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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 9

'Poems from the Highlands.'

'Poems from the Highlands.'

[Dedicated to the learned Author of the Poems so styled in 'Kilmahoe,' to whose unwearied researches in the literature and manners of the Celts, during his visits to their firesides, I am so much indebted, in attempting, as ho has most elegantly expressed it, to make the world of spirits visible to the bodily ear.']

Prologue.

Tell me a tale of fairies, that dwell by mountain meres,
Whose midnight song and dancing the lonely shepherd hears;
Mocking the weary fugitive, they whiz along the blast,
And to the guilty mind recall the image of the past.
For all the varied ways of men their idle frolic apes,
As lakes the forms of earth recast in unsubstantial shapes;
And oh! their light and airy forms our spirits more dismay,
Than does the avalanche's fall, or battle's dread array.
Oh! gentle shepherd, tell me if fairies you have seen,
Disporting on the lonely moor, or in the woodland green.

Scene I.—A Mountain Moor.

1st Shep.
Who is that frenzied maid raves on the peak?
Note how she wildly steps—list to her shriek!
Haste, let us up—perhaps we can aid her;
Some false-hearted lover has surely betrayed her.

2nd Shep.
Weel, Tougal, gang up; but this I premise,
If there's love in the case, she'll tear out your eyes.
I ance melled wi' lovers—I'll no mell again;
So come, noo, and lave her, the night's gaun to rain.

[Exeunt Shepherds.

Prof. (Soliloquising.) Here, unrestrained, I'll drink unto the lees,
The full-blown Grecian life. Oh Sophocles,
Thy shade I now invoke—(shadowy forms appear). But what are these?

Chorus of Fairies.
Of all the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly lo'e the west, west, west;
For its there the bonny lassie lives, the lass that I lo'e best, best, best,
The lass that I lo'e best.
page 4 Prof. The Fourth Years' tramp? Their voice? Oh! but—I'll drown it!

[Recites eagerly.


A Spirit. And blaw, ye westlin' winds, blaw soft, among the lofty peaks, peaks, peaks,
And gently waft the lassie up, the lass that wears the breeks, breeks, breeks,

The lass that wears the breeks.

Prof, (as he is wafted up) recites:
Rapt by wild hands, I go, I go,
And leave the light of day,
Ere yet a mother's joys I know,
And see my child at play.

[Mist comes on, and scene closes.

Scene. 2.—Inside a Cavern. Fairies in a circle. Prof, and Prin. in the midst.

Fairy Queen. Where found you this maiden? Spirit. Reciting Greek, on a mountain peak, as no true maid should be. Fairy Queen. And where this venerable clown? Spirit. With a fire at his back, employed in a crack with a crazed auld wife, was he. Fairy Queen. Why are they here arraigned? Spirit.

In the depth of past ages there budded a flower;
'Twas sown by a bishop in a frolicsome hour;
When high in the rainbow we writ a decree
That the bishop's wild offspring immortal should be.
In a holier moment a college he plants,
Which was blessed by the Pope, and enriched by his grants;
And the flower to the students bequeathed all her dower,
And a bell as a keepsake, to ring in the tower.
Now these here (for reasons I don't care to state),
Would blot out the mem'ry of sweet, loving Kate.

Fairy Queen.

It is enough. I see a fairy sprite
Come from a distant clime. Speak!

2nd Spirit.

Far from his native land, wrecked on a distant strand, A—Id's in his grave.
And for a broken heart, Pity's warm tear will start, when we engrave—
If Profs. were men or A —ld not Prof.,
He had sot then been thus cut off.

Fairy Queen. You speak too true; mark me their pale dismay: We'll have some more of this another day.

Scene 3.—A wild Moor—Midnight—Fairies, Prin., and Prof, variously dressed.

Fairy Queen.

All hid by haze, from mortal gaze, our sports we'll follow free,
page 5 And a single star shall shine from far to light our jollity.
From twelve o'clock, till crow of cock, we'll have a joyful spree,
The Prin. as de'il, the Prof, shall reel, and each join in a glee;
For this is law, that a song or saw, each shall sing or say to me.
You fairies, then, shall play the men—I'll play Kate Kennedy.

(Sings)
Drink, then, to Kate in brimming bowls! let joy and mirth abound!
And sing till Prof, and Prin. shall scowl, and all the plain resound.

Will-o'-wisp (dressed as Prof, and playing with dog):
Here Wisp! come here, you idle dog; please, sir, to show a trick.
Jump in the pond, you little rogue, and fetch me out my stick
Preserve the C.G. of your trunk—keep vertical your snout;
There! see how nearly you have sunk, because my rules you scout.
Hey! what a funny kind of squeak—'twas "Will," with a slight lisp;
Now, when you've really learned to speak, you'll call me Will-o'-Wisp.

Fairy as Officer. Profs, wha will in Latin. pray: Profs. wha ne'er a smile betray: ope the gates and clear the way—Comes Kate Kennedy. Profs.

wha noise and rant forbid,
Wha calmly close the pious lid, Ireland once your brains out-did,
Teste Bursary.

Profs.

arrayed in sable hue,
Wha look sae glum, and wise, and blue—a fig will buy degrees from you,
Fiddle-dum-D. D.

Fairy as Fourth Year.

Sweet Kate! tho' nursed beneath the frown of bobbies, and professors sour,
There blooms not, to the summer sheen, a fresher or a fairer flower.
My joy, my dear consoling Kate!—I wish the Profs, you'd rusticate.
My Bejant days were green enough; in fact, I think it strange
That four short years should work in me so wonderful a change.
Once on a time, I thought the Profs, were beings half divine,
That fed upon ambrosia, and nectar drank for wine.
But now—

[Here the de'il, in anticipation of what was to come, makes a most desperate struggle, and eventually breaks the spell.

Epilogue.

And now you see the bird has flown, which gives me no great grief.
He often bullied me, I own; but still 'tis my belief
That hid in words and manners tart may often dwell a gen'rous heart.