And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee; Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child, But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree, And, sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And, pointing to the east, began to say:
'Look on the rising sun,—there God does live, And gives His light, and gives His heat away; And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
'And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love; And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
'For when our souls have learned the heat to bear, The cloud will vanish; we shall hear His voice, Saying: "Come out from the grove, my love and care. And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice."'
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me; And thus I say to little English boy. When I from black and he from white cloud free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear To lean in joy upon our Father's knee; And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair, And be like him, and he will then love me.
A CRADLE SONG
Sweet dreams, form a shade O'er my lovely infant's head; Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams.
Sweet sleep, with soft down Weave thy brows an infant crown. Sweet sleep, Angel mild, Hover o'er my happy child.
Sweet smiles, in the night Hover over my delight; Sweet smiles, mother's smiles, All the livelong night beguiles.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, Chase not slumber from thy eyes. Sweet moans, sweeter smiles, All the dovelike moans beguiles.
Sleep, sleep, happy child, All creation slept and smiled; Sleep, sleep, happy sleep, While o'er thee thy mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace. Sweet babe, once like thee, Thy Maker lay and wept for me,
Wept for me, for thee, for all, When He was an infant small. Thou His image ever see, Heavenly face that smiles on thee,
Smiles on thee, on me, on all; Who became an infant small. Infant smiles are His own smiles; Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green, Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow, Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters flow.
O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own. The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among, Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor; Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
THE DIVINE IMAGE
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love All pray in their distress; And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is God, our Father dear, And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is man, His child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine, Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew; Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too.
ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief and care, Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest, Pouring pity in their breast; And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant's tear;
And not sit both night and day, Wiping all our tears away? O, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all; He becomes an infant small; He becomes a man of woe; He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, And thy Maker is not by; Think not thou canst weep a tear, And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy That our grief He may destroy; Till our grief is fled and gone He doth sit by us and moan.
THE BOOK OF THEL
Thel's Motto Does the Eagle know what is in the pit: Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod, Or Love in a golden bowl?
The daughters of [the] Seraphim led round their sunny flocks— All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air, To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day: Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard, And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew:—
'O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water? Why fade these children of the spring, born but to smile and fall? Ah! Thel is like a watery bow, and like a parting cloud; Like a reflection in a glass; like shadows in the water; Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infant's face; Like the dove's voice; like transient day; like music in the air. Ah! gentle may I lay me down, and gentle rest my head, And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gentle hear the voice Of Him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.'
The Lily of the Valley, breathing in the humble grass, Answered the lovely maid and said: 'I am a wat'ry weed, And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales; So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head. Yet I am visited from heaven, and He that smiles on all Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads His hand, Saying, "Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower, Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks; For thou shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna, Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs, To flourish in eternal vales." Then why should Thel complain? Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh?'
She ceased, and smiled in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.
Thel answered: 'O thou little Virgin of the peaceful valley, Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'er-tired; Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy milky garments, He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume, Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs, Revives the milked cow, and tames the fire-breathing steed. But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun: I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place?'
'Queen of the vales,' the Lily answered, 'ask the tender Cloud, And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky, And why it scatters its bright beauty through the humid air. Descend, O little Cloud, and hover before the eyes of Thel.'
The Cloud descended, and the Lily bowed her modest head, And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.
'O little Cloud,' the Virgin said, I charge thee tell to me Why thou complainest not, when in one hour thou fade away; Then we shall seek thee, but not find. Ah! Thel is like to thee: I pass away; yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.'
The Cloud then showed his golden head, and his bright form emerged, Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel. 'O Virgin, know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs Where Luvah doth renew his horses? Look'st thou on my youth, And fearest thou, because I vanish and am seen no more, Nothing remains? O maid, I tell thee, when I pass away, It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy: Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers, And court the fair-eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent: The weeping virgin, trembling, kneels before the risen sun, Till we arise, linked in a golden band and never part, But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers.'
'Dost thou, O little Cloud? I fear that I am not like thee, For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers, But I feed not the little flowers; I hear the warbling birds, But I feed not the warbling birds; they fly and seek their food: But Thel delights in these no more, because I fade away; And all shall say, "Without a use this shining woman lived, Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?"'
The Cloud reclined upon his airy throne, and answered thus:—
'Then if thou art the food of worms, O Virgin of the skies, How great thy use, how great thy blessing! Everything that lives Lives not alone nor for itself. Fear not, and I will call The weak Worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice. Come forth, Worm of the silent valley, to thy pensive Queen.'
The helpless Worm arose, and sat upon the Lily's leaf, And the bright Cloud sailed on, to find his partner in the vale.
Then Thel astonished viewed the Worm upon its dewy bed.
