Who swore, “Each ghost that comes For makin' strife wi' the water o' life, shall toast

And preferrin' agua vitæ !" In brunstane, will he, nill he ;

Then roared a voice with lusty din, There's nane need hope with phrases fine Like a skipper's when 't is blowy, Their score to wipe a sin frae;

“If that's a sin, I'd ne'er got in, I'll chalk a sign, to save their tryin', -- As sure as my name's Noah!” A hand () and · Vide infra!!!


Baulked, Willie turned another leaf, — Alas! no soil's too cold or dry

“There's many here have heard ye, For spiritual small potatoes,

To the pain and grief o'true belief, Scrimped natures, spry the trade to ply | Say hard things o' the clergy!” Of diaboli advocatus;

Then rang a clear tone over all, Who lay bent pins in the penance-stool “One plea for him allow me :

Where Mercy plumps a cushion, I once heard call from o'er me, “Saul, Who've just one rule for knave and fool, Why persecutest thou me?'"

It saves so much confusion !





To the next charge vexed Willie turned, So when Burns knocked, Will knit his And, sighing, wiped his glasses : brows,

“I 'm much concerned to find ye His window gap made scanter,

yearned And said, “ Go rouse the other house; O’er-warmly tow'rd the lasses ! ”

We lodge no Tam O'Shanter!” Here David sighed; poor Willie's face “ We lodge!” laughed Burns. “Now Lost all its self possession : well I see

“I leave this case to God's own grace: Death cannot kill old nature;

It baffles my discretion!”
No human flea but thinks that he
May speak for his Creator !

Then sudden glory round me broke,

And low melodious surges “But, Willie, friend, don't turn me Of wings whose stroke to splendor woke forth,

Creation's farthest verges; Anld Clootie needs no gauger;

A cross stretched, ladder-like, secure And if on earth I had small worth,

From earth to heaven's own portal, You've let in worse, I 'se wager!”

Whereby God's poor, with footing sure, “Na, nane has knockit at the yett

Climbed up to peace immortal.
But found me hard as whunstane;
There's chances yet your bread to get

Wi Auld Nick, gaugin' brunstane.” I heard a voice serene and low

(With my heart I seemed to hear it) IX.

Fall soft and slow as snow on snow, Meanwhile, the Unco' Guid had ta'en Like grace of the heavenly spirit;

Their place to watch the process, As sweet as over new-born son Flattening in vain on many a pane

The croon of new-made mother, Their disembodied noses.

The voice begun, “Sore tempted one!” Remember, please, 't is all a dream ; Then, pausing, sighed, “Our brother!

One can't control the fancies
Through sleep that stream with way.

ward gleam,

“If not a sparrow fall, unless Like midnight's boreal dances.

The Father sees and knows it,
Think! recks He less His form express,

The soul His own deposit ? Old Willie's tone grew sharp 's a knife: If only dear to Him the strong, " In primis, I indite ye,

That never trip nor wander,

[ocr errors]

Where were the throng whose morning. In him found Mercy's angel;

The daisy's ring brought every spring Thrills Élis blue arches yonder? To bim Love's fresh evangel! XVI.

XXI. “Do souls alone clear - eyed, strong: “ Not he the threatening texts who kneed,

deals To Him true service render,

Is highest ʼmong the preachers, And they who need His hand to lead, But he who feels the woes and weals Find they His heart untender ?

Of all God's wandering creatures. Through all your various ranks and fates He doth good work whose heart can He opens doors to duty,

find And he that waits there at your gates

The spirit ’neath the letter; Was servant of His Beauty,

Who makes his kind of happier mind,

Leaves wiser men and better.

XXII. “The Earth must richer sap secrete,

(Could ye in time but know it !) “They make Religion be abhorred Must juice concrete with fiercer heat, Who round with darkness gulf her, Ere she can make her poet;

And think no word can please the Lord Long generations go and come,

Unless it smell of sulphur. At last she bears a singer,

Dear Poet-heart, that childlike guessed For ages dumb of senses numb

The Father's loving kindness, The compensation-bringer!

Come now to rest! Thou didst His hest,

If haply 't was in blindness!”

