Volume V Part 30 (1/2)
Thy thoughts are sae haly and pure, la.s.sie, Thy heart is sae kind and sae free; My bosom is flooded wi' suns.h.i.+ne an' joy, Wi' ilka blithe blink o' thine e'e.
THE MAIR THAT YE WORK, AYE THE MAIR WILL YE WIN.
Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on, Be eident, be eident, bricht day will be gone; To stand idle by is a profitless sin: The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.
The earth gathers fragrance while nursing the flower, The wave waxes stronger while feeding the shower, The stream gains in speed as it sweeps o'er the linn: The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.
There 's nought got by idling, there 's nought got for nought, Health, wealth, and contentment, by labour are bought; In raising yoursel', ye may help up your kin: The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.
Let every man aim in his heart to excel, Let every man ettle to fend for himsel'; Aye nourish ye stern independence within: The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.
THE WIDOW.
The widow is f.e.c.kless, the widow 's alane, Yet nae ane e'er hears the puir widow complain; For, ah! there 's a Friend that the world wots na o', Wha brightens her ken, and wha lightens her wo.
She looks a' around her, and what sees she there But quarrels and cavils, but sorrow and care?
She looks in within, and she feels in her breast A dawning o' glory, a foretaste o' rest.
The hope o' hereafter her lane bosom cheers, She langs sair to meet him wha left her in tears; And life's flickerin' licht, as it wanes fast awa', But fades to gie place to a far brichter daw.
The G.o.d o' high heaven is her comfort and guide, When earthly friends leave her, He stands by her side; He soothes a' her sorrows, an' hushes her fears, An' fountains o' joy rise frae well-springs o' tears.
Then, oh! shew the widow the smile on your face, She 's aft puir in gear, but she 's aft rich in grace; Be kind to the widow, her Friend is on high, You 'll meet wi' the widow again in the sky.
MRS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY.
The accomplished author of some poetical works, Mrs Eliza A. H. Ogilvy, is the daughter of Abercromby d.i.c.k, Esq., who for many years held an appointment in the civil service of the Honourable East India Company.
Her childhood was pa.s.sed in Scotland, under the care of her paternal uncle, Sir Robert d.i.c.k of Tullymett, who, at the head of his division, fell at the battle of Sobraon. After a period of residence in India, to which she had gone in early youth, she returned to Britain. In 1843, she was united in marriage to David Ogilvy, Esq., a cadet of the old Scottish family of Inverquharity. Several years of her married life have been spent in Italy; at present she resides with her husband and children at Sydenham, Kent. ”A Book of Scottish Minstrelsy,” being a series of ballads founded on legendary tales of the Scottish Highlands, appeared from her pen in 1846, and was well received by the press. She has since published ”Traditions of Tuscany,” and ”Poems of Ten Years.”
CRAIG ELACHIE.
Blue are the hills above the Spey, The rocks are red that line his way; Green is the strath his waters lave, And fresh the turf upon the grave Where sleep my sire and sisters three, Where none are left to mourn for me: Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!
The roofs that shelter'd me and mine Hold strangers of a Sa.s.senach line; Our hamlet thresholds ne'er can shew The friendly forms of long ago; The rooks upon the old yew-tree Would e'en have stranger notes to me: Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!
The cattle feeding on the hills, We tended once o'er moors and rills, Like us have gone; the silly sheep Now fleck the brown sides of the steep, And southern eyes their watchers be, And Gael and Sa.s.senach ne'er agree: Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!
Where are the elders of our glen, Wise arbiters for meaner men?
Where are the sportsmen, keen of eye, Who track'd the roe against the sky; The quick of hand, of spirit free?