Thomas Aird Poems

Look up! Yon field of blue
Broadcast with worlds is sown.
Use within use! Look up, O Man, and own
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'Tis late and hoar. She's at her door:
Oh for her spouse to come in sight!
No form appears; she harks, but hears
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Storm in his blackness forth
Hangs on the suffering north.
Wide go his wings, away he springs,
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“Our rhythmic armies, lifted whole,
Heaved, whelm and awe;
True to harmonious law,
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O'er golden Fez the summer sun is shining,
But not for Julian, there in durance pining.
Why thus in durance he, to whom life's spring
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What though the failing arm of Abusade
No longer wields his battle-leading blade;
Yet still he glories in his wars, that still
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Who sent those armèd men to seize or slaughter
Zemberbo, scarce escaping by the water?
The Monarch sent them. Reached by those alarms
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Hope, with eyes of sunny seed,
Smile thee on to power and deed,
Champion, who the sword dost draw
For Order, Liberty, and Law.
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Young Torthil sits below the woody steeps
Of Apennine, beneath a spreading oak.
His downcast eye a stern abstraction keeps;
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Forth Cathla went, Roscrana by her side.
But now they heard—the air was all so still—
Trumpet and horn beyond the mountains wide.
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