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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77335-0.txt b/77335-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a71af4 --- /dev/null +++ b/77335-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2611 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77335 *** + + +_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ + + +ROMANCES + + JOHN BURNET OF BARNS + A LOST LADY OF OLD YEARS + THE HALF-HEARTED + PRESTER JOHN + SALUTE TO ADVENTURERS + THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS + THE POWER-HOUSE + GREENMANTLE + + +SHORT STORIES + + GREY WEATHER + THE WATCHER BY THE THRESHOLD + THE MOON ENDURETH + + +ESSAYS + + SCHOLAR-GIPSIES + SOME EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY BYWAYS + + +POLITICS AND TRAVEL + + THE AFRICAN COLONY + A LODGE IN THE WILDERNESS + THE TAXATION OF FOREIGN INCOME + + +HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY + + A HISTORY OF BRASENOSE COLLEGE + SIR WALTER RALEIGH + THE MARQUIS OF MONTROSE + ANDREW JAMESON, LORD ARDWALL + A HISTORY OF THE WAR (in course of publication). + + + + +POEMS + +SCOTS AND ENGLISH + + + + + POEMS + + SCOTS AND ENGLISH + + BY + JOHN BUCHAN + + _Dulces ... reminiscitur Argos_ + —VIRGIL + + T. C. & E. C. JACK, LIMITED + LONDON AND EDINBURGH + 1917 + + * * * * * + + _Printed in Great Britain + by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_ + + * * * * * + + + TO MY BROTHER + + ALASTAIR BUCHAN + + LIEUTENANT, ROYAL SCOTS FUSILIERS + WHO FELL AT ARRAS + ON EASTER MONDAY 1917 + UNDER HIS COUNTRY’S + TRIUMPHING FLAG + + +Since there are many variants of our northern speech, it seems +fitting to say that the Scots pieces in this little collection are +written in the vernacular which is spoken in the hill country of the +Lowlands, from the Cheviots to Galloway. Scots has never been to me a +book-tongue; I could always speak it more easily than I could write it; +and I dare to hope that the faults of my verses, great as they are, are +not those of an antiquarian exercise. + + J. B. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I.—SCOTS + + PAGE + +MIDIAN’S EVIL DAY—Dear Reverend Sir,—I tak my pen 13 + +THE HERD OF FARAWA—Losh, man! Did ever mortal see 21 + +THE ETERNAL FEMININE—When I was a freckled bit bairn 30 + +THE SOUTH COUNTRIE—I never likit the Kingdom o’ Fife— 32 + +THE SHORTER CATECHISM—When I was young and herdit sheep 34 + + +THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS + +THE KIRN—’Twas last back-end 36 + +THE FISHERS—’Tis puirtith sooples 44 + + +INTER ARMA + +SWEET ARGOS—When the Almichty took His hand 48 + +ON LEAVE—I had auchteen months o’ the war 55 + +THE KIRK BELL—When oor lads gaed ower the tap 59 + +HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD—Aifter the war, says the papers 62 + +FRAGMENT OF AN ODE—Ye’ll a’ hae heard tell 65 + +THE GREAT ONES—Ae morn aside the road frae Bray 67 + +FISHER JAMIE—Puir Jamie’s killed 69 + + +BOOK II.—ENGLISH + +FRATRI DILECTISSIMO—When we were little wandering boys 73 + +TO LIONEL PHILLIPS—Time, they say, must the best of us capture 76 + +TO SIR REGINALD TALBOT—I tell of old Virginian ways 77 + +FROM THE PENTLANDS, LOOKING NORTH AND SOUTH—Around my feet + the clouds are drawn 79 + +THE STRONG MAN ARMED—Gift me guerdon and grant me grace 84 + +THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE—I have seen thy face in the foray 86 + +THE SINGER—Cold blows the drift on the hill 88 + +PROCESSIONAL—In the ancient orderly places 91 + +AVIGNON, 1759—I walk abroad on winter days 93 + +THE GIPSY’S SONG TO THE LADY CASSILIS—The door is open to the wall 95 + +WOOD MAGIC—I will walk warily in the wise woods 97 + +THE SONG OF THE SEA CAPTAIN—I sail a lone sea captain 99 + +ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM—Give me a mat on the deck 105 + +AN ECHO OF MELEAGER—Scorn not my love, proud child 106 + + + + +BOOK I + +SCOTS + + + + +_Midian’s Evil Day_[1] + +(From Alexander Cargill, Elder of the Kirk of the Remnant in the + vale of Wae, to the Reverend Murdo Mucklethraw, Minister of the + aforesaid Kirk, anent the Great Case recently argued in the House + of Lords.) + + + Dear Reverend Sir,—I tak my pen + To tell yon great occasion when + We garred our licht shine afore men, + Yea, far and wide, + And smote the oppressor but and ben + For a’ his pride. + + Yoursel’, ye mind, was far frae weel— + A cauld ye catch’t at Kippenshiel, + Forbye rheumatics in your heel— + And thus it came, + Fou though ye were o’ holy zeal, + Ye stopped at hame. + + For me, my lambin’-time was bye, + The muirland hay was nane sae high, + The men were thrang, the grund was dry, + Sae when ye spak, + And bade me gang and testify, + I heldna back. + + Wi’ dowie hert I left that morn, + Reflectin’ on the waefu’ scorn + The Kirk maun thole, her courts forlorn, + Her pillars broke, + While Amalek exalts his horn, + And fills his poke. + + I pondered the mischances sair + The Lord had garred puir Scotland bear + Frae English folk baith late and ear’ + Sin’ Flodden year + To the twae beasts at Carlisle fair + I bocht ower dear. + + If true religion got a fa’ + Frae her auld courts and guid Scots law, + What hope o’ succour far awa’ + ’Mang godless chiels, + Whae at the Word sae crousely craw + And fling their heels. + + As weel expect the Gospel sap ’ill + Rise in uncovenantit thrapple + As saw a ploom to raise an apple, + Or think a soo + Fleein’ aloft on the hoose-tap ’ill + Sit like a doo. + + I like an owl in desert was, + When to the coorts I buid to pass, + Amang the crood to hear the Cause. + Nae freend I saw,— + Juist some auld lads set oot in raws + And belchin’ law. + + But ane sat cockit in atween, + A wee man but as gleg’s a preen: + A walth o’ sense was in his een + And foreheid massy. + “The Chancellor,” I was tellt, when keen + I speired whae was he. + + Wi’ prayerfu’ mind I watched the stert + While Maister Johnston[2] played his pairt, + And sune I fand my anxious hert + Gie a great loup. + “Yon Chancellor the ungodly’s cairt,” + I said, “will coup.” + + O sir, that day I kent indeed + There’s men o’ worth across the Tweed, + Men whae are steadfast in the creed + As Moses sel’, + Men whae the Word o’ God can read + And cling to Hell. + + I thocht they were a careless race, + Decked oot in cauld Erastian claes, + Whae traivelled a’ in slippery ways, + Whase thochts were vain: + But noo I ken they’ve gifts and grace + E’en like oor ain. + + A Lowden chiel[3]—black be his tryst!— + A wise-like man, but ill advised, + Led on the hosts o’ Antichrist, + And threepit bauld, + That man could never back be wysed + To Calvin’s fauld. + + He made the yett o’ Heaven sae wide + The veriest stirk could get inside: + Puffed up he was wi’ warldly pride + And fou o’ German, + Quotin’ auld pagans for his guide + And sic-like vermin. + + He feucht wi’ Prophets, jouked wi’ Psalms, + He got his legs clean ower the trams, + He garred th’ Apostles skip like rams + To dae his biddin’s: + Oor auld Confessions were but shams, + Their loss guid riddance. + + “God foreordained some men to Hell— + Granted, but man can please himsel’ + Up to a point—and if I dwell + Mair on free-will + Than on election, I do well, + A Christian still. + + “For these are mysteries,” quo’ he, + “Whereon nae twae men can agree, + And sae it’s richt for you and me— + The thing’s sae kittle— + Ane to consider half a lee,— + Whilk—maitters little. + + “It’s a’,” he said, “confüsion wild; + In siccan things the best’s a child; + Some walk an ell and some a mile; + But never fear, + Thae doots will a’ be reconciled + In higher sphere. + + “Therefore a kirk, whase lamps are bright, + Bequeathed by auld divines o’ might, + Can fling them tapsalteerie quite, + And think nae shame; + For white is black and black is white, + It’s a’ the same.” + + But what availed his carnal lear + Against a man o’ faith and prayer? + As through the thristles gangs the share + And dings them doun, + E’en sae the Chancellor cleft him fair + Frae heel to croun. + + He pinned him wi’ the Bible words, + He clove at him wi’ Calvin’s swirds, + He garred him loup aboot the boards + Wi’ muckle mense, + And bund him wi’ the hempen cords + O’ plain guid sense. + + “Threep as ye please, it’s clear to me, + Whether or no’ the twae agree, + Baith doctrines were appoint to be + The Kirk’s chief pillar. + If ane ye like to leave,” says he, + “Ye leave the siller.” + + Oh, wi’ what unction he restored + The auld commandments o’ the Lord, + Confoonded Bashan’s nowt that roared, + And ’stablished Hell! + Knox was nae soonder in the Word + Nor Calvin’s sel’. + + I’ll no’ deny yon Lowden chiel + Was gleg as ony slippery eel, + For twae-three men frae Kippenshiel + Begood to waver; + I half inclined to doot the Deil + A’ through his claver. + + But when a man o’ faith and power + Uprose, he couldna bide an hour: + The weakest’s doots were tided ower + Anither towmont. + The Kirk stood firm as auld stane tower + Wi’ safe endowment. + + * * * * * + + I hae a bull, a noble breed, + A shorthorn wi’ a massy heid, + Wi’ quarters fine and coat o’ reid: + On ilka lea + Frae Thurso to the banks o’ Tweed + He bears the gree. + + I ca’ed him Begg,[4] the same’s his sire; + But noo for sign to a’ the shire + O’ yon great day when frae the mire + Our feet we bore, + His name shall be in field and byre + “_The Chancellor_.” + + 1904 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The occasion of these verses requires a note. The union in 1900 +of the Free Church of Scotland and the United Presbyterian Church led +to the secession of certain congregations of the former, who called +themselves the Free Church, and maintained that the union involved +a departure from the principles of that church and a breach of the +conditions under which certain properties were held. They brought +an action to establish their right to these properties, as the sole +remaining repository of Free Church principles. This action was decided +against the claimants in the Scottish courts, but, on appeal, the House +of Lords, under the guidance of Lord Halsbury (then Lord Chancellor), +reversed the decision. + +[2] Mr Henry Johnston, K.C., of the Scots Bar (afterwards Lord +Johnston), led for the appellants. + +[3] The leading counsel for the respondents was Mr R. B. Haldane (M.P. +for East Lothian), afterwards Lord Chancellor of England. + +[4] A famous Free Church divine of the old school. + + + + +_The Herd of Farawa_ + + Who in an April hailstorm discoursed to the traveller on the + present discontents. + + _Pastorum et solis exegit montibus aevum._—VIRGIL. + + + Losh, man! Did ever mortal see + Sic blasts o’ snaw? Ye’ll bide a wee, + Afore ye think to cross the lea, + And mount the slack! + Kin’le your pipe, and straucht your knee, + And gie’s your crack! + + Hoo lang, ye speir! An unco while! + It’s seeventy-sax ’ear came Aprile + That I cam here frae Auchentyle— + A bairn o’ nine; + And mony’s the dreich and dreary mile + I’ve gaed sin’ syne. + + My folk were herds, sae roond the fauld + Afore I was twae towmonts auld + They fand me snowkin’, crouse and bauld + In snaw and seep— + As Dauvid was to kingdoms called, + Sae I to sheep. + + I herdit first on Etterick side. + Dod, man, I mind the stound o’ pride + Gaed through my hert, when near and wide + My dowgs I ran. + Though no seeventeen till Lammastide + I walked a man. + + I got a wife frae Eskdalemuir, + O’ dacent herdin’ folk, and sair + We wrocht for lang, baith late and ’ear, + For weans cam fast, + And we were never aucht but puir + Frae first to last. + + Tales I could tell wad gar ye grue + O’ snawy lambin’s warstled through, + O’ drifty days, and win’s that blew + Frae norlan’ sky, + And spates that filled the haughlands fou + And drooned the kye. + + But, still and on, the life was fine, + For yon were happier days langsyne; + For gear to hain, and gear to tine + I had nae care— + Content I was wi’ what was mine, + And blithe to share. + + Sic flocks ye’ll never see the day, + Nae fauncy ills to mak ye wae, + Nae fauncy dips wi’ stawsome broo, + Wad fricht the French; + We wrocht alang the auld guid way, + And fand it stench. + + Nae mawkit kets, nae scabbit een, + But ilka yowe as trig’s a preen; + Sic massy tups as ne’er were seen + Sin’ Job’s allowance, + And lambs as thick on ilka green + As simmer gowans. + + Whaur noo ae hirsel jimp can bide + Three hirsels were the countra’s pride, + And mony a yaird was wavin’ wide, + And floo’ers were hingin’, + Whaur noo is but the bare hillside, + And linties singin’. + + * * * * * + + And God! the men! Whaur could ye find + Sic hertsome lads, sae crouse and kind; + Sic skeel o’ sheep, sic sarious mind + At kirk and prayer— + Yet aiblins no to haud or bind + At Boswells fair? + + Frae Galloway to Aiberdeen + (I mind the days as ’twere yestreen) + I’ve had my cantrips—Lord a wheen! + But through them a’, + The fear o’ God afore my een, + I keep’t the Law. + + My nieves weel hoddit in my breeks, + The Law I keep’t, and turned baith cheeks + Until the smiter, saft and meek’s + A bairn at schule; + Syne struck, and laid him bye for weeks + To learn the fule. + + Frae Melrose Cauld to Linkumdoddie, + I’d fecht and drink wi’ ony body; + Was there a couthy lad? Then, dod, he + Sune fand his fellow, + What time the tippenny or the toddy + Had garred us mellow. + + Nae wark or ploy e’er saw me shirk; + I had an airm wad fell a stirk; + I traivelled ten lang mile to kirk + In wind and snaw; + I tell ’e, sir, frae morn to mirk, + I keep’t the Law. + + * * * * * + + Weekly we gat, and never fail, + Screeds marrowy as a pat o’ kail, + And awfu’ as the Grey Meer’s Tail + In Lammas rain, + And stey and lang as Moffatdale, + And stieve’s a stane. + + Nae Gospel sowens fit for weans, + But doctrines teuch as channel-stanes; + We heard the Word wi’ anxious pains, + Sarious and happy. + And half the week we piked the banes, + And fand them sappy. + + Lang years aneath a man o’ God + I sat, my Bible on the brod; + He wasna feared to lift the rod + And scaud the errin’; + He walked whaur our great forbears trod, + And blest his farin’. + + But noo we’ve got a bairnly breed, + Whase wee-bit shilpit greetin’ screed + Soughs like a wast wind ower the heid, + Lichter than ’oo’; + Lassies and weans, it suits their need, + No me and you! + + My dochter’s servin’ in the toun, + She gangs to hear a glaikit loon, + Whae rows his een, and twirls him roun’ + Like ane dementit. + Nae word o’ Hell, nae sicht or soun’ + O’ sin repentit. + + But juist a weary, yammerin’ phrase + O’ “Saunts” and “Heaven” and “love” and “praise,” + Words that a grown man sudna üse, + God! sic a scunner! + I had to rise and gang my ways + To haud my denner. + + At halesome fauts they lift their han’, + Henceforth, they cry, this new comman’, + Bide quate and doucely in the lan’ + And love your brither— + This is the total end o’ man, + This and nae ither. + + And that’s their creed! An owercome braw + For folks that kenna fear or fa’, + Crouse birds that on their midden craw + Nor think o’ scaith, + That keep the trimmin’ o’ the Law + And scorn the pith. + + It’s no for men that nicht and day + See the Almichty’s awesome way, + And ken themselves but ripps o’ strae + Afore His wind, + And, dark or licht, maun watch and pray + His grace to find. + + My forbear, hunkerin’ in a hag, + Was martyred by the laird o’ Lagg; + He dee’d afore his heid wad wag + In God’s denial. + D’ye think the folk that rant and brag + Wad thole yon trial? + + Man, whiles I’d like to gang mysel + And wile auld Claverse back frae Hell; + Claverse, or maybe Tam Dalziel, + Wad stop their fleechin’; + I wager yon’s the lads to mell + And mend sic preachin’. + + * * * * * + + Whaure’er I look I find the same, + The warld’s nae gumption in its wame; + E’en sin’ I mind the human frame + Grows scrimp and shauchled, + O’ a’ man’s warks ye canna name + Ane that’s no bauchled. + + There’s mawkit sheep and feckless herds, + And poopits fou o’ senseless words; + Instead o’ kail we sup on curds, + And wersh the taste o’t; + To parritch-sticks we’ve turned our swirds, + Sae mak’ the maist o’t. + + And poalitics! I’ve seen the day + I’d walk ten mile ower burn and brae + To hear some billie hae his say + About the nation. + Tories and a’ their daft-like play + Fand quick damnation. + + I thocht—for I was young—that folk + Were a’ the same; I scorned the yoke + O’ cless or gear; wi’ pigs in poke + I took nae han’. + I daured the hale wide warld to choke + The richts o’ man. + + It’s still my creed, but hech! sin’ then + We’ve got the richts and lost the men; + We’ve got a walth o’ gear to spen’ + And nane to spend it; + The warld is waitin’ ripe to men’, + And nane to mend it. + + Our maisters are a flock o’ daws, + Led on by twae-three hoodie-craws; + They weir our siller, mak’ our laws, + And God! sic makin’! + And we sit roun’ wi’ lood applause, + And cheer their crakin’. + + We’re great; but daur we lift a nieve + Wi’oot our neebors grant their leave? + We’re free, folk say, to speak, believe, + Dae what we wull— + And what’s oor gain? A din to deave + A yearlin’ bull! + + * * * * * + + A dwaibly warld! I’ll no deny + There’s orra blessin’s. I can buy + My baccy cheap, and feed as high + For half the siller; + For saxpence ony man can lie + As fou’s the miller. + + A bawbee buys a walth o’ prent, + And every gowk’s in Paurliament; + The warld’s reformed—but sir, tak tent, + For a’ their threep, + There’s twae things noo that arena kent— + That’s MEN and SHEEP. + + 1907 + + + + +_The Eternal Feminine_ + + + When I was a freckled bit bairn + And cam in frae my ploys to the fire, + Wi’ my buits a’ clamjamphried wi’ shairn + And my jaicket a’ speldered wi’ mire, + I got gloomin’ and glunchin’ and paiks, + And nae bite frae the press or the pan, + And my auld grannie said as she skelped me to bed, + “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!” + + When I was a lang-leggit lad, + At waddin’s and kirns a gey cheild, + I hae happit a lass in my maud + And gone cauldrife that she micht hae beild, + And convoyed her bye bogles and stirks, + A kiss at the hindmost my plan; + But a’ that I fand was the wecht o’ her hand, + And “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!” + + When Ailie and me were made yin + We set up in a canty bit cot; + Sair wrocht we day oot and day in, + We were unco content wi’ oor lot. + But whiles wi’ a neebor I’d tak + A gless that my heid couldna stan’; + Syne she’d greet for a week, and nae word wad she speak + But “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!” + + She dee’d, and my dochter and me + For the lave wi’ ilk ither maun shift. + Nae tentier lass could ye see; + The wooers cam doun like a drift; + But sune wi’ an unco blae glower + Frae the doorstep they rade and they ran, + And she’d sigh to hersel’, as she gae’d to the well, + “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!” + + She’s mairrit by noo and she’s got + A white-heided lass o’ her ain. + White-heided mysel, as I stot + Roond the doors o’ her shouther I’m fain. + What think ye that wean said yestreen? + I’ll tell ye, believe’t if ye can; + She primmed up her mou’ and said saft as a doo, + “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!” + + 1912 + + + + +_The South Countrie_ + + + I never likit the Kingdom o’ Fife— + Its kail’s as cauld as its wind and rain, + And the folk that bide benorth o’ the Clyde + They speak a langwidge that’s no my ain. + Doun in the west is a clarty nest, + And the big stane cities are no for me; + Sae I’ll buckle my pack on my auld bent back + And tak the road for the South Countrie. + + Whaur sall I enter the Promised Land, + Ower the Sutra or doun the Lyne, + Up the side o’ the water o’ Clyde + Or cross the muirs at the heid o’ Tyne, + Or staucherin’ on by Crawfordjohn + Yont to the glens whaur Tweed rins wee?— + It’s maitter sma’ whaur your road may fa’ + Gin it land ye safe in the South Countrie. + + Yon are the hills that my hert kens weel, + Hame for the weary, rest for the auld, + Braid and high as the Aprile sky, + Blue on the taps and green i’ the fauld: + At ilka turn a bit wanderin’ burn, + And a canty biggin’ on ilka lea— + There’s nocht sae braw in the wide world’s schaw + As the heughs and holms o’ the South Countrie. + + Yon are the lads that my hert loes weel, + Frank and couthy and kind to a’, + Wi’ the open broo and the mirthfu’ mou + And the open door at the e’enin’s fa’; + A trig hamesteid and a lauchin’ breed + O’ weans that hearten the auld to see— + Sma’ or great, can ye find the mate + O’ the folk that bide in the South Countrie? + + The lichtest fit that traivels the roads + Maun lag and drag as the end grows near; + Threescore and ten are the years o’ men, + And I’m bye the bit by a lang lang year. + Sae I’ll seek my rest in the land loe’d best, + And ask nae mair than that God sall gie + To my failin’ een for the hinmost scene + The gentle hills o’ the South Countrie. + + 1916 + + + + +_The Shorter Catechism_ + +(With Proofs) + + + When I was young and herdit sheep, + I read auld tales o’ Wallace wight; + My heid was fou o’ sangs and threep + O’ folk that feared nae mortal might. + But noo I’m auld and weel I ken + We’re made alike o’ gowd and mire; + There’s saft bits in the stievest men, + The bairnliest’s got a spunk o’ fire. + Sae hearken to me, lads, + It’s truith that I tell;— + There’s nae man a’ courage— + _I ken by mysel’_. + + I’ve been an elder forty year, + I’ve tried to keep the narrow way, + I’ve walked afore the Lord in fear, + I’ve never missed the kirk a day, + I’ve read the Bible in and oot, + I ken the feck o’t clean by hert;— + But still and on I sair misdoot + I’m better noo than at the stert. + + Sae hearken to me, lads, + It’s truith I maintain!— + Man’s works are but rags, for + _I ken by my ain_. + + I hae a name for dacent trade; + I’ll wager a’ the countryside + Wad swear nae trustier man was made + The ford to soom, the bent to bide. + But when it comes to coupin’ horse + I’m juist like a’ that e’er were born, + I fling my heels and tak my course— + I’d sell the minister the morn. + Sae hearken to me, lads, + It’s truith that I tell:— + There’s nae man deid honest— + _I ken by mysel’_. + + 1911 + + + + +THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS + + + + +_The Kirn_[5] + +(Idyll vii) + + + ’Twas last back-end that me and Dauvit Sma’ + And Robert Todd, the herd at Meldonha’, + The hairst weel ower and under rape and thack, + Set oot to keep the kirn at Haystounslack, + Wat Laidlaw’s fairm—for Wat’s the rale stench breed + The Borders kenned afore the auld lairds dee’d, + And a’ the soor-milk Wast ran doun the Tweed. + + We werena half the road, nor bye the grain + Whaur auncient Druids left the standin’ stane, + When Gidden Scott cam heinchin’ ower the muir, + Gidden the wale o’ men; ilk kirn and fair, + Clippin’ and spainin’, was a cheerier place + For ae sicht o’ his honest bawsened face. + He was a drover, famed frae Clyde to Spey, + The graundest juidge o’ beasts—a dealer tae. + His furthy coat o’ tup’s ’oo spun at hame, + His weel-worn maud that buckled roond his wame, + His snootit kep that hid the broos aneath, + His buits wi’ tackets like a harrow’s teeth, + His shairny leggin’s and his michty staff + Proclaimed him for a drover three mile aff. + + “Losh! lads,” he cried, “whaur are ye traivellin’ noo, + Trig as the lassies decked for them they loe? + Is’t to a countra splore, or to the toun + Whaur creeshy baillies to their feasts sit doun? + Or is’t some waddin’ wi’ its pipes and reels + That gars the chuckies loup ahint your heels?” + + “Weel met,” says I. “The day our jaunt we mak + To join Wat Laidlaw’s kirn at Haystounslack. + Lang is the gait, and, sin’ it’s pairtly yours, + What say ye to a sang to wile the ’oors? + In a’ the land frae Wigtoun to the Mearns + There’s nane that ploos sae straucht the rig o’ Burns + As your guid sel’ (so rins the countra sough); + And I, though frae sic genius far eneuch, + I, tae, hae clinkit rhymes at orra whiles. + We’ll niffer sangs to pass the muirland miles.” + + “Na, Jock,” says he, and wagged a sarious pow, + “Sma’ share hae I in that divinest lowe. + A roopy craw as weel a pairt micht claim + I’ the laverock’s sang as me in Robin’s fame. + But sin’ we’re a’ guid freends, I’ll sing a sang + I made last Monday drovin’ ower the Whang.”[6] + + +_Gidden’s Song_ + + Sin’ Andra took the jee and gaed aff across the sea + I’m as dowff as ony fisher-wife that watches on the sand, + I’m as restless as a staig, me that aince was like a craig, + When I think upon yon far frem’t land. + + We had aften cuisten oot, I mindna what aboot; + We had feucht a bit and flytit and gien and taen the blow; + But oor dander was nae mair than the rouk in simmer air, + For I loe’d him as a lassie loes her joe. + + He had sic a couthy way, aye sae canty and sae gay; + He garred a body’s hert loup up and kept the warld gaun roun’; + The dreichest saul could see he had sunlicht in his ee, + And there’s no his marrow left in the toun. + + We were ’greed like twae stirks that feed amang the birks, + My every thocht I shared wi’ him, his hinmost plack was mine; + We had nocht to hide frae ither, he was mair to me than brither; + But that’s a’ bye wi’t langsyne. + + As I gang oot and in, in my heid there rins a tüne, + Some tüne o’ Andra’s playin’ in the happy days that’s gane. + When I sit at festive scene there’s a mist comes ower my een + For the kind lad that’s left me my lane. + + So Gidden spak, and ower the lave o’ us cam + A sadness waur than penitential psalm. + The tüne was cried; nae jovial rantin’ stave + Wad set a mood sae pensive and sae grave. + Sae, followin’ on, I cleared my hass and sung + A sang I made langsyne when I was young. + + +_Jock’s Song_ + + Sing, lads, and bend the bicker; gloamin’ draps + On Wiston side. + A’ ye that dwal in sicht o’ Tintock’s taps + Frae Tweed to Clyde + Gae stert your reels and ding the warlock Care + At young bluid’s call. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + Mind ye the lass that üsed to bide langsyne + At Coulter-fit? + (Gae pipe your sprigs, for youth is ill to bin’ + And pleesures flit.) + Her mither keep’t the inn, and doun the stair + A’ day wad bawl. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + My heid rins round—I think they ca’d her Jean. + She looked sae high, + She walked sae prood, it micht hae been the Queen + As she gaed bye, + Buskit sae trig, and ower her yellow hair + A denty shawl. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + Ae day the King himsel’ was ridin’ through + And saw her face. + He telled his son, “For ae kiss o’ her mou + I’d change my place + Wi’ ony gangrel, roup my royal share, + My kingly hall.” + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + I kenna if I loe’d the lassie true, + But this I ken; + To get a welcome frae her een o’ blue, + To see again + Her dimpled cheek, ten ’ears o’ life I’d spare + In prison wall. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + Ae simmer morn when a’ the lift was clear + And saft winds sighed, + Wi’ kilted coats I saw her wanderin’ near + The burnie’s tide. + Thinks I, Queen Mary was na half as fair + In days o’ aul’. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + Sing, lads, and bend the bicker; e’enin’ fa’s— + My denty doo + Has sell’t hersel’ for gowd and silken braws + That weemen loe. + A feckless laird has bocht her beauty rare, + Her love, her all. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + I watched them as their coach gaed ower the pass + Wi’ blindit een; + A shilpit carle aside the brawest lass + That Scotland’s seen. + Far, far she’s gane, and toom the warld and puir + Whaur I maun dwal. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Will steal my saul._ + + A’ day I wander like a restless ghaist + Ower hill and lea; + The gun hangs in the spence, the rod’s unüsed, + The dowg gangs free. + At nicht I dream, and O! my dreams are sair, + My hert’s in thrall. + _The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir + Has stown my saul._ + + Loud Gidden spak; “Weel dune!—The convoy’s ower. + Here we maun pairt, for I’m for Auchenlour. + Oor forbears, when they set a makkers’ test + Gied cups and wreaths to him that sang the best. + Nae drink hae I, thae muirland floo’ers are wauf, + Sae tak for awms my trustit hazel staff.” + + We cried guid-farin’ to his massy back, + And turned intil the road for Haystounslack. + Aroond the hills and heughs the gloamin’ crap, + And a braw mune cam ridin’ ower the slap. + The stirlin’s crooded thick as flees in air, + An auld blackcock was flytin’ on the muir. + Afore the steadin’ cairts were settin’ doun + Ilk snoddit lassie in her kirk-gaun gown, + And bauld young lads were swingin’ up the braes, + Ilk ane wi’ glancin’ een and dancin’ taes. + The fiddles scrapit and atower the din + The “Floo’ers o’ Embro’” soughed oot on the win’. + Furth frae the ben cam sic a noble reek + That hungry folk maun snowk but daurna speak;— + Haggis and tripe, and puddin’s black, and yill, + And guid saut beef and braxy frae the hill, + Crisp aiten farles, bannocks and seein’ kail; + And at the door stood Wat to cry us hail. + His walie nieves upheld a muckle bowl + Whase spicy scent was unction to the saul. + His ladle plowtered in the reamin’ brew, + And for us three he filled the rummers fou. + Nae nectar that the auld gods quaffed on hie, + Nae heather wine wanchancy warlocks prie, + Nae Well o’ Bethlehem or Siloam’s püle, + Was ever half as guid as Wattie’s yill. + + Heaven send anither ’ear that I gang back + To drink wi’ honest folk at Haystounslack! + + 1916 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[5] The Greek text has not been followed in the songs, as it would be +hard to find equivalents for Lycidas and Simichidas in Lowland Scots. +Jock’s song is a free paraphrase of Victor Hugo’s _Guitare_. How close +that famous lyric is to the Theocritean manner will be admitted by +those who remember Walter Headlam’s Greek version of it. + +[6] The Lang Whang is the old Edinburgh-Lanark road. + + + + +THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS + + + + +_The Fishers_ + +(Idyll xxi) + + + ’Tis puirtith sooples heid and hand + And gars inventions fill the land; + And dreams come fast to folk that lie + Wi’ nocht atween them and the sky. + + Twae collier lads frae near Lasswade, + Auld skeely fishers, fand their bed + Ae simmer’s nicht aside the shaw + Whaur Manor rins by Cademuir Law. + Dry flowe-moss made them pillows fine, + And, for a bield to kep the win’, + A muckle craig owerhung the burn, + A’ thacked wi’ blaeberry and fern. + Aside them lay their rods and reels, + Their flee-books and their auncient creels. + The pooches o’ their moleskin breeks + Contained unlawfu’ things like cleeks, + For folk that fish to fill their wame + Are no fasteedious at the game. + + The twae aye took their jaunts thegither; + Geordie was ane and Tam the ither. + Their chaumer was the mune-bricht sky, + The siller stream their lullaby. + + When knocks in touns were chappin’ three, + Tam woke and rubbed a blinkin’ ee. + It was the ’oor when troots are boun’ + To gulp the May-flee floatin’ doun, + Afore the sun is in the glens + And dim are a’ the heughs and dens. + + TAM + + “Short is the simmer’s daurk, they say, + But this ane seemed as lang’s the day; + For siccan dreams as passed my sicht + I never saw in Januar’ nicht. + If some auld prophet chiel were here + I wad hae cürious things to speir.” + + GEORDIE + + “It’s conscience gars the nichtmares rin, + Sae, Tam my lad, what hae ye dune?” + + TAM + + “Nae ill; my saul is free frae blame, + Nor hae I wrocht ower hard my wame, + For last we fed, as ye maun awn, + On a sma’ troot and pease-meal scone. + But hear my dream, for aiblins you + May find a way to riddle’t true.... + + I thocht that I was castin’ steady + At the püle’s tail ayont the smiddy, + Wi’ finest gut and sma’est flee, + For the air was clear and the water wee; + When sudden wi’ a rowst and swish + I rase a maist enormous fish.... + I struck and heuked the monster shüre, + Guidsakes! to see him loup in air! + It was nae saumon, na, nor troot; + To the last yaird my line gaed oot, + As up the stream the warlock ran + As wild as Job’s Leviathan. + I got him stopped below the linn, + Whaur verra near I tummled in, + Aye prayin’ hard my heuk wad haud; + And syne he turned a dorty jaud, + Sulkin’ far doun amang the stanes. + I tapped the butt to stir his banes. + He warsled here and plowtered there, + But still I held him ticht and fair, + The water rinnin’ oxter-hie, + The sweat aye drippin’ in my ee. + Sae bit by bit I wysed him richt + And broke his stieve and fashious micht, + Till sair fordone he cam to book + And walloped in a shallow crook. + I had nae gad, sae doun my wand + I flang and pinned him on the sand. + I claucht him in baith airms and peched + Ashore—he was a michty wecht; + Nor stopped till I had got him shüre + Amang the threshes on the muir. + + Then, Geordie lad, my een I rowed + The beast was made o’ solid gowd!