MR PETER DUNLOP, ANTIQUARIAN, MILLBURN.
LANGSYNE noo a cleric, queer ane,
Sang in sweet an' stirring strains
O' that generous antiquarian-
Adam Sim, o' Coulter Mains.
Now, a plain, unlettered layman,
Seeks in simple terms to tell,
O' the young aspiring claimant
Upon whom his mantle fell.
Orthodox in style and metre,
Modestly we would applaud him;
And, although his name be "Peter,'
Isna that as guid as Adam?
True, his was a lofty dwellin',
Costin' thousands aught or ten;
Peter's is a hamely hallan-
Just a Scottish but-an'-ben.
Yet aneath that roof sae humble
Gathered noo's a store, I ween,
That successfully micht jumble
Ony head but Peter's ain.
How sae mony auld and rare things
Into his possession fell,
Is anither o' the queer things
He can best explain himsel'.
Tools and weapons, representing
Times of peace and times of war;
Some frae weel-kent cave or mountain,
Some frae countries distant far ;
Some frae lone hilltap that rises,
Reaching maist unto the moon;
Ithers dug frae bogs and mosses,
Feet-ay, yards-ay, fathoms doon!
Some o' them could claim a hist❜ry
An' a glorious pedigree;
Some o' them are wrapt in mystery
Dark as dungeon's gloom could be.
Let a friend, then, true an' trusty,
Celebrate his name in metre
North and South and East and West hae
Poured their treasures in to Peter.
Then for coins! a world o' wonders
Liveliest admiration claim,
Not by scores nor yet by hunders,
But by thousands counts he them.
'Mong them ye may wale an' grovel
Through a summer's afternoon;
Some are oblong, ithers oval,
Some triangular, some roun'.
Some there are wha's clear inscription
Tell their country an' their age,
Others baffle a' description
O' philosopher an' sage.
'Mang them, too, there is a sprinklin',
Coined-I trust I am na wrang-
Ere the stars were set a twinklin',
Or the moon kent whaur to gang!
Wonder, then, nae man, that men o'
Wisdom sound, an' common-sense
Hae contracted the vile sin o'
Lustin' after "Peter's Pence."
Willie Shakespeare says-"There is a
Tide in the affairs of men;"
May the tidal wave increase aye
Peter's store baith but an' ben.
May the streamlet turn a river—
Åne that isna easy cross'd;
And may fortune still thee favour,
As she has throughout the past.
And, when next I seek the valleys
O' thy ain dear native shire,
Where still lives the name of Wallace,
Guarded as with sword of fire;
When I climb each well-known mountain,
Seek each river, lake, an' stream;
Gaze upon each crystal fountain,
Dear 'mid youth's delightful dream,
Thoughts, owre pleasant for revealin',
Shall within this bosom burn
When I seek thy humble shielin',
Sage an' prophet o' Millburn.
May I find thee snugly seated,
Isaac's specs upon thy nose,
Abraham's auld sandals fitted
On the tap of o' Terah's hose.
Quaint and queer remarks to offer
On this relic and on that;
Garron nails, or splints o' Gophar
Frae the tap o' Ararat.
Or the harp that David played on
To the crusty, cross King Saul,
Who got up and threw his javelin
At his head, but struck the wall.
Weel for us that David watched him,
And took heels to save his head;
Had that cranky weapon reached him
We had haen few psalms to read.
But, lest sacred things should suffer
Frae my touch by tongue or pen,
Friendship's hand I'd better offer-
Sae, farewell; amen, amen!
YOU'LL leave me all alone to-night
Amid the silence of my room;
I cannot wish that others might
Be sharers in this hour of gloom.
So till the light again has come,
And clouds and shadows all are gone,
Of my desires this is the sum—
You'll kindly leave me all alone.
You'll leave me all alone to-night-
A host of memories are near,
From bygone years they 've winged their flight,
And hover closely round me here.
Faces and forms once very dear—
How dear none other e'er can know ;
So when they claim a sigh, a tear,
I cannot, dare not, bid them go.
You'll leave me all alone to-night,
Nor deem me cruel or unkind;
For though my present is made bright
By smiles of many a loving friend,
Yet bygone loves and friendships lend
To present times their tinge and hue;
Let me have, then, this hour to spend,
Those loves and friendships to renew.
You'll leave me all alone to-night
Amid the silence of my room;
I cannot wish that others might
Be sharers in this hour of gloom.
So till the light again has come,
And clouds and shadows all are gone,
my desires this is the sum-
You'll kindly leave me all alone.
FALLEN AND FALLING LEAVES.
Suggested by an October scene.
THEY fall with every fitful breeze,
They pass away like passing thought—
Nurslings of April and of May
That July to perfection brought.
They thickly strew the greenwood glade,
Or flutter o'er the dark blue pool,
Ten thousand leaves that lately made
The forest scene so beautiful.
Whilst some abruptly quit the stem
And hasten to earth's bosom cold,
Yet others, all unlike to them,
Reluctant, quit their fragile hold;
Whilst some to peaceful rest descend
'Mong scenes they once did beautify,
And others, all unlike to them,
Along the wold unheeded lie.
And these have draped the woodland scene
Where warblers waked their sweetest song,
And those the glen and bowers, I ween,
Where lovers met and lingered long ;
And these have graced the hedgerows green
Where sported oft the playful child,
And those the lonely moorland scene
Where streamlets stray in deserts wild.
Is there no language whispered us
When wand'ring thro' the leafless woods?
Ah! yes, there is a still small voice
Among the silent solitudes;
To ears and hearts not deaf and cold
It speaketh here distinct and clear:
He that hath eyes let him behold,
He that hath ears, then let him hear.
Author of "Poems on Scottish subjects," a native of Ross-shire, and now a settler in Michigan.
BARD of the North whose wiry form
Was reared where towers the proud Ben Wyvis,
High where the waves of Cromarty
Dance wild thro' cavern and crevice;
Thou who when mists of mountains grand
And scenes historic did surround thee,
Hast wrapt with fond and eager hand
The Ossianic mantle round thee;
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