The Elder.

I.
Of old, in Scottish land, a Sire there lived,1
                        
                        Whose toil in youth had stores prepared for age,2
                        
                        Who now from care, though scarce from toil reprieved,3
                        
                        With earthly thoughts an easier war could wage,4
                        
                        And less of fear or favour felt the edge :5
                        
                        His children grown, had sought employment round,6
                        
                        As different toils their various tastes engage,7
                        
                        And he, though scarce by need to labour bound,8
                        
                        Yet loved to tend his team, and till the fruitful ground.9
                        II.
On slope of sunward hill his cot was placed,10
                        
                        In cultured holm, ’mid furze-surrounded scene,11
                        
                        Where isles of corn were gained from Alpine waste,12
                        
                        And ’mid enclosing rocks were pastures seen ;13
                        
                        Before his door was spread. the daisied green,14
                        
                        Where browzed the cottage nurse, his brinded cow,15
                        
                        By grandchild led, the furzy knolls between,16
                        
                        Who sought the spots where sweetest daisies grow,17
                        
                        And lesson conned the while, along that mountain’s brow.18
                        III.
That wealthy cot of rude-exterior seemed,19
                        
                        Its charms the dwellers, not the gazers, found ;20
                        
                        In eyes romantic scarce befitting deemed,21
                        
                        To grace the blooming wilds that laughed around :22
                        
                        And all within to antique modes, was bound ;23
                        
                        The hearth amid the central floor was placed,24
                        
                        Where sire and sons might sit in circle round ;25
                        
                        And up the spacious vent, with wicker braced,26
                        
                        Might school-boy grandchild mark each zenith star that passed.27
                        
IV.
One southward window looked adown the green,28
                        
                        Where wont his daughter young her wheel to ply,29
                        
                        And view the roses round her casement sheen,30
                        
                        Or tulips bright in tidy garden nigh,31
                        
                        Whose flowers might Sunday’s ornament supply,32
                        
                        Or lie, for mark, beside her pastor’s hymn ;33
                        
                        Here too, when snowy loured December’s sky, 34
                        
                        She lov’d to see, through window frosted-dim, 35
                        
                        The blackbirds peck her crumbs, or round her garden skim.36
                        V.
To fairy lake was there a streamlet spread,37
                        
                        Whose grassy banks were bright with purest green,38
                        
                        And here, when June his brightening influence shed,39
                        
                        The housewife’s pearly webs were bleaching seen,40
                        
                        From seed to cloth that still her care had been ;41
                        
                        There, too, the maid betrothed might stranger view,42
                        
                        In satin snood and kilted kirtle clean,43
                        
                        Her linen stores prepares of lilied hue,44
                        
                        Pure like her virgin self, the married couch to strew,45
                        VI.
Apart, on airy knoll, his stacks were seen,46
                        
                        Y-thatched with broom, with twisted sedges bound ;47
                        
                        And garden here was stretched in chequered green,48
                        
                        With ranks of leafy trees protected round ;49
                        
                        And here his leisure hours employment found—50
                        
                        To tend the sunny hives, the soil to feed,51
                        
                        For various plants to fit the equal ground,52
                        
                        To trim the walk, to root the envious weed,53
                        
                        Or rill, by sedges choked, in purer stream to lead.54
                        VII.
Here, too, on Sunday morn, in corner green,55
                        
                        Where branching lime her shadowy arches raised,56
                        
                        He loved to sit :  where through the leafy screen57
                        
                        The humming bees, with honeyed blossoms pleased,58
                        
                        Like hymn from distant church, innumerous praised.59
                        
                        The God to whom his morning prayers were said ;60
                        
                        And here, at times, from weekly tasks released,61
                        
                        Around his knee, his youthful grandsons played,62
                        
                        Or glad in sacred lore their infant skill displayed.63
                        VIII.
This wight’s fair fame the Elder’s charge had won,64
                        
                        And well his equal life such trust approved—65
                        
                        By haughtiest wealth as independent known,66
                        
                        By poorest toil as fellow-labourer loved ;67
                        
                        His praise was dear to all ;  if he reproved,68
                        
                        Nor frowned the rich, nor jealous railed the poor ;69
                        
                        From him, whose life in equal toils has moved,70
                        
                        Will poverty severest truths endure,71
                        
                        And who, nor needs nor fears, with wealth shall chide secure.72
                        IX.
The reverend man my earlier years have seen,73
                        