'Art thou a Worm? Image of weakness, art thou but a Worm? I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lily's leaf. Ah! weep not, little voice, thou canst not speak, but thou canst weep. Is this a Worm? I see thee lay helpless and naked, weeping, And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mother's smiles.' The Clod of Clay heard the Worm's voice, and raised her pitying head; She bowed over the weeping infant, and her life exhaled In milky fondness: then on Thel she fixed her humble eyes.
'O Beauty of the vales of Har! we live not for ourselves. Thou seest me, the meanest thing, and so I am indeed. My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark; But He that loves the lowly pours His oil upon my head, And kisses me, and binds His nuptial bands around my breast, And says: "Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee, And I have given thee a crown that none can take away." But how this is, sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know;
I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.' The daughter of beauty wiped her pitying tears with her white veil, And said: 'Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep. That God would love a worm I knew, and punish the evil foot That wilful bruised its helpless form; but that He cherished it With milk and oil, I never knew, and therefore did I weep; And I complained in the mild air, because I fade away, And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.'
'Queen of the vales,' the matron Clay answered, 'I heard thy sighs, And all thy moans flew o'er my roof, but I have called them down. Wilt thou, O queen, enter my house? 'Tis given thee to enter, And to return: fear nothing; enter with thy virgin feet.'
The eternal gates' terrific porter lifted the northern bar; Thel entered in, and saw the secrets of the land unknown. She saw the couches of the dead, and where the fibrous root Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists: A land of sorrows and of tears where never smile was seen.
She wandered in the land of clouds through valleys dark, listening Dolours and lamentations; waiting oft beside a dewy grave She stood in silence, listening to the voices of the ground, Till to her own grave-plot she came, and there she sat down, And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.
'Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glistening eye to the poison of a smile? Why are eyelids stored with arrows ready drawn, Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie, Or an eye of gifts and graces showering fruits and coined gold?
Why a tongue impressed with honey from every wind? Why an ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in? Why a nostril wide inhaling terror, trembling, and affright? Why a tender curb upon the youthful, burning boy? Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?'
The Virgin started from her seat, and with a shriek Fled back unhindered till she came into the vales of Har.
From THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
[DEMOCRACY AND PEACE]
Aumont went out and stood in the hollow porch, his ivory wand in his hand; A cold orb of disdain revolved round him, and covered his soul with snows eternal. Great Henry's soul shuddered, a whirlwind and fire tore furious from his angry bosom; He indignant departed on horses of Heaven. Then the Abbe de Sieyes raised his feet On the steps of the Louvre; like a voice of God following a storm, the Abbe followed The pale fires of Aumont into the chamber; as a father that bows to his son, Whose rich fields inheriting spread their old glory, so the voice of the people bowed Before the ancient seat of the kingdom and mountains to be renewed.
'Hear, O heavens of France! the voice of the people, arising from valley and hill, O'erclouded with power. Hear the voice of valleys, the voice of meek cities, Mourning oppressed on village and field, till the village and field is a waste. For the husbandman weeps at blights of the fife, and blasting of trumpets consume The souls of mild France; the pale mother nourishes her child to the deadly slaughter.
When the heavens were sealed with a stone, and the terrible sun closed in an orb, and the moon Rent from the nations, and each star appointed for watchers of night, The millions of spirits immortal were bound in the ruins of sulphur heaven To wander enslaved; black, depressed in dark ignorance, kept in awe with the whip To worship terrors, bred from the blood of revenge and breath of desire In bestial forms, or more terrible men; till the dawn of our peaceful morning, Till dawn, till morning, till the breaking of clouds, and swelling of winds, and the universal voice; Till man raise his darkened limbs out of the caves of night. His eyes and his heart Expand—Where is Space? where, O sun, is thy dwelling? where thy tent, O faint slumbrous Moon? Then the valleys of France shall cry to the soldier: "Throw down thy sword and musket, And run and embrace the meek peasant." Her nobles shall hear and shall weep, and put off The red robe of terror, the crown of oppression, the shoes of contempt, and unbuckle The girdle of war from the desolate earth. Then the Priest in his thunderous cloud Shall weep, bending to earth, embracing the valleys, and putting his hand to the plough, Shall say, "No more I curse thee; but now I will bless thee: no more in deadly black Devour thy labour; nor lift up a cloud in thy heavens, O laborious plough; That the wild raging millions, that wander in forests, and howl in law-blasted wastes, Strength maddened with slavery, honesty bound in the dens of superstition, May sing in the village, and shout in the harvest, and woo in pleasant gardens Their once savage loves, now beaming with knowledge, with gentle awe adorned; And the saw, and the hammer, the chisel, the pencil, the pen, and the instruments Of heavenly song sound in the wilds once forbidden, to teach the laborious ploughman And shepherd, delivered from clouds of war, from pestilence, from night-fear, from murder, From falling, from stifling, from hunger, from cold, from slander, discontent, and sloth, That walk in beasts and birds of night, driven back by the sandy desert, Like pestilent fogs round cities of men; and the happy earth sing in its course, The mild peaceable nations be opened to heaven, and men walk with their fathers in bliss." Then hear the first voice of the morning: "Depart, O clouds of night, and no more Return; be withdrawn cloudy war, troops of warriors depart, nor around our peaceable city Breathe fires; but ten miles from Paris let all be peace, nor a soldier be seen!"'
