Neglected, dying in despair, They lay till woman came To soothe them with her gentle care, And feed life's flickering flame. When wounded sore, on fever's rack, Or cast away as slain, She called their fluttering spirits back And gave them strength again. 'Twas grief to miss the passing face That suffering could dispel; But joy to turn and kiss the place On which her shadow fell.[4]
When words of wrath profaning rung, She moved with pitying grace; Her presence still'd the wildest tongue, And holy[5] made the place. They knew that they were cared for then, Their eyes forgot their tears; In dreamy sleep they lost their pain, And thought of early years-- Of early years, when all was fair, Of faces sweet and pale. They woke: the angel bending there Was--Florence Nightingale!
[4] She would speak to one and to another, and nod and smile to many more, but she could not do it to all; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on the pillow again, content.--_Soldier's Letter from the Crimea._
[5] "Before she came there was cussin' and swearin', but after that it was as holy as a church."--_Ibid._
The writer of several good songs, which have been published with music, Joseph Macgregor, followed the profession of an accountant in Edinburgh. Expert as a man of business, he negotiated the arrangement of the city affairs at the period of the municipal bankruptcy. A zealous member of the Liberal party, he took a prominent interest in the Reform Bill movement, and afterwards afforded valuable assistance in the election of Francis Jeffrey as one of the representatives of the city in Parliament. He latterly occupied Ramsay Lodge, the residence of the poet Allan Ramsay, where he died about the year 1845, at a somewhat advanced age. The following songs from his pen are published by the kind permission of Messrs Robertson & Co., musicsellers, Edinburgh.
Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery, When love's star was smilin', I met wi' my dearie; Ah! vain was its smilin'--she wadna believe me, But said wi' a saucy air, "Laddie, oh! leave me; Leave me, leave me, laddie, oh! leave me."
"I 've lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie, I 've lo'ed thee o'er fondly, through life e'er to weary, I 've lo'ed thee o'er lang, love, at last to deceive thee; Look cauldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee;" Leave thee, leave thee, &c.