Samuel Bamford

Samuel Bamford Poems

Farewell, my native dells and bowers,
Farewell ye fragrant scented flowers;
No more your dewy tints I twine,
My love to deck- with garland fine;
...

Come not to me on a bed
Of pale-faced sickness and of pining;
Oh, clasp me close on the battle-field red,
...

Now the Devil, saith report,
Once would hold a justice court,
He'd a notion for trying his hand,
He sent constables from hell
...

Ha! han they ta'en our cap and flag?
Whot! han the Dandies ta'en 'em?
An' did Reformers' courage lag,
...

Most reverend sir, I pray permit,
To approach where you in judgment sit,
A humble, lowly, country bard,
...

My daisy sweet is drooping,
Alone upon the lee;
A frost there came in evil hour
And nipt it cruelly.
...

The eye of the morning is open wide,
And the sun comes up from the heaving tide
That rolls at the foot of his burning throne,
...

I must die—but not like a slave
To his tyrant in penitence bending;
I shall die like an Englishman brave,
I have liv'd so, and so be my ending!
...

On Mount St. John's too dearly purchas'd day,
When broken Gallia fled the bloody fray;
And he, the mighty chief that's now afar,
...

Oh! come from the valley, Oh! come from the plain,
And arise to the hills of your fathers again;
For a chief hath unfurled his banner on high,
...

O thou great power divine,
Wisdom and might are thine,
And majesty.
...

Not human speech nor human wail can tell
The grief of heart for one beloved so well:
In strength of life he left his home at morn,
...

There's a little crude knot
Who visit this spot—
What wonderful statesmen they'd make;
...

Welcome, thou little modest flower!
Thou venturest forth in stormy hour,
Bending thine head beneath the shower,
So meek and low;
...

The winter wind is blowing,
With mournful sigh, o'er moor and dale;
The mountain stream is flowing,
With torrent rush, adown the vale,
...

How happy may we be, my love!
How happy may we be,
If we our humble means improve,
My wife, my child, and me.
...

Bamford, an unknown friend would bring,
The best he can, his offering
Of humble verse to thee;
...

How fearful, yet how mournful is the tone
Of Winter, howling in his stormy zone!
O'erwhelming pow'r, from night-bound realms afar,
...

Now Wolsey was, in olden time,
A man of high renown;
And I went forth to seek his grave,
Close by fair Leicester town.
...

SCENE—King Street, Middleton.

Come, all ye votaries of fame,
...

Samuel Bamford Biography

Samuel Bamford (28 February 1788 – 13 April 1872), English radical and writer, was born in Middleton, Lancashire. Bamford was one of five children born to Daniel Bamford, a muslin weaver, part-time teacher, and later master of the Salford workhouse, and his wife, Hannah. After his father withdrew him from Manchester Grammar School Bamford became a weaver, and then a warehouseman in Manchester. In August 1819, Bamford led a group from Middleton to St Peter's Fields, to attend a meeting pressing for parliamentary reform and the repeal of the Corn Laws, where they witnessed the Peterloo Massacre. Bamford was arrested and charged with treason. Although the evidence showed that neither he nor any of his group had been involved in the violence, he was nevertheless found guilty of inciting a riot and sentenced to a year in Lincoln gaol. The experience of the massacre made a deep impression on Bamford, and convinced him that the state's power would always succeed against radical militancy. He came to be seen as a voice for radical reform, but opposed to any activism that involved physical force. Bamford was the author of several widely popular poems (principally in the Lancashire dialect) showing sympathy with the conditions of the working class, and his Passages in the Life of a Radical (1840 – 1844) is an authoritative history of the condition of the working classes in the years after the Battle of Waterloo. He died at Harpurhey on 13 April 1872 and was given a public funeral, attended by thousands. A memorial obelisk was unveiled in Middleton Cemetery in 1877. Part of the inscription reads: "Bamford was a reformer when to be so was unsafe, and he sufered his faith.")

The Best Poem Of Samuel Bamford

The Farewell

Farewell, my native dells and bowers,
Farewell ye fragrant scented flowers;
No more your dewy tints I twine,
My love to deck- with garland fine;
Farewell ye rindles gushing clear,
Where often I have met my dear;
I now must bid a long adieu,
To the greenwood shady bowers and you.

Farewell, ye honey-winged gales,
Farewell, ye sloping hills and dales;
Ye waving woods that sweep the sky,
Ye daisy'd meads that lowly lie;
No more to pluck your sweets I rove,
My fond arm lock'd around my love;
I now must bid a long adieu,
To shady greenwood bowers and you.

And, O farewell, thou heart-lov'd dear,
Wipe from thy cheek that pearly tear;
I now must bid a long adieu,
To scenes of happiness and you;
No more transported shall I sip,
The nectar of thy rosy lip;
But still my constant heart shall stay
With thee when I am far away.

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