Thomas Aird
Thomas Aird Poems
The lights of joy at midnight hour
Were up in ancient Babylon.
Beauty and Pleasure, Pride and Power,
Were gathered round Belshazzar's Throne.
...
The while he dug, his coat she quaintly dress'd
With flowers, aye peeping forth lest he might see
The unfinish'd fancy; then how pleased when he,
...
'Tis now the silent night: the full-orbed moon
Hangs in the depth of blue; scarce shine the stars,
Drowned in her light; the valleys of the earth
...
Thou, the King of kingdoms great,
Thou, the Consort of his state,
Ye have eaten Heavenly food,
Jesus' body, Jesus' blood;
...
Behold, behold, from out the shadowy Past
Our Scottish fathers start! They start, they come
With onward eyes, around their lifted heads
...
Infant of the weeping hills,
Nursling of the springs and rills,
Growing River, flowing ever,
...
Loved and loving, God her trust,
The Shepherd's Wife goes dust to dust.
Their Dog, his eye, half sad, half prompt to save,
...
The little comer's coming, the comer o'er the sea,
The comer of the summer, all the sunny days to be.
...
Skirts of sunny-sifted showers!
There the wild bee,
How privileged he,
Childe of the yellow belt and bands of jet,
...
That father died neglected, and in death
With struggling love were mingled bitter thoughts—
A Father's Curse.
...
A widowed father from the holy fount
Of Christian sprinkling bore his first-born babe
Home through the Sabbath noon. And aye his hand
...
The Bow was on the East:
One horn descending on a snow-white flock
Of lambs at rest upon a sleek hill-side,
...
There stood a ruined house!
In days of other years, perchance, within
Were beds of sleep, bread, and the sacred hearth
...
A sunburst of heaven
Smote that Mountain of Wonder,
With its summit all rive ...
...
Behold Zenone, as she sits by night,
All pale and pensive, robed in virgin white!
Her chief of eunuchs came; absorbed in thought,
...
Those shouts proclaim the village school is out.
This way and that, the children break in groups;
Some by the sunny stile, and meadow path,
...
'Twas midnight hour—in that deep hour
Proud lights were up in Babylon;
Each palace-hall was pleasure's bower,
Yet sat the king as if alone:
...
Thunder-palls through gorges trailing,
In their skirts the raven sailing;
Slanting shafts of showery light
...
High mission theirs and blest! the Prophets share
Jehovah's mind, Jehovah's word they bear
From land to land, to peoples and to kings,
...
Slow o'er Herodion went the night and day,
As deeply wounded on his bed he lay.
Well had he fought to stop, while yet afar,
...
Thomas Aird Biography
Thomas Aird (28 August 1802 – 28 April 1876), Scottish poet, was born at Bowden, Roxburghshire. Aird was educated at the University of Edinburgh, where he met John Wilson, Thomas Carlyle and James Hogg, as well as other men of letters. Under their influence, he decided to devote himself to literary work. He published Martzoufle, a Tragedy, with other Poems (1826), a volume of essays, and a long narrative poem in several cantos, The Captive of Fez (1830). For a year Aird edited the Edinburgh Weekly Journal, and for twenty-eight years the Dumfriesshire and Galloway Herald. He also contributed to Blackwood's Magazine. In 1848 he published a collected edition of his poems, which met with much favor. Carlyle said that he found in them "a healthy breath as of mountain breezes." His chief poem is The Captive of Fez. In prose Aird wrote Religious Characteristics, and The Old Bachelor in the Old Scottish Village (1848). Among Aird's other friends were De Quincey, Lockhart, Stanley (afterwards dean of Westminster) and Motherwell.)
The Best Poem Of Thomas Aird
Belshazzar's Feast
The lights of joy at midnight hour
Were up in ancient Babylon.
Beauty and Pleasure, Pride and Power,
Were gathered round Belshazzar's Throne.
In farther halls the dance went on,
A pomp of circling peers was nigh;
Yet sate the King as if alone,
In boding gloom, he knew not why.
That midnight hour, forth came a Hand
And wrote along the darkened wall.
In fiery rows the letters stand,
And flaming out the King appal.
From round him, like a garment, tall
The princely heads, awed to the earth.
The Horror runs from hall to hall,
Devouring up the distant mirth.
When twice the King with manlier brow
A glance of those dread letters took,
Their bickering lightnings seemed to bow,
And court his steady scanning look.
But who their calm control might brook?
Deep, deeper sunk the Monarch's head.
Again the lines careering shook,
And blazed impatient to be read.
A pause like death! and far was heard
The coming sound of stately feet:
High prophet old, and mystic bard,
Have left their nightly trancèd seat:
The bold young Queen has bid them meet,
When men with fear were faint and dumb:
Low murmurs glad their coming greet;
The star-taught Chaldee sages come.
Their figured garments strangely shone,
Far smitten by that lustrous flame;
With measured footsteps slowly on
Through lanes of prostrate heads they came.
Emboldened by the starry name,
Thick-coming faces crowd the hall.
The Monarch owned the Magi's fame,
And pointed to the wall—the wall!
The seers of age the front resign,
The younger have not dared to speak;
The elements had there no sign,
The wisdom of the stars was weak.
Ire touched the Monarch's pallid cheek:
“Hence!” cried he, “Prophets? Magi? Nay,
Your boasted lore's an idle freak!”
They bowed, and looked, and passed away.
“Sire!” said the Queen, “I've dared to call
Another sage, of Judah's land.”
Betwixt the Sovereign and the wall
Behold the Prophet Daniel stand!
He turned when he the lines had scanned,
But silent stood, by sorrow bowed;
Till, at the King's renewed command,
He read the words of God aloud:—
“Mene! Thy realm God-numbered is,
And finished to its utmost bound.
Tekel! Thou in the balances
Art weighed, and thou art wanting found.
Peres! They come, the hosts renowned
Of Medes and Persians, side by side;
(List, list afar the gathering sound!)
And they thy kingdom shall divide.”
Seemed smote with dread the marble stone,
As went the Prophet's footsteps slow;
That flame of judgment on him shone,
And made him like an angel glow.
And there was terror, trembling, wo,
And there was wail for Babylon;
Sunk now in dumb surprise, for lo!
Those letters from the wall are gone.
But ha! a thousand thwarting cries
Of multitudes confused and driven,
Cry, “From Euphrates' bed they rise,
The warriors of an angry Heaven!”
With coming shouts the Palace riven,
Near, nearer crowds the danger bring.
The Persian swords! Nor space is given
To guard and save that slaughtered King.
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