Ban and Arriere Ban [2]
might say
them nay,
Wi' sword by side, and flag o' pride, free men might they gang
their way,
They might fare to France, they might bide at hame, and the better
their grace to buy,
Wullie Wanbeard's purse maun pay the keep o' the men that did him
defy!
Men never hae gotten sic terms o' peace since first men went to
war,
As got Halyburton, and Middleton, and Roy, and the young Dunbar.
Sae I drink to ye here, To the Young Chevalier! I hae said ye an
auld man's say,
And there may hae been mightier deeds of arms, but there never was
nane sae gay!
THREE PORTRAITS OF PRINCE CHARLES
1731
Beautiful face of a child,
Lighted with laughter and glee,
Mirthful, and tender, and wild,
My heart is heavy for thee!
1744
Beautiful face of a youth,
As an eagle poised to fly forth,
To the old land loyal of truth,
To the hills and the sounds of the North:
Fair face, daring and proud,
Lo! the shadow of doom, even now,
The fate of thy line, like a cloud,
Rests on the grace of thy brow!
1773
Cruel and angry face,
Hateful and heavy with wine,
Where are the gladness, the grace,
The beauty, the mirth that were thine?
Ah, my Prince, it were well,--
Hadst thou to the gods been dear, -
To have fallen where Keppoch fell,
With the war-pipe loud in thine ear!
To have died with never a stain
On the fair White Rose of Renown,
To have fallen, fighting in vain,
For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown!
More than thy marble pile,
With its women weeping for thee,
Were to dream in thine ancient isle,
To the endless dirge of the sea!
But the Fates deemed otherwise,
Far thou sleepest from home,
From the tears of the Northern skies,
In the secular dust of Rome.
* * *
A city of death and the dead,
But thither a pilgrim came,
Wearing on weary head
The crowns of years and fame:
Little the Lucrine lake
Or Tivoli said to him,
Scarce did the memories wake
Of the far-off years and dim.
For he stood by Avernus' shore,
But he dreamed of a Northern glen
And he murmured, over and o'er,
'For Charlie and his men:'
And his feet, to death that went,
Crept forth to St. Peter's shrine,
And the latest Minstrel bent
O'er the last of the Stuart line.
FROM OMAR KHAYYAM
[Rhymed from the prose version of Mr. Justin Huntly M'Carthy]
The Paradise they bid us fast to win
Hath Wine and Women; is it then a sin
To live as we shall live in Paradise,
And make a Heaven of Earth, ere Heaven begin?
The wise may search the world from end to end,
From dusty nook to dusty nook, my friend,
And nothing better find than girls and wine,
Of all the things they neither make nor mend.
Nay, listen thou who, walking on Life's way,
Hast seen no lovelock of thy love's grow grey
Listen, and love thy life, and let the Wheel
Of Heaven go spinning its own wilful way.
Man is a flagon, and his soul the wine,
Man is a lamp, wherein the Soul doth shine,
Man is a shaken reed, wherein that wind,
The Soul, doth ever rustle and repine.
Each morn I say, to-night I will repent,
Repent! and each night go the way I went -
The way of Wine; but now that reigns the rose,
Lord of Repentance, rage not, but relent.
I wish to drink of wine--so deep, so deep -
The scent of wine my sepulchre shall steep,
And they, the revellers by Omar's tomb,
Shall breathe it, and in Wine shall fall asleep.
Before the rent walls of a ruined town
Lay the King's skull, whereby a bird flew down
'And where,' he sang, 'is all thy clash of arms?
Where the sonorous trumps of thy renown?'
AESOP
He sat among the woods, he heard
The sylvan merriment: he saw
The pranks of butterfly and bird,
The humours of the ape, the daw.
And in the lion or the frog -
In all the life of moor and fen,
In ass and peacock, stork and dog,
He read similitudes of men.
'Of these, from those,' he cried, 'we come,
Our hearts, our brains descend from these.'
