However, I went round to the front of the school-master’s house, and reviewed them in the distance, and, the night being dark, the idea struck me if I could manage to get away from their sight they would give up the chase, and go home to Lochee without satisfying their evil intentions. Well, my friends, the plan I adopted was by lowering my body slowly downwards until my knees were touching the ground, and, in that position, I remained for a few seconds; then I threw myself flat on my face on the road, and I remained in that way watching them in the greatest fear imaginable. But, thank God, the plan I adopted had the desired effect of saving me from being robbed, or perhaps murdered. Then I thought it advisable to go home by Birkhill, for fear of meeting the eight poachers or prowlers again. And when I arrived at Birkhill I resolved to go home by passing through Lord Duncan’s woods. I considered it would be safer doing so than by going home the way the poachers had gone, and, just as I made my entry into Lord Duncan’s woods, I began to sing –
Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale,
Yet will I fear none ill,
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still.
So, my dear readers, I arrived safe home, and thanked God for delivering me from the hands of evil-doers, as He has done on all occasions.
TRIBUTE FROM THREE STUDENTS AT GLASGOW UNIVERSITY
The University,
Glasgow, February 1891.
To WILLIAM MCGONAGALL,
Poet and Tragedian,
City of Dundee.
Dear Sir, – We, the undersigned, beg to send you herewith an Ode we have composed in your honour. We have had the extreme pleasure of reading your “Poetic Gems,” and have embodied our sentiments in the poem referred to. We do not hope to receive a very favourable criticism upon our small effort, but as young men desirous to imitate the master of poetic art we have discovered in you, we trust you will be as lenient as possible with your enthusiastic disciples. We do not wish to rival your splendid achievements, as that would be as presumptuous as it would be futile, but if we can, afar off, emulate the performances of the poet of Dundee, or in a remote way catch any of his inspiration, our reward will be truly great. We beg, therefore, that you will write us, and inform us what you think of our poem. You might also reply, as far as you are able, to the following questions:
I. What grammar would you recommend as a preliminary study to the writing of poetry?
II. Is a College education an aid to write poetry, and what University would you recommend?
III. Is the most intellectual benefit to be derived from a study of the McGonagallian or Shakespearian school of poetry?
IV. Does your own success in the realms of poetry enable you to estimate what special capacity any of us may have for lyric poetry or the drama?
V. Would you recommend any of us to try our chance at the histronic art: and if not, why not? Is Macbeth or Richard III the best character to take up?
VI. Would you recommend us to write direct to the Queen as a patron of poetry; or should we go to Balmoral to see her there?
VII. What chances do you consider we have in knocking out Tennyson as Poet Laureate?
VIII. If we should resolve upon going to Balmoral, which route would you recommend? Also name any “models” that may be known to you in that direction; stating landlady’s name, and if married or single.
We are, your admiring followers,
HENRY JOHN MACDONALD.
A. F. CAMPBELL.
S. DONALD STEWART.
ODE TO WILLIAM McGONAGALL
POET AND TRAGEDIAN, DUNDEE
Among the poets of the present day
There is no one on earth who can possibly be able for to gainsay
But that William McGonagall, poet and tragedian,
Is truly the greatest poet that was ever found above or below the meridian.
’Twas in year ’91, in the first month of spring,
On a very cold night, and the frost in full swing,
I met my friend Mactavish walking along the street,
And he gave me your “Poetic Gems” for to read them as a treat.
I took them home, and read them, and exclaimed,
Eureka! Eureka! McGonagall I proclaim
To have the deepest insight into human nature of any man I know,
As the reading of his “Gems” doth most emphatically show.
He reaches with poetic power the higher flights of song,
And like the eagle near the clouds, he soars serene and strong;
No common fowl is he, to roost on fence or crow about a barn,
He warbles sweet his wood-notes wild, and tell no common “yarn.”
A better poet was never seen in the city of Dundee at any time,
And never again shall be, as far as I can see in the meantime:
His poem on the Tay Bridge is most beautiful to be read,
As I found by reading it one cold night before I went to bed.
Also his poem about the Emperor of Germany’s funeral is the work of a master-mind,
And rivals in merit the greatest plays that the “Bard of
Avon” left behind, And it will be read when Milton’s “Paradise Lost” is totally forgotten,
And all other poetic gems save those of William McGonagall are rotten.
But not till then will the world ever come to see
The wealth and beauty of the “Poetic Gems” of McGonagall, poet and tragedian, of Dundee;
And though his book can now be bought at the modest price of a shilling,
You can never get anywhere, at any price, a product quite so thrilling.
At the beginning of the volume is to be seen the classic head
Of the greatest tragedian that ever the boards did tread,
For to act the Thane of Fife, or discourse with spirits from beneath,
And cry in tones of thunder: “Command! they stand upon the heath.”
Also his ode on the death of George Gilfillan
Shows that he was a true gentleman and no villain;
His poem on the funeral of the illustrous Prince Leopold
Would also make any one weep for to behold.
Any one who would read his lines on Queen Victoria
Would never again be troubled with melancholia,
Because she has been a good Queen, and by no means bad,
Which, if she were, would indeed be sad.
And though she did not receive McGonagall at her castle of Balmoral
The wreath that binds the poet’s brow should be something more than floral, –
A wreath that will flourish evergreen in all the coming time,
When the name of the great McGonagall shall be known from clime to clime.
They will one day yet rear him monuments of brass, and weep upon his grave,
Though when he was living they would hardly have given him the price of a shave;
But his peerless, priceless “Poetic Gems” will settle once for all
The claim to immortality of William McGonagall.
TRIBUTE FROM ZULULAND
The Royal Scots, Fort Curtis, Eokowe,
Zululand, 26th January 1891.
Poet McGonagall, – I received a copy of your poems recently from home, and take the first opportunity of congratulating you on the production of such a splendid work. Your poems show a taste not to be met with in many of the writings of the present age, and one can only wonder how you could have produced such a selection of poems, commencing as you did at such a late stage in life. I lent your book to a large number of my friends in the regiment who hail both from England and Scotland, and they one and all assert that it surpasses, in tone and clearness of expression, any of the writings of the so-called “poets” of the present day. I am confident your book would command an extraordinary sale if you arranged for its being sent out to the Cape or Natal Colonies, wherein so many well-known men reside who hail from the “land o’ cakes.” In Kimberley your work is extensively read and highly appreciated, but it is mainly obtained from friends at home, and not from local publishers. Trusting you may enjoy many years of excellent health, so as you can give us yet another proof of your poetical abilities, I remain, your sincere well-wisher.
FRED. ROLLO, 1st Royal Scots.
TESTIMONIALS
We willingly certify that the bearer, Mr William McGonagall, has considerable ability in recitation. We have heard him recite some passages from Shakespeare with great force; and are of opinion that he is quite competent to read or recite passages from the poets and orators in villages and country towns with pleasure and profit to his audience. We also believe him to be a respectable man.
ISLAY BURNS, Minister of St. Peter’s F.
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