er was in a drunken fray I simply was an unbeliever.
I I never
But look here ; had you loved a maid, Sweet - natured and sweet - nurtured,
saintly,
And
Who
And told Him all her troubles quaintly, As drifting on a sunless tide. And in a black cloud disappearing. And had you set yourself to sap The faith by which she lived serenely. God what horror fell on me And round her shrinking soul to wrap What anguish of a heart still aching.
! !
Hidden by day that none might see. But when the night came, like to
breaking
1
!
How
would you
feel, if
fashion.
As
eager
An*
could not wish to dwell in light, If she were in the darkness lying.
Would
And
least.
falter.
And in that passion of grief I felt What shallow thoughts I had been
airing,
at the altar
now
infinite despairing.
it was right I had deserved this ; Yes, you had worked for that, perhaps served my Master, wrecker, I had 'tis feel it shocking. Yet now come, you And piled up high a blazing light And shudder at so strange a lapse, As if some fiend your soul were For luring souls on to disaster.
;
mocking.
I
faith
For she whom I had loved so well. For whom my life I would have
given.
-
Had
make her
perfect beauty,
Nor what
death
beaconed
by
that
light
of
Hell,
Of that which
was her
soul of duty.
Had
lost the
Therefore I took my lonely way. And I who loved her so, by way Of mending, marred God's fairest Through clouds of thunder-darkness
daughter,
groping.
Who
And
537
by the hearth,
comfort
me and
spake
;
And
one night,
sitting
fire,
Of healing
fain
Which had no
my
me
settled
gloom would
and dinners.
break,
By
bidding
to balls
make an end of
this.
And know
me
!
When, lo I seemed to feel her kiss. comer ? Their fleeces might be dank with dew, And hear her fond voice softly call me But mine must be as dust in summer.
In vain they reasoned with my mood, In vain a better hope unlifted. On one thing only I could brood
" Be still, although thy heart may bleed. Take up thy load of life and bear it, Christ did not come to frame a creed,
But
to reveal the Father's Spirit."
The
I clung unto
my
sharp remorse,
And as I heard, that message dropt Dewy and sweet on my heart's throbbing
;
as
it
it
stung
me
worse,
tighter.
And
ere
its
to
my bosom
was sobbing.
And
wrapt in dismal thought I stood, I've not been deemed a saint since then, from its gloom my light would Well found in orthodox opinion, borrow ; But I have loved my fellow-men, It seemed my only sign of good. And o'er my thoughts held strict That I could feel such bitter sorrow. dominion.
And
so I took my lonely way In utter sadness and forsaking, I could not hope, I could not pray, I could not see a dim day-breaking.
And
hope that somehow all is well, That all will one day yet be righted. That none in hopeless darkness dwell
Who
may
How
How
And
could I for
my
sin atone.
?
Except by
suffering
and dying
For God is greater than His Word, His love is like a flowing river. His voice in all things good is heard. His Mercy doth endure for ever.
must languish. Draining her cup of misery, And wringing out its dregs of anguish.
HERR PROFESSOR
KUPFER-NICKEL
The lecture hall was filled with youthI ought to die, and die in sin, Without a gleam of light to cheer me, Pencil and notebook ready some Still, as in thoughtful search of truth, My only hope that I might win place where she would still be near me. Some noisy as an empty drum
::
S38
Here one was bearded like a goat, Another was some mother's pet, With gay cravat and dandy coat, And face smooth as a baby's yet.
the daylight
in.
faith
A seed-plot A graveyard,
this
of
fruitful
thought,
I call
it
faith
but
'tis,
indeed,
and Only large reason bodying forth schemes, What lies enfolded in the seed Where some shall grow, and some have been sowing. Froni the earth shall rot, clear away the former wreck, And some shall prove but idle dreams. And cart the rubbish out of sight. I sat me down ; and by and by Then straightway to our tools we take, Came from behind the bema, brisk, To build anew, and build aright. little man with clear blue eye, No soul can stay on vacancy. And giving his stiff gown a whisk. Or on mere blank negations feed. Tripped up, and spread his lecture out And though we cease to bow the knee, On the low desk ; then all was hushed. may not cease to have a Creed As he, complacent, looked about. And this is how I shape to me And we expectant were, and crushed. The new faith from the novel seed.
too,
of
hopes
We We
We
A small,
But yet
round
compact,
less to
From
vital cells,
And And
in his
gills.
Features well chiselled, not one blunt Thin-lipped, and with a fighting air ;
by and by an ape that skills husk of milky nut to break. his foeman care. And just as if great Nature kept With scorn for all who might resist Her moulds, that we might learn her His confident thoughts, and daring ways. flights And how she wrought, and never slept, Into the realm of cloud and mist. But grew through all the years and To fill it with new patent lights days. An able little man, and yet These phases of the coming race. Not able quite for what he tried. These stages of the shaping Past, Who had no doubt, and no regret. in the unborn babe may trace
And
The
We
Nor
That cheers some lonely home at last. So doth she keep her records true.
Repeating in each
life
The
His His
cross-light of a higher
will
on earth
grew
see.
still.
What man hath been, and how he To fulness of his higher birth.
to
?
So standing there, he
own
Of scientific search has been Our humble kindred in the Past To purge you first, without remorse. Why scorn the seedling that hath grown Of cobwebs, and to sweep them clean, Into so great a tree at last ?
Herr Professor Kupfer-Nickel
Shall
: ;;
;;
539
stone,
we
not love
all
creatures
more
That they
and blood,
And And
Or
And
lit
with his subtle spark. the lamp, when day was done,
a
And made
new day
in the dark.
With fire he offered sacrifice. Or floated, pulsing, in the sea Which brought forth every living thing, When he his gods would please or Or chattered on the cocoa tree, thank. And nestled where the palm-leaves And baked the flesh, and boiled the rice. And with the gods he ate and drank. spring ?
For
life is
He
worshipped
it,
yet
made
it
work,
well
And all spring from the self-same roots. And be his slave, and serve him He did not shut it in a kirk. And we are ripe and growing old, And these are but the tender shoots. And call men to it with a bell
" Our Eden
But made
'twas some
it sail
upon the
l^nit for
sea.
moor
or fen.
And And
The
weave and
lifter
him
and be
Until he learned, at length, that he Himself was Lord of all, and God.
" long and troubled way he had make their way. from the earth its wealth to gain. Ere thus he came to clearest light At times, his fancies drove him mad. So, scheming brain and cunning hand Fashioned the flint-tool sharp and good. And he was in an evil plight And smote the wild beast on the land. At times through swamps of pious slush And hewed the oak tree in the wood. The ague-stricken soul must wade They made them snares for fish and Or hew a path through briar and bush
And
bird.
And
For lures
By At Or
But
tangling metaphysics
made
times his leaders led him wrong. only right a mile or twain
still
They framed at length articulate speech Unconscious brought him back again From owls and cats and wolves and Back to the bellows and the fire.
rooks,
Back
to the anvil
and the
tool.
Back to his inner heart's desire. Or seamew shrilling on the beach. Or song-bird by the murmuring brooks. And to the force that gave him rule. Then from the flint one stole the fire. They fabled he yras chained to rocks.
And And
"
Which
him
all
He found the wild spark in the And tinder in the dry rush-pith.
And tortured by the frost and ice. And beaten by the tempest shocks On the sharp-pointed precipice. And torn by hungry birds of prey. And bleached and blanched by
rain,
sun
He
Of
in
dint
540
Yet
air,
Or
weight or
taste or smell or
hue
?
And that high power to him was given And who its parts can analyse To reign as Master everywhere, Enough that we have larger brain, By stealing of the fire from heaven. And that we are no longer dumb. So true the fable which averred And that the furnace burns amain. Fire made him rival of the gods, And that we have a proper thumb. For where the bickering flame is heard, And for tha rest, all men must die Man rules, and Jove supinely nods. Yet man shall live for evermore. The Greek saw deeper than the Jew, His growing purpose soaring high. In myth of high far-reaching kind The only God he can adore
He
"
shadowed forth the grand and true Humanity the noblest growth Discoveries of the modern mind. Of nature, and its lord and king.
!
Its servant
and
its
master both.
Materialist
why
not
of life
sum and crown of everything." and thought Musing, I rose, as he once more
Tripped from the bema, looking brisk. as he vanished through the door Giving his gown another whisk. Self-satisfied that he had shed light that left no shadows, no ghosts, but
Lie in an atom, hidden close To-day, but ere long to be brought, Like music, from it by the touch Of the night-wind upon a string ?
And
Words
such
No Lo
matter
is
A self-made rhomb,
And
Wept,
silent,
Transcending wealth of wine and oil. Ingot of gold, and silver bar. fair Why not a thought, too, good and And corn and all results of toil. wise? Did Shakespeare's pregnant utterance Why should not brain deposit thought ? bring They're not more alien and unlike Its wealth of words from owls and Than what from many a gland is got, cats ? Or fire that from the flint we strike. Did Dante's musical pathos spring Or currents of electric force. From squeaking of the mice and rats ? That acids make with metals twain. And whence the life that from the cell No need to seek another source Grows up in forms so manifold ? Of thought beyond the thinking brain. And what, if earth whereon we dwell deal with facts ; there's no such Shall be burnt up, as sages hold ?
light, skies,
A flower, an odour the A gleam of blue- vaulted A rainbow arching high and
in
air,
when
the day
is
done,
questions in the head, aching in the heart to know. Whence all the longing of the mind For more than hard material gain, And clinging of the nobler kind To mysteries even of grief and pain,
Unanswered
No
That
We
As
thing
spirit
;
Where
that
is
then
the
man
that
shall
be
out of date
God,
The
light
Who
Can
The God that must be man alone. When he and all whereon he trod. And all his homes and graves
gone
?
are
tell its
Dream
A
I heed not of a creed like this ; It is too shallow even to hold;
541
A lurid
And
is,
horrid moanings
the dis-
The
mal night. little mould And there were earthquakes shuddering its glimmering light far and near.
life
that
the
unfathoraed
depths
within,
as the
way
'neath
Or Or
funerals
is,
or whispered
our breath.
It leaves
With
furtive
hard
Than
And
and grey,
And
silent
meet
From the sharp light that shineth near. I know the life which now we live
becoming something more. Yet must I evermore believe In One to love and to adore. Who unto all did Being give, And Law they were created for.
Is
still
to pray
fitting
ing death.
Then
the Satan strode to chief mourner's place. Though Michael frowned, and Gabriel blocked his path,
lifted
And Moses
up
his
grand,
A DREAM
DREAMT a dream. God was dead. And that we all met
I
meek
face.
As
that
I dreamt
for
on that day of shame and deep disgrace When he the tables brake in holy
wrath.
His
devils
and
burial
sang
"
Silence
"
" is
An awestruck Requiescat o'er the head Of Him who was the Father of us all.
Dreams have
gruities
this a time
For family
ful
quarrels
'Tis
Is
it
my
right-
due,
I
their
am
a crime
logic
and
con- That
all
sorrow
most
for
First Cause
whom
?
Flows, like our fables of the birds and trees, " I am the Prodigal, In spite of reason ; and the dreamer sees then?
'tis
true.
What
No
strangeness,
eeriest.
mind
Is there repentance for the sons of
men.
Methought
all
lights of
heaven were
And
fatted
calves
back again,
There was,
sphere.
And
only.^ swine's
?
for
me
to find
A
Dream
542
have more cause for sorrow than But is there any who is always wise ? you all And I was wroth to forfeit such a prizie. Who stayed at home, and did as you And, when you lose your temper, were bid. all is gone. But, ever since my most unhappy fall, I've always meant some day up here " You have believed me sometimes
I
"
to call.
when
all
I lied,
And
be forgiven for
it
the
ill
I did.
Can't you
the truth
believe
?
me now
speak
it
"And now
often heard
is
too
late.
I've
fool
at
You
ought to
say,
is
for pride
That
said
by
some
poor
To
I'm
But I wish
my
suggestion.
to abide
But never quite knew how his heart Once more among the old friends of my youth. was stirred, Till now; and really 'tis an ugly " Have you no kindness for me ? Yes, word, I know, Sour in the mouth, and bitter of
digestion.
I
am
blunt - spoken,
smooth tongues.
" Your
grief
is
You've
Am
out of the
way of
hymns
soft
lost a friend
that flow
Who
As
loved you, but you never vexed Like rippling waters murmuring
heart.
His
and low
I have done. Can you not then In our place we have need of all our lungs. extend Pity for one who has some ways "You will not? You Impeccables! to mend. But you. And some bad memories of a! At least, who were my friends and guilty Past?
followers once.
" That's
Ye men
;
of faith
all
who now
are
good
and
true.
these
sore,
memories
and
un-
Though
time,
my
arts
and wiles
refuse
ye, one
their sting
is
And
when he came
Ah
knew. ye will
chance
?
not
me
this
last
nothing
"What!
all
in
sting
you more
can't deny that some lies. And done some things have done
I
"
have
none of you believe I can repent ? it is somewhat hard, and might ; be thought told Scarce creditable to those of you
And
Well
I never should
for
which
Dream
task
is
543
" But I am sorry none the less, I say, " But now my worth while For what has happened to the Great
First Cause,
done.
'Tis not
Who
Nor
way.
the
Planning and plotting for the like of you. What gives its zest to any clever wile Is the uncertain match of truth with
guile
;
light of
day
That gone,
there's nothing
worth one's
Where'er
He
while to do.
Master was.
" The
is
nothing
let
it go. "It might be weak, but surely it The fisher cares not for the fish he was good snares Most goodness is a trifle weak, Only to find if he can master so no doubt.
Especially
if
You
still
persist
The
his,
or no.
mood.
He
throws his
and
pities
not nor
And
will
not
your
sail,
and
spares.
veer about.
Him
'Tis poor
" Well
you
He
than
at
all,
For
He
could
pity
one
when
Gulling what comes so ready to one's hand, Wasting fine wit where wit you do
not need.
the worst.
Though
pity, I confess,
brings
com-
And
plying arts to
sow
To
weed, one whose back is fairly at the wall. Which, without Beaten and baffled and hated and
the land.
accursed.
fort small
art,
grows native
"No
matter;
now my way
of
life
And
" Life will not be worth living anymore, for a change, what if I preached
is dim. to you, Stupid and without interest any more. And told you to be good, and to adore cherub His memory whom you trembled at 'Twas He that kept you and seraphim before ? Out of mytoils,and were it not for Him, That would be rare sport now, and
something new.
"It's
not the first time that I've preached indeed. since He Very good preaching too and orthodox, Is gone ; 'twould be like shadow Exalting still the faith above the deed ; without light And how men did devour my words Only where light is can the shadow be, with greed, It was His presence that occasioned me. And went away, and sinned like other
"There's no use
a Devil
now,
folks
"
544
Dream
He
Having no
stood erect, a mocking spirit bold, Untrammelled, shaped my dream, and faith in aught but craft guided it and lies. With strange, unconscious reason, and
that
bitter
And
was
flash
Too
in like
common day
o'
contempt
th'
mind.
And
fitfully despise.
No
need of
life
God
for
science
But
our
Then
"There
shall
be Is
no more
is ended, evil is supreme " ; When sorrows come, and troubles too But I was fain to wrestle for the right. are rife, And beaded drops of anguish dimmed Or good and evil wrestle in hot strife. my sight And the heart fails, and wounded Then I awoke, and lo it was a dream. virtue bleeds.
The war
woke
of
guilt
up, with
trembling
sense
Truly he
it still
said,
though he that
said
as if that wild dream, profane Is father of all lies, that we should be blasphemous, must surely have The easy victims of his crafty skill. been built Were there no God to strengthen heart Of some vile matter in my heart that and will. dwelt. And guide the soul through its By some base spirit lurking in my brain. perplexity.
Upon me,
And
But as I brooded on it there appeared 'Tis not the making of the worlds Another meaning slowly breaking alone through That calls for His wise thought, and
lurid light, and horrid sounds, and weird Wild phantasms of my dream ; and as
it
The
shaping hand.
To
stone,
cleared
And breathe
me
again,
through
flesh
Peace came to
grew.
I
and comfort
and bone,
And
far into the night
stretch
the
heavens
above th
solid land.
That " ultimate analysis of things There be more Can find no need of God, nor any light powers Shed, by the thought of Infinite wisdom Than ordered
and might.
which
need
government
On
order brings."
" No need of this And the free fancy, roving like the wind
more than growth of and flowers, Even these same wayward, wilful hearts hypothesis," one writ; of ours,
to
Law
And
guidance
plants
ways are
bent.
And when
Moral-Sublime
545
our steps have spurned the Then said the Buddha; "Lo! this beast ferocious. appointed course Of duty, and sunk in miry slough of sin. Devouring me, shall straight grow mild and meek. And guilty fears rush on us with the And turn with horror from his deeds force
Of
billows,
who
shall
atrocious,
remorse,
His
mercy,
?
spirit
gentle
as
his skin
grows
And,
speaking
bring
back
sleek.
peace within
With
is
fell
man-eating
lightsome a thing
were
villain.
Watching
one says to me,
pray, no praise
I bring,
is free.
for
Too
women
trifling to regret,
traveller to kill in
I have no prayer to
to sing.
The
"But
Nor
nature.
all his blood, and change ways Wherefore I gladly offer the Creator This ransom to redeem his evil days.
Ah
For
better to be smitten
there
is
comfort in His
in that
To
sweeten
his
rod
mist,
Among
the
crags great
"If he go on
still
as
now,
he'll
grow
grinily say.
wilder
No
need so of God.
now
as
thy need
And
part with
all
his
fierce
blood-
MORAL-SUBLIME
Sakya-mounie one day saw a tiger, Shrunk i' the flanks, his staring ribbones bare.
thirsty vice."