From A SONG OF LIBERTY
The Eternal Female groaned! It was heard over all the earth.
Albion's coast is sick, silent. The American meadows faint!
Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers, and mutter across the ocean. France, rend down, thy dungeon!
* * * * *
Look up! look up! O citizen of London, enlarge thy countenance! O Jew, leave counting gold! return to thy oil and wine. O African! black African! Go, winged thought, widen his forehead!
* * * * *
With thunder and fire, leading his starry hosts through the waste wilderness, he promulgates his ten commands, glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay.
Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the morning plumes her golden breast,
Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night, crying: Empire is no more! and now the lion and wolf shall cease.
Let the Priests of the Raven of dawn no longer, in deadly black, with hoarse note curse the sons of joy! Nor his accepted brethren—whom, tyrant, he calls free—lay the bound or build the roof! Nor pale Religion's lechery call that virginity that wishes but acts not!
For everything that lives is holy!
Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away.
Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?
For I dance, And drink, and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death;
Then am I A happy fly, If I live Or if I die.
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy? And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty!
And their sun does never shine, And their fields are bleak and bare, And their ways are filled with thorns: It is eternal winter there.
For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appal.
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore;
And I saw it was filled with graves, And tombstones where flowers should be; And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys and desires.
A LITTLE BOY LOST
'Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to Thought A greater than itself to know:
'And, Father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door.'
The Priest sat by and heard the child, In trembling zeal he seized his hair: He led him by his little coat, And all admired the priestly care.
And standing on the altar high, 'Lo! what a fiend is here!' said he, 'One who sets reason up for judge Of our most holy Mystery.'
The weeping child could not be heard, The weeping parents wept in vain; They stripped him to his little shirt, And bound him in an iron chain;
And burned him in a holy place, Where many had been burned before: The weeping parents wept in vain. Are such things done on Albion's shore?
I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me. O! what sweet company.
But to go to school in a summer morn, O! it drives all joy away; Under a cruel eye outworn, The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay.
Ah! then at times I drooping sit, And spend many an anxious hour, Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning's bower, Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget, his youthful spring?
O! father and mother, if buds are nipped And blossoms blown away, And if the tender plants are stripped Of their joy in the springing day, By sorrow—and care's dismay,
How shall the summer arise in joy, Or the summer fruits appear? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, Or bless the mellowing year, When the blasts of winter appear?
I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear.
How the chimney-sweeper's cry Every blackening church appals; And the hapless soldier's sigh Runs in blood down palace walls
But most through midnight streets I hear How the youthful harlot's curse Blasts the new-born infant's tear, And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
From AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE
To see a World in a grain of sand, And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage. A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons Shudders hell through all its regions. A dog starved at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state. A horse misused upon the road Calls to Heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear. A skylark wounded in the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing. The game-cock clipped and armed for fight Does the rising sun affright. Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from hell a human soul. The wild deer, wandering here and there, Keeps the human soul from care. The lamb misused breeds public strife, And yet forgives the butcher's knife. The bat that flits at close of eve Has left the brain that won't believe. The owl that calls upon the night Speaks the unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men. He who the ox to wrath has moved Shall never be by woman loved. The wanton boy that kills the fly Shall feel the spider's enmity. He who torments the chafer's sprite Weaves a bower in endless night. The caterpillar on the leaf Repeats to thee thy mother's grief. Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the Last Judgment draweth nigh. He who shall train the horse to war Shall never pass the polar bar. The beggar's dog and widow's cat, Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
* * * * *
The babe that weeps the rod beneath Writes revenge in realms of death. The beggar's rags fluttering in air, Does to rags the heavens tear. The soldier, armed with sword and gun, Palsied strikes the summer's sun. The poor man's farthing is worth more Than all the gold on Afric's shore. One mite wrung from the labourer's hands Shall buy and sell the miser's lands; Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole nation sell and buy. He who mocks the infant's faith Shall be mocked in age and death. He who shall teach the child to doubt The rotting grave shall ne'er get out. He who respects the infant's faith Triumphs over hell and death.
And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land.
