AT BELVOIR
BY JAMES THOMSON
Sunday, July 3, 1881.
A BALLAD, HISTORICAL AND PROPHETIC.
(“In maiden meditation, fancy free.”
My thoughts go back to last July,
Sweet happy thoughts and tender;–
“The bri...AT BELVOIR
BY JAMES THOMSON
Sunday, July 3, 1881.
A BALLAD, HISTORICAL AND PROPHETIC.
(“In maiden meditation, fancy free.”
My thoughts go back to last July,
Sweet happy thoughts and tender;–
“The bridal of the earth and sky,”
A day of noble splendour;
A day to make the saddest heart
In joy a true believer;
When two good friends we roamed apart
The shady walks of Belvoir.
A maiden like a budding rose,
Unconscious of the golden
And fragrant bliss of love that glows
Deep in her heart infolden;
A Poet old in years and thought,
Yet not too old for pleasance,
Made young again and fancy-fraught
By such a sweet friend's presence.
The other two beyond our ken
Most shamefully deserted,
And far from all the ways of men
Their stealthy steps averted:
Of course our Jack would go astray,
Erotic and erratic;
But Mary!—well, I own the day
Was really too ecstatic.
We roamed with many a merry jest
And many a ringing laughter;
The slow calm hours too rich in zest
To heed before and after:
Yet lingering down the lovely walks
Soft strains anon came stealing,
A finer music through our talks
Of sweeter, deeper feeling:
Yes, now and then a quiet word
Of seriousness dissembling
In smiles would touch some hidden chord
And set it all a-trembling:
I trembled too, and felt it strange;–
Could I be in possession
Of music richer in its range
Than yet had found expression?
The cattle standing in the mere,
The swans upon it gliding,
The sunlight on the waters clear,
The radiant clouds dividing;
The solemn sapphire sky above,
The foliage lightly waving,
The soft air's Sabbath peace and love
To satisfy all craving.
We mapped the whole fair region out
As Country of the Tender,
From first pursuit in fear and doubt
To final glad surrender:
Each knoll and arbour got its name,
Each vista, covert, dingle;–
No young pair now may track the same
And long continue single!
And in the spot most thrilling-sweet
Of all this Love-Realm rosy
Our truant pair had found retreat,
Unblushing, calm and cosy:
Where seats too wide for one are placed,
And yet for two but narrow,
It's “Let my arm steal round your waist,
And be my winsome marrow!”
Reclining on a pleasant lea
Such tender scenes rehearsing,
A freakish fit seized him and me
For wildly foolish versing:
We versed of this, we versed of that,
A pair of mocking sinners,
While our lost couple strayed or sat
Oblivious of their dinners.
But what was strange, our maddest rhymes
In all their divagations
Were charged and over-charged at times
With deep vaticinations:
I yearn with wonder at the power
Of Poetry prophetic
Which in my soul made that blithe hour
With this hour sympathetic.
For though we are in winter now,
My heart is full of summer:
Old Year, old Wish, have made their bow;
I welcome each new-comer.
“The King is dead, long live the King!
The throne is vacant never!”
Is true, I read, of everything,
So of my heart forever!
My thoughts go on to next July,
More happy thoughts, more tender;
“The bridal of the earth and sky,”
A day of perfect splendour;
A day to make the saddest heart
In bliss a firm believer;
When two True Loves may roam apart
The shadiest walks of Belvoir.
There may be less of merry jest
And less of ringing laughter,
Yet life be much more rich in zest
And richer still thereafter;
The love-scenes of that region fair
Have very real rehearsing,
And tremulous kisses thrill the air
Far sweetlier than sweet versing;
The bud full blown at length reveal
Its deepest golden burning;
The heart inspired with love unseal
Its inmost passionate yearning:
The music of the hidden chord
At length find full expression;
The Seraph of the Flaming Sword
Assume divine possession.
Notes:
Belvoir pronounced ‘beaver’
marrow: mate or companion
divagations: wanderings
vaticinations: prophecies
The following poem may serve as a "lassies' reply," as well as a rejoinder to Tam o' Shanter. It was contributed, via a circuitous Internet route, by a Burns Night celebrant from Burray, in the Orkney...The following poem may serve as a "lassies' reply," as well as a rejoinder to Tam o' Shanter. It was contributed, via a circuitous Internet route, by a Burns Night celebrant from Burray, in the Orkney Islands.
Kate O'Shanter
And where do you suppose was Kate
When market days were wearin late
While Tam frequented wretched dives
and fooled aroond wi landlord's wives?
