The proverb reads "'Tis an ill wind
That bloweth no one good" And in the sequel of this tale
Be that fact understood. For the fancies of a weakling
And over-pampered mind Were ladders by which highest aim
Could fairer prospect find.
Back came dear Tabby to the Hall
With appetite restored; Glad to devour the meanest crumb
He hitherto ignored, To Lady Cecil's wonderment.
With generous courtesy She poured from out her silken purse
The shining golden fee,
She placed it in the doctor's hand.
"Five hundred pounds a year As my physician you may claim;"—
She praised him far and near. He gained the best of patronage
Through all the country side; He wooed a baron's daughter fair,
And won her for his bride.
No more chagrin, nor vexed delays;
No plodding up the hill; Life's current flowed as peaceful stream
Which works the well-set mill. The noble Countess and her cat
Have long since passed away; But the witty doctor lives and thrives
In green old age this day.
THE VISION.
I dreamt that I culled the wild flowers on the moorland,
And roamed o'er the hills which my forefathers trod, Ere their life-blood empurpled the fields of Hispania;
Ere their souls soared on high to the patriot's God. I saw, to the call of the pibroch, advancing
O'er mountain, o'er river, o'er blossoming plain, The strength of strong manhood, the youthful in daring;
The thousands who went, but who came not again.
The many moons passed as a breath, in bright dreamland,
I looked from lone valley to sea-beaten shore; Two frigates,[Note] full-manned with a nation's defenders,
Britannia's proud ensign defiantly bore. Then up from the shadows came voices long silenced;
"Oh Britain! thou boast of the free and the brave; We fought, and we died for thy honor, thy freedom,
Thou yieldest our offspring no boon but the grave."