Nora Pembroke

From Carlisle.


The young Prince of Anhalt Dessau,
    The Dowager's only son,
Was a sturdy strong-limbed fellow
    And a most determined one.

Shook the tutor his locks of silver,
    "And if I have any skill,
This young Prince of Anhalt Dessau,
    He will always work his will.

"I cry to the Wise for wisdom,
    I cry for strength to the Strong,
That I train him to stand firmly
    For the right against the wrong.

"If he grow to gracious manhood,
    I shall not have wrought in vain,
And my Fatherland so noble
    Shall most surely reap the gain."

The Dowager in her chamber,
    With pride did her blue eyes shine;
"Fatherland hath many princes,
    But none of them all like mine.

"He has coura...

The Rev Mr Young was one stormy day visiting one of his people, an old man, who lived in great poverty in a lonely cottage a few miles from Jedsburg. He found him sitting with his Bible open upon his knees, but in outward circumstances of great discomfort, the snow drifting in through the roof and under the door, and scarcely any fire in the hearth. "What are you about to day, John?" asked Mr Young on entering "Ah, sir," said John, "I am sitting under His shadow with great delight."


They only see the snow heaped on the moor,
    The bare trees shivering in the winter's breath,
The icy drift that sifteth through the door,
    Me, old and poor, waiting the call of death.

They think my cot is bare and comfortless,
    With broken roof and paper-mended pane,
They see but poverty and lonelin...

(I have borrowed thy pattern, dear Hood, to cut out our mourning garments.)


With garments for sorrow torn,
    With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat by a new-made grave,
    Bewailing her slaughtered dead--
Weep! weep! weep!
    Tears of remorseful pain;
The sorrow that sorrows without a hope,
    Is poured forth above the slain.

Drink! drink! drink!
    It slayeth on every side,
Till the blue-eyed baby is fatherless,
    And a desolate widow the bride.
O for a gleam of light
    On the home, on the friendly hand,
That pours in kindness the burning draught
    That maketh a desolate land.

Drink! drink! drink!
    The horse-leech ever craves,
There are empty chairs in the desolate home,
    And the earth swells with...

I am glad when men of genius
    Array a common thought,
In imperishable beauty
    That it cannot be forgot.

The heart thoughts all bright and burnished
    By high poetic art,
As sweet as the wood-bird's warble
    Touching the very heart.

Have not I, poor workday mortal,
    Some thoughts of living light,
In the spirit's inner chambers,
    Moving with spirit might?

And they come in the fair spring time
    Of heart and life and year,
When sweet Nature's wild rejoicings,
    Draws votaries very near

To the heart of all that's lovely
    On earth and in the sky;
Making audible the music
    Of the inner melody.

Underlying all the sunshine,
    Whispering through every breeze,
As it crests the ruffle...

(J. M. D.)


I thank Thee Father that I feel Thee near,
    That it is hand of Thine that s raised to smite,
Oh, make Thy loving kindness to appear,
    Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right!

Poor woe-worn watchers! he is going home;
    No skill can save him, and no love can keep;
He served his generation--he is gone,
    And gathered to his fathers, falls asleep.

We've bitter cups to drain--but his is dry;
    Burdens of care--but care has left his breast;
Tears--but they never more shall dim his eye;
    Labour,--but he has entered into rest.

Oh, to be with him, toil and care all past,
    Sleeping, dear mother earth, within thy breast,
I, too, could lay my hand in thine, O death,
    And gladly enter where the weary rest...

Let mirth and joy a season reign
    And sorrow flee away
Sadness were perfect sin it is
    My Anne's natal day

And now a birthday rhyme for her
    This sister of my own
Accept the song then for my sake
    Sister and only one

So long we've lived together here
    Our hopes and fears the same
Like two of autumn's last grown leaves
    Last of our race and name

The past we know its grief and joy
    Its pleasure and its pain
But know not what may happen ere
    Your birthday comes again

Shall we be cradled in the deep
    Beneath the briny wave?
Or shall the white deer lightly bound
    Over my forest grave?

Or living yet divided far
    With lands and seas between
And sorrow reigning in the hearts

Sister, sweet sister, years have passed away,
    Since first, 'mid warm hearts, sunny, frank and true,
I commenced rhyming on thy natal day,
    On the green sod where Erin's shamrock grew.

'Twas in that age that ne'er returns again,
    Whose tears are but as dew on Summer flowers;
And young, warm hearts beat kindly round us then,
    And eyes beamed brightly, answering love to ours

And now an exile from my native land,
    Thinking of well remembered, loved Grace Hill,
To mine own sister verses I will send,
    Worthless, yet proving that I love her still

It is thy birthday, and I am alone,
    Thinking of that dear land that gave us birth,
The land of hearts that beat to truth alone,
    The brightest emerald gem of all the earth.

T...

First of women, best of friends
Take what a village rhymer sends,
A tear wet trifle sent to tell
The giver must bid thee farewell!
And shall I then when o'er the sea
Forget thee? No, it cannot be
When thinking of much loved Grace Hill,
[1] Its drops of joy, its drafts of ill
I shed the fond regretting tear,
For those I did I do hold dear,
First shall mid those I parted with
Stand Friendship's Ray Elizabeth

[Footnote 1: Burns]

1844

Dear love, life has dewy mornings,
    And the shadeless blaze of noon,
Flowers, that we stop to gather,
    That fade from our hands so soon

Dear love, there are meetings, partings,
    We have sunshine, we have shade,
There's no continuing city
    That our human hands have made

We go onward, joy and sorrow
    Checkers all the path we tread,
But our Father loves His children
    And with loving care they're led.

