Part 1
A
NEW SELECTION
OF
Miscellaneous Pieces,
_IN VERSE_.
BY
CHRISTIAN GRAY,
BLIND FROM HER INFANCY,
_In Milton, Parish of Aberdalgie, Perthshire_.
Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven first born,-- * * * * * * * * * Thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovereign vital lamp; but thou Revisit’st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; * * * Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the muses haunt--
_Milton’s Paradise Lost,--Book III._
PERTH: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY R. MORISON. 1821.
To
THE LADIES,
THOSE KIND PATRONESSES,
who have honored my former and present
LITTLE WORK,
with their disinterested and generous support,
THE FOLLOWING PIECES
ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED;
being the only way of expressing
THE GRATITUDE
WHICH WILL EVER BE FELT
BY
THEIR MUCH OBLIGED,
AND VERY HUMBLE SERVANT,
_THE AUTHOR_.
Preface.
Whatever may be the nature, or design of the work itself, no one, I am persuaded, has ever offered a book to the public without indulging a wish that it should be prosperous, and its influence beneficial. My motives in publishing this little volume are pure, and may be laudable, but it must be allowed they are not altogether disinterested. While I earnestly trust that it may prove an humble source of gratification to those whose benevolence has induced them to befriend me, I pretend not to suppress the desire that it may become the means of contributing to cheer the downward days of my lonely life.
The greater part of these verses was composed at an early period of my life--at a time when the human mind is most susceptible of being deeply impressed by its own ideas, or by the influence of surrounding objects. My artless rhymes indeed may not excite a very powerful interest in the hearts of others; but, in my own, on account of the circumstances and recollections from which they originated, they have long been cherished with the complacency and fondness of affectionate regard.
About twelve years ago, a selection of my pieces was given to the public; and under the active patronage of my well-wishers, met with a reception far beyond what my most sanguine hopes could ever have anticipated: others which, on that occasion, were not required, I have now brought to recollection, and revised with care, and welcomed with the partiality which we naturally devote to an old friend, whose society has often been agreeable, amusing, or instructive. Several of them are of a more recent date; these were composed at intervals subsequent to a protracted illness which nearly exhausted my debilitated frame, and impaired the remaining energies of my mind; while, from the same cause, I was more than usually confined within doors, and thereby deprived of the advantages of friendly instruction. Their subjects are drawn from occurrences which, in a particular manner, interested my own feelings; I have therefore endeavoured to express those feelings in language descriptive of the impression left by them on my own heart. Such then, as they and the others are, they are my best, and I cast them, with respectful diffidence, on the benevolence of the world, and hope that they may be judged solely as the simple effusions of an unpolished mind.
Having a strong presentiment that I shall never more address myself to public attention, I would embrace this last, and to me, important opportunity, of declaring my deep sense of gratitude and respect for those generous individuals by whose kindness my solitude has been enlivened, and my comforts promoted.
My heart derives a melancholy gratification from the discharge of this affecting duty, and it is sad, but satisfied, when wishing my readers every happiness, I bid them FAREWELL.
CHRISTIAN GRAY.
Milton of Aberdalgie, Perthshire, 1821.
Contents.
PAGE DEDICATION, 3
PREFACE, 5
Lines addressed to the E----l of K----l, 13
Anecdote of Alexander, Emperor of Russia, 19
Lines composed on receiving a letter, 25
Lines on receiving an unexpected present, 30
Stanzas to the memory of a Gentleman, 34
A Sonnet, 39
To a young Lady, 41
On receiving a descriptive poem, 44
A Letter to a friend in a great town, 48
A Letter to my Nephew, 58
A Letter to a Gentleman Farmer, 63
On laying an old petticoat beside a good one, 66
On visiting a faded flower, 69
A fact recorded in the Evangelical Magazine, 83
A complaint to Poesy, 88
Versification of Ossian’s Address to the Moon, 96
Balclutha’s Ruins--from Ossian, 99
An Extract from Ossian, 102
A Petition to a Medical Gentleman, 104
Lines composed in the time of war, 107
Sabella--a metrical tale, 109
Song,--on leaving the country for the town, 129
Song, in answer to “I’m wearin’ awa Jean,” 132
Song,--“Farewell to Perth,” 134
Song, in answer to “O Nannie wilt thou gang, &c.” 137
Evening Reflections, 140
Miscellaneous Pieces,
IN VERSE.
