One does such work as one will not,
    And well each knows the right;
Though the white storm howls, or the sun is hot,
    The black must serve the white.
And it’s, oh, for the white man’s softening flesh,
    While the black man’s muscles grow!
Well I know which grows the mightier,
    I know; full well I know.

The white man seeks the soft, fat place,
    And he moves and he works by rule.
Ingenious grows the humbler race
    In Oppression’s prodding school.
And it’s, oh, for a white man gone to seed,
    While the Negro struggles so!
And I know which race develops most,
    I know; yes, well I know.

The white man rides in a palace car,
    And the Negro rides “Jim Crow”
To damn the other with bolt and bar,
    One creepeth so low; so low!
And it’s, oh, for a master’s nose in the mire,
    While the humbled hearts o’erflow!
Well I know whose soul grows big at this,
    And whose grows small; I know!

The white man leases out his land,
    And the Negro tills the same.
One works; one loafs and takes command;
    But I know who wins the game!
And it’s, oh, for the white man’s shrinking soil.
    As the black’s rich acres grow!
Well I know how the signs point out at last,
    I know; ah, well I know!

The white man votes for his color’s sake.
    While the black, for his is barred;
(Though “ignorance” is the charge they make),
    But the black man studies hard.
And it’s, oh, for the white man’s sad neglect,
    For the power of his light let go!
So, I know which man must win at last,
    I know! Ah, Friend, I know!

O, rich young lord, thou ridest by
With looks of high disdain;
It chafes me not thy title high,
Thy blood of oldest strain.
The lady riding at thy side
Is but in name thy promised bride.
       Ride on, young lord, ride on!

Her father wills and she obeys,
The custom of her class;
’Tis Land not Love the trothing sways—
For Land he sells his lass.
Her fair white hand, young lord, is thine,
Her soul, proud fool, her soul is mine,
       Ride on, young lord, ride on!

No title high my father bore;
The tenant of thy farm,
He left me what I value more:
Clean heart, clear brain, strong arm
And love for bird and beast and bee
And song of lark and hymn of sea,
       Ride on, young lord, ride on!

The boundless sky to me belongs,
The paltry acres thine;
The painted beauty sings thy songs,
The lavrock lilts me mine;
The hot-housed orchid blooms for thee,
The gorse and heather bloom for me,
       Ride on, young lord, ride on!

Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
Among the rocks and streams
To sport that night.

Among the bonny winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, and pou their stocks,
And haud their Halloween
Fu' blithe that night.

The lasses feat, and cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, and warm, and kin';
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
Whiles fast at night.

Then, first and foremost, through the kail,
Their stocks maun a' be sought ance;
They steek their een, and graip and wale,
For muckle anes and straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
And wander'd through the bow-kail,
And pou't, for want o' better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail,
Sae bow't that night.

Then, staught or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar and cry a' throu'ther;
The very wee things, todlin', rin,
Wi' stocks out owre their shouther;
And gif the custoc's sweet or sour.
Wi' joctelegs they taste them;
Syne cozily, aboon the door,
Wi cannie care, they've placed them
To lie that night.

The lasses staw frae 'mang them a'
To pou their stalks of corn:
But Rab slips out, and jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:
He grippet Nelly hard and fast;
Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
But her tap-pickle maist was lost,
When kitlin' in the fause-house
Wi' him that night.

The auld guidwife's well-hoordit nits,
Are round and round divided,
And monie lads' and lasses' fates
Are there that night decided:
Some kindle coothie, side by side,
And burn thegither trimly;
Some start awa, wi' saucy pride,
And jump out-owre the chimlie
Fu' high that night.

Jean slips in twa wi' tentie ee;
Wha 'twas she wadna tell;
But this is Jock, and this is me,
She says in to hersel:
He bleezed owre her, and she owre him,
As they wad never mair part;
Till, fuff! he started up the lum,
And Jean had e'en a sair heart
To see't that night.

Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie;
And Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
To be compared to Willie;
Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
And her ain fit it brunt it;
While Willie lap, and swore by jing,
'Twas just the way he wanted
To be that night.

Nell had the fause-house in her min',
She pits hersel and Rob in;
In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
Till white in ase they're sobbin';
Nell's heart was dancin' at the view,
She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonny mou',
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
Unseen that night.

