"THE SWEETEST FLOWERS WOULD NEVER BLOOM AT ALL IF NO LEAST RAIN OF TEARS DID EVER FALL."-MASSEY. WE WOULD NOT PRAY THAT SORROW NE'ER MAY SHED-(MASSEY) THE KINGLIEST KINGS. 297 Now, fair befall our England, On her proud and perilous road: Her footprints red with blood. A thunder-peal of drums! On her proud and perilous road : Her footprints red with blood! Now, victory to our England! And where'er she lifts her hand God bless the dear old land! And when the storm has passed away, May she sit down i' the green o' the day, Now, victory to our England! And where'er she lifts her hand In Freedom's fight, to rescue Right, God bless the dear old land! [This was written at the time of the war with Russia, 1854-55.] THE KINGLIEST KINGS. O! ye who in the noble work And in the way where lions lurk, God's image bravely bear: HER DEWS ALONG THE PATHWAY WE MUST TREAD."-MASSEY. "IN JOY THE SOUL IS BEARING HUMAN FRUIT; IN GRIEF IT MAY BE TAKING DIVINE ROOT."-GERALD MASSEY. "ALTHOUGH THE BEST BE LOST IN LIGHT OF UNIMAGINED BLISS,-(GERALD MASSEY) BUT IT SHALL BE FULFILLED ABOVE."-GERALD MASSEY. WE HAVE SHADOWY REVEALINGS OF THE BETTER WORLD IN THIS."-GERALD MASSEY. WE FIX OUR EYES ON PHANTOMS, AND PURSUE; CASA WAPPY. 299 D. M. Moir. [OF Moir, once well known in the pages of Blackwood under the synonym of Delta (A), Professor Wilson says: "He has produced many original pieces which will possess a permanent place in the poetry of Scotland. Delicacy and grace characterize his happiest compositions; some of them are beautiful in a cheerful spirit that has only to look on nature to be happy, and others breathe the simplest and purest pathos. His scenery, whether sea-coast or inland, is always truly Scottish; and at times his pen drops touches of light on minute objects, that till then had slumbered in the shade, but now 'shine well where they stand' or lie, as component and characteristic parts of our Lowland landscapes." David Macbeth Moir was born at Musselburgh, near Edinburgh, in 1798. In his native town he practised for many years as a surgeon, and was so highly esteemed by his fellow-townsmen that, on his death in 1851, they erected a monument to his memory. His finest compositions appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, but were collected, with others of his poetical works, in two volumes in 1852. He was also the author of "The Autobiography of Mansie Waugh," a humorous tale of Scottish life, and of "Sketches of the Poetical Literature of the Last Half-Century."] WE LEAVE, FOR FANCY'S LURES, THE FIXED AND TRUE; DESTROY WHAT TIME HATH SPARED, YET BUILD AGAIN YEARS O'ER US PASS, AND AGE, THAT COMES TO FEW, COMES BUT TO TELL THEM THEY HAVE LIVED IN VAIN."-MOIR. CASA WAPPY. [Casa Wappy was the pet name of an infant son of the poet, snatched A ND hast thou sought thy heavenly home, Our fond, dear boy The realms where sorrow dare not come, Pure at thy death as at thy birth, Despair was in our last farewell, Tears of our anguish may not tell WE CHASE THE AIRY BUBBLES OF THE BRAIN; |