This faded form! this pallid hue!
This blood my veins is clotting in! My years are many-they were few When first I entered at the U
-niversity of Gottingen-niversity of Gottingen.
There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottingen! Thou wast the daughter of my Tu-tor, Law Professor at the U
-niversity of Gottingen-niversity of Gottingen.
Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu,
That kings and priests are plotting in!
Here doomed to starve on water-gru-
-el, never shall I see the U-
-niversity of Gottingen-
-niversity of Gottingen.
[During the last stanza, Rogero dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his prison, and finally so hard as to produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops, the music continuing to play.]
One of the best lyric poets of Scotland, Hogg (17701835), often called the "Ettrick Shepherd," was born in a cottage at Ettrick Hall, and was the son of a shepherd. His mother had good humor and a rich store of song. He had little education, but showed great aptitude in imitating the old strains which he got from his mother. He had withal a taste for music. In 1801 he published a small volume of poems, and in 1807 another. He helped Scott in collecting old ballads for the "Border Minstrelsy." It was not till 1813 that he established his reputation by "The Queen's Wake," largely made up of Scottish songs and short romantic ballads. Among them that of "Bonny Kilmeny" is one of the most charming and poetical of fairy tales. Hogg wrote several novels. His worldly schemes were seldom successful, and he failed as a sheep-farmer. He had a passion for field sports. He was generous, kind-hearted, and charitable far beyond his means, and his death was deeply mourned in the vale of Ettrick, where he had lived on seventy acres of moorland, presented to him by the Duchess of Buccleuch. He breathed his last with the ealmness and freedom from pain that he might have experienced in falling asleep in his gray plaid on the hillside. Hogg's prose is very unequal. He had no skill in arranging incidents or delineating character. He is often coarse and extravagant; yet some of his stories have much of the literal truth and happy, minute painting of Defoc.
Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
And pu' the cress-flower round the spring-
The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye,
And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree;
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
And laug may she seek in the green-wood shaw;
Lang the laird of Duneira blame,
And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame.
When many a day had come and fled,
When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,
When mass for Kilmeuy's soul had been sung,
When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead-bell
rung,
Late, late in a gloamin', when all was still,
When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,
The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane,
The reek o' the cot hung over the plain-
Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane,
When the ingle lowed with an eyrie leme,-
Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny came hame!
"Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?
Lang hae we sought baith holt and den-
By lin, by ford, and green-wood tree;
Yet you are halesome and fair to see.
Where got you that joup o' the lily sheen?
That bonny snood of the birk sae green?
And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen?
Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?"
Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace,
But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face;
As still was her look, and as still was her e'e
As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea,
Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea.
For Kilmeny had been she knew not where,
And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew;
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,
When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen,
And a land where sin had never been-
A land of love, and a land of light,
Withouten sun, or moon, or night;
Where the river swa'd a living stream,
And the light a pure celestial beam:
The land of vision it would seem,
A still, an everlasting dream.
In you green-wood there is a waik,
And in that waik there is a wene,
And in that wene there is a maike, That neither has flesh, nor blood, nor bane; And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane.
In that green wene, Kilmeny lay,
Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay;
But the air was soft, and the silence deep,
And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep;
She kenned nae mair, nor opened her e'e,
Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye.
She wakened on a couch of the silk sae slim,
All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim;
And lovely beings around were rife,
Who erst had travelled mortal life;
And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer:
"What spirit has brought this mortal here ?"
"Lang have I journeyed the world wide,"
A meek and reverend fere replied:
"Baith night and day I have watched the fair
Eident a thousand years and mair.
Yes, I have watched o'er ilk degree,
Wherever blooms femenitye;
But sinless virgin, free of stain,
In mind and body, fand I nane.
Never, since the banquet of time,
Found I a virgin in her prime,
Till late this bonny maiden I saw,
As spotless as the morning snaw.
Full twenty years she has lived as free
As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye.
I have brought her away frae the snares of men,
That sin or death she may never ken."
They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair;
They kissed her cheek, and they kemed her hair;
And round came many a blooming fere,
Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome here;
Women are freed of the littand scorn;
Oh, blessed be the day Kilmeny was born!
Now shall the land of the spirits see,
Now shall it ken what a woman may be!
Many a lang year in sorrow and pain,
Many a lang year through the world we've gane,
Commissioned to watch fair womankind,
For it's they who nurice the immortal mind.
We have watched their steps as the dawning shone,
And deep in the green-wood walks alone;
By lily bower and silken bed
The viewless tears have o'er them shed;
Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep,
Or left the couch of love to weep.
We have seen! we have seen! but the time must come,
And the angels will weep at the day of doom.
"Oh, would the fairest of mortal kind
Aye keep the holy truths in mind,
That kindred spirits their motions see,
Who watch their ways with anxious e'e,
And grieve for the guilt of humanitye!
Oh, sweet to Heaven the maiden's prayer,
And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair!
And dear to Heaven the words of truth
And the praise of virtue frae beauty's mouth!
And dear to the viewless forms of air,
The minds that kythe as the body fair!
