The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1870-02-11
DONALD MACLEOD

DONALD MACLEOD
Donald MaeLeodI wOuldcst hear his stor
told ?
No stormy legend OF the days Of old,
or war and tournament and high emprizs
or nightly feuds beneath fair ladies eyes
But true story Of our modern time,
Such n befel, in cold Canadian cline
4 dozen winters past, Donald Macleod,
4 poor man-One OF millions in The crowd
A stalwaFt wight he was whom buiIio see
We're 20 wish friend rafherthan enemy;
A,sInith by trade, ablun, hard-working man
Proud Of fhissires, his race, his name, his elan
His strong right arm could hurl a foeInal
down
Like bah or sIzittle :. his broad brow Wa
brown
| with honest ftOil, and his clear blue eye
Iyurked strength 10 conquer fortune or defy
Few were his words, and. those butrougl
ai best,
But truthful ever as his Ownitrue breast;
Ofhomely nature, not Ofwinning ways,
Or given 10 tears, or oyermuch Of praise;
But with a heart as guileless a. "A child's
| or seven years old that frolies in the wilds.
Ere Donald left his shieling i'm the glen
by the burnside that tumbIes down the gieI
I ON gray LOclaber's melancholy shore,
I And sighed, like Others, Il return no more, y
To try his fortune in the fight Of life
| In a new world, with fairer field for strife
Than Scotland offers, overflled with brains,
Yet scant OF acres TO reward their pains,
He wood with simple speech a Highland
maid,
| Sweet as the opening fioweret i'm the shade,
Aud asked her, ''wOuld she quit ner native
land,
Hermother's love, her fathers guiding hand
And make another sunshine far away,
For him aIone?" She blessed the happy day
That a good man, SO honest and so brave,
Had sought the heart and hand she freely
gave.
To see the pair, the man so massive strong,
The maid so frail, yet winsome as song,
You might have thought the oak had chosen
fora bride
The gowan glinting on the green hillside.
And Jeanie Cameron! happy wife was sine,
Sailing with Donald DER the summer sea,
And dreaming, as the good ship cleft thS
foam,
Ofindependence and happy. home
On that abundant and rejoicing soil
That asks but hands TO recOmPense their toll
And ortune favored them, as fortune will
All who add strength and virtue 10 good will
And DOnald's hands found always work to
do,
Work well repaid, which, growing ever gre "
Work and its fair reward but seldom kno wn
In the old land, whence hopeful he had
flown;
Work all sufficient for the passing day,
With something LEFT to hoard and put away.
Content and Donald Dever dwclt apart,
And Love and Jeanbe nestled at his heart.
In summer ewes, his face towards the sun,
He loved to sit, his long days labor done,
And smoke his pipe beneath the sycamore
That cast cool shade at his cottage door,
And hear his bOnny Jean, like morning lark,
Or nightingale preiuding TO the dark,
sing the old Gaelic melancholy songs
OF Scotland's glory, Seetland's rights and
wrongs,
Oftrue-love ditties Ofthe Olden time,
Breathing of the highland glens and moor
land thyme,
Thus years wore on. Their sky seemed sunny
blue
Without a cloud to shade the distant view
or happiness TO come. A child was born,
Fresh to the lsallaels - Light Of morn,
Sweet TO the mOther's.as a dream of heaven,
A blessing asked, but scarcely hoped when
given.
Most dearly prized! Alas! for halIian joy, s.i
That fortune never builds but TO destroy -
The child was purchased by the mothers
health.
stealth
He gazed and saw the sadness in her smile
That lit, yet half extinguished il the while;
For, all poor Jeanie was too fair and fr;til
To bear unscathed Canada's wintry gale;
And hectic roses fiourished ON her cheek,
Filling his heart with grieftoo great to speak.
Long, long, he watched her, and essayed to
find
Comfort and hope. Al. last upon his mind
Burst suddenly the thought that he'd forego
All he had earned i'm that New World ofwoe.
Aud bear her hack, ere utterly foriOrn,
To the moist mountain CLINE where she was
born;
To dear LOchaber and the highland hills,
And wave invaded glens and whlmpling rills
Where first he found her! Late, alas too late f!
''Donaid, ;" she said, 81 feel approaching fate,
And may not travel DER the stormy sea,
ode on shipboard and be torn from thee;
Here let me Iinger till 1 go to rest!
Time may be short or long, God knoweth
best.
But as the tree that's planted i'm the ground,
a
Dies where it lives, so let me live and die
Where thou hast brought me, 'twixt the
earth and sky.
I'd not be buried In the Atlantic wave,
But i'm the brown earth with daisies on my
grave;
Fresh blooming .gowans from Lochaber's
braes
With Scottish earth enough the mound to
raise
Above my head. Donald, let this be done
When your poor Jeanie's mortal race is run ~
The strong man swept. sJeanier' was all he
said.
"Oh, Jeanie! Jeaniel' and he bowed his head
And hid his face dehind his honest hands,
The saddest man in all those happy lands.
"Jeanie - he said, aye maunna, maunna dee,
And leave the world to misery and me"
'sDOnald 81 she answerd, i'wOeful is the strife
That my warm heart is fighting for its life
And much as desire for thy dear sake,
And the wee bairn's, 10 live till age O'ertake,
feel il cannot be. Gods VIII Is all,
Let us accept it whatsOe'er befall"'
And Jeanie died. She had not laid i the
moods AE9f
Three days ere Donald laid aside his tools,
And closed his forge, and took his passage
home
To Glasgow, for Lochaber DER tht Ioam.
Alone with Sorrow and alone with Love,
The two but one to lead his heart above;
And long ere forty days had run their round,
Donald was back upon Canadian ground;
pOnald, the tender heart, the rough, the
brave,
With earth and gowans for his true loves
grave.