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Prompt to please her master;
And the begging carlin, late
Fed and clothed at Ury's gate,

Cursed him as he passed her.

Yet, with calm and stately mien,
Up the streets of Aberdeen

Came he slowly riding;
And, to all he saw and heard
Answering not with bitter word,

Turning not for chiding.

Came a troop with broadswords swinging, Bits and bridles sharply ringing,

Loose and free and froward; Quoth the foremost, " Ride him down! Push him! prick him! through the town

Drive the Quaker coward!"

But from out the thickening crowd
Cried a sudden voice and loud:

"Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!"
And the old man at his side
Saw a comrade, battle tried,

Scarred and sunburned darkly;

Who with ready weapon bare,
Fronting to the troopers there,

Cried aloud: "God save us
Call ye coward him who stood
Ankle deep in Lutzen's blood,

With the brave Gustavus ? *

"Nay, I do not need thy sword, Comrade mine," said Ury's lord;

"Put it up I pray thee: Passive to his holy will, Trust I in my Master still,

Even though he slay me."

BARCLAY OF URY. 83

"Pledges of thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death,

Not by me are needed." Marvelled much that henchman bold, That his laird, so stout of old,

Now so meekly pleaded.

"Woe's the day," he sadly said, With a slowly-shaking head,

And a look of pity; "Ury's honest lord reviled, Mock of knave and sport of child,

In his own good city 1

"Speak the word, and, master mine,
As we charged on Tilly's line,

And his Walloon lancers,
Smiting through their midst we'll teacV
Civil look and decent speech

To these boyish prancers!"

"Marvel not, mine ancient friend, Like beginning, like the end:"

Quoth the Laird of Ury, "Is the sinful servant more Than his gracious Lord who bore

Bonds and stripes in Jewry?

"Give me joy that in his name
1 can bear, with patient frame,
All these vain ones oiler;
While for them He suffereth long,
Shall I answer wrong with wrong,
Scoffing with the scoffer?

"Happier I, with loss of all,
Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall,

With few friends to greet me,
Than when reeve and squire were eeen*

Riding out from Aberdeen,

With bared heads to meet me.

** When each good wife, o'er and o'er, Blessed me as I passed her door;

And the snooded daughter, Through her casement glancing down. Smiled on him who bore renown

From red fields of slaughter.

"Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, Hard the old friend's falling off,

Hard to learn forgiving: But the Lord his own rewards, And his love with theirs accords,

Warm and fresh and living.

"Through this dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light

Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest

For the full day-breaking '"

So the Laird of Ury said,
Turning slow his horse's head

Towards the Tolbooth prison, Where, through iron grates, he heard Poor disciples of the Word

Preach of Christ arisen!

Not in vain, Confessor old,
Unto us the tale is told

Of thy day of trial;
Every age on him, who strays
From its broad and beaten ways,

Pours its seven-fold vial.

Happy he whose inward ear
Angel comfortings can hear.

WHAT THE VOICE SAID. 35

O'er the rabble's laughter; And, while Hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern

Of the good hereafter.

Knowing this, that never yet
Share of Truth was vainly set

In the world's wide fallow;
After hands shall sow the seed,
After hands from hill and mead

Reap the harvests yellow.

Thus, with somewhat of the Seer,
Must the moral pioneer

From the Future borrow;
Clothe the waste with dreams of grain,
And, on midnight's sky of rain,

Paint the golden morrow!

WHAT THE VOICE SAID.

Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil, "Lord!" I cried in sudden ire,

"From thy right hand, clothed with thunder, Shake the bolted fire!

"Love is lost, and Faith is dying;

With the brute the man is sold; And the dropping blood of labor

Hardens into gold.

"Here the dying wail of Famine,
There the battle's groan of pain;

And, in silence, smooth-faced Mammon
Reaping men like grain.

"i Where is God, that we should fear Hira • Thus the earth-born Titans say;

* God! if thou art living, hear us!' Thus the weak ones pray.

"Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding^" Spake a solemn Voice within;

"Weary of our Lord's forbearance, Art thou free from sin?

"Fearless brow to Him uplifting,
Canst thou for his thunders call,

Knowing that to guilt's attraction
Evermore they fall?

"Know'st thou not all germs of evil
In thy heart await their time?

Not thyself, but God's restraining,
Stays their growth of crime.

"Could'st thou boast, oh child of weakness!

O'er the sons of wrong and strife, Were their strong temptations planted

In thy path of life?

"Thou hast seen two streamlets gushing
From one fountain, clear and free,

But by widely varying channels
Searching for the sea.

"Glideth one through greenest valleys,
Kissing them with lips still sweet;

One, mad roaring down the mountains.
Stagnates at their feet.

"Is it choice whereby the Parsee
Kneels before his mother's fire?

In his black tent did the Tartar
Choose his wandering sire?

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