[REASON AND IMAGINATION]
The negation is the Spectre, the reasoning power in man: This is a false body, an incrustation over my immortal Spirit, a selfhood which must be put off and annihilated alway. To cleanse the face of my spirit by self-examination, To bathe in the waters of life, to wash off the not human, I come in self-annihilation and the grandeur of inspiration; To cast off rational demonstration by faith in the Saviour, To cast off the rotten rags of memory by inspiration, To cast off Bacon, Locke, and Newton from Albion's covering, To take off his filthy garments and clothe him with imagination; To cast aside from poetry all that is not inspiration, That it no longer shall dare to mock with the aspersion of madness Cast on the inspired by the tame high finisher of paltry blots Indefinite or paltry rhymes, or paltry harmonies, Who creeps into state government like a caterpillar to destroy; To cast off the idiot questioner, who is always questioning, But never capable of answering; who sits with a sly grin Silent plotting when to question, like a thief in a cave; Who publishes doubt and calls it knowledge; whose science is despair, Whose pretence to knowledge is envy, whose whole science is To destroy the wisdom of ages, to gratify ravenous envy That rages round him like a wolf, day and night, without rest. He smiles with condescension; he talks of benevolence and virtue, And those who act with, benevolence and virtue they murder time on time. These are the destroyers of Jerusalem! these are the murderers Of Jesus! who deny the faith and mock at eternal life, Who pretend to poetry that they may destroy imagination By imitation of nature's images drawn from remembrance. These are the sexual garments, the abomination of desolation, Hiding the human lineaments, as with an ark and curtains Which Jesus rent, and now shall wholly purge away with fire, Till generation is swallowed up in regeneration.
[TO THE DEISTS]
I saw a Monk of Charlemaine Arise before my sight: I talked with the Grey Monk as we stood In beams of infernal light.
Gibbon arose with a lash of steel, And Voltaire with a racking wheel; The schools, in clouds of learning rolled, Arose with war in iron and gold.
'Thou lazy Monk!' they sound afar, 'In vain condemning glorious war; And in your cell you shall ever dwell: Rise, War, and bind him in his cell!'
The blood red ran from the Grey Monk's side, His hands and feet were wounded wide, His body bent, his arms and knees Like to the roots of ancient trees.
When Satan first the black bow bent And the moral law from the Gospel rent, He forged the law into a sword, And spilled the blood of mercy's Lord.
Titus! Constantine! Charlemaine! O Voltaire! Rousseau! Gibbon! Vain Your Grecian mocks and Roman sword Against this image of his Lord;
For a tear is an intellectual thing; And a sigh is the sword of an angel king; And the bitter groan of a martyr's woe Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.
* * * * *
From THE PROGRESS OF MAN
[MATRIMONY IN OTAHEITE]
There laughs the sky, there zephyrs frolic train, And light-winged loves, and blameless pleasures reign: There, when two souls congenial ties unite, No hireling bonzes chant the mystic rite; Free every thought, each action unconfined, And light those fetters which no rivets bind. There in each grove, each sloping bank along, And flowers and shrubs, and odorous herbs among, Each shepherd clasped, with undisguised delight, His yielding fair one—in the captain's sight; Each yielding fair, as chance or fancy led, Preferred new lovers to her sylvan bed. Learn hence each nymph, whose free aspiring mind Europe's cold laws, and colder customs bind; O! learn what Nature's genial laws decree! What Otaheite is, let Britain be!
* * * * *
Of whist or cribbage mark th' amusing game; The partners changing, but the sport the same: Else would the gamester's anxious ardour cool, Dull every deal, and stagnant every pool. —Yet must one man, with one unceasing wife, Play the long rubber of connubial life. Yes! human laws, and laws esteemed divine, The generous passion straighten and confine; And, as a stream, when art constrains its course, Pours its fierce torrent with augmented force, So passion, narrowed to one channel small, Unlike the former,—does not flow at all. For Love then only flaps his purple wings When uncontrolled by priestcraft or by kings.
FROM THE NEW MORALITY
[ANTI-PATRIOTISM AND SENTIMENTALITY]
With unsparing hand, Oh, lash these vile impostures from the land!
