New Collected Rhymes [1]
end--the world shall say, "His best he gave: he left us not A line that saints could wish to blot, For he was blameless, though a man, And though the poet, he was gay!"
HOW THE MAID MARCHED FROM BLOIS
(Supposed to be narrated by James Power, or Polwarth, her Scottish banner-painter.)
The Maiden called for her great destrier, But he lashed like a fiend when the Maid drew near: "Lead him forth to the Cross!" she cried, and he stood Like a steed of bronze by the Holy Rood!
Then I saw the Maiden mount and ride, With a good steel sperthe that swung by her side, And girt with the sword of the Heavenly Bride, That is sained with crosses five for a sign, The mystical sword of St. Catherine. And the lily banner was blowing wide, With the flowers of France on the field of fame And, blent with the blossoms, the Holy Name! And the Maiden's blazon was shown on a shield, ARGENT, A DOVE, ON AN AZURE FIELD; That banner was wrought by this hand, ye see, For the love of the Maid and chivalry.
Her banner was borne by a page of grace, With hair of gold, and a lady's face; And behind it the ranks of her men were dressed - Never a man but was clean confessed, Jackman and archer, lord and knight, Their souls were clean and their hearts were light: There was never an oath, there was never a laugh, And La Hire swore soft by his leading staff! Had we died in that hour we had won the skies, And the Maiden had marched us through Paradise!
A moment she turned to the people there, Who had come to gaze on the Maiden fair; A moment she glanced at the ring she wore, She murmured the Holy Name it bore, Then, "For France and the King, good people pray!" She spoke, and she cried to us, "ON AND AWAY!" And the shouts broke forth, and the flowers rained down, And the Maiden led us to Orleans town.
LONE PLACES OF THE DEER
Lone places of the deer, Corrie, and Loch, and Ben, Fount that wells in the cave, Voice of the burn and the wave, Softly you sing and clear Of Charlie and his men!
Here has he lurked, and here The heather has been his bed, The wastes of the islands knew And the Highland hearts were true To the bonny, the brave, the dear, The royal, the hunted head.
AN OLD SONG--1750
Oh, it's hame, hame, hame, And it's hame I wadna be, Till the Lord calls King James To his ain countrie, Bids the wind blaw frae France, Till the Firth keps the faem, And Loch Garry and Lochiel Bring Prince Charlie hame.
May the lads Prince Charlie led That were hard on Willie's track, When frae Laffen field he fled, Wi' the claymore at his back, May they stand on Scottish soil When the White Rose bears the gree, And the Lord calls the King To his ain countrie!
Bid the seas arise and stand Like walls on ilka side, Till our Highland lad pass through With Jehovah for his guide. Dry up the River Forth, As Thou didst the Red Sea, When Israel cam hame To his ain countrie. {1}
JACOBITE "AULD LANG SYNE."--LOCHIEL'S REGIMENT, 1747
Though now we take King Lewie's fee And drink King Lewie's wine, We'll bring the King frae ower the sea, As in auld lang syne.
For, he that did proud Pharaoh crush, And save auld Jacob's line, Will speak to Charlie in the Bush, Like Moses, lang syne.
For oft we've garred the red coats run, Frae Garry to the Rhine, Frae Bauge brig to Falkirk moor, No that lang syne.
The Duke may with the Devil drink, And wi' the deil may dine, But Charlie's dine in Holyrood, As in auld lang syne.
For he who did proud Pharaoh crush, To save auld Jacob's line, Shall speak to Charlie in the Bush, Like Moses, lang syne.
THE PRINCE'S BIRTHDAY--ROME, 31ST DECEMBER, 1721
(A new-born star shone, which is figured on an early Medal of Prince Charles.)
A wonderful star shone forth From the frozen skies of the North Upon Rome, for an Old Year's night: And a flower on the dear white Rose Broke, in the season of snows, To bloom for a day's delight.
