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Hector Macneill (Гектор Макнейл) The Scottish Muse O Welcome simply soothing treasure! In midst o' pain my lanely pleasure! Tutor'd by thee, and whispering leisure, I quit the thrang, And, wrapt in bless'd retirement, measure Thy varied sang! Kind, leil companion! without thee, Ah welladay! what should I be! Whan jeer'd by fools wha canna see My inward pain, Aneath thy sheltering wing I flee And mak my mane. There seated, smiling by my side, For hours thegither wilt thou bide, Chanting auld tales o' martial pride And luve's sweet smart! Till glowing warm thy numbers glide Streight to the heart. 'Tis when wi' powerful plastic hand Thou wav'st thy magic-working wand; And stirring up ideas grand That fire the brain, Aff whirl'st me swith to fairy land 'Mang fancy's train.-- Sear'd by disease whan balmy rest Flees trembling frae her downy nest; Starting frae horror's dreams opprest, I see thee come Wi' radiance mild that cheers the breast And lights the gloom! Heart'ning thou com'st, wi' modest grace, Hope, luve, and pity, in thy face, And gliding up wi' silent pace My plaints to hear, Whisper'st in turn thae soothing lays Saft in my ear. 'Ill fated wand'rer! doom'd to mane! Wan sufferer! bleech'd wi' care and pain! How chang'd alas! since vogie vain, Wi' spirits light, Ye hail'd me first in untaught strain On Strevlin's height! 'Ah me! how stark! how blithe! how bauld Ye brattl'd then through wind and cauld! Reckless, by stream, by firth and fauld Ye held your way; By passion rul'd; by luve enthrall'd, Ye pour'd the lay. ''Twas then, entranc'd in am'rous sang, I mark'd you midst the rural thrang; Ardent and keen, the hail day lang Wi' Nature tane, Slip frae the crowd and mix amang Her simple train. ''Twas then I saw (alas! owre clear!) Your future thriftless, lost career! And while some blam'd, wi' boding fear, The tunefu' art, Your moral pride and truth sincere Aye wan my heart. 'He ne'er can lout,' I musing said, 'To ply the fleeching, fawning trade; Nor bend the knee, nor bow the head To walth or power! But backward turn wi' scornfu' speed Frae flatt'ry's door. 'He'll never learn his bark to steer 'Mid passion's sudden, wild career; Nor try at times to tack or veer To int'rest's gale, But hoist the sheet, unaw'd by fear, Tho' storms prevail. 'Owre proud to ask ;-- owre bauld to yield! Whar will he find a shelt'ring beild? Whan poortith's blast drifts cross the field Wi' wintry cauld, What will be wone -- poor feckless chield! Whan frail and auld? 'Year after year in youtheid's prime, Wander he will, frae clime to clime, Sanguine wi' hope on wing sublime Mount heigh in air! But than -- waes me! there comes a time O' dool and care! 'There comes a time! -- or soon, or late, O' serious thought and sad debate; Whan blighted hope and adverse fate Owrespread their gloom, And mirk despair, in waefu' state, Foresees the doom! '-- And maun he fa'! (I sighing cried) Wi' guardian honour by his side! Shall fortune frown on guiltless pride And straits owretake him! -- Weel! blame wha like -- whate'er betide I'se ne'er forsake him! 'Ardent I spake! and frae the day Ye hail'd me smiling; youthfu' gay On Aichil's whim-flower'd fragrant brae I strave to cheer ye! Frae morn's first dawn to e'en's last ray I ay was near ye. 'Frae west to east -- frae isle to isle, To India's shore and sultry soil; 'Mid tumult, battle, care, and toil, I following flew; Ay smooth'd the past, and wak'd the smile To prospects new. 'Whan warfare ceas'd its wild uproar To Elephanta's far-fam'd shore I led ye ardent to explore Wi' panting heart, Her idle monuments o' yore And sculptur'd art. 'Sweet flew the hours! (the toil your boast) On smiling Salsett's eave-wrought coast!-- Though hope was tint -- tho' a' was cross'd Nae dread alarms Ye felt -- fond fool! in wonder lost And nature's charms! 'Frae east to west, frae main to main, To Carib's shores return'd again; In sickness, trial, hardship, pain, Ye ken yoursell, Drapt frae the muse's melting strain Peace balmy fell. 'Fell sweet! for as she warbling flew, Hope lent her heav'ns refreshing dew; Fair virtue close, and closer drew To join the lay; While conscience bright, and brighter grew, And cheer'd the way!-- 'Whether to east or westward borne, (Or flush'd wi' joy, or wae-forlorn) Ye hail'd the fragrant breath o' morn Frae orange flower, Or cassia-bud, or logwood thorn, Or Guava bower: 'Or frae the mist-cap'd mountain blue Inhal'd the spicy gales that flew Rich frae Pimento's groves that grew In deep'ning green Crown'd wi' their flowers o' milk white hue In dazzling sheen! 