When HE could only listen.
On the sands
That bind the level sea-shore, will he stray,
When morn unlocks the East, and flings afar
The rosy day-beam! There the boy will stop
To gather the dank weeds which ocean leaves
On the bleak strand, while winter o’er the main
Howls its nocturnal clamour. There again
He chaunts his Father’s ditty. Never more
Poor mountain minstrel, shall thy bosom throb
To the sweet cadence! never more thy tear
Fall as the dulcet breathings give each word
Expression magical! Thy Father, Boy,
Sleeps on the bed of death! His tongue is mute,
His fingers have forgot their pliant art,
His oaten pipe will ne’er again be heard
Echoing along the valley! Never more
Will thy fond mother meet the balmy smile
Of peace domestic, or the circling arm
Of valour, temper’d by the milder joys
Of rural merriment. His very name
Is now forgotten! for no trophied tomb
Tells of his bold exploits; such heraldry
Befits not humble worth: For pomp and praise
Wait in the gilded palaces of Pride
To dress Ambition’s Slaves. Yet, on his grave,
The unmark’d resting place of Valour’s Sons,
The morning beam shines lust’rous; The meek flow’r
Still drops the twilight tear, and the night breeze
Moans melancholy music!
Then, to ME,
O! dearer far is the poor Soldier’s grave,
The Widow’s lone and unregarded Cot,
The brawling Brook, and the wide Alder-bough,
The ozier Canopy, and plumy choir,
Hymning the Morn’s return, than the rich Dome
Of gilded Palaces! and sweeter far—
O! far more graceful! far more exquisite,
The Widow’s tear bathing the living rose,
Than the rich ruby, blushing on the breast,
Of guilty greatness. Welcome then to me—
The WIDOW’S LOWLY HOME: The Soldier’s HEIR;
The proud inheritor of Heav’n’s best gifts—
The mind unshackled—and the guiltless Soul!
THE
_SHEPHERD’s DOG_.
I.
A Shepherd’s Dog there was; and he
Was faithful to his master’s will,
For well he lov’d his company,
Along the plain or up the hill;
All Seasons were, to him, the same
Beneath the Sun’s meridian flame;
Or, when the wintry wind blew shrill and keen,
Still the Old Shepherd’s Dog, was with his Master seen.
II.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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