To wean the heart frae warldly grief,
Frae warldly moil an' care,
Could maiden smile a lovelier smile,
Or drap a tend'rer tear?
But now she 's gane,—dark, dark an' drear,
Her lang, lang sleep maun be;
But, ah! mair drear the years o' life
That still remain to me!
Whan o'er the raging ocean wave
The gloom o' night is spread,
If lemes the twinkling beacon-light,
The sailor's heart is glad;
In hope he steers, but, 'mid the storm,
If sinks the waning ray,
Dees a' that hope, an' fails his saul,
O'erpress'd wi' loads o' wae.
ALEXANDER MACANSH.
The author of "The Social Curse, and other Poems," Alexander Macansh, was born at Dunfermline in 1803. At the age of eleven apprenticed to a flaxdresser, he followed this occupation during a period of thirty-eight years, of which the greater portion was spent in Harribrae factory, in his native town. During the intervals of his occupation, which demanded his attention about fourteen hours daily, he contrived to become familiar with British and continental authors, and with the more esteemed Latin classics. He likewise formed an intimate acquaintance with mathematical science. Of decided poetical tastes, he contributed verses to Tait's Magazine, the Edinburgh Literary Journal, and the Scotsman newspaper. In 1850, he published, by subscription, his volume of poems, entitled "The Social Curse, and other Poems," which has secured him a local reputation. Continuing to reside in Dunfermline, he has, for several years, possessed a literary connexion with some of the provincial newspapers, and has delivered lectures on science to the district institutions. To Mr Joseph Paton, of Dunfermline, so well known for his antiquarian pursuits, he has been indebted for generous support and kindly encouragement. Mr Macansh labours under severe physical debility.
THE MOTHER AND CHILD.
The mother, with her blooming child,
Sat by the river pool,
Deep in whose waters lay the sky,
So stilly beautiful.
She held her babe aloft, to see
Its infant image look
Up joyous, laughing, leaping from
The bosom of the brook.
And as it gazed upon the stream,
The wondering infant smiled,
And stretched its little hands, and tried
To clasp the shadow'd child,
Which, in that silent underwold,
With eager gesture strove
To meet it with a brother-kiss,
A brother-clasp of love.
Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,
('Twas thus the mother sung;)
The shrew, Experience, has not yet
With envious gesture flung
Aside the enchanted veil which hides
Life's pale and dreary look;
An angel lurks in every stream,
A heaven in every brook.