“ Her cheaper broods in palaces
She ruises under glasses,

Then leapt heaven's portals wide apart, But souls like these, heav'n's hostages, And at their golden thunder Spring shelterless as grasses :

With sudden start I woke, my heart They share Earth's blessing and her! Still throbbing-full of wonder. bane,

“Father,” I said, “It is known to Thee The common sun and shower;

How Thou thy Saints preparest;
What makes your pain to them is gain, But this I see, - Saint Charity
Your weakness is their power.

Is still the first and fairest !”

XXIV. These larger hearts must feel the rolls Dear Bard and Brother! let who may Of stormier-waved temptation;

Against thy faults be railing, These star - wide souls between their (Though far, I pray, from us be they poles

That never had a failing!) Bear zones of tropic passion.

One toast I'll give, and that not long, He loved much! Lihat is gospel good, Which thou wouldst pledge if presHowe'er the text you handle ;

ent, — From common wood the cross was To him whose song, in nature strong, hewed,

Makes man of prince and peasant! By love turned priceless sandal. XX.

IN AN ALBUM. “ If scant his service at the kirk, He paters heard and ares

The misspelt scrawl, upon the wall From choirs that lurk in hedge and By some Pompeian idler traced, birk,

In ashes packed (ironic fact !) From blackbird and from mavis; Lies eighteen centuries uneffaced, The cowering mouse, poor unroofed While many a page of bard and sage, thing,

Deemed once mankind's immortal gain,

Lost from Time's ark, leaves no more As if the dull brain that you vented inark

your spite on Than a keel's furrow through the main. Could be got, like an ox, by 'mere pok

ing, to Brighton. O Chance and Change! our buzz's range

They say it is wholesome to rise with the Is scarcely wider than a fly's;

sun, Then let us play at fame to-day, And I dare say it may be if not over. Tomorrow be unknown and wise ;

done ; And while the fair beg locks of hair, (I think it was Thomson who made the And autographs, aud Lord kuows what,

remark Quick ! let us scratch our moment's ’T was an excellent thing in its way — match,

for a lark;) Make our brief blaze, and be forgot! But to rise after dinner and look down

the meeting Too pressed to wait, upon her slate On a distant (as Gray calls it) prospect Fame writes a name or two in doubt;

of Eating, Scarce written, these no longer please, With a stomach half full and a cerebrum And her own finger rubs them out:

hollow It may ensue, fair girl, that you

As the tortoise-shell ere it was strung for Years hence this yellowing leaf may Apollo, see,

Under contract to raise anerithmon And put to task, your memory ask

gelasma In vain, " This Lowell, who was he?” With rhymes so hard hunted they gasp

with the asthma,

And jokes not much younger than AT THE COMMENCEMENT DINNER,

Jethro's phylacteries, 1866, IN ACKNOWLEDGING A TOAST




I RISE, Mr. Chairman, as both of us I've a notion, I think, of a good dinner know,

speech, With the impromptu I promised you Tripping light as a sandpiper over the three weeks ago,

beach, Dragged up to my doom by your might Swerving this way and that as the ware and my mane,

of the moment To do what I vowed I'd do never again; Washes out its slight trace with a dash And I feel like your good honest dough of whim's foam on 't, when possest

And leaving on memory's rim just a sense By a stirring, impertinent devil of yeast. Something graceful had gone by, a live “ You must rise," says the leaven. “Il present tense ; can't,” says the dough;

Not poetry, - no, not quite that, but as “Just examine my bumps and you 'll

good, see it's po go.”

