JAMES BALLANTINE. JAMES BALLANTINE was born in Edinburgh in 1808. His father died in 1818, and the boy and his three sisters were educated almost entirely by their mother. James was apprenticed to a house-painter, and became a good workman. At the age of twenty he studied anatomy for a while at the University of Edinburgh. Subsequently he learned the art of painting on glass; and it is said that the recent revival of that art in Great Britain is due almost entirely to his taste and skill, and his archæological researches. NAEBODY'S BAIRN. SHE was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn, She had mickle to thole, she had mickle to learn, Afore a kind word or kind look she could earn, For naebody cared about Naebody's bairn. Though faither or mither ne'er own'd her ava, Though rear'd by the fremmit for fee unco sma', She grew in the shade like a young lady-fern, For Nature was bounteous to Naebody's bairn. Though toited by some, and though lightlied by mair, She never compleened, though her young heart was sair, And warm virgin tears that might melted cauld airn Whiles glist in the blue ee o' Naebody's bairn. Though nane cheer'd her childhood, an' nane hail'd her birth, Heaven sent her an angel to gladden the earth; And when the earth doom'd her in laigh nook to dern, Heaven couldna but tak' again Naebody's bairn. She cam smiling sweetly as young mornin' daw, His wee chubby face, an' his towzy curly pow, Are laughin' an' noddin' to the dancin' lowe; He'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair, Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air. He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon, He sees little sodgers puin' them a' doun; Warlds whomlin' up an' doun, blazin' wi' a flare, Losh! how he loups, as they glimmer in the air. For a' sae sage he looks, what can the laddie ken? He's thinkin' upon naething, like mony mighty men; A wee thing mak's us think, a sma' thing mak's us stare There are mair folks than him biggin' castles in the air. Sic a night in winter may weel mak' him cauld; His chin upon his buffy hand will soon mak' him auld; His brow is brent sae braid, ob, pray that Daddy Care Wad let the wean alane wi' his castles in the air. He'll glower at the fire, an' he'll keek at the light; But mony sparkling stars are swallow'd up by night; Aulder een than his are glamour'd by a glare, Hearts are broken-heads are turn'd-wi' castles in the air. CASTLES IN THE AIR. THE bonnie, bonnie bairn sits pokin' in the ase, Glowerin' in the fire wi' his wee round face; Laughin' at the fuffin' lowe-what sees he there? Ha! the young dreamer's biggin' castles in the air! ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW. CONFIDE ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil mind; Though press'd an' hemm'd on every side, ha'e | The cauld grey misty morn aft brings a sultry faith an' ve'll win through, For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. Gin reft frae friends, or cross'd in love, as whiles nae doubt ye've been, Grief lies deep-hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae your een, Believe it for the best, and trow there's good in store for you, For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. In lang, lang days o' simmer when the clear and cludless sky Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry, The genial night, wi' balmy breath, gars verdure spring anew, An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. Sae lest 'mid fortune's sunshine we should feel ower proud an' hie, An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's ee, Some wee dark cluds o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or hoo, But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. WIFIE, COME HAME. WIFIE, come hame, My couthie wee dame! Oh, but ye're far awa', Wifie, come hame! Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy broo, Come wi' the lown star o' love in thine ee, Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou', A' glist wi' balm, like the dew on the lea. Come wi' the gowd tassels fringin' thy hair, Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee, Come wi' thy wee step, and wifie-like airOh, quickly come, and shed blessings on me! Wifie, come hame, My couthie wee dame! Come wi' our love-pledge, our dear little dawtie, knee; Come let me nestle and press the wee pettie, sunny day; The trees wha's buds are latest are the langest to decay; The heart sair tried wi' sorrow aye endures the sternest test The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. The wee, wee stern that glints in heaven may be a lowin' sun, Though like a speck o' light, scarce seen amid the welkin dun; The humblest sodger on the field may win the warrior's crest