Laughing I read, half thinking that he jested. Though he was nowise of the jesting
kind;
as
And
to the fancy
which
his thought
Of
famine-stricken
there.
death
had seized
suggested
him
Awhile I yielded up a
willing mind.
splendid creature, but for pinching I pictured him, then, and the jungletyrant. hunger. scrupled not to smite him to With huge forearm, and ravenous the ground, white-toothed jaws, Branded with beauty, when his days And bear him off, lest haply some
Who
aspirant
teeth
in that
which he
Moral-Sublime
546
Tigers, of course, have solitary habits, And haunt where brown and yellow
leaves are strewn
Them
Then
first
the morrow.
stretched
him
out
in
perfect
beasts like
tiger-bliss.
And much
alone.
prefer
And
as
he
slept,
he dreamed
I do
not wonder.
Sure such a meal would set one dreaming fast hunger, He dreamed another Buddha had I saw him, with my mind's eye, take fallen under a leap. His fangs, to be devoured too like And, with a snort of pleasure or the last. of anger. Bear off the Buddha to the nullah deep. He dreamed of crunching bones to
Weak
as
Did
feel
like
the
And
only think,
What
matter, if
win him
To
Or
pity those
whom now
he would
horrid
a
;
dream
for
one
who had
not spare
been grafted
With
did he
late
meek
now
to
repent,
when
it
was
him
plainly
Too
of anything but
quaffed
it.
At
pleasure, in
dream-world wild
and grim.
Concerned
breath
?
to
And
to waste his
treasure.
The
tiger
had
it
his
meal
not
He
I'll
up,
and
had
another
not
feast.
describe
These
laid
creatures
are
nice
And
As
then
it
pleasure,
if
him down.
slowly to imbibe
he were
mere cud-chewing
beast.
system
well,
from claw
to
crown.
No
soft
But there were some odd fragments not to harrow Your feelings, for your flesh might
creep at this
that
in the
jungle
Moral-Sublime
547
He
gentle
Yet
this
mad
of
fooling
of
mind,
spirit,
unwitting
Nor any
That
of chivalry at
all
The humour
mirth.
it,
wakens mocking
ghastly murder
seemed a deed
To
The
Of mind
diseased,
which we could
to
ferocious,
pity, indeed,
To eat a Buddha full of love and ruth, Were we not the seeming And only feel how much the deed
atrocious
challenged
admire
fantastic
Virtue that
fierceness of his
propped
up a
Had
reinforced the
creed.
youth.
And
yet,
So did I picture, as my fancy willed it, The good man and his fruitless sacrifice
that
wander
The
that spilled
Having
of vice
no
:
thought
of
virtue
through the ages, this too has been changed Buddha may ne'er have thought his life to squander or On the fierce brute that through the
jungle ranged.
Down
Having no
his
wit,
but
just
to
stanch
hunger
juicy
With
meat
that
pleased
his
his merit.
unspoilt taste.
Some
Thus
plodding
dullard,
guiltless
of
the
And
a jest,
him
to
show
much
that
in us.
And
So
own
tiger story
good
ill
under-
Which makes
Rubbing the
a caricature ridiculous.
standed,
tinsel
What time
To
tickle mirthful
humour born
their Faith a dead tradition grown, And on the doctors and the schoolmen
Were
stranded.
rafter
Staring in serious gravity, or Nun That had forsworn the wanton trick
sand
They were
who
spirit
fail
to see
earth's distractions
our
But
though
sacred
would behold
to
with Enough,
actions.
to
answer,
only for
their
reverence
fitting
is
What
Not
548
'
Mirren
Never voyaged in a steamboat. Never travelled by the mail.
MIRREN
She was but a maid of aU work, For she could not bear to see
Idle sluts about her kitchen
her
closes.
and
floats.
mistress
Where the gentry once did dwell, With their cork-screw stairs and turrets,
their
another
Think
Who
And
the stately Lords and Ladies had ridden from their doors.
She had seen her fifty winters, But was always trim and tight
In her printed cotton bodice, And her apron clean and white : Never knew her head a bonnet, But a cap of muslin thin
the fateful tragic dramas Oft enacted on their floors, She could tell you stories of them, Till a feeling in you woke That the nobles must have sorrows Not allowed to common folk.
Going weekly
to the market.
With
Tied
You might
Not
And
Did
Of your
monies there
the secret
Of her
and
faithful heart.
All the folk tjiat did not know her And there were not many did, For her faults were somewhat patent. And her virtues mainly hid Much disliked her prim preciseness, And her stiff unchanging ways.
She would have the best and cheapest. Yet she would not chaffer long They might cheat a young housekeeper, But they feared her caustic tongue Nor would she for a moment
;
Linger in the sun or rain ; She had gone to do her business. And must home to work again.
And And
Going weekly to the Kirk too. Be the Sunday dry or wet. With her Bible in her kerchief.
And her features primly set. But the children, whom she rated There she sat in tireless patience. If their boots had soiled her floor. Knew how fain she was to cheer them. Thinking less about her sin When their little hearts were sore. Than about her common duties. And the frets she had therein. Not unpleased that she had done them She had never left the city. With some credit to herself. Rarely seen the growing corn, And with visions of her saucepans Never been a five-miles' journey All in order on their shelf. From the spot where she was born,
; ;
; ; ;
Mirren
One day
she told her mistress,
549
gentles
She must find another maid No, she had no fault to find with
And
she trowed she never would. So they quarrelled, and they parted.
Any And
Both of them
in
angry mood.
Fools that wanted just a change. Nor did she much rebel at That new-fangled kitchen range ; And she had not made her mind up To take a place or no ;
And
Though
And
There was nothing she was Only just that she must go.
sure of,
a stranger dressed her hair. a hand she had not proven Robed her in her garments fair. But the marriage-bed was barren, And the wedded life was shame, For he wasted all her substance,
And
;
There was mystery in her look But she pursed her lips, and held
Tight
as in a close-sealed
With
it
They
wist not,
when
she
left
book. them,
a hot and fevered eye. In weariness and sickness She prayed that she might die.
What had
But
The
Twenty different things a day They were angry, for they missed
Nothing seeming to go smooth But the pathos of it touched them.
;
Then
And one stood by her side. As of old so trim and tidy. As of old with bodice bright.
With
the dainty cap of muslin.
;
When
they came to
know
the truth.
When they
They had
And the apron clean and white As of old so peppery tempered, As of old so prim and tart
;
But
also underneath
it
And together wept and sung. Proud was Mirren of her mistress While her beauty was in bud. Yet prouder to remember She was come of gentle blood. Having Lords to her forefathers. With Ladies by their side, And loves and wars to tell of.
Lay
And
Right
It
is
Saying,
my
And
And
'Gan to have a faded look. Mated with a man beneath her. Which her handmaid could not brook.
All for filthy lucre's sake. Save me now from that temptation. Give my soul a chance of life. For I've just been self-deceiving. Though I have been no man's wife.
Why
If
Maidenhood was
"
I
Now
is
get
you
to the parlour.
This
wed she must, why pick him From the gutter on the street ?
am
mistress of
I
And
have
my kitchen, my work to do
; ;
55
Mirren
seat beside the
Take your
There
window
And
And And And
That
Dipping
the brown
Which her handmaid washed Could wash in all the place And if their fare was scanty. No eye was there to see.
as
no one
As
the old
man
gathering
bait.
still
mending
the lighthouse on the skerry. the red lamp on the pier. the lass that's always waiting the ship that comes not here.
you'll never
Trim was still the lady's raiment. Never seeming to grow worse.
And she never lacked the glitter Of a gold-piece in her purse And on the Bishop's visit
;
" Oh,
The ships that Or to hear the sailors singing As they turn the capstan slow
Some Some
Some,
are
She could give him rare old tea For of course she went to Chapel Duly with the Quality.
The Bishop
Was
ice,
bound
for far
Archangel,
to
Mirren
for Greenland's
snow and
The
house of
God
for her.
it's likely, for a harbour In the land of Paradise. So the weeks went by in patience. But the hand of God is o'er them. And the Sabbaths brought their peace. And behind them and before, And the years sped lightly o'er them, And the gate of Heaven as near Though their labours did not cease ;
them
And And
in the
summer mornings
rise red.
On
"
They saw
Whereon
the sun
might tread
And
O'er
;
in the
winter evenings
my
their needles
and
their frames
With
They
yet,
Rouse ye
up, there's
work
to
do
Of the
peace for you to win. the web of life is never Only sorrow warped with sin. There's sunshine in the rain-cloud, And heat in wreaths of snow,
And And
their
their
way
And
God's love
is
in all things
Thought the
When the gentry came to see them. And the great world, in the pride Of its carriages and horses.
Drew
Though
the children to its side a grander world was inside
And And
her plea prevailed at last, they lived together loving. they had done in the past.
The
faith
And
Dark Evening
Found and
I've lived
Lost
life
its
551
my
task of
work
do
;
A DARK EVENING
The
is
is
ended.
to
night
leaping
is
And there is little more for me Oh that its ill done job might
mended That I could make
!
yet be
Upon
Soon
it
loving, brave,
shore,
and true
engulph
it,
are creeping.
There
behind
And
folding
round
me and
before.
wrap it up I dare not look upon it, The wretched failure put it clean
! !
away;
My
world is growing small and dim Nothing can mend it, nothing will atone it, and lonely. And its brief day of brightness closing Bury the poor dead product of my day.
fast,
Whose
but
echoes from
I
KNEW him the moment he came Past the screen by the folding door, They went before me, some in youth- Though I could not remember his name, Or where I had seen him before fiil pride. In manhood some, or noble woman- And me, too, he knew at a glance. For a light kindled up in his eye hood. And none may take their places by When I stept a short step in advance. And greeted him as he passed by. my side.
the past.
Or make
this life,
and good.
Yet
Just
it
was not a notable face ; what you may meet any day
Much
At Or
and
its
tender
Somewhat ruddy,
M,
and sweet caressings haunt With well-chiselled and chin,
thin.
Eye
!
hair
we
we
many
are cast in
its
mould,
Which
for the
Nothing striking about it, or grand. Only handsome and manly and cold.
had this incident from M. Lempriere, it was communicated by one of the parties concerned in it.
^ I
and we
in
And
scarce
feel
any sorrow
our
to
"whom
tears.
; ;
; ; ;
552
was over with Soult, and had seen Then he whispered to Soult, and I knew and "Sir Peel" and That my general told him my name the rest, But my name did not give him the clue At the time when they crowned their That he wished, and he still looked young Queen, the same. Yet this was the face I knew best. I did as he did, too, and heard His name from the man at the door Each feature stood clear in my mind. But it was just a strange foreign word, And how in his moods it would look, And I never had heard it before.
I
"The Duke"
When
Or
So we stood there apart in the throng, wonder and puzzle to each, 'Twas strange how familiar I seemed With the trick of that face and its Nor heeded the harp or the song.
truth
Or
Was
Or
whom
my youth
While
He
was
And
I
But he tired of this puzzling, and soon had mixed in the world among men, Had put it quite out of his head I had travelled by land and by sea For I marked him keep time to a tune, Could I hope, in the vanishing throng And laugh when a good thing was said. Of memories fast growing dim. These Islanders are not like us
;
his
name, too,
And
I but a captain
To
among
?
The crowd,
But a
You have felt how a name or a word At the tip of your tongue shall appear.
you know it so well, 'tis absurd That you cannot lay hold of it clear So I seemed to be still on the nick Of finding out who he could be, When Id by some cozening trick He was gone, like that lost word from
!
We must
search,
till
we
clear
it
away.
And
me
of
it.
But brooded
in silence apart.
Nor laughed at their humour and wit. Nor praised what they showed of their
Art. thought me a churl, no doubt, For my answers were not to the point And I thought they were talking about Merest nothings, and all out of joint.
They
As
gazed
after
Not once did he cross me again, ; same thought I am sure, for a week and a day Was brooding in his head as mine. But still in the sun and the rain. For he knit his brows hard as he cast In the season of work and of play, swift, searching glance now and then He haunted me all day and night. At the face he had known in the And this way and that way I went. past Ever groping about for the light, But where had he seen it, and when ? Like a hound that is seeking the scent.
was
plain that the very
553
my memories all, Which, neither before nor behind. over the Past like a book, Had linked itself on to my thought. Page by page, even dared to recall Broke clear as a star on my mind, Things that covered my soul with And I knew I had found what I sought. rebuke I'd gambled with, drank with, One moment the curtain concealed Every hint of the scene and the play ; or fought, Then Phew all the stage was revealed were rivals in old love affairs.
Went
Whom
Who Who
To
Strange
by
that
search
I knew that I had him at last. Knew, without any doubt, it was he were That face, in the far away Past,
And
revealed,
That lay
good
to recall.
Old
stories not
Things
that
We
had had
day
sealed,
Wrongs
Soult was
in
Spain,
bleeding I lay.
Who
find
shall
ope
all
his cupboards,
Nothing there
to repent or regret,
No
and Thinking ne'er to do battle again ; And the vultures were soaring up high. And the lean dogs were creeping about. And the grey-hooded crow, hopping
?
With
dim eyes
that they
wet
nigh,
Kept watch
Yet 'twas good for
ebb
out.
me
so to review
;
My former
It
I lay
life,
gave
And
It
dream
been.
shamed me no
it
And
set
me
slowly lapsed on by my side dream of our beautiful France, With its white orchard bloom and
As
it
grain.
But on
And
I
was never
on again.
had I shed, And right on the opposite bank was he in my debt, handsome young English face a card with him e'er had I played, Kept gazing at me with a blank. as rivals in love had we met. Vague look from his red resting-place. I was baffled, and threw myself down " He is plainly dying," I said, Ont he close-shaven grass of the Park, " But gallant and stout for his years " And heard the far hum of the town, For close by his side, and stark dead.
a drop of his blood a livre
And
Lay
cuirassiers.
So hour after hour there we lay. Then all of a sudden, when I With long, fruitless searching was spent, And looked at each other across The brook that went trickling away. Half-minded no longer to try,
Lo
: ;
! : !
SS4
Was
weak,
And the lean dogs came snarling up near. And the hooded crpw whetted his beak.
And
His
all
upon line. Half-conscious and dim and confused. As he, too, lay reading at mine I scanned him again and again, He was the one thing I could see. And he printed himself on my brain. Till he seemed like a portion of me.
features there, line
Now
Had And
now his wandering feet were frozen with cold. to plains that were blasted with
turn
heat:
He knew
oft
the
Red man
Where
been the African's guest, the spoor of the lion was seen.
If I closed
my my
As
plain as
And
But
If I lifted
eyelids to stare,
Yet would he come back, they averred, take his old seat by the fire. As if nothing meanwhile had occurred
He was " He is
Be
To make And
That
oh
I never to
" And better for me he were dead. Those pain-stricken features will not
e'er blotted out of
know what
could mean.
printing of
my
head."
Who
And
I
We are tricked by illusory light. never a word could we speak ; was lying half-choked with ray blood. Are we mocked by realities too ? Is our life but a dream of the night Slow-gasping and fainting and weak, Whose facts have no purpose in view And grasping a handful of mud While he from the opposite brink So strangely my path he had crossed So strongly my mind had impressed Looked across, as if looking his last If he must like a shadow be lost, And oh for some water to drink From the brook that went rippling past Why passed he not light as the rest ?
;
Then
there
fell, as it
You
and I saw him no more. Yet smudge it all out the next day, Nor thought of him even, nor wist For you feel that the soul was not there, Was he living or dead, till the door And the soul is the man, as you say Of the guest-hall opened, and he But what if your picture were all Strode stately into the room. You had hoped e'er to make it, and then And that face flashed out upon me. You turned the face back to the wall. Like a face from the shades of the tomb. Which was touching the spirits of men ?
eyes,
On my
Now
To Of
came back, and I rushed remind him again the day when our life-blood had
it all
Do
his club to
gushed.
And mixed
in
you grudge them the joy they have found ? Do you mean but to mock and to spite ? Why sow the quick seed in the ground But to trample it next out of sight ?
And
555
The
God or
Does
Lettre de Cachet
He
He
His own
waited on, dumb. has sent. Thinking, " too are fettered and fresh-kindled bound
Who
We
Let us see what will come." But their kings and their nobles and
as the night
priests
starless
It
is
moves on.
Gnashed
!
their teeth
when they
!
saw.
With
only such glimmer of light. As to show the clouds brooding thereon. And I never shall see him again, Or know what was meant by the look
And screamed at their altars and feasts, " Ho for God and the law
Did He not make us lords of the world.
?
That was
printed so deep on
As we
And these for our slaves my brain. Let our armies be mustered, and hurled Spanish brook. On their heads like sea-waves."
In those days, then, when bold
ran
spirits
old man. In the days when France snapt her Half-reft of his reason. Who had been shut up for long years old chains, And rose up, and swore, In a stone-vaulted cell are men, we have hearts, we Wet-walled with his sweat and his have brains. tears Why, no one could tell. will slaves be no more No record there was of his crime. To king or to noble or priest. But all men shall be If crime he had done ; No trial had he at the time As brothers from bondage released. When they shut out the sun All equal and free " : From his life ; and alone there he lay, And some stood in wonder amazed, Their wits of no use And heard not a sound. And some said the people were crazed. Save the grating of bolts once a day In the silence profound. And Bedlam broke loose Or the fall of a drop on the floor And some, in pure terror aghast. From the roof overhead. In troops ran away ; Though the streets might be all in But some held it safer to cast
"We
We
Them
While
a roar
As
they tramped through the mud. Saying, " Time we should teach this
Canaille
Of the sun and the lark. And day followed day, and
By
Well, the people were mad, if you will, In those days of hot rage. Yet the shout of their multitudes still
he saw But the dusk and the dark For at noon it was gloaming down there,
;
And And
at evening, as
still
death
Was
He
was gasping
for breath.
556
The
Lettre de Cachet
And
blinked, bewildered
a bat.
and
blind,
Like an owl or
Should not stray from the fold, Feeling out with his lean hands to find If stone walls and strong bars and locks What he wished to be at Might be trusted to liold. For he had not seen daylight for years. But the bands of that mighty revolt Only dim, pallid gleams Flung open his door, Through stanchions and cobwebs and
And
tears.
