Lost nae time, for weel we knew, When our chaffering a' was done, All was paid for, sold and done, We drew a glove on ilka hand, We sweetly curtsied each to each, And deftly danced a saraband. The market lasses looked and laughed, Left their gear and looked and laughed; They made as they would join the game, But soon their mithers, wild and wud, Wi' whack and screech they stopped the same. Sae loud the tongues o' raudies grew, Was thrust out ilka hand and face. And down each stair they thronged anon; Gentle, simple, thronged anon; Souter and tailor, frowzy Nan, The ancient widow young again Simpering behind her fan. Without choice, against their will, Doited, dazed against their will, The market lassie and her mither, The farmer and his husbandman, Hand in hand danced a' thegether. Slow at first, but faster soon, Still increasin' wild and fast, Hoods and mantles, hats and hose, Blindly doffed, and frae them cast, Left them naked, heads and toes. They would hae torn us limb frae limb, Dainty limb frae dainty limb; But never ane o' them could win Across the line that I had drawn Wi' bleeding thumb a-witherskin. There was Jeff the provost's son, All goodly men we singled out, And drew them by the left hand in, — Three times round wi' kisses seven, Like the wind that sucks the sea, Over and in and on the sea, Laughed while they had sense or breath; Into the mist and off my feet; We'll gang ance mair to yon town, For I was born a crowned king's child, The Lombard shall be Elspie's man, JOSEPH BRENNAN. COME TO ME, DEAREST. COME to me, dearest, I'm lonely with out thee, Day-time and night-time, I'm thinking about thee; CHARLES G. LELAND. 331 Night-time and day-time, in dreams II would not die without you at my side, behold thee; Were at an end, Confucius came forth And wandered as of old with other men, Giving his counsel unto many kings; But still the hand of grief was on hi heart, And his dark hue set forth his darkened hours. Lo! I have heard That in the land of Kin a master lives, So deeply skilled in music, that mankind. Begin again to give a glowing faith Unto the golden stories which are told Of the strange harmonies which built the world, And of the melody whose key is God. Now I will travel to the land of Kin, And know this sage of music, great Siang, And learn the secret lore which hides within All sweet well-ordered sounds." He went his way, Nor rested till he stood before the man. Thus spoke Siang unto Confucius: Thou who hast studied deeply the Koua-The eight great symbols of created things Knowest the sacred power of the line Which when unbroken flies to all the worlds As light unending, but in broken forms Falls short as sky and earth, clouds, winds, and fire, The deep blue ocean and the mountain high, And the red lightning hissing in the wave. The mighty law which formed what thou canst see, As clearly lives in all that thou canst hear, And more than this, in all that thou canst feel. Here, take thy lute in hand. I teach the air Made by the sage Wen Wang of ancient days." CHARLES G. LELAND. And when Siang would teach him more, he said: "Not yet, my master, I would seize the thought, The subtle thought which hides within the tune. To which the master answered: "It is well. Take five days more!" time was passed And when the Unto Siang thus spoke Confucius: Is very dim. I am as one who looks And nothing sees except a luminous cloud: Give me but five more days, and at the end If I have not attained the great idea And on the fifteenth day Confucius rose And stood before Siang, and cried aloud: "The mist which shadowed me is blown away, I am as one who stands upon a cliff When he composed that air. I speak to him, I hear him clearly answer me again; 1 333 That which I never yet myself beheld, Though I have played the sacred song for years, Striving with all my soul to penetrate Its mystery unto the master's form, Whilst thou hast reached it at a single bound: Henceforth the gods alone can teach thee tune." MINE OWN. AND O, the longing, burning eyes! Which waves around me, night and day, And O, the step, half dreamt, half heard! O, art thou Sylph, -or truly Self, — "O, some do call me Laughter, love; "And some do call me Wantonness, And some do call me Play" :"O, they might call thee what they would If thou wert mine alway!" And more than that, I see his very form:"And some do call me Sorrow, love, A man of middle stature, with a hue And some do call me Tears, And some there be who name me Hope, And some that name me Fears. "And some do call me Gentle Heart, And some Forgetfulness" :"And if thou com'st as one or all, Thou comest but to bless!" "And some do call me Life, sweetheart, She twined her white arms round his neck: The tears fell down like rain. "And if I live or if I die, We'll never part again." Pure as snow on Himalayan ranges, Heaven-descended, soon to heaven withdrawn, Ever dwells the lesser in the greater; In God's love the human: we by these Know he holds Love's simplest stammering sweeter Than cold praise of wordy Pharisees. UNKNOWN. THE FISHERMAN'S FUNERAL UP on the breezy headland the fisherman's grave they made, Where, over the daisies and clover bells, the birchen branches swayed; Above us the lark was singing in the cloudless skies of June, Fairer than the moon-flower of the And under the cliffs the billows were Ganges, Was Urvasi, Daughter of the Dawn. But it happened that the gentle maiden Loved one Puru-avas,-fateful name!— And her heart, with its sweet secret laden, Faltered when her time of utterance came. "I love"-then she stopped, and people wondered; "I love"--she must guard her secret well; Then from sweetest lips that ever blundered, "I love Puru-avas," trembling fell. Ah, what terror seized on poor Urvasi! Misty grew the violets of her eyes, And her form bent like a broken daisy, While around her rose the mocking cries. But great Indra said, "The maid shall marry Him whose image in her faithful heart She so near to that of God doth carry, Scarce her lips can keep their names apart." Call it then not weakness or dissembling, If, in striving the high name to reach, Through our voices runs the tender trembling Of an earthly name too dear for speech!.. chanting their ceaseless tune: For the creamy line was curving along the hollow shore, Where the dear old tides were flowing that he would ride no more. The dirge of the wave, the note of the bird, and the priest's low tone were blent In the breeze that blew from the moor land, all laden with country scent; But never a thought of the new-mown hay tossing on sunny plains, Or of lilies deep in the wild-wood, or roses gemming the lanes, Woke in the hearts of the stern bronzed men who gathered around the grave, Where lay the mate who had fought with them the battle of wind and wave. How boldly he steered the coble across the foaming bar, When the sky was black to the eastward and the breakers white on the Scar! | How his keen eye caught the squall ahead, how his strong hand furled the sail, As we drove o'er the angry waters before the raging gale! How cheery he kept all the long dark night; and never a parson spoke Good words, like those he said to us, when at last the morning broke! So thought the dead man's comrades, as silent and sad they stood, While the prayer was prayed, the blessing said, and the dull earth struck the wood; |