Sidor som bilder

On stones reversed in crumbling mould,

And could there be in lovers meeting And blacken'd poles of bier decay'd

More powerful chords to move the mind, That lumbering on the ground were laid ;

Fond heart to heart responsive beating, On sculptured wrecks, defaced and old,

Than in that tender hour, pure, pious love entwined. And shreds of painted 'scutcheons torn

XXII. Which


in pointed lozenge spread, The pillar'd church aloft had worn;

Thus, night succeeding night, her love While new-swept nook and lowly bed,

Did its unwearied nature prove, Strange sight in such a place!

Tender and fearless; till, obscured by crimes, Betray'd a piteous case,

Again so darkly lower'd the changeful times, Man from man's converse torn, the living with the That her good sire, though shut from light of day, dead.

Might in that lowly den no longer stay.

The basket's store of viands and bread,

From Edinbrough town a courier came, Produced with looks of kind inviting,

And round him flock'd the castle's dame, Her hands with busy kindness spread ;

Children and servants, young and old. And he her kindly care requiting,

“ What news? what news ? thy visage sad fell to with thanks and relish keen,

| Betrays too plainly tidings bad.” Nodded and quaff”d her health between,

And so it did; alas ! sad was the tale he told. While she his glee return'd, her smiles with tears “ From the oppressor's deadly hate uniting.

Good Jerviswood has met his fate No lordling at his banquet rare

Upon the lofty scaffold, where E’er tasted such delicious fare;

He bore himself with dauntless air ; No beauty on her silken seat,

Albeit, with mortal sickness spent, With lover kneeling at her feet,

Upon a woman's arm he leant. E’er wept and smiled by turns with smiles so fondly From earth to heaven at yestere’en he went.” sweet.


In silence deep the listeners stood,
But soon youth's buoyant, gladsome nature,

An instant horror chill'd their blood. Spreads joy unmix'd o’er every feature,

The lady groan'd, and turn'd aside As she her tale is archly telling

Her fears and troubled thoughts to hide. Of feuds within their busy dwelling,

The children wept, then went to play; While, round the savoury table sitting,

The seryants cried “ “Awaladay ! She gleans his meal, the rest unwitting,

But 0! what inward sights, which borrow How she, their open eyes deceiving,

The forms that are not, changing still, So dexterous has become in thieving.

Like shadows on a broken rill, She tells, how of some trifle prating,

Were blended with our damsel's sorrow ! She stirs them all to keen debating,

Those lips, those eyes so sweetly mild, While into napkin'd lap she's sliding

That bless'd her as a humble child; Her portion, oft renew'd, and hiding,

The block in sable, deadly trim, Beneath the board, her store ; amazing

The kneeling form, the headsman grim, Her jealous Frere, oft on her gazing.

The sever'd head with life-blood streaming, Then with his voice and eager eye,

Were ever 'thwart her fancy gleaming. She speaks in harmless mimickry.

Her father, too, in perilous state, “Mother! was e'er the like beheld?

He may be seized, and like his friend Some wolf possesses our Griseld ;

Upon the fatal scaffold bend. She clears her dish, as I'm a sinner!

May Heaven preserve him still from such a dreadLike ploughman at his new-year's dinner.”

ful end!

And then she thought, if this must be,

Who, honour'd sire, will wait on thee,
And what each urchin, one by one,

And serve thy wants with decent pride, Had best in sport or lesson done,

Like Baillie's kinswoman, subduing fear She fail'd not to repeat;

With fearless love, thy last sad scene to cheer, Though sorry tales they might appear

E'en on the scaffold standing by thy side? To a fastidious critic's ear,

A friend like his, dear father, thou shalt have, They were to him most sweet.

To serve thee to the last, and linger round thy grave.

But they must part till o'er the sky
Night cast again her sable dye;
For ah! her term is almost over!
How fleetly hath it flown !
As fleetly as with tristed lover
The stealthy hour is gone.