First, stern Philanthropy,—not she who dries The orphan's tears, and wipes the widow's eyes; Not she who, sainted Charity her guide, Of British bounty pours the annual tide,— But French Philanthropy,—whose boundless mind Glows with the general love of all mankind; Philanthropy, beneath whose baneful sway Each patriot passion sinks, and dies away. Taught in her school t' imbibe thy mawkish strain, Condorcet! filtered through the dregs of Paine, Each pert adept disowns a Briton's part, And plucks the name of England from his heart. What! shall a name, a word, a sound, control Th' aspiring thought, and cramp th' expansive soul? Shall one half-peopled island's rocky round A love that glows for all creation bound? And social charities contract the plan Framed for thy freedom, universal man? No—through th' extended globe his feelings run As broad and general as th' unbounded sun! No narrow bigot he: his reasoned view Thy interests, England, ranks with thine, Peru! France at our doors, he seeks no danger nigh, But heaves for Turkey's woes th' impartial sigh; A steady patriot of the world alone, The friend of every country but his own. Next comes a gentler virtue.—Ah, beware Lest the harsh verse her shrinking softness scare. Visit her not too roughly; the warm sigh Breathes on her lips; the tear-drop gems her eye. Sweet Sensibility, who dwells inshrined In the fine foldings of the feeling mind; With delicate Mimosa's sense endued, Who shrinks, instinctive, from a hand too rude; Or, like the anagillis, prescient flower, Shuts her soft petals at th' approaching shower.
Sweet child of sickly fancy! her of yore From her loved France Rousseau to exile bore; And while 'midst lakes and mountains wild he ran, Full of himself, and shunned the haunts of man, Taught her o'er each lone vale and Alpine steep To lisp the story of his wrongs, and weep; Taught her to cherish still in either eye, Of tender tears a plentiful supply, And pour them in the brooks that babbled by: Taught by nice scale to mete her feelings strong, False by degrees, and exquisitely wrong; For the crushed beetle first, the widowed dove, And all the warbled sorrows of the grove, Next for poor suffering guilt,—and last of all, For parents, friends, a king and country's fall.
Mark her fair votaries, prodigal of grief, With cureless pangs, and woes that mock relief, Droop in soft sorrow o'er a faded flower, O'er a dead jackass pour the pearly shower: But hear, unmoved, of Loire's ensanguined flood Choked up with slain; of Lyons drenched in blood; Of crimes that blot the age, the world, with shame, Foul crimes, but sicklied o'er with freedom's name,— Altars and thrones subverted, social life Trampled to earth, the husband from the wife, Parent from child, with ruthless fury torn; Of talents, honour, virtue, wit, forlorn In friendless exile; of the wise and good Staining the daily scaffold with their blood. Of savage cruelties that scare the mind, The rage of madness with hell's lusts combined, Of hearts torn reeking from the mangled breast, They hear—and hope, that all is for the best!
CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNE
THE LAND O' THE LEAL
I'm wearin' awa', John, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John, I'm wearin' awa' To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, John, There's neither cauld nor care, John, The day is aye fair In the land o' the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there, John, She was baith gude and fair, John; And oh! we grudged her sair To the land o' the leal. But sorrow's sel' wears past, John, And joy's a-comin' fast, John, The joy that's aye to last In the land o' the leal.
Sae dear that joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu' man e'er brought To the land o' the leal. Oh! dry your glistening e'e, John, My soul langs to be free, John, And angels beckon me To the land o' the leal.
Oh! hand ye leal and true, John, Your day it's wearin'through, John, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John, This warld's cares are vain, John, We'll meet, and we'll be fain. In the land o' the leal.
A', all. Abeigh, off. Aboon, above. Abarde, went on. Abread, abroad. Acquent, acquainted. Ae, one. Aff, off. Aften, often. Agley, askew. Aiblins, maybe. Ain, own. Airt, direction, quarter. Aith, oath. Alane, alone. Alang, along. Albeytie, albeit. Alestake, alehouse sign. Alleyne, alone. Almer, beggar. Amaist, almost. Amang, aming, among. An, if. Ance, once. Ane, one. Arist, arose. Ashrewed, accursed. Asklent, askance. Asteer, astir. Astonied, stunned. Atte, at. Attene, at one. Auld, old. Aumere, mantle. Autremete, robe. Ava, at all. Awa, away. Aynewarde, backward.
Bairn, child. Baith, both. Bake, biscuit. Bandsters, binder of sheaves. Bane, bone. Bante, cursed. Barefit, Barefeet. Bauk, cross-beam. Bauldly, boldly. Bear, barley. Bederoll, string of beads. Beet, fan, kindle. Beld, bald. Bell, flower. Belyve, by and by. Ben, inner roon, parlour, inside. Bicker, bowl. Bickering, hurrying. Bield, shelter. Big, build. Bigonet, linen cap. Bittle, fellow. Birk, birch. Birkie, conceited fellow. Bizz, buzz. Black-bonnet, elder. Blake, bleak. Blastit, damned. Blaw, blow, draught. Bleer't, bleared. Bleeze, blaze. Blellum, babbler. Blethering, gabbling. Blin, blind. Blink, glance, moment. Bloshes, blushes. Bluid, blood. Boddynge, budding. Bogollis, hobgoblins. Bogle, bogie. Bonie, pretty. Bonilie, prettily. Bonnet, cap. Bore, chink. Botte, but. Bra, fine. Brae, hillside. Braid, broad. Braid-claith, broadcloth. Brak, broke. Braste, burst. Brattle, scamper, clatter. Braw, brawlie, fine. Bree, liquor. Breeks, breeches. Brectful, brimful. Brent, straight. Brig, bridge. Brither, brother. Brogues, breeches. Brownyis, brownies. Browster, brewer. Brunstane, brimstone. Bught, pen, inclosure. Buke, book. Burdies, girls. Burn, brook. Busk, dress, make ready. Bustine, fustion. But, butt, outer room, kitchen without. Byke, hive.
