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diff --git a/old/22515-8.txt b/old/22515-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..271e832 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/22515-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,66021 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes I-VI., by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes I-VI. + The Songs of Scotland of the Past Half Century + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 5, 2007 [EBook #22515] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. I. + + +THE AULD HOUSE O' GASK. +_THE BIRTH PLACE OF LADY NAIRN._ +_(Copied by permission of Patterson & Sons)_ + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +SIR WALTER SCOTT BART. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + + +IN SIX VOLUMES; + +VOL. I. + + +EDINBURGH: + +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +M.DCCC.LV. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +WILLIAM STIRLING, ESQ. OF KEIR, M.P., + +AN ENLIGHTENED SENATOR, AN ACCOMPLISHED SCHOLAR, AND AN INGENIOUS POET, + +THIS FIRST VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS, + +WITH HIS KIND PERMISSION, MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, + +BY + +HIS VERY OBEDIENT, FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Scotland has probably produced a more patriotic and more extended +minstrelsy than any other country in the world. Those Caledonian +harp-strains, styled by Sir Walter Scott "gems of our own mountains," +have frequently been gathered into caskets of national song, but have +never been stored in any complete cabinet; while no attempt has been +made, at least on an ample scale, to adapt, by means of suitable +metrical translations, the minstrelsy of the Gaël for Lowland melody. +The present work has been undertaken with the view of supplying these +deficiencies, and with the further design of extending the fame of those +cultivators of Scottish song--hitherto partially obscured by untoward +circumstances, or on account of their own diffidence--and of affording a +stimulus towards the future cultivation of national poetry. + +The plan of the work is distinct from that of every previous collection +of Scottish song--the more esteemed lyrical compositions of the various +bards being printed along with the memoirs of the respective authors, +while the names of the poets have been arranged in chronological order. +Those have been considered as _modern_ whose lives extend into the past +half-century; and the whole of these have consequently been included in +the work. Several Highland bards who died a short period before the +commencement of the century have, however, been introduced. Of all the +Scottish poets, whether lyrical or otherwise, who survived the period +indicated, biographical sketches will be supplied in the course of the +publication, together with memoirs of the principal modern collectors, +composers and vocalists. The memoirs, so far as is practicable, will be +prepared from original materials, of which the Editor, after a very +extensive correspondence, has obtained a supply more ample and more +interesting than, he flatters himself, has ever been attained by any +collector of northern minstrelsy. The work will extend to six volumes, +each of the subsequent volumes being accompanied by a dissertation on a +distinct department of Scottish poetry and song. Each volume will be +illustrated with two elegant engravings. In the course of the work, many +original compositions will be presented, recovered from the MSS. of the +deceased poets, or contributed by distinguished living bards. + +For the department of the "Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy," the Editor has +obtained the assistance of a learned friend, intimately familiar with +the language and poetry of the Highlands. To this esteemed co-adjutor +the reader is indebted for the revisal of the Gaelic department of this +work, as well as for the following prefatory observations on the +subject:-- + + "Among the intelligent natives of the Highlands, it is well known + that the Gaelic language contains a quantity of poetry, which, how + difficult soever to transfuse into other tongues and idioms, never + fails to touch the heart, and excite enthusiastic feelings. The + plan of 'The Modern Scottish Minstrel' restricts us to a period + less favourable to the inspirations of the Celtic muse than remoter + times. If it is asked, What could be gained by recurring to a more + distant period? or what this unlettered people have really to shew + for their bardic pretensions? we answer, that there is extant a + large and genuine collection of Highland minstrelsy, ranging over a + long exciting period, from the days of Harlaw to the expedition of + Charles Edward. The 'Prosnachadh Catha,' or battle-song, that led + on the raid of Donald the Islander on the Garioch, is still sung; + the 'Woes of the Children of the Mist' are yet rehearsed in the + ears of their children in the most plaintive measures. Innerlochy + and Killiecrankie have their appropriate melodies; Glencoe has its + dirge; both the exiled Jameses have their pæan and their lament; + Charles Edward his welcome and his wail;--all in strains so varied, + and with imagery so copious, that their repetition is continually + called for, and their interest untiring. + + "All that we have to offer belongs to recent times; but we cannot + aver that the merit of the verses is inferior. The interest of the + subjects is certainly immeasurably less; but, perhaps, not less + propitious to the lilts and the luinneags, in which, as in her + music and imitative dancing, the Highland border has found her best + Lowland acceptation. + + "We are not aware that we need except any piece, out of the more + ancient class, that seems not to admit of being rivalled by some of + the compositions of Duncan Ban (Macintyre), Rob Donn, and a few + others that come into our own series, if we exclude the pathetic + 'Old Bard's Wish,' 'The Song of the Owl,' and, perhaps, Ian Lom's + 'Innerlochy.' + + "But, while this may be so far satisfactory to our readers, we are + under the necessity of claiming their charitable forbearance for + the strangers of the mountain whom we are to introduce to their + acquaintance. The language, and, in some respects, the imagery and + versification, are as foreign to the usages of the Anglo-Saxon as + so many samples of Orientalism. The transfusion of the Greek and + Latin choral metres is a light effort to the difficulty of + imitating the rhythm, or representing the peculiar vein of these + song-enamoured mountaineers. Those who know how a favourite ode of + Horace, or a lay of Catullus, is made to look, except in mere + paraphrase, must not talk of the poorness or triteness of the + Highlander's verses, till they are enabled to do them justice by a + knowledge of the language. We disdain any attempt to make those + bards sing in the mere English taste, even if we could so translate + them as to make them speak or sing better than they do. The fear of + his sarcasms prevented Dr Johnson from hearing one literal version + during his whole sojourn in the Highlands. Sir Walter Scott wished + that somebody might have the manliness to recover Highland poetry + from the mystification of paraphrase or imposture, and to present + it genuine to the English reader. In that spirit we promise to + execute our task; and we shall rejoice if even a very moderate + degree of success should attend our endeavours to obtain for the + sister muse some share of that popularity to which we believe her + entitled." + +In respect of the present volume of "The Modern Scottish Minstrel," the +Editor has to congratulate himself on his being enabled to present, for +the first time in a popular form, the more esteemed lays of Carolina, +Baroness Nairn, author of "The Laird o' Cockpen," "The Land o' the +Leal," and a greater number of popular lyrics than any other Caledonian +bard, Burns alone excepted. Several pieces of this accomplished lady, +not previously published, have been introduced, through the kindness of +her surviving friends. The memoir of the Baroness has been prepared from +original documents entrusted to the Editor. For permission to engrave +"The Auld House o' Gask," Lady Nairn's birth-place, the Editor's thanks +are due to Mr Paterson, music-seller in Edinburgh. + +While the present volume of "The Modern Scottish Minstrel" is offered to +the public with becoming diffidence, the Editor is not without a faint +ray of hope that, if health and sufficient leisure are afforded him, the +present publication may be found the most ample and satisfactory +repository of national song which has at any period been offered to the +public. + + ARGYLE HOUSE, STIRLING, + _April 18, 1855._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +JOHN SKINNER, 1 + Tullochgorum, 11 + John o' Badenyon, 13 + The ewie wi' the crookit horn, 17 + O! why should old age so much wound us? 20 + Still in the wrong, 22 + Lizzy Liberty, 24 + The stipendless parson, 28 + The man of Ross, 31 + A song on the times, 33 + +WILLIAM CAMERON, 35 + As o'er the Highland hills I hied, 37 + +MRS JOHN HUNTER, 39 + The Indian death-song, 41 + My mother bids me bind my hair, 41 + The flowers of the forest, 42 + The season comes when first we met, 43 + Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore, 44 + Dear to my heart as life's warm stream, 44 + The lot of thousands, 45 + +ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON, 46 + Cauld kail in Aberdeen, 48 + +MRS GRANT OF CARRON, 50 + Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, 52 + +ROBERT COUPER, M.D., 53 + Kinrara, 55 + The sheeling, 55 + The ewe-bughts, Marion, 56 + +LADY ANNE BARNARD, 58 + Auld Robin Gray, 64 + " " Part II., 65 + Why tarries my love? 68 + +JOHN TAIT, 70 + The banks of the Dee, 72 + +HECTOR MACNEILL, 73 + Mary of Castlecary, 82 + My boy, Tammy, 83 + Oh, tell me how for to woo, 85 + Lassie wi' the gowden hair, 87 + Come under my plaidie, 89 + I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, 90 + Donald and Flora, 92 + My luve's in Germany, 95 + Dinna think, bonnie lassie, 96 + +MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN, 99 + Oh, where, tell me where? 104 + Oh, my love, leave me not, 106 + +JOHN MAYNE, 107 + Logan braes, 110 + Helen of Kirkconnel, 111 + The winter sat lang, 113 + My Johnnie, 114 + The troops were embarked, 115 + +JOHN HAMILTON, 117 + The rantin' Highlandman, 118 + Up in the mornin' early, 119 + Go to Berwick, Johnnie, 121 + Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff, 121 + Tell me, Jessie, tell me why? 122 + The hawthorn, 123 + Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds! 124 + +JOANNA BAILLIE, 126 + The maid of Llanwellyn, 132 + Good night, good night! 133 + Though richer swains thy love pursue, 134 + Poverty parts good companie, 134 + Fy, let us a' to the wedding, 136 + Hooly and fairly, 139 + The weary pund o' tow, 141 + The wee pickle tow, 142 + The gowan glitters on the sward, 143 + Saw ye Johnnie comin'? 145 + It fell on a morning, 146 + Woo'd, and married, and a', 148 + +WILLIAM DUDGEON, 151 + Up among yon cliffy rocks, 152 + +WILLIAM REID, 153 + The lea rig, 154 + John Anderson, my jo (a continuation), 155 + Fair, modest flower, 157 + Kate o' Gowrie, 157 + Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde, 159 + +ALEXANDER CAMPBELL, 161 + Now winter's wind sweeps, 165 + The hawk whoops on high, 166 + +MRS DUGALD STEWART, 167 + The tears I shed must ever fall, 168 + Returning spring, with gladsome ray, 169 + +ALEXANDER WILSON, 172 + Connel and Flora, 179 + Matilda, 179 + Auchtertool, 182 + +CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN, 184 + The ploughman, 194 + Caller herrin', 195 + The land o' the leal, 196 + The Laird o' Cockpen, 198 + Her home she is leaving, 200 + The bonniest lass in a' the warld, 201 + My ain kind dearie, O! 202 + He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, 202 + Joy of my earliest days, 203 + Oh, weel's me on my ain man, 204 + Kind Robin lo'es me 205 + Kitty Reid's house, 205 + The robin's nest, 206 + Saw ye nae my Peggy? 208 + Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'! 209 + Cauld kail in Aberdeen, 210 + He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, 211 + The lass o' Gowrie, 213 + There grows a bonnie brier bush, 215 + John Tod, 216 + Will ye no come back again? 218 + Jamie the laird, 219 + Songs of my native land, 220 + Castell Gloom, 221 + Bonnie Gascon Ha', 223 + The auld house, 224 + The hundred pipers, 226 + The women are a' gane wud, 227 + Jeanie Deans, 228 + The heiress, 230 + The mitherless lammie, 231 + The attainted Scottish nobles, 232 + True love is watered aye wi' tears, 233 + Ah, little did my mother think, 234 + Would you be young again? 235 + Rest is not here, 236 + Here's to them that are gane, 237 + Farewell, O farewell! 238 + The dead who have died in the Lord, 239 + +JAMES NICOL, 240 + Blaw saftly, ye breezes, 242 + By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 242 + Haluckit Meg, 244 + My dear little lassie, 246 + +JAMES MONTGOMERY, 247 + "Friendship, love, and truth," 253 + The Swiss cowherd's song in a foreign land, 254 + German war-song, 254 + Via Crucis, via Lucis, 255 + Verses to a robin-redbreast, 257 + Slavery that was, 258 + +ANDREW SCOTT, 260 + Rural content, or the muirland farmer, 263 + Symon and Janet, 265 + Coquet water, 268 + The young maid's wish for peace, 269 + The fiddler's widow, 271 + Lament for the death of an Irish chief, 272 + The departure of summer, 273 + +SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART., 275 + It was an English ladye bright, 289 + Lochinvar, 290 + Where shall the lover rest, 292 + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 294 + Hail to the chief who in triumph advances, 295 + The heath this night must be my bed, 297 + The imprisoned huntsman, 298 + He is gone on the mountain, 299 + A weary lot is thine, fair maid, 300 + Allen-a-Dale, 300 + The cypress wreath, 302 + The cavalier, 303 + Hunting song, 304 + Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air, 315 + + * * * * * + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + +ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN), 309 + The song of winter, 311 + Dirge for Ian Macechan, 315 + The song of the forsaken drover, 315 + Isabel Mackay--the maid alone, 318 + Evan's Elegy, 321 + +DOUGAL BUCHANAN, 322 + A clagionn--the skull, 326 + Am bruadar--the dream, 330 + +DUNCAN MACINTYRE, 334 + Mairi bhan og (Mary, the young, the fair-haired), 335 + Bendourain, the Otter Mount, 336 + The bard to his musket, 347 + +JOHN MACODRUM, 351 + Oran na h-aois (the song of age), 352 + +NORMAN MACLEOD (TORMAID BAN), 355 + Caberfae, 357 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 363 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL + + + + +JOHN SKINNER. + + +Among those modern Scottish poets whose lives, by extending to a +considerably distant period, render them connecting links between the +old and recent minstrelsy of Caledonia, the first place is due to the +Rev. John Skinner. This ingenious and learned person was born on the 3d +of October 1721, at Balfour, in the parish of Birse, and county of +Aberdeen. His father, who bore the same Christian name, was parochial +schoolmaster; but two years after his son's birth, he was presented to +the more lucrative situation of schoolmaster of Echt, a parish about +twelve miles distant from Aberdeen. He discharged the duties of this +latter appointment during the long incumbency of fifty years. He was +twice married. By his first union with Mrs Jean Gillanders, the relict +of Donald Farquharson of Balfour, was born an only child, the subject of +this memoir. The mother dying when the child was only two years old, the +charge of his early training depended solely on his father, who for +several years remained a widower. The paternal duties were adequately +performed: the son, while a mere youth, was initiated in classical +learning, and in his thirteenth year he became a successful competitor +for a bursary or exhibition in Marischal College, Aberdeen. At the +University, during the usual philosophical course of four years, he +pursued his studies with diligence and success; and he afterwards became +an usher in the parish schools of Kemnay and Monymusk. + +From early youth, young Skinner had courted the Muse of his country, and +composed verses in the Scottish dialect. When a mere stripling, he could +repeat, which he did with enthusiasm, the long poem by James I. of +"Christ-kirk on the Green;" he afterwards translated it into Latin +verse; and an imitation of the same poem, entitled "The Monymusk +Christmas Ba'ing," descriptive of the diversions attendant on the annual +Christmas gatherings for playing the game of foot-ball at Monymusk, +which he composed in his sixteenth year, attracting the notice of the +lady of Sir Archibald Grant, Bart. of Monymusk, brought him the favour +of that influential family. Though the humble usher of a parish school, +he was honoured with the patronage of the worthy baronet and his lady, +became an inmate of their mansion, and had the uncontrolled use of its +library. The residence of the poet in Monymusk House indirectly conduced +towards his forming those ecclesiastical sentiments which exercised such +an important influence on his subsequent career. The Episcopal clergyman +of the district was frequently a guest at the table of Sir Archibald; +and by the arguments and persuasive conversation of this person, Mr +Skinner was induced to enlist his sympathies in the cause of the +Episcopal or non-juring clergy of Scotland. They bore the latter +appellation from their refusal, during the existence of the exiled +family of Stewart, to take the oath of allegiance to the House of +Hanover. In 1740, on the invitation of Mr Robert Forbes, Episcopal +minister at Leith, afterwards a bishop, Mr Skinner, in the capacity of +private tutor to the only son of Mr Sinclair of Scolloway, proceeded to +Zetland, where he acquired the intimate friendship of the Rev. Mr +Hunter, the only non-juring clergyman in that remote district. There he +remained only one year, owing to the death of the elder Mr Sinclair, and +the removal of his pupil to pursue his studies in a less retired +locality. He lamented the father's death in Latin, as well as in English +verse. He left Scolloway with the best wishes of the family; and as a +substantial proof of the goodwill of his friend Mr Hunter, he received +in marriage the hand of his eldest daughter. + +Returning to Aberdeenshire, he was ordained a presbyter of the Episcopal +Church, by Bishop Dunbar of Peterhead; and in November 1742, on the +unanimous invitation of the people, he was appointed to the pastoral +charge of the congregation at Longside. Uninfluenced by the soarings of +ambition, he seems to have fixed here, at the outset, a permanent +habitation: he rented a cottage at Linshart in the vicinity, which, +though consisting only of a single apartment, besides the kitchen, +sufficed for the expenditure of his limited emoluments. In every respect +he realised Goldsmith's description of the village pastor:-- + + "A man he was to all the country dear, + And passing rich with forty pounds a-year; + Remote from towns he ran his godly race, + Nor e'er had changed, nor wish'd to change his place." + +Secluded, however, as were Mr Skinner's habits, and though he never had +interfered in the political movements of the period, he did not escape +his share in those ruthless severities which were visited upon the +non-juring clergy subsequent to the last Rebellion. His chapel was +destroyed by the soldiers of the barbarous Duke of Cumberland; and, on +the plea of his having transgressed the law by preaching to more than +four persons without subscribing the oath of allegiance, he was, during +six months, detained a prisoner in the jail of Aberdeen. + +Entering on the sacred duties of the pastoral office, Mr Skinner appears +to have checked the indulgence of his rhyming propensities. His +subsequent poetical productions, which include the whole of his popular +songs, were written to please his friends, or gratify the members of his +family, and without the most distant view to publication. In 1787, he +writes to Burns, on the subject of Scottish song:--"While I was young, I +dabbled a good deal in these things; but on getting the black gown, I +gave it pretty much over, till my daughters grew up, who, being all +tolerably good singers, plagued me for words to some of their favourite +tunes, and so extorted those effusions which have made a public +appearance, beyond my expectations, and contrary to my intentions; at +the same time, I hope there is nothing to be found in them +uncharacteristic or unbecoming the cloth, which I would always wish to +see respected." Some of Mr Skinner's best songs were composed at a +sitting, while they seldom underwent any revision after being committed +to paper. To the following incident, his most popular song, +"Tullochgorum," owed its origin. In the course of a visit he was making +to a friend in Ellon (not Cullen, as has been stated on the authority of +Burns), a dispute arose among the guests on the subject of Whig and Tory +politics, which, becoming somewhat too exciting for the comfort of the +lady of the house, in order to bring it promptly to a close, she +requested Mr Skinner to suggest appropriate words for the favourite air, +"The Reel of Tullochgorum." Mr Skinner readily complied, and, before +leaving the house, produced what Burns, in a letter to the author, +characterised as "the best Scotch song ever Scotland saw." The name of +the lady who made the request to the poet was Mrs Montgomery, and hence +the allusion in the first stanza of the ballad:-- + + "Come gie 's a sang, Montgomery cried, + And lay your disputes all aside; + What signifies 't for folks to chide + For what was done before them? + Let Whig and Tory all agree," &c. + +Though claiming no distinction as a writer of verses, Mr Skinner did not +conceal his ambition to excel in another department of literature. In +1746, in his twenty-fifth year, he published a pamphlet, in defence of +the non-juring character of his Church, entitled "A Preservative against +Presbytery." A performance of greater effort, published in 1757, excited +some attention, and the unqualified commendation of the learned Bishop +Sherlock. In this production, entitled "A Dissertation on Jacob's +Prophecy," which was intended as a supplement to a treatise on the same +subject by Dr Sherlock, the author has established, by a critical +examination of the original language, that the words in Jacob's prophecy +(Gen. xlix. 10), rendered "sceptre" and "lawgiver" in the authorised +version, ought to be translated "tribeship" and "typifier," a difference +of interpretation which obviates some difficulties respecting the exact +fulfilment of this remarkable prediction. In a pamphlet printed in 1767, +Mr Skinner again vindicated the claims and authority of his Church; and +on this occasion, against the alleged misrepresentations of Mr Norman +Sievewright, English clergyman at Brechin, who had published a work +unfavourable to the cause of Scottish Episcopacy. His most important +work, "An Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, from the first appearance +of Christianity in that kingdom," was published in the year 1788, in two +octavo volumes. This publication, which is arranged in the form of +letters to a friend, and dedicated, in elegant Latin verse, "Ad Filium +et Episcopum," (to his son, and bishop), by partaking too rigidly of a +sectarian character, did not attain any measure of success. Mr Skinner's +other prose works were published after his death, together with a Memoir +of the author, under the editorial care of his son, Bishop Skinner of +Aberdeen. These consist of theological essays, in the form of "Letters +addressed to Candidates for Holy Orders," "A Dissertation on the +Sheckinah, or Divine Presence with the Church or People of God," and "An +Essay towards a literal or true radical exposition of the Song of +Songs," the whole being included in two octavo volumes, which appeared +in 1809. A third volume was added, containing a collection of the +author's compositions in Latin verse, and his fugitive songs and ballads +in the Scottish dialect--the latter portion of this volume being at the +same time published in a more compendious form, with the title, +"Amusements of Leisure Hours; or, Poetical Pieces, chiefly in the +Scottish dialect." + +Though living in constant retirement at Linshart, the reputation of the +Longside pastor, both as a poet and a man of classical taste, became +widely extended, and persons distinguished in the world of letters +sought his correspondence and friendship. With Dr Gleig, afterwards +titular Bishop of Brechin, Dr Doig of Stirling, and John Ramsay of +Ochtertyre, he maintained an epistolary intercourse for several years. +Dr Gleig, who edited the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, consulted Mr Skinner +respecting various important articles contributed to that valuable +publication. His correspondence with Doig and Ramsay was chiefly on +their favourite topic of philology. These two learned friends visited Mr +Skinner in the summer of 1795, and entertained him for a week at +Peterhead. This brief period of intellectual intercourse was regarded by +the poet as the most entirely pleasurable of his existence; and the +impression of it on the vivid imagination of Mr Ramsay is recorded in a +Latin eulogy on his northern correspondent, which he subsequently +transmitted to him. A poetical epistle addressed by Mr Skinner to Robert +Burns, in commendation of his talents, was characterized by the Ayrshire +Bard as "the best poetical compliment he had ever received." It led to a +regular correspondence, which was carried on with much satisfaction to +both parties. The letters, which chiefly relate to the preparation of +Johnson's _Musical Museum_, then in the course of publication, have been +included in his published correspondence. Burns never saw Mr Skinner; he +had not informed himself as to his locality during the prosecution of +his northern tour, and had thus the mortification of ascertaining that +he had been in his neighbourhood, without having formed his personal +acquaintance. To Mr Skinner's son, whom he accidentally met in Aberdeen +on his return, he expressed a deep regret for the blunder, as "he would +have gone twenty miles out of his way to visit the author of +'Tullochgorum.'" + +As a man of ingenuity, various acquirements, and agreeable manners, Mr +Skinner was held in much estimation among his contemporaries. Whatever +he read, with the assistance of a commonplace-book, he accurately +remembered, and could readily turn to account; and, though his library +was contained in a closet of five feet square, he was abundantly well +informed on every ordinary topic of conversation. He was fond of +controversial discussion, and wielded both argument and wit with a power +alarming to every antagonist. Though keen in debate, he was however +possessed of a most imperturbable suavity of temper. His conversation +was of a playful cast, interspersed with anecdote, and free from every +affectation of learning. As a clergyman, Mr Skinner enjoyed the esteem +and veneration of his flock. Besides efficiently discharging his +ministerial duties, he practised gratuitously as a physician, having +qualified himself, by acquiring a competent acquaintance with the +healing art at the medical classes in Marischal College. His pulpit +duties were widely acceptable; but his discourses, though edifying and +instructive, were more the result of the promptitude of the preacher +than the effects of a painstaking preparation. He abandoned the aid of +the manuscript in the pulpit, on account of the untoward occurrence of +his notes being scattered by a startled fowl, in the early part of his +ministry, while he was addressing his people from the door of his house, +after the wanton destruction of his chapel. + +In a scene less calculated to invite poetic inspiration no votary of the +muse had ever resided. On every side of his lonely dwelling extended a +wild uncultivated plain; nor for miles around did any other human +habitation relieve the monotony of this cheerless solitude. In her +gayest moods, Nature never wore a pleasing aspect in _Long-gate_, nor +did the distant prospect compensate for the dreary gloominess of the +surrounding landscape. For his poetic suggestions Mr Skinner was wholly +dependent on the singular activity of his fancy; as he derived his chief +happiness in his communings with an attached flock, and in the endearing +intercourse of his family. Of his children, who were somewhat numerous +he contrived to afford the whole, both sons and daughters, a superior +education; and he had the satisfaction, for a long period of years, to +address one of his sons as the bishop of his diocese. + +The death of Mr Skinner's wife, in the year 1799, fifty-eight years +after their marriage, was the most severe trial which he seems to have +experienced. In a Latin elegy, he gave expression to the deep sense +which he entertained of his bereavement. In 1807, his son, Bishop +Skinner, having sustained a similar bereavement, invited his aged father +to share the comforts of his house; and after ministering at Longside +for the remarkably lengthened incumbency of sixty-five years, Mr Skinner +removed to Aberdeen. But a greater change was at hand; on the 16th of +June 1807, in less than a week after his arrival, he was suddenly seized +with illness, and almost immediately expired. His remains were interred +in the churchyard of Longside; and the flock to which he had so long +ministered placed over the grave a handsome monument, bearing, on a +marble tablet, an elegant tribute to the remembrance of his virtues and +learning. At the residence of Bishop Skinner, he had seen his +descendants in the fourth generation. + +Of Mr Skinner's songs, printed in this collection, the most popular are +"Tullochgorum," "John o' Badenyon," and "The Ewie wi' the Crookit Horn." +The whole are pervaded by sprightliness and good-humoured pleasantry. +Though possessing the fault of being somewhat too lengthy, no +song-compositions of any modern writer in Scottish verse have, with the +exception of those of Burns, maintained a stronger hold of the Scottish +heart, or been more commonly sung in the social circle. + + + + +TULLOCHGORUM. + + + I. + + Come gie 's a sang, Montgomery cried, + And lay your disputes all aside, + What signifies 't for folks to chide + For what was done before them: + Let Whig and Tory all agree, + Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, + Whig and Tory all agree, + To drop their Whig-mig-morum; + Let Whig and Tory all agree + To spend the night wi' mirth and glee, + And cheerful sing alang wi' me + The Reel o' Tullochgorum. + + + II. + + O Tullochgorum 's my delight, + It gars us a' in ane unite, + And ony sumph that keeps a spite, + In conscience I abhor him: + For blythe and cheerie we'll be a', + Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie, + Blythe and cheerie we'll be a', + And make a happy quorum; + For blythe and cheerie we'll be a' + As lang as we hae breath to draw, + And dance, till we be like to fa', + The Reel o' Tullochgorum. + + + III. + + What needs there be sae great a fraise + Wi' dringing dull Italian lays? + I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys + For half a hunder score o' them; + They're dowf and dowie at the best, + Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie, + Dowf and dowie at the best, + Wi' a' their variorum; + They're dowf and dowie at the best, + Their _allegros_ and a' the rest, + They canna' please a Scottish taste, + Compared wi' Tullochgorum. + + + IV. + + Let warldly worms their minds oppress + Wi' fears o' want and double cess, + And sullen sots themsells distress + Wi' keeping up decorum: + Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, + Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, + Sour and sulky shall we sit, + Like old philosophorum? + Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, + Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, + Nor ever try to shake a fit + To th' Reel o' Tullochgorum? + + + V. + + May choicest blessings aye attend + Each honest, open-hearted friend, + And calm and quiet be his end, + And a' that's good watch o'er him; + May peace and plenty be his lot, + Peace and plenty, peace and plenty, + Peace and plenty be his lot, + And dainties a great store o' them: + May peace and plenty be his lot, + Unstain'd by any vicious spot, + And may he never want a groat, + That 's fond o' Tullochgorum! + + + VI. + + But for the sullen, frumpish fool, + That loves to be oppression's tool, + May envy gnaw his rotten soul, + And discontent devour him; + May dool and sorrow be his chance, + Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, + Dool and sorrow be his chance, + And nane say, Wae 's me for him! + May dool and sorrow be his chance, + Wi' a' the ills that come frae France, + Wha e'er he be that winna dance + The Reel o' Tullochgorum. + + + + +JOHN O' BADENYON + + + I. + + When first I cam to be a man + Of twenty years or so, + I thought myself a handsome youth, + And fain the world would know; + In best attire I stept abroad, + With spirits brisk and gay, + And here and there and everywhere + Was like a morn in May; + No care I had, nor fear of want, + But rambled up and down, + And for a beau I might have past + In country or in town; + I still was pleased where'er I went, + And when I was alone, + I tuned my pipe and pleased myself + Wi' John o' Badenyon. + + + II. + + Now in the days of youthful prime + A mistress I must find, + For _love_, I heard, gave one an air + And e'en improved the mind: + On Phillis fair above the rest + Kind fortune fix'd my eyes, + Her piercing beauty struck my heart, + And she became my choice; + To Cupid now, with hearty prayer, + I offer'd many a vow; + And danced and sung, and sigh'd and swore, + As other lovers do; + But, when at last I breathed my flame, + I found her cold as stone; + I left the girl, and tuned my pipe + To John o' Badenyon. + + + III. + + When _love_ had thus my heart beguiled + With foolish hopes and vain; + To _friendship's_ port I steer'd my course, + And laugh'd at lovers' pain; + A friend I got by lucky chance, + 'Twas something like divine, + An honest friend 's a precious gift, + And such a gift was mine; + And now whatever might betide + A happy man was I, + In any strait I knew to whom + I freely might apply. + A strait soon came: my friend I try'd; + He heard, and spurn'd my moan; + I hied me home, and tuned my pipe + To John o' Badenyon. + + + IV. + + Methought I should be wiser next, + And would a _patriot_ turn, + Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes + And cry up Parson Horne.[1] + Their manly spirit I admired, + And praised their noble zeal, + Who had with flaming tongue and pen + Maintain'd the public weal; + But e'er a month or two had pass'd, + I found myself betray'd, + 'Twas _self_ and _party_, after all, + For a' the stir they made; + At last I saw the factious knaves + Insult the very throne, + I cursed them a', and tuned my pipe + To John o' Badenyon. + + + V. + + What next to do I mused awhile, + Still hoping to succeed; + I pitch'd on _books_ for company, + And gravely tried to read: + I bought and borrow'd everywhere, + And studied night and day, + Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote + That happen'd in my way: + Philosophy I now esteem'd + The ornament of youth, + And carefully through many a page + I hunted after truth. + A thousand various schemes I tried, + And yet was pleased with none; + I threw them by, and tuned my pipe + To John o' Badenyon. + + + VI. + + And now, ye youngsters everywhere, + That wish to make a show, + Take heed in time, nor fondly hope + For happiness below; + What you may fancy pleasure here, + Is but an empty name, + And _girls_, and _friends_, and _books_, and so, + You 'll find them all the same. + Then be advised, and warning take + From such a man as me; + I 'm neither Pope nor Cardinal, + Nor one of high degree; + You 'll meet displeasure everywhere; + Then do as I have done, + E'en tune your pipe and please yourselves + With John o' Badenyon. + + +[1] This song was composed when Wilkes, Horne, and others, were exciting +a commotion about liberty. + + + + +THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKIT HORN. + + + I. + + Were I but able to rehearse + My Ewie's praise in proper verse, + I 'd sound it forth as loud and fierce + As ever piper's drone could blaw; + The Ewie wi' the crookit horn, + Wha had kent her might hae sworn + Sic a Ewe was never born, + Hereabout nor far awa'; + Sic a Ewe was never born, + Hereabout nor far awa'. + + + II. + + I never needed tar nor keil + To mark her upo' hip or heel, + Her crookit horn did as weel + To ken her by amo' them a'; + She never threaten'd scab nor rot, + But keepit aye her ain jog-trot, + Baith to the fauld and to the cot, + Was never sweir to lead nor caw; + Baith to the fauld and to the cot, &c. + + + III. + + Cauld nor hunger never dang her, + Wind nor wet could never wrang her, + Anes she lay an ouk and langer + Furth aneath a wreath o' snaw: + Whan ither ewies lap the dyke, + And eat the kail, for a' the tyke, + My Ewie never play'd the like, + But tyc'd about the barn wa'; + My Ewie never play'd the like, &c. + + + IV. + + A better or a thriftier beast + Nae honest man could weel hae wist, + For, silly thing, she never mist + To hae ilk year a lamb or twa': + The first she had I gae to Jock, + To be to him a kind o' stock, + And now the laddie has a flock + O' mair nor thirty head ava'; + And now the laddie has a flock, &c. + + + V. + + I lookit aye at even' for her, + Lest mishanter should come o'er her, + Or the fowmart might devour her, + Gin the beastie bade awa; + My Ewie wi' the crookit horn, + Well deserved baith girse and corn, + Sic a Ewe was never born, + Hereabout nor far awa'; + Sic a Ewe was never born, &c. + + + VI. + + Yet last ouk, for a' my keeping, + (Wha can speak it without _greeting_?) + A villain cam' when I was sleeping, + Sta' my Ewie, horn, and a': + I sought her sair upo' the morn, + And down aneath a buss o' thorn + I got my Ewie's crookit horn, + But my Ewie was awa'; + I got my Ewie's crookit horn, &c. + + + VII. + + O! gin I had the loon that did it, + Sworn I have as well as said it, + Though a' the warld should forbid it, + I wad gie his neck a thra': + I never met wi' sic a turn + As this sin' ever I was born, + My Ewie, wi' the crookit horn, + Silly Ewie, stown awa'; + My Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c. + + + VIII. + + O! had she died o' crook or cauld, + As Ewies do when they grow auld, + It wad na been, by mony fauld, + Sae sair a heart to nane o's a': + For a' the claith that we hae worn, + Frae her and her's sae aften shorn, + The loss o' her we could hae born, + Had fair strae-death ta'en her awa'; + The loss o' her we could hae born, &c. + + + IX. + + But thus, poor thing, to lose her life, + Aneath a bleedy villain's knife, + I 'm really fleyt that our guidwife + Will never win aboon 't ava: + O! a' ye bards benorth Kinghorn, + Call your muses up and mourn, + Our Ewie wi' the crookit horn + Stown frae 's, and fell'd and a'! + Our Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c. + + + + +O! WHY SHOULD OLD AGE SO MUCH WOUND US? + +TUNE--_"Dumbarton Drums."_ + + + I. + + O! why should old age so much wound us?[2] + There is nothing in it all to confound us: + For how happy now am I, + With my old wife sitting by, + And our bairns and our oys all around us; + For how happy now am I, &c. + + + II. + + We began in the warld wi' naething, + And we 've jogg'd on, and toil'd for the ae thing; + We made use of what we had, + And our thankful hearts were glad, + When we got the bit meat and the claithing; + We made use of what we had, &c. + + + III. + + We have lived all our lifetime contented, + Since the day we became first acquainted: + It 's true we 've been but poor, + And we are so to this hour, + But we never yet repined or lamented; + It 's true we 've been but poor, &c. + + + IV. + + When we had any stock, we ne'er vauntit, + Nor did we hing our heads when we wantit; + But we always gave a share + Of the little we could spare, + When it pleased a kind Heaven to grant it; + But we always gave a share, &c. + + + V. + + We never laid a scheme to be wealthy, + By means that were cunning or stealthy; + But we always had the bliss-- + And what further could we wiss?-- + To be pleased with ourselves, and be healthy; + But we always had the bliss, &c. + + + VI. + + What though we cannot boast of our guineas? + We have plenty of Jockies and Jeanies; + And these, I 'm certain, are + More desirable by far + Than a bag full of poor yellow steinies; + And these, I am certain, are, &c. + + + VII. + + We have seen many wonder and ferly, + Of changes that almost are yearly, + Among rich folks up and down, + Both in country and in town, + Who now live but scrimply and barely; + Among rich folks up and down, &c. + + + VIII. + + Then why should people brag of prosperity? + A straiten'd life we see is no rarity; + Indeed, we 've been in want, + And our living 's been but scant, + Yet we never were reduced to need charity; + Indeed, we 've been in want, &c. + + + IX. + + In this house we first came together, + Where we 've long been a father and mither; + And though not of stone and lime, + It will last us all our time; + And I hope we shall ne'er need anither; + And though not of stone and lime, &c. + + + X. + + And when we leave this poor habitation, + We 'll depart with a good commendation; + We 'll go hand in hand, I wiss, + To a better house than this, + To make room for the next generation; + We 'll go hand in hand, I wiss, &c. + + Then why should old age so much wound us? &c. + + +[2] This tune requires O to be added at the end of each of the long +lines, but in reading the song the O is better omitted. + + + + +STILL IN THE WRONG. + + + I. + + It has long been my fate to be thought in the _wrong_, + And my fate it continues to be; + The wise and the wealthy still make it their song, + And the clerk and the cottar agree. + There is nothing I do, and there 's nothing I say, + But some one or other thinks wrong; + And to please them I find there is no other way, + But do nothing, and still hold my tongue. + + + II. + + Says the free-thinking Sophist, "The times are refined + In sense to a wondrous degree; + Your old-fashion'd faith does but fetter the mind, + And it 's _wrong_ not to seek to be free." + Says the sage Politician, "Your natural share + Of talents would raise you much higher, + Than thus to crawl on in your present low sphere, + And it 's _wrong_ in you not to aspire." + + + III. + + Says the Man of the World, "Your dull stoic life + Is surely deserving of blame? + You have children to care for, as well as a wife, + And it 's _wrong_ not to lay up for them." + Says the fat Gormandiser, "To eat and to drink + Is the true _summum bonum_ of man: + Life is nothing without it, whate'er you may think, + And it 's _wrong_ not to live while you can." + + + IV. + + Says the new-made Divine, "Your old modes we reject, + Nor give ourselves trouble about them: + It is manners and dress that procure us respect, + And it 's _wrong_ to look for it without them." + Says the grave peevish Saint, in a fit of the spleen, + "Ah! me, but your manners are vile: + A parson that 's blythe is a shame to be seen, + And it 's _wrong_ in you even to smile." + + + V. + + Says the Clown, when I tell him to do what he ought, + "Sir, whatever your character be, + To obey you in this I will never be brought, + And it 's _wrong_ to be meddling with me." + Says my Wife, when she wants this or that for the house, + "Our matters to ruin must go: + Your reading and writing is not worth a souse, + And it 's _wrong_ to neglect the house so." + + + VI. + + Thus all judge of me by their taste or their wit, + And I 'm censured by old and by young, + Who in one point agree, though in others they split, + That in something I 'm still in the _wrong_. + But let them say on to the end of the song, + It shall make no impression on me: + If to differ from such be to be in the _wrong_, + In the _wrong_ I hope always to be. + + + + +LIZZY LIBERTY. + +TUNE--_"Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen."_ + + + I. + + There lives a lassie i' the braes, + And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her, + When she has on her Sunday's claes, + Ye never saw a lady brawer; + So a' the lads are wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her! + + + II. + + Her mither ware a tabbit mutch, + Her father was an honest dyker, + She 's a black-eyed wanton witch, + Ye winna shaw me mony like her: + So a' the lads are wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her! + + + III. + + A kindly lass she is, I 'm seer, + Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her, + And nae a swankie far nor near, + But tries wi' a' his might to win her: + They 're wooing at her, fain would hae her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her! + + + IV. + + For kindly though she be, nae doubt, + She manna thole the marriage tether, + But likes to rove and rink about, + Like Highland cowt amo' the heather: + Yet a' the lads are wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + V. + + It 's seven year, and some guid mair, + Syn Dutch Mynheer made courtship till her, + A merchant bluff and fu' o' care, + Wi' chuffy cheeks, and bags o' siller; + So Dutch Mynheer was wooing at her, + Courting her, but cudna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her. + + + VI. + + Neist to him came Baltic John, + Stept up the brae, and leukit at her, + Syne wear his wa', wi' heavy moan, + And in a month or twa forgat her: + Baltic John was wooing at her, + Courting her, but cudna get her; + Filthy elf, she 's nae herself, wi' sae mony wooing at her. + + + VII. + + Syne after him cam' Yankie Doodle, + Frae hyne ayont the muckle water; + Though Yankie 's nae yet worth a boddle, + Wi' might and main he would be at her: + Yankie Doodle 's wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + VIII. + + Now Monkey French is in a roar, + And swears that nane but he sall hae her, + Though he sud wade through bluid and gore, + It 's nae the king sall keep him frae her: + So Monkey French is wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her. + + + IX. + + For France, nor yet her Flanders' frien', + Need na think that she 'll come to them; + They 've casten aff wi' a' their kin, + And grace and guid have flown frae them; + They 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + X. + + A stately chiel they ca' John Bull + Is unco thrang and glaikit wi' her; + And gin he cud get a' his wull, + There 's nane can say what he wad gi'e her: + Johnny Bull is wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Filthy Ted, she 'll never wed, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + XI. + + Even Irish Teague, ayont Belfast, + Wadna care to speir about her; + And swears, till he sall breathe his last, + He 'll never happy be without her: + Irish Teague is wooing at her, + Courting her, but canna get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her. + + + XII. + + But Donald Scot 's the happy lad, + Though a' the lave sud try to rate him; + Whan he steps up the brae sae glad, + She disna ken maist whare to set him: + Donald Scot is wooing at her, + Courting her, will maybe get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + XIII. + + Now, Donald, tak' a frien's advice-- + I ken fu' weel ye fain wad hae her; + As ye are happy, sae be wise, + And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her: + Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, + Courting her, will maybe get her; + Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her. + + + XIV. + + Ye 're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they 're sayin', + Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her; + And gin ye had her a' your ain, + Ye might na find it mows to guide her: + Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, + Courting her, will maybe get her; + Cunning quean, she 's ne'er be mine, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her. + + + + +THE STIPENDLESS PARSON. + +TUNE--_"A Cobbler there was,"_ &c. + + + I. + + How happy a life does the Parson possess, + Who would be no greater, nor fears to be less; + Who depends on his book and his gown for support, + And derives no preferment from conclave or court! + Derry down, &c. + + + II. + + Without glebe or manse settled on him by law, + No stipend to sue for, nor vic'rage to draw; + In discharge of his office he holds him content, + With a croft and a garden, for which he pays rent. + Derry down, &c. + + + III. + + With a neat little cottage and furniture plain, + And a spare room to welcome a friend now and then; + With a good-humour'd wife in his fortune to share, + And ease him at all times of family care. + Derry down, &c. + + + IV. + + With a few of the Fathers, the oldest and best, + And some modern extracts pick'd out from the rest; + With a Bible in Latin, and Hebrew, and Greek, + To afford him instruction each day of the week. + Derry down, &c. + + + V. + + What children he has, if any are given, + He thankfully trusts to the kindness of Heaven; + To religion and virtue he trains them while young, + And with such a provision he does them no wrong. + Derry down, &c. + + + VI. + + With labour below, and with help from above, + He cares for his flock, and is bless'd with their love: + Though his living, perhaps, in the main may be scant, + He is sure, while they have, that he 'll ne'er be in want. + Derry down, &c. + + + VII. + + With no worldly projects nor hurries perplex'd, + He sits in his closet and studies his text; + And while he converses with Moses or Paul, + He envies not bishop, nor dean in his stall. + Derry down, &c. + + + VIII. + + Not proud to the poor, nor a slave to the great, + Neither factious in church, nor pragmatic in state, + He keeps himself quiet within his own sphere, + And finds work sufficient in preaching and prayer. + Derry down, &c. + + + IX. + + In what little dealings he 's forced to transact, + He determines with plainness and candour to act; + And the great point on which his ambition is set, + Is to leave at the last neither riches nor debt. + Derry down, &c. + + + X. + + Thus calmly he steps through the valley of life, + Unencumber'd with wealth, and a stranger to strife; + On the bustlings around him unmoved he can look, + And at home always pleased with his wife and his book. + Derry down, &c. + + + XI. + + And when, in old age, he drops into the grave, + This humble remembrance he wishes to have: + "By good men respected, by the evil oft tried, + Contented he lived, and lamented he died!" + Derry down, &c. + + + + +THE MAN OF ROSS. + +TUNE--_"Miss Ross's Reel."_ + + + I. + + When fops and fools together prate, + O'er punch or tea, of this or that, + What silly poor unmeaning chat + Does all their talk engross! + A nobler theme employs my lays, + And thus my honest voice I raise + In well-deserved strains to praise + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + II. + + His lofty soul (would it were mine!) + Scorns every selfish, low design, + And ne'er was known to repine, + At any earthly loss: + But still contented, frank, and free, + In every state, whate'er it be, + Serene and staid we always see + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + III. + + Let misers hug their worldly store, + And gripe and pinch to make it more; + Their gold and silver's shining ore + He counts it all but dross: + 'Tis better treasure he desires; + A surer stock his passion fires, + And mild benevolence inspires + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + IV. + + When want assails the widow's cot, + Or sickness strikes the poor man's hut, + When blasting winds or foggy rot + Augment the farmer's loss: + The sufferer straight knows where to go, + With all his wants and all his woe; + For glad experience leads him to + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + V. + + This Man of Ross I 'll daily sing, + With vocal note and lyric string, + And duly, when I 've drank the king, + He 'll be my second toss. + May Heaven its choicest blessings send + On such a man, and such a friend; + And still may all that 's good attend + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + VI. + + Now, if you ask about his name, + And where he lives with such a fame, + Indeed, I 'll say you are to blame, + For truly, _inter nos_, + 'Tis what belongs to you and me, + And all of high or low degree, + In every sphere to try to be + The worthy Man of Ross. + + + + +A SONG ON THE TIMES. + +TUNE--_"Broom of the Cowdenknows."_ + + + I. + + When I began the world first, + It was not as 'tis now; + For all was plain and simple then, + And friends were kind and true: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! + The times that I now see; + I think the world 's all gone wrong, + From what it used to be. + + + II. + + There were not then high capering heads, + Prick'd up from ear to ear; + And cloaks and caps were rarities, + For gentle folks to wear: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c. + + + III. + + There 's not an upstart mushroom now, + But what sets up for taste; + And not a lass in all the land, + But must be lady-dress'd: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c. + + + IV. + + Our young men married then for love, + So did our lasses too; + And children loved their parents dear, + As children ought to do: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c. + + + V. + + For oh, the times are sadly changed-- + A heavy change indeed! + For truth and friendship are no more, + And honesty is fled: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c. + + + VI. + + There 's nothing now prevails but pride, + Among both high and low; + And strife, and greed, and vanity, + Is all that 's minded now: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c. + + + VII. + + When I look through the world wide, + How times and fashions go, + It draws the tears from both my eyes, + And fills my heart with woe: + Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! + The times that I now see; + I wish the world were at an end, + For it will not mend for me! + + + + +WILLIAM CAMERON. + + +William Cameron, minister of Kirknewton, in the county of Edinburgh, was +educated in Marischal College, Aberdeen, where he was a pupil of Dr +Beattie, "who ever after entertained for him much esteem." A letter, +addressed to him by this eminent professor, in 1774, has been published +by Sir William Forbes;[3] and his name is introduced at the beginning of +Dr Beattie's "Letter to the Rev. Hugh Blair, D.D., on the Improvement of +Psalmody in Scotland. 1778, 8vo:"--"The message you lately sent me, by +my friend Mr Cameron, has determined me to give you my thoughts at some +length upon the subject of it." + +He died in his manse, on the 17th of November 1811, in the 60th year of +his age, and the 26th year of his ministry. He was a considerable writer +of verses, and his compositions are generally of a respectable order. He +was the author of a "Collection of Poems," printed at Edinburgh in 1790, +in a duodecimo volume; and in 1781, along with the celebrated John Logan +and Dr Morrison, minister of Canisbay, he contributed towards the +formation of a collection of Paraphrases from Scripture, which, being +approved of by the General Assembly, are still used in public worship +in the Church of Scotland. A posthumous volume of verses by Mr Cameron, +entitled "Poems on Several Occasions," was published by subscription in +1813--8vo, pp. 132. The following song, which was composed by Mr +Cameron, on the restoration of the forfeited estates by Act of +Parliament, in 1784, is copied from Johnson's "Musical Museum." It +affords a very favourable specimen of the author's poetical talents. + + +[3] Forbes's "Life of Beattie," vol. i. p. 375. + + + + +AS O'ER THE HIGHLAND HILLS I HIED. + +TUNE--_"As I came in by Auchindoun."_ + + + I. + + As o'er the Highland hills I hied, + The Camerons in array I spied; + Lochiel's proud standard waving wide, + In all its ancient glory. + The martial pipe loud pierced the sky, + The bard arose, resounding high + Their valour, faith, and loyalty, + That shine in Scottish story. + + No more the trumpet calls to arms, + Awaking battle's fierce alarms, + But every hero's bosom warms + With songs of exultation. + While brave Lochiel at length regains, + Through toils of war, his native plains, + And, won by glorious wounds, attains + His high paternal station. + + Let now the voice of joy prevail, + And echo wide from hill to vale; + Ye warlike clans, arise and hail + Your laurell'd chiefs returning. + O'er every mountain, every isle, + Let peace in all her lustre smile, + And discord ne'er her day defile + With sullen shades of mourning. + + M'Leod, M'Donald, join the strain, + M'Pherson, Fraser, and M'Lean; + Through all your bounds let gladness reign, + Both prince and patriot praising; + Whose generous bounty richly pours + The streams of plenty round your shores; + To Scotia's hills their pride restores, + Her faded honours raising. + + Let all the joyous banquet share, + Nor e'er let Gothic grandeur dare, + With scowling brow, to overbear, + A vassal's right invading. + Let Freedom's conscious sons disdain + To crowd his fawning, timid train, + Nor even own his haughty reign, + Their dignity degrading. + + Ye northern chiefs, whose rage unbroke + Has still repell'd the tyrant's shock; + Who ne'er have bow'd beneath his yoke, + With servile base prostration;-- + Let each now train his trusty band, + 'Gainst foreign foes alone to stand, + With undivided heart and hand, + For Freedom, King, and Nation. + + + + +MRS JOHN HUNTER. + + +Anne Home was born in the year 1742. She was the eldest daughter of +Robert Home, of Greenlaw, in Berwickshire, surgeon of Burgoyne's +Regiment of Light Horse, and afterwards physician in Savoy. By +contracting an early marriage, in which affection overcame more +prudential considerations, both her parents gave offence to their +relations, who refused to render them pecuniary assistance. Her father, +though connected with many families of rank, and himself the son of a +landowner, was consequently obliged to depend, in the early part of his +career, on his professional exertions for the support of his family. His +circumstances appear subsequently to have been more favourable. In July +1771, Miss Home became the wife of John Hunter, the distinguished +anatomist, to whom she bore two children. She afforded evidence of her +early poetical talent, by composing, before she had completed her +twenty-third year, the song beginning, "Adieu! ye streams that smoothly +glide." This appeared in the _Lark_, an Edinburgh periodical, in the +year 1765. In 1802, she published a collection of her poems, in an +octavo volume, which she inscribed to her son, John Banks Hunter. + +During the lifetime of her distinguished husband, Mrs Hunter was in the +habit of receiving at her table, and sharing in the conversation of, the +chief literary persons of her time. Her evening _conversazioni_ were +frequented by many of the more learned, as well as fashionable persons +in the metropolis. On the death of her husband, which took place in +1793, she sought greater privacy, though she still continued to reside +in London. By those who were admitted to her intimacy, she was not more +respected for her superior talents and intelligence, than held in esteem +for her unaffected simplicity of manners. She was the life of her social +parties, sustaining the happiness of the hour by her elegant +conversation, and encouraging the diffident by her approbation. Amiable +in disposition, she was possessed of a beautiful countenance and a +handsome person. She wrote verses with facility, but she sought no +distinction as a poet, preferring to be regarded as a good housewife and +an agreeable member of society. In her latter years, she obtained +amusement in resuming the song-writing habits of her youth, and in +corresponding with her more intimate friends. She likewise derived +pleasure in the cultivation of music: she played with skill, and sung +with singular grace. + +Mrs Hunter died at London, on the 7th January 1821, after a lingering +illness. Several of her lyrics had for some years appeared in the +collections of national poetry. Those selected for the present work have +long maintained a wide popularity. The songs evince a delicacy of +thought, combined with a force and sweetness of expression. + + + + +THE INDIAN DEATH-SONG. + + + The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, + But glory remains when their lights fade away. + Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, + For the son of Alknomook will never complain. + + Remember the arrows he shot from his bow; + Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low. + Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain? + No! the son of Alknomook shall never complain. + + Remember the wood where in ambush we lay, + And the scalps which we bore from your nation away: + Now the flame rises fast; ye exult in my pain; + But the son of Alknomook can never complain. + + I go to the land where my father is gone; + His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son. + Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain, + And thy son, O Alknomook! has scorn'd to complain. + + + + +MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR. + + + My mother bids me bind my hair + With bands of rosy hue, + Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare, + And lace my boddice blue. + + "For why," she cries, "sit still and weep, + While others dance and play?" + Alas! I scarce can go or creep, + While Lubin is away. + + 'Tis sad to think the days are gone, + When those we love were near; + I sit upon this mossy stone, + And sigh when none can hear. + + And while I spin my flaxen thread, + And sing my simple lay, + The village seems asleep or dead, + Now Lubin is away. + + + + +THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.[4] + + + Adieu! ye streams that smoothly glide, + Through mazy windings o'er the plain; + I 'll in some lonely cave reside, + And ever mourn my faithful swain. + + Flower of the forest was my love, + Soft as the sighing summer's gale, + Gentle and constant as the dove, + Blooming as roses in the vale. + + Alas! by Tweed my love did stray, + For me he search'd the banks around; + But, ah! the sad and fatal day, + My love, the pride of swains, was drown'd. + + Now droops the willow o'er the stream; + Pale stalks his ghost in yonder grove; + Dire fancy paints him in my dream; + Awake, I mourn my hopeless love. + + +[4] Of the "Flowers of the Forest," two other versions appear in the +Collections. That version beginning, "I've heard the lilting at our +yow-milking," is the composition of Miss Jane Elliot, the daughter of +Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto, Lord Justice-Clerk, who died in 1766. She +composed the song about the middle of the century, in imitation of an +old version to the same tune. The other version, which is the most +popular of the three, with the opening line, "I 've seen the smiling of +fortune beguiling," was also the composition of a lady, Miss Alison +Rutherford; by marriage, Mrs Cockburn, wife of Mr Patrick Cockburn, +advocate. Mrs Cockburn was a person of highly superior accomplishments. +She associated with her learned contemporaries, by whom she was much +esteemed, and died at Edinburgh in 1794, at an advanced age. "The +forest" mentioned in the song comprehended the county of Selkirk, with +portions of Peeblesshire and Lanarkshire. This was a hunting-forest of +the Scottish kings. + + + + +THE SEASON COMES WHEN FIRST WE MET. + + + The season comes when first we met, + But you return no more; + Why cannot I the days forget, + Which time can ne'er restore? + O! days too sweet, too bright to last, + Are you, indeed, for ever past? + + The fleeting shadows of delight, + In memory I trace; + In fancy stop their rapid flight, + And all the past replace; + But, ah! I wake to endless woes, + And tears the fading visions close! + + + + +OH, TUNEFUL VOICE! I STILL DEPLORE. + + + Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore + Those accents which, though heard no more, + Still vibrate in my heart; + In echo's cave I long to dwell, + And still would hear the sad farewell, + When we were doom'd to part. + + Bright eyes! O that the task were mine, + To guard the liquid fires that shine, + And round your orbits play-- + To watch them with a vestal's care, + And feed with smiles a light so fair, + That it may ne'er decay! + + + + +DEAR TO MY HEART AS LIFE'S WARM STREAM.[5] + + + Dear to my heart as life's warm stream, + Which animates this mortal clay; + For thee I court the waking dream, + And deck with smiles the future day; + And thus beguile the present pain, + With hopes that we shall meet again! + + Yet will it be as when the past + Twined every joy, and care, and thought, + And o'er our minds one mantle cast, + Of kind affections finely wrought. + Ah, no! the groundless hope were vain, + For so we ne'er can meet again! + + May he who claims thy tender heart, + Deserve its love as I have done! + For, kind and gentle as thou art, + If so beloved, thou 'rt fairly won. + Bright may the sacred torch remain, + And cheer thee till we meet again! + + +[5] These lines were addressed by Mrs Hunter to her daughter, on the +occasion of her marriage. + + + + +THE LOT OF THOUSANDS. + + + When hope lies dead within the heart, + By secret sorrow close conceal'd, + We shrink lest looks or words impart + What must not be reveal'd. + + 'Tis hard to smile when one would weep, + To speak when one would silent be; + To wake when one should wish to sleep, + And wake to agony. + + Yet such the lot by thousands cast, + Who wander in this world of care, + And bend beneath the bitter blast, + To save them from despair. + + But Nature waits her guests to greet, + Where disappointments cannot come, + And Time guides, with unerring feet, + The weary wanderers home. + + + + +ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON. + + +Alexander, the fourth Duke of Gordon, was born in the year 1743, and +died on the 17th of January 1827, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. +Chiefly remembered as a kind patron of the poet Burns, his name is +likewise entitled to a place in the national minstrelsy as the author of +an excellent version of the often-parodied song, "Cauld Kail in +Aberdeen." Of this song, the first words, written to an older tune, +appeared in the second volume of Herd's "Collection," in 1776. These +begin-- + + "Cauld kail in Aberdeen, + And castocks in Strabogie; + But yet I fear they 'll cook o'er soon, + And never warm the cogie." + +The song is anonymous, as is the version, first published in Dale's +"Scottish Songs," beginning-- + + "There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, + And castocks in Strabogie, + Where ilka lad maun hae his lass, + But I maun hae my cogie." + +A third version, distinct from that inserted in the text, was composed +by William Reid, a bookseller in Glasgow, who died in 1831. His song is +scarcely known. The Duke's song, with which Burns expressed himself as +being "charmed," was first published in the second volume of Johnson's +"Musical Museum." It is not only gay and animating, but has the merit of +being free of blemishes in want of refinement, which affect the others. +The "Bogie" celebrated in the song, it may be remarked, is a river in +Aberdeenshire, which, rising in the parish of Auchindoir, discharges its +waters into the Deveron, a little distance below the town of Huntly. It +gives its name to the extensive and rich valley of Strathbogie, through +which it proceeds. + + + + +CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN. + + + There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, + And castocks in Strabogie; + Gin I hae but a bonnie lass, + Ye 're welcome to your cogie. + And ye may sit up a' the night, + And drink till it be braid daylight; + Gi'e me a lass baith clean and tight, + To dance the reel o' Bogie. + + In cotillions the French excel, + John Bull loves country dances; + The Spaniards dance fandangoes well; + Mynheer an all'mande prances; + In foursome reels the Scots delight, + At threesomes they dance wondrous light, + But twasomes ding a' out o' sight, + Danced to the reel o' Bogie. + + Come, lads, and view your partners weel, + Wale each a blythesome rogie; + I'll tak this lassie to mysel', + She looks sae keen and vogie. + Now, piper lads, bang up the spring, + The country fashion is the thing, + To pree their mou's ere we begin + To dance the reel o' Bogie. + + Now ilka lad has got a lass, + Save yon auld doited fogie, + And ta'en a fling upon the grass, + As they do in Strabogie. + But a' the lasses look sae fain, + We canna think oursel's to hain, + For they maun hae their come again, + To dance the reel o' Bogie. + + Now a' the lads hae done their best, + Like true men o' Strabogie, + We 'll stop a while and tak' a rest, + And tipple out a cogie. + Come now, my lads, and tak your glass, + And try ilk ither to surpass, + In wishing health to every lass, + To dance the reel o' Bogie. + + + + +MRS GRANT OF CARRON. + + +Mrs Grant of Carron, the reputed author of one song, which has long +maintained a favoured place, was a native of Aberlour, on the banks of +the Spey, in the county of Banff. She was born about the year 1745, and +was twice married--first, to her cousin, Mr Grant of Carron, near +Elchies, on the river Spey, about the year 1763; and, secondly, to Dr +Murray, a physician in Bath. She died at Bath about the year 1814. + +In his correspondence with George Thomson, Burns, alluding to the song +of Mrs Grant, "Roy's Wife," remarks that he had in his possession "the +original words of a song for the air in the handwriting of the lady who +composed it," which, he adds, "are superior to any edition of the song +which the public has seen." He subsequently composed an additional +version himself, beginning, "Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie?" but +this, like others of the bard's conversions of Scottish songs into an +English dress, did not become popular. The verses by his female friend, +in which the lady is made to be the sufferer by misplaced affection, and +commencing, "Stay, my Willie, yet believe me," though published, remain +likewise in obscurity. "Roy's Wife" was originally written to an old +tune called the "Ruffian's Rant," but this melody is now known by the +name of its favourite words. The sentiment of the song is peculiarly +pleasing. The rejected lover begins by loudly complaining of his wrongs, +and the broken assurances of his former sweetheart: then he suddenly +recalls what were her good qualities; and the recollection of these +causes him to forgive her marrying another, and even still to extend +towards her his warmest sympathies. + + + + +ROY'S WIFE OF ALDIVALLOCH. + + + Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, + Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, + Wat ye how she cheated me + As I cam' o'er the braes of Balloch! + + She vow'd, she swore she wad be mine, + She said she lo'ed me best o' onie; + But, ah! the fickle, faithless quean, + She 's ta'en the carl, and left her Johnnie! + Roy's wife, &c. + + Oh, she was a canty quean, + An' weel could dance the Hieland walloch! + How happy I, had she been mine, + Or I been Roy of Aldivalloch! + Roy's wife, &c. + + Her hair sae fair, her e'en sae clear, + Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonnie! + To me she ever will be dear, + Though she's for ever left her Johnnie! + Roy's wife, &c. + + + + +ROBERT COUPER, M.D. + + +Dr Couper was born in the parish of Sorbie, in Wigtonshire, on the 22d +of September 1750. His father rented the farm of Balsier in that parish. +With a view towards the ministry in the Scottish Church, he proceeded to +the University of Glasgow in 1769; but being deprived of both his +parents by death before the completion of the ordinary period of +academical study, and his pecuniary means being limited, he quitted the +country for America, where he became tutor to a family in Virginia. He +now contemplated taking orders in the Episcopal Church, but on the +outbreak of the War of Independence in 1776 he returned to Britain +without fulfilling this intention. He resumed his studies at Glasgow +preparatory to his seeking a surgeon's diploma; and he afterwards +established himself as a medical practitioner in Newton-Stewart, a +considerable village in his native county. From this place he removed to +Fochabers, about the year 1788, on being recommended, by his friend Dr +Hamilton, Professor of Anatomy at Glasgow, as physician to the Duke of +Gordon. Before entering on this new sphere of practice, he took the +degree of M.D. At Fochabers he remained till the year 1806, when he +again returned to the south. He died at Wigton on the 18th January +1818. From a MS. Life of Dr Couper, in the possession of a gentleman in +Wigton, and communicated to Dr Murray, author of "The Literary History +of Galloway," these leading events of Dr Couper's life were first +published by Mr Laing, in his "Additional Illustrations to the Scots +Musical Museum," vol. iv. p. 513. + +Dr Couper published "Poetry, chiefly in the Scottish Language" +(Inverness, 1804), 2 vols. 12mo. Among some rubbish, and much tawdry +versification, there is occasional power, which, however, is +insufficient to compensate for the general inferiority. There are only a +few songs, but these are superior to the poems; and those following are +not unworthy of a place among the modern national minstrelsy. + + + + +KINRARA. + +TUNE--_"Neil Gow."_ + + + Red gleams the sun on yon hill-tap, + The dew sits on the gowan; + Deep murmurs through her glens the Spey, + Around Kinrara rowan. + Where art thou, fairest, kindest lass? + Alas! wert thou but near me, + Thy gentle soul, thy melting eye, + Would ever, ever cheer me. + + The lav'rock sings among the clouds, + The lambs they sport so cheerie, + And I sit weeping by the birk: + O where art thou, my dearie? + Aft may I meet the morning dew, + Lang greet till I be weary; + Thou canna, winna, gentle maid! + Thou canna be my dearie. + + + + +THE SHEELING. + +TUNE--_"The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre."_ + + + Oh, grand bounds the deer o'er the mountain, + And smooth skims the hare o'er the plain; + At noon, the cool shade by the fountain + Is sweet to the lass and her swain. + The ev'ning sits down dark and dreary; + Oh, yon 's the loud joys of the ha'; + The laird sings his dogs and his dearie-- + Oh, he kens na his singin' ava. + + But oh, my dear lassie, when wi' thee, + What 's the deer and the maukin to me? + The storm soughin' wild drives me to thee, + And the plaid shelters baith me and thee. + The wild warld then may be reeling, + Pride and riches may lift up their e'e; + My plaid haps us baith in the sheeling-- + That 's a' to my lassie and me. + + + + +THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.[6] + + + Oh, mind ye the ewe-bughts, my Marion? + It was ther I forgather'd wi' thee; + The sun smiled sweet ower the mountain, + And saft sough'd the leaf on the tree. + + Thou wast fair, thou wast bonnie, my Marion, + And lovesome thy rising breast-bane; + The dew sat in gems ower thy ringlets, + By the thorn when we were alane. + + There we loved, there thou promised, my Marion, + Thy soul--a' thy beauties were mine; + Crouse we skipt to the ha' i' the gloamin', + But few were my slumbers and thine. + + Fell war tore me lang frae thee, Marion, + Lang wat'ry and red was my e'e; + The pride o' the field but inflamed me + To return mair worthy o' thee. + + Oh, aye art thou lovely, my Marion, + Thy heart bounds in kindness to me; + And here, oh, here is my bosom, + That languish'd, my Marion, for thee. + + +[6] These verses form a modernised version of the old and popular song, +"Will ye gae to the ewe-bughts, Marion?" The air is extremely beautiful. + + + + +LADY ANNE BARNARD. + + +Lady Anne Lindsay was the eldest of a family of eight sons and three +daughters, born to James, Earl of Balcarres, by his spouse, Anne +Dalrymple, a daughter of Sir Robert Dalrymple, of Castleton, Bart. She +was born at Balcarres, in Fife, on the 8th of December 1750. Inheriting +a large portion of the shrewdness long possessed by the old family of +Lindsay, and a share of talent from her mother, who was a person of +singular energy, though somewhat capricious in temper, Lady Anne +evinced, at an early age, an uncommon amount of sagacity. Fortunate in +having her talents well directed, and naturally inclined towards the +acquisition of learning, she soon began to devote herself to useful +reading, and even to literary composition. The highly popular ballad of +"Auld Robin Gray" was written when she had only attained her +twenty-first year. According to her own narrative, communicated to Sir +Walter Scott, she had experienced loneliness on the marriage of her +younger sister, who accompanied her husband to London, and had sought +relief from a state of solitude by attempting the composition of song. +An old Scottish melody,[7] sung by an eccentric female, an attendant on +Lady Balcarres, was connected with words unsuitable to the plaintive +nature of the air; and, with the design of supplying the defect, she +formed the idea of writing "Auld Robin Gray." The hero of the ballad was +the old herdsman at Balcarres. To the members of her own family Lady +Anne only communicated her new ballad--scrupulously concealing the fact +of her authorship from others, "perceiving the shyness it created in +those who could write nothing." + +While still in the bloom of youth, the Earl of Balcarres died, and the +Dowager Countess having taken up her residence in Edinburgh, Lady Anne +experienced increased means of acquainting herself with the world of +letters. At her mother's residence she met many of the literary persons +of consideration in the northern metropolis, including such men as Lord +Monboddo, David Hume, and Henry Mackenzie. To comfort her sister, Lady +Margaret Fordyce, who was now a widow, she subsequently removed to +London, where she formed the acquaintance of the principal personages +then occupying the literary and political arena, such as Burke, +Sheridan, Dundas, and Windham. She also became known to the Prince of +Wales, who continued to entertain for her the highest respect. In 1793, +she married Andrew Barnard, Esq., son of the Bishop of Limerick, and +afterwards secretary, under Lord Macartney, to the colony at the Cape of +Good Hope. She accompanied her husband to the Cape, and had meditated a +voyage to New South Wales, that she might minister, by her benevolent +counsels, towards the reformation of the convicts there exiled. On the +death of her husband in 1807, she again resided with her widowed sister, +the Lady Margaret, till the year 1812, when, on the marriage of her +sister to Sir James Burges, she occupied a house of her own, and +continued to reside in Berkeley Square till the period of her death, +which took place on the 6th of May 1825. + +To entire rectitude of principle, amiability of manners, and kindliness +of heart, Anne Barnard added the more substantial, and, in females, the +more uncommon quality of eminent devotedness to intellectual labour. +Literature had been her favourite pursuit from childhood, and even in +advanced life, when her residence was the constant resort of her +numerous relatives, she contrived to find leisure for occasional +literary _réunions_, while her forenoons were universally occupied in +mental improvement. She maintained a correspondence with several of her +brilliant contemporaries, and, in her more advanced years, composed an +interesting narrative of family Memoirs. She was skilled in the use of +the pencil, and sketched scenery with effect. In conversation she was +acknowledged to excel; and her stories[8] and anecdotes were a source of +delight to her friends. She was devotedly pious, and singularly +benevolent: she was liberal in sentiment, charitable to the indigent, +and sparing of the feelings of others. Every circle was charmed by her +presence; by her condescension she inspired the diffident; and she +banished dulness by the brilliancy of her humour. Her countenance, it +should be added, wore a pleasant and animated expression, and her +figure was modelled with the utmost elegance of symmetry and grace. Her +sister, Lady Margaret Fordyce, was eminently beautiful. + +The popularity obtained by the ballad of "Auld Robin Gray" has seldom +been exceeded in the history of any other metrical composition. It was +sung in every fashionable circle, as well as by the ballad-singers, from +Land's-end to John o' Groat's; was printed in every collection of +national songs, and drew tears from our military countrymen both in +America and India. With the exception of Pinkerton, every writer on +Scottish poetry and song has awarded it a tribute of commendation. "The +elegant and accomplished authoress," says Ritson, "has, in this +beautiful production, to all that tenderness and simplicity for which +the Scottish song has been so much celebrated, united a delicacy of +expression which it never before attained." "'Auld Robin Gray,'" says +Sir Walter Scott, "is that real pastoral which is worth all the +dialogues which Corydon and Phillis have had together, from the days of +Theocritus downwards." + +During a long lifetime, till within two years of her death, Lady Anne +Barnard resisted every temptation to declare herself the author of the +popular ballad, thus evincing her determination not to have the secret +wrested from her till she chose to divulge it. Some of those inducements +may be enumerated. The extreme popularity of the ballad might have +proved sufficient in itself to justify the disclosure; but, apart from +this consideration, a very fine tune had been put to it by a doctor of +music;[9] a romance had been founded upon it by a man of eminence; it +was made the subject of a play, of an opera, and of a pantomime; it had +been claimed by others; a sequel had been written to it by some +scribbler, who professed to have composed the whole ballad; it had been +assigned an antiquity far beyond the author's time; the Society of +Antiquaries had made it the subject of investigation; and the author had +been advertised for in the public prints, a reward being offered for the +discovery. Never before had such general interest been exhibited +respecting any composition in Scottish verse. + +In the "Pirate," published in 1823, the author of "Waverley" had +compared the condition of Minna to that of Jeanie Gray, in the words of +Lady Anne, in a sequel which she had published to the original ballad:-- + + "Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent; + Despair it was come, and she thought it content; + She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale, + And she droop'd like a snowdrop broke down by the hail!" + +At length, in her seventy-third year, and upwards of half a century +after the period of its composition, the author voluntarily made avowal +of the authorship of the ballad and its sequel. She wrote to Sir Walter +Scott, with whom she was acquainted, requesting him to inform his +_personal friend_, the author of "Waverley," that she was indeed the +author. She enclosed a copy to Sir Walter, written in her own hand; and, +with her consent, in the course of the following year, he printed "Auld +Robin Gray" as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club. + +The second part has not acquired such decided popularity, and it has not +often been published with it in former Collections. Of the fact of its +inequality, the accomplished author was fully aware: she wrote it +simply to gratify the desire of her venerable mother, who often wished +to know how "the unlucky business of Jeanie and Jamie ended." The +Countess, it may be remarked, was much gratified by the popularity of +the ballad; and though she seems, out of respect to her daughter's +feelings, to have retained the secret, she could not resist the frequent +repetition of it to her friends. + +In the character of Lady Anne Barnard, the defective point was a certain +want of decision, which not only led to her declining many distinguished +and advantageous offers for her hand, but tended, in some measure, to +deprive her of posthumous fame. Illustrative of the latter fact, it has +been recorded that, having entrusted to Sir Walter Scott a volume of +lyrics, composed by herself and by others of the noble house of Lindsay, +with permission to give it to the world, she withdrew her consent after +the compositions had been printed in a quarto volume, and were just on +the eve of being published. The copies of the work, which was entitled +"Lays of the Lindsays," appear to have been destroyed. One lyric only +has been recovered, beginning, "Why tarries my love?" It is printed as +the composition of Lady Anne Barnard, in a note appended to the latest +edition of Johnson's "Musical Museum," by Mr C. K. Sharpe, who +transcribed it from the _Scots Magazine_ for May 1805. The popular song, +"Logie o' Buchan," sometimes attributed to Lady Anne in the Collections, +did not proceed from her pen, but was composed by George Halket, +parochial schoolmaster of Rathen, in Aberdeenshire, about the middle of +the last century. + + +[7] The name of this old melody is, "The Bridegroom greets when the Sun +gangs down."--See Stenhouse's Notes to Johnson's "Musical Museum," vol. +iv. p. 280; the "Lives of the Lindsays," by Lord Lindsay, vol. ii., pp. +314, 332, 392. Lond. 1849, 3 vols., 8vo. + +[8] "She was entertaining a large party of distinguished guests at +dinner, when a hitch occurred in the kitchen. The old servant came up +behind her and whispered, 'My lady, you must tell another story--the +second course won't be ready for five minutes!'"--Letter of General +Lindsay to Lord Lindsay, "Lives of the Lindsays," vol. ii. p. 387. + +[9] The Rev. William Leeves, of Wrington, to whose tune the ballad is +now sung.--See an account of Mr Leeves' claims to the authorship of the +tune, &c., in Johnson's "Musical Museum;" Stenhouse's Notes, vol. iv. p. +231. + + + + +AULD ROBIN GRAY. + +PART I. + + + When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye 's come hame, + And a' the warld to rest are gane, + The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, + Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me. + + Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride, + But saving a crown-piece, he had naething beside; + To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea, + And the crown and the pound they were baith for me. + + He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day, + When my father brake his arm, and the cow was stown away; + My mither she fell sick--my Jamie at the sea; + And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me. + + My father couldna wark, and my mither couldna spin; + I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win;-- + Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e, + Said, "Jeanie, oh, for their sakes, will ye no marry me?" + + My heart it said na, and I look'd for Jamie back; + But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack; + The ship was a wrack--why didna Jamie dee? + Or why am I spared to cry, Wae is me? + + My father urged me sair--my mither didna speak; + But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break; + They gied him my hand--my heart was in the sea-- + And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. + + I hadna been his wife a week but only four, + When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door, + I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he, + Till he said, "I'm come hame, love, to marry thee." + + Oh, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a'; + I gied him a kiss, and bade him gang awa';-- + I wish that I were dead, but I'm nae like to dee; + For though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me! + + I gang like a ghaist, and carena much to spin; + I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin; + But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, + For oh, Robin Gray, he is kind to me! + + +PART II. + + The spring had pass'd over, 'twas summer nae mair, + And, trembling, were scatter'd the leaves in the air; + "Oh, winter," cried Jeanie, "we kindly agree, + For wae looks the sun when he shines upon me." + + Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent; + Despair it was come, and she thought it content; + She thought it content, but her cheek was grown pale, + And she droop'd like a snow-drop broke down by the hail. + + Her father was sad, and her mother was wae, + But silent and thoughtfu' was auld Robin Gray; + He wander'd his lane, and his face was as lean + As the side of a brae where the torrents have been. + + He gaed to his bed, but nae physic would take, + And often he said, "It is best, for her sake!" + While Jeanie supported his head as he lay, + The tears trickled down upon auld Robin Gray. + + "Oh, greet nae mair, Jeanie!" said he, wi' a groan; + "I 'm nae worth your sorrow--the truth maun be known; + Send round for your neighbours--my hour it draws near, + And I 've that to tell that it 's fit a' should hear. + + "I 've wrang'd her," he said, "but I kent it o'er late; + I 've wrang'd her, and sorrow is speeding my date; + But a 's for the best, since my death will soon free + A faithfu' young heart, that was ill match'd wi' me. + + "I lo'ed and I courted her mony a day, + The auld folks were for me, but still she said nay; + I kentna o' Jamie, nor yet o' her vow;-- + In mercy forgi'e me, 'twas I stole the cow! + + "I cared not for crummie, I thought but o' thee; + I thought it was crummie stood 'twixt you and me; + While she fed your parents, oh! did you not say, + You never would marry wi' auld Robin Gray? + + "But sickness at hame, and want at the door-- + You gi'ed me your hand, while your heart it was sore; + I saw it was sore, why took I her hand? + Oh, that was a deed to my shame o'er the land! + + "How truth, soon or late, comes to open daylight! + For Jamie cam' back, and your cheek it grew white; + White, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me. + Oh, Jeanie, I 'm thankfu'--I 'm thankfu' to dee! + + "Is Jamie come here yet?" and Jamie he saw; + "I 've injured you sair, lad, so I leave you my a'; + Be kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be! + Waste no time, my dauties, in mournin' for me." + + They kiss'd his cauld hands, and a smile o'er his face + Seem'd hopefu' of being accepted by grace; + "Oh, doubtna," said Jamie, "forgi'en he will be, + Wha wadna be tempted, my love, to win thee?" + + * * * * * + + The first days were dowie, while time slipt awa'; + But saddest and sairest to Jeanie of a' + Was thinking she couldna be honest and right, + Wi' tears in her e'e, while her heart was sae light. + + But nae guile had she, and her sorrow away, + The wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay; + A bonnie wee bairn--the auld folks by the fire-- + Oh, now she has a' that her heart can desire! + +In an earlier continuation of the original ballad, there are some good +stanzas, which, however, the author had thought proper to expunge from +the piece in its altered and extended form. One verse, descriptive of +Robin Gray's feelings, on observing the concealed and withering grief of +his spouse, is beautiful for its simplicity:-- + + "Nae questions he spier'd her concerning her health, + He look'd at her often, but aye 'twas by stealth; + When his heart it grew grit, and, sighin', he feign'd + To gang to the door to see if it rain'd." + + + + +SONG. + + + Why tarries my love? + Ah! where does he rove? + My love is long absent from me. + Come hither, my dove, + I 'll write to my love, + And send him a letter by thee. + + To find him, swift fly! + The letter I 'll tie + Secure to thy leg with a string. + Ah! not to my leg, + Fair lady, I beg, + But fasten it under my wing. + + Her dove she did deck, + She drew o'er his neck + A bell and a collar so gay; + She tied to his wing + The scroll with a string, + Then kiss'd him and sent him away. + + It blew and it rain'd, + The pigeon disdain'd + To seek shelter; undaunted he flew, + Till wet was his wing, + And painful his string, + So heavy the letter it grew. + + It flew all around, + Till Colin he found, + Then perch'd on his head with the prize; + Whose heart, while he reads, + With tenderness bleeds, + For the pigeon that flutters and dies. + + + + +JOHN TAIT. + + +John Tait was, in early life, devoted to the composition of poetry. In +Ruddiman's _Edinburgh Weekly Magazine_ for 1770, he repeatedly published +verses in the Poet's Corner, with his initials attached, and in +subsequent years he published anonymously the "Cave of Morar," "Poetical +Legends," and other poems. "The Vanity of Human Wishes, an Elegy, +occasioned by the Untimely Death of a Scots Poet," appears under the +signature of J. Tait, in "Poems on Various Subjects by Robert Fergusson, +Part II.," Edinburgh, 1779, 12mo. He was admitted as a Writer to the +Signet on the 21st of November 1781; and in July 1805 was appointed +Judge of Police, on a new police system being introduced into Edinburgh. +In the latter capacity he continued to officiate till July 1812, when a +new Act of Parliament entrusted the settlement of police cases, as +formerly, to the magistrates of the city. Mr Tait died at his house in +Abercromby Place, on the 29th of August 1817. + +"The Banks of the Dee," the only popular production from the pen of the +author, was composed in the year 1775, on the occasion of a friend +leaving Scotland to join the British forces in America, who were then +vainly endeavouring to suppress that opposition to the control of the +mother country which resulted in the permanent establishment of American +independence. The song is set to the Irish air of "Langolee." It was +printed in Wilson's Collection of Songs, which was published at +Edinburgh in 1779, with four additional stanzas by a Miss Betsy B----s, +of inferior merit. It was re-published in "The Goldfinch" (Edinburgh, +1782), and afterwards was inserted in Johnson's "Musical Museum." Burns, +in his letter to Mr George Thomson, of 7th April 1793, writes--"'The +Banks of the Dee' is, you know, literally 'Langolee' to slow time. The +song is well enough, but has some false imagery in it; for instance-- + + "'And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree.' + +In the first place, the nightingale sings in a low bush, but never from +a tree; and, in the second place, there never was a nightingale seen or +heard on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other river in +Scotland. Creative rural imagery is always comparatively flat." + +Thirty years after its first appearance, Mr Tait published a new edition +of the song in Mr Thomson's Collection, vol. iv., in which he has, by +alterations on the first half stanza, acknowledged the justice of the +strictures of the Ayrshire bard. The stanza is altered thus: + + "'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, + And sweetly the _wood-pigeon coo'd from the tree_; + At the foot of a rock, where the _wild rose was growing_, + I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee." + +The song, it may be added, has in several collections been erroneously +attributed to John Home, author of the tragedy of "Douglas." + + + + +THE BANKS OF THE DEE. + + + 'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, + And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree, + At the foot of a rock where the river was flowing, + I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee. + Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river, + Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever, + For there first I gain'd the affection and favour + Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee. + + But now he 's gone from me, and left me thus mourning, + To quell the proud rebels--for valiant is he; + And, ah! there's no hope of his speedy returning, + To wander again on the banks of the Dee. + He 's gone, hapless youth! o'er the rude roaring billows, + The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows, + And left me to wander 'mongst those once loved willows, + The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee. + + But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him, + Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me; + And when he returns, with such care I 'll watch o'er him, + He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee. + The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying, + The lambs on its banks shall again be seen playing, + While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying, + And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee. + + + + +HECTOR MACNEILL. + + +Hector Macneill was born on the 22d of October 1746, in the villa of +Rosebank, near Roslin; and, to to use his own words, "amidst the murmur +of streams and the shades of Hawthornden, may be said to have inhaled +with life the atmosphere of a poet."[10] Descended from an old family, +who possessed a small estate in the southern district of Argyllshire, +his father, after various changes of fortune, had obtained a company in +the 42d Regiment, with which he served during several campaigns in +Flanders. From continued indisposition, and consequent inability to +undergo the fatigues of military life, he disposed of his commission, +and retired, with his wife and two children, to the villa of Rosebank, +of which he became the owner. A few years after the birth of his son +Hector, he felt necessitated, from straitened circumstances, to quit +this beautiful residence; and he afterwards occupied a farm on the banks +of Loch Lomond. Such a region of the picturesque was highly suitable for +the development of those poetical talents which had already appeared in +young Hector, amidst the rural amenities of Roslin. In his eleventh +year, he wrote a drama, after the manner of Gay; and the respectable +execution of his juvenile attempts in versification gained him the +approbation of Dr Doig, the learned rector of the grammar-school of +Stirling, who strongly urged his father to afford him sufficient +instruction, to enable him to enter upon one of the liberal professions. +Had Captain Macneill's circumstances been prosperous, this counsel might +have been adopted, for the son's promising talents were not unnoticed by +his father; but pecuniary difficulties opposed an unsurmountable +obstacle. + +An opulent relative, a West India trader, resident in Bristol, had paid +the captain a visit; and, attracted by the shrewdness of the son Hector, +who was his namesake, offered to retain him in his employment, and to +provide for him in life. After two years' preparatory education, he was +accordingly sent to Bristol, in his fourteenth year. He was destined to +an adventurous career, singularly at variance with his early +predilections and pursuits. By his relative he was designed to sail in a +slave ship to the coast of Guinea; but the intercession of some female +friends prevented his being connected with an expedition so uncongenial +to his feelings. He was now despatched on board a vessel to the island +of St Christopher's, with the view of his making trial of a seafaring +life, but was provided with recommendatory letters, in the event of his +preferring employment on land. With a son of the Bristol trader he +remained twelvemonths; and, having no desire to resume his labours as a +seaman, he afterwards sailed for Guadaloupe, where he continued in the +employment of a merchant for three years, till 1763, when the island was +ceded to the French. Dismissed by his employer, with a scanty balance of +salary, he had some difficulty in obtaining the means of transport to +Antigua; and there, finding himself reduced to entire dependence, he was +content, without any pecuniary recompense, to become assistant to his +relative, who had come to the town of St John's. From this unhappy +condition he was rescued, after a short interval. He was possessed of a +knowledge of the French language; a qualification which, together with +his general abilities, recommended him to fill the office of assistant +to the Provost-Marshal of Grenada. This appointment he held for three +years, when, hearing of the death of his mother and sister, he returned +to Britain. On the death of his father, eighteen months after his +arrival, he succeeded to a small patrimony, which he proceeded to invest +in the purchase of an annuity of £80 per annum. With this limited +income, he seems to have planned a permanent settlement in his native +country; but the unexpected embarrassment of the party from whom he had +purchased the annuity, and an attachment of an unfortunate nature, +compelled him to re-embark on the ocean of adventure. He accepted the +office of assistant-secretary on board Admiral Geary's flag-ship, and +made two cruises with the grand fleet. Proposing again to return to +Scotland, he afterwards resigned his appointment; but he was induced, by +the remonstrances of his friends, Dr Currie, and Mr Roscoe, of +Liverpool, to accept a similar situation on board the flag-ship of Sir +Richard Bickerton, who had been appointed to take the chief command of +the naval power in India. In this post, many of the hardships incident +to a seafaring life fell to his share; and being present at the last +indecisive action with "Suffrein," he had likewise to encounter the +perils of war. His present connexion subsisted three years; but Macneill +sickened in the discharge of duties wholly unsuitable for him, and +longed for the comforts of home. His resources were still limited, but +he flattered himself in the expectation that he might earn a subsistence +as a man of letters. He fixed his residence at a farm-house in the +vicinity of Stirling; and, amidst the pursuits of literature, the +composition of verses, and the cultivation of friendship, he contrived, +for a time, to enjoy a considerable share of happiness. But he speedily +discovered the delusion of supposing that an individual, entirely +unknown in the literary world, could at once be able to establish his +reputation, and inspire confidence in the bookselling trade, whose +favour is so essential to men of letters. Discouraged in longer +persevering in the attempt of procuring a livelihood at home, Macneill, +for the fourth time, took his departure from Britain. Provided with +letters of introduction to influential and wealthy persons in Jamaica, +he sailed for that island on a voyage of adventure; being now in his +thirty-eighth year, and nearly as unprovided for as when he had first +left his native shores, twenty-four years before. On his arrival at +Kingston, he was employed by the collector of customs, whose +acquaintance he had formed on the voyage; but this official soon found +he could dispense with his services, which he did, without aiding him in +obtaining another situation. The individuals to whom he had brought +letters were unable or unwilling to render him assistance, and the +unfortunate adventurer was constrained, in his emergency, to accept the +kind invitation of a medical friend, to make his quarters with him till +some satisfactory employment might occur. He now discovered two intimate +companions of his boyhood settled in the island, in very prosperous +circumstances, and from these he received both pecuniary aid and the +promise of future support. Through their friendly offices, his two sons, +who had been sent out by a generous friend, were placed in situations of +respectability and emolument. But the thoughts of the poet himself were +directed towards Britain. He sailed from Jamaica, with a thousand plans +and schemes hovering in his mind, equally vague and indefinite as had +been his aims and designs during the past chapter of his history. A +small sum given him as the pay of an inland ensigncy, now conferred on +him, but antedated, sufficed to defray the expenses of the voyage. + +Before leaving Scotland for Jamaica, Macneill had commenced a poem, +founded on a Highland tradition; and to the completion of this +production he assiduously devoted himself during his homeward voyage. It +was published at Edinburgh in 1789, under the title of "The Harp, a +Legendary Tale." In the previous year, he published a pamphlet in +vindication of slavery, entitled, "On the Treatment of the Negroes in +Jamaica." This pamphlet, written to gratify the wishes of an interested +friend, rather than as the result of his own convictions, he +subsequently endeavoured to suppress. For several years, Macneill +persevered in his unsettled mode of life. On his return from Jamaica, he +resided in the mansion of his friend, Mr Graham of Gartmore, himself a +writer of verses, as well as a patron of letters; but a difference with +the family caused him to quit this hospitable residence. After passing +some time with his relatives in Argyllshire, he entertained a proposal +of establishing himself in Glasgow, as partner of a mercantile house, +but this was terminated by the dissolution of the firm; and a second +attempt to succeed in the republic of letters had an equally +unsuccessful issue. In Edinburgh, whither he had removed, he was seized +with a severe nervous illness, which, during the six following years, +rendered him incapable of sustained physical exertion. With a little +money, which he contrived to raise on his annuity, he retired to a small +cottage at St Ninians; but his finances again becoming reduced, he +accepted of the hospitable invitation of his friends, Major Spark and +his lady, to become the inmate of their residence of Viewforth House, +Stirling. At this period, Macneill composed the greater number of his +best songs, and produced his poem of "Scotland's Skaith, or the History +of Will and Jean," which was published in 1795, and speedily gained him +a wide reputation. Before the close of twelvemonths, it passed through +no fewer than fourteen editions. A sequel, entitled "The Waes o' War," +which appeared in 1796, attained nearly an equal popularity. The +original ballad was composed during the author's solitary walks along +the promenades of the King's Park, Stirling, while he was still +suffering mental depression. It was completed in his own mind before any +of the stanzas were committed to paper. + +The hope of benefiting his enfeebled constitution in a warm climate +induced him to revisit Jamaica. As a parting tribute to his friends at +Stirling, he published, in 1799, immediately before his departure, a +descriptive poem, entitled "The Links of Forth, or a Parting Peep at the +Carse of Stirling," which, regarded as the last effort of a dying poet, +obtained a reception fully equal to its merits. + +On the oft-disappointed and long unfortunate poet the sun of prosperity +at length arose. On his arrival in Jamaica, one of his early friends, Mr +John Graham, of Three-Mile-River, settled on him an annuity of £100 +a-year; and, in a few months afterwards, they sailed together for +Britain, the poet's health being essentially improved. Macneill now +fixed his permanent residence in Edinburgh, and, with the proceeds of +several legacies bequeathed to him, together with his annuity, was +enabled to live in comparative affluence. The narrative of his early +adventures and hardships is supposed to form the basis of a novel, +entitled "The Memoirs of Charles Macpherson, Esq.," which proceeded from +his pen in 1800. In the following year, he published a complete edition +of his poetical works, in two duodecimo volumes. In 1809, he published +"The Pastoral, or Lyric Muse of Scotland," in a thin quarto volume; and +about the same time, anonymously, two other works in verse, entitled +"Town Fashions, or Modern Manners Delineated," and "Bygone Times and +Late-come Changes." His last work, "The Scottish Adventurers," a novel, +appeared in 1812, in two octavo volumes. + +The latter productions of Hector Macneill, both in prose and verse, +tended rather to diminish than increase his fame. They exhibit the +sentiments of a querulous old man, inclined to cling to the habits of +his youth, and to regard any improvement as an act of ruthless +innovation. As the author of some excellent songs, and one of the most +popular ballads in the Scottish language, his name will continue to be +remembered. His songs, "Mary of Castlecary," "My boy, Tammie," "Come +under my plaidie," "I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane," "Donald and Flora," +and "Dinna think, bonnie lassie," will retain a firm hold of the popular +mind. His characteristic is tenderness and pathos, combined with unity +of feeling, and a simplicity always genuine and true to nature. Allan +Cunningham, who forms only a humble estimate of his genius, remarks that +his songs "have much softness and truth, an insinuating grace of +manners, and a decorum of expression, with no small skill in the +dramatic management of the stories."[11] The ballad of "Scotland's +Skaith" ranks among the happiest conceptions of the Scottish Doric muse; +rural life is depicted with singular force and accuracy, and the +debasing consequences of the inordinate use of ardent spirits among the +peasantry, are delineated with a vigour and power, admirably adapted to +suit the author's benevolent intention in the suppression of +intemperance. + +During his latter years, Macneill was much cherished among the +fashionables of the capital. He was a tall, venerable-looking old man; +and although his complexion was sallow, and his countenance somewhat +austere, his agreeable and fascinating conversation, full of humour and +replete with anecdote, rendered him an acceptable guest in many social +circles. He displayed a lively, but not a vigorous intellect, and his +literary attainments were inconsiderable. Of his own character as a man +of letters, he had evidently formed a high estimate. He was prone to +satire, but did not unduly indulge in it. He was especially impatient of +indifferent versification; and, among his friends, rather discouraged +than commended poetical composition. Though long unsettled himself, he +was loud in his commendations of industry; and, from the gay man of the +world, he became earnest on the subject of religion. For several years, +his health seems to have been unsatisfactory. In a letter to a friend, +dated Edinburgh, January 30, 1813, he writes:--"Accumulating years and +infirmities are beginning to operate very sensibly upon me now, and +yearly do I experience their increasing influence. Both my hearing and +my sight are considerably weakened, and, should I live a few years +longer, I look forward to a state which, with all our love for life, is +certainly not to be envied.... My pen is my chief amusement. Reading +soon fatigues, and loses its zest; composition never, till over-exertion +reminds me of my imprudence, by sensations which too frequently render +me unpleasant during the rest of the day." On the 15th of March 1818, in +his seventy-second year, the poet breathed his last, in entire +composure, and full of hope. + + +[10] We quote from an autobiography of the poet, the original of which +is in the possession of one of his surviving friends. We have likewise +to acknowledge our obligations to Dr Muschet, of Birkhill, near +Stirling, for communicating some interesting letters of Macneill, +addressed to his late father. The late Mr John Campbell, Writer to the +Signet, had undertaken to supply a memoir for this work, partly from his +own recollections of his deceased friend; but, before he could fulfil +his promise, he was called to rest with his fathers. We have, however, +taken advantage of his reminiscences of the bard, orally communicated to +us. An intelligent abridgment of the autobiography appears in +_Blackwood's Magazine_, vol. iv. p. 273. See likewise the _Encyclopædia +Britannica_, vol. xv. p. 307. + +[11] "The Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern," by Allan Cunningham, +vol. i. p. 242. London, 1825; 4 vols. 12mo. + + + + +MARY OF CASTLECARY.[12] + +TUNE--_"Bonnie Dundee."_ + + + "Oh, saw ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing? + Saw ye my true love, down on yon lee? + Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin'? + Sought she the burnie whare flow'rs the haw-tree? + Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milk-white; + Dark is the blue o' her saft rolling e'e; + Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses: + Whare could my wee thing wander frae me?" + + "I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing, + Nor saw I your true love, down on yon lea; + But I met my bonnie thing, late in the gloamin', + Down by the burnie whare flow'rs the haw-tree. + Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milk-white; + Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling e'e; + Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses: + Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me!" + + "It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing, + It was na my true love, ye met by the tree: + Proud is her leal heart--modest her nature; + She never lo'ed ony till ance she lo'ed me. + Her name it is Mary; she 's frae Castlecary; + Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee;-- + Fair as your face is, were 't fifty times fairer, + Young bragger, she ne'er would gi'e kisses to thee." + + "It was, then, your Mary; she 's frae Castlecary; + It was, then, your true love I met by the tree;-- + Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature, + Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me." + Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew; + Wild flash'd the fire frae his red rolling e'e-- + "Ye 's rue sair, this morning, your boasts and your scorning; + Defend, ye fause traitor! fu' loudly ye lie." + + "Awa' wi' beguiling," cried the youth, smiling;-- + Aff went the bonnet; the lint-white locks flee; + The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing-- + Fair stood the lo'ed maid wi' the dark rolling e'e. + "Is it my wee thing? is it mine ain thing? + Is it my true love here that I see?" + "Oh, Jamie, forgi'e me! your heart 's constant to me; + I 'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee!" + + +[12] This song was first published, in May 1791, in _The Bee_, an +Edinburgh periodical, conducted by Dr James Anderson. + + + + +MY BOY, TAMMY.[13] + + + "Whare hae ye been a' day, + My boy, Tammy? + Whare hae ye been a' day, + My boy, Tammy?" + "I 've been by burn and flow'ry brae, + Meadow green, and mountain gray, + Courting o' this young thing, + Just come frae her mammy." + + "And whare got ye that young thing, + My boy, Tammy?" + "I gat her down in yonder howe, + Smiling on a broomy knowe, + Herding a wee lamb and ewe + For her poor mammy." + + "What said ye to the bonnie bairn, + My boy, Tammy?" + "I praised her een, sae bonny blue, + Her dimpled cheek, and cherry mou'; + I pree'd it aft, as ye may true;-- + She said she 'd tell her mammy. + + "I held her to my beating heart, + My young, my smiling lammie! + 'I hae a house, it cost me dear; + I 've wealth o' plenishin' and gear;-- + Ye 'se get it a', were 't ten times mair, + Gin ye will leave your mammy.' + + "The smile gaed aff her bonnie face-- + 'I maunna leave my mammy; + She 's gi'en me meat, she 's gi'en me claise, + She 's been my comfort a' my days; + My father's death brought mony waes-- + I canna leave my mammy.'" + + "We 'll tak her hame, and mak her fain, + My ain kind-hearted lammie; + We 'll gi'e her meat, we 'll gi'e her claise, + We 'll be her comfort a' her days." + The wee thing gi'es her hand and says-- + "There! gang and ask my mammy." + + "Has she been to kirk wi' thee, + My boy, Tammy?" + "She has been to kirk wi' me, + And the tear was in her e'e; + But, oh! she 's but a young thing, + Just come frae her mammy." + + +[13] This beautiful ballad was first printed, in 1791, in _The Bee_. It +is adapted to an old and sweet air, to which, however, very puerile +words were attached. + + + + +OH, TELL ME HOW FOR TO WOO![14] + +TUNE--_"Bonnie Dundee."_ + + + "Oh, tell me, bonnie young lassie! + Oh, tell me how for to woo! + Oh, tell me, bonnie sweet lassie! + Oh, tell me how for to woo! + Say, maun I roose your cheeks like the morning? + Lips, like the roses, fresh moisten'd wi' dew; + Say, maun I roose your een's pawkie scorning? + Oh, tell me how for to woo! + + "Far hae I wander'd to see thee, dear lassie! + Far hae I ventured across the saut sea; + Far hae I travell'd ower moorland and mountain, + Houseless and weary, sleep'd cauld on the lea. + Ne'er hae I tried yet to mak love to onie, + For ne'er lo'ed I onie till ance I lo'ed you; + Now we 're alane in the green-wood sae bonnie-- + Oh, tell me how for to woo!" + + "What care I for your wand'ring, young laddie? + What care I for your crossing the sea? + It was na for naething ye left poor young Peggie; + It was for my tocher ye cam' to court me. + Say, hae ye gowd to busk me aye gaudie? + Ribbons, and perlins, and breast-knots enew? + A house that is canty, with wealth in 't, my laddie? + Without this ye never need try for to woo." + + "I hae na gowd to busk ye aye gaudie; + I canna buy ribbons and perlins enew; + I 've naething to brag o' house, or o' plenty, + I 've little to gi'e, but a heart that is true. + I cam' na for tocher--I ne'er heard o' onie; + I never lo'ed Peggy, nor e'er brak my vow: + I 've wander'd, puir fule! for a face fause as bonnie: + I little thocht this was the way for to woo." + + "Our laird has fine houses, and guineas o' gowd + He 's youthfu', he 's blooming, and comely to see. + The leddies are a' ga'en wud for the wooer, + And yet, ilka e'ening, he leaves them for me. + Oh, saft in the gloaming, his love he discloses! + And saftly, yestreen, as I milked my cow, + He swore that my breath it was sweeter than roses, + And a' the gait hame he did naething but woo." + + "Ah, Jenny! the young laird may brag o' his siller, + His houses, his lands, and his lordly degree; + His speeches for _true love_ may drap sweet as honey, + But trust me, dear Jenny, he ne'er lo'ed like _me_. + The wooin' o' gentry are fine words o' fashion-- + The faster they fa' as the heart is least true; + The dumb look o' love 's aft the best proof o' passion; + The heart that feels maist is the least fit to woo." + + "Hae na ye roosed my cheeks like the morning? + Hae na ye roosed my cherry-red mou'? + Hae na ye come ower sea, moor, and mountain? + What mair, Johnnie, need ye to woo? + Far ye wander'd, I ken, my dear laddie; + Now that ye 've found me, there 's nae cause to rue; + Wi' health we 'll hae plenty--I 'll never gang gaudie; + I ne'er wish'd for mair than a heart that is true." + + She hid her fair face in her true lover's bosom, + The saft tear o' transport fill'd ilk lover's e'e; + The burnie ran sweet by their side as they sabbit, + And sweet sang the mavis aboon on the tree. + He clasp'd her, he press'd her, and ca'd her his hinny; + And aften he tasted her honey-sweet mou'; + And aye, 'tween ilk kiss, she sigh'd to her Johnnie, + "Oh, laddie! weel can ye woo." + + +[14] Mr Graham, of Gartmore, an intimate friend of Hector Macneill, +composed a song, having a similar burden, the chorus proceeding thus:-- + + "Then, tell me how to woo thee, love; + Oh, tell me how to woo thee! + For thy dear sake nae care I'll take, + Though ne'er another trow me." + +This was published by Sir Walter Scott, in the "Minstrelsy of the +Scottish Border," as a production of the reign of Charles I. + + + + +LASSIE WI' THE GOWDEN HAIR. + + + Lassie wi' the gowden hair, + Silken snood, and face sae fair; + Lassie wi' the yellow hair, + Thinkna to deceive me. + Lassie wi' the gowden hair, + Flattering smile, and face sae fair, + Fare ye weel! for never mair + Johnnie will believe ye. + Oh, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn; + Oh, no! Mary Bawn, ye 'll nae mair deceive me. + + Smiling, twice ye made me troo, + Twice, poor fool! I turn'd to woo; + Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow; + Now I 've sworn to leave ye. + Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow; + Twice, poor fool! I 've learn'd to rue; + Come ye yet to mak me troo? + Thrice ye 'll ne'er deceive me. + No, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn; + Oh, no! Mary Bawn; thrice ye 'll ne'er deceive me. + + Mary saw him turn to part; + Deep his words sank in her heart; + Soon the tears began to start-- + "Johnnie, will ye leave me?" + Soon the tears began to start, + Grit and gritter grew his heart; + "Yet a word before we part, + Love could ne'er deceive ye. + Oh, no! Johnnie doo, Johnnie doo, Johnnie doo; + Oh, no! Johnnie doo--love could ne'er deceive ye." + + Johnnie took a parting keek; + Saw the tears drap owre her cheek; + Pale she stood, but couldna speak-- + Mary 's cured o' smiling. + Johnnie took anither keek-- + Beauty's rose has left her cheek; + Pale she stands, and canna speak. + This is nae beguiling. + Oh, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, dear Mary Bawn; + Oh, no; Mary Bawn--love has nae beguiling. + + + + +COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE. + +TUNE--_"Johnnie M'Gill."_ + + + "Come under my plaidie, the night 's gaun to fa'; + Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw; + Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, + There 's room in 't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa. + Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, + I 'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw: + Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me! + There 's room in 't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa." + + "Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, auld Donald, gae 'wa, + I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw; + Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, I 'll no sit beside ye; + Ye may be my gutcher;--auld Donald, gae 'wa. + I 'm gaun to meet Johnnie, he 's young and he 's bonnie; + He 's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig and fu' braw; + Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly! + His cheek 's like the new rose, his brow 's like the snaw." + + "Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa'; + Your Jock 's but a gowk, and has naething ava; + The hale o' his pack he has now on his back-- + He 's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa. + Be frank now and kindly; I 'll busk ye aye finely; + To kirk or to market they 'll few gang sae braw; + A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in, + And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'." + + "My father 's aye tauld me, my mither and a', + Ye 'd mak a gude husband, and keep me aye braw; + It 's true I lo'e Johnnie, he 's gude and he 's bonnie; + But, waes me! ye ken he has naething ava. + I hae little tocher; you 've made a gude offer; + I 'm now mair than twenty--my time is but sma'; + Sae gi'e me your plaidie, I 'll creep in beside ye-- + I thocht ye 'd been aulder than threescore and twa." + + She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa', + Whare Johnnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a'; + The day was appointed, his proud heart it dunted, + And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa. + He wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary; + And, thowless, he tint his gate 'mang the deep snaw; + The owlet was screamin' while Johnnie cried, "Women + Wad marry Auld Nick if he 'd keep them aye braw." + + + + +I LO'ED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE.[15] + + + I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, + He lo'ed ne'er a lassie but me; + He 's willing to mak' me his ain, + And his ain I am willing to be. + He has coft me a rokelay o' blue, + And a pair o' mittens o' green; + The price was a kiss o' my mou', + And I paid him the debt yestreen. + + Let ithers brag weel o' their gear, + Their land and their lordly degree; + I carena for aught but my dear, + For he 's ilka thing lordly to me: + His words are sae sugar'd and sweet! + His sense drives ilk fear far awa'! + I listen, poor fool! and I greet; + Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'! + + "Dear lassie," he cries, wi' a jeer, + "Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say; + Though we 've little to brag o', near fear-- + What 's gowd to a heart that is wae? + Our laird has baith honours and wealth, + Yet see how he 's dwining wi' care; + Now we, though we 've naething but health, + Are cantie and leal evermair. + + "O Marion! the heart that is true, + Has something mair costly than gear! + Ilk e'en it has naething to rue, + Ilk morn it has naething to fear. + Ye warldlings! gae hoard up your store, + And tremble for fear aught ye tyne; + Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door, + While here in my arms I lock mine!" + + He ends wi' a kiss and a smile-- + Wae 's me! can I tak' it amiss? + My laddie 's unpractised in guile, + He 's free aye to daut and to kiss! + Ye lasses wha lo'e to torment + Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife, + Play your pranks--I hae gi'en my consent, + And this nicht I 'm Jamie's for life! + + +[15] The first stanza of this song, along with a second, which is +unsuitable for insertion, has been ascribed, on the authority of Burns, +to the Rev. John Clunie, minister of Borthwick, in Mid-Lothian, who died +in 1819, aged sixty-two. Ritson, however, by prefixing the letters "J. +D." to the original stanza would seem to point to a different author. + + + + +DONALD AND FLORA.[16] + + + I. + + When merry hearts were gay, + Careless of aught but play, + Poor Flora slipt away, + Sadd'ning to Mora;[17] + Loose flow'd her yellow hair, + Quick heaved her bosom bare, + As to the troubled air + She vented her sorrow. + + + II. + + "Loud howls the stormy wist, + Cold, cold is winter's blast; + Haste, then, O Donald, haste, + Haste to thy Flora! + Twice twelve long months are o'er, + Since on a foreign shore + You promised to fight no more, + But meet me in Mora." + + + III. + + "'Where now is Donald dear?' + Maids cry with taunting sneer; + 'Say, is he still sincere + To his loved Flora?' + Parents upbraid my moan, + Each heart is turn'd to stone: + 'Ah, Flora! thou 'rt now alone, + Friendless in Mora!' + + + IV. + + "Come, then, O come away! + Donald, no longer stay; + Where can my rover stray + From his loved Flora! + Ah! sure he ne'er can be + False to his vows and me; + Oh, Heaven!--is not yonder he, + Bounding o'er Mora!" + + + V. + + "Never, ah! wretched fair!" + Sigh'd the sad messenger, + "Never shall Donald mair + Meet his loved Flora! + Cold as yon mountain snow + Donald thy love lies low; + He sent me to soothe thy woe, + Weeping in Mora. + + + VI. + + "Well fought our gallant men + On Saratoga's plain; + Thrice fled the hostile train + From British glory. + But, ah! though our foes did flee, + Sad was such victory-- + Truth, love, and loyalty + Fell far from Mora. + + + VII. + + "'Here, take this love-wrought plaid,' + Donald, expiring, said; + 'Give it to yon dear maid + Drooping in Mora. + Tell her, O Allan! tell + Donald thus bravely fell, + And that in his last farewell + He thought on his Flora.'" + + + VIII. + + Mute stood the trembling fair, + Speechless with wild despair; + Then, striking her bosom bare, + Sigh'd out, "Poor Flora! + Ah, Donald! ah, well-a-day!" + Was all the fond heart could say: + At length the sound died away + Feebly in Mora. + + +[16] This fine ballad was written by Macneill, to commemorate the death +of his friend, Captain Stewart, a brave officer, betrothed to a young +lady in Athole, who, in 1777, fell at the battle of Saratoga, in +America. The words, which are adapted to an old Gaelic air, appear with +music in Smith's "Scottish Minstrel," vol. iii. p. 28. The ballad, in +the form given above, has been improved in several of the stanzas by the +author, on his original version, published in Johnson's "Museum." See +the "Museum," vol. iv. p. 238. + +[17] Mora is the name of a small valley in Athole, so designated by the +two lovers. + + + + +MY LUVE'S IN GERMANY.[18] + +TUNE--_"Ye Jacobites by name."_ + + + My luve 's in Germanie, send him hame, send him hame; + My luve 's in Germanie, send him hame; + My luve 's in Germanie, + Fighting brave for royalty: + He may ne'er his Jeanie see-- + Send him hame. + + He 's as brave as brave can be--send him hame, send him hame; + He 's as brave as brave can be--send him hame; + He 's as brave as brave can be, + He wad rather fa' than flee; + His life is dear to me-- + Send him hame. + + Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, bonnie dame, bonnie dame, + Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, bonnie dame; + Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, + But he fell in Germanie, + In the cause of royalty, + Bonnie dame. + + He 'll ne'er come ower the sea--Willie 's slain, Willie 's slain; + He 'll ne'er come ower the sea--Willie 's gane! + He 'll ne'er come ower the sea, + To his love and ain countrie: + This warld 's nae mair for me-- + Willie 's gane! + + +[18] This song was originally printed on a single sheet, by N. Stewart +and Co., Edinburgh, in 1794, as the lament of a lady on the death of an +officer. It does not appear in Macneill's "Poetical Works," but he +asserted to Mr Stenhouse his claims to the authorship.--Johnson's +"Museum," vol. iv. p. 323. + + + + +DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE.[19] + +TUNE--_"Clunie's Reel."_ + + + "Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee! + Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee; + Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee; + I 'll tak a stick into my hand, and come again and see thee." + + "Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie; + Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie; + Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie; + Oh, stay this night wi' your love, and dinna gang and leave me." + + "It 's but a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie; + But a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie; + But a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie; + Whene'er the sun gaes west the loch, I 'll come again and see thee." + + "Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; + Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; + When a' the lave are sound asleep, I 'm dull and eerie; + And a' the lee-lang night I 'm sad, wi' thinking on my dearie." + + "Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee! + Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee; + Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee; + Whene'er the sun gaes out o' sight, I 'll come again and see thee." + + "Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me; + Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me; + While the winds and waves do roar, I am wae and drearie; + And gin ye lo'e me as ye say, ye winna gang and leave me." + + "Oh, never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee! + Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; + Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; + E'en let the world gang as it will, I 'll stay at hame and cheer ye." + + Frae his hand he coost his stick; "I winna gang and leave thee;" + Threw his plaid into the neuk; "Never can I grieve thee;" + Drew his boots, and flang them by; cried, "My lass, be cheerie; + I 'll kiss the tear frae aff thy cheek, and never leave my dearie." + + +[19] The last verse of this song was added by John Hamilton. The song, +on account of this addition, was not included by Macneill in the +collected edition of his "Poetical Works." One of Miss Blamire's songs +has the same opening line; and it has been conjectured by Mr Maxwell, +the editor of her poems, that Macneill had been indebted to her song for +suggesting his verses. + + + + +MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN. + + +Mrs Anne Grant, commonly styled of Laggan, to distinguish her from her +contemporary, Mrs Grant of Carron, was born at Glasgow, in February +1755. Her father, Mr Duncan Macvicar, was an officer in the army, and, +by her mother, she was descended from the old family of Stewart, of +Invernahyle, in Argyllshire. Her early infancy was passed at +Fort-William; but her father having accompanied his regiment to America, +and there become a settler, in the State of New York, at a very tender +age she was taken by her mother across the Atlantic, to her new home. +Though her third year had not been completed when she arrived in +America, she retained a distinct recollection of her landing at +Charlestown. By her mother she was taught to read, and a well-informed +serjeant made her acquainted with writing. Her precocity for learning +was remarkable. Ere she had reached her sixth year, she had made herself +familiar with the Old Testament, and could speak the Dutch language, +which she had learned from a family of Dutch settlers. The love of +poetry and patriotism was simultaneously evinced. At this early period, +she read Milton's "Paradise Lost" with attention, and even +appreciation; and glowed with the enthusiastic ardour of a young heroine +over the adventures of Wallace, detailed in the metrical history of +Henry, the Minstrel. Her juvenile talent attracted the notice of the +more intelligent settlers in the State, and gained her the friendship of +the distinguished Madame Schuyler, whose virtues she afterwards depicted +in her "Memoirs of an American Lady." + +In 1768, along with his wife and daughter, Mr Macvicar returned to +Scotland, his health having suffered by his residence in America; and, +during the three following summers, his daughter found means of +gratifying her love of song, on the banks of the Cart, near Glasgow. The +family residence was now removed to Fort-Augustus, where Mr Macvicar had +received the appointment of barrack-master. The chaplain of the fort was +the Rev. James Grant, a young clergyman, related to several of the more +respectable families in the district, who was afterwards appointed +minister of the parish of Laggan, in Inverness-shire. At Fort-Augustus, +he had recommended himself to the affections of Miss Macvicar, by his +elegant tastes and accomplished manners, and he now became the +successful suitor for her hand. They were married in 1779, and Mrs +Grant, to approve herself a useful helpmate to her husband, began +assiduously to acquaint herself with the manners and habits of the +humbler classes of the people. The inquiries instituted at this period +were turned to an account more extensive than originally contemplated. +Mr Grant, who was constitutionally delicate, died in 1801, leaving his +widow and eight surviving children without any means of support, his +worldly circumstances being considerably embarrassed. + +On a small farm which she had rented, in the vicinity of her late +husband's parish, Mrs Grant resided immediately subsequent to his +decease; but the profits of the lease were evidently inadequate for the +comfortable maintenance of the family. Among the circle of her friends +she was known as a writer of verses; in her ninth year, she had essayed +an imitation of Milton; and she had written poetry, or at least verses, +on the banks of the Cart and at Fort-Augustus. To aid in supporting her +family, she was strongly advised to collect her pieces into a volume; +and, to encourage her in acting upon this recommendation, no fewer than +three thousand subscribers were procured for the work by her friends. +The celebrated Duchess of Gordon proved an especial promoter of the +cause. In 1803, a volume of poems appeared from her pen, which, though +displaying no high powers, was favourably received, and had the double +advantage of making her known, and of materially aiding her finances. +From the profits, she made settlement of her late husband's liabilities; +and now perceiving a likelihood of being able to support her family by +her literary exertions, she abandoned the lease of her farm. She took up +her residence near the town of Stirling, residing in the mansion of +Gartur, in that neighbourhood. In 1806, she again appeared before the +public as an author, by publishing a selection of her correspondence +with her friends, in three duodecimo volumes, under the designation of +"Letters from the Mountains." This work passed through several editions. +In 1808, Mrs Grant published the life of her early friend, Madame +Schuyler, under the designation of "Memoirs of an American Lady," in two +volumes. + +From the rural retirement of Gartur, she soon removed to the town of +Stirling; but in 1810, as her circumstances became more prosperous, she +took up her permanent abode in Edinburgh. Some distinguished literary +characters of the Scottish capital now resorted to her society. She was +visited by Sir Walter Scott, Francis Jeffrey, James Hogg, and others, +attracted by the vivacity of her conversation. The "Essays on the +Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland" appeared in 1811, in two +volumes; in 1814, she published a metrical work, in two parts, entitled +"Eighteen Hundred and Thirteen;" and, in the year following, she +produced her "Popular Models and Impressive Warnings for the Sons and +Daughters of Industry." + +In 1825, Mrs Grant received a civil-list pension of £50 a-year, in +consideration of her literary talents, which, with the profits of her +works and the legacies of several deceased friends, rendered the latter +period of her life sufficiently comfortable in respect of pecuniary +means. She died on the 7th of November 1838, in the eighty-fourth year +of her age, and retaining her faculties to the last. A collection of her +correspondence was published in 1844, in three volumes octavo, edited by +her only surviving son, John P. Grant, Esq. + +As a writer, Mrs Grant occupies a respectable place. She had the happy +art of turning her every-day observation, as well as the fruits of her +research, to the best account. Her letters, which she published at the +commencement of her literary career, as well as those which appeared +posthumously, are favourable specimens of that species of composition. +As a poet, she attained to no eminence. "The Highlanders," her longest +and most ambitious poetical effort, exhibits some glowing descriptions +of mountain scenery, and the stern though simple manners of the Gaël. Of +a few songs which proceed from her pen, that commencing, "Oh, where, +tell me where?" written on the occasion of the Marquis of Huntly's +departure for Holland with his regiment, in 1799, has only become +generally known. It has been parodied in a song, by an unknown author, +entitled "The Blue Bells of Scotland," which has obtained a wider range +of popularity. + + + + +OH, WHERE, TELL ME WHERE? + + + "Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone? + Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?" + "He 's gone, with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done, + And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home. + He 's gone, with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done, + And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home." + + "Oh, where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay? + Oh, where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay?" + "He dwelt beneath the holly-trees, beside the rapid Spey, + And many a blessing follow'd him, the day he went away. + He dwelt beneath the holly-trees, beside the rapid Spey, + And many a blessing follow'd him, the day he went away." + + "Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear? + Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?" + "A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war, + And a plaid across the manly breast that yet shall wear a star; + A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war, + And a plaid across the manly breast that yet shall wear a star." + + "Suppose, ah, suppose, that some cruel, cruel wound, + Should pierce your Highland laddie, and all your hopes confound!" + "The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly; + The spirit of a Highland chief would lighten in his eye; + The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly, + And for his king and country dear with pleasure he would die!" + + "But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds; + But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds. + His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds, + While, wide through all our Highland hills, his warlike name resounds; + His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds, + While, wide through all our Highland hills, his warlike name resounds." + + + + +OH, MY LOVE, LEAVE ME NOT![20] + +AIR--_"Bealach na Gharraidh."_ + + + Oh, my love, leave me not! + Oh, my love, leave me not! + Oh, my love, leave me not! + Lonely and weary. + + Could you but stay a while, + And my fond fears beguile, + I yet once more could smile, + Lightsome and cheery. + + Night, with her darkest shroud, + Tempests that roar aloud, + Thunders that burst the cloud, + Why should I fear ye? + + Till the sad hour we part, + Fear cannot make me start; + Grief cannot break my heart + Whilst thou art near me. + + Should you forsake my sight, + Day would to me be night; + Sad, I would shun its light, + Heartless and weary. + + +[20] From Albyn's "Anthology," vol. i. p. 42. Edinburgh, 1816, 4to. + + + + +JOHN MAYNE. + + +John Mayne, chiefly known as the author of "The Siller Gun," a poem +descriptive of burgher habits in Scotland towards the close of the +century, was born at Dumfries, on the 26th of March 1759. At the grammar +school of his native town, under Dr Chapman, the learned rector, whose +memory he has celebrated in the third canto of his principal poem, he +had the benefit of a respectable elementary education; and having chosen +the profession of a printer, he entered at an early age the printing +office of the _Dumfries Journal_. In 1782, when his parents removed to +Glasgow, to reside on a little property to which they had succeeded, he +sought employment under the celebrated Messrs Foulis, in whose printing +establishment he continued during the five following years. He paid a +visit to London in 1785, with the view of advancing his professional +interests, and two years afterwards he settled in the metropolis. + +Mayne, while a mere stripling, was no unsuccessful wooer of the Muse; +and in his sixteenth year he produced the germ of that poem on which his +reputation chiefly depends. This production, entitled "The Siller Gun," +descriptive of a sort of _walkingshaw_, or an ancient practice which +obtained in his native town, of shooting, on the king's birth-day, for a +silver tube or gun, which had been presented by James VI. to the +incorporated trades, as a prize to the best marksman, was printed at +Dumfries in 1777, on a small quarto page. The original edition consisted +of twelve stanzas; in two years it increased to two cantos; in 1780, it +was printed in three cantos; in 1808, it was published in London with a +fourth; and in 1836, just before his death, the author added a fifth. +The latest edition was published by subscription, in an elegant +duodecimo volume. + +In 1780, in the pages of Ruddiman's _Weekly Magazine_, Mayne published a +short poem on "Halloween," which suggested Burns's celebrated poem on +the same subject. In 1781, he published at Glasgow his song of "Logan +Braes," of which Burns afterwards composed a new version. + +In London, Mayne was first employed as printer, and subsequently became +joint-editor and proprietor, along with Dr Tilloch, of the _Star_ +evening newspaper. With this journal he retained a connexion till his +death, which took place at London on the 14th of March 1836. + +Besides the humorous and descriptive poem of "The Siller Gun," which, in +the opinion of Sir Walter Scott, surpasses the efforts of Ferguson, and +comes near to those of Burns,[21] Mayne published another epic +production, entitled "Glasgow," which appeared in 1803, and has passed +through several editions. In the same year he published "English, Scots, +and Irishmen," a chivalrous address to the population of the three +kingdoms. To the literary journals, his contributions, both in prose and +verse, were numerous and interesting. Many of his songs and ballads +enriched the columns of the journal which he so long and ably conducted. +In early life, he maintained a metrical correspondence with Thomas +Telford, the celebrated engineer, who was a native of the same county, +and whose earliest ambition was to earn the reputation of a poet.[22] + +Possessed of entire amiability of disposition, and the utmost amenity of +manners, John Mayne was warmly beloved among the circle of his friends. +Himself embued with a deep sense of religion, though fond of innocent +humour, he preserved in all his writings a becoming respect for sound +morals, and is entitled to the commendation which a biographer has +awarded him, of having never committed to paper a single line "the +tendency of which was not to afford innocent amusement, or to improve +and increase the happiness of mankind." He was singularly modest and +even retiring. His eulogy has been pronounced by Allan Cunningham, who +knew him well, that "a better or warmer-hearted man never existed." The +songs, of which we have selected the more popular, abound in vigour of +expression and sentiment, and are pervaded by a genuine pathos. + + +[21] See Note to "Lady of the Lake." + +[22] See the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, vol. xxi. p. 170. + + + + +LOGAN BRAES.[23] + + + By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep, + Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep, + I've herded sheep, or gather'd slaes, + Wi' my dear lad, on Logan braes. + But, waes my heart! thae days are gane, + And I wi' grief may herd alane; + While my dear lad maun face his faes, + Far, far frae me and Logan braes. + + Nae mair at Logan kirk will he + Atween the preachings meet wi' me, + Meet wi' me, or, whan it's mirk, + Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk. + I weel may sing thae days are gane-- + Frae kirk and fair I come alane, + While my dear lad maun face his faes, + Far, far frae me and Logan braes. + + At e'en, when hope amaist is gane, + I daunder dowie and forlane; + I sit alane, beneath the tree + Where aft he kept his tryste wi' me. + Oh, could I see thae days again, + My lover skaithless, and my ain! + Beloved by friends, revered by faes, + We'd live in bliss on Logan braes. + + +[23] This song originally consisted of two stanzas, the third stanza +being subsequently added by the author. It is adapted to a beautiful old +air, "Logan Water," incongruously connected with some indecorous +stanzas. Burns deemed Mayne's version an elder production of the +Scottish muse, and attempted to modernise the song, but his edition is +decidedly inferior. Other four stanzas have been added, by some +anonymous versifier, to Mayne's verses, which first appeared in Duncan's +"Encyclopædia of Scottish, English, and Irish Songs," printed at Glasgow +in 1836, 2 vols. 12mo. In those stanzas the lover is brought back to +Logan braes, and consummates his union with his weeping shepherdess. The +stream of Logan takes its rise among the hills separating the parishes +of Lesmahago and Muirkirk, and, after a flow of eight miles, deposits +its waters into the Nethan river. + + + + +HELEN OF KIRKCONNEL.[24] + + + I wish I were where Helen lies, + For night and day on me she cries; + And, like an angel, to the skies + Still seems to beckon me! + For me she lived, for me she sigh'd, + For me she wish'd to be a bride; + For me in life's sweet morn she died + On fair Kirkconnel-Lee! + + Where Kirtle waters gently wind, + As Helen on my arm reclined, + A rival with a ruthless mind + Took deadly aim at me. + My love, to disappoint the foe, + Rush'd in between me and the blow; + And now her corse is lying low, + On fair Kirkconnel-Lee! + + Though Heaven forbids my wrath to swell, + I curse the hand by which she fell-- + The fiend who made my heaven a hell, + And tore my love from me! + For if, when all the graces shine, + Oh! if on earth there 's aught divine, + My Helen! all these charms were thine, + They centred all in thee! + + Ah! what avails it that, amain, + I clove the assassin's head in twain? + No peace of mind, my Helen slain, + No resting-place for me. + I see her spirit in the air-- + I hear the shriek of wild despair, + When murder laid her bosom bare, + On fair Kirkconnel-Lee! + + Oh! when I 'm sleeping in my grave, + And o'er my head the rank weeds wave, + May He who life and spirit gave + Unite my love and me! + Then from this world of doubts and sighs, + My soul on wings of peace shall rise, + And, joining Helen in the skies, + Forget Kirkconnel-Lee. + + +[24] During the reign of Mary, Queen of Scots, a young lady, of great +personal attractions and numerous accomplishments, named Helen Irving, +daughter of Irving of Kirkconnel, in Annandale, was betrothed to Adam +Fleming de Kirkpatrick, a young gentleman of fortune in the +neighbourhood. Walking with her lover on the banks of the Kirtle, she +was slain by a shot which had been aimed at Fleming by a disappointed +rival. The melancholy history has been made the theme of three different +ballads, two of these being old. The present ballad, by Mr Mayne, was +inserted by Sir Walter Scott in the Edinburgh _Annual Register_ of 1815. + + + + +THE WINTER SAT LANG. + + + The winter sat lang on the spring o' the year, + Our seedtime was late, and our mailing was dear; + My mither tint her heart when she look'd on us a', + And we thought upon those that were farest awa'. + Oh, were they but here that are farest awa'! + Oh, were they but here that are dear to us a'! + Our cares would seem light and our sorrow but sma', + If they were but here that are far frae us a'! + + Last week, when our hopes were o'erclouded wi' fear, + And nae ane at hame the dull prospect to cheer; + Our Johnnie has written, frae far awa' parts, + A letter that lightens and hauds up our hearts. + He says, "My dear mither, though I be awa', + In love and affection I 'm still wi' ye a'; + While I hae a being ye 'se aye hae a ha', + Wi' plenty to keep out the frost and the snaw." + + My mither, o'erjoy'd at this change in her state, + By the bairn she doated on early and late, + Gi'es thanks night and day to the Giver of a', + There 's been naething unworthy o' him that 's awa'! + Then here is to them that are far frae us a', + The friend that ne'er fail'd us, though farest awa'! + Health, peace, and prosperity wait on us a'; + And a blithe comin' hame to the friend that 's awa'! + + + + +MY JOHNNIE. + +AIR--_"Johnnie's Gray Breeks."_ + + + Jenny's heart was frank and free, + And wooers she had mony, yet + The sang was aye, "Of a' I see, + Commend me to my Johnnie yet. + For ear' and late, he has sic gate + To mak' a body cheerie, that + I wish to be, before I dee, + His ain kind dearie yet." + + Now Jenny's face was fu' o' grace, + Her shape was sma' and genty-like, + And few or nane in a' the place, + Had gowd or gear mair plenty, yet + Though war's alarms, and Johnnie's charms, + Had gart her oft look eerie, yet + She sung wi' glee, "I hope to be + My Johnnie's ain dearie yet. + + "What though he's now gane far awa', + Whare guns and cannons rattle, yet + Unless my Johnnie chance to fa' + In some uncanny battle, yet + Till he return my breast will burn + Wi' love that weel may cheer me yet, + For I hope to see, before I dee, + His bairns to him endear me yet." + + + + +THE TROOPS WERE EMBARKED. + + + The troops were all embark'd on board, + The ships were under weigh, + And loving wives, and maids adored, + Were weeping round the bay. + + They parted from their dearest friends, + From all their heart desires; + And Rosabel to Heaven commends + The man her soul admires! + + For him she fled from soft repose, + Renounced a parent's care; + He sails to crush his country's foes, + She wanders in despair! + + A seraph in an infant's frame + Reclined upon her arm; + And sorrow in the lovely dame + Now heighten'd every charm: + + She thought, if fortune had but smiled-- + She thought upon her dear; + But when she look'd upon his child, + Oh, then ran many a tear! + + "Ah! who will watch thee as thou sleep'st? + Who 'll sing a lullaby, + Or rock thy cradle when thou weep'st, + If I should chance to die?" + + On board the ship, resign'd to fate, + Yet planning joys to come, + Her love in silent sorrow sate + Upon a broken drum. + + He saw her lonely on the beach; + He saw her on the strand; + And far as human eye can reach + He saw her wave her hand! + + "O Rosabel! though forced to go, + With thee my soul shall dwell, + And Heaven, who pities human woe, + Will comfort Rosabel!" + + + + +JOHN HAMILTON. + + +Of the personal history of John Hamilton only a few particulars can be +ascertained. He carried on business for many years as a music-seller in +North Bridge Street, Edinburgh, and likewise gave instructions in the +art of instrumental music to private families. He had the good fortune +to attract the favour of one of his fair pupils--a young lady of birth +and fortune--whom he married, much to the displeasure of her relations. +He fell into impaired health, and died on the 23d of September 1814, in +the fifty-third year of his age. To the lovers of Scottish melody the +name of Mr Hamilton is familiar, as a composer of several esteemed and +beautiful airs. His contributions to the department of Scottish song +entitle his name to an honourable place. + + + + +THE RANTIN' HIGHLANDMAN. + + + Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed out + To flit a tether'd ewe and lamb, + I met, as skiffin' ower the green, + A jolly, rantin' Highlandman. + His shape was neat, wi' feature sweet, + And ilka smile my favour wan; + I ne'er had seen sae braw a lad + As this young rantin' Highlandman. + + He said, "My dear, ye 're sune asteer; + Cam' ye to hear the lav'rock's sang? + Oh, wad ye gang and wed wi' me, + And wed a rantin' Highlandman? + In summer days, on flow'ry braes, + When frisky are the ewe and lamb, + I 'se row ye in my tartan plaid, + And be your rantin' Highlandman. + + "Wi' heather bells, that sweetly smell, + I 'll deck your hair, sae fair and lang, + If ye 'll consent to scour the bent + Wi' me, a rantin' Highlandman. + We 'll big a cot, and buy a stock, + Syne do the best that e'er we can; + Then come, my dear, ye needna fear + To trust a rantin' Highlandman." + + His words, sae sweet, gaed to my heart, + And fain I wad hae gi'en my han'; + Yet durstna, lest my mither should + Dislike a rantin' Highlandman. + But I expect he will come back; + Then, though my kin should scauld and ban, + I 'll ower the hill, or whare he will, + Wi' my young rantin' Highlandman. + + + + +UP IN THE MORNIN' EARLY.