And rode poor Meg through mud and ditches
and had an eye for handsome witches
Played peepin Tam at Alloway
And yelled and gave himself away
And fled from there amid the din
And Maggie hardly saved his skin
Kate slaved away the lifelong day
They had so many bills to pay
The twins just had to have new shoes
And Tam he spent so much on booze
She bathed and clothed and fed the twins
She baked the bread, she knits and spins
She does the wash, she mends the clothes
And what all else God only knows!
She keeps the house all neat and trim
And makes the lunch for ploughboy Jim
A neighbour lad they hire by day
Who does Tam's work while Tam's away
She herds the sheep and cattle too
Feeds hens, milks cows and when she's through
makes cheese and butter and gathers eggs
And puts the homebrew in the kegs
For Tam to sell on market day
And drink the proceeds half away
At harvest time from early morn
Her sickle reaps the oats and corn
And many a bonny summer day
She and ploughboy Jim - make hay
When Tam got home that night at 4
And Maggie found the stable door
Tam stumbled senseless to the floor
To sleep it off 8 hours or more
He tossed and turned through hail and rain
And through the nightmare ride again
Aboot the middle of the day
The livestock had a lot to say
The chickens, donkeys, geese, hens and cows
Said we want food we want it NOW
Tam stirred then from his lowly bed
and saw Meg's stump above his head
An awfu thought ran through his brain
Oh God - that wisna hail and rain!
Tam struggled slowly tae his feet
He wisna clean he wisna neat
He scraped aff what he could but when
He made his way from but to ben
Tam stood dumbfounded - what the hell
For Kate was gone - the twins as well
But Kate had left a note for him
"I've sailed to Montreal wi Jim"
And we expect to settle soon
Out on a farm near Saskatoon!
Forgive me Tam and don't be sore
A couldna tak it any more
I had tae find a better way
Before I'd slaved my youth away
I had tae try and save myself
(You'll find the oatmeal on the shelf)
Don't fash yourself aboot the twins
I might as well confess - they're Jims!!
Anyone familiar with more than the first line of this one? Not quite the nursery rhyme I remember from my childhood days.
Little Bo-Peep
George MacDonald (1824 - 1905)
Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her sh...Anyone familiar with more than the first line of this one? Not quite the nursery rhyme I remember from my childhood days.
Little Bo-Peep
George MacDonald (1824 - 1905)
Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her sheep,
And will not know where to find them;
They are over the height and out of sight,
Trailing their tails behind them!
Little Bo-Peep woke out of her sleep,
Jump'd up and set out to find them:
"The silly things! they've got no wings,
And they've left their trails behind them!
"They've taken their tails, but they've left their trails,
And so I shall follow and find them!"
For wherever a tail had dragged a trail
The grass lay bent behind them.
She washed in the brook, and caught up her crook.
And after her sheep did run
Along the trail that went up the dale
Across the grass in the sun.
She ran with a will, and she came to a hill
That went up steep like a spire;
On its very top the sun seemed to stop,
And burned like a flame of fire.
But now she went slow, for the hill did go
Up steeper as she went higher;
When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
Leaving a trail of fire.
And her sheep were gone, and hope she had none.
For now was no trail behind them.
Yes, there they were! long-tailed and fair!
But to see was not to find them!
Golden in hue, and rosy and blue,
And white as blossom of pears,
Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun,
As she had been running in theirs!
After the sun like clouds they did run,
But she knew they were her sheep:
She sat down to cry and look up at the sky,
But she cried herself to sleep.
And as she slept the dew down wept,
And the wind did blow from the sky;
And doings strange brought a lovely change:
She woke with a different cry!
Nibble, nibble, crop, without a stop!
A hundred little lambs
Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trail of their dams!
She gave one look, she caught up her crook,
Wiped away the sleep that did blind her;
And nibble-nibble-crop, without a stop
The lambs came nibbling behind her.
Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as large a stock;
In a month or more, they'll be sheep as before,
A lovely, long-wooled flock!
But what will she say, if, one fine day,
When they've got their bushiest tails,
Their grown-up game should be just the same,
And again she must follow mere trails?
Never weep, Bo-Peep, though you lose your sheep,
Tears will turn rainbow-laughter!
In the trail of the sun if the mothers did run,
The lambs are sure to run after;
But a day is coming when little feet drumming
Will wake you up to find them
All the old sheep how your heart will leap!
With their big little lambs behind them!
43 years after the death of James Thomson a monument was erected in his honour at Ednam, Roxburghshire(just north of Kelso) and Robert Burns was called upon to give the address:
While virgin Spring by ...43 years after the death of James Thomson a monument was erected in his honour at Ednam, Roxburghshire(just north of Kelso) and Robert Burns was called upon to give the address:
While virgin Spring by Eden's flood,
Unfolds her tender mantle green,
Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,
Or tunes Eolian strains between.
