Original Poetry.

Evening Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2092, 19 January 1870, Page 2

Original Poetry.

By special request wo publish the subjoined poem, which was placed second among tho prize poems of the Caledonian Society A POEM, DEDICATED TO THE CALEDONIAN SOCIETY OF OTAGO. Like a sad, sweet voice o’er a distant soa, So come the memories of the past to me. I sing of truths suggestive to Otago young, Of worthy sires who bravely fought or sung ; Of freedom’s tree by them the seeds were sown In many lands—its mighty branches grown. Old Scotia’s bard walked by the braes of Ayr, And, lonely, mused amid its beauties rare ; His soul unfettered o’er all nature sped, Like golden eagle to the Muses wed. Then tunefully, with Heaven-kindled fire, He swept the chorda of dear old Scotia’s lyre. Then nature sang those melodies that start The deepest tendrils of a Scottish heart. His trumpet note on freedom fires the veins : With soothing song ho “honest poverty” sustains; He sings the deeds heroic dono of old By stern old patriots and clansmen bold, To keep his country still in freedom’s van, And nervo the heart of every honest man ; And like an echo from the Heavens above His tender lays of virtue's faithful love. Silence fell on his mighty heart in manhood’s early noon : His birthplace and his grave are shrines upon the braes o’ Doon. Yet on the earth he speaks still in “ immortal youth For he’s tho bard of nature and of truth. May young Otago rise a bright true patriot band, The hope and glory of this favored land. Your fathers oft may scan the boundless main, But ne’er may seo their native land again. They have sweet memories there of days gone by, But ’tis on you their hearts and hopes rely. High be your aims then, where your lot is cast, And gather wisdom from tho glorious past; And see the price true freedom once had cost. We’d grope in darkness had their cause been lost. The pious Culdee’s lamp on dark lona’s shore, Around the wild Atlantic’s billows roar, To Scotland showed a light; at first a feeble ray, Which struggled slowly into brighter day. _ The lamp that gave us civil liberty and light, And never more shall shrouded be in night, Though twilight fell till God’s owd time came, To light the embers at the martyr’s flame. The Covenant heroes on the mountain side, Hunted, oppressed, Heaven’s fiat still abide. Freedom or death they bravely fought and won, And nobly ended what their faith begun. Full oft I’ve trod the hill and lonely glen Where lived the kindly, gallant Highland men. Though poor, not mean, high-hearted, brave, Their land ne’er held a traitor nor a slave. At Bannockburn, on that decisive day Which gave old Scotland to King Robert’s sway, Ere firm in battle’s grim array they wheeled, In prayers to God our noble fathers kneeled. “ They mercy ask,” said Edward, as they touch tho sod, “My liege.” a noble Saxon said, “ these only kneel to God.” In every land their swords with honor wield; Gentle at home, but “ lions in the field.” Full many a happy home and honest heart Otago’s roof-tree shelters from the blast, Where Sabbath dawns a day of peace and rest, Their guide in life the “ Taper of the Blest.” Oft I remember, when old memories sway The still and peaceful Scottish Sabbath-day, The hushed and silent air of all abroad Surrounds the kirk folk on the quiet road, The modest little burn in morning grey, In which the spotted trout unheeded play ; The wild rose sweet, the dreamy hum of bees, The leafy music ’mong the birken trees, The mingled beaties, with the heart in tune, Of lustrous breathing Sabbath day in June. The old grey kirk, and mossy-grown kirk-yard, The father’s tombstone worn and weatherscarred. The collie dogs, about the door they coil, _ Their masters worship, resting from their toil. The grave old preacher gives his solemn charge, And on his mighty theme does fervently enlarge. The blossoms of tho martyrs’ seed are there, And holy joys and Christian graces rare. Who can forget the scenes of early days, Tho heart’s first joys unstained by worldly ways. . , No moro than honest love can patriot s fire Live in a selfish soul ; his heart’s desire Twines inwards—he who loves his country best Most truly, will regard and cherish all the rest. His wider-reaching sympathy securely bind Fraternal bonds embracing all mankind. From the good soil whore wholesome cereals . thrive, . Idle noxious weeds their sustenance derive ; And if we cannot wholly lay them dead, These hateful things we should not help to spread ’Ware then the blatant sham with face of brass Whose liberty is license, whose truculent bowlings pass For eloquence and wisdom, and also ho sometimes bends The simple ones to help him for his selfish ends. His object,—place or power or worldly pelf, His theme, howe’er disguised, is still himself. Alas ! the meanness of the worldly heart so cold, The hateful canker of the lust of gold, It fills the earth with sighs, and makes men blind To virtues of the best (if poor) of human kind. Their mind all earthy, downward to the sod, They call all men hypocrites who worship God. The world advances with still hastening pace, Otago well appointed for the glorious race, Like gallant soldiers then her banner wave, Honor and tiuth so help the way to pave For coming time when men in nations all Respond to God, and to the millions call. When right shall triumph o’er pervading wrong, . , , When weakness, innocence, wont tear tue strong, Nor silent suffering, toil worn, wan, In vain seek justice from a brother man ; Nor hear tho piteous wail with hearts unwnmg Of stricken widow or of orphans young. When selfishness shall from his throne ho hurled, And Love and Peace and Justice rule tho world. SEMPER FIDBLBS. Halfway Bush, Dunodin.