Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 91

THE chough and crow to roost are gone, The owl sits on the tree, The hush'd wind wails with feeble moan, Like infant charity.

The wild-fire dances on the fen, The red star sheds its ray; Uprouse ye then, my merry men!

It is our op'ning day.

Both child and nurse are fast asleep, And closed is every flower, And winking tapers faintly peep High from my lady's bower; Bewilder'd hinds with shorten'd ken Shrink on their murky way; Uprouse ye then, my merry men!

It is our op'ning day.

Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow To bless a good man's store; Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye then, my merry men!

And use it as ye may.

Mary Lamb. 1765-1847

511. A Child

A CHILD 's a plaything for an hour; Its pretty tricks we try For that or for a longer s.p.a.ce-- Then tire, and lay it by.

But I knew one that to itself All seasons could control; That would have mock'd the sense of pain Out of a grieved soul.

Thou straggler into loving arms, Young climber-up of knees, When I forget thy thousand ways Then life and all shall cease.

Carolina, Lady Nairne. 1766-1845

512. The Land o' the Leal

I'M wearin' awa', John Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John, I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There 's nae sorrow there, John, There 's neither cauld nor care, John, The day is aye fair In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn 's there, John, She was baith gude and fair, John; And O! we grudged her sair To the land o' the leal.

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John, And joy 's a-coming fast, John, The joy that 's aye to last In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear 's the joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu' man e'er brought To the land o' the leal.

O, dry your glistening e'e, John!

My saul langs to be free, John, And angels beckon me To the land o' the leal.

O, haud ye leal and true, John!

Your day it 's wearin' through, John, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal.

Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John, This warld's cares are vain, John, We'll meet, and we'll be fain, In the land o' the leal.

James Hogg. 1770-1835

513. A Boy's Song

WHERE the pools are bright and deep, Where the grey trout lies asleep, Up the river and over the lea, That 's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That 's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to track the homeward bee, That 's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the cl.u.s.tering nuts fall free, That 's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That 's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and over the lea, That 's the way for Billy and me.

James Hogg. 1770-1835

514. Kilmeny

BONNIE Kilmeny gaed up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.

It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu' the cress-flower round the spring; The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye, And the nut that hung frae the hazel tree; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.

But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', But lang may she seek i' the green-wood shaw; Lang the laird o' Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame!

When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, When mess for Kilmeny's soul had been sung, When the bedesman had pray'd and the dead bell rung, Late, late in gloamin' when all was still, When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane; When the ingle low'd wi' an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny came hame!

'Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?

Lang hae we sought baith holt and den; By linn, by ford, and green-wood tree, Yet you are halesome and fair to see.

Where gat you that joup o' the lily scheen?

That bonnie snood of the birk sae green?

And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen?

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?'

Kilmeny look'd up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; As still was her look, and as still was her e'e, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea.

For Kilmeny had been, she knew not where, And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; Kilmeny had been where the c.o.c.k never crew, Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.

But it seem'd as the harp of the sky had rung, And the airs of heaven play'd round her tongue, When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, And a land where sin had never been; A land of love and a land of light, Withouten sun, or moon, or night; Where the river swa'd a living stream, And the light a pure celestial beam; The land of vision, it would seem, A still, an everlasting dream.

In yon green-wood there is a waik, And in that waik there is a wene, And in that wene there is a maike, That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane; And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane.

In that green wene Kilmeny lay, Her bosom happ'd wi' flowerets gay; But the air was soft and the silence deep, And bonnie Kilmeny fell sound asleep.

She kenn'd nae mair, nor open'd her e'e, Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye.

She 'waken'd on a couch of the silk sae slim, All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim; And lovely beings round were rife, Who erst had travell'd mortal life; And aye they smiled and 'gan to speer, 'What spirit has brought this mortal here?'--

'Lang have I journey'd, the world wide,'

A meek and reverend fere replied; 'Baith night and day I have watch'd the fair, Eident a thousand years and mair.

Yes, I have watch'd o'er ilk degree, Wherever blooms femenitye; But sinless virgin, free of stain In mind and body, fand I nane.

Never, since the banquet of time, Found I a virgin in her prime, Till late this bonnie maiden I saw As spotless as the morning snaw: Full twenty years she has lived as free As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye: I have brought her away frae the snares of men, That sin or death she never may ken.'--

They clasp'd her waist and her hands sae fair, They kiss'd her cheek and they kemed her hair, And round came many a blooming fere, Saying, 'Bonnie Kilmeny, ye're welcome here!

Women are freed of the littand scorn: O blest be the day Kilmeny was born!

Now shall the land of the spirits see, Now shall it ken what a woman may be!

Many a lang year, in sorrow and pain, Many a lang year through the world we've gane, Commission'd to watch fair womankind, For it 's they who nurice the immortal mind.

We have watch'd their steps as the dawning shone, And deep in the green-wood walks alone; By lily bower and silken bed, The viewless tears have o'er them shed; Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep, Or left the couch of love to weep.

We have seen! we have seen! but the time must come, And the angels will weep at the day of doom!