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XIII. Scotland the while convulsive lay

Pleased had you been to have beheld, Beneath a hateful tyrant's sway ;

Like fire-sparks from the stricken stone, For James's bigot mind th' ascendant gaind, Like sunbeams on the raindrop thrown, And fiercely raged blind ruthless power;

The kindling eye of sweet Griseld, While men, who true to conscience'voice remain’d, When thus her mother spoke, for known Were forced in caves and dens to cower;

Was his retreat to her alone. Bereft of home, or hold, or worldly wealth,

The wary dame to none beside
Upon the bleak and blasted heath,

The dangerous secret might confide.
They sang their glorious Maker's praise by stealth, “ O fear not, mother! I will go,
Th’ inclement sky beneath.

Betide me good or ill:
And some were forced to flee their native land, Nor quick nor dead shall daunt me; no;
Or in the grated prison's gloom,

Nor witch-fires, dancing in the dark,
Dealt to them by corruption's hateful hand, Nor owlet's shriek, not watch-dog's bark,
Abide their fatal doom.

For I will think, the while, I do God's blessed will.

I'll be his active Brownie sprite,

To bring him needful food, and share his lonely And there our former thrall, the good,

night.” The firm, the gentle Jerviswood Again was pent with sickness worn,

XIV Watching each pulse's feebler beat

And she, ere stroke of midnight bell, Which promised, ere the fated morn,

Did bound her for that dismal cell;
The scaffold of its prey to cheat.

And took that haunted, fearful way

Which, till that hour, in twilight gray

She never by herself had past, And now that patriot's ancient, faithful friend,

Or e'en athwart its copse-wood cast Our maiden's sire, must to the tempest bend.

A hasty glance, for dread of seeing He too must quit his social hearth,

The form of some unearthly being. The place where cheerful friends resort,

But now, far other forms of fear And travellers rest and children sport,

To her sacred sight appear, To lay him on the mouldering earth ;

And, like a sudden fit of ague, move her ; Through days of lonely gloom to rest his head

The stump of some old, blasted tree, With them, who, in those times unblest,

Or upright stone, or colt broke free Alone had sure and fearless rest,

To range at will the dewy lea,
The still, the envied dead.

Seem lurking spy or rustic lover,

Who may, e'en through the dark, her secret drift Sad was his hiding place, I ween,

discover. A fearful place, where sights had been,

Full oft, by the benighted rustic seen;
Ay, elrich forms in sheeted white,

She pauses oft.—“What whispers near?
Which, in the waning moonlight blast,

The babbling burn sounds in my ear. ass by, nor shadow onward cast,

Some hasty form the pathway crosses :Like any earthly wight;

'Tis but a branch the light wind tosses. A place, where midnight lights had shone

What thing is that by churchyard gate, Through charnel windows, and the glancing

That seems like spcarman tall to wait ? Of wandering flame, on church-path lone,

'Tis but the martyr's slender stone

Which stands so stately and alone :
Betray'd the hour when fiends and bags were dancing,
Or to their vigil foul with trooping haste advancing: Why should I shrink? why should I fear?

The vault's black door is near.”
A place, whose gate with weeds o’ergrown,
Hemlock and dock of deep dull green,

And she with icy fingers knock'd,

And heard with joy the door unlock'd,
That climbing rank the lintels screen,
What time the moon is riding high

And felt the yawning fence give way,

As deep and harsh the sounding hinges bray.
The very hounds went cowering by,
Or watch'd afar with howling moan;

For brutes, 'tis said, will see what meets no human

But to describe their tender meeting,

Tears shed unseen, affection utter'd

In broken words, and blessings mutter'd,
You well may guess his faithful wife

With many a kiss and kindly greeting, A heart of heavy cheer had then,

I know not; would my feeble skill Listening her household's hum of life,

Were meeter yokemate to my will! And thinking of his silent den. “O! who will to that vault of death,

XVII. At night's still watch repair,

Then from the struck flint Mew the spark, The dark and chilly sky beneath,

And lighted taper, faint and small, And needful succour bear?