Her father then, who narrowly
With life escaped, was forced to fly
His dangerous home, a home no more,
And cross the sea. A friendly shore
Received the fugitive, and there,
Like prey broke from the spoiler's snare,

To join her hapless lord, the dame

XXXI. With all her numerous family came;

And well, with ready hand and heart, And found asylum, where th' opprest

Each task of toilsome duty taking, Of Scotland's patriot sons had rest,

Did one dear inmate play her part, Like sea fowl clustering in the rock

The last asleep, the earliest waking.
To shun some rising tempest's shock.

Her hands each nightly couch prepared,

And frugal meal on which they fared :
But said I all the family? no:

Unfolding spread the servet white, Word incorrect! it was not so:

And deck'd the board with tankard bright. For one, the youngest child, confined

Through fretted hose and garment rent, With fell disease, was left behind;

Her tiny needle deftly went, While certain things, as thus by stealth

Till hateful penury, so graced, They ded, regarding worldly wealth

Was scarcely in their dwelling traced. Of much import, were left undone;

With reverence to the old she clung, And who will now that peril run,

With sweet affection to the young. Again to visit Scotland's shore,

To her was crabbed lesson said, From whence they did in fear depart,

To her the sly petition made, And to each parent's yearning heart

To her was told each petty care ; The darling child restore?

By her was lisp'd the tardy prayer,

What time the urchin, half undrest

And half asleep, was put to rest.
And who did for affection's sake
This task of peril undertake ?

XXXII. 0! who but she, whose bosom swellid

There is a sight all hearts beguiling.-With feelings high, whose self-devotion

A youthful mother to her infant smiling, Follow'd each generous, strong emotion,

Who, with spread arms and dancing feet, The young, the sweet, the good, the brave Griseld. And cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.

Who does not love to see the grandame mild, XXVIII.

Lesson with yearning looks the listening child? Yes; she again cross'd o'er the main,

But 'tis a thing of saintlier nature, And things of moment left undone,

Amidst her friends of pigmy stature, Though o'er her head had scarcely run

To see the maid in youth's fair bloom, Her nineteenth year, no whit deluded

A guardian sister's charge assume, By wily fraud, she there concluded,

And, like a touch of angel's bliss,
And bore the youngling to its home again.

Receive from each its grateful kiss.

To see them, when their hour of love is past, But when she reach'd the Belgian strand,

Aside their grave demeanour cast.

With her in mimic war they wrestle ; Hard was her lot. Fast fell the rain,

Beneath her twisted robe they nestle; And there lay many miles of land,

Upon her glowing cheek they revel, A stranger's land, ere she might gain

Low bended to their tiny level; The nearest town. With hardship crost,

While oft, her lovely neck bestriding The wayward child its shoes had lost;

Crows some arch imp, like huntsman riding. Their coin was spent, their garments light,

This is a sight the coldest heart may feel ;And dark and dreary was the night.

To make down rugged cheeks the kindly tear to steal. Then like some gipsy girl on desert moor, Her helpless charge upon her back she bore.

XXXIII. Who then had guess'd that figure slight,

But when the toilsome sun was set, So bending in such humble plight,

And evening groups together met, Was one of proud and gentle race,

(For other strangers shelter'd there Possessing all that well became

Would seek with them to lighten care,) Th' accomplish'd maid or high-born dame,

Her feet still in the dance moved lightest, Befitting princely hall or monarch's court to grace ? | Her eye with merry glance beam'd brightest,

Her braided locks were coil'd the neatest,

Her carol song was thrill'd the sweetest;
Their minds from many racking cares relieved,

And round the fire, in winter cold,
The gladsome parents to their arms received

No archer tale than hers was told.
Her and the infant dear, caressing
The twain by turns; while many a blessing,

Which sweetly all her toil repaid,

0! spirits gay, and kindly heart ! Was shed upon their generous maid :

Precious the blessings ye impart! And though the inmates of a humble home, Though all unwittingly the while, To which they had as wretched outlaws come, Ye make the pining exile smile, Though hard their alter'd lot might be,

And transient gladness charm his pain, In crowded city pent,

Who ne'er shall see his home again. They lived with mind and body free

Ye make the stern misanthrope's brow In grateful, quiet content.

With tint of passing kindness glow,

And age spring from his elbow-chair

And with those worthies, 'twas a happy doom The sport of lightsome glee to share.

