THOUGHT.
Like one who on a mountain stands,
When morning into day expands,
And, as a glory, views from Heaven
The plenteousness of brightness given;
Even so is he, who marks remote
The early cheering dawn of thought
Advancing o'er th' awakened mind,
Till truth, within the soul defined,
Spreads light and knowledge in the breast,
And sets all doubts and fears at rest.
LINES.
WRITTEN ON THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF THE QUEEN.
20th July 1840.
Fair as the summer in its joyous prime,
Free from all thoughts of guile, all dread of ill,
Unconscious that a traitor could exist
Within her wide dominions, forth she came,
Young, happy, unattended, save by him,
The husband she had chosen from the world;
All hearts her own—no other guard she wished—
When ambushed treason aimed its coward blow,
Which Heaven ordained should harmless pass her by,
In mercy to the realms that own her sway.
Ah! had the public foe, in hostile league,
Come openly against her life and crown,
The chivalry of England, not yet dead,
Had promptly flown to arms, and formed
Around her then a shield impenetrable,
Her sacred person to defend, or die.
From out of England's millions, only one
Was found, so void of all the feelings of a man,
As point a deadly weapon at the breast
Of England's pride—a woman and a Queen!
Then the high bravery of her race was shown;
She blenched not, quivered not, but sat erect;
While, with the lion courage of the Saxon,
Which both their hearts inspired, her consort threw
Himself at once between her and the danger,
To shield the life so dear to him and us.
The loyal heart of Britain beat with joy
At their escape—the young, the loved, the true!
Many and fervent were the prayers breathed
To Heaven, that they might live extended years,
And each year, as it came, their happiness
Increase, and ours! Thus let the traitor's hopes
For ever end, thus fruitless be his aims—
His snares recoil upon himself alone!
How beautiful the trait of filial love,
Of reverence daughterly, was then evinced,
When, freed from danger from th' assassin's arm,
She promptly to her mother hastes, herself
To be the foremost bearer of the tidings,
And, in her own particular person, bring
The proof and the assurance of her safety,
Ere Rumour's tongue had magnified details!
Ah! worthy of her people's love, is she
Who thus could show the veneration due,
At such a time, to her who gave her being!
The ways of men are in the hands of One
Who cannot err; the destinies of all
On earth, peasants as well as potentates,
Are under His sole guardianship and guidance.
A truism this; yet there are men who doubt,
Nay, worse, deny it; even though instances,
Occurring daily, show the constant care
Of Providence o'er thoughtless, sinful men.
How oft does evil o'er our head impend,
And we not know it, till the danger's past!
How oft, when evil comes, provided is
A remedy, we know not how or whence!
Ah! blind, and worse than blind, are they who doubt.
The brutish beasts that roam the fields and woods,
And never heard of God, or gospel truth,
Of Christ and his salvation, better are,
And wiser, than the Atheist and Sceptic.
High is the sovereign's power, and great the sway
Which kings possess; but, higher, greater still
Is His, the King of Kings, who overrules
All things for good to them who love his laws.
Tyrants have had avengers, but the good
Need fear no peril, dread no coming ill;
Their trust in One who fails not, cannot fail;
In whose hand is the breath of princes held,
As much as meaner men's. To Him thy way commit.
I'M NAEBODY NOO.
The complaint of an old man reduced in the world. Contributed to the Book of Scottish Song.
I'm naebody noo, though in days that are gane,
Whan I'd hooses, and lands, and gear o' my ain,
There war' mony to flatter, and mony to praise,
And wha but mysel' was sae prood in those days!
Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang,
Wha laughed at my joke, and applauded my sang,
Though the tane had nae point, and the tither nae glee;
But of coorse they war' grand when comin' frae me!
Whan I'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack,
There war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak';
But whanever the water grew scant at the well,
I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'.
Sae lang as my bottle was ready and free,
Friends in dozens I had wha then crooded to prie,
They sat ower the toddy until they war' fou,—
Noo I drink by mysel', for I'm naebody noo.
Whan I'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer,
And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer;
I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast,
In the feasting o' those who came only to feast.
The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie,
I thought a' the time was intended for me,
But whanever the end o' my money they saw,
Their friendship, like it, also flickered awa'.
My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near,
Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear,
I'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that's true,
But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I'm naebody noo.
SONG.
Contributed to the Book of Scottish Song.
There's plenty come to woo me,
And ca' me sweet and fair,
There's plenty say they lo'e me,
But they never venture mair:
They never say they'll marry,
Though love is all their tune,
From June to Janu-a-ry,
From January to June.
I canna keep frae smilin',
At their flatteries and art;
Wi' a' their fond beguilin',
They'll ne'er beguile my heart.
For nought can fix a maiden
Whase heart is warm and true,
But vows wi' marriage laden,
Though mony come to woo.
That a's no gowd that glitters
I've either heard or read,
And marriage has its bitters,
As well as sweets, is said.
But though it gets the blame o'
Some things that winna' tell,
The fau't that folks complain o'
Lies often wi' themsel'.
The year, as on it ranges,
Within its twelvemonths' fa',
Shows many sudden changes,
And's lightsome wi' them a';
Though winter's tempests thicken,
Spring comes wi' cheerful face;
And summer smiles to quicken
A' nature wi' its grace.
The year of life is marriage,
And we canna wed too sune,
Whan twa divide the carriage,
The wark is cheerily dune.
If one true heart wad hae me,
For better and for worse,
Wi' him I'd gladly share aye
The blessing and the curse.