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Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two
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Raised another from despair.
Each loss has its compensation,
There is healing for every pain;
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soars as high again.
Hezekiah Butterworth.
Jamie Douglas
It was in the days when Claverhouse
Was scouring moor and glen,
To change, with fire and bloody sword,
The faith of Scottish men.
They had made a covenant with the Lord
Firm in their faith to bide,
Nor break to Him their plighted word,
Whatever might betide.
The sun was well-nigh setting,
When o'er the heather wild,
And up the narrow mountain-path,
Alone there walked a child.
He was a bonny, blithesome lad,
Sturdy and strong of limb—
A father's pride, a mother's love,
Were fast bound up in him.
His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,
His step was firm and light;
What was it underneath his plaid
His little hands grasped tight?
It was bannocks which, that very morn,
His mother made with care.
From out her scanty store of meal;
And now, with many a prayer,
Had sent by Jamie her ane boy,
A trusty lad and brave,
To good old Pastor Tammons Roy,
Now hid in yonder cave,
And for whom the bloody Claverhouse
Had hunted long in vain,
And swore they would not leave that glen
Till old Tam Roy was slain.
So Jamie Douglas went his way
With heart that knew no fear;
He turned the great curve in the rock,
Nor dreamed that death was near.
And there were bloody Claverhouse men,
Who laughed aloud with glee,
When trembling now within their power,
The frightened child they see.
He turns to flee, but all in vain,
They drag him back apace
To where their cruel leader stands,
And set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath his plaid
Soon tell the story plain—
"It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for,"
Exclaimed the angry man.
"Now guide me to his hiding place
And I will let you go."
But Jamie shook his yellow curls,
And stoutly answered—"No!"
"I'll drop you down the mountain-side,
And there upon the stones
The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow
Shall battle for your bones."
And in his brawny, strong right hand
He lifted up the child,
And held him where the clefted rocks
Formed a chasm deep and wild
So deep it was, the trees below
Like stunted bushes seemed.
Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze,
It seemed some horrid dream.
He looked up at the blue sky above
Then at the men near by;
Had they no little boys at home,
That they could let him die?
But no one spoke and no one stirred,
Or lifted hand to save
From such a fearful, frightful death,
The little lad so brave.
Each loss has its compensation,
There is healing for every pain;
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soars as high again.
Hezekiah Butterworth.
Jamie Douglas
It was in the days when Claverhouse
Was scouring moor and glen,
To change, with fire and bloody sword,
The faith of Scottish men.
They had made a covenant with the Lord
Firm in their faith to bide,
Nor break to Him their plighted word,
Whatever might betide.
The sun was well-nigh setting,
When o'er the heather wild,
And up the narrow mountain-path,
Alone there walked a child.
He was a bonny, blithesome lad,
Sturdy and strong of limb—
A father's pride, a mother's love,
Were fast bound up in him.
His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,
His step was firm and light;
What was it underneath his plaid
His little hands grasped tight?
It was bannocks which, that very morn,
His mother made with care.
From out her scanty store of meal;
And now, with many a prayer,
Had sent by Jamie her ane boy,
A trusty lad and brave,
To good old Pastor Tammons Roy,
Now hid in yonder cave,
And for whom the bloody Claverhouse
Had hunted long in vain,
And swore they would not leave that glen
Till old Tam Roy was slain.
So Jamie Douglas went his way
With heart that knew no fear;
He turned the great curve in the rock,
Nor dreamed that death was near.
And there were bloody Claverhouse men,
Who laughed aloud with glee,
When trembling now within their power,
The frightened child they see.
He turns to flee, but all in vain,
They drag him back apace
To where their cruel leader stands,
And set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath his plaid
Soon tell the story plain—
"It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for,"
Exclaimed the angry man.
"Now guide me to his hiding place
And I will let you go."
But Jamie shook his yellow curls,
And stoutly answered—"No!"
"I'll drop you down the mountain-side,
And there upon the stones
The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow
Shall battle for your bones."
And in his brawny, strong right hand
He lifted up the child,
And held him where the clefted rocks
Formed a chasm deep and wild
So deep it was, the trees below
Like stunted bushes seemed.
Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze,
It seemed some horrid dream.
He looked up at the blue sky above
Then at the men near by;
Had they no little boys at home,
That they could let him die?
But no one spoke and no one stirred,
Or lifted hand to save
From such a fearful, frightful death,
The little lad so brave.
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Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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