| No, comrades, I thank you—not any for me; |
| My last chain is riven—henceforward I'm free! |
| I will go to my home and my children to-night |
| With no fumes of liquor their spirits to blight; |
| And, with tears in my eyes, I will beg my poor wife |
| To forgive me the wreck I have made of her life. |
| I have never refused you before? Let that pass, |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| Just look at me now, boys, in rags and disgrace, |
| With my bleared, haggard eyes, and my red, bloated face; |
| Mark my faltering step and my weak, palsied hand, |
| And the mark on my brow that is worse than Cain's brand; |
| See my crownless old hat, and my elbows and knees, |
| Alike, warmed by the sun, or chilled by the breeze. |
| Why, even the children will hoot as I pass;— |
| But I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| You would hardly believe, boys, to look at me now |
| That a mother's soft hand was pressed on my brow— |
| When she kissed me, and blessed me, her darling, her pride, |
| Ere she lay down to rest by my dead father's side; |
| But with love in her eyes, she looked up to the sky |
| Bidding me meet her there and whispered "Good-bye." |
| And I'll do it, God helping! Your smile I let pass, |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| Ah! I reeled home last night, it was not very late, |
| For I'd spent my last sixpence, and landlords won't wait |
| On a fellow who's left every cent in their till, |
| And has pawned his last bed, their coffers to fill. |
| Oh, the torments I felt, and the pangs I endured! |
| And I begged for one glass—just one would have cured,— |
| But they kicked me out doors! I let that, too, pass, |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| At home, my pet Susie, with her rich golden hair, |
| I saw through the window, just kneeling in prayer; |
| From her pale, bony hands, her torn sleeves hung down, |
| And her feet, cold and bare, shrank beneath her scant gown, |
| And she prayed—prayed for bread, just a poor crust of bread, |
| For one crust, on her knees my pet darling plead! |
| And I heard, with no penny to buy one, alas! |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| For Susie, my darling, my wee six-year-old, |
| Though fainting with hunger and shivering with cold, |
| There, on the bare floor, asked God to bless me! |
| And she said, "Don't cry, mamma! He will; for you see, |
| I believe what I ask for!" Then sobered, I crept |
| Away from the house; and that night, when I slept, |
| Next my heart lay the PLEDGE! You smile! let it pass, |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| |
| My darling child saved me! Her faith and her love |
| Are akin to my dear sainted mother's above! |
| I will make my words true, or I'll die in the race, |
| And sober I'll go to my last resting place; |
| And she shall kneel there, and, weeping, thank God |
| No drunkard lies under the daisy-strewn sod! |
| Not a drop more of poison my lips shall e'er pass, |
| For I've drank my last glass, boys, |
| I have drank my last glass. |
| Ye banks, and braes, and streams around |
| The castle o' Montgomery, |
| Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, |
| Your waters never drumlie! |
| There simmer first unfauld her robes, |
| And there the langest tarry; |
| For there I took the last fareweel |
| O' my sweet Highland Mary. |
| |
| How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, |
| How rich the hawthorn's blossom, |
| As, underneath their fragrant shade, |
| I clasp'd her to my bosom! |
| The golden hours, on angel wings, |
| Flew o'er me and my dearie; |
| For dear to me as light and life |
| Was my sweet Highland Mary! |
|
| |
| Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, |
| Our parting was fu' tender; |
| And, pledging aft to meet again, |
| We tore oursels asunder; |
| But, oh, fell death's untimely frost, |
| That nipp'd my flower sae early! |
| Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay, |
| That wraps my Highland Mary! |
| |
| Oh, pale, pale now, those rosy lips, |
| I aft ha'e kiss'd, sae fondly! |
| And closed for aye the sparkling glance |
| That dwalt on me sae kindly! |
| And mouldering now in silent dust, |
| That heart that lo'ed me dearly; |
| But still within my bosom's core |
| Shall live my Highland Mary! |
| |
| Robert Burns. |
| Little one, come to my knee! |
| Hark, how the rain is pouring |
| Over the roof, in the pitch-black night, |
| And the wind in the woods a-roaring! |
| |
| Hush, my darling, and listen, |
| Then pay for the story with kisses; |
| Father was lost in the pitch-black night, |
| In just such a storm as this is! |
| |
| High up on the lonely mountains, |
| Where the wild men watched and waited |
| Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush, |
| And I on my path belated. |
| |
| The rain and the night together |
| Came down, and the wind came after, |
| Bending the props of the pine-tree roof, |
| And snapping many a rafter. |
| |
| I crept along in the darkness, |
| Stunned, and bruised, and blinded,— |
| Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs, |
| And a sheltering rock behind it. |
| |
| There, from the blowing and raining |
| Crouching, I sought to hide me: |
| Something rustled, two green eyes shone, |
| And a wolf lay down beside me. |
| |
| Little one, be not frightened; |
| I and the wolf together, |
| Side by side, through the long, long night |
| Hid from the awful weather. |
| |
| His wet fur pressed against me; |
| Each of us warmed the other; |
| Each of us felt, in the stormy dark, |
| That beast and man was brother. |
| |
| And when the falling forest |
| No longer crashed in warning, |
| Each of us went from our hiding-place |
| Forth in the wild, wet morning. |
| |
| Darling, kiss me in payment! |
| Hark, how the wind is roaring; |
| Father's house is a better place |
| When the stormy rain is pouring! |
| |
| Bayard Taylor. |