“Oh, bonny Kilmeny! free frae stain, If ever you seek the world again,— That world of sin, of sorrow and fear,Oh, tell of the joys that are waiting here; And tell of the joys you shall shortly see; Of the times that are now, and the times that shall be."
They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away,
And she walked in the light of a sunless day;
The sky was a dome of crystal bright,
The fountain of vision, and fountain of light;
The emerald fields were of dazzling glow,
And the flowers of everlasting blow.
Then deep in the stream her body they laid,
That her youth and beauty never might fade;
And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her lie
In the stream of life that wandered by.
And she heard a song-she heard it sung,
She kenned not where; but sae sweetly it rung,
It fell on her ear like a dream of the morn-
"Oh, blessed be the day Kilmeny was born!
Now shall the land of the spirits see,
Now shall it ken what a woman may be!
The sun that shines on the world sae bright,
A borrowed gleid frae the fountain of light;
And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun,
Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun,
Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair;
And the angels shall miss them, travelling the air
But lang, lang after baith night and day,
When the sun and the world have died away,
When the sinner had gane to his waesome doom,
Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom!"
They bore her away, she wist not how,
For she felt not arm nor rest below;
But so swift they wained her through the light,
Twas like the motion of sound or sight;
They seemed to split the gales of air,
And yet nor gale nor breeze was there.
Unnumbered groves below them grew;
They came, they passed, they backward flew,
Like floods of blossoms gliding on,
In moment seen, in moment gone.
Oh, never vales to mortal view
Appeared like those o'er which they flew,
That land to human spirits given,
The lowermost vales of the storied heaven;
From whence they can view the world below,
And heaven's blue gates with sapphires' glow-
More glory yet unmeet to know.
They bore her to a mountain green,
To see what mortal never had seen;
And they seated her high on a purple sward,
And bade her heed what she saw and heard,
And note the changes the spirits wrought;
For now she lived in the land of thought.-
She looked, and she saw nor sun nor skies,
But a crystal dome of a thousand dies;
She looked, and she saw nae land aright,
But an endless whirl of glory and light;
And radiant beings went and came,
Far swifter than wind, or the linkéd flame;
She hid her een frae the dazzling view;
She looked again, and the scene was new.
She saw a sun on a summer sky,
And clouds of amber sailing by;
A lovely land beneath her lay,
And that land had glens and mountains gray;
And that land had valleys and hoary piles,
And marléd seas, and a thousand isles;
Its fields were speckled, its forests green,
And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen,
Like magic mirrors, where slumbering lay
The sun and the sky and the cloudlet gray,
Which heaved and trembled, and gently swung;
On every shore they seemed to be hung;
For there they were seen on their downward
A thousand times and a thousand again;
In winding lake and placid firth-
Like peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth.
Kilmeny sighed, and seemed to grieve,
For she found her heart to that land did cleave;
She saw the corn wave on the vale;
She saw the deer run down the dale;
She saw the plaid and the broad claymore,
And the brows that the badge of freedom bore;
And she thought she had seen the land before.
She saw a lady sit on a throne,
The fairest that ever the sun shone on! A lion licked her hand of milk,
And she held him in a leash of silk, And a leifu' maiden stood at her knee, With a silver wand and melting e'eHer sovereign shield, till Love stole in, And poisoned all the fount within.
Then a gruff, untoward bedesman came,
And hundit the lion on his dame;
And the guardian maid wi' the dauntless e'e,
She dropped a tear, and left her knee;
And she saw till the queen frae the lion fled,
Till the bonniest flower of the world lay dead;
A coffin was set on a distant plain,
And she saw the red blood fall like rain.
Then bonny Kilmeny's heart grew sair,
And she turned away, and could look no mair.
Then the gruff, grim carle girnéd amain,
And they trampled him down - but he rose
And he baited the lion to deeds of weir,
Till he lapped the blood to the kingdom dear;
And, weening his head was danger-preef
When crowned with the rose and clover-leaf,
He growled at the carle, and chased him away
To feed with the deer on the mountain gray.
He growled at the carle, and he gecked at Heaven;
But his mark was set, and his arlés given.
Kilmeny awhile her een withdrew;
She looked again, and the scene was new.
She saw below her, fair unfurled,
One half of all the glowing world,
Where oceans rolled and rivers ran,
To bound the aims of sinful man.
She saw a people fierce and fell,
Burst frae their bounds like fiends of hell;
There lilies grew, and the eagle flew;
And she herked on her ravening crew,
Till the cities and towers were wrapped in a blaze,
And the thunder it roared o'er the lands and the
The widows they wailed, and the red blood ran,
And she threatened an end to the race of man;
She never lered, nor stood in awe,
Till caught by the lion's deadly paw.
Oh! then the eagle swinked for life,
And brainzelled up a mortal strife;
But flew she north, or flew she south,
She met wi' the growl of the lion's mouth.
With a mooted wing and waeful mien,
The eagle sought her eyrie again;
But lang may she cower in her bloody nest,
And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast,
Before she sey another flight,
To play wi' the norland lion's might.
But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw,
So far surpassing Nature's law,
The singer's voice wad sink away,
And the string of his harp wad cease to play.
But she saw till the sorrows of man were by,
And all was love and harmony;
Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away,
Like the flakes of snaw on a winter's day.