" Thou
When,
Or
was
at night in his
to stray
By the wood and the brook. Or And the trout in the ripple would play Or
With the Or when,
gay-feathered hook
as a
;
human
Through the
To the tryst in the glen. All tremulous, shrinking, and bent, And love whispered, tender and low, A man out of date. What is dearest to men. Come forth from thy wet-walled cell. He passed through the iron-nailed door.
Where
the
damp and
the mould
For they
said
he was
free
And
And
With the cramp and the cold Be merry, the land now is free.
thy gaoler, the king. Is where all wicked kings ought to be Go dance, then, and sing."
To do as he had done of yore, When the hill and the sea And the wood and the heath
the stream
and
coming so well was only a dream They were rough, coarse fellows He had dreamt in his cell. and yet Was he not once a lord, and had lands, They were touched to the quick And a chateau somewhere. By the pale, bloodless spectre that met And serfs who obeyed his commands. Their gaze, and the sick And a wife passing fair Wan flicker of light in his eye. Too fair or was all that again Which had not any hope. dream and no more ? Nor a longing to live or to die, There were so many passed through Content just to mope. his brain Without converse of things unseen. As he lay on the floor To sweeten his pain. 'Mong the straw, and had nothing to do. Or remembrance of things that had Yea, a dream it had been, been. For a king must be loyal and true To restore hope again. To his peers and his queen.
his
it
Knew
Unless
Then
So dazed, and
uncertain, he crept
his
he smote brow.
his
thin
palm on
From
his cell
and
his straw.
And
trembled
to see
never
come
clear
to
When
saw
Best never to be
557
The
Lettre de Cachet
With Then
a spasm of pain.
rode,
Settled on
him
again.
Oh the horror and terror of that Aimless walk up the street Was he sleeping or waking ? and what At next turn should he meet ?
that was raging for blood and well-born. There were matrons and maidens fair, Who bent their heads low ; No powder they need for their hair. It is white now as snow. There were old men and boys doomed
to die
Now
Then
his
ear
was jarred
;
with
the
strain
What
could
!
it all
mean
Of the
wild Marseillaise
And
lo
high
was smit with the pain The black guillotine. Of some wolf-hungry gaze. And why were the workmen abroad As they hurried him onward, at In the hours of their toil ? He would shout like the rest. And where were the good priests As if some fell demon accursed
his heart
first
of
God
the
Had
oil
?
But at length on the skirt of the And where was his light-hearted crowd France, The madness was quelled, And its wit-loving soul ? And his soul within him was bowed And who were those dames in At the sights he beheld. the dance Could that be the pulse and the throb Of the mad Carmagnole ? Of a great-thoughted age That hoarse, fierce yell of a mob And oh the fell rush and the tramp
they jostled and struggled and the lamp, plashed As they bore him along. Through the mire and the mud. Where they'd hoisted a noble, per- Thefrantic Unbreechedand Unwashed, haps, In their craving for blood As the nobles of yore Nailed the vermin they caught in Once more for a moment his brain their traps Had clearness and power, To the big barn door, And the soul of his youth came again With maybe a priest by his side In that terrible hour. In his old black soutane He had fain closed his eyes at the sight They were fain to have priests, when He was looking on there they died. But so strong was the spell in its might So they coupled the twain. That he could not but stare. And then, as he shuddered and stared, While he sickened to gaze on that hell The tumbril drove past Of the fiend and the brute. With the victims that law had Which was holding him fast in its spell, ensnared Some pale and aghast. Tongue-tied there and mute
!
With
In
its
masterless rage
and there by
How
558
Calm
And where were the nobles of France, And all in confusion is whirled, And the knight and the squire ? And strangeness and fear And where were the sword and And I have but one friend in the world. the lance, And lo he is here." And the cord and the fire So they let him go back to his cell. And where was the king and the throne. And the straw and the mat_ And the order of state And his friend, who could he be? And where all the world he had Ah! well;
!
known.
The
?
friend
was a
rat.
And
forgotten of late
in
his
eye,
and a
On
his forehead
was
plain
Do you mock at my story because Thus lamely it ends. But the man in a prison-cell has
Small choice of his friends
:
Then
down
Apathetic again.
That has
life in it
now
grow
his gaol.
To
and taught
In his
And
prayed with a pitiful wail They would open its door. No, he had not committed a crime
window
to
had just lost his head. he did not belong to the time. his friends were all dead. Would they not let him back
He
the ebb
And And
to
dead hour of
there
is
its
night
a pathos
where such
Fond
clinging appears,
his
cell.
its
straw and
peace
The deep
fount of tears.
would dwell. So, I deem that his instinct was true Till death brought release. When he turned back to that " For it pains me, the glare of the Which was the one friend that he knew.
light,
Were
It
it
only a
rat.
And they fill me with fear. The horrors that meet me by And the sounds that I hear.
Still
night,
in
him,
And
ringing.
the tocsin
is
ringing
and
And women
Round
are seen
A CALM
Yesterday the wind blew high.
And princes and nobles are killed By the axe and the cord, And orgies of darkness are held
In the courts of the Lord
;
Tore the Minch in tatters small. Drove us back to dripping Skye Wrapped up in a black cloud-pall
saw upon the strand. Broken boat and shattered oar. Women wailing on the land. Terror stalking on the shore.
And
Nor Nor Nor
there a
is
monk
And we
: ;
559
A
Then
the fickle waters, spent, Stretched them out and lay supine Samson resting now, content
Calm
Happy
creatures round us be,
To
Joy is in our hearts and love. Peace is on the earth and sea. Glory in the heaven above."
Rocking now
in
summer calm,
" Stuff! Gruffly then our skipper This may be a heaven to you As for me I've had enough Of those oily waters blue. Here have we been all the day
:
clouds are
all
While
And
Hear
far.
breeze.
a draggled plume.
low,
a rushing at the prow, and then be shipping seas, Lurching in the hollow now Anything a wind ahead. Racking cloud and driving rain Sooner than these waters dead. And watching for a breeze in vain. Heaven there's only one thing worse
Now
Than
Beyond the shadow of
Keen-eyed screaming
the ship
That
not to
know your
course.
seagulls
come,
Touch
And
the sea with light wing-tip. skim away the floating crumb Guillemots are calling low
Sounding in a dismal fog. Vain to keep the helm aport. Vain to spread the topsail high
Better like a porpoise snort. Better be a gull and
fly,
that
wander
far.
show Better to have flat, webbed feet, The two bold swimmers where they Bad to walk, but good to swim.
their wings to
Than
by.
And
we
spy
Stirring to the
moving
air.
Blue the cloudless sky o'erhead. Blue the waveless sea below,
Only the
tide,
low-pulsing,
made
Rested on the Sabbath day. its listless hours were run. I've been in the East, and know
That
is still lie,
and let the slow Hours go dreaming to the grave. So basking in the purple light, heaven, Well ; if that was all the heaven is this One said, " Lo The devil had to be happy in, indeed I do not wonder much that even Yesterday we had the fight. By way of change he took to sin. Now we get the rest we need.
Just to
!;
56o
Spring Morning
Orwell
ORWELL
There's that creaking boom again How the lazy shadows float 'Tis enough to turn one's brain
To
SPRING MORNING
In the spring when the cuckoo calls From the shade of the fresh green
leaves,
the land has its weeds, and the lake has its reeds, And the heart has its vain regrets.
Oh
Hark
how
And the young lambs leap on the grass, And the swallows are brisk on the
eaves,
Far up about God's own feet. And the click of the loom is
little
room.
long, bare village street.
stands.
Of the
With
There
And
Bask
brings
are
In the morning when glad birds sing, And flowers on their dewdrops close,
sunny brae.
And
With
their shouts
sweets
the smell of the old sweet flowers
;
And
the
gleams
We
streams
And
red moss - rose still buds and blows By the door, where it used to grow.
the
it still
dew and
All of
unchanged,
its bliss
flower.
Yet all so changed to me of the world. For love then was sweet, and
of power,
complete.
good
And
there
was no cloud
to see.
The
Ah
With the frosts of the wintry years, Can still be made glad as of old,
But the light is quenched and gone That brightened the place of yore, growing cold And all the suns and the shining ones
Shall bring back that light nevermore.
Ah me
has
coming forth
in
its
Where the small wave ripples and frets The land has its weeds, and the lake
its
reeds,
its
And
vain regrets.
INTRODUCTORY
What have our men of old times To say for themselves, Now their loves, hates, quarrels,
crimes
Some
Some
and
point in
it
it
we
should be glad
Had
got mastery
right
How
For
true hearts
Have
And
Or
I think scarce a
eaten by
mildew and
With
a fervent goodwill,
a cause
rust
And
It
Strong
men
so
were strong
With
and wholly
And
was
Strong to stand up against wrong, And resist to the death : But fell were some of their deeds In the warfare of clans and of creeds.
To
Ah,
mood.
well
there
were schemers of
right.
course.
Oh,
And
captains of foot
and of horse
fight.
Which
They
With
still
set
on the
right.
Camp-followers these
Eager only for gain. was not Like the vultures that come from afar Without mean crafty ways ; To feast on the slain And our Esau had glimpses of thought Or gamblers who played their big game. Not unworthy of praise And were cast forth at length in their Not saints right path.
Maybe
all
who
chose the
Nor
the others
shall err
all
children of wrath.
if
shame.
We
And
up old hatreds that sleep In the books of Divines, And rulings of Lawyers, and tales That haunt the dim hills and the dales.
stir
Had at least a true thought. And looked for God's kingdom to come, And brighten the lot Of the needy and poor and oppressed, And crown their long struggle with rest.
36
!; ;
562
Ballads
the thron
my
Barons are
selfish
and proud,
Taken up with
And
At
To work
out
His
will,
For the
Who
aims not to finish the strife. But to open new doors into life.
set
The end
is
near.
Oliver fled! Yet he had ten thousand men All captured now, wounded, or dead, And the foe had not one for his ten They were gathered from hill and from glen To the muster on Solway shore.
!
Fy!
And alas
much there will be to avenge Ah, God's work is fearful and strange; Crown and sceptre and temple and
!
How How
tower,
And
there's grief
But the
all that man's wit may arrange now on many a Ben, Goes down when He stirs in His power. shame of it touches me more.
And
But get ready the christening feast. Let the gossips bring candle and cup. By the news of this sorrowful day And the child have a good time at least. Let the women make ready my shroud. Ere the depths in their terror break up. It is time I were hasting away. I will put on the crown when I sup. I have often been merry and gay Though I wear it in shame and in pain, With a lass and a glass and a stave, It came with a lass on the crup. For I cared but for pleasure and play, With a lass it will leave us again. And now they have dug me a grave.
My
heart within
me
is
bowed
And
fit
it
would
That Oliver
On our brows it has ever sat loose. And brought only trouble with it.
Yet we lacked not courage or
the old land and
wit.
its
Why
And
not ? since he still has his life, 'Tis but honour and valour have ceased,
he'll readily find
him
a priest
fame.
Who
As
snaffle or bit,
'tis
only the poor he has fleeced. broken his old king's heart.
now
tell
me
I've got
;
It is not the
slow touch of
Time
fine lass-bairn to
!
embrace
Heaven help her a sorrowful lot She will have, I fear me, to face. For let her have beauty and grace. And a mind that is noble and great. She comes of a tragical race.
That has sprinkled my hair so with grey. For I'm all but a man in my prime,
life is away. end of my day, And seen its last lights where they fall On the clouds, and have only to pray,
my
I have
come
to the
And
fate.
As
563
George Wishart
And so my loved
GEORGE WISHART
They lured him away from my side, The man likest Christ I have known
I felt in
:
Meek and brave he, as ever was known They brought to a sorrowful end.
Yet he died
like a king
on
his throne.
And
I rede you.
Lord
Cardinal, soon
shall
my
The day
come,
of God's vengeance
And vowed
When
the
Shall
soared high as
moon
lie in
Your work here is only begun, Wait you till God's time for the price."
Oh, lightly the Cardinal laughed, Having snared his meek victim
length,
know not the day nor the Nor yet by whose hand
I
at
hour.
'twill
be
in
And
And
gaily
the
quaffed
That night
And that right shall be done, as it ought. of strength ; he sent forth a message straight- I have faith though His judgments be
in his castle
God
reigneth
way
strange.
To his brother High-priest in the West, And at times darkly hid from our sight.
To
That
at
length.
His own
saints
to
avenge.
They
light.
vain,
And
They had
again.
spirit that
now
is
abroad
is
'Mong
first
here,
Whose
cross should go
through
the crowd.
And will cast off the horrible load Of priestly oppression and fear
Our land
too has
And had
With
come
to the birth
surplices tattered
and
torn.
And
And
crowns had been cracked, by the But I trow she has strength to bring forth mace. The life that is stirring within. Of clerics all shaven and shorn.
to rule
When they plotted to crucify Christ, Our rude and turbulent folk. And these, too, were one in their deed, Who was trained in a pestilent school. When Wishart was sacrificed. And comes of a light-minded stock.
Together, with feigning and lies. She knows not the land of her sires. The saint to the faggots they doomed. And she loves the gay doings of France Together they feasted their eyes On the flames which the martyr Its trinkets and changeful attires. And the viol, the pipe, and the dance. consumed.
; ;
S64
Well,
Ballads
only like youth to be gay, But beyond, I can see a great light. might haply forgive, And the'land resting peaceful and calm Though I fear me it is not the way 'Neath the rule of high wisdom To prepare for the life she must live and right,
it's
But they've poisoned her mind against With the Kirk praising
truth.
God in a psalm.
and the Rock,
Christ's
To quench the faint spark of our hope. I have faith in And the mass-priests have thirled her Our refuge in
youth
the
Word
To
the service of
flock
Is to wring the
With
fears
and
anxieties, then.
When
they see all our rulers unskilled In the wise arts of governing men. All selfishly seeking their own. Ambitious of power and of place,
May
But another shall step to the front, And march on to triumph at length.
And
disown
grace
;
And
For
and
truth.
Of
the
High
Kirks, and
group
in
Ever fresh in the dews of her youth For poverty she shall have wealth.
the porch.
And
;
honours
in
mutter their malice and hate. threaten the faggot and torch
treason and
And
with
murder and
the Cardinal
strife
still,
her fame.
Are hatched by
he broods every day of his life How to bend the whole land to his will.
Yet dark
as the
hour
now may
be.
And long as the night still may last. By the Truth we shall yet be made free. And the Truth spreadeth surely and fast. God will not forsake us, or fail When we pass through the fire and
the flood
And
and mail
thirsting
As she came from the land Of the sun and the vine
our mist-shrouded strand. the heather and pine Blend their breath with the smell of the salt sea-brine ?
To
Where
There
are evil times coming, I know, Confusion and terror and wrath. And the strong man shall then be laid low.
She passed me
close by
ship.
As
With
And
the
weak
shall
be turned from
the path
And
Corrichie
56s
566
Yet
men
they took
their
Have answered
to her call
Or
In fighting gear, with sword and spear, From Buchan and Braemar. arquebuse and ball. Glentanar lads arose,
Strathbogie was not slow,
And
stark
Enzie's
girt their
carles
gave up their
quarrels
Who
And And And
if
raided
cattle,
and
blood
did
And
swords to go.
battle,
shed the
lieges'
Aboyne from
He
They
laughed at Queen and Crown, had no awe for Kirk or Law, Stronghold or Borough's town.
There was not room in the North For Huntly and also the Queen The Gordons gay had all the sway, The Sheriff was never seen ;
sware no Gordon there Should leave him far behind Ellon and Udny came, And grim old Rothiemay, And Gordon o' Gight, ere morning
;
And Haddo
light.
Was
up,
With
The clansmen when they fell, They robbed and killed even
willed.
as
And
To
Bonnie and broad their lands By Livet and Ythan and Dee, they Where Deveron flows, and Lossie goes Past Elgin to the sea ; The Bogie drove their mills, The Gadie cooled their heat. In Spean and Spey the Gordons gay
Did wash
be
And now
:
That a small array came forth Not one in ten of her noblemen
Went
O'ermoor and moss, past cairn and cross. They merrily march along. Loose in its scabbard each His sword held ready to draw
Their hearts were weapons bright.
light,
When
About
bruit
and
their
sent to call his kinsmen all And they laughed at Queen and Law. Bog-an-gight straightway, While they might meet secure, The Earl was old and fat. And hunt a stag and dine, And therefore might not brook And counsel hold with the wise and Graith of steel on head or heel. old. Or brazen clasp, or hook ; And drink a flask of wine. But wily and cunning plots Came ready to his brain. Then trooped to Bog-an-gight For more by wit than by weapons fit The Gordons near and far. His ends he strove to gain.
He
To
Corrichie
567
And
And The
all
had drunk
Chiefs still sat, consulting what Might bode them good or ill What meant the base-bom Prior,
up the rest leaped with him. Clashing their blades with might And drank a noggin, and cried the
slogan.
Keen
I
for the
coming
the
fight.
know
not
if
Gordon
a crafty carle
From
and some said
that.
And And
And
youth to age had been. royal hearts are deep. who may search their thoughts ? her way of life amid storm
strife
and
wine hot,
well-nigh came to blows. Then the Earl held up a brimming
cup,
They reckoned
Of the Gordon
" Pledge we
all
would daunt
Saying,
our Queen,
rarest grace,
The
That
fairest face,
and the
The little band from the Fife lowland. Which was all the Queen could vaunt.
But though her force was scanty
When
" She comes not here for judgment. Nor comes she here to fight.
But trusts in you whose hearts are That you'll maintain her right Lord Gordon has been wooing. And I think that he has won
true,
She well might boast of her gallant For they all were men of worth.
Lord James could play the man, Though he liked to rule the State,
Her
Shall bind
them
into one.
" As
Who
And
Kirkaldy stood a soldier good. could mate ; deep in thought, could keep cool head in the fray ; They had learned in France to wield
shall remain.
And
lie.