                        On Sunday morn the church-way gate beside,74
                        
                        (An antique porch, with ivy mantled green,75
                        
                        By beech’s earliest boughs o’ershadowed wide,)76
                        
                        There stood the Patriarch gray, and near his side77
                        
                        The entering peasants laid their friendly mite78
                        
                        For brethren’s wants :  while each, with grateful pride,79
                        
                        From his applauding eye the warm delight80
                        
                        Received, of charity  “ twice blessed,” of kindness done aright.81
                        
X.
I’ve seen him, too, at times the boon divide,82
                        
                        By pitying brethren thus collected kind,83
                        
                        Yet few were those, I wot, whom kindred’s pride84
                        
                        To general pity careless then resigned—85
                        
                        For not as now was wealth to few confined,86
                        
                        Who owned no kindred tie with lowlier toil—87
                        
                        But far diffused ;  each peasant then could find,88
                        
                        (While smaller farms left free th’ enriching soil)89
                        
                        Some kind relation near, whose wealth relieved his coil.90
                        XI.
Yet those whom poverty reluctant sent,91
                        
                        With kindest care the Elder’s hand relieved,92
                        
                        As patriarch old within his evening tent,93
                        
                        The pilgrim’s wearied footsteps glad received ;94
                        
                        No fears were there, lest charity deceived,95
                        
                        Should nourish listless vice with boon prepared96
                        
                        For humble want ;  in equal toils had lived,97
                        
                        Both he who dealt and he the boon that shared,98
                        
                        And wasting idler there, of welcome still despaired.99
                        XII.
Bright from his cottage lay, far stretched below,100
                        
                        A chequered valley, rich in woods and corn,101
                        
                        Where many a hamlet’s light was seen to glow102
                        
                        At darkening eve ;  where soft at earliest morn103
                        
                        From many a cot the spiry smoke was borne,104
                        
                        First mark of man a-stir ;  a village wide,105
                        
                        Where gardens broad the straggling cots adorn,106
                        
                        Was near below ;  shone verdant down beside,107
                        
                        Where lowed the milky herd, the hamlet’s common pride.108
                        XIII.
How sweet at eve, when loom and anvil’s sound,109
                        
                        That thro’ that village day had ceaseless rung,110
                        
                        Was hushed ;  when forth from busiest sheds around,111
                        
                        Their tasks performed, the eager tradesmen flung,112
                        
                        To drink the breeze of heaven in joyous throng,113
                        
                        And pleasure seek in healthful change of toil :114
                        
                        Some feed their cherished cows ;  with hatchet strong115
                        
                        Some fuel-store prepare ;  in softer moil116
                        
                        Some prop the blooming pea, and court the genial soil.117
                        XIV.
And some, when now those leisure cares are done,118
                        
                        Beneath some elm on western slope convene,119
                        
                        Where name-carved bench is placed for evening sun,120
                        
                        And northern grove protects the quiet scene ;121
                        
                        There many a rustic theme consumes the e’en,122
                        
                        And all of ill or good that peasants feel123
                        
                        From laws and wars and kings is heard between ;124
                        
                        Some tell their wrongs, the cause would some reveal,125
                        
                        And some, sagacious more, propound the means to heal.126
                        XV.
And here the Elder too might oft be found,127
                        
                        Here loved at eve to list the eager theme,128
                        
                        To hear the peasants deal their praises round,129
                        
                        Or cast on  “ ruling powers” their whispered blame ;130
                        
                        Could oft, with word revered, allay the flame131
                        
                        Of vexed complaint: his glance, with anger fired,132
                        
                        Could break the young declaimer’s airy dream133
                        
                        (By lawless books, those whispering toads, inspired)134
                        
                        That soars to freedoms wild, of slow experience tired.135
                        
XVI.
Yet small the charm declaimer’s theme can bring136
                        
                        (If public wants not pinch the peasant’s store,137
                        
                        And teach him jealousy) to village ring,138
                        
                        That meets to tell the rustic business o’er139
                        
                        And themes of home. Their fond attention more140
                        
                        Was won (while yet such kindred theme was given)141
                        
                        While Elder scanned th’ assembled preachers’ lore,142
                        
                        Whose rival eloquence had fondly striven143
                        
                        To win the hearts of men, and deck the rites of heaven.*144
                        XVII.
They loved to hear how ’mid some mountain dell145
                        