A kind of winged prose that could fly if “But you must," the tormentor insists, it would. " 't is all right;

'T is a time for gay fancies as fleeting You must rise when I bid you, and, and vain what 's more, be light.”

| As the whisper of foam-beads on fresh

poured champagne, 'T is a dreadful oppression, this making Since dinners were not perhaps strictly men speak

designed What they 're sure to be sorry for all For maneuvering the heavy dragoons of the next week;

the mind. Some poor stick requesting, like Aaron's, When I hear your set speeches that start to bud

with a pop, Into eloquence, pathos, or wit in cold Then wander and maunder, too feeble to



? Speat thichefour

With a vague apprehension from popular | Now since I've succeeded - I pray do rumor

not frowni There used to be something by mortals To Ticknor's and Longfellow's classical called humor,

gown, Beginning ayain when you thought they And profess four strange languages, were done,

which, luckless elf, Resp ctable, sensible, weighing a ton, | 1 speak like a native (of Cambridge) Aud as near to the preseut occasions of myself, men

Let me beg, Mr. President, leave to As a Fast Day discourse of the year propose eighteen ten,

A sentiment treading on nobody's toes, I - well, I sit still, and my sentiments And give, in such ale as with pumpsmother,

handles we brew, For am I not also a bore and a brother? | Their memory who saved us from all

talking Hebrew,And a toast, — what should that be? A toast that to deluge with water is Light, airy, and free,

good, The foam-Aphrodite of Bacchus's sea, For in Scripture they come in just after A fancy-tinged bubble, an orbed rain the tiood: bow-stain,

I give you the men but for whom, as I That floats for an instant '.wixt goblet guess, sir, and brain;

Modern languages ne'er could have had A breath-born perfection, half something,

L a professor, half naught,

The builders of Babel, to whose zeal the And breaks if it strike the hard edge of lungs a thought.

Of the children of men owe confusion of Do you ask me to make such? Ah no, tongues ; not so simple;

And a name all-embracing I couple thereAsk Apelles to paint you the ravishing with, dimple

Which is that of my founder — the late Whose shifting enchantment lights Ve Mr. Smith.

nus's cheek, And the artist will tell you his skill is to seek;

A PARABLE. Once fix it,'t is naught, for the charm of it rises

An ass munched thistles, while a nightFrom the sudden bopeeps of its smiling

ingale surprises.

From passion's fountain flooded all the

vale. I've tried to define it, but what mother's " Hee-haw !” cried he, “I hearken." as

who knew Could ever yet do what he knows should For such ear-largess humble thanks were be done?

due. My rocket has burst, and I watch in the “Friend,” said the winged pain,“ in vain air

you bray, Its fast-fading heart's-blood drop back in Who tunnels bring, not cisterns, for my

despair; Yet one chance is left me, and, if I am None but his peers the poet rightly hear, quick,

Nor mete we listeners by their length of I can palm off, before you suspect me, the stick.



[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]





GARET'S, WESTMINSTER, BY AMERIIn life's small things be resolute and great CAN CONTRIBUTORS. To keep thy muscle trained: know'st thou when Fate

The New World's sons, from England's Thy measure takes, or when she 'll say

breasts we drew to thee,

Such milk as bids remember whence "I find thee worthy; do this deed for

we came; me?

Proud of her Past wherefrom our Pres

ent grew,

This window we inscribe with Raleigh's A camel-driver, angry with his drudge,

name. Beating him, called him hunchback; to

the hind Thus spake a dervish: “Friend, the PROPOSED FOR A SOLDIERS AND SAIL Eternal Judge

ORS' MONUMENT IN BOSTON. Dooms not His work, but ours, the

To those who died for her on land and sea, crooked mind.”

That she might have a country great 3.

and free,

Boston builds this: build ye her monuSwiftly the politic goes : is it dark? — he

ment borrows a lantern;

In lives like theirs, at duty's summons Slowly the statesman and sure, guiding

spent. his steps by the stars.

A MISCONCEPTION. “Where lies the capital, pilgrim, seat of who governs the Faithful ?”

B, taught by Pope to do his good by “ Thither my footsteps are bent; it is

stealth, where Saadi is lodged.”

'Twixt participle and noun no difference


In office placed to serve the CommonINSCRIPTIONS


Does himself all the good he can by FOR A BELL AT CORNELL UNIVERSITY.


I CALL as fly the irrevocable hours,

THE BOSS. Futile as air or strong as fate to make Your lives of sand or granite ; awful SKILLED to pull wires, he baffles Nature's powers,

hope, Even as men choose, they either give Who sure intended him to stretch a or take.


« 上一頁繼續 »