While Summer, with a matron grace,
Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade,
Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace
The progress of the spiky blade.
While Autumn, benefactor kind,
By Tweed ercts his aged head,
And sees, with self-approving mind,
Each creature on his bounty fed.
While maniac Winter rages o'er
The hills whence classic Yarrow flows,
Rousing the turbid torrent's roar,
Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows.
So long, sweet Poet of the year!
Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won;
While Scotia, with exulting tear,
Proclaims that Thomson was her son.
Robert Burns 1791
Amanda Moffet shared a video
Mathematics || Spoken Word by Hollie McNish
A poem on immigration based on personal experience and studies. The poem owes a lot to a book by economist Philippe Legrain called Immigrants: Your Country Needs Them.
Mathematics
He says
"those g...
The poem about Willie Winkie is known around the world but not everyone is aware that it was originally written by William Miller in Scotland - with a strong Scottish accent!
...The poem about Willie Winkie is known around the world but not everyone is aware that it was originally written by William Miller in Scotland - with a strong Scottish accent!
Willie Winkie
Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toun,
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-goun,
Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,
'Are the weans in their bed, for it's noo ten o'clock?'
'Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?
The cat's singin' grey thrums to the sleepin' hen,
The dog's spelder'd on the floor, and disna gi'e a cheep,
But here's a waukrife laddie that winna fa' asleep!'
Onything but sleep, you rogue! glow'ring like the mune,
Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spune,
Rumblin', tumblin' round about, crawin' like a cock,
Skirlin' like a kenna-what, wauk'nin' sleepin' fock.
'Hey, Willie Winkie - the wean's in a creel!
Wambling aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,
Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravelin' a' her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!'
Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean,
A wee stumple stoussie, that canna rin his lane,
That has a battle aye wi' sleep before he'll close an ee
But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.
Meaning of unusual words:
Tirlin'=rapping ben=through thrums=purring
spelderd=spread out glow'ring=shining waukrife laddie=insomniac boy
mune=moon airn=iron Skirlin'=shrieking with excitement
creel=deep basket Wambling=wriggling kenna-what=something or other
Ruggin'=tugging lug=ear ravelin'=confusing
thrums=purring stoorie=dusty stumple stoussie=short, sturdy child
Lord Ullin's Daughter by Thomas Campbell
A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!''--
"Now, who be ye, would cross Loc...Lord Ullin's Daughter by Thomas Campbell
A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!''--
"Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy weather?''
"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.--
"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?''--
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,--
"I'll go, my chief--I'm ready:--
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady:
"And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry.''--
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode arm'd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.--
"O haste thee, haste!'' the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.''--
The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,--
When, O! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.
And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,--
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For, sore dismay'd through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:--
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.
"Come back! come back!'' he cried in grief
"Across this stormy water:
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!--O my daughter!''
'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.
The Poet King!
James I (1394 - February 21, 1437) reigned as king of Scotland from 1406 until 1437. However, from 1406 to 1424 he was king in name only.
He was born on the July 25 or December ??, 1394, ...The Poet King!
James I (1394 - February 21, 1437) reigned as king of Scotland from 1406 until 1437. However, from 1406 to 1424 he was king in name only.
He was born on the July 25 or December ??, 1394, the son of Robert III. He had an eventful childhood. In 1402 his elder brother, David, was starved to death in prison at Falkland in Fife. Before the death of his father in 1406 James was sent to France for safety.
On the way there, he was captured by the English and handed over to Henry IV of England who imprisoned him and demanded a ransom. Robert III was said to have died from grief over the capture of James. His uncle, Robert, Duke of Albany, who became Regent on the death of Robert III, was in no hurry to pay for his release. Robert secured the release of his son Murdoch, who was captured at the same time, but not so with James. So for the next 18 years, James languished imprisoned in the Tower of London.
After the death of his uncle in 1420, the ransom of £40,000 was finally paid, and in 1424 James returned to Scotland to find a country in chaos. He took his bride with him - he had met and fallen in love with Joan Beaufort whilst imprisoned. He married her in London in February, 1424. They would have eight children, including the future James II of Scotland, and Margaret, wife of Louis XI of France.
James was formally crowned King of Scotland at Scone Abbey, Perthshire on May 2 or 21, 1424. He immediately took strong actions to regain authority and control. One such action was to execute the Albany family, who had opposed his actions. The execution of Murdoch, Duke of Albany and two of Murdoch's sons took place on 24th of May, 1425 at Castle Hill, Stirling.
He proceeded to rule Scotland with a firm hand, and achieved numerous financial and legal reforms. For instance, for the purpose of trade with other nations, foreign exchange could only be exchanged within Scottish borders. He also tried to remodel the Scottish Parliament along English lines. However, in foreign policy, he renewed the Auld Alliance, a Scottish-French (and therefore anti-English) alliance, in 1428.