                        Where emerald grass with pearly daisies shone,146
                        
                        And blooming furze diffused its fragrant smell,147
                        
                        While o’er some neighbouring grove on hillock lone148
                        
                        By ancient church the wandering eye was won—149
                        
                        How mingling here with breeze’s fading sound,150
                        
                        Was heard in cadence mild, like hermit’s tone,151
                        
                        The preacher’s voice ;  and how innumerous round152
                        
                        Delighted hearers sat, in fond attention wound,153
                        XVIII.
How there that preacher stood, like him of old,154
                        
                        Who, ’mid the wilds of Judah’s desart plain,155
                        
                        To gathering thousands awful warning told156
                        
                        Of high Messiah’s dread approaching reign ;157
                        
                        How there, like him he poured his eager strain158
                        
                        ’Mid lonely dell of far sequestered height,159
                        
                        Repentant hearts for christain life to gain,160
                        
                        And trembling souls to fit for awful rite,161
                        
                        Where Saviour’s dying love bursts full on mortal sight.162
                        XIX.
When rose their choral hymn’s aerial tide,163
                        
                        How sweet the mellowed sound apart to hear,164
                        
                        Beneath some mountain grove’s o’ershadowing side,165
                        
                        Like songs of Eden poured on Adam’s ear166
                        
                        From groves where angels walked ;  while, listening near,167
                        
                        By hillock green, young wedded pair was seen,168
                        
                        Who soothed, with fond caress, their infant’s tear,169
                        
                        Lest childish wail invade the listening scene,170
                        
                        And break those sounds of praise where angels heark to men.171
                        XX.
Such theme the peasant loved :  such scene sublime172
                        
                        By grandsire’s foot he oft had tripped to see,173
                        
                        And recollections fond of earliest time,174
                        
                        And charms beloved of native scenery,175
                        
                        Were mingled there with rites that holiest be ;176
                        
                        And round the Elder oft, such tale to hear,177
                        
                        They eager thronged beneath their village tree ;178
                        
                        To them than senates’ lore that tale more dear,179
                        
                        Or all of war and fight that fills the city’s ear.180
                        * The celebration of the sacrament in country parishes was, till of late, always
                        accom-
panied by a “ field preaching,” which drew together great numbers of hearers. Religious
ceremonies, performed under the open heaven, are always peculiarly impressive ; and this
being the only relict of them left in Britain, it had its full effect on the minds of the
people ; affording, likewise, a much more eligible subject of conversation than those po-
litical matters, which the utter abolition of all festivals, &c. has now left as the only topic
of their leisure hours. It were to be wished that ridicule were always as successful in
curing real abuses, as it was here in removing both the abuse and the thing abused.
                     
                     panied by a “ field preaching,” which drew together great numbers of hearers. Religious
ceremonies, performed under the open heaven, are always peculiarly impressive ; and this
being the only relict of them left in Britain, it had its full effect on the minds of the
people ; affording, likewise, a much more eligible subject of conversation than those po-
litical matters, which the utter abolition of all festivals, &c. has now left as the only topic
of their leisure hours. It were to be wished that ridicule were always as successful in
curing real abuses, as it was here in removing both the abuse and the thing abused.

XXI.
So passed their eve :  and then would Elder stray181
                        
                        To neighb’ring cot, where, lov’d and welcome guest,182
                        
                        He whiled in rural talk the hours away :183
                        
                        The father’s serious tale, the youngster’s jest,184
                        
                        The damsel’s song, the child in frolic blest ;185
                        
                        Each gay, by turns amused the cheerful sire :186
                        
                        The young enjoy their mirth, the old their rest,187
                        
                        And all to please their honoured guest conspire,188
                        
                        While, mid the jovial ring, gleams bright their bickering fire.189
                        XXII.
And might, at times, misfortune’s frown severe190
                        
                        Such gladsome scene to hopeless sadness turn ;191
                        
                        Did pinching want extort a murmuring tear,192
                        
                        And bid their wearied hearts in silence mourn,193
                        
                        Or urge despair in angry words to burn ;194
                        
                        While stranger’s kindness half-degrading seemed,195
                        
                        And tore their wounded pride with newer thorn :—196
                        
                        The Elder’s step was ne’er intrusive deemed :197
                        
                        Familiar oft before, for kindness still esteemed.198
                        XXIII.
And oft when frightened wealth in vain-had tried199
                        
