He thocht to sit within the kirk
He rather wad than sit ootbye, Sae in he gaed, an' there he sat
Till stars were blinkin' in the sky.
Nae cries he heard, nae fits he saw,
But sabs were rife, an' tearfu' een
That ne'er leuk'd aff the preacher's face,
Was a' that cou'd be heard or seen.
The dews were fa'in' on the yirth—
On mony a heart the dews o' grace
Had fa'en that day, e'en while they sat
At Jesus' feet, in Mary's place.
At dawnin' o' the morn he rose
On Monday-hame he boud to gang;
And a' his days he ne'er forgat
That Sabbath day at auld Cam'slang.
Whan years had gane, a printed beuk
Cam' oot, whilk I hae aften seen,
An' it was seal'd, an' it was sign'd,
By ministers a guidly wheen.
It said that mony hunner souls,
What time the wark was at Cam'slang,
Were turn'd to God, an' a' their days
Had leev'd an' gane as saints shou'd gang.
WORDS cannot come, tears will not flow,
So fierce the anguish, stern the woe
The Polish patriot feels. In vain.
With bursting heart and burning brain,
With high-strung nerves and vengeful hand,
For freedom and his bleeding land,
He madly strikes the barbarous foe--
Chains, bondage, blood, and tears, and woe,
His only meed; and deeper gloom
Broods o'er the dark and bloody tomb
Of Polish freedom. Lo! the bear,
With rending claws and teeth that tear,
And arms that crush out hope and life,
Growls, hideous victor in the strife!
We sympathise but do not hope,
As through thy serpent folds we grope
Dark diplomacy, every fold
Constrictive, cruel, slippery, cold;
The horrid folds still crush and bind,
As round the victim's form they wind-
A shapeless mass, the remnant sole,
When thus prepared, is swallowed whole.
What agonies of hope deferred
Were thine, while neighbouring Powers conferr'd;
When bootless diplomatic notes
Flew thick as wintry sunbeam motes.
Then came the end, and thou wert left,
Of mercy, hope, and help bereft.
Ah! Garibaldi! we had hope
That now thy strong right arm had scope
To wield the brand uplifted never
But to rescue, defend, deliver
The victims of despotic sway,
And pour the glorious light of day
Through charnel dungeons vile and dark,
Where time had neither hope nor mark,
And laid the Bourbon's crown and throne
Upon the sacred altar stone
Of Freedom. Yet, poor Poland's name,
We breathe it with a blush of shame :
Her language, liberty, and laws
Must die! Just Heaven, avenge her cause!
We cannot, rather will not. None
Will take her by the hand: alone,
Before broad Europe, lost, forlorn,
She lies dismembered, bleeding, torn.
Indignant sorrow swells our breast;
Before high Heaven a stern protest
We make against that barbarous Power
That conquers only to devour.
GRANNIE VISITED AT BLACKHILL,
SHOTTS, JULY, 1805.
Ir's fifty towmonds since, an' mair,
Wi' lichtsome fit an' richt guid-wull,
Ae simmer day I teuk the gate
Oot owre the muir to auld Blackhill. The July sun was in the lift,
The laverock's sang was clear and shrill. Nae ither soun' but muirfowls' ca',
An' lammies baain' on the hill.
I birz't oot thro' the jaggy whins,
Aneath whase gowden blooms her nest
The lintie bigs-sweet birdie! thine
O' a' the sangs I lo'e the best.
Nae dyke, nae yett, I had to loup;
Fock teuk the gate that pleas'd themsel's,
An' sae did I wi' kiltit coat,
Knee-deep amang the heather bells.
O lown an' laigh that lanely cot,
The dwallin' o' my sainted grannie,
Whaur, at the winnock laigh an' wee,
Sat at her wheel my Auntie Nannie.
Wi' velvet fug the thack was green,
That lay abune the aul'-warl' biggin';
An' thick an' strang the fouet grew
A' roun' the divot-happit riggin'!
Twa humil't kye, like moudies sleek,
An' gabblin' ducks an' kecklin' hens;
A green-kail-yard, a big peat stack,
An' mony ither odds an' en's.
A stane-cast doun the gowany brae,
Ahint the hoose, a trottin' burnie,
Wi' trouts an' mennin's plenish't weel,
Was singin' blithely on its journey.
Nae need had I at grannie's door
To staun an' tirl at the pin,
For couthie tongues an' kin'ly hearts
Were there to gi'e me welcome in.
For that was ane o' Scotlan's hames-
Her peasant hames in "auld langsyne;"
An' never till my heart be cauld
Sall I their precious memories tine.
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