— + Sic ferlie as was never kenned, + A’ glitterin’ gowd frae end to end! + I lauched, I grat, my kep I flang, + I danced a sprig, I sang a sang. + And syne I wished that I micht dee + If wark again was touched by me.... + + Wi’ that I woke; nae fish was there— + Juist the burnside and empty muir. + Noo tell me honest, Geordie lad, + Think ye yon daftlike aith will haud?” + + GEORDIE + + “Tuts, Tam ye fule, the aith ye sware + Was like your fish, nae less, nae mair. + For dreams are nocht but simmer rouk, + And him that trusts them hunts the gowk.... + It’s time we catched some fish o’ flesh + Or we will baith gang brekfastless.” + + 1916 + + + + +INTER ARMA + + + + +_Sweet Argos_ + +An Epistle from Jock in billets to Sandy in the trenches. + + + When the Almichty took His hand + Frae shapin’ skies and seas and land, + Some orra bits left ower He fand, + Riddled them roun’— + A clart o’ stane and wud and sand— + And made this toun. + + A glaury loan, a tumblin’ kirk, + Twae glandered mears, a dwaibly stirk, + Hens, ae auld wife, a wauflike birk— + That’s whaur I dwal, + While you are fechtin’ like a Turk + Ayont Thiepval. + + The weet drips through the bauks abune, + Ootbye the cundies roar and rin, + There’s comfort naether oot nor in, + The wind gangs blather;— + We maun be michty sunk in sin + To earn sic wather. + + But, Sandy lad, for you it’s waur, + You on that muckle Zollern scaur, + Your lintwhite locks a’ fyled wi’ glaur, + And hungry—my word! + While Gairmans dae the best they daur + To send ye skyward.... + + * * * * * + + ’Twas late yestreen that we cam doun + The road that leads frae Morval toun; + We cam like mice, nae sang nor soun’, + Nae daff nor jest; + Like ghaists that trail the midnicht roun’ + We crap to rest. + + For sax weeks hunkerin’ in a hole + We’d kenned the warst a man can thole— + Nae skirlin’ dash frae goal to goal + Yellin’ like wud, + But the lang stell that wechts the soul + And tooms the bluid. + + Weel, yestereen we limped alang, + Me and auld Dave frae Cambuslang, + And Andra, him that had the gang + In Tamson’s mills, + And Linton Bob that wrocht amang + The Pentland Hills. + + And as we socht oor shauchlin’ way + Atween the runts o’ Bernafay, + The mune ayont the darkenin’ brae + Lichted a gap. + Bob peched. “Ma God,” I heard him say, + “The Cauldstaneslap!” + + Syne we won ower the hinmost rig + Amang the dumps, whaur warm and trig + The braziers lowe and wee trucks jig + Frae bing to ree. + Dave gripped my airm. “It’s fair Coatbrig!” + He stepped oot free.... + + * * * * * + + This morn I’m sittin’ on a box, + Reddin’ an unco pair o’ socks, + Watchin’ the yaird whaur muckle docks + And nettles blaw, + And turks’ caps, marygolds and phlox + Stand in a raw. + + The berry busses hing wi’ weet, + The smiddy clang comes doun the street, + A coo is routin’, bairnies greet, + A young cock craws.— + I shut my een; my traivelled feet + Were back i’ the Shaws. + + Back twenty year. A tautit wean, + I heard my granny’s voice complain + O’ bursted buits: I saw the rain + Rin aff the byre; + The burn wi’ foamin’ yellow mane + Roared doun the swire. + + A can o’ worms ae pooch concealed, + The tither scones weel brooned and jeeled; + Let eld sit cowerin’ in the beild, + Youth maun be oot; + The rain may pour, he’s for the field + To catch a troot.... + + * * * * * + + And, Sandy lad, a stound o’ joy + Gaed through my breist. A halflin’s ploy, + An auld wife’s tale, a bairnie’s toy, + A lassie’s favour, + Are things nae war can clean destroy + Nor kill the savour. + + It’s in sma’ things that greatness lies, + The simple aye confoonds the wise, + The towers that ettle at the skies + Crack, coup and tummle, + The blather, swalled to unco size, + Bursts wi’ a rummle.... + + Straucht to the Deil oor hainin’s fly; + A spate can droon the best o’ kye: + The day oor heids we cairry high + And wanton rarely:— + The morn in some black sheugh dounbye + We floonder sairly. + + The breist o’ man is fortune-pruif, + He heeds nor jade nor deil nor cuif, + If twae-three things the Guid Folk give + His lot to cheer, + The sma’ things that oor mortal luve + Maun aye haud dear. + + What gars us fecht? It’s no the law, + Nor poaliticians in a raw, + Nor hate o’ folk we never saw;— + Oot in yon hell + I’ve killed a wheen—the job wad staw + Auld Hornie’s sel’. + + It’s luve, my man, nae less nae mair,— + Luve o’ auld freends at kirk and fair, + Auld-farrant sangs that memories bear + O’ but and ben, + Some wee cot-hoose far up the muir + Or doun the glen. + + And Gairmans are nae doot the same: + The lad ye’ve stickin’ in the wame + Fechts no for deevilment or fame, + But juist for pride + In his bit dacent canty hame + By some burnside. + + It’s queer that the Almichty’s plan + Sud set oot man to fecht wi’ man + For the same luve—their native lan’, + And wife and weans. + It’s queer, but threep the best ye can, + The truith remains. + + The warld’s a fecht. Frae star to stane + The hale Creation strives in pain. + Paiks maun be tholed by ilk alane, + The cup be drainit, + If man’s to get the bunemost gain + That God’s ordainit. + + But luve’s the fire that keeps him gaun, + Ilk puir forjaskit weariet man. + Hate sparks like pouther in the pan, + And pride will flicker, + But luve will burn till skies are faun, + Mair clear and siccar. + + And a’ we socht o’ honest worth + We’ll find again in nobler birth, + For Heaven itsel’ begins on earth, + And caps the riggin’ + O’ what in pain and toil and dearth + We’ve aye been biggin’. + + Nae walth o’ gowden streets for me; + I ask but that my een sud see + The auld green hopes, the broomy lea, + The clear burn’s püles, + And wander whaur the wind blaws free + Frae heather hills. + + * * * * * + + Sae, Sandy, if it’s written true + That you and me sud warstle through, + Wi’ whatna joy we’ll hand the ploo + And delve the yaird! + Ten thoosandfauld the mair we’ll loe + Oor Border swaird! + + But if like ither dacent men + We’ve looked oor last on Etterick glen, + And some day sune will see the en’ + That brings nae shame, + We’ll face’t,—for in that ’oor we’ll ken + We’re hame, we’re hame. + + 1916 + + + + +_On Leave_ + + + I had auchteen months o’ the war, + Steel and pouther and reek, + Fitsore, weary and wauf,— + Syne I got hame for a week. + + Daft-like I entered the toun, + I scarcely kenned for my ain. + I sleepit twae days in my bed, + The third I buried my wean. + + The wife sat greetin’ at hame, + While I wandered oot to the hill, + My hert as cauld as a stane, + But my heid gaun roond like a mill. + + I wasna the man I had been,— + Juist a gangrel dozin’ in fits;— + The pin had faun oot o’ the warld, + And I doddered amang the bits. + + I clamb to the Lammerlaw + And sat me doun on the cairn;— + The best o’ my freends were deid, + And noo I had buried my bairn;— + + The stink o’ the gas in my nose, + The colour o’ bluid in my ee, + And the biddin’ o’ Hell in my lug + To curse my Maker and dee. + + But up in that gloamin’ hour, + On the heather and thymy sod, + Wi’ the sun gaun doun in the Wast + I made my peace wi’ God.... + + * * * * * + + I saw a thoosand hills, + Green and gowd i’ the licht, + Roond and backit like sheep, + Huddle into the nicht. + + But I kenned they werena hills, + But the same as the mounds ye see + Doun by the back o’ the line + Whaur they bury oor lads that dee. + + They were juist the same as at Loos + Whaur we happit Andra and Dave.— + There was naething in life but death, + And a’ the warld was a grave. + + A’ the hills were graves, + The graves o’ the deid langsyne, + And somewhere oot in the Wast + Was the grummlin’ battle-line. + + * * * * * + + But up frae the howe o’ the glen + Came the waft o’ the simmer een. + The stink gaed oot o’ my nose, + And I sniffed it, caller and clean. + + The smell o’ the simmer hills, + Thyme and hinny and heather, + Jeniper, birk and fern, + Rose in the lown June weather. + + It minded me o’ auld days, + When I wandered barefit there, + Guddlin’ troot in the burns, + Howkin’ the tod frae his lair. + + If a’ the hills were graves + There was peace for the folk aneath + And peace for the folk abune, + And life in the hert o’ death.... + + * * * * * + + Up frae the howe o’ the glen + Cam the murmur o’ wells that creep + To swell the heids o’ the burns, + And the kindly voices o’ sheep. + + And the cry o’ a whaup on the wing, + And a plover seekin’ its bield.— + And oot o’ my crazy lugs + Went the din o’ the battlefield. + + * * * * * + + I flang me doun on my knees + And I prayed as my hert wad break, + And I got my answer sune, + For oot o’ the nicht God spake. + + As a man that wauks frae a stound + And kens but a single thocht, + Oot o’ the wind and the nicht + I got the peace that I socht. + + Loos and the Lammerlaw, + The battle was feucht in baith, + Death was roond and abune, + But life in the hert o’ death. + + A’ the warld was a grave, + But the grass on the graves was green, + And the stanes were bields for hames, + And the laddies played atween. + + Kneelin’ aside the cairn + On the heather and thymy sod, + The place I had kenned as a bairn, + I made my peace wi’ God. + + 1916 + + + + +_The Kirk Bell_ + + + When oor lads gaed ower the tap + It was nine o’ a Sabbath morn. + I felt as my hert wad stap, + And I wished I had ne’er been born; + I wished I had ne’er been born + For I feared baith the foe and mysel’, + Till there fell on my ear forlorn + The jow o’ an auld kirk bell. + For a moment the guns were deid, + Sae I heard it faint and far; + And that bell was ringin’ inside my heid + As I stauchered into the war. + + I heard nae ither soun’, + Though the air was a wild stramash, + And oor barrage beat the grun’ + Like the crack o’ a cairter’s lash, + Like the sting o’ a lang whup lash; + And ilk breath war a prayer or an aith, + And whistle and drone and crash + Made the pitiless sang o’ death. + But in a’ that deavin’ din + Like the cry o’ the lost in Hell, + I was hearkenin’ to a peacefu’ tüne + In the jow o’ a far-off bell. + + I had on my Sabbath claes, + And was steppin’ doucely the gait + To the kirk on the broomy braes; + I was standin’ aside the yett, + Crackin’ aside the yett; + And syne I was singin’ lood + ’Mang the lasses snod and blate + Wi’ their roses and southernwood. + I hae nae mind o’ the tex’ + For the psalm was the thing for me, + And I gied a gey wheen Huns their paiks + To the tüne o’ auld “Dundee.” + + They tell me I feucht like wud, + And I’ve got a medal to shaw, + But in a’ that habble o’ smoke and bluid + My mind was far awa’; + My mind was far awa’ + In the peace o’ a simmer glen, + Daunderin’ hame ower the heathery law, + Wi’ twae-three ither men.... + But sudden the lift grew red + Ere we wan to the pairtin’ place; + And the next I kenned I was lyin’ in bed + And a Sister washin’ my face. + + My faither was stench U.P.; + Nae guid in Rome could he fin’; + But, this war weel ower, I’m gaun back to see + That kirk ahint the line— + That kirk ahint oor line, + And siller the priest I’ll gie + To pray for the sauls o’ the deid langsyne + Whae bigged the steeple for me. + It’s no that I’m chief wi’ the Pape, + But I owe the warld to yon bell; + And the beadle that swung the rape + Will get half a croon for himsel’. + + 1917 + + + + +_Home Thoughts from Abroad_ + + _Aifter the war, says the papers, they’ll no be content at hame, + The lads that hae feucht wi’ death twae ’ear i’ the mud + and the rain and the snaw; + For aifter a sodger’s life the shop will be unco tame; + They’ll ettle at fortune and freedom in the new lands far awa.’_ + + + No me! + By God! No me! + Aince we hae lickit oor faes + And aince I get oot o’ this hell, + For the rest o’ my leevin’ days + I’ll mak a pet o’ mysel’. + I’ll haste me back wi’ an eident fit + And settle again in the same auld bit. + And oh! the comfort to snowk again + The reek o’ my mither’s but-and-ben, + The wee box-bed and the ingle neuk + And the kail-pat hung frae the chimley-heuk! + + I’ll gang back to the shop like a laddie to play, + Tak doun the shutters at skreigh o’ day, + And weigh oot floor wi’ a carefu’ pride, + And hear the clash o’ the countraside. + I’ll wear for ordinar’ a roond hard hat, + A collar and dicky and black cravat. + If the weather’s wat I’ll no stir ootbye + Wi’oot an umbrella to keep me dry. + I think I’d better no tak a wife— + I’ve had a’ the adventure I want in life.— + But at nicht, when the doors are steeked, I’ll sit, + While the bleeze loups high frae the aiken ruit, + And smoke my pipe aside the crook. + And read in some douce auld-farrant book; + Or crack wi’ Davie and mix a rummer, + While the auld wife’s pow nid-nods in slum’er; + And hark to the winds gaun tearin’ bye + And thank the Lord I’m sae warm and dry. + + When simmer brings the lang bricht e’en, + I’ll daunder doun to the bowling-green, + Or delve my yaird and my roses tend + For the big floo’er-show in the next back-end. + Whiles, when the sun blinks aifter rain, + I’ll tak my rod and gang up the glen; + Me and Davie, we ken the püles + Whaur the troot grow great in the howes o’ the hills; + And, wanderin’ back when the gloamin’ fa’s + And the midges dance in the hazel shaws, + We’ll stop at the yett ayont the hicht + And drink great wauchts o’ the scented nicht, + While the hoose lamps kin’le raw by raw + And a yellow star hings ower the law. + Davie will lauch like a wean at a fair + And nip my airm to mak certain shüre + That we’re back frae yon place o’ dule and dreid, + To oor ain kind warld— + + _But Davie’s deid! + Nae mair gude nor ill can betide him. + We happit him doun by Beaumont toun, + And the half o’ my hert’s in the mools aside him._ + + 1917 + + + + +_Fragment of an Ode in Praise of the Royal Scots Fusiliers_ + + + Ye’ll a’ hae heard tell o’ the Fusilier Jocks, + The famous auld Fusilier Jocks! + They’re as stieve as a stane, + And as teuch as a bane, + And as gleg as a pack o’ muircocks. + They’re maistly as braid as they’re lang, + And the Gairman’s a pump off the fang + When he faces the fire in their ee. + They’re no verra bonny, + I question if ony + Mair terrible sicht ye could see + Than a chairge o’ the Fusilier Jocks. + It gars Hindenburg swear + “_Gott in Himmel_, nae mair + O’ thae sudden and scan’alous shocks!” + And the cannon o’ Krupp + Ane and a’ they shut up + Like a pentit bit jaick-in-the-box, + At the rush o’ the Fusilier Jocks. + + The Kaiser he says to his son + (The auld ane that looks like a fox)— + “I went ower far + When I stertit this war, + Forgettin’ the Fusilier Jocks. + I could manage the French and Italians and Poles, + The Russians and Tartars and yellow Mongols, + The Serbs and the Belgians, the English and Greeks, + And even the lads that gang wantin’ the breeks; + But what o’ thae Fusilier Jocks, + That stopna for duntin’ and knocks? + They’d rin wi’ a yell + Ower the plainstanes o’ Hell; + They’re no men ava—they are rocks! + They’d gang barefit + Through the Bottomless Pit, + And they’ll tak Berlin in their socks,— + Will thae terrible Fusilier Jocks!”... + + 1917 + + + + +_The Great Ones_ + + + Ae morn aside the road frae Bray + I wrocht my squad to mend the track; + A feck o’ sodgers passed that way + And garred me often straucht my back. + + By cam a General on a horse, + A jinglin’ lad on either side. + I gie’d my best salute of course, + Well pleased to see sic honest pride. + + And syne twae Frenchmen in a cawr— + Yon are the lads to speel the braes; + They speldered me inch-deep wi’ glaur + And verra near ran ower my taes. + + And last the pipes, and at their tail + Oor gaucy lads in martial line. + I stopped my wark and cried them hail, + And wished them weel for auld lang syne. + + * * * * * + + An auld chap plooin’ on the muir + Ne’er jee’d his heid nor held his han’, + But drave his furrow straucht and fair,— + Thinks I, “But ye’re the biggest man.” + + 1916 + + + + +_Fisher Jamie_ + + + Puir Jamie’s killed. A better lad + Ye wadna find to busk a flee + Or burn a püle or wield a gad + Frae Berwick to the Clints o’ Dee. + + And noo he’s in a happier land.— + It’s Gospel truith and Gospel law + That Heaven’s yett maun open stand + To folk that for their country fa’. + + But Jamie will be ill to mate; + He lo’ed nae müsic, kenned nae tünes + Except the sang o’ Tweed in spate, + Or Talla loupin’ ower its linns. + + I sair misdoot that Jamie’s heid + A croun o’ gowd will never please; + He liked a kep o’ dacent tweed + Whaur he could stick his casts o’ flees. + + If Heaven is a’ that man can dream + And a’ that honest herts can wish, + It maun provide some muirland stream, + For Jamie dreamed o’ nocht but fish. + + And weel I wot he’ll up and speir + In his bit blate and canty way, + Wi’ kind Apostles standin’ near + Whae in their time were fishers tae. + + He’ll offer back his gowden croun + And in its place a rod he’ll seek, + And bashfu’-like his herp lay doun + And speir a leister and a cleek. + + For Jims had aye a poachin’ whim; + He’ll sune grow tired, wi’ lawfu’ flee + Made frae the wings o’ cherubim, + O’ castin’ ower the Crystal Sea.... + + I picter him at gloamin’ tide + Steekin’ the backdoor o’ his hame + And hastin’ to the waterside + To play again the auld auld game; + + And syne wi’ saumon on his back, + Catch’t clean against the Heavenly law, + And Heavenly byliffs on his track, + Gaun linkin’ doun some Heavenly shaw. + + 1916 + + + + +BOOK II + +ENGLISH + + + + +_Fratri Dilectissimo_[7] + +W. H. B. + + + When we were little wandering boys, + And every hill was blue and high, + On ballad ways and martial joys + We fed our fancies, you and I. + With Bruce we crouched in bracken shade, + With Douglas charged the Paynim foes; + And oft in moorland noons I played + Colkitto to your grave Montrose. + + The obliterating seasons flow— + They cannot kill our boyish game. + Though creeds may change and kings may go, + Yet burns undimmed the ancient flame. + While young men in their pride make haste + The wrong to right, the bond to free, + And plant a garden in the waste, + Still rides our Scottish chivalry. + + Another end had held your dream— + To die fulfilled of hope and might, + To pass in one swift rapturous gleam + From mortal to immortal light— + But through long hours of labouring breath + You watched the world grow small and far, + And met the constant eyes of Death, + And haply knew how kind they are. + + One boon the Fates relenting gave— + Not where the scented hill-wind blows + From cedar thickets lies your grave, + Nor ’mid the steep Himálayan snows. + Night calls the stragglers to the nest, + And at long last ’tis home indeed + For your far-wandering feet to rest + Forever by the crooks of Tweed. + + In perfect honour, perfect truth, + And gentleness to all mankind, + You trod the golden paths of youth, + Then left the world and youth behind. + Ah no! ’Tis we who fade and fail— + And you from Time’s slow torments free + Shall pass from strength to strength and scale + The steeps of immortality. + + Dear heart, in that serener air, + If blessed souls may backward gaze, + Some slender nook of memory spare + For our old happy moorland days. + I sit alone, and musing fills + My breast with pain that shall not die, + Till once again o’er greener hills + We ride together, you and I. + + 1912 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] From “The Marquis of Montrose.” + + + + +_To Lionel Phillips_[8] + + + Time, they say, must the best of us capture, + And travel and battle and gems and gold + No more can kindle the ancient rapture, + For even the youngest of hearts grows old. + But in you, I think, the boy is not over; + So take this medley of ways and wars + As the gift of a friend and a fellow-lover + Of the fairest country under the stars. + + 1909 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] From “Prester John.” + + + + +_To Major-General The Hon. Sir Reginald Talbot, K.C.B._[9] + + + I tell of old Virginian ways; + And who more fit my tale to scan + Than you, who knew in far-off days + The eager horse of Sheridan; + Who saw the sullen meads of fate, + The tattered scrub, the blood-drenched sod, + Where Lee, the greatest of the great, + Bent to the storm of God? + + I tell lost tales of savage wars; + And you have known the desert sands, + The camp beneath the silver stars, + The rush at dawn of Arab bands, + The fruitless toil, the hopeless dream, + The fainting feet, the faltering breath, + While Gordon by the ancient stream + Waited at ease on death. + + And now, aloof from camp and field, + You spend your sunny autumn hours + Where the green folds of Chiltern shield + The nooks of Thames amid the flowers: + You who have borne that name of pride, + In honour clean from fear or stain, + Which Talbot won by Henry’s side + In vanquished Aquitaine. + + 1914 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] From “Salute to Adventurers.” + + + + +_From the Pentlands, Looking North and South_ + + + Around my feet the clouds are drawn + In the cold mystery of the dawn; + No breezes cheer, no guests intrude + My mossy, mist-clad solitude; + When sudden down the steeps of sky + Flames a long, lightening wind. On high + The steel-blue arch shines clear, and far, + In the low lands where cattle are, + Towns smoke. And swift, a haze, a gleam,— + The Firth lies like a frozen stream, + Reddening with morn. Tall spires of ships, + Like thorns about the harbour’s lips, + Now shake faint canvas, now, asleep, + Their salt, uneasy slumbers keep; + While golden-grey o’er kirk and wall + Day wakes in the ancient capital. + + Before me lie the lists of strife, + The caravanserai of life, + Whence from the gates the merchants go + On the world’s highways; to and fro + Sail laden ships; and in the street + The lone foot-traveller shakes his feet, + And in some corner by the fire + Tells the old tale of heart’s desire. + Thither from alien seas and skies + Comes the far-quested merchandise:— + Wrought silks of Broussa, Mocha’s ware + Brown-tinted, fragrant, and the rare + Thin perfumes that the rose’s breath + Has sought, immortal in her death: + Gold, gems, and spice, and haply still + The red rough largess of the hill + Which takes the sun and bears the vines + Among the haunted Apennines. + And he who treads the cobbled street + To-day in the cold North may meet, + Come month, come year, the dusky East, + And share the Caliph’s secret feast; + Or in the toil of wind and sun + Bear pilgrim-staff, forlorn, fordone, + Till o’er the steppe, athwart the sand, + Gleam the far gates of Samarkand. + The ringing quay, the weathered face, + Fair skies, dusk hands, the ocean race, + The palm-girt isle, the frosty shore, + Gales and hot suns the wide world o’er, + Grey North, red South, and burnished West, + The goals of the old tireless quest, + Leap in the smoke, immortal, free, + Where shines yon morning fringe of sea. + + I turn;—how still the moorlands lie, + Sleep-locked beneath the awakening sky! + The film of morn is silver-grey + On the young heather, and away, + Dim, distant, set in ribs of hill, + Green glens are shining, stream and mill, + Clachan and kirk and garden-ground, + All silent in the hush profound + Which haunts alone the hills’ recess, + The antique home of quietness. + Nor to the folk can piper play + The tune of “Hills and Far Away,” + For they are with them. Morn can fire + No peaks of weary heart’s desire, + Nor the red sunset flame behind + Some ancient ridge of longing mind. + For Arcady is here, around, + In lilt of stream, in the clear sound + Of lark and moorbird, in the bold + Gay glamour of the evening gold. + And so the wheel of seasons moves + To kirk and market, to mild loves + And modest hates, and still the sight + Of brown kind faces, and when night + Draws dark around with age and fear + Theirs is the simple hope to cheer.— + A land of peace where lost romance + And ghostly shine of helm and lance + Still dwell by castled scarp and lea + And the lost homes of chivalry, + And the good fairy folk, my dear, + Who speak for cunning souls to hear, + In crook of glen and bower of hill + Sing of the Happy Ages still. + + O Thou to whom man’s heart is known, + Grant me my morning orison. + Grant me the rover’s path—to see + The dawn arise, the daylight flee, + In the far wastes of sand and sun! + Grant me with venturous heart to run + On the old highway, where in pain + And ecstasy man strives amain, + Outstrips his fellows, or, too weak, + Finds the great rest that wanderers seek! + Grant me the joy of wind and brine, + The zest of food, the taste of wine, + The fighter’s strength, the echoing strife, + The high tumultuous lists of life— + May I ne’er lag, nor hapless fall, + Nor weary at the battle-call!... + But when the even brings surcease, + Grant me the happy moorland peace; + That in my heart’s depth ever lie + That ancient land of heath and sky, + Where the old rhymes and stories fall + In kindly, soothing pastoral. + There in the hills grave silence lies, + And Death himself wears friendly guise; + There be my lot, my twilight stage, + Dear city of my pilgrimage. + + 1898 + + + + +_The Strong Man Armed_ + + + “Gift me guerdon and grant me grace,” + Said the Lord of the North. + “Nothing I ask thee of gear or place + Ere I get me forth. + Gift one guerdon to mine and me + For the shade and the sheen.” + + * * * * * + + “Ask and it shall be given unto thee,” + Said Mary the Queen. + + “May I never falter the wide world through, + But stand in the gate: + May my sword bite sharp and my steel ring true + At the ford and the strait: + Bide not on bed nor dally with song + When the strife goeth keen: + This be my boon from the Gods of the Strong!” + + * * * * * + + “Be it so,” said the Queen. + + “May I stand in the mist and the clear and the chill, + In the cycle of wars, + In the brown of the moss and the grey of the hill + With my eyes to the stars! + Gift this guerdon and grant this grace + That I bid good e’en, + The sword in the hand and the foot to the race, + The wind in my teeth and the rain in my face!” + + * * * * * + + “Be it so,” said the Queen. + + 1895 + + + + +_The Soldier of Fortune_ + + + I have seen thy face in the foray, I have heard thy voice in the fray, + When the stars shrunk in the silence, and the wild midnights blew. + Men have worn their steel blades, seeking by night and day; + Selling their souls for the vain dreams—I have followed the true. + Frosts have dulled the scabbard, suns have furrowed the thong, + And the great winds of the north-east have steeled the vagrant eye. + So through the world I wander, haggard and fierce and strong, + Seeking the goal I see not, toiling I tell not why. + + I have loved all good things, song and woman and wine, + The hearth’s red glow in the even, the gladsome face of a friend, + The suns and snows of the hill land, the sting of the winter’s brine, + Dawn and noon and the twilight, day and the daylight’s end. + I have ridden the old path, ridden it fierce and strong, + By camp and city and moorland and the grey face of the sea. + Wrath abides on my forehead but at my heart a song, + The ancient wayfaring ballad, the royal chant of the free. + + For ever in cloud or in maytide Thy voice has been in my ear, + In the quivering mists of battle Thy face has shone like a star. + Never the steel ranks broke when the Lord sent forth His fear + But Thy hand has held my bridle and girt my soul for war. + I am broken and houseless, lost my clan and my name; + A stranger treads on my homelands, no heart remembereth me.— + But be Thou my portion, Lady of dew and flame! + Little I ask of the red gold, having the winds and thee. + + 1899 + + + + +_The Singer_ + + + Cold blows the drift on the hill, + Sere is the heather, + High goes the wind and shrill, + Mirk is the weather. + Stout be the front I show, + Come what the gods send! + Plaided and girt I go + Forth to the world’s end. + + My brain is the stithy of years, + My heart the red gold + Which the gods with sharp anguish and tears + Have wrought from of old. + In the shining first dawn o’ the world, + I was old as the sky— + The morning dew on the field + Is no younger than I. + + I am the magician of life, + The hero of runes; + The sorrows of eld and old strife + Ring clear in my tunes. + The sea lends her minstrel voice, + The storm-cloud its grey; + And ladies have wept at my notes, + Fair ladies and gay. + + My home is the rim of the mist, + The ring of the spray. + The hart has his corrie, the hawk has her nest, + But I—the Lost Way. + Come dawning or noontide, come winter or spring, + Come leisure, come war, + I tarry not, I, but my burden I sing + Beyond and afar. + + I sing of lost hopes and old kings + And the maids of the past; + Ye shiver adread at my strings + But ye heed them at last. + I sing of cold death and the grave— + Fools tremble afraid: + I sing of hot life, and the brave + Go forth undismayed. + + I sleep by the well-head of joy + And the fountain of pain. + Man lives, loves, and fights, and then is not— + I only remain. + Ye mock me and hold me to scorn— + I seek not your grace; + Ye gird me with terror—forlorn, + I laugh in your face. + + 1898 + + + + +_Processional_[10] + + + In the ancient orderly places, with a blank and orderly mind, + We sit in our green walled gardens and our corn and oil increase; + Sunset nor dawn can wake us, for the face of the heavens is kind; + We light our taper at even and call our comfort peace. + + Peaceful our clear horizon; calm as our sheltered days + Are the lilied meadows we dwell in, the decent highways we tread. + Duly we make our offerings, but we know not the God we praise, + For He is the God of the living, and we, His children, are dead. + + I will arise and get me beyond this country of dreams, + Where all is ancient and ordered and hoar with the frost of years, + To the land where loftier mountains cradle their wilder streams, + And the fruitful earth is blessed with more bountiful smiles + and tears:— + + There in the home of the lightnings, where the fear of the Lord + is set free, + Where the thunderous midnights fade to the turquoise magic of morn, + The days of man are a vapour, blown from a shoreless sea, + A little cloud before sunrise, a cry in the void forlorn. + + I am weary of men and cities and the service of little things, + Where the flame-like glories of life are shrunk to a candle’s ray. + Smite me, my God, with Thy presence, blind my eyes with Thy wings, + In the heart of Thy virgin earth show me Thy secret way! + + 1906 + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] From “A Lodge in the Wilderness.” + + + + +_Avignon_ + +1759 + + _Hearts to break but nane to sell, + Gear to tine but nane to hain;— + We maun dree a weary spell + Ere our lad comes back again._ + + + I walk abroad on winter days, + When storms have stripped the wide champaign, + For northern winds have norland ways, + And scents of Badenoch haunt the rain. + And by the lipping river path, + When in the fog the Rhone runs grey, + I see the heather of the strath, + And watch the salmon leap in Spey. + + The hills are feathered with young trees,— + I set them for my children’s boys. + I made a garden deep in ease, + A pleasance for my lady’s joys. + Strangers have heired them. Long ago + She died,—kind fortune thus to die; + And my one son by Beauly flow + Gave up the soul that could not lie. + + Old, elbow-worn, and pinched I bide + The final toll the gods may take. + The laggard years have quenched my pride; + They cannot kill the ache, the ache. + Weep not the dead, for they have sleep + Who lie at home; but ah, for me + In the deep grave my heart will weep + With longing for my lost countrie. + + _Hearts to break but nane to sell, + Gear to tine but nane to hain;— + We maun dree a weary spell + Ere our lad comes back again._ + + 1911 + + + + +_The Gipsy’s Song to the Lady Cassilis_ + +“Whereupon the Faas, coming down from the Gates of Galloway, did so + bewitch my lady that she forgat husband and kin, and followed the + tinkler’s piping.”