So still, he noted not the dreamy stranger,
Who, breathing hard after the steep ascent,
Stood close at hand, and strangely looked upon him.

                                                       The Exiles of Oona.—p. 179.

NORTH COAST

AND OTHER

POEMS

BY

ROBERT BUCHANAN

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

BY

J. WOLF                         A. B. HOUGHTON                         W. SMALL
T. DALZIEL                   G. J. PINWELL                                E. DALZIEL
                                         J. B. ZWECKER

Engraved by the Brothers Dalziel

LONDON

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS

THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE

NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET

1868

ANNOUNCEMENT.

—*—

THREE Poems in this volume have appeared
before — ‘The Northern Muse,’ ‘An English
Eclogue,’ and ‘A Scottish Eclogue;’ all the others
are now published for the first time.

DALZIEL BROTHERS.

Camden Press, October, 1867.

CONTENTS.

—*—

NORTH COAST POEMS.

MEG BLANE.
                                                                                                                                 Page
          PART I.          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          1

          PART II.         .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .        18

          PART III.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .        29

          PART IV.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .        38

THE BATTLE OF DRUMLIEMOOR                .          .          .          .          .        73

THE NORTHERN WOOING                 .          .          .          .          .          .      106

A SCOTTISH ECLOGUE            .          .          .          .          .          .          .      149

THE EXILES OF OONA.

          I. ON THE HILLSIDE                .          .          .          .          .          .          .       178

         II. THE KIRKYARD OF GLEN OONA      .          .          .          .          .          .       197

MEDIÆVAL

SIGURD OF SAXONY                .          .          .          .          .          .          .       132

THE SAINT’S STORY                 .          .          .          .          .          .          .       157

MISCELLANEOUS.

A PRELUDE          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .           55

AN ENGLISH ECLOGUE          .          .          .          .          .          .          .            63

THE NORTHERN MUSE           .          .          .          .          .          .          .            83

THE BALLAD-MAKER             .          .          .          .          .          .          .            90

THE BROOK        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          103

THE BALLAD OF THE STORK           .          .          .          .          .          .          124

A POEM TO DAVID       .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          143

HAHON                .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          215  

CELTIC MYSTICS

          PART I.          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          218

          PART II.     THE VISION           .          .          .          .          .          .          .          222

          PART III.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          238

          PART IV.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          240

          PART V.     SOUL AND BODY             .          .          .          .          .          .          242

          PART VI.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          244

          PART VII.       .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          245

          PART VIII.      .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          247

          PART IX.        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          250

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

—*—

MEG BLANE.

                             Subject.                                                                                                   Artist.                Page

Thick reeks the storm o’ night
     Round him that steers the ship.          .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.          1

Then, sighing deep, she turnéd from the storm,
     And crept into her lonely hut again   .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.          3

And smoking in the stern the man would lie
     While Meg was hoisting sail or plying oar    .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.          7

Though now and then the moon gleamed moist behind
     The rack, till, smitten by the drift, she sank.            .          .          T. DALZIEL.         11

Hither and thither, thick with foam and drift,
     Did the deep waters shift,
Swinging with iron clash on rock and sand.       .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.         13

     With blowing hair and onward-gazing eyes
The woman stands erect, and grips the helm.                .          .          T. DALZIEL.         16

Meg, shading eyes against the morning sun,
Gazed seaward.                  .          .          .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.         18

                              Along the huts she went—
Among the rainy pools where, shouting, played
Brown and barefooted bairns.       .          .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.         23

                              Closer still she crept,
Holding the lamp aloft, until his breath
Was hot upon her cheek.                .          .          .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         27

And quietlie she murmured, weeping not,
‘Perchance—for men forget—he hath forgot.’    .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         29

And though, with pity in his guilty heart,
The man spake on and sought to heal her smart,
She heard not, but was dumb and deaf in woe.    .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         36

                              And fell upon the sands,
And spake not while the wondering fishers called,
     And tore the slippery seaweed with her hands,
                              And screamed, and was appalled.     .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         45

     But wandered with his mother hand in hand,
Hunting for faggots on the inland lea.       .          .          .         .          T. DALZIEL.         47

     Outside the hut she sat upon a stool,
While Angus leant his head against her knee,
And with thin fingers fashioned carefully
     A long white dress of wool.        .          .          .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         51

AN ENGLISH ECLOGUE.

Well, here’s the cuckoo come again, after the barley sowing,
The duckweed white upon the pond, all round the violets blowing.   G. J. PINWELL.     65

THE BATTLE OF DRUMLIEMOOR.

Now, wife, sit still and hark!—hold my hand amid the dark;
     O Jeanie, we are scattered e’en as sleet!          .           .          .      G. J. PINWELL.     75

But we sang and gripped our brands, and touched each other’s hands,
     While a thin sleet smote our faces from the sky.          .          .           E. DALZIEL.     77

Then we fled! the darkness grew! ’mid the driving cold we flew,
     Each alone, yea, each for those whom he held dear.              .           T. DALZIEL.     81

THE NORTHERN MUSE.

And oft, while wondrous-eyed she wanders,
She meets a sweet face,—pauses, ponders,—
     And then peers backward as she goes.           .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.         85

THE BALLAD-MAKER.

This room is papered with them, big and small,
So that a man can read them on the wall.            .           .          .      G. J. PINWELL.     91

I felt Jem’s hand between my fingers creeping,
And, looking down, I saw that little Jem was weeping.               .      G. J. PINWELL.     99

THE BROOK.