And lo! the Beasts no more were dumb,
But answered out of brakes and trees:
'Not ours,' they cried; 'Degenerate,
If ours at all,' they cried again,
them nay,
Wi' sword by side, and flag o' pride, free men might they gang
their way,
They might fare to France, they might bide at hame, and the better
their grace to buy,
Wullie Wanbeard's purse maun pay the keep o' the men that did him
defy!
Men never hae gotten sic terms o' peace since first men went to
war,
As got Halyburton, and Middleton, and Roy, and the young Dunbar.
Sae I drink to ye here, To the Young Chevalier! I hae said ye an
auld man's say,
And there may hae been mightier deeds of arms, but there never was
nane sae gay!
THREE PORTRAITS OF PRINCE CHARLES
1731
Beautiful face of a child,
Lighted with laughter and glee,
Mirthful, and tender, and wild,
My heart is heavy for thee!
1744
Beautiful face of a youth,
As an eagle poised to fly forth,
To the old land loyal of truth,
To the hills and the sounds of the North:
Fair face, daring and proud,
Lo! the shadow of doom, even now,
The fate of thy line, like a cloud,
Rests on the grace of thy brow!
1773
Cruel and angry face,
Hateful and heavy with wine,
Where are the gladness, the grace,
The beauty, the mirth that were thine?
Ah, my Prince, it were well,--
Hadst thou to the gods been dear, -
To have fallen where Keppoch fell,
With the war-pipe loud in thine ear!
To have died with never a stain
On the fair White Rose of Renown,
To have fallen, fighting in vain,
For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown!
More than thy marble pile,
With its women weeping for thee,
Were to dream in thine ancient isle,
To the endless dirge of the sea!
But the Fates deemed otherwise,
Far thou sleepest from home,
From the tears of the Northern skies,
In the secular dust of Rome.
* * *
A city of death and the dead,
But thither a pilgrim came,
Wearing on weary head
The crowns of years and fame:
Little the Lucrine lake
Or Tivoli said to him,
Scarce did the memories wake
Of the far-off years and dim.
For he stood by Avernus' shore,
But he dreamed of a Northern glen
And he murmured, over and o'er,
'For Charlie and his men:'
And his feet, to death that went,
Crept forth to St. Peter's shrine,
And the latest Minstrel bent
O'er the last of the Stuart line.
FROM OMAR KHAYYAM
[Rhymed from the prose version of Mr. Justin Huntly M'Carthy]
The Paradise they bid us fast to win
Hath Wine and Women; is it then a sin
To live as we shall live in Paradise,
And make a Heaven of Earth, ere Heaven begin?
The wise may search the world from end to end,
From dusty nook to dusty nook, my friend,
And nothing better find than girls and wine,
Of all the things they neither make nor mend.
Nay, listen thou who, walking on Life's way,
Hast seen no lovelock of thy love's grow grey
Listen, and love thy life, and let the Wheel
Of Heaven go spinning its own wilful way.
Man is a flagon, and his soul the wine,
Man is a lamp, wherein the Soul doth shine,
Man is a shaken reed, wherein that wind,
The Soul, doth ever rustle and repine.
Each morn I say, to-night I will repent,
Repent! and each night go the way I went -
The way of Wine; but now that reigns the rose,
Lord of Repentance, rage not, but relent.
I wish to drink of wine--so deep, so deep -
The scent of wine my sepulchre shall steep,
And they, the revellers by Omar's tomb,
Shall breathe it, and in Wine shall fall asleep.
Before the rent walls of a ruined town
Lay the King's skull, whereby a bird flew down
'And where,' he sang, 'is all thy clash of arms?
Where the sonorous trumps of thy renown?'
AESOP
He sat among the woods, he heard
The sylvan merriment: he saw
The pranks of butterfly and bird,
The humours of the ape, the daw.
And in the lion or the frog -
In all the life of moor and fen,
In ass and peacock, stork and dog,
He read similitudes of men.
'Of these, from those,' he cried, 'we come,
Our hearts, our brains descend from these.'
And lo! the Beasts no more were dumb,
But answered out of brakes and trees:
'Not ours,' they cried; 'Degenerate,
If ours at all,' they cried again,