The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. Then dinna be impatient wi' your bairnie when he's slow, And dinna scorn the humble, though the world deem them low; The hindmost and the feeblest aft become the first and best The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. CREEP AFORE YE GANG. CREEP awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang; Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld grannie's sang; Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang, Creep awa', my bairnie-creep afore ye gang. Creep awa', my bairnie, ye're ower young to learn To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn; Better creepin' cannie, than fa'in' wi' a bang, Duntin' a' your wee brow-creep afore ye gang. Ye'll creep, an' ye'll laugh, an' ye'll nod to your mither, Watchin' ilka step o' your wee dousy brither; Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang, BONNIE BONALY. She's gentle and she's bonnie, an' she's modest as she's fair, Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they're fare; While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea For happiness an' innocence thegether aye maun be! Whene'er she shows her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw, An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a'; But when wi' other's sorrow touch'd, the tear starts to her ee, Oh! that's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me. Within my soul her form's enshrin'd, her heart is a' my ain, An' richer prize or purer bliss nae mortal e'er can gain; The darkest paths o' life I tread wi' steps o' bounding glee, Cheer'd onward by the love that lichts my nameless lassie's ee. BONNIE BONALY. BONNIE Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream Flooding with music its own tiny valley, Proudly Bonaly's grey-browed castle towers, Nurtured by art, rarest garden-sweets bloom; Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally, Playing among the green knolls o' Bonaly. Pentland's high hills raise their heather-crowned crest, Peerless Edina expands her white breast, SAFT IS THE BLINK O' THINE EE, LASSIE. OH, saft is the blink o' thine ee, lassie, An' a bonnie wee sun glimmers in its blue orb, The ringlets that twine round thy brow, lassie, Are gowden, as gowden may be; Like the wee curly cluds that play round the sun, When he's just going to drap in the sea. 287 HORATIUS BONAR. HORATIUS BONAR was born in Edinburgh, De- | ing," "The Morning of Joy," "The Eternal Day," cember 19, 1808. His ancestors for several gen- "God's Way of Peace," Lyra Consolationis," erations were ministers of the Church of Scot- and "Hymns of Faith and Hope." The last land. He was educated at the University of named is his most popular work, and has been Edinburgh, was for some time a missionary at extended to three series. Dr. Bonar has also Leith, and was ordained at Kelso in 1837. His published two books of travels in the Holy Land. publications, mainly poetical and devotional, are He is now (1875) pastor of the Chalmers Menumerous; they include “The Night of Weep-morial Free Church, in Edinburgh. THE MEETING-PLACE. Christ and his love shall be thy blessed all For evermore! Christ and his light shall shine on all thy ways For evermore! Christ and his peace shall keep thy troubled soul For evermore! THE MEETING-PLACE. WHERE the faded flower shall freshen, Of the wood, or wave, or hill: Brother, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest! Where no shadow shall bewilder, And the dreamer dreams no more; Where the bond is never severed, Partings, claspings, sob and moan, Midnight waking, twilight weeping, Heavy noontide, all are done: Where the child has found its mother, Where the mother finds the child, Where dear families are gathered That were scattered on the wild: Brother, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest! Where the hidden wound is healed, Brother, we shall meet and rest. Where a blasted world shall brighten And a softer, gentler sunshine Shed its healing splendor here; Where earth's barren vales shall blossom, Putting on their robe of green, And a purer, fairer Eden Be where only wastes have been: Where a king in kingly glory, Such as earth has never known, Brother, we shall meet and rest BRIGHT FEET OF MAY. Trip along in light and song, Trip along when morning shines, Trip along, in light and song, Trip along, and as you move, Trip along, in light and song, ALL WELL. No seas again shall sever, Shall roll its tide between. No bleak cliffs, upward towering, Love, and unsevered union No dread of wasting sickness, No thought of ache or pain, No fretting hours of weakness, Shall mar our peace again. No death, our homes o'ershading, Shall e'er our harps unstring; For all is life unfading In presence of our King. 289 |