[25] + + + Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south; + The drift is drifting sairly; + The sheep are cow'rin' in the heuch; + Oh, sirs, it 's winter fairly! + Now, up in the mornin's no for me, + Up in the mornin' early; + I'd rather gae supperless to my bed + Than rise in the mornin' early. + + Loud roars the blast amang the woods, + And tirls the branches barely; + On hill and house hear how it thuds! + The frost is nippin' sairly. + Now, up in the mornin's no for me, + Up in the mornin' early; + To sit a' nicht wad better agree + Than rise in the mornin' early. + + The sun peeps ower yon southland hills, + Like ony timorous carlie; + Just blinks a wee, then sinks again; + And that we find severely. + Now, up in the mornin's no for me, + Up in the mornin' early; + When snaw blaws in at the chimley cheek, + Wha 'd rise in the mornin' early? + + Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush: + Poor things! they suffer sairly; + In cauldrife quarters a' the nicht, + A' day they feed but sparely. + Now, up in the mornin's no for me, + Up in the mornin' early; + A pennyless purse I wad rather dree, + Than rise in the mornin' early. + + A cosie house and canty wife + Aye keep a body cheerly; + And pantries stowed wi' meat and drink, + They answer unco rarely. + But up in the mornin'--na, na, na! + Up in the mornin' early! + The gowans maun glint on bank and brae + When I rise in the mornin' early. + + +[25] Burns composed two verses to the same tune, which is very old. It +was a favourite of Queen Mary, the consort of William III. In his +"Beggar's Opera," Gay has adopted the tune for one of his songs. It was +published, in 1652, by John Hilton, as the third voice to what is called +a "Northern Catch" for three voices, beginning--"I'se gae wi' thee, my +sweet Peggy." + + + + +GO TO BERWICK, JOHNNIE.[26] + + + Go to Berwick, Johnnie; + Bring her frae the Border; + Yon sweet bonnie lassie, + Let her gae nae farther. + English loons will twine ye + O' the lovely treasure; + But we 'll let them ken + A sword wi' them we 'll measure. + + Go to Berwick, Johnnie, + And regain your honour; + Drive them ower the Tweed, + And show our Scottish banner. + I am Rob, the King, + And ye are Jock, my brither; + But, before we lose her, + We 'll a' there thegither. + + +[26] These stanzas are founded on some lines of old doggerel, +beginning-- + + "Go, go, go, + Go to Berwick, Johnnie; + Thou shalt have the horse, + And I shall have the pony." + + + + + + +MISS FORBES' FAREWELL TO BANFF. + + + Farewell, ye fields an' meadows green! + The blest retreats of peace an' love; + Aft have I, silent, stolen from hence, + With my young swain a while to rove. + Sweet was our walk, more sweet our talk, + Among the beauties of the spring; + An' aft we 'd lean us on a bank, + To hear the feather'd warblers sing. + + The azure sky, the hills around, + Gave double beauty to the scene; + The lofty spires of Banff in view-- + On every side the waving grain. + The tales of love my Jamie told, + In such a saft an' moving strain, + Have so engaged my tender heart, + I 'm loth to leave the place again. + + But if the Fates will be sae kind + As favour my return once more, + For to enjoy the peace of mind + In those retreats I had before: + Now, farewell, Banff! the nimble steeds + Do bear me hence--I must away; + Yet time, perhaps, may bring me back, + To part nae mair from scenes so gay. + + + + +TELL ME, JESSIE, TELL ME WHY? + + + Tell me, Jessie, tell me why + My fond suit you still deny? + Is your bosom cold as snow? + Did you never feel for woe? + Can you hear, without a sigh, + Him complain who for you could die? + If you ever shed a tear, + Hear me, Jessie, hear, O hear! + + Life to me is not more dear + Than the hour brings Jessie here; + Death so much I do not fear + As the parting moment near. + Summer smiles are not so sweet + As the bloom upon your cheek; + Nor the crystal dew so clear + As your eyes to me appear. + + These are part of Jessie's charms, + Which the bosom ever warms; + But the charms by which I 'm stung, + Come, O Jessie, from thy tongue! + Jessie, be no longer coy; + Let me taste a lover's joy; + With your hand remove the dart, + And heal the wound that 's in my heart. + + + + +THE HAWTHORN. + + + Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair, + I met with young Jamie, wh'as taking the air; + He ask'd me to stay with him, and indeed he did prevail, + Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- + That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale, + Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale. + + He said he had loved me both long and sincere, + That none on the green was so gentle and fair; + I listen'd with pleasure to Jamie's tender tale, + Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- + That blooms in the valley, &c. + + "Oh, haste," says he, "to hear the birds in the grove, + How charming their song, and enticing to love! + The briers that with roses perfume the passing gale, + And meet the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale"-- + That blooms in the valley, &c. + + His words were so moving, and looks soft and kind, + Convinced me the youth had nae guile in his mind; + My heart, too, confess'd him the flower of the dale, + Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- + That blooms in the valley, &c. + + Yet I oft bade him go, for I could no longer stay, + But leave me he would not, nor let me away; + Still pressing his suit, and at last did prevail, + Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- + That blooms in the valley, &c. + + Now tell me, ye maidens, how could I refuse? + His words were so sweet, and so binding his vows! + We went and were married, and Jamie loves me still, + And we live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- + That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale, + We live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale. + + + + +OH, BLAW, YE WESTLIN' WINDS![27] + + + Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds, blaw saft + Amang the leafy trees! + Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale, + Bring hame the laden bees; + And bring the lassie back to me, + That 's aye sae neat and clean; + Ae blink of her wad banish care, + Sae lovely is my Jean. + + What sighs and vows, amang the knowes, + Hae pass'd atween us twa! + How fain to meet, how wae to part, + That day she gaed awa'! + The Powers aboon can only ken, + To whom the heart is seen, + That nane can be sae dear to me + As my sweet, lovely Jean. + + +[27] These verses were written as a continuation to Burns's "Of a' the +airts the wind can blaw." Other two stanzas were added to the same song +by W. Reid.--See _postea_. + + + + +JOANNA BAILLIE. + + +Joanna Baillie was born on the 11th of September 1762, in the manse of +Bothwell, in Lanarkshire. Her father, Dr James Baillie, was descended +from the old family of Baillie of Lamington, and was consequently +entitled to claim propinquity with the distinguished Principal Robert +Baillie, and the family of Baillie of Jerviswood, so celebrated for its +Christian patriotism. The mother of Joanna likewise belonged to an +honourable house: she was a descendant of the Hunters of Hunterston; and +her two brothers attained a wide reputation in the world of science--Dr +William Hunter being an eminent physician, and Mr John Hunter the +greatest anatomist of his age. Joanna--a twin, the other child being +still-born--was the youngest of a family of three children. Her only +brother was Dr Matthew Baillie, highly distinguished in the medical +world. Agnes, her sister, who was eldest of the family, remained +unmarried, and continued to live with her under the same roof. + +In the year 1768, Dr Baillie was transferred from the parochial charge +of Bothwell to the office of collegiate minister of Hamilton,--a town +situate, like his former parish, on the banks of the Clyde. He was +subsequently elected Professor of Divinity in the University of +Glasgow. After his death, which took place in 1778, his daughters both +continued, along with their widowed mother, to live at Long Calderwood, +in the vicinity of Hamilton, until 1784, when they all accepted an +invitation to reside with Dr Matthew Baillie, who had entered on his +medical career in London, and had become possessor of a house in Great +Windmill Street, built by his now deceased uncle, Dr Hunter. + +Though evincing no peculiar promptitude in the acquisition of learning, +Joanna had, at the very outset of life, exhibited remarkable talent in +rhyme-making. She composed verses before she could read, and, before she +could have fancied a theatre, formed dialogues for dramatic +representations, which she carried on with her companions. But she did +not early seek distinction as an author. At the somewhat mature age of +twenty-eight, after she had gone to London, she first published, and +that anonymously, a volume of miscellaneous poems, which did not excite +any particular attention. In 1798, she published, though anonymously at +first, "A Series of Plays: in which it is attempted to delineate the +stronger Passions of the Mind, each Passion being the subject of a +Tragedy and a Comedy." In a lengthened preliminary dissertation, she +discoursed regarding the drama in all its relations, maintaining the +ascendency of simple nature over every species of adornment and +decoration. "Let one simple trait of the human heart, one expression of +passion, genuine and true to nature," she wrote, "be introduced, and it +will stand forth alone in the boldness of reality, whilst the false and +unnatural around it fades away upon every side, like the rising +exhalations of the morning." The reception of these plays was sufficient +to satisfy the utmost ambition of the author, and established the +foundation of her fame. "Nothing to compare with them had been produced +since the great days of the English drama; and the truth, vigour, +variety, and dignity of the dramatic portraits, in which they abound, +might well justify an enthusiasm which a reader of the present day can +scarcely be expected to feel. This enthusiasm was all the greater, when +it became known that these remarkable works, which had been originally +published anonymously, were from the pen of a woman still young, who had +passed her life in domestic seclusion."[28] Encouraged by the success of +the first volume of her dramas on the "Passions," the author added a +second in 1802, and a third in 1812. During the interval, she published +a volume of miscellaneous dramas in 1804, and produced the "Family +Legend" in 1810,--a tragedy, founded upon a Highland tradition. With a +prologue by Sir Walter Scott, and an epilogue by Henry Mackenzie, the +"Family Legend" was produced at the Edinburgh theatre, under the +auspices of the former illustrious character; and was ably supported by +Mrs Siddons, and by Terry, then at the commencement of his career. It +was favourably received during ten successive performances. "You have +only to imagine all that you could wish to give success to a play," +wrote Sir Walter Scott to the author, "and your conceptions will still +fall short of the complete and decided triumph of the 'Family Legend.' +The house was crowded to a most extraordinary degree; many people had +come from your native capital of the west; everything that pretended to +distinction, whether from rank or literature, was in the boxes; and in +the pit, such an aggregate mass of humanity as I have seldom, if ever, +witnessed in the same space." Other two of her plays, "Count Basil" and +"De Montfort," brought out in London, the latter being sustained by +Kemble and Siddons, likewise received a large measure of general +approbation; but a want of variety of incident prevented their retaining +a position on the stage. In 1836, she produced three additional volumes +of dramas; her career as a dramatic writer thus extending over the +period of nearly forty years. + +Subsequent to her leaving Scotland, in 1784, Joanna Baillie did not +return to her native kingdom, unless on occasional visits. On the +marriage of her brother to a sister of the Lord Chief-Justice Denman, in +1791, she passed some years at Colchester; but she subsequently fixed +her permanent habitation at Hampstead. Her mother died in 1806. At +Hampstead, in the companionship of her only sister, whose virtues she +has celebrated in one of her poems, and amidst the society of many of +the more distinguished literary characters of the metropolis, she +continued to enjoy a large amount of comfort and happiness. Her +pecuniary means were sufficiently abundant, and rendered her entirely +independent of the profits of her writings. Among her literary friends, +one of the most valued was Sir Walter Scott, who, being introduced to +her personal acquaintance on his visit to London in 1806, maintained +with her an affectionate and lasting intimacy. The letters addressed to +her are amongst the most interesting of his correspondence in his Memoir +by his son-in-law. He evinced his estimation of her genius by frequently +complimenting her in his works. In his "Epistle to William Erskine," +which forms the introduction to the third canto of "Marmion," he thus +generously eulogises his gifted friend:-- + + "Or, if to touch such chord be thine, + Restore the ancient tragic line, + And emulate the notes that wrung + From the wild harp, which silent hung + By silver Avon's holy shore, + Till twice a hundred years roll'd o'er; + When she, the bold Enchantress, came, + With fearless hand and heart on flame! + From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, + And swept it with a kindred measure, + Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove + With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, + Awakening at the inspiréd strain, + Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again." + +To Joanna, Scott inscribed his fragmental drama of "Macduff's Cross," +which was included in a Miscellany published by her in 1823. + +Though a penury of incident, and a defectiveness of skill in sustaining +an increasing interest to the close, will probably prevent any of her +numerous plays from being renewed on the stage, Joanna Baillie is well +entitled to the place assigned her as one of the first of modern +dramatists. In all her plays there are passages and scenes surpassed by +no contemporaneous dramatic writer. Her works are a magazine of eloquent +thoughts and glowing descriptions. She is a mistress of the emotions, +and + + "Within _her_ mighty page, + Each tyrant passion shews his woe and rage." + +The tragedies of "Count Basil" and "De Montfort" are her best plays, and +are well termed by Sir Walter Scott a revival of the great Bard of Avon. +Forcible and energetic in style, her strain never becomes turgid or +diverges into commonplace. She is masculine, but graceful; and powerful +without any ostentation of strength. Her personal history was the +counterpart of her writings. Gentle in manners and affable in +conversation, she was a model of the household virtues, and would have +attracted consideration as a woman by her amenities, though she had +possessed no reputation in the world of letters. She was eminently +religious and benevolent. Her countenance bore indication of a superior +intellect and deep penetration. Though her society was much cherished by +her contemporaries, including distinguished foreigners who visited the +metropolis, her life was spent in general retirement. She was averse to +public demonstration, and seemed scarcely conscious of her power. She +died at Hampstead, on the 23d of February 1851, at the very advanced age +of eighty-nine, and a few weeks after the publication of her whole Works +in a collected form. + +The songs of Joanna Baillie immediately obtained an honourable place in +the minstrelsy of her native kingdom. They are the simple and graceful +effusions of a heart passionately influenced by the melodies of the +"land of the heath and the thistle," and animated by those warm +affections so peculiarly nurtured in the region of "the mountain and the +flood." "Fy, let us a' to the wedding," "Saw ye Johnnie comin'?" "It +fell on a morning when we were thrang," and "Woo'd, and married, and +a'," maintain popularity among all classes of Scotsmen throughout the +world. Several of the songs were written for Thomson's "Melodies," and +"The Harp of Caledonia," a collection of songs published at Glasgow in +1821, in three vols. 12mo, under the editorial care of John Struthers, +author of "The Poor Man's Sabbath." The greater number are included in +the present work. + + +[28] _Literary Gazette_, March 1851. + + + + +THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN. + + + I 've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake, + Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake, + Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree-- + Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. + + Soft tapping, at eve, to her window I came, + And loud bay'd the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame; + For shame, silly Lightfoot; what is it to thee, + Though the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me? + + Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn, + Threadbare is my coat, and my hosen are torn: + Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee + When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. + + The farmer rides proudly to market or fair, + The clerk, at the alehouse, still claims the great chair; + But of all our proud fellows the proudest I 'll be, + While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. + + For blythe as the urchin at holiday play, + And meek as the matron in mantle of gray, + And trim as the lady of gentle degree, + Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me. + + + + +GOOD NIGHT, GOOD NIGHT! + + + The sun is sunk, the day is done, + E'en stars are setting one by one; + Nor torch nor taper longer may + Eke out the pleasures of the day; + And since, in social glee's despite, + It needs must be, Good night, good night! + + The bride into her bower is sent, + And ribbald rhyme and jesting spent; + The lover's whisper'd words and few + Have bade the bashful maid adieu; + The dancing-floor is silent quite-- + No foot bounds there, Good night, good night! + + The lady in her curtain'd bed, + The herdsman in his wattled shed, + The clansman in the heather'd hall, + Sweet sleep be with you, one and all! + We part in hope of days as bright + As this now gone--Good night, good night! + + Sweet sleep be with us, one and all! + And if upon its stillness fall + The visions of a busy brain, + We 'll have our pleasure o'er again; + To warm the heart, to charm the sight, + Gay dreams to all! Good night, good night! + + + + +THOUGH RICHER SWAINS THY LOVE PURSUE. + + + Though richer swains thy love pursue, + In Sunday gear and bonnets new; + And every fair before thee lay + Their silken gifts, with colours gay-- + They love thee not, alas! so well + As one who sighs, and dare not tell; + Who haunts thy dwelling, night and noon, + In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon. + + I grieve not for my wayward lot, + My empty folds, my roofless cot; + Nor hateful pity, proudly shown, + Nor altered looks, nor friendship flown; + Nor yet my dog, with lanken sides, + Who by his master still abides; + But how wilt thou prefer my boon, + In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon? + + + + +POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE.[29] + +AIR--_"Todlin' Hame."_ + + + When white was my owrelay as foam of the linn, + And siller was chinking my pouches within; + When my lambkins were bleating on meadow and brae, + As I gaed to my love in new cleeding sae gay-- + Kind was she, and my friends were free; + But poverty parts gude companie. + + How swift pass'd the minutes and hours of delight! + The piper play'd cheerly, the cruisie burn'd bright; + And link'd in my hand was the maiden sae dear, + As she footed the floor in her holiday gear. + Woe is me! and can it then be, + That poverty parts sic companie? + + We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk; + We met in the sunshine, we met in the mirk; + And the sound of her voice, and the blinks of her een, + The cheering and life of my bosom have been. + Leaves frae the tree at Martinmas flee, + And poverty parts sweet companie. + + At bridal and in fair I 've braced me wi' pride, + The _bruse_ I hae won, and a kiss of the bride; + And loud was the laughter, gay fellows among, + When I utter'd my banter, or chorus'd my song. + Dowie to dree are jesting and glee, + When poverty parts gude companie. + + Wherever I gaed the blythe lasses smiled sweet, + And mithers and aunties were mair than discreet, + While kebbuck and bicker were set on the board; + But now they pass by me, and never a word. + So let it be; for the worldly and slie + Wi' poverty keep nae companie. + + But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart; + The spaewife has tauld me to keep up my heart; + For wi' my last sixpence her loof I hae cross'd, + And the bliss that is fated can never be lost. + Cruelly though we ilka day see + How poverty parts dear companie. + + +[29] This song was written for Thomson's "Melodies." "Todlin' Hame," the +air to which it is adapted, appears in Ramsay's "Tea-Table Miscellany" +as an old song. The words begin--"When I hae a saxpence under my thum." +Burns remarks that "it is perhaps one of the first bottle-songs that +ever was composed." + + + + +FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING.[30] + + + Fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there; + For Jock's to be married to Maggie, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + And there will be jilting and jeering, + And glancing of bonnie dark een; + Loud laughing and smooth-gabbit speering + O' questions, baith pawky and keen. + + And there will be Bessy, the beauty, + Wha raises her cock-up sae hie, + And giggles at preachings and duty; + Gude grant that she gang nae ajee! + And there will be auld Geordie Tanner, + Wha coft a young wife wi' his gowd; + She 'll flaunt wi' a silk gown upon her, + But, wow! he looks dowie and cowed. + + And braw Tibby Fowler, the heiress, + Will perk at the top o' the ha', + Encircled wi' suitors, whase care is + To catch up the gloves when they fa'. + Repeat a' her jokes as they 're cleckit, + And haver and glower in her face, + When tocherless Mays are negleckit-- + A crying and scandalous case. + + And Mysie, whase clavering aunty + Wad match her wi' Jamie, the laird; + And learns the young fouk to be vaunty, + But neither to spin nor to caird. + And Andrew, whase granny is yearning + To see him a clerical blade, + Was sent to the college for learning, + And cam' back a coof, as he gaed. + + And there will be auld Widow Martin, + That ca's hersel' thretty and twa! + And thrawn-gabbit Madge, wha for certain + Was jilted by Hab o' the Shaw. + And Elspy, the sewster, sae genty-- + A pattern of havens and sense-- + Will straik on her mittens sae dainty, + And crack wi' Mess John in the spence. + + And Angus, the seer o' ferlies, + That sits on the stane at his door, + And tells about bogles, and mair lies + Than tongue ever utter'd before. + And there will be Bauldy, the boaster, + Sae ready wi' hands and wi' tongue; + Proud Paty and silly Sam Foster, + Wha quarrel wi' auld and wi' young. + + And Hugh, the town-writer, I 'm thinking, + That trades in his lawyerly skill, + Will egg on the fighting and drinking, + To bring after grist to his mill. + And Maggie--na, na! we 'll be civil, + And let the wee bridie abee; + A vilipend tongue it is evil, + And ne'er was encouraged by me. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there, + Frae mony a far-distant ha'ding, + The fun and the feasting to share. + For they will get sheep's-head and haggis, + And browst o' the barley-mow; + E'en he that comes latest and lagis + May feast upon dainties enow. + + Veal florentines, in the o'en baken, + Weel plenish'd wi' raisins and fat; + Beef, mutton, and chuckies, a' taken + Het reekin' frae spit and frae pat. + And glasses (I trow 'tis nae said ill) + To drink the young couple gude luck, + Weel fill'd wi' a braw beechen ladle, + Frae punch-bowl as big as Dumbuck. + + And then will come dancing and daffing, + And reelin' and crossin' o' han's, + Till even auld Lucky is laughing, + As back by the aumry she stan's. + Sic bobbing, and flinging, and whirling, + While fiddlers are making their din; + And pipers are droning and skirling, + As loud as the roar o' the linn. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there; + For Jock 's to be married to Maggie, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + + +[30] This song is a new version of "The Blythesome Bridal," beginning, +"Fy, let us a' to the bridal," which first appeared in Watson's +Collection, in 1706, and of which the authorship was generally assigned +to Francis Semple of Beltrees, in Renfrewshire, who lived in the middle +of the seventeenth century, though more recently it has been attributed +to Sir William Scott of Thirlestane, in Selkirkshire, who flourished in +the beginning of last century. The words of the original song are +coarse, but humorous. + + + + +HOOLY AND FAIRLY.[31] + + + Oh, neighbours! what had I to do for to marry? + My wife she drinks posset and wine o' Canary; + And ca's me a niggardly, thrawn-gabbit cairly. + O gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! + + She sups, wi' her kimmers, on dainties enow, + Aye bowing, and smirking, and wiping her mou'; + While I sit aside, and am helpit but sparely. + O gin my wife wad feast hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad feast hooly and fairly! + + To fairs, and to bridals, and preachings an' a', + She gangs sae light-headed, and buskit sae braw, + In ribbons and mantuas, that gar me gae barely. + O gin my wife wad spend hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad spend hooly and fairly! + + I' the kirk sic commotion last Sabbath she made, + Wi' babs o' red roses, and breast-knots o'erlaid; + The dominie stickit the psalm very nearly. + O gin my wife wad dress hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad dress hooly and fairly! + + She 's warring and flyting frae mornin' till e'en, + And if ye gainsay her, her een glower sae keen; + Then tongue, neive, and cudgel, she 'll lay on me sairly. + O gin my wife wad strike hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad strike hooly and fairly! + + When tired wi' her cantrips, she lies in her bed-- + The wark a' negleckit, the chalmer unred-- + While a' our gude neighbours are stirring sae early. + O gin my wife wad wark timely and fairly! + Timely and fairly, timely and fairly; + O gin my wife wad wark timely and fairly! + + A word o' gude counsel or grace she 'll hear none; + She bandies the elders, and mocks at Mess John; + While back in his teeth his own text she flings sairly. + O gin my wife wad speak hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + O gin my wife wad speak hooly and fairly! + + I wish I were single, I wish I were freed; + I wish I were doited, I wish I were dead; + Or she in the mouls, to dement me nae mairly. + What does it 'vail to cry, Hooly and fairly! + Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly; + Wasting my health to cry, Hooly and fairly. + + +[31] The style of this song and the chorus are borrowed from "The +Drucken Wife o' Gallowa'," a song which first appeared in the "Charmer," +a collection of songs, published at Edinburgh in 1751, but the +authorship of which is unknown. + + + + +THE WEARY PUND O' TOW. + + + A young gudewife is in my house, + And thrifty means to be, + But aye she 's runnin' to the town + Some ferlie there to see. + The weary pund, the weary pund, the weary pund o' tow, + I soothly think, ere it be spun, I 'll wear a lyart pow. + + And when she sets her to her wheel, + To draw her threads wi' care, + In comes the chapman wi' his gear, + And she can spin nae mair. + The weary pund, &c. + + And then like ony merry May, + At fairs maun still be seen, + At kirkyard preachings near the tent, + At dances on the green. + The weary pund, &c. + + Her dainty ear a fiddle charms, + A bagpipe 's her delight, + But for the crooning o' her wheel + She disna care a mite. + The weary pund, &c. + + "You spake, my Kate, of snaw-white webs + Made o' your hinkum twine, + But, ah! I fear our bonnie burn + Will ne'er lave web o' thine. + The weary pund, &c. + + "Nay, smile again, my winsome mate, + Sic jeering means nae ill; + Should I gae sarkless to my grave, + I'll loe and bless thee still." + The weary pund, &c. + + + + +THE WEE PICKLE TOW.[32] + + + A lively young lass had a wee pickle tow, + And she thought to try the spinnin' o't; + She sat by the fire, and her rock took alow, + And that was an ill beginnin' o't. + Loud and shrill was the cry that she utter'd, I ween; + The sudden mischanter brought tears to her een; + Her face it was fair, but her temper was keen; + O dole for the ill beginnin' o't! + + She stamp'd on the floor, and her twa hands she wrung, + Her bonny sweet mou' she crookit, O! + And fell was the outbreak o' words frae her tongue; + Like ane sair demented she lookit, O! + "Foul fa' the inventor o' rock and o' reel! + I hope, gude forgi'e me! he 's now wi' the d--l, + He brought us mair trouble than help, wot I weel; + O dole for the ill beginnin' o't! + + "And now, when they 're spinnin' and kempin' awa', + They 'll talk o' my rock and the burnin' o't, + While Tibbie, and Mysie, and Maggie, and a', + Into some silly joke will be turnin' it: + They 'll say I was doited, they 'll say I was fu'; + They 'll say I was dowie, and Robin untrue; + They 'll say in the fire some luve-powther I threw, + And that made the ill beginning o't. + + "O curst be the day, and unchancy the hour, + When I sat me adown to the spinnin' o't! + Then some evil spirit or warlock had power, + And made sic an ill beginnin' o't. + May Spunkie my feet to the boggie betray, + The lunzie folk steal my new kirtle away, + And Robin forsake me for douce Effie Gray, + The next time I try the spinnin' o't." + + +[32] "The Wee Pickle Tow" is an old air, to which the words of this song +were written. + + + + +THE GOWAN GLITTERS ON THE SWARD. + + + The gowan glitters on the sward, + The lav'rock's in the sky, + And collie on my plaid keeps ward, + And time is passing by. + Oh, no! sad and slow, + And lengthen'd on the ground; + The shadow of our trysting bush + It wears so slowly round. + + My sheep-bells tinkle frae the west, + My lambs are bleating near; + But still the sound that I lo'e best, + Alack! I canna hear. + Oh, no! sad and slow, + The shadow lingers still; + And like a lanely ghaist I stand, + And croon upon the hill. + + I hear below the water roar, + The mill wi' clacking din, + And lucky scolding frae the door, + To ca' the bairnies in. + Oh, no! sad and slow, + These are nae sounds for me; + The shadow of our trysting bush + It creeps sae drearily! + + I coft yestreen, frae chapman Tam, + A snood o' bonnie blue, + And promised, when our trysting cam', + To tie it round her brow. + Oh, no! sad and slow, + The mark it winna pass; + The shadow o' that dreary bush + Is tether'd on the grass. + + O now I see her on the way! + She 's past the witch's knowe; + She 's climbing up the brownie's brae-- + My heart is in a lowe. + Oh, no! 'tis not so, + 'Tis glamrie I hae seen; + The shadow o' that hawthorn bush + Will move nae mair till e'en. + + My book o' grace I 'll try to read, + Though conn'd wi' little skill; + When collie barks I 'll raise my head, + And find her on the hill. + Oh, no! sad and slow, + The time will ne'er be gane; + The shadow o' our trysting bush + Is fix'd like ony stane. + + + + +SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN'? + + + "Saw ye Johnnie comin'?" quo' she; + "Saw ye Johnnie comin'? + Wi' his blue bonnet on his head, + And his doggie rinnin'. + Yestreen, about the gloamin' time, + I chanced to see him comin', + Whistling merrily the tune + That I am a' day hummin'," quo' she; + "I am a' day hummin'. + + "Fee him, faither, fee him," quo' she; + "Fee him, faither, fee him; + A' the wark about the house + Gaes wi' me when I see him: + A' the wark about the house + I gang sae lightly through it; + And though ye pay some merks o' gear, + Hoot! ye winna rue it," quo' she; + "No; ye winna rue it." + + "What wad I do wi' him, hizzy? + What wad I do wi' him? + He 's ne'er a sark upon his back, + And I hae nane to gi'e him." + "I hae twa sarks into my kist, + And ane o' them I 'll gi'e him; + And for a merk o' mair fee, + Oh, dinna stand wi' him," quo' she; + "Dinna stand wi' him. + + "Weel do I lo'e him," quo' she; + "Weel do I lo'e him; + The brawest lads about the place + Are a' but hav'rels to him. + Oh, fee him, father; lang, I trow, + We 've dull and dowie been: + He 'll haud the plough, thrash i' the barn, + And crack wi' me at e'en," quo' she; + "Crack wi' me at e'en." + + + + +IT FELL ON A MORNING.[33] + + + It fell on a morning when we were thrang-- + Our kirn was gaun, our cheese was making, + And bannocks on the girdle baking-- + That ane at the door chapp'd loud and lang; + But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight, + Of this stirring and din took sma' notice, I ween; + For a chap at the door in braid daylight + Is no like a chap when heard at e'en. + + Then the clocksie auld laird of the warlock glen, + Wha stood without, half cow'd, half cheerie. + And yearn'd for a sight of his winsome dearie, + Raised up the latch and came crousely ben. + His coat was new, and his owrelay was white, + And his hose and his mittens were coozy and bein; + But a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + He greeted the carlin' and lasses sae braw, + And his bare lyart pow he smoothly straikit, + And looked about, like a body half glaikit, + On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a': + "Ha, ha!" quo' the carlin', "and look ye that way? + Hoot! let nae sic fancies bewilder ye clean-- + An elderlin' man, i' the noon o' the day, + Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en." + + "Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife; "I trow + You 'll fash na your head wi' a youthfu' gilly, + As wild and as skeigh as a muirland filly; + Black Madge is far better and fitter for you." + He hem'd and he haw'd, and he screw'd in his mouth, + And he squeezed his blue bonnet his twa hands between; + For wooers that come when the sun 's in the south + Are mair awkward than wooers that come at e'en. + + "Black Madge she is prudent." "What 's that to me?" + "She is eident and sober, has sense in her noddle-- + Is douce and respeckit." "I carena a boddle; + I 'll baulk na my luve, and my fancy 's free." + Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight, + And Nanny run laughing out to the green; + For wooers that come when the sun shines bright + Are no like the wooers that come at e'en. + + Awa' flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he, + "All the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed, O: + Black and fair, young and old, dame, damsel, and widow, + May gang, wi' their pride, to the wuddy for me." + But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight, + For a' his loud banning cared little, I ween; + For a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + +[33] This song was contributed by Miss Baillie to "The Harp of +Caledonia." + + + + +WOO'D, AND MARRIED, AND A'.[34] + + + The bride she is winsome and bonnie, + Her hair it is snooded sae sleek; + And faithful and kind is her Johnnie, + Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek. + New pearlings are cause o' her sorrow-- + New pearlings and plenishing too; + The bride that has a' to borrow + Has e'en right muckle ado. + Woo'd, and married, and a'; + Woo'd, and married, and a'; + And is na she very weel aff, + To be woo'd, and married, and a'? + + Her mither then hastily spak-- + "The lassie is glaikit wi' pride; + In my pouches I hadna a plack + The day that I was a bride. + E'en tak to your wheel and be clever, + And draw out your thread in the sun; + The gear that is gifted, it never + Will last like the gear that is won. + Woo'd, and married, an' a', + Tocher and havings sae sma'; + I think ye are very weel aff + To be woo'd, and married, and a'." + + "Toot, toot!" quo' the gray-headed faither; + "She 's less of a bride than a bairn; + She 's ta'en like a cowt frae the heather, + Wi' sense and discretion to learn. + Half husband, I trow, and half daddy, + As humour inconstantly leans; + A chiel maun be constant and steady, + That yokes wi' a mate in her teens. + Kerchief to cover so neat, + Locks the winds used to blaw; + I 'm baith like to laugh and to greet, + When I think o' her married at a'." + + Then out spak the wily bridegroom, + Weel waled were his wordies, I ween,-- + "I 'm rich, though my coffer be toom, + Wi' the blinks o' your bonnie blue een; + I 'm prouder o' thee by my side, + Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few, + Than if Kate o' the Craft were my bride, + Wi' purples and pearlings enew. + Dear and dearest of ony, + I 've woo'd, and bookit, and a'; + And do you think scorn o' your Johnnie, + And grieve to be married at a'?" + + She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smiled, + And she lookit sae bashfully down; + The pride o' her heart was beguiled, + And she play'd wi' the sleeve o' her gown; + She twirl'd the tag o' her lace, + And she nippit her boddice sae blue; + Syne blinkit sae sweet in his face, + And aff like a maukin she flew. + Woo'd, and married, and a', + Married and carried awa'; + She thinks hersel' very weel aff, + To be woo'd, and married, and a'. + + +[34] Of the song, "Woo'd, and married, and a'," there is another +version, published in Johnson's "Musical Museum," vol. i. p. 10, which +was long popular among the ballad-singers. This was composed by +Alexander Ross, schoolmaster of Lochlee, author of "Helenore, or the +Fortunate Shepherdess." A song, having a similar commencement, had +previously been current on the Border. + + + + +WILLIAM DUDGEON. + + +Though the author of a single popular song, William Dudgeon is entitled +to a place among the modern contributors to the Caledonian minstrelsy. +Of his personal history, only a very few facts have been recovered. He +was the son of a farmer in East-Lothian, and himself rented an extensive +farm at Preston, in Berwickshire. During his border tour in May 1787, +the poet Burns met him at Berrywell, the residence of the father of his +friend Mr Robert Ainslie, who acted as land-steward on the estate of +Lord Douglas in the Merse. In his journal, Burns has thus recorded his +impression of the meeting:--"A Mr Dudgeon, a poet at times, a worthy, +remarkable character, natural penetration, a great deal of information, +some genius, and extreme modesty." Dudgeon died in October 1813, about +his sixtieth year. + + + + +UP AMONG YON CLIFFY ROCKS. + + + Up among yon cliffy rocks + Sweetly rings the rising echo, + To the maid that tends the goats + Lilting o'er her native notes. + Hark, she sings, "Young Sandy 's kind, + An' he 's promised aye to lo'e me; + Here 's a brooch I ne'er shall tine, + Till he 's fairly married to me. + Drive away, ye drone, Time, + And bring about our bridal day. + + "Sandy herds a flock o' sheep; + Aften does he blaw the whistle + In a strain sae saftly sweet, + Lammies list'ning daurna bleat. + He 's as fleet 's the mountain roe, + Hardy as the Highland heather, + Wading through the winter snow, + Keeping aye his flock together; + But a plaid, wi' bare houghs, + He braves the bleakest norlan' blast. + + "Brawly can he dance and sing, + Canty glee or Highland cronach; + Nane can ever match his fling, + At a reel or round a ring, + In a brawl he 's aye the bangster: + A' his praise can ne'er be sung + By the langest-winded sangster; + Sangs that sing o' Sandy, + Seem short, though they were e'er sae lang." + + + + +WILLIAM REID. + + +William Reid was born at Glasgow on the 10th of April 1764. His father, +a baker by trade, was enabled to give him a good education at the school +of his native city. At an early age he was apprenticed to Messrs Dunlop +and Wilson, booksellers; and in the year 1790, along with another +enterprising individual, he commenced a bookselling establishment, under +the firm of "Brash and Reid." In this business, both partners became +eminently successful, their shop being frequented by the _literati_ of +the West. The poet Burns cultivated the society of Mr Reid, who proved a +warm friend, as he was an ardent admirer, of the Ayrshire bard. He was +an enthusiastic patron of literature, was fond of social humour, and a +zealous promoter of the interests of Scottish song. Between 1795 and +1798, the firm published in numbers, at one penny each, "Poetry, +Original and Selected," which extended to four volumes. To this +publication, both Mr Reid, and his partner, Mr Brash, made some original +contributions. The work is now very scarce, and is accounted valuable by +collectors. Mr Reid died at Glasgow, on the 29th of November 1831, +leaving a widow and a family. + + + + +THE LEA RIG.[35] + + + Will ye gang o'er the lea rig, + My ain kind dearie, O! + And cuddle there fu' kindly + Wi' me, my kind dearie, O! + At thorny bush, or birken tree, + We 'll daff and never weary, O! + They 'll scug ill een frae you and me, + My ain kind dearie, O! + + Nae herds wi' kent or colly there, + Shall ever come to fear ye, O! + But lav'rocks, whistling in the air, + Shall woo, like me, their dearie, O! + While ithers herd their lambs and ewes, + And toil for warld's gear, my jo, + Upon the lea my pleasure grows, + Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O! + + At gloamin', if my lane I be, + Oh, but I'm wondrous eerie, O! + And mony a heavy sigh I gie, + When absent frae my dearie, O! + But seated 'neath the milk-white thorn, + In ev'ning fair and clearie, O! + Enraptured, a' my cares I scorn, + When wi' my kind dearie, O! + + Whare through the birks the burnie rows, + Aft hae I sat fu' cheerie, O! + Upon the bonny greensward howes, + Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O! + I've courted till I've heard the craw + Of honest chanticleerie, O! + Yet never miss'd my sleep ava, + Whan wi' my kind dearie, O! + + For though the night were ne'er sae dark, + And I were ne'er sae weary, O! + I'd meet thee on the lea rig, + My ain kind dearie, O! + While in this weary world of wae, + This wilderness sae dreary, O! + What makes me blythe, and keeps me sae? + 'Tis thee, my kind dearie, O! + + +[35] The two first stanzas of this song are the composition of the +gifted and unfortunate Robert Fergusson. It is founded on an older +ditty, beginning, "I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig." See Johnson's +"Musical Museum," vol. iv. p. 53. + + + + +JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.[36] + + + John Anderson, my jo, John, + I wonder what ye mean, + To rise sae early in the morn, + And sit sae late at e'en; + Ye 'll blear out a' your een, John, + And why should you do so? + Gang sooner to your bed at e'en, + John Anderson, my jo. + + John Anderson, my jo, John, + When Nature first began + To try her canny hand, John, + Her masterpiece was man; + And you amang them a', John, + Sae trig frae tap to toe-- + She proved to be nae journeyman, + John Anderson, my jo. + + John Anderson, my jo, John, + Ye were my first conceit; + And ye needna think it strange, John, + That I ca' ye trim and neat; + Though some folks say ye 're auld, John, + I never think ye so; + But I think ye 're aye the same to me, + John Anderson, my jo. + + John Anderson, my jo, John, + We 've seen our bairns' bairns; + And yet, my dear John Anderson, + I 'm happy in your arms; + And sae are ye in mine, John, + I 'm sure ye 'll ne'er say, No; + Though the days are gane that we have seen, + John Anderson, my jo. + + +[36] These stanzas are in continuation of Burns's song, "John Anderson, +my jo." Five other stanzas have been added to the continuation by some +unknown hand, which will be found in the "Book of Scottish Song," p. 54. +Glasgow, 1853. + + + + +FAIR, MODEST FLOWER. + +TUNE--_"Ye Banks and Braes o' bonnie Doon."_ + + + Fair, modest flower, of matchless worth! + Thou sweet, enticing, bonny gem; + Blest is the soil that gave thee birth, + And bless'd thine honour'd parent stem. + But doubly bless'd shall be the youth + To whom thy heaving bosom warms; + Possess'd of beauty, love, and truth, + He 'll clasp an angel in his arms. + + Though storms of life were blowing snell, + And on his brow sat brooding care, + Thy seraph smile would quick dispel + The darkest gloom of black despair. + Sure Heaven hath granted thee to us, + And chose thee from the dwellers there; + And sent thee from celestial bliss, + To shew what all the virtues are. + + + + +KATE O' GOWRIE.[37] + +TUNE--_"Locherroch Side."_ + + + When Katie was scarce out nineteen, + Oh, but she had twa coal-black een! + A bonnier lass ye wadna seen + In a' the Carse o' Gowrie. + Quite tired o' livin' a' his lane, + Pate did to her his love explain, + And swore he 'd be, were she his ain, + The happiest lad in Gowrie. + + Quo' she, "I winna marry thee, + For a' the gear that ye can gi'e; + Nor will I gang a step ajee, + For a' the gowd in Gowrie. + My father will gi'e me twa kye; + My mother 's gaun some yarn to dye; + I 'll get a gown just like the sky, + Gif I 'll no gang to Gowrie." + + "Oh, my dear Katie, say nae sae! + Ye little ken a heart that 's wae; + Hae! there 's my hand; hear me, I pray, + Sin' thou 'lt no gang to Gowrie: + Since first I met thee at the shiel, + My saul to thee 's been true and leal; + The darkest night I fear nae deil, + Warlock, or witch in Gowrie. + + "I fear nae want o' claes nor nocht, + Sic silly things my mind ne'er taught; + I dream a' nicht, and start about, + And wish for thee in Gowrie. + I lo'e thee better, Kate, my dear, + Than a' my rigs and out-gaun gear; + Sit down by me till ance I swear, + Thou 'rt worth the Carse o' Gowrie." + + Syne on her mou' sweet kisses laid, + Till blushes a' her cheeks o'erspread; + She sigh'd, and in soft whispers said, + "Oh, Pate, tak me to Gowrie!" + Quo' he, "Let 's to the auld folk gang; + Say what they like, I 'll bide their bang, + And bide a' nicht, though beds be thrang; + But I 'll hae thee to Gowrie." + + The auld folk syne baith gi'ed consent; + The priest was ca'd: a' were content; + And Katie never did repent + That she gaed hame to Gowrie. + For routh o' bonnie bairns had she; + Mair strappin' lads ye wadna see; + And her braw lasses bore the gree + Frae a' the rest o' Gowrie. + + +[37] See _postea_, in this volume, under article "Lady Nairn." + + + + +UPON THE BANKS O' FLOWING CLYDE.[38] + + + Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde + The lasses busk them braw; + But when their best they hae put on, + My Jeanie dings them a'; + In hamely weeds she far exceeds + The fairest o' the toun; + Baith sage and gay confess it sae, + Though drest in russit goun. + + The gamesome lamb that sucks its dam, + Mair harmless canna be; + She has nae faut, if sic ye ca't, + Except her love for me; + The sparkling dew, o' clearest hue, + Is like her shining een; + In shape and air wha can compare, + Wi' my sweet lovely Jean. + + +[38] These two stanzas were written as a continuation of Burns's popular +song, "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw." Two other stanzas were added +by John Hamilton. See _ante_, p. 124. + + + + +ALEXANDER CAMPBELL. + + +A miscellaneous writer, a poet, and a musical composer, Alexander +Campbell first saw the light at Tombea, on the banks of Loch Lubnaig, in +Perthshire. He was born in 1764, and received such education as his +parents could afford him, which was not very ample, at the parish school +of Callander. An early taste for music induced him to proceed to +Edinburgh, there to cultivate a systematic acquaintance with the art. +Acquiring a knowledge of the science under the celebrated Tenducci and +others, he became himself a teacher of the harpsichord and of vocal +music, in the metropolis. As an upholder of Jacobitism, when it was +scarcely to be dreaded as a political offence, he officiated as organist +in a non-juring chapel in the vicinity of Nicolson Street; and while so +employed had the good fortune to form the acquaintance of Burns, who was +pleased to discover in an individual entertaining similar state +sentiments with himself, an enthusiastic devotion to national melody and +song. + +Mr Campbell was twice married; his second wife was the widow of a +Highland gentleman, and he was induced to hope that his condition might +thus be permanently improved. He therefore relinquished his original +vocation, and commenced the study of physic, with the view of obtaining +an appointment as surgeon in the public service; but his sanguine hopes +proved abortive, and, to complete his mortification, his wife left him +in Edinburgh, and sought a retreat in the Highlands. He again procured +some employment as a teacher of music; and about the year 1810, one of +his expedients was to give lessons in drawing. He was a man of a fervent +spirit, and possessed of talents, which, if they had been adequately +cultivated, and more concentrated, might have enabled him to attain +considerable distinction; but, apparently aiming at the reputation of +universal genius, he alternately cultivated the study of music, poetry, +painting, and physic. At a more recent period, Sir Walter Scott found +him occasional employment in transcribing manuscripts; and during the +unhappy remainder of his life he had to struggle with many difficulties. + +One of his publications bears the title of "Odes and Miscellaneous +Poems, by a Student of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh," +Edinburgh, 1790, 4to. These lucubrations, which attracted no share of +public attention, were followed by "The Guinea Note, a Poem, by Timothy +Twig, Esquire," Edinburgh, 1797, 4to. His next work is entitled, "An +Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland, with Illustrations by +David Allan," Edinburgh, 1798, 4to. This work, though written in a +rambling style, contains a small proportion of useful materials very +unskilfully digested. "A Dialogue on Scottish Music," prefixed, had the +merit of conveying to Continental musicians for the first time a correct +acquaintance with the Scottish scale, the author receiving the +commendations of the greatest Italian and German composers. The work +likewise contains "Songs of the Lowlands," a selection of some of the +more interesting specimens of the older minstrelsy. In 1802 he published +"A Tour from Edinburgh through various parts of North Britain," in two +volumes quarto, illustrated with engravings from sketches executed by +himself. This work met with a favourable reception, and has been +regarded as the most successful of his literary efforts. In 1804 he +sought distinction as a poet by giving to the world "The Grampians +Desolate," a long poem, in one volume octavo. In this production he +essays "to call the attention of good men, wherever dispersed throughout +our island, to the manifold and great evils arising from the +introduction of that system which has within these last forty years +spread among the Grampians and Western Isles, and is the leading cause +of a depopulation that threatens to extirpate the ancient race of the +inhabitants of those districts." That system to which Mr Campbell +refers, he afterwards explains to be the monopoly of sheep-stores, a +subject scarcely poetical, but which he has contrived to clothe with +considerable smoothness of versification. The last work which issued +from Mr Campbell's pen was "Albyn's Anthology, a Select Collection of +the Melodies and Vocal Poetry Peculiar to Scotland and the Isles, +hitherto Unpublished." The publication appeared in 1816, in two parts, +of elegant folio. It was adorned by the contributions of Sir Walter +Scott, James Hogg, and other poets of reputation. The preface contains +"An Epitome of the History of Scottish Poetry and Music from the +Earliest Times." His musical talents have a stronger claim to +remembrance than either his powers as a poet or his skill as a writer. +Yet his industry was unremitted, and his researches have proved +serviceable to other writers who have followed him on the same themes. +Only a few lyrical pieces proceeded from his pen; these were first +published in "Albyn's Anthology." From this work we have extracted two +specimens. + +Mr Campbell died of apoplexy on the 15th of May 1824, after a life much +chequered by misfortune. He left various MSS. on subjects connected with +his favourite studies, which have fortunately found their way into the +possession of Mr Laing, to whom the history of Scottish poetry is +perhaps more indebted than to any other living writer. The poems in this +collection, though bearing marks of sufficient elaboration, could not be +recommended for publication. Mr Campbell was understood to be a +contributor to _The Ghost_, a forgotten periodical, which ran a short +career in the year 1790. It was published in Edinburgh twice a week, and +reached the forty-sixth number; the first having appeared on the 25th of +April, the last on the 16th of November. He published an edition of a +book, curious in its way--Donald Mackintosh's "Collection of Gaelic +Proverbs, and Familiar Phrases; Englished anew!" Edinburgh, 1819, 12mo. +The preface contains a characteristic account of the compiler, who +described himself as "a priest of the old Scots Episcopal Church, and +last of the non-jurant clergy in Scotland." + + + + +NOW WINTER'S WIND SWEEPS. + + + Now winter's wind sweeps o'er the mountains, + Deeply clad in drifting snow; + Soundly sleep the frozen fountains; + Ice-bound streams forget to flow: + The piercing blast howls loud and long, + The leafless forest oaks among. + + Down the glen, lo! comes a stranger, + Wayworn, drooping, all alone;-- + Haply, 'tis the deer-haunt Ranger! + But alas! his strength is gone! + He stoops, he totters on with pain, + The hill he 'll never climb again. + + Age is being's winter season, + Fitful, gloomy, piercing cold; + Passion weaken'd, yields to reason, + Man feels _then_ himself grown old; + His senses one by one have fled, + His very soul seems almost dead. + + + + +THE HAWK WHOOPS ON HIGH. + + + The hawk whoops on high, and keen, keen from yon' cliff, + Lo! the eagle on watch eyes the stag cold and stiff; + The deer-hound, majestic, looks lofty around, + While he lists with delight to the harp's distant sound; + Is it swept by the gale, as it slow wafts along + The heart-soothing tones of an olden times' song? + Or is it some Druid who touches, unseen, + "The Harp of the North," newly strung now I ween? + + 'Tis Albyn's own minstrel! and, proud of his name, + He proclaims him chief bard, and immortal his fame!-- + He gives tongue to those wild lilts that ravish'd of old, + And soul to the tales that so oft have been told; + Hence Walter the Minstrel shall flourish for aye, + Will breathe in sweet airs, and live long as his "Lay;" + To ages unnumber'd thus yielding delight, + Which will last till the gloaming of Time's endless night. + + + + +MRS DUGALD STEWART. + + +Helen D'Arcy Cranstoun, the second wife of the celebrated Professor +Stewart, is entitled to a more ample notice in a work on Modern Scottish +Song than the limited materials at our command enable us to supply. She +was the third daughter of the Hon. George Cranstoun, youngest son of +William, fifth Lord Cranstoun. She was born in the year 1765, and became +the wife of Professor Dugald Stewart on the 26th July 1790. Having +survived her husband ten years, she died at Warriston House, in the +neighbourhood of Edinburgh, on the 28th of July 1838. She was the sister +of the Countess Purgstall (the subject of Captain Basil Hall's "Schloss +Hainfeld"), and of George Cranstoun, a senator of the College of +Justice, by the title of Lord Corehouse. + +The following pieces from the pen of the accomplished author are replete +with simple beauty and exquisite tenderness. + + + + +THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL. + +TUNE--_"Ianthe the Lovely."_ + + + The tears I shed must ever fall: + I mourn not for an absent swain; + For thoughts may past delights recall, + And parted lovers meet again. + I weep not for the silent dead: + Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er; + And those they loved their steps shall tread, + And death shall join to part no more. + + Though boundless oceans roll'd between, + If certain that his heart is near, + A conscious transport glads each scene, + Soft is the sigh and sweet the tear. + E'en when by death's cold hand removed, + We mourn the tenant of the tomb, + To think that e'en in death he loved, + Can gild the horrors of the gloom. + + But bitter, bitter are the tears + Of her who slighted love bewails; + No hope her dreary prospect cheers, + No pleasing melancholy hails. + Hers are the pangs of wounded pride, + Of blasted hope, of wither'd joy; + The flattering veil is rent aside, + The flame of love burns to destroy. + + In vain does memory renew + The hours once tinged in transport's dye; + The sad reverse soon starts to view, + And turns the past to agony. + E'en time itself despairs to cure + Those pangs to every feeling due: + Ungenerous youth! thy boast how poor, + To win a heart, and break it too! + + No cold approach, no alter'd mien, + Just what would make suspicion start; + No pause the dire extremes between-- + He made me blest, and broke my heart:[39] + From hope, the wretched's anchor, torn, + Neglected and neglecting all; + Friendless, forsaken, and forlorn, + The tears I shed must ever fall. + + +[39] The four first lines of the last stanza are by Burns. + + + + +RETURNING SPRING, WITH GLADSOME RAY.[40] + + + Returning spring, with gladsome ray, + Adorns the earth and smoothes the deep: + All nature smiles, serene and gay, + It smiles, and yet, alas! I weep. + + But why, why flows the sudden tear, + Since Heaven such precious boons has lent, + The lives of those who life endear, + And, though scarce competence, content? + + Sure, when no other bliss was mine + Than that which still kind Heaven bestows, + Yet then could peace and hope combine + To promise joy and give repose. + + Then have I wander'd o'er the plain, + And bless'd each flower that met my view; + Thought Fancy's power would ever reign, + And Nature's charms be ever new. + + I fondly thought where Virtue dwelt, + That happy bosom knew no ill-- + That those who scorn'd me, time would melt, + And those I loved be faultless still. + + Enchanting dreams! kind was your art + That bliss bestow'd without alloy; + Or if soft sadness claim'd a part, + 'Twas sadness sweeter still than joy. + + Oh! whence the change that now alarms, + Fills this sad heart and tearful eye, + And conquers the once powerful charms + Of youth, of hope, of novelty? + + 'Tis sad Experience, fatal power! + That clouds the once illumined sky, + That darkens life's meridian hour, + And bids each fairy vision fly. + + She paints the scene--how different far + From that which youthful fancy drew! + Shews joy and freedom oft at war, + Our woes increased, our comforts few. + + And when, perhaps, on some loved friend + Our treasured fondness we bestow, + Oh! can she not, with ruthless hand, + Change even that friend into a foe? + + See in her train cold Foresight move, + Shunning the rose to 'scape the thorn; + And Prudence every fear approve, + And Pity harden into scorn! + + The glowing tints of Fancy fade, + Life's distant prospects charm no more; + Alas! are all my hopes betray'd? + Can nought my happiness restore? + + Relentless power! at length be just, + Thy better skill alone impart; + Give Caution, but withhold Distrust, + And guard, but harden not, my heart! + + +[40] These tender and beautiful verses are transcribed from Johnson's +"Musical Museum," in a note to which they were first published by the +editor, Mr David Laing. He remarks that he "has reason to believe" that +they are from the pen of Mrs Stewart. (See Johnson's "Musical Museum," +vol. iv. p. 366, _new edition_. Edinburgh, 1853.) + + + + +ALEXANDER WILSON. + + +The author of the celebrated "American Ornithology" is entitled to an +honourable commemoration as one of the minstrels of his native land. +Alexander Wilson was born at Paisley on the 6th of July 1766. His father +had for some time carried on a small trade as a distiller; but the son +was destined by his parents for the clerical profession, in the National +Church--a scheme which was frustrated by the death of his mother in his +tenth year, leaving a large family of children to the sole care of his +father. He had, however, considerably profited by the instruction +already received at school; and having derived from his mother a taste +for music and a relish for books, he invoked the muse in solitude, and +improved his mind by miscellaneous reading. His father contracted a +second marriage when Alexander had reached his thirteenth year; and it +became necessary that he should prepare himself for entering upon some +handicraft employment. He became an apprentice to his brother-in-law, +William Duncan, a weaver in his native town; and on completing his +indenture, he wrought as a journeyman, during the three following years, +in the towns of Paisley, Lochwinnoch, and Queensferry. But the +occupation of weaving, which had from the first been unsuitable to his +tastes, growing altogether irksome, he determined to relinquish it for a +vocation which, if in some respects scarcely more desirable, afforded +him ample means of gratifying his natural desire of becoming familiar +with the topography of his native country. He provided himself with a +pack, as a pedlar, and in this capacity, in company with his +brother-in-law, continued for three years to lead a wandering life. His +devotedness to verse-making had continued unabated from boyhood; he had +written verses at the loom, and had become an enthusiastic votary of the +muse during his peregrinations with his pack. He was now in his +twenty-third year; and with the buoyancy of ardent youth, he thought of +offering to the public a volume of his poems by subscription. In this +attempt he was not successful; nor would any bookseller listen to +proposals of publishing the lucubrations of an obscure pedlar. In 1790, +he at length contrived to print his poems at Paisley, on his own +account, in the hope of being able to dispose of them along with his +other wares. But this attempt was not more successful than his original +scheme, so that he was compelled to return to his father's house at +Lochwinnoch, and resume the obnoxious shuttle. His aspirations for +poetical distinction were not, however, subdued; he heard of the +institution of the _Forum_, a debating society established in Edinburgh +by some literary aspirants, and learning, in 1791, that an early subject +of discussion was the comparative merits of Ramsay and Fergusson as +Scottish poets, he prepared to take a share in the competition. By +doubling his hours of labour at the loom, he procured the means of +defraying his travelling expenses; and, arriving in time for the debate +in the _Forum_, he repeated a poem which he had prepared, entitled the +"Laurel Disputed," in which he gave the preference to Fergusson. He +remained several weeks in Edinburgh, and printed his poem. To Dr +Anderson's "Bee" he contributed several poems, and a prose essay, +entitled "The Solitary Philosopher." Finding no encouragement to settle +in the metropolis, he once more returned to his father's house in the +west. He now formed the acquaintance of Robert Burns, who testified his +esteem for him both as a man and a poet. In 1792, he published +anonymously his popular ballad of "Watty and Meg," which he had the +satisfaction to find regarded as worthy of the Ayrshire Bard. + +The star of the poet was now promising to be in the ascendant, but an +untoward event ensued. In the ardent enthusiasm of his temperament, he +was induced to espouse in verse the cause of the Paisley hand-loom +operatives in a dispute with their employers, and to satirise in strong +invective a person of irreproachable reputation. For this offence he was +prosecuted before the sheriff, who sentenced him to be imprisoned for a +few days, and publicly to burn his own poem in the front of the jail. +This satire is entitled "The Shark; or, Long Mills detected." Like many +other independents, he mistook anarchy in France for the dawn of liberty +in Europe; and his sentiments becoming known, he was so vigilantly +watched by the authorities, that he found it was no longer expedient for +him to reside in Scotland. He resolved to emigrate to America; and, +contriving by four months' extra labour, and living on a shilling +weekly, to earn his passage-money, he sailed from Portpatrick to +Belfast, and from thence to Newcastle, in the State of Delaware, where +he arrived on the 14th July 1794. During the voyage he had slept on +deck, and when he landed, his finances consisted only of a few +shillings; yet, with a cheerful heart, he walked to Philadelphia, a +distance of thirty-three miles, with only his fowling-piece on his +shoulder. He shot a red-headed woodpecker by the way,--an omen of his +future pursuits, for hitherto he had devoted no attention to the study +of ornithology. + +He was first employed by a copperplate-printer in Philadelphia, but +quitted this occupation for the loom, at which he worked about a year in +Philadelphia, and at Shepherdstown, in Virginia. In 1795, he traversed a +large portion of the State of New Jersey as a pedlar, keeping a +journal,--a practice which he had followed during his wandering life in +Scotland. He now adopted the profession of a schoolmaster, and was +successively employed in this vocation at Frankford, in Pennsylvania, at +Milestown, and at Bloomfield, in New Jersey. In preparing himself for +the instruction of others, he essentially extended his own acquaintance +with classical learning, and mathematical science; and by occasional +employment as a land-surveyor, he somewhat improved his finances. In +1801, he accepted the appointment of teacher in a seminary in +Kingsessing, on the river Schuylkill, about four miles from +Philadelphia,--a situation which, though attended with limited +emolument, proved the first step in his path to eminence. He was within +a short distance of the residence of William Bartram, the great American +naturalist, with whom he became intimately acquainted; he also formed +the friendship of Alexander Lawson, an emigrant engraver, who initiated +him in the art of etching, colouring, and engraving. Discovering an +aptitude in the accurate delineation of birds, he was led to the study +of ornithology; with which he became so much interested, that he +projected a work descriptive, with drawings, of all the birds of the +Middle States, and even of the Union. About this period he became a +contributor to the "Literary Magazine," conducted by Mr Brockden Brown, +and to Denny's "Portfolio." + +Along with a nephew and another friend, Wilson made a pedestrian tour to +the Falls of Niagara, in October 1804, and on his return published in +the "Portfolio" a poetical narrative of his journey, entitled "The +Foresters,"--a production surpassing his previous efforts, and +containing some sublime apostrophes. But his energies were now chiefly +devoted to the accomplishment of the grand design he had contemplated. +Disappointed in obtaining the co-operation of his friend Mr Lawson, who +was alarmed at the extent of his projected adventure, and likewise +frustrated in obtaining pecuniary assistance from the President +Jefferson, on which he had some reason to calculate, he persevered in +his attempts himself, drawing, etching, and colouring the requisite +illustrations. In 1806, he was employed as assistant-editor of a new +edition of Rees' Cyclopedia, by Mr Samuel Bradford, bookseller in +Philadelphia, who rewarded his services with a liberal salary, and +undertook, at his own risk, the publication of his "Ornithology." The +first volume of the work appeared in September 1808, and immediately +after its publication the author personally visited, in the course of +two different expeditions, the Eastern and Southern States, in quest of +subscribers. These journeys were attended with a success scarcely +adequate to the privations which were experienced in their prosecution; +but the "Ornithology" otherwise obtained a wide circulation, and, +excelling in point of illustration every production that had yet +appeared in America, gained for the author universal commendation. In +January 1810, his second volume appeared, and in a month after he +proceeded to Pittsburg, and from thence, in a small skiff, made a +solitary voyage down the Ohio, a distance of nearly six hundred miles. +During this lonely and venturous journey he experienced relaxation in +the composition of a poem, which afterwards appeared under the title of +"The Pilgrim." In 1813, after encountering numerous hardships and +perils, which an enthusiast only could have endured, he completed the +publication of the seventh volume of his great work. But the sedulous +attention requisite in the preparation of the plates of the eighth +volume, and the effect of a severe cold, caught in rashly throwing +himself into a river to swim in pursuit of a rare bird, brought on him a +fatal dysentery, which carried him off, on the 23d of August 1813, in +his forty-eighth year. He was interred in the cemetery of the Swedish +church, Southwark, Philadelphia, where a plain marble monument has been +erected to his memory. A ninth volume was added to the "Ornithology" by +Mr George Ord, an intimate friend of the deceased naturalist; and three +supplementary volumes have been published, in folio, by Charles Lucien +Bonaparte, uncle of the present Emperor of the French. + +Amidst his extraordinary deserts as a naturalist, the merits of +Alexander Wilson as a poet have been somewhat overlooked. His poetry, it +may be remarked, though unambitious of ornament, is bold and vigorous in +style, and, when devoted to satire, is keen and vehement. The ballad of +"Watty and Meg," though exception may be taken to the moral, is an +admirable picture of human nature, and one of the most graphic +narratives of the "taming of a shrew" in the language. Allan Cunningham +writes: "It has been excelled by none in lively, graphic fidelity of +touch: whatever was present to his eye and manifest to his ear, he +could paint with a life and a humour which Burns seems alone to +excel."[41] In private life, Wilson was a model of benevolence and of +the social virtues; he was devoid of selfishness, active in beneficence, +and incapable of resentment. Before his departure for America, he waited +on every one whom he conceived he had offended by his juvenile +escapades, and begged their forgiveness; and he did not hesitate to +reprove Burns for the levity too apparent in some of his poems. To his +aged father, who survived till the year 1816, he sent remittances of +money as often as he could afford; and at much inconvenience and +pecuniary sacrifice, he established the family of his brother-in-law on +a farm in the States. He was sober even to abstinence; and was guided in +all his transactions by correct Christian principles. In person, he was +remarkably handsome; his countenance was intelligent, and his eye +sparkling. He never attained riches, but few Scotsmen have left more +splendid memorials of their indomitable perseverance.[42] FOOTNOTES: + +[41] The "Songs of Scotland," by Allan Cunningham, vol. i. p. 247. + +[42] The most complete collection of his poems appeared in a volume +published under the following title:--"The Poetical Works of Alexander +Wilson; also, his Miscellaneous Prose Writings, Journals, Letters, +Essays, &c., now first Collected: Illustrated by Critical and +Explanatory Notes, with an extended Memoir of his Life and Writings, and +a Glossary." Belfast, 1844, 18vo. A portrait of the author is prefixed. + + + + +CONNEL AND FLORA. + + + Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, + Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again; + Alas! morn returns to revisit the shore, + But Connel returns to his Flora no more. + + For see, on yon mountain, the dark cloud of death, + O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on the heath; + While bloody and pale, on a far distant shore, + He lies, to return to his Flora no more. + + Ye light fleeting spirits, that glide o'er the steep, + Oh, would ye but waft me across the wild deep! + There fearless I'd mix in the battle's loud roar, + I'd die with my Connel, and leave him no more. + + + + +MATILDA. + + + Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep, + Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main, + Here shelter me under your cliffs while I weep, + And cease while ye hear me complain. + + For distant, alas! from my dear native shore, + And far from each friend now I be; + And wide is the merciless ocean that roars + Between my Matilda and me. + + How blest were the times when together we stray'd, + While Phoebe shone silent above, + Or lean'd by the border of Cartha's green side, + And talk'd the whole evening of love! + + Around us all nature lay wrapt up in peace, + Nor noise could our pleasures annoy, + Save Cartha's hoarse brawling, convey'd by the breeze, + That soothed us to love and to joy. + + If haply some youth had his passion express'd, + And praised the bright charms of her face, + What horrors unceasing revolved though my breast, + While, sighing, I stole from the place! + + For where is the eye that could view her alone, + The ear that could list to her strain, + Nor wish the adorable nymph for his own, + Nor double the pangs I sustain? + + Thou moon, that now brighten'st those regions above, + How oft hast thou witness'd my bliss, + While breathing my tender expressions of love, + I seal'd each kind vow with a kiss! + + Ah, then, how I joy'd while I gazed on her charms! + What transports flew swift through my heart! + I press'd the dear, beautiful maid in my arms, + Nor dream'd that we ever should part. + + But now from the dear, from the tenderest maid, + By fortune unfeelingly torn; + 'Midst strangers, who wonder to see me so sad, + In secret I wander forlorn. + + And oft, while drear Midnight assembles her shades, + And Silence pours sleep from her throne, + Pale, lonely, and pensive, I steal through the glades, + And sigh, 'midst the darkness, my moan. + + In vain to the town I retreat for relief, + In vain to the groves I complain; + Belles, coxcombs, and uproar, can ne'er soothe my grief, + And solitude nurses my pain. + + Still absent from her whom my bosom loves best, + I languish in mis'ry and care; + Her presence could banish each woe from my heart, + But her absence, alas! is despair. + + Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep; + Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main-- + Oh, shelter me under your cliffs while I weep, + And cease while ye hear me complain! + + Far distant, alas! from my dear native shore, + And far from each friend now I be; + And wide is the merciless ocean that roars + Between my Matilda and me. + + + + +AUCHTERTOOL.[43] + + + From the village of Leslie, with a heart full of glee, + And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free, + Resolved that same evening, as Luna was full, + To lodge, ten miles distant, in old Auchtertool. + + Through many a lone cottage and farm-house I steer'd, + Took their money, and off with my budget I sheer'd; + The road I explored out, without form or rule, + Still asking the nearest to old Auchtertool. + + At length I arrived at the edge of the town, + As Phoebus, behind a high mountain, went down; + The clouds gather'd dreary, and weather blew foul, + And I hugg'd myself safe now in old Auchtertool. + + An inn I inquired out, a lodging desired, + But the landlady's pertness seem'd instantly fired; + For she saucy replied, as she sat carding wool, + "I ne'er kept sic lodgers in auld Auchtertool." + + With scorn I soon left her to live on her pride; + But, asking, was told there was none else beside, + Except an old weaver, who now kept a school, + And these were the whole that were in Auchtertool. + + To his mansion I scamper'd, and rapp'd at the door; + He oped, but as soon as I dared to implore, + He shut it like thunder, and utter'd a howl + That rung through each corner of old Auchtertool. + + Deprived of all shelter, through darkness I trode, + Till I came to a ruin'd old house by the road; + Here the night I will spend, and, inspired by the owl, + My wrath I 'll vent forth upon old Auchtertool. + + +[43] We have ventured to omit three verses, and to alter slightly the +last line of this song. It was originally published at Paisley, in 1790, +to the tune of "One bottle more." Auchtertool is a small hamlet in +Fifeshire, about five miles west of the town of Kirkcaldy. The +inhabitants, whatever may have been their failings at the period when +Wilson in vain solicited shelter in the hamlet, are certainly no longer +entitled to bear the reproach of lacking in hospitality. We rejoice in +the opportunity thus afforded of testifying as to the disinterested +hospitality and kindness which we have experienced in that +neighbourhood. + + + + +CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN. + + +Carolina Oliphant was born in the old mansion of Gask, in the county of +Perth, on the 16th of July 1766. She was the third daughter and fifth +child of Laurence Oliphant of Gask, who had espoused his cousin Margaret +Robertson, a daughter of Duncan Robertson of Struan, and his wife a +daughter of the fourth Lord Nairn. The Oliphants of Gask were cadets of +the formerly noble house of Oliphant; whose ancestor, Sir William +Oliphant of Aberdalgie, a puissant knight, acquired distinction in the +beginning of the fourteenth century by defending the Castle of Stirling +against a formidable siege by the first Edward. The family of Gask were +devoted Jacobites; the paternal grandfather of Carolina Oliphant had +attended Prince Charles Edward as aid-de-camp during his disastrous +campaign of 1745-6, and his spouse had indicated her sympathy in his +cause by cutting out a lock of his hair on the occasion of his accepting +the hospitality of the family mansion. The portion of hair is preserved +at Gask; and Carolina Oliphant, in her song, "The Auld House," has thus +celebrated the gentle deed of her progenitor:-- + + "The Leddy too, sae genty, + There shelter'd Scotland's heir, + An' clipt a lock wi' her ain hand + Frae his lang yellow hair." + +The estate of Gask escaped forfeiture, but the father of Carolina did +not renounce the Jacobite sentiments of his ancestors. He named the +subject of this memoir Carolina, in honour of Prince Charles Edward; and +his prevailing topic of conversation was the reiterated expression of +his hope that "the king would get his ain." He would not permit the +names of the reigning monarch and his queen to be mentioned in his +presence; and when impaired eyesight compelled him to seek the +assistance of his family in reading the newspapers, he angrily reproved +the reader if the "German lairdie and his leddy" were designated +otherwise than by the initial letters, "K. and Q." This extreme +Jacobitism at a period when the crime was scarcely to be dreaded, was +reported to George III., who is related to have confessed his respect +for a man who had so consistently maintained his political sentiments. + +In her youth, Carolina Oliphant was singularly beautiful, and was known +in her native district by the poetical designation of "The Flower of +Strathearn." She was as remarkable for the precocity of her intellect, +as she was celebrated for the elegance of her person. Descended by her +mother from a family which, in one instance,[44] at least, had afforded +some evidence of poetical talents, and possessed of a correct musical +ear, she very early composed verses for her favourite melodies. To the +development of her native genius, her juvenile condition abundantly +contributed: the locality of her birthplace, rich in landscape scenery, +and associated with family traditions and legends of curious and +chivalric adventure, might have been sufficient to promote, in a mind +less fertile than her own, sentiments of poesy. In the application of +her talents she was influenced by another incentive. A loose ribaldry +tainted the songs and ballads which circulated among the peasantry, and +she was convinced that the diffusion of a more wholesome minstrelsy +would essentially elevate the moral tone of the community. Thus, while +still young, she commenced to purify the older melodies, and to compose +new songs, which were ultimately destined to occupy an ample share of +the national heart. The occasion of an agricultural dinner in the +neighbourhood afforded her a fitting opportunity of making trial of her +success in the good work which she had begun. To the president of the +meeting she sent, anonymously, her verses entitled "The Ploughman;" and +the production being publicly read, was received with warm approbation, +and was speedily put to music. She was thus encouraged to proceed in her +self-imposed task; and to this early period of her life may be ascribed +some of her best lyrics. "The Laird o' Cockpen," and "The Land o' the +Leal," at the close of the century, were sung in every district of the +kingdom. + +Carolina Oliphant had many suitors for her hand: she gave a preference +to William Murray Nairn, her maternal cousin, who had been Baron Nairn, +barring the attainder of the title on account of the Jacobitism of the +last Baron. The marriage was celebrated in June 1806. At this period, Mr +Nairn was Assistant Inspector-General of Barracks in Scotland, and held +the rank of major in the army. By Act of Parliament, on the 17th June +1824, the attainder of the family was removed, the title of Baron being +conferred on Major Nairn. This measure is reported to have been passed +on the strong recommendation of George IV.; his Majesty having learned, +during his state visit to Scotland in 1822, that the song of "The +Attainted Scottish Nobles" was the composition of Lady Nairn. The song +is certainly one of the best apologies for Jacobitism. + +On the 9th of July 1830, Lady Nairn was bereaved of her husband, to whom +she had proved an affectionate wife. Her care had for several years been +assiduously bestowed on the proper rearing of her only child William, +who, being born in 1808, had reached his twenty-second year when he +succeeded to the title on the death of his father. This young nobleman +warmly reciprocated his mother's affectionate devotedness; and, making +her the associate of his manhood, proved a source of much comfort to her +in her bereavement. In 1837, he resolved, in her society, to visit the +Continent, in the hope of being recruited by change of climate from an +attack of influenza caught in the spring of that year. But the change +did not avail; he was seized with a violent cold at Brussels, which, +after an illness of six weeks, proved fatal. He died in that city on the +7th of December 1837. Deprived both of her husband and her only child, a +young nobleman of so much promise, and of singular Christian worth, Lady +Nairn, though submitting to the mysterious dispensations with becoming +resignation, did not regain her wonted buoyancy of spirit. Old age was +rapidly approaching,--those years in which the words of the inspired +sage, "I have no pleasure in them," are too frequently called forth by +the pressure of human infirmities. But this amiable lady did not sink +under the load of affliction and of years: she mourned in hope, and wept +in faith. While the afflictions which had mingled with her cup of +blessings tended to prevent her lingering too intently on the past,[45] +the remembrance of a life devoted to deeds of piety and virtue was a +solace greater than any other earthly object could impart, leading her +to hail the future with sentiments of joyful anticipation. During the +last years of her life, unfettered by worldly ties, she devoted all her +energies to the service of Heaven, and to the advancement of Christian +truth. Her beautiful ode, "Would you be young again?" was composed in +1842, and enclosed in a letter to a friend; it is signally expressive of +the pious resignation and Christian hope of the author. + +After the important era of her marriage, she seems to have relinquished +her literary ardour. But in the year 1821, Mr Robert Purdie, an +enterprising music-seller in Edinburgh, having resolved to publish a +series of the more approved national songs, made application to several +ladies celebrated for their musical skill, with the view of obtaining +their assistance in the arrangement of the melodies. To these ladies was +known the secret of Lady Nairn's devotedness to Scottish song, enjoying +as they did her literary correspondence and private intimacy; and in +consenting to aid the publisher in his undertaking, they calculated on +contributions from their accomplished friend. They had formed a correct +estimate: Lady Nairn, whose extreme diffidence had hitherto proved a +barrier to the fulfilment of the best wishes of her heart, in effecting +the reformation of the national minstrelsy, consented to transmit +pieces for insertion, on the express condition that her name and rank, +and every circumstance connected with her history, should be kept in +profound secrecy. The condition was carefully observed; so that, +although the publication of "The Scottish Minstrel" extended over three +years, and she had several personal interviews and much correspondence +with the publisher and his editor, Mr R. A. Smith, both these +individuals remained ignorant of her real name. She had assumed the +signature, "B. B.," in her correspondence with Mr Purdie, who appears to +have been entertained by _the discovery_, communicated in confidence, +that the name of his contributor was "Mrs Bogan of Bogan;" and by this +designation he subsequently addressed her. The _nom de guerre_ of the +two B.'s[46] is attached to the greater number of Lady Nairn's +contributions in "The Scottish Minstrel." + +The new collection of minstrelsy, unexceptionable as it was in the words +attached to all the airs, commanded a wide circulation, and excited +general attention. The original contributions were especially commended, +and some of them were forthwith sung by professed vocalists in the +principal towns. Much speculation arose respecting the authorship, and +various conjectures were supported, each with plausible arguments, by +the public journalists. In these circumstances, Lady Nairn experienced +painful alarm, lest, by any inadvertence on the part of her friends, the +origin of her songs should be traced. While the publication of the +"Minstrel" was proceeding, her correspondents received repeated +injunctions to adopt every caution in preserving her _incognita_; she +was even desirous that her sex might not be made known. "I beg the +publisher will make no mention of a _lady_," she wrote to one of her +correspondents, "as you observe, the more mystery the better, and +_still_ the balance is in favour of the lords of creation. I cannot +help, in some degree, undervaluing beforehand what is said to be a +feminine production." "The Scottish Minstrel" was completed in 1824, in +six royal octavo volumes, forming one of the best collections of the +Scottish melodies. It was in the full belief that "Mrs Bogan" was her +real name, that the following compliment was paid to Lady Nairn by +Messrs Purdie and R. A. Smith, in the advertisement to the last volume +of the work:--"In particular, the editors would have felt happy in being +permitted to enumerate the many original and beautiful verses that adorn +their pages, for which they are indebted to the author of the +much-admired song, 'The Land o' the Leal;' but they fear to wound a +delicacy which shrinks from all observation." + +Subsequent to the appearance of "The Scottish Minstrel," Lady Nairn did +not publish any lyrics; and she was eminently successful in preserving +her _incognita_. No critic ventured to identify her as the celebrated +"B. B.," and it was only whispered among a few that she had composed +"The Land o' the Leal." The mention of her name publicly as the author +of this beautiful ode, on one occasion, had signally disconcerted her. +While she was resident in Paris, in 1842, she writes to an intimate +friend in Edinburgh on this subject:--"A Scottish lady here, Lady----, +with whom I never met in Scotland, is so good as, among perfect +strangers, to _denounce_ me as the origin of 'The Land o' the Leal!' I +cannot trace it, but very much dislike as ever any kind of publicity." +The extreme diffidence and shrinking modesty of the amiable author +continued to the close of her life; she never divulged, beyond a small +circle of confidential friends, the authorship of a single verse. The +songs published in her youth had been given to others; but, as in the +case of Lady Anne Barnard, these assignments caused her no uneasiness. +She experienced much gratification in finding her simple minstrelsy +supplanting the coarse and demoralising rhymes of a former period; and +this mental satisfaction she preferred to fame. + +The philanthropic efforts of Lady Nairn were not limited to the +purification of the national minstrelsy; her benevolence extended +towards the support of every institution likely to promote the temporal +comforts, or advance the spiritual interests of her countrymen. Her +contributions to the public charities were ample, and she + + "Did good by stealth, and blush'd to find it fame." + +In an address delivered at Edinburgh, on the 29th of December 1845, Dr +Chalmers, referring to the exertions which had been made for the supply +of religious instruction in the district of the West Port of Edinburgh, +made the following remarks regarding Lady Nairn, who was then recently +deceased:--"Let me speak now as to the countenance we have received. I +am now at liberty to mention a very noble benefaction which I received +about a year ago. Inquiry was made at me by a lady, mentioning that she +had a sum at her disposal, and that she wished to apply it to charitable +purposes; and she wanted me to enumerate a list of charitable objects, +in proportion to the estimate I had of their value. Accordingly, I +furnished her with a scale of about five or six charitable objects. The +highest in the scale were those institutions which had for their design +the Christianising of the people at home; and I also mentioned to her, +in connexion with the Christianising at home, what we were doing at the +West Port; and there came to me from her, in the course of a day or two, +no less a sum than £300. She is now dead; she is now in her grave, and +her works do follow her. When she gave me this noble benefaction, she +laid me under strict injunctions of secrecy, and, accordingly, I did not +mention her name to any person; but after she was dead, I begged of her +nearest heir that I might be allowed to proclaim it, because I thought +that her example, so worthy to be followed, might influence others in +imitating her; and I am happy to say that I am now at liberty to state +that it was Lady Nairn of Perthshire. It enabled us, at the expense of +£330, to purchase sites for schools, and a church; and we have got a +site in the very heart of the locality, with a very considerable extent +of ground for a washing-green, a washing-house, and a play-ground for +the children, so that we are a good step in advance towards the +completion of our parochial economy." + +After the death of her son, and till within two years of her own death, +Lady Nairn resided chiefly on the Continent, and frequently in Paris. +Her health had for several years been considerably impaired, and +latterly she had recourse to a wheeled chair. In the mansion of Gask, on +the 27th of October 1845, she gently sunk into her rest, at the advanced +age of seventy-nine years. + +Some years subsequent to this event, it occurred to the relatives and +literary friends of the deceased Baroness that as there could no longer +be any reason for retaining her _incognita_, full justice should be done +to her memory by the publication of a collected edition of her works. +This scheme was partially executed in an elegant folio, entitled "Lays +from Strathearn: by Carolina, Baroness Nairn. Arranged with Symphonies +and Accompaniments for the Pianoforte, by Finlay Dun." It bears the +imprint of London, and has no date. In this work, of which a new edition +will speedily be published by Messrs Paterson, music-sellers, Edinburgh, +are contained seventy songs, but the larger proportion of the author's +lyrics still remain in MS. From her representatives we have received +permission to select her best lyrics for the present work, and to insert +several pieces hitherto unpublished. Of the lays which we have selected, +several are new versions to old airs; the majority, though unknown as +the compositions of Lady Nairn, are already familiar in the drawing-room +and the cottage. For winning simplicity, graceful expression, and +exquisite pathos, her compositions are especially remarkable; but when +her muse prompts to humour, the laugh is sprightly and overpowering. + +In society, Lady Nairn was reserved and unassuming. Her countenance, +naturally beautiful, wore, in her mature years, a somewhat pensive cast; +and the characteristic by which she was known consisted in her +enthusiastic love of music. It may be added, that she was fond of the +fine arts, and was skilled in the use of the pencil. + + +[44] Robertson of Struan, cousin-german of Lady Nairn's mother, and a +conspicuous Jacobite chief, composed many fugitive verses for the +amusement of his friends; and a collection of them, said to have been +surreptitiously obtained from a servant, was published, without a date, +under the following title:--"Poems on various Subjects and Occasions, by +the Honourable Alexander Robertson of Struan, Esq.--mostly taken from +his own original Manuscripts." Edinburgh, 8vo. + +[45] Writing to one of her correspondents, in November 1840, Lady Nairn +thus remarks--"I sometimes say to myself, 'This is no me,' so greatly +have my feelings and trains of thought changed since 'auld lang syne;' +and, though I am made to know assuredly that all is well, I scarcely +dare to allow my mind to settle on the past." + +[46] A daughter of Baron Hume was one of the ladies who induced Lady +Nairn to become a contributor to "The Scottish Minstrel." Many of the +songs were sent to the Editor through the medium of Miss Hume. She thus +expresses herself in a letter to a friend:--"My father's admiration of +'The Land o' the Leal' was such, that he said no woman but Miss Ferrier +was capable of writing it. And when I used to shew him song after song +in MS., when I was receiving the anonymous verses for the music, and ask +his criticism, he said--'Your unknown poetess has only _one_, or rather +_two_, letters out of taste, viz., choosing "B. B." for her signature.'" + + + + +THE PLEUGHMAN.[47] + + + There 's high and low, there 's rich and poor, + There 's trades and crafts enew, man; + But, east and west, his trade 's the best, + That kens to guide the pleugh, man. + Then, come, weel speed my pleughman lad, + And hey my merry pleughman; + Of a' the trades that I do ken, + Commend me to the pleughman. + + His dreams are sweet upon his bed, + His cares are light and few, man; + His mother's blessing 's on his head, + That tents her weel, the pleughman. + Then, come, weel speed, &c. + + The lark, sae sweet, that starts to meet + The morning fresh and new, man; + Blythe though she be, as blythe is he + That sings as sweet, the pleughman. + Then, come, weel speed, &c. + + All fresh and gay, at dawn of day + Their labours they renew, man; + Heaven bless the seed, and bless the soil, + And Heaven bless the pleughman. + Then, come, weel speed, &c. + + +[47] This seems to have been the author's first composition in Scottish +verse. See the Memoir. + + + + +CALLER HERRIN'.[48] + + + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? + They 're bonnie fish and halesome farin'; + Wha 'll buy caller herrin', + New drawn frae the Forth? + + When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, + Dream'd ye ought o' our puir fellows, + Darkling as they faced the billows, + A' to fill the woven willows. + Buy my caller herrin', + New drawn frae the Forth. + + Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? + They 're no brought here without brave daring; + Buy my caller herrin', + Haul'd thro' wind and rain. + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c. + + Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? + Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin'! + Wives and mithers, maist despairin', + Ca' them lives o' men. + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c. + + When the creel o' herrin' passes, + Ladies, clad in silks and laces, + Gather in their braw pelisses, + Cast their heads, and screw their faces. + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c. + + Caller herrin 's no got lightlie; + Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie; + Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin', + Gow has set you a' a-singin'. + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c. + + Neebour wives, now tent my tellin', + When the bonny fish ye 're sellin', + At ae word be in yer dealin'-- + Truth will stand when a' thing 's failin'. + Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c. + + +[48] This song has acquired an extensive popularity, for which it is +much indebted, in addition to its intrinsic merits, to the musical +powers of the late John Wilson, the eminent vocalist, whose premature +death is a source of regret to all lovers of Scottish melody. Mr Wilson +sung this song in every principal town of the United Kingdom, and always +with effect. + + + + +THE LAND O' THE LEAL.[49] + + + I 'm wearin' awa', John, + Like snaw wreaths in thaw, John; + I 'm wearin' awa' + To the land o' the leal. + There 's nae sorrow there, John; + There 's neither cauld nor care, John; + The day 's aye fair + I' the land o' the leal. + + Our bonnie bairn 's there, John; + She was baith gude and fair, John; + And, oh! we grudged her sair + To the land o' the leal. + But sorrows sel' wears past, John, + And joy 's a-comin' fast, John-- + The joy that 's aye to last + In the land o' the leal. + + Sae dear 's that joy was bought, John, + Sae free the battle fought, John, + That sinfu' man e'er brought + To the land o' the leal. + Oh, dry your glist'ning e'e, John! + My saul langs to be free, John; + And angels beckon me + To the land o' the leal. + + Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! + Your day it 's wearin' thro', John; + And I 'll welcome you + To the land o' the leal. + Now, fare ye weel, my ain John, + This warld's cares are vain, John; + We 'll meet, and we 'll be fain, + In the land o' the leal. + + +[49] This exquisitely tender and beautiful lay was composed by Lady +Nairn, for two married relatives of her own, Mr and Mrs C----, who had +sustained bereavement in the death of a child. Such is the account of +its origin which we have received from Lady Nairn's relatives. + + + + +THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN.[50] + + The Laird o' Cockpen he 's proud and he 's great, + His mind is ta'en up with the things o' the state; + He wanted a wife his braw house to keep, + But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek. + + Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, + At his table-head he thought she 'd look well; + M'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee, + A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree. + + His wig was weel pouther'd, and as gude as new; + His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue; + He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat, + And wha' could refuse the Laird wi' a' that? + + He took the gray mare, and rade cannily-- + And rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee; + "Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben, + She 's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen." + + Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine, + "And what brings the Laird at sic a like time?" + She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown, + Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down. + + And when she cam' ben, he bowed fu' low, + And what was his errand he soon let her know; + Amazed was the Laird when the lady said "Na;" + And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'. + + Dumbfounder'd he was, nae sigh did he gie; + He mounted his mare--he rade cannily; + And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen, + She 's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen. + + And now that the Laird his exit had made, + Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said; + "Oh! for ane I 'll get better, it 's waur I 'll get ten, + I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen." + + Next time that the Laird and the Lady were seen, + They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green; + Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen, + But as yet there 's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen. + + +[50] This humorous and highly popular song was composed by Lady Nairn +towards the close of the last century, in place of the older words +connected with the air, "When she came ben, she bobbit." The older +version, which is entitled "Cockpen," is exceptional on the score of +refinement, but was formerly sung on account of the excellence of the +air. It is generally believed to be a composition of the reign of +Charles II.; and the hero of the piece, "the Laird of Cockpen," is said +to have been the companion in arms and attached friend of his sovereign. +Of this personage an anecdote is recorded in some of the Collections. +Having been engaged with his countrymen at the battle of Worcester, in +the cause of Charles, he accompanied the unfortunate monarch to Holland, +and, forming one of the little court at the Hague, amused his royal +master by his humour, and especially by his skill in Scottish music. In +playing the tune, "Brose and Butter," he particularly excelled; it +became the favourite of the exiled monarch, and Cockpen had pleasure in +gratifying the royal wish, that he might be lulled to sleep at night, +and awakened in the morning by this enchanting air. At the Restoration, +Cockpen found that his estate had been confiscated for his attachment to +the king, and had the deep mortification to discover that he had +suffered on behalf of an ungrateful prince, who gave no response to his +many petitions and entreaties for the restoration of his possessions. +Visiting London, he was even denied an audience; but he still +entertained a hope that, by a personal conference with the king, he +might attain his object. To accomplish this design, he had recourse to +the following artifice:--He formed acquaintance with the organist of the +chapel-royal, and obtained permission to officiate as his substitute +when the king came to service. He did so with becoming propriety till +the close of the service, when, instead of the solemn departing air, he +struck up the monarch's old favourite, "Brose and Butter." The scheme, +though bordering on profanity, succeeded in the manner intended. The +king proceeding hastily to the organ-gallery, discovered Cockpen, whom +he saluted familiarly, declaring that he had "almost made him dance." "I +could dance too," said Cockpen, "if I had my lands again." The request, +to which every entreaty could not gain a response, was yielded to the +power of music and old association. Cockpen was restored to his +inheritance. The modern ballad has been often attributed to Miss +Ferrier, the accomplished author of "Marriage," and other popular +novels. She only contributed the last two stanzas. The present Laird of +Cockpen is the Marquis of Dalhousie. + + + + +HER HOME SHE IS LEAVING. + +AIR--_"Mordelia."_ + + + In all its rich wildness, her home she is leaving, + In sad and tearful silence grieving, + And still as the moment of parting is nearer, + Each long cherish'd object is fairer and dearer. + Not a grove or fresh streamlet but wakens reflection + Of hearts still and cold, that glow'd with affection; + Not a breeze that blows over the flowers of the wild wood, + But tells, as it passes, how blest was her childhood. + + And how long must I leave thee, each fond look expresses, + Ye high rocky summits, ye ivy'd recesses! + How long must I leave thee, thou wood-shaded river, + The echoes all sigh--as they whisper--for ever! + Tho' the autumn winds rave, and the seared leaves fall, + And winter hangs out her cold icy pall-- + Yet the footsteps of spring again ye will see, + And the singing of birds--but they sing not for me. + + The joys of the past, more faintly recalling, + Sweet visions of peace on her spirit are falling, + And the soft wing of time, as it speeds for the morrow, + Wafts a gale, that is drying the dew-drops of sorrow. + Hope dawns--and the toils of life's journey beguiling, + The path of the mourner is cheer'd with its smiling; + And there her heart rests, and her wishes all centre, + Where parting is never--nor sorrow can enter. + + + + + +THE BONNIEST LASS IN A' THE WARLD. + + + The bonniest lass in a' the warld, + I 've often heard them telling, + She 's up the hill, she 's down the glen, + She 's in yon lonely dwelling. + But nane could bring her to my mind + Wha lives but in the fancy, + Is 't Kate, or Shusie, Jean, or May, + Is 't Effie, Bess, or Nancy? + + Now lasses a' keep a gude heart, + Nor e'er envy a comrade, + For be your een black, blue, or gray, + Ye 're bonniest aye to some lad. + The tender heart, the charming smile, + The truth that ne'er will falter, + Are charms that never can beguile, + And time can never alter. + + + + +MY AIN KIND DEARIE, O![51] + + + Will ye gang ower the lea-rig, + My ain kind dearie, O? + Will ye gang ower the lea-rig, + My ain kind dearie, O? + Gin ye'll tak heart, and gang wi' me, + Mishap will never steer ye, O; + Gude luck lies ower the lea-rig, + My ain kind dearie, O! + + There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig, + My ain kind dearie, O! + There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig, + My ain kind dearie, O! + Its neither land, nor gowd, nor braws-- + Let them gang tapsle teerie, O! + It 's walth o' peace, o' love, and truth, + My ain kind dearie, O! + + +[51] The first two lines of this song are borrowed from the "Lea-Rig," a +lively and popular lyric, of which the first two verses were composed by +Robert Fergusson, the three remaining being added by William Reid of +Glasgow. (See _ante_, article "William Reid.") + + + + +HE'S LIFELESS AMANG THE RUDE BILLOWS. + +AIR--_"The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre."_ + + + He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, + My tears and my sighs are in vain; + The heart that beat warm for his Jeanie, + Will ne'er beat for mortal again. + My lane now I am i' the warld, + And the daylight is grievous to me; + The laddie that lo'ed me sae dearly + Lies cauld in the deeps o' the sea. + + Ye tempests, sae boist'rously raging, + Rage on as ye list--or be still; + This heart ye sae often hae sicken'd, + Is nae mair the sport o' your will. + Now heartless, I hope not--I fear not,-- + High Heaven hae pity on me! + My soul, tho' dismay'd and distracted, + Yet bends to thy awful decree. + + + + +JOY OF MY EARLIEST DAYS. + +AIR--_"I'll never leave thee."_ + + + Joy of my earliest days, + Why must I grieve thee? + Theme of my fondest lays, + Oh, I maun leave thee! + Leave thee, love! leave thee, love! + How shall I leave thee? + Absence thy truth will prove, + For, oh! I maun leave thee! + + When on yon mossy stane, + Wild weeds o'ergrowin', + Ye sit at e'en your lane, + And hear the burn rowin'; + Oh! think on this partin' hour, + Down by the Garry, + And to Him that has a' the pow'r, + Commend me, my Mary! + + + + +OH, WEEL'S ME ON MY AIN MAN. + +AIR--_"Landlady count the lawin'."_ + + + Oh, weel's me on my ain man, + My ain man, my ain man! + Oh, weel's me on my ain gudeman! + He 'll aye be welcome hame. + + I 'm wae I blamed him yesternight, + For now my heart is feather light; + For gowd I wadna gie the sight; + I see him linking ower the height. + Oh, weel's me on my ain man, &c. + + Rin, Jamie, bring the kebbuck ben, + And fin' aneath the speckled hen; + Meg, rise and sweep about the fire, + Syne cry on Johnnie frae the byre. + For weel's me on my ain man, + My ain man, my ain man! + For weel's me on my ain gudeman! + I see him linkin' hame. + + + + +KIND ROBIN LOE'S ME.[52] + + + Robin is my ain gudeman, + Now match him, carlins, gin ye can, + For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan, + But kind Robin lo'es me. + To mak my boast I 'll e'en be bauld, + For Robin lo'ed me young and auld, + In summer's heat and winter's cauld, + My kind Robin lo'es me. + + Robin he comes hame at e'en + Wi' pleasure glancin' in his e'en; + He tells me a' he 's heard and seen, + And syne how he lo'es me. + There 's some hae land, and some hae gowd, + Mair wad hae them gin they could, + But a' I wish o' warld's guid, + Is Robin still to lo'e me. + + +[52] The author seems to have composed these stanzas as a sequel to a +wooing song of the same name, beginning, "Robin is my only jo," which +first appeared in Herd's Collection in 1776. There are some older words +to the same air, but these are coarse, and are not to be found in any of +the modern Collections. + + + + +KITTY REID'S HOUSE. + +AIR--_"Country Bumpkin."_ + + + Hech, hey! the mirth that was there, + The mirth that was there, + The mirth that was there; + Hech, how! the mirth that was there, + In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo! + There was laughin' and singin', and dancin' and glee, + In Kitty's Reid's house, in Kitty Reid's house, + There was laughin' and singin', and dancin' and glee, + In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo! + + Hech, hey! the fright that was there, + The fright that was there, + The fright that was there; + Hech, how! the fright that was there, + In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo! + The light glimmer'd in through a crack i' the wa', + An' a'body thocht the lift it wad fa', + And lads and lasses they soon ran awa' + Frae Kitty's Reid's house on the green, Jo! + + Hech, hey! the dule that was there, + The dule that was there, + The dule that was there; + The birds and beasts it wauken'd them a', + In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo! + The wa' gaed a hurley, and scatter'd them a', + The piper, the fiddler, auld Kitty, and a'; + The kye fell a routin', the cocks they did craw, + In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo! + + + + +THE ROBIN'S NEST. + +AIR--_"Lochiel's awa' to France."_ + + + Their nest was in the leafy bush, + Sae soft and warm, sae soft and warm, + And Robins thought their little brood + All safe from harm, all safe from harm. + The morning's feast with joy they brought, + To feed their young wi' tender care; + The plunder'd leafy bush they found, + But nest and nestlings saw nae mair. + + The mother cou'dna leave the spot, + But wheeling round, and wheeling round, + The cruel spoiler aim'd a shot, + Cured her heart's wound, cured her heart's wound. + She will not hear their helpless cry, + Nor see them pine in slavery! + The burning breast she will not bide, + For wrongs of wanton knavery. + + Oh! bonny Robin Redbreast, + Ye trust in men, ye trust in men, + But what their hard hearts are made o', + Ye little ken, ye little ken. + They 'll ne'er wi' your wee skin be warm'd, + Nor wi' your tiny flesh be fed, + But just 'cause you 're a living thing, + It 's sport wi' them to lay you dead. + + Ye Hieland and ye Lowland lads, + As birdies gay, as birdies gay, + Oh, spare them, whistling like yoursel's, + And hopping blythe from spray to spray! + Their wings were made to soar aloft, + And skim the air at liberty; + And as you freedom gi'e to them, + May you and yours be ever free! + + + + +SAW YE NAE MY PEGGY?[53] + + + Saw ye nae my Peggy? + Saw ye nae my Peggy? + Saw ye nae my Peggy comin' + Through Tillibelton's broom? + I 'm frae Aberdagie, + Ower the crafts o' Craigie, + For aught I ken o' Peggie, + She 's ayont the moon. + + 'Twas but at the dawin', + Clear the cock was crawin', + I saw Peggy cawin' + Hawky by the brier. + Early bells were ringin', + Blythest birds were singin', + Sweetest flowers were springin', + A' her heart to cheer. + + Now the tempest's blawin', + Almond water 's flowin', + Deep and ford unknowin', + She maun cross the day. + Almond waters, spare her, + Safe to Lynedoch bear her! + Its braes ne'er saw a fairer, + Bess Bell nor Mary Gray. + + Oh, now to be wi' her! + Or but ance to see her + Skaithless, far or near, + I 'd gie Scotland's crown. + Byeword, blind 's a lover-- + Wha 's yon I discover? + Just yer ain fair rover, + Stately stappin' down. + + +[53] Another song with the same title, "Saw ye nae my Peggy?" is +inserted in the Collections. It first appeared in Herd's Collection, in +1769, though it is understood to be of a considerably older date. Allan +Ramsay composed two songs to the same air, but they are both inferior. +The air is believed to have originally been connected with some +exceptionable words, beginning, "Saw ye my Maggie?" + + + + +GUDE NICHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'! + + + The best o' joys maun hae an end, + The best o' friends maun part, I trow; + The langest day will wear away, + And I maun bid fareweel to you. + The tear will tell when hearts are fu', + For words, gin they hae sense ava, + They 're broken, faltering, and few: + Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'! + + Oh, we hae wander'd far and wide, + O'er Scotia's lands o' frith and fell! + And mony a simple flower we 've pu'd, + And twined it wi' the heather-bell. + We 've ranged the dingle and the dell, + The cot-house, and the baron's ha'; + Now we maun tak a last farewell: + Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'! + + My harp, fareweel! thy strains are past, + Of gleefu' mirth, and heartfelt care; + The voice of song maun cease at last, + And minstrelsy itsel' decay. + But, oh! whar sorrow canna win, + Nor parting tears are shed ava', + May we meet neighbour, kith, and kin, + And joy for aye be wi' us a'! + + + + +CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.[54] + + + There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, + There 's castocks in Strabogie; + And morn and e'en, they 're blythe and bein, + That haud them frae the cogie. + Now, haud ye frae the cogie, lads; + O bide ye frae the cogie! + I 'll tell ye true, ye 'll never rue, + O' passin' by the cogie. + + Young Will was braw and weel put on, + Sae blythe was he and vogie; + And he got bonnie Mary Don, + The flower o' a' Strabogie. + Wha wad hae thocht, at wooin' time, + He 'd e'er forsaken Mary, + And ta'en him to the tipplin' trade, + Wi' boozin' Rob and Harry? + + Sair Mary wrought, sair Mary grat, + She scarce could lift the ladle; + Wi' pithless feet, 'tween ilka greet, + She 'd rock the borrow'd cradle. + Her weddin' plenishin' was gane, + She never thocht to borrow: + Her bonnie face was waxin' wan-- + And Will wrought a' the sorrow. + + He 's reelin' hame ae winter's nicht, + Some later than the gloamin'; + He 's ta'en the rig, he 's miss'd the brig, + And Bogie 's ower him foamin'. + Wi' broken banes, out ower the stanes, + He creepit up Strabogie; + And a' the nicht he pray'd wi' micht, + To keep him frae the cogie. + + Now Mary's heart is light again-- + She 's neither sick nor silly; + For auld or young, nae sinfu' tongue, + Could e'er entice her Willie; + And aye the sang through Bogie rang-- + "O had ye frae the cogie; + The weary gill 's the sairest ill + On braes o' fair Strabogie." + + +[54] This excellent ballad is the fourth version adapted to the air, +"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen." Some notice of the three former will be found +_ante_, p. 46. + + + + +HE'S OWER THE HILLS THAT I LO'E WEEL. + + + He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, + He 's ower the hills we daurna name; + He 's ower the hills ayont Dunblane, + Wha soon will get his welcome hame. + + My father's gane to fight for him, + My brithers winna bide at hame; + My mither greets and prays for them, + And 'deed she thinks they 're no to blame. + He 's ower the hills, &c. + + The Whigs may scoff, the Whigs may jeer; + But, ah! that love maun be sincere + Which still keeps true whate'er betide, + An' for his sake leaves a' beside. + He 's ower the hills, &c. + + His right these hills, his right these plains; + Ower Hieland hearts secure he reigns; + What lads e'er did our laddies will do; + Were I a laddie, I'd follow him too. + He 's ower the hills, &c. + + Sae noble a look, sae princely an air, + Sae gallant and bold, sae young and sae fair; + Oh, did ye but see him, ye 'd do as we've done! + Hear him but ance, to his standard you 'll run. + He 's ower the hills, &c. + + Then draw the claymore, for Charlie then fight; + For your country, religion, and a' that is right; + Were ten thousand lives now given to me, + I 'd die as aft for ane o' the three. + He 's ower the hills, &c. + + + + +THE LASS O' GOWRIE.[55] + +AIR--_"Loch Erroch Side."_ + + + 'Twas on a summer's afternoon, + A wee afore the sun gaed down, + A lassie, wi' a braw new gown, + Cam' ower the hills to Gowrie. + The rose-bud, wash'd in summer's shower, + Bloom'd fresh within the sunny bower; + But Kitty was the fairest flower + That e'er was seen in Gowrie. + + To see her cousin she cam' there, + An', oh, the scene was passing fair! + For what in Scotland can compare + Wi' the Carse o' Gowrie? + The sun was setting on the Tay, + The blue hills melting into gray; + The mavis' and the blackbird's lay + Were sweetly heard in Gowrie. + + Oh, lang the lassie I had woo'd! + An' truth and constancy had vow'd, + But cam' nae speed wi' her I lo'ed, + Until she saw fair Gowrie. + I pointed to my faither's ha', + Yon bonnie bield ayont the shaw, + Sae loun' that there nae blast could blaw; + Wad she no bide in Gowrie? + + Her faither was baith glad and wae; + Her mither she wad naething say; + The bairnies thocht they wad get play + If Kitty gaed to Gowrie. + She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet, + The blush and tear were on her cheek; + She naething said, an' hung her head; + But now she's Leddy Gowrie. + + +[55] There are several other versions of this highly popular song. One +of these, the composition of William Reid of Glasgow, has already been +adduced. See _ante_, p. 157. Another, which is one of the most +celebrated, in the first two verses is nearly the same with the opening +stanzas of Lady Nairn's version, the sequel proceeding as follows:-- + + I praised her beauty loud an' lang, + Then round her waist my arms I flang, + And said, "My dearie, will ye gang + To see the Carse o' Gowrie? + + "I'll tak ye to my father's ha', + In yon green field beside the shaw; + I'll mak you lady o' them a'-- + The brawest wife in Gowrie." + + Soft kisses on her lips I laid, + The blush upon her cheek soon spread; + She whisper'd modestly, and said, + "I'll gang wi' you to Gowrie." + + The auld folks soon ga'e their consent, + Syne for Mess John they quickly sent, + Wha tied them to their heart's content, + And now she's Lady Gowrie. + +Mr Lyle, in his "Ancient Ballads and Songs" (Lond. 1827, 12mo, p. 138), +presents an additional version, which we subjoin. Mr Lyle remarks, that +he had revised it from an old stall copy, ascribed to Colonel James +Ramsay of Stirling Castle. + + THE BONNIE LASS O' GOWRIE. + + A wee bit north frae yon green wood, + Whar draps the sunny showerie, + The lofty elm-trees spread their boughs, + To shade the braes o' Gowrie; + An' by yon burn ye scarce can see, + There stan's a rustic bowerie, + Whar lives a lass mair dear to me + Than a' the maids in Gowrie. + + Nae gentle bard e'er sang her praise, + 'Cause fortune ne'er left dowrie; + The rose blaws sweetest in the shade, + So does the flower o' Gowrie. + When April strews her garlands roun', + Her bare foot treads the flowerie; + Her sang gars a' the woodlands ring, + That shade the braes o' Gowrie. + + Her modest blush an' downcast e'e, + A flame sent beating through me; + For she surpasses all I've seen, + This peerless flower o' Gowrie. + I've lain upon the dewy green + Until the evening hourie, + An' thought gin e'er I durst ca' mine + The bonnie lass o' Gowrie. + + The bushes that o'erhang the burn, + Sae verdant and sae flowerie, + Can witness that I love alane + The bonnie lass o' Gowrie. + Let ithers dream an' sigh for wealth, + An' fashions fleet and flowery; + Gi'e me that heav'nly innocence + Upon the braes o' Gowrie. + + + + +THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH.[56] + + + There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard, + And white are the blossoms o't in our kail-yard, + Like wee bit white cockauds to deck our Hieland lads, + And the lasses lo'e the bonnie bush in our kail-yard. + + An' it 's hame, an' it 's hame to the north countrie, + An' it 's hame, an' it 's hame to the north countrie, + Where my bonnie Jean is waiting for me, + Wi' a heart kind and true, in my ain countrie. + + "But were they a' true that were far awa? + Oh! were they a' true that were far awa'? + They drew up wi' glaikit Englishers at Carlisle Ha', + And forgot auld frien's that were far awa. + + "Ye 'll come nae mair, Jamie, where aft ye 've been, + Ye 'll come nae mair, Jamie, to Atholl's green; + Ye lo'ed ower weel the dancin' at Carlisle Ha', + And forgot the Hieland hills that were far awa'." + + "I ne'er lo'ed a dance but on Atholl's green, + I ne'er lo'ed a lassie but my dorty Jean, + Sair, sair against my will did I bide sae lang awa', + And my heart was aye in Atholl's green at Carlisle Ha'." + + * * * * * + + The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail-yard; + The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail-yard; + A blast blew ower the hill, that gae Atholl's flowers a chill, + And the bloom 's blawn aff the bonnie bush in our kail-yard. + + +[56] The present is an amended version of an old song, entitled "The +Bonnie Brier Bush," altered and added to by Burns for the "Musical +Museum." + + + + +JOHN TOD. + + + He 's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod, + He 's a terrible man, John Tod; + He scolds in the house, + He scolds at the door, + He scolds on the vera hie road, John Tod, + He scolds on the vera hie road. + + The weans a' fear John Tod, John Tod, + The weans a' fear John Tod; + When he 's passing by, + The mithers will cry,-- + Here 's an ill wean, John Tod, John Tod, + Here 's an ill wean, John Tod. + + The callants a' fear John Tod, John Tod, + The callants a' fear John Tod; + If they steal but a neep, + The callant he 'll whip, + And it 's unco weel done o' John Tod, John Tod, + It 's unco weel done o' John Tod. + + An' saw ye nae wee John Tod, John Tod? + Oh, saw ye nae wee John Tod? + His bannet was blue, + His shoon maistly new, + An' weel does he keep the kirk road, John Tod, + Oh, weel does he keep the kirk road. + + How is he fendin', John Tod, John Tod? + How is he wendin', John Tod? + He 's scourin' the land, + Wi' his rung in his hand, + An' the French wadna frighten John Tod, John Tod, + An' the French wadna frighten John Tod. + + Ye 're sun-brunt and batter'd, John Tod, John Tod + Ye 're tantit and tatter'd, John Tod; + Wi' your auld strippit coul, + Ye look maist like a fule, + But there 's nouse i' the lining,[57] John Tod, John Tod, + But there 's nouse i' the lining, John Tod. + + He 's weel respeckit, John Tod, John Tod, + He 's weel respeckit, John Tod; + He 's a terrible man, + But we 'd a' gae wrang + If e'er he sud leave us, John Tod, John Tod, + If e'er he sud leave us, John Tod. + + +[57] A familiar Scottish phrase for good sense. + + + + +WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN? + + + Bonnie Charlie 's now awa', + Safely ower the friendly main; + Mony a heart will break in twa + Should he ne'er come back again. + Will ye no come back again? + Will ye no come back again? + Better lo'ed ye canna be-- + Will ye no come back again? + + Ye trusted in your Hieland men, + They trusted you, dear Charlie! + They kent your hiding in the glen, + Death or exile braving. + Will ye no, &c. + + English bribes were a' in vain, + Tho' puir, and puirer, we maun be; + Siller canna buy the heart + That beats aye for thine and thee. + Will ye no, &c. + + We watch'd thee in the gloamin' hour, + We watch'd thee in the mornin' gray; + Though thirty thousand pound they gi'e, + Oh, there is none that wad betray! + Will ye no, &c. + + Sweet 's the laverock's note, and lang, + Lilting wildly up the glen; + But aye to me he sings ae sang, + Will ye no come back again? + Will ye no, &c. + + + + +JAMIE THE LAIRD. + +AIR--_"The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."_ + + + Send a horse to the water, ye 'll no mak him drink, + Send a fule to the college, ye 'll no mak him think; + Send a craw to the singin', an' still he will craw, + An' the wee laird had nae rummulgumshion ava. + Yet is he the pride o' his fond mother's e'e, + In body or mind, nae fau't can she see; + "He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man," + Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang. + An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, I trow, + An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, I trow; + "He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man," + Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang. + + His legs they are bow'd, his een they do glee, + His wig, whiles it 's aff, and when on, it 's ajee; + He 's braid as he 's lang, an' ill-faur'd is he, + A dafter-like body I never did see. + An' yet for this cratur' she says I am deein', + When that I deny, she 's fear'd at my leein'; + Obliged to put up wi' this sair defamation, + I'm liken to dee wi' grief an' vexation. + An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, &c. + + An' her clishmaclavers gang a' through the toun, + An' the wee lairdie trows I 'll hang or I 'll droun. + Wi' his gawky-like face, yestreen he did say, + "I 'll maybe tak you, for Bess I 'll no hae, + Nor Mattie, nor Effie, nor lang-legged Jeanie, + Nor Nelly, nor Katie, nor skirlin' wee Beenie." + I stappit my ears, ran aff in a fury-- + I 'm thinkin' to bring them afore judge an' jury. + For oh! what a randy auld luckie is she, &c. + + Freen's! gi'e your advice!--I 'll follow your counsel-- + Maun I speak to the Provost, or honest Toun Council, + Or the writers, or lawyers, or doctors? now say, + For the law on the lucky I shall an' will hae. + The hale toun at me are jibin' and jeerin', + For a leddy like me it 's really past bearin'; + The lucky maun now hae dune wi' her claverin', + For I 'll no put up wi' her nor her haverin'. + For oh! she 's a randy, I trow, I trow, + For oh! she 's a randy, I trow, I trow; + "He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man," + Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang. + + + + +SONGS OF MY NATIVE LAND. + +AIR--_"Happy Land."_ + + + Songs of my native land, + To me how dear! + Songs of my infancy, + Sweet to mine ear! + Entwined with my youthful days, + Wi' the bonny banks and braes, + Where the winding burnie strays, + Murmuring near. + + Strains of my native land, + That thrill the soul, + Pouring the magic of + Your soft control! + Often has your minstrelsy + Soothed the pang of misery, + Winging rapid thoughts away + To realms on high. + + Weary pilgrims _there_ have rest, + Their wand'rings o'er; + There the slave, no more oppress'd, + Hails Freedom's shore. + Sin shall then no more deface, + Sickness, pain, and sorrow cease, + Ending in eternal peace, + And songs of joy! + + There, when the seraphs sing, + In cloudless day; + There, where the higher praise + The ransom'd pay. + Soft strains of the happy land, + Chanted by the heavenly band, + Who can fully understand + How sweet ye be! + + + + +CASTELL GLOOM.[58] + + + Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, + The green grass o'er thee growin'; + On hill of _Care_ thou art alone, + The _Sorrow_ round thee flowin'. + Oh, Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's + Nae banners now are streamin', + The houlet flits amang thy ha's, + And wild birds there are screamin'. + Oh! mourn the woe, oh! mourn the crime, + Frae civil war that flows; + Oh! mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, + And mourn the great Montrose. + + Here ladies bright were aften seen, + Here valiant warriors trod; + And here great Knox has aften been, + Wha fear'd nought but his God! + But a' are gane! the guid, the great, + And naething now remains, + But ruin sittin' on thy wa's, + And crumblin' down the stanes. + Oh! mourn the woe, &c. + + Thy lofty Ochils bright did glow, + Though sleepin' was the sun; + But mornin's light did sadly show, + What ragin' flames had done. + Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud, + That hung o'er thy wild wood! + Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, + And all was solitude. + Oh! mourn the woe, &c. + + +[58] Castle Gloom, better known as Castle Campbell, was a residence of +the noble family of Argyll, from the middle of the fifteenth till the +middle of the seventeenth century, when it was burnt by the Marquis of +Montrose--an enterprise to which he was excited by the Ogilvies, who +thus sought revenge for the destruction, by the Marquis of Argyll, of +the "bonnie house of Airlie." The castle is situated on a promontory of +the Ochil hills, near the village of Dollar, in Clackmannanshire, and +has long been in the ruinous condition described in the song. Two hill +rivulets, designated _Sorrow_ and _Care_, proceed on either side of the +castle promontory. John Knox, the Reformer, for some time resided in +Castle Gloom, with Archibald, fourth Earl of Argyll, and here preached +the Reformed doctrines. + + + + +BONNIE GASCON HA'. + + + Lane, on the winding Earn there stands + An unco tow'r, sae stern an' auld, + Biggit by lang forgotten hands, + Ance refuge o' the Wallace bauld. + + Time's restless fingers sair hath waur'd + And rived thy gray disjaskit wa', + But rougher hands nor Time's hae daur'd + To wrang thee, bonnie Gascon Ha'! + + Oh, may a muse unkent to fame + For this dim greesome relic sue, + It 's linkit wi' a patriot's name, + The truest Scotland ever knew. + + Just leave in peace each mossy stane + Tellin' o' nations' rivalry, + An' for succeeding ages hain + Remains o' Scottish chivalry. + + * * * * * + + What though no monument to thee + Is biggit by thy country's hand; + Engraved are thy immortal deeds + On every heart o' this braid land. + + Rude Time may monuments ding doun, + An' tow'rs an' wa's maun a' decay; + Enduring, deathless, noble chief, + Thy name can never pass away! + + Gi'e pillar'd fame to common men,-- + Nae need o' cairns for ane like thee; + In every cave, wood, hill, and glen, + "WALLACE" remember'd aye shall be. + + + + +THE AULD HOUSE. + + + Oh, the auld house, the auld house! + What though the rooms were wee? + Oh, kind hearts were dwelling there, + And bairnies fu' o' glee! + The wild-rose and the jesamine + Still hang upon the wa'; + How mony cherish'd memories + Do they, sweet flowers, reca'! + + Oh, the auld laird, the auld laird! + Sae canty, kind, and crouse; + How mony did he welcome to + His ain wee dear auld house! + And the leddy too, sae genty, + There shelter'd Scotland's heir, + And clipt a lock wi' her ain hand + Frae his lang yellow hair. + + The mavis still doth sweetly sing, + The blue bells sweetly blaw, + The bonnie Earn 's clear winding still, + But the auld house is awa'. + The auld house, the auld house, + Deserted though ye be, + There ne'er can be a new house, + Will seem sae fair to me. + + Still flourishing the auld pear tree + The bairnies liked to see, + And oh, how aften did they speir + When ripe they a' wad be! + The voices sweet, the wee bit feet + Aye rinnin' here and there, + The merry shout--oh! whiles we greet + To think we 'll hear nae mair. + + For they are a' wide scatter'd now, + Some to the Indies gane, + And ane, alas! to her lang hame; + Not here we 'll meet again. + The kirkyaird, the kirkyaird, + Wi' flowers o' every hue, + Shelter'd by the holly's shade, + An' the dark sombre yew. + + The setting sun, the setting sun, + How glorious it gaed down; + The cloudy splendour raised our hearts + To cloudless skies aboon! + The auld dial, the auld dial, + It tauld how time did pass; + The wintry winds hae dung it down,-- + Now hid 'mang weeds and grass. + + + + +THE HUNDRED PIPERS.[59] + +AIR--_"Hundred Pipers."_ + + + Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a', + Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a', + We 'll up, and we 'll gi'e them a blaw, a blaw, + Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'. + It is ower the border, awa', awa', + It is ower the border, awa', awa', + Oh, we 'll on, an' we 'll march to Carlisle ha', + Wi' its yetts, its castel, an' a', an' a'. + + Oh, our brave sodger lads look'd braw, an' braw, + Wi' their tartans, their kilts, an' a', an' a', + Wi' bannets an' feathers, an' glittrin' gear, + An' pibrochs soundin' sae sweet an' clear. + Will they a' come hame to their ain dear glen? + Will they a' return, our brave Hieland men? + Oh, second-sighted Sandie look'd fu' wae, + An' mithers grat sair whan they march'd away. + Wi' a hundred pipers, &c. + + Oh, wha is the foremaist o' a', o' a'? + Wha is it first follows the blaw, the blaw? + Bonnie Charlie, the king o' us a', us a', + Wi' his hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'. + His bannet and feather, he 's waving high, + His prancin' steed maist seems to fly; + The nor' wind plays wi' his curly hair, + While the pipers blaw up an unco flare! + Wi' his hundred pipers, &c. + + The Esk was swollen sae red an' sae deep, + But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep; + Twa thousand swam ower to fell English ground, + An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch sound. + Dumfounder'd the English were a', were a', + Dumfounder'd they a' heard the blaw, the blaw, + Dumfounder'd they a' ran awa', awa', + Frae the hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'. + Wi' a hundred pipers, &c. + + +[59] "Charles Edward entered Carlisle preceded by a hundred pipers. Two +thousand Highlanders crossed the Esk, at Longtown; the tide being +swollen, nothing was seen of them but their heads and shoulders; they +stemmed the force of the stream, and lost not a man in the passage: when +landed, the pipers struck up, and they danced reels until they were dry +again."--_Authentic Account of Occupation of Carlisle, by George G. +Monsey._ + + + + +THE WOMEN ARE A' GANE WUD.[60] + + + The women are a' gane wud, + Oh, that he had biden awa'! + He 's turn'd their heads, the lad, + And ruin will bring on us a'. + George was a peaceable man, + My wife she did doucely behave; + But now dae a' that I can, + She 's just as wild as the lave. + + My wife she wears the cockade, + Tho' I 've bidden her no to do sae, + She has a true friend in her maid, + And they ne'er mind a word that I say. + The wild Hieland lads as they pass, + The yetts wide open do flee; + They eat the very house bare, + And nae leave 's speer'd o' me. + + I 've lived a' my days in the Strath + Now Tories infest me at hame, + And tho' I tak nae side at a', + Baith sides will gae me the blame. + The senseless creturs ne'er think + What ill the lad wad bring back; + The Pope we 'd hae, and the d--l, + And a' the rest o' his pack. + + +[60] These verses are printed from a MS. in possession of one of Lady +Nairn's friends, and are, the Editor believes, for the first time +published. + + + + +JEANIE DEANS.[61] + + + St Leonard's hill was lightsome land, + Where gowan'd grass was growin', + For man and beast were food and rest, + And milk and honey flowin'. + A father's blessing follow'd close, + Where'er her foot was treading, + And Jeanie's humble, hamely joys + On every side were spreading wide, + On every side were spreading. + + The mossy turf on Arthur's Seat, + St Anthon's well aye springin'; + The lammies playing at her feet, + The birdies round her singin'. + The solemn haunts o' Holyrood, + Wi' bats and hoolits eerie, + The tow'ring crags o' Salisbury, + The lowly wells o' Weary, O[62] + The lowly wells o' Weary. + + But evil days and evil men, + Came ower their sunny dwellin', + Like thunder-storms on sunny skies, + Or wastefu' waters swellin'. + What aince was sweet is bitter now, + The sun of joy is setting; + In eyes that wont to glame wi' glee, + The briny tear is wetting fast, + The briny tear is wetting. + + Her inmost thoughts to Heaven is sent, + In faithful supplication; + Her earthly stay 's Macallummore, + The guardian o' the nation. + A hero's heart--a sister's love-- + A martyr's truth unbending; + They 're a' in Jeanie's tartan plaid-- + And she is gane, her leefu' lane, + To Lunnon toun she 's wending! + + +[61] The romantic scenery depicted in this song is in the immediate +vicinity of the Queen's Drive, Edinburgh. + +[62] The wells of Weary are situated near the Windyknowe, beneath +Salisbury Crags. + + + + +THE HEIRESS.[63] + +GAELIC AIR--_"Mo Leannan Falnich."_ + + + I 'll no be had for naething, + I 'll no be had for naething, + I tell ye, lads, that 's ae thing, + So ye needna follow me. + Oh, the change is most surprising, + Last year I was plain Betty Brown, + Now to me they 're a' aspiring,-- + The fair Elizabeth I am grown! + + What siller does is most amazing, + Nane o' them e'er look'd at me, + Now my charms they a' are praising, + For my sake they 're like to dee. + The Laird, the Shirra, and the Doctor, + Wi' twa three Lords o' high degree; + Wi' heaps o' Writers I could mention-- + Oh, surely this is no me! + But I 'll no, &c. + + The yett is now for ever ringing, + Showers o' valentines aye bringing, + Fill'd wi' Cupids, flames, and darts, + Fae auld and young, wi' broken hearts. + The siller, O the weary siller! + Aft in toil and trouble sought, + But better far it should be sae, + Than that true hearts should e'er be bought. + Sae I 'll no, &c. + + But there is ane, when I had naething, + A' his heart he gi'ed to me; + And sair he toil'd for a wee thing, + To bring me when he cam frae sea. + If ever I should marry ony, + He will be the lad for me; + For he was baith gude and bonny, + And he thought the same o' me. + Sae I 'll no, &c. + + +[63] This song is printed from an improved version of the original, by a +literary friend of the author. + + + + +THE MITHERLESS LAMMIE. + + + The mitherless lammie ne'er miss'd its ain mammie, + We tentit it kindly by night and by day, + The bairnies made game o't, it had a blithe hame o't, + Its food was the gowan--its music was "_mai_." + + Without tie or fetter, it couldna been better, + But it would gae witless the world to see; + The foe that it fear'd not, it saw not, it heard not, + Was watching its wand'ring frae Bonnington Lea. + + Oh, what then befell it, 't were waefu' to tell it, + Tod Lowrie kens best, wi' his lang head sae sly; + He met the pet lammie, that wanted its mammie, + And left its kind hame the wide world to try. + + We miss'd it at day-dawn, we miss'd it at night-fa'in', + Its wee shed is tenantless under the tree, + Ae dusk i' the gloamin' it wad gae a roamin'; + 'T will frolic nae mair upon Bonnington Lea. + + + + +THE ATTAINTED SCOTTISH NOBLES.[64] + + + Oh, some will tune their mournfu' strains, + To tell o' hame-made sorrow, + And if they cheat you o' your tears, + They 'll dry upon the morrow. + Oh, some will sing their airy dreams, + In verity they're sportin', + My sang 's o' nae sic thieveless themes, + But wakin' true misfortune. + + Ye Scottish nobles, ane and a', + For loyalty attainted, + A nameless bardie 's wae to see + Your sorrows unlamented; + For if your fathers ne'er had fought + For heirs of ancient royalty, + Ye 're down the day that might hae been + At the top o' honour's tree a'. + + For old hereditary right, + For conscience' sake they stoutly stood; + And for the crown their valiant sons + Themselves have shed their injured blood; + And if their fathers ne'er had fought + For heirs of ancient royalty, + They 're down the day that might hae been + At the top o' honour's tree a'. + + +[64] This song having become known to George IV., it is said to have +induced his Majesty to award the royal sanction for the restitution of +the title of Baron to Lady Nairn's husband.--(See Memoir.) + + + + +TRUE LOVE IS WATERED AYE WI' TEARS.[65] + + + True love is water'd aye wi' tears, + It grows 'neath stormy skies, + It 's fenced around wi' hopes and fears + An' fann'd wi' heartfelt sighs. + Wi' chains o' gowd it will no be bound, + Oh! wha the heart can buy? + The titled glare, the warldling's care, + Even absence 'twill defy, + Even absence 'twill defy. + + And time, that kills a' ither things, + His withering touch 'twill brave, + 'Twill live in joy, 'twill live in grief, + 'Twill live beyond the grave! + 'Twill live, 'twill live, though buried deep, + In true heart's memorie-- + Oh! we forgot that ane sae fair, + Sae bricht, sae young, could dee, + Sae young could dee. + + Unfeeling hands may touch the chord + Where buried griefs do lie-- + How many silent agonies + May that rude touch untie! + But, oh! I love that plaintive lay-- + That dear auld melodie! + For, oh, 'tis sweet!--yet I maun greet, + For it was sung by thee, + Sung by thee! + + They may forget wha lichtly love, + Or feel but beauty's chain; + But they wha loved a heavenly mind + Can never love again! + A' my dreams o' warld's guid + Aye were turn'd wi' thee, + But I leant on a broken reed + Which soon was ta'en frae me, + Ta'en frae me. + + 'Tis weel, 'tis weel, we dinna ken + What we may live to see, + 'Twas Mercy's hand that hung the veil + O'er sad futurity! + Oh, ye whose hearts are scathed and riven, + Wha feel the warld is vain, + Oh, fix your broken earthly ties + Where they ne'er will break again, + Break again! + + +[65] Here first printed. + + + + +AH, LITTLE DID MY MOTHER THINK.[66] + + + Ah, little did my mother think + When to me she sung, + What a heartbreak I would be, + Her young and dautit son. + + And oh! how fond she was o' me + In plaid and bonnet braw, + When I bade farewell to the north countrie, + And marching gaed awa! + + Ah! little did my mother think + A banish'd man I 'd be, + Sent frae a' my kith and kin, + Them never mair to see. + + Oh! father, 'twas the sugar'd drap + Aft ye did gi'e to me, + That has brought a' this misery + Baith to you and me. + + +[66] These verses are here first printed. + + + + +WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN?[67] + +AIR--_"Ailen Aroon."_ + + + Would you be young again? + So would not I-- + One tear to memory given, + Onward I 'd hie. + Life's dark flood forded o'er, + All but at rest on shore, + Say, would you plunge once more, + With home so nigh? + + If you might, would you now + Retrace your way? + Wander through stormy wilds, + Faint and astray? + Night's gloomy watches fled, + Morning all beaming red, + Hope's smiles around us shed, + Heavenward--away. + + Where, then, are those dear ones, + Our joy and delight? + Dear and more dear though now + Hidden from sight. + Where they rejoice to be, + There is the land for me; + Fly, time, fly speedily; + Come, life and light. + + +[67] This song was composed in 1842, when the author had attained her +seventy-sixth year. The four lays following, breathing the same +devotional spirit, appear to have been written about the same period of +the author's life. The present song is printed from the original MS. + + + + +REST IS NOT HERE. + + + What 's this vain world to me? + Rest is not here; + False are the smiles I see, + The mirth I hear. + Where is youth's joyful glee? + Where all once dear to me? + Gone, as the shadows flee-- + Rest is not here. + + Why did the morning shine + Blythely and fair? + Why did those tints so fine + Vanish in air? + Does not the vision say, + Faint, lingering heart, away, + Why in this desert stay-- + Dark land of care! + + Where souls angelic soar, + Thither repair; + Let this vain world no more + Lull and ensnare. + That heaven I love so well + Still in my heart shall dwell; + All things around me tell + Rest is found there. + + + + +HERE'S TO THEM THAT ARE GANE. + +AIR--_"Here 's a health to ane I lo'e weel."_ + + + Here 's to them, to them that are gane; + Here 's to them, to them that are gane; + Here 's to them that were here, the faithful and dear, + That will never be here again--no, never. + But where are they now that are gane? + Oh, where are the faithful and true? + They 're gane to the light that fears not the night, + An' their day of rejoicing shall end--no, never. + + Here 's to them, to them that were here; + Here 's to them, to them that were here; + Here 's a tear and a sigh to the bliss that 's gane by, + But 'twas ne'er like what 's coming, to last--for ever. + Oh, bright was their morning sun! + Oh, bright was their morning sun! + Yet, lang ere the gloaming, in clouds it gaed down; + But the storm and the cloud are now past--for ever. + + Fareweel, fareweel! parting silence is sad; + Oh, how sad the last parting tear! + But that silence shall break, where no tear on the cheek + Can bedim the bright vision again--no, never. + Then, speed to the wings of old Time, + That waft us where pilgrims would be; + To the regions of rest, to the shores of the blest, + Where the full tide of glory shall flow--for ever. + + + + +FAREWEEL, O FAREWEEL! + +GAELIC AIR. + + + Fareweel, O fareweel! + My heart it is sair; + Fareweel, O fareweel! + I 'll see him nae mair. + + Lang, lang was he mine, + Lang, lang--but nae mair; + I mauna repine, + But my heart it is sair. + + His staff 's at the wa', + Toom, toom is his chair! + His bannet, an' a'! + An' I maun be here! + + But oh! he 's at rest, + Why sud I complain? + Gin my soul be blest, + I 'll meet him again. + + Oh, to meet him again, + Where hearts ne'er were sair! + Oh, to meet him again, + To part never mair! + + + + +THE DEAD WHO HAVE DIED IN THE LORD.[68] + + + Go, call for the mourners, and raise the lament, + Let the tresses be torn, and the garments be rent; + But weep not for him who is gone to his rest, + Nor mourn for the ransom'd, nor wail for the blest. + The sun is not set, but is risen on high, + Nor long in corruption his body shall lie-- + Then let not the tide of thy griefs overflow, + Nor the music of heaven be discord below; + Rather loud be the song, and triumphant the chord, + Let us joy for the dead who have died in the Lord. + + Go, call for the mourners, and raise the lament, + Let the tresses be torn, and the garments be rent; + But give to the living thy passion of tears + Who walk in this valley of sadness and fears, + Who are press'd by the combat, in darkness are lost, + By the tempest are beat, on the billows are toss'd. + Oh, weep not for those who shall sorrow no more, + Whose warfare is ended, whose combat is o'er; + Let the song be exalted, be triumphant the chord, + And rejoice for the dead who have died in the Lord. + + +[68] These stanzas are printed for the first time. The MS. is not in +Lady Nairn's handwriting, but there is every reason to assign to her the +authorship. + + + + +JAMES NICOL. + + +James Nicol, the son of Michael Nicol and Marion Hope, was born at +Innerleithen, in the county of Peebles, on the 28th of September 1769. +Having acquired the elements of classical knowledge under Mr Tate, the +parochial schoolmaster, he was sent to the University of Edinburgh, +where he pursued study with unflinching assiduity and success. On +completing his academical studies, he was licensed as a probationer by +the Presbytery of Peebles. His first professional employment was as an +assistant to the minister of Traquair, a parish bordering on that of +Innerleithen; and on the death of the incumbent, Mr Nicol succeeded to +the living. On the 4th of November 1802, he was ordained to the +ministerial office; and on the 25th of the same month and year, he +espoused Agnes Walker, a native of Glasgow, and the sister of his +immediate predecessor, who had for a considerable period possessed a +warm place in his affections, and been the heroine of his poetical +reveries. He had for some time been in the habit of communicating verses +to the _Edinburgh Magazine_; and he afterwards published a collection of +"Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," Edinburgh, 1805, 2 vols. 12mo. +This publication, which was well received, contains some lyrical +effusions that entitle the author to a respectable rank among the modern +cultivators of national poetry; yet it is to be regretted that a deep +admiration of Burns has led him into an imitation, somewhat servile, of +that immortal bard. + +At Traquair Mr Nicol continued to devote himself to mental improvement. +He read extensively; and writing upon the subject of his studies was his +daily habit. He was never robust, being affected with a chronic disorder +of the stomach; and when sickness prevented him, as occasionally +happened, from writing in a sitting posture, he would for hours together +have devoted himself to composition in a standing position. Of his prose +writings, which were numerous, the greater number still remain in MS., +in the possession of his elder son. During his lifetime, he contributed +a number of articles to the _Edinburgh Encyclopædia_, among which are +"Baptism," "Baptistry," "Baptists," "Bithynia," and "Cranmer." His +posthumous work, "An Essay on the Nature and Design of Scripture +Sacrifices," was published in an octavo volume in the year 1823. + +Mr Nicol was much respected for his sound discernment in matters of +business, as well as for his benevolent disposition. Every dispute in +the vicinity was submitted to his adjudication, and his counsel checked +all differences in the district. He was regularly consulted as a +physician, for he had studied medicine at the University. From his own +medicine chest he dispensed gratuitously to the indigent sick; and +without fee he vaccinated all the children of the neighbourhood who were +brought to him. After a short illness, he died on the 5th of November +1819. Of a family of three sons and three daughters, the eldest son +predeceased him; two sons and two daughters still survive. The elder +son, who bears his father's Christian name, is Professor of Civil and +Natural History in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and is well known as a +geologist. Mrs Nicol survived her husband till the 19th of March 1845. + + + + +BLAW SAFTLY, YE BREEZES. + + + Blaw saftly, ye breezes, ye streams, smoothly murmur, + Ye sweet-scented blossoms, deck every green tree; + 'Mong your wild scatter'd flow'rets aft wanders my charmer, + The sweet lovely lass wi' the black rollin' e'e. + For pensive I ponder, and languishin' wander, + Far frae the sweet rosebud on Quair's windin' stream! + + Why, Heaven, wring my heart wi' the hard heart o' anguish? + Why torture my bosom 'tween hope and despair? + When absent frae Nancy, I ever maun languish!