But Merran sat behint their backs,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea'es them gashin' at their cracks,
And slips out by hersel:
She through the yard the nearest taks,
And to the kiln goes then,
And darklins graipit for the bauks,
And in the blue-clue throws then,
Right fear't that night.

And aye she win't, and aye she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin',
Till something held within the pat,
Guid Lord! but she was quakin'!
But whether 'was the deil himsel,
Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
She didna wait on talkin'
To spier that night.

Wee Jennie to her grannie says,
"Will ye go wi' me, grannie?
I'll eat the apple at the glass
I gat frae Uncle Johnnie:"
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'rin',
She notice't na, an aizle brunt
Her braw new worset apron
Out through that night.

"Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
I daur you try sic sportin',
As seek the foul thief ony place,
For him to spae your fortune.
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For mony a ane has gotten a fright,
And lived and died deleeret
On sic a night.

"Ae hairst afore the Sherramoor, —
I mind't as weel's yestreen,
I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
I wasna past fifteen;
The simmer had been cauld and wat,
And stuff was unco green;
And aye a rantin' kirn we gat,
And just on Halloween
It fell that night.

"Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,
A clever sturdy fallow:
His son gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,
That lived in Achmacalla:
He gat hemp-seed, I mind it weel,
And he made unco light o't;
But mony a day was by himsel,
He was sae sairly frighted
That very night."

Then up gat fechtin' Jamie Fleck,
And he swore by his conscience,
That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;
For it was a' but nonsense.
The auld guidman raught down the pock,
And out a hanfu' gied him;
Syne bade him slip frae 'mang the folk,
Some time when nae ane see'd him,
And try't that night.

He marches through amang the stacks,
Though he was something sturtin;
The graip he for a harrow taks.
And haurls it at his curpin;
And every now and then he says,
"Hemp-seed, I saw thee,
And her that is to be my lass,
Come after me, and draw thee
As fast this night."

He whistled up Lord Lennox' march
To keep his courage cheery;
Although his hair began to arch,
He was say fley'd and eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,
And then a grane and gruntle;
He by his shouther gae a keek,
And tumbled wi' a wintle
Out-owre that night.

He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu' desperation!
And young and auld came runnin' out
To hear the sad narration;
He swore 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie,
Till, stop! she trotted through them
And wha was it but grumphie
Asteer that night!

Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen,
To win three wechts o' naething;
But for to meet the deil her lane,
She pat but little faith in:
She gies the herd a pickle nits,
And two red-cheekit apples,
To watch, while for the barn she sets,
In hopes to see Tam Kipples
That very nicht.

She turns the key wi cannie thraw,
And owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gies a ca'
Syne bauldly in she enters:
A ratton rattled up the wa',
And she cried, Lord, preserve her!
And ran through midden-hole and a',
And pray'd wi' zeal and fervour,
Fu' fast that night;

They hoy't out Will wi' sair advice;
They hecht him some fine braw ane;
It chanced the stack he faddom'd thrice
Was timmer-propt for thrawin';
He taks a swirlie, auld moss-oak,
For some black grousome carlin;
And loot a winze, and drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin'
Aff's nieves that night.

A wanton widow Leezie was,
As canty as a kittlin;
But, och! that night amang the shaws,
She got a fearfu' settlin'!
She through the whins, and by the cairn,
And owre the hill gaed scrievin,
Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn
To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
Was bent that night.

Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
As through the glen it wimpl't;
Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazel,
Unseen that night.

Among the brackens, on the brae,
Between her and the moon,
The deil, or else an outler quey,
Gat up and gae a croon:
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool!
Near lav'rock-height she jumpit;
but mist a fit, and in the pool
Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
Wi' a plunge that night.

In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The luggies three are ranged,
And every time great care is ta'en',
To see them duly changed:
Auld Uncle John, wha wedlock joys
Sin' Mar's year did desire,
Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heaved them on the fire
In wrath that night.

Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks,
I wat they didna weary;
And unco tales, and funny jokes,
Their sports were cheap and cheery;
Till butter'd so'ns, wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin';
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
They parted aff careerin'
Fu' blythe that night.