To Corrichie marched the Gordons, All ready for the fight. smite them hip and thigh." With cords and bands to bind the hands Of captive Lord and Knight Two thousand plaided men Up sprang Adam o' Gordon, With dirk and sharp claymore. cockerel brisk was he, With a lusty shout his voice rang They were ill trained, but they had
strength doth
And And
we
out.
stained
And
his
sword he brandished
free
The
heather
full oft
with gore.
568
They came on
with a rush
Some
And a barbarous slogan cry, That his House was And taunting words, and brandished This only I say that
And
But
swords, the pibroch sounding high The odds indeed were great.
their foes
theirs
With
;
wound
to
show.
And And
And
it
did not
fall
alone.
a
great
House
Half-way
When
They had to cross a black flow moss For the power o' th' Law now in awe Where their ranks were swiftly thinned. Both chief and baron bold. The volleys from the muskets They answered still with cheers.
But they
faltered plain
To wrestle a fall with the throne. As Somerled and Bell-the-Cat Had done in days of old.
held
when
they
LADY SEATON'S
COMPLAINT
Alone
here, and in anguish
As motherhood
While
Yet,
draws nigh,
in front.
My
Lord,
I'll
rank
from
the
He is not gone a-stalking The red deer on the hill, Right soon the play was played. Nor yet with falcon hawking And shouts were changed to shrieks By marsh or moor or rill. 'Twas scarce begun ere it was done, Else I might upbraid him Though it had been planned for weeks. That he is not here Brief was the time of battle. But Mary, Mother, aid him. The Coronach needed more. Holy saints be near. But it will be years ere the woman's
tears.
Holy
saints
be near.
Are dry
as they
were before.
He
is not with gay young nobles A-playing at the ball. Nor is he throwing doubles
Where
dice uncertain
fall.
Else I would upbraid him And scant o' breath and was done That he is not here ; to death But Mary, Mother, aid him, In the back rush of his clan. Holy saints be near.
In Edinburgh Castle
569
When
57
You
will
not?
Who
clearly
saw through
all
the plots
planned Or is it religion restrains ? And with hardly a trump card once in And have we got rid of the oldhis hand, fashioned Pope, He has won the great game from us all. But to cling all the more to the fear
that
rope?
we
I grant
clear.
Which were
gains.
the
mainspring
of his
And
A
!
of
Ah
well
By and by
I shall
know
And would
not be
moved by
a smile
or a tear than Priest or Presbyter can, Of the place up above, or the place Of his Queen, or his lovingest friend. down below, And I'll take all the risk of it rather And it was not his own ends he sought, I allow him honest and true than show dreamer of course, and a danger, That I cannot face death like a man. but not
More
Knox prays for you every night, But has never a good word for me I am doomed, as it seems, to go down
to the pit
To mend
his lot.
his
own
fortune, or better
As we
As
the one place for which I thoroughly fit. And where I must evermore be.
am He
is not the manner of man be tricked or terrified no But had you adopted the one certain plan
To
Yet
fancy that
Wise
rulers
dropt
began.
He
must know that when some of you hoped blind him, or bribe him, 'twas I
efforts at that
And we should have ruled in his stead, And brought back the Queen to her
throne.
alone stopped
kind of play.
to think
And
of his head
'Twas
Where
insulting
him even
it stuck on the spike, as I hear that he said He hoped yet to look on my own.
even for a
moment
But you scrupled to ransom the State By the life he was ready to give.
When
Of the
he had,
thing
as
certain blink
we were
Though your
its
He
was
just the
one man
in the land
fine gospel glory is great, On the fact that a man head unto Fate
rests,
and
his
bowed
nor appal,
That the
live.
;; ;
571
Maxwell
And Carrs
And
are gone,
exalted alone,
And Hamiltons will storm the while And half the Clans will throng the town To mock the pride of great Argyll.
;
and Gordons are not slack when they can So long as I know how to pay the The Chisholm hangs on Lovat's back old debt To prove which is the better man ; With a fair cup of wine after supper, Lochaber troops out from its glens and get To the end of all uncertain thought. To bar the Mackintoshs' way And all the Macs from all the Bens Hunt the M'Gregors of Glenstrae.
none of
The
my
throat.
The Grants
To
That supper did never take place, For the Castle was rendered that day.
And
They
brawl even
And And
plot
State,
at the
looked
in the face
Of a
With
great howling
mob
all
the way.
For broil and battle in the street While thieves are raiding on the border.
And doing murder in the North, And there's no power of Law or order
Beyond the bridge
!
Lying low
on the rush-
covered ground. a sweet sickly smell hanging heavily round. And a cynical smile on his lips.
With
peers.
A man in vice,
Who
chance
a boy in years, women's hearts is fain to wring. They come by sudden death who
stand, apparent, in his
"THERE'S
A HOLE IN
vi.)
PARLIAMENT "
(James
THIS To
way
And
trifler
and a popinjay.
Ill fares the laijd when favourites rule king that makes pretence to reign, And power is given to knave or fool Who nothing heed but lust of gain.
There
is
no order
in the State,
No
safety in the
common
street
For brawls and feuds among the great, That rage wherever they chance With nothing,
to meet.
An evil time of wild unrest, And malice plotting how to kill, And sorrow doth our homes infest, And plague and famine work their will. And hard the lot is of the poor, On every hand by ills beset.
but their hunger, sure,
And
! ! !
! !!
572
Ballads
'Tis sorry work in growing age To see all love of learning fail, And youth turn fromthethoughtful page To stoups of wine and cogs of ale, And lewd-eyed women lead the men,
Well
their
And
she
it
Who
And And
its
path.
of
the
Well-a-day
May God
From early youth she had breathed it in, Nor wist that it was a breath of sin.
Give wisdom to the King to rule. Let Law and Justice, hand-in-hand. Put down the oppressor and his tool,
Bring back the order of the State,
And plenty to the poor man's home. And make the Kirk her pride abate, And let His kingdom truly come.
EUPHANE SKENE
Between
Skene
Well-a-day
the
She plied him now with her winsome smile, Well-a-day With luring word and glance and wile But she lost her heart to him the while Well-a-day And the love was more than the hate had been In the better heart of Euphane Skene.
5
their hate
Well-a-day all she might give to him. Dreading the wrath of her kins-
That was
ween,
men
grim,
Well-a-day AH of the Skenes were of ruthless mood, But the young lord Leith was meek and good.
Well-a-day
And
I
am
every evening she meant to say, not worthy, haste thee away.
But
Said her brothers to Euphane
fair,
still
as
she
framed
!
her
lips
to speak,
Well-a-day
Well-a-day
Her
song
in
tongue
she said.
refused,
for
her
heart
Your speech
morning
air.
is
like
the
was weak
And
eyes,
He
is
And
and
your
Well-a-day Will blind him, and bind him fast, and then Trust us to do what is fit for men.
hear
like
of
a
my
He
will
cast
me
off
thing
of shame.
! ! !
! !
573
him with sword She did not weep, and She did not moan, and dirk, Well-a-day Well-a-day As he sat with her near to the old But her eyes were as fire, and her heart as stone, grey Kirk Under the boughs of the weeping birk And she took her way to the moors alone, Well-a-day Well-a-day He was but one, and they were three, They were her brothers, her lover he. With an eldritch laugh, and a snatch
They
fell
upon
of song
That
She held him now in a Well-a-day
last
startled
the
night
as
she
embrace,
tript along.
12
The The
Off to the hot blood spurted in her face. and fox, red blood plashed in their trystWell-a-day
moors with
the
whaup
ing-place,
Well-a-day
Where
wound, and the gashes
And
She
ragged rocks,
rent her
robes,
bound.
And
She
to
called to
Nor
called
never again to the Kirk came she, yet where her love-haunts wont
to, be.
13
Summer and
springs,
winter,
by brooks and
And
him
never
so,
before
had
she
kissed
Well-a-day
Well-a-day
The
pale cold
pale
cold
was gone.
10
And And
fire.
in lonely byre.
The
pale cold
moon
that looketh
down
Well-a-day On moor and garth, on tower and town. The lands of Dun right fair they be, On the peasant's cot and the Prince's Where Esk runs rippling to the sea Past broomy bank, and daisied lea, crown, And cheerful cottage door. Well-a-day
!
Saw
nought that night like deep despair Of the maiden that clasped
lover there.
the her
From dark Lochee its water flows By Brechin tower to bright Montrose,
And
Through
574
Like
I
Ballads
it
hoped to make
my
sturt
and
strife,
And
To cast on me a witch's spell And wind rae in ray shroud. abound ; But for my foster-mother brave, For I would keep an honoured name From taint ofwrong, and shade of blame. I had ere now been in my grave. And would exalt my grandsire's fame. And slept beside the breaking wave Among the silent crowd. Who life in learning found.
that, in patient labours rife.
It should in fruit
And now that she is gone, I know would not follow trump or drum. poison slow. handle sword and spear like some. They drench me with a is waxing faint and low. And life But love of wisdom should become And lo the end draws nigh. My heart's desire and aim. They tell me that they only deal Let schemers hang about the Court,
I
Nor
And soldiers to the wars resort, And idlers take them into sport, And hunt the moors for game
But
I
am doomed
to die.
would be
till
And
With
ponder
knew
Than
I
And
The
wealth of thought and look For manuscript and printed book, Then ponder in the ingle-neuk
go
to other lands,
treasures I
had
got.
had been envied then by none. But had of love my share. O Bell and Annas, could you go. O'er Cairn-a-mount amid the snow, For witch's drugs to work this woe. And shame the name ye bear ?
Fain would I
live a while.
With ample
But
is.
this
To heap up gold, nor yet to wear Fine robes in some high State affair. And ruffle it with Lords. I would be rich in things above The lusts of sense, and I would prove The worth of a more noble love For wise and faithful words.
And every sign of love I miss. And every touch of grace Oh rather to be dead indeed, And watch no more the wicked And the hard looks of hate and
That
stare
deed.
greed
from every
face.
bright
Waiting
And
wept,
And keeping her way rough or smooth, But justice woke up when he slept. Thy hope has vanished soon. And smote though all too late.
For honoured name and good
Brought
Before
estate
me
an heritage of hate.
to a cruel fate
full
that, like a
hideous dream,
that
all
That dooms me
Should perish
in a
murderous scheme
my
day's
noon.
Of dark
malignant hate
The German
Scots
575
It fell to Gustavus,
King,
soldier,
and knight,
'To blend
rival peoples,
He
And
summoned
They came
man
With
Brisk lads of Strathnaver, And gallants of Reay, thousand brave fellows In tartan array.
And
Our
In
many
a fight
The
With
the great
King Gustavus
To
At
And And
Sinclairs
and Gunns
'Gainst Tilly's Walloons, And the big Pappenheiraers, And Walstein's dragoons.
a captain
For ages our Scots lads Had " boun " them to France, And guarded its monarch With good sword and lance
But
their hearts
As
now were
burning
With new
To
the best,
Aye onward
That fought
Dead was
On
stout Mansfield
They
Before they touched land, But the Dane seized the banner That dropt from his hand :
Of the
death-stricken victor
;
With many
And
At
straight at his
summons
Was
filled to
the brim.
lost battle. lost
him.
And
their hearts
But the Dane, beat by Tilly, Soon gave up the lead In the conflict of nations. Which fell to the Swede.
Hearing men say That there had been a traitor. And death by foul play. And that one of their number. Who scaithless had been When the battle was ended, No longer was seen.
576
Ballads
know
But
this
trained
He who
But they learned from their Bibles What God's soldiers are.
a feast
With
a Jesuit cousin,
A trafficking Priest.
If a
And they learned to love freedom. And yet to obey And none were more stedfast
;
At Naseby
Gordon played
traitor,
than they.
And Munro
Ever
And
and
faithful.
They
And
they perished by hundreds Lutzen, alas Yet home with old Leslie, All covered with scars.
At
They came
to take part
They failed not brave Banier, They stood fast by Horn, Though stricken and starving
Thrice had the Highlands Recruited their ranks. And twice on the stricken
field
They
Bernard,
received thanks.
Staunch ever and keen. Who mocked at the Snow-king, But worshipped his Queen.
But it was to Gustavus Their thoughts ever turned. And when they recalled him Their hearts in them burned.
they sat round their watch-fires cold winter nights, It was good cheer and comfort To talk of his fights.
FATHER
He
And And
INNES,
S.J.
As
On
was a dark, spare, sickly man. had a rapt look in his eyes. Still young in years, but pale and wan
well himself he could disguise
he ordered the battle. And still led the way. As keen for the tussle. So calm in the fray ; How he saw to his soldiers That all had their dup,
How
One day he
wind-swept moor, And heard the cry of the wild curlew. And thought of the ills he did endure.
Father Innes,
S.J.
;
!
577
And
to himself he muttered low, I take my life into my hand Impatient of his luckless fate, And never would I grudge the price For he had trysted then to go When offering up by Christ's command Where death was coming, and would The sacramental sacrifice.
not wait.
Hark
to the shouts of
armM
men,
I take
my
soul into
my
hand.
And
At
times,
when,
to avoid pursuit,
They
me
o'er hill
and glen
To
has my promise true, And who is needing ghostly aid. May wait until his hour is due, And pass unshriven among the dead.
In some rude ale-house far inland I ruffle it with sot and brute Or worse, when I perchance must go To kirk, with many sickening qualms, And groan, and wear a look of woe. And hear their sermons and their
psalms.
What
have I done that I must hide With the wild beasts in dens and caves. I do it not for men's applause Whereon the heart oft vainly leans, Or on some sea-girt isle abide. Where gulls shriek to the breaking I do it for a holy cause That surely sanctifies the means waves ? I do it for the Church's sake. My father's home I long to see. But they have lodged a preacher there Although I have a sense of sin, Till full confession I can make. To catechise the family.
And
And
I pass
from house
there
is
to
house
at night
star,
When
That
I
neither
moon nor
when
think
may
Some
shelter
are
By
Of the full cup of shame and pain The heroes of our Order drink. The tortures that do rack their joints. The horrors that they have to see. The aches and grief that God appoints
To
in
from
my
A hiding-place
No home No haunt
Where
for
is all
I've got
them for the work of grace, then decore the altar fit. cense the air with incense faint
sain
saint
And
fears of
Why should
And
I as an outlaw live
enjoins.
they all, with one accord. Before the uplifted Host do kneel. Poor souls the grace that girds their And worship and adore the Lord, Oh the glad recompense I feel loins ?
giving, as I strive to give.
And when
37
578
I know my face And every pulse
Ballads
Yet care I not my hands to soil and strong, With your dull peasant's sluggish blood My darkness then is filled with light Hence to your proper task of toil. And glory and the voice of song. And plod among the muck and mud."
then shineth bright,
beats clear
them comfort, dry their tears, Their longing souls I satisfy What matter then my cares and fears
I bring
other answered, " Lying Priest, Deceiver of the souls of men. Your time will come, but I, at least. What matter if I live or die ? E'en let the rogues make harsher laws, Will leave you in God's hands till then. And hang or drown or burn my youth, Far better toil at meanest task Than traffic in deceit like thee. martyr in a holy cause. And daily wear a lying mask. They shall not overthrow the truth.
The
And
He
knew
it
not
heard the baffled troopers rage. And marked their hot pursuit abate. Each brooding o'er a well-conned page ; One read his book of Hours, and one Through chapters of his Bible ranged.
Then They
silent both, in
scorn or hate.
And when
For always he must That
testify
unchanged.
And
and
feasts
parting sullenly at
several
last.
And And
fasts
ways
but yet,
When many
Once more
He
for
" I do arrest thee. Priest, and make Thee captive of my bow and spear."
So
there they stood up face to face,
doubt
if either
ceased to hate
know
And looked into each other's eyes. And both were silent for a space. And touched as with a strange surprise,
They were
so like, so
THE MACGREGORS
Landless and nameless. By clachan and grange.
wan and
lean,
keen,
And
had so
frail
a hold of
life.
Among foes that are shameless. And friends that are strange.
!
Then
still
" Go,
day.
fool
be
We skulk,
And
Here we
my
And
kill
are Campbells,
life
betray.
And
there
we
are
Grahames
The
Little Pilgrims
579
denials
They heed no
Of guilt
Nor
and bloodshed,
trials.
And
wrap them
in flames.
Or
Glenstrae and Glengyle, Balquidder and Balloch, And Katrine's green isle, Our red deer they gralloch. Our graves they defile.
But
The
semblance of Fate,
And
All
for a grave-digger
in
The crow
faith
the mirk.
and opinion
When the bloom's on the heather. And the sun on the rain. As we bring back together
The
tale
They wholly ignore Our only dominion The mists of Benmore, Or the crags of Stobinion Where wild the winds roar.
Hunted
for ever
of the
slain.
By
And
We
When
Father was killed the year before, the Gordons raided the town
one day,
Each day
And now we
were sitting in grief once more. For the Pest had taken mother away.
rough weather
pressed
There were only three of us now alive. Me and Willie and little Kate Katie was three, and Willie was five, And I was the oldest, nearly eight.
No
birthrights
we own,
seated
Where
our
None of our neighbours came to see Whether we were alive or dead. The Plague made all of them cowardly.
And
58o
A childless woman,
Who
To
was
fain
to
And And
how
the
rabbits
sport
for her
own.
It was early morning still when we But though we were poor, and it was ill Left the pest-stricken town behind To win bread for us, and keep us trim, Blithe was the blue of the summer sea. And sweet the breath of the morning Mother still clung to her little Will,
And never
I
wind.