                        Each wonted art the peasant vexed to sooth,200
                        
                        Had smiled, and glozed, and half-concealed his pride,201
                        
                        And mingled promise fair and speeches smooth,202
                        
                        Yet met but sullen looks in every booth ;203
                        
                        The Elder’s voice, in all its words sincere,204
                        
                        Could lull to peace his brethren’s passions wroth ;205
                        
                        Their sufferings just in patience taught to bear,206
                        
                        Or shewed by rightful path to reach their ruler’s ear.207
                        XXIV.
Even she, that maid, around whose youthful breast208
                        
                        Consumption’s serpent coils were firmly wound,209
                        
                        Whose feverish heart each visit now oppressed,210
                        
                        While shrunk her startled ear from every sound,211
                        
                        The Elder’s converse still delightful found ;212
                        
                        While he, to win her ear, would cheerful tell213
                        
                        Of evenings spent her parents’ hearth around,214
                        
                        Where friend to friend was joined in social spell :215
                        
                        Then led her thoughts from earth on bliss supreme to dwell.216
                        XXV.
How different he, the haughty pastor, sent217
                        
                        Amid this humble flock  “ the Word” to preach !218
                        
                        Who ne’er within such humble threshold went,219
                        
                        Save (yearly task) some stern advice to teach,220
                        
                        Or, called perchance, at death’s impending breach :221
                        
                        Can dying men of such regard the care,222
                        
                        Whose tardy steps with death the port but reach ?223
                        
                        A signal known, his visit speaks despair,224
                        
                        Alarms the feverish heart, and thought bewilders there.225
                        XXVI.
When reapers keen on harvest fields were met,226
                        
                        This wight for many an useful deed was loved :227
                        
                        Disjointed limb his ready skill could set,228
                        
                        And wound from sickle rough his salve removed ;229
                        
                        Whene’er the youngster’s mirth too freely roved,230
                        
                        One little word from him its flight restrained ;231
                        
                        And maid that, blushing, half that flight approved232
                        
                        Yet blessed his care for purer mirth regained,233
                        
                        And youth in freedom met—thus age preserved unstained.234
                        
XXVII.
At Harvest-home he loved the mirthful feast,235
                        
                        Where master’s welcome servants’ cares beguiled,236
                        
                        Where met the youth in mutual kindness blessed,237
                        
                        Who late in rival strength had eager toiled :238
                        
                        When down the dance the maiden grateful smiled239
                        
                        On him whose care her harvest’s toil had eased ;240
                        
                        When rustic mirth flung round in antics wild,241
                        
                        And youth rejoiced from yearly toils released,242
                        
                        While age sat gladsome near, like guardian angel pleased.243
                        XXVIII.
And much he wont th’ ungenerous pride to blame244
                        
                        Of masters stern, to mushroom riches grown,245
                        
                        Who thus to mix with labour deemed it shame,246
                        
                        And gave for wonted feast the sordid boon ;247
                        
                        ’Twixt youth and age the bait for discord sown,248
                        
                        That neither pleased, and both with strife defiled ;249
                        
                        For careful age will hoard the pittance thrown,250
                        
                        And youth, of age’s decent care despoiled,251
                        
                        Will seek unsanctioned mirth, to sinful joys beguiled.*252
                        XXIX.
With bitterest smile the Elder oft would list,253
                        
                        When men of wealth, in piteous mood, complained254
                        
                        Of peasants now depraved, of virtues ceased,255
                        
                        And rural manners old, with vice distained,256
                        
                        And schemes of pride where simplest order reigned—257
                        
                        Alas !  themselves the cause !  their pride of shew258
                        
                        To mix with lowlier toil has long disdained—259
                        
                        Each jealous rank repels each rank below,260
                        
                        Familiar guardian once, a stern inspector now.261
                        XXX.
How far the ill descends !  the farmer’s hall,262
                        
                        Where lived the servants once, beneath the care263
                        
                        Of master kind—the friend, the guide of all—264
                        
                        Is changed and lost ;  reigns pride unbending there,265
                        
                        And forth to cheerless booth must servants fare,266
                        
                        Their hasty mess unblessed, alone to snatch,267
                        
                        And meet unguarded every youthful snare ;268
                        
                        While master’s stern advice, or hated watch,269
                        
                        But fires their rival pride, his wealthier vice to match.270
                        XXXI.
Yet why in bitter words thus speak severe ?271
                        
                        Thus ne’er the Elder’s voice would harshly chide ;272
                        
                        Oft stubborn vice would draw his secret tear,273
                        
                        And oft his care would indignation hide,274
                        
                        Lest stern reproof might wake the sinner’s pride,275
                        
                        And shut the angry ear to all approach :276
                        
                        By kindness still he loved the heart to guide,277
                        
                        On sad remorse would careful ne’er encroach,278
                        
                        And jealous pride could lull, yet waken self-reproach.279
                        XXXII.
As through the western pane of mountain cot,280
                        
