New Collected Rhymes | Page 4

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 Rose and the Star,?Breathe o'er the years and the snow.
THE TENTH OF JUNE, 1715
(Being a Song writ for a lady born on June 10th, the birthday of his Most Sacred Majesty King James III. and VIII.)
Day of the King and the flower!?And the girl of my heart's delight,?The blackbird sings in the bower,?And the nightingale sings in the night?A song to the roses white.
Day of the flower and the King!?When shall the sails of white?Shine on the seas and bring?In the day, in the dawn, in the night,?The King to his land and his right?
Day of my love and my may,?After the long years' flight,?Born on the King's birthday,?Born for my heart's delight,?With the dawn of the roses white!
Black as the blackbird's wing?Is her hair, and her brow as white?As the white rose blossoming,?And her eyes as the falcon's bright?And her heart is leal to the right.
When shall