But O! remember me, Willie,
On land where'er ye be,—
And O! think on the leal, leal heart,
That ne'er luvit ane but thee!
And O! think on the cauld, cauld mools,[155]
That file[156] my yellow hair,—
That kiss the cheek, that kiss the chin,
Ye never sail kiss mair.
As a specimen of Motherwell's descriptive powers, the exquisite grace of his diction, and the deep-toned melody of his verse, and not only so, but of his high devotional feelings, we give the following:
A SABBATH SUMMER NOON.
The calmness of this noontide hour,
The shadow of this wood,
The fragrance of each wilding flower
Are marvelously good;
O! here crazed spirits breathe the balm,
Of nature's solitude!
It is a most delicious calm
That resteth everywhere,—
The holiness of soul-sung psalm,
Of felt, but voiceless prayer!
With hearts too full to speak their bliss,
God's creatures silent are.
They silent are; but not the less
In this most tranquil hour,
Of deep, unbroken dreaminess,
They own that Love and Power,
Which like the softest sunshine rests,
On every leaf and flower.
How silent are the song-filled nests
That crowd this drowsy tree,—
How mute is every feathered breast
That swelled with melody!
And yet bright bead-like eyes declare,
This hour is exstacy.
Heart forth! as uncaged bird through air,
And mingle in the tide
Of blessed things, that, lacking care,
How full of beauty glide,
Around thee, in their angel hues
Of joy and sinless pride.
Here on this green bank that o'er-views
The far retreating glen,
Beneath the spreading beech-tree muse,
On all within thy ken;
For lovelier scene shall never break,
On thy dimmed sight again.
Slow stealing from the tangled brake,
That skirts the distant hill,
With noiseless hoof two bright fawns make
For yonder lapsing rill;
Meek children of the forest gloom,
Drink on, and fear no ill!