Right fairly earn'd, embark'd, Sir Patrick Hume. Thus did our joyous maid bestow

Their feet, though long at sea, and tempest-tost, Her beamy soul on want and wo;

In bappy hour at last arrived on England's coast. While proud, poor men, in threadbare suit,

Frisk'd on the floor with lightsome foot,

Meantime his dame and our fair maid
And from her magic circle chase
The fiends that vex the human race.

Still on the coast of Holland stay'd,

With anxious and misgiving minds,

Listening the sound of warring winds:
And do not, gentle reader, chide,

The ocean rose with deafening roar, If I record her harmless pride,

And beat upon the trembling shore, Who sacrificed the hours of sleep,

Whilst breakers dash'd their whitening spray Some show of better times to keep;

O'er mound and dyke with angry bray, That, though as humble soldier dight,

As if it would ingulf again
A btripling brother might more trimly stand The land once rescued from its wild domain.
With pointed cuff and collar white,

Like one of gentler race mix'd with a homelier band.
And in that band of low degree

Oft on the beach our damsel stood
Another youth of gentle blood

Midst groups of many a fearful wight, Was found, who late had cross'd the sea,

Who view'd, like her, the billowy flood, The son of virtuous Jerviswood,

Silent and sad, with visage shrunk and white, Who did as common sentry wait

While bloated corse and splinter'd mast, Before a foreign prince's gate.

And bale and cask on shore were cast, And if his eye, oft on the watch,

A sad and rueful sight! One look of sweet Griseld might catch,

But when, at the Almighty will, It was to him no dull nor irksome state.

The tempest ceased, and sea was still,

From Britain's isle glad tidings came,

Received with loud and long acclaim.
And thus some happy years stole by;

Adversity with virtue mated,
Her state of low obscurity,

But joy appears with shrouded head
Set forth but as deep shadows, fated

To those who sorrow o'er the dead ; By Heaven's high will to make the light

For, struck with sore disease, while there Of future skies appear more bright.

They tarried pent in noisome air, And thus, at lowest ebb, man's thoughts are oft | The sister of her heart, whom she elated.

Had watch'd and tended lovingly, He deems not that the very struggle

Like blighted branch whose blossoms fade, Of active virtue, and the war

That day was in her coffin laid. She bravely holds with present ill,

She heard the chimed bells loudly ringing, Sustain'd by hope, does by the skill

She heard the caroll'd triumph singing,
Of some conceal'd and happy juggle,

And clamorous throng, and shouting boys,
Become itself the good which yet seems distant far. And thought how vain are human joys!
So, when their lamp of fortune burn'd

With brightest ray, our worthies turn'd,

Howbeit, her grief at length gives way A recollection, fondly bent,

To happier thoughts, as dawns the day
On these, their happiest years, in humble dwelling When her kind parent and herself depart,

In royal Mary's gentle train,

To join, ere long, the dearest to her heart,
At length the sky, so long with clouds o'ercast, In their own native land again.
Unveil'd its cope of azure hue,

They soon their own fair island hail'd,
And gave its fair expanse to view ;-

As on the rippling sea they sail'd.
The pelting storm of tyranny was past.

Ye well may guess their joyful cry,

With upraised hands and glistening eye,

When, rising from the ocean blue, For he, the prince of glorious memory,

Her chalky cliffs first met their view, The prince, who shall, as passing ages fly,

Whose white verge on th' horizon rear'd,
Be blest ; whose wise, enlightend, manly mind,

Like wall of noonday clouds appear'd.
E'en when but with a stripling's years combined,
Had with unyielding courage oft contended

For Europe's freedom-for religion, blended These ye may guess, for well the show
With just, forbearing charity, and all

And outward signs of joy we know.
To man most dear ;-now, at the honour'd call But cease we on this theme to dwell,
Of Britain's patriot sons, the ocean plough'd For pen or pencil cannot tell
With gallant Aleet, encompass’d by a crowd The thrill of keen delight from which they flow.
Of soldiers, statesmen, souls of proof, who vow'd Such moments of ecstatic pleasure
Firm by his side to stand, let good or ill befall. Are fancy's fairest, brightest treasure,

Gilding the scope of duller days

And from afar, her wistful eye With oft-recurring retrospect,

Would first his graceful form descry. With which right happily she plays.