—Chap-book of the _Raid of Cassilis_. + + + The door is open to the wall, + The air is bright and free; + Adown the stair, across the hall, + And then—the world and me; + The bare grey bent, the running stream, + The fire beside the shore; + And we will bid the hearth farewell, + And never seek it more, + My love, + And never seek it more. + + And you shall wear no silken gown, + No maid shall bind your hair; + The yellow broom shall be your gem, + Your braid the heather rare. + Athwart the moor, adown the hill, + Across the world away; + The path is long for happy hearts + That sing to greet the day, + My love, + That sing to greet the day. + + When morning cleaves the eastern grey, + And the lone hills are red; + When sunsets light the evening way + And birds are quieted; + In autumn noon and springtide dawn, + By hill and dale and sea, + The world shall sing its ancient song + Of hope and joy for thee, + My love, + Of hope and joy for thee. + + And at the last no solemn stole + Shall on thy breast be laid; + No mumbling priest shall speed thy soul, + No charnel vault thee shade. + But by the shadowed hazel copse, + Aneath the greenwood tree, + Where airs are soft and waters sing, + Thou’lt ever sleep by me, + My love, + Thou’lt ever sleep by me. + + 1898 + + + + +_Wood Magic_ + +(9th Century) + + + I will walk warily in the wise woods on the fringes of eventide, + For the covert is full of noises and the stir of nameless things. + I have seen in the dusk of the beeches the shapes of the lords that ride, + And down in the marish hollow I have heard the lady who sings. + And once in an April gloaming I met a maid on the sward, + All marble-white and gleaming and tender and wild of eye;— + I, Jehan the hunter, who speak am a grown man, middling hard, + But I dreamt a month of the maid, and wept I knew not why. + + Down by the edge of the firs, in a coppice of heath and vine, + Is an old moss-grown altar, shaded by briar and bloom, + Denys, the priest, hath told me ’twas the lord Apollo’s shrine + In the days ere Christ came down from God to the Virgin’s womb. + I never go past but I doff my cap and avert my eyes— + (Were Denys to catch me I trow I’d do penance for half a year.)— + For once I saw a flame there and the smoke of a sacrifice, + And a voice spake out of the thicket that froze my soul with fear. + + Wherefore to God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, + Mary the Blessed Mother, and the kindly Saints as well, + I will give glory and praise, and them I cherish the most, + For they have the keys of Heaven, and save the soul from Hell. + But likewise I will spare for the lord Apollo a grace, + And a bow for the lady Venus—as a friend but not as a thrall. + ’Tis true they are out of Heaven, but some day they may win the place; + For gods are kittle cattle, and a wise man honours them all. + + 1911 + + + + +_The Song of the Sea Captain_ + +Diego d’Alboquerque, brother of the great Affonso, a knight of the + Portuguese Order of Jesus Christ, having landed on the coast north + of Zanzibar, wandered to the Abyssinian highlands, where he saw + and loved Prester John’s daughter, Melissa, a cousin of the Lady + of Tripoli (_la princesse lointaine_). He was slain off Goa in the + great fight with the Sultan of Muscat. + + + I sail a lone sea captain + Around the southern seas; + Worn as my cheek, the flag of Christ + Floats o’er me on the breeze. + By green isle and by desert, + By little white-walled town, + To west wind and to east wind + I lead my galleons down. + + I know the black south-easter, + I know the drowsy calms + When the slow tide creeps shoreward + To lave the idle palms. + Of many a stark sea battle + The Muslim foe can tell, + When their dark dhows I sent to crabs + And their dark souls to hell. + + Small reck have I of Muslim, + Small reck of winds and seas, + The waters are my pathway + To bring me to my ease. + The dawns that burn above me + Are torches set to light + My footsteps to a garden + Of roses red and white. + + * * * * * + + Five months we stood from Lagos, + While, scant of food and sleep, + We tracked da Gama’s highroad + Across the Guinea deep. + All spent we were with watching + When, ghostly as a dream, + The Bona Esperanza cape + Rose dark upon the beam. + + Then by the low green inlets + We groped our passage forth, + Outside the shallow surf-bars + We headed for the north. + Sofala gave us victual, + Inyaka ease and rest, + But of the wayside harbours + I loved Melinda best. + + ’Twas on a day in April, + The Feast of Rosaly, + We beached our weary vessels, + Cried farewell to the sea, + And with ten stout companions + And hearts with youth made bold + We sought the inland mountains + Of which our fathers told. + + No chart had we or counsel + To guide our weary feet, + To north and west we wandered + In drought and dust and heat, + Till o’er the steaming tree-tops + We saw the far-off dome + Of mystic icy mountains, + And knew the Prester’s home. + + Nine days we clomb the foothills, + Nine days the mountain wall, + Sheer cliff and ancient forest + And fretted waterfall; + And on the tenth we entered + A meadow cool and deep, + And in the Prester’s garden + We laid us down to sleep. + + Long time we fared like princes + In palaces of stone, + For never guest goes cheerless + Who meets with Prester John; + Where woodlands mount to gardens + And gardens climb to snows + And wells of living water + Sing rondels to the rose. + + And there among the roses, + More white and red than they, + There walked the gleaming lady, + The princess far away. + Dearer her golden tresses + Than the high pomp of wars, + And deep and still her eyes as lakes + That brood beneath the stars. + + There walked we and there spoke we + Of things that may not cease, + Of life and death and God’s dear love + And the eternal peace. + For in that shadowed garden + The world had grown so small + That one white girl in one white hand + Could clasp and hold it all. + + I craved the Prester’s blessing, + I kissed his kingly hand: + “Too soon has come the parting + From this fair mountain land. + But shame it were for Christian knight + To take his leisure here + When o’er the broad and goodly earth + The Muslim sends his fear. + + “I go to gird my sword on, + To drive my fleets afar, + To court the wrath of tempests, + The dusty toils of war. + But when my vows are ended, + Then, joyous from the fray, + I come to claim my lady, + The princess far away.” + + * * * * * + + I sail a lone sea captain + Across the southern seas; + Worn as my cheek, the flag of Christ + Still flaunts upon the breeze. + By green isle and by desert, + By little white-walled town, + To west wind and to east wind + I lead my galleons down. + + But in the starkest tempest, + And in the drowsy heats, + Where on the shattered coral + The far-drawn breaker beats: + In seas of dreaming water, + And in the wind-swept spray, + I see my snow-white lady, + The princess far away. + + Sometimes in inland places + We march for weary days, + Where thorns parch in the noontide + Or fens are dark with haze;— + For me ’tis but a march of dreams, + For ever, clear and low, + I hear cool waters falling + In the garden of the snow. + + Small reck have I of Muslim, + Small reck of sands or seas; + The wide world is my pathway + To lead me to my ease. + The dawns that burn above me + Are torches set to light + My footsteps to a garden + Of rose red and white. + + 1905 + + + + +_Antiphilus of Byzantium_ + +_Anth. Pal._ ix. 546. + + + Give me a mat on the deck, + When the awnings sound to the blows of the spray, + And the hearthstones crack with the flames a-back + And the pot goes bubbling away. + Give me a boy to cook my broth; + For table a ship’s plank lacking a cloth, + And never a fork or knife; + And, after a game with a rusty pack, + The bo’sun’s whistle to pipe us back— + That’s the fortune fit for a king, + For Oh! I love common life! + + 1895 + + + + +_An Echo of Meleager_ + + + Scorn not my love, proud child. The summers wane. + Long ere the topmost mountain snows have gone + The Spring is fleeting; ’neath the April rain + For one brief day flowers laugh on Helicon. + The breeze that fans thy honeyed cheek this noon + To-morrow will be blasts that scourge the main, + And youth and joy and laughter fleet too soon.— + Scorn not my love, proud child. The summers wane. + + To-day the rose blooms by the garden plot, + The swallows twitter ’neath the Parian dome; + But soon the roses fall and lie forgot, + And soon the swallows will be turning home. + Tempt not the arrows of the Cyprian’s eye, + Vex not the god that will not brook disdain;— + Love is the port to which the wise barks fly. + Scorn not my love, proud child. The summers wane. + + 1910 + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77335 *** diff --git a/77335-h/77335-h.htm b/77335-h/77335-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..18c0123 --- /dev/null +++ b/77335-h/77335-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3641 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Poems Scots and English | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/*My header */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h3, h4 { + font-size: x-large;} + + +.ph3{ + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: bold; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.mr16 {margin-right: 8em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +.text150 { + font-size: 125%;} + +.largetext{ + font-size: x-large; +} + +.x-largetext{ + font-size: xx-large; +} + + +.blockquot_ans { + margin-left: 1em; + text-indent: -1em; +} + + + +ul { list-style-type: none; } + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: 1px dashed;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .attrib {text-align: right;} + + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2.0em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1.0em;} +.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0.0em;} +.poetry .indent10 {text-indent: 2.0em;} +.poetry .indent24 {text-indent: 9.0em;} + +.ell_spacing {letter-spacing:2em;} + +.verse.drop-cap.indent0 { + text-indent: 0; + padding-left: 0 + } +.verse.drop-cap.indent0:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0; + font-size: 2.75em; + line-height: 0.7em; + text-indent: 0; + clear: both + } +.x-ebookmaker .verse.drop-cap.indent0:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0 0 0 0; + font-size: 1.25em; + text-indent: 0 + } +.verse.drop-cap .firstword { + letter-spacing: 0.0em; + font-size: 1.5em; + } +.verse.drop-cap.indent0 + .indent0 { + padding-left: 5.5em; + text-indent: -2em + } +.verse.drop-cap.indent0 + .indent2 { + padding-left: 6em; + text-indent: -2em + } + +.x-ebookmaker .drop-cap.indent0 + .indent0, .x-ebookmaker .verse.drop-cap.indent0 + .indent0, .x-ebookmaker + .indent0, .x-ebookmaker .firstword { + text-indent: 0; + padding-left: 0 + } +.x-ebookmaker .verse.drop-cap.indent0 + .indent2 { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 3em + } + + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77335 ***</div> + + +<p class="ph3"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></p> + + +<p>ROMANCES</p> + +<ul> + <li><span class="smcap">John Burnet of Barns</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">A Lost Lady of Old Years</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Half-Hearted</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Prester John</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Salute to Adventurers</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Thirty-Nine Steps</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Power-House</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Greenmantle</span></li> +</ul> + + +<p>SHORT STORIES</p> + +<ul> + <li><span class="smcap">Grey Weather</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Watcher by the Threshold</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Moon Endureth</span></li> +</ul> + + +<p>ESSAYS</p> + +<ul> + <li><span class="smcap">Scholar-Gipsies</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Some Eighteenth-Century Byways</span></li> +</ul> + + +<p>POLITICS AND TRAVEL</p> + +<ul> + <li><span class="smcap">The African Colony</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">A Lodge in the Wilderness</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Taxation of Foreign Income</span></li> +</ul> + + +<p>HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY</p> + +<ul> + <li><span class="smcap">A History of Brasenose College</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Raleigh</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">The Marquis of Montrose</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">Andrew Jameson, Lord Ardwall</span></li> + <li><span class="smcap">A History of the War</span> (in course of publication).</li> +</ul> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h1 class="nobreak" id="POEMS"> + POEMS + <br> + SCOTS AND ENGLISH + </h1> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"><b><span class="x-largetext">POEMS</span><br> +<span class="largetext">SCOTS AND ENGLISH</span></b></p> + +<p class="center p2"><b>BY<br> +<span class="largetext">JOHN BUCHAN</span></b></p> + +<div class="poetry-container p2"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Dulces ... reminiscitur Argos</i></div> + <div class="verse attrib">—<span class="smcap">Virgil</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="center p2 largetext"><b>T. C. & E. C. JACK, LIMITED<br> +LONDON AND EDINBURGH<br> +1917</b></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +<i>Printed in Great Britain</i><br> +<i>by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh</i> +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +TO MY BROTHER<br> +<br> +<span class="text150">ALASTAIR BUCHAN<br></span> +<br> +LIEUTENANT, ROYAL SCOTS FUSILIERS<br> +WHO FELL AT ARRAS<br> +ON EASTER MONDAY 1917<br> +UNDER HIS COUNTRY’S<br> +TRIUMPHING FLAG +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">{7}</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="smcap">Since</span> there are many variants of our +northern speech, it seems fitting to say that +the Scots pieces in this little collection are +written in the vernacular which is spoken in +the hill country of the Lowlands, from the +Cheviots to Galloway. Scots has never been +to me a book-tongue; I could always speak +it more easily than I could write it; and +I dare to hope that the faults of my verses, +great as they are, are not those of an +antiquarian exercise.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16"> J. B.</span> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a><a id="Page_9"></a>{9}</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="center"><a href="#BOOK_I"><span class="largetext">BOOK I.—SCOTS</span></a></p> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Midians_Evil_Day1"><span class="smcap">Midian’s Evil Day</span></a>—Dear Reverend Sir,—I tak my pen</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Herd_of_Farawa"><span class="smcap">The Herd of Farawa</span></a>—Losh, man! Did ever mortal see</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Eternal_Feminine"><span class="smcap">The Eternal Feminine</span></a>—When I was a freckled bit bairn</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_South_Countrie"><span class="smcap">The South Countrie</span></a>—I never likit the Kingdom o’ Fife—</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Shorter_Catechism"><span class="smcap">The Shorter Catechism</span></a>—When I was young and herdit sheep</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center p2"><a href="#THEOCRITUS_IN_SCOTS"><span class="text150">THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS</span></a></p> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Kirn5"><span class="smcap">The Kirn</span></a>—’Twas last back-end</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Fishers"><span class="smcap">The Fishers</span></a>—’Tis puirtith sooples</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center p2"><a href="#INTER_ARMA"><span class="text150">INTER ARMA</span></a></p> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Sweet_Argos"><span class="smcap">Sweet Argos</span></a>—When the Almichty took His hand</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#On_Leave"><span class="smcap">On Leave</span></a>—I had auchteen months o’ the war</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Kirk_Bell"><span class="smcap">The Kirk Bell</span></a>—When oor lads gaed ower the tap</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Home_Thoughts_from_Abroad"><span class="smcap">Home Thoughts from Abroad</span></a>—Aifter the war, says the papers</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Fragment_of_an_Ode_in_Praise_of_the"><span class="smcap">Fragment of an Ode</span></a>—Ye’ll a’ hae heard tell</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Great_Ones"><span class="smcap">The Great Ones</span></a>—Ae morn aside the road frae Bray</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Fisher_Jamie"><span class="smcap">Fisher Jamie</span></a>—Puir Jamie’s killed</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">{10}</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center p2"><span class="largetext"><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II.—ENGLISH</a></span></p> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Fratri_Dilectissimo7"><span class="smcap">Fratri Dilectissimo</span></a>—When we were little wandering boys</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#To_Lionel_Phillips8"><span class="smcap">To Lionel Phillips</span></a>—Time, they say, must the best of us capture</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#To_Major-General"><span class="smcap">To Sir Reginald Talbot</span></a>—I tell of old Virginian ways</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#From_the_Pentlands_Looking"><span class="smcap">From the Pentlands, Looking North and South</span></a>—Around my feet the clouds are drawn</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Strong_Man_Armed"><span class="smcap">The Strong Man Armed</span></a>—Gift me guerdon and grant me grace</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Soldier_of_Fortune"><span class="smcap">The Soldier of Fortune</span></a>—I have seen thy face in the foray</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Singer"><span class="smcap">The Singer</span></a>—Cold blows the drift on the hill</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Processional10"><span class="smcap">Processional</span></a>—In the ancient orderly places</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Avignon"><span class="smcap">Avignon</span>, 1759</a>—I walk abroad on winter days</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Gipsys_Song_to_the_Lady_Cassilis"><span class="smcap">The Gipsy’s Song to the Lady Cassilis</span></a>—The door is open to the wall</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Wood_Magic"><span class="smcap">Wood Magic</span></a>—I will walk warily in the wise woods</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Song_of_the_Sea_Captain"><span class="smcap">The Song of the Sea Captain</span></a>—I sail a lone sea captain</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#Antiphilus_of_Byzantium"><span class="smcap">Antiphilus of Byzantium</span></a>—Give me a mat on the deck</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#An_Echo_of_Meleager"><span class="smcap">An Echo of Meleager</span></a>—Scorn not my love, proud child</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">{11}</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_I"> + BOOK I<br> + <br> + SCOTS + </h2> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a><a id="Page_13"></a>{13}</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Midians_Evil_Day1" title="Midian’s Evil Day"> + <i>Midian’s Evil Day</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> + </h4> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot_ans"> +<p>(From Alexander Cargill, Elder of the Kirk of the Remnant in +the vale of Wae, to the Reverend Murdo Mucklethraw, +Minister of the aforesaid Kirk, anent the Great Case recently +argued in the House of Lords.)</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Dear</span> Reverend Sir,—I tak my pen</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To tell yon great occasion when</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We garred our licht shine afore men,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Yea, far and wide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And smote the oppressor but and ben</div> + <div class="verse indent6">For a’ his pride.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">{14}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Yoursel’, ye mind, was far frae weel—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A cauld ye catch’t at Kippenshiel,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forbye rheumatics in your heel—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And thus it came,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fou though ye were o’ holy zeal,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Ye stopped at hame.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For me, my lambin’-time was bye,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The muirland hay was nane sae high,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The men were thrang, the grund was dry,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sae when ye spak,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And bade me gang and testify,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I heldna back.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ dowie hert I left that morn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Reflectin’ on the waefu’ scorn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Kirk maun thole, her courts forlorn,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Her pillars broke,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While Amalek exalts his horn,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And fills his poke.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I pondered the mischances sair</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Lord had garred puir Scotland bear</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae English folk baith late and ear’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sin’ Flodden year</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the twae beasts at Carlisle fair</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I bocht ower dear.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">{15}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">If true religion got a fa’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae her auld courts and guid Scots law,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What hope o’ succour far awa’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">’Mang godless chiels,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whae at the Word sae crousely craw</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And fling their heels.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">As weel expect the Gospel sap ’ill</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rise in uncovenantit thrapple</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As saw a ploom to raise an apple,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Or think a soo</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fleein’ aloft on the hoose-tap ’ill</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sit like a doo.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I like an owl in desert was,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When to the coorts I buid to pass,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Amang the crood to hear the Cause.</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Nae freend I saw,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Juist some auld lads set oot in raws</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And belchin’ law.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But ane sat cockit in atween,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A wee man but as gleg’s a preen:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A walth o’ sense was in his een</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And foreheid massy.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“The Chancellor,” I was tellt, when keen</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I speired whae was he.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">{16}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ prayerfu’ mind I watched the stert</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While Maister Johnston⁠<a id="FNanchor_2_2" href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> played his pairt,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And sune I fand my anxious hert</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Gie a great loup.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Yon Chancellor the ungodly’s cairt,”</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I said, “will coup.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O sir, that day I kent indeed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s men o’ worth across the Tweed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Men whae are steadfast in the creed</div> + <div class="verse indent6">As Moses sel’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Men whae the Word o’ God can read</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And cling to Hell.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I thocht they were a careless race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Decked oot in cauld Erastian claes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whae traivelled a’ in slippery ways,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Whase thochts were vain:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But noo I ken they’ve gifts and grace</div> + <div class="verse indent6">E’en like oor ain.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A Lowden chiel⁠<a id="FNanchor_3_3" href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>—black be his tryst!—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A wise-like man, but ill advised,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Led on the hosts o’ Antichrist,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And threepit bauld,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That man could never back be wysed</div> + <div class="verse indent6">To Calvin’s fauld.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">{17}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He made the yett o’ Heaven sae wide</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The veriest stirk could get inside:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Puffed up he was wi’ warldly pride</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And fou o’ German,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Quotin’ auld pagans for his guide</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And sic-like vermin.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He feucht wi’ Prophets, jouked wi’ Psalms,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He got his legs clean ower the trams,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He garred th’ Apostles skip like rams</div> + <div class="verse indent6">To dae his biddin’s:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oor auld Confessions were but shams,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Their loss guid riddance.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“God foreordained some men to Hell—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Granted, but man can please himsel’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Up to a point—and if I dwell</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Mair on free-will</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Than on election, I do well,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">A Christian still.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“For these are mysteries,” quo’ he,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Whereon nae twae men can agree,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And sae it’s richt for you and me—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">The thing’s sae kittle—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ane to consider half a lee,—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Whilk—maitters little.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">{18}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“It’s a’,” he said, “confüsion wild;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In siccan things the best’s a child;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some walk an ell and some a mile;</div> + <div class="verse indent6">But never fear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thae doots will a’ be reconciled</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In higher sphere.