Lost is the star in the night, And the Rose of a day's delight Fled "where the roses go": But the fragrance and light from afar, Born of the
HOW THE MAID MARCHED FROM BLOIS
(Supposed to be narrated by James Power, or Polwarth, her Scottish banner-painter.)
The Maiden called for her great destrier, But he lashed like a fiend when the Maid drew near: "Lead him forth to the Cross!" she cried, and he stood Like a steed of bronze by the Holy Rood!
Then I saw the Maiden mount and ride, With a good steel sperthe that swung by her side, And girt with the sword of the Heavenly Bride, That is sained with crosses five for a sign, The mystical sword of St. Catherine. And the lily banner was blowing wide, With the flowers of France on the field of fame And, blent with the blossoms, the Holy Name! And the Maiden's blazon was shown on a shield, ARGENT, A DOVE, ON AN AZURE FIELD; That banner was wrought by this hand, ye see, For the love of the Maid and chivalry.
Her banner was borne by a page of grace, With hair of gold, and a lady's face; And behind it the ranks of her men were dressed - Never a man but was clean confessed, Jackman and archer, lord and knight, Their souls were clean and their hearts were light: There was never an oath, there was never a laugh, And La Hire swore soft by his leading staff! Had we died in that hour we had won the skies, And the Maiden had marched us through Paradise!
A moment she turned to the people there, Who had come to gaze on the Maiden fair; A moment she glanced at the ring she wore, She murmured the Holy Name it bore, Then, "For France and the King, good people pray!" She spoke, and she cried to us, "ON AND AWAY!" And the shouts broke forth, and the flowers rained down, And the Maiden led us to Orleans town.
LONE PLACES OF THE DEER
Lone places of the deer, Corrie, and Loch, and Ben, Fount that wells in the cave, Voice of the burn and the wave, Softly you sing and clear Of Charlie and his men!
Here has he lurked, and here The heather has been his bed, The wastes of the islands knew And the Highland hearts were true To the bonny, the brave, the dear, The royal, the hunted head.
AN OLD SONG--1750
Oh, it's hame, hame, hame, And it's hame I wadna be, Till the Lord calls King James To his ain countrie, Bids the wind blaw frae France, Till the Firth keps the faem, And Loch Garry and Lochiel Bring Prince Charlie hame.
May the lads Prince Charlie led That were hard on Willie's track, When frae Laffen field he fled, Wi' the claymore at his back, May they stand on Scottish soil When the White Rose bears the gree, And the Lord calls the King To his ain countrie!
Bid the seas arise and stand Like walls on ilka side, Till our Highland lad pass through With Jehovah for his guide. Dry up the River Forth, As Thou didst the Red Sea, When Israel cam hame To his ain countrie. {1}
JACOBITE "AULD LANG SYNE."--LOCHIEL'S REGIMENT, 1747
Though now we take King Lewie's fee And drink King Lewie's wine, We'll bring the King frae ower the sea, As in auld lang syne.
For, he that did proud Pharaoh crush, And save auld Jacob's line, Will speak to Charlie in the Bush, Like Moses, lang syne.
For oft we've garred the red coats run, Frae Garry to the Rhine, Frae Bauge brig to Falkirk moor, No that lang syne.
The Duke may with the Devil drink, And wi' the deil may dine, But Charlie's dine in Holyrood, As in auld lang syne.
For he who did proud Pharaoh crush, To save auld Jacob's line, Shall speak to Charlie in the Bush, Like Moses, lang syne.
THE PRINCE'S BIRTHDAY--ROME, 31ST DECEMBER, 1721
(A new-born star shone, which is figured on an early Medal of Prince Charles.)
A wonderful star shone forth From the frozen skies of the North Upon Rome, for an Old Year's night: And a flower on the dear white Rose Broke, in the season of snows, To bloom for a day's delight.
Lost is the star in the night, And the Rose of a day's delight Fled "where the roses go": But the fragrance and light from afar, Born of the