His actions throughout his reign, though effective, upset many people. During the later years of his reign, they helped to lead to his claim to the throne coming under question.
James I's grandfather, Robert II, had married twice and the awkward circumstances of the first marriage, from which James was descended, led to it being disputed. Conflict broke out between the descendants of the first marriage and the unquestionably legitimate descendants of the second marriage over who should be on the Scottish throne. Matters came to a head in February, 1437, when James was assassinated by a group of Scots led by Sir Robert Graham while staying at the Friars Preachers Monastery in Perth.
A wave of executions followed in March, 1437 of those who were part of the plot. Amongst those executed by hanging, drawing and quartering were James' uncle, Walter, Earl of Atholl, and his grandson, Robert, Master of Atholl (both of whom were descended from Robert II's second marriage). ..
The Argument
GOD gives not Kings the style of Gods in vain,
For on his Throne his Scepter do they sway:
And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So Kings should fear and serve their God again
If then ye would enioy a happy reign,
Observe the Statutes of your heavenly King,
And from his Law, make all your Laws to spring:
Since his Lieutenant here ye should remain,
Reward the just, be stedfast, true, and plain,
Repress the proud, maintaining aye the right,
Walk always so, as ever in his sight,
Who guards the godly, plaguing the profane:
And so ye shall in Princely virtues shine,
Resembling right your mighty King Divine
James I of Scotland
Highland Mary
Robert Burns
I
Ye banks and braes, and streams around,
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And ...Highland Mary
Robert Burns
I
Ye banks and braes, and streams around,
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O my sweet Highland Mary.
II
How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk!
How rich the hawthorn's blossom!
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
III
Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursel's asunder;
But, oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!--
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
IV
Oh pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And clos'd for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly--
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!
- Wha Daur Meddle Wi' Me?
The royal coat of arms in Scotland has the Latin motto "Nemo me impune lacessit". The English translation of this is "Nobody interferes with me with impunity" and this is ...- Wha Daur Meddle Wi' Me?
The royal coat of arms in Scotland has the Latin motto "Nemo me impune lacessit". The English translation of this is "Nobody interferes with me with impunity" and this is often defiantly expressed in broad Scots as "Wha daur meddle wi' me?" which is the title of this anonymous poem. But on this occasion it is being aggressively repeated by a member of the Elliot family, one of the Border families who not only fought their neighbours but were part of the first line of defence against marauding English invaders - and could sometimes defy the Scottish monarch as well!
Wha Daur Meddle Wi' Me?
Ma castle is aye ma ain,
An' herried it never shall be,
For I maun fa' ere it's taen,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wi' ma kit i' the rib o' ma naig,
Ma sword hingin' doon by ma knee,
For man I am never afraid,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh, ma name it's wee Jock Elliot,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Fierce Bothwell I vanquished clean,
Gar'd troopers an' fitmen flee;
By my faith I dumfoondert the Queen,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Alang by the dead water stank,
Jock Fenwick I met on the lea,
But his saddle was toom in a clank,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh, ma name it's wee Jock Elliot,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Whar Keelder meets wi' the Tyne,
Masel an' ma kinsmen three,
We tackled the Percies nine -
They'll never mair meddle wi' me.
Sir Harry wi' nimble brand,
He pricket ma cap ajee,
But I cloured his heid on the strand,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh, ma name it's wee Jock Elliot,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
The Cumberland reivers ken
The straik ma airm can gie,
An' warily pass the glen,
For wha daur meddle wi' me?
I chased the loons doon to Carlisle,
Jook't the raip on the Hair-i-bee,
Ma naig nickert an' cockit his tail,
But wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh, ma name it's wee Jock Elliot,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Ma kinsmen are true, an' brawlie,
At glint o' an enemie,
Round Park's auld Turrets they rally,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Then heigh for the tug an' the tussle,
Tho' the cost should be Jethart tree;
Let the Queen an' her troopers gae whustle
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh, ma name it's wee Jock Elliot,
An' wha daur meddle wi' me?
Meaning of unusual words:
herried=plundered, robbed
maun fa' ere it's taen=must fall before it's taken
naig=nag, horse
Gar'd=made
dumfoondert=amazed, perplexed
toom=empty
clank=severe blow
Percies=an English aristocratic family
ajee=crooked, awry
cloured=struck, battered
reivers=border bandits
ken=know
loons=rascals
Jook't=duck, evade a blow
Hair-i-bee=place of execution at Carlisle
Ma naig nickert=my horse whinnied
brawlie=in good health
Jethart tree=a jury that tries a case after inflicting punishment
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