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Therefore a kirk, whase lamps are bright,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bequeathed by auld divines o’ might,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Can fling them tapsalteerie quite,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And think nae shame;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For white is black and black is white,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">It’s a’ the same.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But what availed his carnal lear</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Against a man o’ faith and prayer?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As through the thristles gangs the share</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And dings them doun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">E’en sae the Chancellor cleft him fair</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Frae heel to croun.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He pinned him wi’ the Bible words,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He clove at him wi’ Calvin’s swirds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He garred him loup aboot the boards</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Wi’ muckle mense,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And bund him wi’ the hempen cords</div> + <div class="verse indent6">O’ plain guid sense.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">{19}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Threep as ye please, it’s clear to me,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whether or no’ the twae agree,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Baith doctrines were appoint to be</div> + <div class="verse indent6">The Kirk’s chief pillar.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If ane ye like to leave,” says he,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">“Ye leave the siller.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, wi’ what unction he restored</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The auld commandments o’ the Lord,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Confoonded Bashan’s nowt that roared,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And ’stablished Hell!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Knox was nae soonder in the Word</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Nor Calvin’s sel’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll no’ deny yon Lowden chiel</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was gleg as ony slippery eel,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For twae-three men frae Kippenshiel</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Begood to waver;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I half inclined to doot the Deil</div> + <div class="verse indent6">A’ through his claver.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But when a man o’ faith and power</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Uprose, he couldna bide an hour:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The weakest’s doots were tided ower</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Anither towmont.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Kirk stood firm as auld stane tower</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Wi’ safe endowment.</div> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + </div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">{20}</span></p> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I hae a bull, a noble breed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A shorthorn wi’ a massy heid,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ quarters fine and coat o’ reid:</div> + <div class="verse indent6">On ilka lea</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae Thurso to the banks o’ Tweed</div> + <div class="verse indent6">He bears the gree.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I ca’ed him Begg,⁠<a id="FNanchor_4_4" href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> the same’s his sire;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But noo for sign to a’ the shire</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ yon great day when frae the mire</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Our feet we bore,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His name shall be in field and byre</div> + <div class="verse indent6">“<i>The Chancellor</i>.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1904</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">{21}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Herd_of_Farawa"> + <i>The Herd of Farawa</i> + </h4> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot_ans"> +<p>Who in an April hailstorm discoursed to the traveller on the +present discontents.</p> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Pastorum et solis exegit montibus aevum.</i>—<span class="smcap">Virgil.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Losh</span>, man! Did ever mortal see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic blasts o’ snaw? Ye’ll bide a wee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Afore ye think to cross the lea,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And mount the slack!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Kin’le your pipe, and straucht your knee,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And gie’s your crack!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Hoo lang, ye speir! An unco while!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s seeventy-sax ’ear came Aprile</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That I cam here frae Auchentyle—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">A bairn o’ nine;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And mony’s the dreich and dreary mile</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I’ve gaed sin’ syne.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My folk were herds, sae roond the fauld</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Afore I was twae towmonts auld</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They fand me snowkin’, crouse and bauld</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In snaw and seep—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As Dauvid was to kingdoms called,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sae I to sheep.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">{22}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I herdit first on Etterick side.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dod, man, I mind the stound o’ pride</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gaed through my hert, when near and wide</div> + <div class="verse indent6">My dowgs I ran.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though no seeventeen till Lammastide</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I walked a man.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I got a wife frae Eskdalemuir,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ dacent herdin’ folk, and sair</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We wrocht for lang, baith late and ’ear,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">For weans cam fast,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And we were never aucht but puir</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Frae first to last.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Tales I could tell wad gar ye grue</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ snawy lambin’s warstled through,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ drifty days, and win’s that blew</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Frae norlan’ sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And spates that filled the haughlands fou</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And drooned the kye.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But, still and on, the life was fine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For yon were happier days langsyne;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For gear to hain, and gear to tine</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I had nae care—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Content I was wi’ what was mine,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And blithe to share.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">{23}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic flocks ye’ll never see the day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae fauncy ills to mak ye wae,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae fauncy dips wi’ stawsome broo,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Wad fricht the French;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We wrocht alang the auld guid way,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And fand it stench.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae mawkit kets, nae scabbit een,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But ilka yowe as trig’s a preen;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic massy tups as ne’er were seen</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sin’ Job’s allowance,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And lambs as thick on ilka green</div> + <div class="verse indent6">As simmer gowans.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur noo ae hirsel jimp can bide</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Three hirsels were the countra’s pride,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And mony a yaird was wavin’ wide,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And floo’ers were hingin’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur noo is but the bare hillside,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And linties singin’.</div> + + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And God! the men! Whaur could ye find</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic hertsome lads, sae crouse and kind;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic skeel o’ sheep, sic sarious mind</div> + <div class="verse indent6">At kirk and prayer—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet aiblins no to haud or bind</div> + <div class="verse indent6">At Boswells fair?</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">{24}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae Galloway to Aiberdeen</div> + <div class="verse indent0">(I mind the days as ’twere yestreen)</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve had my cantrips—Lord a wheen!</div> + <div class="verse indent6">But through them a’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The fear o’ God afore my een,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I keep’t the Law.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My nieves weel hoddit in my breeks,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Law I keep’t, and turned baith cheeks</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Until the smiter, saft and meek’s</div> + <div class="verse indent6">A bairn at schule;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Syne struck, and laid him bye for weeks</div> + <div class="verse indent6">To learn the fule.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae Melrose Cauld to Linkumdoddie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’d fecht and drink wi’ ony body;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was there a couthy lad? Then, dod, he</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sune fand his fellow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What time the tippenny or the toddy</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Had garred us mellow.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae wark or ploy e’er saw me shirk;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I had an airm wad fell a stirk;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I traivelled ten lang mile to kirk</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In wind and snaw;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I tell ’e, sir, frae morn to mirk,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I keep’t the Law.</div> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + </div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">{25}</span></p> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Weekly we gat, and never fail,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Screeds marrowy as a pat o’ kail,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And awfu’ as the Grey Meer’s Tail</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In Lammas rain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And stey and lang as Moffatdale,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And stieve’s a stane.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae Gospel sowens fit for weans,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But doctrines teuch as channel-stanes;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We heard the Word wi’ anxious pains,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sarious and happy.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And half the week we piked the banes,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And fand them sappy.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lang years aneath a man o’ God</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I sat, my Bible on the brod;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He wasna feared to lift the rod</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And scaud the errin’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He walked whaur our great forbears trod,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And blest his farin’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But noo we’ve got a bairnly breed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whase wee-bit shilpit greetin’ screed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Soughs like a wast wind ower the heid,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Lichter than ’oo’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lassies and weans, it suits their need,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">No me and you!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">{26}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My dochter’s servin’ in the toun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She gangs to hear a glaikit loon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whae rows his een, and twirls him roun’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Like ane dementit.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae word o’ Hell, nae sicht or soun’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">O’ sin repentit.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But juist a weary, yammerin’ phrase</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ “Saunts” and “Heaven” and “love” and “praise,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Words that a grown man sudna üse,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">God! sic a scunner!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I had to rise and gang my ways</div> + <div class="verse indent6">To haud my denner.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">At halesome fauts they lift their han’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Henceforth, they cry, this new comman’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bide quate and doucely in the lan’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And love your brither—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This is the total end o’ man,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">This and nae ither.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And that’s their creed! An owercome braw</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For folks that kenna fear or fa’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Crouse birds that on their midden craw</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Nor think o’ scaith,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That keep the trimmin’ o’ the Law</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And scorn the pith.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">{27}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s no for men that nicht and day</div> + <div class="verse indent0">See the Almichty’s awesome way,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ken themselves but ripps o’ strae</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Afore His wind,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, dark or licht, maun watch and pray</div> + <div class="verse indent6">His grace to find.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My forbear, hunkerin’ in a hag,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was martyred by the laird o’ Lagg;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He dee’d afore his heid wad wag</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In God’s denial.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">D’ye think the folk that rant and brag</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Wad thole yon trial?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Man, whiles I’d like to gang mysel</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And wile auld Claverse back frae Hell;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Claverse, or maybe Tam Dalziel,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Wad stop their fleechin’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I wager yon’s the lads to mell</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And mend sic preachin’.</div> + </div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaure’er I look I find the same,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The warld’s nae gumption in its wame;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">E’en sin’ I mind the human frame</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Grows scrimp and shauchled,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ a’ man’s warks ye canna name</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Ane that’s no bauchled.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">{28}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s mawkit sheep and feckless herds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And poopits fou o’ senseless words;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Instead o’ kail we sup on curds,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And wersh the taste o’t;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To parritch-sticks we’ve turned our swirds,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Sae mak’ the maist o’t.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And poalitics! I’ve seen the day</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’d walk ten mile ower burn and brae</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To hear some billie hae his say</div> + <div class="verse indent6">About the nation.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tories and a’ their daft-like play</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Fand quick damnation.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I thocht—for I was young—that folk</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Were a’ the same; I scorned the yoke</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ cless or gear; wi’ pigs in poke</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I took nae han’.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I daured the hale wide warld to choke</div> + <div class="verse indent6">The richts o’ man.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s still my creed, but hech! sin’ then</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ve got the richts and lost the men;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ve got a walth o’ gear to spen’</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And nane to spend it;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The warld is waitin’ ripe to men’,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And nane to mend it.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">{29}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Our maisters are a flock o’ daws,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Led on by twae-three hoodie-craws;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They weir our siller, mak’ our laws,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And God! sic makin’!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And we sit roun’ wi’ lood applause,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And cheer their crakin’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We’re great; but daur we lift a nieve</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’oot our neebors grant their leave?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’re free, folk say, to speak, believe,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Dae what we wull—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And what’s oor gain? A din to deave</div> + <div class="verse indent6">A yearlin’ bull!</div> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A dwaibly warld! I’ll no deny</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s orra blessin’s. I can buy</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My baccy cheap, and feed as high</div> + <div class="verse indent6">For half the siller;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For saxpence ony man can lie</div> + <div class="verse indent6">As fou’s the miller.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A bawbee buys a walth o’ prent,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And every gowk’s in Paurliament;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The warld’s reformed—but sir, tak tent,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">For a’ their threep,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s twae things noo that arena kent—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">That’s MEN and SHEEP.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1907</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">{30}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Eternal_Feminine"> + <i>The Eternal Feminine</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">When</span> I was a freckled bit bairn</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And cam in frae my ploys to the fire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ my buits a’ clamjamphried wi’ shairn</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And my jaicket a’ speldered wi’ mire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I got gloomin’ and glunchin’ and paiks,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And nae bite frae the press or the pan,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And my auld grannie said as she skelped me to bed,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When I was a lang-leggit lad,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">At waddin’s and kirns a gey cheild,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I hae happit a lass in my maud</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And gone cauldrife that she micht hae beild,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And convoyed her bye bogles and stirks,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A kiss at the hindmost my plan;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But a’ that I fand was the wecht o’ her hand,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When Ailie and me were made yin</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We set up in a canty bit cot;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sair wrocht we day oot and day in,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We were unco content wi’ oor lot.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">{31}</span> <div class="verse indent0">But whiles wi’ a neebor I’d tak</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A gless that my heid couldna stan’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Syne she’d greet for a week, and nae word wad she speak</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But “Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She dee’d, and my dochter and me</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For the lave wi’ ilk ither maun shift.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae tentier lass could ye see;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The wooers cam doun like a drift;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sune wi’ an unco blae glower</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Frae the doorstep they rade and they ran,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she’d sigh to hersel’, as she gae’d to the well,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She’s mairrit by noo and she’s got</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A white-heided lass o’ her ain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">White-heided mysel, as I stot</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Roond the doors o’ her shouther I’m fain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What think ye that wean said yestreen?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’ll tell ye, believe’t if ye can;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She primmed up her mou’ and said saft as a doo,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Hech, sirs, what a burden is man!”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1912</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">{32}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_South_Countrie"> + <i>The South Countrie</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I never</span> likit the Kingdom o’ Fife—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Its kail’s as cauld as its wind and rain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the folk that bide benorth o’ the Clyde</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They speak a langwidge that’s no my ain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Doun in the west is a clarty nest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the big stane cities are no for me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae I’ll buckle my pack on my auld bent back</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And tak the road for the South Countrie.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur sall I enter the Promised Land,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ower the Sutra or doun the Lyne,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Up the side o’ the water o’ Clyde</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or cross the muirs at the heid o’ Tyne,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or staucherin’ on by Crawfordjohn</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Yont to the glens whaur Tweed rins wee?—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s maitter sma’ whaur your road may fa’</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Gin it land ye safe in the South Countrie.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Yon are the hills that my hert kens weel,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Hame for the weary, rest for the auld,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Braid and high as the Aprile sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Blue on the taps and green i’ the fauld:</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">{33}</span> <div class="verse indent0">At ilka turn a bit wanderin’ burn,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a canty biggin’ on ilka lea—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s nocht sae braw in the wide world’s schaw</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As the heughs and holms o’ the South Countrie.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Yon are the lads that my hert loes weel,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Frank and couthy and kind to a’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ the open broo and the mirthfu’ mou</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the open door at the e’enin’s fa’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A trig hamesteid and a lauchin’ breed</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O’ weans that hearten the auld to see—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sma’ or great, can ye find the mate</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O’ the folk that bide in the South Countrie?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The lichtest fit that traivels the roads</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Maun lag and drag as the end grows near;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Threescore and ten are the years o’ men,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I’m bye the bit by a lang lang year.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae I’ll seek my rest in the land loe’d best,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And ask nae mair than that God sall gie</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To my failin’ een for the hinmost scene</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The gentle hills o’ the South Countrie.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">{34}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Shorter_Catechism"> + <i>The Shorter Catechism</i> + </h4> + +<p class="center">(With Proofs)</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">When</span> I was young and herdit sheep,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I read auld tales o’ Wallace wight;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My heid was fou o’ sangs and threep</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O’ folk that feared nae mortal might.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But noo I’m auld and weel I ken</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We’re made alike o’ gowd and mire;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s saft bits in the stievest men,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The bairnliest’s got a spunk o’ fire.</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Sae hearken to me, lads,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">It’s truith that I tell;—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">There’s nae man a’ courage—</div> + <div class="verse indent6"><i>I ken by mysel’</i>.