E'en when he hied him forth to meet E’en as a moving mirror will reflect

The open air in lawn or street, Its glancing rays on shady side

She to her casement went, Of home or glen, when school-boys guide

And after him, with smile so sweet, With skilful hands their mimic sun

Her look of blessing sent. To heaven's bright sun opposed; we see

The heart's affection,-secret thing! Its borrow'd sheen on fallow dun,

Is like the cleft rock's ceaseless spring, On meadow green, on rock and tree,

Which free and independent flows On broomy steep, on rippling spring,

Of summer rains or winter snows. On cottage thatch, and every thing.

The foxglove from its side may fall

The heathbloom fade or moss-flower white,

But still its runlet, bright though small,
And Britain's virtuous queen admired

Will issue sweetly to the light.
Our gentle maid, and in her train
Of ladies willd her to remain :

What more could young ambition have desired ?
But, like the blossom to the bough,

How long an honour'd and a happy pair,
Or wall-flower to the ruin's brow,

They held their seemly state in mansion fair, Or tendril to the fostering stock,

I will not here in chiming verses say, Or seaweed on the briny rock,

To tire my reader with a lengthen'd lay ; Or mistletoe to sacred tree,

For tranquil bliss is as a summer day Or daisy to the swarded lea,

O'er broad Savana shining; fair it lies,

And rich the trackless scene, but soon our eyes,
So truly to her own she clung ;
Nor cared for honours vain, from courtly favour In search of meaner things, turn heavily away.


But no new ties of wedded life,
Nor would she in her native north,

That bind the mother and the wife, When woo'd by one of wealth and worth,

Her tender, filial heart could change, The neighbour of her happy home,

Or from its earliest friends estrange. Though by her gentle parents press'd

The child, by strong affection led, And flattered, courted and caress'd,

Who braved her terror of the dead A splendid bride become.

To save an outlaw'd parent, still “ I may not,” said her gentle heart,

In age was subject to his will. “ The very thought endure,

She then was seen with matron air, That those so kind should feel the smart

A dame of years, with countenance fair, A daughter's wants might oft impart,

Though faded, sitting by his easy chair. For Jerviswood is poor.

A sight that might the heart's best feelings move ! But yet, though poor, why should I smother

Behold her seated at her task of love! This dear regard? he'll be my brother,

Books, papers, pencil, pen, and slate, And thus through life we'll love each other.

And column'd scrolls of ancient date, What though, as changing years fit by,

Before her lie, on which she looks Gray grow my head, and dim his eye!

With searching glance, and gladly brooks We'll meekly bear our wayward fate,

An irksome task, that else might vex And scorn their petty spite who rate,

His temper, or his brain perplex; With senseless gibes, the single state,

While, haply, on the matted floor, Till we are join'd, at last, in heavenly bliss on

Close nestling at her kirtled feet,

Its lap enrich'd with childish store,

Sits, hush'd and still, a grandchild sweet,
But Heaven for them decreed a happier lot:

Who looks at times with eye intent, The father of the virtuous youth,

Full on its grandame's parent bent, Who died devoted for the truth,

Viewing his deeply-furrow'd brow, Was not, when better times return'd, forgot:

And sunken lip and locks of snow, To the right heir was given his father's land,

In serious wonderment. And with his lady's love, he won her hand.

Well said that graceful sire, I ween!

Still through life's many a varied scene,

Griseld our dear and helpful child hath been. Their long tried faith in honour plighted,

They were a pair by Heaven united,
Whose wedded love, through lengthen'd years, Though ever cheerfully possessing
The trace of early fondness wears.