Ca', call, drive. Cadgy, cheerful, gay. Cairn, heap of stones. Caldrife, cool, spiritless. Cale, cold. Caller, cool. Canna, cannot. Cannie, careful, crafty. Cannilie, craftily. Cantie, canty, cheerful, jolly. Cantraip, magic, witchcraft. Capernoity, ill-natured. Carlin, old woman. Cates, dainties. Cauld, cold. Caup, cup. Celness, coldness. Cess, excise, tax. Chafe, chafing. Change-house, tavern. Chapman, peddler. Chapournelie, hat. Chelandri, goldfinch. Cheres, cheers. Cheves, moves. Chirm, chirp. Church-giebe-house, grave. Claes, clothes. Claithing, clothing. Clamb, climbed. Claught, catch up. Clinkin, smartly. Clinkumbell, the bell-ringer. Clymmynge, noisy. Cockernony, woman's hair gathered up with a band. Cofte, bought. Cog, basin. Cood, cud. Coost, cast. Corbie, raven. Core, company. Cotter, tenant of a cottage. Coulier, ploughshare. Cour, stoop. Couth, couthy, sociable, affable. Crack, chat, instant. Craig, rock. Cranreuch, hoar-frost. Craw, crow. Creeshic, greasy. Croon, loll, murmur. Crouche, crucifix. Croun, crown. Crouse, proud, lively. Crowdie, porridge, breakfast. Crowlin, crawling. Crummock, crooked staff. Crump, crisp. Cryne, hair. Curchie, curtsy. Cutty, short.
Daffing, frolicking. Daft, foolish. Dail, board, plank. Daimen, rare, occasional. Daur, dare, Daw, dawn, Dawd, lump. Deave, deafen. Dee die. Defeat, defeated. Defte, neat. Deil, devil. Dente, fasten. Dheere, there. Die, dye. Differ, difference. Dine, noon. Dirl, vibrate, ring. Dit, shut. Domes, volumes. Donsie, reckless. Dool, pain, grief. Dorture, slumber. Douce, grave, prudent. Douff, dull, sad. Dow, can. Dowie, drooping, gloomy. Drappie, small drop. Drenche, drink. Drented, drenched. Dringing, droning. Droddum, breach. Drouthy, thirsty. Drowsyhed, drowsiness. Drumlie, muddy. Dub, puddle. Duddie, ragged. Duddies, rags. Dwyning, failing, pining. Dyke, wall. Dynne, noise.
E'e, eye. Een, eyes. Eerie, uncanny, timorous. Efte, often. Eftsoons, forthwith. Eldritch, unearthly. Embollen, swollen. Enlefed, leafed out. Ermelin, Ermine. Ettle, aim. Eydent, diligent.
F'a, befall, fall. Fairin', a gift from a fair. Fairn-year, last year. Faitour, vagabond. Fand, found. Farl, meal cake. Fash, bother. Fatt'rils, falderals, finery. Faut, fault. Feck, bulk. Fell, deadly, pungent. Fend, keep off. Ferlie, ferly, wonder. Fetive, festive. Fidge, fidget. Fient, fiend, devil. Fiere, chum. Fit, foot. Flainen, flannen, flannel. Flang, kicked. Fleech, wheedle. Flet, remonstrated. Flitchering, fluttering. Fling, waving. Flott, fly. Flourettes, flowers. Foggage, coarse grass. Forswat, sunburned. Forwindm dried up. Fou, very, drunk, full. Fourth, fouth, abundance, plenty. Frae, from. Fructyle, fruitful. Fu', full, very. Furm, long seat. Fyke, fuss. Fyle, soil.