TO THE RIGHT HON.
THE E----L OF K----L,
_On his granting me the neat Cottage which I now inhabit_.
Neat is the Cottage rear’d for me Upon this rising bank; I’ll send my hand-maid, Poesy, To Dupplin-Castle on her knee, The noble Earl to thank.
Lest wrong my messenger betide, Or lest she should offend, A guardian for her I’ll provide, And to his kindness her confide,-- Poor nymph she needs a friend.
Will Mr L---- then introduce My handmaid into view; Perhaps his Lordship wont refuse To hear, for once, a hamlet muse Who sings with deference due;
Tell how I prize this cottage bower, Commodious, new, and clean; Near where my swaddling clothes I wore, Where long my fathers dwelt before, Which more endears the scene.
My ancestors are pass’d away, (So families fail apace) And soon at latest comes the day, When with myself the name of Gray Will vanish from this place:--
Here bushes, braes, and rocks remind Of childhood’s happy days, When playful, ’midst companions kind, I scrambled up, or lean’d reclin’d On yonder crag’s rough base.
Where dashing falls the proud cascade, Oft when a message sent, So long I there have list’ning strayed, That mother’s orders disobeyed, Brought fear of punishment.
Wild berries, nut, or jetty sloe, Would tempt my venturous feet To climb, where hazardous to go, And when my own hand stript the bough, I deem’d them doubly sweet.
So spring-time of my life did run, To kind indulgence us’d; If I my lessons did not shun, Though other tasks were poorly done, ’Twas wink’d at and excus’d.
For oft in languid health I pin’d, Which parents view’d full sad, And wandering, freedom I did find Adown yon den, where shrubs, entwin’d With flowers of summer, spread.
Though since much alter’d is my lot, And that in many ways, These times oft fill a passing thought, To banish dull reflection--sought, A dream of early days.
Now smoothly gliding down the dell, My native streamlet flows, And when its waters rushing swell, The distant din will please me well, And lull me to repose.
This is the very, very place, That’s to my heart most dear, For which warm thanks I would express, Though sent, indeed, in sorry dress, Yet not the less sincere.
On some green spot, in weather fair, I’ll sit in sober mood, And when I breathe my native air, That blessing I will thankful share, And think it does me good.
This close-built cot, in coldest day, Affords a warm retreat; And whether near or far away, I grateful wish your Lordship may Be bless’d as well as great.
AN ANECDOTE
_Of Alexander, Emperor of Russia, recorded in a newspaper several years ago_.
Great ALEXANDER, it is said, Once conquer’d all the then known world: From clime to clime, with fury mad, War’s desolating rage he hurl’d.
Ambition thirsting still for blood, Th’ infatuated tyrant drove, To shed it in a sanguine flood, As if to extirpate man he strove.
Though after ages hear his fame, Preserv’d in history and in song; Humanity detests his name, And all the war-delighted throng.
At present I would sing of one, An ALEXANDER of more worth, Humanity’s exalted son, The potent Emperor of the north.
A humble muse who never soar’d, Nor e’er to sing of Monarch try’d, One royal action to record, Counts both her pleasure and her pride.
Fam’d ALEXANDER, who doth sway The Russian Empire, large and broad; It chanc’d that lately on a day, At distance from his train he rode.--
It chanc’d;--No! Providence did send, That hour, the Emperor out with speed, To prove himself Compassion’s friend, And to perform a noble deed.--
He rode at distance from his train, For, innocent, no harm he fear’d, And deem’d all hir’d Protectors vain,-- His people’s love a surer guard.
Out from a river’s rapid force, He saw some peasants who convey’d, With toil, a seeming lifeless corse, Which on the grassy bank they laid.
Then all his sympathetic soul Was mov’d with pity’s keenest zeal, Was mov’d at nature’s kind controul, As minds ignoble never will.
The peasants look’d with silent gaze, No farther service they can do; “Be active,” ALEXANDER says, “And I myself will aid you too.”