Gave out its dun rays through the dark, Many his wants, who bideth lonely there !" On vaulted roof and crusted wall:

On stones reversed in crumbling mould,

And could there be in lovers meeting And blacken'd poles of bier decay'd

More powerful chords to move the mind, That lumbering on the ground were laid;

Fond heart to heart responsive beating, On sculptured wrecks, defaced and old,

Than in that tender hour, pure, pious love entwined. And shreds of painted 'scutcheons torn

Which once, in pointed lozenge spread,
The pillard church aloft had worn;

Thus, night succeeding night, her love
While new-swept nook and lowly bed,

Did its unwearied nature prove, Strange sight in such a place!

Tender and fearless; till, obscured by crimes, Betray'd a piteous case,

Again so darkly lower'd the changeful times, Man from man's converse torn, the living with the That her good sire, though shut from light of day, dead.

Might in that lowly den no longer stay.

The basket's store of viands and bread,

From Edinbrough town a courier came, Produced with looks of kind inviting,

And round him flock'd the castle's dame, Her hands with busy kindness spread ;

Children and servants, young and old. And he her kindly care requiting,

“ What news? what news? thy visage sad Fell to with thanks and relish keen,

Betrays too plainly tidings bad.” Nodded and quaff’d her health between,

And so it did; alas ! sad was the tale he told. While she his glee return'd, her smiles with tears “ From the oppressor's deadly hate uniting.

Good Jerviswood has met his fate No lordling at his banquet rare

Upon the lofty scaffold, where E’er tasted such delicious fare ;

He bore himself with dauntless air; No beauty on her silken seat,

Albeit, with mortal sickness spent, With lover kneeling at her feet,

Upon a woman's arm he leant, E’er wept and smiled by turns with smiles so fondly From earth to heaven at yestere'en he went.” sweet.


In silence deep the listeners stood,
But soon youth's buoyant, gladsome nature,

An instant borror chill'd their blood. Spreads joy unmix'd o’er every feature,

The lady groan'd, and turn'd aside As she her tale is archly telling

Her fears and troubled thoughts to hide. Of feuds within their busy dwelling,

The children wept, then went to play ; While, round the savoury table sitting,

The servants cried “Awaladay !" She gleans his meal, the rest unwitting,

But 0! what inward sights, which borrow How she, their open eyes deceiving,

The forms that are not, changing still, So dexterous has become in thieving.

Like shadows on a broken rill, She tells, how of some trifle prating,

Were blended with our damsel's sorrow! She stirs them all to keen debating,

Those lips, those eyes so sweetly mild, While into napkin'd lap she's sliding

That bless'd her as a humble child; Her portion, oft renew'd, and hiding,

The block in sable, deadly trim, Beneath the board, her store ; amazing

The kneeling form, the headsman grim, Her jealous Frere, oft on her gazing.

The sever'd head with life-blood streaming, Then with his voice and eager eye,

Were ever 'thwart her fancy gleaming. She speaks in harmless mimickry.

Her father, too, in perilous state, « Mother! was e'er the like beheld ?

He may be seized, and like his friend Some wolf possesses our Griseld ;

Upon the fatal scaffold bend. She clears her dish, as I'm a sinner!

May Heaven preserve him still from such a dreadLike ploughman at his new-year's dinner.”

ful end!

And then she thought, if this must be,

Who, honour'd sire, will wait on thee,
And waat each urchin, one by one,

And serve thy wants with decent pride, Had best in sport or lesson done,

Like Baillie's kinswoman, subduing fear She fail'd not to repeat;

With fearless love, thy last sad scene to cheer, Though sorry tales they might appear

E’en on the scaffold standing by thy side ? To a fastidious critic's ear,

A friend like his, dear father, thou shalt have, They were to him most sweet.

To serve thee to the last, and linger round thy grave.

But they must part till o’er the sky
Night cast again her sable dye;
For ah! her term is almost over!
How fleetly hath it flown !
As fleetly as with tristed lover
The stcalthy hour is gone.