In its full zest the present blessing,
Her heart first guess'd his doubtful choice,

Her grateful heart remembrance cherish'd Her ear first caught his distant voice,

Of all to former happiness allied,

Nor in her fostering fancy perish'd

She would not e'en their folly chide,
E'en things inanimate that had supplied

But like the sun and showers of heaven,
Means of enjoyment once. Maternal love, Which to the false and true are given,
Active and warm, which nothing might restrain, Want and distress relieved on either side.
Led her once more, in years advanced, to rove
To distant southern climes, and once again

Her footsteps press'd the Belgian shore,

But soon, from fear of future change,
The town, the very street that was her home of yore. The evil took a wider range.

The northern farmers, spoil'd and bare,

No more could rent or produce spare
Fondly that homely house she eyed,

To the soil's lords. All were distress'd, The door, the windows, every thing

And on our noble dame this evil sorely press'd. Which to her back-cast thoughts could bring Her household numerous, her means withheld; The scenes of other days. Then she applied Shall she her helpless servants now dismiss To knocker bright her thrilling hand,

To rob or starve, in such a time as this, And begg'd, as strangers in the land,

Or wrong to others do ? but nothing quell'd Admittance from the household dame,

Her calm and upright mind.—“Go, summon here And thus preferred her gentle claim :

Those who have served me many a year." “ This house was once my happy home,

The summons went; each lowly name Its rooms, its stair, I fain would see;

Full swiftly to her presence came, Its meanest nook is dear to me,

And thus she spoke: “ Ye've served me long, Let me and mine within its threshold come.” Pure, as I think, from fraud or wrong, But no ; this might not be !

And now, my friendly neighbours, true Their feet might soil her polish'd floor,

And simply I will deal with you. The dame held fast the hostile door,

The times are shrewd, my treasures spent, A Belgian housewife she.

My farms have ceased to yield me rent; “ Fear not such harm! we'll doff our shoes : And it may chance that rent or grain Do not our earnest suit refuse !

I never shall receive again. We'll give thee thanks, we'll give thee gold ;

The dainties which my table fed, Do not kind courtesy withhold !”

Will now be changed for daily bread, But still it might not be ;

Dealt sparely, and for this I must The dull, unpliant dame refused her gentle plea.

Be debtor to your patient trust,

If ye consent.”—Swift through the hall,

With eager haste, spoke one and all.
With her and her good lord, who still

“No, noble dame! this must not be ! Sweet union held of mated will,

With heart as warm and hand as free,
Years pass’d away with lightsome speed ;

Still thee and thine we'll serve with pride,
But ah ! their bands of bliss at length were riven; As when fair fortune graced your side.
And she was clothed in widow's sable weed,

The best of all our stores afford
Submitting to the will of Heaven.

Shall daily smoke upon thy board;
And then a prosperous race of children good And, shouldst thou never clear the score,
And tender, round their noble mother stood. Heaven for thy sake will bless our store."
And she the while, cheer'd with their pious love,

She bent her head with courtesy,
Waited her welcome summons from above.

The big tear swelling in her eye,

And thank'd them all. Yet plain and spare, LIII.

She order'd still her household fare, But whatsoe'er the weal or wo

Till fortune's better die was cast,
That Heaven across her lot might throw,

And adverse times were past.
Full well her Christian spirit knew
Its path of virtue, straight and true.

When came the shock of evil times, menacing Good, tender, generous, firm and sage,
The peaceful land when blood and lineage tracing Through grief and gladness, shade and sheen,
As the sole claim to Britain's throne, in spite As fortune changed life's motley scene,
Of Britain's weal or will, chiefs of the north, Thus pass'd she on to reverend age.
In warlike muster, led their clansmen forth, And when the heavenly summons came,
Brave, faithful, strong and toughly nerved, Her spirit from its mortal frame
Would they a better cause had served !

And weight of mortal cares to free, For Stuart's dynasty to fight,

It was a blessed sight to see, Distress to many a family came,

The parting saint her state of honour keeping Who dreaded more the approaching shame In gifted, dauntless faith, whilst round her, weeping, Of penury's ill-favour'd mien,

Her children's children mourn'd on bended knee. Than e'en the pang of hunger keen. How softly then her pity flow'd !

LVI. How freely then her hand bestow'd !

In London's fair imperial town She did not question their opinion

She laid her earthly burden down. Of party, kingship, or dominion :

In Mellerstain, her northern home,

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