Then quickly on the ground he stands, Fast by the fatal river’s verge, And rais’d the corse with cautious hands, The oozing water to discharge.
Just then his whole attendants came, The sight, no doubt, surpris’d them all; Their sloth he stops not once to blame, But loudly does a doctor call.
Physician he of skill approv’d, From fam’d Britannia’s distant isle; He was the Emperor’s friend belov’d, And sprung with haste to share his toil.
An artery quick was opened now, In hopes that wound might life restore; But ah! no blood from thence would flow, ’Twas ev’n more hopeless than before.
Yet still the Emperor persever’d, Inspir’d with kind philanthropy, And patient, all about him cheer’d, That yet they might successful be.
And still his temples gently chaf’d, And still rub’d all his body o’er; For two whole hours he nothing left Untri’d that might the man restore.
At last life’s current flow’d anon, And from the wounded vessel stream’d, And now he faintly breathes a groan: Then his preserver glad exclaim’d--
“O God! this is the brightest day Of all my reign--of all my life.”-- Such bliss will generous bosoms ay From truly noble deeds derive.
His handkerchief was rent in haste, As bandage for the wounded part; A trifle added to the rest, Which spoke the goodness of his heart.
O Russia! of thy monarch boast, Who well deserves the world’s thanks; Be not his bright example lost, But may it influence all ranks.
Ye Russian subjects eye the throne, Correct your manners, harsh and wild, Copy your Emperor’s, hate your own-- ’Twill make the rudest of you mild.
LINES
_Composed on receiving a Letter from a_
YOUNG FRIEND.
Dear little nephew with delight I heard your letter read; With pleasure heard them praise your write, No wonder I was glad.
At six years old you write so well, But vain I must not be; Experience many a tale can tell, To check and humble me.
Yet present good I ought to prize, Will hope good things to come: Storms do not always cloud the skies, Nor veil them with deep gloom.
’Tis gratifying to receive Lines from a friend so young; Our family’s representative, Posterity among.
Our line, for three full centuries past, Resided in this place; Yourself, dear boy, was born the last, And stopt a little space.
No wealth, nor fame, nor costly toys, To you through lineage run; But let its virtues be your choice, And all its failings shun.
Plains lie, hills rise, waves roll between You and your natal spot; When scarce ’tis known we here have been, Our place and race forgot.
That after time, yon aged stone, (Down in the green church-yard) Perhaps you’ll visit, all alone, Where are our sires interr’d:
Low sunk amid surrounding grass, Like Ryno’s tomb of old, And roughly fram’d, and clad with moss, It long has mark’d the mould,
That forms our kindreds’ narrow bed;-- If any cause directs You there, a pensive tear to shed, O’er time and its effects.
Bless’d be the occasion of your stop, The thoughts that move your heart, Bless’d means, vain folly’s growth to lop, And wisdom’s plants t’ impart.
Oh! deem not these ideas vain, For love inspires the theme; My only brother’s only child, You bear my father’s name.
In many a sense I hold you mine, By many ties endear’d; You’ve led me, in my bosom lain, My lonely moments cheer’d.
The lisping prattle of your tongue, Thrills pleasant in my thought, And all your little ways, when young, Fresh in my memory float.
And oh! may He, whose special care Did guard you then from harm, Be with you still, shall be my prayer, Whilst life this heart doth warm.
His Providence did us prevent, From every hurtful thing, As if an angel had been sent, To shield us with his wing.
O! early learn His name to fear, The holy name of God; Him honour, trust, obey, revere, Whilst earth is your abode.
And when from hence you must remove, (How shortly none can tell) You’ll see His gracious face in love, And in his presence dwell.
LINES
_On receiving an unexpected Present._
I place thee here, but have no name As yet, by which to ca’ thee; Yet thou’rt so high in my esteem, Should ony wrang befa’ thee,
I would be truly vex’d indeed, But hope we ne’er shall sever; No,--tho’ I were in greatest need, Sweet welcome little favour.
A name for thee shall be propos’d, Of still more precious meaning, Than that of which thou art compos’d, Though gold and ruby shining.
Thy value shall not be impaired, For truth shall here define thee; ’Twas generous Pity,--kind regard, Between them did design thee.
