Volume Iv Part 10 (1/2)
TO THE EVENING STAR.
Star of descending Night!
Lovely and fair, Robed in thy mellow light, Subtle and rare; Whence are thy silvery beams, That o'er lone ocean gleams, And in our crystal streams Dip their bright hair?
Far in yon liquid sky, Where streamers play And the red lightnings fly, Hold'st thou thy way; Clouds may envelop thee, Winds rave o'er land and sea, O'er them thy march is free As thine own ray.
OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME.
Oh! waft me to the fairy clime Where Fancy loves to roam, Where Hope is ever in her prime, And Friends.h.i.+p has a home; There will I wander by the streams Where Song and Dance combine, Around my rosy waking dreams Ecstatic joys to twine.
On Music's swell my thoughts will soar Above created things, And revel on the boundless sh.o.r.e Of rapt imaginings.
The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken My fancy will explore, And seek, far from the haunts of men, The Poet's mystic lore.
Love will add gladness to the scene, And strew my path with flowers; And Joy with Innocence will lean Amid my rosy bowers.
Then waft me to the fairy clime Where Fancy loves to roam, Where Hope is ever in her prime, And Friends.h.i.+p has a home.
THE LOVE-SICK MAID.
The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid?
Can the doctor cure her woe When she will not let him know Why the tears incessant flow From the love-sick maid?
The flaunting day, the flaunting day, She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day!
For she sits and pines alone, And will comfort take from none; Nay, the very colour's gone From the love-sick maid.
The secret 's out, the secret 's out, A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out!
For she finds at e'ening's hour, In a rosy woodland bower, Charms worth a prince's dower To a love-sick maid.
ALEXANDER JAMIESON.
Alexander Jamieson was born in the village of Dalmellington, Ayrs.h.i.+re, on the 29th January 1789. After a course of study at the University of Edinburgh, he obtained licence as a medical pract.i.tioner. In 1819, he settled as a surgeon and apothecary in the town of Alloa. A skilful mechanician, he constructed a small printing-press for his own use; he was likewise ardently devoted to the study of botany. He composed verses with remarkable facility, many of which he contributed to the _Stirling Journal_ newspaper. His death was peculiarly melancholy: he had formed one of a pic-nic party, on a fine summer day, to the summit of Bencleugh, one of the Ochils, and descending by a shorter route to visit a patient at Tillicoultry, he missed his footing, and was precipitated about two hundred feet into one of the ravines. He was early next morning discovered by a shepherd, but only survived a few hours afterwards. His death took place on the 26th July 1826. Possessed of varied talents, and excellent dispositions, Jamieson was deeply regretted by his friends. He left a widow, who died lately in Dunfermline. His songs, of which two specimens are adduced, afford evidence of power.
THE MAID WHO WOVE.[11]
_”Russian Air.”_