-- + That dear angel smile, shall it charm me nae mair? + Since here life 's a desert, an' pleasure 's a dream, + Bear me swift to those banks which are ever my theme, + Where, mild as the mornin' at simmer's returnin', + Blooms the sweet lovely rosebud on Quair's windin' stream. + + + + +BY YON HOARSE MURMURIN' STREAM. + + + By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 'neath the moon's chilly beam, + Sadly musin' I wander, an' the tear fills my e'e; + Recollection, pensive power, brings back the mournfu' hour, + When the laddie gaed awa' that is dear, dear to me. + + The tender words he said, and the faithfu' vows he made, + When we parted, to my bosom a mournfu' pleasure gie; + An' I lo'e to pass the day where we fondly used to stray, + An' repeat the laddie's name that is dear, dear to me. + + Though the flow'rets gem the vales, an' scent the whisperin' gales, + An' the birds fill wi' music the sweetly-bloomin' tree; + Though nature bid rejoice, yet sorrow tunes my voice, + For the laddie 's far awa' that is dear, dear to me! + + When the gloamin' brings alang the time o' mirth an' sang, + An' the dance kindles joy in ilka youthfu' e'e, + My neebours aften speir, why fa's the hidden tear? + But they kenna he's awa' that is dear, dear to me. + + Oh, for the happy hour, when I shall hae the power, + To the darlin' o' my soul, on wings o' love, to flee! + Or that the day wad come, when fortune shall bring home, + The laddie to my arms that is dear, dear to me. + + But if--for much I fear--that day will ne'er appear, + Frae me conceal in darkness the cruel stern decree; + For life wad a' be vain, were I ne'er to meet again, + Wi' the laddie far awa' that is dear, dear to me. + + + + +HALUCKIT MEG. + + + Meg, muckin' at Geordie's byre, + Wrought as gin her judgment was wrang; + Ilk daud o' the scartle strake fire, + While loud as a lavrock she sang. + Her Geordie had promised to marry, + An' Meg, a sworn fae to despair, + Not dreamin' the job could miscarry, + Already seem'd mistress an' mair. + + "My neebours," she sang, "aften jeer me, + An' ca' me daft haluckit Meg, + An' say they expect soon to hear me, + I' the kirk, for my fun, get a fleg. + An' now, 'bout my marriage they 'll clatter, + An' Geordie, puir fallow, they ca' + An auld doited hav'rel,--nae matter, + He 'll keep me aye brankin an' braw. + + "I grant ye, his face is kenspeckle, + That the white o' his e'e is turn'd out, + That his black beard is rough as a heckle, + That his mou' to his lug 's rax'd about; + But they needna let on that he 's crazie, + His pikestaff will ne'er let him fa'; + Nor that his hair 's white as a daisy, + For fient a hair has he ava'. + + "But a weel-plenish'd mailin has Geordie, + An' routh o' gude gowd in his kist, + An' if siller comes at my wordie, + His beauty I never will miss 't. + Daft gowks, wha catch fire like tinder, + Think love-raptures ever will burn? + But wi' poortith, hearts het as a cinder, + Will cauld as an iceshugle turn. + + "There 'll just be ae bar to my pleasures, + A bar that 's aft fill'd me wi' fear, + He 's sic a hard near-be-gawn miser, + He likes his saul less than his gear. + But though I now flatter his failin', + An' swear nought wi' gowd can compare, + Gude sooth! it shall soon get a scailin', + His bags sall be mouldie nae mair! + + "I dreamt that I rode in a chariot, + A flunkie ahint me in green; + While Geordie cried out he was harriet, + An' the saut tear was blindin' his een. + But though 'gainst my spendin' he swear aye, + I'll hae frae him what ser's my turn; + Let him slip awa' whan he grows wearie; + Shame fa' me, gin lang I wad mourn!" + + But Geordie, while Meg was haranguin', + Was cloutin' his breeks i' the bauks; + An' whan a' his failin's she brang in, + His strang hazel pikestaff he taks, + Designin' to rax her a lounder, + He chanced on the lather to shift, + An' down frae the bauks, flat 's a flounder, + Flew like a shot starn frae the lift! + + + + +MY DEAR LITTLE LASSIE. + + + My dear little lassie, why, what 's a' the matter? + My heart it gangs pittypat--winna lie still; + I 've waited, and waited, an' a' to grow better, + Yet, lassie, believe me, I 'm aye growin' ill! + My head 's turn'd quite dizzy, an' aft, when I 'm speakin', + I sigh, an' am breathless, and fearfu' to speak; + I gaze aye for something I fain would be seekin', + Yet, lassie, I kenna weel what I would seek. + + Thy praise, bonnie lassie, I ever could hear of, + And yet, when to ruse ye the neebour lads try-- + Though it 's a' true they tell ye--yet never sae far off + I could see 'em ilk ane, an' I canna tell why. + When we tedded the hayfield, I raked ilka rig o't, + And never grew weary the lang simmer day; + The rucks that ye wrought at were easiest biggit, + And I fand sweeter scented around ye the hay. + + In har'st, whan the kirn-supper joys mak us cheerie, + 'Mang the lave o' the lasses I preed yer sweet mou'; + Dear save us! how queer I felt whan I cam' near ye-- + My breast thrill'd in rapture, I couldna tell how. + When we dance at the gloamin', it 's you I aye pitch on; + And gin ye gang by me, how dowie I be! + There 's something, dear lassie, about ye bewitching, + That tells me my happiness centres in thee. + + + + +JAMES MONTGOMERY. + + +James Montgomery, the spiritual character of whose writings has gained +him the honourable designation of the Christian Poet, was born at +Irvine, in the county of Ayr, on the 4th of November 1771. His father, +John Montgomery, was a missionary of the Moravian Brethren, and in this +capacity came to Irvine from Ireland, only a few days before the birth +of James, his eldest son. In his fourth year he returned to Ireland with +his parents, and received the rudiments of his education from the +village schoolmaster of Grace Hill, a settlement of the Moravian +Brethren in the county of Antrim. In October 1777, in his seventh year, +he was placed by his father in the seminary of the Moravian settlement +of Fulneck, near Leeds; and on the departure of his parents to the West +Indies, in 1783, he was committed to the care of the Brethren, with the +view of his being trained for their Church. He was not destined to see +his parents again. His mother died at Barbadoes, in November 1790, and +his father after an interval of eight months. + +In consequence of his indolent habits, which were incorrigible, young +Montgomery was removed from the seminary at Fulneck, and placed in the +shop of a baker at Mirfield, in the vicinity. He was then in his +sixteenth year; and having already afforded evidence of a refined +taste, both in poetry and music, though careless of the ordinary routine +of scholastic instruction, his new occupation was altogether uncongenial +to his feelings. He, however, remained about eighteen months in the +baker's service, but at length made a hasty escape from Mirfield, with +only three shillings and sixpence in his pocket, and seemingly without +any scheme except that of relieving himself from an irksome employment. +But an accidental circumstance speedily enabled him to obtain an +engagement with a shopkeeper in Wath, now a station on the railway +between London and Leeds; and in procuring this employment, he was +indebted to the recommendation of his former master, whose service he +had unceremoniously quitted. But this new situation had few advantages +over the old, and he relinquished it in about a year to try his fortune +in the metropolis. He had previously sent a manuscript volume of poetry +to Harrison, the bookseller of Paternoster Row, who, while declining to +publish it, commended the author's talents, and so far promoted his +views as now to receive him into his establishment. But Montgomery's +aspirations had no reference to serving behind a counter; he only +accepted a place in the bookseller's establishment that he might have an +opportunity of leisurely feeling his way as an author. His literary +efforts, however, still proved fruitless. He composed essays and tales, +and wrote a romance in the manner of Fielding, but none of his +productions could find a publisher. Mortified by his failures, he +quitted London in eight months, and returned to the shop of his former +employer at Wath. After the interval of another year, he proceeded to +Sheffield, to occupy a situation under Mr Joseph Gales, a bookseller, +and the proprietor of the _Register_ newspaper. + +Montgomery was now in his twenty-first year, and fortune at length +began, though with many lowering intervals, to smile upon his youthful +aspirations. Though he occupied a subordinate post in Mr Gales' +establishment, his literary services were accepted for the _Register_, +in which he published many of his earlier compositions, both in prose +and verse. This journal had advocated sentiments of an ultra-liberal +order, and commanding a wide circulation and a powerful influence among +the operatives in Sheffield, had been narrowly inspected by the +authorities. At length the proprietor fell into the snare of +sympathising in the transactions of the French revolutionists; he was +prosecuted for sedition, and deemed himself only safe from compulsory +exile by a voluntary exit to America. This event took place about two +years after Montgomery's first connexion with Sheffield, and he had now +reverted to his former condition of abject dependence unless for a +fortunate occurrence. This was no less than his being appointed +joint-proprietor and editor of the newspaper by a wealthy individual, +who, noticing the abilities of the young shopman, purchased the +copyright with the view of placing the management entirely in his hands. + +The first number of the newspaper under the poet's care, the name being +changed to that of _The Sheffield Iris_, appeared in July 1794; and +though the principles of the journal were moderate and conciliatory in +comparison with the democratic sentiments espoused by the former +publisher, the jealous eye of the authorities rested on its new +conductor. He did not escape their vigilance; for the simple offence of +printing for a ballad-vender some verses of a song celebrating the fall +of the Bastile, he was libelled as "a wicked, malicious, seditious, and +evil-disposed person;" and being tried before the Doncaster Quarter +Sessions, in January 1795, was sentenced to three months' imprisonment +in the Castle of York. He was condemned to a second imprisonment of six +months in the autumn of the same year, for inserting in his paper an +account of a riot in the place, in which he was considered to have cast +aspersions on a colonel of volunteers. The calm mind of the poet did not +sink under these persecutions, and some of his best lyrics were composed +during the period of his latter confinement. During his first detention +he wrote a series of interesting essays for his newspaper. His "Prison +Amusements," a series of beautiful pieces, appeared in 1797. In 1805, he +published his poem, "The Ocean;" in 1806, "The Wanderer in Switzerland;" +in 1808, "The West Indies;" and in 1812, "The World before the Flood." +In 1819 he published "Greenland, a Poem, in Five Cantos;" and in 1825 +appeared "The Pelican Island, and other Poems." Of all those +productions, "The Wanderer in Switzerland" attained the widest +circulation; and, notwithstanding an unfavourable and injudicious +criticism in the _Edinburgh Review_, at once procured an honourable +place for the author among his contemporaries. He became sole proprietor +of the _Iris_ in one year after his being connected with it, and he +continued to conduct this paper till September 1825, when he retired +from public duty. He subsequently contributed articles for different +periodicals; but he chiefly devoted himself to the moral and religious +improvement of his fellow-townsmen. A pension of £150 on the civil list +was conferred upon him as an acknowledgment of his services in behalf of +literature and of philanthropy; a well-merited public boon which for +many years he was spared to enjoy. He died at his residence, The Mount, +Sheffield, on the 30th of April 1854, in the eighty-second year of his +age. He bequeathed handsome legacies to various public charities. His +Poetical Works, in a collected form, were published in 1850 by the +Messrs Longman, in one octavo volume; and in 1853 he gave to the world +his last work, being "Original Hymns, for Public, Private, and Social +Devotion." Copious memoirs of his life are now in the course of +publication. + +As a poet, Montgomery is conspicuous for the smoothness of his +versification, and for the fervent piety pervading all his compositions. +As a man, he was gentle and conciliatory, and was remarkable as a +generous promoter of benevolent institutions. The general tendency of +his poems was thus indicated by himself, in the course of an address +which he made at a public dinner, given him at Sheffield, in November +1825, immediately after the toast of his health being proposed by the +chairman, Lord Viscount Milton, now Earl Fitzwilliam:-- + + "I sang of war--but it was the war of freedom, in which death was + preferred to chains. I sang the abolition of the slave trade, that + most glorious decree of the British Legislature at any period since + the Revolution, by the first Parliament in which you, my Lord, sat + as the representative of Yorkshire. Oh, how should I rejoice to + sing the abolition of slavery itself by some Parliament of which + your Lordship shall yet be a member! This greater act of righteous + legislation is surely not too remote to be expected even in our own + day. Renouncing the slave trade was only 'ceasing to do evil;' + extinguishing slavery will be 'learning to do well.' Again, I sang + of love--the love of country, the love of my own country; for, + + 'Next to heaven above, + Land of my fathers! thee I love; + And, rail thy slanderers as they will, + With all thy faults I love thee still.' + + I sang, likewise, the love of home--its charities, endearments and + relationships--all that makes 'Home sweet Home,' the recollection + of which, when the air of that name was just now played from yonder + gallery, warmed every heart throughout this room into quicker + pulsations. I sang the love which man ought to bear towards his + brother, of every kindred, and country, and clime upon earth. I + sang the love of virtue, which elevates man to his true standard + under heaven. I sang, too, the love of God, who _is_ love. Nor did + I sing in vain. I found readers and listeners, especially among the + young, the fair, and the devout; and as youth, beauty, and piety + will not soon cease out of the land, I may expect to be remembered + through another generation at least, if I leave anything behind me + worthy of remembrance. I may add that, from every part of the + British empire, from every quarter of the world where our language + is spoken--from America, the East and West Indies, from New + Holland, and the South Sea Islands themselves--I have received + testimonies of approbation from all ranks and degrees of readers, + hailing what I had done, and cheering me forward. I allude not to + criticisms and eulogiums from the press, but to voluntary + communications from unknown correspondents, coming to me like + voices out of darkness, and giving intimation of that which the ear + of a poet is always hearkening onward to catch--the voice of + posterity." + + + + +"FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH." + + + When "Friendship, Love, and Truth" abound + Among a band of brothers, + The cup of joy goes gaily round, + Each shares the bliss of others. + Sweet roses grace the thorny way + Along this vale of sorrow; + The flowers that shed their leaves to-day + Shall bloom again to-morrow. + How grand in age, how fair in youth, + Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!" + + On halcyon wings our moments pass, + Life's cruel cares beguiling; + Old Time lays down his scythe and glass, + In gay good-humour smiling: + With ermine beard and forelock gray, + His reverend part adorning, + He looks like Winter turn'd to May, + Night soften'd into Morning. + How grand in age, how fair in youth, + Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!" + + From these delightful fountains flow + Ambrosial rills of pleasure; + Can man desire, can Heaven bestow, + A more resplendent treasure? + Adorn'd with gems so richly bright, + Will form a constellation, + Where every star, with modest light, + Shall gild its proper station. + How grand in age, how fair in youth, + Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!" + + + + +THE SWISS COWHERD'S SONG IN A FOREIGN LAND. + +IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH. + + + Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth-- + The loveliest land on the face of the earth? + When shall I those scenes of affection explore, + Our forests, our fountains, + Our hamlets, our mountains, + With pride of our mountains, the maid I adore? + Oh, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead, + In the shade of an elm, to the sound of a reed? + + When shall I return to that lowly retreat, + Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,-- + The lambs and the heifers, that follow my call, + My father, my mother, + My sister, my brother, + And dear Isabella, the joy of them all? + Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth?-- + 'Tis the loveliest land on the face of the earth. + + + + +GERMAN WAR-SONG.[69] + + + Heaven speed the righteous sword, + And freedom be the word; + Come, brethren, hand in hand, + Fight for your fatherland. + + Germania from afar + Invokes her sons to war; + Awake! put forth your powers, + And victory must be ours. + + On to the combat, on! + Go where your sires have gone; + Their might unspent remains, + Their pulse is in our veins. + + On to the battle, on! + Rest will be sweet anon; + The slave may yield, may fly,-- + We conquer, or we die! + + O Liberty! thy form + Shines through the battle-storm. + Away with fear, away! + Let justice win the day. + + +[69] The simple and sublime original of these stanzas, with the fine air +by Hümmel, became the national song of Germany, and was sung by the +soldiers especially, during the latter campaigns of the war, when +Buonaparte was twice dethroned, and Europe finally delivered from French +predominance. + + + + +VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. + + + Night turns to day:-- + When sullen darkness lowers, + And heaven and earth are hid from sight, + Cheer up, cheer up; + Ere long the opening flowers, + With dewy eyes, shall shine in light. + + Storms die in calms:-- + When over land and ocean + Roll the loud chariots of the wind, + Cheer up, cheer up; + The voice of wild commotion, + Proclaims tranquillity behind. + + Winter wakes spring:-- + When icy blasts are blowing + O'er frozen lakes, through naked trees, + Cheer up, cheer up; + All beautiful and glowing, + May floats in fragrance on the breeze. + + War ends in peace:-- + Though dread artillery rattle, + And ghostly corses load the ground, + Cheer up, cheer up; + Where groan'd the field of battle, + The song, the dance, the feast, go round. + + Toil brings repose:-- + With noontide fervours beating, + When droop thy temples o'er thy breast, + Cheer up, cheer up; + Gray twilight, cool and fleeting, + Wafts on its wing the hour of rest. + + Death springs to life:-- + Though brief and sad thy story, + Thy years all spent in care and gloom, + Look up, look up; + Eternity and glory + Dawn through the portals of the tomb. + + + + +VERSES TO A ROBIN RED-BREAST, +WHICH VISITS THE WINDOW OF MY PRISON EVERY DAY. + + + Welcome, pretty little stranger! + Welcome to my lone retreat! + Here, secure from every danger, + Hop about, and chirp, and eat: + Robin! how I envy thee, + Happy child of Liberty! + + Now, though tyrant Winter, howling, + Shakes the world with tempests round, + Heaven above with vapours scowling, + Frost imprisons all the ground: + Robin! what are these to thee? + Thou art bless'd with liberty. + + Though yon fair majestic river[70] + Mourns in solid icy chains, + Though yon flocks and cattle shiver + On the desolated plains: + Robin! thou art gay and free, + Happy in thy liberty. + + Hunger never shall disturb thee, + While my rates one crumb afford; + Colds nor cramps shall ne'er oppress thee; + Come and share my humble board: + Robin! come and live with me-- + Live, yet still at liberty. + + Soon shall Spring, in smiles and blushes, + Steal upon the blooming year; + Then, amid the enamour'd bushes, + Thy sweet song shall warble clear: + Then shall I, too, join with thee-- + Swell the hymn of Liberty. + + Should some rough, unfeeling dobbin, + In this iron-hearted age, + Seize thee on thy nest, my Robin, + And confine thee in a cage, + Then, poor prisoner! think of me-- + Think, and sigh for liberty. + + +[70] The Ouse. + + + + +SLAVERY THAT WAS. + + + Ages, ages have departed, + Since the first dark vessel bore + Afric's children, broken-hearted, + To the Caribbéan shore; + She, like Rachel, + Weeping, for they were no more. + + Millions, millions, have been slaughter'd, + In the fight and on the deep; + Millions, millions more have water'd, + With such tears as captives weep, + Fields of travail, + Where their bones till doomsday sleep. + + Mercy, Mercy, vainly pleading, + Rent her garments, smote her breast, + Till a voice from Heaven proceeding, + Gladden'd all the gloomy west,-- + "Come, ye weary, + Come, and I will give you rest!" + + Tidings, tidings of salvation! + Britons rose with one accord, + Purged the plague-spot from our nation, + Negroes to their rights restored; + Slaves no longer, + _Freemen,--freemen_ of the _Lord_. + + + + +ANDREW SCOTT. + + +Andrew Scott, known as the author of the popular ballad of "Symon and +Janet," has claims to a wider reputation. He was born of humble +parentage, in the parish of Bowden, Roxburghshire, in the year 1757. He +was early employed as a cowherd; and he has recorded, in a sketch of his +own life prefixed to one of his volumes, that he began to compose verses +on the hill-sides in his twelfth year. He ascribes this juvenile +predilection to the perusal of Ramsay's "Gentle Shepherd," a pamphlet +copy of which he had purchased with some spare halfpence. Towards the +close of the American war, he joined the army as a recruit, and soon +thereafter followed his regiment across the Atlantic. His rhyming +propensities continued; and he occupied his leisure hours in composing +verses, which he read for the amusement of his comrades. At the +conclusion of the American campaigns, he returned with the army to +Britain; and afterwards procuring his discharge, he made a settlement in +his native parish. For the period of seventeen years, according to his +own narrative, he abandoned the cultivation of poetry, assiduously +applying himself to manual labour for the support of his family. An +intelligent acquaintance, who had procured copies of some of his +verses, now recommended him to attempt a publication--a counsel which +induced him to print a small volume by subscription. This appeared in +1805, and was reprinted, with several additions, in 1808. In 1811 he +published "Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," Kelso, 18mo; another +duodecimo volume of poems, at Jedburgh, in 1821; and his last work, +entitled "Poems on Various Subjects," at Edinburgh, in 1826. This last +volume was inscribed, with permission, to the Duchess of Roxburghe. + +The poet's social condition at Bowden was little favourable to the +composition of poetry. Situated on the south side of the Eildon hills, +the parish is entirely separated from the busy world, and the +inhabitants were formerly proverbial for their rustic simplicity and +ignorance. The encouragement desiderated at home, the poet, however, +experienced elsewhere. He visited Melrose, at the easy distance of two +miles, on the day of the weekly market, and there met with friends and +patrons from different parts of the district. The late Duke of +Roxburghe, Sir Walter Scott, Mr Baillie of Jerviswoode, Mr John Gibson +Lockhart, and Mr G. P. R. James, the novelist, who sometimes resided in +the neighbourhood, and other persons of rank or literary eminence, +extended towards him countenance and assistance. + +Scott shared the indigent lot of poets. He remained in the condition of +an agricultural labourer, and for many years held the office of beadle, +or church-officer, of the parish. He died on the 22d of May 1839, in the +eighty-second year of his age; and his remains were interred in the +churchyard of Bowden, where his name is inscribed on a gravestone which +he had erected to the memory of his wife. His eldest son holds the +office of schoolmaster of that parish. + +The personal appearance of the bard appears to have been prepossessing: +his countenance wore a highly intellectual aspect. Subsequent to the +publication of the first volume of his poems, he was requested to sit +for his portrait by the late Mr George Watson, the well-known +portrait-painter; and who was so well satisfied with the excellence of +his subject, that he exhibited the portrait for a lengthened period in +his studio. It is now in the possession of the author's son at Bowden, +and has been pronounced a masterpiece of art. A badly executed engraving +from it is prefixed to Scott's last two volumes. In manner, the poet was +modest and unassuming, and his utterance was slow and defective. The +songs selected for this work may be regarded as the most favourable +specimens of his muse.[71] + + +[71] We have to acknowledge our obligations for several particulars of +this sketch to Mr Robert Bower, Melrose, the author of a volume of +"Ballads and Lyrics," published at Edinburgh in 1853. + + + + +RURAL CONTENT; OR, THE MUIRLAND FARMER. + +AIR--_"The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."_ + + + I 'm now a guid farmer, I 've acres o' land, + And my heart aye loups light when I 'm viewing o't, + And I hae servants at my command, + And twa dainty cowts for the plowin' o't. + My farm is a snug ane, lies high on a muir, + The muircocks and plivers aft skirl at my door, + And whan the sky low'rs I 'm aye sure o' a show'r, + To moisten my land for the plowin' o't. + + Leeze me on the mailin that 's fa'n to my share, + It taks sax muckle bowes for the sawin' o't; + I 've sax braid acres for pasture, and mair, + And a dainty bit bog for the mawin' o't. + A spence and a kitchen my mansionhouse gies, + I 've a cantie wee wifie to daut whan I please, + Twa bairnies, twa callans, that skelp o'er the leas, + And they 'll soon can assist at the plowin' o't. + + My biggin' stands sweet on this south slopin' hill, + And the sun shines sae bonnily beamin' on 't, + And past my door trots a clear prattlin' rill, + Frae the loch, whare the wild-ducks are swimmin' o't; + And on its green banks, on the gay simmer days, + My wifie trips barefoot, a-bleachin' her claes, + And on the dear creature wi' rapture I gaze, + While I whistle and sing at the plowin' o't. + + To rank amang farmers I hae muckle pride, + But I mauna speak high when I 'm tellin' o't, + How brawlie I strut on my shelty to ride, + Wi' a sample to shew for the sellin' o't. + In blue worset boots that my auld mither span, + I 've aft been fu' vanty sin' I was a man, + But now they 're flung by, and I 've bought cordivan, + And my wifie ne'er grudged me a shillin' o't. + + Sae now, whan to kirk or to market I gae-- + My weelfare what need I be hiddin' o't?-- + In braw leather boots shinin' black as the slae, + I dink me to try the ridin' o't. + Last towmond I sell'd off four bowes o' guid bear, + And thankfu' I was, for the victual was dear, + And I came hame wi' spurs on my heels shinin' clear, + I had sic good luck at the sellin' o't. + + Now hairst time is o'er, and a fig for the laird, + My rent 's now secure for the toilin' o't; + My fields are a' bare, and my crap 's in the yard, + And I 'm nae mair in doubts o' the spoilin' o't. + Now welcome gude weather, or wind, or come weet, + Or bauld ragin' winter, wi' hail, snaw, or sleet, + Nae mair can he draigle my crap 'mang his feet, + Nor wraik his mischief, and be spoilin' o't. + + And on the douf days, whan loud hurricanes blaw, + Fu' snug i' the spence I 'll be viewin' o't, + And jink the rude blast in my rush-theekit ha', + Whan fields are seal'd up from the plowin' o't. + My bonny wee wifie, the bairnies, and me, + The peat-stack, and turf-stack our Phoebus shall be, + Till day close the scoul o' its angry ee, + And we 'll rest in gude hopes o' the plowin' o't. + + And whan the year smiles, and the lavrocks sing, + My man Jock and me shall be doin' o't; + He 'll thrash, and I 'll toil on the fields in the spring, + And turn up the soil at the plowin' o't. + And whan the wee flow'rets begin then to blaw, + The lavrock, the peasweep, and skirlin' pickmaw, + Shall hiss the bleak winter to Lapland awa, + Then we 'll ply the blythe hours at the sawin' o't. + + And whan the birds sing on the sweet simmer morn, + My new crap I 'll keek at the growin' o't; + Whan hares niffer love 'mang the green-bairdit corn, + And dew draps the tender blade shewin' o't, + On my brick o' fallow my labours I 'll ply, + And view on their pasture my twa bonny kye, + Till hairst-time again circle round us wi' joy, + Wi' the fruits o' the sawin' and plowin' o't. + + Nor need I to envy our braw gentle focks, + Wha fash na their thumbs wi' the sawing o't, + Nor e'er slip their fine silken hands in the pocks, + Nor foul their black shoon wi' the plowin' o't: + For, pleased wi' the little that fortune has lent, + The seasons row round us in rural content; + We 've aye milk and meal, and our laird gets his rent, + And I whistle and sing at the plowin' o't. + + + + +SYMON AND JANET. + +AIR--_"Fy, let us a' to the Bridal."_ + + + Surrounded wi' bent and wi' heather, + Whare muircocks and plivers are rife, + For mony lang towmond thegither, + There lived an auld man and his wife. + + About the affairs o' the nation, + The twasome they seldom were mute; + Bonaparte, the French, and invasion, + Did saur in their wizens like soot. + + In winter, when deep are the gutters, + And night's gloomy canopy spread, + Auld Symon sat luntin' his cuttie, + And lowsin' his buttons for bed. + + Auld Janet, his wife, out a-gazin', + To lock in the door was her care; + She seein' our signals a-blazin', + Came runnin' in, rivin' her hair. + + "O Symon, the Frenchmen are landit! + Gae look man, and slip on your shoon; + Our signals I see them extendit, + Like red risin' blaze o' the moon!" + + "What plague, the French landit!" quo' Symon, + And clash gaed his pipe to the wa', + "Faith, then there's be loadin' and primin'," + Quo' he, "if they 're landit ava. + + "Our youngest son 's in the militia, + Our eldest grandson 's volunteer: + O' the French to be fu' o' the flesh o', + I too in the ranks shall appear." + + His waistcoat pouch fill'd he wi' pouther, + And bang'd down his rusty auld gun; + His bullets he put in the other, + That he for the purpose had run. + + Then humpled he out in a hurry, + While Janet his courage bewails, + And cried out, "Dear Symon, be wary!" + And teughly she hang by his tails. + + "Let be wi' your kindness," quo' Symon, + "Nor vex me wi' tears and your cares, + For now to be ruled by a woman, + Nae laurels shall crown my gray hairs." + + Quo' Janet, "Oh, keep frae the riot! + Last night, man, I dreamt ye was dead; + This aught days I tentit a pyot + Sit chatt'rin' upo' the house-head. + + "And yesterday, workin' my stockin', + And you wi' the sheep on the hill, + A muckle black corbie sat croakin'; + I kend it foreboded some ill." + + "Hout, cheer up, dear Janet, be hearty, + For ere the next sun may gae down, + Wha kens but I 'll shoot Bonaparte, + And end my auld days in renown?" + + "Then hear me," quo' Janet, "I pray thee, + I 'll tend thee, love, living or dead, + And if thou should fa' I 'll die wi' thee, + Or tie up thy wounds if thou bleed." + + Syne aff in a fury he stumpled, + Wi' bullets, and pouther, and gun; + At 's curpin auld Janet too humpled, + Awa to the next neighb'rin' town. + + There footmen and yeomen paradin', + To scour aff in dirdum were seen, + Auld wives and young lasses a-sheddin' + The briny saut tears frae their een. + + Then aff wi' his bannet gat Symon, + And to the commander he gaes; + Quo' he, "Sir, I mean to gae wi' ye, man, + And help ye to lounder our faes. + + "I 'm auld, yet I 'm teugh as the wire, + Sae we 'll at the rogues have a dash, + And, fegs, if my gun winna fire, + I 'll turn her butt-end, and I 'll thrash." + + "Well spoken, my hearty old hero," + The captain did smiling reply, + But begg'd he wad stay till to-morrow, + Till daylight should glent in the sky. + + Whatreck, a' the stour cam to naething; + Sae Symon, and Janet his dame, + Hale skart frae the wars, without skaithing, + Gaed bannin' the French again hame. + + + + +COQUET WATER. + +AIR--_"Braw Lads of Gala Water."_ + + + Whan winter winds forget to blaw, + An' vernal suns revive pale nature, + A shepherd lad by chance I saw, + Feeding his flocks by Coquet water. + + Saft, saft he sung, in melting lays, + His Mary's charms an' matchless feature, + While echoes answer'd frae the braes, + That skirt the banks of Coquet water. + + "Oh, were that bonnie lassie mine," + Quoth he, "in love's saft wiles I'd daut her; + An' deem mysel' as happy syne, + As landit laird on Coquet water. + + "Let wealthy rakes for pleasure roam, + In foreign lands their fortune fritter; + But love's pure joys be mine at home, + Wi' my dear lass on Coquet water. + + "Gie fine focks wealth, yet what care I, + Gie me her smiles whom I lo'e better; + Blest wi' her love an' life's calm joy, + Tending my flocks by Coquet water. + + "Flow fair an' clear, thou bonnie stream, + For on thy banks aft hae I met her; + Fair may the bonnie wild-flowers gleam, + That busk the banks of Coquet water." + + + + +THE YOUNG MAID'S WISH FOR PEACE. + +AIR--_"Far frae Hame," &c._ + + + Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease, + An' the nations restored again to unity an' peace; + Then mony a bonnie laddie, that 's now far owre the sea, + Wad return to his lassie, an' his ain countrie. + + My lad was call'd awa for to cross the stormy main, + An' to face the battle's bray in the cause of injured Spain; + But in my love's departure hard fate has injured me, + That has reft him frae my arms, an' his ain countrie. + + When he bade me adieu, oh! my heart was like to break, + An' the parting tear dropp'd down for my dear laddie's sake; + Kind Heavens protect my Willie, wherever he be, + An' restore him to my arms, an' his ain countrie. + + Yes, may the fates defend him upon that hostile shore, + Amid the rage of battle, where thund'ring cannons roar; + In the sad hour of danger, when deadly bullets flee, + Far frae the peacefu' plains of his ain countrie. + + Wae 's me, that vice had proven the source of blood an' war, + An' sawn amang the nations the seeds of feud an' jar: + But it was cruel Cain, an' his grim posterity, + First began the bloody wark in their ain countrie. + + An' oh! what widows weep, an' helpless orphans cry! + On a far foreign shore now, the dear, dear ashes lie, + Whose life-blood stain'd the gowans of some far foreign lea, + Far frae their kith an' kin, an' their ain countrie. + + Hail the day, speed the day, then, when a' the wars are done! + An' may ilk British laddie return wi' laurels won; + On my dear Willie's brows may they flourish bonnily, + An' be wi' the myrtle twined in his ain countrie. + + But I hope the time is near, when sweet peace her olive wand + To lay the fiend of war shall soon stretch o'er every land, + When swords turn'd into ploughshares and pruning-hooks shall be, + An' the nations a' live happy in their ain countrie. + + + + +THE FIDDLER'S WIDOW. + + + There was a musician wha play'd a good stick, + He had a sweet wife an' a fiddle, + An' in his profession he had right good luck + At bridals his elbow to diddle. + + But ah! the poor fiddler soon chancéd to die, + As a' men to dust must return; + An' the poor widow cried, wi' the tear in her e'e, + That as lang as she lived she wad mourn. + + Alane by the hearth she disconsolate sat, + Lamenting the day that she saw, + An' aye as she look'd on the fiddle she grat, + That silent now hang on the wa'. + + Fair shane the red rose on the young widow's cheek, + Sae newly weel washen wi' tears, + As in came a younker some comfort to speak, + Wha whisper'd fond love in her ears. + + "Dear lassie," he cried, "I am smit wi' your charms, + Consent but to marry me now, + I 'm as good as ever laid hair upon thairms, + An' I 'll cheer baith the fiddle an' you." + + The young widow blush'd, but sweet smiling she said, + "Dear sir, to dissemble I hate, + If we twa thegither are doom'd to be wed, + Folks needna contend against fate." + + He took down the fiddle as dowie it hung, + An' put a' the thairms in tune, + The young widow dighted her cheeks an' she sung, + For her heart lap her sorrows aboon. + + Now sound sleep the dead in his cauld bed o' clay, + For death still the dearest maun sever; + For now he 's forgot, an' his widow's fu' gay, + An' his fiddle 's as merry as ever. + + + + +LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF AN IRISH CHIEF. + + + He 's no more on the green hill, he has left the wide forest, + Whom, sad by the lone rill, thou, loved dame, deplorest: + We saw in his dim eye the beam of life quiver, + Its bright orb to light again no more for ever. + + Loud twang'd thy bow, mighty youth, in the foray, + Dread gleam'd thy brand in the proud field of glory; + And when heroes sat round in the Psalter of Tara, + His counsel was sage as was fatal his arrow. + + When in war's loud commotion the hostile Dane landed, + Or seen on the ocean with white sail expanded, + Like thee, swoll'n stream, down our steep vale that roarest, + Fierce was the chieftain that harass'd them sorest. + + Proud stem of our ancient line, nipt while in budding, + Like sweet flowers' too early gem spring-fields bestudding, + Our noble pine 's fall'n, that waved on our mountain,-- + Our mighty rock dash'd from the brink of our fountain. + + Our lady is lonely, our halls are deserted-- + The mighty is fallen, our hope is departed-- + Loud wail for the fate from our clan that did sever, + Whom we shall behold again no more for ever. + + + + +THE DEPARTURE OF SUMMER. + + + Adieu, lovely Summer! I see thee declining, + I sigh, for thy exit is near; + Thy once glowing beauties by Autumn are pining, + Who now presses hard on thy rear. + + The late blowing flowers now thy pale cheek adorning, + Droop sick as they nod on the lea; + The groves, too, are silent, no minstrel of morning + Shrill warbles his song from the tree. + + Aurora peeps silent, and sighs a lorn widow, + No warbler to lend her a lay, + No more the shrill lark quits the dew-spangled meadow, + As wont for to welcome the day. + + Sage Autumn sits sad now on hill, dale, and valley, + Each landscape how pensive its mien! + They languish, they languish! I see them fade daily, + And losing their liv'ry of green. + + O Virtue, come waft me on thy silken pinions, + To where purer streamlets still flow, + Where summer, unceasing, pervades thy dominions, + Nor stormy bleak wint'ry winds blow. + + + + +SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. + + +Sir Walter Scott, the most chivalrous of Scottish poets, and the most +illustrious of British novelists, was born in Edinburgh, on the 15th of +August 1771. His father, Walter Scott, Writer to the Signet, was +descended from a younger branch of the baronial house of the Scotts of +Harden, of which Lord Polwarth is the present representative. On his +mother's side his progenitors were likewise highly respectable: his +maternal grandfather, Dr John Rutherford, was Professor of the Practice +of Physic in the University of Edinburgh, and his mother's brother, Dr +Daniel Rutherford, an eminent chemist, afterwards occupied the chair of +Botany. His mother was a person of a vigorous and cultivated mind. Of a +family of twelve children, born to his parents, six of whom survived +infancy, Walter only evinced the possession of the uncommon attribute of +genius. He was born a healthy child, but soon after became exposed to +serious peril by being some time tended by a consumptive nurse. When +scarcely two years old he was seized with an illness which deprived him +of the proper use of his right limb, a loss which continued during his +life. With the view of retrieving his strength, he was sent to reside +with his paternal grandfather, Robert Scott, who rented the farm of +Sandyknowe, in the vicinity of Smailholm Tower, in Roxburghshire. +Shortly after his arrival at Sandyknowe, he narrowly escaped destruction +through the frantic desperation of a maniac attendant; but he had +afterwards to congratulate himself on being enabled to form an early +acquaintance with rural scenes. No advantage accruing to his lameness, +he was, in his fourth year, removed to Bath, where he remained twelve +months, without experiencing benefit from the mineral waters. During the +three following years he chiefly resided at Sandyknowe. In his eighth +year he returned to Edinburgh, with his mind largely stored with border +legends, chiefly derived from the recitations of his grandmother, a +person of a romantic inclination and sprightly intelligence. At this +period, Pope's translation of Homer, and the more amusing songs in +Ramsay's "Evergreen," were his favourite studies; and he took delight in +reading aloud, with suitable emphasis, the more striking passages, or +verses, to his mother, who sought every incentive to stimulate his +native propensity. In 1778 he was sent to the High School, where he +possessed the advantage of instruction under Mr Luke Fraser, an able +scholar, and Dr Adam, the distinguished rector. His progress in +scholarship was not equal to his talents; he was already a devotee to +romance, and experienced greater gratification in retiring with a friend +to some quiet spot in the country, to relate or to listen to a +fictitious tale, than in giving his principal attention to the +prescribed tasks of the schoolroom. As he became older, the love of +miscellaneous literature, especially the works of the great masters of +fiction, amounted to a passion; and as his memory was singularly +tenacious, he accumulated a great extent and variety of miscellaneous +information. + +On the completion of his attendance at the High School, he was sent to +reside with some relations at Kelso; and in this interesting locality +his growing attachment to the national minstrelsy and legendary lore +received a fresh impulse. On his return to Edinburgh he entered the +University, in which he matriculated as a student of Latin and Greek, in +October 1793. His progress was not more marked than it had been at the +High School, insomuch that Mr Dalziel, the professor of Greek, was +induced to give public expression as to his hopeless incapacity. The +professor fortunately survived to make ample compensation for the +rashness of his prediction. + +The juvenile inclinations of the future poet were entirely directed to a +military life; but his continued lameness interposed an insuperable +difficulty, and was a source of deep mortification. He was at length +induced to adopt a profession suitable to his physical capabilities, +entering into indentures with his father in his fourteenth year. To his +confinement at the desk, sufficiently irksome to a youth of his +aspirations, he was chiefly reconciled by the consideration that his +fees as a clerk enabled him to purchase books. + +Rapid growth in a constitution which continued delicate till he had +attained his fifteenth year, led to his bursting a blood-vessel in the +second year of his apprenticeship. While precluded from active duty, +being closely confined to bed, and not allowed to exert himself by +speaking, he was still allowed to read; a privilege which accelerated +his acquaintance with general literature. To complete his recovery, he +was recommended exercise on horseback; and in obeying the instructions +of his physician, he gratified his own peculiar tastes by making himself +generally familiar with localities and scenes famous in Scottish story. +On the restoration of his health, he at length became seriously engaged +in the study of law for several continuous years, and, after the +requisite examinations, was admitted as an advocate, on the 10th of July +1792, when on the point of attaining his twenty-first year. + +In his twelfth year, Scott had composed some verses for his preceptor +and early friend Dr Adam, which afforded promise of his future +excellence. But he seems not to have extensively indulged, in early +life, in the composition of poetry, while his juvenile productions in +prose wore a stiff formality. On being called to the bar, he at first +carefully refrained, according to his own statement, from claiming the +honour of authorship, lest his brethren or the public should suppose +that his habits were unsuitable to a due attention to the duties of his +profession. He was relieved of dependence on professional employment by +espousing, in December 1797, Miss Carpenter, a young French gentlewoman, +possessed of a considerable annuity, whose acquaintance he had formed at +Gilsland, a watering-place in Cumberland. In 1800 he was appointed +Sheriff of Selkirkshire, with a salary of £300 a year. While he +continued in his father's office he had made himself familiar with the +French and Italian languages, and had read many of their more celebrated +authors, especially the writings of Tasso and Ariosto. Some years after +he came to the bar, he was induced to acquaint himself with the ballad +poetry of Germany, then in vogue, through the translations of Mr Lewis, +whose friendship he had recently acquired. In 1796 he made his first +adventure as an author by publishing translations of "Lenoré," and "The +Wild Huntsman" of Bürger. The attempt proved unsuccessful; but, +undismayed, he again essayed his skill in translation by publishing, in +1799, an English version of Goëthe's "Goetz of Berlichingen." His +success as an author was, however, destined to rest on original +performances, illustrative of the chivalry of his own land. + +Towards the recovery and publication of the ancient ballads and songs of +the Scottish borders, which had only been preserved by the recitations +of the peasantry, Scott had early formed important intentions. The +independence of his circumstances now enabled him to execute his +long-cherished scheme. He made periodical excursions into Liddesdale, a +wild pastoral district on the Scottish border, anciently peopled by the +noted Elliots and Armstrongs, in quest of old ballads and traditions; +and the fruits of his research, along with much curious information, +partly communicated to him by intelligent correspondents, he gave to the +world, in 1802, in two volumes octavo, under the title of "Minstrelsy of +the Scottish Border." He added in the following year a third volume, +consisting of imitations of ancient ballads, composed by himself and +others. These volumes issued from the printing-press of his early friend +and school-fellow, Mr James Ballantyne of Kelso, who had already begun +to indicate that skill in typography for which he was afterwards so +justly celebrated. In 1804 he published, from the Auchinleck Manuscript +in the Advocates' Library, the ancient metrical tale of "Sir Tristrem;" +and, in an elaborate introduction, he endeavoured to prove that it was +the composition of Thomas of Ercildoune, better known as Thomas the +Rhymer. He published in 1805 "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," an original +ballad poem, which, speedily attaining a wide circulation, procured for +him an extensive reputation, and the substantial reward of £600. + +The prosperity of the poet rose with his fame. In the year following +that which produced the "Lay," he received his appointment as a +principal clerk of the Court of Session, an office which afterwards +brought him £1200 a-year. To literary occupation he now resolved to +dedicate his intervals of leisure. In 1808 he produced "Marmion," his +second great poem, which brought him £1000 from the publisher, and at +once established his fame. During the same year he completed the heavy +task of editing the works of Dryden, in eighteen volumes. In 1809 he +edited the state papers and letters of Sir Ralph Sadler, and became a +contributor to the _Edinburgh Annual Register_, conducted by Southey. +"The Lady of the Lake," the most happily-conceived and popular of his +poetical works, appeared in 1810; "Don Roderick," in 1811; "Rokeby," in +1813; and "The Lord of the Isles," in 1814. "Harold the Dauntless," and +"The Bridal of Triermain," appeared subsequently, without the author's +name. + +As a poet, Scott had now attained a celebrity unrivalled among his +contemporaries, and it was in the apprehension of compromising his +reputation, that, in attempting a new species of composition, he was +extremely anxious to conceal the name of the author. The novel of +"Waverley," which appeared in 1814, did not, however, suffer from its +being anonymous; for, although the sale was somewhat heavy at first, the +work soon afterwards reached the extraordinary circulation of twelve +thousand copies. Contrary to reasonable expectation, however, the author +of "Waverley" did not avow himself, and, numerous as was the catalogue +of prose fictions which, for more than twenty years, proceeded from his +pen, he continued as desirous of retaining his secret as were his female +contemporaries, Lady Nairn and Lady Anne Barnard, to cast a veil over +their poetical character. The rapidity with which the "Great Unknown" +produced works of fiction, was one of the marvels of the age; and many +attempts were made to withdraw the curtain which concealed the +mysterious author. Successive years produced at least one, and often +two, novels of a class infinitely superior to the romances of the past +age, all having reference to the manners and habits of the most +interesting and chivalrous periods of Scottish or British history, +which, in these works, were depicted with a power and vivacity +unattained by the most graphic national historians. Subsequently to the +publication of "Guy Mannering" and "The Antiquary," in 1815 and 1816, +and as an expedient to sustain the public interest, Scott commenced a +new series of novels, under the title of "Tales of my Landlord," these +being professedly written by a different author; but this resort was +abandoned as altogether unnecessary for the contemplated object. Each +successive romance by the author of "Waverley" awakened renewed ardour +and enthusiasm among the public, and commanded a circulation +commensurate with the bounds in which the language was understood. Many +of them were translated into the various European languages. In the year +1814 he had published an edition of the works of Swift, in nineteen +volumes octavo. + +For some years after his marriage, Scott had occupied a cottage in the +romantic vicinity of Lasswade, near Edinburgh; but in 1804 he removed to +Ashestiel, an old mansion, beautifully situated on the banks of the +Tweed, seven miles above Selkirk, where, for several years, he continued +to reside during the vacation of the Court. The ruling desire of his +life was, that by the proceeds of his intellectual labour he might +acquire an ample demesne, with a suitable mansion of his own, and thus +in some measure realise in his own person, and in those of his +representatives, somewhat of the territorial importance of those olden +barons, whose wassails and whose feuds he had experienced delight in +celebrating. To attain such distinction as a Scottish _laird_, or +landholder, he was prepared to incur many sacrifices; nor was this +desire exceeded by regard for literary reputation. It was unquestionably +with a view towards the attainment of his darling object, that he taxed +so severely those faculties with which nature had so liberally endowed +him, and exhibited a prolificness of authorship, such as has rarely been +evinced in the annals of literary history. In 1811 he purchased, on the +south bank of the Tweed, near Melrose, the first portion of that estate +which, under the name of Abbotsford, has become indelibly associated +with his history. The soil was then a barren waste, but by extensive +improvements the place speedily assumed the aspect of amenity and +beauty. The mansion, a curious amalgamation, in questionable taste, of +every species of architecture, was partly built in 1811, and gradually +extended with the increasing emoluments of the owner. By successive +purchases of adjacent lands, the Abbotsford property became likewise +augmented, till the rental amounted to about £700 a-year--a return +sufficiently limited for an expenditure of upwards of £50,000 on this +favourite spot. + +At Abbotsford the poet maintained the character of a wealthy country +gentleman. He was visited by distinguished persons from the sister +kingdom, from the Continent, and from America, all of whom he +entertained in a style of sumptuous elegance. Nor did his constant +social intercourse with his visitors and friends interfere with the +regular prosecution of his literary labours: he rose at six, and +engaged in study and composition till eleven o'clock. During the period +of his residence in the country, he devoted the remainder of the day to +his favourite exercise on horseback, the superintendence of improvements +on his property, and the entertainment of his guests. In March 1820, +George IV., to whom he was personally known, and who was a warm admirer +of his genius, granted to him the honour of a baronetcy, being the first +which was conferred by his Majesty after his accession. Prior to this +period, besides the works already enumerated, he had given to the world +his romances of "The Black Dwarf," "Old Mortality," "Rob Roy," "The +Heart of Midlothian," "The Bride of Lammermoor," "A Legend of Montrose," +and "Ivanhoe." The attainment of the baronetcy appears to have +stimulated him to still greater exertion. In 1820 he produced, besides +"Ivanhoe," which appeared in the early part of that year, "The +Monastery" and "The Abbot;" and in the beginning of 1821, the romance of +"Kenilworth," being twelve volumes published within the same number of +months. "The Pirate" and "The Fortunes of Nigel" appeared in 1822; +"Peveril of the Peak" and "Quentin Durward," in 1823; "St Ronan's Well" +and "Redgauntlet," in 1824; and "The Tales of the Crusaders," in 1825. + +During the visit of George IV. to Scotland, in 1822, Sir Walter +undertook the congenial duty of acting as Master of Ceremonies, which he +did to the entire satisfaction of his sovereign and of the nation. But +while prosperity seemed to smile with increasing brilliancy, adversity +was hovering near. In 1826, Archibald Constable and Company, the famous +publishers of his works, became insolvent, involving in their +bankruptcy the printing firm of the Messrs Ballantyne, of which Sir +Walter was a partner. The liabilities amounted to the vast sum of +£102,000, for which Sir Walter was individually responsible. To a mind +less balanced by native intrepidity and fortified by principle, the +apparent wreck of his worldly hopes would have produced irretrievable +despondency; but Scott bore his misfortune with magnanimity and manly +resignation. He had been largely indebted to both the establishments +which had unfortunately involved him in their fall, in the elegant +production of his works, as well as in respect of pecuniary +accommodation; and he felt bound in honour, as well as by legal +obligation, fully to discharge the debt. He declined to accept an offer +of the creditors to be satisfied with a composition; and claiming only +to be allowed time, applied himself with indomitable energy to his +arduous undertaking, at the age of fifty-five, in the full +determination, if his life was spared, of cancelling every farthing of +his obligations. At the crisis of his embarrassments he was engaged in +the composition of "Woodstock," which shortly afterwards appeared. The +"Life of Napoleon," which had for a considerable time occupied his +attention, was published in 1827, in nine vols. octavo. In the course of +its preparation he had visited both London and Paris in search of +materials. In the same year he produced "Chronicles of the Canongate," +_first series_; and in the year following, the second series of those +charming tales, and the first portion of his juvenile history of +Scotland, under the title of "Tales of a Grandfather." A second portion +of these tales appeared in 1829, and the third and concluding series in +1830, when he also contributed a graver History of Scotland in two +volumes to _Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopædia_. In 1829 likewise appeared +"Anne of Geierstein," a romance, and in 1830 the "Letters on Demonology +and Witchcraft." In 1831 he produced a series of "Tales on French +History," uniform with the "Tales of a Grandfather," and his novels, +"Count Robert of Paris," and "Castle Dangerous," as a fourth series of +"Tales of My Landlord." Other productions of inferior mark appeared from +his pen; he contributed to the _Edinburgh Review_, during the first year +of its career; wrote the articles, "Chivalry," "Romance," and "Drama," +for the sixth edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_; and during his +latter years contributed somewhat copiously to the _Quarterly Review_. + +At a public dinner in Edinburgh, for the benefit of the Theatrical Fund, +on the 23d of February 1827, Sir Walter made his first avowal as to the +authorship of the Waverley Novels,--an announcement which scarcely took +the public by surprise. The physical energies of the illustrious author +were now suffering a rapid decline; and in his increasing infirmities, +and liability to sudden and severe attacks of pain, and even of +unconsciousness, it became evident to his friends, that, in the +praiseworthy effort to pay his debts, he was sacrificing his health and +shortening his life. Those apprehensions proved not without foundation. +In the autumn of 1831, his health became so lamentably broken, that his +medical advisers recommended a residence in Italy, and entire cessation +from mental occupation, as the only means of invigorating a constitution +so seriously dilapidated. But the counsel came too late; the patient +proceeded to Naples, and afterwards to Rome, but experiencing no benefit +from the change, he was rapidly conveyed homewards in the following +summer, in obedience to his express wish, that he might have the +satisfaction of closing his eyes at Abbotsford. The wish was gratified: +he arrived at Abbotsford on the 11th of July 1832, and survived till +the 21st of the ensuing September. According to his own request, his +remains were interred in an aisle in Dryburgh Abbey, which had belonged +to one of his ancestors, and had been granted to him by the late Earl of +Buchan. A heavy block of marble rests upon the grave, in juxtaposition +with another which has been laid on that of his affectionate partner in +life, who died in May 1826. The aisle is protected by a heavy iron +railing. + +In stature, Sir Walter Scott was above six feet; but his personal +appearance, which had otherwise been commanding, was considerably marred +by the lameness of his right limb, which caused him to walk with an +awkward effort, and ultimately with much difficulty. His countenance, so +correctly represented in his numerous portraits and busts, was +remarkable for depth of forehead; his features were somewhat heavy, and +his eyes, covered with thick eyelashes, were dull, unless animated by +congenial conversation. He was of a fair complexion; and his hair, +originally sandy, became gray from a severe illness which he suffered in +his 48th year. His general conversation consisted in the detail of +chivalric adventures and anecdotes of the olden times. His memory was so +retentive that whatever he had studied indelibly maintained a place in +his recollection. In fertility of imagination he surpassed all his +contemporaries. As a poet, if he has not the graceful elegance of +Campbell, and the fervid energy of Byron, he excels the latter in purity +of sentiment, and the former in vigour of conception. His style was well +adapted for the composition of lyric poetry; but as he had no ear for +music, his song compositions are not numerous. Several of these, +however, have been set to music, and maintain their popularity.[72] But +Scott's reputation as a poet is inferior to his reputation as a +novelist; and while even his best poems may cease to be generally read, +the author of the Waverley Novels will only be forgotten with the disuse +of the language. A cabinet edition of these novels, with the author's +last notes, and illustrated with elegant engravings, appeared in +forty-eight volumes a short period before his decease; several other +complete editions have since been published by the late Mr Robert +Cadell, and by the present proprietors of the copyright, the Messrs +Black of Edinburgh. + +As a man of amiable dispositions and incorruptible integrity, Sir Walter +Scott shone conspicuous among his contemporaries, the latter quality +being eminently exhibited in his resolution to pay the whole of his +heavy pecuniary liabilities. To this effort he fell a martyr; yet it was +a source of consolation to his survivors, that, by his own extraordinary +exertions, the policy of life insurance payable at his death, and the +sum of £30,000 paid by Mr Cadell for the copyright of his works, the +whole amount of the debt was discharged. It is, however painfully, to be +remarked, that the object of his earlier ambition, in raising a family, +has not been realised. His children, consisting of two sons and two +daughters, though not constitutionally delicate, have all departed from +the scene, and the only representative of his house is the surviving +child of his eldest daughter, who was married to Mr John Gibson +Lockhart, the late editor of the _Quarterly Review_, and his literary +executor. This sole descendant, a grand-daughter, is the wife of Mr +Hope, Q.C., who has lately added to his patronymic the name of Scott, +and made Abbotsford his summer residence. The memory of the illustrious +Minstrel has received every honour from his countrymen; monuments have +been raised to him in the principal towns--that in the capital, a rich +Gothic cross, being one of the noblest decorations of his native city. +Abbotsford has become the resort of the tourist and of the traveller +from every land, who contemplate with interest and devotion a scene +hallowed by the loftiest genius. + + "The grass is trodden by the feet + Of thousands, from a thousand lands-- + The prince, the peasant, tottering age, + And rosy schoolboy bands; + All crowd to fairy Abbotsford, + And lingering gaze, and gaze the more; + Hang o'er the chair in which _he_ sat, + The latest dress _he_ wore."[73] + + +[72] We regret that, owing to the provision of the copyright act, we are +unable, in this work, to present four of Sir Walter Scott's most popular +songs, "The Blue Bonnets over the Border," "Jock o' Hazeldean," +"M'Gregor's Gathering," and "Carle, now the King's come." These songs +must, however, be abundantly familiar to the majority of readers. + +[73] From "The Grave of Sir Walter Scott," a poem by Thomas C. Latto +(see "The Minister's Kail-yard, and other Poems." Edinburgh, 1845, +12mo). To explain an allusion in the last line of the above stanza, it +should be noticed, that the last dress of the poet is exhibited to +visitors at Abbotsford, carefully preserved in a glass case. + + + + +IT WAS AN ENGLISH LADYE BRIGHT.[74] + + + It was an English ladye bright + (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall), + And she would marry a Scottish knight, + For Love will still be lord of all. + + Blithely they saw the rising sun, + When he shone fair on Carlisle wall; + But they were sad ere day was done, + Though Love was still the lord of all. + + The sire gave brooch and jewel fine, + Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; + Her brother gave but a flask of wine, + For ire that Love was lord of all. + + For she had lands, both meadow and lea, + Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, + And he swore her death, ere he would see + A Scottish knight the lord of all. + + That wine she had not tasted well + (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall), + When dead in her true love's arms she fell, + For Love was still the lord of all. + + He pierced her brother to the heart, + Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall-- + So perish all would true love part, + That Love may still be lord of all! + + And then he took the cross divine + (Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall), + And died for her sake in Palestine, + So Love was still the lord of all. + + Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove, + (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) + Pray for their souls who died for love, + For Love shall still be lord of all! + + +[74] This song appears in the sixth canto of "The Lay of the Last +Minstrel." "It is the author's object in these songs," writes Lord +Jeffrey, "to exemplify the different styles of ballad-narrative which +prevailed in this island at different periods, or in different +conditions of society. The first (the above) is conducted upon the rude +and simple model of the old border ditties, and produces its effect by +the direct and concise narrative of a tragical occurrence." + + + + +LOCHINVAR.[75] + + + Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, + Through all the wide border his steed was the best; + And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, + He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. + So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, + There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. + + He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, + He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; + But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, + The bride had consented, the gallant came late: + For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, + Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. + + So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, + Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: + Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, + (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word) + "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, + Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" + + "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;-- + Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-- + And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, + To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine; + There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, + That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." + + The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up, + He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup; + She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, + With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. + He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar-- + "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. + + So stately his form, and so lovely her face, + That never a hall such a galliard did grace; + While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, + And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; + And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'Twere better, by far, + To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." + + One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, + When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; + So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, + So light to the saddle before her he sprung! + "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; + They 'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. + + There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; + Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: + There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lea, + But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. + So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, + Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? + + +[75] This song occurs in the fifth canto of "Marmion." It is founded on +a ballad entitled "Katharine Janfarie," in the "Minstrelsy of the +Scottish Border." + + + + +WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST.[76] + + + Where shall the lover rest, + Whom the fates sever + From his true maiden's breast, + Parted for ever? + Where, through groves deep and high, + Sounds the far billow; + Where early violets die + Under the willow. + Eleu loro, &c. + Soft shall be his pillow. + + There, through the summer day, + Cool streams are laving; + There, while the tempests sway, + Scarce are boughs waving; + There, thy rest shalt thou take, + Parted for ever; + Never again to wake, + Never, O never! + Eleu loro, &c. + Never, O never! + + Where shall the traitor rest, + He, the deceiver, + Who could win maiden's breast, + Ruin, and leave her? + In the lost battle, + Borne down by the flying, + Where mingle war's rattle + With groans of the dying. + Eleu loro, &c. + There shall he be lying. + + Her wing shall the eagle flap + O'er the false-hearted; + His warm blood the wolf shall lap + Ere life be parted. + Shame and dishonour sit + By his grave ever; + Blessing shall hallow it,-- + Never, O never! + Eleu loro, &c. + Never, O never! + + +[76] From the third canto of "Marmion." + + + + +SOLDIER, REST! THY WARFARE O'ER.[77] + + + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; + Dream of battle-fields no more, + Days of danger, nights of waking. + In our isle's enchanted hall, + Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, + Fairy strains of music fall, + Every sense in slumber dewing. + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Dream of fighting fields no more; + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, + Morn of toil, nor night of waking. + + No rude sound shall reach thine ear, + Armour's clang, or war-steed champing; + Trump nor pibroch summon here, + Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. + Yet the lark's shrill fife may come + At the daybreak from the fallow; + And the bittern sound his drum, + Booming from the sedgy shallow. + Ruder sounds shall none be near, + Guards nor wardens challenge here; + Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing, + Shouting clans, or squadrons' stamping. + + Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; + While our slumbrous spells assail ye, + Dream not, with the rising sun, + Bugles here shall sound reveillé. + Sleep! the deer is in his den; + Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, + How thy gallant steed lay dying. + Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, + Think not of the rising sun, + For at dawning to assail ye, + Here no bugles sound reveillé. + + +[77] The song of Lady Margaret in the first canto of "The Lady of the +Lake." + + + + +HAIL TO THE CHIEF WHO IN TRIUMPH ADVANCES![78] + + + Hail to the chief who in triumph advances! + Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green pine! + Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, + Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! + Heaven send it happy dew, + Earth lend it sap anew, + Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, + While every Highland glen + Sends our shout back agen, + Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! + + Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, + Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; + When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain, + The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade; + Moor'd in the rifted rock + Proof to the tempest shock, + Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; + Menteith and Breadalbane, then, + Echo his praise agen, + Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! + + Proudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Fruin, + And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; + Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, + And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. + Widow and Saxon maid + Long shall lament our raid, + Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; + Lennox and Leven-Glen + Shake when they hear agen, + Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! + + Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands! + Stretch to your oars for the ever-green pine! + Oh, that the rosebud that graces yon islands + Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! + O that some seedling gem, + Worthy such noble stem, + Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow! + Loud should Clan-Alpine then + Ring from the deepmost glen, + Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! + + +[78] The "boat song" in the second canto of "The Lady of the Lake." It +may be sung to the air of "The Banks of the Devon." + + + + +THE HEATH THIS NIGHT MUST BE MY BED.[79] + + + The heath this night must be my bed, + The bracken curtains for my head, + My lullaby the warder's tread, + Far, far from love and thee, Mary. + + To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, + My couch may be the bloody plaid, + My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid! + It will not waken me, Mary! + + I may not, dare not, fancy now + The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, + I dare not think upon thy vow, + And all it promised me, Mary. + + No fond regret must Norman know; + When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, + His heart must be like bended bow, + His foot like arrow free, Mary. + + A time will come with feeling fraught, + For if I fall in battle fought, + Thy hapless lover's dying thought + Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. + + And if return'd from conquer'd foes, + How blithely will the evening close, + How sweet the linnet sing repose + To my young bride and me, Mary! + + +[79] Song of Norman in "The Lady of the Lake," canto third. + + + + +THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN.[80] + + + My hawk is tired of perch and hood, + My idle greyhound loathes his food, + My horse is weary of his stall, + And I am sick of captive thrall; + I wish I were as I have been, + Hunting the hart in forest green, + With bended bow and bloodhound free, + For that 's the life is meet for me. + + I hate to learn the ebb of time + From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, + Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, + Inch after inch, along the wall. + The lark was wont my matins ring, + The sable rook my vespers sing: + These towers, although a king's they be, + Have not a hall of joy for me. + + No more at dawning morn I rise + And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, + Drive the fleet deer the forest through, + And homeward wend with evening dew; + A blithesome welcome blithely meet + And lay my trophies at her feet, + While fled the eve on wing of glee-- + That life is lost to love and me! + + +[80] "The Lady of the Lake," canto sixth. + + + + +HE IS GONE ON THE MOUNTAIN.[81] + + + He is gone on the mountain, + He is lost to the forest, + Like a summer-dried fountain, + When our need was the sorest. + The font re-appearing, + From the rain-drops shall borrow; + But to us comes no cheering, + To Duncan no morrow! + + The hand of the reaper + Takes the ears that are hoary, + But the voice of the weeper + Wails manhood in glory. + The autumn winds rushing + Wafts the leaves that are searest, + But our flower was in flushing + When blighting was nearest. + + Fleet foot on the corrie, + Sage counsel in cumber, + Red hand in the foray, + How sound is thy slumber! + Like the dew on the mountain, + Like the foam on the river, + Like the bubble on the fountain, + Thou art gone, and for ever. + + +[81] "The Lady of the Lake," canto third. + + + + +A WEARY LOT IS THINE, FAIR MAID.[82] + + + "A weary lot is thine, fair maid, + A weary lot is thine! + To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, + And press the rue for wine! + A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, + A feather of the blue, + A doublet of the Lincoln green, + No more of me ye knew, my love! + No more of me ye knew. + + "This morn is merry June, I trow, + The rose is budding fain; + But she shall bloom in winter snow, + Ere we two meet again." + He turn'd his charger as he spake, + Upon the river shore, + He gave his bridle-reins a shake, + Said, "Adieu for evermore, my love! + And adieu for evermore." + + +[82] "Rokeby," canto third. + + + + +ALLEN-A-DALE.[83] + + + Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, + Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning, + Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning, + Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning; + Come, read me my riddle! come, hearken my tale! + And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. + + The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, + And he views his domains upon Arkindale side, + The mere for his net, and the land for his game, + The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; + Yet the fish of the lake and the deer of the vale + Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale. + + Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, + Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; + Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, + Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; + And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, + Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale. + + Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; + The mother she asked of his household and home; + "Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill, + My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still; + 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, + And with all its bright spangles," said Allen-a-Dale. + + The father was steel and the mother was stone, + They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone; + But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry, + He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye, + And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, + And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale. + + +[83] "Rokeby," canto third. + + + + +THE CYPRESS WREATH.[84] + + + Oh, lady! twine no wreath for me, + Or twine it of the cypress-tree! + Too lively glow the lilies' light, + The varnish'd holly 's all too bright, + The mayflower and the eglantine + May shade a brow less sad than mine; + But, lady, weave no wreath for me, + Or weave it of the cypress-tree! + + Let dimpled mirth his temples twine + With tendrils of the laughing vine; + The manly oak, the pensive yew, + To patriot and to sage be due; + The myrtle bough bids lovers live + But that Matilda will not give; + Then, lady, twine no wreath for me, + Or twine it of the cypress-tree! + + Let merry England proudly rear + Her blended roses, bought so dear; + Let Albin bind her bonnet blue + With heath and harebell dipp'd in dew. + On favour'd Erin's crest be seen + The flower she loves of emerald green; + But, lady, twine no wreath for me, + Or twine it of the cypress-tree! + + Strike the wild harp while maids prepare + The ivy meet for minstrel's hair; + And, while his crown of laurel-leaves, + With bloody hand the victor weaves, + Let the loud trump his triumph tell; + But when you hear the passing-bell, + Then, lady, twine a wreath for me, + And twine it of the cypress-tree! + + Yes, twine for me the cypress bough; + But, O Matilda, twine not now! + Stay till a few brief months are past + And I have look'd and loved my last! + When villagers my shroud bestrew + With pansies, rosemary, and rue,-- + Then, lady, weave a wreath for me, + And weave it of the cypress-tree! + + +[84] "Rokeby," canto fifth. + + + + +THE CAVALIER.[85] + + + While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, + My true love has mounted his steed and away, + Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down;-- + Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown! + + He has doff'd the silk doublet the breastplate to bear, + He has placed the steel cap o'er his long flowing hair, + From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down-- + Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown! + + For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws, + Her king is his leader, her church is his cause, + His watchword is honour, his pay is renown,-- + God strike with the gallant that strikes for the crown! + + They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all + The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall; + But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town, + That the spears of the north have encircled the crown. + + There 's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes; + There 's Erin's high Ormond, and Scotland's Montrose! + Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown, + With the barons of England that fight for the crown? + + Now joy to the crest of the brave cavalier, + Be his banner unconquer'd, resistless his spear, + Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown, + In a pledge to fair England, her church, and her crown! + + +[85] "Rokeby," canto fifth. + + + + +HUNTING SONG.[86] + + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + On the mountain dawns the day, + All the jolly chase is here, + With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear! + Hounds are in their couples yelling, + Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, + Merrily, merrily, mingle they-- + "Waken, lords and ladies gay." + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + The mist has left the mountain gray, + Springlets in the dawn are steaming, + Diamonds on the brake are gleaming: + And foresters have busy been + To track the buck in thicket green; + Now we come to chant our lay, + "Waken, lords and ladies gay." + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + To the green-wood haste away; + We can shew you where he lies, + Fleet of foot and tall of size; + We can shew the marks he made + When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; + You shall see him brought to bay, + "Waken, lords and ladies gay." + + Louder, louder chant the lay, + Waken, lords and ladies gay! + Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, + Run a course as well as we; + Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, + Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk? + Think of this, and rise with day, + Gentle lords and ladies gay. + + +[86] First published in the continuation of Strutt's Queenhoohall, 1808, +inserted in the _Edinburgh Annual Register_, of the same year, and set +to a Welsh air in Thomson's _Select Melodies_, vol. iii., 1817. + + + + +OH, SAY NOT, MY LOVE, WITH THAT MORTIFIED AIR. + + + Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air, + That your spring-time of pleasure is flown; + Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair, + For those raptures that still are thine own. + + Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine, + Its tendrils in infancy curl'd; + 'Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine, + Whose life-blood enlivens the world. + + Though thy form, that was fashion'd as light as a fay's, + Has assumed a proportion more round, + And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze, + Looks soberly now on the ground-- + + Enough, after absence to meet me again, + Thy steps still with ecstacy move; + Enough, that those dear sober glances retain + For me the kind language of love. + + + + + * * * * * + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + * * * * * + + + + +ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN). + + +Robert Mackay, called _Donn_, from the colour of his hair, which was +brown or chestnut, was born in the Strathmore of Sutherlandshire, about +the year 1714. + +His calling, with the interval of a brief military service in the +fencibles, was the tending of cattle, in the several gradations of herd, +drover, and bo-man, or responsible cow-keeper--the last, in his pastoral +county, a charge of trust and respectability. At one period he had an +appointment in Lord Reay's forest; but some deviations into the +"righteous theft"--so the Highlanders of those parts, it seems, call the +appropriation of an occasional deer to their own use--forfeited his +noble employer's confidence. Rob, however, does not appear to have +suffered in his general character or reputation for an _unconsidered +trifle_ like this, nor otherwise to have declined in the favour of his +chief, beyond the necessity of transporting himself to a situation +somewhat nearer the verge of Cape Wrath than the bosom of the deer +preserve. + +Mackay was happily married, and brought up a large family in habits and +sentiments of piety; a fact which his reverend biographer connects very +touchingly with the stated solemnities of the "Saturday night," when the +lighter chants of the week were exchanged at the worthy drover's +fireside for the purer and holier melodies of another inspiration.[87] +As a pendant to this creditable account of the bard's principles, we are +informed that he was a frequent guest at the presbytery dinner-table; a +circumstance which some may be so malicious as to surmise amounted to +nothing more than a purpose to enhance the festive recreations of the +reverend body--a suspicion, we believe, in this particular instance, +totally unfounded. He died in 1778; and he has succeeded to some rather +peculiar honours for a person in his position, or even of his mark. He +has had a reverend doctor for his editorial biographer,[88] and no less +than Sir Walter Scott for his reviewer.[89] + +The passages which Sir Walter has culled from some literal translations +that were submitted to him, are certainly the most favourable specimens +of the bard that we have been able to discover in his volume. The rest +are generally either satiric rants too rough or too local for +transfusion, or panegyrics on the living and the dead, in the usual +extravagant style of such compositions, according to the taste of the +Highlanders and the usage of their bards; or they are love-lays, of +which the language is more copious and diversified than the sentiment. +In the gleanings on which we have ventured, after the illustrious person +who has done so much honour to the bard by his comments and selections, +we have attempted to draw out a little more of the peculiar character of +the poet's genius. + + +[87] Songs and Poems of Robert Mackay, p. 38. (Inverness, 1829. 8vo.) + +[88] The Rev. Dr Mackintosh Mackay, successively minister of Laggan and +Dunoon, now a clergyman in Australia. + +[89] _Quarterly Review_, vol. xlv., April 1831. + + + + +THE SONG OF WINTER. + + This is selected as a specimen of Mackay's descriptive poetry. It + is in a style peculiar to the Highlands, where description runs so + entirely into epithets and adjectives, as to render recitation + breathless, and translation hopeless. Here, while we have retained + the imagery, we have been unable to find room, or rather rhyme, for + one half of the epithets in the original. The power of alliterative + harmony in the original song is extraordinary. + + + I. + + At waking so early + Was snow on the Ben, + And, the glen of the hill in, + The storm-drift so chilling + The linnet was stilling, + That couch'd in its den; + And poor robin was shrilling + In sorrow his strain. + + + II. + + Every grove was expecting + Its leaf shed in gloom; + The sap it is draining, + Down rootwards 'tis straining, + And the bark it is waning + As dry as the tomb, + And the blackbird at morning + Is shrieking his doom. + + + III. + + Ceases thriving, the knotted, + The stunted birk-shaw;[90] + While the rough wind is blowing, + And the drift of the snowing + Is shaking, o'erthrowing, + The copse on the law. + + + IV. + + 'Tis the season when nature + Is all in the sere, + When her snow-showers are hailing, + Her rain-sleet assailing, + Her mountain winds wailing, + Her rime-frosts severe. + + + V. + + 'Tis the season of leanness, + Unkindness, and chill; + Its whistle is ringing, + An iciness bringing, + Where the brown leaves are clinging + In helplessness, still, + And the snow-rush is delving + With furrows the hill. + + + VI. + + The sun is in hiding, + Or frozen its beam + On the peaks where he lingers, + On the glens, where the singers,[91] + With their bills and small fingers + Are raking the stream, + Or picking the midstead + For forage--and scream. + + + VII. + + When darkens the gloaming + Oh, scant is their cheer! + All benumb'd is their song in + The hedge they are thronging, + And for shelter still longing, + The mortar[92] they tear; + Ever noisily, noisily + Squealing their care. + + + VIII. + + The running stream's chieftain[93] + Is trailing to land, + So flabby, so grimy, + So sickly, so slimy,-- + The spots of his prime he + Has rusted with sand; + Crook-snouted his crest is + That taper'd so grand. + + + IX. + + How mournful in winter + The lowing of kine; + How lean-back'd they shiver, + How draggled their cover, + How their nostrils run over + With drippings of brine, + So scraggy and crining + In the cold frost they pine. + + + X. + + 'Tis hallow-mass time, and + To mildness farewell! + Its bristles are low'ring + With darkness; o'erpowering + Are its waters, aye showering + With onset so fell; + Seem the kid and the yearling + As rung their death-knell. + + + XI. + + Every out-lying creature, + How sinew'd soe'er, + Seeks the refuge of shelter; + The race of the antler + They snort and they falter, + A-cold in their lair; + And the fawns they are wasting + Since their kin is afar. + + + XII. + + Such the songs that are saddest + And dreariest of all; + I ever am eerie + In the morning to hear ye! + When foddering, to cheer the + Poor herd in the stall-- + While each creature is moaning, + And sickening in thrall. + + +[90] "Birk-shaw." A few Scotticisms will be found in these versions, at +once to flavour the style, and, it must be admitted, to assist the +rhymes. + +[91] Birds. + +[92] The sides of the cottages--plastered with mud or mortar, instead of +lime. + +[93] Salmon. + + + + +DIRGE FOR IAN MACECHAN. + +A FRAGMENT. + + Mackay was entertained by Macechan, who was a respectable + store-farmer, from his earliest life to his marriage. According to + his reverend biographer,[94] the last lines of the elegy, of which + the following is a translation, were much approved. + + + I see the wretch of high degree, + Though poverty has struck his race, + Pass with a darkness on his face + That door of hospitality. + + I see the widow in her tears, + Dark as her woe--I see her boy-- + From both, want reaves the dregs of joy; + The flash of youth through rags appears. + + I see the poor's--the minstrel's lot-- + As brethren they--no boon for song! + I see the unrequited wrong + Call for its helper, who is not. + + You hear my plaint, and ask me, why? + You ask me _when_ this deep distress + Began to rage without redress? + "With Ian Macechan's dying sigh!" + + +[94] "Poems," p. 318. + + + + +THE SONG OF THE FORSAKEN DROVER. + + During a long absence on a droving expedition, Mackay was deprived of + his mistress by another lover, whom, in fine, she married. The discovery + he made, on his return, led to this composition; which is a sequel to + another composed on his distant journey, in which he seems to + prognosticate something like what happened. Both are selected by Sir + Walter Scott as specimens of the bard, and may be found paraphrastically + rendered in a prose version, in the _Quarterly Review_, vol. xlv., p. + 371, and in the notes to the last edition of "The Highland Drover," in + "Chronicles of the Canongate." With regard to the present specimen, it + may be remarked, that part of the original is either so obscure, or so + freely rendered by Sir Walter Scott's translator, that we have attempted + the present version, not without some little perplexity as to the sense + of one or two allusions. We claim, on the whole, the merit of almost + literal fidelity. + + + I. + + I fly from the fold, since my passion's despair + No longer must harbour the charms that are there; + Anne's[95] slender eyebrows, her sleek tresses so long, + Her turreted bosom--and Isabel's[96] song; + What has been, and is not--woe 's my thought! + It must not be spoken, nor can be forgot. + + + II. + + I wander'd the fold, and I rambled the grove, + And each spot it reported the kiss of my love; + But I saw her caressing another--and feel + 'Tis distraction to hear them, and see them so leal. + What has been, and is not, &c. + + + III. + + Since 'twas told that a rival beguil'd thee away, + The dreams of my love are the dreams of dismay; + Though unsummon'd of thee,[97] love has captured thy thrall, + And my hope of redemption for ever is small. + Day and night, though I strive aye + To shake him away, still he clings like the ivy. + + + IV. + + But, auburn-hair'd Anna! to tell thee my plight, + 'Tis old love unrequited that prostrates my might, + In presence or absence, aye faithful, my smart + Still racks, and still searches, and tugs at my heart-- + Broken that heart, yet why disappear + From my country, without one embrace from my dear? + + + V. + + She answers with laughter and haughty disdain-- + "To handle my snood you petition in vain; + Six suitors are mine since the year thou wert gone, + What art _thou_, that thou should'st be the favourite one? + Art thou sick? Ha, ha, for thy woe! + Art thou dying for love? Troth, love's payment was slow."[98] + + + VI. + + Though my anger may feign it requites thy disdain, + And vaunts in thy absence, it threatens in vain-- + All in vain! for thy image in fondness returns, + And o'er thy sweet likeness expectancy burns; + And I hope--yes, I hope once more, + Till my hope waxes high as a tower[99] in its soar. + + +[95] "Anne"--Rob's first love, the heroine of the piece. "Similar in +interest to the Highland Mary of Burns, is the yellow-haired Anne of Rob +Donn."--"Life," p. 18. + +[96] "Isabel"--the daughter of Ian Macechan, the subject of other +verses. + +[97] "Unsummon'd of thee." The idea is rather quaintly expressed in the +original thus--"Though thou hast sent me no summons, love has, of his +own accord, acted the part of a catchpole (or sheriff's officer), and +will not release me." Such are the homely fancies introduced into some +of the most passionate strains of the Gaelic muse. + +[98] Alluding to his absence, and delay in his courtship. + +[99] Rather more modest than the classic's "feriam sidera vertice." + + + + +ISABEL MACKAY--THE MAID ALONE. + +TO A PIOBRACH TUNE. + + This is one of those lyrics, of which there are many in Gaelic poetry, + that are intended to imitate pipe music. They consist of three parts, + called Urlar, Siubhal, and Crunluath. The first is a slow, monotonous + measure, usually, indeed, a mere repetition of the same words or tones; + the second, a livelier or brisker melody, striking into description or + narrative; the third, a rapid finale, taxing the reciter's or + performer's powers to their utmost pitch of expedition. The heroine of + the song is the same Isabel who is introduced towards the commencement + of the "Forsaken Drover;" and it appears, from other verses in Mackay's + collection, that it was not her fate to be "alone" through life. It is + to be understood that when the verses were composed, she was in charge + of her father's extensive pastoral _manége_, and not a mere milk-maid or + dairy-woman. + + + URLAR. + + Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye, + And Isabel Mackay is alone; + Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye, + And Isabel Mackay is alone, &c. + Seest thou Isabel Mackay with the milk kye, + At the forest foot--and alone? + + + SIUBHAL. + + By the Virgin and Son![100] + Thou bride-lacking one, + If ever thy time + Is coming, begone, + The occasion is prime, + For Isabel Mackay + Is with the milk kye + At the skirts of the forest, + And with her is none. + By the Virgin and Son, &c. + + Woe is the sign! + It is not well + With the lads that dwell + Around us, so brave, + When the mistress fine + Of Riothan-a-dave + Is out with the kine, + And with her is none. + O, woe is the sign, &c. + + Whoever he be + That a bride would gain + Of gentle degree, + And a drove or twain, + His speed let him strain + To Riothan-a-dave, + And a bride he shall have. + Then, to her so fain! + Whoever he be, &c. + + And a bride he shall have, + The maid that's alone. + Isabel Mackay, &c. + Oh, seest not the dearie + So fit for embracing, + Her patience distressing, + The bestial a-chasing, + And she alone! + + 'Tis a marvellous fashion + That men should be slack, + When their bosoms lack + An object of passion, + To look such a lass on, + Her patience distressing, + The bestial a-chasing, + In the field, alone. + + + CRUNLUATH (FINALE). + + Oh, look upon the prize, sirs, + That where yon heights are rising, + The whole long twelvemonth sighs in, + Because she is alone. + Go, learn it from my minstrelsy, + Who list the tale to carry, + The maiden shuns the public eye, + And is ordain'd to tarry + 'Mid stoups and cans, and milking ware, + Where brown hills rear their ridges bare, + And wails her plight the livelong year, + To spend the day alone. + + +[100] A common Highland adjuration. + + + + +EVAN'S ELEGY. + + Mackay was benighted on a deer-stalking expedition, near a wild hut + or shealing, at the head of Loch Eriboll. Here he found its only + inmate a poor asthmatic old man, stretched on his pallet, + apparently at the point of death. As he sat by his bed-side, he + "crooned," so as to be audible, it seems, to the patient, the + following elegiac ditty, in which, it will be observed, he alludes + to the death, then recent, of Pelham, an eminent statesman of + George the Second's reign. As he was finishing his ditty, the old + man's feelings were moved in a way which will be found in the + appended note. This is one of Sir Walter Scott's extracts in the + _Quarterly_, and is now attempted in the measure of the original. + + + How often, Death! art waking + The imploring cry of Nature! + When she sees her phalanx breaking, + As thou'dst have all--grim feature! + Since Autumn's leaves to brownness, + Of deeper shade were tending, + We saw thy step, from palaces, + To Evan's nook descending. + Oh, long, long thine agony! + A nameless length its tide; + Since breathless thou hast panted here, + And not a friend beside. + Thine errors what, I judge not; + What righteous deeds undone; + But if remains a se'ennight, + Redeem it, dying one! + + Oh, marked we, Death! thy teachings true, + What dust of time would blind? + Such thy impartiality + To our highest, lowest kind. + Thy look is upwards, downwards shot, + Determined none to miss; + It rose to Pelham's princely bower, + It sinks to shed like this! + Oh, long, long, &c.! + So great thy victims, that the noble + Stand humbled by the bier; + So poor, it shames the poorest + To grace them with a tear. + Between the minister of state + And him that grovels there, + Should one remain uncounselled, + Is there one whom dool shall spare? + Oh, long, long, &c.! + The hail that strews the battle-field + Not louder sounds its call, + Than the falling thousands round us + Are voicing words to all. + Hearken! least of all the nameless; + Evan's hour is going fast; + Hearken! greatest of earth's great ones-- + Princely Pelham's hour is past. + Oh, long, long, &c.! + Friends of my heart! in the twain we see + A type of life's declining; + 'Tis like the lantern's dripping light, + At either end a-dwining. + Where was there one more low than thou-- + Thou least of meanest things?[101] + And where than his was higher place + Except the throne of kings? + Oh, long, long, &c.! + + +[101] At this humiliating apostrophe, the beggar is reported to have +instinctively raised his staff--an action which the bard observed just +in time to avoid its descent on his back. + + + + +DOUGAL BUCHANAN. + + +Dougal Buchanan was born at the Mill of Ardoch, in the beautiful valley +of Strathyre, and parish of Balquhidder, in the year 1716. His parents +were in circumstances to allow him the education of the parish school; +on which, by private application, he so far improved, as to be qualified +to act as teacher and catechist to the Highland locality which borders +on Loch Rannoch, under the appointment of the Society for Propagating +Christian Knowledge. Never, it is believed, were the duties of a calling +discharged with more zeal and efficiency. The catechist was, both in and +out of the strict department of his office, a universal oracle,[102] and +his name is revered in the scene of his usefulness in a degree to which +the honours of canonization could scarcely have added. Pious, to the +height of a proverbial model, he was withal frank, cheerful, and social; +and from his extraordinary command of the Gaelic idiom, and its poetic +phraseology, he must have lent an ear to many a song and many a +legend[103]--a nourishment of the imagination in which, as well as in +purity of Gaelic, his native Balquhidder was immeasurably inferior to +the Rannoch district of his adoption. + +The composition of hymns, embracing a most eloquent and musical +paraphrase of many of the more striking inspirations of scriptural +poetry, seems to have been the favourite employment of his leisure +hours. These are sung or recited in every cottage of the Highlands where +a reader or a retentive memory is to be found. + +Buchanan's life was short. He was cut off by typhus fever, at a period +when his talents had begun to attract a more than local attention. It +was within a year after his return from superintending the press of the +first version of the Gaelic New Testament, that his lamented death took +place. His command of his native tongue is understood to have been +serviceable to the translator, the Rev. James Stewart of Killin, who had +probably been Buchanan's early acquaintance, as they were natives of the +same district. This reverend gentleman is said to have entertained a +scheme of getting the catechist regularly licensed to preach the gospel +without the usual academical preparation. The scheme was frustrated by +his death, in the summer of 1768. + +We know of no fact relating to the development of the poetic vein of +this interesting bard, unless it be found in the circumstance to which +he refers in his "Diary,"[104] of having been bred a violent Jacobite, +and having lived many years under the excitement of strong, even +vindictive feelings, at the fate of his chief and landlord (Buchanan of +Arnprior and Strathyre), who, with many of his dependents, and some of +the poet's relations, suffered death for their share in the last +rebellion. While he relates that the power of religion at length +quenched this effervescence of his emotions, it may be supposed that +ardent Jacobitism, with its common accompaniment of melody, may have +fostered an imagination which every circumstance proves to have been +sufficiently susceptible. It may be added, as a particular not unworthy +of memorial in a poet's life, that his remains are deposited in perhaps +the most picturesque place of sepulture in the kingdom--the peninsula of +Little Leny, in the neighbourhood of Callander; to which his relatives +transferred his body, as the sepulchre of many chiefs and considerable +persons of his clan, and where it is perhaps matter of surprise that his +Highland countrymen have never thought of honouring his memory with some +kind of monument. + +The poetic remains of Dougal Buchanan do not afford extensive materials +for translation. The subjects with which he deals are too solemn, and +their treatment too surcharged with scriptural imagery, to be available +for the purposes of a popular collection, of which the object is not +directly religious. The only exception that occurs, perhaps, is his poem +on "The Skull." Even in this case some moral pictures[105] have been +omitted, as either too coarsely or too solemnly touched, to be fit for +our purpose. A few lines of the conclusion are also omitted, as being +mere amplifications of Scripture--wonderful, indeed, in point of +vernacular beauty or sublimity, but not fusible for other use. Slight +traces of imitation may be perceived; "The Grave" of Blair, and some +passages of "Hamlet," being the apparent models. + + +[102] "Statistical Account of Fortingall."--Stat. Acc., x., p. 549. + +[103] The same account observes that though none of his works are +published but his sacred compositions, he composed "several songs on +various subjects." + +[104] Published at Glasgow, 1836. + +[105] These are his descriptions of "The Drunkard," "The Glutton," and +"The Good and Wicked Pastor." + + + + +A CLAGIONN. + +THE SKULL. + + + As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave + Lo! a featureless skull on the ground; + The symbol I clasp, and detain in my grasp, + While I turn it around and around. + Without beauty or grace, or a glance to express + Of the bystander nigh, a thought; + Its jaw and its mouth are tenantless both, + Nor passes emotion its throat. + No glow on its face, no ringlets to grace + Its brow, and no ear for my song; + Hush'd the caves of its breath, and the finger of death + The raised features hath flatten'd along. + The eyes' wonted beam, and the eyelids' quick gleam-- + The intelligent sight, are no more; + But the worms of the soil, as they wriggle and coil, + Come hither their dwellings to bore. + No lineament here is left to declare + If monarch or chief art thou; + Alexander the Brave, as the portionless slave + That on dunghill expires, is as low. + Thou delver of death, in my ear let thy breath + Who tenants my hand, unfold; + That my voice may not die without a reply, + Though the ear it addresses is cold. + Say, wert thou a May,[106] of beauty a ray, + And flatter'd thine eye with a smile? + Thy meshes didst set, like the links of a net, + The hearts of the youth to wile? + Alas every charm that a bosom could warm + Is changed to the grain of disgust! + Oh, fie on the spoiler for daring to soil her + Gracefulness all in the dust! + Say, wise in the law, did the people with awe + Acknowledge thy rule o'er them-- + A magistrate true, to all dealing their due, + And just to redress or condemn? + Or was righteousness sold for handfuls of gold + In the scales of thy partial decree; + While the poor were unheard when their suit they preferr'd, + And appeal'd their distresses to thee? + Say, once in thine hour, was thy medicine of power + To extinguish the fever of ail? + And seem'd, as the pride of thy leech-craft e'en tried + O'er omnipotent death to prevail? + Alas, that thine aid should have ever betray'd + Thy hope when the need was thine own; + What salve or annealing sufficed for thy healing + When the hours of thy portion were flown? + Or--wert thou a hero, a leader to glory, + While armies thy truncheon obey'd; + To victory cheering, as thy foemen careering + In flight, left their mountains of dead? + Was thy valiancy laid, or unhilted thy blade, + When came onwards in battle array + The sepulchre-swarms, ensheathed in their arms, + To sack and to rifle their prey? + How they joy in their spoil, as thy body the while + Besieging, the reptile is vain, + And her beetle-mate blind hums his gladness to find + His defence in the lodge of thy brain! + Some dig where the sheen of the ivory has been, + Some, the organ where music repair'd; + In rabble and rout they come in and come out + At the gashes their fangs have bared. + + * * * * * + + Do I hold in my hand a whole lordship of land, + Represented by nakedness, here? + Perhaps not unkind to the helpless thy mind, + Nor all unimparted thy gear; + Perhaps stern of brow to thy tenantry thou! + To leanness their countenances grew-- + 'Gainst their crave for respite, when thy clamour for right + Required, to a moment, its due; + While the frown of thy pride to the aged denied + To cover their head from the chill, + And humbly they stand, with their bonnet in hand, + As cold blows the blast of the hill. + Thy serfs may look on, unheeding thy frown, + Thy rents and thy mailings unpaid; + All praise to the stroke their bondage that broke! + While but claims their obeisance the dead. + + * * * * * + + Or a head do I clutch, whose devices were such, + That death must have lent them his sting-- + So daring they were, so reckless of fear, + As heaven had wanted a king? + Did the tongue of the lie, while it couch'd like a spy + In the haunt of thy venomous jaws, + Its slander display, as poisons its prey + The devilish snake in the grass? + That member unchain'd, by strong bands is restrain'd, + The inflexible shackles of death; + And, its emblem, the trail of the worm, shall prevail + Where its slaver once harbour'd beneath. + And oh! if thy scorn went down to thine urn + And expired, with impenitent groan; + To repose where thou art is of peace all thy part, + And then to appear--at the Throne! + Like a frog, from the lake that leapeth, to take + To the Judge of thy actions the way, + And to hear from His lips, amid nature's eclipse, + Thy sentence of termless dismay. + + * * * * * + + The hardness of iron thy bones shall environ, + To brass-links the veins of thy frame + Shall stiffen, and the glow of thy manhood shall grow + Like the anvil that melts not in flame! + But wert thou the mould of a champion bold + For God and his truth and his law? + Oh, then, though the fence of each limb and each sense + Is broken--each gem with a flaw-- + Be comforted thou! For rising in air + Thy flight shall the clarion obey; + And the shell of thy dust thou shalt leave to be crush'd, + If they will, by the creatures of prey. + + +[106] Maiden or virgin--_orig._ + + + + +AM BRUADAR. + +THE DREAM. + + We submit these further illustrations of the moral maxims of "The + Skull." In the original they are touched in phraseology scarcely + unworthy of the poet's Saxon models. + + + As lockfasted in slumber's arms + I lay and dream'd (so dreams our race + When every spectral object charms, + To melt, like shadow, in the chase), + + A vision came; mine ear confess'd + Its solemn sounds. "Thou man distraught! + Say, owns the wind thy hand's arrest, + Or fills the world thy crave of thought? + + * * * * * + + "Since fell transgression ravaged here + And reft Man's garden-joys away, + He weeps his unavailing tear, + And straggles, like a lamb astray. + + "With shrilling bleat for comfort hie + To every pinfold, humankind; + Ah, there the fostering teat is dry, + The stranger mother proves unkind. + + "No rest for toil, no drink for drought, + For bosom-peace the shadow's wing-- + So feeds expectancy on nought, + And suckles every lying thing. + + "Some woe for ever wreathes its chain, + And hope foretells the clasp undone; + Relief at handbreadth seems, in vain + Thy fetter'd arms embrace--'tis gone! + + "Not all that trial's lore unlearns + Of all the lies that life betrays, + Avails, for still desire returns-- + The last day's folly is to-day's. + + "Thy wish has prosper'd--has its taste + Survived the hour its lust was drown'd; + Or yields thine expectation's zest + To full fruition, golden-crown'd? + + "The rosebud is life's symbol bloom, + 'Tis loved, 'tis coveted, 'tis riven-- + Its grace, its fragrance, find a tomb, + When to the grasping hand 'tis given. + + "Go, search the world, wherever woe + Of high or low the bosom wrings, + There, gasp for gasp, and throe for throe, + Is answer'd from the breast of kings. + + "From every hearth-turf reeks its cloud, + From every heart its sigh is roll'd; + The rose's stalk is fang'd--one shroud + Is both the sting's and honey's fold. + + "Is wealth thy lust--does envy pine + Where high its tempting heaps are piled? + Look down, behold the fountain shine, + And, deeper still, with dregs defiled! + + "Quickens thy breath with rash inhale, + And falls an insect[107] in its toil? + The creature turns thy life-blood pale, + And blends thine ivory teeth with soil. + + "When high thy fellow-mortal soars, + His state is like the topmost nest-- + It swings with every blast that roars, + And every motion shakes its crest. + + "And if the world for once is kind, + Yet ever has the lot its bend; + Where fortune has the crook inclined, + Not all thy strength or art shall mend. + + "For as the sapling's sturdy stalk, + Whose double twist is crossly strain'd, + Such is thy fortune--sure to baulk + At this extreme what there was gain'd. + + "When Heaven its gracious manna hail'd, + 'Twas vain who hoarded its supply, + Not all his miser care avail'd + His neighbour's portion to outvie. + + "So, blended all that nature owns, + So, warp'd all hopes that mortals bless-- + With boundless wealth, the sufferer's groans; + With courtly luxury, distress. + + "Lift up the balance--heap with gold, + Its other shell vile dust shall fill; + And were a kingdom's ransom told, + The scales would want adjustment still. + + "Life has its competence--nor deem + That better than enough were more; + Sure it were phantasy to dream + With burdens to assuage thy sore. + + "It is the fancy's whirling strife + That breeds thy pain--to-day it craves, + To-morrow spurns--suffices life + When passion asks what passion braves? + + "Should appetite her wish achieve, + To herd with brutes her joy would bound; + Pleased other paradise to leave, + Content to pasture on the ground. + + "But pride rebels, nor towers alone + Beyond that confine's lowly sphere-- + Seems as from the Eternal Throne + It aim'd the sceptre's self to tear. + + "'Tis thus we trifle, thus we dare; + But, seek we to our bliss the way, + Let us to Heaven our path refer, + Believe, and worship, and obey. + + "That choice is all--to range beyond + Nor must, nor needs; provision, grace, + In these He gives, who sits enthroned, + Salvation, competence, and peace." + + The instructive vision pass'd away, + But not its wisdom's dreamless lore; + No more in shadow-tracks I stray, + And fondle shadow-shapes no more. + + +[107] _Orig._--The venomous red spider. + + + + +DUNCAN MACINTYRE. + + +Duncan Macintyre (Donacha Ban) is considered by his countrymen the most +extraordinary genius that the Highlands in modern times have produced. +Without having learned a letter of any alphabet, he was enabled to pour +forth melodies that charmed every ear to which they were intelligible. +And he is understood to have had the published specimens of his poetry +committed to writing by no mean judge of their merit,--the late Dr +Stewart of Luss,--who, when a young man, became acquainted with this +extraordinary person, in consequence of his being employed as a kind of +under-keeper in a forest adjoining to the parish of which the Doctor's +father was minister. + +Macintyre was born in Druimliart of Glenorchy on the 20th of March 1724, +and died in October 1812. He was chiefly employed in the capacity of +keeper in several of the Earl of Breadalbane's forests. He carried a +musket, however, in his lordship's fencibles; which led him to take +part, much against his inclination, in the Whig ranks at the battle of +Falkirk. Later in life he transferred his musket to the Edinburgh City +Guard. + +Macintyre's best compositions are those which are descriptive of forest +scenes, and those which he dedicated to the praise of his wife. His +verses are, however, very numerous, and embrace a vast variety of +subjects. From the extraordinary diffusiveness of his descriptions, and +the boundless luxuriance of his expressions, much difficulty has been +experienced in reproducing his strains in the English idiom. + + + + +MAIRI BHAN OG. + +MARY, THE YOUNG, THE FAIR-HAIR'D. + + + My young, my fair, my fair-hair'd Mary, + My life-time love, my own! + The vows I heard, when my kindest dearie + Was bound to me alone, + By covenant true, and ritual holy, + Gave happiness all but divine; + Nor needed there more to transport me wholly, + Than the friends that hail'd thee mine. + + * * * * * + + 'Twas a Monday morn, and the way that parted + Was far, but I rivall'd the wind, + The troth to plight with a maiden true-hearted, + That force can never unbind. + I led her apart, and the hour that we reckon'd, + While I gain'd a love and a bride, + I heard my heart, and could tell each second, + As its pulses struck on my side. + + * * * * * + + I told my ail to the foe that pain'd me, + And said that no salve could save; + She heard the tale, and her leech-craft it sain'd me, + For herself to my breast she gave. + + * * * * * + + Forever, my dear, I 'll dearly adore thee + For chasing away, away, + My fancy's delusion, new loves ever choosing, + And teaching no more to stray. + I roam'd in the wood, many a tendril surveying, + All shapely from branch to stem, + My eye, as it look'd, its ambition betraying + To cull the fairest from them; + One branch of perfume, in blossom all over, + Bent lowly down to my hand, + And yielded its bloom, that hung high from each lover, + To me, the least of the band. + I went to the river, one net-cast I threw in, + Where the stream's transparence ran, + Forget shall I never, how the beauty[108] I drew in, + Shone bright as the gloss of the swan. + Oh, happy the day that crown'd my affection + With such a prize to my share! + My love is a ray, a morning reflection, + Beside me she sleeps, a star. + + +[108] Gaelic, "gealag"--descriptive of the salmon, from its glossy +brightness. + + + + +BENDOURAIN, THE OTTER MOUNT. + + +Bendourain is a forest scene in the wilds of Glenorchy. The poem, or +lay, is descriptive, less of the forest, or its mountain fastnesses, +than of the habits of the creatures that tenant the locality--the +dun-deer, and the roe. So minutely enthusiastic is the hunter's +treatment of his theme, that the attempt to win any favour for his +performance from the Saxon reader, is attended with no small +risk,--although it is possible that a little practice with the rifle in +any similar wilderness may propitiate even the holiday sportsman +somewhat in favour of the subject and its minute details. We must commit +this forest minstrel to the good-nature of other readers, entreating +them only to render due acknowledgment to the forbearance which has, in +the meantime, troubled them only with the first half of the performance, +and with a single stanza of the finale. The composition is always +rehearsed or sung to pipe music, of which it is considered, by those who +understand the original, a most extraordinary echo, besides being in +other respects a very powerful specimen of Gaelic minstrelsy. + + + URLAR. + + The noble Otter hill! + It is a chieftain Beinn,[109] + Ever the fairest still + Of all these eyes have seen. + Spacious is his side; + I love to range where hide, + In haunts by few espied, + The nurslings of his den. + In the bosky shade + Of the velvet glade, + Couch, in softness laid, + The nimble-footed deer; + To see the spotted pack, + That in scenting never slack, + Coursing on their track, + Is the prime of cheer. + Merry may the stag be, + The lad that so fairly + Flourishes the russet coat + That fits him so rarely. + 'Tis a mantle whose wear + Time shall not tear; + 'Tis a banner that ne'er + Sees its colours depart: + And when they seek his doom, + Let a man of action come, + A hunter in his bloom, + With rifle not untried: + A notch'd, firm fasten'd flint, + To strike a trusty dint, + And make the gun-lock glint + With a flash of pride. + Let the barrel be but true, + And the stock be trusty too, + So, Lightfoot,[110] though he flew, + Shall be purple-dyed. + He should not be novice bred, + But a marksman of first head, + By whom that stag is sped, + In hill-craft not unskill'd; + So, when Padraig of the glen + Call'd his hounds and men, + The hill spake back again, + As his orders shrill'd; + Then was firing snell, + And the bullets rain'd like hail, + And the red-deer fell + Like warrior on the field. + + + SIUBHAL. + + Oh, the young doe so frisky, + So coy, and so fair, + That gambols so briskly, + And snuffs up the air; + And hurries, retiring, + To the rocks that environ, + When foemen are firing, + And bullets are there. + Though swift in her racing, + Like the kinsfolk before her, + No heart-burst, unbracing + Her strength, rushes o'er her. + 'Tis exquisite hearing + Her murmur, as, nearing, + Her mate comes careering, + Her pride, and her lover;-- + He comes--and her breathing + Her rapture is telling; + How his antlers are wreathing, + His white haunch, how swelling! + High chief of Bendorain, + He seems, as adoring + His hind, he comes roaring + To visit her dwelling. + 'Twere endless my singing + How the mountain is teeming + With thousands, that bringing + Each a high chief's[111] proud seeming, + With his hind, and her gala + Of younglings, that follow + O'er mountain and beala,[112] + All lightsome are beaming. + When that lightfoot so airy, + Her race is pursuing, + Oh, what vision saw e'er a + Feat of flight like her doing? + She springs, and the spreading grass + Scarce feels her treading, + It were fleet foot that sped in + Twice the time that she flew in. + The gallant array! + How the marshes they spurn, + In the frisk of their play, + And the wheelings they turn,-- + As the cloud of the mind + They would distance behind, + And give years to the wind, + In the pride of their scorn! + 'Tis the marrow of health + In the forest to lie, + Where, nooking in stealth, + They enjoy her[113] supply,-- + Her fosterage breeding + A race never needing, + Save the milk of her feeding, + From a breast never dry. + Her hill-grass they suckle, + Her mammets[114] they swill, + And in wantonness chuckle + O'er tempest and chill; + With their ankles so light, + And their girdles[115] of white, + And their bodies so bright + With the drink of the rill. + Through the grassy glen sporting + In murmurless glee, + Nor snow-drift nor fortune + Shall urge them to flee, + Save to seek their repose + In the clefts of the knowes, + And the depths of the howes + Of their own Eas-an-ti.[116] + + + URLAR. + + In the forest den, the deer + Makes, as best befits, his lair, + Where is plenty, and to spare, + Of her grassy feast. + There she browses free + On herbage of the lea, + Or marsh grass, daintily, + Until her haunch is greased. + Her drink is of the well, + Where the water-cresses swell, + Nor with the flowing shell + Is the toper better pleased. + The bent makes nobler cheer, + Or the rashes of the mere, + Than all the creagh that e'er + Gave surfeit to a guest. + Come, see her table spread; + The _sorach_[117] sweet display'd + The _ealvi_,[118] and the head + Of the daisy stem; + The _dorach_[119] crested, sleek, + And ringed with many a streak, + Presents her pastures meek, + Profusely by the stream. + Such the luxuries + That plump their noble size, + And the herd entice + To revel in the howes. + Nobler haunches never sat on + Pride of grease, than when they batten + On the forest links, and fatten + On the herbs of their carouse. + Oh, 'tis pleasant, in the gloaming, + When the supper-time + Calls all their hosts from roaming, + To see their social prime; + And when the shadows gather, + They lair on native heather, + Nor shelter from the weather + Need, but the knolls behind. + Dread or dark is none; + Their 's the mountain throne, + Height and slope their own, + The gentle mountain kind; + Pleasant is the grace + Of their hue, and dappled dress, + And an ark in their distress, + In Bendorain dear they find. + + + SIUBHAL. + + So brilliant thy hue + With tendril and flow'ret, + The grace of the view, + What land can o'erpower it? + Thou mountain of beauty, + Methinks it might suit thee, + The homage of beauty + To claim as a queen. + What needs it? Adoring + Thy reign, we see pouring + The wealth of their store in + Already, I ween. + The seasons--scarce roll'd once, + Their gifts are twice told-- + And the months, they unfold + On thy bosom their dower, + With profusion so rare, + Ne'er was clothing so fair, + Nor was jewelling e'er + Like the bud and the flower + Of the groves on thy breast, + Where rejoices to rest + His magnificent crest, + The mountain-cock, shrilling + In quick time, his note; + And the clans of the grot + With melody's note, + Their numbers are trilling. + No foot can compare, + In the dance of the green, + With the roebuck's young heir; + And here he is seen + With his deftness of speed, + And his sureness of tread, + And his bend of the head, + And his freedom of spring! + Over corrie careers he, + The wood-cover clears he, + And merrily steers he + With bound, and with fling,-- + As he spurns from his stern + The heather and fern, + And dives in the dern[120] + Of the wilderness deep; + Or, anon, with a strain, + And a twang of each vein + He revels amain + 'Mid the cliffs of the steep. + With the burst of a start + When the flame of his heart + Impels to depart, + How he distances all! + Two bounds at a leap, + The brown hillocks to sweep, + His appointment to keep + With the doe, at her call. + With her following, the roe + From the danger of ken + Couches inly, and low, + In the haunts of the glen; + Ever watchful to hear, + Ever active to peer, + Ever deft to career,-- + All ear, vision, and limb. + And though Cult[121] and Cuchullin, + With their horses and following, + Should rush to her dwelling, + And our prince[122] in his trim, + They might vainly aspire + Without rifle and fire + To ruffle or nigh her, + Her mantle to dim. + Stark-footed, lively, + Ever capering naively + With motion alive, aye, + And wax-white, in shine, + When her startle betrays + That the hounds are in chase, + The same as the base + Is the rocky decline-- + She puffs from her chest, + And she ambles her crest + And disdain is express'd + In her nostril and eye;-- + That eye--how it winks! + Like a sunbeam it blinks, + And it glows, and it sinks, + And is jealous and shy! + A mountaineer lynx, + Like her race that 's gone by. + + + CRUNLUATH (FINALE). + + Her lodge is in the valley--here + No huntsman, void of notion, + Should hurry on the fallow deer, + But steal on her with caution;-- + With wary step and watchfulness + To stalk her to her resting place, + Insures the gallant wight's success, + Before she is in motion. + The hunter bold should follow then, + By bog, and rock, and hollow, then, + And nestle in the gulley, then, + And watch with deep devotion + The shadows on the benty grass, + And how they come, and how they pass; + Nor must he stir, with gesture rash, + To quicken her emotion. + With nerve and eye so wary, sir, + That straight his piece may carry, sir, + He marks with care the quarry, sir, + The muzzle to repose on; + And now, the knuckle is applied, + The flint is struck, the priming tried, + Is fired, the volley has replied, + And reeks in high commotion;-- + Was better powder ne'er to flint, + Nor trustier wadding of the lint-- + And so we strike a telling dint, + Well done, my own Nic-Coisean![123] + + +[109] Anglicised into _Ben_. + +[110] The deer. + +[111] Stag of the first head. + +[112] Pass. + +[113] Any one who has heard a native attempt the Lowland tongue for the +first time, is familiar with the personification that turns every +inanimate object into _he_ or _she_. The forest is here happily +personified as a nurse or mother. + +[114] Bog-holes. + +[115] Stripings. + +[116] _Gaelic_--Easan-an-tsith. + +[117] Primrose. + +[118] St John's wort. + +[119] A kind of cress, or marshmallow. + +[120] _Anglice_--dark. + +[121] _Gaelic_--Caoillt; who, with Cuchullin, makes a figure in +traditional Gaelic poetry. + +[122] _Gaelic_--King George. + +[123] Literally--"From the barrel of Nic-Coisean." This was the poet's +favourite gun, to which his muse has addressed a separate song of +considerable merit. + + + + +THE BARD TO HIS MUSKET.[124] + + Macintyre acted latterly as a constable of the City Guard of + Edinburgh, a situation procured him by the Earl of Breadalbane, at + his own special request; that benevolent nobleman having inquired + of the bard what he could do for him to render him independent in + his now advanced years. His salary as a peace-officer was sixpence + a-day; but the poet was so abundantly satisfied with the attainment + of his position and endowments, that he gave expression to his + feelings of satisfaction in a piece of minstrelsy, which in the + original ranks among his best productions. Of this ode we are + enabled to present a faithful metrical translation, quite in the + spirit of the original, as far as conversion of the Gaelic into the + Scottish idiom is practicable. The version was kindly undertaken at + our request by Mr William Sinclair, the ingenious author of "Poems + of the Fancy and the Affections," who has appropriately adapted it + to the lively tune, "Alister M'Alister." The song, remarks Mr + Sinclair, is much in the spirit, though in a more humorous strain, + of the famous Sword Song, beginning in the translation, "Come + forth, my glittering Bride," composed by Theodore Körner of + Dresden, and the last and most remarkable of his patriotic + productions, wherein the soldier addresses his sword as his bride, + thereby giving expression to the most glowing sentiments of + patriotism. Macintyre addresses as his wife the musket which he + carried as an officer of the guard; and is certainly as + enthusiastic in praise of his new acquisition, as ever was + love-sick swain in eulogy of the most attractive fair one. + + + Oh! mony a turn of woe and weal + May happen to a Highlan' man; + Though he fall in love he soon may feel + He cannot get the fancied one; + The first I loved in time that 's past, + I courted twenty years, ochone! + But she forsook me at the last, + And Duncan then was left alone. + + To Edinbro' I forthwith hied + To seek a sweetheart to my mind, + An', if I could, to find a bride + For the fause love I left behind; + Said Captain Campbell of the Guard, + "I ken a widow secretly, + An' I 'll try, as she 's no that ill faur'd, + To put her, Duncan, in your way." + + As was his wont, I trow, did he + Fulfil his welcome promise true, + He gave the widow unto me, + And all her portion with her too; + And whosoe'er may ask her name, + And her surname also may desire, + They call her Janet[125]--great her fame-- + An' 'twas George who was her grandsire. + + She 's quiet, an' affable, an' free, + No vexing gloom or look at hand, + As high in rank and in degree + As any lady in the land; + She 's my support and my relief, + Since e'er she join'd me, any how; + Great is the cureless cause of grief + To him who has not got her now! + + Nic-Coisean[126] I 've forsaken quite, + Altho' she liveth still at ease-- + An' allow the crested stags to fight + And wander wheresoe'er they please, + A young wife I have chosen now, + Which I repent not any where, + I am not wanting wealth, I trow, + Since ever I espoused the fair. + + I pass my word of honour bright-- + Most excellent I do her call; + In her I ne'er, in any light, + Discover'd any fault at all. + She is stately, fine, an' straight, an' sound, + Without a hidden fault, my friend; + In her, defect I never found, + Nor yet a blemish, twist, or bend. + + When needy folk are pinch'd, alas! + For money in a great degree; + Ah, George's daughter--generous lass-- + Ne'er lets my pockets empty be; + She keepeth me in drink, and stays + By me in ale-houses and all, + An' at once, without a word, she pays + For every stoup I choose to call! + + An' every turn I bid her do + She does it with a willing grace; + She never tells me aught untrue, + Nor story false, with lying face; + She keeps my rising family + As well as I could e'er desire, + Although no labour I do try, + Nor dirty work for love or hire. + + I labour'd once laboriously, + Although no riches I amass'd; + A menial I disdain'd to be, + An' keep my vow unto the last. + I have ceased to labour in the lan', + Since e'er I noticed to my wife, + That the idle and contented man + Endureth to the longest life. + + 'Tis my musket--loving wife, indeed-- + In whom I faithfully believe, + She 's able still to earn my bread, + An' Duncan she will ne'er deceive; + I 'll have no lack of linens fair, + An' plenty clothes to serve my turn, + An' trust me that all worldly care + Now gives me not the least concern. + + +[124] The "Auld Town Guard" of Edinburgh, which existed before the +Police Acts came into operation, was composed principally of +Highlandmen, some of them old pensioners. Their rendezvous, or place of +resort, was in the vicinity of old St Giles's Church, where they might +generally be found smoking, snuffing, and speaking in the true Highland +vernacular. Archie Campbell, celebrated by Macintyre as "Captain +Campbell," was the last, and a favourable specimen of this class of +civic functionaries. He was a stout, tall man; and, dressed in his "knee +breeks and buckles, wi' the red-necked coat, and the cocked hat," he +considered himself of no ordinary importance. He had a most thorough +contempt for grammar, and looked upon the Lord Provost as the greatest +functionary in the world. He delighted to be called "the Provost's +right-hand man." Archie is still well remembered by many of the +inhabitants of Edinburgh, as he was quite a character in the city. In +dealing with a prisoner, Archie used to impress him with the idea that +he could do great things for him by merely speaking to "his honour the +Provost;" and when locking a prisoner up in the Tolbooth, he would say +sometimes--"There, my lad, I cannot do nothing more for you!" He took +care to give his friends from the Highlands a magnificent notion of his +great personal consequence, which, of course, they aggrandised when they +returned to the hills. + +[125] A byeword for a regimental firelock. + +[126] A favourite fowling-piece, alluded to in Bendourain, and +elsewhere. + + + + +JOHN MACODRUM. + + +Jan Macodrum, the Bard of Uist, was patronised by an eminent judge of +merit, Sir James Macdonald of Skye,--of whom, after a distinguished +career at Oxford, such expectations were formed, that on his premature +death at Rome he was lamented as the Marcellus of Scotland. + +Macodrum's name is cited in the Ossianic controversy, upon Sir James's +report, as a person whose mind was stored with Ossianic poetry, of which +Macpherson gave to the world the far-famed specimens. A humorous story +is told of Macodrum (who was a noted humorist) having trifled a little +with the translator when he applied for a sample of the old Fingalian, +in the words, "Hast thou got anything of, or on, (equivalent in Gaelic +to _hast thou anything to get of_) the Fingalian heroes?" "If I have," +quoth Macodrum, "I fear it is now irrecoverable." + +Macodrum, whose real patronymic is understood to have been Macdonald, +lived to lament his patron in elegiac strains--a fact that brings the +time in which he flourished down to 1766. + +His poem entitled the "Song of Age," is admired by his countrymen for +its rapid succession of images (a little too mixed or abrupt on some +occasions), its descriptive power, and its neatness and flow of +versification. + + + + +ORAN NA H-AOIS, + +THE SONG OF AGE. + + + Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay, + The notes would betray the languor of woe; + My heart is o'erthrown, like the rush of the stone + That, unfix'd from its throne, seeks the valley below. + The _veteran of war_, that knows not to spare, + And offers us ne'er the respite of peace, + Resistless comes on, and we yield with a groan, + For under the sun is no hope of release. + 'Tis a sadness I ween, how the glow and the sheen + Of the rosiest mien from their glory subside; + How hurries the hour on our race, that shall lower + The arm of our power, and the step of our pride. + As scatter and fail, on the wing of the gale, + The mist of the vale, and the cloud of the sky, + So, dissolving our bliss, comes the hour of distress, + Old age, with that face of aversion to joy. + Oh! heavy of head, and silent as lead, + And unbreathed as the dead, is the person of Age; + Not a joint, not a nerve--so prostrate their verve-- + In the contest shall serve, or the feat to engage. + To leap with the best, or the billow to breast, + Or the race prize to wrest, were but effort in vain; + On the message of death pours an Egypt of wrath,[127] + The fever's hot breath, the dart-shot of pain. + Ah, desolate eld! the wretch that is held + By thy grapple, must yield thee his dearest supplies; + The friends of our love at thy call must remove,-- + What boots how they strove from thy bands to arise? + They leave us, deplore as it wills us,--our store, + Our strength at the core, and our vigour of mind; + Remembrance forsakes us, distraction o'ertakes us, + Every love that awakes us, we leave it behind. + Thou spoiler of grace, that changest the face + To hasten its race on the route to the tomb, + To whom nothing is dear, unaffection'd the ear, + Emotion is sere, and expression is dumb; + Of spirit how void, thy passions how cloy'd, + Thy pith how destroy'd, and thy pleasure how gone! + To the pang of thy cries not an echo replies, + Even sympathy dies--and thy helper is none. + We see thee how stripp'd of each bloom that equipp'd + Thy flourish, till nipp'd the winter thy rose; + Till the spoiler made bare the scalp of the hair, + And the ivory[128] tare from its sockets' repose. + Thy skinny, thy cold, thy visageless mould, + Its disgust is untold, and its surface is dim; + What a signal of wrack is the wrinkle's dull track, + And the bend of the back, and the limp of the limb! + Thou leper of fear--thou niggard of cheer-- + Where glory is dear, shall thy welcome be found? + Thou contempt of the brave--oh, rather the grave, + Than to pine as the slave that thy fetters have bound. + Like the dusk of the day is thy colour of gray, + Thou foe of the lay, and thou phantom of gloom; + Thou bane of delight--when thy shivering plight, + And thy grizzle of white,[129] and thy crippleness, come + To beg at the door; ah, woe for the poor, + And the greeting unsure that grudges their bread; + All unwelcome they call--from the hut to the hall + The confession of all is, "_'Tis time he were dead_!" + +The picturesque portion of the description here terminates. With respect +to the moral and religious application, it is but just to the poet to +say, that before the close he appeals in pathetic terms to the young, +warning them not to boast of their strength, or to abuse it; and that he +concludes his lay with the sentiment, that whatever may be the ills of +"age," there are worse that await an unrepenting death, and a suffering +eternity. + + +[127] Alluding to the plagues. + +[128] The teeth. + +[129] _Gaelic_--Matted, rough, gray beard. + + + + +NORMAN MACLEOD; + +OR, TORMAID BAN. + + +Single-speech Hamilton may be said to have had his _marrow_ in a +Highland bard, nearly his contemporary, whose one effort was attended +with more lasting popularity than the sole oration of that celebrated +person. The clan song of the Mackenzies is the composition in question, +and its author is now ascertained to have been a gentleman, or farmer of +the better class, of the name of Norman Macleod, a native of Assynt[130] +in Sutherland. The most memorable particular known of this person, +besides the production of his poetic effort, is his having been the +father of a Glasgow professor,[131] whom we remember occupying the chair +of Church History in the university in very advanced age, about 1814, +assisted by a helper and successor; and of another son, who was the +respected minister of Rogart till towards the end of last century. + +The date of "Caberfae" is not exactly ascertained. It was composed +during the exile of Lord Seaforth, but, we imagine, before the '45, in +which he did not take part, and while Macshimei (Lord Lovat) still +passed for a Whig. In Mackenzie's excellent collection (p. 361), a +later date is assigned to the production. + +The Seaforth tenantry, who (after the manner of the clans) privately +supported their chief in his exile, appear to have been much aggrieved +by some proceedings of the loyalist, Monro of Fowlis, who, along with +his neighbour of Culloden and Lovat, were probably acting under +government commission, in which the interests of the crown were seconded +by personal or family antagonism. The loyal family of Sutherland, who +seem by grant or lease to have had an interest in the estates, also come +in for a share of the bard's resentment. + +All this forms the subject of "Caberfae," which, without having much +meaning or poetry, served, like the celebrated "Lillibulero," to animate +armies, and inflame party spirit to a degree that can scarcely be +imagined. The repetition of "the Staghead, when rises his cabar on," +which concludes every strophe, is enough at any time to bring a +Mackenzie to his feet, or into the forefront of battle,--being a simple +allusion to the Mackenzie crest, allegorised into an emblem of the stag +at bay, or ready in his ire to push at his assailant. The cabar is the +horn, or, rather, the "tine of the first-head,"--no ignoble emblem, +certainly, of clannish fury and impetuosity. The difficulty of the +measure compels us to the use of certain metrical freedoms, and also of +some Gaelic words, for which is craved the reader's indulgence. + + +[130] In Stat. Ac. said to be of Lochbroom, vol. xiv., p. 79. + +[131] Hugh Macleod. + + + + +CABERFAE, + +THE STAGHEAD.[132] + + + A health to Caberfae, + A toast, and a cheery one, + That soon return he may, + Though long and far his tarrying. + The death of shame befal me, + Be riven off my eididh[133] too, + But my fancy hears thy call--we + Should all be _up and ready, O_! + 'Tis I have seen thy weapon keen, + Thine arm, inaction scorning, + Assign their dues to the Munroes, + Their _welcome_ in the morning. + Nor stood the Cátach[134] to his bratach[135] + For dread of a belabouring, + When up gets the Staghead, + And raises his cabar on. + + Woe to the man of Folais,[136] + When he to fight must challenge thee; + Nor better fared the Roses[137] + That lent _Monro_ their valiancy. + The Granndach[138] and the Frazer,[139] + They tarried not the melee in; + Fled Forbes,[140] in dismay, sir, + Culloden-wards, undallying. + Away they ran, while firm remain, + Not one to three, retiring so, + The earl,[141] the craven, took to haven, + Scarce a pistol firing, O! + Mackay[142] of Spoils, his heart recoils, + He cries in haste his cabul[143] on, + He flies--as soars the Staghead, + And raises his cabar on. + + Like feather'd creatures flying, + That in the hill-mist shiver, + In haste for refuge hieing, + To the meadow or the river-- + So, port they sought, and took to boat, + Bewailing what had happened them, + To trust was rash, the missing flash + Of the rusty guns that weapon'd them. + The coracle of many a skull, + The relics of his neighbour, on, + Monro retreats[144]--for Staghead + Is raising his cabar on. + + I own my expectation,-- + 'Tis this has roused my apathy, + That He who rules creation + May change the dismal hap of thee, + And hasten to restore thee + In safety from thy danger, + To thine own, in joy and glory, + To save us from the stranger. + With princely grace to give redress, + Nor a taunt to suffer back again; + The fell Monro has felt thy blow, + And should he dare attack again, + Then as he flew, he 'll run anew, + The flames to quench he 'll labour on, + Of castle fired--when Staghead + High raises his cabar on! + + I 've seen thee o'er the lowly, + A gracious chieftain ever, + The Cátach[145] self below thee, + And the Gallach[145] cower'd for cover; + But ever more their striving, + When claim'd respect thine eye, + Thy scourge corrected, driving + To other lands to fly. + Thy loyal crew of clansmen true, + No panic fear shall turn them, + With steel-cap, blade, and _skene_ array'd, + Their banning foes they spurn them. + Clan-Shimei[146] then may dare them, + They 'll fly, had each a sabre on, + Needs but a look--when Staghead + Once raises his cabar on. + + Mounts not the wing a fouler thing, + Than thy vaunted crest, the eagle,[147] O! + Inglorious chief! to boast the thief, + That forays with the beagle, O! + For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird![148] + My song shall raise the mountain-deer; + The prey he scorns, the carcase spurns, + He loves the cress, the fountain cheer. + His lodge is in the forest;-- + While carion-flesh enticing + Thy greedy maw, thou buriest + Thou kite of prey! thy claws in + The putrid corse of famish'd horse, + The greedy hound a-striving + To rival thee in gluttony, + Both at the bowels riving. + Thou called the _true bird_![149]--Never, + Thou foster child of evil,[150] ha! + How ill match with thy feather[151] + The talons[152] of thy devilry! + But when thy foray preys on + Our harmless flocks, so dastardly, + How often has the shepherd + With trusty baton master'd thee; + Well in thy fright hast timed thy flight, + Else, not alone, belabouring, + He 'd gored thee with the Staghead, + Up-raising his cabar on.[153] + + Woe worth the world, deceiver-- + So false, so fair of seeming! + We 've seen the noble Siphort[154] + With all his war-notes[155] screaming; + When not a chief in Albain, + Mac-Ailein's[156] self though backing him, + Could face his frown--as Staghead + Arose with his cabar on. + + To join thy might, when call'd the right, + A gallant army springing on, + Would rise, from Assint to the crags + Of Scalpa, rescue bringing on. + Each man upon, true-flinted gun, + Steel glaive, and trusty dagaichean; + With the Island Lord of Sleitè,[157] + When up rose thy cabar on! + + Came too the men of Muideart,[158] + While stream'd their flag its bravery; + Their gleaming weapons, blue-dyed,[159] + That havock'd on the cavalry. + Macalister,[160] Mackinnon, + With many a flashing trigger there, + The foemen rushing in on, + Resistless shew'd their vigour there. + May fortune free thee--may we see thee + Again in Bràun,[161] the turreted, + Girt with thy clan! And not a man + But will get the scorn he merited. + Then wine will play, and usquebae + From flaggons, and from badalan,[162] + And pipers scream--when Staghead + High raises his cabar on. + + +[132] Applicable both to the chief and his crest. + +[133] Literally, "_the dress_," (pron. _eidi_,) _i.e._, Highland garb, +not yet abolished. + +[134] Sutherlanders, or Caithness men. + +[135] Banner. + +[136] Monro of Fowlis. + +[137] Rose of Kilravock and his clan. + +[138] Grant of Grant. + +[139] Lovat. + +[140] Of Culloden. + +[141] Of Sutherland. + +[142] Lord Reay. + +[143] Steed. The Celtic "Cabul" and Latin "Caballus" correspond. + +[144] Here the bard is a little obscure; but he seems to mean that the +Monroes made their escape over the skulls of the dead, as if they were +boats or coracles by which to cross or get away from danger. + +[145] The Caithness and Sutherland men. + +[146] Lovat's men. + +[147] The eagle being the crest of the Monro. + +[148] The _eagle_; the crest of Monro of Fowlis. The filthy and cruel +habits of this predatory bird are here contrasted with the +forest-manners of the stag in a singular specimen of clan vituperation. + +[149] _Fioreun_, the name of the eagle, signifying true bird. + +[150] Literally--Accursed by Moses, or the Mosaic law. + +[151] The single eagle's feather crested the chieftain's bonnet. + +[152] Literally--If thy feather is noble, thy claws are (of) the devil! + +[153] This picture of the eagle is not much for edification--nor another +hit at the lion of the Macdonalds, then at feud with the Seaforth. The +former is abridged, and the latter omitted; as also a lively detail of +the _creagh_, in which the Monroes are reproached with their spoilages +of cheese, butter, and winter-mart beef. + +[154] Seaforth. + +[155] Literally--Bagpipes. + +[156] Macallammore: Argyle. + +[157] Macdonald of Sleat. + +[158] Clanranald's country. + +[159] Literally--Of blue steel. + +[160] Mac-Mhic-Alister, the patronymic of Glengary. + +[161] Castle Brahan, Seaforth's seat. + +[162] _Gaelic_--Barrels of liquor, properly _bùidealan_. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_A-low_, on fire. + +_Ava_, at all. + +_Ayont_, beyond. + +_Ban_, swear. + +_Bang_, to change place hastily. + +_Bangster_, a violent person. + +_Bawks_, the cross-beams of a roof. + +_Bein_, good, suitable. + +_Bicker_, a dish for holding liquor. + +_Boddle_, an old Scottish coin--value the third of a penny. + +_Boggie_, a marsh. + +_Brag_, vaunt. + +_Braw_, gaily dressed. + +_Busk_, to attire oneself. + +_Buss_, bush. + +_Cantie_, cheerful. + +_Castocks_, the pith of stalks of cabbages. + +_Caw_, to drive. + +_Chat_, talk. + +_Chuckies_, chickens. + +_Chuffy_, clownish. + +_Clavering_, talking idly. + +_Cleeding_, clothing. + +_Clishmaclavers_, idle talk. + +_Clocksie_, vivacious. + +_Cock-up_, a hat or cap turned up before. + +_Coft_, purchased. + +_Cogie_, a hollow wooden vessel. + +_Coozy_, warm. + +_Cosie_, snug, comfortable. + +_Cowt_, cattle. + +_Creel_, a basket. + +_Croft_, a tenement of land. + +_Croon_, to make a plaintive sound. + +_Crouse_, brisk. + +_Crusie_, a small lamp. + +_Cuddle_, embrace. + +_Curpin_, the crupper of a saddle. + +_Cuttie_, a short pipe. + +_Daff_, sport. + +_Daut_, caress. + +_Daud_, blow. + +_Daunder_, to walk thoughtlessly. + +_Dautit_, fondled. + +_Dirdum_, tumult. + +_Disjasket_, having appearance of decay. + +_Doited_, stupid. + +_Dool_, grief. + +_Dorty_, a foolish urchin. + +_Douf_, dull. + +_Dowie_, sad. + +_Draigle_, draggle. + +_Dringing_, delaying. + +_Drone_, sound of bagpipes. + +_Dung_, defeated. + +_Eerie_, timorous. + +_Eident_, wary. + +_Elf_, a puny creature. + +_Fashious_, troublesome. + +_Fauld_, a fold. + +_Ferlies_, remarkable things. + +_Fleyt_, frightened. + +_Fogie_, a stupid old person. + +_Foumart_, a pole-cat. + +_Fraise_, flattery. + +_Frumpish_, crumpled. + +_Gabbit_, a person prone to idle talk. + +_Gart_, compelled. + +_Giggle_, unmeaning laughter. + +_Gin_, if. + +_Girse_, grass. + +_Glaikit_, stupid. + +_Glamrie_, the power of enchantment. + +_Glower_, stare. + +_Grusome_, frightful. + +_Grist_, the fee paid at the mill for grinding. + +_Gutchir_, grandfather. + +_Gutters_, mud, wet dust. + +_Hain_, save, preserve. + +_Hap_, cover. + +_Havens_, endowments. + +_Henny_, honey, a familiar term of affection among the peasantry. + +_Hinkum_, that which is put up in hanks or balls, as thread. + +_Howe_, a hollow. + +_Hyne_, hence. + +_Kail_, cabbages, colewort. + +_Kebbuck_, a cheese. + +_Keil_, red clay, used for marking. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Kenspeckle_, having a singular appearance. + +_Leal_, honest, faithful. + +_Leese me_, pleased am I with. + +_Lyart_, gray-haired. + +_Loof_, the palm of the hand. + +_Lowin_, warm. + +_Lucky, A_, an old woman. + +_Luntin_, smoking. + +_Mailin_, a farm. + +_Maukin_, a hare. + +_Mirk_, dark. + +_Mishanter_, a sorry scrape. + +_Mittens_, gloves without fingers. + +_Mouldie_, crumbling. + +_Mouls_, the earth of the grave. + +_Mows_, easy. + +_Mutch_, a woman's cap. + +_Neip_, a turnip. + +_Neive_, the closed fist. + +_Nippen_, carried off surreptitiously. + +_Ouk_, week. + +_Owerlay_, a cravat. + +_Perk_, push. + +_Perlins_, women's ornaments. + +_Poortith_, poverty. + +_Preed_, tasted. + +_Randy_, a scold, a shrew. + +_Rate_, slander. + +_Rink_, run about. + +_Routh_, abundance. + +_Rummulgumshin_, common sense. + +_Sabbit_, sobbed. + +_Scant_, scarce. + +_Scartle_, a graip or fork. + +_Scrimply_, barely. + +_Scug_, shelter. + +_Seer_, sure. + +_Shaw_, a plantation. + +_Shiel_, a sheep shed. + +_Skeigh_, timorous. + +_Skiffin_, moving lightly. + +_Smeddum_, sagacity. + +_Snooded_, the hair bound up. + +_Spaewife,_ a female fortune-teller. + +_Spence_, a larder. + +_Steenies_, guineas. + +_Sud_, should. + +_Sumph_, a soft person. + +_Swankie_, a clever young fellow. + +_Sweir_, indolent. + +_Syne_, then. + +_Tabbit_, benumbed. + +_Tapsle-teerie_, topsyturvy. + +_Ted_, toad. + +_Thairms_, strings. + +_Thowless_, thoughtless. + +_Thraw_, twist. + +_Tint_, lost. + +_Tirl_, to uncover. + +_Tocher_, dowry. + +_Toss_, toast. + +_Towmond_, a year. + +_Trig_, neat, trim. + +_Tryst_, appointment. + +_Tyced_, made diversion. + +_Vauntit_, boasted. + +_Weel_, will. + +_Whigmigmorum_, political ranting. + +_Wile_, choice. + +_Wist_, wished. + +_Wizen_, the throat. + +_Wow_, vow. + + +EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. II. + + +ALTRIVE. +_THE RESIDENCE OF THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD._ + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +[Signature: James Hogg] + +THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD + +Lithographed from an original Portrait in the possession of his widow +by Schenck & McFarlane, Edinburgh.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL. II. + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +M.DCCC.LVI. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +JOHN BROWN, ESQ., OF MARLIE. + +My dear Sir, + +I dedicate to you this second volume of "THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL," +as a sincere token of my estimation of your long continued and most +disinterested friendship, and of the anxiety you have so frequently +evinced respecting the promotion of my professional views and literary +aspirations. + +I have the honour to be, + My dear Sir, + your most obliged, + and very faithful servant, + CHARLES ROGERS. + +Argyle House, Stirling, + _December 1855._ + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +TO + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.[1] + + +The suspicion which arose in regard to the authenticity of Ossian, +subsequent to his appearance in the pages of Macpherson, has unjustly +excited a misgiving respecting the entire poetry of the Gael. With +reference to the elder poetry of the Highlands, it has now been +established[2] that at the period of the Reformation, the natives were +engrossed with the lays and legends of Bards and Seanachies,[3] of which +Ossian, Caoillt, and Cuchullin were the heroes. These romantic strains +continued to be preserved and recited with singular veneration. They +were familiar to hundreds in different districts who regarded them as +relics of their ancestors, and would as soon have mingled the bones of +their fathers with the dust of strangers, as ventured on the alteration +of a single passage. Many of the reciters of this elder poetry were +writers of verses,[4] yet there is no instance of any attempt to alter +or supersede the originals. Nor could any attempt have succeeded. There +are specimens which exist, independent of those collected by Macpherson, +which present a peculiarity of form, and a Homeric consistency of +imagery, distinct from every other species of Gaelic poetry. + +Of an uncertain era, but of a date posterior to the age of Ossian, there +is a class of compositions called _Ur-sgeula_,[5] or _new-tales_, which +may be termed the productions of the sub-Ossianic period. They are +largely blended with stories of dragons and other fabulous monsters; the +best of these compositions being romantic memorials of the +Hiberno-Celtic, or Celtic Scandinavian wars. The first translation from +the Gaelic was a legend of the _Ur-sgeula_. The translator was Ierome +Stone,[6] schoolmaster of Dunkeld, and the performance appeared in the +_Scots Magazine_ for 1700. The author had learned from the monks the +story of Bellerophon,[7] along with that of Perseus and Andromeda, and +from these materials fabricated a romance in which the hero is a +mythical character, who is supposed to have given name to Loch Fraoch, +near Dunkeld. Belonging to the same era is the "Aged Bard's Wish,"[8] a +composition of singular elegance and pathos, and remarkable for certain +allusions to the age and imagery of Ossian. This has frequently been +translated. Somewhat in the Ossianic style, but of the period of the +_Ur-sgeula_ are two popular pieces entitled _Mordubh_[9] and _Collath_. +Of these productions the imagery is peculiarly illustrative of the +character and habits of the ancient Gael, while they are replete with +incidents of the wars which the Albyn had waged with their enemies of +Scandinavia. To the same period we are disposed to assign the "Song of +the Owl," though it has been regarded by a respectable authority[10] as +of modern origin. Of a portion of this celebrated composition we subjoin +a metrical translation from the pen of Mr William Sinclair. + + The Bard, expelled from the dwellings of men by + plunderers according to one account, by a discontented + helpmate according to another, is placed in a lone + out-house, where he meets an owl which he supposes + himself to engage in an interchange of sentiment + respecting the olden time:-- + + +HUNTER. + + O wailing owl of Strona's vale! + We wonder not thy night's repose + Is mournful, when with Donegal + In distant years thou first arose: + O lonely bird! we wonder not, + For time the strongest heart can bow, + That thou should'st heave a mournful note, + Or that thy sp'rit is heavy now! + +OWL. + + Thou truly sayest I lone abide, + I lived with yonder ancient oak, + Whose spreading roots strike deep and wide + Amidst the moss beside the rock; + And long, long years have gone at last, + And thousand moons have o'er me stole, + And many a race before me past, + Still I am Strona's lonely owl! + +HUNTER. + + Now, since old age has come o'er thee, + Confess, as to a priest, thy ways; + And fearless tell thou unto me + The glorious tales of bygone days. + +OWL. + + Rapine and falsehood ne'er I knew, + Nor grave nor temples e'er have torn, + My youthful mate still found me true-- + Guiltless am I although forlorn! + I 've seen brave Britto's son, the wild, + The powerful champion, Fergus, too, + Gray-haired Foradden, Strona's child-- + These were the heroes great and true! + +HUNTER. + + Thou hast well began, but tell to me, + And say what further hast thou known! + E'er Donegal abode with thee, + In the Fersaid these all were gone! + +OWL. + + Great Alexander of the spears, + The mightiest chief of Albyn's race, + Oft have I heard his voice in cheers + From the green hill-side speed the chase; + I saw him after Angus brave-- + Nor less a noble warrior he-- + Fersaid his home, his work he gave + Unto the Mill of Altavaich. + +HUNTER. + + From wild Lochaber, then, the sword + With war's dread inroads swept apace; + Where, gloomy-brow'd and ancient bird, + Was then thy secret hiding-place? + +OWL. + + When the fierce sounds of terror burst, + And plunder'd herds were passing on, + I turn'd me from the sight accurst + Unto the craig Gunaoch lone; + Some of my kindred by the lands + Of Inch and Fersaid sought repose, + Some by Loch Laggan's lonely sands, + Where their lamenting cries arose! + +Here follows a noble burst of poetical fervour in praise of the lonely +rock, and the scenes of the huntsman's youth. The green plains, the wild +harts, the graceful beauty of the brown deer, and the roaring stag, with +the banners, ensigns, and streamers of the race of Cona,--all share in +the poet's admiration. The following constitutes the exordium of the +poem:-- + + Oh rock of my heart! for ever secure, + The rock where my childhood was cherish'd in love, + The haunt of the wild birds, the stream flowing pure, + And the hinds and the stags that in liberty rove; + The rock all encircled by sounds from the grove, + Oh, how I delighted to linger by thee, + When arose the wild cry of the hounds as they drove, + The herds of wild deer from their fastnesses free! + Loud scream'd the eagles around thee, I ween, + Sweet the cuckoos and the swans in their pride, + More cheering the kid-spotted fawns that were seen, + With their bleating, that sweetly arose by thy side, + I love thee, O wild rock of refuge! of showers, + Of the leaves and the cresses, all glorious to me, + Of the high grassy heights and the beautiful bowers + Afar from the smooth shelly brink of the sea! + +The termination of the Sub-Ossianic period brings us to another epoch in +the history of Gaelic poetry. The Bard was now the chieftain's retainer, +at home a crofter and pensioner,[11] abroad a follower of the camp. We +find him cheering the rowers of the galley, with his _birlinn_ chant, +and stirring on the fight with his _prosnuchadh catha_, or battle-song. +At the noted battle of Harlaw,[12] a piece was sung which has escaped +the wreck of that tremendous slaughter, and of contemporary poetry. It +is undoubtedly genuine; and the critics of Gaelic verse are unanimous in +ascribing to it every excellence which can belong either to alliterative +art, or musical excitement. Of the battle-hymn some splendid specimens +have been handed down; and these are to be regarded with an amount of +confidence, from the apparent ease with which the very long "Incitement +to Battle," in the "Garioch Battle-Storm," as Harlaw is called, was +remembered. Collections of favourite pieces began to be made in writing +about the period of the revival of letters. The researches of the +Highland Society brought to light a miscellany, embracing the poetical +labours of two contemporaries of rank, Sir Duncan Campbell[13] of +Glenurchay, and Lady Isabel Campbell. From this period the poet's art +degenerates into a sort of family chronicle. There were, however, +incidents which deserved a more affecting style of memorial; and this +appears in lays which still command the interest and draw forth the +tears of the Highlander. The story of the persecuted Clan Gregor +supplies many illustrations, such as the oft-chanted _Macgregor na +Ruara_,[14] and the mournful melodies of Janet Campbell.