^{translated from the Spanish by Ida Farnell}

Hail to thee Sun! Oh, list and stay thy course!
To thee in ecstasy I make my prayer,
The while my soul, aglow with fire like thine,
Uplifts her wings and boldly cleaves the air,
To pay her tribute to thy power divine.
Oh, that this voice of mine in wondrous wise,
Rending the clouds asunder.
To thee, great Sun, might rise,
Drowning with words sublime the dreaded thunder,
And, in the heavens’ blue vault,
Bidding thee in thy mighty journey halt!

Oh, that the inner flame which lights the mind
Would lend its virtue to my feeble sight,
So that no longer with thy beams made blind
Mine eager eyes I might undazzled raise.
And on thy radiant face, divinely bright,
Might even dare to rest my constant gaze!
How I have ever loved thee, glorious Sun!
A child, with wondering eyes.
My life but just begun,
How oft I longed to reach thee in the skies;
And on what rapture fed
As thy great chariot on its pathway sped!

From where the Orient rears his golden crest,
Whose borders Ocean girds with many a pearl,
E’en to the limits of the shadowy West
The dazzling hem of thy bright garment gleams,
And thou thy shining banner dost unfurl.
And bathest all the world in thy pure streams.
From thy broad brow the light of day thou sendest,
Great source of life and seat,
And of thy calm, majestic disk thou lendest
The fertilizing heat,
Amid the spheres on high
Rising triumphant in the azure sky.

Calmly thou scal’st the Zenith’s golden height,
In Heaven’s high hall enthroned supreme thou reignest,
And there with living flames and splendour dight,
Thy fiery steeds thou reinest.
From thence full speedily thy way thou takest,
Till down the steep incline
Thy rich and trailing locks of gold thou shakest
On Ocean’s heaving, tremulous floor of brine;
Then in deep, watery bowers
Thy glory dies away,
And one more day Eternity devours.

What ages, Sun, what ages hast thou seen,
Thus swallowed by the gulf no plummet measures,
What mighty nations, what imperial pride,
What pomp and splendour, and what heaped up treasures!
’Fore thee, what were they? Leaves blown far and wide
From the great forest—withered, light and sear,
Eddying, all tempest-tossed,
Till the blast drove them hence, and they were lost.

And thou, alone from wrath divine exempt,
Hast seen submerged all the sinful world,
When driving rains were by Jehovah poured
On man and beast; the pent up winds were hurled
O’er heaving seas, and loud the billows roared;
From rifted cloud the deafening thunder pealed
In dreadful menace; and in anguished throes
The Earth upon her diamond axle swayed;
O’er hill and plain uprose
One huge, tumultuous sea—a watery grave.
Trembled the mighty deep,
While thou, our lord, as one awake from sleep,
Above the stormy waste didst build thy throne.
Robed in funereal black,
With face that darkly gleams,
Till on new worlds thou sendest healing beams.

And wilt thou ever see
The ages rise and fall, and yield their place
In never-ending change like restless waves,
That, hurrying o’er the Ocean, crowd and break,
Recede, then sweep along in their fierce chase?
Whilst thou, O Sun, triumphant and sublime,
In lonely splendour dwellst,
Eternal witness of the march of time.

And wilt thou unextinguished thus abide,
And will thy giant furnace burn for aye,
Its fierceness unconsumed? Wilt thou, O’ Sun,
Thus proudly through the heavens go thy way,
Watching the myriad ages wax and wane,
And be alone eternally unmoved,
Holding for ever undisputed reign?
Not so—The Conqueror, Death,
Albeit in hour unknown,
Will overtake and claim thee for his own.
Perchance, who knows? Thou art but some poor spark
Of sun more vast, that on another world
Greater than ours, with light yet more divine,
And splendour unimagined once did shine!

Rejoice then, Sun, in this thy strength and youth.
For, when the dreaded day draws nigh at last,
The day when thou from thy great throne wilt fall,
(Loosed from the mighty hands
Of Him that all commands,)
And in eternity shalt hide thy Ball,
In thousand fragments shattered, wrecked and torn.
Immersed in seas of fire,
Thy course accomplished, and thy strength outworn,
Then thy pure flame in darkness, of a truth,
Will wholly cease, thy glory be o’erpast,
Shrouded for ever by the pall of night,
No vestige left of thy refulgent light.