Her father then, who narrowly
With life escaped, was forced to fly
His dangerous home, a home no more,
And cross the sea. A friendly shore
Received the fugitive, and there,
Like prey broke from the spoiler's snare,

To join her hapless lord, the dame

* XXXI. With all her numerous family came ;

And well, with ready hand and heart, And found asylum, where th' opprest

Each task of toilsome duty taking, Of Scotland's patriot sons had rest,

Did one dear inmate play her part, Like sea fowl clustering in the rock

The last asleep, the earliest waking.
To shun some rising tempest's shock.

Her hands each nightly couch prepared,

And frugal meal on which they fared :
But said I all the family? no:

Unfolding spread the servet white, Word incorrect! it was not so:

And deck'd the board with tankard bright. For one, the youngest child, confined

Through fretted hose and garment rent, With fell disease, was left behind;

Her tiny needle deftly went, While certain things, as thus by stealth

Till hateful penury, so graced, They fled, regarding worldly wealth

Was scarcely in their dwelling traced. Of much import, were left undone;

With reverence to the old she clung, And who will now that peril run,

With sweet affection to the young. Again to visit Scotland's shore,

To her was crabbed lesson said, From whence they did in fear depart,

To her the sly petition made, And to each parent's yearning heart

To her was told each petty care ; The darling child restore?

By her was lisp'd the tardy prayer,

What time the urchin, half undrest

And half asleep, was put to rest.
And who did for affection's sake
This task of peril undertake :

O! who but she, whose bosom swell'd

There is a sight all hearts beguiling.-With feelings high, whose self-devotion

A youthful mother to her infant smiling, Follow'd each generous, strong emotion,

Who, with spread arms and dancing feet, The young, the sweet, the good, the brave Griseld. And cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.

Who does not love to see the grandame mild, XXVIII.

Lesson with yearning looks the listening child ? Yes; she again cross'd o'er the main,

But 'tis a thing of saintlier nature, And things of moment left undone,

Amidst her friends of pigmy stature, Though o'er her head had scarcely run

To see the maid in youth's fair bloom, Her nineteenth year, no whit deluded

A guardian sister's charge assume, By wily fraud, she there concluded,

And, like a touch of angel's bliss, And bore the youngling to its home again. Receive from each its grateful kiss. XXIX.

To see them, when their hour of love is past, But when she reach'd the Belgian strand,

Aside their grave demeanour cast.

With her in mimic war they wrestle ; Hard was her lot. Fast fell the rain,

Beneath her twisted robe they nestle ; And there lay many miles of land,

Upon her glowing cheek they revel, A stranger's land, ere she might gain

Low bended to their tiny level; The nearest town. With hardship crost,

While oft, her lovely neck bestriding The wayward child its shoes had lost;

Crows some arch imp, like huntsman riding. Their coin was spent, their garments light,

This is a sight the coldest heart may feel ; And dark and dreary was the night.

To make down rugged cheeks the kindly tear to steal. Then like some gipsy girl on desert moor, Her helpless charge upon her back she bore.

XXXIII. Who then had guess'd that figure slight,

But when the toilsome sun was set, So bending in such humble plight,

And evening groups together met, Was one of proud and gentle race,

(For other strangers shelter'd there Possessing all that well became

Would seek with them to lighten care,) Th’accomplish'd maid or high-born dame,

Her feet still in the dance moved lightest, Befitting princely hall or monarch's court to grace ? Her eye with merry glance beam'd brightest,

Her braided locks were coil'd the neatest,

Her carol song was thrill’d the sweetest;
Their minds from many racking cares relieved,

And round the fire, in winter cold,
The gladsome parents to their arms received

No archer tale than hers was told.
Her and the infant dear, caressing
The twain by turns; while many a blessing,

Which sweetly all her toil repaid,

0! spirits gay, and kindly heart ! Was shed upon their generous maid :

Precious the blessings ye impart ! And though the inmates of a humble home, Though all unwittingly the while, To which they had as wretched outlaws come, Ye make the pining exile smile, Though hard their alter'd lot might be,

And transient gladness charm his pain, In crowded city pent,

Who ne'er shall see his home again. They lived with mind and body free

Ye make the stern misanthrope's brow In grateful, quiet content.