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve been an elder forty year,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’ve tried to keep the narrow way,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve walked afore the Lord in fear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’ve never missed the kirk a day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve read the Bible in and oot,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I ken the feck o’t clean by hert;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But still and on I sair misdoot</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’m better noo than at the stert.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">{35}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae hearken to me, lads,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">It’s truith I maintain!—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Man’s works are but rags, for</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>I ken by my ain</i>.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I hae a name for dacent trade;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’ll wager a’ the countryside</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wad swear nae trustier man was made</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The ford to soom, the bent to bide.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But when it comes to coupin’ horse</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’m juist like a’ that e’er were born,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I fling my heels and tak my course—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’d sell the minister the morn.</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Sae hearken to me, lads,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">It’s truith that I tell:—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">There’s nae man deid honest—</div> + <div class="verse indent6"><i>I ken by mysel’</i>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1911</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">{36}</span></p> + + + <h3 class="nobreak" id="THEOCRITUS_IN_SCOTS"> + THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS + </h3> + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Kirn5" title="The Kirn"> + <i>The Kirn</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_5_5" href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> + </h4> + +<p class="center">(Idyll vii)</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">’Twas</span> last back-end that me and Dauvit Sma’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Robert Todd, the herd at Meldonha’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The hairst weel ower and under rape and thack,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Set oot to keep the kirn at Haystounslack,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wat Laidlaw’s fairm—for Wat’s the rale stench breed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Borders kenned afore the auld lairds dee’d,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And a’ the soor-milk Wast ran doun the Tweed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We werena half the road, nor bye the grain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur auncient Druids left the standin’ stane,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When Gidden Scott cam heinchin’ ower the muir,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gidden the wale o’ men; ilk kirn and fair,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">{37}</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Clippin’ and spainin’, was a cheerier place</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For ae sicht o’ his honest bawsened face.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He was a drover, famed frae Clyde to Spey,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The graundest juidge o’ beasts—a dealer tae.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His furthy coat o’ tup’s ’oo spun at hame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His weel-worn maud that buckled roond his wame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His snootit kep that hid the broos aneath,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His buits wi’ tackets like a harrow’s teeth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His shairny leggin’s and his michty staff</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Proclaimed him for a drover three mile aff.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Losh! lads,” he cried, “whaur are ye traivellin’ noo,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Trig as the lassies decked for them they loe?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is’t to a countra splore, or to the toun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur creeshy baillies to their feasts sit doun?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or is’t some waddin’ wi’ its pipes and reels</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That gars the chuckies loup ahint your heels?”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Weel met,” says I. “The day our jaunt we mak</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To join Wat Laidlaw’s kirn at Haystounslack.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lang is the gait, and, sin’ it’s pairtly yours,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What say ye to a sang to wile the ’oors?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In a’ the land frae Wigtoun to the Mearns</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s nane that ploos sae straucht the rig o’ Burns</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As your guid sel’ (so rins the countra sough);</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I, though frae sic genius far eneuch,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I, tae, hae clinkit rhymes at orra whiles.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ll niffer sangs to pass the muirland miles.”</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">{38}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Na, Jock,” says he, and wagged a sarious pow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Sma’ share hae I in that divinest lowe.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A roopy craw as weel a pairt micht claim</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ the laverock’s sang as me in Robin’s fame.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sin’ we’re a’ guid freends, I’ll sing a sang</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I made last Monday drovin’ ower the Whang.”⁠<a id="FNanchor_6_6" href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><i>Gidden’s Song</i></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Sin’</span> Andra took the jee and gaed aff across the sea</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I’m as dowff as ony fisher-wife that watches on the sand,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’m as restless as a staig, me that aince was like a craig,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When I think upon yon far frem’t land.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We had aften cuisten oot, I mindna what aboot;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We had feucht a bit and flytit and gien and taen the blow;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But oor dander was nae mair than the rouk in simmer air,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For I loe’d him as a lassie loes her joe.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He had sic a couthy way, aye sae canty and sae gay;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He garred a body’s hert loup up and kept the warld gaun roun’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dreichest saul could see he had sunlicht in his ee,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And there’s no his marrow left in the toun.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">{39}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We were ’greed like twae stirks that feed amang the birks,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My every thocht I shared wi’ him, his hinmost plack was mine;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We had nocht to hide frae ither, he was mair to me than brither;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But that’s a’ bye wi’t langsyne.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">As I gang oot and in, in my heid there rins a tüne,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Some tüne o’ Andra’s playin’ in the happy days that’s gane.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When I sit at festive scene there’s a mist comes ower my een</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the kind lad that’s left me my lane.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">So Gidden spak, and ower the lave o’ us cam</div> + <div class="verse indent4">A sadness waur than penitential psalm.</div> + <div class="verse indent4">The tüne was cried; nae jovial rantin’ stave</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Wad set a mood sae pensive and sae grave.</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Sae, followin’ on, I cleared my hass and sung</div> + <div class="verse indent4">A sang I made langsyne when I was young.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><i>Jock’s Song</i></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2"><span class="smcap">Sing</span>, lads, and bend the bicker; gloamin’ draps</div> + <div class="verse indent10">On Wiston side.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A’ ye that dwal in sicht o’ Tintock’s taps</div> + <div class="verse indent10">Frae Tweed to Clyde</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">{40}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Gae stert your reels and ding the warlock Care</div> + <div class="verse indent10">At young bluid’s call.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">Mind ye the lass that üsed to bide langsyne</div> + <div class="verse indent10">At Coulter-fit?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">(Gae pipe your sprigs, for youth is ill to bin’</div> + <div class="verse indent10">And pleesures flit.)</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Her mither keep’t the inn, and doun the stair</div> + <div class="verse indent10">A’ day wad bawl.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">My heid rins round—I think they ca’d her Jean.</div> + <div class="verse indent10">She looked sae high,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She walked sae prood, it micht hae been the Queen</div> + <div class="verse indent10">As she gaed bye,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Buskit sae trig, and ower her yellow hair</div> + <div class="verse indent10">A denty shawl.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">Ae day the King himsel’ was ridin’ through</div> + <div class="verse indent10">And saw her face.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He telled his son, “For ae kiss o’ her mou</div> + <div class="verse indent10">I’d change my place</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Wi’ ony gangrel, roup my royal share,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My kingly hall.”</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">{41}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">I kenna if I loe’d the lassie true,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">But this I ken;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To get a welcome frae her een o’ blue,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">To see again</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Her dimpled cheek, ten ’ears o’ life I’d spare</div> + <div class="verse indent10">In prison wall.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">Ae simmer morn when a’ the lift was clear</div> + <div class="verse indent10">And saft winds sighed,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Wi’ kilted coats I saw her wanderin’ near</div> + <div class="verse indent10">The burnie’s tide.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thinks I, Queen Mary was na half as fair</div> + <div class="verse indent10">In days o’ aul’.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">Sing, lads, and bend the bicker; e’enin’ fa’s—</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My denty doo</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Has sell’t hersel’ for gowd and silken braws</div> + <div class="verse indent10">That weemen loe.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A feckless laird has bocht her beauty rare,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">Her love, her all.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">{42}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">I watched them as their coach gaed ower the pass</div> + <div class="verse indent10">Wi’ blindit een;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A shilpit carle aside the brawest lass</div> + <div class="verse indent10">That Scotland’s seen.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Far, far she’s gane, and toom the warld and puir</div> + <div class="verse indent10">Whaur I maun dwal.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Will steal my saul.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">A’ day I wander like a restless ghaist</div> + <div class="verse indent10">Ower hill and lea;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The gun hangs in the spence, the rod’s unüsed,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">The dowg gangs free.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">At nicht I dream, and O! my dreams are sair,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My hert’s in thrall.</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The wind that blaws frae yont the mountain muir</i></div> + <div class="verse indent10"><i>Has stown my saul.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Loud Gidden spak; “Weel dune!—The convoy’s ower.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Here we maun pairt, for I’m for Auchenlour.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oor forbears, when they set a makkers’ test</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gied cups and wreaths to him that sang the best.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae drink hae I, thae muirland floo’ers are wauf,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae tak for awms my trustit hazel staff.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We cried guid-farin’ to his massy back,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And turned intil the road for Haystounslack.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aroond the hills and heughs the gloamin’ crap,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And a braw mune cam ridin’ ower the slap.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">{43}</span> <div class="verse indent0">The stirlin’s crooded thick as flees in air,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">An auld blackcock was flytin’ on the muir.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Afore the steadin’ cairts were settin’ doun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ilk snoddit lassie in her kirk-gaun gown,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And bauld young lads were swingin’ up the braes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ilk ane wi’ glancin’ een and dancin’ taes.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The fiddles scrapit and atower the din</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The “Floo’ers o’ Embro’” soughed oot on the win’.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Furth frae the ben cam sic a noble reek</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That hungry folk maun snowk but daurna speak;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Haggis and tripe, and puddin’s black, and yill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And guid saut beef and braxy frae the hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Crisp aiten farles, bannocks and seein’ kail;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And at the door stood Wat to cry us hail.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His walie nieves upheld a muckle bowl</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whase spicy scent was unction to the saul.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His ladle plowtered in the reamin’ brew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And for us three he filled the rummers fou.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae nectar that the auld gods quaffed on hie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae heather wine wanchancy warlocks prie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae Well o’ Bethlehem or Siloam’s püle,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was ever half as guid as Wattie’s yill.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Heaven send anither ’ear that I gang back</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To drink wi’ honest folk at Haystounslack!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">{44}</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="ph3">THEOCRITUS IN SCOTS</p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Fishers"> + <i>The Fishers</i> + </h4> + +<p class="center">(Idyll xxi)</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">’Tis</span> puirtith sooples heid and hand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And gars inventions fill the land;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And dreams come fast to folk that lie</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ nocht atween them and the sky.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Twae collier lads frae near Lasswade,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Auld skeely fishers, fand their bed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ae simmer’s nicht aside the shaw</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur Manor rins by Cademuir Law.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dry flowe-moss made them pillows fine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, for a bield to kep the win’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A muckle craig owerhung the burn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A’ thacked wi’ blaeberry and fern.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aside them lay their rods and reels,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their flee-books and their auncient creels.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The pooches o’ their moleskin breeks</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Contained unlawfu’ things like cleeks,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For folk that fish to fill their wame</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are no fasteedious at the game.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">{45}</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The twae aye took their jaunts thegither;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Geordie was ane and Tam the ither.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their chaumer was the mune-bricht sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The siller stream their lullaby.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When knocks in touns were chappin’ three,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tam woke and rubbed a blinkin’ ee.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It was the ’oor when troots are boun’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To gulp the May-flee floatin’ doun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Afore the sun is in the glens</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And dim are a’ the heughs and dens.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse center"><span class="smcap">Tam</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Short is the simmer’s daurk, they say,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But this ane seemed as lang’s the day;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For siccan dreams as passed my sicht</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I never saw in Januar’ nicht.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If some auld prophet chiel were here</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I wad hae cürious things to speir.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse center"><span class="smcap">Geordie</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“It’s conscience gars the nichtmares rin,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae, Tam my lad, what hae ye dune?”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse center"><span class="smcap">Tam</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Nae ill; my saul is free frae blame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor hae I wrocht ower hard my wame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For last we fed, as ye maun awn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On a sma’ troot and pease-meal scone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">{46}</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">But hear my dream, for aiblins you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">May find a way to riddle’t true....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I thocht that I was castin’ steady</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At the püle’s tail ayont the smiddy,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ finest gut and sma’est flee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the air was clear and the water wee;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When sudden wi’ a rowst and swish</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I rase a maist enormous fish....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I struck and heuked the monster shüre,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Guidsakes! to see him loup in air!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It was nae saumon, na, nor troot;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the last yaird my line gaed oot,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As up the stream the warlock ran</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As wild as Job’s Leviathan.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I got him stopped below the linn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur verra near I tummled in,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aye prayin’ hard my heuk wad haud;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And syne he turned a dorty jaud,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sulkin’ far doun amang the stanes.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I tapped the butt to stir his banes.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He warsled here and plowtered there,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But still I held him ticht and fair,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The water rinnin’ oxter-hie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sweat aye drippin’ in my ee.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae bit by bit I wysed him richt</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And broke his stieve and fashious micht,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till sair fordone he cam to book</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And walloped in a shallow crook.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">{47}</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">I had nae gad, sae doun my wand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I flang and pinned him on the sand.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I claucht him in baith airms and peched</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ashore—he was a michty wecht;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor stopped till I had got him shüre</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Amang the threshes on the muir.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then, Geordie lad, my een I rowed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The beast was made o’ solid gowd!—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sic ferlie as was never kenned,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A’ glitterin’ gowd frae end to end!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I lauched, I grat, my kep I flang,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I danced a sprig, I sang a sang.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And syne I wished that I micht dee</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If wark again was touched by me....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ that I woke; nae fish was there—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Juist the burnside and empty muir.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Noo tell me honest, Geordie lad,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Think ye yon daftlike aith will haud?”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse center"><span class="smcap">Geordie</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Tuts, Tam ye fule, the aith ye sware</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was like your fish, nae less, nae mair.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For dreams are nocht but simmer rouk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And him that trusts them hunts the gowk....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s time we catched some fish o’ flesh</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or we will baith gang brekfastless.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">{48}</span></p> + + + <h3 class="nobreak" id="INTER_ARMA"> + INTER ARMA + </h3> + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Sweet_Argos"> + <i>Sweet Argos</i> + </h4> + +<p class="center">An Epistle from Jock in billets to Sandy in the trenches.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">When</span> the Almichty took His hand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Frae shapin’ skies and seas and land,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some orra bits left ower He fand,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Riddled them roun’—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A clart o’ stane and wud and sand—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And made this toun.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A glaury loan, a tumblin’ kirk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Twae glandered mears, a dwaibly stirk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hens, ae auld wife, a wauflike birk—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That’s whaur I dwal,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While you are fechtin’ like a Turk</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ayont Thiepval.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The weet drips through the bauks abune,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ootbye the cundies roar and rin,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s comfort naether oot nor in,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The wind gangs blather;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We maun be michty sunk in sin</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To earn sic wather.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">{49}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But, Sandy lad, for you it’s waur,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You on that muckle Zollern scaur,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your lintwhite locks a’ fyled wi’ glaur,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And hungry—my word!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While Gairmans dae the best they daur</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To send ye skyward....</div> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">’Twas late yestreen that we cam doun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The road that leads frae Morval toun;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We cam like mice, nae sang nor soun’,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nae daff nor jest;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Like ghaists that trail the midnicht roun’</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We crap to rest.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For sax weeks hunkerin’ in a hole</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’d kenned the warst a man can thole—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae skirlin’ dash frae goal to goal</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Yellin’ like wud,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the lang stell that wechts the soul</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And tooms the bluid.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Weel, yestereen we limped alang,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Me and auld Dave frae Cambuslang,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Andra, him that had the gang</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In Tamson’s mills,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Linton Bob that wrocht amang</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Pentland Hills.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">{50}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And as we socht oor shauchlin’ way</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Atween the runts o’ Bernafay,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The mune ayont the darkenin’ brae</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Lichted a gap.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bob peched. “Ma God,” I heard him say,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“The Cauldstaneslap!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Syne we won ower the hinmost rig</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Amang the dumps, whaur warm and trig</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The braziers lowe and wee trucks jig</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Frae bing to ree.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dave gripped my airm. “It’s fair Coatbrig!”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He stepped oot free....