Classic Poem

My friends, the grape that charms the cup to-night,
Should be the noblest ever grown in cluster;
Our flowers of wit and song should be so bright,
That all the place should wear a noon-tide lustre.

For he whose natal day, and marvellous worth,
We strive to honor with our yearly presence,
Was of that clay so seldom found on earth,
On which the gods bestow their purest essence.

Ay, doubly bright should this ovation be;
For we are honored far beyond your dreaming,
The inward spirit bids me look and see,
Where come the bard with light and music teeming.

He comes, but not like Hamlet's sire, to wing
The soul with fear, and urge to painful duty;
He comes; let us behold the phantom king,
The king of song, and marvel at his beauty.

I see his presence in the luminous air,
And feel no thrill to make my blood run colder;
He stands beside our presidential chair,
With loving arm upon a Scotchman's shoulder.

Upon his brow a crown of glory beams;
His robe of splendor makes the lamplight hazy;
In his right hand a pledging goblet gleams,
The other holds a “crimson tippet daisy.”

Of deathless rainbows is his tartan plaid;
His bonnet now is the celestial laurel;
And on his face the light of song betrayed,
Makes all the room with poesy grow choral.

With eye of inspiration stands the bard;
His lips are moving, though no sound can follow.
Let me translate,—although the task is hard,—
To justly render Scotland's sweet Apollo.

“Dear friends, and brother Scotsmen, doubly dear,”
'Tis thus the poet looks his kind oration,
“The day is come, which once in every year
Calls me to make my wonted visitation.

“I glide through Caledonian halls of mirth,
Where votive feast and song together mingle;
I seek the cot,—the sweetest place on earth
Is just the simple peasant's glowing ingle.

“The haughty Briton lights his dusk saloon,
Forgetting all his rancor for Prince Charley,
And to the plowman bard of Ayr and Doon,
Pledges the smoking bree of Scottish barley.

“Where'er a ship upon the ocean swings,
To-night, before the mariners seek their pillows,
My songs shall sail on their melodious wings,
Like sea-birds o'er the phosphorescent billows.

“By Indian river, and Australian mine,
And by the wall of China's old dominions,
My verse above their cups of mellow wine,
Shall fan the air to music with its pinions.

“The far Canadian winter hears my name,
E'en where the trapper's northern home is chosen,
The songs of Scotland, mingling with the flame,
Warm all within, though all without be frozen.

“By Californian shores and forests old,
Where, like a mighty bard new realms discerning,
The gray Pacific, over sands of gold,
Chants his great song, the glittering metal spurning.

“In new-built towns, and round the miner's lamp,
Or on the plains, or by the Colorado;
Where'er the far adventurous train may camp,
My song to-night shall cheer the deepest shadow.

“Or in the snow beleaguered tents of strife,
By jocund fires, or beds of painful story,
Health shall take courage, and the sick new life,
To hear of Wallace, and of Bruce's glory.

“Oh, that my song might be as bolts of fire,
Within the grasp of soldiers and of seamen!
The bard profanely wakes the sacred lyre,
Who chants no strain to nerve the hearts of freemen.

“From town to town, obedient to the call,
I pass in haste, for envious Time is fleeting,
As oft before, within this noble hall,
I greet the friends who cheer me with their greeting.

“Here in your midst, my brothers, once again,
I stand to-night a saddened guest and speaker;
I miss among you certain noble men,
Who erewhile pledged me in a brimming beaker.

“For your sakes saddened,—not, my friends, for mine,—
You mourn their music, and their pleasant sallies;
But we together pledge nectarean wine,
And join our song in amaranthine valleys.

“I see the forms your sight cannot discern;
I see the smile across their happy faces,
With eye of loving faith look round and learn
Your friends are here,—there are no empty places.

“From shadowy goblets held in fingers dim,
We drain the glass that keep the memory vernal,
Our cups with yours are clinking brim to brim,
And thus we pledge you in a draught fraternal.

“Adieu, adieu! across the eternal sea
Still let us hear your pleasant song and laughter,
And let the love you bear me, warrant be,
Of love as deep for all true bards hereafter.”