When we came to the Don, we had saw we must go to Auntie, now to go But the way was long, and the days Along by its side, and across the bridge were hot. And thieves were on every road, I trow. That spans the black water, deep and slow, And the Plague was in every likely spot. With bonnie Balgownie upon the ridge. Yet go we must, so I went and slid By this time Katie had weary grown. My hand into the crock, where lay So I carried her on my back a while. little purse which mother had hid. Will at my side came toddling on. She told me, against a rainy day. And we made in this manner a long Scots mile. It was not much, but I thought by wit And thrift and carefulness howto spend, If the thieves on the road did not Not far from the road, a bourtree grew That would shade us well from the come at it. noonday heat. It would carry us on to our journey's And a wee bum rippled on briskly end.
through Then,havingseen to the children's food, The grass, where we bathed our hands and feet. 1 told them we would as pilgrims go. And fare for a while in field and wood Where the little birds sing, and the There on our bread and milk we dined. daisies grow. Blithe as the glad birds on the tree. Merry they were these words to hear. Which picked up the crumbs that we left behind. And oh so gaily they questioned me
Would
I build
them a
nest
like the
As we
waited a
little
way
off to see.
dainty birds.
And
ing tree
rock them to sleep on a swing- That night, low down among pleasant broom. ? In a little hollow we snugly lay.
hunt the butterflies
in
They would
the sun.
It
was
better far
room.
And
byke would
And we
day.
slept
till
quest.
The
Little Pilgrims
S8i
to
my
And
so together
we waded
To read And to
Some
every town.
of the
sing
new and
living
way,
God's
praise in a
God- At
read,
a cottage, a
good mile
off, I
spied
given song.
verses then of the
A woman
Book we
And
"
she cried, And sang together the Shepherd Psalm, And we all knelt down on the grass, As she lifted up Kate in a fond embrace.
and said
The
meek
My
baby was
lies
and calm.
dead,
And
oh, but
my
empty now.
speed to know If milk could be got for the love of gain. She made us food, and she bade us eat. She cheered our hearts which were But outside the clachan I heard a cow sunken low. Straining her tether, and whisking She gave to us also store of meat,
her
tail,
And
I heard her low.
way
to go.
waiting
pail.
the
maid
and
the
warm
hay-rick.
milking
Straightway into the byre I ran I had learnt before with cows to deal The milk came free, and I filled my can,
And And
was high above. said our prayer in the morning air With hearts that were full of peace
slept
till
the sun
and love.
But
would not
steal.
Our fare was good, and we rose to go' Passed as we cheerily fared along. Not through the village, but round about Sometimes racing a little bit.
Among
fields
where
daisies
little
song.
cups grow,
And we
and shout.
That was the last of our happy times. For now to a hamlet I must run, That lay low down among sickly
us food, for
limes, To the ford of Ythan we came ere night. And close to my bosom wee Katie To buy
I
our bread
was
drew,
done.
S82
Ballads
on a bank
The
Yet
air
it
gave
me somehow
a shivering
And
he could devour us
must not go near
it,
all
with
ease.
chill.
We
I
And when
came
to the hamlet, lo
awful silence held the street, Which smote my heart with a boding
An
Where we
make
fast,
and
of woe
who
we
found us not.
But I
said
we must have
bread to
eat.
We took to
And
No women were sitting on step or stair, But the air on the moor was clear and pure. Hammer and saw in silence lay. And we fed on ripe cranberries well And there rose no smoke in the
sultry air.
out at play,
way
that day.
peat
No careful mothers had left their bed, The cattle were moaning in the byres.
And
the rats in the gutters lay dying
or dead.
At night we lay in a woodland shed Made of pine branches loosely bound The deer lay near on their bracken bed.
;
And
I
Never Never
in the place did bark, caged bird tried to sing, All the windows were blind and dark, And a horror lay brooding on every-
dog
could not sleep, and when morning broke, And the light wind whispered among
the trees.
And
thing.
the little ones from their dreams awoke, They were heavy and fractious and ill
to please.
told
them
stories,
and
laughed
eat
and sang.
cried with a voice of dull despair,
1
And
And
said in an
all
of the best
And
lightly the
Then
wild deer sprang terror, and ran with Up to their feet from their bracken
left
nest.
the bairns
to leap
and run.
too bore
if they
For
death was in every Branching horns upon forehead dun, And we took to the weary road once breath. And I must get Katie and Willie away.
I felt
The
Yet did
pain
I
;
Little Pilgrims
583
took
my
so I
my
purse.
Which he
careful their
steps to
It
it all
snatched from
my hand,
that
and
had been so
guide
that I
in vain
made
false
And vow
Willie grew better, but little Kate Fevered more as the sun rose high.
the
coins were
And
should
all ?
we do now, robbed
of
then,
met
and hurried by.
Katie died
forth
Took
And
That
so our sweet
little
We
And
night as
small.
once more.
Lying low on my lap, she sighed, " I'm coming, mother," and all was All through the night
o'er.
And
it
seemed
than
as
my
just
We
And
heart
I
would break.
got
way,
shroud.
no
farther
"O God!"
suddenly
till
came
disciples
this
thought to
me. Lord,
What
It
is
We
followed after I hardly know. blurred with sorrow, and all confused went on still, but our pace was slow.
When Thy
with
were walking
hearkening
to
were abused.
and
ate,
noticed, myself,
the
And Thou didst never their act forbid And may not we now, in like
sore strait
we
could.
Do
as
Thy
servants that
day did
then,
Therefore I would not give him aught, That gave me we walked And he took from his girdle a gully
knife.
light
and as
By
its
And
held
point against
Willie's
We
munched
the
throat,
talked
Good
S84
I thought
should go Soon our troubles were all forgot. Yet not our sorrows, for when I think And it did us good, I am sure, although Of mother and Katie, my heart is hot. mostly slept in the kirk that day. And in the night-watch I have tears
it
we
With
others to worship
We
to drink.
And
had sunk that Sabbath sun We came to Elgin town at last, And now our pilgrimage was done. And all our troubles were overpast.
ere
have all we could wish of meat and drink ; But oh for the mother's guiding hand. And the little one's smile, which was
like a blink
We
Auntie,
And
Her
With
it seemed, was known to all, they said I could not fail to find house where it stood by the
Of sunshine
to
me
in a
weary land
Cloister wall,
Humbly
door.
knocked
stately
fear,
at
the
big
oak
For
it
was a
And
I, in
my
On
the
elms and limes, Not many minutes we had to wait. And lone and apart were the thoughts And when she came to us, all I said of his heart Was, " Auntie, this is Willie, and Kate Died on the road, and mother is dead." While the struggle was brewing, in
kirk and in mart,
the
ills
Kinder greeting could none have had Willie she clasped to her bosom, Other his labours, and other his cares. and wept. Other the ends that he sought to Partly sorrowful, partly glad.
;
To mend
Meanwhile
she kept.
my
hand
in
her
own
gain,
Other
than
for us
his
di-eams
and
his
hopes
the
theirs
Who
Or
and
busied
themselves
with
State's
for us to wear.
affairs.
hand
With
her
own
hands
she
washed
And
By
a paper, writ
ing neat.
When
her
the
tale
of
our
The
Unbonneted head, and slippered feet. And how the thief took our purse away. Eager to see his long labour complete, She uttered some words in a holy rage In a chamber littered with books Mother would never have let me say. and globes.
pilgrimage,
585 His
Toil and trouble he never had spared, But year after year had wrought at his theme, Often been baffled, but never despaired, Still had come back, and his errors
repaired
And
greatness,
which flows
From
His wrath
And now
it
a dream.
old
and yet new His task was nigh finished ; the end Mathematic, mechanic, and chemic drew near. and we. As page after page he threw down on In our brooding and searching to find the floor, out the True, great pile of writing, where truth Do but glimpse, with long toil, what did appear He perfectly knew With every new scroll growing ever From the first, when He held the young more clear. world on His knee. Convincing the reason that doubted
before.
are,
and many
for
souls,
but
dead,
The
till
strain
was
so hard,
and he toiled
things,
the sweat
his
That beaded
brow
trickled
down
And
on his beard. the sound of his heavy, hard breathing was heard Like the panting of athlete that struggles with Fate.
Thoughts of number and form, of circles and squares. Of the grass on the field, and the dews
and the
airs
it
And
lives
on,
and
sweets that
brings.
Then
there
came a glad
his
light
on
his
And one
me
it
of His thoughts
before,
He
and
has given
to follow
face,
and
head
to find.
Was
"
I
lifted
Never dreamt of
on
results
the while,
have found it, and 'stablished it clearly," he said, The Law that God wrought by that day when He made The stars in their courses, and measured
their mile.
says, and you might suppose He has no other thoughts save about
To
that
enlarge
and deliver
the mind
From bonds
and bind
that did
hitherto fetter
The
up
to
His
throne.
Lo
And
by
its
over space,
586
As
gains
LIVINGSTONE'S WOOING
failure
Without
or
flaw to
bewilder
I
his brains,
HAD gone
to a friend for
Communion
Or
uncertain
shadow of doubt
on
his face.
How
How
For
simple
hopeless
it
felt
that
my
had been
failed
looks,
now
it
the key
and
dark
looked
often to
me
as simple as they
folk did not see it, some even opined Yet hard as the path over untravelled That, with the live coal from the ground.
are profound.
The
Till a
way
altar fired,
has been
hewn which
the I
had spoken
inspired.
at
times
like
man
But it was not the fire of a heavenly men are fighting where peace mind. should have been. Clashing their sword - blades, and For now it came home to me, clear shouting their cries as light, If they but knew all the triumph serene When a great Law of Nature is I had sought but my own things, not the Lord's
Hark
certainly seen,
And
God's
Had
and wise
soul
What are
lives
devour
What
are the ends they're so eager to gain ? but strive to get honour and
Then
They do
thought that I power, And wield them in pride for a brief loved more than all Proclaiming the riches of God's large little hour grace. This while the world lasts still shall remain.
had a
call
My
Truth
is
friend to cheer
me
the
he knew
to bind. My word that day had been greatly Not to oppress, but to set the world free. blessed. Power over Nature by masterful mind, For some had been quickened, and Power to enlarge the great thoughts some had found rest.
And
of mankind, by obeying
And Law
its
sure and
Lords
to be.
true.
;:
Wooing
had thought of
life
Livingstone's
587
Still
I never
yet in that
My
faithlessness
clearly
laid bare,
my
calling sure,
And
getting
my
heart
pure
Then
said
for
he was a
And
friend
In good and evU all through my life " John, what you want is a loving wife To bring these thoughts to a whole-
I never had thought of May Fleming that way. Though I often had noted her up-
turned face
As
word of
pray.
some end
grace,
She
is
to
me
but a lamb of
she
is
bright
the flock
and kind,
Whom
way,
too as the Pro-
narrow
Of a And
To
By
mised land."
I
alway
that
flows
from
the
knew of
a
stricken
Rock.
shepherd
I
But
surely that
was a
flippant
word
the
man who was wrestling for Lord With the powers of darkness in
breast.
To
And
faithless
needs
must be
his If I led her
And
silently
now to myself, not Him, kindled a human love, poor and dim. For the love divine I had longed to see.
Went
For
I
to
my
chamber and
there
to
my
like
knees,
knew
was nothing
so
prayer to ease
The
load
that
was lying
That made me surer than ever before That I was not fit for the Master's work ; heavy For my soul was tossed, like a helpless cork.
on me.
And
But
still
that speech
of his rang in
Then
pleadings
went
in
grief to
my
friend,
and
and
said,
put a temptation in
to
my way;
try
May's face
eyes.
When
turn
my
books, or
get out
to pray,
in
And
prayer,
cannot
of
588
But he only laughed, and answered, I must give up the task that I did Well, so ill, Let her come down from your head Must put out the light that would
to your heart.
lead astray
there,
And make
depart
her
home
all
and never For I had no rest by night or day, But went on dreaming about her still.
You
will 'preach
tell
the
better
when Once
you can
my thoughts
Who
" Of love
that unifies
is
had been all of Him bore the cross for His chosen
to the sorrowful truth I
Love
Love
" For
that
faithful,
more
to
man and wife. meek, and true. is ever new. you even than life
folk;
But now
woke
lived by had
you'll have in your soul the But one day I met her on the high road, master-key All by herself, and stepping free To open treasures of Love divine, text for next Sabbath was workAnd draw for your people the mystic ing in me.
My
wine
And
when days of
I
I felt
it
That
darkness be."
1
was not
satisfied
yet I
at
know
peace
;
The
to
strife in
my
told her my trouble, and she threw out Modestly only a hint, a thought. But it suggested much, and brought
Clearness to
me
instead of doubt.
Not
Which made me
be
to
one
So
But
like
my shadow
she kept at
my
make the dry well run, Free and full, with the grace of Heaven.
able to
side
AU
something
fresh
was done.
I saw her face as I read
my
books.
Even in the darkness it was there Looking ever so sweet and fair.
seemed to get
And
And
in the
winds
What
I
could
it all
mean
what should
went
to
her
for
mother,
do?
my
work
And I felteach Sabbath,my heart to-day And the hope it begot in me, that they Was not in my work, and my people Would not reckon my love to be
knew.
over-bold.
589
was not marriage-love yet, nor did Of all our Houses of ancient fame till days and weeks were Only the Gordons held them back ; passed, Hume and Maxwell and Elliot came. And only by prayer it came at last, And Stewart and Bruce would have But it burned like a fire then, and deemed it shame would not be hid. If men of the Royal blood were slack.
I get that I
To
had much ado to moderate it. keep it from taking the Master's
place.
Few
there
With
love
in
for
the
light of
His
face.
it
measure
fit.
All lay close 'mong their mountains bare But they count not for much in a
State affair.
And
of
all
God's
gifts
to
me,
truly
Unless there be
cattle to raid
and
steal.
the best,
Was
And
Save only the Spirit of grace and truth, Mackintosh sat by the fire and drank, the wife that he gave to my Cluny was busy about his game, Seaforth was playing the Lewsmen troubled youth,
the
home
that she
made me of
a prank,
peace and
rest.
And
all
rank.
his
name.
little
We
they
brag
have lived to see always bring This glorious day, and its godly work, Quarrels with When our nobles have buried their and boast.
to
me
them
as
they
ancient feuds.
And
left
And
their
are crossed.
And
tongues that
babbled
begin
to
To
bond
in the Greyfriars'
sting.
Kirk.
There was not room in the kirk for Truly my heart leaped up in me, while more Douglas and Hamilton, Athole and Than a tithe of those who were fain Mar, to write ; Pressed on the heels of Montrose So they spread the sheets on the and Argyll, gravestones hoar. And Lindsay and Lauderdale walked All the way out to the kirkyard
door,
Scott,
signed
there
wept
590
Ballads
Oh what a sight it was, all the land, God grant that they may stand fast Gentle and simple, humble and high, that day ; Setting their seal to our Covenant band. But some are ambitious, and some are That vowed the people, with heart proud, and hand. And some are fain just to get their To stand by the Cause and the Kirk, own way ;
or die.
I pricked
AndtheremaybeaJudas.
Who
can say
in a
What
kind of folk
?
may
be hid
my
finger,
crowd
it
pen In a drop of
to write
It
my own
them,
in
view
was but
a drop, but
it
pledged
me
drop
in
each throbbing
to
The
and
gallant
true,
three
far than
a motley crew
but the teind
Who
know
there were not a
and land
Of
course, I
Who Who
Some of God's servants will have it so, no glow of our patriot fire, For they say He can save by many cared not for freedom or truth or few. or right, And they blame me as one who is But loved the darkness, and shunned fain to go. the light. By worldly policy. Yet I know For the lust of gain was their one shall need every man to carry it
few
felt
We
desire.
through.
maw
all
To And
The
the wealth
all
ills
Of
the
their
quarrel
'twixt
hot,
King
and
Parliament,
the pillage that did avenge of the past with ills as strange.
And
hearts are
and they
When
Kirk
as
To
One
Charles or Laud,
side or other
its
till,
on stricken
field.
All they heeded was wealth of gain. All they dreaded was loss of gear ; I am no soldier, and I shrink But their swords are good if their From battle and blood as
hearts are vain.
things
abhorred
all
And
That
we'll need
strain
them
in the stress
and
coming
No more may I
year.
S9I
the Spirit of
God
is,
men men
are
When we
To
snowstorm
the spirit of truth
is,
Where
are
Inverlochy, Argyll
his ship, like a
strong
Lay down on
form which we Ever marched
trooping
worm.
And
be
young
leader's brave
When
the storm
is
past,
in our front
with a smile.
plainly see.
And we
shout.
great
And And
broke them in stark, utter rout. drank the red stream like a flood.
spoiled the fat burghers of Perth,
just
We
And
At
the snows.
With
And
the wild curlews and the crows, the winds and the clouds and
if checked Dundee,
for
once
at
Kilsyth
their
the rains.
earth.
Was never a leader like him To know what his lads could
do
Lay
lea.
There were rivers and lakes to swim. And moors where the mists lay dim. But he burst on the foe ere they knew.
Oh the spoil that we gathered that day When our banner waved o'er Aberdeen!
Though
We
And And And
Or
were
I joined
neighbours
of
old
in
As
our forces then melted away. they started for home with their our musters next morning were
Strathearn,
prey,
And
Marched
close
up to Nairn, Auldearn,
lean.
War
Till the Campbells
the worst of the job with them was a foray for gain.
The
foe
Whom
And
I
they hasted to kill and to rob. be off with their plunder again.
And we drove off their cattle the while. And left scarce a horn or a hoof.
Then
So long
was young, and I did not much care. as the sword did not sleep.
Though they trooped off with all They'll not soon forget how our men kinds of ware, harried their clachans and byres ; There was wailing in every green glen, Pots and pans and cloth-webs, like a fair. And burning on every high Ben, And droves of fat cattle and sheep. But laughter at our watchfires.
;; ;
592
The
Highlands were swarming with But he looked very sad, and he sighed, " have poured out rivers of blood, men, All idle, and keen for a fight. And beaten them yes," he replied, And for one that dropt off there were " But we've not gained a man to
We
ten
To
fill
The
thrashing
the
tide
at
flood.
sight.
"We
Yet
It
the shock
When
his army was melting away Has filled them with fear and unrest was hard to know how best to deal No longer they flout us and mock, With fellows more eager to steal Yet I know that the bulk of the folk Hate the sight of a kilt like the Than to stand by the flag and obey.
pest.
But
All I
And
had not the care of command. " For the king our lads care not a jot wanted was just a good fight. of course to bring back to Their king is the chief of the clan ;
the land
Not once
fought.
for
the
The rule of the king, and to stand By the Church and Episcopal right.
was never so cheerfial and gay. Though some of my comrades had
I
dropt.
But only to better their lot. Or avenge an old feud when they
can.
For
I thought
we had
play,
For order or worship or rite played out the Perhaps for the Pope and his creed They might take to the sword, but
they need
And
the Whigamores, losing the day. Their wicked devices had stopped.
No
So one
night, the
On
the
moon shining clear " I am weary of half-savage men Tweed, where I stood with Who seek but some gain to the tribes
Montrose,
I said,
And
a glorious year
!
the
beaten
in
" What
vain.
far
We
And
have
scattered
the
rogues
and near.
we'll have
By
back the king, ere
the
parchments
and
quirks
of
their scribes.
he knows.
" And I'm weary of these civil wars, And the desolate homes they have
made.
He
In
shall
have
his
And
at
fields,
and
the
And
That
scars
their
hearts
the
That
stars,
And
the
widows bewailing
their dead.
The
" After all men have
Civil
said, too,
Sectary
593
you now, up there
in the
Lo
box,
war brings its bitter remorse, When you hear your own dear mothertongue Appealing for mercy among The hoofs of your iron-shod horse."
" We poor
sinful folk.
The
fair, like
a man.
that was the man, who, they said, " I am ready our sins to confess, Mostly sins of the flesh, I admit Gared only for battle and strife, We are given to strong liquors And to look on the dying and dead, In flagons or beakers. And who reckoned the blood he had And to handsome young maids that shed are fit The glory and joy of his life.
And
On
sit.
THE SECTARY
Corporal Hogswash of Grimsby,
And
One
of
for that
you have
up
this
stool,
"The
Could
fight
And And
or a ball
tell
Of your Kirk, and its good godly rule, And Tophet ordained for the fool.
He He
all.
"Now,
was fain to lord it supreme O'er the weavers and cottars of Fife, As he led on his troop. With a halloo and whoop, Ever foremost in fray and in strife.
kept folk in fear of their
life.
spare not;
me
well;
And
One
But when you have spoken your word, I have somewhat to say. In my own homely way. To you who are serving the Lord With your sins, which He ever
abhorred.
On
day, in the kirk, he sat down the stool of repentance, for choice.
silent, are
you, to-day
With
You
leave
all
the talking to
me
Very
well, I
am
ready
And
In
this
manner, to
up
his voice.
up there steady, My dear, erring brother, and see What other folk know you to be.
just stand
You
He
called
himself
ne'er
"Seeker"
stayed
to
or
"Waiter,"
Though
he
;
listen
or learn
" What of your envy and pride. Hypocrisy, lies, and deceit. Your high Sabbath-keeping,
And
At
the wolf at the door, and the feet That sinners should now have their turn. That are swift to shed blood in the street ? Whose hearts in them hotly did burn.
With
the shepherds
all
sleeping.
And
38
594 "
Ballads
Lo
the violence,
;
strife,
tion
(See Habakkuk,
nest
ist
bend
Your
may
be high,
shall
Where
the
Priest
and the
steeple-
But the stone shall cry From the wall, and its voice
house be."
Then he
stair.
strode
up the high
pulpit
on the Penitent's
poor
stool,
Where many
shamed
souls
have been
depart peace in your heart For bread he will give you a stone.
"
Ho my people
With God's
Let him do his blaspheming alone." like willows For small peccadilloes Meanwhile your worse vices, untamed. The flock with mixed feelings were
Have
stirred.
Some
" Yea, I sit on the Penitent's stool. Though 'tis fitter for you than for me
;
some wept.
Go
build up a creed.
Not of word,
Rebuked by
"
but of deed.
homeward
We
We
The Corporal preached for an hour have broken the yoke of the About Oliver's power and trust, King, About vials and trumps. have cast off the bonds of the And Parliament rumps. Pope, And the sword of the Lord, and And we will not submit rust,
and the
bit
its
March
Priestlings, that
hope
dust.
his
army
to cope.
"For
With
the
has sealed
victory everywhere In great feats of war
BURLEIGH ON MAGUS
MOOR
The
turncoat
!
late at Dunbar, Worcester His arm was laid bare. In the great crowning mercy wrought
As
the traitor
So
at
We
And
sent
him
to
London
to plead our
cause.
there.
Al-
creator,
"And
of
we're free
Spirit has
And
Law,
made
is
ancient laws,
us free
For the
And
The Command
For the
not meant
head.
latter-day saint.
False to
said.
Burleigh on
Magus Moor
List
!
595
My
That's
Rathillet,
his Lordship's
six-horsed
For our
dish up
to
Pope's old orders of pride and sin. doubt, he will be Cardinal soon approachCardinal Judas the crafty loon Strange are the ways
The
coach Bearing him on to his well-earned billet, With an out-runner heralding his
of heaven and
to
No
grim.
Oh, he was to have brought us Times of peace from a gracious King Only trust him, so he besought us,
ambush
And we
to sing
should have
grateful
songs
It
was
for another
We waited,
and a
its
one of
all
For a
quiet land,
Cheerfully doing
Who
The
tries
the
of
hell
to
smother
truth in Fife,
where he
sits
and
rules But our troubles and sorrows Are harder than ever they were before. With the boot
And
With
in the air,
for our bones, and a rope for our breath. In the name of this high Arch-priest of death. and spies at the
are,
darker
door;
The Lord
traitor into
Are
all
that
his
graceless
Grace The
brought back.
And
he who
is
work hath
severed
It is fine
and prison
which good
If we meet on a moor to hear the truth, You've a private quarrel, Rathillet, I Braving the blasts of a stormy season
men pray
know.
Rather than prophets that prophesy But you'll stand by our deed, though smooth ;
And
smote the old man with a swift and sure hand, And saw the gashed wounds on him Holding our own among dying and gape and bleed dead 'Twas a public work, and every one And now shall we tamely cower before there Lawyers and Priests that scourge us Had to thrust in his weapon, and take
sore?
his share.
And
596
The
ERICSTANE BRAE
had gathered that night for Clyde-burn head, went round, as we For he had been a stalwart man, came to the ground, Big both in body and limb, That our L eader and Preacher was dead. And his simple dress, in its homeliness. Had always been neat and trim. The troopers had come on his track As he sped down the bank of the Daur; Now broken he was and bent. They were seen to follow, with whoop And his face was pale as death. and halloo. He was soiled with mud, and stained While he made for the Buckshead scaur. with blood, And he gasped at each painful breath, Shots had soon after been heard, And blood had been certainly spilt As he wearily dragged his feet So we reckoned it plain that he had To the great grey stone on the hill. been slain, Where he often had stood to do us And we doubted not whose was the good.
We
the light was fading fast, So we did not see, at first, how he prayer Had changed since we saw him last.
And
guilt.
And
and
will.
We
Sad, then, and stricken at heart. There for a moment he paused. hasten away. Girding himself to speak, When some one said, " If our leader And the hearts of the crowd were is dead. wholly bowed have all the more need to pray." To see the strong man so weak.
We were turning to
Unbonneted
Till
all
of us stood.
;
we heard
We
To
" My hours ^re numbered," he said, " But I hasted to send you home,
they knew that to-night we should meet on the height Where the Clyde-burn frets in foam.
the foot of
For
the glen
were nigh
And
was the
heard
signal agreed,
Which we
head.
now
at
Clyde-burn
" Earlshall and his hard-riding troop Saw me come down by the Daur, And followed me close, o'er moor
And we
still
held our
breath,
and were
as death.
And And
scaur.
Where we
shed.
Elvan
foot.
We
me
there,
hard
and
tight
But by and by came a cheer. And out of the mist a form uprist, And our pastor himself drew near.
Without saddle or
middle.
With a
trooper to
left
and
right.
; ;
Lady Diana
"Then
Where
feet;
597
the inn,
they had a great drink at So I crawled up the hill, and crept on still. a lad somewhat loosened my Though weary and weak I grew.
had been strong, and with " Now haste you, every one, home. For I think they will soon be here and song And leave me alone by the big They carelessly rode in the heat.
The
ale
jest
grey stone
Where I've preached was muggy and warm, in fear. brains were sodden with
to
you
often
At
no " God's will be done ; I had hoped To lead you in prayer this night. But there's One who will pray for you night and day " There I got my feet free of the rope, To keep you true to the right. Where the gully is sudden and deep It was half-full of mist, as I surely " I leave you now in His hand,
Ericstane Brae they were more gay. But the wakefulest 'gan to wink.
i
wist.
Who
bank
is
And
"
its
Hold
never will leave His own fast to the faith, and fear not
death.
I thought I
slipt
And
Crept under the man to my left, and ran " Away ! every man to his home. Right down the rough bank in hot Let your sorrow for me now cease ; Alone with God, on this bit of green speed.
sod,
" I heard them shout and swear. I shall yield my soul in peace." For none of them minced their words With a sudden bound some leapt to That was the last word he spake. Straightway he fell down dead. the ground. As we heard the beat of the horses' And hurriedly drew their swords.
feet,
" But some their carbines fired. And one of them reached the mark. Yet I ran on fast, tiU I got at last Down into the mist and the dark,
And
silently scattered
and
fled.
LADY DIANA
" And reached the Annan, but faint Well, yes, I was fond of him once I admit With loss of blood and strength From a wound that, I feel, will never He was gallant, and courtly, and
heal.
For
my
hour
is
come
at length.
" But I could not rest, until I had brought a warning to you
handsome, and big. plenty of means, and was not without wit, Till he took to mad ways, and became a rank Whig.
Had
S98
Ballads
were neighbours my father and Now, a girl might well fancy a man the Ken, such as that. And our forebears had hunted together, Might deem him a hero, or hold him and fought, a saint Had always been staunch friends, and kind of small god, to be just right-hearted men, wondered at, Who stood by the Church and the And loved with a love which had no earthly taint. King, as they ought.
he
We
on
her I can scarce now believe I was e'er such a fool. Had trampled the Covenant down in And I dare say my friends would to the mire. laughter be moved Had followed Montrose o'er the Bens At the thought that I ever could and the rocks. whimper and pule And swore to King Charles, as they For a psalm-singing Puritan rogue that I loved. did to his sire.
up the Queen
in
Knox,
a strain of the
Whig
Their blood was untainted, their were all true a Whig, as they said Horse and rider were ready to answer For we were of the Old Church that the call bred saintly men. When the King wanted friends and And oft for its faith, too, our blood had fighting to do. had been shed.
;
But I was in my teens, and I worshipped him then, hearts Though I wished that he were not
course, I stood by him, the more they opposed. When a Peden, Cargill, or a Cameron And the worse they spake of him, spoke the better I thought Of Christ's crown and kingdom and I was not to be crushed, nor my mouth bearing a cross. to be closed, Though it was plain rebellion they But all the day long for his honour tried to evoke. I fought.
sat
Of
was warned by his friends, but he would not take heed. He was fined o'er and o'er, but that troubled him not; Not a man to be swayed, he, by fear
or by greed.
He
My My My
father
that I
stuck so
to him,
mother
worse,
and
kept
nagging
me
me
He
would
stand, as
he
said,
by the Till
Whig
take to the
"
Lady Diana
They were
at their wits' end, for the
599
wise, then,
They were
to
send
me
house had no rest away, for ere long I held my own well, though at times I got rid of heroics about wrong and
I
would gasp,
temper grew hot
at
right.
When my
it
took to the dance and the lute and the song. stung And thoughts that were cheerful, and ways that were light
some
And
Then they
in
and sent me away to a Convent And came back a woman ; France woman is not It was not a strict one ; the Mother Like a girl in her teens that goes was gay. mooning about And the Father Confessor was fond I knew the world now, with its cynical
of a dance,
thought,
And we
learnt to
make
And
looked
at
its
facts,
and
left
girls in
a play.
sentiment out.
said to
love-fit.
myself:
it
"I
have had
my
fast-
strict
and
And
found
day-dream, a
fading flower,
We
cloud which the sun for a moment were taught when to kneel, and hath lit and to bow. And we went to Confession six times With glories, that end in a dull,
to cross,
in the year.
drenching shower.
We
But
and dress. meanwhile our thoughts were And comforts and pleasures, in choosing a mate about the next ball We chaunted our Psalms ere we lay And what can one look for but times of distress, down in bed To watch our fine gallants come over If her man is a fool, and will fight
the wall.
we
Young blood
will I
knew what
to pinch
it
was
to be poor,
and
Young
making
lace-
Though
our
acres
flowers to grow,
And
oh,
how we
dismal looks.
hardly an inch hated the Nun's Of land that paid rent from the to the Cree
Ken
6oo
All moorland, the haunt of the whaup I was sorry, of course, but the truth and the grouse must be told And the falcon and fox but our His Kirk was a schism, his faith was salmon was good not mine, And we had to keep up a great ark And I could not approve of his purof a house, pose to hold Filled with idle retainers who clam- The Law in contempt, and the King's oured for food. right divine.
He
his farms
So we parted
on
my part, with
someship-
thing of scorn
His
duly For a
wreck his life They were psalm-singing rogues, but For a cause that was lost, and a Kirk that was torn yet steady, and skilled To make of the land all that well In pieces by jealousy, envy, and
paid;
could be made.
strife.
But a
Whig
to
he must
!
So
Must go
do must pay for their preaching, had forbid, and they found it dear. And must have a room where " The When the troopers were quartered Witness for Truth," upon them, and slew Whom the troopers were seeking, Their kine and their sheep, and might safely be hid. ate up half their gear.
science forsooth
to
hill-preachings the
Law They
It
is
in
rebellion,
but speedily
concealed.
Where
But
the
Priest
lay,
when That
Claver'se
made
short
;
work of
them and
their pikes
it's one thing to preach to rude I am told they fought well, but were clowns in a field. borne to the ground And another for lords at God's altar By our fellows who rode straight o'er to pray. hedges and dykes.
I gave
him
my mind when
one day. And he spake of old times ; but the old times were dead ; He was still as he had been, and went the old way.
And
he brought it no less too on most of his folk. Who were soon hunted out of the glens where they hide.
But
in
for
me
had
And who
lie
now
securely in fetter
my
head.
and lock.
Lady Diana
'Tis a pity, no doubt, that so
60
many Perhaps he
so.
is
one of them
Be
it
were
killed,
He
best farmers and Will be sold anyhow when the ship comes to port round When you came on a trim house, and And why should not some of the price fall to me, fields nicely tilled, You might know that a Whig held a As well as to fine Lords and Ladies at Court ? lease of the ground.
Our
all
loons,
Who
And Lagg
What
is
till
he shares
the plough.
with Dundee
over, unless Earlshall get his
hand
till
Which
they shout,
the birds
wake
On
his
on the Cree.
The Whigs
They
have
their
psalms
sun
for
and
the
I
They
take
what
they
can,
as
my
are up with
the
;
And
do
needing
rogues,
They
are all
canting
but
My
I
wish our brave men Were as fond of their work, and as honest and true.
I'm poorer than they are, and it more debts at the Tables are more than knew.
duns come and
at the door.
And
day
hammer each
There's a batch of them waiting in This grant will be worth a two hundred, at least. gaol to be sold To -the Colony planters, all healthy And will quiet their angry demands
And
for a space
And
perhaps I
may
spare a small
sum
there in gold.
Though
just
To
the case.
am
told
they will
bring
is
not.
all.
I liked
him, and
guineas a head
so did they
Over there, and probably some of But that does not hinder them doing their most them more. So I got at the Lady old Lauderdale To get at the wreck, and to profit
wed.
withal
And
she gave
me
a grant of at least
When
has
gone
half a score.
602
was hot about the Ryehouse Plot, Were it right to give up all this money Wherein he had no part, for all such to pay doings he abhorred Old debts, when I'm needing new There were ten of us to feed, and his heart had daily need frocks and a hat, For it shamed me last night to be seen Both of courage and of caution, and he trusted in the Lord, at the play ?
I
am doing
quite right,
then.
And
speaking of that,
My
Up
I've a
good
mind
to
go
a while, and look in at
And
London
the Mall,
went astray from the and narrow way Of truth and right and duty, which his Master trod before ;
never
strait
He
was staunch
against
oppression,
found
'tis
not
and his heart bled for the nation. But he waited for salvation, till God opened wide the door.
our
guiltless though he was, they knew he loved the cause That Churchill might well give his Of the wronged and ruined people, Majesty fits. and the Kirk he held so dear ; Were it not that the others are worse And his innocence had failed, when even than she. such lawlessness prevailed. To protect the friend of Baillie from their fury and their fear.
politic wits.
women
me
GRIZEL BAILLIE
He must take to hiding, then, where " the Killing Times," when the prying eyes of men consciences were crimes, Might not find him, till the trouble And over all the Merse were scattered and the terror overpassed ; troops of wild dragoons And the only likely place was a grueSwaggering in the streets and squares, some one to face saucy, daring " deil-ma-cares," Where he laid his honoured father, All in bravery of scarlet, and brawny when its door was opened last. handsome loons.
It was
in
trained Polwarth
it is
eerie, cold,
For the pillage and the carnage, they With a mere slit in the wall and air to enter in set them now to do
;
for light
They haunted
scant the light and air ever came unto him there. Watching keenly for our father, but As he lay repeating Psalms, and praying to be kept from sin. we watched them keenly too.
all
And
; ;
Grizel Baillie
I often thank the
603
Lord
for
His good
for
his
And
also
George Buchanan
My
beside the
Latin verse ; kirkyard wall Father could not have got through I knew that ghosts were nought, yet the waste and weary time he knew, my heart came to my throat, But for humming the old Psalms he If a rabbit scurried past me, or I heard learnt in schooldays to rehearse. an owlet call.
craft in
now I stumbled on over mound and grey headstone, As the dogs barked in the manse, when the clammy wall. they heard my stealthy feet. While he breathed the sickly breath of And I heeded not the dead, not a ghost old decay and death. was in my head. For the long line of his ancestry had But I only thought how soon he should there been buried all. have bread enough to eat.
his
That kept
Mother and I alone were aware where he had gone. My brothers were too young to be
told a secret yet
stiJl
to
How
And
said the
children called
first
me " greedy
gled
"
!
