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653

Amen! whatever fate be sent,

Pray God the heart may kindly glow,
Although the head with cares be bent,

And whitened with the winter snow.

Come wealth or want, come good or ill,
Let young and old accept their part,
And bow before the Awful Will,

And bear it with an honest heart,
Who misses or who wins the prize.
Go, lose or conquer as you can;
But if you fail, or if you rise,

Be each, pray God, a gentleman.

A gentleman, or old or young!

(Bear kindly with my humble lays);
The sacred chorus first was sung
Upon the first of Christmas Days:
The shepherds heard it overhead-
The joyful angels raised it then:
Glory to Heaven on high, it said.

And peace on earth to gentle men.

My song, save this, is little worth;
I lay the weary pen aside,

And wish you health, and love, and mirth,
As fits the solemn Christmas-tide.

As fits the holy Christmas birth,

Be this, good friends, our carol stillBe peace on earth, be peace on earth, To men of gentle will.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

[1819-1875]

AIRLY BEACON

AIRLY Beacon, Airly Beacon;

O the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
While my love climb'd up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer's day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
With his baby on my knee!

654

THE SANDS OF DEE

'O MARY, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee';

The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand,

As far as eye could see.

The rolling mist came down and hid the land:

6

And never home came she.

'Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair,

A tress of golden hair,

A drowned maiden's hair

Above the nets at sea?

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes of Dee.'

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,

The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea:

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee.

YOUNG AND OLD

655

WHEN all the world is

young, lad

And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;

Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

And round the world away;

Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,

And all the trees are brown;

And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down:
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there
You loved when all was young.

656

ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND

WELCOME, wild North-easter!
Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr;
Ne'er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black North-easter!
O'er the German foam;
O'er the Danish moorlands,
From thy frozen home.
Tired we are of summer,
Tired of gaudy glare
Showers soft and steaming,
Hot and breathless air.
Tired of listless dreaming,
Through the lazy day:
Jovial wind of winter

Turn us out to play!

Sweep the golden reed-beds;
Crisp the lazy dyke;
Hunger into madness
Every plunging pike.
Fill the lake with wild-fowl;
Fill the marsh with snipe;
While on dreary moorlands
Lonely curlew pipe.
Through the black fir-forest
Thunder harsh and dry,
Shattering down the snow-flakes
Off the curdled sky.
Hark! The brave North-easter!
Breast-high lies the scent,

On by holt and headland,
Over heath and bent.
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Through the sleet and snow.
Who can over-ride you?
Let the horses go!
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Down the roaring blast
You shall see a fox die
Ere an hour be past.
Go! and rest to-morrow,
Hunting in your dreams,
While our skates are ringing
O'er the frozen streams.
Let the luscious South-wind
Breathe in lovers' sighs,
While the lazy gallants
Bask in ladies' eyes.
What does he but soften
Heart alike and pen?
'Tis the hard grey weather
Breeds hard English men.
What's the soft South-wester?
'Tis the ladies' breeze,

Bringing home their true-loves

Out of all the seas:

But the black North-easter,

Through the snowstorm hurled,
Drives our English hearts of oak

Seaward round the world.
Come, as came our fathers,
Heralded by thee,

Conquering from the eastward,

Lords by land and sea.
Come; and strong within us
Stir the Vikings' blood;
Bracing brain and sinew;
Blow, thou wind of God!

657

J. WILSON (?)

[19th Century]

THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG

LISTEN to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores-
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather

All your deep voices as ye pull your oars:

Fair these broad meads-these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas-
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides:
Fair these broad meads, &c.

We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,

Where 'tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,

In arms around the patriarch banner rally,

Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam:

Fair these broad meads, &c.

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