Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

58
THE ATTEMPT
outwardly they had no show, nothing to dazzle the beholder, hut on looking closer, I
beheld, through a veil called humility, a clear beautiful gem, that adorned the wearer,
and was never dimmed unless the touchstone was neglected. To one of these people
I addressed myself, and inquired by what means he had attained to his present state.
“ When I set out,” said he, “ I was as gay and idle as the rest, and the hours flew by
without thought of the future. As I went on, the dazzling splendours of the world
attracted me, and giving myself up to them, I soon lost myself in dissipation and
extravagance. By gentle means my King tried to draw me out of danger, but
whenever I felt half-inclined to yield, and sick with remorse and disappointment, the
giant of the world’s laugh rose up before me, and frightened me out of my good
intentions. At last, in his great love, my Master plunged me into the furnace of
affliction, and, blessed be his name, I came out purified and refined; and now I am
seeking to add jewels to his crown, to show forth his praise and glory. My touchstone
and book of directions never leave me, and when the former waxes dim, the study of
the latter gives me fresh strength, and restores the spirit of prayer.” Thus he ended,
and with a heart braced for my own conflict, I took leave of him, and set out on my
way; but in the very act of so doing, the fair scene in which I seemed to move,
melted from my view,—I awoke—and behold it was a dream.
Incha.
g—-c
Itm# ISufot
A BALLAD.
There’s blude upon the banks of Urr,
Its bonny banks sae green,
An’ mony a knight lies bleedin’ there,
O’ mettle true, I ween.
An’ twa, the fiercest o’ them a’,
Twa noble knights an’ gude,
Fight ban’ to ban’ wi’ visors doun,
And swords fu’ red wi’ blude.
The swords they clash’d, and the fire it flash’d,
An’ the blude ran out between,
An’ out has come Mark Sprott’s gudewife,
To see what this may mean.
She’s grasped the hair o’ the English knight,
An’ twisted her fingers roun’,
And wi’ ae lock o’ that yellow hair
She’s pu’ed him to the groun’.