And
each night, when they slept, forth into the dark I crept Under the twinkling stars, when the
sun had wholly
set.
had to tell him if all at home were well, And then he thanked the Lord, and bared and bowed his honoured head.
I
At
just
to
He
was
and
my
happiest memories
the fun she made till every one Are the hours that I passed with him in must turn to her his head, the tomb by Polwarth Kirk ; While I swept into my lap dainty bit Though his wrath would burn and blaze, as I spake of our evil days and wholesome scrap, Which they thought that I had eaten, When there was no law in the land, but the rule of sword and dirk. and called me "greedy gled."
And
For the children must not know, nor the servants, where I go Or what it was I took with me when
I stole out at night;
We were feeling
secret
Any
make
stones.
But
father
hiding-place to eat.
And when
my
basket
filled
Though at times they might have heard, now and then, a Latin word. my Or even a peal of laughter from the
his
6o4
it chanced upon a night, when the I was fain to play the ghost with them, moon was shining bright, and take, at any cost, That the parson in the manse beheld The food that he would need upon a me through the kirkyard go cold and wintry night
j
But
was but a craven loon, and the For wrapt up in a sheet, and coming . glamour of the moon up with silent feet, Made him take me for a phantom that I felt sure that sudden terror would was gliding to and fro. seize on them at the sight.
He
to
all,
for I
knew
the
kirkyard wall. Through the parish, that he had been And could jump it, and take shelter driven into fainting fits where they should not find me then By a vision he had seen, flitting where But though father was so dear, mother
the graves were green.
And
filling
him with
all his wits.
terror
till
it
Of my
shattered
would not even hear running any risks among wild and godless men.
those
laughed, and others hinted it She had thought out in her mind was drink that had demented another way by which to blind The creature, who was known to be a The foes if they suspected that he still spy upon his flock was near at hand, There were some, both young and old, And she liked it all the rather that she who were lying then in hold thus could cheer our father
;
Some
On
the
curate's
information
to
the
With
military folk.
the voices of the children, and the comforts she had planned.
But there were some troopers swore There was one whom we could trust, that they feared a ghost no more as clearly now we must. Than a Whig, and they would watch And we took him into counsel, and
the kirkyard willingly
all
night
Give them but some cups of wine, and In a room on the ground floor there they would make wassail fine, was a bed and little more. Though the Devil and all his angels And we hoped to hide him there, until came from hell to do them spite. he might get safe away.
What
Then we dug
to hide his
his father's grave he could Scraped the earth out with our fingers, no longer hope to hide ? till the nails were worn away. They were reckless and profane, those And bore it in a sheet outside, until we dragoons, and it was plain did complete They might keep their watch on nightly, The work we had in hand before the till he pined away and died. weary close of day.
Now that in
Grizel Baillie
Mother looked bright and
605
brave, but I
He
And
the box the man had made for it was like his coifin too tease her with a jest. But with holes in it for air, and a little But gently stroked her hair, and bade room to spare. her not despair And a mattress for his comfort, she That the rain should flood the old house thought that it might do. no mortal could have guessed.
:
smiled at our pet scheme, which had proved an idle dream. But mother was so vexed, he would not
The night was dark and wet, and before " Well,
the watch was
I brought
set,
him
safely
home from
his
to-morrow's Wooler Fair," he " and we should have horses there If we would not lose the market. Let
said,
gruesome hiding-place
of late so sad,
the
let
upon
And
his face.
morning
she'd make him a gay feast, and " must run some risk, indeed, but I wine should be increased know the fords of Tweed, From a flask up to a flagon, and they And there is no safety here, now two should dine alone. suspicion is awake, As on their wedding day, when he bore John will ride my good bay horse, and his bride away, use it tenderly of course. prouder, happier man than the king For none can tell how long a journey upon his throne. next day I must take."
Then
his
We
had no time to waste, yet we must not seem in haste. Doors banged and windows rattled, and But as if we went on calmly in our the old house seemed to rock ; ordinary way
We
But though the night was eerie, their So the colts were all got ready by our hearts were very cheery. trusty man and steady. And they only said the storm was hard And father crossed the Border before on poor and homeless folk. the break of day.
At length
The
Then we had
a while
to wait in a
place below
great bed by the wall, where none TiU tidings came from Holland he had landed on its coast. would surely seek for him But the box it was afloat, and leaking Having been to Wooler Fair, and sold
;
like a boat
And
got
money
in his purse to
" pay
scarce
was
fit
swim.
the lawing of
Mine Host."
6o6
Ballads
his ship in the deep mid sea, bore him a slave to Barbary. There he is dragging a heavy chain. It's oh, there was never a happier wife As he toils all day in the sun and rain. Than I was in all the old kingdom of And he sleeps in a den among rotten Fife; weeds. And never a brighter fireside than ours, And rats and toads and centipedes.
And
With
it all
blooming
love,
like flowers
my
never a better goodraan than mine Whose home made him blither than
stoups of wine
And
And
On
And
the
windy
when you
sailed
away.
the ship
swung cheerily
o'er the
he loved
me
as if I
had
still
been
our
bar.
a bride.
And
Lord was
at
And the
But now,
fear of the
fireside.
the sails swelled out on each bending spar. Little I dreamt I had seen the last Of the good old ship and her bending
as the wild
wave breaks on
mast.
the sea.
Or what
sad
that
fate
should her
to
crew
than
Even so is my sadheart breaking in me befall. For the woeful news that have come to And him
hand
aU.
was dearer
me
the Barbary shore, and the Blackamoor's land. It's oh, if I were but Queen of the land, And who will now be my honoured With ships of war at my free head ? command, And who will win for us daily bread ? 1 would not send them to harry Spain, And who will bring to our hearts good Or to fight the Dutch on the lowcheer land main ; The moment his foot at the door we But they should sail to the Barbary
From
hear
It
coast.
To battle
was a rover of Sallee
at his vessel
the
Moor where he
keeps his
host.
That drove
three,
with galleys
And my goodman
From
the wicked
should delivered be
Rover of
Sallee.
Leaping out from the Spanish shores Under the sweep of a hundred oars. What is the use of our great war-ships John fought his ship till her decks If honest sailors, on trading trips. were red. May be boarded by pirate crews and
And And
fifty
slain.
Or bound as slaves with a cruel chain ? Oh that we had again Andrew Wood,
Who
Or William
Scott,
who by
night and
The pirate robbed him of all his gear, day Tortured his body till death came near, Hunted the rovers from creek and bay
607
To
The
ransom
my man
have given up
all
had
but
Had all been as stout As he was that day. As fearless and faithful my Amid all the deathful
And
the Kirk is collecting, from rich Rushes and shocks of the battle array. and poor, There had not been a wail at the end, Money to send to the rascal Moor. but a shout. But what we need is the hand of the Well, the verse he will write strong,
And
the
sword
of
might
to
down wrong
spirit.
And
And
so
we
can bear
it
in his
hand, and
who
cared
you'd ask
No
He
knows
us each man,
And we know and trust him, And will show him our mettle
In the
fierce tug of battle,
For
it
nerves
dust-cloud
still
is
when
the
And
Douglasdale sends us to
still
you that
there's
We're
men when
right
work
to do.
Our
Colonel's a
Of the
old Douglas
is
Lord name
Cleland,
And
Gone
Cameron's men, Covenant work, And we'll not do it slackly, But strict and exactly, As Cromwell's lads did it at Naseby and York, They were Sectaries, but they did godly work then.
all
Pledged
to
there
is
not a gallanter.
Claver'se, will play All our knapsacks contain
off
now with
game
the great
word and by
word.
Sword.
was but a lad he fought at Drumclog, And At Bothwell a bullet, stoutly maintain. Well aimed for Rathillet, Glanced off, and hit Cleland who For the Kirk and its Cause We are banded to fight, stood by the Bog, Every man of us zealots Cheering the men when the business Against Popes and Prelates, looked bad.
He
When
the top-knot upon it, head that can think and resolve for the Lord, the born rights of Freemen will
6o8
of night,
The
trafficking mass-priests
all
Yet there's more to be said for our work Than some of our wiseacres think, who scorn We did not set on, like the Turk,
Inflamed with religion and drink.
the laws.
We shall
That we
To wreak a blind vengeance, and strike The good and the bad both alike.
It
And
With
was
justice
we aimed
at.
We chose
With
and sabre
to
smite,
and
And
whom we
to slay,
And
" For
We
about
to do.
hoof of
tlie
horse.
But the
priests
who were
spies
on
their flock.
Who
sent
lists to
the soldiers to
kill,
Or who dragged
block
surplices white.
whom we Those who liked a discourse on the hill. Which did them some good, as they
thought,
Let
Highland Host come. They'll be here by and by. For they may not long tarry By Tummel and Garry.
the
Only
And
big drum.
powder is dry, We carried off none of their stores. blow up the trumpet, and beat the But left them outside the manse doors.
'Tis like enough some caught a cold. For the weather was not always good. And it might be too much for the old. Yet I never have understood That any one died outright Of our rabbling, that gave them a fright.
The man who oppressed us so long. No blood by our lads, then, was spilt, That we counted on. But it was worse We sought not for any one's life. When our friends too said we did But our hearts were wroth at the guilt wrong, Of the man who, when troubles were
And
The
had
sullied,
rife.
crime
grandest event of the time.
Debased
The
; ; ;
The
609
work
quietly
at their trade,
When
is
plain,
By preaching, by prayer,
and by Psalm,
again.
good
citizens,
To
bring us to
to
God's way
Spirits they
though know.
Took
Who
safely reveal
hillside
to
their
The
of
their
heart,
you
may
That they long had been fain to conceal In our worship we mostly were slack. The wrath of a well-ordered mind, But we all were human at least As the thunder lies hid in the cloud, And when friends got the boot or Till it bursts at length angry and loud.
the rack.
On
We
And
lads
from
That burnt
And
our
scorn
and
our
loathing
were
dire.
frolic of justice, which now There were heads on the Netherbow Looks to me just too mirthful and gay Port It had better befitted the cause We had honoured for patriot zeal. Had our rabbling been worse than While turncoats and triflers at Court it was.
Were wrecking
the
common
weal
shield
And
the Church,
which should
its
We gave the
And we
looks
nest.
not a whit No, I am not Of the work that I did in those days.
It
ashamed
When we
And
that night.
had been
foul
shame
just to
sit,
And join in the prayer and the praise But we left them to go their own way. Of the wolves in sheeps' clothing, With their lives and their gear for aprey.
who
messe-robes
and
Had the
I grant
SIEGE BASS not enough faith the time of their might. Like those who withstood unto death. Just two miles off from the mainland. And held by the truth and the right Where the Forth is broad and free. The Bass and its grim rock-fortress shared in the nation's complaints. But we were neither heroes nor saints. Stands fronting the grey North Sea The wild gulls nest on its ledges.
we had
THE
OF THE
To
resist, in
We
Some men
;
are
Or
over
it
fly in clouds.
And
They
round it the sea-waves breaking Turn white for the sailor's shrouds.
39
; ;;
6io
Ballads
gallants,
Left in its prison to pine, Seized on it, one day the soldiers Had gone off for fuel and wine. Closed the gate fast on them sternly.
And And
And
its
down
They
would
hold
the
Fort
The
owned
the crown.
He
own
again.
A Middleton,
Leader
a Halyburton,
as the
With ensigns Roy and Dunbar, They were reckless and brave
Wroth were
They had followed in peace and war But she had to lie off helpless Young Crawford, Ardmillan, and others Till the sailors' hearts were sick.
Ere
long, too,
When they met in Parliament, And the Lion ship of battle To the leaguer straight was sent
would share
in the fight
And
They
And
For the guns of the Fort were heavy. they would have sunk her
quick.
They had ample shot and powder. More guns than they well could man.
And plenty of swords and muskets To ply when the fray began And watch and ward they kept strictly. As the soldier's custom is,
;
The French king heard their story. And thereon manned a ship Which the Lion feared to tackle,
And
For it was the last rag of his kingdom And store of food and wine, That they might maintain the King James could still call his.
battle.
They had
And
roved in search of prey. Around the Council table of deep carousal The nobles gnashed their teeth ; That lasted till break of day. Their swords hung at their girdles. Where the Whigs were of late psalmBut each glued in its sheath. singing, nation stood behind them And their prayers had been loud With all its power and might. and long. Yet sixteen men on the Bass Rock Now the roof was with laughter ringing. Held out in their despite. And ribald jest and song.
Where was the ancient courage plundered the towns of Fife, That stood by the gallant Bruce ? tithed the Merse to provide them And the large resource and patience bread to maintain their life. That sought nor peace nor truce ?
raided the coast of Lothian,
in a fortress
Where were
?
Two
What What
That did to Wallace turn ? And where the skill of battle That won at Bannockburn ?
6ii
Who
And
And
for the
sword a pen.
tree tall.
And
they use for courage, And blows dealt in the dark. As the men of Glencoe can witness. And no dog dares to bark They follow the ways of Rothes, And Lauderdale, and those Who sought but to find their profit In the nation's wrongs and woes.
It is craft
light.
The
stars
came
forth to
watch us there,
;
And
The small birds and the wanton They shared our joy, I wis
;
hare,
to care
How
And
fondly
we might
kiss.
We
My love
I
Took
That
was lord of Abingdon, was a Glencairn ; But true love levels all, and none
Its blessedness
And
But
may
learn.
their rule
weak and
cruel.
;
Who
and
lass.
And And
Among
Rock
Still far
the
broom and
fern.
men on
all
the Bass
to scorn.
For two long years it lasted, That siege of the brave sixteen
And
;
at his
sweet
will.
And when
He
sings the
same song
o'er
and
o'er.
All hunger-pinched and They came off with flying colours In soldierly array. With sword, and dirk, and pistol. And a sporran with their pay
As we
And still the primrose pranks the When spring is in the air. And still the broom is in a blaze When young birds flutter there
;
Now, shame upon the laggards. With hands so weak and skck. To be mocked by these rough
troopers,
But the scented broom and its golden bloom Are heavy with grief and care.
With
As
pay the rogues for robbing The poor folk on the shore. And send them away, still bragging They would play the game once more
And
But of a host that pine and drop. All fainting, famished men. And a lonely grave by the breaking wave On the shore of Damien.
: :
6l2
LADY GRANGE
THE
villain
!
to leave
me
here
he learns, as he shall, that a lady born Lies on his desolate isle, forlorn, Moaning her fate to the moaning sea.
will
When
On this desolate rock far out at sea, Among red-shanked Celts, with their What
freckles
he think of
my Lord
of
And
and
Grange,
puffins
When
come
that I have for
Which are
company.
And whatwill the rest of the Fifteen say Of their brother Judge, when they have
to lay
about him,
and do
And
all
I have shielded him long, as a wife growl through the night, like will do, beasts of prey But now I will speak out all the truth ; Worrying over rib-bones and skulls. He is come of a traitorous, viperous
And
tribe,
The
poor folk
mean
to
be kind in
And
is
falser
their
way
in
can describe. their peat- Though his looks are so tongue so smooth.
think of
and
his
Nor eat of their oily, ill-cooked food. Nor sleep at night, for the vermin brood The hypocrite You might sweep from the bed with for hours
their heather
him
reading
brooms.
my Lord
For
a
sense
Grange, I held you once good man truly, with wit and
for a rogue in-
His Bible at nights, when the lamps come in, While his madame creeps stealthily up
the back
stairs.
And
hears
him
prayers.
Loudly bewailing
?
of
sin.
And how can you ever show face again Among men of honour and reverence And
Four of your gillies, bare-legged loons, Broke into my chamber, and bound
then,
too,
he
must dreams
have his
to
prophet-maids.
Who
him by
the yard
me
fast
when
it
waxes low,
reward.
And
to fool
him out of a
are
said
fine
To
land
me
We
But you dare not keep
1
Chievellys
to
be rash
know
the
me always here and hot. MacLeod will set me free, Ready enough
:;
Lady Grange
And
their hands, I allow, have with blood been stained Of some they have stabbed, and some they have brained, But they count not a hypocrite yet
613
And And
the
gallons
!
of
potent
wine
he drinks
filthy jokes.
that I
know.
he's a hollow pretence
all
His
But he
!
great
fat
paunch,
and winks
through.
There is nothing he wUl not deceive Was ever a woman so vilely wed ? Was ever a wife abused like me ? you about He lies to the Kirk in his pious words. Cast forth alone among gulls and seals. He lies to the King, and the Court, And jabbering Celts, with their lines and creels. and the lords. And he lied to me, till I found him out. And the dreary call of the moaning sea?
moaning
call
still
Go
It
where
rings
I
in
may,
it
follows
me
my
ears
him
for!
that the country
long.
Yet
I think
would
And
haunts
my
dreams with
wail-
ing song,
that should Till I wish there
to kill.
FUGITIVE PIECES
THE ELDER'S DAUGHTER
Cast her forth in her shame. She is no daughter of mine
;
Is the night
We
AH
Dark is the way of sin The way of an erring child. Dark without and within And tell me not she was beguiled.
And
to shame.
What should beguile her, truly ? Did we not bless them both ?
There was gold between them
duly,
What
are you whispering there, Parleying with sin at the door ? I have no blessing for her
And we
Though
were
! !
him
truly.
She
is
!
dead
to
me evermore
to
Dead Dead
would
God
that she
Let
us read a
I think that
my
sit
and the grass o'er her head There is no shame in dying They were wholesome tears we shed
!
She used
to
in the
nook
Where
all
her wee
And
I
the love of
them
not dead.
?
ails
me
to-night,
on
a text.
meant not
that,
Lord:
a
O
:
guide
is
me
aright,
We are
I
For
my
the
soul
sore perplexed.
as the night.