Gab, mouth. Gabbing, talking. Gae, go. Gaed, gaid, went. Gallard, frightened. Gane, gone. Gang, go. Gar, make. Gart, made. Gash, shrewd, self-complacent. Gat, got. Gate, way. Gaun, gawn, going. Gawsie, buxom, jolly. Gear, things, goods. Geck, mock. Ghaist, ghost. Ghastness, ghastliness. Gibbet-airn, gibbet-iron. Gie, gi'e, give. Gie's, give us, give me. Giftie, gift. Gill, glass of whisky. Gin, if, by. Glaikil, foolish. Glint, flash. Glommed, gloomy. Gloure, glory. Gowan, wild daisy.' Gowd, gold. Gowk, fool. Grane, groan. Grat, wept. Gre, grow. Gree, prize. 'Gree, agree. Greet, weep. Grein, long for. Grozet, gooseberry. Gude, guid, good. Gudeman, Guidman, husband. Guidwife, married woman, mistress of the house. Guidwillie, full of good will. Gusty, savory. Guylteynge, gilding.
Ha', hall. Hae, have. Haffets, temples, sidelocks. Hafftins, half. Hafftins-wise, about half. Hairst, harvest-time. Hald, holding, possession. Halesome, wholesome. Hallan, partition. Hallie, holy. Halline, gladness. Haly, holy. Hamely, homely. Hap-step-an'-loup, hop, step and jump. Harn, coarse linen,
Hartsome, hearty, Hash, stupid, fellow, dolt. Haud, hold, keep. Hawkie, cow. Hawslock, throat-lock, choicest wool. Heapet, heaped. Heie, they. Het, hot. Hie, high, highly. Hight, was called. Hiltring, hiding. Hing, hang. Hinny, honey, sweet. Hirple, hop. Histie, bare, dry. Hizzie, girl, jade. Hoddin, jogging. Hoddin grey, undyed woolen. Holme, evergreen oak. Hornie, the Devil. Hotch, jerk. Houghmagandie, fornication, disgrace. Houlet, owl. Hound, incite to pursuit. Hum, humbug. Hurdies, buttocks.
Icker, ear of grain. Ilka, each, every. Ingle, fireside.
Jad, jade. jape, surplice. Jauds, jades. Jaw, strike, dash. Jo, sweetheart. Joicie, juicy. Jow, swing.
Kebbuck, cheese. Kebbuck-heel, last bit of cheese. Keek, peep. Kelpie, water-spirit. Ken, know. Kend, known. Kennin, trifle. Kest, cast. Kiaugh, fret. Kickshaws, delicacies. Killit, tucked up. Kirk, church. Kiste, coffin. Kittle, tickle. Knapping-hammer, hammer for breaking stone. Kye, kine, cattle. Kynde, nature, species, womankind.
Lade, load. Laird, lord, land-owner. Laith, loath. Laithfu' sheepish, bashful. Landscip, landscape. Lane, lone. Lang, long. Lap, leaped. Lave, rest. Lav'rock, lark. Lear, learning. Leel, loyal. Lee-lang, live-long. Leeze me on, commend me to. Leglen, leglin, milk-pail. Lemes, gleams. Leugh, laughed. Leuk, look. Levynne, lightning. Lift, sky. Lilt, sing merrily. Limitour, begging friar. Linkan, tripping. Linket, tripped. Linn, waterfall. Lint, flax. Loan, loaning, lane, path. Loo'ed, loved. Loof, palm. Loot, let. Loun, clown, rascal. Loup, leap. Loverds, lords. Lowe, flame. Lowin, flaming. Lowings, flashes. Lowp, leap. Lug, ear. Lunardi, balloon, bonnet. Luv, love. Lyart, gray, gray-haired.
Mailen, farm. Mair, more. Mantels, mantles. Mar, more. Maun, must. Maut, malt. Mees, meadows. Meikle, big. Melder, grinding of grain. Melvie, soil with meal. Mim, prim. Mirk, dark. Misca'd, miscalled. Mist, poor. Mittie, mighty. Moe, more. Mole, soft. Moneynge, moaning. Monie, mony, many. Mou, mouth. Muckle, much, great. Muir, heath.
Na, nae, no, not. Naething, nothing. Naig, nag. Nappy, ale. Ne, no. Neebor, neighbour. Neidher, neither. Neist, next. Nesh, tender. Nete, night, naught. Neuk, nook, corner. Niffer, exchange. No, not.
Onie, ony, any. Ouphant, elfin. Owr, owre, ower, over.
Paidle, paddle, wade. Pall, appal. Pang, cram. Parritch, porridge. Pattle, plough-staff. Peed, pied. Pencte, painted. Penny-wheep, small beer. Peres, pears. Perishe, destroy. Pet, be in a pet. Pheeres, mates. Pint-stowp, two-Quart measure, flagon. Plaidie, shawl used as cloak. Plaister, plaster. Pleugh, plough. Pou, pull, pluck. Poorith, poverty. Pow, pate. Prankt, gayly adorned. Press, cupboard. Propine, propone, present. Pund, pound. Pussie, hare. Pyke, peaked.