Then Kilmeny begged again to see
The friends she had left in her own countrye,
To tell of the place where she had been,
And the glories that lay in the land unseen;
To warn the living maidens fair,
The loved of Heaven, the spirits' care,
That all whose minds unmeled remain
Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane.
With distant music, soft and deep,
They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep;
And when she awakened she lay her lane,
All happed with flowers in the green-wood wene.
When seven lang years had come and fled;
When grief was calm, and hope was dead;
When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name,
Late, late in a gloamin', Kilmeny cam' hame!
And oh, her beauty was fair to see,
But still and steadfast was her e'e!
Such beauty bard may never declare,
For there was no pride nor passion there;
And the soft desire of maidens' een
In that mild face could never be seen.
Her seymar was the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower;
And her voice like the distant melodie
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she loved to raike the lanely glen,
And keepit afar frae the haunts of men;
Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
To suck the flowers, and drink the spring.
But, wherever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered:
The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly bison lowed and kneeled;
The dun-deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand.
And when at even the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung,
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,
Oh, then the glen was all in motion:
The wild beasts of the forest came;
Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame,
And goved around, charmed and amazed;
Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed,
And murmured, and looked with anxious pain
For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle-cock,
The corby left her houf in the rock;
The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew;
The hind came tripping o'er the dew;
The wolf and the kid their raike began,
And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran;
The hawk and the hern atour them hung,
And the merle aud the mavis forhooyed their young;
And all in a peaceful ring were hurled:
It was like an eve in a sinless world!
When a month and day had come and gane,
Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene;
There laid her down on the leaves sae green,
And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen.
But oh the words that fell from her mouth
Were words of wonder and words of truth!
But all the land were in fear and dread,
For they kenned na whether she was living or
dead.
It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain ;
She left this world of sorrow and pain,
And returned to the Land of Thought again.'
1 "Kilmeny alone places our shepherd among the undying ones," says Professor Wilson, in Blackwood's Magazine. "From Kilmeny alone," says Lord Jeffrey, "no doubt can be entertained that Hogg is a poet in the highest acceptation of the name." "Kilmeny' has been the theme of universal admiration, and deservedly so, for it is pure poetry," says D. M. Moir. "It cannot be matched in the whole compass of British song," says Allan Cunningham.
Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blessed is thy dwelling-place
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blessed is thy dwelling-placeOh, to abide in the desert with thee!
WHEN MAGGY GANGS AWAY.
Oh, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
Oh, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There's no a heart in a' the glen
That disna dread the day:
Oh, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
Young Jock has ta'en the hill for't-
A waefn' wight is he;
Poor Harry's ta'en the bed for't,
An' laid him down to dee;
An' Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
An' learnin' fast to pray:
And oh, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
The young laird o' the Lang-Shaw Has drunk her health in wine; The priest has said-in confidenceThe lassie was divine,
And that is mair in maiden's praise
Than ony priest should say:
But oh, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
The wailing in our green glen
That day will quaver high; "Twill draw the redbreast frae the wood, The laverock frae the sky;
The fairies frae their beds o' dew
Will rise an' join the lay: An' hey! what a day will be When Maggy gangs away!
Wordsworth (1770-1850) was born at Cockermouth, England, April 7th, 1770. His father was law-agent to Sir James Lowther, afterward Lord Lonsdale. His mother died when he was eight years of age; his father, when he was thirteen. He went to St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1787, and took his Bachelor's degree there in 1791. On leaving the University he travelled abroad, and was in France when Louis XVI. was dethroned. At that time he was a strong republican, and sympathized with the revolutionary party. He soon changed his views. His friends wished him to enter the Church; but a bequest of £900 from Raisley Calvert, a young friend, who urged him to become a poet, led him to devote himself thenceforth to literary pursuits. The circumstance was commemorated by Wordsworth in a noble sonnet. In 1793 he put forth a modest volume of descriptive verse; and in 1798 appeared "Lyrical Ballads," containing twenty-three pieces, the first being "The Ancient Mariner," by his friend Coleridge, and the rest poems by Wordsworth. Joseph Cottle, bookseller of Bristol, gave thirty guineas for the copyright; he printed five hundred copies, but the venture was financially a failure, and he got rid of the edition at a loss. The attempt of Wordsworth to substitute the simple language of rustic life for the tumid diction of the sentimental school was assailed with bitter ridicule by the critics of the day. The Edinburgh Review condemned his innovations. He had to educate his public. After a tour in Germany, Wordsworth settled, with his sister, at Grasmere. The payment to them of £3600 from a debt due their father had placed them above want. In 1802 the poet was married to his cousin, Mary Hutchinson, the lady who became the subject of the well-known lines, beginning, "She was a phantom of delight." In 1808 he removed to Allan Bank, and in 1813 to Rydal Mount, both places lying in sight of the beautiful lakes; whence the name of the "Lake School of Poetry" was given to the style represented by himself, Coleridge, and Southey. Holding the views he did-that poetry should be true to nature, and represent real, and not exaggerated, feelings-Wordsworth purposely selected simple subjects, and treated them with a simplicity which drew
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