Poetry

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 7, 13 May 1893, Page 11

Poetry

CHARLEY MULGRIDGE’S FIDDLE. When I was a boy, oh, ages ago, And back with the boys that I used to know, 'There were countless pleasures and keen delights That seemed like parts of Arabian Nights; But of all the things that there used to be, Not one seemed so hopelessly lost to me As Charlie Mulgridge’s fiddle. Its crippled owner could ever entrance The gathered hosts at a country dance, And every earthly care took wings As his bow scraped merrily over the strings, And a genie rose to bid care depart From the wonderful depths of the wonderful heart Of Charlie Mnlgridgo’s fiddle. No wedding in all the country-side But it was there to salute the bride, And its voice was a promise of hope and truth And a snowy age for a golden youth, And its cheery tones to the newly wed ; Seemed as a greeting from heaven instead Of Charlie Mulgridge’s fiddle. •Oh, marvellous strains have I heard since then, And magic music by wizard-like men— By Gilmore and Thomas, and men like these, And Edouard Strauss from across the seas— And their minstrelsy made my heart rejoice. For through it I seemed to hear the voice Of Charlie Mulgridge’s fiddle. For at those times when the music swelled I closed my eyes and again beheld The crippled fiddler with flying bow— The “first four forward” and “dos-a-dos” — Amid the gay young couple who danced the night Away to the realm of that joyous sprite In Charlie Mulgridge’s fiddle. And it scorned through the strains that a wandering ghost Sang of the things that I have lost, But sang in a voice that once again Brought youth to gray-haired women and men, And the wonderful music of later days Was only created to swell the praise Of Charlie Mulgridge’s fiddle. And I look with eyes that know naught of tears Back through the curtain of gathered years, And hear again the same old tunes That made Decembers eternal Junes, And I speak again as saluting a wraith, The greeting of Time, and I keep the faith With Charley Mulgridge’s fiddle.