WE FIX OUR EYES ON PHANTOMS, AND PURSUE; CASA WAPPY. 299 D. M. Moir. [OF Moir, once well known in the pages of Blackwood under the synonym of Delta (A), Professor Wilson says: "He has produced many original pieces which will possess a permanent place in the poetry of Scotland. Delicacy and grace characterize his happiest compositions; some of them are beautiful in a cheerful spirit that has only to look on nature to be happy, and others breathe the simplest and purest pathos. His scenery, whether sea-coast or inland, is always truly Scottish; and at times his pen drops touches of light on minute objects, that till then had slumbered in the shade, but now shine well where they stand' or lie, as component and characteristic parts of our Lowland landscapes." David Macbeth Moir was born at Musselburgh, near Edinburgh, in 1798. In his native town he practised for many years as a surgeon, and was so highly esteemed by his fellow-townsmen that, on his death in 1851, they erected a monument to his memory. His finest compositions appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, but were collected, with others of his poetical works, in two volumes in 1852. He was also the author of "The Autobiography of Mansie Waugh," a humorous tale of Scottish life, and of "Sketches of the Poetical Literature of the Last Half-Century."] WE LEAVE, FOR FANCY'S LURES, THE FIXED AND TRUE; DESTROY WHAT TIME HATH SPARED, YET BUILD AGAIN; YEARS O'ER US PASS, AND AGE, THAT COMES TO FEW, COMES BUT TO TELL THEM THEY HAVE LIVED IN VAIN."-MOIR. CASA WAPPY. [Casa Wappy was the pet name of an infant son of the poet, snatched |ND hast thou sought thy heavenly home, The realms where sorrow dare not come, Pure at thy death as at thy birth, Despair was in our last farewell, Tears of our anguish may not tell When thou didst die; WE CHASE THE AIRY BUBBLES OF THE BRAIN; "ALL THINGS AROUND US PREACH OF DEATH, YET MIRTH SWELLS THE VAIN HEART, DARTS FROM THE EYE, LIFE IS TO US A BRIEF PROBATION GIVEN, AS IF WE WERE CREATED NE'ER TO DIE, AND HAD OUR EVERLASTING HOME ON EARTH!"-DAVID M. MOIR. "WHEN SUMMER'S GLOOMY CLOUDS HAVE RAINED FULL OFT ON MAN'S DEVOTED HEAD,-(MOIR) 66 EARTH, OUTSPREAD TO CHILDHOOD'S GLANCE,—(moir) CASA WAPPY. I feel thy breath upon my cheek— Casa Wappy! Methinks thou smil'st before me now, The hair thrown back from thy full brow, I see thine eyes' deep violet light, The nursery shows thy pictured wall, Thy bat, thy bow, Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball; But where art thou? A corner holds thine empty chair, But speak to us of dire despair, Casa Wappy! Even to the last thy every word- Was sweet as sweetest song of bird, In outward beauty undecayed, We mourn for thee when blind blank night The chamber fills; We pine for thee when morn's first light Reddens the hills; GLOWED, LIKE A DREAM OF BRIGHT ROMANCE."-MOIR. 301 THE TIME-TAUGHT SPIRIT LOVES TO WEND BACK THROUGH THE PAST ITS MAZY WAY."-MOIR. "WE MAKE OUR SORROW; NATURE KNOWS ALONE OF HAPPINESS AND PEACE;-(D. M. MOIR) Snows muffled earth when thou didst go, In life's spring bloom, Down to the appointed house below, But now the green leaves of the tree, 'Tis so; but can it be (while flowers Man's doom, in death that we and ours Oh! can it be, that o'er the grave Casa Wappy! It cannot be; for were it so Life were a mockery, thought were woe, And truth a lie; TO RISE UNSULLIED FROM SUCH A STREAM?"-MOIR. 'TIS GUILT THAT GIRDS US WITH THE THROES AND HYDRA PANGS THAT NEVER CEASE."-MOIR. "THUS WANE THE NOONDAY DREAMS OF YOUTH AWAY, AND TWILIGHT HUES THE PATH OF LIFE PERVADE; OF OUR EARLY FRIENDS THE MEMORIES SEEM-(D. M. MOIR) CASA WAPPY. Heaven were a coinage of the brain, Casa Wappy! Then be to us, O dear, lost child, With beam of love, A star, death's uncongenial wild Soon, soon thy little feet have trod Yet 'tis sweet balm to our despair, That heaven is God's, and thou art there With him in joy: There past is death in all its woes, Farewell, then for a while, farewell— It cannot be that long we dwell Time's shadows, like the shuttle, flee: Casa Wappy! [From Dr. Moir's "Miscellaneous Poetical Works."] HALF LOST IN YEARS, THE FRAGMENT OF A DREAM."-MOIR. 303 THUS, LIKE THE WESTERN SUNLIGHT, RAY BY RAY, INTO THE DARKNESS OF OLD AGE WE FADE."-MOIR. |