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- Джон Бакен
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- Стр. 34/195
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The
frost
declined
in
mid
-
March
,
there
was
a
fortnight
of
weeping
thaw
and
a
week
of
bitter
east
winds
,
and
then
in
a
single
night
came
a
south
wind
and
spring
blew
up
the
glens
.
Isobel
chased
the
minister
from
his
books
.
"
Awa
’
to
the
hill
like
a
man
,
and
rax
[
stretch
]
your
legs
.
Ye
’
ve
had
a
sair
winter
,
and
your
face
is
like
a
dish
-
clout
.
Awa
’
and
snowk
up
the
caller
air
.
"
David
went
out
to
the
moors
,
and
on
the
summit
of
the
Hill
of
Deer
had
a
prospect
of
the
countryside
,
the
contours
sharp
in
the
clear
April
light
,
and
colour
stealing
back
after
the
grey
of
winter
.
The
Wood
of
Melanudrigill
seemed
to
have
crowded
together
again
,
and
to
have
regained
its
darkness
,
but
there
was
as
yet
no
mystery
in
its
shadows
.
The
hill
itself
was
yellow
like
old
velvet
,
but
green
was
mantling
beside
the
brimming
streams
.
The
birches
were
still
only
a
pale
vapour
,
but
there
were
buds
on
the
saughs
and
the
hazels
.
Remnants
of
old
drifts
lay
behind
the
dykes
,
and
on
the
Lammerlaw
there
was
a
great
field
of
snow
,
but
the
breeze
blew
soft
and
the
crying
of
curlews
and
plovers
told
of
the
spring
.
Up
on
Windyways
and
at
the
back
of
Reiverslaw
the
heather
was
burning
,
and
spirals
of
blue
smoke
rose
to
the
pale
skies
.
The
sight
was
a
revelation
to
a
man
to
whom
spring
had
come
hitherto
in
the
narrow
streets
of
Edinburgh
.
He
had
a
fancy
that
life
was
beating
furiously
under
the
brown
earth
,
and
that
he
was
in
the
presence
of
a
miracle
.
His
youth
,
long
frosted
by
winter
,
seemed
to
return
to
him
and
his
whole
being
to
thaw
.
Almost
shamefacedly
he
acknowledged
an
uplift
of
spirit
.
The
smoke
from
the
moorburn
was
like
the
smoke
of
sacrifice
on
ancient
altars
-
-
innocent
sacrifice
from
kindly
altars
.
That
night
in
his
study
he
found
that
he
could
not
bring
his
mind
to
his
commentary
on
the
prophet
Isaiah
.
His
thoughts
ranged
on
other
things
,
and
he
would
fain
have
opened
his
Virgil
.
But
,
since
these
evening
hours
were
dedicate
to
theology
,
he
compromised
with
Clement
of
Alexandria
,
and
read
again
the
passage
where
that
father
of
the
Church
becomes
a
poet
and
strives
to
mingle
the
classic
and
the
Christian
.
-
-
"
This
is
the
Mountain
beloved
of
God
,
not
a
place
of
tragedies
like
Cithæron
,
but
consecrate
to
the
dramas
of
truth
,
a
mount
of
temperance
shaded
with
the
groves
of
purity
And
there
revel
on
it
not
the
Mænads
,
sisters
of
Semele
the
thunderstruck
,
initiate
in
the
impure
feast
of
flesh
,
but
God
’
s
daughters
,
fair
Lambs
who
celebrate
the
holy
rites
of
the
Word
,
chanting
soberly
in
chorus
.
"
In
these
days
his
sermons
changed
.
He
no
longer
hammered
subtle
chains
of
doctrine
,
but
forsook
his
"
ordinary
,
"
and
preached
to
the
hearts
of
the
people
.
Woodilee
was
in
turn
mystified
,
impressed
,
and
disquieted
.
One
bright
afternoon
he
discoursed
on
thankfulness
and
the
praise
due
to
God
.
"
Praise
Him
,
"
he
cried
,
"
if
you
have
no
more
,
for
this
good
day
and
sunshine
to
the
lambs
.
"
"
Heard
ye
ever
the
like
?
"
said
Mirehope
at
the
kirk
door
.
"
What
concern
has
Jehovah
wi
’
our
lambin
’
?
"
