Гектор Макнейл (Hector Macneill)

Grandeur

      An Ode

How varied lies the chequer'd scene!--
    Dunmait capt with snow;
While humbler smiles, in vernal green,
    The sun-clad vale below:
Gay spring her cheering task performs,
Regardless of the wintry storms
    That sweep proud Ochil's lofty side;
And shelter'd from the whirling gale,
Secure smooth glides the winding sail
    Down Forth's meandering tide.

Alas! how like the chequer'd state
    Of man's contrasted lot!
The storms that whirl round Grandeur's gate,
    The peasant's shelter'd cot;
Disdainful pride, with wintry brow;
Rough labour, jocund at his plough,
    Still cheer'd by health's unclouded beam;
While safe from luxury's whelming tide
Peace, hope, and resignation glide
    Down life's untroubled stream.

To meditation's musing mind
    Still moral pictures rise:
Ambition, dash'd by fortune's wind,
    When tow'ring to the skies:
Exalted beauty, doom'd to move
In climes unwarm'd by genial love,
    Tost by the storms of sordid strife!--
While nurtur'd in some vale obscure,
The humbler fair one blooms secure
    The mistress and the wife!

But late in strength and beauty's prime,
    The tow'ring Plane arose;
Proud, o'er Strevlina's height sublime
    It wav'd its mantling boughs!
What time mild evening gilds her star,
The trav'ller spy'd it from afar
    And, raptur'd wonder'd where it grew;--
Fond fancy plac'd its magic height
Mid regions streak'd with golden light
    Through Heav'n's ethereal blue!--

Embosom'd in the bank below,
    That courts the southern breeze,
The humbler Hawthorn's doom'd to blow,
    Mid kindred shrubs and trees!
Obscure, its balmy sweets diffuse,
Unmark'd, save by the moral muse,
    That nightly breathes the rich perfume!--
Ah! what is Grandeur's splendid show!--
Ambition, mark! -- the Plane laid low!
    The Hawthorn left to bloom.

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