Al Sol: Himno

Pára y óyeme, ¡ oh Sol! yo te saludo
Y extático ante ti me atrevo a hablarte:
Ardiente como tú mi fantasía,
Arrebatada en ansia de admirarte,
Intrépidas a ti sus alas guía.
¡Ojalá que mi acento poderoso,
Sublime resonado,
Del trueno pavoroso
La temerosa voz sobrepujando,
¡Oh Sol! a ti llegara
Y en medio de tu curso te parara!
¡Ah! si la llama que mi mente alumbra,
Diera también su ardor a mis sentidos,
Al rayo vencedor que los deslumbra,
Los anhelantes ojos alzaría,
Y en tu semblante fúlgido atrevidos
Mirando sin cesar los fijaría.
¡Cuánto siempre te amé, Sol refulgente!
¡Con qué sencillo anhelo,
Siendo niño inocente,
Seguirte ansiaba en el tendido cielo,
Y extático te vía
Y en contemplar tu luz me embebecía!
De los dorados límites de Oriente,
Que ciñe el rico en perlas Océano,
Al término sombroso de Occidente
Las orlas de tu ardiente vestidura
Tiendes en pompa, augusto soberano,
Y el mundo bañas en tu lumbre pura.
Vívido lanzas de tu frente el día,
Y, alma y vida del mundo,
Tu disco en paz majestuoso envía
Plácido ardor fecundo,
Y te elevas triunfante,
Corona de los orbes centellantes.
Tranquilo subes del Cenit dorado
Al regio trono en la mitad del cielo,
De vivas llamas y esplendor ornado,
Y desde allí tu fúlgida carrera
Rápido precipitas,
Y tu rica, encendida cabellera
En el seno del mar trémula agitas,
Y tu esplendor se oculta,
Y el ya pasado día
Con otros mil la eternidad sepulta.
¡Cuántos siglos sin fin, cuántos has visto
En su abismo insondable desplomarse!
¡Cuánta pompa, grandeza y poderío
De imperios populosos disiparse!
¿Qué fueron ante ti? Del bosque umbrío
Secas y leves hojas desprendidas,
Que en círculos se mecen,
Y al furor de Aquilón desaparecen.
Libre tú de la cólera divina,
Viste anegarse el universo entero
Cuando las aguas por Jehová lanzadas,
Impelidas del brazo justiciero,
Y a mares por los vientos despeñadas,
Bramó la tempestad: retumbó en torno
El ronco trueno y con temblor crujieron
Los ejes de diamante de la tierra:
Montes y campos fueron
Alborotado mar, tumba del hombre.
Se estremeció el profund;
Y entonces tú como Señor del mundo
Sobre la tempestad tu trono alzabas,
Vestido de tinieblas,
Y tu faz engreías
Y a otros mundos en paz resplandecías.
Y otra vez nuevos siglos
Viste llegar, huir, desvanecerse
En remolino eterno, cual las olas
Llegan, se agolpan y huyen de Océano,
Y tornan otra vez a sucederse;
Mientra inmutable tú, solo y radiante
¡Oh Sol! siempre te elevas,
Y edades mil y mil huellas triunfantes.
¿Y habrás de ser eterno, inextinguible,
Sin que nunca jamás tu inmensa hoguera
Pierda su resplandor, siempre incansable,
Audaz siguiendo tu inmortal carrera,
Hundirse las edades contemplando,
Y solo, eterno, perenal, sublime,
Monarca poderoso dominando?
No; que también la muerte
Si de lejos te sigue,
No menos anhelante te persigue.
¿Quién sabe si tal vez pobre destello?
Eres tú de otro sol que otro universo
Mayor que el nuestro un día
Con doble resplandor esclarecía.
Goza tu juventud y tu hermosura
¡Oh Sol! que cuando el pavoroso día
Llegue que el orbe estalle y se desprenda
De la potente mano
Del Padre Soberano,
Y allá a la eternidad también descienda
Deshecho en mil pedazos, destrozado
Y en piélagos de fuego
Envuelto para siempre y sepultado:
De cien tormentas al horrible estruendo,
En tinieblas sin fin tu llama pura
Entonces morirá: noche sombría
Cubrirá eterna la celeste cumbre:
Ni aun quedará reliquia de tu lumbre!