[15] In the +footsteps of these exciting subjects of poetry, came the inspiring +Montrose wars, which introduce to our acquaintance the more modern class +of bards; of these the most conspicuous is, Ian Lom[16] or Manntach. +This bard was a Macdonald; he hung on the skirts of armies, and at the +close of the battle sung the triumph or the wail, on the side of his +partisans.[17] To the presence of this person the clans are supposed to +have been indebted for much of the enthusiasm which led them to glory in +the wars of Montrose. His poetry only reaches mediocrity, but the +success which attended it led the chiefs to seek similar support in the +Jacobite wars; and very animated compositions were the result of their +encouragement. Mathieson, the family bard of Seaforth, Macvuirich, the +pensioner of Clanranald, and Hector the Lamiter, bard of M'Lean, were +pre-eminent in this department. The Massacre of Glencoe suggested +numerous elegies. There is one remarkable for pathos by a clansman who +had emigrated to the Isle of Muck, from which circumstance he is styled +"Am Bard Mucanach." + +The knights of Duart and Sleat, the chiefs of Clanranald and Glengarry, +the Lochaber seigniory of Lochiel, and the titled chivalry of Sutherland +and Seaforth,[18] formed subjects of poetic eulogy. Sir Hector Maclean, +Ailein Muideartach, and the lamented Sir James Macdonald obtained the +same tribute. The second of these Highland favourites could not make his +manly countenance, or stalwart arm, visible in hall, barge, or +battle,[19] without exciting the enthusiastic strain of the enamoured +muse of one sex, or of the admiring minstrel of the other. In this +department of poetry, some of the best proficients were women. Of these +Mary M'Leod, the contemporary of Ian Lom, is one of the most musical and +elegant. Her chief, _The M'Leod_, was the grand theme of her +inspiration. Dora Brown[20] sung a chant on the renowned Col-Kitto, as +he went forth against the Campbells to revenge the death of his father; +a composition conceived in a strain such as Helen Macgregor might have +struck up to stimulate to some deed of daring and vindictive enterprise. + +Of the modern poetry of the Gael, Macpherson has expressed himself +unfavourably; he regarded the modern Highlanders as being incapable of +estimating poetry otherwise than in the returning harmony of similar +sounds. They were seduced, he remarks, by the charms of rhyme; and +admired the strains of Ossian, not for the sublimity of the poetry, but +on account of the antiquity of the compositions, and the detail of facts +which they contained. On this subject a different opinion has been +expressed by Sir Walter Scott. "I cannot dismiss this story," he writes, +in his last introduction to his tale of the "Two Drovers," "without +resting attention for a moment on the light which has been thrown on the +character of the Highland Drover, since the time of its first +appearance, by the account of a drover poet, by name Robert Mackay, or, +as he was commonly called, Rob Donn, _i.e._, Brown Robert; and certain +specimens of his talents, published in the ninetieth number of the +_Quarterly Review_. The picture which that paper gives of the habits +and feelings of a class of persons with which the general reader would +be apt to associate no ideas but those of wild superstition and rude +manners, is in the highest degree interesting; and I cannot resist the +temptation of quoting two of the songs of this hitherto unheard-of poet +of humble life.... Rude and bald as these things appear in a verbal +translation, and rough as they might possibly appear, even were the +originals intelligible, we confess we are disposed to think they would +of themselves justify Dr Mackay (editor of Mackay's Poems) in placing +this herdsman-lover among the true sons of song." + +Of that department of the Gaelic Minstrelsy admired by Scott and +condemned by Macpherson, the English reader is presented in the present +work with specimens, to enable him to form his own judgment. These +specimens, it must however be remembered, not only labour under the +ordinary disadvantages of translations, but have been rendered from a +language which, in its poetry, is one of the least transfusible in the +world. Yet the effort which has been made to retain the spirit, and +preserve the rhythm and manner of the originals, may be sufficient to +establish that the honour of the Scottish Muse has not unworthily been +supported among the mountains of the Gael. Some of the compositions are +Jacobite, and are in the usual warlike strain of such productions, but +the majority sing of the rivalries of clans, the emulation of bards, the +jealousies of lovers, and the honour of the chiefs. They likewise abound +in pictures of pastoral imagery; are redolent of the heath and the +wildflower, and depict the beauties of the deer forest. + +The various kinds of Highland minstrelsy admit of simple classification. +The _Duan Mor_ is the epic song; its subdivisions are termed _duana_ or +_duanaga_. Strings of verse and incidents ([Greek: Rhapsôdia]) were intended to +form an epic history, and were combined by successive bards for that +purpose. The battle-song (_Prosnuchadh-catha_) was the next in +importance. The model of this variety is not to be found in any of the +Alcaic or Tyrtæan remains. It was a dithyrambic of the wildest and most +passionate enthusiasm, inciting to carnage and fury. Chanted in the +hearing of assembled armies, and sometimes sung before the van, it was +intended as an incitement to battle, and even calculated to stimulate +the courage of the general. The war-song of the Harlaw has been already +noticed; it is a rugged tissue of alliteration, every letter having a +separate division in the remarkable string of adjectives which are +connected to introduce a short exordium and grand finale. The _Jorram_, +or boat-song, some specimens of which attracted the attention of Dr +Johnson,[21] was a variety of the same class. In this, every measure was +used which could be made to time with an oar, or to mimic a wave, either +in motion or sound. Dr Johnson discovered in it the proceleusmatic song +of the ancients; it certainly corresponds in real usage with the poet's +description:-- + + "Stat margine puppis, + Qui voce alternos nautarum temperet ictus, + Et remis dictet sonitum pariterque relatis, + Ad numerum plaudet resonantia cærula tonsis." + +Alexander Macdonald excels in this description of verse. In a piece +called Clanranald's _Birlinn_, he has summoned his utmost efforts in +timing the circumstances of a voyage with suitable metres and +descriptions. A happy imitation of the boat-song has been rendered +familiar to the English reader by Sir Walter Scott, in the "Roderigh +Vich Alpine Dhu, ho! ieroe," of the "Lady of the Lake." The _Luineag_, +or favourite carol of the Highland milkmaid, is a class of songs +entirely lyrical, and which seldom fails to please the taste of the +Lowlander. Burns[22] and other song-writers have adopted the strain of +the _Luineag_ to adorn their verses. The _Cumha_, or lament, is the +vehicle of the most pathetic and meritorious effusions of Gaelic poetry; +it is abundantly interspersed with the poetry of Ossian. + +Among the Gael, blank verse is unknown, and for rhyme they entertain a +passion.[23] They rhyme to the same set of sounds or accents for a space +of which the recitation is altogether tedious. Not satisfied with the +final rhyme, their favourite measures are those in which the middle +syllable corresponds with the last, and the same syllable in the second +line with both; and occasionally the final sound of the second line is +expected to return in every alternate verse through the whole poem. The +Gael appear to have been early in possession of these coincidences of +termination which were unknown to the classical poets, or were regarded +by them as defects.[24] All writers on Celtic versification, including +the Irish, Welsh, Manx, and Cornish varieties, are united in their +testimony as to the early use of rhyme by the Celtic poets, and agree in +assigning the primary model to the incantations of the Druids.[25] The +lyrical measures of the Gael are various, but the scansion is regular, +and there is no description of verse familiar to English usage, from the +Iambic of four syllables, to the slow-paced Anapæstic, or the prolonged +Alexandrine, which is not exactly measured by these sons and daughters +of song.[26] Every poetical composition in the language, however +lengthy, is intended to be sung or chanted. Gaelic music is regulated by +no positive rules; it varies from the wild chant of the battle-song to +the simple melody of the milkmaid. In Johnson's "Musical Museum," +Campbell's "Albyn's Anthology," Thomson's "Collection," and Macdonald's +"Airs," the music of the mountains has long been familiar to the curious +in song, and lover of the national minstrelsy.[27] + + +[1] We are indebted for these observations on the Highland Muse to the +learned friend who has supplied the greater number of the translations +from the Gaelic poets, which appear in the present work. + +[2] Highland Society's Report on Ossian, pp. 16-20. + +[3] Genealogists or Antiquaries. + +[4] Letter from Sir James Macdonald to Dr Blair. + +[5] M'Callum's "Collection," p. 207. See also Smith's "Sean Dana, or +Gaelic Antiquities;" Gillies' "Collection" and Clark's "Caledonian +Bards." + +[6] Highland Society's Report on Ossian, pp. 99, 105, 112. + +[7] Boswell's "Life of Johnson," p. 320, Croker's edition, 1847. + +[8] "Poems by Mrs Grant of Laggan," p. 395, Edinburgh, 1803, 8vo. The +original is to be found in the Gaelic collections. + +[9] Mrs Grant's Poems, p. 371; Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," p. 1. + +[10] See Mrs Grant's "Highland Superstitions," vol. ii. p. 249. The +original is contained in Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets." + +[11] See Johnson's "Journey to the Western Islands." + +[12] Stewart's Collection, p. 1. + +[13] Report on Ossian, p. 92. Sir Duncan Campbell fell at the battle of +Flodden, Lady Campbell afterwards married Gilbert, Earl of Cassillis. + +[14] Mrs Grant's "Highland Superstitions," vol. ii. p. 196. + +[15] Mrs Ogilvie's "Highland Minstrelsy." For the original see Turner's +Collection, p. 186. + +[16] Reid's "Bibliotheca Scotica Celtica." Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," +p. 36. + +[17] Napier's "Memoirs of Montrose." In this work will be found a very +spirited translation of Ian Lom's poem on the battle of Innerlochy. + +[18] Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," pp. 24, 59, 77, 77, 151; Turner's +"Gaelic Collection," _passim._ + +[19] See the beautiful verses translated by the Marchioness of +Northampton from "Ha tighinn fodham," in "Albyn's Anthology," or +Croker's "Boswell." + +[20] Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," p. 56. + +[21] Johnson's Works, vol. xii. p. 291. + +[22] Poems, Chambers' People's Edition, p. 134. + +[23] Armstrong's "Gaelic Dictionary," p. 63. + +[24] _Edinburgh Review_ on Mitford's "Harmony of Language," vol. vi. p. +383. + +[25] Brown's "History of the Highlands," vol. i. p. 89. + +[26] Armstrong's "Gaelic Dictionary," p. 64. + +[27] See also Logan's "Scottish Gael," vol. ii. p. 252. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +JAMES HOGG, 1 + Donald Macdonald, 48 + Flora Macdonald's farewell, 50 + Bonnie Prince Charlie, 51 + The skylark, 52 + Caledonia, 53 + O Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye, 54 + When the kye comes hame, 55 + The women folk, 58 + M'Lean's welcome, 59 + Charlie is my darling, 61 + Love is like a dizziness, 62 + O weel befa' the maiden gay, 64 + The flowers of Scotland, 66 + Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now, 67 + Pull away, jolly boys, 69 + O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine? 70 + The auld Highlandman, 71 + Ah, Peggy, since thou 'rt gane away, 72 + Gang to the brakens wi' me, 74 + Lock the door, Lariston, 75 + I hae naebody now, 77 + The moon was a-waning, 78 + Good night, and joy, 79 + +JAMES MUIRHEAD, D.D., 81 + Bess the gawkie, 82 +MRS AGNES LYON, 84 + Neil Gow's farewell to whisky, 86 + See the winter clouds around, 87 + Within the towers of ancient Glammis, 88 + My son George's departure, 90 + +ROBERT LOCHORE, 91 + Now, Jenny lass, 92 + Marriage, and the care o't, 94 + Mary's twa lovers, 95 + The forlorn shepherd, 96 + +JOHN ROBERTSON, 98 + The toom meal pock, 99 + +ALEXANDER BALFOUR, 101 + The bonnie lass o' Leven water, 104 + Slighted love, 105 + +GEORGE MACINDOE, 106 + Cheese and whisky, 108 + The burn trout, 109 + +ALEXANDER DOUGLAS, 110 + Fife, an' a' the land about it, 112 + +WILLIAM M'LAREN, 114 + Now summer shines with gaudy pride, 116 + And dost thou speak sincere, my love? 116 + Say not the bard has turn'd old, 117 + +HAMILTON PAUL, 120 + Helen Gray, 128 + The bonnie lass of Barr, 129 + +ROBERT TANNAHILL, 131 + Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane, 136 + Loudon's bonnie woods and braes, 137 + The lass of Arranteenie, 139 + Yon burn side, 140 + The braes o' Gleniffer, 141 + Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's, 142 + The braes o' Balquhither, 143 + Gloomy winter 's now awa', 145 + O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? 146 + Now winter, wi' his cloudy brow, 147 + The dear Highland laddie, O, 148 + The midges dance aboon the burn, 149 + Barrochan Jean, 150 + O, row thee in my Highland plaid, 151 + Bonnie wood of Craigie lea, 153 + Good night, and joy, 154 + +HENRY DUNCAN, D.D., 156 + Curling song, 161 + On the green sward, 163 + The Ruthwell volunteers, 164 + Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, 165 + The roof of straw, 166 + Thou kens't, Mary Hay, 167 + +ROBERT ALLAN, 169 + Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, 171 + Come awa, hie awa, 171 + On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, 173 + To a linnet, 174 + The primrose is bonnie in spring, 174 + The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee, 175 + The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, 176 + Her hair was like the Cromla mist, 177 + O leeze me on the bonnie lass, 178 + Queen Mary's escape from Lochleven Castle, 179 + When Charlie to the Highlands came, 180 + Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower, 181 + The lovely maid of Ormadale, 183 + A lassie cam' to our gate, 184 + The thistle and the rose, 186 + The Covenanter's lament, 187 + Bonnie lassie, 188 + +ANDREW MERCER, 189 + The hour of love, 190 + +JOHN LEYDEN, M.D., 191 + Ode to the evening star, 196 + The return after absence, 197 + Lament for Rama, 197 + +JAMES SCADLOCK, 199 + Along by Levern stream so clear, 201 + Hark, hark, the skylark singing, 202 + October winds, 203 + +SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL, BART., 204 + Jenny's bawbee, 208 + Jenny dang the weaver, 210 + The lass o' Isla, 211 + Taste life's glad moments, 212 + Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', 214 + Old and new times, 215 + Bannocks o' barley meal, 216 + +WILLIAM GILLESPIE, 218 + The Highlander, 220 + Ellen, 221 + +THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM, 223 + Adown the burnie's flowery bank, 227 + The hills o' Gallowa', 227 + The braes o' Ballahun, 229 + The unco grave, 230 + Julia's grave, 231 + Fareweel, ye streams, 232 + +JOHN STRUTHERS, 235 + Admiring Nature's simple charms, 239 + Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen tree, 240 + +RICHARD GALL, 241 + How sweet is the scene, 243 + Captain O'Kain, 243 + My only jo and dearie, O, 244 + The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e, 245 + The braes o' Drumlee, 246 + I winna gang back to my mammy again, 248 + The bard, 249 + Louisa in Lochaber, 249 + The hazlewood witch, 250 + Farewell to Ayrshire, 251 + +GEORGE SCOTT, 253 + The flower of the Tyne, 254 + +THOMAS CAMPBELL, 255 + Ye mariners of England, 262 + Glenara, 263 + The wounded hussar, 264 + Battle of the Baltic, 265 + Men of England, 268 + +MRS G. G. RICHARDSON, 269 + The fairy dance, 273 + Summer morning, 274 + There 's music in the flowing tide, 275 + Ah! faded is that lovely broom, 276 + +THOMAS BROWN, M.D., 278 + Consolation of altered fortunes, 281 + The faithless mourner, 282 + The lute, 283 + +WILLIAM CHALMERS, 285 + Sing on, 286 + The Lomond braes, 287 + +JOSEPH TRAIN, 288 + My doggie, 293 + Blooming Jessie, 295 + Old Scotia, 296 + +ROBERT JAMIESON, 297 + My wife 's a winsome wee thing, 299 + Go to him, then, if thou can'st go, 300 + +WALTER WATSON, 302 + My Jockie 's far awa, 304 + Maggie an' me, 305 + Sit down, my cronie, 306 + Braes o' Bedlay, 307 + Jessie, 308 + +WILLIAM LAIDLAW, 310 + Lucy's flittin', 314 + Her bonnie black e'e, 316 + Alake for the lassie, 317 + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + +ALEXANDER MACDONALD, 321 + The lion of Macdonald, 323 + The brown dairy-maiden, 327 + The praise of Morag, 329 + News of Prince Charles, 335 + +JOHN ROY STUART, 340 + Lament for Lady Macintosh, 341 + The day of Culloden, 343 + +JOHN MORRISON, 346 + My beauty dark, 347 + +ROBERT MACKAY, 349 + The Highlander's home sickness, 349 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 350 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +JAMES HOGG. + + +The last echoes of the older Border Minstrelsy were dying from the +memory of the aged, and the spirit which had awakened the strains seemed +to have sighed an eternal farewell to its loved haunts in the past, +when, suddenly arousing from a long slumber, it threw the mantle of +inspiration, at the close of last century, over several sons of song, +worthy to bear the lyre of their minstrel sires. Of these, +unquestionably the most remarkable was James Hogg, commonly designated +"The Ettrick Shepherd." This distinguished individual was born in the +bosom of the romantic vale of Ettrick, in Selkirkshire,--one of the most +mountainous and picturesque districts of Scotland. The family of Hogg +claimed descent from Hougo, a Norwegian baron; and the poet's paternal +ancestors at one period possessed the lands of Fauldshope in Ettrick +Forest, and were followers, under the feudal system, of the Knights of +Harden. For several generations they had adopted the simple occupation +of shepherds. On the mother's side, the poet was descended from the +respectable family of Laidlaw,--one of the oldest in Tweeddale, and of +which all the representatives bore the reputation of excelling either in +intellectual vigour or physical energy; they generally devoted +themselves to the pastoral life. Robert Hogg, the poet's father, was a +person of very ordinary sagacity, presenting in this respect a decided +contrast to his wife, Margaret Laidlaw, a woman of superior energy and +cultivated mind. Their family consisted of four sons, of whom the second +was James, the subject of this Memoir. The precise date of his birth is +unknown: he was baptised, according to the Baptismal Register of +Ettrick, his native parish, on the 9th of December 1770.[28] + +At the period of his marriage, Robert Hogg was in circumstances of +considerable affluence; he had saved money as a shepherd, and, taking on +lease the two adjoining pastoral farms of Ettrick-hall and +Ettrick-house, he largely stocked them with sheep adapted both for the +Scottish and English markets. During several years he continued to +prosper; but a sudden depression in the market, and the absconding of a +party who was indebted to him, at length exhausted his finances, and +involved him in bankruptcy. The future poet was then in his sixth year. +In this destitute condition, the family experienced the friendship and +assistance of Mr Brydon, tenant of the neighbouring farm of Crosslee, +who, leasing Ettrick-house, employed Robert Hogg as his shepherd. But +the circumstances of the family were much straitened by recent reverses; +and the second son, young as he was, and though he had only been three +months at school, was engaged as a cow-herd, his wages for six months +being only a ewe-lamb and a pair of shoes! Three months' further +attendance at school, on the expiry of his engagement, completed the +future bard's scholastic instructions. It was the poet's lot, with the +exception of these six months' schooling, to receive his education among +the romantic retreats and solitudes of Nature. First as a cow-herd, and +subsequently through the various gradations of shepherd-life, his days, +till advanced manhood, were all the year round passed upon the hills. +And such hills! The mountains of Ettrick and Yarrow are impressed with +every feature of Highland scenery, in its wildest and most striking +aspects. There are stern summits, enveloped in cloud, and stretching +heavenwards; huge broad crests, heathy and verdant, or torn by fissures +and broken by the storms; deep ravines, jagged, precipitate, and +darksome; and valleys sweetly reposing amidst the sublimity of the awful +solitude. There are dark craggy mountains around the Grey-Mare's-Tail, +echoing to the roar of its stupendous cataract; and romantic and +beautiful green hills, and inaccessible heights, surrounding and +towering over St Mary's Loch, and the Loch of the Lowes. To the +sublimity of that vast academy, in which he had learned to invoke the +Muse, the poet has referred in the "Queen's Wake":-- + + "The bard on Ettrick's mountain green, + In Nature's bosom nursed had been; + And oft had mark'd in forest lone + The beauties on her mountain throne; + Had seen her deck the wildwood tree, + And star with snowy gems the lea; + In loveliest colours paint the plain, + And sow the moor with purple grain; + By golden mead and mountain sheer, + Had view'd the Ettrick waving clear, + When shadowy flocks of purest snow + Seem'd grazing in a world below." + +Glorious as was his academy, the genius of the poet was not precocious. +Forgetting everything he had learned at school, he spent his intervals +of toil in desultory amusements, or in pursuing his own shadow upon the +hills. As he grew older, he discovered the possession of a musical ear; +and saving five shillings of his earnings, he purchased an old violin, +upon which he learned to play his favourite tunes. He had now attained +his fourteenth year; and in the constant hope of improving his +circumstances, had served twelve masters. + +The life of a cow-herd affords limited opportunities for mental +improvement. And the early servitude of the Ettrick Shepherd was spent +in excessive toil, which his propensities to fun and frolic served just +to render tolerable. When he reached the respectable and comparatively +easy position of a shepherd, he began to think of teaching himself to +read. From Mrs Laidlaw, the wife of the farmer at Willinslee, on which +he served, he was privileged with the loan of two works, of which the +reputation had been familiar to him from childhood. These were Henry the +Minstrel's "Life and Adventures of Sir William Wallace," and the "Gentle +Shepherd" of Allan Ramsay. On these the future poet with much difficulty +learned to read, in his eighteenth year. He afterwards read a number of +theological works, from his employer's collection of books; and among +others of a speculative cast, "Burnet's Theory of the Conflagration of +the Earth," the perusal of which, he has recorded, "nearly overturned +his brain." + +At Whitsunday 1790, in his twentieth year, Hogg entered the service, as +shepherd, of Mr James Laidlaw, tenant of Blackhouse,--a farm situate on +the Douglasburn in Yarrow. This proved the most signally fortunate step +which he had yet taken. Mr Laidlaw was a man of singular shrewdness and +of a highly cultivated mind; he readily perceived his shepherd's +aptitude for learning, and gave him the use of his library. But the +poet's connexion with Blackhouse was especially valuable in enabling him +to form the intimacy of Mr William Laidlaw, his master's son, the future +factor and amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott. Though ten years his junior, +and consequently a mere youth at the period of his coming to Blackhouse, +young Laidlaw began early to sympathise with the Shepherd's +predilections, and afterwards devoted a large portion of time to his +society. The friendship which ensued proved useful to both. A MS. +narrative of the poet's life by this unfailing friend, which has been +made available in the preparation of this Memoir, enables us to supply +an authentic account of this portion of his career. "He was not long," +writes Mr Laidlaw, "in going through all the books belonging to my +father; and learning from me that Mr Elder, bookseller, Peebles, had a +large collection of books which he used as a circulating library, he +forthwith became a subscriber, and by that means read Smollett's and +Fielding's novels, and those voyages and travels which were published at +the time, including those of Cook, Carteret, and others." + +The progress of the Shepherd in learning was singularly tardy. He was, +by a persevering course of reading, sufficiently familiar with the more +esteemed writers in English literature, ere he attempted penmanship. He +acquired the art upon the hill-side by copying the Italian alphabet, +using his knees as his desk, and having his ink-bottle suspended from +his button. In his twenty-sixth year he first essayed to write +verses,--an effort attended, in the manual department, with amusing +difficulty, for he stripped himself of his coat and vest to the +undertaking, yet could record only a few lines at a sitting! But he was +satisfied with the fame derived from his verses, as adequate +compensation for the toil of their production; he wrote for the +amusement of the shepherd maidens, who sung them to their favourite +tunes, and bestowed on him the prized designation of "Jamie the Poeter." +At the various gatherings of the lads and lasses in the different +homesteads, then frequent in this pastoral district, he never failed to +present himself, and had golden opportunities of winning the chaplet of +applause, both for the strains of his minstrelsy, and the music of his +violin. These _réunions_ were not without their influence in stimulating +him to more ambitious efforts in versification. + +The Shepherd's popularity, while tending the flocks of Mr Laidlaw at +Blackhouse, was not wholly derived from his skill as a versifier, and +capabilities as a musician, but, among the fairer portion of the +creation, was perhaps scarcely less owing to the amenity of his +disposition, combined with the handsomeness of his person. As a +candidate for the honour of feminine approbation, he was successful +alike in the hall and on the green: the rumour of his approach at any +rural assemblage or merry-meeting was the watchword for increased mirth +and happiness. If any malignant rival had hinted aught to his prejudice, +the maidens of the whole district had assembled to vindicate his cause. +His personal appearance at this early period is thus described by Mr +William Laidlaw:--"About nineteen years of age, Hogg was rather above +the middle height, of faultless symmetry of form; he was of almost +unequalled agility and swiftness. His face was then round and full, and +of a ruddy complexion, with bright blue eyes that beamed with gaiety, +glee, and good-humour, the effect of the most exuberant animal spirits. +His head was covered with a singular profusion of light-brown hair, +which he was obliged to wear coiled up under his hat. On entering church +on a Sunday (where he was all his life a regular attender) he used, on +lifting his hat, to raise his right hand to assist a graceful shake of +his head in laying back his long hair, which rolled down his back, and +fell below his loins. And every female eye was upon him, as, with light +step, he ascended the stair to the gallery where he sat." + +As the committing of his thoughts to paper became a less irksome +occupation, Hogg began, with commendable prudence, to attempt +composition in prose; and in evidence of his success, he had the +satisfaction to find short essays which he sent to the _Scots Magazine_ +regularly inserted in that periodical. Poetry was cultivated at the same +time with unabated ardour, though the bard did not yet venture to expose +his verses beyond the friendly circle of his associates in Ettrick +Forest. Of these, the most judicious was young Laidlaw; who, predicting +his success, urged him to greater carefulness in composition. There was +another stimulus to his improvement. Along with several shepherds in the +forest, who were of studious inclinations, he formed a literary society, +which proposed subjects for competition in verse, and adjudged encomiums +of approbation to the successful competitors. Two spirited members of +this literary conclave were Alexander Laidlaw, a shepherd, and +afterwards tenant of Bowerhope, on the border of St Mary's Lake, and the +poet's elder brother, William, a man of superior talent. Both these +individuals subsequently acquired considerable distinction as +intelligent contributors to the agricultural journals. For some years, +William Hogg had rented the sheep-farm of Ettrick-house, and afforded +shelter and support to his aged and indigent parents. In the year 1800, +he resigned his lease to the poet, having taken another farm on the +occasion of his marriage. James now established himself, along with his +parents, at Ettrick-house, the place of his nativity, after a period of +ten years' connexion with Mr Laidlaw of Blackhouse, whose conduct +towards him, to use his own words, had proved "much more like that of a +father than a master." It was during the course of a visit to Edinburgh +in the same year, that an accidental circumstance gave a wider range to +his poetical reputation. Spending an evening with a party of friends in +the Crown Tavern, he was solicited for a song. He sung the last which he +had composed; it was "Donald Macdonald." The reception was a roar of +applause, and one of the party offered to get it set to music and +published. The song was issued anonymously from the music establishment +of Mr John Hamilton of Edinburgh. Within a few months it was sung in +every district of the kingdom; and, at a period when the apprehended +invasion of Napoleon filled the hearts of the nation with anxiety, it +was hailed as an admirable stimulus to patriotism. In the preparation of +the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," Scott had been largely indebted +to the intelligent peasantry of the south. He was now engaged in making +collections for his third volume, and had resolved to examine the +pastoral inhabitants of Ettrick and Yarrow. Procuring a note of +introduction from his friend Leyden to young Laidlaw, Scott arrived at +Blackhouse during the summer of 1801, and in his native home formed the +acquaintance of his future steward. To his visitor, Laidlaw commended +Hogg as the best qualified in the forest to assist him in his +researches; and Scott, who forthwith accompanied Laidlaw to +Ettrick-house, was more than gratified by an interview with the +shepherd-bard. "He found," writes his biographer, "a brother poet, a +true son of nature and genius, hardly conscious of his powers.... As +yet, his naturally kind and simple character had not been exposed to any +of the dangerous flatteries of the world; his heart was pure; his +enthusiasm buoyant as that of a happy child; and well as Scott knew that +reflection, sagacity, wit and wisdom, were scattered abundantly among +the humblest rangers of these pastoral solitudes, there was here a depth +and a brightness that filled him with wonder, combined with a quaintness +of humour, and a thousand little touches of absurdity, which afforded +him more entertainment, as I have often heard him say, than the best +comedy that ever set the pit in a roar." Scott remained several days in +the forest, daily accompanied in his excursions by Hogg and Laidlaw, +both of whom rapidly warmed in his regard. From the recitation of the +Shepherd's mother, he obtained important and interesting accessions to +his Minstrelsy. + +With the exception of the song of "Donald Macdonald," Hogg had not yet +published verses. His _début_ as an author was sufficiently +unpropitious. Shortly after Scott's visit, he had been attending the +Monday sheep-market in Edinburgh, and being unable to dispose of his +entire stock, was necessitated to remain in the city till the following +Wednesday. Having no acquaintances, he resolved to employ the interval +in writing from recollection several of his poems for the press. Before +his departure, he gave the pieces to a printer; and shortly after, he +received intimation that a thousand copies were ready for delivery. On +comparing the printed sheets with his MSS. at Ettrick, he had the +mortification of discovering "many of the stanzas omitted, others +misplaced, and typographical errors abounding in every page." The little +_brochure_, imperfect as it was, sold rapidly in the district; for the +Shepherd had now a considerable circle of admirers, and those who had +ridiculed his verse-making, kept silent since Scott's visit to him. A +copy of the pamphlet is preserved in the Advocates' Library; it consists +of sixty-two pages octavo, and is entitled, "Scottish Pastorals, Poems, +Songs, &c., mostly written in the Dialect of the South, by James Hogg. +Edinburgh: printed by John Taylor, Grassmarket, 1801. Price One +Shilling." The various pieces evince poetic power, unhappily combined +with a certain coarseness of sentiment. One of the longer ballads, +"Willie and Keatie," supposed to be a narrative of one of his early +amours, obtained a temporary popularity, and was copied into the +periodicals. It is described by Allan Cunningham as a "plain, rough-spun +pastoral, with some fine touches in it, to mark that better was coming." + +The domestic circumstances of the Shepherd were meanwhile not +prosperous; he was compelled to abandon the farm of Ettrick-house, which +had been especially valuable to him, as affording a comfortable home to +his venerated parents. In the hope of procuring a situation as an +overseer of some extensive sheep-farm, he made several excursions into +the northern Highlands, waiting upon many influential persons, to whom +he had letters of recommendation. These journeys were eminently +advantageous in acquainting him with many interesting and celebrated +scenes, and in storing his mind with images drawn from the sublimities +and wild scenery of nature, but were of no account as concerned the +object for which they were undertaken. Without procuring employment, he +returned, with very reduced finances, to Ettrick Forest. He published a +rough narrative of his travels in the _Scots Magazine_; and wrote two +essays on the rearing and management of sheep, for the Highland Society, +which were acknowledged with premiums. Frustrated in an attempt to +procure a farm from the Duke of Buccleuch, and declining an offer of +Scott to appoint him to the charge of his small sheep-farm at Ashestiel, +he was led to indulge in the scheme of settling in the island of Harris. +It was in the expectation of being speedily separated from the loved +haunts of his youth, that he composed his "Farewell to Ettrick," +afterwards published in the "Mountain Bard," one of the most touching +and pathetic ballads in the language. The Harris enterprise was not +carried out; and the poet, "to avoid a great many disagreeable questions +and explanations," went for several months to England. Fortune still +frowned, and the ambitious but unsuccessful son of genius had to return +to his former subordinate occupation as a shepherd. He entered the +employment of Mr Harkness of Mitchel-Slack, in Nithsdale. + +Dissatisfied with the imitations of ancient ballads in the third volume +of "The Border Minstrelsy," Hogg proceeded to embody some curious +traditions in this kind of composition. He transmitted specimens to +Scott, who warmly commended them, and suggested their publication. The +result appeared in the "Mountain Bard," a collection of poems and +ballads, which he published in 1803, prefixed with an account of his +life. From the profits of this volume, with the sum of eighty-six pounds +paid him by Constable for the copyright of his two treatises on sheep, +he became master of three hundred pounds. With this somewhat startling +acquisition, visions of prosperity arose in his ardent and enthusiastic +mind. He hastily took in lease the pastoral farm of Corfardin, in the +parish of Tynron, Dumfriesshire, to which he afterwards added the lease +of another large farm in the same neighbourhood. Misfortune still +pursued him; he rented one of the farms at a sum exceeding its value, +and his capital was much too limited for stocking the other, while a +disastrous murrain decimated his flock. Within the space of three years +he was again a penniless adventurer. Removing from the farm-homestead of +Corfardin, he accepted the generous invitation of his hospitable +neighbour, Mr James Macturk of Stenhouse, to reside in his house till +some suitable employment might occur. At Stenhouse he remained three +months; and he subsequently acknowledged the generosity of his friend, +by honourably celebrating him in the "Queen's Wake." Writing to Mr +Macturk, in 1814, he remarks, in reference to his farming at Corfardin, +"But it pleased God to take away by death all my ewes and my lambs, and +my long-horned cow, and my spotted bull, for if they had lived, and if I +had kept the farm of Corfardin, I had been a lost man to the world, and +mankind should never have known the half that was in me. Indeed, I can +never see the design of Providence in taking me to your district at all, +if it was not to breed my acquaintance with you and yours, which I hope +will be one source of happiness to me as long as I live. Perhaps the +very circumstance of being initiated into the mysteries of your +character,[29] is of itself a sufficient compensation for all that I +suffered in your country." + +Disappointed in obtaining an ensigncy in a Militia Regiment, through the +interest of Sir Walter Scott, and frustrated in every other attempt to +retain the social position he had gained, he returned to Ettrick, once +more to seek employment in his original occupation. But if friendship +had somewhat failed him, on his proving unsuccessful at Ettrick-house, +his _prestige_ was now completely gone; old friends received him coldly, +and former employers declined his services. He found that, till he +should redeem his reputation for business and good management, there was +no home for him in Ettrick Forest. Hogg was not a man who would tamely +surrender to the pressure of misfortune: amidst his losses he could +claim the strictest honesty of intention, and he was not unconscious of +his powers. With his plaid over his shoulders, he reached Edinburgh in +the month of February 1810, to begin, in his fortieth year, the career +of a man of letters. The scheme was singularly adventurous, but the die +was cast; he was in the position of the man on the tread-wheel, and felt +that he must write or perish. + +It affords no matter of surprise that the Shepherd was received coldly +by the booksellers, and that his offers of contributing to their +periodicals were respectfully declined. His volume, "The Mountain Bard," +had been forgotten; and though his literary fitness had been undisputed, +his lengthened want of success in life seemed to imply a doubt of his +general steadiness. Mr Constable, his former publisher, proved the most +friendly; he consented to publish a collection of songs and ballads, +which he had prepared, two-thirds being his own composition, and the +remainder that of his ingenious friends. This publication, known as "The +Forest Minstrel," had a slow sale, and conferred no benefit on the +unfortunate author. What the booksellers would not do for him, Hogg +resolved to do for himself; he originated a periodical, which he +designated "The Spy," acting as his own publisher. The first number of +this publication--a quarto weekly sheet, price fourpence--was issued on +the first of September 1810. With varied popularity, this paper existed +during the space of a year; and owing to the perseverance of the +conductor might have subsisted a longer period, but for a certain +ruggedness which occasionally disfigured it. As a whole, being chiefly +the composition of a shepherd, who could only read at eighteen, and +write at twenty-six, and who, to use his own words, "knew no more of +human life or manners than a child," the work presented a remarkable +record in the annals of literature. As a business concern, it did not +much avail the projector, but it served indirectly towards improving his +condition, by inducing the habit of composing readily, and with +undeviating industry. A copy of "The Spy" is now rare. + +From his literary exertions, Hogg was long, subsequent to his arrival in +the metropolis, in deriving substantial pecuniary emolument. In these +circumstances, he was fortunate in the friendship of Mr John Grieve, and +his partner Mr Henry Scott, hat manufacturers in the city, who, fully +appreciating his genius, aided him with money so long as he required +their assistance. These are his own words, "They suffered me to want for +nothing, either in money or clothes, and I did not even need to ask +these." To Mr Grieve, Hogg was especially indebted; six months he was an +inmate of his house, and afterwards he occupied comfortable lodgings, +secured him by his friend's beneficence. Besides these two invaluable +benefactors, the Shepherd soon acquired the regard and friendship of +several respectable men of letters, both in Edinburgh and elsewhere. As +contributors to "The Spy," he could record the names of James Gray of +the High School, and his accomplished wife; Thomas Gillespie, afterwards +Professor of Humanity in the University of St Andrews; J. Black, +subsequently of the _Morning Chronicle_; William Gillespie, the +ingenious minister of Kells; and John Sym, the renowned Timothy Tickler +of the "_Noctes_." Of these literary friends, Mr James Gray was the more +conspicuous and devoted. This excellent individual, the friend of so +many literary aspirants, was a native of Dunse, and had the merit of +raising himself from humble circumstances to the office of a master in +the High School of Edinburgh. Possessed of elegant and refined tastes, +an enthusiastic admirer of genius, and a poet himself,[30] Mr Gray +entertained at his table the more esteemed wits of the capital; he had +extended the hand of hospitality to Burns, and he received with equal +warmth the author of "The Forest Minstrel." In the exercise of +disinterested beneficence, he was aided and encouraged by his second +wife, formerly Miss Peacock, who sympathised in the lettered tastes of +her husband, and took delight in the society of men of letters. They +together made annual pedestrian excursions into the Highlands, and the +narrative of their adventures proved a source of delightful instruction +to their friends. Mr Gray, after a lengthened period of residence in +Edinburgh, accepted, in the year 1821, the Professorship of Latin in the +Institution at Belfast; he subsequently took orders in the Church of +England, and proceeded to India as a chaplain. In addition to his +chaplaincy, he held the office of preceptor to one of the native princes +of Hindostan. He died at Bhoog, in the kingdom of Cutch, on the 25th of +September 1830; and if we add that he was a man of remarkable learning, +his elegy may be transcribed from the "Queen's Wake:"-- + + "Alike to him the south and north, + So high he held the minstrel worth; + So high his ardent mind was wrought, + Once of himself he never thought." + +As the circle of the poet's friends increased, a scheme was originated +among them, which was especially entertained by the juniors, of +establishing a debating society for mutual improvement. This institution +became known as the Forum; meetings were held weekly in a public hall of +the city, and strangers were admitted to the discussions on the payment +of sixpence a-head. The meetings were uniformly crowded; and the +Shepherd, who held the office of secretary, made a point of taking a +prominent lead in the discussions. He spoke once, and sometimes more +frequently, at every meeting, making speeches, both studied and +extemporaneous, on every variety of theme; and especially contributed, +by his rough-spun eloquence, to the popularity of the institution. The +society existed three years; and though yielding the secretary no +pecuniary emolument, proved a new and effective mean of extending his +acquaintance with general knowledge. + +Hogg now took an interest in theatricals, and produced two dramas, one +of which, a sort of musical farce, was intended as a burlesque on the +prominent members of the Forum, himself included. This he was induced, +on account of the marked personalities, to confine to his repositories; +he submitted the other to Mr Siddons, who commended it, but it never was +brought upon the stage. He was about to appear before the world in his +most happy literary effort, "The Queen's Wake,"--a composition +suggested by Mr Grieve. This ingenious individual had conceived the +opinion that a republication of several of the Shepherd's ballads in +"The Spy," in connexion with an original narrative poem, would arrest +public attention as to the author's merits; while a narrative having +reference to the landing of the beautiful and unfortunate Queen Mary, +seemed admirably calculated to induce a general interest in the poem. +The proposal, submitted to Allan Cunningham and Mr Gray, received their +warm approbation; and in a few months the entire composition was ready +for the press. Mr Constable at once consented to undertake the +publication; but a more advantageous offer being made by Mr George +Goldie, a young bookseller, "The Queen's Wake" issued from his +establishment in the spring of 1813. Its success was complete; two +editions were speedily circulated, and the fame of the author was +established. With the exception of the _Eclectic Review_, every +periodical accorded its warmest approbation to the performance; and +vacillating friends, who began to doubt the Shepherd's power of +sustaining the character he had assumed as a poet and a man of letters, +ceased to entertain their misgivings, and accorded the warmest tributes +to his genius. A commendatory article in the _Edinburgh Review_, in +November 1814, hailed the advent of a third edition. + +By the unexpected insolvency of his publisher, while the third edition +was in process of sale, Hogg had nearly sustained a recurrence of +pecuniary loss. This was, however, fortunately prevented by the +considerate beneficence of Mr Goldie's trustees, who, on receiving +payment of the printing expenses, made over the remainder of the +impression to the author. One of the trustees was Mr Blackwood, +afterwards the celebrated publisher of _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_. +Hogg had now attained the unenviable reputation of a literary prodigy, +and his studies were subject to constant interruption from admirers, and +the curious who visited the capital. But he gave all a cordial +reception, and was never less accessible amidst the most arduous +literary occupation. There was one individual whose acquaintance he was +especially desirous of forming; this was John Wilson, whose poem, "The +Isle of Palms," published in 1812, had particularly arrested his +admiration. Wilson had come to reside in Edinburgh during a portion of +the year, but as yet had few acquaintances in the city. He was slightly +known to Scott; but a peculiarity of his was a hesitation in granting +letters of introduction. In despair of otherwise meeting him, Hogg, who +had reviewed his poem in the _Scots Magazine_, sent him an invitation to +dinner, which the Lake-poet was pleased cordially to accept. That dinner +began one of the most interesting of the Shepherd's friendships; both +the poets were pleased with each other, and the closest intimacy ensued. +It was on his way to visit Wilson, at Elleray, his seat in Cumberland, +during the autumn of 1814, that the Shepherd formed the acquaintance of +the Poet-laureate. He had notified to Southey his arrival at one of the +hotels in Keswick, and begged the privilege of a visit. Southey promptly +acknowledged his summons, and insisted on his remaining a couple of days +at Greta Hall to share his hospitality. Two years could not have more +firmly rivetted their friendship. As a mark of his regard, on returning +to Edinburgh Hogg sent the Laureate the third edition of "The Queen's +Wake," then newly published, along with a copy of "The Spy." In +acknowledging the receipt of these volumes, Southey addressed the +following letter to the Shepherd, which is now for the first time +published:-- + + "Keswick, _December 1, 1814._ + + "Dear Hogg,--Thank you for your books. I will not say + that 'The Queen's Wake' has exceeded my expectations, + because I have ever expected great things from you, + since, in 1805, I heard Walter Scott, by his own + fireside at Ashestiel, repeat 'Gilmanscleuch.'[31] When + he came to that line--'I ga'e him a' my goud, + father'--the look and the tone with which he gave it + were not needed to make it go through me. But 'The + Wake' has equalled all that I expected. The + improvements in the new edition are very great, and + they are in the two poems which were most deserving of + improvement, as being the most impressive and the most + original. Each is excellent in its way, but 'Kilmeny' + is of the highest character; 'The Witch of Fife' is a + real work of fancy--'Kilmeny' a fine one of + imagination, which is a higher and rarer gift. These + poems have given general pleasure throughout the house; + my eldest girl often comes out with a stanza or two of + 'The Witch,' but she wishes sometimes that you always + wrote in English. 'The Spy' I shall go through more at + leisure. + + "I like your praise both of myself and my poem, because + it comes from a good quarter. You saw me where and how + a man is best seen--at home, and in his every-day wear + and tear, mind and manners: I have no holiday suit, and + never seek to shine: such as it is, my light is always + burning. Somewhat of my character you may find in + Chaucer's Clerk of Oxenford; and the concluding line of + that description might be written, as the fittest + motto, under my portrait--'Gladly would he learn, and + gladly teach.' I have sinned enough to make me humble + in myself, and indulgent toward others. I have suffered + enough to find in religion not merely consolation, but + hope and joy; and I have seen enough to be contented + in, and thankful for, the state of life in which it has + pleased God to place me. + + "We hoped to have seen you on your way back from + Ellery. I believe you did not get the ballad of the + 'Devil and the Bishop,' which Hartley transcribed for + you. I am reprinting my miscellaneous poems, collected + into three volumes. Your projected publication[32] will + have the start of it greatly, for the first volume is + not nearly through the press, and there is a corrected + copy of the ballad, with its introduction, in + Ballantyne's hands, which you can make use of before it + will be wanted in its place. + + "You ask me why I am not intimate with Wilson. There is + a sufficient reason in the distance between our + respective abodes. I seldom go even to Wordworth's or + Lloyd's; and Ellery is far enough from either of their + houses, to make a visit the main business of a day. So + it happens that except dining in his company once at + Lloyd's many years ago, and breakfasting with him here + not long afterwards, I have barely exchanged + salutations once or twice when we met upon the road. + Perhaps, however, I might have sought him had it not + been for his passion for cock-fighting. But this is a + thing which I regard with abhorrence. + + "Would that 'Roderick' were in your hands for + reviewing; I should desire no fairer nor more competent + critic. But it is of little consequence what friends or + enemies may do for it now; it will find its due place + in time, which is slow but sure in its decisions. From + the nature of my studies, I may almost be said to live + in the past; it is to the future that I look for my + reward, and it would be difficult to make any person + who is not thoroughly intimate with me, understand how + completely indifferent I am to the praise or censure of + the present generation, farther than as it may affect + my means of subsistence, which, thank God, it can no + longer essentially do. There was a time when I was + materially injured by unjust criticism; but even then I + despised it, from a confidence in myself, and a natural + buoyancy of spirit. It cannot injure me now, but I + cannot hold it in more thorough contempt. + + "Come and visit me when the warm weather returns. You + can go nowhere that you will be more sincerely + welcomed. And may God bless you. + + "Robert Southey." + +In waging war with the Lake school of poetry, the _Edinburgh Review_ had +dealt harshly with Southey. His poems of "Madoc" and "The Curse of +Kehama" had been rigorously censured, and very shortly before the +appearance of "Roderick," his "Triumphal Ode" for 1814, which was +published separately, had been assailed with a continuance of the same +unmitigated severity. The Shepherd, who knew, notwithstanding the +Laureate's professions of indifference to criticism, that his nature was +sensitive, and who feared that the _Review_ would treat "Roderick" as it +had done Southey's previous productions, ventured to recommend him to +evince a less avowed hostility to Jeffrey, in the hope of subduing the +bitterness of his censure. The letter of Southey, in answer to this +counsel, will prove interesting, in connexion with the literary history +of the period. The Bard of Keswick had hardly advanced to that happy +condition which he fancied he had reached, of being "indulgent toward +others," at least under the influence of strong provocation:-- + + "Keswick, _24th Dec. 1814._ + + "Dear Hogg,--I am truly obliged to you for the + solicitude which you express concerning the treatment + 'Roderick' may experience in the _Edinburgh Review_, + and truly gratified by it, notwithstanding my perfect + indifference as to the object in question. But you + little know me, if you imagine that any thoughts of + fear or favour would make me abstain from speaking + publicly of Jeffrey as I think, and as he deserves. I + despise his commendation, and I defy his malice. _He_ + crush the 'Excursion!!!'[33] Tell him that he might as + easily crush Skiddaw. For myself, _popularity_ is not + the mark I shoot at; if it were, I should not write + such poems as 'Roderick;' and Jeffrey can no more stand + in my way to _fame_, than Tom Thumb could stand in my + way in the street. + + "He knows that he has dealt unfairly and maliciously by + me; he knows that the world knows it, that his very + friends know it, and that if he attacks 'Roderick' as + he did 'Madoc' and 'Kehama,' it will be universally + imputed to personal ill-will. On the other hand, he + cannot commend this poem without the most flagrant + inconsistency. This would be confessing that he has + wronged me in the former instances; for no man will + pretend to say that 'Madoc' does not bear marks of the + same hand as 'Roderick;' it has the same character of + language, thought, and feeling; it is of the same ore + and mint; and if the one poem be bad, the other cannot + possibly be otherwise. The irritation of the _nettling_ + (as you term it), which he has already received [a + portion of the letter is torn off and lost].... + Whatever part he may take, my conduct towards him will + be the same. I consider him a public nuisance, and + shall deal with him accordingly. + + "Nettling is a gentle term for what he has to undergo. + In due season he shall be _scorpioned_ and + _rattlesnaked_. When I take him in hand it shall be to + dissect him alive, and make a preparation of him to be + exhibited _in terrorem_, an example to all future + pretenders to criticism. He has a forehead of native + brass, and I will write upon it with aqua-fortis. I + will serve him up to the public like a turkey's + gizzard, sliced, scored, peppered, salted, cayanned, + grilled, and bedevilled. I will bring him to justice; + he shall be executed in prose, and gibbeted in + verse....[34] + + .... "'Roderick' has made good speed in the world, and + ere long I shall send you the poem in a more commodious + shape,[35] for Ballantyne is at this time reprinting + it. I finished my official ode a few days ago. It is + without rhyme, and as unlike other official odes in + matter as in form; for its object is to recommend, as + the two great objects of policy, general education and + extensive colonization. At present, I am chiefly + occupied upon 'The History of Brazil,' which is in the + press--a work of great labour. + + "The ladies here all desire to be kindly remembered to + you. I have ordered 'The Pilgrims of the Sun,' and we + look for it with expectation, which, I am sure, will + not be disappointed. God bless you.--Yours very truly, + + "Robert Southey." + +A review of "Roderick" appeared in the _Edinburgh Review_ for June 1815, +which on the whole was favourable, so that the wrath of the Laureate was +appeased. + +During the earlier period of his Edinburgh career, Hogg had formed the +acquaintance of an estimable family in Athol, Mr and Mrs Izett, of +Kinnaird House, and he had been in the habit of spending a portion of +his time every summer at their hospitable residence. In the summer of +1814, while visiting there, he was seized with a severe cold, which +compelled him to prolong his stay with his friends; and Mrs Izett, who +took a warm interest in his welfare, suggested that he might turn his +illness to account, by composing a poem, descriptive of the beauties of +the surrounding scenery. The hint was sufficient; he commenced a +descriptive poem in the Spenserian stanza, which was speedily completed, +and given to the world under the title of "Mador of the Moor." It was +well received; and the author is correct in asserting that it contains +"some of his highest and most fortunate efforts in rhyme." "The +Pilgrims of the Sun" was his next poem; it was originally intended as +one of a series, to be contained in a poetical work, which he proposed +to entitle "Midsummer Night Dreams," but which, on the advice of his +friend, Mr James Park of Greenock, he was induced to abandon. From its +peculiar strain, this poem had some difficulty in finding a publisher; +it was ultimately published by Mr John Murray of London, who liberally +recompensed the author, and it was well received by the press. + +The circle of the Shepherd's literary friends rapidly extended. Lord +Byron opened a correspondence with him, and continued to address him in +long familiar letters, such as were likely to interest a shepherd-bard. +Unfortunately, these letters have been lost; it was a peculiarity of +Hogg to be careless in regard to his correspondence. With Wordsworth he +became acquainted in the summer of 1815, when that poet was on his first +visit to Edinburgh. They met at the house, in Queen Street, of the +mother of his friend Wilson; and the Shepherd was at once interested and +gratified by the intelligent conversation and agreeable manners of the +great Lake-poet. They saw much of each other in the city, and afterwards +journeyed together to St Mary's Loch; and the Shepherd had the +satisfaction of entertaining his distinguished brother-bard with the +homely fare of cakes and milk, in his father's cottage at Ettrick. +Wordsworth afterwards made the journey memorable in his poem of "Yarrow +Visited." The poets temporarily separated at Selkirk,--Wordsworth having +secured the promise of a visit from his friend, at Mount Ryedale, prior +to his return to Edinburgh. The promise was duly fulfilled; and the +Shepherd had the pleasure of meeting, during his visit, Lloyd, and De +Quincey, and his dear friend Wilson. A portion of the autumn of 1815 was +spent by the Shepherd at Elleray. In the letter inviting his visit +(dated September 1815), the author of "The Isle of Palms" indicates his +opinion of the literary influence of his correspondent, by writing as +follows:--"If you have occasion soon to write to Murray,[36] pray +introduce something about 'The City of the Plague,' as I shall probably +offer him that poem in about a fortnight, or sooner. Of course, I do not +_wish_ you to say that the poem is utterly worthless. I think that a +bold eulogy from you (if administered immediately), would be of service +to me; but if you do write about it, do not tell him that I have any +intention of offering it to him, but you may say, you hear I am going to +offer it to a London bookseller." + +The Shepherd's intimacy with the poets had induced him to entertain a +somewhat plausible scheme of bettering his finances. He proposed to +publish, in a handsome volume, a poem by each of the living bards of +Great Britain. For this purpose, he had secured pieces from Southey, +Wilson, Wordsworth, Lloyd, Morehead, Pringle, Paterson, and some others; +and had received promises of contributions from Lord Byron and Samuel +Rogers. The plan was frustrated by Scott. He was opposed to his +appearing to seek fresh laurels from the labours of others, and +positively refused to make a contribution. This sadly mortified the +Shepherd,[37] and entirely altered his plans. He had now recourse to a +peculiar method of realising his original intention. In the short period +of four weeks, he produced imitations of the more conspicuous bards, +which speedily appeared in a volume entitled "The Poetic Mirror." This +work, singularly illustrative of the versatility of his genius, was +eminently successful, the first edition disappearing in the course of +six weeks. The imitations of the bards were pronounced perfect, only +that of Wordsworth was intentionally a caricature; the Shepherd had been +provoked to it by a conceived slight of the Lake-poet, during his visit +at Mount Ryedale.[38] + +"The Poetic Mirror" appeared in 1816; and in the following year the +Shepherd struck out a new path, by publishing two duodecimo volumes of +"Dramatic Tales." This work proved unsuccessful. In 1813 he had +dedicated his "Forest Minstrel" to the Countess of Dalkeith; and this +amiable and excellent woman, afterwards better known as Harriet, Duchess +of Buccleuch, had acknowledged the compliment by a gift of a hundred +guineas, and several other donations. The Shepherd was, however, +desirous of procuring the means of comfortable self-support, +independently of his literary exertions; and had modestly preferred the +request that he might receive a small farm in lease on the Buccleuch +estates. The request was at length responded to. The Duchess, who took a +deep interest in him, made a request to the Duke, on her death-bed, that +something might be done for her ingenious protégé. After her decease, +the late Charles, Duke of Buccleuch, gave the Shepherd a life-lease of +the farm of Altrive Lake, in Yarrow, at a nominal rent, no portion of +which was ever exacted. The Duke subsequently honoured him with his +personal friendship, and made him frequently share of his hospitality. + +From the time of his abandoning "The Spy," Hogg had contemplated the +publication of a periodical on an extended scale. At length, finding a +coadjutor in Mr Thomas Pringle, he explained their united proposal to +his friend, Mr Blackwood, the publisher, who highly approved of the +design. Preliminaries were arranged, and the afterwards celebrated +_Blackwood's Magazine_ took its origin. Hogg was now resident at +Altrive, and the editorship was entrusted to Pringle and his literary +friend Cleghorn. The vessel had scarcely been well launched, however, on +the ocean of letters, when storms arose a-head; hot disputes occurred +between the publisher and the editors, which ultimately terminated in +the withdrawal of the latter from the concern, and their connexion with +the _Edinburgh Magazine_, an opposition periodical established by Mr +Constable. The combating parties had referred to the Shepherd, who was +led to accord his support to Mr Blackwood. He conceived the idea of the +"Chaldee Manuscript," as a means of ridiculing the oppositionists. Of +this famous satire, the first thirty-seven verses of chapter first, with +several other sentences throughout, were his own composition, the +remaining portion being the joint fabrication of his friends Wilson and +Lockhart.[39] This singular production produced a sensation in the +capital unequalled in the history of any other literary performance; and +though, from the evident personalities and the keenness of the satire, +it had to be cancelled, so that a copy in the pages of the magazine is +now a rarity, it sufficiently attained the purpose of directing public +attention to the newly-established periodical. The "Chaldee Manuscript" +appeared in the seventh number of _Blackwood's Magazine_, published in +October 1817. To the magazine Hogg continued to be a regular +contributor; and, among other interesting compositions, both in prose +and verse, he produced in its pages his narrative of the "Shepherd's +Calendar." His connexion with this popular periodical is more generally +known from the position assigned him in the "_Noctes Ambrosianæ_" of +Professor Wilson. In those interesting dialogues, the _Shepherd_ is +represented as a character of marvellous shrewdness and sagacity, whose +observations on men and manners, life and literature, uttered, as they +are, in the homeliest phrases, contain a depth of philosophy and vigour +of criticism rarely exhibited in the history of real or fictitious +biography. "In wisdom," writes Professor Ferrier, "the Shepherd equals +the Socrates of Plato; in humour, he surpasses the Falstaff of +Shakspeare; clear and prompt, he might have stood up against Dr Johnson +in close and peremptory argument; fertile and copious, he might have +rivalled Burke in amplitude of declamation; while his opulent +imagination and powers of comical description invest all that he utters, +either with a picturesque mildness or a graphic quaintness peculiarly +his own." These remarks, applicable to the Shepherd of the "_Noctes_," +would, indeed, be much overstrained if applied to their prototype; yet +it is equally certain that the leading features of the ideal Shepherd +were depicted from those of the living Shepherd of Ettrick, by one who +knew well how to estimate and appreciate human nature. + +On taking possession of his farm of Altrive Lake, which extended to +about seventy acres, Hogg built a small cottage on the place, in which +he received his aged father, his mother having been previously called to +her rest. In the stocking of the farm, he received very considerable +assistance from the profits of a guinea edition of "The Queen's Wake," +of which the subscribers' list was zealously promoted by Sir Walter +Scott. At Altrive he continued literary composition with unabated +ardour. In 1817, he published "The Brownie of Bodsbeck," a tale of the +period of the Covenant, which attained a considerable measure of +popularity. In 1819, he gave to the world the first volume of his +"Jacobite Relics," the second volume not appearing till 1821. This work, +which bears evidence of extensive labour and research, was favourably +received; the notes are lengthy and copious, and many of the pieces, +which are set to music, have long been popular. His "Winter Evening +Tales" appeared in 1820: several of them were composed on the hills in +early life. + +The worldly circumstances of the Shepherd now were such as rendered him +abundantly justifiable in entering into the married state. On the 28th +April 1820, he espoused Miss Margaret Phillips, the youngest daughter of +Mr Phillips, late of Longbridgemoor, in Annandale. By this union he +became brother-in-law of his friend Mr James Gray, whose first wife was +a sister of Mrs Hogg. At the period of his marriage, from the profits of +his writings and his wife's dowry, he was master of nearly a thousand +pounds and a well-stocked farm; and increasing annual gains by his +writings, seemed to augur future independence. But the Shepherd, not +perceiving that literature was his forte, resolved to embark further in +farming speculations; he took in lease the extensive farm of Mount +Benger, adjoining Altrive Lake, expending his entire capital in the +stocking. The adventure proved almost ruinous. + +The coronation of George IV. was fixed to take place on the 19th of +July 1821; and Sir Walter Scott having resolved to be among the +spectators, invited the Shepherd to accompany him to London on the +occasion. Through Lord Sidmouth, the Secretary of State, he had procured +accommodation for Hogg at the pageant, which his lordship had granted, +with the additional favour of inviting both of them to dinner, to meet +the Duke of York on the following day. The Shepherd had, however, begun +to feel more enthusiastic as a farmer than a poet, and preferred to +attend the sheep-market at St Boswells. For this seeming lack of +loyalty, he afterwards made ample compensation; he celebrated the King's +visit to Scotland, in August 1822, in "a Masque or Drama," which was +published in a separate form. A copy of this production being laid +before the King by Sir Walter Scott, Sir Robert Peel, then Secretary of +State, received his Majesty's gracious command suitably to acknowledge +it. In his official communication, Sir Robert thanked the Shepherd, in +the King's name, "for the gratifying proof of his genius and loyalty." +It had been Scott's desire to obtain a Civil List pension for the +Shepherd, to aid him in his struggles at Mount Benger; and it was with +something like hope that he informed him that Sir Robert Peel had +expressed himself pleased with his writings. But the pension was never +obtained. + +Harassed by pecuniary difficulties, Hogg wrote rapidly, with the view of +relieving himself. In 1822, he published a new edition of his best +poems, in four volumes, for which he received the sum of £200; and in +this and the following year, he produced two works of fiction, entitled, +"The Three Perils of Man," and "The Three Perils of Women," which +together yielded him £300. In 1824, he published "The Confessions of a +Fanatic;" and, in 1826, he gave to the world his long narrative poem of +"Queen Hynde." The last proved unequal to his former poetical efforts. +In 1826, Mr J. G. Lockhart proceeded to London to edit the _Quarterly +Review_, taking along with him, as his assistant, Robert Hogg, a son of +the Shepherd's elder brother. The occasion afforded the poet an +opportunity of renewing his correspondence with his old friend, Allan +Cunningham. Allan wrote to him as follows:-- + + "27 Lower Belgrave Place, _16th Feb. 1826._ + + "My dear James,--It required neither present of book, + nor friend, nor the recalling of old scenes, to render + your letter a most welcome one. You are often present + to my heart and fancy, for your genius and your + friendliness have secured you a place in both. Your + nephew is a fine, modest, and intelligent young man, + and is welcome to my house for his own sake as well as + yours. Your 'Queen Hynde,' for which I thank you, + carries all the vivid marks of your own peculiar cast + of genius about her. One of your very happiest little + things is in the Souvenir of this season--it is pure + and graceful, warm, yet delicate; and we have nought in + the language to compare to it, save everybody's + 'Kilmeny.' In other portions of verse you have been + equalled, and sometimes surpassed; but in scenes which + are neither on earth, nor wholly removed from it--where + fairies speak, and spiritual creatures act, you are + unrivalled. + + "Often do I tread back to the foot of old + Queensberry,[40] and meet you coming down amid the + sunny rain, as I did some twenty years ago. The little + sodded shealing where we sought shelter rises now on my + sight--your two dogs (old Hector was one) lie at my + feet--the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel' is in my hand, for + the first time, to be twice read over after sermon, as + it really was--poetry, nothing but poetry, is our talk, + and we are supremely happy. Or, I shift the scene to + Thornhill, and there whilst the glass goes round, and + lads sing and lasses laugh, we turn our discourse on + verse, and still our speech is song. Poetry had then a + charm for us, which has since been sobered down. I can + now meditate without the fever of enthusiasm upon me; + yet age to youth owes all or most of its happiest + aspirations, and contents itself with purifying and + completing the conceptions of early years. + + "We are both a little older and a little graver than we + were some twenty years ago, when we walked in glory and + joy on the side of old Queensberry. My wife is much the + same in look as when you saw her in Edinburgh--at least + so she seems to me, though five boys and a girl might + admonish me of change--of loss of bloom, and abatement + of activity. My oldest boy resolves to be a soldier; he + is a clever scholar, and his head has been turned by + Cæsar. My second and third boys are in Christ's School, + and are distinguished in their classes; they climb to + the head, and keep their places. The other three are at + their mother's knee at home, and have a strong capacity + for mirth and mischief. + + "I have not destroyed my Scottish poem. I mean to + remodel it, and infuse into it something more of the + spark of living life. But my pen has of late strayed + into the regions of prose. Poetry is too much its own + reward; and one cannot always write for a barren smile, + and a thriftless clap on the back. We must live; and + the white bread and the brown can only be obtained by + gross payment. There is no poet and a wife and six + children fed now like the prophet Elijah--they are more + likely to be devoured by critics, than fed by ravens. I + cannot hope that Heaven will feed me and mine while I + sing. So farewell to song for a season. + + "My brother's[41] want of success has surprised me too. + He had a fair share of talent; and, had he cultivated + his powers with care, and given himself fair play, his + fate would have been different. But he sees nature + rather through a curious medium than with the tasteful + eye of poetry, and must please himself with the praise + of those who love singular and curious things. I have + said nothing all this while of Mrs Hogg, though I might + have said much, for we hear her household prudence and + her good taste often commended. She comes, too, from my + own dear country--a good assurance of a capital wife + and an affectionate mother. My wife and I send her and + you most friendly greetings. We hope to see you both in + London during the summer. + + "You have written much, but you must write more yet. + What say you to a series of poems in your own original + way, steeped from end to end in Scottish superstition, + but purified from its grossness by your own genius and + taste? Do write me soon. I have a good mind to come and + commence shepherd beside you, and aid you in making a + yearly pastoral _Gazette_ in prose and verse for our + _ain_ native Lowlands. The thing would take. + + "The evil news of Sir Walter's losses came on me like + an invasion. I wish the world would do for him now what + it will do in fifty years, when it puts up his statue + in every town--let it lay out its money in purchasing + an estate, as the nation did to the Duke of Wellington, + and money could never be laid out more worthily.--I + remain, dear James, your very faithful friend, + + "Allan Cunningham." + +One of the parties chiefly aggrieved in the matter of the Chaldee MS. +was Thomas Pringle, one of the original editors of _Blackwood_. This +ingenious person had lately returned from a period of residence in +Southern Africa, and established himself in London as secretary to the +Slave Abolition Society, and a man of letters. Forgetting past +differences, he invited the Shepherd, in the following letter, to aid +him in certain literary enterprises:-- + + "London, _May 19, 1827._ + + "My dear Sir,--I wrote you a hasty note some time ago, + to solicit your literary aid for the projected work of + Mr Fraser. I now address you on behalf of two other + friends of mine, who are about to start a new weekly + publication, something in the shape of the _Literary + Gazette_, to be entitled _The London Review_. The + editors are Mr D. L. Richardson, the author of a volume + of poems chiefly written in India, and a Mr St John, a + young gentleman of very superior talents, whose name + has not yet been (so far as I know) before the public, + though he has been a contributor to several of the + first-rate periodicals. I have no other interest in the + work myself than that of a friend and contributor. The + editors, knowing that I have the pleasure of your + acquaintance, have requested me to solicit your aid to + their work, either in verse or prose, and they will + consider themselves pledged to pay for any + contributions with which you may honour them at the + same rate as _Blackwood_. May I hope, my dear sir, that + you will, at all events, stretch a point to send them + something for their first number, which is to appear in + the beginning of June.... + + "I always read your '_Noctes_,' and have had many a + hearty laugh with them in the interior of Southern + Africa; for though I detest _Blackwood's_ politics, and + regret to see often such fine talents so sadly + misapplied (as I see the matter), yet I have never + permitted my own political predilections, far less any + reminiscences of old magazine squabbles, to blind me to + the exuberant flow of genius which pervades and + beautifies so many delightful articles in that + magazine.... Believe me always, dear Hogg, yours very + truly, + + "Tho. Pringle." + +A similar request for contributions was made the year following by +William Howitt. His letter is interesting, as exhibiting the epistolary +style of a popular writer. Howitt, it will be perceived, is a member of +the Society of Friends. + + "Nottingham, _12th mo., 20th, 1828._ + + "Respected Friend,--Herewith I forward, for thy + acceptance, two small volumes, as a trifling testimony + of the high estimation in which we have long held thy + writings. So great was our desire to see thee when my + wife and I were, a few springs ago, making a ramble on + foot through some parts of your beautiful country, that + nothing but the most contrary winds of circumstance + prevented us. + + "I am now preparing for the press 'The Book of the + Seasons,' a volume of prose and poetry, intended to + furnish the lover of nature with a remembrancer, to put + him in mind, on the opening of each month, of what he + may look for in his garden, or his country walks; a + notice of all remarkable in the round of the seasons, + and the beautiful in scenery,--of all that is pleasant + in rural sights, sounds, customs, and occupations. I + hope to make it, if I am favoured with health, in a + little time, both a pleasant and original volume, and + one which may do its mite towards strengthening and + diffusing that healthful love of nature which is so + desirable in a great commercial country like this, + where our manufacturing population are daily spreading + over its face, and cut off themselves from the + animating and heart-preserving influence of + nature,--are also swallowing up our forests and heaths, + those free, and solitary, and picturesque places, which + have fostered the soul of poetry in so many of our + noble spirits. I quite envy thy residence in so bold + and beautiful a region, where the eye and the foot may + wander, without being continually offended and + obstructed by monotonous hedge-rows, and abominable + factories. If thou couldst give, from the ample stores + of thy observant mind, a slight sketch or two of + anything characteristic of the seasons, in + _mountainous_ scenery especially, I shall regard them + as apples of gold. I am very anxious to learn whether + any particular customs or festivities are kept up in + the sheep-districts of Scotland at sheep-shearing time, + as were wont of old all over England; and where is + there a man who could solve such a problem like + thyself? I am sensible of the great boldness of my + request; but as my object is to promote the love of + nature, I am willing to believe that I am not more + influenced by such a feeling than thou art. I intend to + have the book got out in a handsome manner, and to have + it illustrated with woodcuts, by the best artists; + being more desirous to give to others that ardent + attachment to the beauties of the country that has + clung to me from a boy, and for the promotion of which + all our real poets are so distinguished, than to + realise much profit. Anything that thou couldst send me + about your country life, or the impression which the + scenery makes upon a poetical mind at different + seasons, on your heaths and among your hills, I should + be proud to acknowledge, and should regard as the gems + of my book. Whether or not, however, it be practicable + or agreeable to thee, I hope to have the pleasure of + presenting thee a copy of the work when it is out. Mary + requests me to present to thee her respectful regards; + and allow me to subscribe myself, with great respect, + thy friend, + + "W. Howitt." + +In 1829, on the expiry of his lease, Hogg relinquished the farm of Mount +Benger, and returned to his former residence at Altrive. Rumour, ever +ready to propagate tales of misfortune, had busily circulated the +report that, a completely ruined man, he had again betaken himself to +literary labours in the capital. In this belief, Mr Tennant, author of +"Anster Fair," addressed to him the following characteristic letter, +intended, by its good-humoured pleasantries, to soothe him in his +contendings with adversity:-- + + "Devongrove, _27th June 1829._ + + "My dear Friend James Hogg,--I have never seen, spoken, + whispered to, handled, or smelt you, since the King's + visit in 1822, when I met you in Edinburgh street, and + inhaled, by juxtaposition, your sweet fraternal breath. + How the Fates have since sundered us! How have you been + going on, fattening and beautifying from one degree to + another of poetical perfection, while I have, under the + chilling shade of the Ochil Hills, been dwindling down + from one degree of poetical extenuation to another, + till at length I am become the very shadow and ghost of + literary leanness! I should now wish to see you, and + compare you as you are now with what you were in your + 'Queen's Wake' days. For this purpose, I would be very + fain you would condescend to pay us a visit. I see you + indeed, at times, in the _Literary Journal_; I see you + in _Blackwood_, fighting, and reaping a harvest of + beautiful black eyes from the fists of Professor John + Wilson. I see you in songs, in ballads, in calendars. I + see you in the postern of time long elapsed. I see you + in the looking-glass of my own facetious and + song-recalling memory--but I should wish to see you in + the real, visible, palpable, smellable beauty of your + own person, standing before me in my own house, at my + own fireside, in all the halo of your poetical + radiance! Come over, then, if possible, my dear + Shepherd, and stay a night or two with us. You may + tarry with your friend, Mr Bald, one afternoon or so by + the way, and explore the half-forgotten treasures of + the Shakspeare cellars[42]--but you may rest yourself + under the shadow of the Ochil Hills a longer space, + and enjoy the beauties of our scenery, and, such as it + is, the fulness of our hospitality, which, believe me, + will be spouted out upon you freely and rejoicingly. + + "To be serious in speech, I really wish you would take + a trip up this way some time during the summer. I + understand you are settled in Edinburgh, and in that + thought have now addressed you. If I am wrong, write + me. Indeed, write me at any rate, as I would wish again + to see your fist at least, though the Fates should + forbid my seeing your person here. But I think you + would find some pleasure in visiting again your Alloa + friends, to say nothing of the happiness we should have + in seeing you at Devongrove.... Be sure to write me + now, James, in answer to this; and believe me to be, + ever most sincerely yours, + + "Wm. Tennant." + +The Shepherd's next literary undertaking was an edition of Burns, +published at Glasgow. In this task he had an able coadjutor in the poet +Motherwell. In 1831, he published a collected edition of his songs, +which received a wide circulation. On account of some unfortunate +difference with Blackwood, he proceeded in December of that year to +London, with the view of effecting an arrangement for the republication +of his whole works. His reception in the metropolis was worthy of his +fame; he was courted with avidity by all the literary circles, and fêted +at the tables of the nobility. A great festival, attended by nearly two +hundred persons, including noblemen, members of Parliament, and men of +letters, was given him in Freemasons' Hall, on the anniversary of the +birthday of Burns. The duties of chairman were discharged by Sir John +Malcolm, who had the Shepherd on his right hand, and two sons of Burns +on his left. After dinner, the Shepherd brewed punch in the punch-bowl +of Burns, which was brought to the banquet by its present owner, Mr +Archibald Hastie, M.P. for Paisley. He obtained a publisher for his +works in the person of Mr James Cochrane, an enterprising bookseller in +Pall Mall, who issued the first volume of the series on the 31st of +March 1832, under the designation of the "Altrive Tales." By the +unexpected failure of the publisher, the series did not proceed, so that +the unfortunate Shepherd derived no substantial advantage from a three +months' residence in London. + +Recent reverses had somewhat depressed his literary ardour; and, though +his immediate embarrassments were handsomely relieved by private +subscriptions and a donation from the Literary Fund, he felt indisposed +vigorously to renew his literary labours. He did not reappear as an +author till 1834, when he published a volume of essays on religion and +morals, under the title of "Lay Sermons on Good Principles and Good +Breeding." This work was issued from the establishment of Mr James +Fraser, of Regent Street. In the May number of _Blackwood's Magazine_ +for 1834, he again appeared before the public in the celebrated +"_Noctes_," which had been discontinued for upwards of two years, owing +to his misunderstanding with Mr Blackwood. On this subject we are +privileged to publish the following letter, addressed to him by +Professor Wilson:-- + + "_30th April._ + + "My dear Mr Hogg,--After frequent reflection on the + estrangement that has so long subsisted between those + who used to be such good friends, I have felt convinced + that _I_ ought to put an end to it on my own + responsibility. Without, therefore, asking either you + or Mr Blackwood, I have written a '_Noctes_,' in which + my dear Shepherd again appears. I hope you will think I + have done right. I intend to write six within the year; + and it is just, and no more than just, that you should + receive five guineas a sheet. Enclosed is that sum for + No. I. of the new series. + + "If you will, instead of writing long tales, for which + at present there is no room, write a 'Series of Letters + to Christopher North,' or, 'Flowers and Weeds from the + Forest,' or, 'My Life at Altrive,' embodying your + opinions and sentiments on all things, _angling_, + shooting, curling, &c., &c., in an easy characteristic + style, it will be easy for you to add £50 per annum to + the £50 which you will receive for your '_Noctes_.' I + hope you will do so. + + "I have taken upon myself a responsibility which + nothing but the sincerest friendship could have induced + me to do. You may be angry; you may misjudge my + motives; yet hardly can I think it. Let the painful in + the past be forgotten, and no allusion ever made to it; + and for the future, I shall do all I can to prevent + anything happening that can be disagreeable to your + feelings.--With kind regards to Mrs Hogg and family, I + am ever most sincerely and affectionately yours, + + "John Wilson." + +During the summer after his return from London, Hogg received what he +accounted his greatest literary honour. He was entertained at a public +dinner, attended by many of the distinguished literary characters both +of Scotland and the sister kingdom. The dinner took place at Peebles, +the chair being occupied by Professor Wilson. In reply to the toast of +his health, he pleasantly remarked, that he had courted fame on the +hill-side and in the city; and now, when he looked around and saw so +many distinguished individuals met together on his account, he could +exclaim that surely he had found it at last! + +The career of the Bard of Ettrick was drawing to a close. His firm and +well-built frame was beginning to surrender under the load of anxiety, +as well as the pressure of years. Subsequent to his return from London, +a perceptible change had occurred in his constitution, yet he seldom +complained; and, even so late as April 1835, he gave to the world +evidence of remaining bodily and mental vigour, by publishing a work in +three volumes, under the title of "Montrose Tales." This proved to be +his last publication. The symptoms of decline rapidly increased; and, +though he ventured to proceed, as was his usual habit, to the moors in +the month of August, he could hardly enjoy the pleasures of a sportsman. +He became decidedly worse in the month of October, and was at length +obliged to confine himself to bed. After a severe illness of four weeks, +he died on the 21st of November, "departing this life," writes William +Laidlaw, "as calmly, and, to appearance, with as little pain, as if he +had fallen asleep, in his gray plaid, on the side of the moorland rill." +The Shepherd had attained his sixty-fifth year. + +The funeral of the Bard was numerously attended by the population of the +district. Of his literary friends--owing to the remoteness of the +locality--Professor Wilson alone attended. He stood uncovered at the +grave after the rest of the company had retired, and consecrated, by his +tears, the green sod of his friend's last resting-place. With the +exception of Burns and Sir Walter Scott, never did Scottish bard receive +more elegies or tributes to his memory. He had had some variance with +Wordsworth; but this venerable poet, forgetting the past, became the +first to lament his departure. The following verses from his pen +appeared in the _Athenæum_ of the 12th of December:-- + + "When first descending from the moorlands, + I saw the stream of Yarrow glide, + Along a bare and open valley, + The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide. + + "When last along its banks I wander'd, + Through groves that had begun to shed + Their golden leaves upon the pathway, + My steps the Border Minstrel led. + + "The mighty minstrel breathes no longer, + 'Mid mouldering ruins low he lies; + And death, upon the braes of Yarrow, + Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes. + + * * * * * + + "No more of old romantic sorrows, + For slaughter'd youth or love-lorn maid, + With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten, + And Ettrick mourns with her their Shepherd dead!" + +Within two bow-shots of the place where lately stood the cottage of his +birth, the remains of James Hogg are interred in the churchyard of +Ettrick. At the grave a plain tombstone to his memory has been erected +by his widow. "When the dark clouds of winter," writes Mr Scott Riddell, +"pass away from the crest of Ettrick-pen, and the summits of the +nearer-lying mountains, which surround the scene of his repose, and the +yellow gowan opens its bosom by the banks of the mountain stream, to +welcome the lights and shadows of the spring returning over the land, +many are the wild daisies which adorn the turf that covers the remains +of THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. And a verse of one of the songs of his early +days, bright and blissful as they were, is thus strikingly verified, +when he says-- + + 'Flow, my Ettrick! it was thee + Into my life that first did drop me; + Thee I 'll sing, and when I dee, + Thou wilt lend a sod to hap me. + Pausing swains will say, and weep, + Here our Shepherd lies asleep.'" + +As formerly described, Hogg was, in youth, particularly good-looking and +well-formed. A severe illness somewhat changed the form of his features. +His countenance[43] presented the peculiarity of a straight cheekbone; +his forehead was capacious and elevated, and his eye remarkable for its +vivacity. His hair, in advanced life, became dark brown, mixed with +gray. He was rather above the middle height, and was well-built; his +chest was broad, his shoulders square, and his limbs well-rounded. He +disliked foppery, but was always neat in his apparel: on holidays he +wore a suit of black. Forty years old ere he began to mix in the circles +of polished life, he never attained a knowledge of the world and its +ways; in all his transactions he retained the simplicity of the pastoral +character. His Autobiography is the most amusing in the language, from +the honesty of the narrator; never before did man of letters so minutely +reveal the history of his foibles and failings. He was entirely +unselfish and thoroughly benevolent; the homeless wanderer was sure of +shelter under his roof, and the poor of some provision by the way. +Towards his aged parents his filial affection was of the most devoted +kind. Hospitable even to a fault, every visitor received his kindly +welcome, and his visitors were more numerous than those of any other man +of letters in the land.[44] Fond of conviviality, he loved the +intercourse of congenial minds; the voice of friendship was always more +precious to him than the claims of business. He was somewhat expert in +conversation; he talked Scotch on account of long habit, and because it +was familiar to him. He was possessed of a good musical ear, and loved +to sing the ballads of his youth, with several of his own songs; and the +enthusiasm with which he sung amply compensated for the somewhat +discordant nature of his voice. A night with the Shepherd was an event +to be remembered. He was zealous in the cause of education; and he built +a school at Altrive, and partly endowed a schoolmaster, for the benefit +of the children of the district. A Jacobite as respected the past, he +was in the present a devoted loyalist, and strongly maintained that the +stability of the state was bound up in the support of the monarchy; he +had shuddered at the atrocities of the French Revolution, and +apprehended danger from precipitate reform; his politics were strictly +conservative. He was earnest on the subject of religion, and regular in +his attendance upon Divine ordinances. When a shepherd, he had been in +the habit of conducting worship in the family during the absence or +indisposition of his employer, and he was careful in impressing the +sacredness of the duty upon his own children. During his London visit, +he prepared and printed a small book of prayers and hymns for the use of +his family, which he dedicated to them as a New Year's gift. These +prayers are eminently devotional, and all his hymns breathe the language +of fervency and faith. From the strict rules of morality he may have +sometimes deviated, but it would be the worst exercise of +uncharitableness to doubt of his repentance. + +It is the lot of men of genius to suffer from the envenomed shafts of +calumny and detraction. The reputation of James Hogg has thus bled. Much +has been said to his prejudice by those who understood not the simple +nature of his character, and were incapable of forming an estimate of +the principles of his life. He has been broadly accused[45] of doing an +injury to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, who was one of his best +benefactors; to which it might be a sufficient reply, that he was +incapable of perpetrating an ungenerous act. But how stands the fact? +Hogg strained his utmost effort to do honour to the dust of his +illustrious friend! He published reminiscences of him in a small volume, +and in such terms as the following did he pronounce his eulogy:--"He had +a clear head as well as a benevolent heart; was a good man, an anxiously +kind husband, an indulgent parent, and a sincere, forgiving friend; a +just judge, and a punctual correspondent.... Such is the man we have +lost, and such a man we shall never see again. He was truly an +extraordinary man,--the greatest man in the world."[46] Was ever more +panegyrical language used in biography? But Hogg ventured to publish his +recollections of his friend, instead of supplying them for the larger +biography; perhaps some connexion may be traced between this fact and +the indignation of Scott's literary executor! Possessed, withal, of a +genial temper, he was sensitive of affront, and keen in his expressions +of displeasure; he had his hot outbursts of anger with Wilson and +Wordsworth, and even with Scott, on account of supposed slights, but his +resentment speedily subsided, and each readily forgave him. He was +somewhat vain of his celebrity, but what shepherd had not been vain of +such achievements? + +Next to Robert Burns, the Ettrick Shepherd is unquestionably the most +distinguished of Scottish bards, sprung from the ranks of the people: in +the region of the imagination he stands supreme. A child of the forest, +nursed amidst the wilds and tutored among the solitudes of nature, his +strong and vigorous imagination had received impressions from the +mountain, the cataract, the torrent, and the wilderness, and was filled +with pictures and images of the mysterious, which those scenes were +calculated to awaken. "Living for years in solitude," writes Professor +Wilson,[47] "he unconsciously formed friendships with the springs, the +brooks, the caves, the hills, and with all the more fleeting and +faithless pageantry of the sky, that to him came in place of those human +affections, from whose indulgence he was debarred by the necessities +that kept him aloof from the cottage fire, and up among the mists on the +mountain top. The still green beauty of the pastoral hills and vales +where he passed his youth, inspired him with ever-brooding visions of +fairy-land, till, as he lay musing in his lonely shieling, the world of +phantasy seemed, in the clear depths of his imagination, a lovelier +reflection of that of nature, like the hills and heavens more softly +shining in the water of his native lake." Hogg was in his element, as he +revelled amid the supernatural, and luxuriated in the realms of faëry: +the mysterious gloom of superstition was lit up into brilliancy by the +potent wand of his enchantment, and before the splendour of his genius. +His ballad of "Kilmeny," in the "Queen's Wake," is the emanation of a +poetical mind evidently of the most gifted order; never did bard +conceive a finer fairy tale, or painter portray a picture of purer, or +more spiritual and exquisite sweetness. "The Witch of Fife," another +ballad in "The Wake," has scarcely a parallel in wild unearthliness and +terror; and we know not if sentiments more spiritual or sublime are to +be found in any poetry than in some passages of "The Pilgrims of the +Sun." His ballads, generally in his peculiar vein of the romantic and +supernatural, are all indicative of power; his songs are exquisitely +sweet and musical, and replete with pathos and pastoral dignity. Though +he had written only "When the kye comes hame," and "Flora Macdonald's +Lament," his claims to an honoured place in the temple of Scottish song +had been unquestioned. As a prose-writer, he does not stand high; many +of his tales are interesting in their details, but they are too +frequently disfigured by a rugged coarseness; yet his pastoral +experiences in the "Shepherd's Calendar" will continue to find readers +and admirers while a love for rural habits, and the amusing arts of +pastoral life, finds a dwelling in the Scottish heart. + +Of the Shepherd it has been recorded by one[48] who knew him well, that +at the time of his death he had certainly the youngest heart of all who +had ever attained his age; he was possessed of a buoyancy which +misfortune might temporarily depress, but could not subdue. To the close +of his career, he rejoiced in the sports and field exercises of his +youth; in his best days he had, in the games of leaping and running, +been usually victorious in the annual competitions at Eskdalemuir; in +his advanced years, he was constituted judge at the annual Scottish +games at Innerleithen. A sportsman, he was famous alike on the moor and +by the river; the report of his musket was familiar on his native hills; +and hardly a stream in south or north but had yielded him their finny +brood. By young authors he was frequently consulted, and he entered with +enthusiasm into their concerns; many poets ushered their volumes into +the world under his kindly patronage. He had his weaker points; but his +worth and genius were such as to extort the reluctant testimony of one +who was latterly an avowed antagonist, that he was "the most remarkable +man that ever wore the _maud_ of a Shepherd."[49] + +Hogg left some MSS. which are still unpublished,--the journals of his +Highland tours being in the possession of Mr Peter Cunningham of London. +Since his death, a uniform edition of many of his best works, +illustrated with engravings from sketches by Mr D. O. Hill, has been +published, with the concurrence of the family, by the Messrs Blackie of +Glasgow, in eleven volumes duodecimo. A Memoir, undertaken for that +edition by the late Professor Wilson, was indefinitely postponed. A +pension on the Civil List of £50 was conferred by the Queen on Mrs Hogg, +the poet's widow, in October 1853; and since her husband's death, she +has received an annuity of £40 from the Duke of Buccleuch. Of a family +of five, one son and three daughters survive, some of whom are +comfortably settled in life. + + +[28] The Shepherd entertained the belief that he was born on the 25th of +January 1772. + +[29] Mr Macturk is well remembered in Dumfriesshire as a person of +remarkable shrewdness and unbounded generosity. + +[30] Mr Gray was the author of "Cona, or the Vale of Clywyd," "A Sabbath +among the Mountains," and other poems. + +[31] The ballad of "Gilmanscleuch" appeared in "The Mountain Bard." See +"The Ettrick Shepherd's Poems," vol. ii., p. 203. Blackie and Son. + +[32] "The Poetic Mirror," for which the Shepherd had begun to collect +contributions. + +[33] Jeffrey reviewed Wordsworth's "Excursion" in the _Edinburgh Review_ +for November 1814, and certainly had never used more declamatory +language against any poem. + +[34] In a letter to Mr Grosvenor C. Bedford, dated Keswick, December 22, +1814, Southey thus writes:--"Had you not better wait for Jeffrey's +attack upon 'Roderick.' I have a most curious letter upon this subject +from Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, a worthy fellow, and a man of very +extraordinary powers. Living in Edinburgh, he thinks Jeffrey the +greatest man in the world--an intellectual Bonaparte, whom nobody and +nothing can resist. But Hogg, notwithstanding this, has fallen in liking +with me, and is a great admirer of 'Roderick.' And this letter is to +request that I will not do anything to _nettle_ Jeffrey while he is +deliberating concerning 'Roderick,' for he seems favourably disposed +towards me! Morbleu! it is a rich letter! Hogg requested that he himself +might review it, and gives me an extract from Jeffrey's answer, refusing +him. 'I have, as well as you, a great respect for Southey,' he says, +'but he is a most provoking fellow, and at least as conceited as his +neighbour Wordsworth.' But he shall be happy to talk to Hogg upon this +and other _kindred_ subjects, and he should be very glad to give me a +lavish allowance of praise, if I would afford him occasion, &c.; but he +must do what he thinks his duty, &c.! I laugh to think of the effect my +reply will produce upon Hogg. How it will make every bristle to stand on +end like quills upon the fretful porcupine!"--_Life and Correspondence +of Robert Southey, edited by his Son_, vol. iv., p. 93. London: 6 vols. +8vo. + +[35] The first edition of "Roderick" was in quarto,--a shape which the +Shepherd deemed unsuitable for poetry. + +[36] Murray of Abermarle Street, the famous publisher. + +[37] Hogg evinced his strong displeasure with Sir Walter for his +refusal, by writing him a declamatory letter, and withdrawing from his +society for several months. The kind inquiries which his old benefactor +had made regarding him during a severe illness, afterwards led to a +complete reconciliation,--the Shepherd apologising by letter for his +former rashness, and his illustrious friend telling him "to think no +more of the business, and come to breakfast next morning." + +[38] See Hogg's autobiography, prefixed to the fifth volume of Blackie's +edition of his poems, p. 107. + +[39] See the Works of Professor Wilson, edited by his Son-in-law, +Professor Ferrier, vol. i., p. xvi. Edinburgh: 1855. 8vo. + +[40] When the Shepherd was tending the flocks of Mr Harkness of +Mitchel-slack, on the great hill of Queensberry, in Nithsdale, he was +visited by Allan Cunningham, then a lad of eighteen, who came to see +him, moved with admiration for his genius.--(See Memoir of Allan +Cunningham, _postea_). [Transcriber's Note: This Memoir appears in +Volume III.] + +[41] Thomas Mouncey Cunningham. See _postea_. + +[42] The Shakspeare Club of Alloa, which is here referred to, took its +origin early in the century--being composed of admirers of the +illustrious dramatist, and lovers of general literature in that place. +The anniversary meeting was usually held on the 23d of April, generally +supposed to be the birth-day of the poet. The Shepherd was laureate of +the club, and was present at many of the meetings. On these occasions he +shared the hospitality of Mr Alexander Bald, now of Craigward +Cottage--"the Father of the Club," and one of his own attached literary +friends. Mr Bald formed the Shepherd's acquaintance in 1803, when on a +visit to his friend Grieve, at Cacrabank. This venerable gentleman is in +possession of the original M.S. of the "Ode to the Genius of +Shakspeare," which Hogg wrote for the Alloa Club in 1815. In a letter, +addressed to Mr Bald, accompanying that composition, he wrote as +follows: "_Edin., April 23d, 1815._--Let the bust of Shakspeare be +crowned with laurel on Thursday, for I expect it will be a memorable day +for the club, as well as in the annals of literature,--for I yesterday +got the promise of being accompanied by both _Wilson_, and _Campbell_, +the bard of Hope. I must, however, remind you that it was very late, and +over a bottle, when I extracted this promise--they both appeared, +however, to swallow the proposal with great avidity, save that the +latter, in conversing about our means of conveyance, took a mortal +disgust at the word _steam_, as being a very improper agent in the +wanderings of poets. I have not seen either of them to-day, and it is +likely that they will be in very different spirits, yet I think it not +improbable that one or both of them may be induced to come." The club +did not on this occasion enjoy the society of any of the three poets. + +[43] Hogg used to say that his face was "out of all rule of drawing," as +an apology for artists, who so generally failed in transferring a +correct representation of him to canvas. There were at least four +oil-paintings of the poet: the first executed by Nicholson in 1817, for +Mr Grieve; the second by Sir John Watson Gordon for Mr Blackwood; the +third by a London artist for Allan Cunningham; and the fourth by Mr +James Scott of Edinburgh, for the poet himself. The last is universally +admitted to be the most striking likeness, and, with the permission of +Mrs Hogg, it has been very successfully lithographed for the present +volume. + +[44] See "Memoir and Correspondence of Mrs Grant of Laggan." 1844. + +[45] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott." + +[46] "The Domestic Memoirs and Private Life of Sir Walter Scott, by +James Hogg," p. 118. Glasgow, 1834. 16mo. + +[47] _Blackwood's Magazine_, vol. iv., p. 521. + +[48] Mr H. S. Riddell. + +[49] Mr J. G. Lockhart. + + + + +DONALD MACDONALD. + +AIR--_"Woo'd, and married, and a'."_ + + + My name it is Donald Macdonald, + I leeve in the Highlands sae grand; + I hae follow'd our banner, and will do, + Wherever my master[50] has land. + When rankit amang the blue bonnets, + Nae danger can fear me ava; + I ken that my brethren around me + Are either to conquer or fa': + Brogues an' brochin an' a', + Brochin an' brogues an' a'; + An' is nae her very weel aff, + Wi' her brogues and brochin an' a'? + + What though we befriendit young Charlie?-- + To tell it I dinna think shame; + Poor lad! he cam to us but barely, + An' reckon'd our mountains his hame. + 'Twas true that our reason forbade us, + But tenderness carried the day; + Had Geordie come friendless amang us, + Wi' him we had a' gane away. + Sword an' buckler an' a', + Buckler an' sword an' a'; + Now for George we 'll encounter the devil, + Wi' sword an' buckler and a'! + + An' O, I wad eagerly press him + The keys o' the East to retain; + For should he gie up the possession, + We 'll soon hae to force them again, + Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour, + Though it were my finishing blow, + He aye may depend on Macdonald, + Wi' his Hielanders a' in a row: + Knees an' elbows an' a', + Elbows an' knees an' a'; + Depend upon Donald Macdonald, + His knees an' elbows an' a'. + + Wad Bonaparte land at Fort William, + Auld Europe nae langer should grane; + I laugh when I think how we 'd gall him + Wi' bullet, wi' steel, an wi' stane; + Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Garny + We 'd rattle him off frae our shore, + Or lull him asleep in a cairny, + An' sing him--"Lochaber no more!" + Stanes an' bullets an a', + Bullets an' stanes an' a'; + We 'll finish the Corsican callan + Wi' stanes an' bullets an' a'. + + For the Gordon is good in a hurry, + An' Campbell is steel to the bane, + An' Grant, an' Mackenzie, an' Murray, + An' Cameron will hurkle to nane; + The Stuart is sturdy an' loyal, + An' sae is Macleod an' Mackay; + An' I, their gude-brither Macdonald, + Shall ne'er be the last in the fray! + Brogues and brochin an' a', + Brochin an' brogues an' a'; + An' up wi' the bonny blue bonnet, + The kilt an' the feather an' a'. + + +[50] This is the term by which the Highlander was wont to designate his +lawful prince. The word "maker," which appears in former editions of the +song, was accidentally printed in the first edition, and the Shepherd +never had the confidence to alter it. + + + + +FLORA MACDONALD'S FAREWELL.[51] + + + Far over yon hills of the heather sae green, + An' down by the corrie that sings to the sea, + The bonny young Flora sat sighing her lane, + The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e'e. + She look'd at a boat wi' the breezes that swung, + Away on the wave, like a bird of the main; + An' aye as it lessen'd she sigh'd and she sung, + Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again! + Fareweel to my hero, the gallant and young, + Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again! + + The moorcock that craws on the brows of Ben-Connal, + He kens of his bed in a sweet mossy hame; + The eagle that soars o'er the cliffs of Clan-Ronald, + Unawed and unhunted his eyrie can claim; + The solan can sleep on the shelve of the shore, + The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea, + But, ah! there is one whose hard fate I deplore, + Nor house, ha', nor hame in his country has he: + The conflict is past, and our name is no more-- + There 's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me! + + The target is torn from the arm of the just, + The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave, + The claymore for ever in darkness must rust, + But red is the sword of the stranger and slave; + The hoof of the horse, and the foot of the proud, + Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue, + Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud, + When tyranny revell'd in blood of the true? + Fareweel, my young hero, the gallant and good! + The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy brow! + + +[51] Was composed to an air handed me by the late lamented Neil Gow, +junior. He said it was an ancient Skye air, but afterwards told me it +was his own. When I first heard the song sung by Mr Morison, I never was +so agreeably astonished--I could hardly believe my senses that I had +made so good a song without knowing it.--_Hogg._ + + + + +BONNY PRINCE CHARLIE. + + + Cam ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg, + Down by the Tummel or banks o' the Garry, + Saw ye our lads wi' their bonnets and white cockades, + Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? + Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee? + Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly! + Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee, + King o' the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie? + + I hae but ae son, my gallant young Donald; + But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry! + Health to M'Donnell and gallant Clan-Ronald-- + For these are the men that will die for their Charlie! + Follow thee! follow thee! &c. + + I 'll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them, + Down by Lord Murray, and Roy of Kildarlie; + Brave M'Intosh, he shall fly to the field with them, + These are the lads I can trust wi' my Charlie! + Follow thee! follow thee! &c. + + Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore! + Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely! + Ronald and Donald, drive on, wi' the broad claymore, + Over the necks o' the foes o' Prince Charlie! + Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee? + Long hast thou loved and trusted us fairly! + Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee, + King o' the Highland hearts, bonny Prince Charlie? + + + + +THE SKYLARK.[52] + + + Bird of the wilderness, + Blithesome and cumberless, + Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! + Emblem of happiness, + Bless'd is thy dwelling-place-- + O to abide in the desert with thee! + Wild is thy lay and loud, + Far in the downy cloud, + Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. + Where on thy dewy wing, + Where art thou journeying? + Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. + O'er fell and mountain sheen, + O'er moor and mountain green, + O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, + Over the cloudlet dim, + Over the rainbow's rim, + Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! + Then, when the gloaming comes, + Low in the heather blooms, + Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! + Emblem of happiness, + Blest is thy dwelling-place-- + O to abide in the desert with thee! + + +[52] For the fine original air, see Purdie's "Border Garland."--_Hogg._ + + + + +CALEDONIA.[53] + + + Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock, + Of the ocean, the mist, and the wind-- + Thou land of the torrent, the pine, and the oak, + Of the roebuck, the hart, and the hind: + Though bare are thy cliffs, and though barren thy glens, + Though bleak thy dun islands appear, + Yet kind are the hearts, and undaunted the clans, + That roam on these mountains so drear! + + A foe from abroad, or a tyrant at home, + Could never thy ardour restrain; + The marshall'd array of imperial Rome + Essay'd thy proud spirit in vain! + Firm seat of religion, of valour, of truth, + Of genius unshackled and free, + The Muses have left all the vales of the south, + My loved Caledonia, for thee! + + Sweet land of the bay and the wild-winding deeps, + Where loveliness slumbers at even, + While far in the depth of the blue water sleeps, + A calm little motionless heaven! + Thou land of the valley, the moor, and the hill, + Of the storm, and the proud-rolling wave-- + Yes, thou art the land of fair liberty still, + And the land of my forefathers' grave! + + +[53] An appropriate air has just been composed for this song by Mr +Walter Burns of Cupar-Fife, which has been arranged with symphonies and +accompaniments for the pianoforte by Mr Edward Salter, of St Andrews. + + + + +O, JEANIE, THERE 'S NAETHING TO FEAR YE! + +AIR--_"Over the Border."_ + + + O, my lassie, our joy to complete again, + Meet me again i' the gloamin', my dearie; + Low down in the dell let us meet again-- + O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye! + Come, when the wee bat flits silent and eiry, + Come, when the pale face o' Nature looks weary; + Love be thy sure defence, + Beauty and innocence-- + O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye! + + Sweetly blaw the haw an' the rowan tree, + Wild roses speck our thicket sae breery; + Still, still will our walk in the greenwood be-- + O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye! + List when the blackbird o' singing grows weary, + List when the beetle-bee's bugle comes near ye, + Then come with fairy haste, + Light foot, an' beating breast-- + O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye! + + Far, far will the bogle and brownie be, + Beauty an' truth, they darena come near it; + Kind love is the tie of our unity, + A' maun love it, an' a' maun revere it. + 'Tis love maks the sang o' the woodland sae cheery, + Love gars a' Nature look bonny that 's near ye; + That makes the rose sae sweet, + Cowslip an' violet-- + O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye! + + + + +WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME.[54] + +AIR--_"Shame fa' the gear and the blathrie o't."_ + + + Come all ye jolly shepherds, + That whistle through the glen, + I 'll tell ye of a secret + That courtiers dinna ken: + What is the greatest bliss + That the tongue o' man can name? + 'Tis to woo a bonny lassie + When the kye comes hame. + When the kye comes hame, + When the kye comes hame, + 'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk, + When the kye comes hame. + + 'Tis not beneath the coronet, + Nor canopy of state, + 'Tis not on couch of velvet, + Nor arbour of the great-- + 'Tis beneath the spreadin' birk, + In the glen without the name, + Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie, + When the kye comes hame. + When the kye comes hame, &c. + + There the blackbird bigs his nest + For the mate he lo'es to see, + And on the topmost bough, + O, a happy bird is he; + Where he pours his melting ditty, + And love is a' the theme, + And he 'll woo his bonny lassie + When the kye comes hame. + When the kye comes hame, &c. + + When the blewart bears a pearl, + And the daisy turns a pea, + And the bonny lucken gowan + Has fauldit up her e'e, + Then the laverock frae the blue lift + Doops down, an' thinks nae shame + To woo his bonny lassie + When the kye comes hame. + When the kye comes hame, &c. + + See yonder pawkie shepherd, + That lingers on the hill, + His ewes are in the fauld, + An' his lambs are lying still; + Yet he downa gang to bed, + For his heart is in a flame, + To meet his bonny lassie + When the kye comes hame. + When the kye comes hame, &c. + + When the little wee bit heart + Rises high in the breast, + An' the little wee bit starn + Rises red in the east, + O there 's a joy sae dear + That the heart can hardly frame, + Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie, + When the kye comes hame! + When the kye comes hame, &c. + + Then since all Nature joins + In this love without alloy, + O, wha would prove a traitor + To Nature's dearest joy? + Or wha would choose a crown, + Wi' its perils and its fame, + And miss his bonny lassie + When the kye comes hame? + When the kye comes hame, + When the kye comes home, + 'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk, + When the kye comes hame! + + +[54] In the title and chorus of this favourite pastoral song, I choose +rather to violate a rule in grammar, than a Scottish phrase so common, +that when it is altered into the proper way, every shepherd and +shepherd's sweetheart account it nonsense. I was once singing it at a +wedding with great glee the latter way, "When the kye come hame," when a +tailor, scratching his head, said, "It was a terrible affectit way +that!" I stood corrected, and have never sung it so again.--_Hogg._ + + + + +THE WOMEN FOLK.[55] + + + O sarely may I rue the day + I fancied first the womenkind; + For aye sinsyne I ne'er can hae + Ae quiet thought or peace o' mind! + They hae plagued my heart, an' pleased my e'e, + An' teased an' flatter'd me at will, + But aye, for a' their witchery, + The pawky things I lo'e them still. + O, the women folk! O, the women folk! + But they hae been the wreck o' me; + O, weary fa' the women folk, + For they winna let a body be! + + I hae thought an' thought, but darena tell, + I 've studied them wi' a' my skill, + I 've lo'ed them better than mysel, + I 've tried again to like them ill. + Wha sairest strives, will sairest rue, + To comprehend what nae man can; + When he has done what man can do, + He 'll end at last where he began. + O, the woman folk, &c. + + That they hae gentle forms an' meet, + A man wi' half a look may see; + An' gracefu' airs, an' faces sweet, + An' waving curls aboon the bree; + An' smiles as soft as the young rose-bud, + An' e'en sae pauky, bright, an' rare, + Wad lure the laverock frae the clud-- + But, laddie, seek to ken nae mair! + O, the woman folk, &c. + + Even but this night, nae farther gane, + The date is neither lost nor lang, + I tak ye witness ilka ane, + How fell they fought, and fairly dang. + Their point they 've carried right or wrang, + Without a reason, rhyme, or law, + An' forced a man to sing a sang, + That ne'er could sing a verse ava. + O, the woman folk! O, the woman folk! + But they hae been the wreck o' me; + O, weary fa' the women folk, + For they winna let a body be! + + +[55] The air of this song is my own. It was first set to music by +Heather, and most beautifully set too. It was afterwards set by Dewar, +whether with the same accompaniments or not, I have forgot. It is my own +favourite humorous song when forced by ladies to sing against my will, +which too frequently happens; and notwithstanding my wood-notes wild, it +will never be sung by any so well again.--For the air, see the "Border +Garland."--_Hogg._ + + + + +M'LEAN'S WELCOME.[56] + + + Come o'er the stream, Charlie, + Dear Charlie, brave Charlie; + Come o'er the stream, Charlie, + And dine with M'Lean; + And though you be weary, + We 'll make your heart cheery, + And welcome our Charlie, + And his loyal train. + We 'll bring down the track deer, + We 'll bring down the black steer, + The lamb from the braken, + And doe from the glen, + The salt sea we 'll harry, + And bring to our Charlie + The cream from the bothy + And curd from the penn. + + Come o'er the stream, Charlie, + Dear Charlie, brave Charlie; + Come o'er the sea, Charlie, + And dine with M'Lean; + And you shall drink freely + The dews of Glen-sheerly, + That stream in the starlight + When kings do not ken; + And deep be your meed + Of the wine that is red, + To drink to your sire, + And his friend The M'Lean. + + Come o'er the stream, Charlie, + Dear Charlie, brave Charlie; + Come o'er the stream, Charlie, + And dine with M'Lean; + If aught will invite you + Or more will delight you + 'Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highlandmen, + All ranged on the heather, + With bonnet and feather, + Strong arms and broad claymores, + Three hundred and ten! + + +[56] I versified this song at Meggernie Castle, in Glen-Lyon, from a +scrap of prose said to be the translation, _verbatim_, of a Gaelic song, +and to a Gaelic air, sung by one of the sweetest singers and most +accomplished and angelic beings of the human race. But, alas! earthly +happiness is not always the lot of those who, in our erring estimation, +most deserve it. She is now no more, and many a strain have I poured to +her memory. The air is arranged by Smith.--See the "Scottish +Minstrel."--_Hogg._ + + + + +CHARLIE IS MY DARLING.[57] + + + 'Twas on a Monday morning, + Right early in the year, + That Charlie cam' to our town, + The young Chevalier. + An' Charlie is my darling, + My darling, my darling; + Charlie is my darling, + The young Chevalier. + + As Charlie he came up the gate, + His face shone like the day; + I grat to see the lad come back + That had been lang away. + An' Charlie is my darling, &c. + + Then ilka bonny lassie sang, + As to the door she ran, + Our King shall hae his ain again, + An' Charlie is the man: + For Charlie he 's my darling, &c. + + Out ow'r yon moory mountain, + An' down the craggy glen, + Of naething else our lasses sing, + But Charlie an' his men. + An' Charlie he 's my darling, &c. + + Our Highland hearts are true an' leal, + An' glow without a stain; + Our Highland swords are metal keen, + An' Charlie he 's our ain. + An' Charlie he 's my darling, + My darling, my darling; + Charlie he 's my darling, + The young Chevalier. + + +[57] Altered at the request of a lady who sang it sweetly, and published +in the "Jacobite Relics."--_Hogg._ + + + + +LOVE IS LIKE A DIZZINESS. + +AIR--_"Paddy's Wedding."_ + + + I lately lived in quiet ease, + An' never wish'd to marry, O! + But when I saw my Peggy's face, + I felt a sad quandary, O! + Though wild as ony Athol deer, + She has trepann'd me fairly, O! + Her cherry cheeks an' e'en sae clear + Torment me late an' early, O! + O, love, love, love! + Love is like a dizziness, + It winna let a poor body + Gang about his business! + + To tell my feats this single week, + Would mak' a daft-like diary, O! + I drave my cart outow'r a dike, + My horses in a miry, O! + I wear my stockings white an' blue, + My love 's sae fierce an' fiery, O! + I drill the land that I should plough, + An' plough the drills entirely, O! + O, love, love, love! &c. + + Ae morning, by the dawn o' day, + I rose to theek the stable, O! + I keust my coat an' plied away + As fast as I was able, O! + I wrought that morning out an' out, + As I 'd been redding fire, O! + When I had done an' look'd about, + Gude faith, it was the byre, O! + O, love, love, love! &c. + + Her wily glance I 'll ne'er forget, + The dear, the lovely blinkin' o't + Has pierced me through an' through the heart, + An' plagues me wi' the prinklin' o't. + I tried to sing, I tried to pray, + I tried to drown 't wi' drinkin' o't, + I tried wi' sport to drive 't away, + But ne'er can sleep for thinkin' o't. + O, love, love, love! &c. + + Nae man can tell what pains I prove, + Or how severe my pliskie, O! + I swear I 'm sairer drunk wi' love + Than e'er I was wi' whisky, O! + For love has raked me fore an' aft, + I scarce can lift a leggie, O! + I first grew dizzy, then gaed daft, + An' soon I 'll dee for Peggy, O! + O, love, love, love! + Love is like a dizziness, + It winna let a poor body + Gang about his business! + + + + +O, WEEL BEFA' THE MAIDEN GAY.[58] + + + O, weel befa' the maiden gay, + In cottage, bught, or penn, + An' weel befa' the bonny May + That wons in yonder glen; + Wha loes the modest truth sae weel, + Wha 's aye kind, an' aye sae leal, + An' pure as blooming asphodel + Amang sae mony men. + O, weel befa' the bonny thing + That wons in yonder glen! + + 'Tis sweet to hear the music float + Along the gloaming lea; + 'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note + Come pealing frae the tree; + To see the lambkins lightsome race-- + The speckled kid in wanton chase-- + The young deer cower in lonely place, + Deep in her flowing den; + But sweeter far the bonny face + That smiles in yonder glen! + + O, had it no' been for the blush + O' maiden's virgin flame, + Dear beauty never had been known, + An' never had a name; + But aye sin' that dear thing o' blame + Was modell'd by an angel's frame, + The power o' beauty reigns supreme + O'er a' the sons o' men; + But deadliest far the sacred flame + Burns in a lonely glen! + + There 's beauty in the violet's vest-- + There 's hinney in the haw-- + There 's dew within the rose's breast, + The sweetest o' them a'. + The sun will rise an' set again, + An' lace wi' burning goud the main-- + The rainbow bend outow'r the plain, + Sae lovely to the ken; + But lovelier far the bonny thing + That wons in yonder glen! + + +[58] This song was written at Elleray, Mr Wilson's seat in Westmoreland, +where a number of my very best things were written. There was a system +of competition went on there, the most delightful that I ever engaged +in. Mr Wilson and I had a "Queen's Wake" every wet day--a fair set-to +who should write the best poem between breakfast and dinner, and, if I +am any judge, these friendly competitions produced several of our best +poems, if not the best ever written on the same subjects before. Mr +Wilson, as well as Southey and Wordsworth, had all of them a way of +singing out their poetry in a loud sonorous key, which was very +impressive, but perfectly ludicrous. Wilson, at that period, composed +all his poetry by going over it in that sounding strain; and in our +daily competitions, although our rooms were not immediately adjoining, I +always overheard what progress he was making. When he came upon any +grand idea, he opened upon it full swell, with all the energy of a fine +fox-hound on a hot trail. If I heard many of these vehement aspirations, +they weakened my hands and discouraged my heart, and I often said to +myself, "Gude faith, it 's a' ower wi' me for this day!" When we went +over the poems together in the evening, I was always anxious to learn +what parts of the poem had excited the sublime breathings which I had +heard at a distance, but he never could tell me.--_Hogg._ + + + + +THE FLOWERS OF SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"The Blue Bells of Scotland."_ + + + What are the flowers of Scotland, + All others that excel-- + The lovely flowers of Scotland, + All others that excel? + The thistle's purple bonnet, + And bonny heather-bell, + O, they 're the flowers of Scotland, + All others that excel! + + Though England eyes her roses + With pride she 'll ne'er forego, + The rose has oft been trodden + By foot of haughty foe; + But the thistle in her bonnet blue, + Still nods outow'r the fell, + And dares the proudest foeman + To tread the heather-bell. + + For the wee bit leaf o' Ireland, + Alack and well-a-day! + For ilka hand is free to pu' + An' steal the gem away. + But the thistle in her bonnet blue + Still bobs aboon them a'; + At her the bravest darena blink, + Or gie his mou' a thraw. + + Up wi' the flowers o' Scotland, + The emblems o' the free, + Their guardians for a thousand years, + Their guardians still we 'll be. + A foe had better brave the deil, + Within his reeky cell, + Than our thistle's purple bonnet, + Or bonny heather-bell. + + + + +LASS, AN' YE LO'E ME, TELL ME NOW.[59] + + + "Afore the muircock begin to craw, + Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now, + The bonniest thing that ever ye saw, + For I canna come every night to woo." + "The gouden broom is bonny to see, + An' sae is the milk-white flower o' the haw, + The daisy's wee freenge is sweet on the lea, + But the bud of the rose is the bonniest of a'." + + "Now, wae light on a' your flow'ry chat, + Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now; + It 's no the thing that I would be at, + An' I canna come every night to woo! + The lamb is bonny upon the brae, + The leveret friskin' o'er the knowe, + The bird is bonny upon the tree-- + But which is the dearest of a' to you?" + + "The thing that I lo'e best of a', + Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now; + The dearest thing that ever I saw, + Though I canna come every night to woo, + Is the kindly smile that beams on me, + Whenever a gentle hand I press, + And the wily blink frae the dark-blue e'e + Of a dear, dear lassie that they ca' Bess." + + "Aha! young man, but I cou'dna see, + What I lo'e best I 'll tell you now, + The compliment that ye sought frae me, + Though ye canna come every night to woo; + Yet I would rather hae frae you + A kindly look, an' a word witha', + Than a' the flowers o' the forest pu', + Than a' the lads that ever I saw." + + "Then, dear, dear Bessie, you shall be mine, + Sin' a' the truth ye hae tauld me now, + Our hearts an' fortunes we 'll entwine, + An' I 'll aye come every night to woo; + For O, I canna descrive to thee + The feeling o' love's and nature's law, + How dear this world appears to me + Wi' Bessie, my ain for good an' for a'!" + + +[59] This song was suggested to the Shepherd by the words adapted to the +formerly popular air, "Lass, gin ye lo'e me"--beginning, "I hae laid a +herring in saut." + + + + +PULL AWAY, JOLLY BOYS! + + + Here we go upon the tide, + Pull away, jolly boys! + With heaven for our guide, + Pull away! + Here 's a weather-beaten tar, + Britain's glory still his star, + He has borne her thunders far, + Pull away, jolly boys! + To your gallant men-of-war, + Pull away! + + We 've with Nelson plough'd the main, + Pull away, jolly boys! + Now his signal flies again, + Pull away! + Brave hearts, then let us go + To drub the haughty foe, + Who once again shall know, + Pull away, gallant boys! + That our backs we never shew, + Pull away! + + We have fought and we have sped, + Pull away, gallant boys! + Where the rolling wave was red, + Pull away! + We 've stood many a mighty shock, + Like the thunder-stricken oak, + We 've been bent, but never broke, + Pull away, gallant boys! + We ne'er brook'd a foreign yoke, + Pull away! + + Here we go upon the deep, + Pull away, gallant boys! + O'er the ocean let us sweep, + Pull away! + Round the earth our glory rings, + At the thought my bosom springs, + That whene'er our pennant swings, + Pull away, gallant boys! + Of the ocean we 're the kings, + Pull away! + + + + +O, SAW YE THIS SWEET BONNY LASSIE O' MINE? + + + O, saw ye this sweet bonny lassie o' mine, + Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine; + Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e? + Sure naebody e'er was so happy as me! + + It 's no that she dances sae light on the green, + It 's no the simplicity mark'd in her mien; + But O, it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e, + That makes me as happy as happy can be. + + To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees, + When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees; + To breathe out the soul of a saft melting kiss-- + On earth here there 's naething is equal to this! + + I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy, + When friends circled round me, and nought to annoy; + I have felt every joy that illumines the breast, + When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd: + + But O, there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm + In life's early day, when the bosom is warm; + When soul meets wi' soul in a saft melting kiss-- + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this! + + + + +THE AULD HIGHLANDMAN. + + + Hersell pe auchty years and twa, + Te twenty-tird o' May, man; + She twell amang te Heelan hills, + Ayont the reefer Spey, man. + Tat year tey foucht the Sherra-muir, + She first peheld te licht, man; + Tey shot my father in tat stoure-- + A plaguit, vexin' spite, man. + + I 've feucht in Scotland here at hame, + In France and Shermanie, man; + And cot tree tespurt pluddy oons, + Beyond te 'Lantic sea, man. + But wae licht on te nasty cun, + Tat ever she pe porn, man; + Phile koot klymore te tristle caird, + Her leaves pe never torn, man. + + Ae tay I shot, and shot, and shot, + Phane'er it cam my turn, man; + Put a' te force tat I could gie, + Te powter wadna purn, man. + A filty loon cam wi' his cun, + Resolvt to to me harm, man; + And wi' te tirk upon her nose, + Ke me a pluddy arm, man. + + I flang my cun wi' a' my micht, + And felt his nepour teit, man; + Tan drew my swort, and at a straik + Hewt aff te haf o 's heit, man. + Be vain to tell o' a' my tricks; + My oons pe nae tiscrace, man; + Ter no pe yin pehint my back, + Ter a pefore my face, man. + + + + +AH, PEGGIE, SINCE THOU 'RT GANE AWAY![60] + + + Ah, Peggie! since thou 'rt gane away, + An' left me here to languish, + I canna fend anither day + In sic regretfu' anguish. + My mind 's the aspen i' the vale, + In ceaseless waving motion; + 'Tis like a ship without a sail, + On life's unstable ocean. + + I downa bide to see the moon + Blink owre the glen sae clearly; + Aince on a bonnie face she shone-- + A face that I lo'ed dearly! + An' when beside yon water clear, + At e'en I 'm lanely roaming, + I sigh an' think, if ane was here, + How sweet wad fa' the gloaming! + + When I think o' thy cheerfu' smile, + Thy words sae free an' kindly, + Thy pawkie e'e's bewitching wile, + The unbidden tear will blind me. + The rose's deepest blushing hue + Thy cheek could eithly borrow, + But ae kiss o' thy cherry mou' + Was worth a year o' sorrow. + + Oh! in the slippery paths of love, + Let prudence aye direct thee; + Let virtue every step approve, + An' virtue will respect thee. + To ilka pleasure, ilka pang, + Alak! I am nae stranger; + An' he wha aince has wander'd wrang + Is best aware o' danger. + + May still thy heart be kind an' true, + A' ither maids excelling; + May heaven distil its purest dew + Around thy rural dwelling. + May flow'rets spring an' wild birds sing + Around thee late an' early; + An' oft to thy remembrance bring + The lad that loo'd thee dearly. + + +[60] This song was addressed, in 1811, to Miss Margaret Phillips, who in +nine years afterwards became the poet's wife. + + + + +GANG TO THE BRAKENS WI' ME. + + + I 'll sing of yon glen of red heather, + An' a dear thing that ca's it her hame, + Wha 's a' made o' love-life thegither, + Frae the tie o' the shoe to the kaime, + Love beckons in every sweet motion, + Commanding due homage to gie; + But the shrine o' my dearest devotion + Is the bend o' her bonny e'ebree. + + I fleech'd an' I pray'd the dear lassie + To gang to the brakens wi' me; + But though neither lordly nor saucy, + Her answer was--"Laith wad I be! + I neither hae father nor mither, + Sage counsel or caution to gie; + An' prudence has whisper'd me never + To gang to the brakens wi' thee." + + "Dear lassie, how can ye upbraid me, + An' try your ain love to beguile? + For ye are the richest young lady + That ever gaid o'er the kirk-stile. + Your smile that is blither than ony, + The bend o' your cheerfu' e'ebree, + An' the sweet blinks o' love there sae bonny, + Are five hunder thousand to me!" + + She turn'd her around an' said, smiling, + While the tear in her blue e'e shone clear, + "You 're welcome, kind sir, to your mailing, + For, O, you have valued it dear: + Gae make out the lease, do not linger, + Let the parson indorse the decree; + An' then, for a wave of your finger, + I 'll gang to the brakens wi' thee!" + + There 's joy in the bright blooming feature, + When love lurks in every young line; + There 's joy in the beauties of nature, + There 's joy in the dance and the wine: + But there 's a delight will ne'er perish, + 'Mang pleasures all fleeting and vain, + And that is to love and to cherish + The fond little heart that's our ain! + + + + +LOCK THE DOOR, LARISTON. + + + Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale, + Lock the door, Lariston, Lowther comes on, + The Armstrongs are flying, + Their widows are crying, + The Castletown's burning, and Oliver's gone; + Lock the door, Lariston,--high on the weather gleam, + See how the Saxon plumes bob on the sky, + Yeoman and carbineer, + Billman and halberdier; + Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry. + + Bewcastle brandishes high his broad scimitar, + Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey, + Hedley and Howard there, + Wandale and Windermere,-- + Lock the door, Lariston, hold them at bay. + Why dost thou smile, noble Elliot of Lariston? + Why do the joy-candles gleam in thine eye? + Thou bold Border ranger + Beware of thy danger-- + Thy foes are relentless, determined, and nigh. + + Jock Elliot raised up his steel bonnet and lookit, + His hand grasp'd the sword with a nervous embrace; + "Ah, welcome, brave foemen, + On earth there are no men + More gallant to meet in the foray or chase! + Little know you of the hearts I have hidden here, + Little know you of our moss-troopers' might, + Lindhope and Sorby true, + Sundhope and Milburn too, + Gentle in manner, but lions in fight! + + "I 've Margerton, Gornberry, Raeburn, and Netherby, + Old Sim of Whitram, and all his array; + Come, all Northumberland, + Teesdale and Cumberland, + Here at the Breaken Tower end shall the fray." + Scowl'd the broad sun o'er the links of green Liddisdale, + Red as the beacon-light tipp'd he the wold; + Many a bold martial eye + Mirror'd that morning sky, + Never more oped on his orbit of gold! + + Shrill was the bugle's note, dreadful the warrior shout, + Lances and halberts in splinters were borne; + Halberd and hauberk then + Braved the claymore in vain, + Buckler and armlet in shivers were shorn. + See how they wane, the proud files of the Windermere, + Howard--ah! woe to thy hopes of the day! + Hear the wide welkin rend, + While the Scots' shouts ascend, + "Elliot of Lariston, Elliot for aye!" + + + + +I HAE NAEBODY NOW. + + + I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now + To meet me upon the green, + Wi' light locks waving o'er her brow, + An' joy in her deep blue e'en; + Wi' the raptured kiss an' the happy smile, + An' the dance o' the lightsome fay, + An' the wee bit tale o' news the while + That had happen'd when I was away. + + I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now + To clasp to my bosom at even, + O'er her calm sleep to breathe the vow, + An' pray for a blessing from heaven. + An' the wild embrace, an' the gleesome face + In the morning, that met my eye, + Where are they now, where are they now? + In the cauld, cauld grave they lie. + + There 's naebody kens, there 's naebody kens, + An' O may they never prove, + That sharpest degree o' agony + For the child o' their earthly love-- + To see a flower in its vernal hour + By slow degrees decay, + Then, calmly aneath the hand o' death, + Breathe its sweet soul away. + + O, dinna break, my poor auld heart! + Nor at thy loss repine, + For the unseen hand that threw the dart + Was sent frae her Father and thine; + Yet I maun mourn, an' I will mourn, + Even till my latest day; + For though my darling can never return, + I can follow the sooner away. + + + + +THE MOON WAS A-WANING. + + + The moon was a-waning, + The tempest was over; + Fair was the maiden, + And fond was the lover; + But the snow was so deep, + That his heart it grew weary, + And he sunk down to sleep, + In the moorland so dreary. + + Soft was the bed + She had made for her lover, + White were the sheets + And embroider'd the cover; + But his sheets are more white, + And his canopy grander, + And sounder he sleeps + Where the hill foxes wander. + + Alas, pretty maiden, + What sorrows attend you! + I see you sit shivering, + With lights at your window; + But long may you wait + Ere your arms shall enclose him, + For still, still he lies, + With a wreath on his bosom! + + How painful the task, + The sad tidings to tell you!-- + An orphan you were + Ere this misery befell you; + And far in yon wild, + Where the dead-tapers hover, + So cold, cold and wan + Lies the corpse of your lover! + + + + +GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY. + + + The year is wearing to the wane, + An' day is fading west awa', + Loud raves the torrent an' the rain, + And dark the cloud comes down the shaw; + But let the tempest tout an' blaw + Upon his loudest winter horn, + Good night, and joy be wi' you a', + We 'll maybe meet again the morn! + + O, we hae wander'd far and wide + O'er Scotia's hills, o'er firth an' fell, + An' mony a simple flower we 've cull'd, + An' trimm'd them wi' the heather-bell! + We 've ranged the dingle an' the dell, + The hamlet an' the baron's ha', + Now let us take a kind farewell,-- + Good night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + Though I was wayward, you were kind, + And sorrow'd when I went astray; + For O, my strains were often wild, + As winds upon a winter day. + If e'er I led you from the way, + Forgie your Minstrel aince for a'; + A tear fa's wi' his parting lay,-- + Good night, and joy be wi' you a'! + + + + +JAMES MUIRHEAD, D.D. + + +James Muirhead was born in 1742, in the parish of Buittle, and stewartry +of Kirkcudbright. His father was owner of the estate of Logan, and +representative of the family of Muirhead, who, for several centuries, +were considerable landed proprietors in Galloway. He was educated at the +Grammar School of Dumfries, and in the University of Edinburgh. +Abandoning the legal profession, which he had originally chosen, he +afterwards prosecuted theological study, and became, in 1769, a +licentiate of the Established Church. After a probation of three years, +he was ordained to the ministerial charge of Urr, a country parish in +the stewartry. In 1794 he received the degree of D.D. from the +University of Edinburgh. Warmly attached to his flock, he ministered at +Urr till his death, which took place on the 16th of May 1806. + +Dr Muirhead was a person of warm affections and remarkable humour; his +scholarship was extensive and varied, and he maintained a correspondence +with many of his literary contemporaries. As an author, he is not known +to have written aught save the popular ballad of "Bess, the Gawkie,"--a +production which has been pronounced by Allan Cunningham "a song of +original merit, lively without extravagance, and gay without +grossness,--the simplicity elegant, and the naïveté scarcely +rivalled."[61] + + +[61] We have frequently had occasion to remark the ignorance of modern +editors regarding the authorship of the most popular songs. Every +collector of Scottish song has inserted "Bess, the Gawkie;" but scarcely +one of them has correctly stated the authorship. The song has been +generally ascribed to an anonymous "Rev. Mr Morehead;" by some to the +"Rev. Robert Morehead;" and Allan Cunningham, who states that his father +was acquainted with the real author, has described him as the "Rev. +William Morehead!" + + + + +BESS, THE GAWKIE. + +TUNE--_"Bess, the Gawkie."_ + + + Blythe young Bess to Jean did say, + Will ye gang to yon sunny brae, + Where flocks do feed, and herds do stray, + And sport a while wi' Jamie? + Ah, na, lass, I 'll no gang there, + Nor about Jamie tak' a care, + Nor about Jamie tak' a care, + For he 's ta'en up wi' Maggie. + + For hark, and I will tell you, lass, + Did I not see young Jamie pass, + Wi' mickle blytheness in his face, + Out ower the muir to Maggie. + I wat he gae her mony a kiss, + And Maggie took them nae amiss; + 'Tween ilka smack pleased her wi' this, + That Bess was but a gawkie. + + For when a civil kiss I seek, + She turns her head, and thraws her cheek, + And for an hour she 'll hardly speak; + Wha 'd no ca' her a gawkie? + But sure my Maggie has mair sense, + She 'll gie a score without offence; + Now gie me ane into the mense, + And ye shall be my dawtie. + + O Jamie, ye hae monie ta'en, + But I will never stand for ane + Or twa when we do meet again; + So ne'er think me a gawkie. + Ah, na, lass, that canna be; + Sic thoughts as thae are far frae me, + Or ony thy sweet face that see, + E'er to think thee a gawkie. + + But, whisht, nae mair o' this we 'll speak, + For yonder Jamie does us meet; + Instead o' Meg he kiss'd sae sweet, + I trow he likes the gawkie. + O, dear Bess! I hardly knew, + When I cam' by, your gown sae new; + I think you 've got it wet wi' dew! + Quoth she, That 's like a gawkie! + + It 's wat wi' dew, and 'twill get rain, + And I 'll get gowns when it is gane; + Sae ye may gang the gate ye came, + And tell it to your dawtie. + The guilt appear'd in Jamie's cheek; + He cried, O cruel maid, but sweet, + If I should gang anither gate, + I ne'er could meet my dawtie. + + The lasses fast frae him they flew, + And left poor Jamie sair to rue + That ever Maggie's face he knew, + Or yet ca'd Bess a gawkie. + As they gaed ower the muir, they sang, + The hills and dales wi' echoes rang, + The hills and dales wi' echoes rang, + Gang o'er the muir to Maggie. + + + + +MRS AGNES LYON. + + +A female contemporary of the Baroness Nairn, of kindred tastes, and of +equal indifference to a poetical reputation, was Mrs Agnes Lyon of +Glammis. She was the eldest daughter of John Ramsay L'Amy, of Dunkenny, +in Forfarshire, and was born at Dundee about the commencement of the +year 1762. She was reputed for her beauty, and had numerous suitors for +her hand; but she gave the preference to the Rev. Dr James Lyon, +minister of Glammis, to whom she was married on the 25th of January +1786. Of a highly cultivated mind and most lively fancy, she had early +improved a taste for versifying, and acquired the habit of readily +clothing her thoughts in the language of poetry. She became the mother +of ten children; and she relieved the toils of their upbringing, as well +as administered to the improvement of their youthful minds, by her +occasional exercises in verse. Her four volumes of MS. poetry contain +lyrics dated as having been written from the early period of her +marriage to nearly the time of her decease. The topics are generally +domestic, and her strain is lively and humorous; in pathetic pieces she +is tender and singularly touching. Possessed of a correct musical ear, +she readily parodied the more popular songs, or adapted words to their +airs, with the view of interesting her friends, or producing good humour +and happiness in the family circle. She had formed the acquaintance of +Neil Gow, the celebrated violinist, and composed, at his particular +request, the words to his popular tune "Farewell to Whisky,"--the only +lyric from her pen which has hitherto been published. In all the +collections of Scottish song, it appears as anonymous. In the present +work, it is printed from a copy in one of her MS. volumes. + +Mrs Lyon died on the 14th September 1840, having survived her husband +about two years, and seen the greater number of her children carried to +the grave. Entirely free of literary ambition, she bequeathed her MSS. +to the widow of one of her sons, to whom she was devotedly attached, +accompanied by a request, inscribed in rhyme at the beginning of the +first volume, that the compositions might not be printed, unless in the +event of a deficiency in the family funds. Their origin is thus +described:-- + + "Written off-hand, as one may say, + Perhaps upon a rainy day, + Perhaps while at the cradle rocking. + Instead of knitting at a stocking, + She 'd catch a paper, pen, and ink, + And easily the verses clink. + Perhaps a headache at a time + Would make her on her bed recline, + And rather than be merely idle, + She 'd give her fancy rein and bridle. + She neither wanted lamp nor oil, + Nor found composing any toil; + As for correction's iron wand, + She never took it in her hand; + And can, with conscience clear, declare, + She ne'er neglected house affair, + Nor put her little babes aside, + To take on Pegasus a ride. + Rather let pens and paper flame, + Than any mother have the shame + (Except at any _orra time_) + To spend her hours in making rhyme." + +In person, Mrs Lyon was of the middle height, and of a slender form. She +had a fair complexion, her eyes were of light blue, and her countenance +wore the expression of intelligence. She excelled in conversation; and a +retentive memory enabled her to render available the fruits of extensive +reading. In old age, she retained much of the buoyant vivacity of youth, +and her whole life was adorned by the most exemplary piety. + + + + +NEIL GOW'S FAREWELL TO WHISKY.[62] + +TUNE--_"Farewell to Whisky."_ + + + You 've surely heard of famous Neil, + The man who play'd the fiddle weel; + He was a heartsome merry chiel', + And weel he lo'ed the whisky, O! + For e'er since he wore the tartan hose + He dearly liket _Athole brose_![63] + And grieved he was, you may suppose, + To bid "farewell to whisky," O! + + Alas! says Neil, I'm frail and auld, + And whiles my hame is unco cauld; + I think it makes me blythe and bauld, + A wee drap Highland whisky, O! + But a' the doctors do agree + That whisky 's no the drink for me; + I 'm fley'd they'll gar me tyne my glee, + By parting me and whisky, O! + + But I should mind on "auld lang syne," + How Paradise our friends did tyne, + Because something ran in their mind-- + Forbid--like Highland whisky, O! + Whilst I can get good wine and ale, + And find my heart, and fingers hale, + I 'll be content, though legs should fail, + And though forbidden whisky, O! + + I 'll tak' my fiddle in my hand, + And screw its strings whilst they can stand, + And mak' a lamentation grand + For guid auld Highland whisky, O! + Oh! all ye powers of music, come, + For deed I think I 'm mighty glum, + My fiddle-strings will hardly bum, + To say, "farewell to whisky," O! + + +[62] In the Author's MS., the following sentences occur prefatory to +this song:--"Everybody knows Neil Gow. When he was poorly, the +physicians forbade him to drink his favourite liquor. The words +following were composed, at his particular desire, to a lamentation he +had just made." Mrs Lyon became acquainted with Gow when she was a young +lady, attending the concerts in Dundee, at which the services of the +great violinist were regularly required. The song is very inaccurately +printed in some of the collections. + +[63] A beverage composed of honey dissolved in whisky. + + + + +SEE THE WINTER CLOUDS AROUND.[64] + + + See the winter clouds around; + See the leaves lie on the ground; + Pretty little Robin comes, + Seeking for his daily crumbs! + + In the window near the tree, + Little Robin you may see; + There his slender board is fix'd, + There his crumbs are bruised and mix'd. + + View his taper limbs, how neat! + And his eyes like beads of jet; + See his pretty feathers shine! + Little Robin haste and dine. + + When sweet Robin leaves the space, + Other birds will fill his place; + See the Tit-mouse, pretty thing! + See the Sparrow's sombre wing! + + Great and grand disputes arise, + For the crumbs of largest size, + Which the bravest and the best + Bear triumphant to their nest. + + What a pleasure thus to feed + Hungry mouths in time of need! + For whether it be men or birds, + Crumbs are better far than words. + + +[64] These simple stanzas, conveying such an excellent _morale_ at the +close, were written, almost without premeditation, for the amusement and +instruction of a little girl, the author's grandchild, who had been on a +visit at the manse of Glammis. The allusion to the _board_ in the second +verse refers to a little piece of timber which the amiable lady of the +house had affixed on the outside of one of the windows, for holding a +few crumbs which she daily spread on it for _Robin_, who regularly came +to enjoy the bounty of his benefactress. This lyric, and those +following, are printed for the first time. + + + + +WITHIN THE TOWERS OF ANCIENT GLAMMIS.[65] + +TUNE--_"Merry in the Hall."