With tint of passing kindness glow,

And age spring from his elbow-chair

And with those worthies, 'twas a happy doom The sport of lightsome glee to share.

Right fairly earn'd, embark'd, Sir Patrick Hume. Thus did our joyous maid bestow

Their fleet, though long at sea, and tempest-tost, Her beamy soul on want and wo;

In happy hour at last arrived on England's coast. While proud, poor men, in thread bare suit,

Frisk'd on the floor with lightsome foot,

Meantime his dame and our fair maid
And from her magic circle chase
The fiends that vex the human race.

Still on the coast of Holland stay'd,

With anxious and misgiving minds,

Listening the sound of warring winds:
And do not, gentle reader, chide,

The ocean rose with deafening roar, If I record her harmless pride,

And beat upon the trembling shore, Who sacrificed the hours of sleep,

Whilst breakers dash'd their whitening spray Some show of better times to keep;

O'er mound and dyke with angry bray, That, though as humble soldier dight,

As if it would ingulf again
A stripling brother might more trimly stand The land once rescued from its wild dornain.
With pointed cuff and collar white,

Like one of gentler race mix'd with a homelier band.
And in that band of low degree

Oft on the beach our damsel stood
Another youth of gentle blood

Midst groups of many a fearful wight, Was found, who late had cross'd the sea,

Who view'd, like her, the billowy flood, The son of virtuous Jerviswood,

Silent and sad, with visage shrunk and white, Who did as common sentry wait |

While bloated corse and splinter'd mast, Before a foreign prince's gate.

And bale and cask on shore were cast, And if his eye, oft on the watch,

A sad and rueful sight! One look of sweet Griseld might catch,

But when, at the Almighty will, It was to him no dull nor irksome state.

The tempest ceased, and sea was still,

From Britain's isle glad tidings came,

Received with loud and long acclaim.
And thus some happy years stole by ;

Adversity with virtue mated;'!i. Bir
Her state of low obscurity, bb

But joy appears with shrouded head
Set forth but as deep shadows, fated

To those who sorrow o'er the dead ; By Heaven's high will to make the light

For, struck with sore disease, while there Of future skies appear more bright.

They tarried pent in noisome air, And thus, at lowest ebb, man's thoughts are oft The sister of her heart, whom she elated.

Had watch'd and tended lovingly, He deems not that the very struggle

Like blighted branch whose blossoms fade, Of active virtue, and the war

That day was in her coffin laid. She bravely holds with present ill,

She heard the chimed bells loudly ringing, Sustain’d by hope, does by the skill

She heard the caroll'd triumph singing,
Of some conceal'd and happy juggle,

And clamorous throng, and shouting boys,
Become itself the good which yet seems distant far. And thought how vain are human joys !
So, when their lamp of fortune burn'd

With brightest ray, our worthies turn'd,

Howbeit, her grief at length gives way A recollection, fondly bent,

To happier thoughts, as dawns the day
On these, their happiest years, in humble dwelling When her kind parent and herself depart,

In royal Mary's gentle train,

To join, ere long, the dearest to her heart,
At length the sky, so long with clouds o'ercast, In their own native land again.
Unveil'd its cope of azure hue,

They soon their own fair island hail'd,
And gave its fair expanse to view ;-

As on the rippling sea they sail'd. The pelting storm of tyranny was past.

Ye well may guess their joyful cry,

With upraised hands and glistening eye,
For he, the prince of glorious memory,

When, rising from the ocean blue,

Her chalky cliffs first met their view,
The prince, who shall, as passing ages fly,
Be blest; whose wise, enlighten'd, manly mind,

Whose white verge on th' horizon rear'd,
E'en when but with a stripling's years combined,

Like wall of noonday clouds appear'd.
Had with unyielding courage oft contended

For Europe's freedom,-for religion, blended These ye may guess, for well the show
With just, forbearing charity, and all

And outward signs of joy we know.
To man most dear;-now, at the honour'd call But cease we on this theme to dwell,
Of Britain's patriot sons, the ocean plough'd For pen or pencil cannot tell
With gallant feet, encompass’d by a crowd The thrill of keen delight from which they flow.
Of soldiers, statesmen, souls of proof, who vow'd Such moments of ecstatic pleasure
Firm by his side to stand, let good or ill befall. Are fancy's fairest, brightest treasure,

Gilding the scope of duller days

And from afar, her wistful eye With oft-recurring retrospect,

Would first his graceful form descry. With which right happily she plays.