Kindness compared my present state Wi’ what she ance had ken’d me; And tender Pity mourn’d my fate, And bade the giver send thee.
Lest I had thought at e’en or morn, And wi’ a sigh reflected; That now ’cause mair and mair forlorn-- I therefore was neglected.
While feeling in this breast is left, The proud shall ne’er despise thee; I’ll ca’ thee Pity’s parting gift, And then the good will prize thee.--
Less for thy beauty, than that name, I’m fain at being thy owner; And though ’midst perils, far frae hame Is now the gen’rous donor;
Not for thy sake, but for his ain, Him my best wishes follow, And may the task he’s underta’en Thrive like the water’d willow.
May wealth and honour on him smile, And goodness far ’bove either; Peace guide him back t’ his native isle, And safety waft him hither.
Till then, O! were his labours blest, For Afric and for Britain, That Prejudice might be dismissed, And us no longer hatin’.
Trade’s intercourse might prove a mean T’ amend their sad condition; For darkness, heavenly light be seen, ’Tis my sincere petition
To Him, who only knows the end Of all from the beginning,-- May grace to them, even them extend, A willing people winning.
STANZAS
_To the Memory of a Young Gentleman who died abroad_.
The mournful occasion of the following Stanzas which happened soon after the preceding piece was composed, shews the uncertainty of human hope, and the impotency of all human wishes; but it becomes his creatures to humble themselves under the mighty hand of God, without repining at his dispensations, who doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men, but for wise and gracious purposes, and what we know not now we shall know hereafter--
_God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain._
COWPER.
There is a bed beyond the main, Where sleeps a generous youth in peace, Far distant from his kindreds’ ken, The lonely place.
He left his home at honour’s call, And hurried on to win her bays; But death commissioned, mark’d his fall, Ere half his days.
At least sound health, and manhood’s bloom, Intrepid mind and spirits bright, Him promised many days to come, To our dim sight.
But in this transitory state, Man’s highest hopes, below the skies, Must all end thus, or soon or late, In “here he lies.”
Where did his friends their leader leave? What kindly turf doth him embrace? Where orange branches mingling wave Above the place.
To screen from Afric’s burning beams, The shrubs and verdure newly sprung, Where desert flowers like beauteous gems, Will blossom long.
The monumental honours paid By friendship to his lov’d remains, By sons of Briton will be read, In mournful strains.
For there, by friendly Negroes led, Enquiring travellers will be shewn The stranger white man’s letter’d bed, From land unknown.
’Twill warn the youth, whoe’er he be, Who haply there may venturous roam, That hopeful, healthful, gay as he, Soon found a tomb.
There rest his bones, yet feeling here, Will view the spot in fancy’s dream, And hold his memory truly dear, And love his name.
Parental tenderness will feel, In melting woe, a kind relief, And time will ease though never heal The wound of grief.
Let sisterly affection flow, It calms the heart, and ’tis a debt Which to a brother’s love they owe, And to his fate.
O’erpowering painful stretch of mind, Fatigue and fever, all did meet, And death made cold a heart, as kind As ever beat.
But sweetness mixes with the cup; Who knows but Heaven has call’d him home From draining many a bitter drop Of ills to come.
Now anxious fears are at an end, And hope’s delightful visions lost All buried in a foreign land, Sad Afric’s coast.
Like time its comforts fleeting prove, Life’s joys are here but shadowy bliss, Found real in the world above, But not in this.
A SONNET.
The following Sonnet was an early production, which memory, more faithful to her trust than was expected, has long preserved for me; it is here inserted as a memorial of Mrs P----’s goodness, a small part of which was, that she taught me to knit Stockings, and by means of that employment, I enjoyed more liberty of walking about in the open air, than I could otherwise have had, and which exercise contributed greatly to promote what share of health I possessed: but every thing here is of a passing and changeable nature, I cannot now profit in that way, which was meant for my double benefit, my kind instructress has done with time and all its fleeting concerns.