And
word
Ah
the night
You
I
do not blame you for weeping They had all gone before her. And she had our hearts a-keeping
And And
;
!
dark
is
the
way of
And
we
bore her
Lynn
in the dark.
was
like
you
What
Might she
sleep in her
Was And
your youth and its morning dew, the winsome look of grace But she was never like you.
:
Her bed
How
and
said.
They were
614
The Mystery
But that was a He for she Was a whited sepulchre ; Yet oh she was white to me,
615
Oh
might
I but look
lost
Once more, my
;
And And
I've buried
it's
my
heart in her
be.
And
Nay, she never could lay her head Out of the depths below. Again in the little white room. Where all her wee sisters were laid She would see them still in the gloom, Do not say, when I am gone, That she has brought my grey but dead. All chaste and pure
;
hairs
to the grave
; ;
We will
go
all
together,
Women
do that
She'll have sorrow enough to brave, She, and you, and I ; There's the black peat-hag 'mong the That would turn her heart into stone. heather Is that her hand in mine ? Where we could all of us lie, Now, give me thine, sweet wife And bury our shame together. I thank Thee, Lord, for this grace of Thine, Any foul place will do
For a grave to us now in our shame She may lie with me and you. But she shall not sleep with them,
And And
light,
she
is
And
Is
the dust of
my
fathers, too.
THE MYSTERY
" Through
;
you say, I have spoken ? I know not ; my head feels strange And something in me is broken Lord, is it the coming change ? Forgive the word I have spoken.
it sin,
;
desire a
ated himself,
with
all
wisdom."
Was
In its antique fashions grand, it seems know what I have said ; to frown upon its fate hard on her for her fall ? That was wrong, but the rest were dead. Looking over the bleak moorland,
I scarce I
And
I loved her
all
all
of some
memory.
and stunted, for
to them,
Few
Centred on her at my side ; And then she brought us to shame. And broke the crown of my pride.
the salt-wind blows across. And swathes their twigs in lichens grey,
and
flakes of ragged
moss
And
Lord, pardon mine erring child
:
Do we
not
all
of us err
?
;
And the
Dark was my
newt creeps thro' their sodden where they grow rank and lush.
; !
6i6
Fugitive Pieces
tree,
And him
that shelters
there
a-night
from the wild storm or rain. And the Druid stone where the raven Will death or madness set upon, and sits blinking in the sun leaguer him amain All are bleaker from its neighbourhood, With eldritch shapes, and eerie sounds and grouped around it lie, of sorrow and of sin. As round Ja desolate thought that fills And cries of utter wailing that make
a subtle painter's eye.
the blood
grow
thin.
acre, with a O the haunted house on the moorland, how lone and desolate. rough-hewn masonry. There are portals heavy-arched, and In its antique fashions grand, it seems gables crested with the fleur-de-lis. to frown upon its fate Mounted turrets, curious windows, and But sit not thou in its tapestried rooms
armorial bearings quaint. Full of rare fantastic meanings as the dreams of some old saint.
When
about the midnight drear. the chains clank on the staircase, and the groaning step draws near.
the grim old tower looms darkly with its shadow over all Beast unclean and bird unholy brood
And
The
the step
coming slow,
is
And
or burrow in
its
wall
burning low,
intently,
;
Moans
and thy
fast
And the
paint falls from the panels, and the mouldering tapestries flap.
or bold, 'twere
storm without, you I cannot tell Fade the ancient knights and ladies from Perhaps we lose the power, perhaps the tapestries quaint and cramp ; we lose the wish as well And of all the rare cai^ved mantels only For I have watched and pondered many here and there are seen a weary night and day. bunch of flowers and vine leaves, Ever listening thus intently in our with a satyr's face between. mystic house of clay
all
Better
face
?
the
mildew damp.
think
Alas
its
strangeness, to
its
sorrow and
its sin.
a boldness and a terror, and a throbbing heart within ; And flitting as in woodlands, strange Bold to know the very thing which I lights are in the rooms, feared indeed to see. And to and fro they glimmer, alter- Would the lamp but only hold till I nating with glooms. searched the mystery.
There
and
With
617
The Mystery
For
is
human
life
even such
And
With
Have
if
a wreck of greatness, Where the trace of an ancient grandeur marks an equal desolateness ? Since that which hath been is not, or
intent to
know
only serves to
wake
A thirst
alas
!
for truth
it
cannot slake.
be thou cowardly or bold, syllable and whisper what shall make the blood run cold.
And
the ruin of
air
its
greatness casts
all
Oh to
From
rid
me
of that longing
to stand
of gloom ; Earth's loveliness is darkened by the shadow of our doom ; And the richness of our nature only adds a bitter point Of irony to the thought that all is plainly out of joint. round an
Oh
And shun
the closer
we come
nigh
And
fitfully,
among the
little
things of
higher world of
God
life,
and be content
Breaks in to make more visible our With its ordinary being and its ordinary bent waste and drear abode And syllables and whispers, all dis- Still to wade in the clear shallows and the old accustomed fords, cordant to rehearse. Hint unutterable harmonies in the 'Mong the thin and easy truths and the babbling of old words great Universe.
there are pictured tapestries in To think and feel, and comprehend all I might think and feel. chambers of the brain. The memories of a higher state which With a heart that never sickened, and a brain that did not reel still with us remain. But faded all and mildewed they but Under the sense of mystery and mighty shadows, cast deepen our regret. Like twilight glories telling of a glory Upon the soul from life and death the future and the past. that is set.
And
mingling with the traces of a So thou'rt crushed beneath a shadow Ah I would that I could smile wondrous beauty still. There are lustful satyr faces turning all With your satisfied philosophy ; but on my heart the while the good to ill And like birds unholy nestling and The shadow of the Infinite is laid
And
oppressively.
Oh,
And
alas
it
is
light,
Fugitive Pieces
6i8
often dies in
Hast thou never felt the mystery of In the distance of conception, like the being, and its power ? waters of a bay The great light from the Godhead, and Surging far into a lone sea cave you
the cross-light from man.
cannot
tell
how
far
From
that
which
is
and ought to be
?
And there is
light of
moon
How
they are twined and parted, yet Can I will, and can I be, and do, all I still have thought and felt ? By necessity of being in the dread Can I mould mine opportunity, and Almighty will shake off sin and guilt ? Hast thou never yearned to see the sun Is life so thin-transparent, as men have thought and said ? break thro' this gathered haze. Though he quenched thy little hearth- And God a mere onlooker to see the fire by the glory of his blaze ? game well played ?
firmly linked
Never
felt
the
eager
longing
in the
'Twixt the
willing
tiger pacing restless to and fro Is there no interval for Him to exercise His might ? narrow den, For his mighty limbs grow irksome Then perish all my hesitance, and all your power and pelf; with the lack of room to play, And he pineth for a leap a bound into I will be loyal to the truth, and royal to myself. the night or day ?
Like a
his
Ah, me
to be a
botanist or
bookall
worm
just to task
key
herbal or a
history to answer
I'd ask;
And
be content to live, and rot nor ever Writhe with a mighty longing and a sense of high endeavour.
die,
unlock the ancient secrets of our hoar perplexity and work, and For the glow of one vast certainty
To
And
dome
Why
are
all
things yet
a question
What is nature ? What is man ? me, and be well understood What is truth ? and what is duty ? The violet should tell the secret of its Why, answer as we can, pensive mood Has the soul a deeper question still to And the dew-drops why their tears are
put,
when
Which
And
formed on the eyelash of the light. that lorn wind in the woodland
answer there
none
why
it
The Mystery
For the whole
a sorrow not
creation groaneth with
its
619
To
myself I
am
all
mystery
I fain
own,
voices grief
is still
And And
Lift,
to all
its
many
the undertone.
my
heart.
on
all
its
sunny aspects
fain
lies
shadow
would
it is
travailing in pain.
hourly task.
Arab deep-
Ah
and
The
a clear bright star uprearing, heart-depths of ascetic, squatting Its face deep, deep in heaven, beside
lo
and sound
loathsome on the ground ; Taste all truths of past or present, and all truths of clime and race. Where'er a true Divinity was deemed to have a place.
Though
be dreary, and truth be dark ; yet duty is not so : Lay thy hand then to its labour, and thy heart into the blow.
life
would know all creeds and gospels, Like the light of a dark guiding light for thee, and how they played their part,
its
lantern
is
the
Each with
circle
on the earth
just
:
where thy
encomand doom. Each with its work appointed by the And it flickers like a shadow, and only shows the gloom. Eternal will.
But turn
it
good and
ill,
pass life
lone and desolate. no certainty and hope Let it stand in its antique fashions frowning grimly on its fate ; for no relief. With no faith in the old causeways and But brood not thou with thought intense about the dark midnight. the lamplights, it is dreary To be wandering as I wander now, so But turn thee to thy task, and do thy work with all thy might. aimless, dark, and weary.
To deem there is
Woe's me
short and changeful, drawing on, Thoughts they come and go, like spirits And maybe there is light beyond, maybe there is none ; with the mist about them still And the strife is ineffectual towards But the grief and pain and struggle, the hoar perplexity, lighting up the soul. Like the faint and glimmering twilights Will not yield their secrets up to questioning of thee. that creep around the pole.
!
but
life
is
rigid
is
not
The day
night
is
the
plastic to
my
will
is
and
and any
Fugitive Pieces
620
And
it's all
THE REVELATION
He
was wont to creep and stumble, with a slow uncertain pace,
see
them
How
And
brown
she looks up with her thoughtful And a supplicating doubt o'er all his eys of lustrous, loving blue. hard, unbending face And tells him of the rosebuds that And our mirth would make him scornare peeping into view. ful, and our pity made him wince. When the fitful moody dream was They say he found her one night, on, perverting the good sense.
He
a quiet tune,
in
mournful sadness,
Mocked
highest
and
without reverence or fear ; And our pious saws and customs, he Like a blind old Samson grappling with the pillars of the earth. would laugh at them, and call The old lace that did embroider the hypocrisy of all. And she came upon him gently, as an
angel from the Lord,
beneath the tranquil moon ; divinest Yet sporting in his sorrow, mourning with a scornful mirth.
world seemed out of joint to him, and rotten to the core. With Gods and creeds, once credited, but credible no more, And duties high, heroic, that once were bravely done ; But for action, we had babbling only
the
For
and with
word
she fringed the dark clouds of his soul with lights of heaven's own
grace.
life
a breath
now
And
And And
he's no
him No lights of awe and wonder no temple fidy dim Ever scornfully he reasoned, ever
universe to
thought
the
is
not changed to hoar-frost now And he plays such rare sweet music
'twill
And
with a natural pathos low ; not understanding, the There is no sorrow in it, yet make your tears to flow. fine sanctities of thought.
battled with his lot.
he
rent,
is
altered to a
For he's
serenest thought and joy are The rain that drizzles on the leaves, mantling in his face the dripping sound of wells. At one with his own spirit, at one And the bearded barley's rustling, with all his kind. and the sound of winds and brooks. At one with God's great universe That in the quiet evening floats he sees though he is blind. about the woodland nooks
And now
The
And
the oJd ocean-murmurs, and
Revelation
621
all were sometime dark and dreary, of bees, we were sometime wroth and And varied modulations of the manyproud. sounding trees, Warring with our fate defiant, scornThese tune his heart to melodies, ful of the vacant crowd, that lighten all its load ; Thoughtful of the seeming discords, Yet their gladness hath a sadness, and the impotence of will, though it speak to him of God. And questioning the universe for meanings hard and ill.
We
the
hum
And
he knows
all
shapes of flowers
the
spirit,
and the
The palmy
ferns'
green
elegance,
Seeing beauty in the duty, and God fanned in soft woodland smells where these are seen the mossy turf his God in every path of duty, beaming nice-touch fingers trace. gracious from above. And the eye-bright, though he sees And clothing every sorrow with the it not, he finds it in its place.
The milkwort on
And
as
it's all that sweet child's doing, they saunter by the brook. If they be not singing by the way,
And
the dark cloud is uplifted, and the mists of doubt grow thin.
Book
Man
that loved us
all.
And And
into
fall.
hint a grander
For around the Man of Sorrows all the and even so we find sorrows of our lot When we, bedridden with sick Find their law and light in Him, whose mind in our wandering thoughts, are
Oh, a
blessed
work
is
From
how
life is
And
blissful is
we
are
we
see.
That's the keynote of existence ; the For if the way of man here is a way right tone is caught at length ; of grief and loss. Cometh Faith upon the soul, and we Even so the way of Godhead was go on in love and strength ; upon the bitter cross, go on with surest footstep, by Upon the bitter cross, and along a
We
tearful story.
God
;;
Fugitive Pieces
622
So
the sorrow and the sacrifice, whereat we do repine, Are but symbols of the kinship 'twixt the human and divine But the law of highest Being and of highest honour given For the wreath of cruel thorns is now the empire crown of heaven.
And
the
mournfulness
and scornful-
They were
windows,
on your frost - work and they dimm'd the light of day; And you took their phantom pictures for the scenery of earth. And never saw in truth the world that made your mournful mirth.
faith divine,
and
all
man
will
crystallise
;
Only
in
let
Round
For the
its
thread
is
Through thy
and our
divinest,
strains
of deepest gladness
troubles, strewn with blossoms of a kindly aftermath ; And for reasons sharp and bitter, quiet
Show
their kindred
by
their trembling
As when
sea.
Rest thee on that holy faith, and all the misty mountain tops. Where thy thoughts were cold and beam forth with cloudy, shall radiant hopes
And
From
murmur
sweetly
many
their gladness
And
the
harmony of
all things,
never
From From
the
laughter of the
children,
glancing lightsome as
foam
'Tis the shallow stream that babbles 'tis in shallows of the sea
Where
its
Yea, the sickness and the sorrows, and the mourner's bitter grief ineffectual labours for a Will have strains of holy meaning,
mighty utterance be notes of infinite relief. All the spoken truth is ripple surge Whispering of the love and wisdom that are in a Father's rod upon the shore of Death ; There is but a silent swell amid the And their sadness will have gladness depths of love and faith. speaking thus to thee of God.
But be
still,
And
if
He
to thy fate.
In the story of the sorrow of the Man He will give them songs to" murmur, who loved us all though but half articulate. Be still, and let Him lead thee along Like the brooks that murmur pensive, the brink of awe. and you not know what they say, Where the mystery of sorrow solves But the grass and flowers are brightest the mystery of Law. where they sing along their way.
: ;
623
The
Thus
in
Revelation
Oh,
thoughtful contemplation of
life
way of
the full-orbed
divine,
All the
the Christ of heaven above, combine seeming antinomies of the Blends the duty and the beauty blends the human and divine, Infinite decree That has linked the highest Being By His crown of many sorrows ever glorifying thine. with the highest misery.
that doth
Law
Ye
that dwell among your reasons, Tell me no more of your reasons ; do not call me to embark what is that ye call a God, But the lengthening shadow of your- On a voyage to the tropics with an
selves that falls
The shadow
orders
Sitting
all
iceberg for an ark. upon your road ; of a Self supreme, that Swaying grandly o'er
in
the
billows,
our fate.
bland
contemplation
?
me
ere the
Oh, your
am
well
convinced of God its sadness, to the 'Tis the purpose He is working, and the path that He has trod Infinite of bliss You would find out God by logic, Through the mystery of misery the labyrinth of sin, lying far from us, serene. In a weighty proposition, with a That clouds the world around, and
over the abyss From the finite, with
!
And
and you've not discovered God though you did Speeding over the broad universe to That is not the ancient secret from the generations hid find the only truth That lies at your hand for ever. Get 'Tis the purpose, and the moral, and
And
side in search of
Him
forsooth
I care not
the harmony of
it
life.
till
God
is
That we
ravel in unravelling
strife.
ex-
Roll up these grave-clothes, lay them in a corner of the tomb He is risen from dead arguments
And my heart was all despairing, and my soul was dark and dreary. And the night was coming fast on me
a lonesome night and eerie what seek ye in their gloom ? As bit by bit the wreck went down, Leave the linen robes and spices and all I clung to most. foolish hearts are thine and mine. How could love and faith be called Turned to straws and drifting bubbles, and was in the darkness lost. upon to bury the divine ?
624
; ;
Fugitive Pieces
the
And my heart gi-ew more despairing, Heed and my soul more dark and dreary, the
not, then,
many
reasons
and the broken. Till I saw the Godhead bending, That are glimmering all around thee faint and meek, and very weary with half-meanings but half-spoken Not in blessedness supernal, sitting Turn thee to the Man of Sorrows !look on God ECCE easy on a throne. Dealing sorrows unto others, with no He will ease thee of thy sorrows, opening blossoms in the rod. sorrow of His own.
cross-lights
;
HOMO
And
Even
I read in His great sorrows the All the creeds are but an effort feebly
to interpret
significance of mine,
Him,
of highest Being, Like the sunlight through a prism proving kin with the divine ; that breaks into a chamber dim ; Love travailing in pain with a birth Hie thee forth into the daylight, of nobleness. wherefore darken thus thy room. And dying into Life with sure de- And then moan that there is only velopment of bliss. light enough to show the gloom ?
the the discords lost their terror, ECCE all ye nations, tribes, and peoples of the earth, and the harmonies began To be heard in sweetest snatches, Leave the priests their poor devices, where a peaceful spirit ran and the scribes their barren dearth Through strangest variations of the Here is flesh and blood and feeling universal pain, thou shalt eat of Him and live. With the still recurring cadence of the And walk with Him in glory whom cross for its refrain. the heavens did once receive.
Law
Then
HOMO
your tears a morning shower ; Yet discovering in their pathos, the All the germs of nature opening dim outline of the plan. fragrant, underneath the power Whereby the pain and sorrow, and Of the quiet light that claspeth all the evil might be wrought. the world in its embrace. Into the rarest beauty, and highest And makes it beam and prattle up into unisons of thought. the Father's face.
And your