Dear love, His great wisdom chooseth
    The path that we both have trod,
And through storm, and calm, and sunshine,
    We rest in the hand of God

By many a bard the Cameron clan is sung,
    Their march, their charge, their war cry, their array;
Their laurels that from bloody fields have sprung,
    Where they have kept the sternest foes at bay.

The flowing tartan and the eagle plume,
    The gathering, and the glories of the clan,
Let others sing, we will not so presume,
    We bring our humble tribute to the man.

The man with heart benevolent and kind,
    The man with earnest and persuasive tongue;
Would there were many like him heart and mind
    To combat with this fashionable wrong;

Who longs to remedy these human ills,
    Feeling God made of one blood all the earth;
Whose sympathies have passed his native hills,
    And spread beyond the clan that gave him birth.

Is it no...

(ISABELLA STEWART)


Since ere I left my native isle,
My childhood's home, life's happy smile
And crossed the separating seas,
Nothing my lonely heart could please
Till now--and oh, I cannot tell
How I admire thee, Isabel!

There are, in my dear island green,
Most lovely faces to be seen,
Beautiful eyes, with kindly glee,
Beamed there in laughing love on me
Now I'm alone from day to day,
They're all three thousand miles away.

A stranger's face each face I see,
And every eye is cold to me,
No friendly voice, no kind caress,
No spell to break the loneliness,
Until I fell beneath the spell
Of thy rare beauty, Isabel

I watch thee from my window pane
In hopes a stolen glimpse to gain
I know that purely lovely face...

I often thought to write to thee, what time
I almost fancied heaven-born, genius mine,
And fondly hoped my island harp to wake,
To some new strain sung for my country's sake.
'Twas a vain hope and yet its presence smiled
Upon my day dreams when I was a child,
And only faded when my heart grew cold,
For head and heart alike are getting old.
Had I been gifted, some bright lay would be,
With touching melody, poured forth for thee.
Now, what I think the best I wish for thee.

            *            *            *

May you never be a stranger;
    Ever living with your own,
With the same eyes beaming round you,
    That on your childhood shone.

Friendship knitting true hearts to you,
    From youth to kindly age;
And affection brightenin...

Dear Jane you say you will gather flowers
To win if you may a verse from me
Can you bring to me those brillant hours
When life was gladdened by poesy?

Bring me the rose with pearls on her breast,
Dropped down as tears from early skies,
Pale lilies gather among the rest
And little daisies, with starry eyes

The heart's-ease bring for many a day
In vain for that flow'ret fair I sought
Turn not your gathering hand away
From the wee blue flower, forget me not

Unless inspiration on them rest
In vain you tempt me to rise and sing
The passage bird that sang in my breast
Has fled away with my life's young spring

My harp on a lonely grave is laid,
Untuned, unstrung, it will lie there long,
If you bring flowers alone dear maid
Witho...

It is not very long since first we met,
    Thy path and mine lay very far apart;
We are not of one nation, dear one, yet
    Thou hast awakened love within my heart.

It is a love that sorrow never tried,
    And yet, like tested love, it is as true
As love that stood in dark hours by your side,
    If hours were ever dark or sad to you.

Not for your beauty, though I think you fair,
    Not for the kind heart or the tender word;
But for the kindredship,--because you were
    One who both knew and loved my gracious Lord.

One who had often met with Him alone;
    One over whom His garment had been laid;
Clothed on with beauty that was not your own,
    Bought with a price no other could have paid,

Divided by the ridge of time are we,

I dedicate these verses to one whom I hold dear,
One who in the dark days drew in Christian kindness near
May He who led me all my life do so and more to me
If ever I forget the debt of love I owe to thee.

Dearest of all, whose tenderness could rise
    To share all sorrow and to soothe all pain;
The blessings breathed for thee with weeping eyes
    Will come to thee as sunshine after rain.

My spirit clings to thine, dear, in this hour;
    Thy sorrow touches me as though 'twere mine;
And pleading prayers for thee shall have the power
    To draw down comfort from my Lord and thine.

For thou hast felt the sorrow and the care
    Of other lives, as though they were thine own;
And grateful prayers, for a memorial are
    Laid up for thee before the great white throne.

You sit bereaved, and I sit with you there
    In sympathy, my soul and yours can meet;
Missing the face that was so very fair,
    Missing the voice that was so very sweet.

I...

Adieu! Adieu! may angels guard thee,
    Hovering near thee night and day,
For all thy good deeds God reward thee,
    The rest forgive and blot away.

May no gift nor grace be missing,
    May He all on thee confer,
And add a heartfelt prayer and blessing
    From the distant wanderer.

O'er the trackless, foaming ocean,
    In weal or woe, ever shall be
Mingled in my heart's devotion
    Many a prayer for thine and thee.

What tho' across thy memory never
    Shall flit my once familiar name,
Hallowed by distance, thine for ever,
    Memory shall conjure up again.

All thy follies ever hidden,
    All thy virtues raised above,
Thy name, so long, so much forbidden,
    Strangers shall learn from me to love.

Adieu!...

Come forth, O rain! from thy cool, distant hall,
And lave the parched brow of the feverish earth,
The little drooping flow'rets on thee call,
Come, with thy cool touch wake them up to mirth
They will lift up glad faces to the sky,
Drinking in gladness from the warm moist air,
Now, thirsty, hot, and faint they droop and die,
Thou only canst revive these fainting fair
The grain has shrivelled, pining after thee,
And waves light-headed from a sickly stalk,
There's no green herbage on the sunburned lea,
The glaring sun through glowing skies doth walk,
Looking down hotly on sweet Allumette,
Thinking to dry it with his ardent gaze,
Each day a strip of sand left bare and wet,
Tells how she shrinks from his pursuing rays

1870