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">This morn I’m sittin’ on a box,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Reddin’ an unco pair o’ socks,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Watchin’ the yaird whaur muckle docks</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And nettles blaw,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And turks’ caps, marygolds and phlox</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Stand in a raw.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The berry busses hing wi’ weet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The smiddy clang comes doun the street,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A coo is routin’, bairnies greet,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A young cock craws.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I shut my een; my traivelled feet</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Were back i’ the Shaws.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">{51}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Back twenty year. A tautit wean,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I heard my granny’s voice complain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ bursted buits: I saw the rain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Rin aff the byre;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The burn wi’ foamin’ yellow mane</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Roared doun the swire.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A can o’ worms ae pooch concealed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The tither scones weel brooned and jeeled;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Let eld sit cowerin’ in the beild,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Youth maun be oot;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The rain may pour, he’s for the field</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To catch a troot....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And, Sandy lad, a stound o’ joy</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gaed through my breist. A halflin’s ploy,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">An auld wife’s tale, a bairnie’s toy,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A lassie’s favour,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are things nae war can clean destroy</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nor kill the savour.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s in sma’ things that greatness lies,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The simple aye confoonds the wise,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The towers that ettle at the skies</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Crack, coup and tummle,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The blather, swalled to unco size,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Bursts wi’ a rummle....</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">{52}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Straucht to the Deil oor hainin’s fly;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A spate can droon the best o’ kye:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The day oor heids we cairry high</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And wanton rarely:—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The morn in some black sheugh dounbye</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We floonder sairly.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The breist o’ man is fortune-pruif,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He heeds nor jade nor deil nor cuif,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If twae-three things the Guid Folk give</div> + <div class="verse indent2">His lot to cheer,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sma’ things that oor mortal luve</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Maun aye haud dear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What gars us fecht? It’s no the law,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor poaliticians in a raw,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor hate o’ folk we never saw;—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Oot in yon hell</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve killed a wheen—the job wad staw</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Auld Hornie’s sel’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s luve, my man, nae less nae mair,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Luve o’ auld freends at kirk and fair,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Auld-farrant sangs that memories bear</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O’ but and ben,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some wee cot-hoose far up the muir</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or doun the glen.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">{53}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And Gairmans are nae doot the same:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The lad ye’ve stickin’ in the wame</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fechts no for deevilment or fame,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But juist for pride</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In his bit dacent canty hame</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By some burnside.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s queer that the Almichty’s plan</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sud set oot man to fecht wi’ man</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the same luve—their native lan’,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And wife and weans.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s queer, but threep the best ye can,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The truith remains.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The warld’s a fecht. Frae star to stane</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The hale Creation strives in pain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Paiks maun be tholed by ilk alane,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The cup be drainit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If man’s to get the bunemost gain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That God’s ordainit.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But luve’s the fire that keeps him gaun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ilk puir forjaskit weariet man.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hate sparks like pouther in the pan,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And pride will flicker,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But luve will burn till skies are faun,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Mair clear and siccar.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">{54}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And a’ we socht o’ honest worth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ll find again in nobler birth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For Heaven itsel’ begins on earth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And caps the riggin’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’ what in pain and toil and dearth</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We’ve aye been biggin’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Nae walth o’ gowden streets for me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I ask but that my een sud see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The auld green hopes, the broomy lea,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The clear burn’s püles,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And wander whaur the wind blaws free</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Frae heather hills.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sae, Sandy, if it’s written true</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That you and me sud warstle through,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ whatna joy we’ll hand the ploo</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And delve the yaird!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ten thoosandfauld the mair we’ll loe</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Oor Border swaird!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But if like ither dacent men</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ve looked oor last on Etterick glen,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And some day sune will see the en’</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That brings nae shame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We’ll face’t,—for in that ’oor we’ll ken</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We’re hame, we’re hame.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">{55}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="On_Leave"> + <i>On Leave</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">I had</span> auchteen months o’ the war,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Steel and pouther and reek,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fitsore, weary and wauf,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Syne I got hame for a week.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Daft-like I entered the toun,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I scarcely kenned for my ain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I sleepit twae days in my bed,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The third I buried my wean.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The wife sat greetin’ at hame,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While I wandered oot to the hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My hert as cauld as a stane,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But my heid gaun roond like a mill.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I wasna the man I had been,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Juist a gangrel dozin’ in fits;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The pin had faun oot o’ the warld,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I doddered amang the bits.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">{56}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I clamb to the Lammerlaw</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And sat me doun on the cairn;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The best o’ my freends were deid,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And noo I had buried my bairn;—</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The stink o’ the gas in my nose,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The colour o’ bluid in my ee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the biddin’ o’ Hell in my lug</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To curse my Maker and dee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But up in that gloamin’ hour,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">On the heather and thymy sod,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ the sun gaun doun in the Wast</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I made my peace wi’ God....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I saw a thoosand hills,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Green and gowd i’ the licht,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Roond and backit like sheep,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Huddle into the nicht.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But I kenned they werena hills,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But the same as the mounds ye see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Doun by the back o’ the line</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Whaur they bury oor lads that dee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They were juist the same as at Loos</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Whaur we happit Andra and Dave.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There was naething in life but death,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a’ the warld was a grave.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">{57}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A’ the hills were graves,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The graves o’ the deid langsyne,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And somewhere oot in the Wast</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Was the grummlin’ battle-line.</div> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But up frae the howe o’ the glen</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Came the waft o’ the simmer een.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The stink gaed oot o’ my nose,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I sniffed it, caller and clean.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The smell o’ the simmer hills,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thyme and hinny and heather,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Jeniper, birk and fern,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Rose in the lown June weather.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It minded me o’ auld days,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When I wandered barefit there,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Guddlin’ troot in the burns,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Howkin’ the tod frae his lair.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">If a’ the hills were graves</div> + <div class="verse indent2">There was peace for the folk aneath</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And peace for the folk abune,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And life in the hert o’ death....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Up frae the howe o’ the glen</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Cam the murmur o’ wells that creep</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To swell the heids o’ the burns,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the kindly voices o’ sheep.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">{58}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And the cry o’ a whaup on the wing,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a plover seekin’ its bield.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And oot o’ my crazy lugs</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Went the din o’ the battlefield.</div> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I flang me doun on my knees</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I prayed as my hert wad break,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I got my answer sune,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For oot o’ the nicht God spake.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">As a man that wauks frae a stound</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And kens but a single thocht,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oot o’ the wind and the nicht</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I got the peace that I socht.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Loos and the Lammerlaw,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The battle was feucht in baith,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Death was roond and abune,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But life in the hert o’ death.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A’ the warld was a grave,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But the grass on the graves was green,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the stanes were bields for hames,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the laddies played atween.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Kneelin’ aside the cairn</div> + <div class="verse indent2">On the heather and thymy sod,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The place I had kenned as a bairn,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I made my peace wi’ God.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">{59}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Kirk_Bell"> + <i>The Kirk Bell</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">When</span> oor lads gaed ower the tap</div> + <div class="verse indent2">It was nine o’ a Sabbath morn.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I felt as my hert wad stap,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I wished I had ne’er been born;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I wished I had ne’er been born</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For I feared baith the foe and mysel’,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Till there fell on my ear forlorn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The jow o’ an auld kirk bell.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For a moment the guns were deid,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Sae I heard it faint and far;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And that bell was ringin’ inside my heid</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As I stauchered into the war.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I heard nae ither soun’,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Though the air was a wild stramash,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And oor barrage beat the grun’</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like the crack o’ a cairter’s lash,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like the sting o’ a lang whup lash;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ilk breath war a prayer or an aith,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And whistle and drone and crash</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Made the pitiless sang o’ death.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">{60}</span> <div class="verse indent0">But in a’ that deavin’ din</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like the cry o’ the lost in Hell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I was hearkenin’ to a peacefu’ tüne</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the jow o’ a far-off bell.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I had on my Sabbath claes,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And was steppin’ doucely the gait</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the kirk on the broomy braes;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I was standin’ aside the yett,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Crackin’ aside the yett;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And syne I was singin’ lood</div> + <div class="verse indent2">’Mang the lasses snod and blate</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ their roses and southernwood.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I hae nae mind o’ the tex’</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For the psalm was the thing for me,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I gied a gey wheen Huns their paiks</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To the tüne o’ auld “Dundee.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They tell me I feucht like wud,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And I’ve got a medal to shaw,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But in a’ that habble o’ smoke and bluid</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My mind was far awa’;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My mind was far awa’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the peace o’ a simmer glen,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Daunderin’ hame ower the heathery law,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ twae-three ither men....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sudden the lift grew red</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ere we wan to the pairtin’ place;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the next I kenned I was lyin’ in bed</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a Sister washin’ my face.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">{61}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My faither was stench U.P.;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nae guid in Rome could he fin’;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But, this war weel ower, I’m gaun back to see</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That kirk ahint the line—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That kirk ahint oor line,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And siller the priest I’ll gie</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To pray for the sauls o’ the deid langsyne</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whae bigged the steeple for me.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It’s no that I’m chief wi’ the Pape,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But I owe the warld to yon bell;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the beadle that swung the rape</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Will get half a croon for himsel’.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1917</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">{62}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Home_Thoughts_from_Abroad"> + <i>Home Thoughts from Abroad</i> + </h4> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><i><span class="firstword smcap">Aifter</span> the war, says the papers, they’ll no be content at hame,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The lads that hae feucht wi’ death twae ’ear i’ the mud and the rain and the snaw;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>For aifter a sodger’s life the shop will be unco tame;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>They’ll ettle at fortune and freedom in the new lands far awa.’</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">No me!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By God! No me!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aince we hae lickit oor faes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And aince I get oot o’ this hell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the rest o’ my leevin’ days</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll mak a pet o’ mysel’.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll haste me back wi’ an eident fit</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And settle again in the same auld bit.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And oh! the comfort to snowk again</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The reek o’ my mither’s but-and-ben,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wee box-bed and the ingle neuk</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the kail-pat hung frae the chimley-heuk!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">{63}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll gang back to the shop like a laddie to play,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tak doun the shutters at skreigh o’ day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And weigh oot floor wi’ a carefu’ pride,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And hear the clash o’ the countraside.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll wear for ordinar’ a roond hard hat,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A collar and dicky and black cravat.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If the weather’s wat I’ll no stir ootbye</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’oot an umbrella to keep me dry.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I think I’d better no tak a wife—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ve had a’ the adventure I want in life.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But at nicht, when the doors are steeked, I’ll sit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While the bleeze loups high frae the aiken ruit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And smoke my pipe aside the crook.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And read in some douce auld-farrant book;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or crack wi’ Davie and mix a rummer,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While the auld wife’s pow nid-nods in slum’er;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And hark to the winds gaun tearin’ bye</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thank the Lord I’m sae warm and dry.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When simmer brings the lang bricht e’en,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll daunder doun to the bowling-green,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or delve my yaird and my roses tend</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the big floo’er-show in the next back-end.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whiles, when the sun blinks aifter rain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll tak my rod and gang up the glen;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Me and Davie, we ken the püles</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whaur the troot grow great in the howes o’ the hills;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, wanderin’ back when the gloamin’ fa’s</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the midges dance in the hazel shaws,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">{64}</span> <div class="verse indent0">We’ll stop at the yett ayont the hicht</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And drink great wauchts o’ the scented nicht,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While the hoose lamps kin’le raw by raw</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And a yellow star hings ower the law.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Davie will lauch like a wean at a fair</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And nip my airm to mak certain shüre</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That we’re back frae yon place o’ dule and dreid,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To oor ain kind warld—</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent24"><i>But Davie’s deid!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Nae mair gude nor ill can betide him.</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>We happit him doun by Beaumont toun,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And the half o’ my hert’s in the mools aside him.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1917</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">{65}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Fragment_of_an_Ode_in_Praise_of_the" title="Fragment of an Ode"> + <i>Fragment of an Ode in Praise of the + Royal Scots Fusiliers</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Ye’ll</span> a’ hae heard tell o’ the Fusilier Jocks,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">The famous auld Fusilier Jocks!</div> + <div class="verse indent6">They’re as stieve as a stane,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And as teuch as a bane,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And as gleg as a pack o’ muircocks.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They’re maistly as braid as they’re lang,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the Gairman’s a pump off the fang</div> + <div class="verse indent4">When he faces the fire in their ee.</div> + <div class="verse indent6">They’re no verra bonny,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I question if ony</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mair terrible sicht ye could see</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Than a chairge o’ the Fusilier Jocks.</div> + <div class="verse indent6">It gars Hindenburg swear</div> + <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Gott in Himmel</i>, nae mair</div> + <div class="verse indent4">O’ thae sudden and scan’alous shocks!”</div> + <div class="verse indent6">And the cannon o’ Krupp</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Ane and a’ they shut up</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like a pentit bit jaick-in-the-box,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">At the rush o’ the Fusilier Jocks.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">{66}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The Kaiser he says to his son</div> + <div class="verse indent4">(The auld ane that looks like a fox)—</div> + <div class="verse indent6">“I went ower far</div> + <div class="verse indent6">When I stertit this war,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Forgettin’ the Fusilier Jocks.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I could manage the French and Italians and Poles,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Russians and Tartars and yellow Mongols,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Serbs and the Belgians, the English and Greeks,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And even the lads that gang wantin’ the breeks;</div> + <div class="verse indent4">But what o’ thae Fusilier Jocks,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">That stopna for duntin’ and knocks?</div> + <div class="verse indent6">They’d rin wi’ a yell</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Ower the plainstanes o’ Hell;</div> + <div class="verse indent4">They’re no men ava—they are rocks!</div> + <div class="verse indent6">They’d gang barefit</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Through the Bottomless Pit,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And they’ll tak Berlin in their socks,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Will thae terrible Fusilier Jocks!”...</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1917</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">{67}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Great_Ones"> + <i>The Great Ones</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Ae</span> morn aside the road frae Bray</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I wrocht my squad to mend the track;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A feck o’ sodgers passed that way</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And garred me often straucht my back.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">By cam a General on a horse,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A jinglin’ lad on either side.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I gie’d my best salute of course,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Well pleased to see sic honest pride.