E'en when he hied him forth to meet E'en as a moving mirror will reflect

The open air in lawn or street, Its glancing rays on shady side

She to her casement went, Of home or glen, when school-boys guide

And after him, with smile so sweet, With skilful hands their mimic sun

Her look of blessing sent. To heaven's bright sun opposed; we see

The heart's affection,-secret thing! Its borrow'd sheen on fallow dun,

Is like the cleft rock's ceaseless spring, On meadow green, on rock and tree,

Which free and independent flows On broomy steep, on rippling spring,

Of summer rains or winter snows. On cottage thatch, and every thing.

The foxglove from its side may fall

The heathbloom fade or moss-flower white,

But still its runlet, bright though small,
And Britain's virtuous queen admired

Will issue sweetly to the light.
Our gentle maid, and in her train
Of ladies will'd her to remain :

What more could young ambition have desired ?
But, like the blossom to the bough,

How long an honour'd and a happy pair,
Or wall-flower to the ruin's brow,

They held their seemly state in mansion fair, Or tendril to the fostering stock,

I will not here in chiming verses say, Or seaweed on the briny rock,

To tire my reader with a lengthen'd lay; Or mistletoe to sacred tree,

For tranquil bliss is as a summer day Or daisy to the swarded lea,

O’er broad Savana shining; fair it lies,

And rich the trackless scene, but soon our eyes,
So truly to her own she clung ;-
Nor cared for honours vain, from courtly favour In search of meaner things, turn heavily away.


But no new ties of wedded life,
Nor would she in her native north,

That bind the mother and the wife, When woo'd by one of wealth and worth,

Her tender, filial heart could change, The neighbour of her happy home,

Or from its earliest friends estrange. Though by her gentle parents press'd

The child, by strong affection led, And flattered, courted and caress'd,

Who braved her terror of the dead A splendid bride become.

To save an outlaw'd parent, still “I may not,” said her gentle heart,

In age was subject to his will. " The very thought endure,

She then was seen with matron air, That those so kind should feel the smart

A dame of years, with countenance fair, A daughter's wants might oft impart,

Though faded, sitting by his easy chair. For Jerviswood is poor.

A sight that might the heart's best feelings move! But yet, though poor, why should I smother

Behold her seated at her task of love! This dear regard ? he'll be my brother,

Books, papers, pencil, pen, and slate, And thus through life we'll love each other.

And column'd scrolls of ancient date, What though, as changing years flit by,

Before her lie, on which she looks Gray grow my head, and dim his eye!

With searching glance, and gladly brooks We'll meekly bear our wayward fate,

An irksome task, that else might vex And scorn their petty spite who rate,

His temper, or his brain perplex ; With senseless gibes, the single state,

While, haply, on the matted floor, Till we are join'd, at last, in heavenly bliss on Close nestling at her kirtled feet, high.”

Its lap enrich'd with childish store,

Sits, hush'd and still, a grandchild sweet,
But Heaven for them decreed a happier lot:

Who looks at times with eye intent, The father of the virtuous youth,

Full on its grandame's parent bent, Who died devoted for the truth,

Viewing his deeply-furrow'd brow, Was not, when better times return'd, forgot:

And sunken lip and locks of snow,

In serious wonderment.
To the right heir was given his father's land,
And with his lady's love, he won her hand.

Well said that graceful sire, I ween!

Still through life's many a varied scene,

Griseld our dear and helpful child hath been. Their long tried faith in honour plighted,

They were a pair by Heaven united,
Whose wedded love, through lengthen'd years, Though ever cheerfully possessing
The trace of early fondness wears.

In its full zest the present blessing,
Her heart first guess'd his doubtful choice, Her grateful heart remembrance cherish'd
Her ear first caught his distant voice,

Of all to former happiness allied,

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