_ + + + Within the towers of ancient Glammis + Some merry men did dine, + And their host took care they should richly fare + In friendship, wit, and wine. + But they sat too late, and mistook the gate, + (For wine mounts to the brain); + O, 'twas merry in the hall, when the beards wagg'd all; + O, we hope they 'll be back again; + We hope they 'll be back again! + + Sir Walter tapp'd at the parson's door, + To find the proper way, + But he dropt his switch, though there was no ditch, + And on the steps it lay. + So his wife took care of this nice affair, + And she wiped it free from stain; + For the knight was gone, nor the owner known, + So he ne'er got the switch again; + So he ne'er got the switch again. + + This wondrous little whip[66] remains + Within the lady's sight, + (She crambo makes, with some mistakes, + But hopes for further light). + So she ne'er will part with this switch so smart, + These thirty years her ain; + Till the knight appear, it must just lie here, + He will ne'er get his switch again; + He will ne'er get his switch again! + + + +[65] This lively lyrical rhapsody, written in April 1821, celebrates an +amusing incident connected with the visit of Sir Walter Scott to the +Castle of Glammis, in 1793. Sir Walter was hospitably entertained in the +Castle, by Mr Peter Proctor, the factor, in the absence of the noble +owner, the Earl of Strathmore, who did not reside in the family mansion; +and the conjecture may be hazarded, that he dropt his whip at the manse +door on the same evening that he drank an English pint of wine from the +_lion beaker_ of Glammis, the prototype of the _silver bear_ of +Tully-Veolan, "the _poculum potatorium_ of the valiant baron."--(See +_Note_ to Waverley, and Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter Scott). + +[66] The whip is now in the custody of Mr George Lyon, of Stirling, the +author's son. + + + + +MY SON GEORGE'S DEPARTURE.[67] + +TUNE--_"Peggy Brown."_ + + + The parting kiss, the soft embrace, + I feel them at my heart! + 'Twere joy to clasp you in those arms, + But agony to part. + But let us tranquillise our minds, + And hope the time may be, + When I shall see that face again, + So loved, so dear to me! + + Five tedious years have roll'd along, + And griefs have had their sway, + Though many comforts fill'd my cup, + Yet thou wert far away. + On pleasant days, when friends are met, + Our sports are scarce begun, + When I shall sigh, because I miss + My George, my eldest son! + + I owe my grateful thanks to Heaven, + I 've seen thee well and gay, + I 've heard the music of thy voice, + I 've heard thee sweetly play. + O try and cheer us with your strains + Ere many twelvemonths be, + And let us hear that voice again, + So loved, so dear to me! + + + +[67] This lay of affection is dated September 1820, when the author +received a visit from her eldest son, who was then settled as a merchant +in London. Mr George Lyon, the subject of the song, and the only +surviving member of the family, is now resident at Snowdoun House, +Stirling. + + + + +ROBERT LOCHORE. + + +Robert Lochore was descended from a branch of a Norman family of that +name, long established in the neighbourhood of Biggar, and of which the +representative was the House of Lochore de Lochore in Fifeshire. He was +born at Strathaven, in the county of Lanark, on the 7th of July 1762, +and, in his thirteenth year, was apprenticed to a shoemaker in Glasgow. +He early commenced business in the city on his own account. In carrying +on public improvements he ever evinced a deep interest, and he +frequently held public offices of trust. He was founder of the "Annuity +Society,"--an institution attended with numerous benefits to the +citizens of Glasgow. + +Mr Lochore devoted much of his time to private study. He was +particularly fond of poetical composition, and wrote verses with +facility, many of his letters to his intimate friends being composed in +rhyme. His poetry was of the descriptive order; his lyrical effusions +were comparatively rare. Several poetical tales and songs of his youth, +contributed to different periodicals, he arranged, about the beginning +of the century, in a small volume. The greater number of his +compositions remain in MS. in the possession of his family. He died in +Glasgow, on the 27th April 1852, in his ninetieth year. Of a buoyant and +humorous disposition, he composed verses nearly to the close of his long +life; and, latterly, found pleasure in recording, for the amusement of +his family, his recollections of the past. He was universally beloved as +a faithful friend, and was deeply imbued with a sense of religion. + + + + +NOW, JENNY LASS. + +TUNE--_"Garryowen."_ + + + Now, Jenny lass, my bonnie bird, + My daddy 's dead, an' a' that; + He 's snugly laid aneath the yird, + And I 'm his heir, an' a' that; + I 'm now a laird, an' a' that; + I 'm now a laird, an' a' that; + His gear an' land 's at my command, + And muckle mair than a' that. + + He left me wi' his deein' breath, + A dwallin' house, an' a' that; + A burn, a byre, an' wabs o' claith-- + A big peat-stack, an' a' that. + A mare, a foal, an' a' that; + A mare, a foal, an' a' that; + Sax guid fat kye, a cauf forby, + An' twa pet ewes, an' a' that. + + A yard, a meadow, lang braid leas, + An' stacks o' corn, an' a' that-- + Enclosed weel wi' thorns an' trees, + An' carts, an' cars, an' a' that; + A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that; + A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that; + Guid harrows twa, cock, hens, an' a'-- + A grecie, too, an' a' that. + + I 've heaps o' claes for ilka days, + For Sundays, too, an' a' that; + I 've bills an' bonds on lairds an' lands, + And siller, gowd, an' a' that. + What think ye, lass, o' a' that? + What think ye, lass, o' a' that? + What want I noo, my dainty doo, + But just a wife to a' that. + + Now, Jenny dear, my errand here + Is to seek ye to a' that; + My heart 's a' loupin', while I speer + Gin ye 'll tak me, wi' a' that. + Mysel', my gear, an' a' that; + Mysel', my gear, an' a' that; + Come, gie 's your loof to be a proof, + Ye 'll be a wife to a' that. + + Syne Jenny laid her neive in his-- + Said, she 'd tak him wi' a' that; + An' he gied her a hearty kiss, + An' dauted her, an' a' that. + They set a day, an' a' that; + They set a day, an' a' that; + Whan she 'd gang hame to be his dame, + An' haud a rant, an' a' that. + + + + +MARRIAGE, AND THE CARE O'T. + +TUNE--_"Whistle o'er the lave o't."_ + + + Quoth Rab to Kate, My sonsy dear, + I 've woo'd ye mair than half a-year, + An' if ye 'd wed me, ne'er cou'd speer + Wi' blateness, an' the care o't. + Now to the point: sincere I 'm we 't; + Will ye be my half-marrow sweet? + Shake han's, and say a bargain be 't, + An' ne'er think on the care o't. + + Na, na, quo' Kate, I winna wed, + O' sic a snare I 'll aye be rede; + How mony, thochtless, are misled + By marriage, an' the care o't! + A single life 's a life o' glee, + A wife ne'er think to mak' o' me, + Frae toil an' sorrow I 'll keep free, + An' a' the dool an' care o't. + + Weel, weel, said Robin, in reply, + Ye ne'er again shall me deny, + Ye may a toothless maiden die, + For me, I 'll tak' nae care o't. + Fareweel, for ever!--aff I hie;-- + Sae took his leave without a sigh: + Oh! stop, quo' Kate, I 'm yours, I 'll try + The married life, an' care o't. + + Rab wheel't about, to Kate cam' back, + An' gae her mou' a hearty smack, + Syne lengthen'd out a lovin' crack + 'Bout marriage, an' the care o't. + Though as she thocht she didna speak, + An' lookit unco mim an' meek, + Yet blythe was she wi' Rab to cleek + In marriage, wi' the care o't. + + + + +MARY'S TWA LOVERS. + +TUNE--_"Bessie Bell and Mary Gray."_ + + + Dear Aunty, I 've been lang your care, + Your counsels guid ha'e blest me; + Now in a kittle case ance mair + Wi' your advice assist me: + Twa lovers frequent on me wait, + An' baith I frankly speak wi'; + Sae I 'm put in a puzzlin' strait + Whilk o' the twa to cleek wi'. + + There 's sonsy James, wha wears a wig, + A widower fresh and canty, + Though turn'd o' sixty, gaes fu' trig, + He 's rich, and rowes in plenty. + Tam 's twenty-five, hauds James's pleugh, + A lad deserves regardin'; + He 's clever, decent, sober too, + But he 's no worth ae fardin'. + + Auld James, 'tis true, I downa see, + But 's cash will answer a' things; + To be a lady pleases me, + And buskit be wi' braw things. + Tam I esteem, like him there 's few, + His gait and looks entice me; + But, aunty, I 'll now trust in you, + And fix as ye advise me. + + Then aunt, wha spun, laid down her roke, + An' thus repliet to Mary: + Unequal matches in a yoke + Draw thrawart and camstrarie. + Since gentle James ye dinna like, + Wi 's gear ha'e nae connexion; + Tam 's like yoursel', the bargain strike, + Grup to him wi' affection. + + + + +THE FORLORN SHEPHERD.[68] + +TUNE--_"Banks of the Dee."_ + + + Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin', + For victims wha 're doom'd sair affliction to dree, + If a heart-broken lover, despairin' an' wailin', + Claim pity, your pity let fa' upon me. + Like you I was blest with content, an' was cheerie,-- + My pipe wont to play to the cantiest glee, + When smilin' an' kind was my Mary, sweet Mary, + While Mary was guileless, an' faithfu' to me. + + She promised, she vow'd, she wad be my half-marrow, + The day too was set, when our bridal should be; + How happy was I, but I tell you wi' sorrow, + She 's perjured hersel', ah! an' ruined me. + For Ned o' Shawneuk, wi' the charms o' his riches, + An' sly winnin' tales, tauld sae pawky an' slee, + Her han' has obtain'd, an' clad her like a duchess, + Sae baith skaith an' scorn ha'e come down upon me. + + Ye braes ance enchantin', o' you I 'm now wearie, + An' thou, ance dear haunt, 'neath the aul' thornie tree, + Where in rapture I sat an' dawtit fause Mary, + Fareweel! ye 'll never be seen mair by me. + Awa' as a pilgrim, far distant I 'll wander, + 'Mang faces unkent, till the day that I dee. + Ye shepherds, adieu! but tell Mary to ponder, + To think on her vows, an' to think upon me. + + +[68] This song is here printed for the first time. + + + + +JOHN ROBERTSON. + + +John Robertson, author of "The Toom Meal Pock," a humorous song which +has long been popular in the west of Scotland, was the son of an +extensive grocer in Paisley, where he was born about the year 1770. He +received the most ample education which his native town could afford, +and early cultivated a taste for the elegant arts of music and drawing. +Destined for one of the liberal professions, the unfortunate bankruptcy +of his father put an effectual check on his original aspirations. For a +period he was engaged as a salesman, till habits of insobriety rendered +his services unavailable to his employer. As a last resort, he enlisted +in the regiment of local militia; and his qualifications becoming known +to the officers, he was employed as a regimental clerk and schoolmaster. +He had written spirited verses in his youth; and though his muse had +become mournful, she continued to sing. His end was melancholy: the +unfortunate circumstances of his life preyed upon his mind, and in a +paroxysm of phrensy he committed suicide. He died in the vicinity of +Portsmouth, in the beginning of April 1810, about six weeks before the +similar death of his friend, Robert Tannahill. A person of much +ingenuity and scholarship, Robertson, with ordinary steadiness, would +have attained a good position in life. + + + + +THE TOOM MEAL POCK. + + + Preserve us a'! what shall we do, + Thir dark, unhallow'd times; + We 're surely dreeing penance now, + For some most awfu' crimes. + Sedition daurna now appear, + In reality or joke; + For ilka chiel maun mourn wi' me, + O' a hinging, toom meal pock, + And sing, Oh waes me! + + When lasses braw gaed out at e'en, + For sport and pastime free; + I seem'd like ane in paradise, + The moments quick did flee. + Like Venuses they all appear'd, + Weel pouther'd were their locks; + 'Twas easy dune, when at their hame, + Wi' the shaking o' their pocks. + And sing, Oh waes me! + + How happy pass'd my former days, + Wi' merry heartsome glee; + When smiling Fortune held the cup, + And Peace sat on my knee. + Nae wants had I but were supplied; + My heart wi' joy did knock, + When in the neuk I smiling saw + A gaucie, weel-fill'd pock. + And sing, Oh waes me! + + Speak no ae word about reform, + Nor petition Parliament; + A wiser scheme I 'll now propose, + I 'm sure ye 'll gi'e consent: + Send up a chiel or twa like me, + As a sample o' the flock, + Whose hollow cheeks will be sure proof + O' a hinging, toom meal pock. + And sing, Oh waes me! + + And should a sicht sae ghastly-like, + Wi' rags, and banes, and skin, + Hae nae impression on yon folks, + But tell ye 'll stand ahin'; + O what a contrast will ye shaw, + To the glowrin' Lunnun folk, + When in St James' ye tak' your stand, + Wi' a hinging, toom meal pock. + And sing, Oh waes me! + + Then rear your head, and glowr, and stare, + Before yon hills o' beef; + Tell them ye are frae Scotland come, + For Scotia's relief. + Tell them ye are the vera best, + Waled frae the fattest flock; + Then raise your arms, and oh! display + A hinging, toom meal pock. + And sing, Oh waes me! + + + + +ALEXANDER BALFOUR. + + +Alexander Balfour, a poet, novelist and miscellaneous writer, was born +on the 1st March 1767, at Guildie, a small hamlet in the parish of +Monikie, Forfarshire. His parents were in humble circumstances; and +being a twin, he was supported in early life by a friend of the family, +from whom he received such a religious training as exercised a highly +beneficial influence on his future character. He was educated at the +parish school, and evidenced precocity by essaying composition in his +twelfth year. Apprenticed to a weaver, he soon became disgusted with the +loom, and returned home to teach a school in his native parish. During +the intervals of leisure, he wrote articles for the provincial +miscellanies, the _British Chronicle_ newspaper, and _The Bee_, +published by Dr Anderson. In his 26th year, he became clerk to a +sail-cloth manufacturer in Arbroath; and, on the death of his employer, +soon afterwards, he entered into partnership with his widow. On her +death, in 1800, he assumed another partner. As government-contractors +for supplying the navy with canvas, the firm rapidly attained +prosperity; and Balfour found abundant leisure for prosecuting his +literary studies, and maintaining a correspondence with several men of +letters in the capital. He had married in 1794; and deeming a country +residence more advantageous for his rising family, he removed, in 1814, +to Trottick, within two miles of Dundee, where he assumed the management +of the branch of a London house, which for many years had been connected +with his own firm. This step was lamentably unfortunate; the house, in +which he had embarked his fortune, shared in the general commercial +disasters of 1815, and was involved in complete bankruptcy. Reduced to a +condition of dependance, Balfour accepted the situation of manager of a +manufacturing establishment at Balgonie, in Fife. In 1818, he resigned +this appointment; and proceeding to Edinburgh, was employed as a clerk +in the establishment of Mr Blackwood, the eminent publisher. The close +confinement of the counting-house, and the revolution of his fortunes, +which pressed heavily upon his mind, were too powerful for his +constitution. Symptoms of paralysis began to appear, shortly after his +removal to the capital; and in October 1819, he was so entirely +prostrated, as to require the use of a wheeled chair. His future career +was that of a man of letters. During the interval which elapsed between +his commercial reverses and the period of his physical debility, he +prepared a novel, which he had early projected, depicting the trials and +sufferings of an unbeneficed preacher. This work appeared in 1819, under +the title of "Campbell, or the Scottish Probationer," in three volumes; +and though published anonymously, soon led to the discovery and +reputation of the author. Towards the close of the same year, he edited +the poetical works of his late friend, Richard Gall, to which he +supplied an elegant biographical preface. His next separate publication +was "The Farmer's Three Daughters," a novel in three volumes. In 1820, +he published "Contemplation," with other poems, in one volume octavo; +which, favourably received by the press, also added considerably to his +fame. A third novel from his pen, entitled, "The Smuggler's Cave; or, +The Foundling of Glenthorn," appeared in 1823 from the unpropitious +Minerva press; it consequently failed to excite much attention. To the +_Scots Magazine_ he had long been a contributor; and, on the +establishment of _Constable's Edinburgh Magazine_ in its stead, his +assistance was secured by Mr Thomas Pringle, the original editor. His +articles, contributed to this periodical during the nine years of its +existence, contain matter sufficient to fill three octavo volumes: they +are on every variety of theme, but especially the manners of Scottish +rural life, which he has depicted with singular power. Of his numerous +contributions in verse, a series entitled, "Characters omitted in +Crabbe's Parish Register," was published separately in 1825; and this +production has been acknowledged as the most successful effort of his +muse. It is scarcely inferior to the more celebrated composition of the +English poet. + +In 1827, on the application of Mr Hume, M.P., a treasury donation of one +hundred pounds was conferred on Mr Balfour by the premier, Mr Canning, +in consideration of his genius. His last novel, "Highland Mary," in four +volumes, was published shortly before his death. To the last, he +contributed to the periodical publications. He died, after an illness of +about two weeks' duration, on the 12th September 1829, in the +sixty-third year of his age. + +Though confined to his wheel-chair for a period of ten years, and +otherwise debarred many of the comforts to which, in more prosperous +circumstances, he had been accustomed, Alexander Balfour retained to the +close of life his native placidity and gentleness. His countenance wore +a perpetual smile. He joined in the amusements of the young, and took +delight in the recital of the merry tale and humorous anecdote. His +speech, somewhat affected by his complaint, became pleasant from the +heartiness of his observations. He was an affectionate husband, and a +devoted parent; his habits were strictly temperate, and he was +influenced by a devout reverence for religion. A posthumous volume of +his writings, under the title of "Weeds and Wild-flowers," was published +under the editorial care of Mr D. M. Moir, who has prefixed an +interesting memoir. As a lyrical poet, he is not entitled to a first +place; his songs are, however, to be remarked for deep and genuine +pathos. + + + + +THE BONNY LASS O' LEVEN WATER. + + + Though siller Tweed rin o'er the lea, + An' dark the Dee 'mang Highland heather, + Yet siller Tweed an' drumly Dee + Are not sae dear as Leven Water: + When Nature form'd our favourite isle, + An' a' her sweets began to scatter, + She look'd with fond approving smile, + Alang the banks o' Leven Water. + + On flowery braes, at gloamin' gray, + 'Tis sweet to scent the primrose springin'; + Or through the woodlands green to stray, + In ilka buss the mavis singin': + But sweeter than the woodlands green, + Or primrose painted fair by Nature, + Is she wha smiles, a rural queen, + The bonny lass o' Leven Water! + + The sunbeam in the siller dew, + That hangs upon the hawthorn's blossom, + Shines faint beside her e'en sae blue; + An' purer is her spotless bosom. + Her smile wad thaw a hermit's breast; + There 's love an' truth in ilka feature; + For her I 'm past baith wark an' rest, + The bonny lass o' Leven Water! + + But I 'm a lad o' laigh degree, + Her purse-proud daddy 's dour an' saucy; + An' sair the carle wad scowl on me, + For speakin' to his dawtit lassie: + But were I laird o' Leven's glen, + An' she a humble shepherd's daughter, + I 'd kneel, an' court her for my ain, + The bonny lass o' Leven Water! + + + + +SLIGHTED LOVE. + + + The rosebud blushing to the morn, + The sna'-white flower that scents the thorn, + When on thy gentle bosom worn, + Were ne'er sae fair as thee, Mary! + How blest was I, a little while, + To deem that bosom free frae guile; + When, fondly sighing, thou wouldst smile; + Yes, sweetly smile on me, Mary! + + Though gear was scant, an' friends were few, + My heart was leal, my love was true; + I blest your e'en of heavenly blue, + That glanced sae saft on me, Mary! + But wealth has won your heart frae me; + Yet I maun ever think of thee; + May a' the bliss that gowd can gie, + For ever wait on thee, Mary! + + For me, nae mair on earth I crave, + But that yon drooping willow wave + Its branches o'er my early grave, + Forgot by love, an' thee, Mary! + An' when that hallow'd spot you tread, + Where wild-flowers bloom above my head, + O look not on my grassy bed, + Lest thou shouldst sigh for me, Mary! + + + + +GEORGE MACINDOE. + + +George Macindoe, chiefly known as the author of "A Million o' Potatoes," +a humorous ballad, in the Scottish language, was born at Partick, near +Glasgow, in 1771. He originally followed the occupation of a +silk-weaver, in Paisley, which he early relinquished for the less +irksome duties of a hotel-keeper in Glasgow. His hotel was a corner +tenement, at the head of King Street, near St Giles' Church, Trongate; +and here a club of young men, with which the poet Campbell was +connected, were in the habit of holding weekly meetings. Campbell made a +practice of retiring from the noisy society of the club to spend the +remainder of the evenings in conversation with the intelligent host. +After conducting the business of hotel-keeper in Glasgow, during a +period of twenty-one years, Macindoe became insolvent, and was +necessitated to abandon the concern. He returned to Paisley and resumed +the loom, at the same time adding to his finances by keeping a small +change-house, and taking part as an instrumental musician at the local +concerts. He excelled in the use of the violin. Ingenious as a mechanic, +and skilled in his original employment, he invented a machine for +figuring on muslin, for which he received premiums from the City +Corporation of Glasgow and the Board of Trustees. + +Macindoe was possessed of a lively temperament, and his conversation +sparkled with wit and anecdote. His person was handsome, and his open +manly countenance was adorned with bushy locks, which in old age, +becoming snowy white, imparted to him a singularly venerable aspect. He +claimed no merit as a poet, and only professed to be the writer of +"incidental rhymes." In 1805, he published, in a thin duodecimo volume, +"Poems and Songs, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," which he states, in +the preface, he had laid before the public to gratify "the solicitations +of friends." Of the compositions contained in this volume, the ballad +entitled "A Million o' Potatoes," and the two songs which we have +selected for this work, are alone worthy of preservation. In 1813, he +published a second volume of poems and songs, entitled "The Wandering +Muse;" and he occasionally contributed lyrics to the local periodicals. +He died at Glasgow, on the 19th April 1848, in his seventy-seventh year, +leaving a numerous family. His remains were interred at Anderston, +Glasgow. The following remarks, regarding Macindoe's songs, have been +kindly supplied by Mr Robert Chambers:-- + + "Amidst George Macindoe's songs are two distinguished + by more clearness and less vulgarity than the rest. One + of these, called 'The Burn Trout,' was composed on a + real incident which it describes, namely, a supper, + where the chief dish was a salmon, brought from Peebles + to Glasgow by my father,[69] who, when learning his + business, as a manufacturer, in the western city, about + the end of the century, had formed an acquaintance with + the poet. The other, entitled 'Cheese and Whisky,' + which contains some very droll verses, was written in + compliment to my maternal uncle, William Gibson, then + also a young manufacturer, but who died about two + months ago, a retired captain of the 90th regiment. The + jocund hospitable disposition of Gibson--'Bachelor + Willie'--and my father's social good-nature, are + pleasingly recalled to me by Macindoe's verses, rough + as they are. + + "_June 1, 1855._" + + + +[69] Mr James Chambers, of Peebles, who died in 1824. + + + + +CHEESE AND WHISKY. + +TUNE--_"The gude forgi' me for leein'."_ + + + Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, + When Bachelor Willie I 'm seeing, + I feast upon whisky, and cheese o' ewe milk, + And ne'er was choked for leeing, for leeing, + And ne'er was choked for leeing. + + Your jams and your jellies, your sugars and teas, + If e'er I thought worthy the preeing, + Compared wi' gude whisky, and kebbocks o' cheese, + May I sup porridge for leeing, for leeing, + May I sup porridge for leeing. + + When patfou's o' kale, thick wi' barley and pease, + Can as weel keep a body frae deeing, + As stoupfou's o' whisky, and platefou's o' cheese, + I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing, for leeing, + I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing. + + Tho' the house where we 're sittin' were a' in a bleeze, + I never could think about fleeing, + But would guzzle the whisky, and rive at the cheese; + Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing, I 'm leeing, + Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing. + + + + +THE BURN TROUT. + +TUNE--_"The gude forgi' me for leein'."_ + + + Brither Jamie cam west, wi' a braw burn trout, + An' speer'd how acquaintance were greeing; + He brought it frae Peebles, tied up in a clout, + An' said it wad just be a preeing, a preeing, + An' said it wad just be a preeing. + + In the burn that rins by his grandmother's door + This trout had lang been a dweller, + Ae night fell asleep a wee piece frae the shore, + An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller, the miller, + An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller. + + This trout it was gutted an' dried on a nail + That grannie had reested her ham on, + Weel rubbed wi' saut, frae the head to the tail, + An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon, a sa'mon, + An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon. + + This trout it was boil'd an' set ben on a plate, + Nae fewer than ten made a feast o't; + The banes and the tail, they were gi'en to the cat, + But we lickit our lips at the rest o't, the rest o't, + But we lickit our lips at the rest o't. + + When this trout it was eaten, we were a' like to rive, + Sae ye maunna think it was a wee ane, + May ilk trout in the burn grow muckle an' thrive, + An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing, a preeing, + An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing. + + + + +ALEXANDER DOUGLAS. + + +Alexander Douglas was the son of Robert Douglas, a labourer in the +village of Strathmiglo in Fife, where he was born on the 17th June 1771. +Early discovering an aptitude for learning, he formed the intention of +studying for the ministry,--a laudable aspiration, which was +unfortunately checked by the indigence of his parents. Attending school +during winter, his summer months were employed in tending cattle to the +farmers in the vicinity; and while so occupied, he read the Bible in the +fields, and with a religious sense, remarkable for his years, engaged in +daily prayer in some sequestered spot, for the Divine blessing to grant +him a saving acquaintance with the record. At the age of fourteen he was +apprenticed to a linen weaver in his native village, with whom he +afterwards proceeded to Pathhead, near Kirkcaldy. He now assiduously +sought to acquaint himself with general literature, especially with the +British poets; and his literary ardour was stimulated by several +companions of kindred inclinations. He returned to Strathmiglo, and +while busily plying the shuttle began to compose verses for his +amusement. These compositions were jotted down during the periods of +leisure. Happening to quote a stanza to Dr Paterson of Auchtermuchty, +his medical attendant, who was struck with its originality, he was +induced to submit his MSS. to the inspection of this gentleman. A +cordial recommendation to publish his verses was the result; and a +large number of subscribers being procured, through the exertions of his +medical friend, he appeared, in 1806, as the author of an octavo volume +of "Poems," chiefly in the Scottish dialect. The publication yielded a +profit of one hundred pounds. + +Douglas was possessed of a weakly constitution; he died on the 21st +November 1821. He was twice married, and left a widow, who still +survives. Three children, the issue of the first marriage, died in early +life. A man of devoted piety and amiable dispositions, Douglas had few +pretensions as a poet; some of his songs have however obtained a more +than local celebrity, and one at least seems not undeserving of a place +among the modern national minstrelsy. + + + + +FIFE, AN' A' THE LAND ABOUT IT.[70] + +TUNE--_"Roy's Wife o' Aldivalloch."_ + + + Fife, an' a' the land about it, + Fife, an' a' the land about it; + May health, an' peace, an' plenty glad, + Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it. + + We 'll raise the song on highest key, + Through every grove till echo shout it; + The sweet enchantin' theme shall be, + Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + Her braid an' lang extended vales + Are clad wi' corn, a' wavin' yellow; + Her flocks an' herds crown a' her hills; + Her woods resound wi' music mellow. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + Her waters pastime sweet afford + To ane an' a' wha like to angle; + The seats o' mony a laird an' lord, + Her plains, as stars the sky, bespangle. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + In ilka town an' village gay, + Hark! Thrift, her wheel an' loom are usin'; + While to an' frae each port an' bay, + See wealthy Commerce briskly cruisin'. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + Her maids are frugal, modest, fair, + As lilies by her burnies growin'; + An' ilka swain may here repair, + Whase heart wi' virt'ous love is glowin'. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + In peace, her sons like lammies mild, + Are lightsome, friendly, an' engagin'; + In war, they 're loyal, bauld, an' wild, + As lions roused, an' fiercely ragin'. + Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c. + + May auld an' young hae meat an' claes; + May wark an' wages aye be plenty; + An' may the sun to latest days + See Fife an' a' her bairnies canty. + + Fife, an' a' the land about it, + Fife, an' a' the land about it; + May health, an' peace, an' plenty glad, + Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it. + + +[70] A song of this title was composed by Robert Fergusson. + + + + +WILLIAM M'LAREN. + + +William M'Laren, a poet of some merit, and an associate and biographer +of Robert Tannahill, was born at Paisley about 1772. He originally +followed the occupation of a handloom weaver, but was more devoted to +the pursuits of literature than the business of his trade. Possessing a +considerable share of poetical talent, he composed several volumes of +verses, which were published by him on his own account, and very +frequently to considerable pecuniary advantage. In 1817, he published, +in quarto, a poetical tale, entitled, "Emma; or, The Cruel Father;" and +another narrative poem in 1827, under the title of "Isabella; or, The +Robbers." Many of his songs and lyrical pieces were contributed to +provincial serials. His genius as a poet was exceeded by his skill as a +prose writer; he composed in prose with elegance and power. In 1815, he +published a memoir of Tannahill--an eloquent and affectionate tribute to +the memory of his departed friend--to which is appended an _éloge_ on +Robert Burns, delivered at an anniversary of that poet's birthday. In +1818, he published, with a memoir, the posthumous poetical works of his +relative, the poet Scadlock. His other prose writings consist of +pamphlets on a diversity of subjects. + +At one period, M'Laren established himself as a manufacturer in Ireland; +but, rendering himself obnoxious by the bold expression of his political +opinions, he found it necessary to make a hasty departure for Scotland. +He latterly opened a change-house in Paisley, and his circumstances +became considerably prosperous. He died in 1832, leaving a family. He is +remembered as a person of somewhat singular manners, and of undaunted +enterprise and decision of character. He was shrewd and well-informed, +without much reading; he purchased no books, but was ingenious and +successful in recommending his own.[71] + + +[71] Mr James Bowie, of Paisley, to whom we are under obligations for +supplying curious and interesting information regarding several of the +bards of the west, kindly furnished the particulars of the above memoir. + + + + +NOW SUMMER SHINES WITH GAUDY PRIDE. + + + Now summer shines with gaudy pride, + By flowery vale and mountain side, + And shepherds waste the sunny hours + By cooling streams, and bushy bowers; + While I, a victim to despair, + Avoid the sun's offensive glare, + And in sequester'd wilds deplore + The perjured vows of Ella More. + + Would Fate my injured heart provide + Some cave beyond the mountain tide, + Some spot where scornful Beauty's eye + Ne'er waked the ardent lover's sigh; + I 'd there to woods and rocks complain, + To rocks that skirt the angry main; + For angry main, and rocky shore, + Are kinder far than Ella More. + + + + +AND DOST THOU SPEAK SINCERE, MY LOVE? + +TUNE--_"Lord Gregory."_ + + + And dost thou speak sincere, my love? + And must we ever part? + And dost thou unrelenting see + The anguish of my heart? + Have e'er these doating eyes of mine, + One wandering wish express'd? + No; thou alone hast ever been + Companion of my breast. + + I saw thy face, angelic fair, + I thought thy form divine, + I sought thy love--I gave my heart, + And hoped to conquer thine. + But, ah! delusive, cruel hope! + Hope now for ever gone! + My Mary keeps the heart I gave, + But with it keeps her own. + + When many smiling summer suns + Their silver light has shed, + And wrinkled age her hoary hairs + Waves lightly o'er my head; + Even then, in life's declining hour, + My heart will fondly trace + The beauties of thy lovely form, + And sweetly smiling face. + + + + +SAY NOT THE BARD HAS TURN'D OLD. + + + Though the winter of age wreathes her snow on his head, + And the blooming effulgence of summer has fled, + Though the voice, that was sweet as the harp's softest string, + Be trem'lous, and low as the zephyrs of spring, + Yet say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + Though the casket that holds the rich jewel we prize + Attracts not the gaze of inquisitive eyes; + Yet the gem that 's within may be lovely and bright + As the smiles of the morn, or the stars of the night; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + When the tapers burn clear, and the goblet shines bright, + In the hall of his chief, on a festival night, + I have smiled at the glance of his rapturous eye, + While the brim of the goblet laugh'd back in reply; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + When he sings of the valorous deeds that were done, + By his clan or his chief, in the days that are gone, + His strains then are various--now rapid, now slow, + As he mourns for the dead or exults o'er the foe; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + When summer in gaudy profusion is dress'd, + And the dew-drop hangs clear on the violet's breast, + I list with delight to his rapturous strain, + While the borrowing echo returns it again; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + But not summer's profusion alone can inspire + His soul in the song, or his hand on the lyre, + But rapid his numbers and wilder they flow, + When the wintry winds rave o'er his mountains of snow; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + I have seen him elate when the black clouds were riven, + Terrific and wild, by the thunder of heaven, + And smile at the billows that angrily rave, + Incessant and deep o'er the mariner's grave; + Then say not the Bard has turn'd old. + + When the eye that expresses the warmth of his heart, + Shall fail the benevolent wish to impart-- + When his blood shall be cold as the wintry wave, + And silent his harp as the gloom of the grave, + Then say that the Bard has turn'd old. + + + + +HAMILTON PAUL. + + +A man of fine intellect, a poet, and an elegant writer, Hamilton Paul +has claims to remembrance. On the 10th April 1773, he was born in a +small cottage on the banks of Girvan Water, in the parish of Dailly, and +county of Ayr. In the same dwelling, Hugh Ainslie, another Scottish +bard, was afterwards born. Receiving his elementary education at the +parish school, he became a student in the University of Glasgow. Thomas +Campbell, author of "The Pleasures of Hope," was a college contemporary; +and their mutual love of poetry drew them closely to each other; they +competed for academical rewards offered for the best compositions in +verse, till frequent adjudication as to the equality of their merits, +induced them to forbear contesting on the same subjects. At least on one +occasion the verses of Paul were preferred to those of the Bard of Hope. +The following lines, exhibiting a specimen of his poetical powers at +this period, are from a translation of Claudian's "Epithalamium on the +Marriage of Honorius and Maria," for which, in the Latin class, he +gained a prize along with his friend:-- + + "Maria, now the maid of heavenly charms, + Decreed to bliss the youthful monarch's arms; + Inflames Augustus with unwonted fires, + And in his breast awakens new desires. + In love a novice, while his bosom glows + With restless heat, the cause he scarcely knows; + The rural pastimes suited to his age, + His late delight, no more his care engage; + No more he wills to give his steed the reins + In eager chase, and urge him o'er the plains; + No more he joys to bend the twanging bow, + To hurl the javeline, or the dart to throw; + His alter'd thoughts to other objects rove, + To wounds inflicted by the god of love. + How oft, expressive of the inward smart, + Did groans convulsive issue from his heart! + How oft did blushes own the sacred flame, + How oft his hand unbidden wrote her name! + Now presents worthy of the plighted fair, + And nuptial robes his busy train prepare-- + Robes wherewith Livia was herself attired, + And those bright dames that to the beds aspired + Of emperors. Yet the celestial maid + Requires no earthly ornamental aid + To give her faultless form a single grace, + Or add one charm to her bewitching face." + +The circumstances of the young poets were far from affluent. Campbell +particularly felt the pressure of poverty. He came hastily one morning +to the lodgings of his friend to request his opinion of some verses; +they were immediately printed, and the copies sold to his +fellow-students for a halfpenny each. So Paul sometimes told his +friends, quoting the following lines as all he could remember of the +production:-- + + "Loud shriek'd afar the angry sprite, + That rode upon the storm of night, + And loud the waves were heard to roar + That lash'd on Jura's rocky shore." + +After several sessions of attendance at college, Paul became tutor to a +family in Argyleshire, and Campbell obtained a similar situation in the +island of Mull. They entered into a humorous correspondence in prose +and verse. "Your verses on the Unfortunate Lady," writes Campbell to +his friend, "I read with sweet pleasure; for there is a joy in grief, +when peace dwelleth in the breast of the sad.... Morose as I am in +judging of poetry, I could find nothing inelegant in the whole piece. I +hope you will in your next (since you are such a master of the +plaintive) send me some verses consolatory to a hermit; for my +sequestered situation sometimes stamps a firm belief on my mind that I +am actually an anchorite. In return for your welcome poetical effusion, +I have nothing at present but a chorus of the Jepthes of Buchanan, +written soon after my arrival in Mull:-- + + "Glassy Jordan, smooth meandering + Jacob's grassy meads between, + Lo! thy waters, gently wandering, + Lave thy valleys rich and green. + + "When the winter, keenly show'ring, + Strips fair Salem's holy shade, + Then thy current, broader flowing, + Lingers 'mid the leafless glade. + + "When, O! when shall light returning + Gild the melancholy gloom, + And the golden star of morning + Jordan's solemn vault illume? + + "When shall Freedom's holy charmer + Cheer my long benighted soul? + When shall Israel, proud in armour, + Burst the tyrant's base control?" &c. + +"The similarity of the measure with that of your last made me think of +sending you this piece. I am much hurried at present with my comedy, the +'Clouds of Aristophanes.' I have already finished my translation of the +Choephoroe of Æschylus. I dreamt a dream about your being before +Parnassus upon your trial for sedition and contumacy. I thought Thalia, +Clio, &c. addressed you. Their speeches shall be nonsensified into +rhyme, and shall be part of some other scrawl from your affectionate +friend, + + "THOMAS THE HERMIT." + +In another epistle Campbell threatens to "send a formal message to the +kind nymphs of Parnassus, telling them that, whereas Hamilton Paul, +their favourite and admired laureate of the north, has been heard to +express his admiration of certain nymphs in a certain place; and that +the said Hamilton Paul has ungratefully and feloniously neglected to +speak with due reverence of the ladies of Helicon; that said Hamilton +Paul shall be deprived of all aid in future from these goddesses, and be +sent to draw his inspiration from the dry fountain of earthly beauty; +and that, furthermore, all the favours taken from the said Hamilton Paul +shall accrue to the informer and petitioner!" + +After two years' residence in the Highlands, both the poets returned to +Glasgow to resume their academical studies: Campbell to qualify himself +as a man of letters, and Paul to prepare for the ministry of the +Scottish Church. "It would have been impossible, even during the last +years of their college life," writes Mr Deans,[72] "to have predicted +which of the two students would ultimately arrive at the greatest +eminence. They were both excellent classical scholars; they were both +ingenious poets; and Campbell does not appear to have surpassed his +companion either in his original pieces or his translations; they both +exhibited great versatility of talent; they were both playful and witty; +and seem to have been possessed of great facilities in sport. During +his latter years, when detailing the history of those joyous days, Mr +Paul dwelt on them with peculiar delight, and seemed animated with +youthful emotion when recalling the curious frolics and innocent and +singular adventures in which Campbell and he had performed a principal +part." + +While resident at Inverary, Mr Paul composed several poems, which were +much approved by his correspondent. Among these, a ballad entitled "The +Maid of Inverary," in honour of Lady Charlotte Campbell, afterwards Lady +Bury, was set to music, and made the subject of elaborate criticism. On +his return to the university, he composed with redoubled ardour, +contributing verses on every variety of topic to the newspapers and +periodicals. Several of his pieces, attracting the notice of some of the +professors, received their warm commendation. + +Obtaining licence to preach, the poet returned to his native county. +During a probation of thirteen years, he was assistant to six parish +ministers, and tutor in five different families. He became +joint-proprietor and editor of the _Ayr Advertiser_, which he conducted +for a period of three years. At Ayr he was a member of every literary +circle; was connected with every club; chaplain to every society; a +speaker at every meeting; the poet of every curious occurrence; and the +welcome guest at every table. Besides editing his newspaper, he gave +private instructions in languages, and preached on Sabbath. His metrical +productions became widely known, and his songs were sung at the cottage +hearths of the district. His presence at the social meeting was the sure +indication of a prevalent good humour. + +In 1813, Mr Paul attained the summit of his professional ambition; he +was ordained to the pastoral office in the united parishes of Broughton, +Glenholm, and Kilbucho, in Peeblesshire. Amidst due attention to his +clerical duties, he still found leisure to engage in literary pursuits, +and continued to contribute to the public journals both in prose and +poetry. Of the poet Burns he was an enthusiastic admirer; he was +laureate of the "Burns' Allowa' Club," and of the Glasgow Ayrshire +Friendly Society, whose annual meetings were held on the Bard's +anniversary; and the odes which he composed for these annual assemblages +attracted wide and warm admiration. He therefore recommended himself as +a suitable editor of the works of Burns, when a new edition was +contemplated by Messrs Wilson and M'Cormick, booksellers in Ayr. In the +performance of his editorial task, he was led, in an attempt to palliate +the immoralities of Burns, to make some indiscreet allusions respecting +his own clerical brethren; for this imprudence he narrowly escaped +censure from the ecclesiastical courts. His memoir, though commended in +_Blackwood's Magazine_, conducted by Professor Wilson, was severely +censured by Dr Andrew Thomson in the _Christian Instructor_. + +The pastoral parish of Broughton was in many respects suited for a +person of Hamilton Paul's peculiar temperament and habits; in a more +conspicuous position his talents might have shone with more brilliancy; +but, after the burst of enthusiasm in his youth was past, he loved +seclusion, and modestly sought the shade. No man was less conscious of +his powers, or attached less value to his literary performances.[73] Of +his numerous poetical compositions each was the work of a sitting, or +had been uttered impromptu; and, unless secured by a friend, they were +commonly laid aside never to be recollected. As a clergyman, he +retained, during a lengthened incumbency, the respect and affection of +his flock, chiefly, it may be remarked, from the acceptability of his +private services, and the warmth and kindliness of his dispositions. His +pulpit discourses were elegantly composed, and largely impressed with +originality and learning; but were somewhat imperfectly pervaded with +those clear and evangelical views of Divine truth which are best +calculated to edify a Christian audience. In private society, he was +universally beloved. "His society," writes Mr Deans, "was courted by the +rich and the poor, the learned and the unlearned. In every company he +was alike kind, affable, and unostentatious; as a companion, he was the +most engaging of men; he was the best story-teller of his day." His +power of humour was unbounded; he had a joke for every occasion, a +_bon-mot_ for every adventure. He had eminent power of satire when he +chose to wield it; but he generally blended the complimentary with the +pungent, and lessened the keenness of censure by the good-humour of its +utterance. His anecdotes are familiar over a wide district, and many of +his witty sayings have become proverbial. He was abundantly hospitable, +and had even suffered embarrassments from its injudicious exercise; +still he was always able, as he used to say-- + + "To invite the wanderer to the gate, + And spread the couch of rest." + +It was his earnest desire that he might live to pay his liabilities, and +he was spared to accomplish the wish. He died on the 28th of February +1854, in the 81st year of his age. + +In appearance, Hamilton Paul presented a handsome person, tall and +erect; his countenance was regular and pleasant; and his eyes, which +were partially concealed by overhanging eye-lashes, beamed with humour +and intelligence. In conversation he particularly excelled, evincing on +every topic the fruits of extensive reading and reflection. He was +readily moved by the pathetic; at the most joyous hour, a melancholy +incident would move him into tears. The tenderness of his heart was +frequently imparted to his verses, which are uniformly distinguished for +smoothness and simplicity. + + +[72] We are indebted to Mr W. Deans, author of a "History of the Ottoman +Empire," for much of the information contained in this memoir. Mr Deans +was personally acquainted with Mr Hamilton Paul. + +[73] "He never took any credit to himself," communicates his friend, Mr +H. S. Riddell, "from the widely-known circumstance of his having carried +off the prize from Campbell. He said that Campbell was at that period a +very young man, much younger than he, and had much less experience in +composition than himself." + + + + +HELEN GRAY. + + + Fair are the fleecy flocks that feed + On yonder heath-clad hills, + Where wild meandering crystal Tweed + Collects his glassy rills. + And sweet the buds that scent the air, + And deck the breast of May; + But none of these are sweet or fair, + Compared to Helen Gray. + + You see in Helen's face so mild, + And in her bashful mien, + The winning softness of the child, + The blushes of fifteen. + The witching smile, when prone to go, + Arrests me, bids me stay; + Nor joy, nor comfort can I know, + When 'reft of Helen Gray. + + I little thought the dark-brown moors, + The dusky mountain's shade, + Down which the wasting torrent pours, + Conceal'd so sweet a maid; + When sudden started from the plain + A sylvan scene and gay, + Where, pride of all the virgin train, + I first saw Helen Gray. + + * * * * * + + May never Envy's venom'd breath, + Blight thee, thou tender flower! + And may thy head ne'er droop beneath + Affliction's chilling shower! + Though I, the victim of distress, + Must wander far away; + Yet, till my dying hour, I 'll bless + The name of Helen Gray. + + + + +THE BONNIE LASS OF BARR. + + + Of streams that down the valley run, + Or through the meadow glide, + Or glitter to the summer sun, + The Stinshar[74] is the pride. + 'Tis not his banks of verdant hue, + Though famed they be afar; + Nor grassy hill, nor mountain blue, + Nor flower bedropt with diamond dew; + 'Tis she that chiefly charms the view, + The bonnie lass of Barr. + + When rose the lark on early wing, + The vernal tide to hail; + When daisies deck'd the breast of spring, + I sought her native vale. + The beam that gilds the evening sky, + And brighter morning star, + That tells the king of day is nigh, + With mimic splendour vainly try + To reach the lustre of thine eye, + Thou bonnie lass of Barr. + + The sun behind yon misty isle, + Did sweetly set yestreen; + But not his parting dewy smile + Could match the smile of Jean. + Her bosom swell'd with gentle woe, + Mine strove with tender war. + On Stinshar's banks, while wild-woods grow, + While rivers to the ocean flow, + With love of thee my heart shall glow, + Thou bonnie lass of Barr. + + +[74] The English pronouncing the name of this river _Stinkar_, induced +the poet Burns to change it to Lugar. + + + + +ROBERT TANNAHILL. + + +Robert Tannahill was born at Paisley on the 3d of June 1774. His father, +James Tannahill, a silk-gauze weaver, espoused Janet Pollock, daughter +of Matthew Pollock, owner of the small property of Boghall, near Beith; +their family consisted of six sons and one daughter, of whom the future +poet was the fourth child. On his mother's side he inherited a poetical +temperament; she was herself endowed with strong natural sagacity, and +her maternal uncle Hugh Brodie of Langcroft, a small landowner in +Lochwinnoch, evidenced poetic powers by composing "A Speech in Verse +upon Husbandry."[75] When a mere youth, Tannahill wrote verses; and +being unable, from a weakness in one of his limbs to join in the active +sports of his school-fellows, he occasionally sought amusement by +composing riddles in rhyme for their solution. As a specimen of these +early compositions, we submit the following, which has been communicated +to us by Mr Matthew Tannahill, the poet's surviving brother. It was +composed on old grumbling Peter Anderson, the gardener of King's Street, +a character still remembered in Paisley:-- + + "Wi' girnin' and chirmin', + His days they hae been spent; + When ither folk right thankfu' spoke, + He never was content." + +Along with poetry Tannahill early cultivated the kindred arts of music +and song; a mere youth, he occasionally earned the payment of ten +shillings for playing on the fife at the Greenock parades; he afterwards +became eminent for his skill in the use of the flute. Having completed +his education at school, which consisted of instruction in the +elementary branches, he became apprenticed to a cotton-weaver. +Collecting old or obscure airs, he began to adapt to them suitable +words, which he jotted down as they occurred, upon a rude writing-desk +he had attached to his loom. His spare hours were spent in the general +improvement of his mind. For a period of two years at the commencement +of the century, he prosecuted his handicraft occupation at Bolton in +England. Returning to Paisley in the spring of 1802, he was offered the +situation of overseer of a manufacturing establishment, but he preferred +to resume the labours of the loom. + +Hitherto Tannahill had not dreamt of becoming known as a song-writer; he +cultivated his gift to relieve the monotony of an unintellectual +occupation, and the usual auditor of his lays was his younger brother +Matthew, who for some years was his companion in the workshop. The +acquaintance of Robert Archibald Smith, the celebrated musical composer, +which he was now fortunate in forming, was the means of stimulating his +Muse to higher efforts and of awakening his ambition. Smith was at this +period resident in Paisley; and along with one Ross, a teacher of music +from Aberdeen, he set several of Tannahill's best songs to music. In +1805 he was invited to become a poetical contributor to a leading +metropolitan periodical; and two years afterwards he published a volume +of "Poems and Songs." Of this work a large impression was sold, and a +number of the songs soon obtained celebrity. Encouraged by R. A. Smith +and others, who, attracted by his fame, came to visit him, Tannahill +began to feel concerned in respect of his reputation as a song-writer; +he diligently composed new songs and re-wrote with attention those which +he had already published. Some of these compositions he hoped would be +accepted by his correspondent, Mr George Thomson, for his collection, +and the others he expected would find a publisher in the famous +bookselling firm of Constable & Co. The failure of both these +schemes--for Constable's hands were full, and Thomson exhibited his +wonted "fastidiousness"--preyed deeply on the mind of the sensitive +bard. A temporary relief to his disappointed expectations was occasioned +by a visit which, in the spring of 1810, he received from James Hogg, +the Ettrick Shepherd, who made a journey to Paisley expressly to form +his acquaintance. The visit is remembered by Mr Matthew Tannahill, who +describes the enthusiasm with which his brother received such homage to +his genius. The poets spent a night together; and in the morning +Tannahill accompanied the Shepherd half-way to Glasgow. Their parting +was memorable: "Farewell," said Tannahill, as he grasped the Shepherd's +hand, "we shall never meet again! Farewell, I shall never see you more!" + +The visit of the Ettrick Bard proved only an interlude amidst the +depression which had permanently settled on the mind of poor Tannahill. +The intercourse of admiring friends even became burdensome to him; and +he stated to his brother Matthew his determination either to leave +Paisley for a sequestered locality, or to canvass the country for +subscribers to a new edition of his poems. Meanwhile, his person became +emaciated, and he complained to his brother that he experienced a +prickling sensation in the head. During a visit to a friend in Glasgow, +he exhibited decided symptoms of insanity. On his return home, he +complained of illness, and took to bed in his mother's house. He was +visited by three of his brothers on the evening of the same day, and +they left him about ten o'clock, when he appeared sufficiently composed. +Returning about two hours afterwards to inquire for him, and for their +mother, who lay sick in the next apartment, they found their brother's +bed empty, and discovered that he had gone out. Arousing the neighbours, +they made an immediate search, and at length they discovered the poet's +lifeless body at a deep spot of the neighbouring brook. Tannahill +terminated his own life on the 17th May 1810, at the age of thirty-six. + +The victim of disappointments which his sensitive temperament could not +endure, Tannahill was naturally of an easy and cheerful disposition. "He +was happy himself," states his surviving brother, "and he wished to see +every one happy around him." As a child, his brother informs us, his +exemplary behaviour was so conspicuous, that mothers were satisfied of +their children's safety, if they learned that they were in company with +"_Bob_ Tannahill." Inoffensive in his own dispositions, he entertained +every respect for the feelings of others. He enjoyed the intercourse of +particular friends, but avoided general society; in company, he seldom +talked, and only with a neighbour; he shunned the acquaintance of +persons of rank, because he disliked patronage, and dreaded the +superciliousness of pride. His conversation was simple; he possessed, +but seldom used, considerable powers of satire; but he applied his +keenest shafts of declamation against the votaries of cruelty. In +performing acts of kindness he took delight, but he was scrupulous of +accepting favours; he was strong in the love of independence, and he had +saved twenty pounds at the period of his death. His general appearance +did not indicate intellectual superiority; his countenance was calm and +meditative, his eyes were gray, and his hair a light-brown. In person, +he was under the middle size. Not ambitious of general learning, he +confined his reading chiefly to poetry. His poems are much inferior to +his songs; of the latter will be found admirers while the Scottish +language is sung or understood. Abounding in genuine sweetness and +graceful simplicity, they are pervaded by the gentlest pathos. Rich in +description of beautiful landscapes, they softly tell the tale of man's +affection and woman's love.[76] + + +[75] See Semple's "Continuation of Crawford's History of Renfrewshire," +p. 116. + +[76] Tannahill was believed never to have entertained particular +affection towards any of the fair sex. We have ascertained that, at +different periods, he paid court to two females of his own rank. The +first of these was Jean King, sister of his friend John King, one of the +minor poets of Paisley; she afterwards married a person of the name of +Pinkerton; and her son, Mr James Pinkerton, printer, Paisley, has +frequently heard her refer to the fear she had entertained lest "Rob +would write a song about her." His next sweetheart was Mary Allan, +sister of the poet Robert Allan. This estimable woman was a sad mourner +on the poet's death, and for many years wept aloud when her deceased +lover was made the subject of conversation in her presence. She still +survives, and a few years since, to join some relations, she emigrated +to America. Some verses addressed to her by the poet she continues to +retain with the fondest affection. + + + + +JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE.[77] + + + The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, + And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, + While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloamin' + To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. + How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossom, + And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green; + Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, + Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. + + She's modest as ony, and blithe as she 's bonny; + For guileless simplicity marks her its ain; + And far be the villain, divested of feeling, + Wha 'd blight, in its bloom, the sweet flower o' Dumblane. + Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, + Thou 'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen; + Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, + Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. + + How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie, + The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain; + I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie, + Till charm'd with sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. + Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, + Amidst its profusion I 'd languish in pain; + And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, + If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. + + +[77] "Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane" was published in 1808, and has +since received an uncommon measure of popularity. The music, so suitable +to the words, was composed by R. A. Smith. In the "Harp of Renfrewshire" +(p. xxxvi), Mr Smith remarks that the song was at first composed in two +stanzas, the third being subsequently added. "The Promethean fire," says +Mr Smith, "must have been burning but _lownly_, when such commonplace +ideas could be written, after the song had been so finely wound up with +the beautiful apostrophe to the mavis, 'Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy +hymn to the e'ening.'" The heroine of the song was formerly a matter of +speculation; many a "Jessie" had the credit assigned to her; and +passengers by the old stage-coaches between Perth and the south, on +passing through Dunblane, had pointed out to them, by the drivers, the +house of Jessie's birth. One writer (in the _Musical Magazine_, for May +1835) records that he had actually been introduced at Dunblane to the +individual Jessie, then an elderly female, of an appearance the reverse +of prepossessing! Unfortunately for the curious in such inquiries, the +heroine only existed in the imagination of the poet; he never was in +Dunblane, which, if he had been, he would have discovered that the sun +could not there be seen setting "o'er the lofty Benlomond." Mr Matthew +Tannahill states that the song was composed to supplant an old one, +entitled, "Bob o' Dumblane." Mr James Bowie, of Paisley, supplies the +information, that in consequence of improvements suggested from time to +time by R. A. Smith and William Maclaren, Tannahill wrote eighteen +different versions of this song. + + + + +LOUDOUN'S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES.[78] + +AIR--_"Lord Moira's Welcome to Scotland."_ + + + Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes, + I maun lea' them a', lassie; + Wha can thole when Britain's faes + Wald gi'e Britons law, lassie? + Wha would shun the field of danger? + Wha frae fame wad live a stranger? + Now when Freedom bids avenge her, + Wha would shun her ca', lassie? + Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes + Hae seen our happy bridal days, + And gentle Hope shall soothe thy waes, + When I am far awa', lassie. + + "Hark! the swelling bugle sings, + Yielding joy to thee, laddie, + But the dolefu' bugle brings + Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie. + Lanely I may climb the mountain, + Lanely stray beside the fountain, + Still the weary moments countin', + Far frae love, and thee, laddie. + O'er the gory fields of war, + When Vengeance drives his crimson car, + Thou 'lt maybe fa', frae me afar, + And nane to close thy e'e, laddie." + + O! resume thy wonted smile! + O! suppress thy fears, lassie! + Glorious honour crowns the toil + That the soldier shares, lassie; + Heaven will shield thy faithful lover, + Till the vengeful strife is over, + Then we 'll meet nae mair to sever, + Till the day we die, lassie; + 'Midst our bonnie woods and braes, + We 'll spend our peaceful, happy days, + As blithe 's yon lightsome lamb that plays + On Loudoun's flowery lea, lassie. + + +[78] Tannahill wrote this song in honour of the Earl of Moira, +afterwards Marquis of Hastings, and the Countess of Loudoun, to whom his +Lordship had been shortly espoused, when he was called abroad in the +service of his country. + + + + +THE LASS O' ARRANTEENIE.[79] + + + Far lone amang the Highland hills, + 'Midst Nature's wildest grandeur, + By rocky dens, and woody glens, + With weary steps I wander. + The langsome way, the darksome day, + The mountain mist sae rainy, + Are nought to me when gaun to thee, + Sweet lass o' Arranteenie. + + Yon mossy rosebud down the howe, + Just op'ning fresh and bonny, + Blinks sweetly 'neath the hazel bough, + And 's scarcely seen by ony; + Sae, sweet amidst her native hills, + Obscurely blooms my Jeanie, + Mair fair and gay than rosy May, + The flower o' Arranteenie. + + Now, from the mountain's lofty brow, + I view the distant ocean, + There Av'rice guides the bounding prow, + Ambition courts promotion:-- + Let Fortune pour her golden store, + Her laurell'd favours many; + Give me but this, my soul's first wish, + The lass o' Arranteenie. + + + +[79] This song was written on a young lady, whom a friend of the author +met at Ardentinny, a retired spot on the margin of Loch Long. + + + + +YON BURN SIDE.[80] + +AIR--_"The Brier-bush."_ + + + We 'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burn side, + Where the bushes form a cosie den, on yon burn side; + Though the broomy knowes be green, + And there we may be seen, + Yet we 'll meet--we 'll meet at e'en down by yon burn side. + + I 'll lead you to the birken bower, on yon burn side, + Sae sweetly wove wi' woodbine flower, on yon burn side; + There the busy prying eye, + Ne'er disturbs the lovers' joy, + While in ither's arms they lie, down by yon burn side, + Awa', ye rude, unfeeling crew, frae yon burn side, + Those fairy scenes are no for you, by yon burn side; + There fancy smoothes her theme, + By the sweetly murm'ring stream, + And the rock-lodged echoes skim, down by yon burn side. + + Now the plantin' taps are tinged wi' goud, on yon burn side, + And gloamin' draws her foggy shroud o'er yon burn side; + Far frae the noisy scene, + I 'll through the fields alane, + There we 'll meet, my ain dear Jean, down by yon burn side. + + +[80] The poet and one of his particular friends, Charles Marshall (whose +son, the Rev. Charles Marshall, of Dunfermline, is author of a +respectable volume, entitled "Lays and Lectures"), had met one evening +in a tavern, kept by Tom Buchanan, near the cross of Paisley. The +evening was enlivened by song-singing; and the landlord, who was +present, sung the old song, beginning, "There grows a bonny brier-bush," +which he did with effect. On their way home together, Marshall remarked +that the words of the landlord's song were vastly inferior to the tune, +and humorously suggested the following burlesque parody of the first +stanza:-- + + "There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard, + There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard, + They were set by Charlie Marshall, + And pu'd by Nannie Laird, + Yet there 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard." + +He added that Tannahill would do well to compose suitable words for the +music. The hint sufficed; the friends met after a fortnight's interval, +when the poet produced and read the song of "Yon burn side." It +immediately became popular. Marshall used to relate this anecdote with +much feeling. He died in March 1851, at the age of fourscore. + + + + +THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.[81] + +AIR--_"Bonny Dundee."_ + + + Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, + The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw; + How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover, + Amang the broom bushes by Stanley-green shaw: + The wild flowers o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie, + The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; + But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie, + And now it is winter wi' nature and me. + + Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery, + Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw; + Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, + And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw. + The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie, + They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, + And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, + 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me. + + Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, + And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae; + While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, + That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me. + + 'Tis no its loud roar on the wintry winds swellin', + 'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e, + For, O, gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan', + The dark days o' winter were summer to me! + + +[81] The Braes of Gleniffer are a tract of hilly ground, to the south of +Paisley. They are otherwise known as Stanley Braes. + + + + +THROUGH CROCKSTON CASTLE'S LANELY WA'S.[82] + +AIR--_"Crockston Castle."_ + + + Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's + The wintry wind howls wild and dreary; + Though mirk the cheerless e'ening fa's, + Yet I hae vow'd to meet my Mary. + Yes, Mary, though the winds should rave + Wi' jealous spite to keep me frae thee, + The darkest stormy night I 'd brave, + For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee. + + Loud o'er Cardonald's rocky steep, + Rude Cartha pours in boundless measure; + But I will ford the whirling deep, + That roars between me and my treasure. + Yes, Mary, though the torrent rave, + Wi' jealous spite, to keep me frae thee, + Its deepest flood I 'd bauldly brave, + For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee. + + The watch-dog's howling loads the blast, + And makes the nightly wand'rer eerie; + But when the lonesome way is past, + I 'll to this bosom clasp my Mary! + Yes, Mary, though stern winter rave, + With a' his storms, to keep me frae thee, + The wildest dreary night I 'd brave, + For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee. + + +[82] The ruin of Crockston Castle is situated on the brow of a gentle +eminence, about three miles south-east of Paisley. The Castle, in the +twelfth century, was possessed by a Norman family, of the name of Croc; +it passed, in the following century, by the marriage of the heiress, +into a younger branch of the House of Stewart, who were afterwards +ennobled as Earls of Lennox. According to tradition, Queen Mary and Lord +Darnley occasionally resided in the castle; and it is reported that the +unfortunate princess witnessed from its walls the fall of her fortunes +at the battle of Langside. Crockston Castle is now the possession of Sir +John Maxwell, Bart., of Pollock. + + + + +THE BRAES O' BALQUHITHER.[83] + +AIR--_"The Three Carls o' Buchanan."_ + + + Let us go, lassie, go + To the braes o' Balquhither, + Where the blaeberries grow + 'Mang the bonnie Highland heather; + Where the deer and the rae, + Lightly bounding together, + Sport the lang summer day + On the braes o' Balquhither. + + I will twine thee a bower + By the clear siller fountain, + And I 'll cover it o'er + Wi' the flowers o' the mountain; + I will range through the wilds, + And the deep glens sae dreary, + And return wi' their spoils + To the bower o' my dearie. + + When the rude wintry win' + Idly raves round our dwelling, + And the roar of the linn + On the night breeze is swelling; + So merrily we 'll sing, + As the storm rattles o'er us, + Till the dear sheiling ring + Wi' the light lilting chorus. + + Now the summer is in prime, + Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming, + And the wild mountain thyme + A' the moorlands perfuming; + To our dear native scenes + Let us journey together, + Where glad innocence reigns, + 'Mang the braes o' Balquhither. + + +[83] A clerical friend has communicated to us the following stanza, +which he heard sung by an old Highlander, as an addition to the "Braes +o' Balquhither:"-- + + "While the lads of the south + Toil for bare worldly treasure-- + To the lads of the north + Every day brings its pleasure: + Oh, blithe are the joys + That the Highlandman possesses, + He feels no annoys, + For he fears no distresses." + + + + + + +GLOOMY WINTER 'S NOW AWA'. + +AIR--_"Lord Balgonie's Favourite."_ + + + Gloomy winter 's now awa' + Saft the westling breezes blaw, + 'Mang the birks of Stanley-shaw, + The mavis sings fu' cheery, O! + Sweet the crawflower's early bell + Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, + Blooming like thy bonny sel', + My young, my artless dearie, O! + + Come, my lassie, let us stray + O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae, + Blithely spend the gowden day, + 'Midst joys that never weary, O! + Towering o'er the Newton woods, + Laverocks fan the snaw-white clouds, + Siller saughs, wi' downy buds, + Adorn the banks sae briery, O! + + Round the sylvan fairy nooks, + Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks, + 'Neath the brae the burnie jouks, + And ilka thing is cheery, O! + Trees may bud, and birds may sing, + Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring, + Joy to me they canna bring, + Unless wi' thee, my dearie, O! + + + + +O! ARE YE SLEEPING, MAGGIE? + +AIR--_"Sleepy Maggie."_ + + + O! Are ye sleeping, Maggie? + O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? + Let me in, for loud the linn + Is roaring o'er the warlock craigie. + + Mirk and rainy is the night, + No a starn in a' the carry;[84] + Lightnings gleam athwart the lift, + And winds drive wi' winter's fury. + O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c. + + Fearful soughs the bourtree bank, + The rifted wood roars wild and dreary, + Loud the iron yate does clank, + And cry of howlets makes me eerie. + O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c. + + Aboon my breath I daurna' speak, + For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie, + Cauld 's the blast upon my cheek, + O rise, rise, my bonny lady! + O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c. + + She opt the door, she let him in, + He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie: + "Blaw your warst, ye rain and win', + Since, Maggie, now I 'm in aside ye." + + Now, since ye 're waking, Maggie! + Now, since ye 're waking, Maggie! + What care I for howlet's cry, + For bourtree bank, or warlock craigie? + + +[84] This expression commonly means, the direction in which the clouds +are carried by the wind, but it is here used to denote the firmament. + + + + +NOW WINTER, WI' HIS CLOUDY BROW. + +AIR--_"Forneth House."_ + + + Now Winter, wi' his cloudy brow, + Is far ayont yon mountains; + And Spring beholds her azure sky + Reflected in the fountains: + Now, on the budding slaethorn bank, + She spreads her early blossom, + And wooes the mirly-breasted birds + To nestle in her bosom. + + But lately a' was clad wi' snaw, + Sae darksome, dull, and dreary; + Now laverocks sing to hail the spring, + And Nature all is cheery. + Then let us leave the town, my love, + And seek our country dwelling, + Where waving woods, and spreading flowers, + On every side are smiling. + + We 'll tread again the daisied green, + Where first your beauty moved me; + We 'll trace again the woodland scene, + Where first ye own'd ye loved me; + We soon will view the roses blaw + In a' the charms of fancy, + For doubly dear these pleasures a', + When shared with thee, my Nancy. + + + + +THE DEAR HIGHLAND LADDIE, O! + +GAELIC AIR--_"Mor nian à Ghibarlan."_ + + + Blithe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O! + Happy were the days when we herded thegither, O! + Sweet were the hours when he row'd me in his plaidie, O! + And vow'd to be mine, my dear Highland laddie, O! + + But, ah! waes me! wi' their sodgering sae gaudy, O! + The laird's wys'd awa my braw Highland laddie, O! + Misty are the glens, and the dark hills sae cloudy, O! + That aye seem'd sae blythe wi' my dear Highland laddie, O! + + The blaeberry banks now are lonesome and dreary, O! + Muddy are the streams that gush'd down sae clearly, O! + Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O! + The wild melting strains o' my dear Highland laddie, O! + + He pu'd me the crawberry, ripe frae the boggy fen: + He pu'd me the strawberry, red frae the foggy glen; + He pu'd me the row'n frae the wild steeps sae giddy, O! + Sae loving and kind was my dear Highland laddie, O! + + Fareweel, my ewes, and fareweel, my doggie, O! + Fareweel, ye knowes, now sae cheerless and scroggie, O! + Fareweel, Glenfeoch, my mammy and my daddie, O! + I will leave you a' for my dear Highland laddie, O! + + + + +THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN. + +AIR--_"The Shepherd's Son."_ + + + The midges dance aboon the burn, + The dews begin to fa'; + The pairtricks down the rushy holm, + Set up their e'ening ca'. + Now loud and clear the blackbirds' sang + Rings through the briery shaw, + While flitting, gay, the swallows play + Around the castle wa'. + + Beneath the golden gloamin' sky, + The mavis mends her lay, + The redbreast pours his sweetest strains, + To charm the ling'ring day. + While weary yeldrins seem to wail, + Their little nestlings torn; + The merry wren, frae den to den, + Gaes jinking through the thorn. + + The roses fauld their silken leaves, + The foxglove shuts its bell, + The honeysuckle and the birk + Spread fragrance through the dell + Let others crowd the giddy court + Of mirth and revelry-- + The simple joys that Nature yields + Are dearer far to me. + + + + +BARROCHAN JEAN.[85] + +AIR--_"Johnnie M'Gill."_ + + + 'Tis haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean? + And haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean? + How death and starvation came o'er the hail nation, + She wrought sic mischief wi' her twa pawky e'en. + + The lads and the lasses were deeing in dizzins, + The tane kill'd wi' love and the tither wi' spleen; + The ploughing, the sawing, the shearing, the mawing, + A' wark was forgotten for Barrochan Jean! + + Frae the south and the north, o'er the Tweed and the Forth, + Sic coming and ganging there never was seen; + The comers were cheerie, the gangers were blearie, + Despairing or hoping for Barrochan Jean! + + The carlines at hame were a' girning and graning, + The bairns were a' greeting frae morning till e'en; + They gat naething for crowdy, but runts boil'd to sowdie, + For naething gat growing for Barrochan Jean! + + The doctors declared it was past their descriving, + The ministers said 'twas a judgment for sin; + But they lookit sae blae, and their hearts were sae wae, + I was sure they were deeing for Barrochan Jean! + + The burns on road-sides were a' dry wi' their drinking, + Yet a' wadna slockin' the drouth i' their skin; + A' around the peat-stacks, and alangst the dyke-backs, + E'en the winds were a' sighing, "Sweet Barrochan Jean!" + + The timmer ran done wi' the making o' coffins, + Kirkyards o' their sward were a' howkit fu' clean; + Dead lovers were packit like herring in barrels, + Sic thousands were deeing for Barrochan Jean! + + But mony braw thanks to the Laird o' Glen Brodie, + The grass owre their graffs is now bonnie and green, + He sta' the proud heart of our wanton young lady, + And spoil'd a' the charm o' her twa pawky e'en. + + +[85] Writing to his friend Barr, on the 24th December 1809, Tannahill +remarks:--"You will, no doubt, have frequently observed how much some +old people are given to magnify the occurrences of their young days. +'Barrochan Jean' was written on hearing an old grannie, in Lochwinnoch +parish, relating a story something similar to the subject of the song; +perhaps I have heightened her colouring a little." + + + + +O, ROW THEE IN MY HIGHLAND PLAID! + + + Lowland lassie, wilt thou go + Where the hills are clad with snow; + Where, beneath the icy steep, + The hardy shepherd tends his sheep? + Ill nor wae shall thee betide, + When row'd within my Highland plaid. + + Soon the voice of cheery spring + Will gar a' our plantin's ring, + Soon our bonny heather braes + Will put on their summer claes; + On the mountain's sunny side, + We 'll lean us on my Highland plaid. + + When the summer spreads the flowers, + Busks the glens in leafy bowers, + Then we 'll seek the caller shade, + Lean us on the primrose bed; + While the burning hours preside, + I 'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid. + + Then we 'll leave the sheep and goat, + I will launch the bonny boat, + Skim the loch in canty glee, + Rest the oars to pleasure thee; + When chilly breezes sweep the tide, + I 'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid. + + Lowland lads may dress mair fine, + Woo in words mair saft than mine; + Lowland lads hae mair of art, + A' my boast 's an honest heart, + Whilk shall ever be my pride;-- + O, row thee in my Highland plaid! + + "Bonny lad, ye 've been sae leal, + My heart would break at our fareweel; + Lang your love has made me fain; + Take me--take me for your ain!" + Across the Firth, away they glide, + Young Donald and his Lowland bride. + + + + +BONNY WOOD OF CRAIGIE LEA.[86] + + + Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea! + Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea! + Near thee I pass'd life's early day, + And won my Mary's heart in thee. + + The broom, the brier, the birken bush, + Bloom bonny o'er thy flowery lea, + And a' the sweets that ane can wish + Frae Nature's hand, are strew'd on thee. + + Far ben thy dark green plantin's shade, + The cooshat croodles am'rously, + The mavis, down thy bughted glade, + Gars echo ring frae every tree. + Thou bonny wood, &c. + + Awa, ye thoughtless, murd'ring gang, + Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee! + They 'll sing you yet a canty sang, + Then, O, in pity, let them be! + Thou bonny woods, &c. + + When winter blaws in sleety showers, + Frae aff the norlan' hills sae hie, + He lightly skiffs thy bonny bowers, + As laith to harm a flower in thee. + Thou bonny wood, &c. + + Though Fate should drag me south the line, + Or o'er the wide Atlantic sea; + The happy hours I 'll ever mind, + That I, in youth, hae spent in thee. + Thou bonny wood, &c. + + +[86] Craigie Lea is situated to the north-west of Paisley. + + + + +GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY.[87] + +AIR--_"Good night, and joy be wi' you a'."_ + + + The weary sun 's gaen down the west, + The birds sit nodding on the tree; + All nature now prepares for rest, + But rest prepared there 's none for me. + The trumpet sounds to war's alarms, + The drums they beat, the fifes they play,-- + Come, Mary, cheer me wi' thy charms, + For the morn I will be far away. + + Good night, and joy--good night, and joy, + Good night, and joy be wi' you a'; + For since its so that I must go, + Good night, and joy be wi' you a'! + + I grieve to leave my comrades dear, + I mourn to leave my native shore; + To leave my aged parents here, + And the bonnie lass whom I adore. + But tender thoughts maun now be hush'd, + When danger calls I must obey. + The transport waits us on the coast, + And the morn I will be far away. + Good night, and joy, &c. + + Adieu, dear Scotia's sea-beat coast! + Though bleak and drear thy mountains be, + When on the heaving ocean tost, + I 'll cast a wishful look to thee! + And now, dear Mary, fare thee well, + May Providence thy guardian be! + Or in the camp, or on the field, + I 'll heave a sigh, and think on thee! + Good night, and joy, &c. + + +[87] We have been favoured, by Mr Matthew Tannahill, with a copy of the +above song of his late gifted brother. It is not included in any edition +of his poems, but has been printed, through the favour of Mr M. +Tannahill, in the "Book of Scottish Song." + + + + +HENRY DUNCAN, D.D. + + +Dr Henry Duncan the distinguished founder of Savings' Banks, and the +promoter of various schemes of social economy, we are enabled to record +among the contributors to Caledonian minstrelsy. He was descended +through both parents from a succession of respectable clergymen of the +Scottish Church. His father George Duncan, was minister of Lochrutton in +the stewartry of Kircudbright, and the subject of this memoir was born +in the manse of that parish, on the 8th October 1774. After a period of +training at home under a private tutor, he was sent to the Academy of +Dumfries to complete his preparation for the University. At the age of +fourteen, he entered as a student the United College of St Andrews, but +after an attendance of two years at that seat of learning, he was +induced, on the invitation of his relative Dr Currie, to proceed to +Liverpool, there to prepare himself for a mercantile profession, by +occupying a situation in the banking office of Messrs Heywood. After a +trial of three years, he found the avocations of business decidedly +uncongenial, and firmly resolved to follow the profession of his +progenitors, by studying for the ministry of the Church of Scotland. He +had already afforded evidence of ability to grapple with questions of +controversial theology, by printing a tract against the errors of +Socinianism, which, published anonymously, attracted in the city of +Liverpool much attention from the originality with which the usual +arguments were illustrated and enforced. Of the concluding five years of +his academical course, the first and two last were spent at the +University of Edinburgh, the other two at that of Glasgow. In 1797, he +was enrolled as a member of the Speculative Society of the University of +Edinburgh, and there took his turn in debate with Henry Brougham, +Francis Horner, Lord Henry Petty afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne, and +other young men of genius, who then adorned the academic halls of the +Scottish capital. With John Leyden, W. Gillespie afterwards minister of +Kells, and Robert Lundie the future minister of Kelso, he formed habits +of particular intimacy. From the Presbytery of Dumfries, he obtained +licence as a probationer in the spring of 1798, and he thereafter +accepted the situation of tutor in the family of Colonel Erskine +afterwards Earl of Mar, who then resided at Dalhonzie, near Crieff. In +this post he distinguished himself by inducing the inhabitants of the +district to take up arms in the defence of the country, during the +excitement, which then prevailed respecting an invasion. In the spring +of 1799, the parishes of Lochmaben and Ruthwell, both in the gift of the +Earl of Mansfield, became simultaneously vacant, and the choice of them +was accorded to Mr Duncan by the noble patron. He preferred Ruthwell, +and was ordained to the charge of that parish, on the 19th September. + +In preferring the parish of Ruthwell to the better position and wider +field of ministerial usefulness presented at Lochmaben, Mr Duncan was +influenced by the consideration, that the population of the former +parish was such as would enable him to extend the pastoral +superintendence to every individual of his flock. In this respect he +realised his wishes; but not content with efficiently discharging the +more sacred duties of a parochial clergyman, he sought with devoted +assiduity, the amelioration of the physical condition of his people. +Relieving an immediate destitution in the parish, by a supply of Indian +corn brought on his own adventure, he was led to devise means of +preventing the recurrence of any similar period of depression. With this +intention, he established two friendly societies in the place, and +afterwards a local bank for the savings of the industrious. The latter +proved the parent of those admirable institutions for the working +classes, known as _Savings' Banks_, which have since become so numerous +throughout Europe and the United States of America. The Ruthwell +Savings' Bank was established in 1810. Numerous difficulties attended +the early operation of the system, on its general adoption throughout +the country, but these were obviated and removed by the skill and +promptitude of the ingenious projector. At one period his correspondence +on the subject cost him in postages an annual expenditure of one hundred +pounds, a sum nearly equal to half the yearly emoluments of his +parochial cure. The Act of Parliament establishing Savings' Banks in +Scotland, which was passed in July 1819, was procured through his +indomitable exertions, and likewise the Act of 1835, providing for the +better regulation of these institutions. + +At Ruthwell, Dr Duncan introduced the system of popular lectures on +science, which has since been adopted by Mechanics' Institutes. Further +to extend the benefits of popular instruction and entertainment, he +edited a series of tracts entitled "The Scottish Cheap Repository," one +of the first of those periodicals devoted to the moral improvement of +the people. A narrative designated "The Cottager's Fireside," which he +originally contributed to this series, was afterwards published +separately, and commanded a wide circulation. In 1809, Dr Duncan +originated the _Dumfries and Galloway Courier_, a weekly newspaper which +he conducted during the first seven years of its existence. He was a +frequent contributor to "The Christian Instructor," and wrote the +articles "Blair" and "Blacklock" for the _Edinburgh Encyclopædia_. At +the request of Lord Brougham, he composed two treatises on Savings' +Banks and Friendly Societies, for publication by the "Society for the +Diffusion of Useful Knowledge." In 1819, he published the "Young Country +Weaver," a tale calculated to disseminate just political views among the +manufacturing classes; and in 1826 a tale of the times of the Covenant +in three volumes, with the title of "William Douglas, or the Scottish +Exiles." Deeply interested in the question of Slave Emancipation, he +contributed a series of letters on the subject to the _Dumfries +Courier_, which, afterwards published in the form of a pamphlet, excited +no inconsiderable attention. His most valuable and successful +publication, the "Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons" appeared in 1836-7 +in four duodecimo volumes. + +As a man of science, the name of Dr Duncan is associated with the +discovery of footprints of four-footed animals in the New Red-Sandstone. +He made this curious geological discovery in a quarry at Corncocklemuir, +about fifteen miles distant from his parochial manse. In 1823, he +received the degree of D.D. from the University of St Andrews. In 1839, +he was raised to the Moderator's chair in the General Assembly. In +church politics, he had early espoused liberal opinions; at the +Disruption in 1843, he resigned his charge and united himself to the +Free Church. He continued to minister in the parish of Ruthwell, till +the appointment of an assistant and successor a short time before his +decease. Revisiting the scene of his ministerial labours after a brief +absence, he was struck with paralysis while conducting service at a +prayer-meeting, and two days afterwards expired. He died at Comlongon, +the residence of his brother-in-law Mr Phillips, on the 12th February +1846, and his remains were committed to the church-yard of Ruthwell, in +which he had ministered during an incumbency of upwards of forty-six +years. + +Dr Duncan was twice married; first in 1804, to Miss Craig, the only +surviving daughter of his predecessor, and secondly in 1836, to Mrs +Lundie, the relict of his friend Mr Lundie, minister of Kelso. His +memoirs have been published by his son, the Rev. George John C. Duncan, +minister of the Free Church, Greenwich. A man of fine intellect, +extensive and varied scholarship, and highly benevolent dispositions, Dr +Duncan was much cherished and beloved alike by his parishioners and his +gifted contemporaries. Pious and exemplary as became his profession, he +was expert in business, and was largely endowed with an inventive +genius. Though hitherto scarcely known as a poet, he wrote verses so +early as his eleventh year, which are described by his biographer as +having "evinced a maturity of taste, a refinement of thought, and an +ease of diction which astonished and delighted his friends," and the +specimens of his more mature lyrical compositions, which we have been +privileged to publish from his MSS. are such as to induce some regret +that they were not sooner given to the public. + + + + +CURLING SONG. + + + The music o' the year is hush'd, + In bonny glen and shaw, man; + And winter spreads o'er nature dead + A winding sheet o' snaw, man. + O'er burn and loch, the warlike frost, + A crystal brig has laid, man; + The wild geese screaming wi' surprise, + The ice-bound wave ha'e fled, man. + + Up, curler, frae your bed sae warm, + And leave your coaxing wife, man; + Gae get your besom, tramps and stane, + And join the friendly strife, man. + For on the water's face are met, + Wi' mony a merry joke, man; + The tenant and his jolly laird, + The pastor and his flock, man. + + The rink is swept, the tees are mark'd, + The bonspiel is begun, man; + The ice is true, the stanes are keen, + Huzza for glorious fun, man! + The skips are standing at the tee, + To guide the eager game, man; + Hush, not a word, but mark the broom, + And tak' a steady aim, man. + + There draw a shot, there lay a guard, + And here beside him lie, man; + Now let him feel a gamester's hand, + Now in his bosom die, man; + Then fill the port, and block the ice, + We sit upon the tee, man; + Now tak' this in-ring, sharp and neat, + And mak' their winner flee, man. + + How stands the game? Its eight and eight, + Now for the winning shot, man; + Draw slow and sure, and tak' your aim, + I 'll sweep you to the spot, man. + The stane is thrown, it glides along, + The besoms ply it in, man; + Wi' twisting back the player stands, + And eager breathless grin, man. + + A moment's silence, still as death, + Pervades the anxious thrang, man; + When sudden bursts the victor's shout, + With holla's loud and lang, man. + Triumphant besom's wave in air, + And friendly banters fly, man; + Whilst, cold and hungry, to the inn, + Wi' eager steps they hie, man. + + Now fill ae bumper, fill but ane, + And drink wi' social glee, man, + May curlers on life's slippery rink, + Frae cruel rubs be free, man; + Or should a treacherous bias lead + Their erring course ajee, man, + Some friendly in-ring may they meet, + To guide them to the tee, man. + + + + +ON THE GREEN SWARD.[88] + +TUNE--_"Arniston House."_ + + + On the green sward lay William, in anguish extended, + To soothe and to cheer him his Mary stood near him; + But despair in the cup of his sorrows was blended, + And, inwardly groaning, he wildly exclaim'd-- + + "Ah! look not so fondly, thou peerless in beauty, + Away, I beseech thee, no comfort can reach me; + A martyr to love, or a traitor to duty, + My pleasure is sorrow, my hope is despair. + + "Once the visions of fancy shone bright and attractive, + Like distant scenes blooming which sunbeams illumine; + Love pointed to wealth, and, no longer inactive, + I labour'd till midnight, and rose with the dawn. + + "But the day-dreams of pleasure have fled me for ever, + Misfortune surrounds me, oppression confounds me; + No hope to support, and no friend to deliver, + Poor and wretched, alas! I must ever remain. + + "And thou, my soul's treasure, whilst pitying my anguish, + New poison does mix in my cup of affliction, + For honour forbids (though without thee I languish) + To make thee a partner of sorrow and want." + + "Dear William," she cried, "I 'll no longer deceive thee, + I honour thy merit, I love thy proud spirit; + Too well thou art tried, and if wealth can relieve thee, + My portion is ample--that portion is thine." + + +[88] Composed in 1804. This song and those following, by Dr Duncan, are +here published for the first time. + + + + +THE RUTHWELL VOLUNTEERS.[89] + + + Hark! the martial drums resound, + Valiant brothers, welcome all, + Crowd the royal standard round, + 'Tis your injured country's call. + See, see, the robbers come, + Ruin seize the ruthless foe; + For your altars, for your homes, + Heroes lay the tyrants low! + + He whom dastard fears abash, + He was born to be a slave-- + Let him feel the despot's lash, + And sink inglorious to the grave. + See, see, &c. + + He who spurns a coward's life, + He whose bosom freedom warms, + Let him share the glorious strife, + We 'll take the hero to our arms. + See, see, &c. + + Spirits of the valiant dead, + Who fought and bled at Freedom's call, + In the path you dared to tread, + We, your sons, will stand or fall. + See, see, &c. + + Bending from your airy halls, + Turn on us a guardian eye-- + Lead where Fame or Honour calls, + And teach to conquer or to die! + See, see, &c. + + +[89] Written in 1805, when the nation was in apprehension of the French +invasion. + + + + +EXILED FAR FROM SCENES OF PLEASURE.[90] + +TUNE--_"Blythe, Blythe and Merry was she."_ + + + Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, + Love sincere and friendship true, + Sad I mark the moon's pale radiance, + Trembling in the midnight dew. + + Sad and lonely, sad and lonely, + Musing on the tints decay, + On the maid I love so dearly, + And on pleasure's fleeting day. + + Bright the moonbeams, when we parted, + Mark'd the solemn midnight hour, + Clothing with a robe of silver + Hill, and dale, and shady bower. + + Then our mutual faith we plighted, + Vows of true love to repeat, + Lonely oft the pale orb watching, + At this hour to lovers sweet. + + On thy silent face, with fondness, + Let me gaze, fair queen of night, + For my Annie's tears of sorrow + Sparkle in thy soften'd light. + + When I think my Annie views thee, + Dearly do I love thy rays, + For the distance that divides us + Seems to vanish as I gaze. + + +[90] Composed in 1807. + + + + +THE ROOF OF STRAW. + + + I ask no lordling's titled name, + Nor miser's hoarded store; + I ask to live with those I love, + Contented though I 'm poor. + From joyless pomp and heartless mirth + I gladly will withdraw, + And hide me in this lowly vale, + Beneath my roof of straw. + + To hear my Nancy's lips pronounce + A husband's cherish'd name, + To press my children to my heart + Are titles, wealth and fame. + Let kings and conquerors delight + To hold the world in awe, + Be mine to find content and peace + Beneath my roof of straw. + + When round the winters' warm fireside + We meet with social joy, + The glance of love to every heart + Shall speak from every eye. + More lovely far such such scenes of bliss + Than monarch ever saw, + Even angels might delight to dwell + Beneath my roof of straw. + + + + +THOU KEN'ST, MARY HAY.[91] + +TUNE--_"Bonny Mary Hay."_ + + + Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I loe thee weel, + My ain auld wife, sae canty and leal, + Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e, + And look aye sae wae, when thou look'st at me? + + Dost thou miss, Mary Hay, the saft bloom o' my cheek, + And the hair curling round it, sae gentie and sleek? + For the snaw 's on my head, and the roses are gane, + Since that day o' days I first ca'd thee my ain. + + But though, Mary Hay, my auld e'en be grown dim, + An age, wi' its frost, maks cauld every limb, + My heart, thou kens weel, has nae cauldness for thee, + For simmer returns at the blink o' thine e'e. + + The miser hauds firmer and firmer his gold, + The ivy sticks close to the tree, when its old, + And still thou grows't dearer to me, Mary Hay, + As a' else turns eerie, and life wears away. + + We maun part, Mary Hay, when our journey is done, + But I 'll meet thee again in the bricht world aboon, + Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e, + And look aye sae wae when thou look'st at me? + + +[91] Composed in 1830. + + + + +ROBERT ALLAN. + + +Robert Allan was the son of a respectable flax-dresser in the village of +Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire. The third of a family of ten children, he was +born on the 4th of November 1774. Inheriting a taste for music, he early +evinced talent in the composition of song, which was afterwards fostered +by the encouragement of Tannahill and Robert Archibald Smith. With +Tannahill he lived on terms of the most cordial friendship. He followed +the occupation of a muslin weaver in his native place, and composed many +of his best verses at the loom. He was an extensive contributor to the +"Scottish Minstrel," published by R. A. Smith, his songs being set to +music by the editor. In 1820, a number of his songs appeared in the +"Harp of Renfrewshire." His only separate volume was published in 1836, +under the editorial revision of Robert Burns Hardy, teacher of elocution +in Glasgow. + +In his more advanced years, Allan, who was naturally of good and +benevolent dispositions, became peculiarly irritable; he fancied that +his merits as a poet had been overlooked, and the feeling preyed deeply +upon his mind. He entertained extreme political opinions, and conceived +a dislike to his native country, which he deemed had not sufficiently +estimated his genius. Much in opposition to the wishes of his friends, +he sailed for New York in his 67th year. He survived the passage only +six days; he died at New York on the 1st June 1841. + +Robert Allan is entitled to an honourable position as a writer of +Scottish song; all his lyrics evince a correct appreciation of the +beautiful in nature, and of the pure and elevated in sentiment. Several +of his lays are unsurpassed in genuine pathos.[92] + + +[92] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr John Macgregor, of +Paisley, son-in-law of Mr Allan, for most of the particulars contained +in this short memoir. Mr Macgregor prepared an extended life of the poet +for our use, which, however, was scarcely suited for our purpose. A +number of Mr Allan's songs, transcribed from his manuscripts, in the +possession of his son in New York, were likewise communicated by Mr +Macgregor. These being, in point of merit, unequal to the other +productions of the bard, we have not ventured on their publication. + + + + +BLINK OVER THE BURN, MY SWEET BETTY. + + + Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, + Blink over the burn, love, to me; + O, lang hae I look'd, my dear Betty, + To get but a blink o' thine e'e. + The birds are a' sporting around us, + And sweetly they sing on the tree; + But the voice o' my bonny sweet Betty, + I trow, is far dearer to me. + + The ringlets, my lovely young Betty, + That wave o'er thy bonnie e'ebree, + I 'll twine wi' the flowers o' the mountain, + That blossom sae sweetly, like thee. + Then come o'er the burn, my sweet Betty, + Come over the burn, love, to me; + O, sweet is the bliss, my dear Betty, + To live in the blink o' thine e'e. + + + + +COME AWA, HIE AWA. + +AIR--_"Haud awa frae me, Donald."_ + + + Come awa, hie awa, + Come and be mine ain, lassie; + Row thee in my tartan plaid, + An' fear nae wintry rain, lassie. + A gowden brooch, an' siller belt, + Wi' faithfu' heart I 'll gie, lassie, + Gin ye will lea' your Lawland hame, + For Highland hills wi' me, lassie. + Come awa, &c. + + A bonnie bower shall be thy hame, + And drest in silken sheen, lassie. + Ye 'll be the fairest in the ha', + And gayest on the green, lassie. + Come awa, &c. + + +ANSWER. + + Haud awa, bide awa, + Haud awa frae me, Donald; + What care I for a' your wealth, + And a' that ye can gie, Donald? + + I wadna lea' my Lowland lad + For a' your gowd and gear, Donald; + Sae tak' your plaid, an' o'er the hill, + An' stay nae langer here, Donald. + Haud awa, &c. + + My Jamie is a gallant youth, + I lo'e but him alane, Donald, + And in bonnie Scotland's isle, + Like him there is nane, Donald; + Haud awa, &c. + + He wears nae plaid, or tartan hose, + Nor garters at his knee, Donald; + But oh, he wears a faithfu' heart, + And love blinks in his e'e, Donald. + + Sae haud awa, bide awa, + Come nae mair at e'en, Donald; + I wadna break my Jamie's heart, + To be a Highland Queen, Donald. + + + + +ON THEE, ELIZA, DWELL MY THOUGHTS. + +AIR--_"In yon garden fine and gay."_ + + + On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, + While straying was the moon's pale beam; + At midnight, in my wand'ring sleep, + I see thy form in fancy's dream. + + I see thee in the rosy morn, + Approach as loose-robed beauty's queen; + The morning smiles, but thou art lost, + Too soon is fled the sylvan scene. + + Still fancy fondly dwells on thee, + And adds another day of care; + What bliss were mine could fancy paint + Thee true, as she can paint thee fair! + + O fly, ye dear deceitful dreams! + Ye silken cords that bind the heart;-- + Canst thou, Eliza, these entwine, + And smile and triumph in the smart? + + + + +TO A LINNET. + +AIR--_"M'Gilchrist's Lament."_ + + + Chaunt no more thy roundelay, + Lovely minstrel of the grove, + Charm no more the hours away, + With thine artless tale of love; + Chaunt no more thy roundelay, + Sad it steals upon mine ear; + Leave, O leave thy leafy spray, + Till the smiling morn appear. + + Light of heart, thou quitt'st thy song, + As the welkin's shadows low'r; + Whilst the beetle wheels along, + Humming to the twilight hour. + Not like thee I quit the scene, + To enjoy night's balmy dream; + Not like thee I wake again, + Smiling with the morning beam. + + + + +THE PRIMROSE IS BONNY IN SPRING. + +AIR--_"The Banks of Eswal."_ + + + The primrose is bonnie in spring, + And the rose it is sweet in June; + It 's bonnie where leaves are green, + I' the sunny afternoon. + It 's bonny when the sun gaes down, + An' glints on the hoary knowe; + It 's bonnie to see the cloud + Sae red in the dazzling lowe. + + When the night is a' sae calm, + An' comes the sweet twilight gloom, + Oh! it cheers my heart to meet + My lassie amang the broom, + When the birds in bush and brake, + Do quit their blythe e'enin' sang; + Oh! what an hour to sit + The gay gowden links amang. + + + + +THE BONNIE LASS O' WOODHOUSELEE. + +AIR--_"Hey the rantin' Murray's Ha'."_ + + + The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw, + But sweeter far on Woodhouselee, + And dear I like his setting beam + For sake o' ane sae dear to me. + It was na simmer's fairy scenes, + In a' their charming luxury, + But Beauty's sel' that won my heart, + The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee. + + Sae winnin', was her witchin' smile, + Sae piercin', was her coal-black e'e, + Sae sairly wounded was my heart, + That had na wist sic ills to dree; + In vain I strave in beauty's chains, + I cou'd na keep my fancy free, + She gat my heart sae in her thrall, + The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee. + + The bonnie knowes, sae yellow a', + Where aft is heard the hum of bee, + The meadow green, and breezy hill, + Where lambkins sport sae merrilie, + May charm the weary, wand'rin' swain, + When e'enin' sun dips in the sea, + But a' my heart, baith e'en and morn, + Is wi' the lass o' Woodhouselee. + + The flowers that kiss the wimplin' burn, + And dew-clad gowans on the lea, + The water-lily on the lake, + Are but sweet emblems a' of thee; + And while in simmer smiles they bloom, + Sae lovely, and sae fair to see, + I 'll woo their sweets, e'en for thy sake, + The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee. + + + + +THE SUN IS SETTING ON SWEET GLENGARRY. + + + The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, + The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; + O bonnie lassie, ye maun be my dearie, + And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en. + + Doun yon glen ye never will weary, + The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; + Bonnie lassie, ye maun be my dearie, + And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en. + + Birds are singing fu' blythe and cheery, + The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; + Bonnie lassie, on bank sae briery, + And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en. + + In yonder glen there 's naething to fear ye, + The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; + Ye canna be sad, ye canna be eerie, + And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en. + + The water is wimpling by fu' clearly, + The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; + Oh! ye sall ever be my dearie, + And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en. + + + + +HER HAIR WAS LIKE THE CROMLA MIST. + +_Gaelic Air._ + + + Her hair was like the Cromla mist, + When evening sun beams from the west, + Bright was the eye of Morna; + When beauty wept the warrior's fall, + Then low and dark was Fingal's hall, + Sad was the lovely Morna. + + O! lovely was the blue-eyed maid + That sung peace to the warrior's shade, + But none so fair as Morna. + The hallow'd tears bedew'd the brake, + That waved beside dark Orna's lake, + Where wander'd lovely Morna. + + Sad was the hoary minstrel's song, + That died the rustling heath among, + Where sat the lovely Morna; + It slumber'd on the placid wave, + It echoed through the warrior's cave, + And sigh'd again to Morna. + + The hero's plumes were lowly laid; + In Fingal's hall each blue-eyed maid + Sang peace and rest to Morna; + The harp's wild strain was past and gone, + No more it whisper'd to the moan + Of lovely, dying Morna. + + + + +O LEEZE ME ON THE BONNIE LASS. + +AIR--_"Hodgart's Delight."_ + + + O leeze me on the bonnie lass + That I lo'e best o' a'; + O leeze me on my Marion, + The pride o' Lockershaw. + O weel I like my Marion, + For love blinks in her e'e, + And she has vow'd a solemn vow, + She lo'es na ane but me. + + The flowers grow bonnie on the bank, + Where doun the waters fa'; + The birds sing bonnie in the bower, + Where red, red roses blaw. + An' there, wi' blythe and lightsome heart, + When day has closed his e'e, + I wander wi' my Marion, + Wha lo'es na ane but me. + + Sic luve as mine an' Marion's, + O, may it never fa'! + But blume aye like the fairest flower, + That grows in Lockershaw. + My Marion I will ne'er forget + Until the day I dee, + For she has vow'd a solemn vow, + She lo'es na ane but me. + + + + +QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN CASTLE. + +_Highland Boat-air._ + + + Put off, put off, and row with speed, + For now 's the time, and the hour of need! + To oars, to oars, and trim the bark, + Nor Scotland's queen be a warder's mark! + Yon light that plays round the castle's moat + Is only the warder's random shot! + Put off, put off, and row with speed, + For now is the time, and the hour of need! + + Those pond'rous keys[93] shall the kelpies keep, + And lodge in their caverns dark and deep; + Nor shall Lochleven's towers or hall, + Hold thee, our lovely lady, in thrall; + Or be the haunt of traitors, sold, + While Scotland has hands and hearts so bold; + Then, steersmen, steersmen, on with speed, + For now is the time, and the hour of need! + + Hark! the alarum-bell hath rung, + And the warder's voice hath treason sung; + The echoes to the falconet's roar, + Chime swiftly to the dashing oar. + Let town, and hall, and battlements gleam, + We steer by the light of the tapers' beam; + For Scotland and Mary, on with speed, + Now, now is the time, and the hour of need! + + +[93] The keys here alluded to were, at a recent period, found in the +lake. + + + + +WHEN CHARLIE TO THE HIGHLANDS CAME. + +AIR--_"The bonnie Mill-dams o' Balgonie."_ + + + When Charlie to the Highlands came, + It was a' joy and gladness, + We trow'd na that our hearts sae soon + Wad broken be wi' sadness. + + Oh! why did Heaven sae on us frown, + And break our hearts wi' sorrow; + Oh! it will never smile again, + And bring a gladsome morrow! + + Our dwellings, and our outlay gear, + Lie smoking, and in ruin; + Our bravest youths, like mountain deer, + The foe is oft pursuing. + + Our home is now the barren rock, + As if by Heaven forsaken; + Our shelter and our canopy, + The heather and the bracken. + + Oh! we maun wander far and near, + And foreign lands maun hide in; + Our bonnie glens, we lo'ed sae dear, + We daurna langer bide in. + + + + +LORD RONALD CAME TO HIS LADY'S BOWER. + + + Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower, + When the moon was in her wane; + Lord Ronald came at a late, late hour, + And to her bower is gane. + He saftly stept in his sandal shoon, + And saftly laid him doun; + "It 's late, it 's late," quoth Ellenore, + "Sin ye maun wauken soon. + + "Lord Ronald, stay till the early cock + Shall flap his siller wing, + An' saftly ye maun ope the gate, + An' loose the silken string." + "O Ellenore, my fairest fair, + O Ellenore, my bride! + How can ye fear when my merry men a' + Are on the mountain side." + + The moon was hid, the night was sped, + But Ellenore's heart was wae; + She heard the cock flap his siller wing, + An' she watched the morning ray: + "Rise up, rise up, Lord Ronald, dear, + The mornin' opes its e'e; + Oh, speed thee to thy father's tower, + And safe, safe may thou be." + + But there was a page, a little fause page, + Lord Ronald did espy, + An' he has told his baron all, + Where the hind and hart did lie. + "It is na for thee, but thine, Lord Ronald, + Thy father's deeds o' weir; + But since the hind has come to my faul', + His blood shall dim my spear." + + Lord Ronald kiss'd fair Ellenore, + And press'd her lily hand; + Sic a comely knight and comely dame + Ne'er met in wedlock's band: + But the baron watch'd, as he raised the latch, + And kiss'd again his bride; + And with his spear, in deadly ire, + He pierced Lord Ronald's side. + + The life-blood fled frae fair Ellenore's cheek, + She look'd all wan and ghast; + She lean'd her down by Lord Ronald's side, + An' the blood was rinnin' fast: + She kiss'd his lip o' the deadlie hue, + But his life she cou'dna stay; + Her bosom throbb'd ae deadlie throb, + An' their spirits baith fled away. + + + + +THE LOVELY MAID OF ORMADALE. + +AIR--_"Highland Lassie."_ + + + When sets the sun o'er Lomond's height, + To blaze upon the western wave; + When peace and love possess the grove, + And echo sleeps within the cave; + Led by love's soft endearing charms, + I stray the pathless winding vale, + And hail the hour that gives to me + The lovely maid of Ormadale. + + Her eyes outshine the star of night, + Her cheeks the morning's rosy hue; + And pure as flower in summer shade, + Low bending in the pearly dew: + Nor flower sae fair and lovely pure, + Shall fate's dark wintry winds assail; + As angel-smile she aye will be + Dear to the bowers of Ormadale. + + Let fortune soothe the heart of care, + And wealth to all its votaries give; + Be mine the rosy smile of love, + And in its blissful arms to live. + I would resign fair India's wealth, + And sweet Arabia's spicy gale, + For balmy eve and Scotian bower, + With thee, loved maid of Ormadale. + + + + +A LASSIE CAM' TO OUR GATE. + + + A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen, + An' low she curtsied doun; + She was lovelier far, an' fairer to see, + Then a' our ladies roun'. + + Oh, whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo? + An' whare may your dwelling be? + But her heart, I trow, was liken to break, + An' the tear-drap dimm'd her e'e. + + I haena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie-- + I haena a hame, nor ha'; + Fain here wad I rest my weary feet, + For the night begins to fa'. + + I took her into our tapestry ha', + An' we drank the ruddy wine; + An' aye I strave, but fand my heart + Fast bound wi' Love's silken twine. + + I ween'd she might be the fairies' queen + She was sae jimp and sma'; + And the tear that dimm'd her bonnie blue e'e + Fell ower twa heaps o' snaw. + + Oh, whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo? + An' whare may your dwelling be? + Can the winter's rain an' the winter's wind + Blaw cauld on sic as ye? + + I haena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie-- + I haena a ha' nor hame; + My father was ane o' "Charlie's" men, + An' him I daurna name. + + Whate'er be your kith, whate'er be your kin, + Frae this ye mauna gae; + An' gin ye 'll consent to be my ain, + Nae marrow ye shall hae. + + Sweet maiden, tak' the siller cup, + Sae fu' o' the damask wine, + An' press it to your cherrie lip, + For ye shall aye be mine. + + An' drink, sweet doo, young Charlie's health, + An' a' your kin sae dear; + Culloden has dimm'd mony an e'e + Wi' mony a saut, saut tear. + + + + +THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. + + + There grew in bonnie Scotland + A thistle and a brier, + And aye they twined and clasp'd, + Like sisters, kind and dear. + The rose it was sae bonnie, + It could ilk bosom charm; + The thistle spread its thorny leaf, + To keep the rose frae harm. + + A bonnie laddie tended + The rose baith ear' and late; + He water'd it, and fann'd it, + And wove it with his fate; + And the leal hearts of Scotland + Pray'd it might never fa', + The thistle was sae bonny green, + The rose sae like the snaw. + + But the weird sisters sat + Where Hope's fair emblems grew; + They drapt a drap upon the rose + O' bitter, blasting dew; + And aye they twined the mystic thread,-- + But ere their task was done, + The snaw-white shade it disappear'd, + And wither'd in the sun! + + A bonnie laddie tended + The rose baith ear' an' late; + He water'd it, and fann'd it, + And wove it with his fate; + But the thistle tap it wither'd, + Winds bore it far awa', + And Scotland's heart was broken, + For the rose sae like the snaw! + + + + +THE COVENANTER'S LAMENT. + +TUNE--_"The Martyr's Grave."_ + + + There 's nae Covenant now, lassie! + There 's nae Covenant now! + The Solemn League and Covenant + Are a' broken through! + There 's nae Renwick now, lassie, + There 's nae gude Cargill, + Nor holy Sabbath preaching + Upon the Martyrs' Hill! + + It 's naething but a sword, lassie! + A bluidy, bluidy ane! + Waving owre poor Scotland, + For her rebellious sin. + Scotland 's a' wrang, lassie, + Scotland 's a' wrang-- + It 's neither to the hill nor glen, + Lassie, we daur gang. + + The Martyrs' Hill 's forsaken, + In simmer's dusk sae calm; + There 's nae gathering now, lassie, + To sing the e'ening psalm! + But the martyr's grave will rise, lassie, + Aboon the warrior's cairn; + An' the martyr soun' will sleep, lassie, + Aneath the waving fern! + + + + +BONNIE LASSIE. + + + Bonnie lassie, blythesome lassie, + Sweet 's the sparkling o' thine e'e; + Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling, + Ye hae stown my heart frae me. + + Fondly wooing, fondly sueing, + Let me love, nor love in vain; + Fate shall never fond hearts sever, + Hearts still bound by true love's chain. + + Fancy dreaming, hope bright beaming, + Shall each day life's feast renew; + Ours the treasure, ours the pleasure, + Still to live and love more true. + + Mirth and folly, joys unholy, + Never shall our thoughts employ; + Smiles inviting, hearts uniting, + Love and bliss without alloy. + + Bonnie lassie, blythesome lassie, + Sweet 's the sparkling o' thine e'e; + Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling, + Ye hae stown my heart frae me. + + + + +ANDREW MERCER. + + +Andrew Mercer was born at Selkirk, in 1775. By his father, who was a +respectable tradesman, he was destined for the pulpit of the United +Secession Church. He became a student in the University of Edinburgh, in +1790, and was the class-fellow and friend of John Leyden, and of Dr +Alexander Murray, the future philologist. At the house of Dr Robert +Anderson, he formed the intimacy of Thomas Campbell; he also numbered +among his early associates Thomas Brown and Mungo Park. Abandoning +theological study, he cultivated a taste for the fine arts; and he +endeavoured to establish himself in the capital in the twofold capacity +of a miniature-painter, and a man of letters. With respect to both +avocations, he proved unfortunate. In 1804, a periodical entitled the +_North British Magazine_ was originated and supported by his friends, on +his behalf; but the publication terminated at the end of thirteen +months. At a subsequent period, he removed to Dunfermline, where he was +engaged in teaching, and in drawing patterns for the manufacturers. In +1828, he published a "History of Dunfermline," in a duodecimo volume; +and, at an interval of ten years, a volume of poems, entitled "Summer +Months among the Mountains." A man of considerable ingenuity and +scholarship, he lacked industry and steadiness of application. His +latter years were clouded by poverty. He died at Dunfermline on the 11th +of June 1842, in his 67th year. + + + + +THE HOUR OF LOVE. + + + When the fair one and the dear one-- + Her lover by her side-- + Strays or sits as fancy flits, + Where yellow streamlets glide; + Gleams illuming--flowers perfuming + Where'er her footsteps rove; + Time beguiling with her smiling, + Oh! that 's the hour of love. + + When the fair one and the dear one, + Amid a moonlight scene, + Where grove and glade, and light and shade, + Are all around serene; + Heaves the soft sigh of ecstasy, + While coos the turtle-dove, + And in soft strains appeals--complains, + Oh! that 's the hour of love. + + Should the fair one and the dear one + The sigh of pity lend + For human woe, that presses low + A stranger, or a friend, + Tears descending, sweetly blending, + As down her cheeks they rove; + Beauty's charms in pity's arms-- + Oh! that 's the hour of love. + + When the fair one and the dear one + Appears in morning dreams, + In flowing vest by fancy drest, + And all the angel beams; + The heavenly mien, and look serene, + Confess her from above; + While rising sighs and dewy eyes + Say, that 's the hour of love! + + + + +JOHN LEYDEN, M.D. + + +John Leyden was born on the 8th September 1775, at Denholm, a hamlet in +the parish of Cavers, Roxburghshire. His ancestors, for several +generations, were farmers, but his father followed the humble occupation +of a shepherd. Of four brothers and two sisters, John was the eldest. +About a year after his birth, his father removed to Henlawshiel, a +solitary cottage,[94] about three miles from Denholm, on the margin of +the heath stretching down from the "stormy Ruberslaw." He received the +rudiments of knowledge from his paternal grandmother; and discovering a +remarkable aptitude for learning, his father determined to afford him +the advantages of a liberal education. He was sent to the parish school +of Kirkton, and afterwards placed under the tutorship of a Cameronian +clergyman, in Denholm, reputed as a classical scholar. In 1790, he +entered the University of Edinburgh, where he soon acquired distinction +for his classical attainments and devotedness to general learning. His +last session of college attendance was spent at St Andrews, where he +became a tutor. By the Presbytery of St Andrews, in May 1798, he was +licensed as a probationer of the Scottish Church. On obtaining his +licence, he returned to the capital, where his reputation as a scholar +had secured him many friends. He now accepted the editorship of the +_Scots Magazine_, to which he had formerly been a contributor, and +otherwise employed himself in literary pursuits. In 1799, he published, +in a duodecimo volume, "An Historical and Philosophical Sketch of the +Discoveries and Settlements of the Europeans in Northern and Central +Africa, at the Close of the Eighteenth Century." "The Complaynt of +Scotland," a curious political treatise of the sixteenth century, next +appeared under his editorial care, with an ingenious introduction, and +notes. In 1801, he contributed the ballad of "The Elf-king," to Lewis' +"Tales of Wonder;" and, about the same period, wrote several ballads for +the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." The dissertation on "Fairy +Superstition," in the second volume of the latter work, slightly altered +by Scott, proceeded from his pen. In 1802, he edited a small volume, +entitled, "Scottish Descriptive Poems," consisting of a new edition of +Wilson's "Clyde," and a reprint of "Albania,"--a curious poem, in blank +verse, by an anonymous writer of the beginning of the eighteenth +century. + +A wide circle of influential friends were earnestly desirous of his +promotion. In 1800, the opposition of the aged incumbent prevented his +appointment as assistant and successor in the ministerial charge of his +native parish. A proposal to appoint him Professor of Rhetoric in the +University of Edinburgh also failed. He now resolved to proceed to +Africa, to explore the interior, under the auspices of the African +Association; but some of his friends meanwhile procured him an +appointment as a surgeon in the East India Company's establishment at +Madras. During his course at the University, he had attended some of the +medical classes; and he now resumed the study of medicine, with such an +amount of success, that in six weeks he qualified himself for a +surgeon's diploma. About the same time, the degree of M.D. was conferred +on him by the University of St Andrews. + +Before his departure for the East, Leyden finished his longest poem, the +"Scenes of Infancy," the publication of which he entrusted to his +friend, Dr Thomas Brown. His last winter in Britain he passed in London, +enjoying the society of many distinguished men of letters, to whom he +was introduced by his former friend, Mr Richard Heber. He sailed for +India[95] on the 7th April 1803, and arrived at Madras on the 19th +August. In Hindostan, his talents and extraordinary capabilities in +forming an acquaintance with the native tongues gained him numerous +friends. He was successively appointed surgeon to the commissioners for +surveying the provinces in Mysore, recently conquered from Tippoo +Sultan; professor of Hindostan in the College of Calcutta; judge of the +twenty-four pargunnahs of Calcutta; a commissioner of the Court of +Requests in Calcutta; and assay-master of the mint. His literary +services being required by the Governor-General, he left Calcutta for +Madras, and afterwards proceeded along with the army in the expedition +against Java. On the capture of the town of Batavia, having gone to +examine the library of the place, in which he expected to find some +curious Indian MSS., he caught a malignant fever from the tainted air of +the apartment. He survived only three days, terminating a life of much +promise, on the 28th of August 1811, in the thirty-sixth year of his +age. + +In John Leyden an unconquerable perseverance was united to remarkable +native genius, and a memory of singular retentiveness. Eminent as a +linguist, he was an able and accurate philologist; in a knowledge of the +many languages of India he stood unrivalled. During his residence in the +East, he published a "Dissertation on the Languages and Literature of +the Indo-Chinese Nations," in the tenth volume of the "Asiatic +Researches," and he left numerous MSS. on subjects connected with +oriental learning. He was early a votary of the Muse; and, in youth, was +familiar with the older Scottish bards. In April 1795, he appeared in +the _Edinburgh Literary Magazine_ as author of an elegy "On the Death of +a Sister;" and subsequently became a regular contributor of verses to +the periodicals of the capital. His more esteemed poetical productions +are the "Scenes of Infancy," and the ballads which he composed for the +"Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." Of the latter, the supernatural +machinery is singularly striking; in the former poem, much smooth and +elegant versification is combined with powerful and vigorous +description. There are, indeed, occasional repetitions and numerous +digressions; but amidst these marks of hasty composition, every sentence +bears evidence of a masculine intellect and powerful imagination. His +lyrical effusions are pervaded with simplicity and tenderness. + +Like some other sons of genius, Leyden was of rather eccentric habits. +He affected to despise artificial manners; and, though frequenting +polished circles in Edinburgh, then in London, and afterwards in Madras +and Calcutta, he persevered in an indomitable aversion to the use of the +English tongue, which he so well knew how to write with precision and +power. He spoke the broadest provincial Scotch with singular +pertinacity. His voice was extremely dissonant, but, seemingly +unconscious of the defect, he talked loud; and if engaged in argument, +raised his voice to a pitch which frequently proved more powerful than +the strength of his reasoning. He was dogmatical in maintaining his +opinions, and prone to monopolise conversation; his gesticulations were +awkward and even offensive. Peculiar as were his habits, few of the +distinguished persons who sought his acquaintance ever desired to +renounce his friendship.[96] In his domestic habits, he was temperate +often to abstinence; he was frugal, but not mean--careful, but not +penurious. He was generous towards his aged parents; was deeply imbued +with a sense of religion, and was the foe of vice in every form. He was +of a slight figure, and of middle stature; his countenance was +peculiarly expressive of intelligence. His hair was auburn, his eyes +dark, and his complexion clear and sanguine. He was considerably robust, +and took delight in practising gymnastics; he desired fame, not less for +feats of running and leaping, than in the sedate pursuits of literature. +His premature death was the subject of general lamentation; in the "Lord +of the Isles," Scott introduced the following stanza in tribute to his +memory:-- + + "His bright and brief career is o'er, + And mute his tuneful strain; + Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, + That loved the light of song to pour; + A distant and a deadly shore + Has Leyden's cold remains." + + + +[94] We lately visited the spot. Not a vestige of the cottage remains. A +wilder and more desolate locality hardly ever nourished the youthful +imagination of a poet. + +[95] Leyden was assisted in his outfit for India by Sir Walter Scott and +Sydney Smith, the latter contributing forty pounds. (See "Memoir of the +Rev. Sydney Smith," by his daughter, Lady Holland, vol. i. p. 21. +London: 1855. 2 vols. 8vo.) + +[96] Thomas Campbell was one of Leyden's early literary friends; they +had quarrelled, but continued to respect each other's talents. The +following anecdote is recorded by Sir Walter Scott in his diary:--"When +I repeated 'Hohenlinden' to Leyden, he said, 'Dash it, man, tell the +fellow that I hate him; but, dash him, he has written the finest verses +that have been published these fifty years.' I did mine errand as +faithful as one of Homer's messengers, and had for answer:--'Tell Leyden +that I detest him, but I know the value of his critical +approbation.'"--_Lockhart's Life of Scott._ + + + + +ODE TO THE EVENING STAR. + + + How sweet thy modest light to view, + Fair star! to love and lovers dear; + While trembling on the falling dew, + Like beauty shining through a tear. + + Or hanging o'er that mirror-stream, + To mark that image trembling there, + Thou seem'st to smile with softer gleam, + To see thy lovely face so fair. + + Though, blazing o'er the arch of night, + The moon thy timid beams outshine + As far as thine each starry light, + Her rays can never vie with thine. + + Thine are the soft, enchanting hours + When twilight lingers on the plain, + And whispers to the closing flowers + That soon the sun will rise again. + + Thine is the breeze that, murmuring bland + As music, wafts the lover's sigh, + And bids the yielding heart expand + In love's delicious ecstasy. + + Fair star! though I be doom'd to prove + That rapture's tears are mix'd with pain, + Ah, still I feel 'tis sweet to love-- + But sweeter to be loved again. + + + + +THE RETURN AFTER ABSENCE. + + + Oh! the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet, + Warm breathing of love, and the friends we shall meet; + And the rocks of the desert, so rough when we roam, + Seem soft, soft as silk, on the dear path of home; + The white waves of the Jeikon, that foam through their speed, + Seem scarcely to reach to the girth of my steed. + + Rejoice, O Bokhara, and flourish for aye! + Thy King comes to meet thee, and long shall he stay. + Our King is our moon, and Bokhara our skies, + Where soon that fair light of the heavens shall arise-- + Bokhara our orchard, the cypress our king, + In Bokhara's fair orchard soon destined to spring. + + + + +LAMENT FOR RAMA. + +FROM THE BENGALI. + + + I warn you, fair maidens, to wail and to sigh, + For Rama, our Rama, to greenwood must fly; + Then hasten, come hasten, to see his array, + Ayud'hya is dark when our chief goes away. + + All the people are flocking to see him pass by; + They are silent and sad, with the tear in their eye: + From the fish in the streamlets a broken sigh heaves, + And the birds of the forest lament from the leaves. + + His fine locks are matted, no raiment has he + For the wood, save a girdle of bark from the tree; + And of all his gay splendour, you nought may behold, + Save his bow and his quiver, and ear-rings of gold. + + Oh! we thought to have seen him in royal array + Before his proud squadrons his banners display, + And the voice of the people exulting to own + Their sovereign assuming the purple and crown; + But the time has gone by, my hope is despair,-- + One maiden perfidious has wrought all my care. + + Our light is departing, and darkness returns, + Like a lamp half-extinguished, and lonely it burns; + Faith fades from the age, nor can honour remain, + And fame is delusive, and glory is vain. + + + + +JAMES SCADLOCK. + + +James Scadlock, a poet of considerable power, and an associate of +Tannahill, was born at Paisley on the 7th October 1775. His father, an +operative weaver, was a person of considerable shrewdness; and the poet +M'Laren, who became his biographer, was his uterine brother. Apprenticed +to the loom, he renounced weaving in the course of a year, and +thereafter was employed in the establishment of a bookbinder. At the age +of nineteen he entered on an indenture of seven years to a firm of +copperplate engravers at Ferenize. He had early been inclined to +verse-making, and, having formed the acquaintance of Tannahill, he was +led to cultivate with ardour his native predilection. He likewise +stimulated his ingenious friend to higher and more ambitious efforts in +poetry. Accomplished in the elegant arts of drawing and painting, +Scadlock began the study of classical literature and the modern +languages. A general stagnation of trade, which threw him out of +employment, checked his aspirations in learning. After an interval +attended with some privations, he heard of a professional opening at +Perth, which he proceeded to occupy. He returned to Paisley, after the +absence of one year; and having married in 1808, his attention became +more concentrated in domestic concerns. He died of fever on the 4th July +1818, leaving a family of four children. + +Scadlock was an upright member of society, a sincere friend, a +benevolent neighbour, and an intelligent companion. In the performance +of his religious duties he was regular and exemplary. Desirious of +excelling in conversation, he was prone to evince an undue formality of +expression. His poetry, occasionally deficient in power, is uniformly +distinguished for smoothness of versification. + + + + +ALONG BY LEVERN STREAM SO CLEAR.[97] + + + Along by Levern stream so clear, + When Spring adorns the infant year, + And music charms the list'ning ear, + I 'll wander with my Mary, + My bonny blooming Mary; + Not Spring itself to me is dear, + When absent from my Mary. + + When Summer's sun pours on my head + His sultry rays, I 'll seek the shade, + Unseen upon a primrose bed + I 'll sit with little Mary, + My bonny blooming Mary, + Where fragrant flowers around are spread, + To charm my little Mary. + + She 's mild 's the sun through April shower + That glances on the leafy bower, + She 's sweet as Flora's fav'rite flower, + My bonny little Mary, + My blooming little Mary; + Give me but her, no other dower + I 'll ask with little Mary. + + Should fickle fortune frown on me, + And leave me bare 's the naked tree, + Possess'd of her, how rich I 'd be, + My lovely little Mary, + My bonny blooming Mary; + From gloomy care and sorrow free, + I 'd ever keep my Mary. + + + +[97] Set to music by R. A. Smith. + + + + +HARK, HARK, THE SKYLARK SINGING. + +WELSH AIR--_"The rising of the Lark."_ + + + Hark, hark the skylark singing, + While the early clouds are bringing + Fragrance on their wings; + Still, still on high he 's soaring, + Through the liquid haze exploring, + Fainter now he sings. + Where the purple dawn is breaking, + Fast approaches morning's ray, + From his wings the dew he 's shaking, + As he joyful hails the day, + While echo, from his slumbers waking, + Imitates his lay. + + See, see the ruddy morning, + With his blushing locks adorning + Mountain, wood, and vale; + Clear, clear the dew-drop 's glancing, + As the rising sun 's advancing + O'er the eastern hill; + Now the distant summits clearing, + As the vapours steal their way, + And his heath-clad breast 's appearing, + Tinged with Phoebus' golden ray, + Far down the glen the blackbird 's cheering + Morning with her lay. + + Come, then, let us be straying, + Where the hazel boughs are playing, + O'er yon summits gray; + Mild now the breeze is blowing, + And the crystal streamlet 's flowing + Gently on its way. + On its banks the wild rose springing + Welcomes in the sunny ray, + Wet with dew its head is hinging, + Bending low the prickly spray; + Then haste, my love, while birds are singing, + To the newborn day. + + + + +OCTOBER WINDS. + +AIR--_"Oh, my love's bonnie."_ + + + October winds, wi' biting breath, + Now nip the leaves that 's yellow fading; + Nae gowans glint upon the green, + Alas! they 're co'er'd wi' winter's cleading. + As through the woods I musing gang, + Nae birdies cheer me frae the bushes, + Save little robin's lanely sang, + Wild warbling where the burnie gushes. + + The sun is jogging down the brae, + Dimly through the mist he 's shining, + And cranreugh hoar creeps o'er the grass, + As Day resigns his throne to E'ening. + Oft let me walk at twilight gray, + To view the face of dying nature, + Till Spring again, wi' mantle green, + Delights the heart o' ilka creature. + + + + +SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL, BART. + + +Alexander Boswell was the eldest son of James Boswell, the celebrated +biographer of Dr Johnson, and grandson of Lord Auchinleck, one of the +senators of the College of Justice. He was born on the 9th October 1775. +His mother, a daughter of Sir Walter Montgomery, Bart., of Lainshaw, was +a woman of superior intelligence, and of agreeable and dignified +manners. Along with his only brother James, he received his education at +Westminster School and the University of Oxford. In 1795, on the death +of his father, he succeeded to the paternal estate of Auchinleck. He now +made the tour of Europe, and on his return took up his residence in the +family mansion. + +Inheriting his father's love of literature, and deriving from his mother +a taste for elegant accomplishments, Alexander Boswell diligently +applied himself to the cultivation of his mind, by an examination of the +stores of the famous "Auchinleck Library." From his youth he had been +ardent in his admiration of Burns, and had written verses for the +amusement of his friends. A wooer of the lyric Muse, many of his lays +rapidly obtained circulation, and were sung with a gusto not inferior to +that inspired by the songs of the Bard of Coila. In 1803 he published, +without his name, in a thin octavo volume, "Songs, chiefly in the +Scottish Dialect," and subsequently contributed a number of lyrics of +various merit to the Musical Collection of Mr George Thomson, and +Campbell's "Albyn's Anthology." Several other poetical works proceeded +from his pen. In 1803, shortly after the appearance of his songs, he +published a ballad entitled "The Spirit of Tintoc; or, Johnnie Bell and +the Kelpie," with notes, 16 pp. 8vo: Mundell and Son, Edinburgh. This +performance, in which are humorously related the adventures of a drunken +tailor with the brownies and other denizens of the unseen world, on the +summit of Tintoc Hill, was followed in 1810 by another amusing poem, +bearing the title of "Edinburgh, or the Ancient Royalty, a Sketch of +Former Manners, with Notes by Simon Gray." In this poem, the changes +which had occurred in the habits of the citizens of Edinburgh are +pourtrayed in a colloquy between an old farmer and his city friend. In +1811 appeared "Clan-Alpin's Vow, a Fragment," with the author's name +prefixed. This production, founded upon a horrible tragedy connected +with the history of the Clan Macgregor, proved one of the most popular +of the author's works; it was reprinted in 1817, by Bentley and Son, +London. His future publications may be simply enumerated; they were +generally issued from a printing press which he established in the +mansion of Auchinleck. In 1812 he printed, for private circulation, a +poetical fragment entitled "Sir Albon," intended to burlesque the +peculiar style and rhythm of Sir Walter Scott; in 1815, "The Tyrant's +Fall," a poem on the battle of Waterloo; in 1816, "Skeldon Haughs, or +the Sow is Flitted," a tale in verse founded on an old Ayrshire +tradition; and in the same year another poetical tale, after the manner +of Allan Ramsay's "Monk and Miller's Wife," entitled, "The Woo'-creel, +or the Bull o' Bashun." From his printing office at Auchinleck, besides +his poetical tales and pasquinades, he issued many curious and +interesting works, chiefly reprints of scarce tracts on different +subjects, preserved in the Auchinleck Library. Of these the most +remarkable was the disputation between John Knox and Quentin Kennedy, at +Maybole, in 1562, of which the only copy then known to exist was +deposited in his paternal library.[98] + +Amidst his devotedness to the pursuits of elegant literature, Mr Boswell +bestowed much attention on public affairs. He was M.P. for the county of +Ayr; and though silent in the House of Commons, was otherwise +indefatigable in maintaining his political sentiments. He supported +strict conservative principles, and was not without the apprehension of +civil disturbance through the impetuosity of the advocates of reform. As +Lieutenant-Colonel of the Ayrshire Yeomanry Cavalry, he was painstaking +in the training of his troops; the corps afterwards acknowledging his +services by the presentation of a testimonial. In 1821, his zeal for the +public interest was rewarded by his receiving the honour of a Baronetcy. + +One of the most substantial of Sir Alexander's patriotic achievements +was the erection of an elegant monument to Robert Burns on the banks of +the Doon. The mode in which the object was accomplished is sufficiently +interesting. Along with a friend who warmly approved of the design, Sir +Alexander advertised in the public prints that a meeting would be held +at Ayr, on a particular day, to take into consideration the proposal of +rearing a monument to the great national bard. The day and hour arrived, +but, save the projectors, not a single individual attended. Nothing +disheartened, Sir Alexander took the chair, and his friend proceeded to +act as clerk; resolutions were proposed, seconded, and recorded, thanks +were voted to the chairman, and the meeting separated. These resolutions +being printed and circulated, were the means of raising by public +subscription the sum of nearly two thousand pounds for the erection of +the monument. Sir Alexander laid the foundation stone on the 25th of +January 1820. + +The literary and patriotic career of Sir Alexander Boswell was brought +to a sudden termination. Prone to indulge a strong natural tendency for +sarcasm, especially against his political opponents, he published, in a +Glasgow newspaper, a severe poetical pasquinade against Mr James Stuart, +younger of Dunearn, a leading member of the Liberal party in Edinburgh. +The discovery of the authorship was followed by a challenge from Mr +Stuart, which being accepted, the hostile parties met near the village +of Auchtertool, in Fife. Sir Alexander fell, the ball from the pistol of +his antagonist having entered near the root of his neck on the right +side. He was immediately carried to Balmuto, a seat of his ancestors in +the vicinity, where he expired the following day. The duel took place on +the 26th March 1822. + +The remains of the deceased Baronet were solemnly deposited in the +family vault of Auchinleck. In personal appearance, Sir Alexander +presented a powerful muscular figure; in society, he was fond of +anecdote and humour. In his youth he was keen on the turf and in field +sports; he subsequently found his chief entertainment in literary +avocations. As a poet, he had been better known if his efforts had been +of a less fragmentary character. The general tendency of his Muse was +drollery, but some of his lyrics are sufficiently touching. + + +[98] Another copy has since been discovered. + + + + +JENNY'S BAWBEE. + + + I met four chaps yon birks amang, + Wi' hanging lugs and faces lang; + I spier'd at neighbour Bauldy Strang, + Wha 's they I see? + Quoth he, Ilk cream-faced, pawky chiel' + Thinks himsel' cunnin' as the deil, + And here they cam awa' to steal + Jenny's bawbee. + + The first, a Captain to his trade, + Wi' ill-lined skull, but back weel clade, + March'd round the barn, and by the shed, + And papped on his knee: + Quoth he, My goddess, nymph, and queen, + Your beauty 's dazzled baith my e'en! + Though ne'er a beauty he had seen + But Jenny's bawbee. + + A Norland Laird neist trotted up, + Wi' bawsint naig and siller whup; + Cried--There 's my beast, lad, haud the grup, + Or tie it to a tree. + What 's gowd to me? I 've wealth o' lan', + Bestow on ane o' worth your han': + He thought to pay what he was awn + Wi' Jenny's bawbee. + + A Lawyer neist, wi' bleth'rin' gab, + Wha speeches wove like ony wab; + O' ilk ane's corn aye took a dab, + And a' for a fee; + Accounts he owed through a' the toun, + And tradesmen's tongues nae mair could drown; + But now he thought to clout his goun + Wi' Jenny's bawbee. + + Quite spruce, just frae the washin' tubs, + A fool came neist; but life has rubs; + Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs, + And jaupit a' was he: + He danced up, squintin' through a glass, + And grinn'd, i' faith, a bonnie lass! + He thought to win, wi' front o' brass, + Jenny's bawbee. + + She bade the laird gae kaim his wig, + The sodger not to strut sae big, + The lawyer not to be a prig; + The fool he cried, Te-hee! + I kenn'd that I could never fail! + But she pinn'd the dishclout to his tail, + And soused him frae the water-pail, + And kept her bawbee. + + Then Johnnie came, a lad o' sense, + Although he had na mony pence; + And took young Jenny to the spence, + Wi' her to crack a wee. + Now Johnnie was a clever chiel', + And here his suit he press'd sae weel + That Jenny's heart grew saft as jeel, + And she birl'd her bawbee.[99] + + + +[99] The last stanza does not appear in the original version of the +song; it is here added from Allan Cunningham's collection. The idea of +the song, Cunningham remarks, was probably suggested to the author by an +old fragment, which still lives among the peasantry:-- + + "And a' that e'er my Jenny had, + My Jenny had, my Jenny had, + A' that e'er my Jenny had, + Was ae bawbee. + There 's your plack and my plack, + And your plack and my plack, + And my plack and your plack, + And Jenny's bawbee. + + We 'll put it in the pint stoup, + The pint stoup, the pint stoup, + We 'll put it in the pint stoup, + And birl 't a' three." + + + + +JENNY DANG THE WEAVER.[100] + + + At Willie's weddin' o' the green, + The lasses, bonnie witches, + Were busked out in aprons clean, + And snaw-white Sunday mutches; + Auld Mysie bade the lads tak' tent, + But Jock wad na believe her; + But soon the fool his folly kent, + For Jenny dang the weaver. + + In ilka country dance and reel + Wi' her he wad be babbin'; + When she sat down, then he sat down, + And till her wad be gabbin'; + Where'er she gaed, or butt or ben, + The coof wad never leave her, + Aye cacklin' like a clockin' hen, + But Jenny dang the weaver. + + Quoth he, My lass, to speak my mind, + In troth I needna swither, + Ye 've bonnie e'en, and, gif ye 're kind, + I needna court anither! + He humm'd and haw'd, the lass cried "pheugh," + And bade the coof no deave her, + Syne crack'd her thumb, and lap and leugh, + And dang the silly weaver. + + +[100] The origin of the air is somewhat amusing. The Rev. Mr Gardner, +minister of Birse, in Aberdeenshire, known for his humour and musical +talents, was one evening playing over on his Cremona the notes of an air +he had previously jotted down, when a curious scene arrested his +attention in the courtyard of the manse. His man "Jock," who had lately +been a weaver in the neighbouring village, had rudely declined to wipe +the minister's shoes, as requested by Mrs Gardner, when the enraged +matron, snatching a culinary utensil, administered a hearty drubbing to +the shoulders of the impudent boor, and compelled him to execute her +orders. The minister witnessing the proceeding from the window, was +highly diverted, and gave the air he had just completed the title of +"Jenny Dang the Weaver." This incident is said to have occurred in the +year 1746. + + + + +THE LASS O' ISLA. + + + "Ah, Mary, sweetest maid, farewell! + My hopes are flown, for a 's to wreck; + Heaven guard you, love, and heal your heart, + Though mine, alas, alas! maun break." + + "Dearest lad, what ills betide? + Is Willie to his love untrue? + Engaged the morn to be his bride, + Ah! hae ye, hae ye, ta'en the rue?" + + "Ye canna wear a ragged gown, + Or beggar wed wi' nought ava; + My kye are drown'd, my house is down, + My last sheep lies aneath the snaw." + + "Tell na me o' storm or flood, + Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill; + For Willie's sake I Willie lo'ed, + Though poor, ye are my Willie still." + + "Ye canna thole the wind and rain, + Or wander friendless far frae hame; + Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain + Will soon blot out lost Willie's name." + + "I 'll tak my bundle in my hand, + An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e; + I 'll wander wi' ye ower the land; + I 'll venture wi' ye ower the sea." + + "Forgi'e me, love, 'twas all a snare, + My flocks are safe, we needna part; + I 'd forfeit them and ten times mair + To clasp thee, Mary, to my heart." + + "How could ye wi' my feelings sport, + Or doubt a heart sae warm and true? + I maist could wish ye mischief for 't, + But canna wish ought ill to you." + + + + +TASTE LIFE'S GLAD MOMENTS.[101] + + + Taste life's glad moments, + Whilst the wasting taper glows; + Pluck, ere it withers, + The quickly-fading rose. + + Man blindly follows grief and care, + He seeks for thorns, and finds his share, + Whilst violets to the passing air + Unheeded shed their blossoms. + Taste life's, &c. + + When tim'rous Nature veils her form, + And rolling thunder spreads alarm, + Then, ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm, + The sun shines forth at even. + Taste life's, &c. + + How spleen and envy anxious flies, + And meek content, in humble guise, + Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise, + Which golden fruits shall yield him. + Taste life's, &c. + + Who fosters faith in upright breast, + And freely gives to the distress'd, + There sweet contentment builds her nest, + And flutters round his bosom. + Taste life's, &c. + + And when life's path grows dark and strait, + And pressing ills on ills await, + Then friendship, sorrow to abate, + The helping hand will offer. + Taste life's, &c. + + She dries his tears, she strews his way, + E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay, + Turns night to morn, and morn to day, + And pleasure still increases. + Taste life's, &c. + + Of life she is the fairest band, + Joins brothers truly hand in hand, + Thus, onward to a better land, + Man journeys light and cheerly. + Taste life's, &c. + + +[101] These verses, which form a translation of _Freùt euch des Libens_, +were written at Leipsig in 1795, when the author was on his continental +tour. He was then in his twentieth year. + + + + +GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'. + + + Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', + Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart; + May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw; + In sorrow may ye never part! + My spirit lives, but strength is gone, + The mountain-fires now blaze in vain; + Remember, sons, the deeds I 've done, + And in your deeds I 'll live again! + + When on yon muir our gallant clan, + Frae boasting foes their banners tore; + Wha shew'd himself a better man, + Or fiercer waved the red claymore? + But when in peace--then mark me there-- + When through the glen the wand'rer came, + I gave him of our lordly fare, + I gave him here a welcome hame. + + The auld will speak, the young maun hear; + Be cantie, but be gude and leal; + Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear, + Anither's aye hae heart to feel. + So, ere I set, I 'll see ye shine; + I 'll see ye triumph ere I fa'; + My parting breath shall boast you mine-- + Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'! + + + + +OLD AND NEW TIMES.[102] + +AIR--_"Kellyburn Braes."_ + + + Hech! what a change hae we now in this town! + The lads a' sae braw, the lasses sae glancin', + Folk maun be dizzie gaun aye in the roun' + For deil a haet 's done now but feastin' and dancin'. + + Gowd 's no that scanty in ilk siller pock, + When ilka bit laddie maun hae his bit staigie; + But I kent the day when there was nae a Jock, + But trotted about upon honest shank's naigie. + + Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste, + Barely a mullin for mice or for rattens; + The thrifty housewife to the flesh-market paced, + Her equipage a'--just a gude pair o' pattens. + + Folk were as good then, and friends were as leal, + Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a-cantrin'; + Right air we were tell 't by the housemaid or chiel', + Sir, an' ye please, here 's your lass and a lantern. + + The town may be clouted and pieced, till it meets + A' neebours benorth and besouth, without haltin'; + Brigs may be biggit ower lums and ower streets, + The Nor' Loch itsel' heapêd heigh as the Calton. + + But whar is true friendship, and whar will you see, + A' that is gude, honest, modest, and thrifty? + Tak' gray hairs and wrinkles, and hirple wi' me, + And think on the seventeen hundred and fifty. + + +[102] Contributed to the fourth volume of Mr George Thomson's +Collection. + + + + +BANNOCKS O' BARLEY MEAL.[103] + +AIR--_"Bannocks o' Barley Meal."_ + + + Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange + To live at a court, and yet never to change; + To faction, or tyranny, equally foe, + The good of the land 's the sole motive I know. + The foes of my country and king I have faced, + In city or battle I ne'er was disgraced; + I 've done what I could for my country's weal, + Now I 'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. + + Ye riots and revels of London, adieu! + And folly, ye foplings, I leave her to you! + For Scotland, I mingled in bustle and strife; + For myself, I seek peace and an innocent life: + I 'll haste to the Highlands, and visit each scene, + With Maggie, my love, in her rockley o' green; + On the banks of Glenary what pleasure I 'll feel, + While she shares my bannock o' barley meal! + + And if it chance Maggie should bring me a son, + He shall fight for his king, as his father has done; + I 'll hang up my sword with an old soldier's pride-- + O! may he be worthy to wear 't on his side. + I pant for the breeze of my loved native place; + I long for the smile of each welcoming face; + I 'll aff to the Highlands as fast 's I can reel, + And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. + + +[103] This song was contributed by Sir Alexander Boswell to the third +volume of Thomson's Collection. It is not wholly original, but an +improved version of former words to the same air, which are understood +to be the composition of John Campbell, the celebrated Duke of Argyle +and Greenwich, who died on the 4th October 1743. + + + + +WILLIAM GILLESPIE. + + +William Gillespie was born in the manse of Kells, in Galloway, on the +18th February 1776. His father, John Gillespie, minister of Kells, was +the intimate friend of Robert Burns; and likewise an early patron of +John Low, the ingenious, but unfortunate author of "Mary's Dream." +Receiving the rudiments of education at the parish school, William +proceeded, in 1792, to the University of Edinburgh, to prosecute his +studies for the Church. Obtaining licence as a probationer, he was, in +1801, ordained assistant and successor to his father, on whose death, in +1806, he succeeded to the full benefits of the charge. Inheriting from +his father an elegant turn of mind and a devotedness to literary +composition, he was induced to publish, in his twenty-ninth year, an +allegorical poem, entitled "The Progress of Refinement." A higher effort +from his pen appeared in 1815, under the title of "Consolation, and +other Poems." This volume, which abounds in vigorous sentiment and rich +poetical description, evincing on the part of the author a high +appreciation of the beauties of nature, considerably extended his +reputation. He formed habits of intimacy with many of his poetical +contemporaries, by whom he was beloved for the amenity of his +disposition. He largely contributed to various periodicals, especially +the agricultural journals; and was a zealous member of the Highland +Society of Scotland. + +In July 1825, Mr Gillespie espoused Miss Charlotte Hoggan. Soon after +this event, he was attacked with erysipelas,--a complaint which, +resulting in general inflammation, terminated his promising career on +the 15th of October, in his fiftieth year. The following lyrics evince +fancy and deep pathos, causing a regret that the author did not more +amply devote himself to the composition of songs. + + + + +THE HIGHLANDER.[104] + + + From the climes of the sun, all war-worn and weary, + The Highlander sped to his youthful abode; + Fair visions of home cheer'd the desert so dreary, + Though fierce was the noon-beam, and steep was the road. + + Till spent with the march that still lengthen'd before him, + He stopp'd by the way in a sylvan retreat; + The light shady boughs of the birch-tree waved o'er him, + The stream of the mountain fell soft at his feet. + + He sunk to repose where the red heaths are blended, + On dreams of his childhood his fancy past o'er; + But his battles are fought, and his march it is ended, + The sound of the bagpipes shall wake him no more. + + No arm in the day of the conflict could wound him, + Though war launch'd her thunder in fury to kill; + Now the Angel of Death in the desert has found him, + And stretch'd him in peace by the stream of the hill. + + Pale Autumn spreads o'er him the leaves of the forest, + The fays of the wild chant the dirge of his rest; + And thou, little brook, still the sleeper deplorest, + And moistens the heath-bell that weeps on his breast. + + + +[104] Many years ago, a poor Highland soldier, on his return to his +native hills, fatigued, as was supposed, by the length of the march and +the heat of the weather, sat down under the shade of a birch tree on the +solitary road of Lowran, that winds along the margin of Loch Ken, in +Galloway. Here he was found dead; and this incident forms the subject of +these verses.--_Note by the Author._ "The Highlander" is set to a Gaelic +air in the fifth volume of R. A. Smith's "Scottish Minstrel." + + + + +ELLEN. + + + The moon shone in fits, + And the tempest was roaring, + The Storm Spirit shriek'd, + And the fierce rain was pouring; + Alone in her chamber, + Fair Ellen sat sighing, + The tapers burn'd dim, + And the embers were dying. + + "The drawbridge is down, + That spans the wide river; + Can tempests divide, + Whom death cannot sever? + Unclosed is the gate, + And those arms long to fold thee, + 'Tis midnight, my love; + O say, what can hold thee?" + + But scarce flew her words, + When the bridge reft asunder, + The horseman was crossing, + 'Mid lightning and thunder, + And loud was the yell, + As he plunged in the billow, + The maid knew it well, + As she sprang from her pillow. + + She scream'd o'er the wall, + But no help was beside her; + And thrice to her view + Rose the horse and his rider. + She gazed at the moon, + But the dark cloud pass'd over; + She plunged in the stream, + And she sunk to her lover. + + Say, what is that flame, + O'er the midnight deep beaming? + And whose are those forms, + In the wan moonlight gleaming? + That flame gilds the wave, + Which their pale corses cover; + And those forms are the ghosts + Of the maid and her lover. + + + + +THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM. + + +Thomas Mounsey Cunningham, an elder brother of Allan Cunningham, is +entitled to commemoration among the modern song-writers of his country. +His ancestors were lords of that district of Ayrshire which still bears +their family name; and a small inheritance in that county, which +belonged to his more immediate progenitors, was lost to the name and +race by the head of the family having espoused the cause and joined the +army of the Duke of Montrose. For several generations his forefathers +were farmers at Gogar, in the parish of Ratho, Midlothian. John +Cunningham, his father, was born at Gogar on the 26th March 1743, whence +he removed in his twenty-third year to fill the situation of +land-steward on the estate of Lumley, in the parish of Chester, and +county of Durham. He next became overseer on the property of Mr Mounsey +of Ramerscales, near Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire. He married Elizabeth +Harley, a lady of good connexions and of elegant personal +accomplishments, and with the view of acquiring a more decided +independence in his new condition, took in lease the farm of Culfaud, in +the stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Of a family of ten, Thomas was the +second son; he was born at Culfaud on the 25th June 1776. During his +infancy the farming speculations of his father proved unfortunate, and +the lease of Culfaud was abandoned. Returning to his former occupation +as a land-steward, John Cunningham was employed in succession by the +proprietors of Barncaillie and Collieston, and latterly by the +ingenious Mr Miller of Dalswinton. + +Thomas was educated at the village-school of Kellieston, and +subsequently at the academy of Dumfries. The circumstances of his +parents required that he should choose a manual profession; and he was +apprenticed by his own desire to a neighbouring mill-wright. It was +during his intervals of leisure, while acquiring a knowledge of this +laborious occupation, that he first essayed the composition of verses; +he submitted his poems to his father, who mingled judicious criticism +with words of encouragement. "The Har'st Home," one of his earliest +pieces of merit, was privileged with insertion in the series of "Poetry, +Original and Selected," published by Brash & Reid, booksellers in +Glasgow. Proceeding to England in 1797, he entered the workshop of a +mill-wright in Rotherham. Under the same employer he afterwards pursued +his craft at King's Lynn; in 1800 he removed to Wiltshire, and soon +after to the neighbourhood of Cambridge. He next received employment at +Dover, and thence proceeded to London, where he occupied a situation in +the establishment of Rennie, the celebrated engineer. He afterwards +became foreman to one Dickson, an engineer, and superintendent of +Fowler's chain-cable manufactory. In 1812 he returned to Rennie's +establishment as a clerk, with a liberal salary. On leaving his father's +house to seek his fortune in the south, he had been strongly counselled +by Mr Miller of Dalswinton to abjure the gratification of his poetical +tendencies, and he seems to have resolved on the faithful observance of +this injunction. For a period of nine years his muse was silent; at +length, in 1806, he appeared in the _Scots Magazine_ as the contributor +of some of the best verses which had ever adorned the pages of that +periodical. The editor was eloquent in his commendations; and the +Ettrick Shepherd, who was already a contributor to the magazine, took +pains to discover the author, and addressed him a lengthened poetical +epistle, expressive of his admiration. A private intimacy ensued between +the two rising poets; and when the Shepherd, in 1809, planned the +"Forest Minstrel," he made application to his ingenious friend for +contributions. Cunningham sanctioned the republication of such of his +lyrics as had appeared in the _Scots Magazine_, and these proved the +best ornaments of the work. + +Impatient of criticism, and of a whimsical turn of mind, Cunningham was +incapable of steadfastly pursuing the career of a man of letters. Just +as his name was becoming known by his verses in the _Scots Magazine_, he +took offence at some incidental allusions to his style, and suddenly +stopped his contributions. Silent for a second period of nine years, the +circumstance of the appropriation of one of his songs in the "Nithsdale +Minstrel," a provincial collection of poetry, published at Dumfries, +again aroused him to authorship. He made the publishers the subject of a +satirical poem in the _Scots Magazine_ of 1815. On the origin of the +_Edinburgh Magazine_, in 1817, he became a contributor, and under the +title of the "Literary Legacy," wrote many curious snatches of +antiquities, sketches of modern society, and scraps of song and ballad, +which imparted a racy interest to the pages of the new periodical. A +slight difference with the editor at length induced him to relapse into +silence. Fitful and unsettled as a cultivator of literature, he was in +the business of life a model of regularity and perseverance. He was much +esteemed by his employer, and was ultimately promoted to the chief +clerkship in his establishment. He fell a victim to the Asiatic cholera +on the 28th October 1834, in the 58th year of his age. During his latter +years he was in the habit of examining at certain intervals the MSS. of +prose and poetry, which at a former period he had accumulated. On those +occasions he uniformly destroyed some which he deemed unworthy of +further preservation. During one of these purgations, he hastily +committed to the flames a poem on which he had bestowed much labour, and +which contained a humorous description of scenes and characters familiar +to him in youth. The poem was entitled "Braken Fell;" and his ingenious +brother Allan, in a memoir of the author, has referred to its +destruction in terms of regret.[105] The style of Thomas Cunningham +seems, however, to have been lyrical, and it may be presumed that his +songs afford the best evidence of his power. In private life he was much +cherished by a circle of friends, and his society was gay and animated. +He was rather above the middle height, and latterly was corpulent. He +married in 1804, and has left a family. + + +[105] See _Scottish Monthly Magazine_, August 1836. + + + + +ADOWN THE BURNIE'S FLOWERY BANK.[106] + + + Adown the burnie's flowery bank, + Or through the shady grove, + Or 'mang the bonnie scroggie braes, + Come, Peggy, let us rove. + See where the stream out ower the linn + Deep headlong foamin' pours, + There let us gang and stray amang + The bloomin' hawthorn bowers. + + We 'll pu' the rose frae aff the brier, + The lily frae the brae; + We 'll hear the birdies blithely sing, + As up the glen we gae. + His yellow haughs o' wavin' grain + The farmer likes to see, + But my ain Peggy's artless smile + Is far mair dear to me. + + +[106] Written when the author was quite a youth. + + + + +THE HILLS O' GALLOWA'.[107] + +TUNE--_"The Lea Rig."_ + + + Amang the birks sae blithe an' gay, + I met my Julia hameward gaun; + The linties chantit on the spray, + The lammies loupit on the lawn; + On ilka swaird the hay was mawn, + The braes wi' gowans buskit bra', + An' ev'ning's plaid o' gray was thrawn + Out ower the hills o' Gallowa'. + + Wi' music wild the woodlands rang, + An' fragrance wing'd alang the lea, + As down we sat the flowers amang, + Upon the banks o' stately Dee. + My Julia's arms encircled me, + An' saftly slade the hours awa', + Till dawning coost a glimm'rin' e'e + Upon the hills o' Gallowa'. + + It isna owsen, sheep, an' kye, + It isna gowd, it isna gear, + This lifted e'e wad hae, quo' I, + The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer; + But gie to me my Julia dear, + Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba', + An' oh, sae blithe through life I 'll steer, + Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. + + When gloamin' daunders up the hill, + An' our gudeman ca's hame the yowes, + Wi' her I 'll trace the mossy rill + That through the muir meand'ring rowes; + Or tint amang the scroggie knowes, + My birken pipe I 'll sweetly blaw, + An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes, + The hills an' dales o' Gallowa'. + + An' when auld Scotland's heathy hills, + Her rural nymphs an' jovial swains, + Her flowery wilds an' wimpling rills, + Awake nae mair my canty strains; + Where friendship dwells an' freedom reigns, + Where heather blooms an' muircocks craw, + Oh, dig my grave, and lay my banes + Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. + + +[107] Like many other Scottish songs composed early in the century, and +which at the time of publication were unacknowledged by their authors, +the "Hills o' Gallowa'" came to be attributed to Burns. It is included +among his songs in Orphoot's edition of his poetical works, which was +published at Edinburgh in 1820. In the "Harp of Caledonia," the editor, +Mr Struthers, assigns it to the Ettrick Shepherd. Along with those which +follow, the song appeared in the "Forest Minstrel." The heroine was +Julia Curtis, a maiden in Galloway, to whom Cunningham was early +attached. She is also celebrated by the poet in the "Braes of Ballahun," +and her early demise is lamented in the tender stanzas of "Julia's +Grave." The latter composition first appeared in the _Scots Magazine_ +for 1807, p. 448. + + + + +THE BRAES OF BALLAHUN.[108] + +TUNE--_"Roslin Castle."_ + + + Now smiling summer's balmy breeze, + Soft whispering, fans the leafy trees; + The linnet greets the rosy morn, + Sweet in yon fragrant flowery thorn; + The bee hums round the woodbine bower, + Collecting sweets from every flower; + And pure the crystal streamlets run + Among the braes of Ballahun. + + Oh, blissful days, for ever fled, + When wand'ring wild, as fancy led, + I ranged the bushy bosom'd glen, + The scroggie shaw, the rugged linn, + And mark'd each blooming hawthorn bush, + Where nestling sat the speckled thrush; + Or, careless roaming, wander'd on + Among the braes of Ballahun. + + Why starts the tear, why bursts the sigh, + When hills and dales rebound with joy? + The flowery glen and lilied lea, + In vain display their charms to me. + I joyless roam the heathy waste, + To soothe this sad, this troubled breast; + And seek the haunts of men to shun, + Among the braes of Ballahun. + + The virgin blush of lovely youth, + The angel smile of artless truth, + This breast illumed with heavenly joy, + Which lyart time can ne'er destroy. + Oh, Julia dear! the parting look, + The sad farewell we sorrowing took, + Still haunt me as I stray alone, + Among the braes of Ballahun. + + +[108] Ballahun is a romantic glen, near Blackwood House, on the river +Nith. + + + + +THE UNCO GRAVE.[109] + +TUNE--_"Crazy Jane."_ + + + Bonnie Clouden, as ye wander + Hills, an' haughs, an' muirs amang, + Ilka knowe an' green meander, + Learn my sad, my dulefu' sang! + Braes o' breckan, hills o' heather, + Howms whare rows the gowden wave; + Blissful scenes, fareweel for ever! + I maun seek an unco grave. + + Sair I pled, though fate, unfriendly, + Stang'd my heart wi' waes and dules, + That some faithfu' hand might kindly + Lay 't among my native mools. + Cronies dear, wha late an' early + Aye to soothe my sorrows strave, + Think on ane wha lo'es ye dearly, + Doom'd to seek an unco grave. + + Torn awa' frae Scotia's mountains, + Far frae a' that 's dear to dwall, + Mak's my e'en twa gushin' fountains, + Dings a dirk in my puir saul. + Braes o' breckan, hills o' heather, + Howms whare rows the gowden wave, + Blissful scenes, fareweel for ever! + I maun seek an unco grave. + + +[109] The Clouden is a stream which flows into the Nith, at Lincluden +College, near Dumfries. + + + + +JULIA'S GRAVE. + +TUNE--_"Logan Water."_ + + + Ye briery bields, where roses blaw! + Ye flowery fells, and sunny braes, + Whase scroggie bosoms foster'd a' + The pleasures o' my youthfu' days! + Amang your leafy simmer claes, + And blushing blooms, the zephyr flies, + Syne wings awa', and wanton plays + Around the grave whare Julia lies. + + Nae mair your bonnie birken bowers, + Your streamlets fair, and woodlands gay, + Can cheer the weary winged hours, + As up the glen I joyless stray; + For a' my hopes hae flown away, + And when they reach'd their native skies, + Left me amid the world o' wae, + To weet the grave where Julia lies. + + It is na beauty's fairest bloom, + It is na maiden charms consign'd, + And hurried to an early tomb, + That wrings my heart and clouds my mind; + But sparkling wit, and sense refined, + And spotless truth, without disguise, + Make me with sighs enrich the wind + That fans the grave whare Julia lies. + + + + +FAREWEEL, YE STREAMS. + +AIR--_"Lassie wi' the Yellow Coatie."_ + + + Fareweel, ye streams sae dear to me, + My bonnie Clouden, Kith, and Dee; + Ye burns that row sae bonnily, + Your siller waves nae mair I 'll see. + Yet though frae your green banks I 'm driven, + My saul away could ne'er be riven; + For still she lifts her e'en to heaven, + An' sighs to be again wi' thee. + + Ye canty bards ayont the Tweed, + Your skins wi' claes o' tartan cleed, + An' lilt alang the verdant mead, + Or blithely on your whistles blaw, + An' sing auld Scotia's barns an ha's, + Her bourtree dykes an mossy wa's, + Her faulds, her bughts, an' birken shaws, + Whare love an' freedom sweeten a'. + + Sing o' her carles teuch an' auld, + Her carlines grim that flyte an' scauld, + Her wabsters blithe, an' souters bauld, + Her flocks an' herds sae fair to see. + Sing o' her mountains bleak an high; + Her fords, whare neigh'rin' kelpies ply; + Her glens, the haunts o' rural joy; + Her lasses lilting o'er the lea. + + To you the darling theme belangs, + That frae my heart exulting spangs; + Oh, mind, amang your bonnie sangs, + The lads that bled for liberty. + Think o' our auld forbears o' yore, + Wha dyed the muir wi' hostile gore; + Wha slavery's bands indignant tore, + An' bravely fell for you an' me. + + My gallant brithers, brave an' bauld, + Wha haud the pleugh, or wake the fauld, + Until your dearest bluid rin cauld, + Aye true unto your country be. + Wi' daring look her dirk she drew, + An' coost a mither's e'e on you; + Then let na ony spulzien crew + Her dear-bought freedom wrest frae thee. + + + + +JOHN STRUTHERS. + + +John Struthers, whose name is familiar as the author of "The Poor Man's +Sabbath," was born on the 18th July 1776, in the parish of East +Kilbride, Lanarkshire. His parents were of the humbler rank, and were +unable to send him to school; but his mother, a woman of superior +intelligence, was unremitting in her efforts to teach him at home. She +was aided in her good work by a benevolent lady of the neighbourhood, +who, interested by the boy's precocity, often sent for him to read to +her. This kind-hearted individual was Mrs Baillie, widow of the Rev. Dr +Baillie of Hamilton, who was then resident at Longcalderwood, and whose +celebrated daughter, Joanna Baillie, afterwards took a warm interest in +the fame and fortunes of her mother's _protégé_. From the age of eight +to fourteen, young Struthers was engaged as a cowherd and in general +work about a farm; he then apprenticed himself to a shoemaker. On the +completion of his indenture, he practised his craft several years in his +native village till September 1801, when he sought a wider field of +business in Glasgow. In 1804, he produced his first and most celebrated +poem, "The Poor Man's Sabbath," which, printed at his own risk, was well +received, and rapidly passed through two editions. On the recommendation +of Sir Walter Scott, to whom the poem was made known by Joanna Baillie, +Constable published a third edition in 1808, handing the author thirty +pounds for the copyright. Actively employed in his trade, Struthers +continued to devote his leisure hours to composition. In 1816 he +published a pamphlet "On the State of the Labouring Poor." A more +ambitious literary effort was carried out in 1819; he edited a +collection of the national songs, which was published at Glasgow, under +the title of "The Harp of Caledonia," in three vols. 18mo. To this work +Joanna Baillie, Mrs John Hunter, and Mr William Smyth of Cambridge +contributed songs, while Scott and others permitted the re-publication +of such of their lyrics as the author chose to select. + +Struthers married early in life. About the year 1818 his wife and two of +his children were snatched from him by death, and these bereavements so +affected him, as to render him unable to prosecute his labours as a +tradesman. He now procured employment as a corrector of the press, in +the printing-office of Khull, Blackie, & Co. During his connexion with +this establishment he assisted in preparing an edition of "Wodrow's +History," and produced a "History of Scotland" from the political Union +in 1707 to the year 1827, the date of its publication. These works--the +latter extending to two octavo volumes--were published by his employers. +On a dissolution of their co-partnership, in 1827, Struthers was thrown +out of employment till his appointment, in 1832, to the Keepership of +Stirling's Library, a respectable institution in Glasgow. This +situation, which yielded him a salary of about £50 a-year, he retained +till 1847, when he was led to tender his resignation. In his +seventy-first year he returned to his original trade, after being thirty +years occupied with literary concerns. He died suddenly on the 30th July +1853, at the advanced age of seventy-seven. + +A man of strong intellect and vigorous imagination, John Struthers was +industrious in his trade, and persevering as an author, yet he failed to +obtain a competency for the winter of life; his wants, however, were +few, and he never sought to complain. Inheriting pious dispositions from +his parents, he excelled in familiarity with the text of Scripture, and +held strong opinions on the subject of morality. Educated in the +communion of the Original Secession Church, he afterwards joined the +Establishment, and ultimately retired from it at the Disruption in 1843. +He was a zealous member of the Free Church, and being admitted to the +eldership, was on two occasions sent as a representative to the General +Assembly of that body. An enthusiast respecting the beauties of external +nature, he was in the habit of undertaking lengthened pedestrian +excursions into the country, and took especial delight in rambling by +the sea-shore, or climbing the mountain-tops. His person was tall and +slight, though abundantly muscular, and capable of undergoing the toil +of extended journeys. Three times married, he left a widow, who has +lately emigrated to America; of his children two sons and two daughters +survive. + +Besides the works already enumerated, Struthers was the author of other +compositions, both in prose and verse. He wrote an octavo pamphlet of 96 +pages in favour of National Church Establishments; contributed memoirs +of James Hogg, minister of Carnock, and Principal Robertson to the +_Christian Instructor_, and prepared various lives of deceased worthies, +which were included in the "Illustrious and Distinguished Scotsmen," +edited by Mr Robert Chambers. At the period of his death, he was engaged +in preparing a continuation of his "History of Scotland," to the era of +the Disruption; he also meditated the publication of a volume of essays. +His poetical works, which appeared at various intervals, were +re-published in 1850, in two duodecimo volumes, with an interesting +autobiographical sketch. Of his poems those most deserving of notice, +next to the "Sabbath," are "The House of Mourning, or the Peasant's +Death," and "The Plough," both evincing grave and elevated sentiment, +expressed in correct poetical language. The following songs are +favourable specimens of his lyrical compositions. + + + + +ADMIRING NATURE'S SIMPLE CHARMS. + +TUNE--_"Gramachre."_ + + + Admiring Nature's simple charms, + I left my humble home, + Awhile my country's peaceful plains + With pilgrim step to roam. + I mark'd the leafy summer wave + On flowing Irvine's side, + But richer far 's the robe she wears + Within the vale of Clyde. + + I roam'd the braes o' bonnie Doon, + The winding banks o' Ayr, + Where flutters many a small bird gay, + Blooms many a flow'ret fair. + But dearer far to me the stem + That once was Calder's pride, + And blossoms now the fairest flower + Within the vale of Clyde. + + Avaunt, thou life-repressing north, + Ye withering east winds too; + But come, thou all-reviving west, + Breathe soft thy genial dew. + Till at the last, in peaceful age, + This lovely flow'ret shed + Its last green leaf upon my grave, + Within the vale of Clyde. + + + + +OH, BONNIE BUDS YON BIRCHEN TREE. + +TUNE--_"The mill, mill, O."_ + + + Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen tree, + The western breeze perfuming; + And softly smiles yon sunny brae, + Wi' gowans gaily blooming. + But sweeter than yon birchen tree, + Or gowans gaily blooming, + Is she, in blushing modesty, + Wha meets me there at gloaming. + + Oh, happy, happy there yestreen, + In mutual transport ranging, + Among these lovely scenes, unseen, + Our vows of love exchanging. + The moon, with clear, unclouded face, + Seem'd bending to behold us; + And breathing birks, with soft embrace, + Most kindly to enfold us. + + We bade each tree record our vows, + And each surrounding mountain, + With every star on high that glows + From light's o'erflowing fountain. + But gloaming gray bedims the vale, + On day's bright beam encroaching; + With rapture once again I hail + The trysting hour approaching. + + + + +RICHARD GALL. + + +Richard Gall was born in December 1776, at Linkhouse, near Dunbar. His +father was a notary; but, being in poor circumstances, he apprenticed +his son, in his eleventh year, to a relative, who followed the conjoined +business of a builder and house-carpenter. The drudgery of heavy manual +labour proved very uncongenial; and the apprentice suddenly took his +departure, walking a long distance to Edinburgh, whither his parents had +removed their residence. He now selected the profession of a printer, +and entered on an indenture to Mr David Ramsay of the _Edinburgh Evening +Courant_. At the close of his apprenticeship, he became Mr Ramsay's +travelling clerk. + +In the ordinary branches of education, young Gall had been instructed in +a school at Haddington; he took lessons in the more advanced departments +from a private tutor during his apprenticeship. He wrote verses from his +youth, and several of his songs became popular, and were set to music. +His poetical talents attracted the attention of Robert Burns and Hector +Macneill, both of whom cherished his friendship,--the former becoming +his correspondent. He also shared the intimacy of Thomas Campbell, and +of Dr Alexander Murray, the distinguished philologist. + +His promising career was brief; an abscess broke out in his breast, +which medical skill could not subdue. After a lingering illness, he died +on the 10th of May 1801, in his twenty-fifth year. He had joined a +Highland volunteer regiment; and his remains were accompanied by his +companions-in-arms to the Calton burial-ground, and there interred with +military honours. + +Possessed of a lively and vigorous fancy, a generous warmth of +temperament, and feelings of extreme sensibility, Richard Gall gave +promise of adorning the poetical literature of his country. Patriotism +and the beauties of external nature were the favourite subjects of his +muse, which, as if premonished of his early fate, loved to sing in +plaintive strains. Gall occasionally lacks power, but is always +pleasing; in his songs (two of which have frequently been assigned to +Burns) he is uniformly graceful. He loved poetry with the ardour of an +enthusiast; during his last illness he inscribed verses with a pencil, +when no longer able to wield the pen. He was thoroughly devoid of +personal vanity, and sought to advance the poetical reputation of his +country rather than his own. In his lifetime, his pieces were printed +separately; a selection of his poems and songs, with a memoir by +Alexander Balfour, was published in 1819. + + + + +HOW SWEET IS THE SCENE. + + + How sweet is the scene at the waking o' morning! + How fair ilka object that lives in the view! + Dame Nature the valley an' hillock adorning, + The wild-rose an' blue-bell yet wet wi' the dew. + How sweet in the morning o' life is my Anna! + Her smiles like the sunbeam that glints on the lea; + To wander an' leave the dear lassie, I canna; + Frae Truth, Love, an' Beauty, I never can flee. + + O lang hae I lo'ed her, and lo'ed her fu' dearly, + For saft is the smile o' her bonny sweet mou'; + An' aft hae I read in her e'en, glancing clearly, + A language that bade me be constant an' true. + Then ithers may doat on their gowd an' their treasure; + For pelf, silly pelf, they may brave the rude sea; + To lo'e my sweet lassie, be mine the dear pleasure; + Wi' her let me live, an' wi' her let me die. + + + + +CAPTAIN O'KAIN. + + + Flow saftly, thou stream, through the wild spangled valley; + Oh green be thy banks, ever bonny an' fair! + Sing sweetly, ye birds, as ye wanton fu' gaily, + Yet strangers to sorrow, untroubled by care. + The weary day lang + I list to your sang, + An' waste ilka moment, sad, cheerless, alane; + Each sweet little treasure + O' heart-cheering pleasure, + Far fled frae my bosom wi' Captain O'Kain. + + Fu' aft on thy banks hae we pu'd the wild gowan, + An' twisted a garland beneath the hawthorn; + Ah! then each fond moment wi' pleasure was glowing, + Sweet days o' delight, which can never return! + Now ever, wae's me! + The tear fills my e'e, + An sair is my heart wi' the rigour o' pain; + Nae prospect returning, + To gladden life's morning, + For green waves the willow o'er Captain O'Kain. + + + + +MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O'. + + + Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, + My only jo an' dearie, O; + Thy neck is like the siller dew + Upon the banks sae briery, O; + Thy teeth are o' the ivory, + O, sweet 's the twinkle o' thine e'e! + Nae joy, nae pleasure, blinks on me, + My only jo an' dearie, O. + + The birdie sings upon the thorn, + Its sang o' joy, fu' cheerie, O, + Rejoicing in the simmer morn, + Nae care to make it eerie, O; + But little kens the sangster sweet, + Ought o' the care I hae to meet, + That gars my restless bosom beat, + My only jo an' dearie, O. + + Whan we were bairnies on yon brae, + An' youth was blinking bonny, O, + Aft we wad daff the lee lang day, + Our joys fu' sweet an' mony, O; + Aft I wad chase thee o'er the lea, + An' round about the thorny tree; + Or pu' the wild flowers a' for thee, + My only jo an' dearie, O. + + I hae a wish I canna tine, + 'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, O; + I wish that thou wert ever mine, + An' never mair to leave me, O; + Then I wad dawt thee night an' day, + Nae ither warldly care wad hae, + Till life's warm stream forgat to play, + My only jo an' dearie, O. + + + + +THE BONNIE BLINK O' MARY'S E'E.[110] + + + Now bank an' brae are clad in green, + An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring; + By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream, + The birdies flit on wanton wing; + By Cassillis' banks, when e'ening fa's, + There let my Mary meet wi' me, + There catch her ilka glance o' love, + The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e. + + The chiel' wha boasts o' warld's wealth + Is aften laird o' meikle care; + But Mary she is a' my ain, + An' Fortune canna gie me mair. + Then let me stray by Cassillis' banks, + Wi' her, the lassie dear to me, + An' catch her ilka glance o' love, + The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e. + + +[110] Cromeck in his "Reliques," erroneously attributes this song to +Burns. + + + + +THE BRAES O' DRUMLEE. + + + Ere eild wi' his blatters had warsled me down, + Or reft me o' life's youthfu' bloom, + How aft hae I gane, wi' a heart louping light, + To the knowes yellow tappit wi' broom! + How aft hae I sat i' the beild o' the knowe, + While the laverock mounted sae hie, + An' the mavis sang sweet in the plantings around, + On the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee. + + But, ah! while we daff in the sunshine of youth, + We see na' the blasts that destroy; + We count na' upon the fell waes that may come, + An eithly o'ercloud a' our joy. + I saw na the fause face that fortune can wear, + Till forced from my country to flee; + Wi' a heart like to burst, while I sobbed, "Farewell, + To the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee! + + "Fareweel, ye dear haunts o' the days o' my youth, + Ye woods and ye valleys sae fair; + Ye 'll bloom whan I wander abroad like a ghaist, + Sair nidder'd wi' sorrow an' care. + Ye woods an' ye valleys, I part wi' a sigh, + While the flood gushes down frae my e'e; + For never again shall the tear weet my cheek, + On the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee. + + "O Time, could I tether your hours for a wee! + Na, na, for they flit like the wind!"-- + Sae I took my departure, an' saunter'd awa', + Yet aften look'd wistfu' behind. + Oh, sair is the heart of the mither to twin, + Wi' the baby that sits on her knee; + But sairer the pang, when I took a last peep, + O' the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee. + + I heftit 'mang strangers years thretty-an'-twa, + But naething could banish my care; + An' aften I sigh'd when I thought on the past, + Whare a' was sae pleasant an' fair. + But now, wae 's my heart! whan I 'm lyart an' auld, + An' fu' lint-white my haffet-locks flee, + I 'm hamewards return'd wi' a remnant o' life, + To the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee. + + Poor body! bewilder'd, I scarcely do ken + The haunts that were dear ance to me; + I yirded a plant in the days o' my youth, + An' the mavis now sings on the tree. + But, haith! there 's nae scenes I wad niffer wi' thae; + For it fills my fond heart fu' o' glee, + To think how at last my auld banes they will rest, + Near the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee. + + + + +I WINNA GANG BACK TO MY MAMMY AGAIN. + + + I winna gang back to my mammy again, + I 'll never gae back to my mammy again; + I 've held by her apron these aught years an' ten, + But I 'll never gang back to my mammy again. + I 've held by her apron, &c. + + Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo, + Wi' plaidie sae bonny, an' bannet sae blue: + "O come awa, lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;" + An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen. + "O come awa, lassie," &c. + + He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his doo, + An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o' my mou'; + While I fell on his bosom heart-flicher'd an' fain, + An' sigh'd out, "O Johnnie, I 'll aye be your ain!" + While I fell on his bosom, &c. + + Some lasses will talk to their lads wi' their e'e, + Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree; + Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stapping-stane, + Sae I 'll never gae back to my mammy again. + Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c. + + For many lang year sin' I play'd on the lea, + My mammy was kind as a mither could be; + I 've held by her apron these aught years an' ten, + But I 'll never gang back to my mammy again. + I 've held by her apron, &c. + + + + +THE BARD. + +IRISH AIR--_"The Brown Maid."_ + + + The Bard strikes his harp the wild valleys amang, + Whare the tall aiken trees spreading leafy appear; + While the murmuring breeze mingles sweet wi' his sang, + An' wafts the saft notes till they die on the ear; + But Mary, whase presence sic transport conveys, + Whase beauties my moments o' pleasure control, + On the strings o' my heart ever wantonly plays, + An' each languishing note is a sigh frae my soul! + + Her breath is as sweet as the sweet-scented brier, + That blossoms and blaws in yon wild lanely glen; + When I view her fair form which nae mortal can peer, + A something o'erpowers me I dinna weel ken. + What sweetness her snawy white bosom displays! + The blink o' her bonny black e'e wha' can thole! + On the strings o' my heart she bewitchingly plays, + An' each languishing note is a sigh frae my soul! + + + + +LOUISA IN LOCHABER. + + + Can ought be constant as the sun, + That makes the world sae cheerie? + Yes, a' the powers can witness be, + The love I bear my dearie. + But what can make the hours seem lang, + An' rin sae wondrous dreary? + What but the space that lies between + Me an' my only dearie. + + Then fare ye weel, wha saw me aft, + Sae blythe, baith late and early; + An' fareweel scenes o' former joys, + That cherish life sae rarely; + Baith love an' beauty bid me flee, + Nor linger lang an' eerie, + But haste, an' in my arms enfauld, + My only pride an' dearie. + + I 'll hail Lochaber's valleys green, + Where many a rill meanders; + I 'll hail wi' joy, its birken bowers, + For there Louisa wanders. + There will I clasp her to my breast, + An' tent her smile fu' cheerie; + An' thus, without a wish or want, + Live happy wi' my dearie. + + + + +THE HAZELWOOD WITCH. + + + For mony lang year I hae heard frae my grannie + Of brownies an' bogles by yon castle wa', + Of auld wither'd hags that were never thought cannie, + An' fairies that danced till they heard the cock caw. + I leugh at her tales; an' last owk, i' the gloamin', + I daunder'd, alane, down the hazelwood green; + Alas! I was reckless, and rue sair my roamin', + For I met a young witch, wi' twa bonnie black e'en. + + I thought o' the starns in a frosty night glancing, + Whan a' the lift round them is cloudless an' blue; + I looked again, an' my heart fell a-dancing, + When I wad hae spoken, she glamour'd my mou'. + O wae to her cantrips! for dumpish I wander, + At kirk or at market there 's nought to be seen; + For she dances afore me wherever I daunder, + The hazelwood witch wi' the bonnie black e'en. + + + + +FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.[111] + + + Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, + Scenes that former thoughts renew; + Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, + Now a sad and last adieu! + Bonny Doon, sae sweet at gloamin', + Fare thee weel before I gang; + Bonny Doon, whare, early roamin', + First I weaved the rustic sang. + + Bowers, adieu! where, love decoying, + First enthrall'd this heart o' mine; + There the saftest sweets enjoying, + Sweets that memory ne'er shall tine. + Friends sae near my bosom ever, + Ye hae render'd moments dear; + But, alas! when forced to sever, + Then the stroke, O how severe! + + Friends, that parting tear reserve it, + Though 'tis doubly dear to me; + Could I think I did deserve it, + How much happier would I be. + Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, + Scenes that former thoughts renew; + Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, + Now a sad and last adieu! + + +[111] This is another song of Richard Gall which has been assigned to +Burns; it has even been included in Dr Currie's edition of his works. It +was communicated anonymously by Gall to the publisher of the "Scots +Musical Museum," and first appeared in that work. The original MS. of +the song was in the possession of Mr Stark, the author of a memoir of +Gall in the "Biographia Scotica." + + + + +GEORGE SCOTT. + + +George Scott was the son of a small landowner in Roxburghshire. He was +born at Dingleton, near Melrose, in 1777; and after attending the +parish-schools of Melrose and Galashiels, became a student in the +University of Edinburgh. On completing a curriculum of classical study, +he was in his twenty-second year appointed parochial schoolmaster of +Livingstone, West Lothian; and in six years afterwards was preferred to +the parish-school of Lilliesleaf, in his native county. He was an +accomplished scholar, and had the honour of educating many individuals +who afterwards attained distinction. With Sir Walter Scott, who +appreciated his scholarship, he maintained a friendly correspondence. In +1820, he published a small volume of poems, entitled, "Heath Flowers; +or, Mountain Melodies," which exhibits considerable poetical talent. +Having discharged the duties of an instructor of youth for half a +century, he retired from his public avocations in November 1850. He +survived till the 23d of February 1853, having attained his +seventy-sixth year. + + + + +THE FLOWER OF THE TYNE. + +AIR--_"Bonnie Dundee."_ + + + Now rests the red sun in his caves of the ocean, + Now closed every eye but of misery and mine; + While, led by the moonbeam, in fondest devotion, + I doat on her image, the Flower of the Tyne. + Her cheek far outrivals the rose's rich blossom, + Her eyes the bright gems of Golconda outshine; + The snow-drop and lily are lost on her bosom, + For beauty unmatched is the Flower of the Tyne. + + So charming each feature, so guileless her nature, + A thousand fond voices pronounce her divine; + So witchingly pretty, so modestly witty, + That sweet is thy thraldom, fair Flower of the Tyne! + Thine aspect so noble, yet sweetly inviting, + The loves and the graces thy temples entwine; + In manners the saint and the syren uniting, + Bloom on, dear Louisa, the Flower of the Tyne. + + Though fair, Caledonia, the nymphs of thy mountains, + And graceful and straight as thine own silver pine, + Though fresh as thy breezes, and pure as thy fountains, + Yet fairer to me is the Flower of the Tyne. + This poor throbbing heart as an offering I give her, + A temple to love is this bosom of mine; + Then smile on thy victim, Louisa, for ever, + I 'll kneel at thine altar, sweet Flower of the Tyne. + + + + +THOMAS CAMPBELL. + + +Thomas Campbell, author of the "Pleasures of Hope," was descended from a +race of landed proprietors in Argyleshire, who claimed ancestry in +Macallummore, the great head of clan Campbell, and consequent +propinquity to the noble House of Argyle. Alexander Campbell, the poet's +father, had carried on a prosperous trade as a Virginian merchant, but +had suffered unhappy embarrassments, at the outbreak of the American +war. Of his eleven children, Thomas was the youngest. He was born on the +27th July 1777, in his father's house, High Street, Glasgow, and was +baptised by the celebrated Dr Thomas Reid, after whom he received his +Christian name. The favourite child of his parents, peculiar care was +bestowed upon his upbringing; he was taught to read by his eldest +sister, who was nineteen years his senior, and had an example of energy +set before him by his mother, a woman of remarkable decision. He +afforded early indication of genius; as a child, he was fond of ballad +poetry, and in his tenth year he wrote verses. At the age of eight he +became a pupil in the grammar school, having already made some +proficiency in classical learning. During the first session of +attendance at the University, he gained two prizes and a bursary on +Archbishop Leighton's foundation. As a classical scholar, he acquired +rapid distinction; he took especial delight in the dramatic literature +of Greece, and his metrical translations from the Greek plays were +pronounced excellent specimens of poetical composition. He invoked the +muse on many themes, and occasionally printed verses, which were +purchased by his comrades. From the commencement of his curriculum he +chiefly supported himself by teaching; at the close of his fourth +session, he accepted a tutorship in the island of Mull. There he +prosecuted verse-making, and continued his translations from the Greek +dramatists. He conducted a poetical correspondence with Hamilton Paul; +and the following lines addressed to this early friend, and entitled "An +Elegy written in Mull," may be quoted in evidence of his poetical talent +in his seventeenth year. These lines do not occur in any edition of his +works: + + "The tempest blackens on the dusky moor, + And billows lash the long-resounding shore; + In pensive mood I roam the desert ground, + And vainly sigh for scenes no longer found. + Oh, whither fled the pleasurable hours + That chased each care, and fired the muse's powers; + The classic haunts of youth, for ever gay + Where mirth and friendship cheer'd the close of day, + The well-known valleys where I wont to roam, + The native sports, the nameless joys of home? + Far different scenes allure my wondering eye: + The white wave foaming to the distant sky; + The cloudy heavens, unblest by summer's smile; + The sounding storm that sweeps the rugged isle, + The chill, bleak summit of eternal snow, + The wide, wild glen, the pathless plains below, + The dark blue rocks, in barren grandeur piled, + The cuckoo sighing to the pensive wild! + Far different these from all that charm'd before, + The grassy banks of Clutha's winding shore: + The sloping vales, with waving forests lined; + Her smooth blue lakes, unruffled by the wind. + Hail, happy Clutha! glad shall I survey + Thy gilded turrets from the distant way! + Thy sight shall cheer the weary traveller's toil, + And joy shall hail me to my native soil." +He remained at Mull five months; and subsequently became tutor in the +family of Sir William Napier, at Downie, near Loch Fyne. On completing a +fifth session at the University, he experienced anxiety regarding the +choice of a profession, chiefly with the desire of being able speedily +to aid in the support of his necessitous parents. He first thought of a +mercantile life, and then weighed the respective advantages of the +clerical, medical, and legal professions. For a period, he attempted +law, but soon tired of the drudgery which it threatened to impose. In +Edinburgh, during a brief period of legal study, he formed the +acquaintance of Dr Robert Anderson, through whose favour he became known +to the rising wits of the capital. Among his earlier friends he reckoned +the names of Francis Jeffrey, Henry Brougham, Thomas Brown, James +Graham, and David Irving. + +In 1798, Campbell induced his parents to remove to Edinburgh, where he +calculated on literary employment. He had already composed the draught +of the "Pleasures of Hope," but he did not hazard its publication till +he had exhausted every effort in its improvement. His care was well +repaid; his poem produced one universal outburst of admiration, and one +edition after another rapidly sold. He had not completed his +twenty-second year when he gained a place among the most distinguished +poets of his country. For the copyright Mundell and Company allowed him +only two hundred copies in quires, which yielded him about fifty pounds; +but they presented him with twenty-five pounds on the appearance of each +successive edition. He was afterwards permitted to publish an edition on +his own account,--a privilege which brought him the sum of six hundred +pounds. Resolving to follow literature as a profession, he was desirous +of becoming personally acquainted with the distinguished men of letters +in Germany; in June 1800 he embarked at Leith for Hamburg. He visited +Ratisbon, Munich, and Leipsic; had an interview with the poet Klopstock, +then in his seventy-seventh year, and witnessed a battle between the +French and Germans, near Ratisbon. At Hamburg he formed the acquaintance +of Anthony M'Cann, who had been driven into exile by the Irish +Government in 1798, on the accusation of being a leader in the +rebellion. Of this individual he formed a favourable opinion, and his +condition suggested the exquisite poem, "The Exile of Erin." After some +months' residence at Altona, he sailed for England; the vessel narrowly +escaping capture by a privateer, landed him at Yarmouth, whence he +proceeded to London. He had been in correspondence with Perry of the +_Morning Chronicle_, who introduced him to Lord Holland, Sir James +Macintosh, and Samuel Rogers. Receiving tidings of his father's death, +he returned to Edinburgh. Not a little to his concern, he found that +warrants had been issued for his apprehension on the charge of high +treason; he was accused of attending Jacobin clubs at Hamburg, and of +conspiring with General Moreau and the Irish exiles to land troops in +Ireland! The seizure of his travelling trunk led to the ample +vindication of his loyalty; it was found to contain the first draught of +the "Mariners of England." Besides a magnificent quarto edition of the +"Pleasures of Hope," he now prepared a work in three volumes, entitled +"Annals of Great Britain;" for which the sum of three hundred pounds was +paid him by Mundell and Company. Through Professor Dugald Stewart, he +obtained the friendship of Lord Minto, who invited him to London, and +afterwards entertained him at Minto. + +In 1803, Campbell resolved to settle in London; in his progress to the +metropolis he visited his friends Roscoe and Currie, at Liverpool. On +the 10th September, 1803, he espoused his fair cousin, Matilda Sinclair, +and established his residence in Upper Eaton Street, Pimlico. In the +following year, he sought refuge from the noise of the busy world in +London, by renting a house at Sydenham. His reputation readily secured +him a sufficiency of literary employment; he translated for the _Star_, +with a salary of two hundred pounds per annum, and became a contributor +to the _Philosophical Magazine_. He declined the offer of the Regent's +chair in the University of Wilna, in Russian-Poland; but shortly after +had conferred on him, by the premier, Charles Fox, a civil-list pension +of two hundred pounds. In 1809, he published his poem, "Gertrude of +Wyoming," along with the "Battle of the Baltic," the "Mariners of +England," "Hohenlinden," "Glenara," and others of his best lyrics. This +volume was well received, and added largely to his laurels. In 1811, he +delivered five lectures on poetry, in the Royal Institution. + +Campbell was now a visitor in the first literary circles, and was +welcomed at the tables of persons of opulence. From the commencement of +his residence in London, he had known John Kemble, and his accomplished +sister, Mrs Siddons. He became intimate with Lord Byron and Thomas +Moore; and had the honour of frequent invitations to the residence of +the Princess of Wales, at Blackheath. In 1814, he visited Paris, where +he was introduced to the Duke of Wellington; dined with Humboldt and +Schlegel, and met his former friend and correspondent, Madame de Staël. +A proposal of Sir Walter Scott, in 1816, to secure him a chair in the +University of Edinburgh, was not attended with success. The "Specimens +of the British Poets," a work he had undertaken for Mr Murray, appeared +in 1819. In 1820, he accepted the editorship of the _New Monthly +Magazine_, with a salary of six hundred pounds per annum. A second +visit to Germany, which he accomplished immediately after the +commencement of his editorial duties, suggested to him the idea of the +London University; and this scheme, warmly supported by his literary +friends, and advocated by Lord Brougham, led in 1825 to the +establishment of the institution. In the year subsequent to this happy +consummation of his exertions on behalf of learning in the south, he +received intelligence of his having been elected Lord Rector of the +University of Glasgow. This honour was the most valued of his life; it +was afterwards enhanced by his re-election to office for the third +time,--a rare occurrence in the history of the College. + +The future career of the poet was not remarkable for any decided +achievements in literature or poetry. In 1831, he allowed his name to be +used as the conductor of the _Metropolitan_, a short-lived periodical. +He published in 1834 a "Life of Mrs Siddons," in two volumes, but this +performance did not prove equal to public expectation. One of his last +efforts was the preparation of an edition of the "Pleasures of Hope," +which was illustrated with engravings from drawings by Turner. +Subsequent to the death of Mrs Campbell, which took place in May 1828, +he became unsettled in his domestic habits, evincing a mania for change +of residence. In 1834, he proceeded to Algiers, in Africa; and returning +by Paris, was presented to King Louis Philippe. On his health failing, +some years afterwards, he tried the baths of Wiesbaden, and latterly +established his residence at Boulogne. After a prostrating illness of +several months, he expired at Boulogne, on the 15th of June 1844, in his +67th year. + +Of the poetry of Thomas Campbell, "The Pleasures of Hope" is one of the +most finished epics in the language; it is alike faultless in respect +of conception and versification. His lyrics are equally sustained in +power of thought and loftiness of diction; they have been more +frequently quoted than the poems of any other modern author, and are +translated into various European languages. Few men evinced more +jealousy in regard to their reputation; he was keenly sensitive to +criticism, and fastidious in judging of his own composition. As a prose +writer, though he wrote with elegance, he is less likely to be +remembered. Latterly a native unsteadiness of purpose degenerated into +inaction; during the period of his unabated vigour, it prevented his +carrying out many literary schemes. A bad money manager, he had under no +circumstances become rich; at one period he was in the receipt of +fifteen hundred pounds per annum, yet he felt poverty. He had a strong +feeling of independence, and he never received a favour without +considering whether he might be able to repay it. He was abundantly +charitable, and could not resist the solicitations of indigence. Of +slavery and oppression in every form he entertained an abhorrence; his +zeal in the cause of liberty led him while a youth to be present in +Edinburgh at the trial of Gerard and others, for maintaining liberal +opinions, and to support in his maturer years the cause of the Polish +refugees. Naturally cheerful, he was subject to moods of despondency, +and his temper was ardent in circumstances of provocation. In personal +appearance he was rather under the middle height, and he dressed with +precision and neatness. His countenance was pleasing, but was only +expressive of power when lit up by congenial conversation. He was fond +of society and talked with fluency. His remains rest close by the ashes +of Sheridan, in Westminster Abbey, and over them a handsome monument has +lately been erected to his memory. + + + + +YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. + + + Ye mariners of England, + That guard our native seas; + Whose flag has braved a thousand years + The battle and the breeze! + Your glorious standard launch again + To match another foe; + And sweep through the deep, + While the stormy winds do blow; + While the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + The spirit of your fathers + Shall start from every wave; + For the deck it was their field of fame, + And ocean was their grave: + Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell + Your manly hearts shall glow, + As ye sweep through the deep, + While the stormy winds do blow; + While the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + Britannia needs no bulwarks, + No towers along the steep; + Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, + Her home is on the deep. + With thunders from her native oak, + She quells the floods below,-- + As they roar on the shore, + When the stormy winds do blow; + When the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + The meteor flag of England + Shall yet terrific burn; + Till danger's troubled night depart, + And the star of peace return. + Then, then, ye ocean warriors! + Our song and feast shall flow, + To the fame of your name, + When the storm has ceased to blow; + When the fiery fight is heard no more, + And the storm has ceased to blow. + + + + +GLENARA. + + + Oh! heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, + Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail? + 'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear; + And her sire, and the people, are call'd to her bier. + + Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud; + Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud: + Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around; + They march'd all in silence, they look'd on the ground. + + In silence they reach'd, over mountain and moor, + To a heath where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar. + "Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn; + Why speak ye no word?" said Glenara the stern. + + "And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse! + Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?" + So spake the rude chieftain. No answer is made, + But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd. + + "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud," + Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud; + "And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem. + Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream." + + Oh! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, + When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen; + When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn-- + 'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn: + + "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, + I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief; + On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem. + Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!" + + In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground, + And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found; + From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne-- + Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn! + + + + +THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. + + + Alone to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube, + Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er. + "O, whither," she cried, "hast thou wander'd, my lover, + Or here dost thou welter and bleed on the shore? + + "What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sigh'd!" + All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far, + When, bleeding and low, on the heath she descried, + By the light of the moon, her poor wounded hussar! + + From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent was streaming, + And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar, + And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming, + That melted in love, and that kindled in war! + + How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight! + How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war! + "Hast thou come, my fond love, this last sorrowful night, + To cheer the lone heart of your wounded hussar?" + + "Thou shalt live," she replied; "Heaven's mercy relieving + Each anguishing wound shall forbid me to mourn!" + "Ah, no! the last pang of my bosom is heaving; + No light of the morn shall to Henry return! + + "Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true! + Ye babes of my love, that await me afar!" + His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu, + When he sank in her arms--the poor wounded hussar. + + + + +BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. + + + Of Nelson and the North, + Sing the glorious day's renown, + When to battle fierce came forth, + All the might of Denmark's crown, + And her arms along the deep proudly shone; + By each gun the lighted brand, + In a bold determined hand, + And the Prince of all the land + Led them on. + + Like leviathans afloat, + Lay their bulwarks on the brine; + While the sign of battle flew + On the lofty British line: + It was ten of April morn by the chime, + As they drifted on their path, + There was silence deep as death, + And the boldest held his breath + For a time. + + But the might of England flush'd + To anticipate the scene; + And her van the fleeter rush'd + O'er the deadly space between. + "Hearts of oak!" our Captain cried; when each gun + From its adamantine lips + Spread a death-shade round the ships, + Like the hurricane eclipse + Of the sun. + + Again! again! again! + And the havoc did not slack, + Till a feeble cheer the Dane + To our cheering sent us back; + Their shots along the deep slowly boom; + Then ceased, and all is wail, + As they strike the shatter'd sail, + Or in conflagration pale + Light the gloom. + + Out spoke the victor then, + As he hail'd them o'er the wave-- + "Ye are brothers! ye are men! + And we conquer but to save. + So peace instead of death let us bring; + But yield, proud foe! thy fleet, + With the crews, at England's feet, + And make submission meet + To our King." + + Then Denmark bless'd our chief + That he gave her wounds repose; + And the sounds of joy and grief + From her people wildly rose, + As Death withdrew his shades from the day. + While the sun look'd smiling bright + O'er a wide and woeful sight, + Where the fires of funeral light + Died away. + + Now joy, Old England, raise! + For the tidings of thy might, + By the festal cities blaze, + Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; + And yet amidst that joy and uproar, + Let us think of them that sleep, + Full many a fathom deep, + By thy wild and stormy steep, + Elsinore! + + Brave hearts! to Britain's pride, + Once so faithful and so true, + On the deck of fame that died, + With the gallant good Riou, + Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! + While the billow mournful rolls, + And the mermaid's song condoles, + Singing glory to the souls + Of the brave! + + + + +MEN OF ENGLAND. + + + Men of England, who inherit + Rights that cost your sires their blood! + Men whose undegenerate spirit + Has been proved on field and flood, + + By the foes you 've fought uncounted, + By the glorious deeds ye 've done, + Trophies captured, breaches mounted, + Navies conquer'd, kingdoms won. + + Yet, remember, England gathers + Hence but fruitless wreathes of fame, + If the freedom of your fathers + Glow not in your hearts the same. + + What are monuments of bravery, + Whence no public virtues bloom? + What avail in lands of slavery, + Trophied temples, arch and tomb? + + Pageants!--Let the world revere us + For our people's rights and laws, + And the breasts of civic heroes, + Bared in Freedom's holy cause. + + Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, + Sidney's matchless shade is yours, + Martyrs in heroic story, + Worth a hundred Agincourts! + + We 're the sons of sires that baffled + Crown'd and mitred tyranny; + They defied the field and scaffold + For their birthrights--so will we! + + + + +MRS G. G. RICHARDSON.[112] + + +Caroline Eliza Scott, better known as Mrs G. G. Richardson, the daughter +of a gentleman of considerable property in the south of Scotland, was +born at Forge, her father's family residence, in the parish of Canonbie, +on the 24th of November 1777, and spent her childhood and early youth +amidst Border scenes, Border traditions, and Border minstrelsy. It is +probable that these influences fostered the poetic temperament, while +they fed the imaginative element of her mind, as she very early gave +expression to her thoughts and feelings in romance and poetry. Born to a +condition of favourable circumstances, and associating with parents +themselves educated and intellectual, the young poetess enjoyed +advantages of development rarely owned by the sons and daughters of +genius. The flow of her mind was allowed to take its natural course; and +some of her early anonymous writings are quite as remarkable as any of +her acknowledged productions. Her conversational powers were lively and +entertaining, but never oppressive. She was ever ready to discern and do +homage to the merits of her contemporaries, while she never failed to +fan the faintest flame of latent poesy in the aspirations of the timid +or unknown. Affectionate and cheerful in her dispositions, she was a +loving and dutiful daughter, and shewed the tenderest attachment to a +numerous family of brothers and sisters. She was married to her cousin, +Gilbert Geddes Richardson, on the 29th of April 1799, at Fort George, +Madras; where she was then living with her uncle, General, afterwards +Lord Harris; and the connexion proved, in all respects, a suitable and +happy one. Her husband, at that time captain of an Indiaman, was one of +a number of brothers, natives of the south of Scotland, who all sought +their fortunes in India, and one of whom, Lieutenant-Colonel Richardson, +became known in literature as an able translator of Sanscrit poetry, and +contributor to the "Asiatic Researches." He was lost at sea, with his +wife and six children, on their homeward voyage; and this distressing +event, accompanied as it was by protracted suspense and anxiety, was +long and deeply deplored by his gifted sister-in-law. + +Young, beautiful, and doubly attractive from the warmth of her heart, +and the fascination of her manners, Mrs Richardson was not only loved +and appreciated by her husband, and his family, but greatly admired in a +refined circle of Anglo-Indian society; and the few years of her married +life were marked by almost uninterrupted felicity. But death struck down +the husband and father in the very prime of manhood; and the widow +returned with her five children (all of whom survived her), to seek from +the scenes and friends of her early days such consolation as they might +minister to a grief which only those who have experienced it can +measure. She never brought her own peculiar sorrows before the public; +but there is a tone of gentle mournfulness pervading many of her poems, +that may be traced to this cause; and there are touching allusions to +"one of rare endowments," that no one who remembered her husband's +character could fail to recognise. Her intense love of nature happily +remained unchanged; and the green hills, the flowing river, and the +tangled wildwood, could still soothe a soul that, but for its +susceptibility to these beneficent charms, might have said in its +sadness of everything earthly, "miserable comforters are ye all." +Continuing to reside at Forge while her children were young, she devoted +herself to the direction of their education, the cultivation of her own +pure tastes, and the peaceful enjoyments of a country life; and when she +afterwards removed to London, and reappeared in brilliant and +distinguished society, she often reverted, with regret, to the bright +skies and cottage homes of Canonbie. In 1821, Mrs Richardson again +returned to Scotland, and took up her abode at Dumfries, partly from the +desire of being near her connexions, and partly for the sake of the +beautiful scenery surrounding that pretty county town. In 1828 she +published, by subscription, her first volume of miscellaneous poems, +which was well received by the public, favourably noticed by the leading +journals, and received a circulation even beyond the range of 1700 +subscribers. A second edition, in a larger form, soon followed; and, in +1834, after finally settling in her native parish, she published a +second volume, dedicated to the Duchess of Buccleuch, and which was also +remarkably successful. From this time she employed her talents in the +composition of prose; she published "Adonia," a novel, in three volumes; +and various tales, essays, and fugitive pieces, forming contributions to +popular serials. Her later poems remain in manuscript. She maintained an +extensive correspondence with her literary friends, and spent much of +her time in reading and study, and in the practice of sincere and +unostentatious piety. Her faculties were vigorous and unimpared, until +the seizure of her last illness, which quickly terminated in death, on +the 9th October 1853, when she had nearly completed her seventy-sixth +year. She died at Forge, and was laid to rest in the church-yard of her +own beloved Canonbie. + + +[112] The memoir of Mrs G. G. Richardson has been kindly supplied by her +accomplished relative, Mrs Macarthur, Hillhead, near Glasgow. + + + + +THE FAIRY DANCE. + + + The fairies are dancing--how nimbly they bound! + They flit o'er the grass tops, they touch not the ground; + Their kirtles of green are with diamonds bedight, + All glittering and sparkling beneath the moonlight. + + Hark, hark to their music! how silvery and clear-- + 'Tis surely the flower-bells that ringing I hear,-- + The lazy-wing'd moth, with the grasshopper wakes, + And the field-mouse peeps out, and their revels partakes. + + How featly they trip it! how happy are they + Who pass all their moments in frolic and play, + Who rove where they list, without sorrows or cares, + And laugh at the fetters mortality wears! + + But where have they vanish'd?--a cloud 's o'er the moon, + I 'll hie to the spot,--they 'll be seen again soon-- + I hasten--'tis lighter,--and what do I view?-- + The fairies were grasses, the diamonds were dew. + + And thus do the sparkling illusions of youth + Deceive and allure, and we take them for truth; + Too happy are they who the juggle unshroud, + Ere the hint to inspect them be brought by a cloud. + + + + +SUMMER MORNING. + + + How pleasant, how pleasant to wander away, + O'er the fresh dewy fields at the dawning of day,-- + To have all this silence and lightness my own, + And revel with Nature, alone,--all alone! + + What a flush of young beauty lies scatter'd around, + In this calm, holy sunshine, and stillness profound! + The myriads are sleeping, who waken to care, + And earth looks like Eden, ere Adam was there. + + The herbage, the blossoms, the branches, the skies, + That shower on the river their beautiful dyes, + The far misty mountains, the wide waving fields, + What healthful enjoyment surveying them yields! + + Yes, this is the hour Nature's lovers partake, + The manna that melts when Life's vapours awake; + Another, and thoughts will be busy, oh how + Unlike the pure vision they 're ranging in now! + + Lo! the hare scudding forth, lo! the trout in the stream + Gently splashing, are stirring the folds of my dream, + The cattle are rising, and hark, the first bird,-- + And now in full chorus the woodlands are heard. + + Oh, who on the summer-clad landscape can gaze, + In the orison hour, nor break forth into praise,-- + Who, through this fair garden contemplative rove, + Nor feel that the Author and Ruler is love? + + I ask no hewn temple, sufficient is here; + I ask not art's anthems, the woodland is near; + The breeze is all risen, each leaf at his call + Has a tear drop of gratitude ready to fall! + + + + +THERE 'S MUSIC IN THE FLOWING TIDE. + + + There 's music in the flowing tide, there 's music in the air, + There 's music in the swallow's wing, that skims so lightly there, + There 's music in each waving tress of grove, and bower, and tree, + To eye and ear 'tis music all where Nature revels free. + + There 's discord in the gilded halls where lordly rivals meet, + There 's discord where the harpers ring to beauty's glancing feet, + There 's discord 'neath the jewell'd robe, the wreath, the plume, the crest, + Wherever Fashion waves her wand, there discord rules the breast. + + There 's music 'neath the cottage eaves, when, at the close of day, + Kind-hearted mirth and social ease the toiling hour repay; + Though coarse the fare, though rude the jest, that cheer that lowly board, + There loving hearts and honest lips sweet harmony afford! + + Oh! who the music of the groves, the music of the heart, + Would barter for the city's din, the frigid tones of art? + The virtues flourish fresh and fair, where rural waters glide. + They shrink and wither, droop and die, where rolls that turbid tide. + + + + +AH! FADED IS THAT LOVELY BLOOM. + +_Written to an Italian Air._ + + + Ah! faded is that lovely bloom, + And closed in death that speaking eye, + And buried in a green grass tomb, + What once breathed life and harmony! + Surely the sky is all too dark, + And chilly blows the summer air,-- + And, where 's thy song now, sprightly lark, + That used to wake my slumb'ring fair? + + Ah! never shalt thou wake her more! + And thou, bright sun, shalt ne'er again, + On inland mead, or sea-girt shore, + Salute the darling of the plain. + Maiden! they bade me o'er thy fate + Numbers and strains mellifluous swell, + They knew the love I bore thee great,-- + They knew not what I ne'er can tell. + + The unstrung heart to others leaves + The music of a feebler woe, + Her numbers are the sighs she heaves, + Her off'ring tears that ever flow. + Where could I gather fancies now? + They 're with'ring on thy lowly tomb,-- + My summer was thy cheek and brow, + And perish'd is that lovely bloom! + + + + +THOMAS BROWN, M.D. + + +Illustrious as a metaphysician, Dr Thomas Brown is entitled to a place +in the poetical literature of his country. He was the youngest son of +Samuel Brown, minister of Kirkmabreck, in the stewartry of +Kirkcudbright, and was born in the manse of that parish, on the 9th +January 1778. His father dying when he was only a year old, his +childhood was superintended solely by his mother, who established her +abode in Edinburgh. Evincing an uncommon aptitude for knowledge, he +could read and understand the Scriptures ere he had completed his fifth +year. At the age of seven he was committed to the charge of a maternal +uncle in London, who placed him at the schools of Camberwell and +Chiswick, and afterwards at two other classical seminaries, in all of +which he exhibited remarkable precocity in learning. On the death of his +relative he returned to Edinburgh, and in his fourteenth year entered +the University of that city. During a visit to Liverpool, in the summer +of 1793, he was introduced to Dr Currie, who, presenting him with a copy +of Dugald Stewart's "Elements of Philosophy," was the means of directing +his attention to metaphysical inquiries. The following session he became +a student in Professor Stewart's class; and differing from a theory +advanced in one of the lectures, he modestly read his sentiments on the +subject to his venerable preceptor. The philosopher and pupil were +henceforth intimate friends. + +In his nineteenth year, Brown became a member of the "Academy of +Physics," a philosophical association established by the scientific +youths of the University, and afterwards known to the world as having +given origin to the _Edinburgh Review_. As a member of this society he +formed the intimacy of Brougham, Jeffrey, Leyden, Logan, Sydney Smith, +and other literary aspirants. In 1778 he published "Observations on the +Zoonomia of Dr Darwin,"--a pamphlet replete with deep philosophical +sentiment, and which so attracted the notice of his friends that they +used every effort, though unsuccessfully, to secure him the chair of +rhetoric in the University during the vacancy which soon afterwards +occurred. His professional views were originally directed to the bar, +but disgusted with the law after a twelve-month's trial, he entered on a +medical course, to qualify himself as physician, and in 1803 received +his diploma. His new profession was scarcely more congenial than that +which he had abandoned, nor did the prospects of success, on being +assumed as a partner by Dr Gregory, reconcile him to his duties. His +favourite pursuits were philosophy and poetry; he published in 1804 two +volumes of miscellaneous poems which he had chiefly written at college, +and he was among the original contributors to the _Edinburgh Review_, +the opening article in the second number, on "Kant's Philosophy," +proceeding from his pen. An essay on Hume's "Theory of Causation," which +he produced during the struggle attendant on Mr Leslie's appointment to +the mathematical chair, established his hitherto growing reputation; and +the public in the capital afterwards learned, with more than +satisfaction, that he had consented to act as substitute for Professor +Dugald Stewart, when increasing infirmities had compelled that +distinguished individual to retire from the active business of his +chair. In this new sphere he fully realised the expectations of his +admirers; he read his own lectures, which, though hastily composed, +often during the evenings prior to their delivery, were listened to with +an overpowering interest, not only by the regular students, but by many +professional persons in the city. Such distinction had its corresponding +reward; after assisting in the moral philosophy class for two years, he +was in 1810 appointed to the joint professorship. + +Successful as a philosopher, Dr Brown was desirous of establishing a +reputation as a poet. In 1814 he published anonymously the "Paradise of +Coquettes," a poem which was favourably received. "The Wanderer of +Norway," a poem, appeared in 1816, and "Agnes" and "Emily," two other +distinct volumes of poems, in the two following years. He died at +Brompton, near London, on the 2d April 1820, and his remains were +conveyed for interment to the churchyard of his native parish. Amidst a +flow of ornate and graceful language, the poetry of Dr Brown is +disfigured by a morbid sensibility and a philosophy which dims rather +than enlightens. He possessed, however, many of the mental concomitants +of a great poet; he loved rural retirement and romantic scenery; well +appreciated the beautiful both in nature and in art; was conversant with +the workings of the human heart and the history of nations; was +influenced by generous emotions, and luxuriated in a bold and lofty +imagination.[113] + + +[113] Margaret Brown, one of the three sisters of Dr Brown, published +"Lays of Affection." Edinburgh, 1819, 12mo. She was a woman of gentle +and unobtrusive manners and of pious disposition. Her poems constitute a +respectable memorial of her virtues. + + + + +CONSOLATION OF ALTERED FORTUNES. + + + Yes! the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted, + Each charm by endearing remembrance improved; + These walks of our love, the sweet bower thou hast planted,-- + We must leave them to eyes that will view them unmoved. + + Oh, weep not, my Fanny! though changed be our dwelling, + We bear with us all, in the home of our mind; + In virtues will glow that heart, fondly swelling, + Affection's best treasure we leave not behind. + + I shall labour, but still by thy image attended-- + Can toil be severe which a smile can repay? + How glad shall we meet! every care will be ended; + And our evening of bliss will be more than a day. + + Content's cheerful beam will our cottage enlighten; + New charms the new cares of thy love will inspire; + Thy smiles, 'mid the smiles of our offspring, will lighten; + I shall see it--and oh, can I feel a desire? + + + + +THE FAITHLESS MOURNER. + + + When thy smile was still clouded in gloom, + When the tear was still dim in thine eye, + I thought of the virtues, scarce cold in the tomb, + And I spoke not of love to thy sigh! + + I spoke not of love; yet the breast, + Which mark'd thy long anguish,--deplore + The sire, whom in sickness, in age, thou hadst bless'd, + Though silent, was loving thee more! + + How soon wert thou pledged to my arms, + Thou hadst vow'd, but I urged not the day; + And thine eye grateful turn'd, oh, so sweet were its charms, + That it more than atoned the delay. + + I fear'd not, too slow of belief-- + I fear'd not, too proud of thy heart, + That another would steal on the hour of thy grief, + That thy grief would be soft to his art. + + Thou heardst--and how easy allured, + Every vow of the past to forsware; + The love, which for thee would all pangs have endured, + Thou couldst smile, as thou gav'st to despair. + + Ah, think not my passion has flown! + Why say that my vows now are free? + Why say--yes! I feel that my heart is my own; + I feel it is breaking for thee. + + + + +THE LUTE. + + + Ah! do not bid me wake the lute, + It once was dear to Henry's ear. + Now be its voice for ever mute, + The voice which Henry ne'er can hear. + + Though many a month has pass'd since Spring, + His grave's wan turf has bloom'd anew, + One whisper of those chords would bring, + In all its grief, our last adieu. + + The songs he loved--'twere sure profane + To careless Pleasure's laughing brow + To breathe; and oh! what other strain + To Henry's lute could love allow? + + Though not a sound thy soul hath caught, + To mine it looks, thus softly dead, + A sweeter tenderness of thought + Than all its living strings have shed. + + Then ask me not--the charm was broke; + With each loved vision must I part; + If gay to every ear it spoke, + 'Twould speak no longer to my heart. + + Yet once too blest!--the moonlit grot, + Where last I gave its tones to swell; + Ah! the _last_ tones--thou heardst them not-- + From other hands than mine they fell. + + Still, silent slumbering, let it keep + That sacred touch! And oh! as dim + To life, would, would that I could sleep, + Could sleep, and only dream of _him_! + + + + +WILLIAM CHALMERS. + + +William Chalmers was born at Paisley in 1779. He carried on the business +of a tobacconist and grocer in his native town, and for a period enjoyed +considerable prosperity. Unfortunate reverses caused him afterwards to +abandon merchandise, and engage in a variety of occupations. At +different times he sought employment as a dentist, a drysalter, and a +book distributor; he sold small stationery as a travelling merchant, and +ultimately became keeper of the refreshment booth at the Paisley railway +station. He died at Paisley on the 3d of November 1843. Chalmers wrote +respectable verses on a number of subjects, but his muse was especially +of a humorous tendency. Possessed of a certain versatility of talent, he +published, in 1839, a curious production with the quaint title, +"Observations on the Weather in Scotland, shewing what kinds of weather +the various winds produce, and what winds are most likely to prevail in +each month of the year." His compositions in verse were chiefly +contributed to the local periodicals and newspapers. + + + + +SING ON. + +AIR--_"The Pride of the Broomlands."_ + + + Sing on, thou little bird, + Thy wild notes sae loud, + O sing, sweetly sing frae the tree; + Aft beneath thy birken bow'r + I have met at e'ening hour + My young Jamie that 's far o'er the sea. + + On yon bonnie heather knowes + We pledged our mutual vows, + And dear is the spot unto me; + Though pleasure I hae nane, + While I wander alane, + And my Jamie is far o'er the sea. + + But why should I mourn, + The seasons will return, + And verdure again clothe the lea; + The flow'rets shall spring, + And the saft breeze shall bring, + My dear laddie again back to me. + + Thou star! give thy light, + Guide my lover aright, + Frae rocks and frae shoals keep him free; + Now gold I hae in store, + He shall wander no more, + No, no more shall he sail o'er the sea. + + + + +THE LOMOND BRAES. + + + "O, lassie, wilt thou go + To the Lomond wi' me? + The wild thyme 's in bloom. + And the flower 's on the lea; + Wilt thou go my dearest love? + I will ever constant prove, + I 'll range each hill and grove + On the Lomond wi' thee." + + "O young men are fickle, + Nor trusted to be, + And many a native gem + Shines fair on the lea: + Thou mayst see some lovely flower, + Of a more attractive power, + And may take her to thy bower + On the Lomond wi' thee." + + "The hynd shall forsake, + On the mountain the doe, + The stream of the fountain + Shall cease for to flow; + Ben-Lomond shall bend + His high brow to the sea, + Ere I take to my bower + Any flower, love, but thee." + + She 's taken her mantle, + He 's taken his plaid; + He coft her a ring, + And he made her his bride: + They 're far o'er yon hills, + To spend their happy days, + And range the woody glens + 'Mang the Lomond braes. + + + + +JOSEPH TRAIN. + + +A zealous and respectable antiquary and cultivator of historical +literature, Joseph Train is likewise worthy of a niche in the temple of +Scottish minstrelsy. His ancestors were for several generations +land-stewards on the estate of Gilmilnscroft, in the parish of Sorn, and +county of Ayr, where he was born on the 6th November 1779. When he was +eight years old, his parents removed to Ayr, where, after a short +attendance at school, he was apprenticed to a mechanical occupation. His +leisure hours were sedulously devoted to reading and mental improvement. +In 1799, he was balloted for the Ayrshire Militia; in which he served +for three years till the regiment was disbanded on the peace of Amiens. +When he was stationed at Inverness, he had commissioned through a +bookseller a copy of Currie's edition of the "Works of Burns," then sold +at three half-guineas, and this circumstance becoming incidentally known +to the Colonel of the regiment, Sir David Hunter Blair, he caused the +copy to be elegantly bound and delivered free of expense. Much pleased +with his intelligence and attainments, Sir David, on the disembodiment +of the regiment, actively sought his preferment; he procured him an +agency at Ayr for the important manufacturing house of Finlay and Co., +Glasgow, and in 1808, secured him an appointment in the Excise. In 1810, +Train was sometime placed on service as a supernumerary in Perthshire; +he was in the year following settled as an excise officer at Largs, +from which place in 1813 he was transferred to Newton Stewart. The +latter location, from the numerous objects of interest which were +presented in the surrounding district, was highly suitable for his +inclinations and pursuits. Recovering many curious legends, he embodied +some of them in metrical tales, which, along with a few lyrical pieces, +he published in 1814, in a thin octavo volume,[114] under the title of +"Strains of the Mountain Muse." While the sheets were passing through +the press, some of them were accidentally seen by Sir Walter Scott, who, +warmly approving of the author's tastes, procured his address, and +communicated his desire to become a subscriber for the volume. + +Gratified by the attention of Sir Walter, Mr Train transmitted for his +consideration several curious Galloway traditions, which he had +recovered. These Sir Walter politely acknowledged, and begged the favour +of his endeavouring to procure for him some account of the present +condition of Turnberry Castle, for his poem the "Lord of the Isles," +which he was then engaged in composing. Mr Train amply fulfilled the +request by visiting the ruined structure situated on the coast of +Ayrshire; and he thereafter transmitted to his illustrious correspondent +those particulars regarding it, and of the landing of Robert Bruce, and +the Hospital founded by that monarch, at King's Case, near Prestwick, +which are given by Sir Walter in the notes to the fifth canto of the +poem. During a succession of years he regularly transmitted legendary +tales and scraps to Sir Walter, which were turned to excellent account +by the great novelist. The fruits of his communications appear in the +"Chronicles of the Canongate," "Guy Mannering," "Old Mortality," "The +Heart of Mid Lothian," "The Fair Maid of Perth," "Peveril of the Peak," +"Quintin Durward," "The Surgeon's Daughter," and "Redgauntlet." He +likewise supplied those materials on which Sir Walter founded his dramas +of the "Doom of Devorgoil," and "Macduff's Cross." + +When Sir Walter was engaged, a few years previous to his death, in +preparing the Abbotsford or first uniform edition of his works, Mr Train +communicated for his use many additional particulars regarding a number +of the characters in the Waverley Novels, of which he had originally +introduced the prototypes to the distinguished author. His most +interesting narrative was an account of the family of Robert Paterson, +the original "Old Mortality," which is so remarkable in its nature, that +we owe no apology for introducing it. Mr Train received his information +from Robert, a son of "Old Mortality," then in his seventy-fifth year, +and residing at Dalry, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. According to +the testimony of this individual, his brother John sailed for America in +1774, where he made a fortune during the American War. He afterwards +settled at Baltimore, where he married, and lived in prosperous +circumstances. He had a son named Robert, after "Old Mortality," his +father, and a daughter named Elizabeth; Robert espoused an American +lady, who, surviving him, was married to the Marquis of Wellesley, and +Elizabeth became the first wife of Prince Jerome Bonaparte.[115] + +On his first connexion with the Excise, Mr Train turned his attention to +the most efficient means of checking illicit distillation in the +Highlands; and an essay which he prepared, suggesting improved +legislation on the subject, was in 1815 laid before the Board of Excise +and Customs, and transmitted with their approval to the Lords of the +Treasury. His suggestions afterwards became the subject of statutory +enactment. At this period, he began a correspondence with Mr George +Chalmers, author of the "Caledonia," supplying him with much valuable +information for the third volume of that great work. He had shortly +before traced the course of an ancient wall known as the "Deil's Dyke," +for a distance of eighty miles from the margin of Lochryan, in +Wigtonshire, to Hightae, in Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire, and an account of +this remarkable structure, together with a narrative of his discovery of +Roman remains in Wigtonshire, greatly interested his indefatigable +correspondent. In 1820, through the kindly offices of Sir Walter, he was +appointed Supervisor. In this position he was employed to officiate at +Cupar-Fife and at Kirkintilloch. He was stationed in succession at South +Queensferry, Falkirk, Wigton, Dumfries, and Castle-Douglas. From these +various districts he procured curious gleanings for Sir Walter, and +objects of antiquity for the armory at Abbotsford. + +Mr Train contributed to the periodicals both in prose and verse. Many of +his compositions were published in the _Dumfries Magazine_, _Bennett's +Glasgow Magazine_, and the _Ayr Courier_ and _Dumfries Courier_ +newspapers. An interesting tale from his pen, entitled "Mysie and the +Minister," appeared in the thirtieth number of _Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal_; he contributed the legend of "Sir Ulrick Macwhirter" to Mr +Robert Chambers' "Picture of Scotland," and made several gleanings in +Galloway for the "Popular Rhymes of Scotland," published by the same +gentleman. He had long contemplated the publication of a description of +Galloway, and he ultimately afforded valuable assistance to the Rev. +William Mackenzie in preparing his history of that district. Mr Train +likewise rendered useful aid to several clergymen in Galloway, in +drawing up the statistical accounts of their parishes,--a service which +was suitably acknowledged by the writers. + +Having obtained from Sir Walter Scott a copy of Waldron's "Description +of the Isle of Man," a very scarce and curious work, Mr Train conceived +the idea of writing a history of that island. In the course of his +researches, he accidentally discovered a M.S. volume containing one +hundred and eight acts of the Manx Legislature, prior to the accession +of the Atholl family to that kingdom. Of this acquisition he transmitted +a transcript to Sir Walter, along with several Manx traditions, as an +appropriate acknowledgment for the donation he had received. In 1845 he +published his "History of the Isle of Man," in two large octavo volumes. +His last work was a curious and interesting history of a religious sect, +well known in the south of Scotland by the name of "The Buchanites." +After a period of twenty-eight years' service in the Excise, Mr Train +had his name placed on the retired list. He continued to reside at +Castle-Douglas, in a cottage pleasantly situated on the banks of +Carlingwark Lake. To the close of his career, he experienced pleasure in +literary composition. He died at Lochvale, Castle-Douglas, on the 7th +December 1852. His widow, with one son and one daughter, survive. A few +months after his death, a pension of fifty pounds on the Civil List was +conferred by the Queen on his widow and daughter, "in consequence of his +personal services to literature, and the valuable aid derived by the +late Sir Walter Scott from his antiquarian and literary researches +prosecuted under Sir Walter's direction." + + +[114] Mr Train published, in 1806, a small volume, entitled "Poetical +Reveries." + +[115] Sir Walter Scott was convinced of the accuracy of the statement, +regarding the extraordinary connexion between the Wellesley and +Bonaparte families, and deferred publishing it only to avoid giving +offence to his intimate friend, the Duke of Wellington. + + + + +MY DOGGIE. + +AIR--_"There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen."_ + + + The neighbours a' they wonder how + I am sae ta'en wi' Maggie, + But ah! they little ken, I trow, + How kind she 's to my doggie. + Yestreen as we linked o'er the lea, + To meet her in the gloamin'; + She fondly on my Bawtie cried, + Whene'er she saw us comin'. + + But was the tyke not e'en as kind, + Though fast she beck'd to pat him; + He louped up and slaked her cheek, + Afore she could win at him. + But save us, sirs, when I gaed in, + To lean me on the settle, + Atween my Bawtie and the cat + There rose an awfu' battle. + + An' though that Maggie saw him lay + His lugs in bawthron's coggie, + She wi' the besom lounged poor chit, + And syne she clapp'd my doggie. + Sae weel do I this kindness feel, + Though Mag she isna bonnie, + An' though she 's feckly twice my age, + I lo'e her best of ony. + + May not this simple ditty show, + How oft affection catches, + And from what silly sources, too, + Proceed unseemly matches; + An' eke the lover he may see, + Albeit his joe seem saucy, + If she is kind unto his dog, + He 'll win at length the lassie. + + + + +BLOOMING JESSIE. + + + On this unfrequented plain, + What can gar thee sigh alane, + Bonnie blue-eyed lassie? + Is thy mammy dead and gane, + Or thy loving Jamie slain? + Wed anither, mak nae main, + Bonnie, blooming Jessie. + + Though I sob and sigh alane, + I was never wed to ane, + Quo' the blue-eyed lassie. + But if loving Jamie's slain, + Farewell pleasure, welcome pain, + A' the joy wi' him is gane + O' poor hapless Jessie. + + Ere he cross'd the raging sea, + Was he ever true to thee, + Bonnie, blooming Jessie? + Was he ever frank and free? + Swore he constant aye to be? + Did he on the roseate lea + Ca' thee blooming Jessie? + + Ere he cross'd the raging sea, + Aft he on the dewy lea, + Ca'd me blue-eyed lassie. + Weel I mind his words to me, + Were, if he abroad should die, + His last throb and sigh should be, + Bonnie, blooming Jessie. + + Far frae hame, and far frae thee, + I saw loving Jamie die, + Bonnie blue-eyed lassie. + Fast a cannon ball did flee, + Laid him stretch'd upo' the lea, + Soon in death he closed his e'e, + Crying, "Blooming Jessie." + + Swelling with a smother'd sigh, + Rose the snowy bosom high + Of the blue-eyed lassie. + Fleeter than the streamers fly, + When they flit athwart the sky, + Went and came the rosy dye + On the cheeks of Jessie. + + Longer wi' sic grief oppress'd + Jamie couldna sae distress'd + See the blue-eyed lassie. + Fast he clasp'd her to his breast, + Told her a' his dangers past, + Vow'd that he would wed at last + Bonnie, blooming Jessie. + + + + +OLD SCOTIA. + + + I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, + Till the heart that now beats in my bosom is still. + My forefathers loved thee, for often they drew + Their dirks in defence of thy banners of blue; + Though murky thy glens, where the wolf prowl'd of yore, + And craggy thy mountains, where cataracts roar, + The race of old Albyn, when danger was nigh, + For thee stood resolved still to conquer or die. + + I love yet to roam where the beacon-light rose, + Where echoed thy slogan, or gather'd thy foes, + Whilst forth rush'd thy heroic sons to the fight, + Opposing the stranger who came in his might. + I love through thy time-fretted castles to stray, + The mould'ring halls of thy chiefs to survey; + To grope through the keep, and the turret explore, + Where waved the blue flag when the battle was o'er. + + I love yet to roam o'er each field of thy fame, + Where valour has gain'd thee a glorious name; + I love where the cairn or the cromlach is made, + To ponder, for low there the mighty are laid. + Were these fall'n heroes to rise from their graves, + They might deem us dastards, they might deem us slaves; + But let a foe face thee, raise fire on each hill, + Thy sons, my dear Scotia, will fight for thee still! + + + + +ROBERT JAMIESON. + + +An intelligent antiquary, an elegant scholar, and a respectable writer +of verses, Robert Jamieson was born in Morayshire about the year 1780. +At an early age he became classical assistant in the school of +Macclesfield in Cheshire. About the year 1800 he proceeded to the shores +of the Baltic, to occupy an appointment in the Academy of Riga. Prior to +his departure, he had formed the scheme of publishing a collection of +ballads recovered from tradition, and on his return to Scotland he +resumed his plan with the ardour of an enthusiast. In 1806 he published, +in two octavo volumes, "Popular Ballads and Songs, from Tradition, +Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions; with Translations of Similar Pieces +from the Ancient Danish Language, and a few Originals by the Editor." In +the preparation of this work, he acknowledges his obligations to Dr +Jamieson, author of the "History of the Culdees," Dr Robert Anderson, +editor of the "British Poets," Dr John Leyden, and some others. On the +recommendation of Sir Walter Scott he was received into the General +Register House, as assistant to the Deputy-Clerk-Register, in the +publication of the public records. He held this office till 1836, during +a period of thirty years. Subsequently he resided at Newhaven, near +Edinburgh, and ultimately in London, where he died on the 24th of +September 1844. Familiar with the northern languages, he edited, +conjointly with Sir Walter Scott and Henry Weber, a learned work, +entitled "Illustrations of Northern Antiquities from the Earlier +Teutonic and Scandinavian Romances." Edinburgh, 1814, quarto. In 1818 he +published, with some contributions from Scott, a new edition of Burt's +"Letters from the North of Scotland." + +Mr Jamieson was of the middle size, of muscular form, and of +strongly-marked features. As a literary antiquary, he was held in high +estimation by the men of learning in the capital. As a poet he composed +several songs in early life, which are worthy of a place among the +modern minstrelsy of his country. + + + + +MY WIFE 'S A WINSOME WEE THING. + +TUNE--_"My Wife 's a wanton wee Thing."_ + + + My wife 's a winsome wee thing, + A bonnie, blythesome wee thing, + My dear, my constant wee thing, + And evermair sall be; + It warms my heart to view her, + I canna choose but lo'e her, + And oh! weel may I trow her + How dearly she lo'es me! + + For though her face sae fair be, + As nane could ever mair be; + And though her wit sae rare be, + As seenil do we see; + Her beauty ne'er had gain'd me, + Her wit had ne'er enchain'd me, + Nor baith sae lang retain'd me, + But for her love to me. + + When wealth and pride disown'd me, + A' views were dark around me, + And sad and laigh she found me, + As friendless worth could be; + When ither hope gaed frae me, + Her pity kind did stay me, + And love for love she ga'e me; + And that 's the love for me. + + And, till this heart is cald, I + That charm of life will hald by; + And, though my wife grow auld, my + Leal love aye young will be; + For she 's my winsome wee thing, + My canty, blythesome wee thing, + My tender, constant wee thing, + And evermair sall be. + + + + +GO TO HIM, THEN, IF THOU CAN'ST GO. + + + Go to him, then, if thou can'st go, + Waste not a thought on me; + My heart and mind are a' my store, + And they were dear to thee. + But there is music in his gold + (I ne'er sae sweet could sing), + That finds a chord in every breast + In unison to ring. + + The modest virtues dread the spell, + The honest loves retire, + The purer sympathies of soul + Far other charms require. + The breathings of my plaintive reed + Sink dying in despair, + The still small voice of gratitude, + Even that is heard nae mair. + + But, if thy heart can suffer thee, + The powerful call obey, + And mount the splendid bed that wealth + And pride for thee display. + Then gaily bid farewell to a' + Love's trembling hopes and fears, + While I my lanely pillow here + Wash with unceasing tears. + + Yet, in the fremmit arms of him + That half thy worth ne'er knew, + Oh! think na on my lang-tried love, + How tender and how true! + For sure 'twould break thy gentle heart + My breaking heart to see, + Wi' a' the wrangs and waes it 's tholed, + And yet maun thole for thee. + + + + +WALTER WATSON. + + +Walter Watson was the son of a handloom weaver in the village of +Chryston, in the parish of Calder, and county of Lanark, where he was +born, on the 29th March 1780. Having a family of other two sons and four +daughters, his parents could only afford to send him two years to +school; when at the age of eight, he was engaged as a cow-herd. During +the winter months he still continued to receive instructions from the +village schoolmaster. At the age of eleven his father apprenticed him to +a weaver; but he had contracted a love for the fields, and after a few +years at the loom he hired himself as a farm-servant. In the hope of +improving his circumstances, he proceeded to Glasgow, where he was +employed as a sawyer. He now enlisted in the Scots Greys; but after a +service of only three years, he was discharged, in June 1802, on the +reduction of the army, subsequent to the peace of Amiens. At Chryston he +resumed his earliest occupation, and, having married, resolved to employ +himself for life at the loom. His spare hours were dedicated to the +muse, and his compositions were submitted to criticism at the social +meetings of his friends. Encouraged by their approval, he published in +1808 a small volume of poems and songs, which, well received, gained him +considerable reputation as a versifier. Some of the songs at once became +popular. In 1820 he removed from Chryston, and accepted employment as a +sawyer in the villages of Banton and Arnbrae, in Kilsyth; in 1826 he +proceeded to Kirkintilloch, where he resumed the labours of the loom; in +1830 he changed his abode to Craigdarroch, in the parish of Calder, from +which, in other five years, he removed to Lennoxtown of Campsie, where +he and several of his family were employed in an extensive printwork. To +Craigdarroch he returned at the end of two years; in other seven years +he made a further change to Auchinairn which, in 1849, he left for +Duntiblae, in Kirkintilloch. He died at the latter place on the 13th +September 1854, in his seventy-fifth year. His remains were interred at +Chryston, within a few yards of the house in which he was born. His +widow, the "Maggie" of his songs, still survives, with only four of +their ten children. + +Besides the volume already mentioned, Watson published a small +collection of miscellaneous poems in 1823, and a third volume in 1843. A +selection of his best pieces was published during the year previous to +his death, under the superintendence of several friends in Glasgow, with +a biographical preface by Mr Hugh Macdonald. The proceeds of this +volume, which was published by subscription, tended to the comfort of +the last months of the poet's life. On two different occasions during +his advanced years, he received public entertainments, and was presented +with substantial tokens of esteem. Of amiable dispositions, modest +demeanour, and industrious habits, he was beloved by all to whom he was +known. His poems generally abound in genuine Scottish humour, but his +reputation will rest upon a few of his songs, which have deservedly +obtained a place in the affections of his countrymen. + + + + +MY JOCKIE 'S FAR AWA'. + + + Now simmer decks the fields wi' flowers, + The woods wi' leaves so green, + An' little burds around their bowers + In harmony convene; + The cuckoo flees frae tree to tree, + While saft the zephyrs blaw, + But what are a' thae joys to me, + When Jockie 's far awa'? + When Jockie 's far awa' on sea, + When Jockie 's far awa'; + But what are a' thae joys to me, + When Jockie 's far awa'? + + Last May mornin', how sweet to see + The little lambkins play, + Whilst my dear lad, alang wi' me, + Did kindly walk this way! + On yon green bank wild flowers he pou'd, + To busk my bosom braw; + Sweet, sweet he talk'd, and aft he vow'd, + But now he 's far awa'. + But now, &c. + + O gentle peace, return again, + Bring Jockie to my arms, + Frae dangers on the raging main, + An' cruel war's alarms; + Gin e'er we meet, nae mair we 'll part + While we hae breath to draw; + Nor will I sing, wi' aching heart, + My Jockie 's far awa'; + My Jockie 's far awa,' &c. + + + + +MAGGIE AN' ME. + +AIR--_"The Banks o' the Dee."_ + + + The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander + Amang the wild flowers, as they deck the green lea, + An' by the clear burnies that sweetly meander, + To charm us, as hameward they rin to the sea; + The nestlin's are fain the saft wing to be tryin', + As fondly the dam the adventure is eyein', + An' teachin' her notes, while wi' food she 's supplyin' + Her tender young offspring, like Maggie an' me. + + The corn in full ear, is now promisin' plenty, + The red clusterin' row'ns bend the witch-scarrin' tree, + While lapt in its leaves lies the strawberry dainty, + As shy to receive the embrace o' the bee. + Then hope, come alang, an' our steps will be pleasant, + The future, by thee, is made almost the present; + Thou frien' o' the prince an' thou frien' o' the peasant, + Thou lang hast befriended my Maggie an' me. + + Ere life was in bloom we had love in our glances, + An' aft I had mine o' her bonnie blue e'e, + We needit nae art to engage our young fancies, + 'Twas done ere we kent, an' we own't it wi' glee. + Now pleased, an' aye wishin' to please ane anither, + We 've pass'd twenty years since we buckled thegither, + An' ten bonnie bairns, lispin' faither an' mither, + Hae toddled fu' fain atween Maggie an' me. + + + + +SIT DOWN, MY CRONIE.[116] + + + Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, + Let the win' tak the cares o' this life on its back, + Our hearts to despondency we ne'er will submit, + We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet; + An' sae will we yet, an' sae will we yet, + We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet. + + Let 's ca' for a tankar' o' nappy brown ale, + It will comfort our hearts an' enliven our tale, + We 'll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit, + We 've drunk wi' ither mony a time, an' sae will we yet, + An' sae will we yet, &c. + + Sae rax me your mill, an' my nose I will prime, + Let mirth an' sweet innocence employ a' our time; + Nae quarr'lin' nor fightin' we here will permit, + We 've parted aye in unity, an' sae will we yet, + An' sae will we yet, &c. + + + +[116] The last stanza of this song has, on account of its Bacchanalian +tendency, been omitted. + + + + +BRAES O' BEDLAY.[117] + +AIR--_"Hills o' Glenorchy."_ + + + When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie, + My cares flee awa' like a thief frae the day; + My heart loups licht, an' I join in a sang + Amang the sweet birds on the braes o' Bedlay. + How sweet the embrace, yet how honest the wishes, + When luve fa's a-wooin', an' modesty blushes, + Whaur Mary an' I meet amang the green bushes + That screen us sae weel, on the braes o' Bedlay. + + There 's nane sae trig or sae fair as my lassie, + An' mony a wooer she answers wi' "Nay," + Wha fain wad hae her to lea' me alane, + An' meet me nae mair on the braes o' Bedlay. + I fearna, I carena, their braggin' o' siller, + Nor a' the fine things they can think on to tell her, + Nae vauntin' can buy her, nae threatnin' can sell her, + It 's luve leads her out to the braes o' Bedlay. + + We 'll gang by the links o' the wild rowin' burnie, + Whaur aft in my mornin' o' life I did stray, + Whaur luve was invited and cares were beguiled + By Mary an' me, on the braes o' Bedlay. + Sae luvin', sae movin', I 'll tell her my story, + Unmixt wi' the deeds o' ambition for glory, + Whaur wide spreadin' hawthorns, sae ancient and hoary, + Enrich the sweet breeze on the braes o' Bedlay. + + + +[117] The braes of Bedlay are in the neighbourhood of Chryston, about +seven miles north of Glasgow. + + + + +JESSIE. + +AIR--_"Hae ye seen in the calm dewy mornin'."_ + + + Hae ye been in the North, bonnie lassie, + Whaur Glaizert rins pure frae the fell, + Whaur the straight stately beech staun's sae gaucy, + An' luve lilts his tale through the dell? + O! then ye maun ken o' my Jessie, + Sae blythesome, sae bonnie an' braw; + The lassies hae doubts about Jessie, + Her charms steal their luvers awa'. + + I can see ye 're fu' handsome an' winnin', + Your cleedin 's fu' costly an' clean, + Your wooers are aften complainin' + O' wounds frae your bonnie blue e'en. + I could lean me wi' pleasure beside thee, + Ae kiss o' thy mou' is a feast; + May luve wi' his blessins abide thee, + For Jessie 's the queen o' my breast. + + I maun gang an' get hame, my sweet Jessie, + For fear some young laird o' degree + May come roun' on his fine sleekit bawsy, + An' ding a' my prospects agee. + There 's naething like gowd to the miser, + There 's naething like light to the e'e, + But they canna gie me ony pleasure, + If Jessie prove faithless to me. + + Let us meet on the border, my Jessie, + Whaur Kelvin links bonnily bye, + Though my words may be scant to address ye, + My heart will be loupin' wi' joy. + If ance I were wedded to Jessie, + An' that may be ere it be lang, + I 'll can brag o' the bonniest lassie + That ere was the theme o' a sang. + + + + +WILLIAM LAIDLAW. + + +As the confidential friend, factor, and amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott, +William Laidlaw has a claim to remembrance; the authorship of "Lucy's +Flittin'" entitles him to rank among the minstrels of his country. His +ancestors on the father's side were, for a course of centuries, +substantial farmers in Tweedside, and his father, James Laidlaw, with +his wife, Catherine Ballantyne, rented from the Earl of Traquair the +pastoral farm of Blackhouse, in Yarrow. William, the eldest of a family +of three sons, was born in November 1780. His education was latterly +conducted at the Grammar School of Peebles. James Hogg kept sheep on his +father's farm, and a strong inclination for ballad-poetry led young +Laidlaw to cultivate his society. They became inseparable friends--the +Shepherd guiding the fancy of the youth, who, on the other hand, +encouraged the Shepherd to persevere in ballad-making and poetry. + +In the summer of 1801, Laidlaw formed the acquaintance of Sir Walter +Scott. In quest of materials for the third volume of the "Border +Minstrelsy," Scott made an excursion into the vales of Ettrick and +Yarrow; he was directed to Blackhouse by Leyden, who had been informed +of young Laidlaw's zeal for the ancient ballad. The visit was an +eventful one: Scott found in Laidlaw an intelligent friend and his +future steward, and through his means formed, on the same day, the +acquaintance of the Ettrick Shepherd. The ballad of "Auld Maitland," in +the third volume of the "Minstrelsy," was furnished by Laidlaw; he +recovered it from the recitation of "Will of Phawhope," the maternal +uncle of the Shepherd. A correspondence with Scott speedily ripened +into friendship; the great poet rapidly passing the epistolary forms of +"Sir," and "Dear Sir," into "Dear Mr Laidlaw," and ultimately into "Dear +Willie,"--a familiarity of address which he only used as expressive of +affection. Struck with his originality and the extent of his +acquirements, Scott earnestly recommended him to select a different +profession from the simple art of his fathers, especially suggesting the +study of medicine. But Laidlaw deemed himself too ripe in years to think +of change; he took a farm at Traquair, and subsequently removed to a +larger farm at Liberton, near Edinburgh. + +The sudden fall in the price of grain at the close of the war, which so +severely affected many tenant-farmers, pressed heavily on Laidlaw, and +compelled him to abandon his lease. He now accepted the offer of Sir +Walter to become steward at Abbotsford, and, accordingly, removed his +family in 1817 to Kaeside, a cottage on the estate comfortably fitted up +for their reception. Through Scott's recommendation, he was employed to +prepare the chronicle of events and publications for the _Edinburgh +Annual Register_; and for a short period he furnished a similar record +to _Blackwood's Magazine_. He did not persevere in literary labours, his +time becoming wholly occupied in superintending improvements at +Abbotsford. When Sir Walter was in the country, he was privileged with +his daily intercourse, and was uniformly invited to meet those literary +characters who visited the mansion. When official duties detained Scott +in the capital, Laidlaw was his confidential correspondent. Sir Walter +early communicated to him the unfortunate event of his commercial +embarrassments, in a letter honourable to his heart. After feelingly +expressing his apprehension lest his misfortunes should result in +depriving his correspondent of the factorship, Sir Walter proceeds in +his letter: "You never flattered my prosperity, and in my adversity it +is not the least painful consideration that I cannot any longer be +useful to you. But Kaeside, I hope, will still be your residence, and I +will have the advantage of your company and advice, and probably your +services as amanuensis. Observe, I am not in indigence, though no longer +in affluence; and if I am to exert myself in the common behalf, I must +have honourable and easy means of life, although it will be my +inclination to observe the most strict privacy, the better to save +expense, and also time. I do not dislike the path which lies before me. +I have seen all that society can shew, and enjoyed all that wealth can +give me, and I am satisfied much is vanity, if not vexation of spirit." +Laidlaw was too conscientious to remain at Abbotsford, to be a burden on +his illustrious friend; he removed to his native district, and for three +years employed himself in a variety of occupations till 1830, when the +promise of brighter days to his benefactor warranted his return. Scott +had felt his departure severely, characterising it as "a most melancholy +blank," and his return was hailed with corresponding joy. He was now +chiefly employed as Sir Walter's amanuensis. During his last illness, +Laidlaw was constant in his attendance, and his presence was a source of +peculiar pleasure to the distinguished sufferer. After the funeral, Sir +Walter's eldest son and his lady presented him with a brooch, their +marriage gift to their revered father, which he wore at the time of his +decease; it was afterwards worn by his affectionate steward to the close +of his life. The death of Scott took place on the 21st of September +1832, and shortly thereafter Laidlaw bade adieu to Abbotsford. He was +appointed factor on the Ross-shire property of Mrs Stewart Mackenzie of +Seaforth,--a situation which he subsequently exchanged for the +factorship of Sir Charles Lockhart Ross of Balnagowan, in the same +county. Compelled to resign the latter appointment from impaired health, +he ultimately took up his residence with his brother, Mr James Laidlaw, +tenant at Contin, near Dingwall, in whose house he expired on the 18th +of May 1845, having attained his sixty-fifth year. At an early age he +espoused his cousin, Miss Ballantyne, by whom he had a numerous family. +His remains were interred in the churchyard of Contin, a sequestered +spot under the shade of the elevated Tor-Achilty, amidst the most +interesting Highland scenery. + +A man of superior shrewdness, and well acquainted with literature and +rural affairs, Laidlaw was especially devoted to speculations in +science. He was an amateur physician, a student of botany and +entomology, and a considerable geologist. He prepared a statistical +account of Innerleithen, wrote a geological description of Selkirkshire, +and contributed several articles to the "Edinburgh Encyclopedia." In +youth, he was an enthusiast in ballad-lore; and he was especially expert +in filling up blanks in the compositions of the elder minstrels. His +original metrical productions are limited to those which appear in the +present work. "Lucy's Flittin'" is his masterpiece; we know not a more +exquisitely touching ballad in the language, with the single exception +of "Robin Gray." Laidlaw was a devoted friend, and a most intelligent +companion; he spoke the provincial vernacular, but his manners were +polished and pleasing. He was somewhat under the middle height, but was +well formed and slightly athletic, and his fresh-coloured complexion +beamed a generous benignity. + + + + +LUCY'S FLITTIN'.[118] + +AIR--_"Paddy O'Rafferty."_ + + + 'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in', + And Martinmas dowie had wind up the year, + That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in 't, + And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear. + For Lucy had served in "The Glen" a' the simmer; + She cam there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea; + An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her, + Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her e'e. + + She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stan'in', + Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see. + Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! quo' Jamie, and ran in, + The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his e'e. + As down the burnside she gaed slaw wi' the flittin', + Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! was ilka bird's sang. + She heard the craw sayin 't, high on the tree sittin', + And robin was chirpin 't the brown leaves amang. + + Oh, what is 't that pits my puir heart in a flutter? + And what gars the tears come sae fast to my e'e? + If I wasna ettled to be ony better, + Then what gars me wish ony better to be? + I 'm just like a lammie that loses its mither; + Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see; + I fear I hae tint my puir heart a' the gither, + Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my e'e. + + Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon, + The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me; + Yestreen, when he gae me 't, and saw I was sabbin', + I 'll never forget the wae blink o' his e'e. + Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! + It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see, + He cudna say mair but just, Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! + Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee. + + The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it 's drowkit; + The hare likes the brake, and the braird on the lea, + But Lucy likes Jamie;--she turn'd and she lookit, + She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. + Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless, + And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn; + For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, + Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return. + + +[118] This exquisite ballad was contributed by Laidlaw to Hogg's "Forest +Minstrel." There are two accounts as to the subject of it, both of which +we subjoin, as they were narrated to us during the course of a recent +excursion in Tweedside. According to one version, Lucy had been in the +service of Mr Laidlaw, sen., at Blackhouse, and had by her beauty +attracted the romantic fancy of one of the poet's brothers. In the other +account Lucy is described as having served on a farm in "The Glen" of +Traquair, and as having been beloved by her master's son, who afterwards +deserted her, when she died of a broken heart. The last stanza was added +by Hogg, who used to assert that he alone was responsible for the death +of poor Lucy. "The Glen" is a beautiful mountain valley opening on the +Tweed, near Innerleithen; it formerly belonged to Mr Alexander Allan, +but it is now the possession of Charles Tennent, Esq., Glasgow. + + + + +HER BONNIE BLACK E'E. + +AIR--_"Saw ye my Wee Thing."_ + + + On the banks o' the burn while I pensively wander, + The mavis sings sweetly, unheeded by me; + I think on my lassie, her gentle mild nature, + I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e. + + When heavy the rain fa's, and loud, loud the win' blaws, + An' simmer's gay cleedin' drives fast frae the tree; + I heedna the win' nor the rain when I think on + The kind lovely smile o' my lassie's black e'e. + + When swift as the hawk, in the stormy November, + The cauld norlan' win' ca's the drift owre the lea; + Though bidin' its blast on the side o' the mountain, + I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e. + + When braw at a weddin' I see the fine lasses, + Though a' neat an' bonnie, they 're naething to me; + I sigh an' sit dowie, regardless what passes, + When I miss the smile o' her bonnie black e'e. + + When thin twinklin' sternies announce the gray gloamin', + When a' round the ingle sae cheerie to see; + Then music delightfu', saft on the heart stealin', + Minds me o' the smile o' her bonnie black e'e. + + Where jokin' an' laughin', the lave they are merry, + Though absent my heart, like the lave I maun be; + Sometimes I laugh wi' them, but aft I turn dowie, + An' think on the smile o' my lassie's black e'e. + + Her lovely fair form frae my mind 's awa' never, + She 's dearer than a' this hale warld to me; + An' this is my wish, may I leave it if ever + She rowe on anither her love-beaming e'e. + + + + +ALAKE FOR THE LASSIE! + +AIR--_"Logie o' Buchan."_ + + + Alake for the lassie! she 's no right at a', + That lo'es a dear laddie an' he far awa'; + But the lassie has muckle mair cause to complain + That lo'es a dear lad, when she 's no lo'ed again. + + The fair was just comin', my heart it grew fain + To see my dear laddie, to see him again; + My heart it grew fain, an' lapt light at the thought + O' milkin' the ewes my dear Jamie wad bught. + + The bonnie gray morn scarce had open'd her e'e, + When we set to the gate, a' wi' nae little glee; + I was blythe, but my mind aft misga'e me richt sair, + For I hadna seen Jamie for five months an' mair. + + I' the hirin' richt soon my dear Jamie I saw, + I saw nae ane like him, sae bonnie an' braw; + I watch'd an' baid near him, his motions to see, + In hopes aye to catch a kind glance o' his e'e. + + He never wad see me in ony ae place, + At length I gaed up an' just smiled in his face; + I wonder aye yet my heart brakna in twa, + He just said, "How are ye," an' steppit awa'. + + My neebour lads strave to entice me awa'; + They roosed me an' hecht me ilk thing that was braw; + But I hatit them a', an' I hatit the fair, + For Jamie's behaviour had wounded me sair. + + His heart was sae leal, and his manners sae kind! + He 's someway gane wrang, he may alter his mind; + An' sud he do sae, he 's be welcome to me-- + I 'm sure I can never like ony but he. + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +ALEXANDER MACDONALD. + + +Alexander Macdonald, who has been termed the Byron of Highland Bards, +was born on the farm of Dalilea, in Moidart. His father was a non-juring +clergyman of the same name; hence the poet is popularly known as +_Mac-vaistir-Alaister_, or Alexander the parson's son. The precise date +of his birth is unknown, but he seems to have been born about the first +decade of the last century. He was employed as a catechist by the +Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, under whose auspices he +afterwards published a vocabulary, for the use of Gaelic schools. This +work, which was the first of the kind in the language, was published at +Edinburgh in 1741. Macdonald was subsequently elected schoolmaster of +his native parish of Ardnamurchan, and was ordained an elder in the +parish church. But the most eventful part of his life was yet to come. +On the tidings of the landing of Prince Charles Edward, he awoke his +muse to excite a rising, buckled on his broadsword, and, to complete +his duty to his Prince, apostatised to the Catholic religion. In the +army of the Prince he bore an officer's commission. At the close of the +Rebellion, he at first sought shelter in Borodale and Arisaig; he +afterwards proceeded to Edinburgh, with the view of teaching children in +the Jacobite connexion. The latter course was attended with this +advantage; it enabled him by subscription to print a volume of Gaelic +poetry, which contains all his best productions. Returning to his native +district, he attempted farming without success, and ultimately he became +dependent on the liberality of his relations. He died sometime +subsequent to the middle of the century. + +Macdonald was author of a large quantity of poetry, embracing the +descriptive, in which his reading made him largely a borrower; the +lyrical in which he excelled; the satirical, in which he was personal +and licentious; and the Jacobitical, in which he issued forth treason of +the most pestilential character. He has disfigured his verses by +incessant appeals to the Muses, and repeated references to the heathen +mythology; but his melody is in the Gaelic tongue wholly unsurpassed. + + + + +THE LION OF MACDONALD. + +This composition was suggested by the success of Caberfae, the clan song +of the Mackenzies. Macdonald was ambitious of rivaling, or excelling +that famous composition, which contained a provoking allusion to a +branch of his own clan. In the original, the song is prefaced by a +tremendous philippic against the hero of Caberfae. The bard then strikes +into the following strain of eulogy on his own tribe, which is still +remarkably popular among the Gael. + + Awake, thou first of creatures! Indignant in their frown, + Let the flag unfold the features that the heather[119] blossoms crown; + Arise, and lightly mount thy crest while flap thy flanks in air, + And I will follow thee the best, that I may dow or dare. + Yes, I will sing the Lion-King o'er all the tribes victorious, + To living thing may not concede thy meed and actions glorious; + How oft thy noble head has woke thy valiant men to battle, + As panic o'er their spirit broke, and rued the foe their mettle! + Is there, thy praise to underrate, in very thought presuming, + O'er crested chieftainry[120] thy state, O thou, of right assuming! + I see thee, on thy silken flag, in rampant[121] glory streaming, + As life inspired their firmness thy planted hind feet seeming. + The standard tree is proud of thee, its lofty sides embracing, + Anon, unfolding, to give forth thy grandeur airy space in. + A following of the trustiest are cluster'd by thy side, + And woe, their flaming visages of crimson, who shall bide? + The heather and the blossom are pledges of their faith, + And the foe that shall assail them, is destined to the death. + Was not a dearth of mettle among thy native kind? + They were foremost in the battle, nor in the chase behind. + Their arms of fire wreak'd out their ire, their shields emboss'd with gold, + And the thrusting of their venom'd points upon the foemen told; + O deep and large was every gash that mark'd their manly vigour, + And irresistible the flash that lighten'd round their trigger; + And woe, when play'd the dark blue blade, the thick back'd sharp Ferrara, + Though plied its might by stripling hand, it cut into the marrow. + Clan Colla,[122] let them have their due, thy true and gallant following, + Strength, kindness, grace, and clannishness, their lofty spirit hallowing. + Hot is their ire as flames aspire, the whirling March winds fanning them, + Yet search their hearts, no blemish'd parts are found + all eyes though scanning them. + They rush elate to stern debate, the battle call has never + Found tardy cheer or craven fear, or grudge the prey to sever. + Ah, fell their wrath! The dance[123] of death sends legs and arms a flying, + And thick the life blood's reek ascends of the downfallen and the dying. + Clandonuil, still my darling theme, is the prime of every clan, + How oft the heady war in, has it chased where thousands ran. + O ready, bold, and venom full, these native warriors brave, + Like adders coiling on the hill, they dart with stinging glaive; + Nor wants their course the speed, the force, + --nor wants their gallant stature, + This of the rock, that of the flock that skim along the water, + Like whistle shriek the blows they strike, as the torrent of the fell, + So fierce they gush--the moor flames' rush their ardour symbols well. + Clandonuil's[124] root when crown each shoot of sapling, branch, and stem, + What forest fair shall e'er compare in stately pride with them? + Their gathering might, what legion wight, in rivalry has dared; + Or to ravish from their Lion's face a bristle of his beard? + What limbs were wrench'd, what furrows drench'd, + in that cloud burst of steel, + That atoned the provocation, and smoked from head to heel, + While cry and shriek of terror break the field of strife along, + And stranger[125] notes are wailing the slaughter'd heaps among! + Where from the kingdom's breadth and length might other muster gather, + So flush in spirit, firm in strength, the stress of arms to weather; + Steel to the core, that evermore to expectation true, + Like gallant deer-hounds from the slip, or like an arrow flew, + Where deathful strife was calling, and sworded files were closed + Was sapping breach the wall in of the ranks that stood opposed, + And thirsty brands were hot for blood, and quivering to be on, + And with the whistle of the blade was sounding many a groan. + O from the sides of Albyn, full thousands would be proud, + The natives of her mountains gray, around the tree to crowd, + Where stream the colours flying, and frown the features grim, + Of your emblem lion with his staunch and crimson[126] limb. + Up, up, be bold, quick be unrolled, the gathering of your levy,[127] + Let every step bound forth a leap, and every hand be heavy; + The furnace of the melee where burn your swords the best, + Eschew not, to the rally where blaze your streamers, haste! + That silken sheet, by death strokes fleet, and strong defenders manned,-- + Dismays the flutter of its leaves the chosen of the land. + + +[119] The clan badge is a tuft of heather. + +[120] The Macdonalds claimed the right wing in battle. + +[121] A lion rampant is their cognizance; gules. + +[122] Their original patronymic, from, we suppose, _Old King Coul_; +Coll, or Colla, is a common name in the tribe. + +[123] The "Mire Chatta," or battle-dance, denotes the frenzy, supposed +to animate the combatants, during the period of excitement. + +[124] The clan consisted of many septs, whose rights of precedence are +not quite ascertained; as Sleat, Clanronald, Glengarry, Keppoch, and +Glencoe. + +[125] _Lit._ Lowland or stranger. Killiecrankie and Sheriff Muir, not to +mention Innerlochy and Tippermuir, must have blended the dying shrieks +of Lowlanders with the triumphant shouts of the Gael. The image is a +fine one. + +[126] The armorial emblem was gules. + +[127] Prince Charles Edward was expected. + + + + +THE BROWN DAIRY-MAIDEN. + + +Burns was fascinated with the effect of this song in Gaelic; and adopted +the air for his "Banks of the Devon." + + My brown dairy, brown dairy, + Brown dairy-maiden; + Brown dairy-maiden, + Bell of the heather! + + A fetter beguiling, dairy-maiden, thy smiling; + Thy glove[128] there 's a wile in, of white hand the cover; + When a-milking, thy stave is more sweet than the mavis, + As his melodies ravish the woodlands all over; + Thy wild notes so cheerie, bring the small birds to hear thee, + And, fluttering, they near thee, who sings to discover. + To fulness as growing, so liquid, so flowing, + Thy song makes a glow in the veins of thy lover. + My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c. + + They may talk of the viol, and its strings they may try all, + For the heart's dance, outvie all, the songs of the dairy! + White and red are a-blending, on thy cheeks a-contending, + And a smile is descending from thy lips of the cherry; + Teeth their ivory disclosing, like dice, bright round rows in, + An eye unreposing, with twinkle so merry; + At summer-dawn straying, on my sight beams are raying, + From the tresses[129] they 're playing of the maid of the dairy. + My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c. + + At milking the prime in, song with strokings is chiming, + And the bowie is timing a chorus-like humming. + Sweet the gait of the maiden, nod her tresses a-spreading + O'er her ears, like the mead in, the rash of the common. + Her neck, amber twining, its colours combining, + How their lustre is shining in union becoming! + My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c. + + Thy duties a-plying, white fingers are vying + With white arms, in drying the streams of the heifer, + O to linger the fold in, at noonday beholding, + When the tether 's enfolding, be my pastime for ever! + The music of milking, with melodies lilting, + While with "mammets" she 's "tilting," and her bowies run over, + Is delight; and assuming thy pails, as becoming + As a lady, dear woman! grace thy motions discover. + My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c. + + +[128] Dress ornaments are much prized by the humbler Gael, and make a +great figure in their poetry. + +[129] The most frequent of all song-images in Gaelic, is the description +of yellow or auburn hair. + + + + +THE PRAISE OF MORAG. + +This is the "Faust" of Gaelic poetry, incommunicable except to the +native reader, and, like that celebrated composition, an untranslatable +tissue of tenderness, sublimity, and mocking ribaldry. The heroine is +understood to have been a young person of virtue and beauty, in the +humbler walks of life, who was quite unappropriated, except by the +imagination of the poet, and whose fame has passed into the Phillis or +Amaryllis _ideal_ of Highland accomplishment and grace. Macdonald was +married to a scold, and though his actual relations with Morag were of +the Platonic kind, he was persuaded to a retractation, entitled the +"Disparagement of Morag," which is sometimes recited as a companion +piece to the present. The consideration of brevity must plead our +apology with the Celtic readers for omitting many stanzas of the best +modern composition in their language. + + +URLAR. + + O that I were the shaw in,[130] + When Morag was there, + Lots to be drawing + For the prize of the fair! + Mingling in your glee, + Merry maidens! We + Rolicking would be + The flow'rets along; + Time would pass away + In the oblivion of our play, + As we cropp'd the primrose gay, + The rock-clefts among; + Then in mock we 'd fight, + Then we 'd take to flight, + Then we 'd lose us quite, + Where the cliffs overhung. + + Like the dew-drop blue + In the mist of morn + So thine eye, and thy hue + Put the blossom to scorn. + All beauties they shower + On thy person their dower; + Above is the flower, + Beneath is the stem; + 'Tis a sun 'mid the gleamers, + 'Tis a star 'mid the streamers, + 'Mid the flower-buds it shimmers + The foremost of them! + Darkens eye-sight at thy ray! + As we wonder, still we say + Can it be a thing of clay + We see in that gem? + + Since thy first feature + Sparkled before me, + Fair! not a creature + Was like thy glory.[131].... + + + +[130] We must suppose some sylvan social occupation, as oak-peeling or +the like, in which Morag and her associates had been employed. + +[131] Here follows a catalogue of rival beauties, with satirical +descriptions. Cowley has such a list, which may possibly have been in +the poet's eye. + + + +SIUBHAL. + + Away with all, away with all, + Away with all but Morag, + A maid whose grace and mensefulness + Still carries all before it. + You shall not find her marrow, + For beauty without furrow, + Though you search the islands thorough + From Muile[132] to the Lewis; + So modest is each feature, + So void of pride her nature, + And every inch of stature + To perfect grace so true is.[133] + + * * * * * + + O that drift, like a pillow, + We madden to share it; + O that white of the lily, + 'Tis passion to near it; + Every charm in a cluster, + The rose adds its lustre-- + Can it be but such muster + Should banish the Spirit! + + +URLAR. + + We would strike the note of joy + In the morning, + The dawn with its orangery + The hill-tops adorning. + To bush and fell resorting, + While the shades conceal'd our courting, + Would not be lack of sporting + Or gleeful _phrenesie_; + Like the roebuck and his mate, + In their woodland haunts elate + The race we would debate + Around the tendril tree. + + +SIUBHAL. + + Thou bright star of maidens, + A beam without haze, + No murkiness saddens, + No disk-spot bewrays. + The swan-down to feeling, + The snow of the gaillin,[134] + Thy limbs all excelling, + Unite to amaze. + The queen, I would name thee, + Of maidenly muster; + Thy stem is so seemly, + So rich is its cluster + Of members complete, + Adroit at each feat, + And thy temper so sweet, + Without banning or bluster. + My grief has press'd on + Since the vision of Morag, + As the heavy millstone + On the cross-tree that bore it. + In vain the world over, + Seek her match may the rover; + A shaft, thy poor lover, + First struck overpowering. + + When thy ringlets of gold, + With the crooks of their fold, + Thy neck-wards were roll'd + All weavy and showering. + Like stars that are ring'd, + Like gems that are string'd + Are those locks, while, as wing'd + From the sun, blends a ray + Of his yellowest beams; + And the gold of his gleams + Behold how he streams + 'Mid those tresses to play. + In thy limbs like the canna,[135] + Thy cinnamon kiss, + Thy bright kirtle, we ken a' + New phoenix of bliss. + In thy sweetness of tone, + All the woman we own, + Nor a sneer nor a frown + On thy features appear; + When the crowd is in motion + For Sabbath devotion,[136] + As an angel, arose on + Their vision, my fair + With her meekness of grace, + And the flakes of her dress, + As they stream, might express + Such loveliness there. + When endow'd at thy birth + We marvel that earth + From its mould, should yield worth + Of a fashion so rare. + + +URLAR. + + I never dream'd would sink + On a peak that mounts world's brink, + Of sunlight, such a blink, + Morag! as thine. + As the charmings of a spell, + Working in their cell, + So dissolves the heart where dwell + Thy graces divine. + + +SIUBHAL. + + Come, counsel me, my comrades, + While dizzy fancy lingers, + Did ever flute become, lads, + The motion of such fingers? + Did ever isle or Mor-hir,[137] + Or see or hear, before her, + Such gracefulness, adore her + Yet, woes me, how concealing + From her I 've wedded, dare I? + Still, homeward bound, I tarry, + And Jeanie's eye is weary, + Her truant unrevealing. + The glow of love I feel, + Not all the linns of Sheil, + Nor Cruachan's snow avail + To cool to congealing.[138].... + + +CRUNLUATH. + + My very brain is humming, sirs, + As a swarm of bees were bumming, sirs, + And I fear distraction 's coming, sirs, + My passion such a flame is. + My very eyes are blinding, sirs, + Scarce giant mountains finding, sirs, + Nor height nor distance minding, sirs, + The crag, as Corrie, tame is.... + + +[132] Mull. + +[133] Morag's beauties are so exquisite, that all Europe, nay, the Pope +would be inflamed to behold them. The passage is omitted, though worthy +of the satiric vein of Mephistopheles. + +[134] The gannet, or the _stranger-bird_, from his foreign derivation +and periodic visits to the Islands. + +[135] A snowy grass, well known in the moors. + +[136] _Lit._, On the day of devotion. + +[137] The mainland, or _terra firma_, is called Morir by the islanders. + + + + +NEWS OF PRINCE CHARLES. + +Though this, in some respects, may not rank high among Macdonald's +compositions, it is one of the most natural and earnest. His appeal to +the hesitating chiefs of Sleat and Dunvegan, is a curious specimen of +indignation, suppressed by prudence, and of contempt disguised under the +mask of civility. + + + Glad tidings for the Highlands! + To arms a ringing call-- + Hammers storming, targets forming, + Orb-like as a ball.[139] + Withers dismay the pale array, + That guards the Hanoverian; + Assurance sure the sea 's come o'er, + The help is nigh we weary on. + From friendly east a breeze shall haste + The fruit-freight of our prayer-- + With thousands wight in baldrick white,[140] + A prince to do and dare; + Stuart his name, his sire's the same, + For his riffled crown appealing, + Strong his right in, soon shall Britain + Be humbled to the kneeling. + Strength never quell'd, and sword and shield, + And firearms play defiance; + Forwards they fly, and still their cry, + Is,[141] "Give us flesh!" like lions. + Make ready for your travel, + Be sharp-set, and be willing, + There will be a dreadful revel, + And liquor red be spilling. + O, that each chief[142] whose warriors rife, + Are burning for the slaughter, + Would let their volley, like fire to holly, + Blaze on the usurping traitor. + Full many a soldier arming, + Is laggard in his spirit, + E'er his blood the flag is warming + Of the King that should inherit. + He may be loon or coward, + That spur scarce touch would nearly-- + The colours shew, he 's in a glow, + Like the stubble of the barley. + Onward, gallants! onward speed ye, + Flower and bulwark of the Gael; + Like your flag-silks be ye ruddy, + Rosy-red, and do not quail. + Fearless, artless, hawk-eyed, courteous, + As your princely strain beseems, + In your hands, alert for conflict, + While the Spanish weapon gleams.-- + Sweet the flapping of the bratach,[143] + Humming music to the gale; + Stately steps the youthful gaisgeach,[144] + Proud the banner staff to bear. + A slashing weapon on his thigh, + He tends his charge unfearing; + Nor slow, pursuers venturing nigh, + To the gristle nostrils sheering. + Comes too, the wight, the clean, the tight, + The finger white, the clever, he + That gives the war-pipe his embrace + To raise the storm of bravery. + A brisk and stirring, heart-inspiring + Battle-sounding breeze of her + Would stir the spirit of the clans + To rake the heart of Lucifer. + March ye, without feint and dolour, + By the banner of your clan, + In your garb of many a colour, + Quelling onset to a man. + Then, to see you swiftly baring + From the sheath the manly glaive, + Woe the brain-shed, woe the unsparing + Marrow-showering of the brave! + Woe the clattering, weapon-battering + Answering to the piobrach's yell! + When your racing speeds the chasing, + Wide and far the clamours swell. + Hard blows whistle from the bristle + Of the temples to the thigh, + Heavy handed as the land-flood, + Who will turn ye, or make fly? + Many a man has drunk an ocean + Healths to Charlie, to the gorge, + Broken many a glass proposing + Weal to him and woe to George; + But, 'tis feat of greater glory + Far, than stoups of wine to trowl, + One draught of vengeance deep and gory, + Yea, than to drain the thousandth bowl! + Show ye, prove ye, ye are true all, + Join ye to your clans your cheer! + Nor heed though wife and child pursue all, + Bidding you to fight, forbear. + Sinew-lusty, spirit-trusty, + Gallant in your loyal pride, + By your hacking, low as bracken + Stretch the foe the turf beside. + Our stinging kerne of aspect stern + That love the fatal game, + That revel rife till drunk with strife, + And dye their cheeks with flame, + Are strange to fear;--their broadswords shear + Their foemen's crested brows, + The red-coats feel the barb of steel, + And hot its venom glows. + The few have won fields, many a one, + In grappling conflicts' play; + Then let us march, nor let our hearts + A start of fear betray. + Come gushing forth, the trusty North, + Macshimei,[145] loyal Gordon; + And prances high their chivalry, + And death-dew sits each sword on. + + +[138] Here Morag's musical performance on the flute, form the subject of +a panegyric, in which Urlar, Siubhal, and Crunluath are imitated. + +[139] "Round as the shield of my fathers."--_Ossian_. + +[140] The French military costume, distinguished by its white colour, +was assumed by the Jacobites. + +[141] "Come, and I will give you flesh," a Highland war-cry invoking the +birds and beasts of prey to their bloody revel. + +[142] Macdonald of Sleat, Macleod, and others, first hesitated, and +finally withheld themselves from the party of the white cockade. + +[143] Flag. + +[144] Warrior. + +[145] Lovat and his clan. + + + + +JOHN ROY STUART. + + +John Roy Stuart was a distinguished officer in the Jacobite army of +1745. He was the son of a farmer in Strathspey, who gave him a good +education, and procured him a commission in a Highland regiment, which +at the period served in Flanders. His military experiences abroad proved +serviceable in the cause to which he afterwards devoted himself. In the +army of Prince Charles Edward, he was entrusted with important commands +at Gladsmuir, Clifton, Falkirk, and Culloden; and he was deemed of +sufficient consequence to be pursued by the government with an amount of +vigilance which rendered his escape almost an approach to the +miraculous. An able military commander, he was an excellent poet. His +"Lament for Lady Macintosh" has supplied one of the most beautiful airs +in Highland music.[146] In the second of his pieces on the battle of +Culloden, translated for the present work, the lamentation for the +absence of the missing clans, and the night march to the field, are +executed with the skill and address of a genuine bard, while the story +of the battle is recited with the fervour of an honourable partisan. +Stuart died abroad in circumstances not differing from those of the best +and bravest, who were engaged in the same unhappy enterprise. + + +[146] See the Rev. Patrick Macdonald's Collection, No. 106. + + + + +LAMENT FOR LADY MACINTOSH. + +This is the celebrated heroine who defended her castle of Moy, in the +absence of her husband, and, with other exploits, achieved the surprisal +of Lord Loudon's party in their attempt to seize Prince Charles Edward, +when he was her guest. Information had been conveyed by some friendly +unknown party, of a kind so particular as to induce the lady to have +recourse to the following stratagem. She sent the blacksmith on her +estate, at the head of a party of other seven persons, with instructions +to lie in ambush, and at a particular juncture to call out to the clans +to come on and hew to pieces "the scarlet soldiers," as were termed the +royalist troops. The feint succeeded, and is known in Jacobite story as +the "Route of Moy." The exploit is pointedly alluded to in the Elegy, +which is replete with beauty and pathos. + + + Does grief appeal to you, ye leal, + Heaven's tears with ours to blend? + The halo's veil is on, and pale + The beams of light descend. + The wife repines, the babe declines, + The leaves prolong their bend, + Above, below, all signs are woe, + The heifer moans her friend. + + The taper's glow of waxen snow, + The ray when noon is nigh, + Was far out-peer'd, till disappear'd + Our star of morn, as high + The southern west its blast released, + And drown'd in floods the sky-- + Ah woe! was gone the star that shone, + Nor left a visage dry + For her, who won as win could none + The people's love so well. + O, welaway! the dirging lay + That rung from Moy its knell; + Alas, the hue, where orbs of blue, + With roses wont to dwell! + How can we think, nor swooning sink, + To earth them in the cell? + + Silk wrapp'd thy frame, as lily stem, + And snowy as its flower, + So once, and now must love allow, + The grave chest such a dower! + The fairest shoot of noble root + A blast could overpower; + 'Tis woman's meed for chieftain's deed, + That bids our eyes to shower. + + Beseems his grief the princely chief, + Who reins the charger's pride, + And gives the gale the silken sail, + That flaps the standard's side; + Who from the hall where sheds at call, + The generous shell its tide, + And from the tower where Meiners'[147] power + Prevails, brought home such bride. + + + +[147] She was a daughter of Menzies of that Ilk, in Perthshire. The +founder of the family was a De Moyeners, in the reign of William the +Lion. The name in Gaelic continued to testify to its original, being +_Meini_, or _Meinarach_. + + + + +THE DAY OF CULLODEN. + + + Ah, the wound of my breast! Sinks my heart to the dust, + And the rain-drops of sorrow are watering the ground; + So impassive to hear, never pierces my ear, + Or briskly or slowly, the music of sound. + For, what tidings can charm, while emotion is warm + With the thought of my Prince on his travel unknown; + The royal in blood, by misfortune subdued, + While the base-born[148] by hosts is secured on the throne? + Of the hound is the race that has wrought our disgrace, + Yet the boast of the litter of mongrels is small, + Not the arm of your might makes it boast of our flight, + But the musters that failed at the moment of call-- + Five banners were furl'd that might challenge the world, + Of their silk not a pennon was spread to the day; + Where is Cromarty's earl, with the fearless of peril, + Young Barisdale's following, Mackinnon's array? + Where the sons of the glen,[149] the Clan-gregor, in vain + That never were hail'd to the carnage of war-- + Where Macvurich,[150] the child of victory styled? + How we sigh'd when we learn'd that his host was afar! + Clan-donuil,[151] my bosom friend, woe that the blossom + That crests your proud standard, for once disappear'd, + Nor marshall'd your march, where your princely deserts + Without stain might the cause of the right have uprear'd! + And now I say woe, for the sad overthrow + Of the clan that is honour'd with Frazer's[152] command, + And the Farquharsons[153] bold on the Mar-braes enroll'd, + So ready to rise, and so trusty to stand. + But redoubled are shed my tears for the dead, + As I think of Clan-chattan,[154] the foremost in fight; + Oh, woe for the time that has shrivell'd their prime, + And woe that the left[155] had not stood at the right! + Our sorrows bemoan gentle Donuil the Donn, + And Alister Rua the king of the feast; + And valorous Raipert the chief of the true-heart, + Who fought till the beat of its energy ceased. + In the mist of that night vanish'd stars that were bright, + Nor by tally nor price shall their worth be replaced; + Ah, boded the morning of our brave unreturning, + When it drifted the clouds in the rush of its blast. + As we march'd on the hill, such the floods that distil, + Turning dry bent to bog, and to plash-pools the heather, + That friendly no more was the ridge of the moor, + Nor free to our tread, and the ire of the weather + Anon was inflamed by the lightning untamed, + And the hail rush that storm'd from the mouth of the gun, + Hard pelted the stranger, ere we measured our danger, + And broadswords were masterless, marr'd, and undone.[156] + Sure as answers my song to its title, a wrong + To our forces, the wiles of the traitor[157] have wrought; + To each true man's disgust, the leader in trust + Has barter'd his honour, and infamy bought. + His gorget he spurns, and his mantle[158] he turns, + And for gold he is won, to his sovereign untrue; + But a turn of the wheel to the liar will deal, + From the south or the north, the award of his due. + And fell William,[159] the son of the man on the throne, + Be his emblem the leafless, the marrowless tree; + May no sapling his root, and his branches no fruit + Afford to his hope; and his hearth, let it be + As barren and bare--not a partner to share, + Not a brother to love, not a babe to embrace; + Mute the harp, and the taper be smother'd in vapour, + Like Egypt, the darkness and loss of his race! + Oh, yet shall the eye see thee swinging on high, + And thy head shall be pillow'd where ravens shall prey, + And the lieges each one, from the child to the man, + The monarch by right shall with fondness obey. + + +[148] George the First's Queen was a divorcée. The Jacobites retorted +the alleged spuriousness of the Chevalier de St George, on George II., +the reigning Sovereign. + +[149] _Glengyle_, and his Macgregors, were on their way from the +Sutherland expedition, but did not reach in time to take part in the +action. + +[150] Macpherson of Clunie, the hero of the night skirmish at Clifton, +and with his clan, greatly distinguished in the Jacobite wars. + +[151] Macdonald of the Isles refused to join the Prince. + +[152] Of the routed army, the division whereof the Frazers formed the +greater number fled to Inverness. Being the least considerable in force, +they were pursued by the Duke of Cumberland's light horse, and almost +entirely massacred. + +[153] The Farquharsons formed part of the unfortunate right wing in the +battle, and suffered severely. + +[154] The Mackintoshes, whose impetuosity hurried the right wing into +action before the order to engage had been transmitted over the lines. +They were of course the principal sufferers. + +[155] An allusion to the provocation given to the Macdonalds of +Clanranald, Glengarry, and Keppoch, by being deprived of their usual +position--the right wing. Their motions are supposed to have been tardy +in consequence. The poet was himself in the right wing. + +[156] The unfortunate night-march of the Highlanders is described with +historic truth and great poetic effect. + +[157] Roy Stuart lived and died in the belief (most unfounded, it +seems), that Lord George Murray was bribed and his army betrayed. + +[158] Military orders received from the Court of St Germains. + +[159] The Duke of Cumberland. + + + + +JOHN MORRISON. + + +John Morrison was a native of Perthshire. Sometime before 1745 he was +settled as missionary at Amulree, a muirland district near Dunkeld. In +1759 he became minister of Petty, a parish in the county of Inverness. +He obtained his preferment in consequence of an interesting incident in +his history. The proprietor of Delvine in Perthshire, who was likewise a +Writer to the Signet, was employed in a legal process, which required _a +diligence_ to be executed against one of the clan Frazer. A design to +waylay and murder the official employed in the _diligence_ had been +concerted. This came to the knowledge of a clergyman who ministered in a +parish chiefly inhabited by the Lovat tenantry. The minister, afraid of +openly divulging the design, on account of the unsettled nature of his +flock, begged an immediate visit from his friend, Mr Morrison, who +speedily returned to Perthshire with information to the laird of +Delvine. The Frazers found the authority of the law supported by a +sufficient force; and Mr Morrison was rewarded by being presented, +through the influence of the laird of Delvine, to the parish of Petty. +Amidst professional engagements discharged with zeal and acceptance, +Morrison found leisure for the composition of verses. Two of his lyrics +are highly popular among the Gael; one of them we offer as a specimen, +and an improved version of the other will afterwards appear in the +present work. Mr Morrison died in November 1774. + + + + +MY BEAUTY DARK. + +The heroine of this piece was a young lady who became the author's wife, +upon an acquaintance originally formed by the administration of the +ordinance of baptism to her in infancy. + + + My beauty dark, my glossy bright, + Dark beauty, do not leave me; + They call thee dark, but to my sight + Thou 'rt milky white, believe me. + + 'Twas at the tide of Candlemas,[160] + Came tirling at my door, + The image of a lovely lass + That haunts me evermore. + + Beside my sleeping couch she stood, + And now she mars my rest; + Still as I try the solemn mood, + She hunts it from my breast. + + At lecture and at study + That ankle white I span, + Its sandal slim, its lacings trim,-- + A fay I seem to scan. + + Thy beauty 's like a drift of spray + That dashes to the side, + Or like the silver-tail'd that play + Their gambols in the tide. + + As heaps of snow on mountain brow + When shed the clouds their fleece, + Or churn of waves when tempest raves, + Thy swelling limbs in grace. + + Thy eyes are black as berries, + Thy cheeks are waxen dyed, + And on thy temple tarries + The raven's dusk, my pride! + + Gives light below each slim eye-brow + A swelling orb of blue, + In April meads so glance the beads, + In May the honey-dew. + + Dark, tangled, deep, no drifted heap, + But sheaf-like, neatly bound + Thy tresses seem, in braids, or stream + As bright thine ears around. + + Those raven spires of hair, that fair, + That turret-bosom's shine! + False friends! from me that banish'd thee, + Who fain would call thee mine. + + No lilts I spin, their love to win, + The viol strings I shun, + But lend thine ear and thou shalt hear + My wisdom, dearest one! + + +[160] Evidently a Valentine morning surprise. + + + + +ROBERT MACKAY. + +THE HIGHLANDER'S HOME SICKNESS. + +We have been favoured by Mr William Sinclair with the following spirited +translation of Mackay's first address to the fair-haired Anna, the +heroine of the "Forsaken Drover" (vol. i. p. 315). In the enclosures of +Crieff, the Highland bard laments his separation from the hills of +Sutherland, and the object of his love. + + + Easy is my pillow press'd + But, oh! I cannot, cannot rest; + Northwards do the shrill winds blow-- + Thither do my musings go! + + Better far with thee in groves, + Where the young deers sportive roam, + Than where, counting cattle droves, + I must sickly sigh for home. + Great the love I bear for her + Where the north winds wander free, + Sportive, kindly is her air, + Pride and folly none hath she! + + Were I hiding from my foes, + Aye, though fifty men were near, + I should find concealment close + In the shieling of my dear. + Beauty's daughter! oh, to see + Days when homewards I 'll repair-- + Joyful time to thee and me-- + Fair girl with the waving hair! + + Glorious all for hunting then, + The rocky ridge, the hill, the fern; + Sweet to drag the deer that 's slain + Downwards by the piper's cairn! + By the west field 'twas I told + My love, with parting on my tongue; + Long she 'll linger in that fold, + With the kine assembled long! + + Dear to me the woods I know, + Far from Crieff my musings are; + Still with sheep my memories go, + On our heath of knolls afar: + Oh, for red-streak'd rocks so lone! + Where, in spring, the young fawns leap, + And the crags where winds have blown-- + Cheaply I should find my sleep. + + + +END OF VOL. II. