Old Uncle Bob lay on the settle, At eventide, while on the hob, "Ree-tee-riti-too" sang the kettle, And charmed the dear heart of old Bob. "Ree-tee-riti-too" on his ears, long The ear-chaining melody played, Till back on his mind rushed the years, long Entombed, and he more than half said: 'Twas just such an even as this is, When down by the oak in the dell, The bliss was made mine of all blisses, In glances I won from my Nell. An August sun hung in the heaven, Or slowly went down o'er the hill, When lilting her song to the even The darling skipt over the rill. From moss'd stone to moss'd stone she skipt, and Then like a roe up the hillside, Anon pass'd the willow-tree tript, and Then, what had Ellen espied? Had sight of my face the maid flurried? "Not flurried," I murmur'd — "Nay, nay!" As plucking a harebell she hurried Again with her prize up the way. The harebell consigned to her bosom Her eyes seem'd to rivet; she viewed, And still with a smile viewed the blossom, Till near to the spot where I stood; Then raising her head and a golden Lock twisting, a word left her tongue, Recall'd to my fancy an olden Time dearer than bard ever sung. That time of times — ah, an olden Time dearer than bard ever sung; And oh, for the glamour so golden, The moment that word left her tongue. "Dear Robin," she said, and so sweetly She linked the word "dear" with my name, My senses forsook me completely, And fierce delight shook my whole frame. "Dear Nelly," said I, and the sweetest Of hands in my hands I prest; And the hour that ensued was the fleetest, That ever a mortal man blest. Nay, while yet the words she had spoken Like silver bells rang in my ears, I felt that a barrier was broken Had kept us asunder for years. Then lived we the olden time over Again — ah, the sweetest of hours! Ere years aid the mind to discover What cankers may lurk in life's flowers. When at the eve-song of the ousel, Our hearts with rapture would glow, Would mock what his fiercest carousal Can on the mad Bacchant bestow. Then, hand in hand skimmed we the meadow, Or up the deep valley would run And find in the willow's cool shadow, A shield from the heat of the sun. There sat we full often and prattled Of all we had done or would do, And still from our little tongues rattled Whatever we fancied or knew. Around its old stem oft we sported; And charmed with their colour or smell, As oft 'neath its shade we assorted The blooms we had pluck'd in the dell. That dearest of all times, that olden Time dearer than bard ever sung, The meanest of flowers yet a golden Flower seem'd to this bosom when young. The daisy we'd prize, coy and cosy, Its white cup, blood-rimm'd, and the gold Of its eye made it worthy the posy Our mothers should smile to behold. We'd there too the blue-bell which loveth To play with the breeze in the shade As eastward in spring-tide he moveth To heal the wounds winter hath made. The cowslip was ours who with maiden Like modesty looks at the ground, While winds with her riches are laden, And earth with her beauty is crown'd. The woodbine we loved, and as truly The poppy that flared in the sun, Whose cup black and crimson we duly Were taught by our mothers to shun. To later born bloom as to early Our little hearts opened, or clung, To darnel as primrose, and rarely Oft, while we gathered, we sung. And echo oft woke at our singing, Or laughed back our laughter aloud, While down thro' the clear air came ringing A trill from the lark in the cloud. That dearest of all times, that olden Time dearer than bard ever sung! Thus fleeted so radiant and golden The hours when this bosom was young. Thus fleeted the spring and the summer; Thus richer hued autumn went past; And welcome awaited the comer, When winter came on with a blast. Then oft with puft cheeks we have striven To mock the wind's bugles, and mocked While oaks in his anger were driven And houses like cradles were rock'd. Then loved we to see the snow falling In large feathery flakes to the ground; And oft, in each other snow-balling, An hour of pure rapture was found. Then loved we the skater to view as He flew here and there in a trice; And up for a clap our hands flew as He wrote out his name on the ice. Then, when the brisk day had ended Then for the night that came down; That hour to Nelly I wended: The welcome my errand would crown. The father would hand me a cracket; The mother would smoothen my hair; The sister would rax down my jacket, Or with me some dainty would share. Then while round the table would story On story the elder folk tell, Wee Robin was left in his glory To prate in the nook with wee Nell. And so pass'd the time — that olden Time dearer than bard ever sung! Then oh, for the dreams bright and golden That nightly their spells o'er us flung. That dearest of all times, that olden Time dearer than bard ever sung! Of this we talk'd till the golden Sun sank and the moon o'er us hung. Then look'd up a moment the maiden And gazed on the planet above, And I saw in her eyes a soul laden And sparkling with rapture and love. Then gushed from those wells of pure beauty Such spells, had my heart been a stone, I'd felt as I felt then my duty, My love, and my all were her own. Then tho' my speech fail'd crabb'd and broken, To speak what I'd do for her sake, More golden words never were spoken Than seem'd to her ear what I spake. Then I claspt her tight to my bosom; And, ere that great moment had pass'd, I kist and was kist by the blossom And oh! that first kiss was our last. I kiss'd and was kiss'd; love controlled, in That moment my arms round her cast; We kiss'd and our feelings were golden! But oh! that first kiss was our last. Beneath a dark alder a devil In man's shape had lurk'd, and that hour A tale of black import and evil Had enter'd her found father's door. And from that loved door I was chidden Till raving and dying she lay. Then to her bed-side I was bidden, But then what could I do or say? She perish'd the victim of slander; And I from that time was oft eyed, Alone in the night-tide to wander, And pace for long hours the burnside. And this would I do till from sorrow And manifold labour and prayer My soul did an angel's strength borrow To break the strong bonds of despair. "Then peace! Peace was mine." On the settle Uncle turned here and saw at the hob A little Nell using the kettle, And "Tea! tea!" she said, "Uncle Bob." |