Quean, lass. Quorum, company.
Raible, rattle off. Rair, roar. Rant, song, lay. Rape, rope. Raw, row. Reaming, foaming. Reck, observe. Rede, counsel. Red up, cleared up. Reek, smoke. Reike, (smoky), Edinburgh. Restricket, restricted. Reveled, ravelled, trouble-some. Reynynge, running. Reytes, water-flags, iris. Rig, ridge. Rigwoodie, lean, tough. Rin, run. Rodde, roddie, ruddy. Rodded, grew red. Rode, skin. Roset, rozet, rosin. Rowan, rolling. Rudde, ruddy. Runkled, wrinkled.
Sabbing, sobbing. Sae, so. Saftly, softly. Sair, serve, sore, sorely. Sang, song. Sark, shirt, chemise. Saul, soul. Saunt, saint. Saut, salt. Scantlins, scarcely. Scoured, ran. Screed, rip, rent. Sede, seed. Semescope, jacket. Sets, patterns. Seventeen-hunder, very fine (linen). Shachled, feeble, shapeless. Shaw, show. Shiel, shelter. Shool, shovel. Shoon, shoes. Shouther, shoulder. Sic, such. Siller, silver, money. Sin', since. Skeigh, skittish. Skellum, good-for-nothing. Skelp, run quickly. Skiffing, moving along lightly. Skirl, squeal, scream. Skriech, screech. Slaes, sloes. Slap, gap in a fence. Slea, slay. Sleekit, sleek. Slid, smooth. Smeddum, powder. Smethe, smoke. Smoor, smother. Smothe, vapor. Snaw, snow. Snell, bitter. Snooded, bound up with a fillet. Snool, cringe. Solan, gannet. Soote, sweet. Souter, cobbler. Spak, spoke. Spean, wean. Speel, climb. Spier, ask, inquire. Spraing, stripe. Sprattle, scramble. Spreckled, speckled. Spryte, spirit. Squattle, squat. Stacher, stagger, totter. Stane, stone. Steer, stir. Steyned, stained. Stibble, stubble. Still, ever. Stirk, young steer. Stole, robe. Stonen, stony. Stote, stout. Stoure, dust, struggle. Stown, stolen. Strang, strong. Strath, river-valley. Strathspeys, dances for two persons. Straughte, stretched. Strunt, strut. Sugh, sough, moan. Sumph', blockhead. Swanges, swings. Swankie, strapping youth. Swatch, sample. Swats, foaming new ale. Swith, shoo! begone! Swote, sweet. Swythyn, quickly. Syne, since, then.
Taen, taken. Tapmost, topmost. Tauld, told. Tent, watch. Tere, muscle. Thae, those. Thieveless, useless. Thilk, that same. Thir, these. Thole, endure. Thrang, throng, thronging, busy. Thrave, twenty-four sheaves. Thraw, twist. Thrawart, perverse. Tint, lost. Tippeny, twopenny (ale). Tither, the other. Tittlin', whispering. Tochelod, dowered? dipped? Tod, fox. Tout, toot, blast. Tow, rope. Townmond, twelvemonth. Towsie, shaggy. Toy, cap. Transmugrify'd, changed, metamorphosed. Tryste, appointment, fair. Twa, tway, two. Tyke, cur, dog.
Unco, uncommon, very. Uncos, news, wonders. Unfald, unfold. Ungentle, mean. Unhailie, unhappy. Unkend, unknown, disregarded. Usquabae, whiskey.
Vauntie, proud. Vera, verra, very. Vest, robe. View, appearance. Virgine, the Virgin (in the zodiac).
Wabster, weaver. Wad, would. Wae, woe, sad. Waff, stray, wandering. Wale, choice. Wark, work. Warld, world. Warlock, wizard. Wa's, walls. Water-fit, river's mouth. Waught, draught. Wauking, waking. Wawlie, goodly. Wear up, gather in. Wede, passed, faded. Weede, attire. Weel, well. Weel-hained, carefully saved. Ween, believe. Weet, wet. Weir, war. Wha, who. Wham, whom. Whang, large piece, slice. Whare, where. Whase, whose. Whestling, whistling. Whig-mig-morum, talking politics. Whinging, whining. Whunstane, hard rock, millstone. Whyles, sometimes. Winna, will not. Winnock-bunker, window-seat. Woddie, woody. Wonner, wonder. Woo, wool. Wood, mad Wordy, worthy. Wrack, wreck. Wraith, spectre. Wrang, wrong. Wyle, lure, entice.
Yanne, than. Yatte, that. Yolent, blended. Yer, your. Yestreen, last night. Yill, ale. Ymolten, molted. Yunutile, useless. Younkers, youngsters. Yites, its.