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_Aboon_, above. + +_Ava_, at all. + + +_Baldron_, name for a cat. + +_Bauld_, bold. + +_Bawbee_, halfpenny. + +_Bawsint_, a white spot on the forehead of cow or horse. + +_Bawtie_, name for a dog. + +_Beild_, shelter, refuge, protection. + +_Ben_, the spence or parlour. + +_Blethers_, nonsensical talk. + +_Blewart_, a flower, the blue bottle, witch bells. + +_Bob_, nosegay, bunch, or tuft; also to curtsey. + +_Bobbin_, a weaver's quill or pirn. + +_Bonspiel_, a match at archery, curling, golf, or foot-ball. + +_Bourtree_, the elder tree or shrub. + +_Braggin_, boasting. + +_Braken_, the female fern (_pterisaquilina_, Linn.) + +_Bree_, the eyebrow. + +_Brochin_, oatmeal boiled in water till somewhat thicker than gruel. + +_Brogues_, shoes made of sheepskin. + +_Bught_, a pen for sheep. + +_Burn_, a stream. + +_Buskit_, dressed tidily. + +_Buss_, a bush. + + +_Cairny_, heap of stones. + +_Camstrarie_, froward, cross, and unmanageable. + +_Cantrips_, spells, charms, incantations. + +_Carline_, an old woman. + +_Chap_, a blow, also a young fellow. + +_Cleading_, clothing. + +_Cleck_, to hatch, to breed. + +_Clout_, to strike with the hand, also to mend a hole in clothes or +shoes. + +_Coof_, a fool. + +_Coost_, cast. + +_Corrie_, a hollow in a hill. + +_Cosie_, warm, snug. + +_Cower_, to crouch, to stoop. + +_Cranreugh_, the hoarfrost. + +_Croodle_, to coo as a dove, to sing with a low voice. + +_Crowdy_, meal and cold water stirred together. + + +_Dab_, to peck as birds do. + +_Daddy_, father. + +_Daff_, to make sport. + +_Dantit_, subdued, tamed down. + +_Dawtie_, a pet, a darling. + +_Doo_, dove. + +_Dool_, grief. + +_Doops_, dives down. + +_Downa_, expressive of inability. + +_Dreeping_, dripping, wet. + +_Drucket_, drenched. + +_Drumly_, muddy. + +_Dub_, a mire. + +_Dumpish_, short and thick. + + +_Eild_, old. + +_Eirie_, dreading things supernatural. + +_Eithly_, easily. + +_Ettled_, aimed. + + +_Fardin_, farthing. + +_Feckly_, mostly. + +_Fend_, to provide for oneself, also to defend. + +_Fleeched_, flattered, deceived. + +_Forby_, besides. + +_Freenge_, fringe. + +_Fremmit_, strange, foreign. + + +_Gabbin_, jeering. + +_Ganger_, a pedestrian. + +_Gar_, compel. + +_Gaucie_, plump, jolly. + +_Gawkie_, a foolish female. + +_Gie_, give. + +_Glamour_, the influence of a charm. + +_Glint_, a glance. + +_Gloaming_, the evening twilight. + +_Glower_, to look staringly. + +_Glum_, gloomy. + +_Gowd_, gold. + +_Graffs_, graves. + +_Graith_, gear. + +_Grane_, groan. + +_Grat_, wept. + +_Grecie_, a little pig. + +_Grup_, grasp. + + +_Haet_, a whit. + +_Hauds_, holds. + +_Hecht_, called, named. + +_Heftit_, familiarised to a place. + +_Hie_, high. + +_Hinney_, honey, also a term of endearment. + +_Hirple_, to walk haltingly. + +_Howe_, hollow. + +_Howkit_, dug. + +_Howlet_, an owl. + +_Hurkle_, to bow down to. + + +_Ilka_, each. + + +_Jaupit_, bespattered. + +_Jeel_, jelly. + +_Jimp_, neat, slender. + + +_Kaim_, comb. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Keust_, threw off. + +_Kippered_, salmon salted, hung and dried. + +_Kith_, acquaintance. + +_Kittle_, difficult, uncertain. + +_Kye_, cows. + + +_Laigh_, low. + +_Laith_, loth. + +_Lapt_, enwrapped. + +_Leeve_, live. + +_Leeze me_, a term of congratulatory endearment. + +_Lift_, the sky. + +_Loof_, the palm of the hands. + +_Lowe_, flame. + +_Lucken_, webbed. + +_Lugs_, ears. + +_Lum_, a chimney. + +_Lure_, allure. + +_Lyart_, of a mixed colour, gray. + + +_Mawn_, mown, a basket. + +_May_, maiden. + +_Mense_, honour, discretion. + +_Mickle_, much. + +_Mim_, prim, prudish. + +_Mirk_, darkness. + +_Mools_, dust, the earth of the grave. + +_Mullin_, crumb. + +_Mutch_, woman's cap. + + +_Naig_, a castrated horse. + +_Neive_, the fist. + +_Niddered_, stunted in growth. + +_Niffer_, to exchange. + +_Nip_, to pinch. + + +_Oons_, wounds. + +_Opt_, opened. + +_Outower_, outover, also moreover. + +_Owk_, week. + +_Owsen_, oxen. + + +_Paitrick_, partridge. + +_Pawkie_, cunning, sly. + +_Pleugh_, plough. + +_Pliskie_, a trick. + + +_Rax_, reach. + +_Rede_, to counsel--advice, wisdom. + +_Reefer_, river. + +_Reft_, bereft, deprived. + +_Rocklay_, a short cloak or surplice. + +_Roke_, a distaff, also to swing. + +_Rowes_, rolls. + +_Runts_, the trunks of trees, the stem of colewort. + + +_Saughs_, willow-trees. + +_Scowl_, to frown. + +_Scrimpit_, contracted. + +_Scroggie_, abounding with stunted bushes. + +_Shanks-naigie,_ to travel on foot. + +_Sheiling_, a temporary cottage or hut. + +_Sinsyne_, after that period. + +_Skipt_, went lightly and swiftly along. + +_Sleekit_, cunning. + +_Slockin_, to allay thirst. + +_Smoored_, smothered. + +_Soughs_, applied to the breathing a tune, also the sighing of the wind. + +_Sowdie_, a heterogeneous mess. + +_Speer_, ask. + +_Spulzien_, spoiling. + +_Squinting_, looking obliquely. + +_Staigie_, the diminutive of staig, a young horse. + +_Starn_, star. + +_Swither_, to hesitate. + + +_Tane_, the one of two. + +_Tent_, care. + +_Tether_, halter. + +_Teuch_, tough. + +_Theek_, thatch. + +_Thole_, to endure. + +_Thraw_, to throw, to twist. + +_Thrawart_, froward, perverse. + +_Timmer_, timber. + +_Tint_, lost. + +_Toom_, empty. + +_Tout_, shout. + +_Tramps_, heavy-footed travellers. + +_Trig_, neat, trim. + +_Trow_, to make believe. + +_Tyne_, lose. + + +_Wabster_, weaver. + +_Wae_, sad, sorrowful. + +_Warsled_, wrestled. + +_Wat_, wet, also to know. + +_Waukrife_, watchful, sleepless. + +_Weir_, war, also to herd. + +_Whilk_, which. + +_Wysed_, enticed. + + +_Yate_, gate. + +_Yeldrin_, a yellow hammer. + +_Yird_, earth, soil. + +_Yirthen_, earthen. + + +EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY. + + + +Project Gutenberg's The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume III, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. III. + + +ABBOTSFORD + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +Allan Cunningham. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL. III + + +EDINBURGH: + +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. +M.DCCC.LVI. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +LIEUTENANT-COLONEL +SIR JAMES EDWARD ALEXANDER, +K.L.S., AND K.ST.J., + +A DISTINGUISHED TRAVELLER, A GALLANT OFFICER, AND +A PATRIOTIC SCOTSMAN, + +THIS THIRD VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS DEDICATED, + +WITH SENTIMENTS OF RESPECT AND GRATITUDE, + +BY + +HIS VERY OBEDIENT, FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +SCOTTISH AND HELLENIC MINSTRELSY: + +An Essay. + +BY JAMES DONALDSON, A.M. + + +Men who compare themselves with their nearest neighbours are almost +invariably conceited, speak boastingly of themselves, and +disrespectfully of others. But if a man extend his survey, if he mingle +largely with people whose feelings and opinions have been modified by +quite different circumstances, the result is generally beneficial. The +very act of accommodating his mind to foreign modes of thought expands +his nature; and he becomes more liberal in his sentiments, more +charitable in his construction of deeds, and more capable of perceiving +real goodness under whatever shape it may present itself. So when a +Scotsman criticises Scotch poetry viewed by itself alone, he is apt to +be carried away by his patriotism,--he sees only the delightful side of +the subject, and he ventures on assertions which flatter himself and his +country at the expense of all other nations. If, however, we place the +productions of our own country side by side with those of another, the +excellences and the deficiencies of both are seen in stronger relief; +the contrasts strike the mind, and the heart is widened by sympathising +with goodness and beauty diversely conceived and diversely portrayed. +For this reason, we shall attempt a brief comparison of Hellenic and +Scottish songs. + +Before we enter on our characterisation of these, we must glance at the +materials which we have to survey. Greek lyric poetry arose about the +beginning of the eighth century before the Christian era, and continued +in full bloom down to the time when it passed into drama on the Athenian +stage. The names of the poets are universally known, and have become, +indeed, almost part of our poetic language. Every one speaks of an +Anacreon, a Sappho, and a Pindar; and the names of Archilochus, Alcman, +Alcæus, Stesichorus, Simonides, Ibycus, and Bacchylides, if not so often +used, are yet familiar to most. Few of these lyrists belonged to Greece +proper. They belonged to Greece only in the sense in which the Greeks +themselves used the word, as including all the colonies which had gone +forth from the motherland. Most of the early Greek song-writers dwelt in +Asia Minor--some were born in the islands of the Cyclades, and some in +Southern Italy; but all of them were proud of their Greek origin, all of +them were thorough Greeks in their hearts. It is only the later bards +who were born and brought up on the Greek mainland, and most of these +lived to see the day when almost all the lyric poets took their grandest +flights in the choral odes of their dramas. These odes, however, do not +fall within the province of our comparison. The lyrical efforts both of +Æschylus and Sophocles were inwoven with the structure of their plays, +the chorus in Æschylus being generally one of the actors; and they have +their modern representatives, not in the songs of the people, but in the +arias of operas. Setting these aside, we have few genuine efforts of +the Greek lyric muse belonging to the dramatic period--the most +important being several songs sung by the Greeks at their banquets, +which have fortunately been preserved. After this era, we have no lyric +poems of the Greeks worth mentioning. The verse-writers took henceforth +to epigrams--epigrams on everything on the face of the earth. These have +been collected into the "Greek Anthology;" but the greater part of them +are contemptible in a poetic point of view. They are interesting as +throwing light on the times; but they are weak and vapid as expressions +of the beatings of the human heart, and they are full of conceits. +Besides these, there are the Anacreontic odes, known to all Greek +scholars and to a great number of English, since they have been +frequently translated. With one or two exceptions, they were all written +between the third and twelfth centuries of the Christian era, though +some scholars have boldly asserted that they were forgeries even of a +later date. Most of them seem to be expansions of lines of Anacreon. +They are in general neat, pretty, and gaysome, but tame and insincere. +There is nothing like earnestness in them, nothing like genuine deep +feeling; but thus they are all the more suited for a certain class of +lovers and drinkers, who do not wish to be greatly moved by anything +under the sun. + +Scotch lyric poetry may be said to commence with the lyrics attributed +to James I., or with those of Henryson. There is clear proof, indeed, +that long before this time the Scotch were much given to song-making and +song-singing; but of these early popular lilts, almost nothing remains. +Henryson's lyrics, however, belonged more to the class that were +intended to be read than to be sung, and this is true of a considerable +number of his successors, such as Dunbar, and Maitland of Lethington, +who were learned men, and wrote with a learned air, even when writing +for the people. The Reformation, as surely as it threw down every carved +stone, shut up the mouth of every profane songster. Wedderburne's "Haly +Ballats" may have been spared for a time by the iconoclasts, because +they had helped to build up their own temple; but they could not survive +long,--they were cast in a profane mould, they were sung to profane +tunes, and away they must go into oblivion. Our song-writers, for a long +time after, are unknown minstrels, who had no character to lose by +making or singing profane songs,--they were of the people, and sang for +them. So matters continued, until, at the commencement of the eighteenth +century, Scottish songs began to be the rage both in England and +Scotland, and an eager desire arose to gather up old snatches and +preserve them. Henceforth Scotch poetry held up its head, and a few +remarkable poets won their way into the hearts of large masses of the +people. At last appeared the emancipator of Scottish song in the form of +a ploughman, stirring the deepest feelings of all classes with songs +that may be justly styled the best of all national popular songs, and +for ever settling the claims of a song-writer to one of the highest +niches in the temple of Fame. + +The first thing that strikes us, on dipping into a book of Greek songs, +and then a book of Scotch, is the different position of the poets. The +Greek poet was regarded as a kind of superior being--an interpreter +between gods and men; and, supposed to be under the special protection +of Divinity, he was highly honoured and reverenced wherever he went. The +Scotch bard, on the other hand, is a poor wanderer, whose name is +unknown, who received little respect, and whose knowledge of God and +the higher purposes of life cannot be reckoned in any way great. There +may be a few exceptions. We find nobles sometimes writing popular songs, +and occasionally a learned man may have contributed strains; but these +are generally not superior either in wit, pathos, or morality, to the +verses of the unknown and hard-toiling. This striking contrast arises +from a change that had taken place in the history of song. In Greece, +all the teeming ideas of the fertile-minded people found expression in +harmonious measures, and their songs touched every chord of their varied +existence. This was partly owing to their innate love of melody, and +partly to the public life which they led. From the earliest ages, they +were fond of sweet sounds; and their continual public gatherings gave +innumerable opportunities for using their vocal powers unitedly, and +turning music to all its best and noblest purposes. They sang sacred +songs as they marched in procession to their temples; and on entering, +they hymned the praises of the gods. When they rushed on to battle, they +shouted their inspiring war-songs; and if victory crowned the fight, the +battle-field rang with their joyous pæans, and their poets tuned their +lyres in honour of the brave that had fallen. A victor in the Olympic +games would have lost one of his greatest rewards, if no poet had sung +his fame. Then, in their banquets, the Greeks amused themselves in +stringing together pretty verses, and joined in merry and jovial +drinking-songs. If there happened to be a marriage, the young people +assembled round the house, and late in the evening and early in the +morning sang the praises of bride and bridegroom, prayed for blessings +on the couple, and sometimes discussed the comparative blessedness of +single and married life. Or if a notable person happened to die, his +dirge was sung, and the poet composed an encomium on him, full of wise +reflections on destiny, and the fate that awaits all. There was, in +fact, no public occasion which the Greeks did not beautify with song. + +It is entirely different with us. Our minister now performs the function +of the Greek poet at marriages and funerals. Our funeral sermons and +newspaper paragraphs have taken the place of the Greek encomiums. Our +fiddles or piano do duty instead of the Greek dithyrambs, hyporchems, +and other dancing songs. Our warriors are either left unsung, or +celebrated in verse that reads much better than it sings. The members of +the "Benevolent Pugilistic Association" do not stand so high in the +British opinion as the wrestlers of old stood in the Greek; and our +jockeys have fallen frightfully from the grand position which the Greek +racers occupied in the plains of Olympia. Very few in these days would +think the champion of England, or the winner of the Derby, worth a noble +ode full of old traditions and exalted religious aspirations. Through +various causes, song has thus come to be very circumscribed in its +limits, and to perform duty within a comparatively small sphere in +modern life. + +Indeed, song in these days does exactly what the Greeks rarely +attempted: it concerns itself with private life, and especially with +that most characteristic feature of modern private life--love. Love is, +consequently, the main topic of Scottish song. It is a theme of which +neither the song-writer nor the song-singer ever wearies. It is the one +great passion with which the universal modern mind sympathises, and from +the expressions of which it quaffs inexhaustible delight. This holds +true even of the cynical people who profess a distaste for love and +lovers. For love has for them its comic side,--it appears to them +exquisitely humorous in the human weakness it causes and brings to +light; and if they do not enjoy the song in its praise, they seldom fail +to laugh heartily at the description of the plights into which it leads +its devotees. + +Perhaps no country contains a richer collection of love-songs than +Scotland. We have a song for every phase of the motley-faced +passion,--from its ludicrous aspect to its highest and most rapturous +form. Every pulsation of the heart, as moved by love, has had its poetic +expression; and we have lovers pouring out the depths of their souls to +all kinds of maids, and in all kinds of situations. And maids are +represented as bodying forth their feelings, also, under the sway of +love. Many of these feminine lyrics are written by women themselves. +Some of them exult in the full return which their love meets; but for +the most part, it is a keen sorrow that forces women to poetic +composition. They thus contribute our most pathetic songs--wails +sometimes over blasted hopes and blighted love, as in "Waly, Waly;" or +over the death of a deeply-loved one, as in Miss Blamire's "Waefu' +Heart;" or over the loss of the brave who have fallen in battle, as in +Miss Jane Elliot's "Flowers of the Forest." + +Peculiarly characteristic of Scotland are the songs that describe the +development of love, after the lovers have been married. Here the +comical phase is most predominant. For the most part, the Scottish +songster delights in describing the quarrels between the goodman and the +goodwife--the goodwife in the early poems invariably succeeding in +making John yield to her. Sometimes, however, there is a deeper and +purer current of feeling, to which Burns especially has given +expression. How intensely beautiful is the affection in "John Anderson, +my Jo!" And we have in "Are ye sure the news is true?" the whole +character of a very loving wife brought out by a simple incident in her +life,--the expected return of her husband. Some of these songs also have +been written by poetesses, such as Lady Nairn's exquisite "Land of the +Leal;" and really there is such delicacy, such minute accuracy in the +portrayal of a woman's feelings in "Are ye sure the news is true?" that +one cannot help thinking it must have been written by Jean Adams, or +some woman, rather than by Mickle:-- + + "His very foot has music in 't, + As he comes up the stair." + +What man has an ear so delicate as to hear such music? + +The contrast between Greek poetry and Scotch is very marked in this +point. There is not one Greek lyric devoted to what we should designate +love, with perhaps something like an exception in Alcman. In fact, while +moderns rarely make a tragedy or comedy, a poem or novel, without some +love-concern which is the pivot of the whole, all the great poems and +dramas of the ancients revolve on entirely different passions. Love, +such as we speak of, was of rather rare occurrence. Women were in such a +low position, that it was a condescension to notice them,--there was no +chivalrous feeling in regard to them; they were made to feel the +dominion of their absolute lords and masters. Besides this, the greater +number of them were confined to their private chambers, and seldom saw +any man who was not nearly related. Those who were on free terms of +intercourse with men, were for the most part strangers, whose morals +were low, and who could not be expected to win the respectful esteem of +true lovers. The men enjoyed the society of these--their tumbling, +dancing, singing, and lively chat; but the distance was too great to +permit that deep devotion which characterises modern love. Moreover, +when a Greek speaks of love, we have to remember that he fell in love as +often with a male companion as with a woman--he admired the beauty of a +fair youth, and he felt in his presence very much as a modern lover +feels in the presence of his sweetheart. We have, therefore, to examine +expressions of love cautiously. Anacreon says, for instance, that love +clave him with an axe, like a smith; but it seems far more likely that +the reference is to the affection excited by some charming youth.[1] We +have a specimen remaining of the nonchalant style in which he addressed +a woman, in the ode commencing "O Thracian mare!"--Schneidewin, Poet. +Lyr. Anac. fr. 47. + +The great poet of Love was not Anacreon, but Sappho, whose heart and +mind were both of the finest. Her life is involved in obscurity, but it +is probable that she was a strong advocate of woman's rights in her own +land; and as she found men falling in love with other men, so she took +special pains to win the affections of the young Æolian ladies, to train +them in all the accomplishments suited to woman's nature, and to +initiate them into the art of poetry,--that art without which, she says, +a woman's memory would be for ever forgotten, and she would go to the +house of Hades, to dwell with the shadowy dead, uncared for and unknown. +We have two poems of hers which have come down to us tolerably complete, +both, we think, addressed to some of her female friends, and both +remarkably sweet, touching, and beautiful. + +The Scottish songs devoted to other subjects than love are few, and +almost exclusively descriptive. Our sense of the humorous gives us a +delight in queer and odd characters, in which the Greeks probably would +not have participated. Though they had an abundance of wit, and a keen +perception of the ridiculous, no songs have reached us which are +intended to please by their pure absurdity and good-natured foolishness. +Archilochus and Hipponax wrote many a jocular song; but the fun of the +thing would have been lost, had the sting which they contained been +extracted. + +Nor do the Greeks seem to have cared much for descriptive songs. They +frequently introduced their heroes into their odes, but these were ever +living, ever present to their minds; and several of the songs written on +particular occasions were probably sung when the singer had no connexion +with the events. But they lived, like boys, too much in the present, to +throw themselves back into the past. They wished to give utterance to +the feelings of the moment in their own persons, and directly; while we +are content to be mere listeners, and are often as much pleased by the +occurrences of another's life as by the sentiments of our own hearts. + +We are remarkably deficient in what are called class-songs. The Greeks +had none of these, for there scarcely existed any classes but free and +slave. The people were all one--had the same interests and the same +emotions. There was far less of individuality with them than with us, +and there was still less of that feeling which divides society into +exclusive circles. A Greek turned his hand to anything that came in his +way, while division of labour has reached its utmost limit among us. We +can find, therefore, no contrast here between Greek and Scotch songs; +but we find a very marked one between Scotch and German. We have no +student-songs, very few expressive of the feelings of soldiers +(Lockhart's are almost the only), sailors, or of any other class. + +Indeed, we are deficient not only in class-songs, but in social-songs. +The Scotch propensity to indulge in drink is, unfortunately, notorious; +and yet our drinking-songs of a really social nature would be comprised +in a few pages. One sings of his coggie, as if he were in the custom of +gulping his whisky all alone; many describe the boisterous carousals in +which they made fools of themselves; not a few extol the power and +properties of whisky, and incite to Bacchanalian pleasures; and we have +several good songs suitable for singing at the close of an evening +pleasantly spent, but almost none which express the feelings that +naturally well-up when one sees his friends around him, becomes +exhilarated through pleasant social intercourse, and finds the path of +life smoothed and sweetened by the aid of his brothers. + +The reason of this peculiar circumstance is not far to seek. It lies in +the distinctive character of the two great classes into which the Scotch +have been divided since the Reformation, called, at the early period of +Scottish song, the Covenanters and the Cavaliers. The one party bowed +before religion, most scrupulously abstained from all worldly pleasures, +and regarded and denounced as sin, or something akin to it, every +approach to levity or frivolity. The other party was a wild rebound from +this. Sanctimoniousness was hateful in their eye; and not being able to +find a medium, they abjured religion, and rushed into the pleasures of +this life with headlong zest. The poets, in accordance with their +joy-loving natures, allied themselves to the latter class. There was +thus in Scotland a deep, dark gulf between the religious and the +poetical or beautiful, which has not yet been completely bridged over. +The consequence is, that the elder Scottish songs, of all songs, contain +the fewest references to the Divine Being. The name of God is never +mentioned unless in the caricatures of the Covenanters; and a foreigner, +taking up a book of Scottish songs written since the Reformation, and +judging of the religion of the Scotch from them alone, would be prone to +suppose that, if Scotland had any religion at all, it consisted in using +the name of the devil occasionally with respect or with dread. The +Cavaliers, in their most energetic moods, swore by him and by no other; +while the Covenanters had no songs at all, scarcely any poetry of any +kind, and doubtless would have regarded as impious the tracing of any +but the most spiritual pleasures to God. The words, for instance, which +Allan Cunningham puts into the mouth of a Covenanter, "I hae sworn by my +God, my Jeanie" (p. 17 of this volume), would still be regarded by many +people as profane. + +The case was the very opposite with the Greeks. Every joy, every sorrow, +was traced to the gods. They almost never opened their lips without an +allusion to their divinities. They sang their praises in their +processions and in all their public ceremonials. Wine was a gift from a +kind and beneficent god, to cheer their hearts and soothe the sorrows of +life. And they delighted in invoking his presence, in celebrating his +adventures, and in using moderately and piously the blessings which he +bestowed on them. Then, again, when love seized them, it was a god that +had taken possession of their minds. They at once recognised a superior +power, and they worshipped him in song with heart and soul. In fact, +whatever be the subject of song, the gods are recognised as the rulers +of the destinies of men, and the causes of all their joys and sorrows. +We cannot expect such a strong infusion of the supernatural in modern +lays, but still we have enough of it in German songs to form a +remarkable contrast to Scotch. Take any German song-book, and you will +immediately come upon a recognition of a higher power as the spring of +our joys, and upon an expressed desire to use them, so as to bring us +nearer one another, and to make us more honest, upright, happy, and +contented men. Let this one verse, taken from a song of Schiller's, in +singing which a German's heart is sure to glow, suffice:-- + + "Joy sparkles to us from the bowl! + Behold the juice, whose golden colour + To meekness melts the savage soul, + And gives despair a hero's valour! + + "Up, brothers! Lo, we crown the cup! + Lo, the wine flashes to the brim! + Let the bright foam spring heavenward! 'Up!' + TO THE GOOD SPIRIT--this glass to HIM! + +_Chorus._ + + "Praised by the ever-whirling ring + Of stars and tuneful seraphim-- + TO THE GOOD SPIRIT--the Father-king + In heaven!--this glass to Him!"[2] + +We meet with the contrast in the Reformers of the respective +nations--Knox and Luther. Knox, ever stern, frowning on all the +amusements of the palace and the people, and indifferent to every +species of poetry; Luther, often drinking his mug of ale in a tavern, +making and singing his tunes and songs, and though frequently enough +tormented by devils, yet still ready to throw aside the cares of life +for a while, and enjoy himself in hearty intercourse with the various +classes of the people. Who would have expected the German Reformer to be +the author of the couplet-- + + "He who loves not women, wine, and song, + Will be a fool his whole life long." + +And yet he was. And his songs, sacred though most of them be, have a +place in German song-books to this day. + +Though Scottish songs seldom refer to a Divine Being, yet they are very +far from being without their noble sentiments and inspirations. On the +contrary, they have frequently sustained the moral life of a man. "Who +dare measure in doubt," says William Thom in his "Recollections," "the +restraining influences of these very songs? To us, they were all instead +of sermons.... Poets were indeed our priests. But for those, the last +relict of our moral existence would have surely passed away!" + +Yet there is a marked contrast between the very aims of Scottish and +Greek song-writers. The Scottish wish merely to please, and consequently +never concern themselves with any of the deeper subjects of this life or +the life to come. There is seldom an allusion to death, or to any of the +great realities that sternly meet the gaze of a contemplative man. There +may be a few exceptions in the case of pious song-writers, like Lady +Nairn; but even such poets are shy of making songs the vehicle of what +is serious or profound. The Greeks, on the other hand, regarding their +poets as inspired, expected from them the deepest wisdom, and in fact +delighted in any verse which threw light on the great mysteries of life +and death. Thus it happens that the remains of the Greek lyric poets, +especially the later, such as Simonides and Bacchylides, are principally +of a deeply moral cast. The Greeks do not seem to have had the +extravagant rage which now prevails for merely figurative language. They +sought for truth itself, and the man became a poet who clothed living +truths in the most appropriate and expressive words. + +There is a remarkable contrast between the Scotch and Greeks in their +historical songs. The lyric muse sings at great epochs, because then the +deepest emotions of the human heart are roused. But since, in Greece, +the states were small, and every emotion thrilled through all the free +citizens, there was more of determined and unanimous feeling than with +us, and consequently a greater desire to see the heroic deeds of +themselves or their fellows wedded to verse. And then, too, the poet did +not live apart; he was one of the people, a soldier and a citizen as +well as others, and animated by exactly the same feelings, though with +greater rapture. This is the reason why the Greeks abounded in songs in +honour of their brave. At the time of the resistance to the Persian +invasion, there was no end to the encomiums and pæans. Almost every +individual hero was celebrated, and these songs were made by the +acknowledged masters of the lyre, such as Æschylus and Simonides. With +us, great deeds have to wait their poets. Distance of time must first +throw around them a poetic hue; and after the hero has sunk unnoticed +into a nameless grave, the bard showers his praises on him, and his +worth is universally recognised. Or if his merits are discerned before +his death, song is not one of the appointed organs through which our +people demand that he should be praised. If a heroic action gets its +poet, the people will listen; but if it pass unsung, none will regret +it. Besides, we do not discern the poetry of the present so strongly as +the Greeks did. Everything with them seems to have been capable of +finding its way into verse. Alcman delights in speaking of his porridge, +and Alcæus of the various implements of war which adorned his hall. The +real world in which the Greeks moved had the most powerful attraction +for them. This is also, in a great measure, true of the unknown poets, +who have contributed so much to Scottish minstrelsy in the days of the +later Stuarts. There is no squeamishness about the introduction of +realities, whatever they be; and the people took delight in a mere +series of names skilfully strung together, or even in an enumeration of +household articles or dishes.[3] + +This pleasure in the contemplation of the actual things around us, is +not nearly so great in modern cultivated minds. We are continually +trying to get out of ourselves, to transport ourselves to other times, +and to throw ourselves into bygone scenes and characters. Hence it is +that almost all our best historical songs, written in these days, have +their basis in the past; and the one which moves us most powerfully, +"Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," actually carries us back to the times +of Robert the Bruce. + +It is rather singular that most of the Scottish songs which refer to our +history, are essentially aristocratic, and favourable to the divine +right of kings. The Covenanters--our true freemen--disdained the use of +the poet's pen. They uttered none of their aspirations for freedom in +song, and thus the Royalists had the whole field of song-writing to +themselves. Such was the state of matters until Burns rose from amidst +the people, and sang in his own grand way of the inherent dignity of man +as man, and of the rights of labour. It is one of the frequent +contradictions which we see in human nature, that the very same people +who sing "A Man's a Man for a' that," and "Scots wha hae," mourn over +the unfortunate fate of Bonnie Prince Charlie, and lament his disasters, +as if his succession to the throne of Scotland would have been a +blessing. Notwithstanding, however, what Burns has done, Scotland is +still deficient in songs embodying her ardent love of freedom. Liberty +and her blessings are still unsung. It was not so in Greece, especially +in Athens. The whole city echoed with hymns in its praise, and the +people wiled away their leisure in making little chants on the men who +they fancied had given the death-blow to tyranny. The scolia of +Callistratus, beginning, "I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle bow," are well +known. + +Few of the patriotic songs of the Greeks are extant, and it is probable +that they were not so numerous as ours. Institutions had a more powerful +hold on them than localities. They were proud of themselves as Greeks, +and of their traditions; but wherever they wandered, they carried Greece +with them, for they were part of Greece themselves. Thus we may account +for the absence of Greek songs expressive of longing for their native +land, and of attachment to their native soil. We, on the other hand, +have very many patriotic songs, full of that warm enthusiasm which every +Scotsman justly feels for his country, and containing frequently a much +higher estimate of ourselves and our position than other nations would +reckon true or fair. In these songs, we are exceedingly confined in our +sympathies. The nationality is stronger than the humanity. We have no +such songs as the German, "Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?" + +Perhaps there is no point in which the Greeks contrast with the Scotch +and all moderns more strikingly than in their mode of describing nature. +This contrast holds good only between the cultivated Greek and the +cultivated modern; for the cultivated Greek and the uncultivated +Scotsman are one in this respect. Perhaps we should state it most +correctly, if we say that the Greek never pictures natural scenery with +words--the modern often makes the attempt. There is no song like Burns's +"Birks o' Aberfeldy," or even like the "Welcome to May"[4] of early +Scottish poetry, in the Greek lyric poets. The Greek poet seizes one or +two characteristic traits in which he himself finds pleasure; but his +descriptions are not nicely shaded, minute, or calculated to bring the +landscape before the mind's eye. No doubt, the Greek was led to this +course by an instinct. For, first, his interest in inanimate nature was +nothing as compared to his strong sympathies with man. He had not +discovered that "God made the country, and man made the town." The gods, +according to his notion, ruled the destinies of man, and every thought +and device of man were inspirations from above. He saw infinitely more +of deity in his fellow-men--in his and their pleasures, pursuits, and +hopes--than in all the insentient things on the face of the earth; and +consequently he clung to men. He delighted in representations of them; +and in embodying his conceptions of the gods, he gave them the human +form as the noblest and most beautiful of all forms. Nature was merely a +background exquisitely beautiful, but not to be enjoyed without the +presence of man. And, secondly, though the Greeks may not have +enunciated the principle, that poetry is not the art suited for +picturing nature, still they probably had an instinctive feeling of its +truth. Poetry, as Lessing pointed out in his Laocoon, has the element of +time in it, and is therefore inapplicable in the description of those +things which, while composed of various parts, must be comprehended at +one glance before the right impression is produced. Look how our modern +poet goes to work! He has a fair scene before his fancy. He paints every +part of it, with no reason why one part should be placed before +another,--and as you read it, you have to piece each part together, as +in a child's dissected map; and after you have constructed the whole out +of the fragments, you have to imagine the effect. The Greek told you the +effect at once,--he gave up the attempt to picture the scene in words. +But when he had to deal with any part of nature that had life or motion +in it--in fact, any element of time--then he was as minute as the most +thorough Wordsworthian could wish. How admirably, for instance, does +Homer describe the advance of a foam-crested wave, or the rush of a +lion, the swoop of an eagle, or the trail of a serpent! + +The Greeks were as much gladdened by the sight of flowers as moderns. +Did they not use them continually on all festive occasions, public and +private? But minuteness of detail was out of the question in poetry. The +poet was not to play the painter or the naturalist. And it had not yet +become the fashion to profess a mysterious inexpressible joy in the +observation of natural scenery. Nor had men as yet retired from human +society in disgust, or in search of freedom from sin, and betaken +themselves to the love of pure inanimate objects instead of the love of +sin-stained man. It had not yet become unlawful, as it did with the +Arabs afterwards, to represent the human form in sculpture. Human nature +was not looked on as so contemptible, that it would be appropriate to +represent human bodies writhing under gargoyles, as in Gothic churches, +or beneath pillars, as in Stirling Palace. The human form was then +considered diviner than the forms of lions or flowers. + +In bold personification of natural objects, the Greeks could not be +easily surpassed. In reality, it was not personification with them,--it +was simply the result of the ideas they had formed regarding causation. +If a river flowed down, fringed with flowery banks, they imagined there +must be some cause for this, and so they summoned up before their fancy +a beautiful river-god crowned with a garland. Even in the more common +process of making nature pour back on us the sentiments we unconsciously +lend her, the Greeks were very far from deficient. The passage in which +Alcman describes the hills, and all the tribes of living things as +asleep,[5] and the celebrated fragment of Simonides on Danae, where she +says, "Let the deep sleep, let immeasurable evil sleep," are only two +out of very many instances that might be quoted. + +Perhaps the most marked instance of the poetic instinct of the Greeks, +is their avoiding descriptions of personal beauty. Though they were +permeated by the idea, and thrillingly sensitive to it, it is easier to +tell what a Scotch poet regards as elements of beauty than what a Greek +did. A beautiful person with the Greek is a beautiful person; and that +is all he says about the matter. This is not true of the Anacreontics, +or of the Latin poets. Now, in Scotland, again, there is little feeling +of beauty of any kind. A Scottish boy wantonly mars a beautiful object +for mere fun. There is not a monument set up, not a fine building or +ornament, but will soon have a chip struck off it, if a Scotch boy can +get near it. And the Scotsman, as a general matter, sees beauty nowhere +except in a "bonnie lassie." Even then, when he comes to define what he +thinks beautiful features, he is at fault, and there are songs in praise +of the narrow waist, and other enormities-- + + "She 's backet like a peacock; + She 's breasted like a swan; + She 's jimp about the middle, + Her waist you weel may span-- + Her waist you weel may span; + And she has a rolling e'e, + And for bonnie Annie Laurie + I 'd lay down my head and die." + +It is needless to say that we are very far from having exhausted our +subject. Few contrasts could be greater than that which exists between +Greek and Scotch songs, and perhaps mainly for this reason, that +Scotland has felt so very little of the influence of Greek literature. +German poetry had its origin in a revived study of the great Greek +classics; and such a study is the very thing required to give breadth to +our character, and to supplement its most striking deficiencies. + + +[1] Later writers attributed to Anacreon immoralities in Paiderastia of +which they themselves were guilty, but of which there is not the +slightest trace in him, or indeed in any of the early bards. Welcker +(Sappho von einem herrschenden Vorurtheile befreit) has successfully +defended the character of Sappho from the accusations of a later age, +and it would be easy to do the same both for Alcæus and Anacreon. + +[2] Schiller's Poems and Ballads, by Bulwer, vol. ii., p. 122. The whole +song should be read. Bulwer calls it a "Hymn to Joy," Schiller himself, +simply, "To Joy." + +[3] There is a curious instance of this in the song, "The Blithesome +Bridal."--Chambers's "Scottish Songs," p. 71. + +[4] Sibbald's "Chronicle of Scottish Poetry," vol. iii., p. 193. + +[5] Campbell has translated this fragment, but he has not retained the +simplicity of the original. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, 1 + She 's gane to dwall in heaven, 9 + The lovely lass of Preston mill, 10 + Gane were but the winter cauld, 12 + It's hame, and it's hame, 13 + The lovely lass of Inverness, 14 + A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 15 + The bonnie bark, 16 + Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, 17 + Young Eliza, 19 + Lovely woman, 20 + +EBENEZER PICKEN, 22 + Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e, 24 + Woo me again, 25 + +STUART LEWIS, 27 + Lanark mills, 30 + O'er the muir, 31 + +DAVID DRUMMOND, 34 + The bonnie lass o' Levenside, 36 + +JAMES AFFLECK, 38 + How blest were the days, 39 + +JAMES STIRRAT, 40 + Henry, 41 + Mary, 42 + +JOHN GRIEVE, 43 + Culloden; or, Lochiel's Farewell, 46 + Lovely Mary, 48 + Her blue rollin' e'e, 48 + +CHARLES GRAY, 50 + Maggie Lauder, 52 + Charlie is my darling, 53 + The black-e'ed lassie, 54 + Grim winter was howlin', 55 + +JOHN FINLAY, 57 + O! come with me, 59 + 'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, 60 + I heard the evening linnet's voice, 61 + Oh! dear were the joys, 62 + +WILLIAM NICHOLSON, 63 + The braes of Galloway, 65 + The hills of the Highlands, 66 + The banks of Tarf, 67 + O! will ye go to yon burn-side? 68 + +ALEXANDER RODGER, 71 + Sweet Bet of Aberdeen, 73 + Behave yoursel' before folk, 74 + Lovely maiden, 76 + The peasant's fireside, 78 + Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell," 79 + +JOHN WILSON, 81 + Mary Gray's song, 86 + The three seasons of love, 88 + Prayer to Sleep, 90 + +DAVID WEBSTER, 91 + Tak it, man; tak it, 92 + Oh, sweet were the hours, 94 + Pate Birnie, 95 + +WILLIAM PARK, 97 + The patriot's song, 99 + +THOMAS PRINGLE, 102 + Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale, 106 + The exile's lament, 107 + Love and solitude, 108 + Come awa', come awa', 109 + Dearest love, believe me, 110 + +WILLIAM KNOX, 112 + The dear Land o' Cakes, 114 + The lament, 116 + To Mary, 116 + +WILLIAM THOM, 118 + Jeanie's grave, 121 + They speak o' wiles, 122 + The mitherless bairn, 123 + The lass o' Kintore, 124 + My hameless ha', 125 + +WILLIAM GLEN, 126 + Waes me for Prince Charlie! 128 + Mary of sweet Aberfoyle, 129 + The battle-song, 131 + The maid of Oronsey, 134 + Jess M'Lean, 136 + How eerily, how drearily, 137 + The battle of Vittoria, 139 + Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, 140 + Fareweel to Aberfoyle, 141 + +DAVID VEDDER, 143 + Jeanie's welcome hame, 146 + I neither got promise of siller, 147 + There is a pang for every heart, 148 + The first of May, 149 + Song of the Scottish exile, 150 + The tempest is raging, 151 + The temple of nature, 152 + +JOHN M'DIARMID, 155 + Nithside, 158 + Evening, 159 + +PETER BUCHAN, 162 + Thou gloomy Feberwar, 164 + +WILLIAM FINLAY, 166 + The breaking heart, 167 + The auld emigrant's fareweel to Scotland, 167 + O'er mountain and valley, 169 + +JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART, 171 + Broadswords of Scotland, 177 + Captain Paton's lament, 178 + Canadian boat-song, 183 + +THOMAS MATHERS, 184 + Early love, 185 + +JAMES BROWN, 186 + My Peggy's far away, 187 + Love brought me a bough, 188 + How 's a' wi' ye, 189 + Oh! sair I feel the witching power, 192 + +DANIEL WEIR, 194 + See the moon, 196 + Love is timid, 196 + Raven's stream, 197 + Oh! our childhood's once delightful hours, 198 + Could we but look beyond our sphere, 199 + In the morning of life, 200 + On the death of a promising child, 201 + The dying hour, 202 + The midnight wind, 203 + +ROBERT DAVIDSON, 206 + Farewell to Caledonia, 207 + On visiting the scenes of early days, 208 + To wander lang in foreign lands, 210 + +PETER ROGER, 212 + Lovely Jean, 214 + +JOHN MALCOLM, 215 + The music of the night, 217 + The sea, 218 + +ERSKINE CONOLLY, 220 + Mary Macneil, 221 + There 's a thrill of emotion, 222 + +GEORGE MENZIES, 223 + The braes of Auchinblae, 224 + Fare thee weel, 225 + +JOHN SIM, 226 + Nae mair we 'll meet, 227 + Bonnie Peggy, 227 + Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er, 229 + +WILLIAM MOTHERWELL, 230 + Jeanie Morrison, 233 + Wearie's Well, 236 + Wae be to the orders, 238 + The midnight wind, 239 + He is gone! he is gone! 240 + +DAVID MACBETH MOIR, 242 + Casa Wappy, 245 + Farewell, our fathers' land, 249 + Heigh ho, 250 + +ROBERT FRASER, 252 + Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel, 253 + +JAMES HISLOP, 254 + The Cameronian's dream, 257 + How sweet the dewy bell is spread, 259 + +ROBERT GILFILLAN, 261 + Manor braes, 262 + Fare thee well, 263 + The first rose of summer, 264 + The exile's song, 264 + The happy days o' youth, 266 + 'Tis sair to dream, 267 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + +WILLIAM ROSS, 271 + The Highland May, 272 + The Celt and the stranger, 274 + Cormac's cure, 274 + The last lay of love, 276 + +LACHLAN MACVURICH, 279 + The exile of Cluny, 280 + +JAMES M'LAGGAN, 282 + Song of the royal Highland regiment, 284 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 287 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. + + +Allan Cunningham was born at Blackwood, in Nithside, Dumfriesshire, on +the 7th December 1784. Of his ancestry, some account has been given in +the memoir of his elder brother Thomas.[6] He was the fourth son of his +parents, and from both of them inherited shrewdness and strong +talent.[7] Receiving an ordinary elementary education at a school, +taught by an enthusiastic Cameronian, he was apprenticed in his eleventh +year to his eldest brother James as a stone-mason. His hours of leisure +were applied to mental improvement; he read diligently the considerable +collection of books possessed by his father, and listened to the +numerous legendary tales which his mother took delight in narrating at +the family hearth. A native love for verse-making, which he possessed in +common with his brother Thomas, was fostered and strengthened by his +being early brought into personal contact with the poet Burns. In 1790, +his father removed to Dalswinton, in the capacity of land-steward to Mr +Miller, the proprietor, and Burns' farm of Ellisland lay on the opposite +side of the Nith. The two families in consequence met very frequently; +and Allan, though a mere boy, was sufficiently sagacious to appreciate +the merits of the great bard. Though, at the period of Burns' death, in +1796, he was only twelve years old, the appearance and habits of the +poet had left an indelible impression on his mind. + +In his fifteenth year, Allan had the misfortune to lose his father, who +had sunk to the grave under the pressure of poverty and misfortune; he +thus became necessitated to assist in the general support of the family. +At the age of eighteen he obtained the acquaintance of the Ettrick +Shepherd; Hogg was then tending the flocks of Mr Harkness of +Mitchelslack, in Nithsdale, and Cunningham, who had read some of his +stray ballads, formed a high estimate of his genius. Along with his +elder brother James, he paid a visit to the Shepherd one autumn +afternoon on the great hill of Queensberry; and the circumstances of the +meeting, Hogg has been at pains minutely to record. James Cunningham +came forward and frankly addressed the Shepherd, asking if his name was +Hogg, and at the same time supplying his own; he then introduced his +brother Allan, who diffidently lagged behind, and proceeded to assure +the Shepherd that he had brought to see him "the greatest admirer he had +on earth, and himself a young aspiring poet of some promise." Hogg +warmly saluted his brother bard, and, taking both the strangers to his +booth on the hill-side, the three spent the afternoon happily together, +rejoicing over the viands of a small bag of provisions, and a bottle of +milk, and another of whisky. Hogg often afterwards visited the +Cunninghams at Dalswinton, and was forcibly struck with Allan's +luxuriant though unpruned fancy. He had already written some ingenious +imitations of Ossian, and of the elder Scottish bards. + +On the publication of the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," in 1805, +Cunningham contrived to save twenty-four shillings of his wages to +purchase it, and forthwith committed the poem to memory. On perusing the +poem of "Marmion," his enthusiasm was boundless; he undertook a journey +to Edinburgh that he might look upon the person of the illustrious +author. In a manner sufficiently singular, his wish was realised. +Passing and repassing in front of Scott's house in North Castle Street, +he was noticed by a lady from the window of the adjoining house, who +addressed him by name, and caused her servant to admit him. The lady was +a person of some consideration from his native district, who had fixed +her residence in the capital. He had just explained to her the object of +his Edinburgh visit, when Scott made his appearance in the street. +Passing his own door, he knocked at that of the house from the window of +which his young admirer was anxiously gazing on his stalwart figure. As +the lady of the house had not made Scott's acquaintance, she gently laid +hold on Allan's arm, inducing him to be silent, to notice the result of +the proceeding. Scott, in a reverie of thought, had passed his own +door; observing a number of children's bonnets in the lobby, he suddenly +perceived his mistake, and, apologising to the servant, hastily +withdrew. + +Cunningham's elder brother Thomas, and his friend Hogg, were already +contributors to the _Scots' Magazine_. Allan made offer of some poetical +pieces to that periodical which were accepted. He first appears in the +magazine in 1807, under the signature of _Hidallan_. In 1809, Mr Cromek, +the London engraver, visited Dumfries, in the course of collecting +materials for his "Reliques of Robert Burns;" he was directed to Allan +Cunningham, as one who, having known Burns personally, and being himself +a poet, was likely to be useful in his researches. On forming his +acquaintance, Cromek at once perceived his important acquisition with +respect to his immediate object, but expressed a desire first to examine +some of his own compositions. Allan acceded to the request, but received +only a moderate share of praise from the pedantic antiquary. Cromek +urged him to collect the elder minstrelsy of Nithsdale and Galloway as +an exercise more profitable than the composition of verses. On returning +to London, Cromek received from his young friend packets of "old songs," +which called forth his warmest encomiums. He entreated him to come to +London to push his fortune,--an invitation which was readily accepted. +For some time Cunningham was an inmate of Cromek's house, when he was +entrusted with passing through the press the materials which he had +transmitted, with others collected from different sources; and which, +formed into a volume, under the title of "Remains of Nithsdale and +Galloway Song," were published in 1810 by Messrs Cadell and Davies. The +work excited no inconsiderable attention, though most of the readers +perceived, what Cromek had not even suspected, that the greater part of +the ballads were of modern origin. Cromek did not survive to be made +cognizant of the amusing imposition which had been practised on his +credulity. + +Fortune did not smile on Cunningham's first entrance into business in +London. He was compelled to resume his former occupation as a mason, and +is said to have laid pavement in Newgate Street. From this humble +position he rose to a situation in the studio of Bubb, the sculptor; and +through the counsel of Eugenius Roche, the former editor of the +"Literary Recreations," and then the conductor of _The Day_ newspaper, +he was induced to lay aside the trowel and undertake the duties of +reporter to that journal. _The Day_ soon falling into the hands of other +proprietors, Cunningham felt his situation uncomfortable, and returned +to his original vocation, attaching himself to Francis Chantrey, then a +young sculptor just commencing business. Chantrey soon rose, and +ultimately attained the summit of professional reputation; Cunningham +continued by him as the superintendent of his establishment till the +period of his death, long afterwards. + +Devoted to business, and not unfrequently occupied in the studio from +eight o'clock morning till six o'clock evening, Cunningham perseveringly +followed the career of a poet and man of letters. In 1813, he published +a volume of lyrics, entitled "Songs, chiefly in the Rural Language of +Scotland." After an interval of nine years, sedulously improved by an +ample course of reading, he produced in 1822 "Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, a +Dramatic Poem." In this work, which is much commended by Sir Walter +Scott in the preface to the "Fortunes of Nigel," he depicts the manners +and traditions he had seen and heard on the banks of the Nith. In 1819, +he began to contribute to _Blackwood's Magazine_, and from 1822 to 1824 +wrote largely for the _London Magazine_. Two collected volumes of his +contributions to these periodicals were afterwards published, under the +title of "Traditional Tales." In 1825, he gave to the world "The Songs +of Scotland, Ancient and Modern, with an Introduction and Notes," in +four volumes 8vo. This work abounds in much valuable and curious +criticism. "Paul Jones," a romance in three volumes, was the product of +1826; it was eminently successful. A second romance from his pen, "Sir +Michael Scott," published in 1828, in three volumes, did not succeed. +"The Anniversary," a miscellany which appeared in the winter of that +year, under his editorial superintendence, obtained an excellent +reception. From 1829 to 1833, he produced for "Murray's Family Library" +his most esteemed prose work, "The Lives of the Most Eminent British +Painters, Sculptors, and Architects," in six volumes. "The Maid of +Elvar," an epic poem in the Spenserian stanza, connected with the +chivalrous enterprise displayed in the warfare between Scotland and +England, during the reign of Henry VIII., was published in 1832. His +admirable edition of the works of Robert Burns appeared in 1834, and +5000 copies were speedily sold.[8] In 1836, he published "Lord Roldan," +a romance. From 1830 to 1834, he was a constant writer in _The +Athenæum_, to which, among many interesting articles, he contributed his +sentiments regarding the literary characters of the times, in a series +of papers entitled "Literature of the Last Fifty Years." He wrote a +series of prose descriptions for "Major's Cabinet Gallery," a "History +of the Rise and Progress of the Fine Arts," for the "Popular +Encyclopædia;" an introduction, and a few additional lives, for +"Pilkington's Painters," and a life of Thomson for Tilt's illustrated +edition of "The Seasons." He contemplated a great work, to be entitled +"Lives of the British Poets," and this design, which he did not live to +accomplish, is likely to be realised by his son, Mr Peter Cunningham. +His last publication was the "Life of Sir David Wilkie," which he +completed just two days before his death. He was suddenly seized with an +apoplectic attack, and died after a brief illness on the 29th October +1842. His remains were interred in Kensal-green Cemetery. He had +married, in July 1811, Miss Jane Walker of Preston Mill, near Dumfries, +who still survives. Of a family of four sons and one daughter, three of +the sons held military appointments in India, and the fourth, who fills +a post in Somerset House, is well known for his contributions to +literature. + +Allan Cunningham ranks next to Hogg as a writer of Scottish song. He +sung of the influences of beauty, and of the hills and vales of his own +dear Scotland. His songs abound in warmth of expression, simplicity of +sentiment, and luxuriousness of fancy. Of his skill as a Scottish poet, +Hogg has thus testified his appreciation in the "Queen's Wake":-- + + "Of the old elm his harp was made, + That bent o'er Cluden's loneliest shade; + No gilded sculpture round her flamed, + For his own hand that harp had framed, + In stolen hours, when, labour done, + He stray'd to view the parting sun. + + * * * * * + + That harp could make the matron stare, + Bristle the peasant's hoary hair, + Make patriot breasts with ardour glow, + And warrior pant to meet the foe; + And long by Nith the maidens young + Shall chant the strains their minstrel sung. + At ewe-bught, or at evening fold, + When resting on the daisied wold, + Combing their locks of waving gold, + Oft the fair group, enrapt, shall name + Their lost, their darling Cunninghame; + His was a song beloved in youth, + A tale of weir, a tale of truth." + +As a prose writer, Cunningham was believed by Southey to have the best +style ever attained by any one born north of the Tweed, Hume only +excepted. His moral qualities were well appreciated by Sir Walter Scott, +who commonly spoke of him as "Honest Allan." His person was broad and +powerful, and his countenance wore a fine intelligence. + + +[6] See vol. ii., p. 223. + +[7] Besides Thomas and Allan, the other members of the family afforded +evidence of talent. James, the eldest son, with a limited education, was +intimately familiar with general literature, and occasionally +contributed to the periodicals. He began his career as a stone-mason, +and by his ability and perseverance rose to the respectable position of +a master builder. He died at Dalswinton, near Dumfries, on the 27th July +1832. John, the third brother, who died in early life, evinced a turn +for mechanism, and wrote respectable verses. Peter, the fifth son, +studied medicine, and became a surgeon in the navy; he still survives, +resident at Greenwich, and is known as the author of two respectable +works, bearing the titles, "Two Years in New South Wales," and "Hints to +Australian Emigrants." Of the five daughters, one of whom only survives, +all gave evidence of intellectual ability. + +[8] Writing to Mr Gabriel Neil of Glasgow, in January 1834, along with a +copy of the first volume, Cunningham remarks, "I hope you will like the +Life; a third of it is new, so are many of the anecdotes, and I am +willing to stand or fall as an author by it." Mr Neil, it may be added, +contributed to Cunningham a great deal of original information as to the +life of the poet, and also some of his unpublished poems. + + + + +SHE 'S GANE TO DWALL IN HEAVEN. + + + She 's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, + She 's gane to dwall in heaven: + "Ye 're owre pure," quo' the voice o' God, + "For dwalling out o' heaven!" + + Oh, what 'll she do in heaven, my lassie? + Oh, what 'll she do in heaven? + She 'll mix her ain thoughts wi' angels' sangs, + And make them mair meet for heaven. + + She was beloved by a', my lassie, + She was beloved by a'; + But an angel fell in love wi' her, + An' took her frae us a'. + + Lowly there thou lies, my lassie, + Lowly there thou lies; + A bonnier form ne'er went to the yird, + Nor frae it will arise! + + Fu' soon I 'll follow thee, my lassie, + Fu' soon I 'll follow thee; + Thou left me naught to covet ahin', + But took gudeness sel' wi' thee. + + I look'd on thy death-cold face, my lassie, + I look'd on thy death-cold face; + Thou seem'd a lily new cut i' the bud, + An' fading in its place. + + I look'd on thy death-shut eye, my lassie, + I look'd on thy death-shut eye; + An' a lovelier light in the brow of Heaven + Fell Time shall ne'er destroy. + + Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie, + Thy lips were ruddy and calm; + But gane was the holy breath o' Heaven, + That sang the evening psalm. + + There 's naught but dust now mine, lassie, + There 's naught but dust now mine; + My soul 's wi' thee i' the cauld grave, + An' why should I stay behin'? + + + + +THE LOVELY LASS OF PRESTON MILL. + + + The lark had left the evening cloud, + The dew was soft, the wind was lowne, + The gentle breath amang the flowers + Scarce stirr'd the thistle's tap o' down; + The dappled swallow left the pool, + The stars were blinking owre the hill, + As I met amang the hawthorns green + The lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + Her naked feet, amang the grass, + Seem'd like twa dew-gemm'd lilies fair; + Her brow shone comely 'mang her locks, + Dark curling owre her shoulders bare; + Her cheeks were rich wi' bloomy youth; + Her lips had words and wit at will, + And heaven seem'd looking through her een, + The lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + Quo' I, "Sweet lass, will ye gang wi' me, + Where blackcocks crow, and plovers cry? + Six hills are woolly wi' my sheep, + Six vales are lowing wi' my kye: + I have look'd lang for a weel-favour'd lass, + By Nithsdale's holmes an' mony a hill;" + She hung her head like a dew-bent rose, + The lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + Quo' I, "Sweet maiden, look nae down, + But gie 's a kiss, and gang wi' me:" + A lovelier face, oh! never look'd up, + And the tears were drapping frae her e'e: + "I hae a lad, wha 's far awa', + That weel could win a woman's will; + My heart 's already fu' o' love," + Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + "Now wha is he wha could leave sic a lass, + To seek for love in a far countrie?" + Her tears drapp'd down like simmer dew: + I fain wad kiss'd them frae her e'e. + I took but ane o' her comely cheek; + "For pity's sake, kind sir, be still! + My heart is fu' o' ither love," + Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + She stretch'd to heaven her twa white hands, + And lifted up her watery e'e-- + "Sae lang 's my heart kens aught o' God, + Or light is gladsome to my e'e; + While woods grow green, and burns rin clear, + Till my last drap o' blood be still, + My heart shall haud nae other love," + Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + There 's comely maids on Dee's wild banks, + And Nith's romantic vale is fu'; + By lanely Cluden's hermit stream + Dwells mony a gentle dame, I trow. + Oh, they are lights of a gladsome kind, + As ever shone on vale or hill; + But there 's a light puts them a' out, + The lovely lass of Preston Mill. + + + + +GANE WERE BUT THE WINTER CAULD. + + + Gane were but the winter cauld, + And gane were but the snaw, + I could sleep in the wild woods, + Where primroses blaw. + + Cauld 's the snaw at my head, + And cauld at my feet, + And the finger o' death 's at my een, + Closing them to sleep. + + Let nane tell my father, + Or my mither dear: + I 'll meet them baith in heaven, + At the spring o' the year. + + + + +IT 'S HAME, AND IT 'S HAME. + + + It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, + An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! + When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree, + The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countrie; + It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, + An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! + + The green leaf o' loyalty 's beginning for to fa', + The bonnie white rose it is withering an' a': + But I 'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie, + An' green it will grow in my ain countrie. + It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, + An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! + + There 's naught now frae ruin my country to save, + But the keys o' kind Heaven to open the grave, + That a' the noble martyrs who died for loyaltie, + May rise again and fight for their ain countrie. + It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, + And it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! + + The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save, + The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave; + But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e: + "I 'll shine on ye yet in your ain countrie." + It 's hame, an' it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, + An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! + + + + +THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS. + + + There lived a lass in Inverness, + She was the pride of a' the town; + Blithe as the lark on gowan-tap, + When frae the nest but newly flown. + At kirk she won the auld folks' love, + At dance she was the young men's een; + She was the blithest aye o' the blithe, + At wooster-trystes or Hallowe'en. + + As I came in by Inverness, + The simmer-sun was sinking down; + Oh, there I saw the weel-faur'd lass, + And she was greeting through the town: + The gray-hair'd men were a' i' the streets, + And auld dames crying, (sad to see!) + "The flower o' the lads of Inverness + Lie dead upon Culloden-lee!" + + She tore her haffet-links of gowd, + And dighted aye her comely e'e; + "My father's head 's on Carlisle wall, + At Preston sleep my brethren three! + I thought my heart could haud nae mair, + Mae tears could ever blin' my e'e; + But the fa' o' ane has burst my heart, + A dearer ane there couldna be! + + "He trysted me o' love yestreen, + Of love-tokens he gave me three; + But he 's faulded i' the arms o' weir, + Oh, ne'er again to think o' me! + The forest flowers shall be my bed, + My food shall be the wild berrie, + The fa' o' the leaf shall co'er me cauld, + And wauken'd again I winna be." + + Oh weep, oh weep, ye Scottish dames, + Weep till ye blin' a mither's e'e; + Nae reeking ha' in fifty miles, + But naked corses, sad to see. + Oh spring is blithesome to the year, + Trees sprout, flowers spring, and birds sing hie; + But oh! what spring can raise them up, + That lie on dread Culloden-lee? + + The hand o' God hung heavy here, + And lightly touch'd foul tyrannie; + It struck the righteous to the ground, + And lifted the destroyer hie. + "But there 's a day," quo' my God in prayer, + "When righteousness shall bear the gree; + I 'll rake the wicked low i' the dust, + And wauken, in bliss, the gude man's e'e!" + + + + +A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. + + + A wet sheet and a flowing sea, + A wind that follows fast, + And fills the white and rustling sail, + And bends the gallant mast; + And bends the gallant mast, my boys, + While, like the eagle free, + Away the good ship flies, and leaves + Old England on the lee. + + Oh for a soft and gentle wind! + I hear a fair one cry; + But give to me the snoring breeze, + And white waves heaving high; + And white waves heaving high, my boys, + The good ship tight and free-- + The world of waters is our home, + And merry men are we. + + There 's tempest in yon hornèd moon, + And lightning in yon cloud; + And hark the music, mariners! + The wind is piping loud; + The wind is piping loud, my boys, + The lightning flashing free-- + While the hollow oak our palace is, + Our heritage the sea. + + + + +THE BONNIE BARK. + + + O come, my bonnie bark! + O'er the waves let us go, + With thy neck like the swan, + And thy wings like the snow. + Spread thy plumes to the wind, + For a gentle one soon + Must welcome us home, + Ere the wane of the moon. + + The proud oak that built thee + Was nursed in the dew, + Where my gentle one dwells, + And stately it grew. + I hew'd its beauty down; + Now it swims on the sea, + And wafts spice and perfume, + My fair one, to thee. + + Oh, sweet, sweet 's her voice, + As a low warbled tune; + And sweet, sweet her lips, + Like the rose-bud of June. + She looks to sea, and sighs, + As the foamy wave flows, + And treads on men's strength, + As in glory she goes. + + Oh haste, my bonnie bark, + O'er the waves let us bound, + As the deer from the horn, + Or the hare from the hound. + Pluck down thy white plumes, + Sink thy keel in the sand, + Whene'er ye see my love, + And the wave of her hand. + + + + + +THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY JEANIE. + + + Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, + By that pretty white hand o' thine, + And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, + That thou would aye be mine; + And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, + And by that kind heart o' thine, + By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven, + That thou would aye be mine. + + Then foul fa' the hands that loose sic bands, + And the heart that would part sic love; + But there 's nae hand can loose my band + But the finger o' God above. + Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, + And my claithing e'er sae mean, + I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, + Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean. + + Her white arm wad be a pillow for me, + Fu' safter than the down; + And luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wings, + And sweetly I 'll sleep, an' soun'. + Come here to me, thou lass o' my love, + Come here and kneel wi' me; + The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God, + And I canna pray without thee. + + The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers, + The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie; + Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard dyke, + And a blithe auld bodie is he. + The Beuk maun be ta'en when the carle comes hame, + Wi' the holie psalmodie, + And thou maun speak o' me to thy God, + And I will speak o' thee. + + + + +YOUNG ELIZA.[9] + + + Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow, + This day of rest I 'll give to you, + And clasp thy waist with many a vow, + My loved, my young Eliza. + + 'Tis not that cheek, that bosom bare, + That high arch'd eye, that long brown hair, + That fair form'd foot, thine angel air,-- + But 'tis thy mind, Eliza. + + Think not to charm me with thine eye, + Those smiling lips, that heaving sigh, + My heart 's charm'd with a nobler tie,-- + It is thy mind, Eliza. + + This heart, which every love could warm, + Which every pretty face could charm, + No more will beat the sweet alarm, + But to my young Eliza. + + The peasant lad unyokes his car, + The star of even shines bright and far, + And lights me to the flood-torn scaur, + To meet my young Eliza. + + There is the smile to please, where truth + And soft persuasion fills her mouth, + While warm with all the fire of youth, + She clasps me, young Eliza. + + My heart's blood warms in stronger flow, + My cheeks are tinged with redder glow, + When sober matron, Evening slow, + Bids me to meet Eliza. + + The bard can kindle his soul to flame, + The patriot hunts a deathless name; + Give me the peasant's humble fame, + And give me young Eliza. + + The warlock glen has tint its gloom, + The fairie burn the witching broom, + All wear a lovelier, sweeter bloom, + For there I meet Eliza. + + Then come that mind, so finely form'd, + By native truth and virtue warm'd, + With love's soft simplest lay is charm'd, + Come to my breast, Eliza. + + +[9] This song, which is a juvenile production of the poet, has been +communicated by his niece, Miss Pagan of Dumfries. The heroine of the +song, Eliza Neilson, eldest daughter of the Reverend Mr Neilson of +Kirkbean, still lives, and is resident in Dumfries. + + + + +LOVELY WOMAN.[10] + + + I 've rock'd me on the giddy mast, + Through seas tempestuous foamin', + I 've braved the toil of mountain storm, + From dawning to the gloamin'; + Round the green bosom'd earth, sea-swept, + In search of pleasure roamin', + And found the world a wilderness, + Without thee, lovely woman! + + The farmer reaps his golden fields, + The merchant sweeps the ocean; + The soldier's steed, gore-fetlock'd, snorts + Through war-field's wild commotion; + All combat in eternal toil, + Mirk midnight, day, and gloamin', + To pleasure Heaven's divinest gift, + Thee, lovely, conquering woman! + + The savage in the desert dark, + The monster's den exploring; + The sceptre-swaying prince, who rules + The nations round adoring; + Nay, even the laurell'd-templed bard + Dew-footed at the gloamin', + Melodious wooes the world's ear, + To please thee, lovely woman! + + +[10] This song appeared in the _London Magazine_, new edit., No. xxx. It +was addressed to Mrs Pagan of Curriestanes, the poet's sister, who, it +may be remarked, possessed a large share of the family talent. She died +on the 5th February 1854, and her remains rest in the Pagan family's +burying-ground, in Terregles' churchyard. + + + + +EBENEZER PICKEN. + + +Ebenezer Picken was the only son of a silk-weaver in Paisley, who bore +the same Christian name. He was born at the _Well-meadow_ of that town, +about the year 1769. Intending to follow the profession of a clergyman, +he proceeded to the University of Glasgow, which he attended during five +or six sessions. With talents of a high order, he permitted an +enthusiastic attachment to verse-making to interfere with his severer +studies and retard his progress in learning. Contrary to the counsel of +his father and other friends, he published, in 1788, while only in his +nineteenth year, a thin octavo volume of poems; and afterwards gave to +the gay intercourse of lovers of the muse, many precious hours which +ought to have been applied to mental improvement. Early in 1791 he +became teacher of a school at Falkirk; and on the 14th of April of the +same year appeared at the Pantheon, Edinburgh, where he delivered an +oration in blank verse on the comparative merits of Ramsay and +Fergusson, assigning the pre-eminence to the former poet. In this debate +his fellow-townsman and friend, Alexander Wilson, the future +ornithologist, advocated in verse the merits of Fergusson; and the +productions of both the youthful adventurers were printed in a pamphlet +entitled the "Laurel Disputed." In occupying the position of +schoolmaster at Falkirk, Picken proposed to raise funds to aid him in +the prosecution of his theological studies; but the circumstance of his +having formed a matrimonial union with a young lady, a daughter of Mr +Beveridge of the Burgher congregation in Falkirk, by involving him in +the expenses of a family, proved fatal to his clerical aspirations. He +accepted the situation of teacher of an endowed school at Carron, where +he remained till 1796, when he removed to Edinburgh. In the capital he +found employment as manager of a mercantile establishment, and +afterwards on his own account commenced business as a draper. +Unsuccessful in this branch of business, he subsequently sought a +livelihood as a music-seller and a teacher of languages. In 1813, with +the view of bettering his circumstances, he published, by subscription, +two duodecimo volumes of "Poems and Songs," in which are included the +pieces contained in his first published volume. His death took place in +1816. + +Picken is remembered as a person of gentlemanly appearance, endeavouring +to confront the pressure of unmitigated poverty. His dispositions were +eminently social, and his love of poetry amounted to a passion. He is +commemorated in the poetical works of his early friend, Wilson, who has +addressed to him a lengthened poetical epistle. In 1818, a dictionary of +Scottish words, which he had occupied some years in preparing, was +published at Edinburgh by "James Sawers, Calton Street," and this +publication was found of essential service by Dr Jamieson in the +preparation of his "Supplement" to his "Dictionary of the Scottish +Language." Among Picken's poetical compositions are a few pieces bearing +the impress of genius.[11] + + +[11] Andrew Picken, the only son of Ebenezer, a person of somewhat +unprepossessing appearance, contrived to derive a tolerable livelihood +by following the conjunct occupation of an itinerant player and +portrait-painter. He was the writer of some good poetry, and about 1827 +published a respectable volume of verses, entitled, "The Bedouin, and +other Poems." He soon afterwards proceeded to America. + + + + +PEGGIE WI' THE GLANCIN' E'E. + + + Walkin' out ae mornin' early, + Ken ye wha I chanced to see? + But my lassie, gay and frisky, + Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e. + Phoebus, left the lap o' Thetis, + Fast was lickin' up the dew, + Whan, ayont a risin' hilloc, + First my Peggie came in view. + + Hark ye, I gaed up to meet her; + But whane'er my face she saw, + Up her plaidin' coat she kiltit, + And in daffin' scour'd awa'. + Weel kent I that though my Peggie + Ran sae fast out owre the mead, + She was wantin' me to follow-- + Yes, ye swains, an' sae I did. + + At yon burnie I o'ertook her, + Whare the shinin' pebbles lie; + Whare the flowers, that fringe the border, + Soup the stream, that wimples by. + While wi' her I sat reclinin', + Frae her lips I staw a kiss; + While she blush'd, I took anither,-- + Shepherds, was there ill in this? + + Could a lass, sae sweet an' comely, + Ever bless a lover's arms? + Could the bonnie wife o' Vulcan + Ever boast o' hauf the charms? + While the zephyrs fan the meadows, + While the flow'rets crown the lea, + While they paint the gowden simmer, + Wha sae blest as her an' me? + + + + +WOO ME AGAIN. + +TUNE--_"On a Primrosy Bank."_ + + + Whan Jamie first woo'd me, he was but a youth: + Frae his lips flow'd the strains o' persuasion and truth; + His suit I rejected wi' pride an' disdain, + But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again! + + He aft wad hae tauld me his love was sincere, + And e'en wad hae ventured to ca' me his dear: + My heart to his tale was as hard as a stane; + But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again! + + He said that he hoped I would yield an' be kind, + But I counted his proffers as light as the wind; + I laugh'd at his grief, whan I heard him complain; + But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again! + + He flatter'd my locks, that war black as a slae, + And praised my fine shape, frae the tap to the tae; + I flate, an' desired he wad let me alane; + But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again! + + Repulsed, he forsook me, an' left me to grieve, + An' mourn the sad hour that my swain took his leave; + Now, since I despised, an' was deaf to his maen, + I fear he 'll ne'er offer to woo me again! + + Oh! wad he but now to his Jean be inclined, + My heart in a moment wad yield to his mind; + But I fear wi' some ither my laddie is taen, + An' sae he 'll ne'er offer to woo me again. + + Ye bonnie young lasses, be warn'd by my fate, + Despise not the heart you may value too late; + Improve the sweet sunshine that now gilds the plain; + With you it may never be sunshine again. + + The simmer o' life, ah! it soon flits awa', + An' the bloom on your cheek will soon dow in the snaw; + Oh! think, ere you treat a fond youth wi' disdain, + That, in age, the sweet flower never blossoms again. + + + + +STUART LEWIS. + + +Stuart Lewis, the mendicant bard, was the eldest son of an innkeeper at +Ecclefechan in Annandale, where he was born about the year 1756. A +zealous Jacobite, his father gave him the name of Stuart, in honour of +Prince Charles Edward. At the parish school, taught by one Irving, an +ingenious and learned person of eccentric habits, he received a +respectable ground-work of education; but the early deprivation of his +father, who died bankrupt, compelled him to relinquish the pursuit of +learning. At the age of fifteen, with the view of aiding in the support +of his widowed mother, with her destitute family of other five children, +he accepted manual employment from a relation in the vicinity of +Chester. Subsequently, along with a partner, he established himself as a +merchant-tailor in the town of Chester, where he remained some years, +when his partner absconded to America with a considerable amount, +leaving him to meet the demands of the firm. Surrendering his effects to +his creditors, he returned to his native place, almost penniless, and +suffering mental depression from his misfortunes, which he recklessly +sought to remove by the delusive remedy of the bottle. The habit of +intemperance thus produced, became his scourge through life. At +Ecclefechan he commenced business as a tailor, and married a young +country girl, for whom he had formed a devoted attachment. He +established a village library, and debating club, became a diligent +reader, a leader in every literary movement in the district, and a +writer of poetry of some merit. A poem on the melancholy story of "Fair +Helen of Kirkconnel," which he composed at this period, obtained a +somewhat extensive popularity. To aid his finances, he became an +itinerant seller of cloth,--a mode of life which gave him an opportunity +of studying character, and visiting interesting scenery. The pressure of +poverty afterwards induced him to enlist, as a recruit, in the Hopetoun +Fencibles; and, in this humble position, he contrived to augment his +scanty pay by composing acrostics and madrigals for the officers, who +rewarded him with small gratuities. On the regiment being disbanded in +1799, he was entrusted by a merchant with the sale of goods, as a +pedlar, in the west of England; but this employment ceased on his being +robbed, while in a state of inebriety. Still descending in the social +scale, he became an umbrella-maker in Manchester, while his wife was +employed in some of the manufactories. Some other odd and irregular +occupations were severally attempted without success, till at length, +about his fiftieth year, he finally settled into the humble condition of +a wandering poet. He composed verses on every variety of theme, and +readily parted with his compositions for food or whisky. His field of +wandering included the entire Lowlands, and he occasionally penetrated +into Highland districts. In his wanderings he was accompanied by his +wife, who, though a severe sufferer on his account, along with her +family of five or six children, continued most devoted in her attachment +to him. On her death, which took place in the Cowgate, Edinburgh, early +in 1817, he became almost distracted, and never recovered his former +composure. He now roamed wildly through the country, seldom remaining +more than one night in the same place. He finally returned to +Dumfriesshire, his native county; and accidentally falling into the +Nith, caught an inflammatory fever, of which he died, in the village of +Ruthwell, on the 22d September 1818. Lewis was slender, and of low +stature. His countenance was sharp, and his eye intelligent, though +frenzied with excitement. He always expressed himself in the language of +enthusiasm, despised prudence and common sense, and commended the +impulsive and fanciful. He published, in 1816, a small volume, entitled +"The African Slave; with other Poems and Songs." Some of his lyrics are +not unworthy of a place in the national minstrelsy. + + + + +LANARK MILLS. + +AIR--_"Miss Forbes' Farewell to Banff."_ + + + Adieu! romantic banks of Clyde, + Where oft I 've spent the joyful day; + Now, weary wand'ring on thy side, + I pour the plaintive, joyless lay. + To other lands I 'm doom'd to rove, + The thought with grief my bosom fills; + Why am I forced to leave my love, + And wander far from Lanark Mills? + + Can I forget th' ecstatic hours, + When ('scaped the village evening din) + I met my lass 'midst Braxfield bowers, + Or near the falls of Corhouse Linn! + While close I clasp'd her to my breast, + (Th' idea still with rapture thrills!) + I thought myself completely blest, + By all the lads of Lanark Mills. + + Deceitful, dear, delusive dream, + Thou 'rt fled--alas! I know not where, + And vanish'd is each blissful gleam, + And left behind a load of care. + Adieu! dear winding banks of Clyde, + A long farewell, ye rising hills; + No more I 'll wander on your side, + Though still my heart 's at Lanark Mills. + + While Tintock stands the pride of hills, + While Clyde's dark stream rolls to the sea, + So long, my dear-loved Lanark Mills, + May Heaven's best blessings smile on thee. + A last adieu! my Mary dear, + The briny tear my eye distils; + While reason's powers continue clear, + I 'll think of thee, and Lanark Mills. + + + + +O'ER THE MUIR.[12] + + + Ae morn of May, when fields were gay, + Serene and charming was the weather, + I chanced to roam some miles frae home, + Far o'er yon muir, amang the heather. + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather, + How healthsome 'tis to range the muirs, + And brush the dew from vernal heather. + + I walk'd along, and humm'd a song, + My heart was light as ony feather, + And soon did pass a lovely lass, + Was wading barefoot through the heather. + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather; + The bonniest lass that e'er I saw + I met ae morn amang the heather. + + Her eyes divine, mair bright did shine, + Than the most clear unclouded ether; + A fairer form did ne'er adorn + A brighter scene than blooming heather. + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather; + There 's ne'er a lass in Scotia's isle, + Can vie with her amang the heather. + + I said, "Dear maid, be not afraid; + Pray sit you down, let 's talk together; + For, oh! my fair, I vow and swear, + You 've stole my heart amang the heather." + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather; + Ye swains, beware of yonder muir, + You 'll lose your hearts amang the heather. + + She answer'd me, right modestly, + "I go, kind sir, to seek my father, + Whose fleecy charge he tends at large, + On yon green hills beyond the heather." + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather; + Were I a king, thou shou'dst be mine, + Dear blooming maid, amang the heather. + + Away she flew out of my view, + Her home or name I ne'er could gather, + But aye sin' syne I sigh and pine + For that sweet lass amang the heather. + O'er the muir amang the heather, + O'er the muir amang the heather, + While vital heat glows in my heart, + I 'll love the lass amang the heather. + + +[12] The more popular words to the same tune and chorus, beginning, +"Comin' through the Craigs o' Kyle," are believed, on the authority of +Burns, to have been the composition of Jean Glover, a girl of +respectable parentage, born at Kilmarnock in 1758, who became attached +to a company of strolling players. Lewis is said to have claimed +priority for his verses, and the point is not likely ever to be decided. +This much may be said in favour of Lewis's claims, that he had long been +the writer of respectable lyrics; while Jean Glover, though well skilled +as a musician, is not otherwise known to have composed verses. One of +the songs is evidently an echo of the other. + + + + +DAVID DRUMMOND. + + +David Drummond, author of "The Bonnie Lass o' Levenside," a song +formerly of no inconsiderable popularity, was a native of Crieff, +Perthshire. Along with his four brothers, he settled in Fifeshire, about +the beginning of the century, having obtained the situation of clerk in +the Kirkland works, near Leven. In 1812, he proceeded to India, and +afterwards attained considerable wealth as the conductor of an academy +and boarding establishment at Calcutta. A man of vigorous mind and +respectable scholarship, he had early cultivated a taste for literature +and poetry, and latterly became an extensive contributor to the public +journals and periodical publications of Calcutta. The song with which +his name has been chiefly associated, was composed during the period of +his employment at the Kirkland works,--the heroine being Miss Wilson, +daughter of the proprietor of Pirnie, near Leven, a young lady of great +personal attractions, to whom he was devotedly attached. The sequel of +his history, in connexion with this lady, forms the subject of a +romance, in which he has been made to figure much to the injury of his +fame. The correct version of this story, in which Drummond has been +represented as faithless to the object of his former affections, we have +received from a gentleman to whom the circumstances were intimately +known. In consequence of a proposal to become his wife, Miss Wilson +sailed for Calcutta in 1816. On her arrival, she was kindly received by +her affianced lover, who conducted her to the house of a respectable +female friend, till arrangements might be completed for the nuptial +ceremony. In the interval, she became desirous of withdrawing from her +engagement; and Drummond, observing her coldness, offered to pay the +expense of her passage back to Scotland. Meanwhile, she was seized with +fever, of which she died. Report erroneously alleged that she had died +of a broken heart on account of her lover being unfaithful, and hence +the memory of poor Drummond has been most unjustly aspersed. Drummond +died, at Calcutta, in 1845, about the age of seventy. He was much +respected among a wide circle of friends and admirers. His personal +appearance was unprepossessing, almost approaching to deformity,--a +circumstance which may explain the ultimate hesitation of Miss Wilson to +accept his hand. "The Bonnie Lass o' Levenside" was first printed, with +the author's consent, though without acknowledgment, in a small volume +of poems, by William Rankin, Leven, published in 1812. The authorship of +the song was afterwards claimed by William Glass,[13] an obscure +rhymster of the capital. + + +[13] Glass was a house-painter in Edinburgh; he ultimately became very +dissipated, and died in circumstances of penury about 1840. He +published, in 1811, "The Album, a Collection of Poems and Songs," 12mo; +in 1814, "Scenes of Gloamin'," 12mo; and in 1816, a third volume, +entitled "Songs of Edina." The last is dedicated, by permission, to the +Duke of Gordon. In the "Scenes of Gloamin'," Glass has included the +"Bonnie Lass o' Levenside," as a song of his own composition. + + + + +THE BONNIE LASS O' LEVENSIDE. + +AIR--_"Up amang the Cliffy Rocks."_ + + + How sweet are Leven's silver streams, + Around her banks the wild flowers blooming; + On every bush the warblers vie, + In strains of bosom-soothing joy. + But Leven's banks that bloom sae bra, + And Leven's streams that glide sae saucy, + Sic joy an' beauty couldna shaw, + An 't were not for my darling lassie; + Her presence fills them a' wi' pride, + The bonnie lass o' Levenside. + + When sober eve begins her reign, + The little birds to cease their singing, + The flowers their beauty to renew, + Their bosoms bathe in diamond dew; + When far behind the Lomonds high, + The wheels of day are downwards rowing, + And a' the western closing sky + Wi' varied tints of glory lowing, + 'Tis then my eager steps I guide, + To meet the lass o' Levenside. + + The solemn sweetness nature spreads, + The kindly hour to bliss inviting, + Within our happy bosoms move, + The softest sigh o' purest love; + Reclined upon the velvet grass, + Beneath the balmy, birken blossom, + What words could a' my joy express, + When clasped to her beating bosom; + How swells my heart with rapture's tide, + When wi' the lass o' Levenside. + + She never saw the splendid ball, + She never blazed in courtly grandeur, + But like her native lily's bloom, + She cheerfu' gilds her humble home; + The pert reply, the modish air, + To soothe the soul were never granted, + When modest sense and love are there, + The guise o' art may well be wanted; + O Fate! gi'e me to be my bride + The bonnie lass o' Levenside. + + + + +JAMES AFFLECK. + + +The "Posthumous Poetical Works" of James Affleck, tailor in Biggar, with +a memoir of his life by his son, were published at Edinburgh in 1836. +Affleck was born in the village of Drummelzier, in Peeblesshire, on the +8th September 1776. His education was scanty; and after some years' +occupation as a cowherd, he was apprenticed to a tailor in his native +village. He afterwards prosecuted his trade in the parish of +Crawfordjohn, and in the town of Ayr. In 1793, he established himself as +master tailor in Biggar. Fond of society, he joined the district lodge +of freemasons, and became a leading member of that fraternity. He +composed verses for the entertainment of his friends, which he was +induced to give to the world in two separate publications. He possessed +considerable poetical talent, but his compositions are generally marked +by the absence of refinement. The song selected for the present work is +the most happy effort in his posthumous volume. His death took place at +Biggar, on the 8th September 1835. + + + + +HOW BLEST WERE THE DAYS! + + + How blest were the days o' langsyne when a laddie! + Alane by a bush wi' my dog and my plaidie; + Nae fop was sae happy, though dress'd e'er sae gaudy, + Sae sweet were the days o' langsyne when a laddie. + + Whiles croonin' my sonnet amang the whin bushes, + Whiles whistling wi' glee as I pou'd the green rashes; + The whim o' the moment kept me aye frae sorrow, + What I wanted at night was in prospect to-morrow. + + The nest o' a lintie I fondly explored, + And plundering bykes was the game I adored; + My pleasures did vary, as I was unsteady, + Yet I always found something that pleased when a laddie. + + The boy with great pleasure the butterfly chases; + When manhood approaches, the maid he embraces; + But view him at once baith the husband and daddie, + He fondly looks back to the joys o' a laddie. + + When childhood was over my prospects were greater, + I tried to be happy, but, alas, foolish creature! + The sports of my youth were my sweetest employment-- + Much sweetness in prospect embitters enjoyment. + + But now I 'm grown auld, and wi' cares I 'm perplex'd, + How numerous the woes are by which I am vex'd! + I 'm tentin' the kye wi' my dog, staff, and plaidie; + How changed are the days since langsyne when a laddie! + + + + +JAMES STIRRAT. + + +James Stirrat was born in the village of Dalry, Ayrshire, on the 28th +March 1781. His father was owner of several houses in the place, and was +employed in business as a haberdasher. Young Stirrat was educated at the +village school; in his 17th year, he composed verses which afforded some +indication of power. Of a delicate constitution, he accepted the easy +appointment of village postmaster. He died in March 1843, in his +sixty-second year. Stirrat wrote much poetry, but never ventured on a +publication. Several of his songs appeared at intervals in the public +journals, the "Book of Scottish Song," and the "Contemporaries of +Burns." The latter work contains a brief sketch of his life. He left a +considerable number of MSS., which are now in the possession of a +relative in Ayr. Possessed of a knowledge of music, he excelled in +playing many of the national airs on the guitar. His dispositions were +social, yet in society he seldom talked; among his associates, he +frequently expressed his hope of posthumous fame. He was enthusiastic in +his admiration of female beauty, but died unmarried. + + + + +HENRY.[14] + +AIR--_"Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch."_ + + + Can my dearest Henry leave me? + Why, ah! why would he deceive me? + Whence this cold and cruel change, + That bids him thus forsake and grieve me? + + Can he the hours of love forget, + The stolen hours I 'll mind for ever, + When down the burn we fondly met, + And aften vow'd we ne'er should sever? + Will my Henry then deceive me, + Faithless laddie, can he leave me? + Ne'er till now did fancy dream, + My dearest laddie sae would grieve me. + + And will he then me aye forsake? + Must I for ever, ever lose him? + And can he leave this heart to break, + That swells and bursts within my bosom? + Never, Henry, could I leave thee, + Never could this heart deceive thee, + Why then, laddie, me forsake, + And sae wi' cruel absence grieve me? + + +[14] This song and that following are printed from the original MSS. + + + + +MARY.[15] + + + "In life's gay morn," when hopes beat high, + And youthfu' love's endearing tie + Gave rapture to the mutual sigh, + Within the arms of Mary, + My ain dear Mary; + Nae joys beneath the vaulted sky, + Could equal mine wi' Mary. + + The sacred hours like moments flew, + Soft transports thrill'd my bosom through, + The warl' evanish'd frae my view + Within the arms of Mary, + My ain dear Mary; + Nae gloomy cares my soul e'er knew + Within the arms of Mary. + + Young fancy spread her visions gay, + Love fondly view'd the fair display, + Hope shew'd the blissfu' nuptial day, + And I was rapt with Mary, + My ain dear Mary; + The flowers of Eden strew'd the way + That led me to my Mary. + + But life is now a dreary waste, + I lanely wander sair depress'd, + For cold and lifeless is that breast + Where throbb'd the heart of Mary, + My ain dear Mary; + She 's gane to seats o' blissfu' rest, + And I hae lost my Mary. + + +[15] This song was set to music by R. A. Smith. + + + + +JOHN GRIEVE. + + +John Grieve, whose name is especially worthy of commemoration as the +generous friend of men of genius, was born at Dunfermline on the 12th +September 1781. He was the eldest son of the Rev. Walter Grieve, +minister of the Cameronian or Reformed Presbyterian church in that +place; his mother, Jane Ballantyne, was the daughter of Mr George +Ballantyne, tenant at Craig, in the vale of Yarrow. While he was very +young, his father retired from the ministerial office, and fixed his +residence at the villa of Cacrabank, in Ettrick. After an ordinary +education at school, young Grieve became clerk to Mr Virtue, shipowner +and wood-merchant in Alloa: and, early in 1801, obtained a situation in +a bank at Greenock. He soon returned to Alloa, as the partner of his +friend Mr Francis Bald, who had succeeded Mr Virtue in his business as a +wood-merchant. On the death of Mr Bald, in 1804, he proceeded to +Edinburgh to enter into copartnership with Mr Chalmers Izzet, +hat-manufacturer on the North Bridge. The firm subsequently assumed, as +a third partner, Mr Henry Scott, a native of Ettrick. + +Eminently successful in business, Mr Grieve found considerable leisure +for the cultivation of strong literary tastes. Though without pretension +as a man of letters, he became reputed as a contributor to some of the +more respectable periodicals.[16] In his youth he had been a votary of +the Muse, and some of his early lyrics he was prevailed on to publish +anonymously in Hogg's "Forest Minstrel." The songs marked C., in the +contents of that work, are from his pen. In the encouragement of men of +genius he evinced a deep interest, affording them entertainment at his +table, and privately contributing to the support of those whose +circumstances were less fortunate. Towards the Ettrick Shepherd his +beneficence was munificent. Along with his partner, Mr Scott, a man of +kindred tastes and of ample generosity, he enabled Hogg to surmount the +numerous difficulties which impeded his entrance into the world of +letters. In different portions of his works, the Shepherd has gracefully +recorded his gratitude to his benefactors. In his "Autobiography," after +expressing the steadfast friendship he had experienced from Mr Grieve, +he adds, "During the first six months that I resided in Edinburgh, I +lived with him and his partner Mr Scott, who, on a longer acquaintance, +became as firmly attached to me as Mr Grieve; and I believe as much so +as to any other man alive.... In short, they would not suffer me to be +obliged to any one but themselves for the value of a farthing; and +without this sure support, I could never have fought my way in +Edinburgh. I was fairly starved into it, and if it had not been for +Messrs Grieve and Scott, would, in a very short time, have been starved +out of it again." To Mr Grieve, Hogg afterwards dedicated his poem +"Mador of the Moor;" and in the character of one of the competing bards +in the "Queen's Wake," he has thus depicted him:-- + + "The bard that night who foremost came + Was not enroll'd, nor known his name; + A youth he was of manly mould, + Gentle as lamb, as lion bold; + But his fair face, and forehead high, + Glow'd with intrusive modesty. + 'Twas said by bank of southland stream + Glided his youth in soothing dream; + The harp he loved, and wont to stray + Far to the wilds and woods away, + And sing to brooks that gurgled by + Of maiden's form and maiden's eye; + That when this dream of youth was past, + Deep in the shade his harp he cast; + In busy life his cares beguiled, + His heart was true, and fortune smiled." + +Affected with a disorder in the spine, Mr Grieve became incapacitated +for business in his thirty-seventh year. In this condition he found an +appropriate solace in literature; he made himself familiar with the +modern languages, that he might form an acquaintance with the more +esteemed continental authors. Retaining his usual cheerfulness, he still +experienced satisfaction in intercourse with his friends; and to the +close of his life, his pleasant cottage at Newington was the daily +resort of the _savans_ of the capital. Mr Grieve died unmarried on the +4th April 1836, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. His remains were +interred in the sequestered cemetery of St Mary's, in Yarrow. The few +songs which he has written are composed in a vigorous style, and entitle +him to rank among those whom he delighted to honour.[17] + + +[16] In the "Key to the Chaldee MS.," he is described as the author of +"The White Cottage, a Tale;" this was not written by him, but was the +production of one More, a native of Berwickshire, whose literary +aspirations he had promoted. + +[17] For a number of particulars in this memoir, we are indebted to our +venerated friend Mr Alexander Bald, of Alloa. + + + + +CULLODEN; OR, LOCHIEL'S FAREWELL. + +AIR--_"Fingal's Lament."_ + + + Culloden, on thy swarthy brow + Spring no wild flowers nor verdure fair; + Thou feel'st not summer's genial glow, + More than the freezing wintry air. + For once thou drank'st the hero's blood, + And war's unhallow'd footsteps bore; + Thy deeds unholy, nature view'd, + Then fled, and cursed thee evermore. + + From Beauly's wild and woodland glens, + How proudly Lovat's banners soar! + How fierce the plaided Highland clans + Rush onward with the broad claymore! + Those hearts that high with honour heave, + The volleying thunder there laid low; + Or scatter'd like the forest leaves, + When wintry winds begin to blow! + + Where now thy honours, brave Lochiel? + The braided plumes torn from thy brow, + What must thy haughty spirit feel, + When skulking like the mountain roe! + While wild birds chant from Locky's bowers, + On April eve, their loves and joys, + The Lord of Locky's loftiest towers + To foreign lands an exile flies. + + To his blue hills that rose in view, + As o'er the deep his galley bore, + He often look'd and cried, "Adieu! + I 'll never see Lochaber more! + Though now thy wounds I cannot feel, + My dear, my injured native land, + In other climes thy foe shall feel + The weight of Cameron's deadly brand. + + "Land of proud hearts and mountains gray, + Where Fingal fought, and Ossian sung! + Mourn dark Culloden's fateful day, + That from thy chiefs the laurel wrung. + Where once they ruled and roam'd at will, + Free as their own dark mountain game, + Their sons are slaves, yet keenly feel + A longing for their father's fame. + + "Shades of the mighty and the brave, + Who, faithful to your Stuart, fell! + No trophies mark your common grave, + Nor dirges to your memory swell. + But generous hearts will weep your fate, + When far has roll'd the tide of time; + And bards unborn shall renovate + Your fading fame in loftiest rhyme." + + + + +LOVELY MARY.[18] + +AIR--_"Gowd in gowpens."_ + + + I 've seen the lily of the wold, + I 've seen the opening marigold, + Their fairest hues at morn unfold, + But fairer is my Mary. + How sweet the fringe of mountain burn, + With opening flowers at spring's return! + How sweet the scent of flowery thorn! + But sweeter is my Mary. + + Her heart is gentle, warm, and kind; + Her form 's not fairer than her mind; + Two sister beauties rarely join'd, + But join'd in lovely Mary. + As music from the distant steep, + As starlight on the silent deep, + So are my passions lull'd asleep + By love for bonnie Mary. + + +[18] This song was written during the author's first residence at Alloa. +The heroine was Miss Mary Douglas, a young lady of great personal +attractions, daughter of Captain Douglas, of the East India Company's +Marine Service, who resided in the village of Sauchie, in the vicinity. +She became the wife of a Mr Rhind, an Edinburgh gentleman, but died soon +after her marriage. Her remains were brought for interment to the +churchyard of Alloa. + + + + +HER BLUE ROLLIN' E'E. + +AIR--_"Banks of the Devon."_ + + + My lassie is lovely, as May day adorning + Wi' gowans an' primroses ilka green lee; + Though sweet is the violet, new blown i' the morning, + As tender an' sweet is her blue rollin' e'e. + O, say what is whiter than snaw on the mountain? + Or what wi' the red rose in beauty can vie? + Yes, whiter her bosom than snaw on the mountain, + An' bonnie her face as the red rose can be. + + See yon lowly cottage that stands by the wild-wood, + Hedged round wi' the sweetbriar and green willow-tree, + 'Twas yonder I spent the sweet hours of my childhood, + An' first felt the power of a love-rollin' e'e. + Though soon frae my hame an' my lassie I wander'd; + Though lang I 've been tossing on fortune's rough sea; + Aye dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd; + Aye dear was the blink o' her blue-rollin' e'e. + + Oh! for the evening, and oh! for the hour, + When down by yon greenwood she promised to be; + When quick as the summer-dew dries on the flower, + A' earthly affections and wishes wad flee. + Let Art and let Nature display their proud treasures; + Let Paradise boast o' what ance it could gie; + As high is my bliss, an' as sweet are my pleasures, + In the heart-melting blink o' my lassie's blue e'e. + + + + +CHARLES GRAY. + + +Charles Gray was born at Anstruther-wester, on the 10th March 1782. He +was the schoolfellow and early associate of Dr Thomas Chalmers, and Dr +William Tennant, the author of "Anster Fair," who were both natives of +Anstruther. He engaged for some years in a handicraft occupation; but in +1805, through the influence of Major-General Burn,[19] his maternal +uncle, was fortunate in procuring a commission in the Woolwich division +of the Royal Marines. In 1811 he published an octavo volume of "Poems +and Songs," of which a second edition was called for at the end of three +years. In 1813 he joined Tennant and some other local poets in +establishing the "Musomanik Society of Anstruther,"--an association +which existed about four years, and gave to the world a collection of +respectable verses.[20] After thirty-six years' active service in the +Royal Marines, he was enabled to retire in 1841, on a Captain's full +pay. He now established his head-quarters in Edinburgh, where he +cultivated the society of lovers of Scottish song. In 1841, in +compliance with the wishes of numerous friends, expressed in the form +of a _Round Robin_, he published a second volume of verses, with the +title of "Lays and Lyrics." This work appeared in elegant duodecimo, +illustrated with engravings of the author's portrait and of his +birthplace. In the _Glasgow Citizen_ newspaper, he subsequently +published "Cursory Remarks on Scottish Song," which have been copiously +quoted by Mr Farquhar Graham, in his edition of the "Songs of Scotland." + +Of cheerful and amiable dispositions, Captain Gray was much cherished by +his friends. Intimately acquainted with the productions of the modern +Scottish poets, he took delight in discussing their merits; and he +enlivened the social circle by singing his favourite songs. Of his +lyrical compositions, those selected for this work have deservedly +attained popularity. An ardent admirer of Burns, he was led to imitate +the style of the great national bard. In person he was of low stature; +his gray weather-beaten countenance wore a constant smile. He died, +after a period of declining health, on the 13th April 1851. He married +early in life, and his only son is now a Captain of Marines. + + +[19] A memoir of this estimable individual, chiefly from materials found +in his Diary, has been published by the London Tract Society. + +[20] This volume of the merry Anstruther rhymers is entitled +"Bouts-Rimés, or Poetical Pastimes of a few Hobblers round the base of +Parnassus;" it is dedicated "To the Lovers of Rhyme, Fun, and +Good-Fellowship throughout the British Empire." + + + + +MAGGIE LAUDER.[21] + + + The cantie Spring scarce rear'd her head, + And Winter yet did blaud her, + When the Ranter came to Anster fair, + And speir'd for Maggie Lauder; + A snug wee house in the East Green,[22] + Its shelter kindly lent her; + Wi' canty ingle, clean hearth-stane, + Meg welcomed Rob the Ranter! + + Then Rob made bonnie Meg his bride, + And to the kirk they ranted; + He play'd the auld "East Nook o' Fife;" + And merry Maggie vaunted, + That Hab himsel' ne'er play'd a spring, + Nor blew sae weel his chanter, + For he made Anster town to ring-- + And wha 's like Rob the Ranter? + + For a' the talk and loud reports, + That ever gaed against her, + Meg proves a true and carefu' wife, + As ever was in Anster; + And since the marriage-knot was tied, + Rob swears he coudna want her; + For he loves Maggie as his life, + And Meg loves Rob the Ranter. + + +[21] These stanzas are an appropriate addition to the well-known song of +"Maggie Lauder," composed by Francis Semple, about 1660. + +[22] The _East Green_ of Anstruther is now a low street connecting the +town with the adjoining village of Cellardyke. The site of Maggie +Lauder's house,--which is said to have been a cot of one storey,--is +pointed out in a small garden opposite a tannery, and on the north side +of the street. Maggie Lauder is the heroine of Dr Tennant's poem of +"Anster Fair." + + + + +CHARLIE IS MY DARLING. + + + O Charlie is my darling, + My darling, my darling; + O Charlie is my darling, + The young Chevalier! + + When first his standard caught the eye, + His pibroch met the ear, + Our hearts were light, our hopes were high + For the young Chevalier. + O Charlie is my darling, &c. + + The plaided chiefs cam frae afar, + Nae doubts their bosoms steir; + They nobly drew the sword for war + And the young Chevalier! + O Charlie is my darling, &c. + + But he wha trusts to fortune's smile + Has meikle cause to fear; + She blinket blithe but to beguile + The young Chevalier! + O Charlie is my darling, &c. + + O dark Culloden--fatal field! + Fell source o' mony a tear; + There Albyn tint her sword and shield, + And the young Chevalier! + O Charlie is my darling, &c. + + Now Scotland's "flowers are wede away;" + Her forest trees are sere; + Her Royal Oak is gane for aye, + The young Chevalier! + O Charlie is my darling, + My darling, my darling; + O Charlie is my darling, + The young Chevalier. + + + + +THE BLACK-E'ED LASSIE.[23] + +AIR--_"My only Jo and Dearie O!"_ + + + Wi' heart sincere I love thee, Bell, + But dinna ye be saucy, O! + Or a' my love I winna tell + To thee, my black-e'ed lassie, O! + It 's no thy cheek o' rosy hue, + It 's no thy little cherrie mou'; + Its a' because thy heart 's sae true, + My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O! + + It 's no the witch-glance o' thy e'e, + Though few for that surpass ye, O! + That maks ye aye sae dear to me, + My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O! + It 's no the whiteness o' thy skin, + It 's no love's dimple on thy chin; + Its a' thy modest worth within, + My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O! + + Ye smile sae sweet, ye look sae kind, + That a' wish to caress ye, O! + But O! how I admire thy mind, + My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O! + I 've seen thine e'en like crystal clear, + Shine dimly through soft pity's tear; + These are the charms that mak thee dear, + To me, my black-e'ed lassie, O! + + +[23] The heroine of this song subsequently became the author's wife. + + + + +GRIM WINTER WAS HOWLIN'. + +AIR--_"Bonnie Dundee."_ + + + Grim winter was howlin' owre muir and owre mountain, + And bleak blew the wind on the wild stormy sea; + The cauld frost had lock'd up each riv'let and fountain, + As I took the dreich road that leads north to Dundee. + Though a' round was dreary, my heart was fu' cheerie, + And cantie I sung as the bird on the tree; + For when the heart 's light, the feet winna soon weary, + Though ane should gang further than bonnie Dundee! + + Arrived at the banks o' sweet Tay's flowin' river, + I look'd, as it rapidly row'd to the sea; + And fancy, whose fond dream still pleases me ever, + Beguiled the lone passage to bonnie Dundee. + There, glowrin' about, I saw in his station + Ilk bodie as eydent as midsummer bee; + When fair stood a mark, on the face o' creation, + The lovely young Peggy, the pride o' Dundee! + + O! aye since the time I first saw this sweet lassie, + I 'm listless, I 'm restless, wherever I be; + I 'm dowie, and donnart, and aften ca'd saucy; + They kenna its a' for the lass o' Dundee! + O! lang may her guardians be virtue and honour; + Though anither may wed her, yet well may she be; + And blessin's in plenty be shower'd down upon her-- + The lovely young Peggie, the pride o' Dundee! + + + + +JOHN FINLAY. + + +John Finlay, a short-lived poet of much promise, was born at Glasgow in +1782. His parents were in humble circumstances, but they contrived to +afford him the advantages of a good education. From the academy of Mr +Hall, an efficient teacher in the city, he was sent, in his fourteenth +year, to the University. There he distinguished himself both in the +literary and philosophical classes; he became intimately acquainted with +the Latin and Greek classics, and wrote elegant essays on the subjects +prescribed. His poetical talents first appeared in the composition of +odes on classical subjects, which were distinguished alike by power of +thought and smoothness of versification. In 1802, while still pursuing +his studies at college, he published a volume entitled "Wallace, or the +Vale of Ellerslie, with other Poems," of which a second edition[24] +appeared, with considerable additions. Soon after, he published an +edition of Blair's "Grave," with many excellent notes; produced a +learned life of Cervantes; and superintended the publication of a new +edition of Smith's "Wealth of Nations." In the hope of procuring a +situation in one of the public offices, he proceeded to London in 1807, +where he contributed many learned articles, particularly on antiquarian +subjects, to different periodicals. Disappointed in obtaining a +suitable post in the metropolis, he returned to Glasgow in 1808; and +the same year published, in two duodecimo volumes, a collection of +"Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads." This work is chiefly +valuable from some interesting notes, and an ingenious preliminary +dissertation on early romantic composition in Scotland. About this +period, Professor Richardson, of Glasgow, himself an elegant poet, +offered him the advance of sufficient capital to enable him to obtain a +share in a printing establishment, and undertook to secure for the firm +the appointment of printers to the University; he declined, however, to +undergo the risk implied in this adventure. Again entertaining the hope +of procuring a situation in London, he left Glasgow towards the close of +1810, with the intention of visiting his college friend, Mr Wilson, at +Elleray, in Cumberland, to consult with him on the subject of his views. +He only reached the distance of Moffat; he was there struck with an +apoplectic seizure, which, after a brief illness, terminated his hopeful +career, in the 28th year of his age. His remains were interred in the +churchyard of Moffat. Possessed of a fine genius, extensive scholarship, +and an amiable heart, John Finlay, had he been spared, would have +adorned the literature of his country. He entertained worthy +aspirations, and was amply qualified for success; for his energies were +co-extensive with his intellectual gifts. At the period of his death, he +was meditating a continuation of Warton's History of Poetry. His best +production is the poem of "Wallace," written in his nineteenth year; +though not free from defects, it contains many admirable descriptions of +external nature, and displays much vigour of versification. His lyrics +are few, but these merit a place in the minstrelsy of his country. + + +[24] A third edition was published at Glasgow, by R. Chapman, in 1817. + + + + +O! COME WITH ME. + +TUNE--_"Roslin Castle."_ + + + O! come with me, for the queen of night + Is throned on high in her beauty bright: + 'Tis now the silent hour of even, + When all is still in earth an' heaven; + The cold flowers which the valleys strew + Are sparking bright wi' pearly dew, + And hush'd is e'en the bee's soft hum, + Then come with me, sweet Mary, come. + + The opening blue-bell--Scotland's pride-- + In heaven's pure azure deeply dyed; + The daisy meek frae the dewy dale, + The wild thyme, and the primrose pale, + Wi' the lily frae the glassy lake, + Of these a fragrant wreath I 'll make, + And bind them 'mid the locks that flow + In rich luxuriance from thy brow. + + O, love, without thee, what were life? + A bustling scene of care and strife; + A waste, where no green flowery glade + Is found for shelter or for shade. + But cheer'd by thee, the griefs we share + We can with calm composure bear; + For the darkest nicht o' care and toil. + Is bricht when blest by woman's smile. + + + + +'TIS NOT THE ROSE UPON THE CHEEK. + + + 'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, + Nor eyes in langour soft that roll, + That fix the lover's timid glance, + And fire his wilder'd soul. + + But 'tis the eye that swims in tears, + Diffusing soft a joy all holy; + So soothing to the heart of love, + And yet so melancholy. + + The note that falters on the tongue, + Sweet as the dying voice of eve, + That calms the throbbing breast of pain, + Yet makes it love to grieve! + + The hand, alternate fiery warm + And icy cold, the bursting sigh, + The look that hopes, yet seems to fear, + Pale cheek and burning eye. + + These, these the magic circle twine, + The lover's thoughts and feelings seize; + 'Till scarce a son of earth he seems, + But lives in what he sees. + + + + +I HEARD THE EVENING LINNET'S VOICE. + +AIR--_"Gramachree."_ + + + I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts among, + Yet sweeter were the tender woes of Isabella's song; + So soft into the ear they steal, so soft into the soul, + The deep'ning pain of love they soothe, and sorrow's pang control. + + I look'd upon the pure brook that murmur'd through the glade, + And mingled in the melody that Isabella made; + Yet purer was the residence of Isabella's heart, + Above the reach of pride and guile, above the reach of art. + + I look'd upon the azure of the deep unclouded sky, + Yet clearer was the blue serene of Isabella's eye; + Ne'er softer fell the rain-drop of the first relenting year, + Than falls from Isabella's eye the pity-melted tear. + + All this my fancy prompted, ere a sigh of sorrow proved, + How hopelessly, yet faithfully, and tenderly I loved! + Yet though bereft of hope I love, still will I love the more, + As distance binds the exile's heart to his dear native shore. + + + + +OH! DEAR WERE THE JOYS. + +AIR--_"Here 's a health to ane I love dear."_ + + + Oh! dear were the joys that are past! + Oh! dear were the joys that are past! + Inconstant thou art, as the dew of the morn, + Or a cloud of the night on the blast! + + How dear was the breath of the eve, + When bearing thy fond faithless sigh! + And the moonbeam how dear that betray'd + The love that illumined thine eye! + + Thou vow'dst in my arms to be mine, + Thou swar'st by the moon's sacred light; + But dark roll'd a cloud o'er the sky, + It hid the pale queen of the night. + + Thou hast broken thy plighted faith, + And broken a fond lover's heart; + Yes! in winter the moon's fleeting ray + I would trust more than thee and thy art! + + I am wretched to think on the past-- + Even hope now my peace cannot save; + Thou hast given to my rival thy hand, + But me thou hast doom'd to my grave. + + + + +WILLIAM NICHOLSON. + + +William Nicholson, known as the Galloway poet, was born at Tannymaus, in +the parish of Borgue, on the 15th August 1782. His father followed the +occupation of a carrier; he subsequently took a farm, and finally kept a +tavern. Of a family of eight children, William was the youngest; he +inherited a love of poetry from his mother, a woman of much +intelligence. Early sent to school, impaired eyesight interfered with +his progress in learning. Disqualified by his imperfect vision from +engaging in manual labour, he chose the business of pedlar or travelling +merchant. In the course of his wanderings he composed verses, which, +sung at the various homesteads he visited with his wares, became +popular. Having submitted some of his poetical compositions to Dr Duncan +of Ruthwell, and Dr Alexander Murray, the famous philologist, these +gentlemen commended his attempting a publication. In the course of a +personal canvass, he procured 1500 subscribers; and in 1814 appeared as +the author of "Tales in Verse, and Miscellaneous Poems descriptive of +Rural Life and Manners," Edinburgh, 12mo. By the publication he realised +£100, but this sum was diminished by certain imprudent excesses. With +the balance, he republished some tracts on the subject of Universal +Redemption, which exhausted the remainder of his profits. In 1826 he +proceeded to London, where he was kindly entertained by Allan Cunningham +and other distinguished countrymen. On his return to Galloway, he was +engaged for a short time as assistant to a cattle-driver. In 1828, he +published a second edition of his poems, which was dedicated to Henry, +now Lord Brougham, and to which was prefixed a humorous narrative of his +life by Mr Macdiarmid. Latterly, Nicholson assumed the character of a +gaberlunzie; he played at merrymakings on his bagpipes, for snuff and +whisky. For sometime his head-quarters were at Howford, in the parish of +Tongland; he ultimately was kept by the Poors' Board at Kirk-Andrews, in +his native parish. He died at Brigend of Borgue, on the 16th May 1849. +He was rather above the middle size, and well formed. His countenance +was peculiarly marked, and his eyes were concealed by his bushy +eye-brows and long brown hair. As a poet and song-writer he claims a +place in the national minstrelsy, which the irregular habits of his life +will not forfeit. The longest poem in his published volume, entitled +"The Country Lass," in the same measure as the "Queen's Wake," contains +much simple and graphic delineation of life; while the ballad of "The +Brownie of Blednoch," has passages of singular power. His songs are true +to nature. + + + + +THE BRAES OF GALLOWAY. + +TUNE--_"White Cockade."_ + + + O lassie, wilt thou gang wi' me, + And leave thy friens i' th' south countrie-- + Thy former friens and sweethearts a', + And gang wi' me to Gallowa'? + O Gallowa' braes they wave wi' broom, + And heather-bells in bonnie bloom; + There 's lordly seats, and livins braw, + Amang the braes o' Gallowa'! + + There 's stately woods on mony a brae, + Where burns and birds in concert play; + The waukrife echo answers a', + Amang the braes o' Gallowa'. + O Gallowa' braes, &c. + + The simmer shiel I 'll build for thee + Alang the bonnie banks o' Dee, + Half circlin' roun' my father's ha', + Amang the braes o' Gallowa'. + O Gallowa' braes, &c. + + When autumn waves her flowin' horn, + And fields o' gowden grain are shorn, + I 'll busk thee fine, in pearlins braw, + To join the dance in Gallowa'. + O Gallowa' braes, &c. + + At e'en, whan darkness shrouds the sight, + And lanely, langsome is the night, + Wi' tentie care my pipes I 'll thraw, + Play "A' the way to Gallowa'." + O Gallowa' braes, &c. + + Should fickle fortune on us frown, + Nae lack o' gear our love should drown; + Content should shield our haddin' sma', + Amang the braes o' Gallowa'. + Come while the blossom 's on the broom, + And heather bells sae bonnie bloom; + Come let us be the happiest twa + On a' the braes o' Gallowa'! + + + + +THE HILLS OF THE HIGHLANDS. + +TUNE--_"Ewe Bughts, Marion."_ + + + Will ye go to the Highlan's, my Mary, + And visit our haughs and our glens? + There 's beauty 'mang hills o' the Highlan's, + That lassie i' th' Lowlands ne'er kens. + + 'Tis true we 've few cowslips or roses, + Nae lilies grow wild on the lea; + But the heather its sweet scent discloses, + And the daisy 's as sweet to the e'e. + + See yon far heathy hills, whare they 're risin', + Whose summits are shaded wi' blue; + There the fleet mountain roes they are lyin', + Or feedin' their fawns, love, for you. + + Right sweet are our scenes i' the gloamin', + Whan shepherds return frae the hill, + Aroun' by the banks o' Loch Lomon', + While bagpipes are soundin' sae shrill. + + Right sweet is the low-setting sunbeams, + That points owre the quivering stream; + But sweeter the smiles o' my Mary, + And kinder the blinks o' her een. + + + + +THE BANKS OF TARF. + +TUNE--_"Sin' my Uncle 's dead."_ + + + Where windin' Tarf, by broomy knowes + Wi' siller waves to saut sea rows; + And mony a greenwood cluster grows, + And harebells bloomin' bonnie, O! + Below a spreadin' hazle lea, + Fu' snugly hid whare nane could see, + While blinkin' love beam'd frae her e'e, + I met my bonnie Annie, O! + + Her neck was o' the snaw-drap hue, + Her lips like roses wet wi' dew; + But O! her e'e, o' azure blue, + Was past expression bonnie, O! + Like threads o' gowd her flowin' hair, + That lightly wanton'd wi' the air; + But vain were a' my rhymin' ware + To tell the charms o' Annie, O! + + While smilin' in my arms she lay, + She whisperin' in my ear did say, + "Oh, how could I survive the day, + Should you prove fause, my Tammie, O?" + "While spangled fish glide to the main, + While Scotlan's braes shall wave wi' grain, + Till this fond heart shall break wi' pain, + I 'll aye be true to Annie, O!" + + The Beltan winds blew loud and lang, + And ripplin' raised the spray alang; + We cheerfu' sat, and cheerfu' sang, + The banks of Tarf are bonnie, O! + Though sweet is spring, whan young and gay, + And blithe the blinks o' summer day; + I fear nae winter cauld and blae, + If blest wi' love and Annie, O! + + + + +O! WILL YE GO TO YON BURN SIDE. + +TUNE--_"Will ye walk the woods with me?"_ + + + O! will ye go to yon burn side, + Amang the new-made hay; + And sport upon the flowery swaird, + My ain dear May? + + The sun blinks blithe on yon burn side, + Whar lambkins lightly play, + The wild bird whistles to his mate, + My ain dear May. + + The waving woods, wi' mantle green, + Shall shield us in the bower, + Whare I 'll pu' a posy for my May, + O' mony a bonnie flower. + My father maws ayont the burn, + My mammy spins at hame; + And should they see thee here wi' me, + I 'd better been my lane. + + The lightsome lammie little kens + What troubles it await-- + Whan ance the flush o' spring is o'er, + The fause bird lea'es its mate. + The flowers will fade, the woods decay, + And lose their bonnie green; + The sun wi' clouds may be o'ercast, + Before that it be e'en. + + Ilk thing is in its season sweet; + So love is in its noon: + But cankering time may soil the flower, + And spoil its bonnie bloom. + Oh, come then, while the summer shines, + And love is young and gay; + Ere age his withering, wintry blast + Blaws o'er me and my May. + + For thee I 'll tend the fleecy flocks, + Or haud the halesome plough; + And nightly clasp thee to my breast, + And prove aye leal and true. + The blush o'erspread her bonnie face, + She had nae mair to say, + But gae her hand and walk'd alang, + The youthfu', bloomin' May. + + + + +ALEXANDER RODGER. + + +Alexander Rodger was born on the 16th July 1784, at East Calder, +Midlothian. His father, originally a farmer, was lessee of the village +inn; he subsequently removed to Edinburgh, and latterly emigrated to +Hamburgh. Alexander was apprenticed in his twelfth year to a silversmith +in Edinburgh. On his father leaving the country, in 1797, he joined his +maternal relatives in Glasgow, who persuaded him to adopt the trade of a +weaver. He married in his twenty-second year; and contrived to add to +the family finances by cultivating a taste for music, and giving lessons +in the art. Extreme in his political opinions, he was led in 1819 to +afford his literary support to a journal originated with the design of +promoting disaffection and revolt. The connexion was attended with +serious consequences; he was convicted of revolutionary practices, and +sent to prison. On his release from confinement he was received into the +Barrowfield Works, as an inspector of cloths used for printing and +dyeing. He held this office during eleven years; he subsequently acted +as a pawnbroker, and a reporter of local intelligence to two different +newspapers. In 1836 he became assistant in the publishing office of the +_Reformers' Gazette_, a situation which he held till his death. This +event took place on the 26th September 1846. + +Rodger published two small collections of verses, and a volume of "Poems +and Songs." Many of his poems, though abounding in humour, are +disfigured by coarse political allusions. Several of his songs are of a +high order, and have deservedly become popular. He was less the poet of +external nature than of the domestic affections; and, himself possessed +of a lively sympathy with the humbler classes, he took delight in +celebrating the simple joys of the peasant's hearth. A master of the +pathetic, his muse sometimes assumed a sportive gaiety, when the laugh +is irresistible. Among a wide circle he was held in estimation; he was +fond of society, and took pleasure in humorous conversation. In 1836, +about two hundred of his fellow-citizens entertained him at a public +festival and handed him a small box of sovereigns; and some admiring +friends, to mark their respect for his memory, have erected a handsome +monument over his remains in the Necropolis of Glasgow. + + + + +SWEET BET OF ABERDEEN. + + + How brightly beams the bonnie moon, + Frae out the azure sky; + While ilka little star aboon + Seems sparkling bright wi' joy. + How calm the eve, how blest the hour! + How soft the silvan scene! + How fit to meet thee, lovely flower, + Sweet Bet of Aberdeen! + + Now let us wander through the broom, + And o'er the flowery lea; + While simmer wafts her rich perfume, + Frae yonder hawthorn tree: + There, on yon mossy bank we 'll rest, + Where we 've sae aften been; + Clasp'd to each other's throbbing breast-- + Sweet Bet of Aberdeen! + + How sweet to view that face so meek-- + That dark expressive eye-- + To kiss that lovely blushing cheek-- + Those lips of coral dye! + But O! to hear thy seraph strains, + Thy maiden sighs between, + Makes rapture thrill through all my veins-- + Sweet Bet of Aberdeen! + + O! what to us is wealth or rank? + Or what is pomp or power? + More dear this velvet mossy bank-- + This blest ecstatic hour! + I 'd covet not the monarch's throne, + Nor diamond-studded Queen, + While blest wi' thee, and thee alone, + Sweet Bet of Aberdeen! + + + + +BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. + +AIR--_"Good-morrow to your night-cap."_ + + + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + And dinna be sae rude to me, + As kiss me sae before folk. + + It wad na gie me meikle pain, + 'Gin we were seen and heard by nane + To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane, + But, guid sake! no before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + Whate'er you do when out o' view, + Be cautious aye before folk. + + Consider, lad, how folk will crack, + And what a great affair they 'll mak + O' naething but a simple smack + That 's gi'en or ta'en before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Nor gie the tongue o' auld or young + Occasion to come o'er folk. + + It 's no through hatred o' a kiss + That I sae plainly tell you this; + But, losh! I tak it sair amiss + To be sae teased before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + When we 're our lane ye may tak ane, + But fient a ane before folk. + + I 'm sure wi' you I 've been as free + As ony modest lass should be; + But yet it doesna do to see + Sic freedom used before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + I 'll ne'er submit again to it-- + So mind you that--before folk. + + Ye tell me that my face is fair; + It may be sae--I dinna care-- + But ne'er again gar 't blush sae sair + As ye hae done before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks, + But aye be douce before folk. + + Ye tell me that my lips are sweet, + Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit; + At ony rate, it 's hardly meet, + To pree their sweets before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk; + Gin that 's the case, there 's time and place, + But surely no before folk. + + But, gin you really do insist + That I should suffer to be kiss'd, + Gae get a licence frae the priest, + And mak me yours before folk. + Behave yoursel' before folk, + Behave yoursel' before folk, + And when were ane, bluid, flesh, and bane, + Ye may tak ten before folk.[25] + + +[25] "The Answer" is of inferior merit, and has therefore been omitted. + + + + +LOVELY MAIDEN. + + + Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping? + Wake, and fly with me, my love, + While the moon is proudly sweeping, + Through the ether fields above; + While her mellow'd light is streaming + Full on mountain, moon, and lake. + Dearest maiden, art thou dreaming? + 'Tis thy true-love calls awake. + + All is hush'd around thy dwelling, + Even the watch-dog 's lull'd asleep; + Hark! the clock the hour is knelling, + Wilt thou then thy promise keep? + Yes, I hear her softly coming, + Now her window 's gently raised; + There she stands, an angel blooming, + Come, my Mary, haste thee, haste! + + Fear not, love, thy rigid father + Soundly sleeps bedrench'd with wine; + 'Tis thy true-love holds the ladder, + To his care thyself resign! + Now my arms enfold a treasure, + Which for worlds I 'd not forego; + Now our bosoms feel that pleasure, + Faithful bosoms only know. + + Long have our true-loves been thwarted, + By the stern decrees of pride, + Which would doom us to be parted, + And make thee another's bride; + But behold, my steeds are ready, + Soon they 'll post us far away; + Thou wilt be Glen Alva's lady, + Long before the dawn of day. + + + + +THE PEASANT'S FIRESIDE. + +AIR--_"For lack o' gowd."_ + + + How happy lives the peasant, by his ain fireside, + Wha weel employs the present, by his ain fireside; + Wi' his wifie blithe and free, and his bairnie on his knee, + Smiling fu' o' sportive glee, by his ain fireside! + Nae cares o' state disturb him, by his ain fireside; + Nae foolish fashions curb him, by his ain fireside; + In his elbow-chair reclined, he can freely speak his mind, + To his bosom-mate sae kind, by his ain fireside. + + When his bonnie bairns increase, around his ain fireside, + What health, content, and peace surround his ain fireside, + A' day he gladly toils, and at night delighted smiles + At their harmless pranks and wiles, about his ain fireside; + And while they grow apace, about his ain fireside, + In beauty, strength, and grace, about his ain fireside, + Wi' virtuous precepts kind, by a sage example join'd, + He informs ilk youthfu' mind, about his ain fireside. + + When the shivering orphan poor draws near his ain fireside, + And seeks the friendly door, that guards his ain fireside, + She 's welcomed to a seat, bidden warm her little feet, + While she 's kindly made to eat, by his ain fireside. + When youthfu' vigour fails him, by his ain fireside, + And hoary age assails him, by his ain fireside, + With joy he back surveys all his scenes of bygone days, + As he trod in wisdom's ways, by his ain fireside. + + And when grim death draws near him, by his ain fireside, + What cause has he to fear him, by his ain fireside? + With a bosom-cheering hope, he takes heaven for his prop, + Then calmly down does drop, by his ain fireside. + Oh! may that lot be ours, by our ain fireside; + Then glad will fly the hours, by our ain fireside; + May virtue guard our path, till we draw our latest breath, + Then we 'll smile and welcome death, by our ain fireside. + + + + +AH, NO! I CANNOT SAY "FAREWELL." + + + Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell," + 'T would pierce my bosom through; + And to this heart 't were death's dread knell, + To hear thee sigh "Adieu." + Though soul and body both must part, + Yet ne'er from thee I 'll sever, + For more to me than soul thou art, + And oh! I 'll quit thee never. + + Whate'er through life may be thy fate, + That fate with thee I 'll share, + If prosperous, be moderate; + If adverse, meekly bear; + This bosom shall thy pillow be, + In every change whatever, + And tear for tear I 'll shed with thee, + But oh! forsake thee, never. + + One home, one hearth, shall ours be still, + And one our daily fare; + One altar, too, where we may kneel, + And breathe our humble prayer; + And one our praise, that shall ascend, + To one all-bounteous Giver; + And one our will, our aim, our end, + For oh! we 'll sunder never. + + And when that solemn hour shall come, + That sees thee breathe thy last, + That hour shall also fix my doom, + And seal my eyelids fast. + One grave shall hold us, side by side, + One shroud our clay shall cover; + And one then may we mount and glide, + Through realms of love, for ever. + + + + +JOHN WILSON. + + +John Wilson, one of the most heart-stirring of Scottish prose writers, +and a narrative and dramatic poet, is also entitled to rank among the +minstrels of his country. The son of a prosperous manufacturer, he was +born in Paisley, on the 18th of May 1785. The house of his birth, an old +building, bore the name of _Prior's Croft_; it was taken down in 1787, +when the family removed to a residence at the Town-head of Paisley, +which, like the former, stood on ground belonging to the poet's father. +His elementary education was conducted at the schools of his native +town, and afterwards at the manse of Mearns, a rural parish in +Renfrewshire, under the superintendence of Dr Maclatchie, the parochial +clergyman. To his juvenile sports and exercises in the moor of Mearns, +and his trouting excursions by the stream of the Humbie, and the four +parish lochs, he has frequently referred in the pages of _Blackwood's +Magazine_. In his fifteenth year he became a student in the University +of Glasgow. Under the instructions of Professor Young, of the Greek +Chair, he made distinguished progress in classical learning; but it was +to the clear and masculine intellect of Jardine, the distinguished +Professor of Logic, that he was, in common with Jeffrey, chiefly +indebted for a decided impulse in the path of mental cultivation. In +1804 he proceeded to Oxford, where he entered in Magdalen College as a +gentleman-commoner. A leader in every species of recreation, foremost in +every sport and merry-making, and famous for his feats of agility and +strength, he assiduously continued the prosecution of his classical +studies. Of poetical genius he afforded the first public indication by +producing the best English poem of fifty lines, which was rewarded by +the Newdigate prize of forty guineas. On attaining his majority he +became master of a fortune of about £30,000, which accrued to him from +his father's estate; and, having concluded a course of four years at +Oxford, he purchased, in 1808, the small but beautiful property of +Elleray, on the banks of the lake Windermere, in Westmoreland. During +the intervals of college terms, he had become noted for his eccentric +adventures and humorous escapades; and his native enthusiasm remained +unsubdued on his early settlement at Elleray. He was the hero of +singular and stirring adventures: at one time he joined a party of +strolling-players, and on another occasion followed a band of gipsies; +he practised cock-fighting and bull-hunting, and loved to startle his +companions by his reckless daring. His juvenile excesses received a +wholesome check by his espousing, in 1811, Miss Jane Penny, the daughter +of a wealthy Liverpool merchant, and a lady of great personal beauty and +amiable dispositions, to whom he continued most devotedly attached. He +had already enjoyed the intimate society of Wordsworth, and now sought +more assiduously the intercourse of the other lake-poets. In the autumn +of 1811, on the death of his friend James Grahame, author of "The +Sabbath," he composed an elegy to his memory, which attracted the notice +of Sir Walter Scott; in the year following he produced "The Isle of +Palms," a poem in four cantos. + +Hitherto Wilson had followed the career of a man of fortune; and his +original patrimony had been handsomely augmented by his wife's dowry. +But his guardian (a maternal uncle) had proved culpably remiss in the +management of his property, he himself had been careless in pecuniary +matters, and these circumstances, along with others, convinced him of +the propriety of adopting a profession. His inclinations were originally +towards the Scottish Bar; and he now engaged in legal studies in the +capital. In 1815 he passed advocate, and, during the terms of the law +courts, established his residence in Edinburgh. He was early employed as +a counsel at the circuit courts; but his devotion to literature +prevented him from giving his heart to his profession, and he did not +succeed as a lawyer. In 1816 appeared his "City of the Plague," a +dramatic poem, which was followed by his prose tales and sketches, +entitled "Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life," "The Foresters," and +"The Trials of Margaret Lindsay." + +On the establishment of _Blackwood's Magazine_, in 1817, Wilson was one +of the staff of contributors, along with Hogg, Lockhart, and others; and +on a difference occurring between the publisher and Messrs Pringle and +Cleghorn, the original editors, a few months after the undertaking was +commenced, he exercised such a marked influence on the fortunes of that +periodical, that he was usually regarded as its editor, although the +editorial labour and responsibility really rested on Mr Blackwood +himself. In 1820 he was elected by the Town-Council of Edinburgh to the +Chair of Moral Philosophy in the University, which had become vacant by +the death of Dr Thomas Brown. In the twofold capacity of Professor of +Ethics and principal contributor to a popular periodical, he occupied a +position to which his genius and tastes admirably adapted him. He +possessed in a singular degree the power of stimulating the minds and +drawing forth the energies of youth; and wielding in periodical +literature the vigour of a master intellect, he riveted public +attention by the force of his declamation, the catholicity of his +criticism, and the splendour of his descriptions. _Blackwood's Magazine_ +attained a celebrity never before reached by any monthly periodical; the +essays and sketches of "Christopher North," his literary +_nom-de-guerre_, became a monthly treasure of interest and +entertainment. His celebrated "Noctes Ambrosianæ," a series of dialogues +on the literature and manners of the times, appeared in _Blackwood_ from +1822 till 1835. In 1825 his entire poetical works were published in two +octavo volumes; and, on his ceasing his regular connexion with +_Blackwood's Magazine_, his prose contributions were, in 1842, collected +in three volumes, under the title of "Recreations of Christopher North." + +Illustrious as a man of letters, and esteemed as a poet, the private +life of Professor Wilson was for many years as destitute of particular +incident, as his youth had been remarkable for singular and stirring +adventure. Till within a few years of his death, he resided during the +summer months at Elleray, where he was in the habit of sumptuously +entertaining his literary friends. His splendid regattas on the lake +Windermere, from which he derived his title of "Admiral of the Lake," +have been celebrated in various periodical papers. He made frequent +pedestrian tours to the Highlands, in which Mrs Wilson, who was of +kindred tastes, sometimes accompanied him. On the death of this +excellent woman, which took place in March 1837, he suffered a severe +shock, from which he never recovered. In 1850 he was elected first +president of the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution; and in the +following year a civil-list pension of £300 was, on the recommendation +of the premier, Lord John Russell, conferred on him by the Queen. In +1852 he felt necessitated, from a continuance of impaired health, to +resign his professorship in the University. He died in his house in +Gloucester Place, Edinburgh, on the 3d of April 1854. His remains, at a +public funeral, were consigned to the Dean Cemetery, and upwards of a +thousand pounds have been raised to erect a suitable monument to his +memory. + +Besides the works already enumerated, Professor Wilson contributed an +admirable essay on the genius of Burns for Blackie's edition of his +works, and an elegant dissertation on Highland scenery, preliminary to +the "Caledonia Illustrata." Of his whole works, a complete edition is in +the course of publication, under the editorial care of his distinguished +son-in-law, Professor Ferrier, of St Andrews. Than Professor Wilson no +Scotsman, Scott and Jeffrey not excepted, has exercised a wider and +deeper influence upon the general intellect of his countrymen. With a +vast and comprehensive genius, he has gathered from every department of +nature the deep and genial suggestions of wisdom; he has found +philosophy in the wilds, and imbibed knowledge by the mountain stream. +Under canvas, in his sporting-jacket, or with the angler's rod, he is +still the eloquent "old Christopher;" his contemplations are always +lofty, and his descriptions gorgeous. As a poet, he is chiefly to be +remarked for meek serenity and gentle pathos. His tales somewhat lack +incident, and are deficient in plot; but his other writings, whether +critical or philosophical, are marked by correctness of taste, boldness +of imagery, and dignity of sentiment. Lion-hearted in the exposure of +absolute error, or vain pretext, he is gentle in judging human frailty; +and irresistible in humour, is overpowering in tenderness. As a +contributor to periodical literature, he will find admirers while the +English language is understood. + + + + +MARY GRAY'S SONG. + + + I walk'd by mysel' owre the sweet braes o' Yarrow, + When the earth wi' the gowans o' July was dress'd; + But the sang o' the bonnie burn sounded like sorrow, + Round ilka house cauld as a last-simmer's nest. + + I look'd through the lift o' the blue smiling morning, + But never a wee cloud o' mist could I see, + On its way up to heaven, the cottage adorning, + Hanging white owre the green o' its sheltering tree. + + By the outside I kenn'd that the inn was forsaken, + That nae tread o' footsteps was heard on the floor; + Oh, loud craw'd the cock whare was nane to awaken, + And the wild raven croak'd on the seat by the door! + + Sic silence--sic lonesomeness, oh, were bewildering! + I heard nae lass singing when herding her sheep; + I met nae bright garlands o' wee rosy children, + Dancing onto the school-house, just waken'd frae sleep. + + I pass'd by the school-house, when strangers were coming, + Whose windows with glad faces seem'd all alive; + Ae moment I hearken'd, but heard nae sweet humming, + For a night o' dark vapour can silence the hive. + + I pass'd by the pool where the lasses at daw'ing, + Used to bleach their white garments wi' daffin and din; + But the foam in the silence o' nature was fa'ing, + And nae laughing rose loud through the roar of the linn. + + I gaed into a small town, when sick o' my roaming, + Whare ance play'd the viol, the tabor, and flute; + 'Twas the hour loved by labour, the saft smiling gloaming, + Yet the green round the cross-stane was empty and mute. + + To the yellow-flower'd meadow, and scant rigs o' tillage, + The sheep a' neglected had come frae the glen; + The cushat-dow coo'd in the midst o' the village, + And the swallow had flown to the dwellings o' men! + + Sweet Denholm! not thus when I lived in thy bosom + Thy heart lay so still the last night o' the week; + Then nane was sae weary that love would nae rouse him, + And grief gaed to dance with a laugh on his cheek. + + Sic thoughts wet my een, as the moonshine was beaming + On the kirk-tower that rose up sae silent and white; + The wan ghastly light on the dial was streaming, + But the still finger tauld not the hour of the night. + + The mirk-time pass'd slowly in siching and weeping, + I waken'd, and nature lay silent in mirth; + Owre a' holy Scotland the Sabbath was sleeping, + And heaven in beauty came down on the earth. + + The morning smiled on--but nae kirk-bell was ringing, + Nae plaid or blue bonnet came down frae the hill; + The kirk-door was shut, but nae psalm tune was singing, + And I miss'd the wee voices sae sweet and sae shrill. + + I look'd owre the quiet o' death's empty dwelling, + The laverock walk'd mute 'mid the sorrowful scene, + And fifty brown hillocks wi' fresh mould were swelling + Owre the kirkyard o' Denholm, last simmer sae green. + + The infant had died at the breast o' its mither; + The cradle stood still at the mitherless bed; + At play the bairn sunk in the hand o' its brither; + At the fauld on the mountain the shepherd lay dead. + + Oh! in spring-time 'tis eerie, when winter is over, + And birds should be glinting owre forest and lea, + When the lint-white and mavis the yellow leaves cover, + And nae blackbird sings loud frae the tap o' his tree. + + But eerier far, when the spring-land rejoices, + And laughs back to heaven with gratitude bright, + To hearken, and naewhere hear sweet human voices + When man's soul is dark in the season o' light! + + + + +THE THREE SEASONS OF LOVE. + + + With laughter swimming in thine eye, + That told youth's heart-felt revelry; + And motion changeful as the wing + Of swallow waken'd by the spring; + With accents blithe as voice of May, + Chanting glad Nature's roundelay; + Circled by joy like planet bright + That smiles 'mid wreaths of dewy light, + Thy image such, in former time, + When thou, just entering on thy prime, + And woman's sense in thee combined + Gently with childhood's simplest mind, + First taught'st my sighing soul to move + With hope towards the heaven of love! + + Now years have given my Mary's face + A thoughtful and a quiet grace: + Though happy still, yet chance distress + Hath left a pensive loveliness; + Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams, + And thy heart broods o'er home-born dreams! + Thy smiles, slow-kindling now and mild, + Shower blessings on a darling child; + Thy motion slow and soft thy tread, + As if round thy hush'd infant's bed! + And when thou speak'st, thy melting tone, + That tells thy heart is all my own, + Sounds sweeter from the lapse of years, + With the wife's love, the mother's fears! + + By thy glad youth and tranquil prime + Assured, I smile at hoary Time; + For thou art doom'd in age to know + The calm that wisdom steals from woe; + The holy pride of high intent, + The glory of a life well spent. + When, earth's affections nearly o'er, + With Peace behind and Faith before, + Thou render'st up again to God, + Untarnish'd by its frail abode, + Thy lustrous soul, then harp and hymn + From bands of sister seraphim, + Asleep will lay thee, till thine eye + Open in immortality. + + + + +PRAYER TO SLEEP. + + + O gentle Sleep! wilt thou lay thy head + For one little hour on thy lover's bed, + And none but the silent stars of night + Shall witness be to our delight? + + Alas! 