INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.
149
Small thought was his, in after time
E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme.
The simple sire could only boast,
That he was loyal to his cost;
105The banish'd race of kings revered,
And lost his land,—but kept his beard.
E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme.
The simple sire could only boast,
That he was loyal to his cost;
105The banish'd race of kings revered,
And lost his land,—but kept his beard.
In these dear halls, where welcome kind
Is with fair liberty combined;
Where cordial friendship gives the hand,
110And flies constraint the magic wand
Of the fair dame that rules the land.
Little we heed the tempest drear,
While music, mirth, and social cheer,
Speed on their wings the passing year.
115And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now,
When not a leaf is on the bough.
Tweed loves them well, and turns again,
As loth to leave the sweet domain,
And holds his mirror to her face,
120And clips her with a close embrace:—
Gladly as he, we seek the dome,
And as reluctant turn us home.
Is with fair liberty combined;
Where cordial friendship gives the hand,
110And flies constraint the magic wand
Of the fair dame that rules the land.
Little we heed the tempest drear,
While music, mirth, and social cheer,
Speed on their wings the passing year.
115And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now,
When not a leaf is on the bough.
Tweed loves them well, and turns again,
As loth to leave the sweet domain,
And holds his mirror to her face,
120And clips her with a close embrace:—
Gladly as he, we seek the dome,
And as reluctant turn us home.
How just that, at this time of glee,
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee!
125For many a merry hour we've known,
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone.
Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease,
And leave these classic tomes in peace!
Of Roman and of Grecian lore,
130Sure mortal brain can hold no more.
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say,
'Were pretty fellows in their day;'
But time and tide o'er all prevail—
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale—
135Of wonder and of war—'Profane!
What! leave the lofty Latian strain,
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee!
125For many a merry hour we've known,
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone.
Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease,
And leave these classic tomes in peace!
Of Roman and of Grecian lore,
130Sure mortal brain can hold no more.
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say,
'Were pretty fellows in their day;'
But time and tide o'er all prevail—
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale—
135Of wonder and of war—'Profane!
What! leave the lofty Latian strain,