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And syne twae Frenchmen in a cawr—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Yon are the lads to speel the braes;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They speldered me inch-deep wi’ glaur</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And verra near ran ower my taes.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And last the pipes, and at their tail</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Oor gaucy lads in martial line.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I stopped my wark and cried them hail,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And wished them weel for auld lang syne.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">{68}</span></p> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">An auld chap plooin’ on the muir</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ne’er jee’d his heid nor held his han’,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But drave his furrow straucht and fair,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thinks I, “But ye’re the biggest man.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">{69}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Fisher_Jamie"> + <i>Fisher Jamie</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Puir</span> Jamie’s killed. A better lad</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ye wadna find to busk a flee</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or burn a püle or wield a gad</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Frae Berwick to the Clints o’ Dee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And noo he’s in a happier land.—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">It’s Gospel truith and Gospel law</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That Heaven’s yett maun open stand</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To folk that for their country fa’.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But Jamie will be ill to mate;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He lo’ed nae müsic, kenned nae tünes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Except the sang o’ Tweed in spate,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or Talla loupin’ ower its linns.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I sair misdoot that Jamie’s heid</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A croun o’ gowd will never please;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He liked a kep o’ dacent tweed</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Whaur he could stick his casts o’ flees.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">{70}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">If Heaven is a’ that man can dream</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a’ that honest herts can wish,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It maun provide some muirland stream,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For Jamie dreamed o’ nocht but fish.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And weel I wot he’ll up and speir</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In his bit blate and canty way,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wi’ kind Apostles standin’ near</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Whae in their time were fishers tae.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He’ll offer back his gowden croun</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And in its place a rod he’ll seek,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And bashfu’-like his herp lay doun</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And speir a leister and a cleek.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For Jims had aye a poachin’ whim;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He’ll sune grow tired, wi’ lawfu’ flee</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Made frae the wings o’ cherubim,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O’ castin’ ower the Crystal Sea....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I picter him at gloamin’ tide</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Steekin’ the backdoor o’ his hame</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And hastin’ to the waterside</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To play again the auld auld game;</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And syne wi’ saumon on his back,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Catch’t clean against the Heavenly law,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Heavenly byliffs on his track,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Gaun linkin’ doun some Heavenly shaw.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1916</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">{71}</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_II"> + BOOK II<br> + <br> + ENGLISH + + + </h2> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a><a id="Page_73"></a>{73}</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Fratri_Dilectissimo7" title="Fratri Dilectissimo"> + <i>Fratri Dilectissimo</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_7_7" href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> + </h4> + +<p class="center">W. H. B.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">When</span> we were little wandering boys,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And every hill was blue and high,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On ballad ways and martial joys</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We fed our fancies, you and I.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With Bruce we crouched in bracken shade,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With Douglas charged the Paynim foes;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And oft in moorland noons I played</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Colkitto to your grave Montrose.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The obliterating seasons flow—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They cannot kill our boyish game.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though creeds may change and kings may go,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Yet burns undimmed the ancient flame.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While young men in their pride make haste</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The wrong to right, the bond to free,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And plant a garden in the waste,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Still rides our Scottish chivalry.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">{74}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Another end had held your dream—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To die fulfilled of hope and might,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To pass in one swift rapturous gleam</div> + <div class="verse indent2">From mortal to immortal light—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But through long hours of labouring breath</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You watched the world grow small and far,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And met the constant eyes of Death,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And haply knew how kind they are.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">One boon the Fates relenting gave—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Not where the scented hill-wind blows</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From cedar thickets lies your grave,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nor ’mid the steep Himálayan snows.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Night calls the stragglers to the nest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And at long last ’tis home indeed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For your far-wandering feet to rest</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Forever by the crooks of Tweed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">In perfect honour, perfect truth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And gentleness to all mankind,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You trod the golden paths of youth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Then left the world and youth behind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ah no! ’Tis we who fade and fail—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And you from Time’s slow torments free</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall pass from strength to strength and scale</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The steeps of immortality.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">{75}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Dear heart, in that serener air,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">If blessed souls may backward gaze,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some slender nook of memory spare</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For our old happy moorland days.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I sit alone, and musing fills</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My breast with pain that shall not die,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till once again o’er greener hills</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We ride together, you and I.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1912</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">{76}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="To_Lionel_Phillips8" title="To Lionel Phillips"> + <i>To Lionel Phillips</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_8_8" href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Time</span>, they say, must the best of us capture,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And travel and battle and gems and gold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No more can kindle the ancient rapture,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For even the youngest of hearts grows old.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But in you, I think, the boy is not over;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">So take this medley of ways and wars</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As the gift of a friend and a fellow-lover</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of the fairest country under the stars.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1909</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">{77}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="To_Major-General" title="To Sir Reginald Talbot"> + <i>To Major-General<br> + The Hon. Sir Reginald Talbot, K.C.B.</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_9_9" href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I tell</span> of old Virginian ways;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And who more fit my tale to scan</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Than you, who knew in far-off days</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The eager horse of Sheridan;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who saw the sullen meads of fate,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The tattered scrub, the blood-drenched sod,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where Lee, the greatest of the great,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Bent to the storm of God?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I tell lost tales of savage wars;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And you have known the desert sands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The camp beneath the silver stars,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The rush at dawn of Arab bands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The fruitless toil, the hopeless dream,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The fainting feet, the faltering breath,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While Gordon by the ancient stream</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Waited at ease on death.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">{78}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And now, aloof from camp and field,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You spend your sunny autumn hours</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where the green folds of Chiltern shield</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The nooks of Thames amid the flowers:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You who have borne that name of pride,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In honour clean from fear or stain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which Talbot won by Henry’s side</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In vanquished Aquitaine.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1914</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">{79}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="From_the_Pentlands_Looking"> + <i>From the Pentlands, Looking + North and South</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Around</span> my feet the clouds are drawn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the cold mystery of the dawn;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No breezes cheer, no guests intrude</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My mossy, mist-clad solitude;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When sudden down the steeps of sky</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Flames a long, lightening wind. On high</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The steel-blue arch shines clear, and far,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the low lands where cattle are,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Towns smoke. And swift, a haze, a gleam,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Firth lies like a frozen stream,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Reddening with morn. Tall spires of ships,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Like thorns about the harbour’s lips,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now shake faint canvas, now, asleep,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their salt, uneasy slumbers keep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While golden-grey o’er kirk and wall</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Day wakes in the ancient capital.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Before me lie the lists of strife,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The caravanserai of life,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">{80}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Whence from the gates the merchants go</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On the world’s highways; to and fro</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sail laden ships; and in the street</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The lone foot-traveller shakes his feet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in some corner by the fire</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tells the old tale of heart’s desire.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thither from alien seas and skies</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Comes the far-quested merchandise:—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wrought silks of Broussa, Mocha’s ware</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Brown-tinted, fragrant, and the rare</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thin perfumes that the rose’s breath</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Has sought, immortal in her death:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gold, gems, and spice, and haply still</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The red rough largess of the hill</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which takes the sun and bears the vines</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Among the haunted Apennines.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And he who treads the cobbled street</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To-day in the cold North may meet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Come month, come year, the dusky East,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And share the Caliph’s secret feast;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or in the toil of wind and sun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bear pilgrim-staff, forlorn, fordone,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till o’er the steppe, athwart the sand,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gleam the far gates of Samarkand.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The ringing quay, the weathered face,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fair skies, dusk hands, the ocean race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The palm-girt isle, the frosty shore,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gales and hot suns the wide world o’er,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grey North, red South, and burnished West,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The goals of the old tireless quest,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">{81}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Leap in the smoke, immortal, free,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where shines yon morning fringe of sea.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I turn;—how still the moorlands lie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sleep-locked beneath the awakening sky!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The film of morn is silver-grey</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On the young heather, and away,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dim, distant, set in ribs of hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Green glens are shining, stream and mill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Clachan and kirk and garden-ground,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All silent in the hush profound</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which haunts alone the hills’ recess,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The antique home of quietness.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor to the folk can piper play</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The tune of “Hills and Far Away,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For they are with them. Morn can fire</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No peaks of weary heart’s desire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor the red sunset flame behind</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some ancient ridge of longing mind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For Arcady is here, around,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In lilt of stream, in the clear sound</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of lark and moorbird, in the bold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gay glamour of the evening gold.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And so the wheel of seasons moves</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To kirk and market, to mild loves</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And modest hates, and still the sight</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of brown kind faces, and when night</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Draws dark around with age and fear</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Theirs is the simple hope to cheer.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A land of peace where lost romance</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">{82}</span> <div class="verse indent0">And ghostly shine of helm and lance</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Still dwell by castled scarp and lea</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the lost homes of chivalry,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the good fairy folk, my dear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who speak for cunning souls to hear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In crook of glen and bower of hill</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing of the Happy Ages still.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O Thou to whom man’s heart is known,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant me my morning orison.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant me the rover’s path—to see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dawn arise, the daylight flee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the far wastes of sand and sun!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant me with venturous heart to run</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On the old highway, where in pain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ecstasy man strives amain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Outstrips his fellows, or, too weak,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Finds the great rest that wanderers seek!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant me the joy of wind and brine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The zest of food, the taste of wine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The fighter’s strength, the echoing strife,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The high tumultuous lists of life—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">May I ne’er lag, nor hapless fall,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor weary at the battle-call!...</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But when the even brings surcease,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant me the happy moorland peace;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That in my heart’s depth ever lie</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That ancient land of heath and sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where the old rhymes and stories fall</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In kindly, soothing pastoral.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">{83}</span> <div class="verse indent0">There in the hills grave silence lies,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Death himself wears friendly guise;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There be my lot, my twilight stage,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dear city of my pilgrimage.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1898</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">{84}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Strong_Man_Armed"> + <i>The Strong Man Armed</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">“Gift</span> me guerdon and grant me grace,”</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Said the Lord of the North.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Nothing I ask thee of gear or place</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Ere I get me forth.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gift one guerdon to mine and me</div> + <div class="verse indent6">For the shade and the sheen.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">“Ask and it shall be given unto thee,”</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Said Mary the Queen.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“May I never falter the wide world through,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">But stand in the gate:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">May my sword bite sharp and my steel ring true</div> + <div class="verse indent6">At the ford and the strait:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bide not on bed nor dally with song</div> + <div class="verse indent6">When the strife goeth keen:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This be my boon from the Gods of the Strong!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent6">“Be it so,” said the Queen.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">{85}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“May I stand in the mist and the clear and the chill,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">In the cycle of wars,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the brown of the moss and the grey of the hill</div> + <div class="verse indent6">With my eyes to the stars!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gift this guerdon and grant this grace</div> + <div class="verse indent6">That I bid good e’en,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sword in the hand and the foot to the race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wind in my teeth and the rain in my face!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent6">“Be it so,” said the Queen.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1895</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">{86}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Soldier_of_Fortune"> + <i>The Soldier of Fortune</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I have</span> seen thy face in the foray, I have heard thy voice in the fray,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When the stars shrunk in the silence, and the wild midnights blew.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Men have worn their steel blades, seeking by night and day;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Selling their souls for the vain dreams—I have followed the true.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Frosts have dulled the scabbard, suns have furrowed the thong,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the great winds of the north-east have steeled the vagrant eye.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So through the world I wander, haggard and fierce and strong,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Seeking the goal I see not, toiling I tell not why.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have loved all good things, song and woman and wine,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The hearth’s red glow in the even, the gladsome face of a friend,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The suns and snows of the hill land, the sting of the winter’s brine,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">{87}</span> <div class="verse indent2">Dawn and noon and the twilight, day and the daylight’s end.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I have ridden the old path, ridden it fierce and strong,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By camp and city and moorland and the grey face of the sea.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wrath abides on my forehead but at my heart a song,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The ancient wayfaring ballad, the royal chant of the free.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For ever in cloud or in maytide Thy voice has been in my ear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the quivering mists of battle Thy face has shone like a star.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Never the steel ranks broke when the Lord sent forth His fear</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But Thy hand has held my bridle and girt my soul for war.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am broken and houseless, lost my clan and my name;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A stranger treads on my homelands, no heart remembereth me.—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But be Thou my portion, Lady of dew and flame!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Little I ask of the red gold, having the winds and thee.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1899</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">{88}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Singer"> + <i>The Singer</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Cold</span> blows the drift on the hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Sere is the heather,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">High goes the wind and shrill,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Mirk is the weather.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stout be the front I show,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Come what the gods send!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Plaided and girt I go</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Forth to the world’s end.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My brain is the stithy of years,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My heart the red gold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which the gods with sharp anguish and tears</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Have wrought from of old.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the shining first dawn o’ the world,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I was old as the sky—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The morning dew on the field</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Is no younger than I.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I am the magician of life,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The hero of runes;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sorrows of eld and old strife</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ring clear in my tunes.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">{89}</span> <div class="verse indent0">The sea lends her minstrel voice,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The storm-cloud its grey;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ladies have wept at my notes,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Fair ladies and gay.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My home is the rim of the mist,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The ring of the spray.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The hart has his corrie, the hawk has her nest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But I—the Lost Way.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Come dawning or noontide, come winter or spring,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Come leisure, come war,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I tarry not, I, but my burden I sing</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Beyond and afar.