The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iii Part 31

And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, Our fond, dear boy-- The realms where sorrow dare not come, Where life is joy?

Pure at thy death as at thy birth, Thy spirit caught no taint from earth, Even by its bliss we mete our dearth, Casa Wappy!

Despair was in our last farewell, As closed thine eye; Tears of our anguish may not tell When thou didst die; Words may not paint our grief for thee, Sighs are but bubbles on the sea Of our unfathom'd agony, Casa Wappy!

Thou wert a vision of delight To bless us given; Beauty embodied to our sight, A type of heaven.

So dear to us thou wert, thou art Even less thine own self than a part Of mine and of thy mother's heart, Casa Wappy!

Thy bright, brief day knew no decline-- 'Twas cloudless joy; Sunrise and night alone were thine, Beloved boy!

This morn beheld thee blithe and gay; That found thee prostrate in decay; And ere a third shone, clay was clay, Casa Wappy!

Gem of our hearth, our household pride, Earth's undefiled, Could love have saved, thou hadst not died, Our dear, sweet child!

Humbly we bow to fate's decree; Yet had we hoped that time should see Thee mourn for us, not us for thee, Casa Wappy!

Do what I may, go where I will, Thou meet'st my sight; There dost thou glide before me still, A form of light.

I feel thy breath upon my cheek, I see thee smile, I hear thee speak, Till, oh! my heart is like to break, Casa Wappy!

The nursery shews thy pictured wall, Thy bat, thy bow, Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball; But where art thou?

A corner holds thine empty chair; Thy playthings, idly scatter'd there, But speak to us of our despair, Casa Wappy!

We mourn for thee when blind, blank night The chamber fills; We pine for thee when morn's first light Reddens the hills; The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea-- All--to the wallflower and wild pea-- Are changed--we saw the world through thee, Casa Wappy!

Snows m.u.f.fled earth when thou didst go, In life's spring-bloom, Down to the appointed house below-- The silent tomb.

But now the green leaves of the tree, The cuckoo, and "the busy bee,"

Return, but with them bring not thee, Casa Wappy!

'Tis so! but can it be--(while flowers Revive again)-- Man's doom in death--that we and ours For aye remain?

Oh! can it be that o'er the grave The gra.s.s, renew'd, should yearly wave, Yet G.o.d forget our child to save?

Casa Wappy!

It cannot be; for were it so Thus man could die, Life were a mockery--thought were woe, And truth a lie-- Heaven were a coinage of the brain-- Religion frenzy--virtue vain, And all our hopes to meet again, Casa Wappy!

Then be to us, O dear, lost child!

With beam of love, A star--death's uncongenial wild-- Smiling above!

Soon, soon thy little feet have trod The skyward path, the seraph's road, That led thee back from man to G.o.d, Casa Wappy!

Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair, Fond, fairest boy, That heaven is G.o.d's, and thou art there With him in joy!

There past are death and all its woes, There beauty's stream for ever flows, And pleasure's day no sunset knows, Casa Wappy!

Farewell, then--for a while farewell, Pride of my heart!

It cannot be that long we dwell Thus torn apart-- Time's shadows like the shuttle flee; And dark howe'er life's night may be, Beyond the grave I 'll meet with thee, Casa Wappy!

[49] This touching elegiac poem (which is not unsuitable for music) was written by Mr Moir on the death of his favourite child, Charles Bell--familiarly called by him "Casa Wappy"--who died in February 1838, at the age of four and a half years.

FAREWELL, OUR FATHERS' LAND.

Farewell, our fathers' land, Valley and fountain!

Farewell, old Scotland's strand, Forest and mountain!

Then hush the drum and hush the flute, And be the stirring bagpipe mute-- Such sounds may not with sorrow suit-- And fare thee well, Lochaber!

This plume and plaid no more will see, Nor philabeg, nor dirk at knee, Nor even the broadswords which Dundee Bade flash at Killiecrankie.

Farewell, our fathers' land, &c.

Now when of yore, on bank and brae, Our loyal clansmen marshall'd gay; Far downward scowls Bennevis gray, On sheep-walks spreading lonely.

Farewell, our fathers' land, &c.

For now we cross the stormy sea, Ah! never more to look on thee, Nor on thy dun deer, bounding free, From Etive glens to Morven.

Farewell, our fathers' land, &c.

Thy mountain air no more we 'll breathe; The household sword shall eat the sheath, While rave the wild winds o'er the heath Where our gray sires are sleeping.

Then farewell, our fathers' land, &c.

HEIGH-HO!

A pretty young maiden sat on the gra.s.s-- Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- And by a blithe young shepherd did pa.s.s, In the summer morning so early.

Said he, "My la.s.s, will you go with me, My cot to keep and my bride to be; Sorrow and want shall never touch thee, And I will love you rarely?"

"O! no, no, no!" the maiden said-- Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- And bashfully turn'd aside her head, On that summer morning so early.

"My mother is old, my mother is frail, Our cottage it lies in yon green dale; I dare not list to any such tale, For I love my kind mother rarely."

The shepherd took her lily-white hand-- Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- And on her beauty did gazing stand, On that summer morning so early.

"Thy mother I ask thee not to leave Alone in her frail old age to grieve; But my home can hold us all, believe-- Will that not please thee fairly?"

"O! no, no, no! I am all too young"-- Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- "I dare not list to a young man's tongue, On a summer morning so early."

But the shepherd to gain her heart was bent; Oft she strove to go, but she never went; And at length she fondly blush'd consent-- Heaven blesses true lovers so fairly.

ROBERT FRASER.

Robert Fraser was born in the village of Pathhead, Fifes.h.i.+re, on the 24th of June 1798. Receiving a respectable education at the various schools of the place, he became apprenticed in his fourteenth year to a wine-merchant in Kirkcaldy, with whom he continued during a period of four years. In 1819 he commenced business with a partner as an ironmonger in Kirkcaldy, and for a considerable time was prosperous in merchandise. His spare hours were devoted to literature, more especially to cla.s.sical learning and the acquisition of the modern languages. He was latterly familiar with all the languages of Europe. He contributed both in prose and verse to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_, and other periodicals. A series of misfortunes led to his renouncing business, and in 1838 he accepted the editors.h.i.+p of the _Fife Herald_ newspaper, when he removed his residence to Cupar-Fife. He died at Cupar, after a lingering illness, on the 22d May 1839. His "Poetical Remains," with a memoir from the pen of the poet Vedder, were published a few months after his decease. Though not ent.i.tled to a high rank, his poetry is pervaded by gracefulness, and some of his lyrics evince considerable power.