'Whether at midnoon panting laid, Ye woo'd coy zephyr's transient aid Under the Banyan's pillar'd shade, On plain or hill, Or Plaintain green, that rustling play'd Across the rill: 'Or 'neath the tam'rind's shelt'ring gloom, Drank coolness wafted in perfume, Fresh frae the shaddack's golden bloom, As flutt'ring gay Humm'd saft the bird o' peerless plume, Frae spray to spray! '-- Whether at eve, wi' raptur'd breast The shelving palm-girt beach ye prest, And e'ed, entranc'd the purpling west Bepictur'd o'er, As ocean murm'ring, gently kiss'd The whitening shore: 'Whether at twilight's parting day Ye held your solemn musing way, Whar through the gloom in myriad ray The fire-flies gleam; And 'thwart the grove in harmless play The light'nings stream! 'Or, by the moon's bright radiance led, Roam'd late the Guinea-verdur'd glade! Where tower'd the giant Ceiba's shade; And, loftier still, The Cabbage rears its regal head Owre palm-crown'd hill. 'Still following close, still whisp'ring near The muse aye caught your list'ning ear; 'Mid tempest's rage and thunder's rair Aye cheering sang :-- Touch'd by her hand (unchill'd by fear) The Harp strings rang. 'Return'd at last frae varied clime, Whar youth and hope lang tint their time, Ance mair to Strevlin's height sublime We wing'd our way; Ance mair attun'd the rural rhime On Aichil brae. ''Twas then my native strains ye lear'd, For passion spake while fancy cheer'd; And while wi' flaunting airs ye flar'd And thought to shine; But Nature -- judging nature sneer'd And ca'd it -- fine! 'Stung wi' the taunt, ye back recoil'd, Pensive ye mus'd; I mark'd and smil'd; Daund'ring depress'd 'mang knows flower'd wild, My aten reed Ye faund ae bonny morning mild 'Tween Ayre and Tweed. ''Tween past'ral Tweed and wand'ring Ayr, Whar unbusk'd nature blooms sae fair! And mony a wild note saft and clear Sings sweet by turns, Tun'd by my winsome Allan's ear And fav'rite Burns. 'Trembling wi' joy ye touch'd the reed, Doubtfu' ye sigh'd and hang your head; Fearfu' ye sang till some agreed The notes war true; When grown mair bauld, ye gae a screed That pleas'd nae few. 'By Forth's green links bedeck'd wi' flowers, By Clyde's clear stream and beechen bowers; Heartsome and healthfu' flew the hours In simple sang, While Lossit's braes and Eden's towers The notes prolang! '-- Thae times are gane! -- ah! welladay! For health has flown wi' spirits gay; Youth too has fled! and cauld decay Comes creeping on: October's sun cheers na like May That brightly shone! 'Yet autumn's gloom, though threat'ning bleak Has joys, gin folk cam joys wad seek; Friendship and worth then social cleek And twine thegither, And gree and crack by ingle cheek Just like twin-brither. ''Tis then (youth's vain vagaries past, That please a while, but fash at last) Serious, our ee we backward cast On bygane frays, And, marvelling, mourn the thriftless waste O' former days! 'Then too, wi' prudence on our side, And moral reasoning for our guide, Calmly we view the restless tide O' warldly care, And cull, wi' academic pride, The flow'rs o' lare. 'And while, wi' sure and steady pace, Coy science's secret paths we trace, And catch fair nature's beauteous face In varied view, Ardent, though auld, we join the chace, And pleas'd pursue.-- ''Tis sae through life's short circling year, The seasons change, and changing cheer; Journeying we jog, unaw'd by fear: Hope plays her part! Forward we look, though in the rear Death shakes the dart. 'Catch then the dream! nor count it vain, Hope's dream's the sweetest balm o' pain: Heav'n's unseen joys may yet remain, And yet draw near ye: Meanwhile, ye see, I hear your mane, And flee to cheer ye. Ane too's at hand, to wham ye fled Frae Britain's cauld, frae misery's bed; Owre seas tempestuous shivering sped, To Friendship's flame; Whar kindling warm, in sunbeams clad, She hails her Graham. Wi' him (let health but favouring smile) Ance mair ye'll greet fair Albion's isle! In some calm nook life's cares beguile Atween us twa: Feed the faint lamp wi' virtue's oil-- Then -- slip awa!' The flatterer ceas'd, and smil'd adieu, Just wav'd her hand, and mild withdrew! Cheer'd wi' the picture (fause or true) I check'd despair, And frae that moment made a vow To -- mourn nae mair. Hector Macneill's other poems:
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