Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1856-02-09
POETRY.


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The following poem was read by DR.. Oliver Wen
dell Holmes at the Burns Festival in Boston, last
week. The lines we're hastily written to meet the
demand Of the moment, but they will tear an at
tentiyo pcrusal =
| have come with the rest, can hardly tell why
With a line will read you before it Is dry
| know we no business among You, full well,
But m here, notwithstanding, and how, will tell
1t was not billet, beginning "Dcar Sra
No mssige like that would have coixed me 10 STIR
Nor ticket, announcing the con- aud the az,
And requesting the honor, II was better uah
that.
It was done by a ysi, from enc that you know,
Whose smile IS unchiiied by lic's season Of snow,
Whose voice is 80 winning, resist as you may.
You must do what i says, for i will have its way
1t is true that at first began to suggest
! should sit like a stranger, apart from the rest;
But he said ''To no clan Is our banquet conducd,
For the heart Of the poet belongs to mankind"
Then I tmidly asked ,-."Can run, Mt pinch
II friends from the old World have learned how
to ynchr'
For thought with dsmay Of the Know Nothing
crew,
And lanciel yell -"lle s.a luow-pothing too
thought Of old Portcus, Of Hare and Of Burke;
! remembered the witches Of Aloway KIRK -
why, bless YOU" he said, with smile, if you're
You viii never be killed, you will only be Scotch
ed!'
SO I came, aud IN here, with line, as | said;
| don't mean the verses that jus, have been read,
But the ones in my pocket and So, if you please.
You shall hear them at once, il you II pardon me
these.
The mountains glitter ia the snow.
thousand leagues asunder;
Yet here, amid the banquet's glow,
| hear their voice Of thunder;
Each giants ice-bound goblet clinks;
A flowing stream is summoned;
Wachuseit TO Ben Nevis drinks;
Nlonadnock to Ben Lemond!
Though years have clipped the eagles plume
That crowned the Chieftain's bonnet,
The sun still secs the heather bloom,
The silver mists lie on it
Tith tartan kilt and philapeg,
What stride was ever boiler.
Than his that showed the nakei leg
Beneath the pllidei shoulders
The echoes sleep on Chcviot's hills,
That heard the luges blowing,
When down their sides the crimson rills
With mingled blood were flowing;
The haunts where gttlant hearts were game
The shshing on the hor,er,-
The raid that swooped with sword and hamc,-
Give place to "law and ORDER
Not while the rocking stecples reel,
With midnight tocsins ringing,
Not while the crashing war-notes peal,
God sets his poets singing,
The bird is silent in the night,
Or shreks a cry Of warning,
While lutterirg round the hoacon-light,-
But hear him greet the morning
The lark Of Scotia's morning sky
Whose voice may sing his praises
With heavens own sunlight in his eye,
He walked among the daises,
Till through the cloud Of fortunes wrong
He soared to fields Of glory;
But len his land her sweetest song,
And earth her saddcst story.
IT'S not the forts the builder piles
That chain the earth together;
The welded crowns. the sister isles,
Would laugh at such tether;
The kinlling thought, the throbbng words
That set the pulses beating,
Arc stronger than the myriad swords
OF mighty armies meeting
Thus, while within the banquet CLOVIS,
Without the wild winds whistle,
w frir ssfs at isiic siiRsr TiApar RsSss
Till War has hushcl his cAnnon.--
Close-twinel as Oce,n-currents braid
The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon