Page images
PDF
EPUB

III.

JOHN BRIGHT AT TAYNUILT.

(1).

SAYST thou and he was truly seated here

That stout broad-breasted, firmly-planted man, Who with brave heart, blithe look, and jovial cheer, To victory led the democratic clan.

There are who deem there is no truth in history,
Lies count by hundredweights, and truth by grains;

But I'll speak plainly out and say, the mystery
Lies only in their lack of sense and brains;
This fact I know, by one strong word, REFORM,
Bright hotly stirred the people's fretful mind,
Till Whig and Tory grew with envy warm,

And spurred with him, not to be left behind;
Some served their party bravely, some betrayed,
And all danced well as this proud piper played.

IV.

JOHN BRIGHT AT TAYNUILT.

(II).

WHAT? lodged he here and sat in that same chair,

The thunder-tongued, high-purposed democrat ; He was an honest man, I'll stand for that— And where he sate I'll sit well seated there. No doubt his hand a seething broth did brew,

Perhaps too strong for old John Bull's digestion, But 'twas a needful purge beyond all question He deemed, life's crazy framework to renew.

If he was wrong, and history tells no tales, Then who was right, if false then who was true,

When Whig and Tory spread their rival sails To catch sweet favour from the gale he blew? All sinned but they transgressed all honest rules Who knocked the workman down, then made bread

with his tools.

OBAN.

HUMOURS OF HIGHLAND WEATHER.

WHITHER, O whither hath fled

The lightsome and lovely display

Of Beauty, but yesterday shed

On the crag, and the Ben, and the bay?

Up from the West came a cloud,

Small, but to greatness it grew,

Till it wove from its tissue a shroud

That curtains the breadth of the blue.

I look and I see in the far

Banners of darkness unfurl'd,

Volumes of dimness that mar

The smile on the face of the world:

Gone into blankness hath fled

The emerald stretch of the glen, And the rosy gleam on the head Of the broad purpureal Ben.

Such are the humours that blot

The sky with the change of the year ;

Would'st thou be mortal, and not

Temper thy bliss with a tear?

Would'st thou have day without night? Ponder a moment, and own

That shadow must come with the light, And day by the darkness be known.

Wisely the Mighty one blends

Gloom with the glory of things,

Grieving with gladness he sends

Wisely to beggars and kings. Wisely he liveth who links

His life as a part to the whole, Wisely he thinketh who thinks

Humbly, with hymns in his soul.

A SEPTEMBER BLAST IN OBAN.

By Heaven! the house is rocking like a ship;

The strong trees bend like osiers, and the sea
Flings long white scourges forth, with truculent

glee,

And rides with madded speed high-armed, to whip
The quaking land! O what an altered theme

From yesterday, when in the breezeless glen
The sear leaf dropt, and high on Cruachan Ben
The white cloud rested like a saintly dream.
Such are thy changes, universal Lord,

Fearful to feeble man! but thou art strong,
And Nature still rings forth a jubilant song,
Where thy sure hand doth sweep the varied chord.
Our house may reel; but, as no storm had been,
The big round globe rolls through the blue Serene.

« PreviousContinue »