O Brook, he smiled, a happy child,
     Upon thy banks, and loved thy crying.          .          .          .               T. DALZIEL.  103

THE NORTHERN WOOING.

Lad and lass, to-night beware!
There is magic in the air!               .          .          .          .              A. B. HOUGHTON.  109

And, while I paused, and pinched my e’en to mark,
The wind swung to the door, and left me in the dark.    .              A. B. HOUGHTON.  119

THE BALLAD OF THE STORK.

They loose it then with eager hands, they open it and read,—
The widow screams, for here is wrought a miracle indeed.          A. B. HOUGHTON.  129

SIGURD OF SAXONY.

This is a place where mortals find not speech;
Save the small murmurous waves that crawl the beach,
     All is as still as death.         .          .          .           .          .              G. J. PINWELL.  133

Here on the beach we stood, and hand in hand
Waited to wander to that silent land,
     And all the shore was dark.           .          .           .          .              G. J. PINWELL.  137

A SCOTTISH ECLOGUE.

O Jeanie Gourlay! keep thy clapper still;
It talks o’ things you understand but ill.        .          .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.  151

THE SAINT’S STORY.

And, ah! she trembled, fluttering and panting,
     While on my knees I fell.                 .          .          .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.  165

A long and lantern-featured Carmelite,
     As melancholy as the garb he wore.          .          .          .         A. B. HOUGHTON.  169

And there we sat in the dim dusk alone,
     She looking down, and pale with passionate prayer.      .         A. B. HOUGHTON.  175

THE EXILES OF OONA.

So still, he noted not the dreamy stranger,
Who, breathing hard after the steep ascent,
Stood close at hand, and musing looked upon him.               .          .          W. SMALL.  (Frontispiece.)

His eyes were fixed upon the still vale lying
Beneath him, on the space beside the pine-wood,
And on the gray deer twinkling in its shadow.           .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  179

                              And when I trode
The deck, my step was proud, my head erect,
Because I seemed to walk upon the heather.              .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  186

And where the Highland lassie drew her water,
The moor-hen builds her clumsy nest of sedge.               .          .          .          J. WOLF.  189

And as the sunlight travelled on the hill-side,
The fallow and the brood-deer with their shadows
Followed in mottled swarms from gleam to gleam.        .          .          .          J. WOLF.  191

From mossy ridge to ridge they passed in silence,
While dimlier, darklier, fell the dewy twilight.           .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  194

And on the roof grew slimy grass and weeds,
The wild leek, and the wallflower, tufts of corn;
And in the midst a thin she-goat stood browsing.                 .          .          T. DALZIEL.  196

Then, rising up, he drew his plaid around him,
And stepped across the threshold, where the dawn
Fell like a silver trouble on his features.         .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  198

‘’T is stiller than the frozen seas; ’t is drearer
Than a dead calm with rain on the mid-ocean!’         .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  201

Then sunrise, glistening faintly o’er the peaks,
Fell moist and slant into the lake beneath.                 .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  203

And as the boat drew nearer, and the music
Grew clearer yet and louder, they who watched
Beheld a sad and silent companie.                   .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  205

                              While the mourners wended
Along that silent land, and slowly entered
The still green darkness of a little wood.         .          .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  207

For yonder in the haven waits the ship,
And ere the sun sets twice the ship will sail.               .          .          .          T. DALZIEL.  209

Silent they stodd, each gazing on the dust
Of kindred,—on the well-belovéd ones
Whom they should never lie beside in slumber.           .          .          .          W. SMALL.  211

And on a steep crag, overhead, behold!
Huge antlers glimmered, then a mighty stag
Rose slowly, the red Monarch of those wilds.              .          .          .              J. WOLF.  213

HAHON.

Then, calling to his henchman red,
‘Slit me the throat o’ the priest,’ he said.                     .          .          .        E. DALZIEL.  216

CELTIC MYSTICS.

And the silver-haired mother will kiss her,
And the little children will kiss her.                   .          .          .          .        E. DALZIEL.  221

And at the bottom of a snowy mountain
I came upon a woman sorrow-thinned.             .          .          .          .        T. DALZIEL.  225

                    And their mouths
Blew rose-buds to the rose-buds.            .          .          .          .          .        T. DALZIEL.  227

                              And at the sunrise
Shivered behind their husbandmen afield.        .          .          .          .        T. DALZIEL.  231

I saw  a two-years’ child, and he was playing;
And he found a dead white bird upon the doorway,
And laughed, and ran to show it to his mother.           .          .          .        T. DALZIEL.  233

The reindeer abideth alone,
And fleeth swiftly
From her following shadow.        .          .          .          .          .           J. B. ZWECKER.  239

______________________________

[Notes:

The Chatto & Windus 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’ includes the following poems in its ‘North Coast, and other Poems’ (1867-68) section: Meg Blane, The Battle of Drumliemoor, The Northern Wooing, An English Eclogue, A Scottish Eclogue, The Scaith o’ Bartle, The Glamour, Sigurd of Saxony, A Poem to David and Hahon.

The Scaith o’ Bartle and The Glamour were first published in ‘London Poems’ (1866).

The Brook appears under the title, To The Luggie in the ‘Early Poems’ section.

The Prelude and Celtic Mystics appear in revised form as part of  ‘The Book of Orm’.

The Exiles of Oona, The Saint’s Story, The Northern Muse, The Ballad-Maker, and The Ballad of the Stork are not included in the Chatto & Windus 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’.]