                        Where maiden sings and plies her evening wheel,281
                        
                        Across the floor is sunny raylet shot,282
                        
                        Where child pursues the atoms’ glittering reel,283
                        
                        And grand-dame loves the sunny warmth to feel ;284
                        
                        While sparkling light the beamy wanderer throws285
                        
                        * It has of late been customary to discountenance the old Saturnalian festivities
                           of
harvest home, &c. under pretence of economy ; which has only caused the spirit of con-
viviality among the lower classes, to seek for other, and certainly not less objectionable
modes of enjoyment.
                        
                        harvest home, &c. under pretence of economy ; which has only caused the spirit of con-
viviality among the lower classes, to seek for other, and certainly not less objectionable
modes of enjoyment.

On all that housewife’s care would fain conceal,286
                        
                        And o’er her dusky shelves resplendent glows,287
                        
                        And playful pleases still, while every speck it shews ;288
                        XXXIII.
Thus playful still his kind reproof was shed,289
                        
                        Thus unoffending every fault could shew :—290
                        
                        Nor less to generous deeds his precepts led ;291
                        
                        As when at dawn from orchard’s blooming bough292
                        
                        Some feathered songster’s notes melodious flow,293
                        
                        And sleeping maid awake to cheerful toil,294
                        
                        Who trims her parent’s cot ere forth she go,295
                        
                        To milk her cows or join the harvest’s moil ;—296
                        
                        Thus he to deeds of worth, the heart could wakening wile.297
                        XXXIV.
No words sarcastic e’er defiled his tongue,298
                        
                        Those poisoned arrows shot by ambushed pride ;299
                        
                        Such oft in sly rebuke the heart have stung,300
                        
                        Oft driven the penitent his faults to hide,301
                        
                        But wanderer ne’er regained to virtue’s side
                               ;302
                        
                        From lily fallen he dried remorseful shower,303
                        
                        Nor let the worm despair beneath it bide ;304
                        
                        And oft with kindly touch revived the flower305
                        
                        That cold neglect or scorn had thrown to vice’s power.306
                        XXXV.
No angry satire guided e’er his speech307
                        
                        On class of men a general blame to throw—308
                        
                        Of kings or mobs, or good or ill to teach :—309
                        
                        For men, he’ said, in common frailty grow,310
                        
                        By weal corrupted some, and some by woe ;311
                        
                        As mid some rocky cavern’s darksome hall, 312
                        
                        Where stalagmatic veins exuding flow,313
                        
                        Wild shapes arise as drops incessant fall,314
                        
                        Thus men unconscious change, thus custom works on all.315
                        XXXVI.
Such truths the Elder taught ;  but most he loved316
                        
                        Of wayward youth the devious paths to guide ;317
                        
                        Their generous warmth to duteous deeds he moved,318
                        
                        And lured their pride of heart to virtue’s side :319
                        
                        And many a wanderer bears his memory wide,320
                        
                        Thro’ distant lands where Scotia’s sons are loved,321
                        
                        And tells on Indian shore with grateful pride,322
                        
                        How first the Elder’s praise, to deeds approved,323
                        
                        Amid his native hills, his youthful bosom moved.324
                        XXXVII.
But if from roamings far such wanderer come,325
                        
                        And bend his path the Elder’s cot to find ;326
                        
                        Alas !  no more is there the sage’s home ;327
                        
                        Along the hill all lonely sweeps the wind,328
                        
                        Nor mark is there of social humankind ;329
                        
                        Of scattered sheep is heard the tinkling bell,330
                        
                        And shivering lad is there, by rock reclined,331
                        
                        To watch his flock, that seeks on desert fell,332
                        
                        Some spot of greener sward, or kindlier sheltered dell.333
                        XXXVIII.
That shepherd points afar the sacred ground,334
                        
                        Where now the Elder sleeps in silent grave ;335
                        
                        And leaves his flock, to guide the wanderer round336
                        
                        The site, where once the cot its shelter gave ;337
                        
                        Where now some lonely trees their branches wave,338
                        
                        Sole remnant left of all that there had been,—339
                        
                        Which he who crushed the rest had deigned to save, 340
                        
                        To deck, perchance like ancient tomb, the scene,341
                        
                        To wanderer’s grieving heart, memorial sad I ween.342