Dear madam while I tread the verdant lawn, With heartfelt satisfaction and delight; Whither by morning’s mildest beauty drawn, Or lur’d by calm approach of sober night. Can I forget that I that pleasure owe To you, but as the happy means regard Of heaven’s best earthly bliss to me below;-- For what, save peace, can be with health compared. I’ve known its loss, and therefore prize the more, Its genial warmth enlivening all my frame; It cheers, recruits, does brighter thoughts restore, And under God from you these comforts came. True as the unbroken thread leads to the clue, So does your kindness lead my love to you.
TO A YOUNG LADY
_Who generously sent me a piece of Gold Coin, but concealed her name, one of my pieces having come into her hands before any of the rest were published._
Dear Miss, what breast so cold as would not feel, The kindness you so generous have shewn; And since your name the Lady did conceal, With grateful heart I thank you, _fair unknown_.
Believe me, Miss, I’m gratified much more, That you felt pleasure from my humble lines, Than to accept this present from your store, Though ’tis the finest metal of the mines.
I first compos’d them with a heavy heart, For I was sad, nor small my cause of woe; Yet time alleviates the keenest smart, Though nothing can supply my loss below.
Yet Providence to me is ever kind; The watchful care of Heav’n I daily note; Soft sympathy in every breast I find, And many comforts gild my humble lot.
Yes; very much I may be thankful for, Tho’ lonelier now than once,--I have a home; Have still ’bove charity a little store, And hope I shall not want for time to come.
This token of your kindness I receive, And will preserve with more than Miser’s care, And though even spent--in memory while I live, Your generous goodness will be treasur’d there.
Would, my young benefactress, I but knew, Deign dearest Miss to let me know your name, For soon a gift I mean to offer you, Which to accept I will a favour deem.
Meanwhile, dear lady, do not this despise, In rustic dress my grateful thanks I send; You have my feelings here without disguise, And must accept the present I intend.[1]
[1] The present intended is a copy of my verses proposed soon to be published.
_On receiving a Descriptive Poem from a young Lady, to whom it was given for me, by the Author._
Thanks Sir, for this new token of good-will, Which by a kindly hand convey’d has been, It makes the greatest favour greater still, When pleasantly conferred like this I ween.
Was it in labyrinths of a town immured, That thus your thoughts to rural scenes retired, While youth oft’ errs by dissipation lured, Your better choice by wisdom was inspired.
For this did many a vacant hour employ, But pleasant hours its progress to behold; Soft recollections self-approving joy, Were yours a theme so lov’d thus to unfold.
And now a finish’d picture meets my view, Which by the mental eye can be discern’d, Then with avidity I follow you, Where pleasure may be found, or knowledge learn’d.
Lead where you please and trust me I will come, Convinced of this you will not lead me wrong, Shew each fair prospect round your early home, Where with enthusiast’s eye you rov’d when young.
Delightful scenery describ’d with skill, Describ’d with feeling pleases every mind; Sweet nature ever did, and ever will, Admirers of her many beauties find.
From yonder lofty eminence with you, I glance from sea to sea, the picture wide; But chief one landscape’s charms invite my view, With uplands, woods, and vales diversified.
Each water’d with its own blue winding stream; ---- dear to many a swain and maid, And dear to you as an Elysian dream, Its hills with all the warmth of youth portray’d.
Its poets’ work, its heroes’ deeds explor’d, With much research its various parts explain’d, By local notes with information stor’d, From ancient lore and modern language gain’d.
Thanks, then, for this new token of good-will, This flow’ry picture of your fav’rite scene; What so engaged your heart, your time and skill, To think not thrown away on one so mean:
Nor is it thrown away, for I will con, As when a little girl, its choicest lines; And oft’ your goodness by myself alone, Will mind, when all the past my thought combines.
May nature still for you her charms retain, And genius crown you with his favours rare; Philanthropy within your bosom reign, Religion’s power and heavenly peace be there.
May you, and she your friend, and only love, Be happy long, and still in goodness grow; Here blest, hereafter may your bliss improve, When earth’s dissolv’d, and time shall cease to flow.
A LETTER
_TO A FRIEND IN A GREAT TOWN_.
The following will not appear well connected at the beginning, a number of verses being omitted: as they cannot concern any one but he to whom they were originally addressed, what may be more generally useful are here inserted.
---- Ever dear, with willing ear I beg you to attend,-- I would advise you to be wise, O listen to a friend.