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I sing of lost hopes and old kings</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the maids of the past;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye shiver adread at my strings</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But ye heed them at last.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I sing of cold death and the grave—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Fools tremble afraid:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I sing of hot life, and the brave</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Go forth undismayed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I sleep by the well-head of joy</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the fountain of pain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Man lives, loves, and fights, and then is not—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I only remain.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">{90}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Ye mock me and hold me to scorn—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I seek not your grace;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye gird me with terror—forlorn,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I laugh in your face.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1898</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">{91}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Processional10" title="Processional"> + <i>Processional</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_10_10" href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">In</span> the ancient orderly places, with a blank and orderly mind,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We sit in our green walled gardens and our corn and oil increase;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sunset nor dawn can wake us, for the face of the heavens is kind;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We light our taper at even and call our comfort peace.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Peaceful our clear horizon; calm as our sheltered days</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Are the lilied meadows we dwell in, the decent highways we tread.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Duly we make our offerings, but we know not the God we praise,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For He is the God of the living, and we, His children, are dead.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I will arise and get me beyond this country of dreams,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where all is ancient and ordered and hoar with the frost of years,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the land where loftier mountains cradle their wilder streams,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the fruitful earth is blessed with more bountiful smiles and tears:—</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">{92}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There in the home of the lightnings, where the fear of the Lord is set free,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where the thunderous midnights fade to the turquoise magic of morn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The days of man are a vapour, blown from a shoreless sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A little cloud before sunrise, a cry in the void forlorn.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I am weary of men and cities and the service of little things,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where the flame-like glories of life are shrunk to a candle’s ray.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Smite me, my God, with Thy presence, blind my eyes with Thy wings,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the heart of Thy virgin earth show me Thy secret way!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1906</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">{93}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Avignon"> + <i>Avignon</i> + </h4> +<p class="center">1759</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Hearts to break but nane to sell,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gear to tine but nane to hain;—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>We maun dree a weary spell</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Ere our lad comes back again.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I walk</span> abroad on winter days,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When storms have stripped the wide champaign,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For northern winds have norland ways,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And scents of Badenoch haunt the rain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And by the lipping river path,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When in the fog the Rhone runs grey,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I see the heather of the strath,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And watch the salmon leap in Spey.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The hills are feathered with young trees,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I set them for my children’s boys.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I made a garden deep in ease,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A pleasance for my lady’s joys.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">{94}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Strangers have heired them. Long ago</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She died,—kind fortune thus to die;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And my one son by Beauly flow</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Gave up the soul that could not lie.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Old, elbow-worn, and pinched I bide</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The final toll the gods may take.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The laggard years have quenched my pride;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They cannot kill the ache, the ache.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weep not the dead, for they have sleep</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who lie at home; but ah, for me</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the deep grave my heart will weep</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With longing for my lost countrie.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Hearts to break but nane to sell,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gear to tine but nane to hain;—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>We maun dree a weary spell</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Ere our lad comes back again.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1911</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">{95}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Gipsys_Song_to_the_Lady_Cassilis"> + <i>The Gipsy’s Song to the Lady Cassilis</i> + </h4> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot_ans"> +<p>“Whereupon the Faas, coming down from the Gates of Galloway, +did so bewitch my lady that she forgat husband and kin, +and followed the tinkler’s piping.”—Chap-book of the <i>Raid +of Cassilis</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">The</span> door is open to the wall,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The air is bright and free;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Adown the stair, across the hall,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And then—the world and me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The bare grey bent, the running stream,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The fire beside the shore;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And we will bid the hearth farewell,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And never seek it more,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My love,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And never seek it more.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And you shall wear no silken gown,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">No maid shall bind your hair;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The yellow broom shall be your gem,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Your braid the heather rare.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Athwart the moor, adown the hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Across the world away;</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">{96}</span> <div class="verse indent0">The path is long for happy hearts</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That sing to greet the day,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My love,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That sing to greet the day.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When morning cleaves the eastern grey,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the lone hills are red;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When sunsets light the evening way</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And birds are quieted;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In autumn noon and springtide dawn,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By hill and dale and sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The world shall sing its ancient song</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of hope and joy for thee,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My love,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of hope and joy for thee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And at the last no solemn stole</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Shall on thy breast be laid;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No mumbling priest shall speed thy soul,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">No charnel vault thee shade.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But by the shadowed hazel copse,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Aneath the greenwood tree,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where airs are soft and waters sing,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thou’lt ever sleep by me,</div> + <div class="verse indent10">My love,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thou’lt ever sleep by me.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1898</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">{97}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Wood_Magic"> + <i>Wood Magic</i> + </h4> +<p class="center">(9th Century)</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I will</span> walk warily in the wise woods on the fringes of eventide,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For the covert is full of noises and the stir of nameless things.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I have seen in the dusk of the beeches the shapes of the lords that ride,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And down in the marish hollow I have heard the lady who sings.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And once in an April gloaming I met a maid on the sward,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">All marble-white and gleaming and tender and wild of eye;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I, Jehan the hunter, who speak am a grown man, middling hard,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But I dreamt a month of the maid, and wept I knew not why.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Down by the edge of the firs, in a coppice of heath and vine,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Is an old moss-grown altar, shaded by briar and bloom,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">{98}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Denys, the priest, hath told me ’twas the lord Apollo’s shrine</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the days ere Christ came down from God to the Virgin’s womb.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I never go past but I doff my cap and avert my eyes—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">(Were Denys to catch me I trow I’d do penance for half a year.)—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For once I saw a flame there and the smoke of a sacrifice,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a voice spake out of the thicket that froze my soul with fear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Wherefore to God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Mary the Blessed Mother, and the kindly Saints as well,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I will give glory and praise, and them I cherish the most,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For they have the keys of Heaven, and save the soul from Hell.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But likewise I will spare for the lord Apollo a grace,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And a bow for the lady Venus—as a friend but not as a thrall.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis true they are out of Heaven, but some day they may win the place;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For gods are kittle cattle, and a wise man honours them all.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1911</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">{99}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="The_Song_of_the_Sea_Captain"> + <i>The Song of the Sea Captain</i> + </h4> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot_ans"> +<p>Diego d’Alboquerque, brother of the great Affonso, a knight of the +Portuguese Order of Jesus Christ, having landed on the coast +north of Zanzibar, wandered to the Abyssinian highlands, +where he saw and loved Prester John’s daughter, Melissa, a +cousin of the Lady of Tripoli (<i>la princesse lointaine</i>). He was +slain off Goa in the great fight with the Sultan of Muscat.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">I sail</span> a lone sea captain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Around the southern seas;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Worn as my cheek, the flag of Christ</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Floats o’er me on the breeze.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By green isle and by desert,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By little white-walled town,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To west wind and to east wind</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I lead my galleons down.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I know the black south-easter,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I know the drowsy calms</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When the slow tide creeps shoreward</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To lave the idle palms.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of many a stark sea battle</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Muslim foe can tell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When their dark dhows I sent to crabs</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And their dark souls to hell.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">{100}</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Small reck have I of Muslim,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Small reck of winds and seas,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The waters are my pathway</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To bring me to my ease.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dawns that burn above me</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Are torches set to light</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My footsteps to a garden</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of roses red and white.</div> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Five months we stood from Lagos,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While, scant of food and sleep,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We tracked da Gama’s highroad</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Across the Guinea deep.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All spent we were with watching</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When, ghostly as a dream,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Bona Esperanza cape</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Rose dark upon the beam.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then by the low green inlets</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We groped our passage forth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Outside the shallow surf-bars</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We headed for the north.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sofala gave us victual,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Inyaka ease and rest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But of the wayside harbours</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I loved Melinda best.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">’Twas on a day in April,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Feast of Rosaly,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">{101}</span> <div class="verse indent0">We beached our weary vessels,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Cried farewell to the sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And with ten stout companions</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And hearts with youth made bold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We sought the inland mountains</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of which our fathers told.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">No chart had we or counsel</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To guide our weary feet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To north and west we wandered</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In drought and dust and heat,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till o’er the steaming tree-tops</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We saw the far-off dome</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of mystic icy mountains,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And knew the Prester’s home.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Nine days we clomb the foothills,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nine days the mountain wall,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sheer cliff and ancient forest</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And fretted waterfall;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And on the tenth we entered</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A meadow cool and deep,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in the Prester’s garden</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We laid us down to sleep.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Long time we fared like princes</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In palaces of stone,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For never guest goes cheerless</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who meets with Prester John;</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">{102}</span> <div class="verse indent0">Where woodlands mount to gardens</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And gardens climb to snows</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And wells of living water</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Sing rondels to the rose.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And there among the roses,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">More white and red than they,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There walked the gleaming lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The princess far away.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dearer her golden tresses</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Than the high pomp of wars,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And deep and still her eyes as lakes</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That brood beneath the stars.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There walked we and there spoke we</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of things that may not cease,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of life and death and God’s dear love</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the eternal peace.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For in that shadowed garden</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The world had grown so small</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That one white girl in one white hand</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Could clasp and hold it all.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I craved the Prester’s blessing,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I kissed his kingly hand:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Too soon has come the parting</div> + <div class="verse indent2">From this fair mountain land.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">{103}</span> <div class="verse indent0">But shame it were for Christian knight</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To take his leisure here</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When o’er the broad and goodly earth</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Muslim sends his fear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I go to gird my sword on,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To drive my fleets afar,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To court the wrath of tempests,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The dusty toils of war.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But when my vows are ended,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Then, joyous from the fray,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I come to claim my lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The princess far away.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse ell_spacing">······</div> +</div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I sail a lone sea captain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Across the southern seas;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Worn as my cheek, the flag of Christ</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Still flaunts upon the breeze.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By green isle and by desert,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By little white-walled town,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To west wind and to east wind</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I lead my galleons down.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But in the starkest tempest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And in the drowsy heats,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where on the shattered coral</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The far-drawn breaker beats:</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">{104}</span> <div class="verse indent0">In seas of dreaming water,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And in the wind-swept spray,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I see my snow-white lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The princess far away.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sometimes in inland places</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We march for weary days,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where thorns parch in the noontide</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or fens are dark with haze;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For me ’tis but a march of dreams,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For ever, clear and low,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I hear cool waters falling</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the garden of the snow.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Small reck have I of Muslim,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Small reck of sands or seas;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wide world is my pathway</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To lead me to my ease.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dawns that burn above me</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Are torches set to light</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My footsteps to a garden</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of rose red and white.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1905</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">{105}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="Antiphilus_of_Byzantium"> + <i>Antiphilus of Byzantium</i> + </h4> +<p class="center"><i>Anth. Pal.</i> ix. 546.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Give</span> me a mat on the deck,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When the awnings sound to the blows of the spray,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the hearthstones crack with the flames a-back</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the pot goes bubbling away.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Give me a boy to cook my broth;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For table a ship’s plank lacking a cloth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And never a fork or knife;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, after a game with a rusty pack,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The bo’sun’s whistle to pipe us back—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That’s the fortune fit for a king,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For Oh! I love common life!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1895</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">{106}</span></p> + + + <h4 class="nobreak" id="An_Echo_of_Meleager"> + <i>An Echo of Meleager</i> + </h4> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0 drop-cap"><span class="firstword smcap">Scorn</span> not my love, proud child. The summers wane.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Long ere the topmost mountain snows have gone</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Spring is fleeting; ’neath the April rain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For one brief day flowers laugh on Helicon.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The breeze that fans thy honeyed cheek this noon</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To-morrow will be blasts that scourge the main,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And youth and joy and laughter fleet too soon.—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Scorn not my love, proud child. The summers wane.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">To-day the rose blooms by the garden plot,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The swallows twitter ’neath the Parian dome;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But soon the roses fall and lie forgot,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And soon the swallows will be turning home.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tempt not the arrows of the Cyprian’s eye,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Vex not the god that will not brook disdain;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is the port to which the wise barks fly.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Scorn not my love, proud child. The summers wane.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="mr16">1910</span> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1" class="label">[1]</a> The occasion of these verses requires a note. The union in +1900 of the Free Church of Scotland and the United Presbyterian +Church led to the secession of certain congregations of the former, +who called themselves the Free Church, and maintained that the +union involved a departure from the principles of that church +and a breach of the conditions under which certain properties +were held. They brought an action to establish their right to +these properties, as the sole remaining repository of Free Church +principles. This action was decided against the claimants in the +Scottish courts, but, on appeal, the House of Lords, under the +guidance of Lord Halsbury (then Lord Chancellor), reversed the +decision.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2_2" href="#FNanchor_2_2" class="label">[2]</a> Mr Henry Johnston, K.C., of the Scots Bar (afterwards +Lord Johnston), led for the appellants.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3_3" href="#FNanchor_3_3" class="label">[3]</a> The leading counsel for the respondents was Mr R. B. Haldane +(M.P. for East Lothian), afterwards Lord Chancellor of England.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4_4" href="#FNanchor_4_4" class="label">[4]</a> A famous Free Church divine of the old school.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5_5" href="#FNanchor_5_5" class="label">[5]</a> The Greek text has not been followed in the songs, as it would +be hard to find equivalents for Lycidas and Simichidas in Lowland +Scots. Jock’s song is a free paraphrase of Victor Hugo’s <i>Guitare</i>. +How close that famous lyric is to the Theocritean manner will +be admitted by those who remember Walter Headlam’s Greek +version of it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6_6" href="#FNanchor_6_6" class="label">[6]</a> The Lang Whang is the old Edinburgh-Lanark road.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7_7" href="#FNanchor_7_7" class="label">[7]</a> From “The Marquis of Montrose.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8_8" href="#FNanchor_8_8" class="label">[8]</a> From “Prester John.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9_9" href="#FNanchor_9_9" class="label">[9]</a> From “Salute to Adventurers.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10_10" href="#FNanchor_10_10" class="label">[10]</a> From “A Lodge in the Wilderness.”</p></div> +</div> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77335 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77335-h/images/cover.jpg b/77335-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cc6d61 --- /dev/null +++ b/77335-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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