"SIR, I should build me a fortification, if I came to live here."- BOSWELL'S Johnson." N the green little isle of Inchkenneth, Ohe grit that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bonnet, His form is the form of a giant, But his face wears an aspect of pain; Ah no! It is only the Rambler, And who says, were he Laird of Inchkenneth, THE THREE KINGS HREE Kings came riding from far away, THE Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar ; Three Wise Men out of the East were they, And they travelled by night and they slept by day, For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star, The star was so beautiful, large, and clear, And by this they knew that the coming was near Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows, Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees. And so the Three Kings rode into the West, Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell, And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast, And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest, With the people they met at some wayside well. "Of the child that is born," said Baltasar, "Good people, I pray you, tell us the news; For we in the East have seen his star, And have ridden fast, and have ridden far, And the people answered, "You ask in vain ; We know of no king but Herod the Great!" They thought the Wise Men were men insane, As they spurred their horses across the plain, Like riders in haste, and who cannot wait. And when they came to Jerusalem, Herod the Great, who had heard this thing, Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them; And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem, And bring me tidings of this new king." So they rode away; and the star stood still, Yes, it stopped, it stood still of its own free will, The city of David where Christ was born. And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard, Through the silent street, till their horses turned And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard; But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred, And only a light in the stable burned. And cradled there in the scented hay, In the air made sweet by the breath of kine, The little child in the manger lay, The child, that would be king one day His mother Mary of Nazareth Sat watching beside his place of rest, They laid their offerings at his feet: The myrrh for the body's burying. And the mother wondered and bowed her head, Of an endless reign and of David's throne. Then the Kings rode out of the city gate, STA TAY, stay at home, my heart, and rest; For those that wander they know not where Weary and homesick and distressed, They wander east, they wander west, And are baffled and beaten and blown about Then stay at home, my heart, and rest; O'er all that flutter their wings and fly A hawk is hovering in the sky; To stay at home is best. |