'tis said that the couch must be + Of the eider-down that is spread for thee, + So I in my sorrow must lie alone, + For mine, sweet Sleep! is a couch of stone. + + Music to thee I know is dear; + Then the saddest of music is ever here, + For Grief sits with me in my cell, + And she is a syren who singeth well. + + But thou, glad Sleep! lov'st gladsome airs, + And wilt only come to thy lover's prayers, + When the bells of merriment are ringing, + And bliss with liquid voice is singing. + + Fair Sleep! so long in thy beauty woo'd, + No rival hast thou in my solitude, + Be mine, my love! and we two will lie + Embraced for ever, or awake to die! + + Dear Sleep, farewell! hour, hour, hour, hour, + Will slowly bring on the gleam of morrow; + But thou art Joy's faithful paramour, + And lie wilt thou not in the arms of Sorrow. + + + + +DAVID WEBSTER. + + +David Webster was born in Dunblane, on the 25th September 1787. He was +the second of a family of eight children born to his parents, who +occupied the humbler condition of life. By his father, he was destined +for the Church, but the early death of this parent put a check on his +juvenile aspirations. He was apprenticed to a weaver in Paisley, and +continued, with occasional intermissions, to prosecute the labours of +the loom. His life was much chequered by misfortune. Fond of society, he +was led to associate with some dissolute persons, who professed to be +admirers of his genius, and was enticed by their example to neglect the +concerns of business, and the duties of the family-hearth, for the +delusive pleasures of the tavern. From his youth he composed verses. In +1835, he published, in numbers, a volume of poems and songs, with the +title, "Original Scottish Rhymes." His style is flowing and graceful, +and many of his pieces are marked by keen satire and happy humour. The +songs inserted in the present work are favourable specimens of his +manner. He died on the 22d January 1837, in his fiftieth year.[26] + + +[26] The present memoir is condensed from a well written biographical +sketch of Webster, obligingly prepared for our use by Mr Charles +Fleming, of Paisley. + + + + +TAK IT, MAN, TAK IT. + +TUNE--_"Brose and Butter."_ + + + When I was a miller in Fife, + Losh! I thought that the sound o' the happer + Said, Tak hame a wee flow to your wife, + To help to be brose to your supper. + Then my conscience was narrow and pure, + But someway by random it racket; + For I lifted twa neivefu' or mair, + While the happer said, Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey for the mill and the kill, + The garland and gear for my cogie, + Hey for the whisky and yill, + That washes the dust frae my craigie. + + Although it 's been lang in repute + For rogues to mak rich by deceiving, + Yet I see that it does not weel suit + Honest men to begin to the thieving; + For my heart it gaed dunt upon dunt, + Oh! I thought ilka dunt it would crack it; + Sae I flang frae my neive what was in 't, + Still the happer said, Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey for the mill, &c. + + A man that 's been bred to the plough, + Might be deaved wi' its clamorous clapper; + Yet there 's few but would suffer the sough + After kenning what 's said by the happer. + I whiles thought it scoff'd me to scorn, + Saying, Shame, is your conscience no checkit? + But when I grew dry for a horn, + It changed aye to Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey for the mill, &c. + + The smugglers whiles cam wi' their pocks, + Cause they kent that I liked a bicker; + Sae I bartered whiles wi' the gowks, + Gaed them grain for a soup o' their liquor. + I had lang been accustom'd to drink, + And aye when I purposed to quat it, + That thing wi' its clappertie clink + Said aye to me, Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey for the mill, &c. + + But the warst thing I did in my life, + Nae doubt but ye 'll think I was wrang o 't, + Od! I tauld a bit bodie in Fife + A' my tale, and he made a bit sang o 't; + I have aye had a voice a' my days, + But for singing I ne'er got the knack o 't; + Yet I tried whiles, just thinking to please + The greedy wi' Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey the mill, &c. + + Now, miller and a' as I am, + This far I can see through the matter, + There 's men mair notorious to fame, + Mair greedy than me or the muter; + For 'twad seem that the hale race o' men, + Or wi' safety the half we may mak it, + Had some speaking happer within, + That said to them, Tak it, man, tak it. + Hey for the mill, &c. + + + + +OH, SWEET WERE THE HOURS. + +AIR--_"Gregor Arora."_ + + + Oh, sweet were the hours + That I spent wi' my Flora, + In yon gay shady bowers, + Roun' the linn o' the Cora! + + Her breath was the zephyrs + That waft frae the roses, + And skim o'er the heath + As the summer day closes. + + I told her my love-tale, + Which seem'd to her cheering; + Then she breathed on the soft gale + Her song so endearing. + + The rock echoes ringing + Seem'd charm'd wi' my story; + And the birds, sweetly singing, + Replied to my Flora. + + The sweet zephyr her breath + As it wafts frae the roses, + And skims o'er the heath + As the summer day closes. + + + + +PATE BIRNIE.[27] + + + Our minstrels a', frae south to north, + To Edin cam to try their worth, + And ane cam frae the banks o' Forth, + Whase name was Patie Birnie. + This Patie, wi' superior art, + Made notes to ring through head and heart, + Till citizens a' set apart + Their praise to Patie Birnie. + Tell auld Kinghorn, o' Picish birth, + Where, noddin', she looks o'er the Firth, + Aye when she would enhance her worth, + To sing o' Patie Birnie. + + His merits mak _Auld Reekie_[28] ring, + Mak rustic poets o' him sing; + For nane can touch the fiddle-string + Sae weel as Patie Birnie. + He cheers the sage, the sour, the sad, + Maks youngsters a rin louping mad, + Heads grow giddy, hearts grow glad, + Enchanted wi' Pate Birnie. + + The witching tones o' Patie's therm, + Mak farmer chiels forget their farm, + Sailors forget the howling storm, + When dancing to Pate Birnie. + Pate maks the fool forget his freaks, + Maks baxter bodies burn their bakes, + And gowkies gie their hame the glaiks, + And follow Patie Birnie. + + When Patie taks his strolling rounds, + To feasts or fairs in ither towns, + Wark bodies fling their trantlooms doun, + To hear the famous Birnie. + The crabbit carles forget to snarl, + The canker'd cuiffs forget to quarrel, + And gilphies forget the stock and horle, + And dance to Patie Birnie. + + +[27] Pate Birnie was a celebrated fiddler or violinist who resided in +Kinghorn, Fifeshire. + +[28] An old designation for the city of Edinburgh, often used by the +Scottish poets. + + + + +WILLIAM PARK. + + +William Park was not born in lawful wedlock. His grandfather, Andrew +Park, occupied for many years the farm of Efgill, in the parish of +Westerkirk, and county of Dumfries. He had two sons, William and James, +who were both men of superior intelligence, and both of them writers of +verses. William, the poet's father, having for a brief period served as +a midshipman, emigrated to the island of Grenada, where he first acted +as the overseer of an estate, but was afterwards appointed to a +situation in the Customs at St George's, and became the proprietor and +editor of a newspaper, called the _St George's Chronicle_. In the year +1795, he was slain when bravely heading an encounter with a body of +French insurgents. His son, the subject of this memoir, was born at +Crooks, in the parish of Westerkirk, on the 22d of February 1788, and +was brought up under the care of his grandfather. He received an +ordinary training at the parochial school; and when his grandfather +relinquished his farm to a higher bidder, he was necessitated to seek +employment as a cow-herd. In 1805, he proceeded as a farm-servant to the +farm of Cassock, in the parish of Eskdalemuir. In 1809, he entered the +service of the Rev. Dr Brown,[29] minister of Eskdalemuir, and +continued to occupy the position of _minister's man_ till the death of +that clergyman, many years afterwards. + +From his early years, Park had cultivated a taste for literature. The +parishioners of Westerkirk have long been commended for their +inquisitive turn of mind; many years ago they established a subscription +library, to which Mr Telford, the celebrated engineer, who was a native +of the parish, bequeathed a legacy of a thousand pounds. The rustic poet +suddenly emerged from his obscurity, when he was encouraged to publish a +volume entitled "The Vale of Esk, and other Poems," Edin., 1833, 12mo. +About the same period he became a contributor of poetry to _Blackwood's +Magazine_, and a writer of prose articles in the provincial newspapers. +On the death of Dr Brown, in 1837, he took, in conjunction with a +son-in-law, a lease of the farm of Holmains, in the parish of Dalton, +and now enjoyed greater leisure for the prosecution of his literary +tastes. In May 1843, he undertook the editorship of the _Dumfries +Standard_ newspaper; but had just commenced his duties, when he was +seized with an illness which proved fatal. He died at Holmains on the +5th June 1843. His widow still lives in Eskdalemuir; and of their +numerous family, some have emigrated to America. + +Park's compositions were not strictly lyrical, but "The Patriot's Song," +which we have selected from his volume, seems worthy of a place in the +national minstrelsy. His style is smooth and flowing, and he evinces a +passionate admiration of the beautiful in nature. + + +[29] William Brown, D.D., author of "Antiquities of the Jews." Lond., +1825, 2 vols. 8vo. + + + + +THE PATRIOT'S SONG. + + + Shall I leave thee, thou land to my infancy dear, + Ere I know aught of toil or of woe, + For the clime of the stranger, the solitude drear, + And a thousand endearments forego? + + Shall I give my lone bosom a prey to its strife? + Must I friendship's just claims disallow? + No; her breathings can cool the hot fever of life, + As the breeze fans the sea-beaten brow. + + 'Tis said that the comforts of plenty abound + In the wide-spreading plains of the west; + That there an asylum of peace shall be found + Where the care-stricken wanderer may rest. + + That nature uncheck'd there displays all her pride + In the forest unfading and deep; + That the river rolls onward its ocean-like tide, + Encircling broad realms in its sweep. + + But is there a spot in that far distant land + Where fancy or feeling may dwell? + Or how shall the heart of the exile expand, + Untouch'd by Society's spell? + + Though thy children, old Albyn! adversity bear, + As forlorn o'er thy mountains they roam, + Yet I 've found, what in vain I should seek for elsewhere-- + I have found 'mong these mountains a home. + + How lovely the beam on thy moorland appears, + As it streams from the eye of the morn! + And how comely the garment that evening wears + When the day of its glories is shorn! + + Ah! strong are the ties that the patriot bind, + Fair isle of the sea! to thy shore; + The turf that he treads, by the best of their kind, + By the bravest, was trodden before. + + Nor is there a field--not a foot of thy soil, + In dale or in mountain-land dun, + Unmark'd in the annals of chivalrous toil, + Ere concord its conquest had won. + + The rill hath a voice from the rock as it pours, + It comes from the glen on the gale, + For the life-blood of martyrs hath hallow'd thy muirs, + And their names are revered in the vale. + + How sacred the stone that, remote on the heath, + O'er the bones of the righteous was laid, + Who triumph'd in death o'er the foes of their faith, + When the banner of truth was display'd! + + And sweet are the songs of the land of my love, + And soothing their tones to the soul, + Or lofty and loud, like the thunder above, + Or the storm-cloud of passion, they roll. + + While summer, beyond the Atlantic's wide waste, + A gaudier garb may assume, + My country! thou boastest the verdure of taste, + And thy glories immortally bloom. + + No! I will not forsake thee, thou land of my lay! + The scorn of the stranger to brave; + O'er thy lea I have revell'd in youth's sunny ray, + And thy wild-flowers shall spangle my grave. + + + + +THOMAS PRINGLE. + + +Thomas Pringle was born on the 5th of January 1789 at Blaiklaw, in +Teviotdale, a farm rented by his father, and of which his progenitors +had been tenants for a succession of generations. By an accident in +infancy, he suffered dislocation of one of his limbs, which rendered the +use of crutches necessary for life. Attending the grammar school of +Kelso for three years, he entered as a student the University of +Edinburgh. From his youth he had devoted himself to extensive reading, +and during his attendance at college he formed the resolution of +adopting literature as a profession. In 1808 he accepted the appointment +of copying-clerk in the General Register House, occupying his intervals +of leisure in composition. He published, in 1811--in connexion with his +ingenious friend, Robert Story, the present minister of Roseneath--a +poem entitled, "The Institute," which obtained a considerable share of +public favour. In 1816 he became a contributor to Campbell's "Albyn's +Anthology;" and produced an excellent imitation of the poetical style of +Sir Walter Scott for Hogg's "Poetic Mirror." Concurring with Hogg in a +proposal to establish a new monthly periodical, in order to supersede +the _Scots' Magazine_, which had much sunk in the literary scale, he +united with him in submitting the scheme to Mr Blackwood, who was then +becoming known as an enterprising publisher. By Mr Blackwood the +proposal was well received; a periodical was originated under the title +of the _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_, and Pringle relinquished his post +in the Register House to undertake the editorship. In April 1817 the +first number of the magazine appeared, adorned with contributions from +Wilson, Lockhart, the Shepherd, and others of literary reputation. An +interesting article on "Gypsies" was Pringle's own contribution, the +materials being kindly supplied to him by Sir Walter Scott. The +occurrence of serious differences between the editor and publisher, +however, soon menaced the continuance of a periodical which had +commenced so prosperously; the result was, the withdrawal of Pringle +from the concern, and an announcement in the September number that the +magazine was discontinued. The discontinuance was merely nominal: a new +series, under the title of _Blackwood's Magazine_, appeared in October, +under the literary superintendence of Wilson; while, in the August +preceding, Pringle had originated, under the publishing auspices of Mr +Constable, _The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany_, as a new +series of the _Scots' Magazine_. In the first number of Mr Blackwood's +new series appeared the celebrated "Chaldee MS.," a humorous pasquinade, +chiefly directed against Pringle and his literary friend Cleghorn, and +which, on account of its evident personalities, was afterwards +cancelled. + +Besides conducting Constable's magazine, Pringle undertook the +editorship of _The Star_, a bi-weekly newspaper; but he was led soon to +renounce both these literary appointments. He now published the +"Autumnal Excursion, and other Poems;" but finding, in spite of every +effort, that he was unable to support himself by literature, he resumed, +early in 1819, his humble situation in the Register House. + +When his literary affairs were prosperous, Pringle had entered into the +married state, but his present emoluments were wholly unequal to the +comfortable maintenance of his family. He formed the resolution of +emigrating to South Africa, then a favourite colony, and a number of his +wife's relatives and his own consented to accompany him. In February +1820 he embarked for the Cape, along with his father and other +relatives, in all numbering twenty-four persons. The emigrants landed on +the 5th of June, and forthwith took possession of the territory assigned +them by the home government, extending to 20,000 acres, situate in the +upper part of the valley of Baaviars river, a tributary of the Great +Fish river. In this place, which the colonists designated Glen-lynden, +Pringle remained about two years, till his friends were comfortably +settled. He thereafter proceeded to Cape Town, in quest of literary +employment. He was appointed keeper of the Government library, with a +salary of £75, and soon after found himself at the head of a flourishing +educational establishment. He now established a periodical, which he +designated the _South African Commercial Advertiser_, and became editor +of a weekly newspaper, originated by an enterprising printer. But +misfortune continued to attend his literary adventures: in consequence +of certain interferences of the local government, he was compelled to +abandon both his periodical and newspaper, while the opposition of the +administrative officials led to his seminary being deserted. Leaving the +colony for Britain, he arrived in London in July 1826; and failing to +obtain from the home government a reparation of his losses in the +colony, he was necessitated anew to seek a precarious subsistence from +literature. An article which he had written on slavery, in the _New +Monthly Magazine_, led to his appointment as secretary to the +Anti-slavery Society. This situation, so admirably suited to his talents +and predilections, he continued to hold till the office became +unnecessary, by the legislative abolition of slavery on the 27th of June +1834. He now became desirous of returning to the Cape, but was meanwhile +seized with a pulmonary affection, which proved fatal on the 5th +December 1834, in his forty-sixth year. His remains were interred in +Bunhill-field Cemetery, where a tombstone, with an inscription by his +poetical friend William Kennedy, has been erected to his memory. + +As a poet, Pringle is chiefly remarkable for elegance of versification, +perspicuity of sentiment, and deep and generous feeling. A thorough +patriot, some of his best songs on subjects connected with Scottish +scenery were written on the plains of Africa. Beneficent in disposition, +and conciliatory in private intercourse, he was especially +uncompromising in the maintenance of his political opinions; and to this +peculiarity may be traceable some of his earlier misfortunes. In person +he was under the middle height; his countenance was open and benignant, +with a well developed forehead. He was much influenced by sincere +religious convictions. His poetical works, with a memoir by Mr Leitch +Ritchie, have been published by Mr Moxon for the benefit of his widow. + + + + +FAREWELL TO BONNIE TEVIOTDALE. + + + Our native land--our native vale-- + A long, a last adieu; + Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale, + And Cheviot's mountains blue! + + Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds, + Ye streams renown'd in song; + Farewell, ye braes and blossom'd meads, + Our hearts have loved so long! + + Farewell, the blithsome broomy knowes, + Where thyme and harebells grow; + Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes, + O'erhung with birk and sloe! + + The mossy cave and mouldering tower, + That skirt our native dells; + The martyr's grave and lover's bower, + We bid a sad farewell! + + Home of our love--our fathers' home-- + Land of the brave and free-- + The sail is flapping on the foam + That bears us far from thee! + + We seek a wild and distant shore, + Beyond the western main; + We leave thee to return no more, + Nor view thy cliffs again! + + Our native land--our native vale-- + A long, a last adieu! + Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale, + And Scotland's mountains blue! + + + + +THE EXILE'S LAMENT. + + + By the lone Mankayana's margin gray + A Scottish maiden sung; + And mournfully pour'd her melting lay + In Teviot's border-tongue: + O bonnie grows the broom on Blaiklaw knowes, + And the birk in Clifton dale; + And green are the hills o' the milk-white ewes, + By the briery banks o' Cayle! + + Here bright are the skies; and these valleys of bloom + May enchant the traveller's eye; + But all seems dress'd in death-like gloom, + To the exile who comes to die! + O bonnie grows the broom, &c. + + Far round and round spreads the howling waste, + Where the wild beast roams at will; + And yawning cleughs, by woods embraced, + Where the savage lurks to kill! + O bonnie grows the broom, &c. + + Full oft over Cheviot's uplands green + My dreaming fancy strays; + But I wake to weep 'mid the desolate scene + That scowls on my aching gaze! + O bonnie grows the broom, &c. + + Oh light, light is poverty's lowliest state, + On Scotland's peaceful strand, + Compared with the heart-sick exile's fate, + In this wild and weary land! + O bonnie grows the broom, &c. + + + + +LOVE AND SOLITUDE. + + + I love the free ridge of the mountain, + When dawn lifts her fresh dewy eye; + I love the old ash by the fountain, + When noon's summer fervours are high: + And dearly I love when the gray-mantled gloaming + Adown the dim valley glides slowly along, + And finds me afar by the pine-forest roaming, + A-list'ning the close of the gray linnet's song. + + When the moon from her fleecy cloud scatters + Over ocean her silvery light, + And the whisper of woodlands and waters + Comes soft through the silence of night-- + I love by the ruin'd tower lonely to linger, + A-dreaming to fancy's wild witchery given, + And hear, as if swept by some seraph's pure finger, + The harp of the winds breathing accents of heaven. + + Yet still, 'mid sweet fancies o'erflowing, + Oft bursts from my lone breast the sigh-- + I yearn for the sympathies glowing, + When hearts to each other reply! + Come, friend of my bosom! with kindred devotion, + To worship with me by wild mountain and grove; + O come, my Eliza, with dearer emotion, + With rapture to hallow the chaste home of love! + + + + +COME AWA', COME AWA'. + + + Come awa', come awa', + An' o'er the march wi' me, lassie; + Leave your southren wooers a', + My winsome bride to be, lassie! + Lands nor gear I proffer you, + Nor gauds to busk ye fine, lassie; + But I 've a heart that 's leal and true, + And a' that heart is thine, lassie! + + Come awa', come awa', + And see the kindly north, lassie, + Out o'er the peaks o' Lammerlair, + And by the Links o' Forth, lassie! + And when we tread the heather-bell, + Aboon Demayat lea, lassie, + You 'll view the land o' flood and fell, + The noble north countrie, lassie! + + Come awa', come awa', + And leave your southland hame, lassie; + The kirk is near, the ring is here, + And I 'm your Donald Græme, lassie! + Rock and reel and spinning-wheel, + And English cottage trig, lassie; + Haste, leave them a', wi' me to speel + The braes 'yont Stirling brig, lassie! + + Come awa', come awa', + I ken your heart is mine, lassie, + And true love shall make up for a' + For whilk ye might repine, lassie! + Your father he has gi'en consent, + Your step-dame looks na kind, lassie; + O that our feet were on the bent, + An' the lowlands far behind, lassie! + + Come awa', come awa', + Ye 'll ne'er hae cause to rue, lassie; + My cot blinks blithe beneath the shaw, + By bonnie Avondhu, lassie! + There 's birk and slae on ilka brae, + And brackens waving fair, lassie, + And gleaming lochs and mountains gray-- + Can aught wi' them compare, lassie? + Come awa', come awa', &c. + + + + +DEAREST LOVE, BELIEVE ME! + + + Dearest love, believe me, + Though all else depart, + Nought shall e'er deceive thee + In this faithful heart. + Beauty may be blighted-- + Youth must pass away; + But the vows we plighted + Ne'er shall know decay. + + Tempests may assail us + From affliction's coast, + Fortune's breeze may fail us + When we need it most; + Fairest hopes may perish, + Firmest friends may change, + But the love we cherish + Nothing shall estrange. + + Dreams of fame and grandeur + End in bitter tears; + Love grows only fonder + With the lapse of years; + Time, and change, and trouble, + Weaker ties unbind, + But the bands redouble + True affection twined. + + + + +WILLIAM KNOX. + + +William Knox, a short-lived poet of considerable merit, was born at +Firth, in the parish of Lilliesleaf, Roxburghshire, on the 17th August +1789. His father, Thomas Knox, espoused Barbara Turnbull, the widow of a +country gentleman, Mr Pott of Todrig, in Selkirkshire; and of this +marriage, William was the eldest son. He was educated at the parish +school of Lilliesleaf, and, subsequently, at the grammar school of +Musselburgh. In 1812, he became lessee of the farm of Wrae, near +Langholm, Dumfriesshire; but his habits were not those of a thriving +farmer, and, at the expiry of five years, he was led to abandon his +lease. His parents had, meanwhile, removed to the farm of Todrig, and he +returned thither to the shelter of the parental roof. In 1820, the +family, who had fallen into straitened circumstances, proceeded to +Edinburgh, where they opened a lodging-house. William now devoted his +attention to literature, contributing extensively to the public +journals. From his youth he had composed verses. In 1818, he published +"The Lonely Hearth, and other Poems," 12mo; in 1824, "The Songs of +Israel," 12mo; and in April 1825, a third duodecimo volume of lyrics, +entitled "The Harp of Zion." His poetical merits attracted the notice of +Sir Walter Scott, who afforded him kindly countenance and occasional +pecuniary assistance. He likewise enjoyed the friendly encouragement of +Professor Wilson, and other men of letters. + +Of amiable and benevolent dispositions, Knox fell a victim to the undue +gratification of his social propensities; he was seized with paralysis, +and died at Edinburgh on the 12th of November 1825, at the early age of +thirty-six. His poetry, always smooth and harmonious, is largely +pervaded with pathetic and religious sentiment. Some of his Scriptural +paraphrases are exquisite specimens of sacred verse. A new edition of +his poetical works was published at London, in 1847. Besides his +poetical works, he published "A Visit to Dublin," and a Christmas tale +entitled "Marianne, or the Widower's Daughter." He left several +compositions in prose and verse, but these have not been published by +his executors. + +Knox was short in stature, but handsomely formed; his complexion was +fair, and his hair of a light colour. Subject to a variation of spirits +in private, he was generally cheerful in society. He sang or repeated +his own songs with much enthusiasm, and was keenly alive to his literary +reputation. Possessing a fund of humour, he excelled in relating curious +anecdotes. + + + + +THE DEAR LAND OF CAKES. + + + O brave Caledonians! my brothers, my friends, + Now sorrow is borne on the wings of the winds; + Care sleeps with the sun in the seas of the west, + And courage is lull'd in the warrior's breast. + Here social pleasure enlivens each heart, + And friendship is ready its warmth to impart; + The goblet is fill'd, and each worn one partakes, + To drink plenty and peace to the dear land of cakes. + + Though the Bourbon may boast of his vine-cover'd hills, + Through each bosom the tide of depravity thrills; + Though the Indian may sit in his green orange bowers, + There slavery's wail counts the wearisome hours. + Though our island is beat by the storms of the north, + There blaze the bright meteors of valour and worth; + There the loveliest rose-bud of beauty awakes + From that cradle of virtue, the dear land of cakes. + + O valour! thou guardian of freedom and truth, + Thou stay of old age, and thou guidance of youth! + Still, still thy enthusiast transports pervade + The breast that is wrapt in the green tartan plaid. + And ours are the shoulders that never shall bend + To the rod of a tyrant, that scourge of a land; + Ours the bosoms no terror of death ever shakes, + When call'd in defence of the dear land of cakes. + + Shall the ghosts of our fathers, aloft on each cloud, + When the rage of the battle is dreadful and loud, + See us shrink from our standard with fear and dismay, + And leave to our foemen the pride of the day? + No, by heavens we will stand to our honour and trust! + Till our heart's blood be shed on our ancestors' dust, + Till we sink to the slumber no war-trumpet breaks, + Beneath the brown heath of the dear land of cakes. + + O, peace to the ashes of those that have bled + For the land where the proud thistle raises its head! + O, peace to the ashes of those gave us birth, + In a land freedom renders the boast of the earth! + Though their lives are extinguish'd, their spirit remains, + And swells in their blood that still runs in our veins; + Still their deathless achievements our ardour awakes, + For the honour and weal of the dear land of cakes. + + Ye sons of old Scotia, ye friends of my heart, + From our word, from our trust, let us never depart; + Nor e'er from our foe till with victory crown'd, + And the balm of compassion is pour'd in his wound; + And still to our bosom be honesty dear, + And still to our loves and our friendships sincere; + And, till heaven's last thunder the firmament shakes, + May happiness beam on the dear land of cakes. + + + + +THE LAMENT. + + + She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green, + When the rose-blossoms hung on the tree; + And dear, dear to me were the joys that had been, + And I dreamt of enjoyments to be. + + But she faded more fast than the blossoms could fade, + No human attention could save; + And when the green leaves of the forest decay'd, + The winds strew'd them over her grave. + + + + +TO MARY. + + + Farewell! and though my steps depart + From scenes for ever dear, + O Mary! I must leave my heart + And all my pleasures here; + And I must cherish in my mind, + Where'er my lot shall be, + A thought of her I leave behind-- + A hopeless thought of thee. + + O Mary! I can ne'er forget + The charm thy presence brought; + No hour has pass'd since first we met, + But thou hast shared my thought. + At early morn, at sultry noon, + Beneath the spreading tree, + And, wandering by the evening moon, + Still, still I think of thee. + + Yea, thou hast come to cheer my dream, + And bid me grieve no more, + But at the morn's returning gleam, + I sorrow'd as before; + Yet thou shalt still partake my care, + And when I bend the knee, + And pour to Heaven a fervent prayer, + I will remember thee. + + Farewell! and when my steps depart, + Though many a grief be mine, + And though I may conceal my own, + I 'll weep to hear of thine. + Though from thy memory soon depart + Each little trace of me, + 'Tis only in the grave this heart + Can cease to think of thee. + + + + +WILLIAM THOM. + + +William Thom, commonly styled "The Inverury Poet," was born at Aberdeen +in 1789. His father, who was a shopkeeper, dying during his infancy, he +was placed by his mother at a school taught by a female, from whom he +received the greater amount of his juvenile education. At the age of +ten, he was put to a cotton-factory, where he served an apprenticeship +of four years. He was subsequently employed, during a period of nearly +twenty years, in the large weaving-factory of Gordon, Barron, & Co. In +1827, he removed to Dundee; and shortly after to the village of Newtyle, +in Strathmore, at both of these places working as a hand-loom weaver. +Thrown out of employment, in consequence of a stagnation in the +manufacturing world, he was subjected, in his person and family, to much +penury and suffering. At length, disposing of his articles of household +furniture, he purchased a few wares, and taking his wife and children +along with him, commenced the precarious life of a pedlar. In his +published "Recollections," he has supplied a heart-rending narrative of +the privations attendant on his career as a wanderer; his lodgings were +frequently in the farmer's barn, and, on one of these occasions, one of +his children perished from cold and starvation. The contents of his pack +becoming exhausted, he derived the means of subsistence by playing on +the flute, and disposing of copies of verses. After wandering over a +wide district as a pedlar, flute-player, and itinerant poet, he resumed +his original occupation of weaving in Kinross. He subsequently sought +employment as a weaver in Aberdeen, where he remained about a year. In +1840 he proceeded to Inverury; and it was while he was resident in this +place that his beautiful stanzas, entitled "The Blind Boy's Pranks," +appeared in the columns of the _Aberdeen Herald_ newspaper. These verses +were copied into many of the public journals: they particularly arrested +the attention of Mr Gordon of Knockespock, a landed proprietor in +Aberdeenshire, who, ascertaining the indigent circumstances of the +author, transmitted to him a handsome donation, and desired to form his +personal acquaintance. The poet afterwards accompanied Mr Gordon to +London, who introduced him as a man of genius to the fashionable and +literary circles of the metropolis. In 1844 he published a small volume +of poems and songs, with a brief autobiography, under the title of +"Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-loom Weaver." This volume was well +received; and on a second visit to London, Thom was entertained at a +public dinner by many distinguished literary persons of the metropolis. +From admirers, both in India and America, he received pecuniary +acknowledgments of his genius. He now attempted to establish himself in +London in connexion with the press, but without success. Returning to +Scotland, he took up his abode in Dundee; where, after a period of +distress and penury, he breathed his last on the 29th February 1848, in +his 59th year. His remains were interred in the public cemetery of the +town; and it is pleasing to add, that an enthusiastic admirer of his +genius has planted flowers upon his grave. Though long in publishing, +Thom early wrote verses; in Gordon, Barron, & Co.'s factory in +Aberdeen, his fellow-workmen were astonished and interested by the power +and vigour of his poems. That he did not publish sooner, is probably +attributable to his lengthened career of poverty, and his carelessness +regarding intellectual honours. + +In respect of pure and simple pathos, some of his lyrics are unequalled +among the compositions of any of the national bards. Than "The +Mitherless Bairn," it may be questioned whether there is to be found in +the language any lyrical composition more delicately plaintive. It is +lamentable to think that one who could write so tenderly should, by a +dissolute life, have been the author of many of his own misfortunes, and +a constant barrier to every attempt for his permanent elevation in the +social circle. In person, he was rather below the middle stature; his +countenance was thoughtful, but marked with the effects of bodily +suffering. Owing to a club-foot, his gait was singularly awkward. He +excelled in conversation, and his manner was pleasing and conciliatory. + + + + +JEANIE'S GRAVE. + + + I saw my true-love first on the banks of queenly Tay, + Nor did I deem it yielding my trembling heart away; + I feasted on her deep, dark eye, and loved it more and more, + For, oh! I thought I ne'er had seen a look so kind before! + + I heard my true-love sing, and she taught me many a strain, + But a voice so sweet, oh! never shall my cold ear hear again. + In all our friendless wanderings--in homeless penury-- + Her gentle song and jetty eye were all unchanged to me. + + I saw my true-love fade--I heard her latest sigh; + I wept no friv'lous weeping when I closed her lightless eye: + Far from her native Tay she sleeps, and other waters lave + The markless spot where Ury creeps around my Jeanie's grave. + + Move noiseless, gentle Ury! around my Jeanie's bed, + And I 'll love thee, gentle Ury! where'er my footsteps tread; + For sooner shall thy fairy wave return from yonder sea, + Than I forget yon lowly grave, and all it hides from me. + + + + +THEY SPEAK O' WILES. + +AIR--_"Gin a bodie meet a bodie."_ + + + They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, + An' ruin in her e'e; + I ken they bring a pang at whiles + That 's unco sair to dree; + But mind ye this, the half-ta'en kiss, + The first fond fa'in' tear, + Is, heaven kens, fu' sweet amends, + An' tints o' heaven here. + + When two leal hearts in fondness meet, + Life's tempests howl in vain; + The very tears o' love are sweet + When paid with tears again. + Shall hapless prudence shake its pow, + Shall cauldrife caution fear, + Oh, dinna, dinna droun the lowe, + That lichts a heaven here! + + What though we 're ca'd a wee before + The stale "three score an' ten," + When Joy keeks kindly at your door, + Aye bid her welcome ben. + About yon blissfu' bowers above + Let doubtfu' mortals speir; + Sae weel ken we that "heaven is love," + Since love makes heaven here. + + + + +THE MITHERLESS BAIRN.[30] + + + When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame + By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame, + Wha stands last and lanely, an' naebody carin'? + 'Tis the puir doited loonie--the mitherless bairn! + + The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed, + Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head; + His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn, + An' litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn. + + Aneath his cauld brow siccan dreams hover there, + O' hands that wont kindly to kame his dark hair; + But mornin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern, + That lo'e nae the locks o' the mitherless bairn! + + Yon sister that sang o'er his saftly-rock'd bed + Now rests in the mools whare her mammie is laid; + The father toils sair their wee bannock to earn, + An' kens na' the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. + + Her spirit that pass'd in yon hour o' his birth, + Still watches his wearisome wanderings on earth; + Recording in heaven the blessings they earn, + Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn! + + Oh! speak him na' harshly--he trembles the while, + He bends to your bidding, and blesses your smile; + In their dark hour o' anguish, the heartless shall learn + That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn! + + +[30] An Inverury correspondent writes: "Thom gave me the following +narrative as to the origin of 'The Mitherless Bairn;' I quote his own +words--'When I was livin' in Aberdeen, I was limping roun' the house to +my garret, when I heard the greetin' o' a wean. A lassie was thumpin' a +bairn, when out cam a big dame, bellowin', "Ye hussie, will ye kick a +mitherless bairn!" I hobbled up the stair, and wrote the sang afore +sleepin'.'" + + + + +THE LASS O' KINTORE. + +AIR--_"Oh, as I was kiss'd yestreen."_ + + + At hame or afield I am cheerless an' lone, + I 'm dull on the Ury, an' droop by the Don; + Their murmur is noisy, and fashious to hear, + An' the lay o' the lintie fa's dead on my ear. + I hide frae the morn, and whaur naebody sees; + I greet to the burnie, an' sich to the breeze; + Though I sich till I 'm silly, an' greet till I dee, + Kintore is the spot in this world for me. + But the lass o' Kintore, oh! the lass o' Kintore, + Be warned awa' frae the lass o' Kintore; + There 's a love-luring look that I ne'er kent afore + Steals cannily hame to the heart at Kintore. + + They bid me forget her, oh! how can it be? + In kindness or scorn she 's ever wi' me; + I feel her fell frown in the lift's frosty blue, + An' I weel ken her smile in the lily's saft hue. + I try to forget her, but canna forget, + I 've liked her lang, an' I aye like her yet; + My poor heart may wither, may waste to its core, + But forget her, oh never! the lass o' Kintore! + Oh the wood o' Kintore, the holmes o' Kintore! + The love-lichtin' e'e that I ken at Kintore; + I 'll wander afar, an' I 'll never look more + On the gray glance o' Peggy, or bonnie Kintore! + + + + +MY HAMELESS HA'. + + + Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha'? + The very sun glints eerie on the gilded wa'; + An' aye the nicht sae drearie, + Ere the dowie morn daw, + Whan I canna win to see you, + My Jamie, ava'. + + Though mony miles between us, an' far, far frae me, + The bush that wont to screen us frae the cauld warl's e'e, + Its leaves may waste and wither, + But its branches winna fa'; + An' hearts may haud thegither, + Though frien's drap awa'. + + Ye promised to speak o' me to the lanesome moon, + An' weird kind wishes to me, in the lark's saft soun'; + I doat upon that moon + Till my very heart fills fu', + An' aye yon birdie's tune + Gars me greet for you. + + Then how can I be cheerie in the stranger's ha'? + A gowden prison drearie, my luckless fa'! + 'Tween leavin' o' you, Jamie, + An' ills that sorrow me, + I 'm wearie o' the warl', + An' carena though I dee. + + + + +WILLIAM GLEN.[31] + + +William Glen, whose name simply has hitherto been known to the lovers of +Scottish song, is entitled to an honourable place in the song-literature +of his country. His progenitors were persons of consideration in the +county of Renfrew.[32] His father, Alexander Glen, a Glasgow merchant in +the Russian trade, married Jane Burns, sister of the Rev. Dr Burns, +minister of Renfrew; and of a family of three sons, the poet was the +eldest. He was born in Queen Street, Glasgow, on the 14th of November +1789. In 1803, when the regiment of Glasgow Volunteer Sharp-shooters was +formed, he joined the corps as a lieutenant. He afterwards followed the +mercantile profession, and engaged in the West India trade. For some +time he resided in one of the West India islands. In 1814 he became one +of the managers of the "Merchants' House" of Glasgow, and also a +director of the "Chamber of Commerce and Manufactures." During the same +year, being unfortunate in merchandise, he was induced to abandon the +concerns of business. He afterwards derived the means of support from an +uncle who resided in Russia; but his circumstances were ultimately much +clouded by misfortune. During the last eight years of his career, his +summers were spent at Reinagour, in the parish of Aberfoyle, where he +resided with an uncle of his wife. After several years of delicate +health, he died in Edwin Place, Gorbals, Glasgow, in December 1826. His +widow and daughter continue to reside at Craigmuick, parish of +Aberfoyle. + +William Glen was about six feet in height; his person, which was +originally slender, afterwards became portly. He was of a fair +complexion, and his countenance generally wore a smile. His manners were +pleasing, and he cherished a keen relish for congenial society. In 1815 +he published a thin duodecimo volume of verses, entitled "Poems, chiefly +Lyrical;" but the majority of his metrical compositions seem to have +been confined to his repositories. A quarto volume of his MSS., numbered +"Volume Third," is now in the possession of Mr Gabriel Neil of Glasgow, +who has kindly made it available in the preparation of this work. +Interspersed with the poetry in the MS. volume, are pious reflections on +the trials and disappointments incident to human life; with some +spirited appeals to those fair ones who at different times had attracted +the poet's fancy. Of his songs inserted in the present work, seven have +been printed from the MS. volume, and the two last from the printed +volume. Four of the songs have not been previously published. The whole +are pervaded by simplicity and exquisite pathos. The song, "Waes me for +Prince Charlie," is one of the most touching and popular of modern +Jacobite ditties. + + +[31] To Mr James C. Roger, of Glasgow, we have to acknowledge our +obligations for much diligent inquiry on the subject of this memoir. + +[32] Allanus Glen, _armiger_, is witness to an instrument conveying the +fishing of Crockat-shot to the "Monks of Pasly," in 1452. James Glen, +the successor of this person, obtained from Robert, abbot of Paisley, +the lands of Bar, Bridge-end, and Lyntehels, within the Lordship of +Paisley. James Glen of Bar joined the troops of Queen Mary at the battle +of Langside, for which act he was forfeited by the Regent, but was +restored in 1573 by the treaty of Perth. Archibald Glen, a younger son +of the proprietor of Bar, was minister of Carmunnock, and died in +February 1614. Of two sons, Robert, the eldest, succeeded him in the +living of Carmunnock; the other, named Thomas, was a prosperous trader +in the Saltmarket of Glasgow; he died in 1735. His son Alexander was the +poet's father. + + + + +WAES ME FOR PRINCE CHARLIE.[33] + +TUNE--_"Johnnie Faa."_ + + + A wee bird cam to our ha' door, + He warbled sweet an' clearly, + An' aye the owercome o' his sang + Was, "Waes me for Prince Charlie." + Oh! whan I heard the bonnie soun', + The tears cam drappin' rarely; + I took my bannet aff my head, + For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. + + Quoth I, "My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird, + Is that a sang ye borrow? + Are thae some words ye 've learnt by heart, + Or a lilt o' dule an' sorrow?" + "Oh, no, no, no!" the wee bird sang, + "I 've flown sin' mornin' early, + But sic' a day o' wind and rain!-- + Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie. + + "On hills that are by right his ain, + He roves a lanely stranger; + On every side he 's press'd by want, + On every side is danger. + Yestreen I saw him in a glen, + My heart maist burstit fairly, + For sadly changed indeed was he-- + Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie. + + "Dark night cam on, the tempest roar'd + Loud o'er the hills an' valleys; + An' whare wast that your Prince lay down, + Whase hame should been a palace? + He row'd him in a Highland plaid, + Which cover'd him but sparely, + An' slept beneath a bush o' broom-- + Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie." + + But now the bird saw some red-coats, + An' he shook his wings wi' anger: + "Oh! this is no a land for me, + I 'll tarry here nae langer." + He hover'd on the wing a while, + Ere he departed fairly; + But weel I mind the farewell strain + Was, "Waes me for Prince Charlie." + + +[33] This song is understood to be a favourite with her present Majesty. + + + + +MARY OF SWEET ABERFOYLE.[34] + + + The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow, + The slow sinking moon half illumined the scene; + As I lifted my head frae my care-haunted pillow, + An' wander'd to muse on the days that were gane. + Sweet hope seem'd to smile o'er ideas romantic, + An' gay were the dreams that my soul would beguile; + But my eyes fill'd wi' tears as I view'd the Atlantic, + An' thought on my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle. + + Though far frae my hame in a tropical wildwood, + Yet the fields o' my forefathers rose on my view; + An' I wept when I thought on the days of my childhood, + An' the vision was painful the brighter it grew. + Sweet days! when my bosom with rapture was swelling, + Though I knew it not then, it was love made me smile; + Oh! the snaw wreath is pure where the moonbeams are dwelling, + Yet as pure is my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle. + + Now far in the east the sun slowly rising, + Brightly gilded the top of the tall cabbage tree; + And sweet was the scene such wild beauties comprising, + As might have fill'd the sad mourner with rapture and glee. + But my heart felt nae rapture, nae pleasant emotion, + The saft springs o' pleasure had lang, lang been seal'd; + I thought on my home 'cross a wide stormy ocean, + And wept for my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle. + + The orange was bathed in the dews o' the morning, + An' the bright draps bespangled the clustering vine; + White were the blossoms the lime-tree adorning, + An' brown was the apple that grew on the pine. + Were I as free as an Indian chieftain, + Sic beautiful scenes might give pleasure the while; + But the joy o' a slave is aye waverin' an' shiftin', + An' a slave I 'm to Mary of sweet Aberfoyle. + + When the mirk cloud o' fortune aboon my head gathers, + An' the golden shower fa's whare it ne'er fell before; + Oh! then I 'll revisit the land of my fathers, + An' clasp to this bosom the lass I adore. + Hear me, ye angels, who watch o'er my maiden, + (Like ane o' yoursels she is free frae a' guile), + Pure as was love in the garden o' Eden, + Sae pure is my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle. + + +[34] This song was composed while the author resided in the West Indies. +It is here printed for the first time. + + + + +THE BATTLE-SONG.[35] + + + Raise high the battle-song + To the heroes of our land; + Strike the bold notes loud and long + To Great Britain's warlike band. + Burst away like a whirlwind of flame, + Wild as the lightning's wing; + Strike the boldest, sweetest string, + And deathless glory sing-- + To their fame. + + See Corunna's bloody bed! + 'Tis a sad, yet glorious scene; + There the imperial eagle fled, + And there our chief was slain. + Green be the turf upon the warrior's breast, + High honour seal'd his doom, + And eternal laurels bloom + Round the poor and lowly tomb + Of his rest. + + Strong was his arm of might, + When the war-flag was unfurl'd; + But his soul when peace shone bright, + Beam'd love to all the world. + And his name, through endless ages shall endure; + High deeds are written fair, + In that scroll, which time must spare, + And thy fame 's recorded there-- + Noble Moore. + + Yonder 's Barossa's height + Rising full upon my view, + Where was fought the bloodiest fight + That Iberia ever knew, + Where Albion's bold sons to victory were led. + With bay'nets levell'd low, + They rush'd upon the foe, + Like an avalanche of snow + From its bed. + + Sons of the "Lonely Isle," + Your native courage rose, + When surrounded for a while + By the thousands of your foes. + But dauntless was your chief, that meteor of war, + He resistless led ye on, + Till the bloody field was won, + And the dying battle-groan + Sunk afar. + + Our song Balgowan share, + Home of the chieftain's rest; + For thou art a lily fair + In Caledonia's breast. + Breathe, sweetly breathe, a soft love-soothing strain, + For beauty there doth dwell, + In the mountain, flood, or fell, + And throws her witching spell + O'er the scene. + + But not Balgowan's charms + Could hire the chief to stay; + For the foe were up in arms, + In a country far away. + He rush'd to battle, and he won his fame; + Ages may pass by, + Fleet as the summer's sigh, + But thy name shall never die-- + Gallant Græme.[36] + + Strike again the boldest strings, + To our great commander's praise; + Who to our memory brings + "The deeds of other days." + Peal for a lofty spirit-stirring strain; + The blaze of hope illumes + Iberia's deepest glooms, + And the eagle shakes his plumes + There in vain. + + High is the foemen's pride, + For they are sons of war; + But our chieftain rolls the tide, + Of battle back afar. + A braver hero in the field ne'er shone; + Let bards with loud acclaim, + Heap laurels on his fame, + "Singing glory" to the name + Of Wellington. + + Could I with soul of fire + Guide my wild unsteady hand, + I would strike the quivering wire, + Till it rung throughout the land. + Of all its warlike heroes would I sing; + Were powers to soar thus given, + By the blast of genius driven, + I would sweep the highest heaven + With my wing. + + Yet still this trembling flight + May point a bolder way, + Ere the lonely beam of night + Steals on my setting day. + Till then, sweet harp, hang on the willow tree; + And when I come again, + Thou wilt not sound in vain, + For I 'll strike thy highest strain-- + Bold and free. + + +[35] Printed for the first time, from the author's MS. volume. + +[36] The "gallant Græme," Lord Lynedoch, on hearing this song at a +Glasgow theatre, was so moved by the touching reference of the poet to +his achievements, and the circumstances of his joining the army, that he +openly burst into tears. + + + + +THE MAID OF ORONSEY.[37] + + + Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain, + Frae hopeless love itsel' it flows; + Sweet bird, oh! warble it again, + Thou'st touch'd the string o' a' my woes; + Oh! lull me with it to repose, + I 'll dream of her who 's far away, + And fancy, as my eyelids close, + Will meet the maid of Oronsey. + + Couldst thou but learn frae me my grief, + Sweet bird, thou 'dst leave thy native grove, + And fly to bring my soul relief, + To where my warmest wishes rove; + Soft as the cooings of the dove, + Thou 'dst sing thy sweetest, saddest lay, + And melt to pity and to love + The bonnie maid of Oronsey. + + Well may I sigh and sairly weep, + The song sad recollections bring; + Oh! fly across the roaring deep, + And to my maiden sweetly sing; + 'Twill to her faithless bosom fling + Remembrance of a sacred day; + But feeble is thy wee bit wing, + And far 's the isle of Oronsey. + + Then, bonnie bird, wi' mony a tear, + I 'll mourn beside this hoary thorn, + And thou wilt find me sitting here, + Ere thou canst hail the dawn o' morn; + Then high on airy pinions borne, + Thou 'lt chant a sang o' love an' wae, + An' soothe me, weeping at the scorn, + Of the sweet maid of Oronsey. + + And when around my weary head, + Soft pillow'd where my fathers lie, + Death shall eternal poppies spread, + An' close for aye my tearfu' eye; + Perch'd on some bonnie branch on high, + Thou 'lt sing thy sweetest roundelay, + And soothe my "spirit, passing by" + To meet the maid of Oronsey. + + +[37] Printed for the first time. + + + + +JESS M'LEAN.[38] + + + Her eyes were red with weeping, + Her lover was no more, + Beneath the billows sleeping, + Near Ireland's rocky shore; + She oft pray'd for her Willy, + But it was all in vain, + And pale as any lily + Grew lovely Jess M'Lean. + + She sat beside some willows + That overhung the sea, + And as she view'd the billows, + She moan'd most piteously; + The storm in all its rigour + Swept the bosom of the main, + And shook the sylph-like figure + Of lovely Jess M'Lean. + + Her auburn hair was waving + In ringlets on the gale, + And the tempest join'd its raving, + To the hapless maiden's wail; + Wild was the storm's commotion, + Yet careless of the scene, + Like the spirit of the ocean + Sat lovely Jess M'Lean. + + She look'd upon her bosom + Where Willy's picture hung, + 'Twas like a rosy blossom + On a bed of lilies flung; + She kiss'd the red cheeks over, + And look'd, and kiss'd again; + Then told the winds her lover + Was true to Jess M'Lean. + + But a blast like bursting thunder + Bent down each willow tree, + Snapp'd the picture clasp asunder, + And flung it in the sea; + She started from the willows + The image to regain, + And low beneath the billows + Lies lovely Jess M'Lean. + + Her bones are changed to coral + Of the purest virgin white, + Her teeth are finest pearl, + And her eyes are diamonds bright; + The breeze oft sweeps the willows + In a sad and mournful strain, + And moaning o'er the billows + Sings the dirge of Jess M'Lean. + + +[38] Printed for the first time. + + + + +HOW EERILY, HOW DREARILY. + + + How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine, + When my love 's in a foreign land, far frae thae arms o' mine; + Three years hae come an' gane, sin' first he said to me, + That he wad stay at hame wi' Jean, wi' her to live an' dee; + The day comes in wi' sorrow now, the night is wild an' drear, + An' every hour that passes by I water wi' a tear. + + I kiss my bonnie baby, I clasp it to my breast, + Ah! aft wi' sic a warm embrace, it's father hath me press'd! + An' whan I gaze upon its face, as it lies on my knee, + The crystal draps upon its cheeks will fa' frae ilka ee; + Oh! mony a, mony a burning tear upon its cheeks will fa', + For oh! its like my bonnie love, and he is far awa'. + + Whan the spring time had gane by, an' the rose began to blaw, + An' the harebell an' the violet adorn'd ilk bonnie shaw; + 'Twas then my love cam courtin' me, and wan my youthfu' heart, + An' mony a tear it cost my love ere he could frae me part; + But though he 's in a foreign land far, far across the sea, + I ken my Jamie's guileless heart is faithfu' unto me. + + Ye wastlin win's upon the main blaw wi' a steady breeze, + And waft my Jamie hame again across the roaring seas; + Oh! whan he clasps me in his arms in a' his manly pride, + I 'll ne'er exchange that ae embrace for a' the warl' beside; + Then blaw a steady gale, ye win's, waft him across the sea, + And bring my Jamie hame again to his wee bairn an' me. + + + + +THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA.[39] + +AIR--_"Whistle o'er the lave o 't."_ + + + Sing a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim, + High glory gie to gallant Graham, + Heap laurels on our marshal's fame + Wha conquer'd at Vittoria. + Triumphant freedom smiled on Spain, + An' raised her stately form again, + Whan the British lion shook his mane + On the mountains of Vittoria. + + Let blustering Suchet crousely crack, + Let Joseph rin the coward's track, + An' Jourdan wish his baton back + He left upon Vittoria. + If e'er they meet their worthy king, + Let them dance roun' him in a ring, + An' some Scots piper play the spring + He blew them at Vittoria. + + Gie truth and honour to the Dane, + Gie German's monarch heart and brain, + But aye in sic a cause as Spain + Gie Britain a Vittoria. + The English rose was ne'er sae red, + The shamrock waved whare glory led, + An' the Scottish thistle rear'd its head + In joy upon Vittoria. + + Loud was the battle's stormy swell, + Whare thousands fought an' many fell, + But the Glasgow heroes bore the bell + At the battle of Vittoria. + The Paris maids may ban them a', + Their lads are maistly wede awa', + An' cauld an' pale as wreathes o' snaw + They lie upon Vittoria. + + Peace to the souls, then, o' the brave, + Let all their trophies for them wave, + And green be our Cadogan's grave + Upon thy fields, Vittoria. + Shout on, my boys, your glasses drain, + And fill a bumper up again, + Pledge to the leading star o' Spain, + The hero of Vittoria. + + +[39] At the battle of Vittoria, the 71st, or Glasgow Regiment, bore a +distinguished part. On this song, celebrating their achievements, being +produced at the Glasgow theatre, it was received with rapturous +applause; it was nightly called for during the season. + + + + +BLINK OVER THE BURN, SWEET BETTY. + +AIR--_"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty."_ + + + Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, + Blink over the burn to me; + Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, + An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee; + Though father and mither forbade it, + Forbidden I wadna be; + Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, + An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee. + + The cheek o' my love 's like the rose-bud, + Blushing red wi' the mornin' dew, + Her hair 's o' the loveliest auburn, + Her ee 's o' the bonniest blue; + Her lips are like threads o' the scarlet, + Disclosing a pearly row; + Her high-swelling, love-heaving bosom + Is white as the mountain snow. + + But it isna her beauty that hauds me, + A glitterin' chain winna lang bind; + 'Tis her heavenly seraph-like sweetness, + An' the graces adornin' her mind; + She 's dear to my soul as the sunbeam + Is dear to the summer's morn, + An' she says, though her father forbade it, + She 'll ne'er break the vows she has sworn. + + Her father's a canker'd auld carle, + He swears he will ne'er gie consent; + Such carles should never get daughters, + Unless they can mak them content; + But she says, though her father forbade it, + Forbidden she winna be; + Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, + An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee. + + + + +FAREWEEL TO ABERFOYLE. + +AIR--_"Highland Plaid."_ + + + My tortured bosom long shall feel + The pangs o' this last sad fareweel; + Far, far to foreign lands I stray, + To spend my hours in deepest wae; + Fareweel, my dear, my native soil, + Fareweel, the braes o' Aberfoyle! + + An' fare-ye-weel, my winsome love, + Into whatever lands I rove, + Thou 'lt claim the deepest, dearest sigh, + The warmest tear ere wet my eye; + An' when I 'm wan'rin' mony a mile, + I 'll mourn for Kate o' Aberfoyle. + + When far upon the raging sea, + As thunders roar, and lightnings flee, + When sweepin' storms the ship assail, + I 'll bless the music o' the gale, + An' think, while listenin' a' the while, + I hear the storms o' Aberfoyle. + + Kitty, my only love, fareweel; + What pangs my faithfu' heart will feel, + While straying through the Indian groves, + Weepin' our woes or early loves; + I 'll ne'er mair see my native soil, + Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Aberfoyle! + + + + +DAVID VEDDER. + + +David Vedder was the son of a small landowner in the parish of Burness, +Orkney, where he was born in 1790. He had the misfortune to lose both +his parents ere he had completed his twelfth year, and was led to choose +the nautical profession. At the age of twenty-two, he obtained the rank +of captain of a vessel, in which he performed several voyages to +Greenland. In 1815, he entered the revenue service as first officer of +an armed cruiser, and in five years afterwards was raised to the post of +tide-surveyor. He first discharged the duties of this office at +Montrose, and subsequently at the ports of Kirkcaldy, Dundee, and Leith. + +A writer of verses from his boyhood, Vedder experienced agreeable +relaxation from his arduous duties as a seaman, in the invocation of the +muse. He sung of the grandeur and terrors of the ocean. His earlier +compositions were contributed to some of the northern newspapers; but +before he attained his majority, his productions found admission into +the periodicals. In 1826, he published "The Covenanter's Communion, and +other Poems," a work which was very favourably received. His reputation +as a poet was extended by the publication, in 1832, of a second volume, +under the title of "Orcadian Sketches." This work, a _melange_ of prose +and poetry, contains some of his best compositions in verse; and several +of the prose sketches are remarkable for fine and forcible description. +In 1839, he edited the "Poetical Remains of Robert Fraser," prefaced +with an interesting memoir. + +Immediately on the death of Sir Walter Scott, Vedder published a memoir +of that illustrious person, which commanded a ready and wide +circulation. In 1842, he gave to the world an edition of his collected +poems, in an elegant duodecimo volume. In 1848, he supplied the +letterpress for a splendid volume, entitled "Lays and Lithographs," +published by his son-in-law, Mr Frederick Schenck of Edinburgh, the +distinguished lithographer. His last work was a new English version of +the quaint old story of "Reynard the Fox," which was published with +elegant illustrations. To many of the more popular magazines and serials +he was in the habit of contributing; articles from his pen adorned the +pages of _Constable's Edinburgh Magazine_, the _Edinburgh Literary +Journal_, the _Edinburgh Literary Gazette_, the _Christian Herald_, +_Tait's Magazine_, and _Chambers's Journal_. He wrote the letterpress +for Geikie's volume of "Etchings," and furnished songs for George +Thomson's "Musical Miscellany," Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," and +Robertson's "Whistlebinkie." At the time of his death, he was engaged in +the preparation of a ballad on the subject of the persecutions of the +Covenanters. In 1852, he was placed upon the retired list of revenue +officers, and thereafter established his residence in Edinburgh. He died +at Newington, in that city, on the 11th February 1854, in his 64th year. +His remains were interred in the Southern Cemetery. + +Considerably above the middle height, Vedder was otherwise of massive +proportions, while his full open countenance was much bronzed by +exposure to the weather. Of beneficent dispositions and social habits, +he enjoyed the friendship of many of his gifted contemporaries. +Thoroughly earnest, his writings partake of the bold and straightforward +nature of his character. Some of his prose productions are admirable +specimens of vigorous composition; and his poetry, if not characterised +by uniformity of power, never descends into weakness. Triumphant in +humour, he is eminently a master of the plaintive; his tender pieces +breathe a deep-toned cadence, and his sacred lyrics are replete with +devotional fervour. His Norse ballads are resonant with the echoes of +his birth-land, and his songs are to be remarked for their deep pathos +and genuine simplicity. + + + + +JEANIE'S WELCOME HAME. + + + Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre, + While plaudits shake the vaulted fane; + Let warriors rush through flood and fire, + A never-dying name to gain; + Let bards, on fancy's fervid wing, + Pursue some high or holy theme: + Be 't mine, in simple strains, to sing + My darling Jeanie 's welcome hame! + + Sweet is the morn of flowery May, + When incense breathes from heath and wold-- + When laverocks hymn the matin lay, + And mountain peaks are bathed in gold-- + And swallows, frae some foreign strand, + Are wheeling o'er the winding stream; + But sweeter to extend my hand, + And bid my Jeanie welcome hame! + + Poor collie, our auld-farrant dog, + Will bark wi' joy whene'er she comes; + And baudrons, on the ingle rug, + Will blithely churm at "auld gray-thrums." + The mavis, frae our apple-tree, + Shall warble forth a joyous strain; + The blackbird's mellow minstrelsy + Shall welcome Jeanie hame again! + + Like dew-drops on a fading rose, + Maternal tears shall start for thee, + And low-breathed blessings rise like those + Which soothed thy slumb'ring infancy. + Come to my arms, my timid dove! + I 'll kiss thy beauteous brow once more; + The fountain of thy father's love + Is welling all its banks out o'er! + + + + +I NEITHER GOT PROMISE OF SILLER. + +AIR--_"Todlin' hame."_ + + + I neither got promise of siller nor land + With the bonnie wee darling who gave me her hand; + But I got a kind heart with my sweet blushing bride, + And that 's proved the bliss of my ain fireside. + My ain fireside, my dear fireside, + There 's happiness aye at my ain fireside! + + Ambition once pointed my view towards rank, + To meadows and manors, and gold in the bank: + 'Twas but for an hour; and I cherish with pride + My sweet lovely flower at my ain fireside. + My ain fireside, my happy fireside, + My Jeanie 's the charm of my ain fireside! + + Her accents are music; there 's grace in her air; + And purity reigns in her bosom so fair; + She 's lovelier now than in maidenly pride, + Though she 's long been the joy of my ain fireside. + My ain fireside, my happy fireside, + There 's harmony still at my ain fireside! + + Let the minions of fortune and fashion go roam, + I 'm content with the sweet, simple pleasures of home; + Though their wine, wit, and humour flow like a spring-tide, + What are these to the bliss of my dear fireside? + My ain fireside, my cheerie fireside, + There are pleasures untold at my ain fireside! + + + + +THERE IS A PANG FOR EVERY HEART. + +AIR--_"Gramachree."_ + + + There is a pang for every heart, + A tear for every eye; + There is a knell for every ear, + For every breast a sigh. + There 's anguish in the happiest state, + Humanity can prove; + But oh! the torture of the soul + Is unrequited love! + + The reptile haunts the sweetest bower, + The rose blooms on the thorn; + There 's poison in the fairest flower + That greets the opening morn. + The hemlock and the night-shade spring + In garden and in grove; + But oh! the upas of the soul + Is unrequited love! + + Ah! lady, thine inconstancy + Hath made my peace depart; + The unwonted coldness of thine eye + Hath froze thy lover's heart. + Yet with the fibres of that heart + Thine image dear is wove; + Nor can they sever till I die + Of unrequited love! + + + + +THE FIRST OF MAY. + +AIR--_"The Braes of Balquhidder."_ + + + Now the beams of May morn + On the mountains are streaming, + And the dews on the corn + Are like diamond-drops gleaming; + And the birds from the bowers + Are in gladness ascending; + And the breath of sweet flowers + With the zephyrs is blending. + + And the rose-linnet's thrill, + Overflowing with gladness, + And the wood-pigeon's bill, + Though their notes seem of sadness; + And the jessamine rich + Its soft tendrils is shooting, + From pear and from peach + The bright blossoms are sprouting. + + And the lambs on the lea + Are in playfulness bounding, + And the voice of the sea + Is in harmony sounding; + And the streamlet on high + In the morning beam dances, + For all Nature is joy + As sweet summer advances. + + Then, my Mary, let 's stray + Where the wild-flowers are glowing, + By the banks of the Tay + In its melody flowing; + Thou shalt bathe in May-dew, + Like a sweet mountain blossom, + For 'tis bright like thy brow, + And 'tis pure as thy bosom! + + + + +SONG OF THE SCOTTISH EXILE. + + + Oh! the sunny peaches glow, + And the grapes in clusters blush; + And the cooling silver streams + From their sylvan fountains rush; + There is music in the grove, + And there 's fragrance on the gale; + But there 's nought so dear to me + As my own Highland vale. + + Oh! the queen-like virgin rose, + Of the dew and sunlight born, + And the azure violet, + Spread their beauties to the morn; + So does the hyacinth, + And the lily pure and pale; + But I love the daisy best + In my own Highland vale. + + Hark! hark! those thrilling notes! + 'Tis the nightingale complains; + Oh! the soul of music breathes + In those more than plaintive strains; + But they 're not so dear to me + As the murmur of the rill, + And the bleating of the lambs + On my own Highland hill. + + Oh! the flow'rets fair may glow, + And the juicy fruits may blush, + And the beauteous birds may sing, + And the crystal streamlets rush; + And the verdant meads may smile, + And the cloudless sun may beam, + But there 's nought beneath the skies + Like my own Highland home. + + + + +THE TEMPEST IS RAGING. + +AIR--_"He 's dear to me, though far frae me."_ + + + The tempest is raging + And rending the shrouds; + The ocean is waging + A war with the clouds; + The cordage is breaking, + The canvas is torn, + The timbers are creaking-- + The seamen forlorn. + + The water is gushing + Through hatches and seams; + 'Tis roaring and rushing + O'er keelson and beams; + And nought save the lightning + On mainmast or boom, + At intervals brightening + The palpable gloom. + + Though horrors beset me, + And hurricanes howl, + I may not forget thee, + Beloved of my soul! + Though soon I must perish + In ocean beneath, + Thine image I 'll cherish, + Adored one! in death. + + + + +THE TEMPLE OF NATURE.[40] + + + Talk not of temples--there is one + Built without hands, to mankind given; + Its lamps are the meridian sun, + And all the stars of heaven; + Its walls are the cerulean sky, + Its floor the earth so green and fair; + The dome is vast immensity-- + All nature worships there! + + The Alps array'd in stainless snow, + The Andean ranges yet untrod, + At sunrise and at sunset glow + Like altar-fires to God. + A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze, + As if with hallow'd victims rare; + And thunder lifts its voice in praise-- + All nature worships there! + + The ocean heaves resistlessly, + And pours his glittering treasure forth; + His waves--the priesthood of the sea-- + Kneel on the shell-gemm'd earth, + And there emit a hollow sound, + As if they murmur'd praise and prayer; + On every side 'tis holy ground-- + All nature worships there! + + The grateful earth her odours yield + In homage, Mighty One! to thee; + From herbs and flowers in every field, + From fruit on every tree, + The balmy dew at morn and even + Seems like the penitential tear, + Shed only in the sight of heaven-- + All nature worships there! + + The cedar and the mountain pine, + The willow on the fountain's brim, + The tulip and the eglantine, + In reverence bend to Him; + The song-birds pour their sweetest lays, + From tower, and tree, and middle air; + The rushing river murmurs praise-- + All nature worships there! + + Then talk not of a fane, save one + Built without hands, to mankind given; + Its lamps are the meridian sun, + And all the stars of heaven. + Its walls are the cerulean sky, + Its floor the earth so green and fair, + The dome is vast immensity-- + All nature worships there! + + +[40] This admirable composition was an especial favourite of Dr Thomas +Chalmers, who was in the habit of quoting it to his students in the +course of his theological prelections. + + + + +JOHN M'DIARMID. + + +The son of the Rev. Hugh M'Diarmid, minister of the Gaelic church, +Glasgow, John M'Diarmid was born in 1790. He received in Edinburgh a +respectable elementary education; but, deprived of his father at an +early age, he was left unaided to push his fortune in life. For some +time he acted as clerk in connexion with a bleachfield at Roslin, and +subsequently held a situation in the Commercial Bank in Edinburgh. He +now attended some classes in the University, while his other spare time +was devoted to reading and composition. During two years he was employed +in the evenings as amanuensis to Professor Playfair. At one of the +College debating societies he improved himself as a public speaker, and +subsequently took an active part in the discussions of the "Forum." Fond +of verse-making, he composed some spirited lines on the battle of +Waterloo, when the first tidings of the victory inspired a thrilling +interest in the public mind; the consequence was, the immediate +establishment of his reputation. His services were sought by several of +the leading publishers, and the accomplished editor of the _Edinburgh +Review_ offered to receive contributions from his pen. In 1816 he +compiled some works for the bookselling firm of Oliver and Boyd, and +towards the end of the same year, in concert with his friends Charles +Maclaren and William Ritchie, originated the _Scotsman_ newspaper. In +January 1817, he accepted the editorship of the _Dumfries and Galloway +Courier_--a journal which, established in 1809 by Dr Duncan of Ruthwell, +chiefly with the view of advocating his scheme of savings' banks, had +hitherto been conducted by that ingenious and philanthropic individual. + +As editor of a provincial newspaper, M'Diarmid was possessed of the +promptitude and business-habits which, in connexion with literary +ability, are essential for such an office. The _Dumfries Courier_, which +had formerly occupied a neutrality in politics, became, under his +management, a powerful organ of the liberal party. But the editor was +more than a politician; the columns of his journal were enriched with +illustrations of the natural history of the district, and sent forth +stirring appeals on subjects of social reformation and agricultural +improvement. Devoted to his duties as a journalist, he continued to +cherish his literary enthusiasm. In 1817 he published an edition of +Cowper, with an elegant memoir of the poet's life. "The Scrap-Book," a +work of selections and original contributions in prose and verse, +appeared in 1820, and was speedily followed by a second volume. In 1823 +he composed a memoir of Goldsmith for an edition of the "Vicar of +Wakefield," which was published in Edinburgh. The _Dumfries Magazine_ +was originated under his auspices in 1825, and during the three years of +its existence was adorned with contributions from his pen. In 1830 he +published "Sketches from Nature," a volume chiefly devoted to the +illustration of scenery and character in the districts of Dumfries and +Galloway. "The Picture of Dumfries," an illustrated work, appeared in +1832. A description of Moffat, and a life of Nicholson, the Galloway +poet, complete the catalogue of his publications. In 1820 he was offered +the editorship of the _Caledonian Mercury_, the first established of +the Scottish newspapers, but preferred to remain in Dumfries. He +ultimately became sole proprietor of the _Courier_, which, under his +superintendence, acquired a celebrity rarely attained by a provincial +newspaper. In 1847 he was entertained at a public dinner by his +fellow-townsmen. His death took place at Dumfries, on the 18th November +1852, in his sixty-third year. + +A man of social and generous dispositions, M'Diarmid was esteemed among +a wide circle of friends; he was in habits of intimacy with Sir Walter +Scott, Jeffrey, Wilson, Lockhart, the Ettrick Shepherd, Dr Thomas +Gillespie, and many others of his distinguished contemporaries. To his +kindly patronage, many young men of genius were indebted for positions +of honour and emolument. An elegant prose-writer, his compositions in +verse are pervaded by a graceful smoothness and lively fancy. + + + + +NITHSIDE. + +AIR--_"There 's a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard."_ + + + When the lark is in the air, the leaf upon the tree, + The butterfly disporting beside the hummel bee; + The scented hedges white, the fragrant meadows pied, + How sweet it is to wander by bonnie Nithside! + + When the blackbird piping loud the mavis strives to drown, + And schoolboys seeking nests find each nursling fledged or flown, + To hop 'mong plots and borders, array'd in all their pride, + How sweet at dewy morn to roam by bonnie Nithside! + + When the flies are on the stream, 'neath a sky of azure hue, + And anglers take their stand by the waters bright and blue; + While the coble circles pools, where the monarch salmon glide, + Surpassing sweet on summer days is bonnie Nithside! + + When the corncraik's voice is mute, as her young begin to flee, + And seek with swifts and martins some home beyond the sea; + And reapers crowd the harvest-field, in man and maiden pride, + How exquisite the golden hours on bonnie Nithside! + + When stubbles yield to tilth, and woodlands brown and sear, + The falling leaf and crispy pool proclaim the waning year; + And sounds of sylvan pastime ring through our valley wide, + Vicissitude itself is sweet by bonnie Nithside! + + And when winter comes at last, capping every hill with snow, + And freezing into icy plains the struggling streams below, + You still may share the curler's joys, and find at even-tide, + Maids sweet and fair, in spence and ha', at bonnie Nithside! + + + + +EVENING. + + + Hush, ye songsters! day is done, + See how sweet the setting sun + Gilds the welkin's boundless breast, + Smiling as he sinks to rest; + Now the swallow down the dell, + Issuing from her noontide cell, + Mocks the deftest marksman's aim + Jumbling in fantastic game: + Sweet inhabitant of air, + Sure thy bosom holds no care; + Not the fowler full of wrath, + Skilful in the deeds of death-- + Not the darting hawk on high + (Ruthless tyrant of the sky!) + Owns one art of cruelty + Fit to fell or fetter thee, + Gayest, freest of the free! + + Ruling, whistling shrill on high, + Where yon turrets kiss the sky, + Teasing with thy idle din + Drowsy daws at rest within; + Long thou lov'st to sport and spring + On thy never-wearying wing. + Lower now 'midst foliage cool + Swift thou skimm'st the peaceful pool, + Where the speckled trout at play, + Rising, shares thy dancing prey, + While the treach'rous circles swell + Wide and wider where it fell, + Guiding sure the angler's arm + Where to find the puny swarm; + And with artificial fly, + Best to lure the victim's eye, + Till, emerging from the brook, + Brisk it bites the barbed hook; + Struggling in the unequal strife, + With its death, disguised as life, + Till it breathless beats the shore + Ne'er to cleave the current more! + + Peace! creation's gloomy queen, + Darkest Night, invests the scene! + Silence, Evening's handmaid mild, + Leaves her home amid the wild, + Tripping soft with dewy feet, + Summer's flowery carpet sweet, + Morpheus--drowsy power--to meet. + Ruler of the midnight hour, + In thy plenitude of power, + From this burthen'd bosom throw + Half its leaden load of woe. + Since thy envied art supplies + What reality denies, + Let thy cheerless suppliant see + Dreams of bliss inspired by thee-- + Let before his wond'ring eyes + Fancy's brightest visions rise-- + Long lost happiness restore, + None can need thy bounty more. + + + + +PETER BUCHAN. + + +The indefatigable collector of the elder national minstrelsy, Peter +Buchan, was born in Peterhead in the year 1790. Of a somewhat +distinguished descent, he was on the father's side remotely connected +with the noble house of Buchan, and his mother was a lineal descendant +of the Irvines of Drum, an old powerful family in Aberdeenshire. Though +he was disposed to follow a seafaring life, and had obtained a +commission in the Navy, he abandoned his early intentions at the urgent +solicitation of his parents, and thereafter employed himself as a +copperplate engraver, and was the inventor of an ingenious revolving +press for copperplate printing. At Edinburgh and Stirling, he afterwards +qualified himself for the business of a letterpress printer, and in 1816 +opened a printing-office in his native town. In 1819, he compiled the +"Annals of Peterhead," a duodecimo volume, which he printed at a press +of his own contrivance. His next publication appeared shortly after, +under the title, "An Historical Account of the Ancient and Noble Family +of Keith, Earls-Marischal of Scotland." + +After a period of residence in London, where he held for some time a +remunerative situation, Buchan returned to his native town. In the +metropolis, he had been painfully impressed by the harsh treatment +frequently inflicted on the inferior animals, and as a corrective for +the evil, he published at Peterhead, in 1824, a treatise, dedicated to +his son, in which he endeavoured to prove that brutes are possessed of +souls, and are immortal. His succeeding publication, which appeared in +1828, proved the most successful effort of his life; it was entitled, +"Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, hitherto +Unpublished, with Explanatory Notes," Edinburgh, two vols. 8vo. This +work occupied upwards of ten years in preparation. Among his other +publications may be enumerated, a volume of "Poems and Songs," printed +in 1814; "The Peterhead Smugglers, an original Melodrama," published in +1834; "The Eglinton Tournament, &c.;" "Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads;" +and the "Wanderings of Prince Charles Stuart and Miss Flora Macdonald," +the latter being published from an old MS. + +At different periods Buchan resided in Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Glasgow. +For a short period he owned the small property of Buchanstone, near +Dennyloanhead, Stirlingshire, which being sold, he proceeded to Ireland +in 1852, where he resided for some time at Strandhill, county of +Leitrim. In the early part of 1854, he went to London, with the view of +effecting arrangements for the publication of another volume of "Ancient +Scottish Ballads;" he was there seized with illness, of which he died on +the 19th September of the same year. His remains were interred in the +beautiful cemetery of Norwood, near London. + +Mr Buchan was justly esteemed as a zealous and industrious collector of +the elder Scottish minstrelsy. His labours received the special +commendation of Sir Walter Scott, and he was a frequent guest at +Abbotsford. He was also honoured with diplomas of membership from some +of the leading literary societies of Scotland and England. Two +unpublished volumes of his "Ballad Collections" are now in the +possession of Dr Charles Mackay of London, and may at a future period be +submitted to the public. His son, the Rev. Dr Charles Forbes Buchan, +minister of Fordoun, is the author of several theological publications. + + + + +THOU GLOOMY FEBERWAR.[41] + + + Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, + Oh! gin thou wert awa'! + I 'm wae to hear thy soughin' winds, + I 'm wae to see thy snaw; + For my bonnie, braw, young Hielandman, + The lad I lo'e sae dear, + Has vow'd to come and see me + In the spring o' the year. + + A silken ban' he gae me, + To bin' my gowden hair; + A siller brooch and tartan plaid, + A' for his sake to wear; + And oh! my heart was like to break, + (For partin' sorrow 's sair) + As he vow'd to come and see me + In the spring o' the year. + + Aft, aft as gloamin' dims the sky, + I wander out alane, + Whare bud the bonnie yellow whins, + Around the trystin' stane; + 'Twas there he press'd me to his heart, + And kiss'd awa' the tear, + As he vow'd to come and see me + In the spring o' the year. + + Ye gentle breezes, saftly blaw, + And cleed anew the wuds; + Ye laverocks lilt your cheerie sangs, + Amang the fleecy cluds; + Till Feberwar and a' his train, + Affrighted disappear, + I 'll hail wi' you the blithesome change, + The spring-time o' the year. + + +[41] The first stanza of this song is the composition of Robert +Tannahill. + + + + +WILLIAM FINLAY. + + +William Finlay was the son of an operative shawl manufacturer in +Paisley, where he was born in 1792. He received a classical education at +the Grammar-school, and was afterwards apprenticed to his father's +trade. For a period of twenty years he prosecuted the labours of the +loom; but finding the occupation injurious to his health, he accepted +employment in the cotton mills of Duntocher. He afterwards obtained a +situation in a printing-office in Paisley, where he remained during +eight years. Ultimately, he was employed at Nethercraigs' bleachfield, +at the base of Gleniffer braes, about two miles to the south of Paisley. +He died of fever on the 5th November 1847, leaving a family of five +children. + +Finlay was in the practice of contributing verses to the local prints. +In 1846, he published a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Poems, Humorous and +Sentimental." His poetical characteristics are simplicity and pathos, +combined with considerable power of satirical drollery. Delighting in +music, and fond of society, he was occasionally led to indulge in +excesses, of which, at other times, he was heartily ashamed, and which +he has feelingly lamented in some of his poems. Few Scottish poets have +more touchingly depicted the evils of intemperance. + + + + +THE BREAKING HEART. + + + I mark'd her look of agony, + I heard her broken sigh, + I saw the colour leave her cheek, + The lustre leave her eye; + I saw the radiant ray of hope + Her sadden'd soul forsaking; + And, by these tokens, well I knew + The maiden's heart was breaking. + + It is not from the hand of Heaven + Her bitter grief proceeds; + 'Tis not for sins that she hath done, + Her bosom inly bleeds; + 'Tis not death's terrors wrap her soul + In shades of dark despair, + But man--deceitful man--whose hand + A thorn hath planted there. + + + + +THE AULD EMIGRANT'S FAREWEEL TO SCOTLAND. + + + Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom + Now shades thee from my view-- + Land of my birth! my hearth, my home, + A long, a last adieu! + Thy sparkling streams, thy plantin's green, + That ring with melodie, + Thy flowery vales, thy hills and dales, + Again I 'll never see. + + How aft have I thy heathy hills + Climb'd in life's early day! + Or pierced the dark depths of thy woods + To pu' the nit or slae; + Or lain beneath the spreading thorn, + Hid frae the sun's bright beams, + While on my raptured ear was borne + The music of thy streams! + + And aft, when frae the schule set free, + I 've join'd a merry ban', + Whase hearts were loupin' licht wi' glee, + Fresh as the morning's dawn, + And waunert, Cruikston, by thy tower, + Or through thy leafy shaw, + The livelang day, nor thocht o' hame + Till nicht began to fa'. + + But now the buoyancy o' youth, + And a' its joys are gane-- + My children scatter'd far and wide, + And I am left alane; + For she who was my hope and stay, + And soothed me when distress'd, + Within the narrow house of death + Has lang been laid at rest. + + And puirtith's cloud doth me enshroud; + Sae, after a' my toil, + I 'm gaun to lay my puir auld clay + Within a foreign soil. + Fareweel, fareweel, auld Scotia dear! + A last fareweel to thee! + Thy tinkling rills, thy heath-clad hills, + Again I 'll never see! + + + + +O'ER MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY. + + + O'er mountain and valley + Morn gladly did gleam; + The streamlets danced gaily + Beneath its bright beam; + The daisies were springing + To life at my feet; + The woodlands were ringing + With melody sweet. + + But the sky became low'ring, + And clouds big with rain, + Their treasures outpouring, + Soon deluged the plain. + The late merry woodlands + Grew silent and lone; + And red from the muirlands + The river rush'd down. + + Thus life, too, is chequer'd + With sunshine and gloom; + Of change 'tis the record-- + Now blight and now bloom. + Oft morn rises brightly, + With promise to last, + But long, long ere noontide + The sky is o'ercast. + + Yet much of the trouble + 'Neath which mortals groan, + They contrive to make double + By whims of their own. + Oh! it makes the heart tingle + With anguish to think, + That our own hands oft mingle + The bitters we drink. + + + + +JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART. + + +John Gibson Lockhart, the distinguished editor of the _Quarterly +Review_, and biographer of Sir Walter Scott, was born in the Manse of +Cambusnethan, on the 14th of June 1794. From both his parents he +inherited an honourable descent. His father, John Lockhart, D.D., was +the second son of William Lockhart of Birkhill, the head of an old +family in Lanarkshire, lineally descended from Sir Stephen Lockhart of +Cleghorn, a member of the Privy Council, and armour-bearer to James III. +His mother was Elizabeth Gibson, daughter of the Rev. John Gibson, +senior minister of St Cuthbert's, Edinburgh; her maternal grandmother +was the Honourable Mary Erskine, second daughter of Henry, third Lord +Cardross, and sister of David, ninth Earl of Buchan. In 1796, Dr +Lockhart was translated from Cambusnethan to the College church, +Glasgow; and the early education of his son was consequently conducted +in that city. + +During the third year of his attendance at the Grammar-school, young +Lockhart, though naturally possessed of a sound constitution, was seized +with a severe illness, which, it was feared, might terminate in +pulmonary consumption. After a period of physical prostration, he +satisfactorily rallied, when it was found by his teacher that he had +attained such proficiency in classical learning, during his confinement, +as to be qualified for the University, without the usual attendance of +a fourth session at the Grammar-school. At the University of Glasgow, +his progress fully realised his excellent promise in the academy. The +youngest member of his various classes, he was uniformly a successful +competitor for honours. He gave indication of poetical ability in a +metrical translation of a part of Lucan's "Pharsalia," which was +rewarded with a prize, and received warm encomiums from the professors. +On one of the Snell Exhibitions to Baliol College, Oxford, becoming +vacant, during the session of 1808-9, it was unanimously conferred on +him by the faculty. Entering Baliol College in 1809, his classical +attainments were such, that Dr Jenkins, the master of the college, was +led to predict that he would reflect honour on that institution, and on +the University of Glasgow. At his graduation, on the completion of his +attendance at Baliol, he realised the expectations of his admiring +preceptor; the youngest of all who graduated on the occasion, being in +his eighteenth year, he was numbered in the _first class_,--an honour +rarely attained by the most accomplished Oxonians. In the choice of a +profession he evinced considerable hesitation; but was at length induced +by a relative, a member of the legal faculty, to qualify himself for +practice at the Scottish Bar. Besides affording a suitable scope for his +talents and acquirements, it was deemed that the Parliament House of +Edinburgh had certain hereditary claims on his services. Through his +paternal grandmother, he was descended from Sir James Lockhart of Lee, +Lord Justice-Clerk in the reign of Charles II., and father of the +celebrated Sir George Lockhart of Carnwath, Lord President of the Court +of Session; and of another judge, Sir John Lockhart, Lord Castlehill. + +Having completed a curriculum of classical and philosophical study at +Oxford, and made a tour on the Continent, Lockhart proceeded to +Edinburgh, to prosecute the study of Scottish law. In 1816 he passed +advocate. Well-skilled in the details of legal knowledge, and in the +preparation of written pleadings, he lacked a fluency of utterance, so +entirely essential to success as a pleader at the Bar. He felt his +deficiency, but did not strive to surmount it. Joining himself to a +literary circle, of which John Wilson and the Ettrick Shepherd were the +more conspicuous members, he resolved to follow the career of a man of +letters. In 1817, he became one of the original contributors to +_Blackwood's Magazine_; and by his learned and ingenious articles +essentially promoted the early reputation of that subsequently popular +periodical. In 1819 appeared his first separate publication, entitled, +"Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk,"--a work of three octavo volumes, in +which an imaginary Doctor Morris humorously and pungently delineates the +manners and characteristics of the more distinguished literary Scotsmen +of the period; and which, by exciting some angry criticism, attracted +general attention to the real author.[42] In May of the previous year, +at the residence in Edinburgh of Mr Home Drummond of Blair-Drummond, he +was introduced to the personal acquaintance of Sir Walter Scott. Their +acquaintance ripened into a speedy intimacy; and on the 29th April 1820, +Lockhart became the son-in-law of his illustrious friend, by espousing +his eldest daughter, Sophia. Continuing to furnish sparkling +contributions to _Blackwood's Magazine_, Lockhart now began to exhibit +powers of prolific authorship. In the course of a few years he produced +"Valerius," a tale descriptive of ancient Rome; "Reginald Dalton," a +novel founded on his personal experiences at Oxford; the interesting +romance of "Matthew Wald," and "Adam Blair," a Scottish story. The last +of these works, it may be interesting to notice, took origin in the +following manner. During a visit to his parents at Glasgow, his father +had incidentally mentioned, after dinner, that Mr Adam, a former +minister of Cathcart, had been deprived for certain immoralities, and +afterwards reponed, at the entreaty of his parishioners, on the death of +the individual who had succeeded him after his deposition. On hearing +the narrative, Lockhart retired to his apartment and drew up the plan of +his tale, which was ready for the press within the short space of three +weeks. In 1823, he became known as an elegant versifier, by the +publication of his translations from the "Spanish Ballads." He +subsequently published a "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," in "Murray's +Family Library;" and produced a "Life of Robert Burns," for "Constable's +Miscellany." At this period he chiefly resided in Edinburgh, spending +some of the summer months at Chiefswood, a cottage about two miles from +Abbotsford. But Lockhart's growing reputation ere long secured him a +more advantageous and lucrative position. In 1825, he was appointed to +the editorship of the _Quarterly Review_; and thus, at the age of +thirty-one, became the successor of Gifford, in conducting one of the +most powerful literary organs of the age. He now removed to London. On +the 15th of June 1834, the degree of Doctor of Civil Law was conferred +on him by the University of Oxford. + +During the last illness of Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart was eminently +dutiful in his attendance on the illustrious sufferer. As the literary +executor of the deceased, he was zealous even to indiscretion; his +"Life of Scott," notwithstanding its ill-judged personalities, is one of +the most interesting biographical works in the language. His own latter +history affords few materials for observation; he frequented the higher +literary circles of the metropolis, and well sustained the reputation of +the _Quarterly Review_. He retired from his editorial duties in 1853, +having suffered previously from impaired health. The progress of his +malady was accelerated by a succession of family trials and +bereavements, which preyed heavily on his mind. His eldest son, John +Hugh Lockhart (the Hugh Littlejohn of Scott's "Tales of a Grandfather,") +died in 1831; his amiable wife in 1837; and of his two remaining +children, a son and a daughter, the former, Walter Scott Lockhart Scott, +Lieutenant, 16th Lancers, who had succeeded to the estate of Abbotsford +on the death of his uncle, the second Sir Walter Scott, died in 1853. In +1847, his daughter and only surviving child was married to James Robert +Hope, Esquire, Q.C., son of General the Honourable Sir Alexander Hope, +and nephew of the late Earl of Hopetoun, of peninsular fame; and shortly +before her father's death, this lady, along with her husband, abjured +the Protestant faith. + +In the autumn of 1853, in accordance with the advice of his medical +advisers, Lockhart proceeded to Italy; but on his return the following +summer, he appeared rather to have lost than gained strength. Arranging +his affairs in London, he took up his abode with his elder brother, Mr +Lockhart, M.P., at Milton-Lockhart, on the banks of the Clyde, and in +the parish adjoining that of his birth. Here he suffered an attack of +cholera, which much debilitated his already wasted strength. In October +he was visited by Dr Ferguson of London, who conveyed him to Abbotsford +to be tended by his daughter; there he breathed his last on the 25th +November 1854, in his 61st year. His remains were interred in Dryburgh +Abbey, beside those of his illustrious father-in-law, with whom his name +will continue to be associated. The estate of Abbotsford is now in the +possession of his daughter and her husband, who, in terms of the +Abbotsford entail, have assumed the name of Scott. Their infant +daughter, Mary Monica, along with her mother, are the only surviving +lineal representatives of the Author of "Waverley." + +Possessed of a vigorous intellect, varied talents, and accurate +scholarship, Lockhart was impatient of contradiction, and was prone to +censure keenly those who had offended him. To strangers his manners were +somewhat uninviting, and in society he was liable to periods of +taciturnity. He loved the ironical and facetious; and did not scruple to +indulge in ridicule even at the expense of his intimate associates. With +many peculiarities of manner, and a temper somewhat fretful and +impulsive, we have good authority for recording, that many unfortunate +men of genius derived support from his bounty. Ardent in temperament, he +was severe in resenting a real or fancied wrong; but among those to whom +he gave his confidence, he was found to be possessed of affectionate and +generous dispositions. He has complained, in a testamentary document, +that his course of procedure was often misunderstood, and the complaint +is probably well-founded. He was personally of a handsome and agreeable +presence, and his countenance wore the aspect of intelligence. + + +[42] In his Life of Scott, Lockhart states that "Peter's Letters" "were +not wholly the work of one hand." + + + + +BROADSWORDS OF SCOTLAND.[43] + +TUNE--_"Oh, the roast beef of Old England."_ + + + Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea, + Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, + Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee. + Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland! + And oh! the old Scottish broadswords. + + Old Sir Ralph Abercromby, the good and the brave-- + Let him flee from our board, let him sleep with the slave, + Whose libation comes slow while we honour his grave. + Oh, the broadswords, &c. + + Though he died not like him amid victory's roar, + Though disaster and gloom wove his shroud on the shore; + Not the less we remember the spirit of Moore. + Oh, the broadswords, &c. + + Yea a place with the fallen, the living shall claim, + We 'll entwine in one wreath every glorious name, + The Gordon, the Ramsay, the Hope, and the Graham. + All the broadswords, &c. + + Count the rocks of the Spey, count the groves of the Forth-- + Count the stars in the clear cloudless heaven of the north; + Then go blazon their numbers, their names and their worth. + All the broadswords, &c. + + The highest in splendour, the humblest in place, + Stand united in glory, as kindred in race; + For the private is brother in blood to his Grace. + Oh, the broadswords, &c. + + Then sacred to each and to all let it be, + Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, + Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee. + Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland! + And oh! the old Scottish broadswords. + + +[43] This song, with several others of ephemeral interest, was composed +by Lockhart, to be sung at the mess of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry, of +which he was a member. Of the songs produced for these festive +occasions, a collection for private circulation was printed in 1825, at +the Ballantyne press, with the title, "Songs of the Edinburgh Troop," +pp. 28. In this collection, the "Broadswords" song bears date July 1821; +it was published with music in 1822, in the third volume of Thomson's +Collection. + + + + +CAPTAIN PATON'S LAMENT.[44] + + + Touch once more a sober measure, + And let punch and tears be shed, + For a prince of good old fellows, + That, alack-a-day! is dead; + For a prince of worthy fellows, + And a pretty man also, + That has left the Saltmarket, + In sorrow, grief, and woe. + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + His waistcoat, coat, and breeches + Were all cut off the same web, + Of a beautiful snuff-colour, + Of a modest genty drab; + The blue stripe in his stocking, + Round his neat slim leg did go, + And his ruffles of the cambric fine, + They were whiter than the snow. + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + His hair was curled in order, + At the rising of the sun, + In comely rows and buckles smart, + That about his ears did run; + And before there was a toupee, + That some inches up did grow, + And behind there was a long queue, + That did o'er his shoulders flow. + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + And whenever we forgather'd, + He took off his wee three-cockit; + And he proffer'd you his snuff-box, + Which he drew from his side-pocket; + And on Burdett or Bonaparte + He would make a remark or so, + And then along the plainstones + Like a provost he would go. + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + In dirty days he picked well + His footsteps with his rattan; + Oh! you ne'er could see the least speck + On the shoes of Captain Paton. + And on entering the coffee-room + About two, all men did know + They would see him with his _Courier_ + In the middle of the row. + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + Now and then, upon a Sunday, + He invited me to dine + On a herring and a mutton chop, + Which his maid dress'd very fine. + There was also a little Malmsay, + And a bottle of Bordeaux, + Which, between me and the captain, + Pass'd nimbly to and fro! + Oh! I ne'er shall take potluck with Captain Paton no mo'e! + + Or, if a bowl was mentioned, + The captain he would ring, + And bid Nelly run to the Westport, + And a stoup of water bring. + Then would he mix the genuine stuff, + As they made it long ago, + With limes that on his property + In Trinidad did grow! + Oh! we ne'er shall taste the like of Captain Paton's punch no mo'e! + + And then all the time he would discourse + So sensible and courteous, + Perhaps talking of last sermon + He had heard from Dr Porteous; + Of some little bit of scandal + About Mrs So-and-So, + Which he scarce could credit, having heard + The _con._ but not the _pro._! + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + Or when the candles were brought forth, + And the night was fairly setting in, + He would tell some fine old stories + About Minden-field or Dettingen; + How he fought with a French major, + And dispatch'd him at a blow, + While his blood ran out like water + On the soft grass below! + Oh! we ne'er shall hear the like from Captain Paton no mo'e! + + But at last the captain sickened, + And grew worse from day to day, + And all miss'd him in the coffee-room, + From which now he staid away; + On Sabbaths, too, the Wynd kirk + Made a melancholy show, + All for wanting of the presence + Of our venerable beau! + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + And in spite of all that Cleghorn + And Corkindale could do, + It was plain, from twenty symptoms, + That death was in his view; + So the captain made his test'ment, + And submitted to his foe, + And we laid him by the Ram's-horn kirk-- + 'Tis the way we all must go! + Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + Join all in chorus, jolly boys, + And let punch and tears be shed, + For this prince of good old fellows + That, alack-a-day! is dead; + For this prince of worthy fellows-- + And a pretty man also-- + That has left the Saltmarket + In sorrow, grief, and woe! + For it ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e! + + +[44] This humorous elegy was first published in _Blackwood's Magazine_ +for September 1819. Captain Paton was a well-known character in Glasgow. +The son of Dr David Paton, a physician in that city, he obtained a +commission in a regiment raised in Scotland for the Dutch service. He +afterwards resided with his two maiden sisters, and an old servant +Nelly, in a tenement opposite the Old Exchange at the Cross, which had +been left him by his father. The following graphic account of the +Captain, we transcribe from Dr Strang's interesting work, "Glasgow and +its Clubs," recently published:--"Every sunshine day, and sometimes even +amid shower and storm, about the close of the past and the commencement +of the present century, was the worthy Captain in the Dutch service seen +parading the _plainstanes_, opposite his own residence in the Trongate, +donned in a suit of snuff-coloured brown or 'genty drab,' his long spare +limbs encased in blue striped stockings, with shoes and buckles, and +sporting ruffles of the finest cambric at his wrists, while adown his +back hung a long queue, and on his head was perched a small three-cocked +hat, which, with a _politesse tout à fait Francais_, he invariably took +off when saluting a friend. Captain Paton, while a denizen of the camp, +had studied well the noble art of fence, and was looked upon as a most +accomplished swordsman, which might easily be discovered from his happy +but threatening manner of holding his cane, when sallying from his own +domicile towards the coffee-room, which he usually entered about two +o'clock, to study the news of the day in the pages of the _Courier_. The +gallant Captain frequently indulged, like Othello, in speaking-- + +'Of moving incidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the +imminent deadly breach.' + +And of his own brave doings on the tented field, 'at Minden and at +Dettingen,' particularly when seated round a bowl of his favourite cold +punch, made with limes from his own estate in Trinidad, and with water +newly drawn from the Westport well." It remains to be added, that this +"prince of worthy fellows" died in July 1807, at the age of sixty-eight. + + + + +CANADIAN BOAT-SONG.[45] + +_From the Gaelic._ + + + Listen to me, as when ye heard our father + Sing, long ago, the song of other shores; + Listen to me, and then in chorus gather + All your deep voices, as ye pull your oars: + Fair these broad meads--these hoary woods are grand; + But we are exiles from our fathers' land! + + From the lone shieling of the misty island + Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas; + Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, + And we in dreams behold the Hebrides. + + We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley, + Where, 'tween the dark hills, creeps the small clear stream, + In arms around the patriach-banner rally, + Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam. + + * * * * * + + Come, foreign rage!--let discord burst in slaughter! + Oh then for clansman true, and stern claymore! + The hearts that would have given their blood like water + Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar! + Fair these broad meads--these hoary woods are grand; + But we are exiles from our fathers' land! + + +[45] This simple and interesting lyric appears in No. XLVI. of the +"Noctes Ambrosianæ," and has, we believe, on sufficient grounds, been +attributed to Lockhart. + + + + +THOMAS MATHERS. + + +Thomas Mathers, the fisherman poet, was born at St Monance, Fifeshire, +in 1794. Receiving an education at school confined to the simplest +branches, he chose the seafaring life, and connected himself with the +merchant service. At Venice, he had a casual rencounter with Lord +Byron,--a circumstance which he was in the habit of narrating with +enthusiasm. Leaving the merchant service, he married, and became a +fisherman and pilot, fixing his residence in his native village. His +future life was a career of incessant toil and frequent penury, much +alleviated, however, by the invocation of the muse. He contributed +verses for a series of years to several of the public journals; and his +compositions gained him a wide circle of admirers. He long cherished the +ambition of publishing a volume of poems; and the desire at length was +gratified through the subscriptions of his friends. In 1851, he printed +a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Musings in Verse, by Sea and Shore," +which, however, had only been put into shape when the author was called +to his rest. He died of a short illness, at St Monance, on the 25th +September 1851, leaving a widow and several young children. His poetry +is chiefly remarkable for depth of feeling. Of his powers as a +song-writer, the following lyric, entitled "Early Love," is a favourable +specimen. + + + + +EARLY LOVE. + + + There 's nae love like early love, + Sae lasting an' sae leal; + It wins upon the youthfu' heart, + An' sets its magic seal. + The die that 's cast in early life, + Is nae vain airy dream; + But makes thee still in after years + The subject of my theme. + + But years o' shade an' sunshine + Have flung alternately + Their fleeting shadows as they pass'd + Athwart life's changing sky. + Like troubled waters, too, the mind + 'S been ruffled an' distress'd; + But with the placid calm return'd + Thine image to my breast. + + Still I hae seen a fairer face, + Though fairer anes are few, + An' I hae marked kinder smiles + Than e'er I gat frae you. + But smiles, like blinks o' simmer sheen, + Leave not a trace behind; + While early love has forged chains + The freest heart to bind. + + The mind from tyrant fetters + Is free as air to rove; + But powerful are the links that chain + The heart to early love. + Affections, like the ivy + In nature's leafy screen, + Entwine the boughs o' early love + Wi' foliage "ever green." + + + + +JAMES BROWN. + + +James Brown was born at Libberton, a village in the upper ward of +Lanarkshire, on the 1st of July 1796. His father, the miller of +Libberton-mill, was a person of superior intelligence, and his mother, +Grizzel Anderson, was esteemed for her amiable dispositions. Deprived of +his father while only six years old, he was early apprenticed to a +hand-loom weaver. On the completion of his indenture, he removed to +Symington, a village situate at the base of Tintock hill. His leisure +hours were devoted to reading and an extensive correspondence with his +friends. He formed a club for literary discussion, which assembled +periodically at his house. Enthusiastic in his love of nature, he +rejoiced in solitary rambles on the heights of Tintock and Dungavel; he +made a pilgrimage to the Border and Ettrick Forest. In 1823 he removed +to Glasgow, where he was employed in the warehouse of a manufacturing +firm; he afterwards became agent of the house at Biggar, where he died +on the 12th September 1836. Though the writer of much poetry of merit, +Brown was indifferent to literary reputation; and chiefly intrusted his +compositions to the keeping of his friends. His songs in the present +work have been recovered by his early friend, Mr Scott Riddell, who has +supplied these particulars of his life. Austere in manner, he was +possessed of genial and benevolent dispositions; he became ultimately +impressed with earnest religious convictions. + + + + +MY PEGGY 'S FAR AWAY. + + + Yestreen as I stray'd on the banks o' the Clyde, + A laddie beneath the gay greenwood I spied, + Who sang o' his Peggy, and oh! he seem'd wae, + For Peggy, sweet Peggy, was far, far away. + + Though fair burns the taper in yon lofty ha', + Yet nought now shines bright where her shade doesna fa'; + My Peggy was pure as the dew-drops o' May, + But Peggy, sweet Peggy, is far, far away. + + Ye breezes that curve the blue waves o' the Clyde, + And sigh 'mang the dark firs on yon mountain side, + How dreary your murmurs throughout the lang day, + Since Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + The sable-wing'd blackbird yon birk-trees amang, + And mavis sing notes that accord wi' my sang, + A' nature is dowie, by bank and by brae, + Since Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + Ye dew-dripping daisies that bloom by the burn, + Though scathed by rude winter in spring ye return; + I mark'd, but I minded no whit your decay, + Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + I mourn'd not the absence o' summer or spring, + Nor aught o' the beauties the seasons may bring, + E'en 'mid the dark winter this heart still was gay, + Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + The bleak blawing winter, wi' a' its alarms, + Might add to, but tak not away from her charms, + The snaws seem'd as welcome as summer-won hay, + Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + Our Henry lo'es Mary, Jock dotes upon Jean, + And Willie ca's Nancy o' beauty the queen, + But Peggy was mine, and far lovelier than they, + Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away. + + Oh, when will the days o' this sadness be o'er, + And Heaven, in pity, my Peggie restore? + It kens she 's the loveliest it ere made o' clay, + And ill I may thole that she 's far, far away. + + + + +LOVE BROUGHT ME A BOUGH. + + + Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green + That waves by yon brook where the wild-flowers grow sheen; + And braiding my harp wi' the sweet budding rue, + It mellow'd its tones 'mang the saft falling dew; + It whisper'd a strain that I wist na to hear, + That false was the lassie my bosom held dear; + Pride stirr'd me to sing, as I tore off the rue-- + If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two! + + Yet aft when reflection brings back to my mind + The days that are gane, when my lassie was kind, + A sigh says I felt then as ne'er I feel now, + My soul was enraptured--I canna tell how. + Yet what need I sing o' the joys that hae been, + And why should I start at the glance o' her een, + Or think o' the dark locks that wave o'er her brow?-- + If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two! + + Yestreen when the sun glinted blithe on the hill, + I met her alane by the flower-border'd rill, + I speer'd for her weelfare, but cauld was her air, + And I soughtna' to change it by foul words or fair; + She says I deceived her, how can it be sae? + The heart, ere deceived some affection maun hae, + And that hers had nane, I the sairer may rue, + Though she 's got ae sweetheart, an' I can get two. + + She left me for ane wha o' mailins could sing, + Sae gie her the pleasures that riches can bring. + Gae fame to the hero, and gowd to the Jew, + And me the enjoyment that 's prized by the few; + A friend o' warm feeling, and frank and refined, + And a lassie that 's modest, true hearted, and kind, + I 'll woo her, I 'll lo'e her, and best it will do, + For love brings nae bliss when it tampers wi' two. + + + + +HOW 'S A' WI' YE. + +AIR--_"Jenny's Bawbee."_ + + + Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed, + A bannet happ'd my daddie's head, + Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread, + Folk scunner'd a' at tea; + When cronies met they didna stand, + To rule their words by manners grand, + But warmly clasping hand in hand, + Said, How 's a' wi' ye. + + But now there 's nought but shy finesse, + And mim and prim 'bout mess and dress, + That scarce a hand a hand will press + Wi' ought o' feeling free; + A cauldrife pride aside has laid + The hodden gray, and hame-spun plaid, + And a' is changed since neebors said + Just, How 's a' wi' ye. + + Our auld guidwife wore cloak and hood, + The maiden's gown was worset guid, + And kept her ringlets in a snood + Aboon her pawkie e'e; + Now set wi' gaudy gumflowers roun', + She flaunts it in her silken gown, + That scarce ane dare by glen or town + Say, How 's a' wi' ye. + + I watna how they manage now + Their brides in lighted ha's to woo, + But it is caulder wark, I trow, + Than e'er it was wi' me; + Aye true unto the trysts we set, + When we among the hawthorns met, + Love-warm, true love wad scarce us let + Say, How 's a' wi' ye. + + Wae-worth their haughty state and style, + That drive true feeling frae our isle! + In saxty years o' care and toil, + What ferlies do we see! + The lowliest heart a pride displays, + Unkent in our ain early days, + Ilk kind and canty thing decays, + Wi', How 's a' wi' ye. + + When back we look on bygane years, + Weel may the cheek be wet wi' tears, + The cauld mool mony a bosom bears, + Ance dear to you and me; + Yet I will neither chafe nor chide, + While ane comes to my ingle side, + Whose bosom glows wi' honest pride + At, How 's a' wi' ye. + + Newfangled guffs may things arrange + For further and still further change, + But strange things shall to me be strange, + While I can hear and see. + And when I gang, as I 'll do soon, + To join the leal in hames aboon, + I 'll greet them just as aye I 've doon, + Wi', How 's a' wi' ye. + + + + +OH! SAIR I FEEL THE WITCHING POWER. + +TUNE--_"Miller of Dron," improved set._ + + + Oh, sair I feel the witching power + O' that sweet pawkie e'e, + And sair I 'll rue the luckless hour + That e'er it shone on me; + Unless sic love as wounds this heart + Come frae that heart again, + And teach for aye the kindly ray + To blink on me alane. + Thy modest cheek aye mantling glows + Whene'er I talk o' love, + As rainbow rays upon the rose + Its native sweets improve; + Yet when the sunbeams leave yon tower, + And gloamin' vails the glen, + Will ye gang to the birken bower + When nane on earth can ken? + Oh, scenes delighting, smiles inviting, + Heartfelt pleasures len', + And oh! how fain to meet alane, + When nane on earth can ken! + + Amang the lave I manna speak, + And when I look the while, + The mair I 'm seen, the mair I seek + Their watching to beguile; + But leave, dear lassie, leave them a', + And frae this heart sae leal + Thou 'lt hear the love, by glen and shaw, + It canna mair conceal. + My plaid shall shield thy peerless charms + Frae evening's fanning gale, + And saft shall be my circling arms, + And true my simple tale; + And seated by the murmuring brook, + Within the flowery den, + If love 's reveal'd in word or look, + There 's nane on earth can ken. + Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting, + Heartfelt pleasures len', + And oh! how fain to meet alane, + When nane on earth can ken. + + There 's music in the lighted ha', + And looks in laughing een, + That seem affection forth to show, + That less is felt than seen. + But silent in the faithfu' heart + The charm o' love shall reign, + Or words shall but its power impart + To make it mair our ain. + Let worldlings doat upon their wealth, + And spendthrifts hae their glee, + Not a' the state o' a' the great, + Shall draw a wish frae me; + Away wi' thee by glen an' bower, + Far frae the haunts o' men, + Oh! a' the bliss o' hour like this, + The world can never ken. + Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting, + Heartfelt pleasures len', + And aye how fain we 'll meet again, + When nane on earth can ken. + + + + +DANIEL WEIR. + + +Daniel Weir was born at Greenock, on the 31st of March 1796. His father, +John Weir, was a shoemaker, and at one period a small shopkeeper in that +town. From his mother, Sarah Wright, he inherited a delicate +constitution. His education was conducted at a private school; and in +1809, he became apprentice to Mr Scott, a respectable bookseller in +Greenock. In 1815, he commenced business as a bookseller on his own +account. + +Imbued with the love of learning, and especially of poetry, Weir devoted +his hours of leisure to extensive reading and the composition of verses. +To the "Scottish Minstrel" of R. A. Smith, he contributed several +respectable songs; and edited for Messrs Griffin & Co., booksellers in +Glasgow, three volumes of lyric poems, which appeared under the title of +"The National Minstrel," "The Sacred Lyre," and "Lyrical Gems." These +collections are adorned with many compositions of his own. In 1829, he +published a "History of the Town of Greenock," in a thin octavo volume, +illustrated with engravings. He died on the 11th November 1831, in his +thirty-fifth year. + +Possessed of a fine genius, a brilliant fancy, and much gracefulness of +expression, Weir has decided claims to remembrance. His conversational +talents were of a remarkable description, and attracted to his shop many +persons of taste, to whom his poetical talents were unknown. He was +familiar with the whole of the British poets, and had committed their +best passages to memory. Possessing a keen relish for the ludicrous, he +had at command a store of delightful anecdote, which he gave forth with +a quaintness of look and utterance, so as to render the force of the +humour totally irresistible. His sarcastic wit was an object of dread to +his opponents in burgh politics. His appearance was striking. Rather +mal-formed, he was under the middle size; his head seemed large for his +person, and his shoulders were of unusual breadth. His complexion was +dark, and his eyes hazel; and when his countenance was lit upon the +recitation of some witty tale, he looked the impersonation of +mirthfulness. Eccentric as were some of his habits and modes of action, +he was seriously impressed by religious principle; some of his +devotional compositions are admirable specimens of sacred poetry. He +left an unpublished MS. poem, entitled "The Pleasures of Religion." + + + + +SEE THE MOON. + + + See the moon o'er cloudless Jura + Shining in the lake below; + See the distant mountain tow'ring + Like a pyramid of snow. + Scenes of grandeur--scenes of childhood-- + Scenes so dear to love and me! + Let us roam by bower and wildwood-- + All is lovelier when with thee. + + On Leman's breast the winds are sighing; + All is silent in the grove; + And the flow'rs, with dew-drops glist'ning, + Sparkle like the eye of love. + Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless; + Blessed night to love and me! + Let us roam by bower and fountain-- + All is lovelier when with thee. + + + + +LOVE IS TIMID. + + + Love is timid, love is shy, + Can you tell me, tell me why? + Ah! tell me why true love should be + Afraid to meet the kindly smile + Of him she loves, from him would flee, + Yet thinks upon him all the while? + Can you tell me, tell me why + Love is timid, love is shy? + + Love is timid, love is shy, + Can you tell me, tell me why? + True love, they say, delights to dwell + In some sequester'd, lonely bow'r, + With him she loves, where none can tell + Her tender look in passion's hour. + Can you tell me, tell me why + Love is timid, love is shy? + + Love is timid, love is shy, + Can you tell me, tell me why? + Love, like the lonely nightingale, + Will pour her heart, when all is lone; + Nor will repeat, amidst the vale, + Her notes to any, but to one. + Can you tell me, tell me why + Love is timid, love is shy? + + + + +RAVEN'S STREAM. + + + My love, come let us wander + Where Raven's streams meander, + And where, in simple grandeur, + The daisy decks the plain. + Peace and joy our hours shall measure; + Come, oh! come, my soul's best treasure! + Then how sweet, and then how cheerie, + Raven's braes will be, my dearie. + + The silver moon is beaming, + On Clyde her light is streaming; + And, while the world is dreaming, + We 'll talk of love, my dear. + None, my Jean, will share this bosom, + Where thine image loves to blossom; + And no storm will ever sever + That dear flow'r, or part us ever. + + + + +OH! OUR CHILDHOOD'S ONCE DELIGHTFUL HOURS. + +AIR--_"Oh! the days are past when beauty bright."_ + + + Oh! our childhood's once delightful hours + Ne'er come again-- + Their sunny glens, their blooming bowers, + And primrose plain! + With other days, + Ambitious rays + May flash upon our mind; + But give me back the morn of life, + With fond thoughts twined; + As it sweetly broke on bower and hill, + And youth's gay mind! + + Oh! our childhood's days are ne'er forgot + On life's dark sea, + And memory hails that sacred spot + Where'er we be; + It leaves all joys, + And fondly sighs + As youth comes on the mind, + And looks upon the morn of life + With fond thoughts, &c. + + When age will come, with locks of gray, + To quench youth's spark, + And its stream runs cold along the way + Where all seems dark, + 'Twill smiling gaze, + As memory's blaze + Breaks on its wavering mind; + But 'twill never bring the morn of life, + With fond thoughts, &c. + + + + +COULD WE BUT LOOK BEYOND OUR SPHERE. + + + Could we but look beyond our sphere, + And trace, along the azure sky, + The myriads that were inmates here + Since Abel's spirit soar'd on high-- + Then might we tell of those who see + Our wand'rings from eternity! + + But human frailty cannot gaze + On such a cloud of splendid light + As heaven's sacred court displays, + Of blessed spirits clothed in white, + Who from the fears of death are free, + And look from an eternity. + + They look, but ne'er return again + To tell the secrets of their home; + And kindliest tears for them are vain-- + For never, never shall they come, + Till Time's pale light begin to flee + Before a bright eternity! + + Could we but gaze beyond our sphere, + Within the golden porch of heaven, + And see those spirits which appear + Like stars upon the robe of even! + But no! unseen to us they see + Our wanderings from eternity! + + The crimes of men which Heaven saw, + And pitied with a parent's eye, + Could ne'er a kindred spirit draw + In mercy from its home on high; + They look, but all they know or see + Is silent as eternity! + + At noonday hour, or midnight deep, + No bright inhabitant draws nigh; + And though a parent's offspring weep, + No whisper echoes from the sky; + Though friends may gaze, yet all they see + Is known but in eternity! + + Yet we may look beyond our sphere + On One who shines among the throng; + And we by faith may also hear + The triumphs of a glorious song; + And while we gaze on Him, we see + The path to this eternity! + + + + +IN THE MORNING OF LIFE. + + + In the morning of life, when its sweet sunny smile + Shines bright on our path, we may dream we are blest; + We may look on the world as a gay fairy isle, + Where sorrow 's unknown, and the weary have rest! + + But the brightness that shone, and the hopes we enjoy'd, + Are clouded ere noon, and soon vanish away; + While the dark beating tempest, on life's stormy tide, + Obscures all the sweets of the morning's bright ray! + + Then where are those bowers, in some gay, happy plain, + Where hope ne'er deceives, and where love is aye true; + Where the brightness of morning shines on but to gain + A sunshine as bright and as promising too? + + Oh! ask for it not in this valley of sighs, + Where we smile but to weep, and we ne'er can find rest; + For the world we would wish shines afar in the skies, + Where sorrow 's unknown--'tis the home of the blest! + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF A PROMISING CHILD. + + + Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved, + Still, still as the grave, in silence sleeps on; + 'Midst the tears that are shed, his eye is unmoved, + And the beat of that bosom for ever is gone: + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + The world to him, with its sorrows and sighs, + Has fled like a dream when the morn appears; + While the spirit awakes in the light of the skies, + No more to revisit this valley of tears: + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + Few, few were his years; but, had they been more, + The sunshine which smiled might have vanish'd away, + And he might have fallen on some far friendless shore, + Or been wreck'd amidst storms in some desolate bay: + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + Like a rosebud of promise, when fresh in the morn, + Was the child of thy heart while he lingered here; + But now from thy love, from thine arms he is torn, + Yet to bloom in a lovelier, happier sphere: + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + How happy the pilgrim whose journey is o'er, + Who, musing, looks back on its dangers and woes; + Then rejoice at his rest, for sorrow no more + Can start on his dreams, or disturb his repose: + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + Who would not recline on the breast of a friend, + When the night-cloud has lower'd o'er a sorrowful day? + Who would not rejoice at his journey's end, + When perils and toils encompass'd his way? + Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest + When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest! + + + + +THE DYING HOUR. + + + Why does the day, whose date is brief, + Smile sadly o'er the western sea? + Why does the brown autumnal leaf + Hang restless on its parent tree? + Why does the rose, with drooping head, + Send richer fragrance from the bow'r? + Their golden time of life had fled-- + It was their dying hour! + + Why does the swan's melodious song + Come thrilling on the gentle gale? + Why does the lamb, which stray'd along, + Lie down to tell its mournful tale? + Why does the deer, when wounded, fly + To the lone vale, where night-clouds low'r? + Their time was past--they lived to die-- + It was their dying hour! + + Why does the dolphin change its hues, + Like that aërial child of light? + Why does the cloud of night refuse + To meet the morn with beams so bright? + Why does the man we saw to-day, + To-morrow fade like some sweet flow'r? + All earth can give must pass away-- + It was their dying hour! + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT WIND. + + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + Which seem'd, to fancy's ear, + The mournful music of the mind, + The echo of a tear; + And still methought the hollow sound + Which, melting, swept along, + The voice of other days had found, + With all the powers of song. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + And thought of friends untrue-- + Of hearts that seem'd so fondly twined, + That nought could e'er undo; + Of cherish'd hopes, once fondly bright-- + Of joys which fancy gave-- + Of youthful eyes, whose lovely light + Were darken'd in the grave. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind + When all was still as death; + When nought was heard before, behind-- + Not e'en the sleeper's breath. + And I have sat at such an hour + And heard the sick man's sigh; + Or seen the babe, like some sweet flow'r, + At that lone moment die. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + And wept for others' woe; + Nor could the heart such music find + To bid its tear-drops flow. + The melting voice of one we loved, + Whose voice was heard no more, + Seem'd, when those fancied chords were moved, + Still breathing as before. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + And sat beside the dead, + And felt those movings of the mind + Which own a secret dread. + The ticking clock, which told the hour, + Had then a sadder chime; + And these winds seem'd an unseen pow'r, + Which sung the dirge of time. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + When, o'er the new-made grave + Of one whose heart was true and kind, + Its rudest blasts did rave. + Oh! there was something in the sound-- + A mournful, melting tone-- + Which led the thoughts to that dark ground + Where he was left alone. + + I 've listen'd to the midnight wind, + And courted sleep in vain, + While thoughts like these have oft combined + To rack the wearied brain. + And even when slumber, soft and deep, + Has seen the eyelid close, + The restless soul, which cannot sleep, + Has stray'd till morning rose. + + + + +ROBERT DAVIDSON. + + +Robert Davidson was born in the parish of Morebattle, Roxburghshire, in +1779. The son of humble parents, he was sent to tend cattle in his tenth +year. He had received at the parish school a limited education; and he +devoted his leisure time on the hills to miscellaneous reading. Learning +scraps of old ballads from the cottage matrons, as they sung them at +their distaffs, he early began to essay imitations of these olden +ditties. As a farm-servant and an agricultural labourer, he continued +through life to seek repose from toil in the perusal of poetry and the +composition of verses. "My simple muse," he afterwards wrote, "oft +visited me at the plough, and made the labour to seem lighter and the +day shorter." In 1811, and in 1824, he published small collections of +verses. At the recommendation of some influential friends, he published, +in 1848, a compact little volume of his best pieces, under the title, +"Leaves from a Peasant's Cottage-Drawer;" and to which was prefixed a +well-written autobiographical sketch. He was often oppressed by poverty; +and, latterly, was the recipient of parochial relief. He died in the +parish of Hounam, on the 6th April 1855; and his remains rest in the +church-yard of his native parish. Many of his poems are powerful, both +in expression and sentiment; and several of his songs are worthy of a +place in the national minstrelsy. In private life he was sober, prudent, +and industrious. + + + + +FAREWELL TO CALEDONIA. + + + Adieu! a lang and last adieu, + My native Caledonia! + For while your shores were in my view, + I steadfast gazed upon ye, O! + Your shores sae lofty, steep, an' bold, + Fit emblem of your sons of old, + Whose valour, more than mines of gold, + Has honour'd Caledonia. + + I think how happy I could be, + To live and die upon ye, O! + Though distant many miles from thee, + My heart still hovers o'er ye, O! + My fancy haunts your mountains steep, + Your forests fair, an' valleys deep, + Your plains, where rapid rivers sweep + To gladden Caledonia. + + Still mem'ry turns to where I spent + Life's cheerfu' morn sae bonnie, O! + Though by misfortune from it rent, + It 's dearer still than ony, O! + In vain I 'm told our vessel hies + To fertile fields an' kindly skies; + But still they want the charm that ties + My heart to Caledonia. + + My breast had early learn'd to glow + At name of Caledonia; + Though torn an' toss'd wi' many a foe, + She never bow'd to ony, O! + A land of heroes, famed an' brave-- + A land our fathers bled to save, + Whom foreign foes could ne'er enslave-- + Adieu to Caledonia! + + + + +ON VISITING THE SCENES OF EARLY DAYS. + + + Ye daisied glens and briery braes, + Haunts of my happy early days, + Where oft I 've pu'd the blossom'd slaes + And flow'rets fair, + Before my heart was scathed wi' waes + Or worldly care. + + Now recollection's airy train + Shoots through my heart with pleasing pain, + And streamlet, mountain, rock, or plain, + Like friends appear, + That, lang, lang lost, now found again, + Are doubly dear. + + But many a dauted object 's fled; + Low lies my once paternal shed; + Rank hemlocks wild, and weeds, o'erspread + The ruin'd heap; + Unstirr'd by cheerful tongue or tread, + The echoes sleep. + + Yon bonnie burn, whose limpid streams, + When warm'd with summer's glowing beams, + Have often laved my tender limbs, + When my employ + Was chasing childhood's airy whims + From joy to joy. + + Upon yon green, at gloamin' gray, + I 've often join'd in cheerful play, + Wi' comrades guileless, blithe, and gay, + Whose magic art, + Remember'd at this distant day, + Still warms the heart. + + Ah, cronies dear! for ever lost! + Abroad on life's rough ocean toss'd, + By adverse winds and currents cross'd, + By watching worn, + Some landed on that silent coast, + Ne'er to return! + + Howe'er the path of life may lie, + If poorly low, or proudly high, + When scenes of childhood meet our eye, + Their charms we own, + And yield the tribute of a sigh + To days long gone. + + + + +TO WANDER LANG IN FOREIGN LANDS. + +AIR--_"Auld Langsyne."_ + + + To wander lang in foreign lands, + It was my destinie; + I joyful was at my return, + My native hills to see. + My step grew light, my heart grew fain, + I thought my cares to tine, + Until I fand ilk weel-kenn'd spot + Sae alter'd sin' langsyne. + + I sigh'd to see the flow'ry green + Skaith'd by the ruthless pleugh; + Likewise the bank aboon the burn, + Where broom and hawthorns grew. + A lonely tree, whose aged trunk + The ivy did entwine, + Still mark'd the spot where youngsters met, + In cheerful sports langsyne. + + I mixèd with the village train, + Yet still I seem'd alane; + Nae kindly hand did welcome me, + For a' my friends were gane. + Those friends who oft in foreign lands + Did haunt this heart o' mine, + And brought to mind the happy days + I spent wi' them langsyne. + + In youthfu' prime, at fortune's ca', + I braved the billows' roar; + I 've now seen thirty simmer suns + Blink on a distant shore; + And I have stood where honour call'd, + In the embattled line, + And there left many gallant lads, + The cronies o' langsyne. + + I 've gather'd walth o' weel-won gear, + Yet still I fortune blame; + I lang wi' strangers pass'd my days, + And now I 'm ane at hame. + I have nae friend but what my gowd + Can draw to mammon's shrine; + But how unlike the guileless hearts + That wish'd me weel langsyne! + + + + +PETER ROGER. + + +Peter Roger, blacksmith, formerly at Glenormiston, and latterly at +Peebles, though more the enthusiastic lover of, than a contributor to, +the national minstrelsy, is entitled to remembrance. His numerous +communications addressed to the editor of this work, have supplied much +information, which has been found useful in the preparation of these +volumes. Roger was born at Clovenford, in the parish of Stow, in 1792. +For thirty-seven years he wrought as blacksmith at Glenormiston, on the +banks of the Tweed, near Innerleithen. In 1852, he removed to Peebles, +where he had purchased a small cottage and garden. He died suddenly, at +Peebles, on the 3d April 1856, in his 64th year. The following sketch of +his character has been supplied, at our request, by his intimate +acquaintance, the Rev. James Murray, minister of Old Cumnock:-- + + "Roger was in many respects a very remarkable man.... + He possessed, in an eminent degree, an exquisite + natural sympathy with all things beautiful and good. He + was an excellent botanist, well-skilled in music, and + passionately fond of poetry. His conversation was very + interesting; and his slight tendency to dogmatise in + the presence of a stranger, entirely disappeared in the + society of his friends. He might almost be said to + revere any one possessed of intellectual gifts and + accomplishments, whether natural or acquired; and as he + lived many years in a cottage situated on the way-side + between Peebles and Innerleithen, he was frequently + visited by those who passed by. Occasionally the + Ettrick Shepherd would stop his gig to have a few + minutes' _crack_ with his 'friend Peter,' as he called + him. At another time it would be his minister, the Rev. + Mr Leckie, or some other worthy pastor, or some surgeon + of the district upon his widely-extended rounds--Dr + Craig, for example; or Mr Thomas Smibert; or Mr Adam + Dickson, a young genius nipt in the bud--whose + appearance would be the welcome signal for the + 'tinkling' of Peter's hammer to know a brief respite. + And I could mention others of his acquaintance, almost + self-taught like himself, whose intelligence might + enable them 'to stand before kings.' + + "My own intimacy with Peter extends back to the time of + my boyhood; and I can honestly say, that an evening + spent under his roof, in company with him and his pious + and amiable sister Peggy, who survives him, was among + the greatest treats I ever experienced. There, at his + door, in paper cap and leather apron, his shirt sleeves + turned up, and his bare, brawny arms crossed upon his + chest, and 'his brow wet with honest sweat,' would the + hard-headed and warm-hearted blacksmith await the + coming of him whom he expected. And, first, whilst his + sister was attending to the preparation of some + creature-comforts--for he was a man of some substance, + and hospitable withal--you would be conducted into his + little garden, sloping down to the very brink of the + Tweed, and embosomed amid natural hazel wood, the + lingering remains of a once goodly forest, to see some + favourite flower, or to hear him trill, with a skill + and execution which would have done little dishonour to + _Picus_ himself, some simple native melody upon his + Scotch flute. The _in-door_ entertainment consisted of + varied conversation, embracing the subjects of + literature, politics, and theology, largely + interspersed with the reading of MS. poems by his + numerous poetical friends. But the best part of the + treat came last. Gradually you would notice a serious + shade, not gloomy but chastened, steal over his massive + features. His conversation would glide most naturally, + and without any intentional effort that was apparent, + into a serious strain; and then Peggy would bring down + the family Bible, and, after having selected a suitable + psalm, he would sing it to some plaintive air--and he + could sing well; and the prayer which closed the usual + exercises was such a manly, pathetic, and godly + outpouring of a spirit chastened with the simplest and + purest piety, as made the heart glad. + + "Peter did nothing by halves, but everything with the + energy of a man working at a forge. He embraced the + temperance movement as soon as he heard of it, and + continued to the end of his days a most rigid total + abstainer from the use of all ardent spirits. + Altogether, he was one of those self-taught, + large-hearted, pious, and intellectual men of whom + Scotland may well be proud." + + + + +LOVELY JEAN. + +AIR--_"Miss Forbes' Farewell."_ + + + 'Mang a' the lassies young an' braw, + An' fair as summer's rosy beam, + There 's ane the bonniest o' them a', + That dwells by Manor's mountain stream. + Oft hae I gazed on her sweet face, + An' ilka time new beauties seen; + For aye some new discover'd grace + Endears to me my lovely Jean. + + An' oh! to list her ev'ning sang, + When a' alane she gently strays + The yellow waving broom amang, + That blooms on Manor's flow'ry braes-- + Her voice sae saft, sae sweet and clear, + Afar in yonder bower sae green, + The mavis quits her lay to hear + A bonnier sang frae lovely Jean. + + But it 's no her peerless face nor form, + It 's no her voice sae sweet and clear, + That keeps my love to her sae warm, + An' maks her every day mair dear; + It 's just the beauties o' her mind, + Her easy, winning, modest mien, + Her truth and constancy, which bind + My heart and soul to lovely Jean. + + + + +JOHN MALCOLM. + + +John Malcolm was the second son of the Rev. John Malcolm, minister of +the parish of Firth and Stennis, Orkney, where he was born about 1795. +Through a personal application to the Duke of Kent, he was enabled to +proceed as a volunteer to join the army in Spain. Arriving at the period +when the army under General Graham (afterwards Lord Lynedoch) was +besieging St Sebastian, he speedily obtained a lieutenancy in the 42d +Regiment, in which he served to the close of the Pyrenees' campaign. +Wounded at the battle of Toulouse, by a musket-ball penetrating his +right shoulder, and otherwise debilitated, he retired from active +service on half-pay, and with a pension for his wound. He now fixed his +abode in Edinburgh, and devoted himself to literary pursuits. He +contributed to _Constable's Magazine_, and other periodicals. For one of +the earlier volumes of "Constable's Miscellany," he wrote a narrative of +the Peninsular War. As a poet, he became known by some stanzas on the +death of Lord Byron, which appeared in the _Edinburgh Weekly Journal_. +In 1828, he published "Scenes of War, and other Poems;" and subsequently +contributed numerous poetical pieces to the pages of the _Edinburgh +Literary Journal_. A small volume of prose sketches also appeared from +his pen, under the title of "Tales of Field and Flood." In 1831 he +undertook the editorship of the _Edinburgh Observer_ newspaper, which he +held till the period of his death. He died at Edinburgh, of a pulmonary +complaint, in September 1835. + +Fond of conversation, and abounding in humorous anecdote, Malcolm was +especially esteemed for his gentle and amiable deportment. His poetry, +which is often vigorous, is uniformly characterised by sweetness of +versification. + + + + +THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT. + + + The music of the night, + Upon its lonely flight + Into the west, where sink its ebbing sands; + That muffled music seems + Like voices heard in dreams, + Sigh'd back from long-lost years and distant lands. + + Amid the stillness round, + As 'twere the shade of sound, + Floats on the low sweet strain of lulling tones; + Such as from trembling wire + Of sweet Æolian lyre, + With winds awake in murmurs and in moans. + + Oh! melting on the ear, + What solemn chords are there! + The torrent's thunder sunk into a sigh; + And thine, majestic main! + Great Nature's organ strain, + Deep pealing through the temple of the sky. + + And songs unsung by day-- + The nightingale's lone lay. + From lady's bower, the lover's serenade; + And dirge of hermit-bird + From haunts of ruin heard, + The only voice that wails above the dead. + + To them that sail the deep, + When winds have sunk to sleep, + The dreamy murmurs of the night steal on; + Say, does their mystic hum, + So vague and varied, come + From distant shores unseen, and lands unknown? + + In them might fancy's ear + Earth's dying echoes hear, + Our home's sweet voices swooning on the floods; + Or songs of festal halls, + Or sound of waterfalls, + Or Indian's dismal war-whoop through the woods. + + Joy breathes in morning song, + And happy things among + Her choral bowers wake matins of delight; + But dearer unto me + The dirge-like harmony + Of vesper voices, and of wailing night. + + + + +THE SEA. + + + The sea--the deep, deep sea-- + That awful mystery! + Was there a time of old ere it was born, + Or e'er the dawn of light, + Coeval with the night-- + Say, slept it on, for ever and forlorn? + + Till the Great Spirit's word + Its sullen waters heard, + And their wild voices, through the void profound, + Gave deep responsive roar; + But silent never more + Shall be their solemn, drear, and dirge-like sound! + + Earth's echoes faint and die; + Sunk down into a sigh, + Scamander's voice scarce whispers on its way; + And desert silence reigns + Upon the mighty plains + Where battles' thunders peal'd--and where are they? + + But still from age to age + Upon its pilgrimage, + When many a glorious strain the world hath flown; + And while her echoes sleep + In darkness, the great deep, + Unwearied and unchanged, goes sounding on. + + + + +ERSKINE CONOLLY. + + +Erskine Conolly was born at Crail, Fifeshire, on the 12th of June 1796. +At the burgh school of his native town, he received an ordinary +elementary education, and was afterwards apprenticed to Mr Cockburn, +bookseller in Anstruther. He subsequently commenced business as a +bookseller in the small town of Colinsburgh; but after a trial of +several years, not having succeeded according to his expectations, he +removed to Edinburgh, where he was employed as a clerk by Mr Thomas +Megget, writer to the signet. At a future period, he entered into +partnership with Mr James Gillon, writer and messenger in Edinburgh; and +after his partner's death, carried on the business on his own account. +He died at Edinburgh on the 7th January 1843. Of highly sociable +dispositions, and with talents of a superior order, Conolly was much +beloved among a wide circle of friends. Unambitious of fame as a poet, +though he frequently wrote verses, he never ventured on a publication. +His popular song of "Mary Macneil," appeared in the _Edinburgh +Intelligencer_ of the 23d December 1840; it is much to be remarked for +deep feeling and genuine tenderness. + + + + +MARY MACNEIL. + +AIR--_"Kinloch of Kinloch."_ + + + The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin', + Owre mountain an' meadowland glintin' fareweel; + An' thousands o' stars in the heavens were blinkin', + As bright as the een o' sweet Mary Macneil. + A' glowin' wi' gladness she lean'd on her lover, + Her een-tellin' secrets she thought to conceal; + And fondly they wander'd whar nane might discover + The tryst o' young Ronald an' Mary Macneil. + + Oh! Mary was modest, an' pure as the lily, + That dew-draps o' mornin' in fragrance reveal; + Nae fresh bloomin' flow'ret in hill or in valley + Could rival the beauty of Mary Macneil. + She moved, and the graces play'd sportive around her; + She smiled, and the hearts o' the cauldest wad thrill; + She sang, and the mavis cam listenin' in wonder, + To claim a sweet sister in Mary Macneil. + + But ae bitter blast on its fair promise blawin', + Frae spring a' its beauty an' blossoms will steal; + An' ae sudden blight on the gentle heart fa'in', + Inflicts the deep wound nothing earthly can heal. + The simmer saw Ronald on glory's path hiein'; + The autumn, his corse on the red battle fiel'; + The winter, the maiden found heartbroken, dyin'; + An' spring spread the green turf owre Mary Macneil! + + + + +THERE 'S A THRILL OF EMOTION. + + + There 's a thrill of emotion, half-painful, half-sweet, + When the object of untold affection we meet, + But the pleasure remains, though the pang is as brief, + As the touch and recoil of the sensitive leaf. + + There 's a thrill of distress, between anger and dread, + When a frown o'er the fair face of beauty is spread; + But she smiles, and away the disturber is borne, + Like sunbeams dispelling the vapours of morn. + + There 's a thrill of endearment, all raptures above, + When the pure lip imprints the first fond kiss of love, + Which, like songs of our childhood, to memory clings, + The longest, the last of terrestrial things. + + + + +GEORGE MENZIES. + + +George Menzies was born in the parish of Arbuthnot, Kincardineshire, on +the 21st January 1797. His father was an agricultural labourer. On +completing his education at a country school, he became, in his +fourteenth year, apprentice to a gardener. He prosecuted his vocation in +different districts; acted some time as clerk to the contractors of the +Forth and Clyde Canal; laboured as a weaver in several towns in the +counties of Forfar and Kincardine; and conducted unendowed schools in +various localities. In 1833, he emigrated to Canada, where he taught in +different seminaries, and afterwards formed a connexion with a +succession of public journals. He ultimately became proprietor and +editor of the _Woodstock Herald_ newspaper. After a short illness, he +died at Woodstock, Canada West, on the 4th March 1847, in his +fifty-first year. + +Menzies was possessed of good talents and indomitable energy. He wrote +respectable verses, though not marked by any decided originality. In +1822, he published, at Forfar, a small volume of poems, entitled, +"Poetical Trifles," of which a second and enlarged edition appeared five +years afterwards. The whole of his poems, with an account of his life, +in a duodecimo volume, were published at Montrose in 1854. + + + + +THE BRAES OF AUCHINBLAE. + + + As clear is Luther's wave, I ween, + As gay the grove, the vale as green; + But, oh! the days that we have seen + Are fled, and fled for aye, Mary! + + Oh! we have often fondly stray'd + In Fordoun's green embow'ring glade, + And mark'd the moonbeam as it play'd + On Luther's bonnie wave, Mary! + + Since then, full many a year and day + With me have slowly pass'd away, + Far from the braes of Auchinblae, + And far from love and thee, Mary! + + And we must part again, my dear, + It is not mine to linger here; + Yes, we must part--and, oh! I fear, + We meet not here again, Mary! + + For on Culloden's bloody field, + Our hapless Prince's fate is seal'd-- + Last night to me it was reveal'd + Sooth as the word of heaven, Mary! + + And ere to-morrow's sun shall shine + Upon the heights of Galloquhine, + A thousand victims at the shrine + Of tyranny shall bleed, Mary! + + Hark! hark! they come--the foemen come-- + I go; but wheresoe'er I roam, + With thee my heart remains at home-- + Adieu, adieu for aye, Mary! + + + + +FARE THEE WEEL. + + + Fare thee weel, my bonnie lassie; + Fare thee weel for ever, Jessie! + Though I ne'er again may meet thee, + Tell na me that I 'll forget thee. + + By yon starry heavens I vow it! + By my love!--(I mayna rue it)-- + By this hour in which we sever! + I will love but thee for ever. + + Should the hand of death arrest me, + Think my latest prayer hath blest thee; + As the parting pang draws nearer, + I will love thee aye the dearer. + + Still my bosom's love I 'll cherish-- + 'Tis a spark that winna perish; + Though I ne'er again may meet thee, + Tell na me that I 'll forget thee. + + + + +JOHN SIM. + + +John Sim was born in Paisley, on the 6th of April 1797. His father, +James Sim, was engineer in the factory of James Carlile and Sons, and +was highly valued by his employers. In the Grammar-school, John made +rapid progress in classical learning; and in 1814 entered the University +of Glasgow, with a view to the medical profession. He obtained his +diploma as surgeon on the 6th of April 1818. He commenced the practice +of medicine in the village of Auchinleck, Ayrshire; but removed in a few +months to his native town. His professional success was not commensurate +with his expectations; and in the hope of bettering his circumstances, +he proceeded to the West Indies. He sailed from Greenock on the 19th +January 1819, for Trinidad; but had only been resident in that island +about eight months when he was seized with a fatal illness. The precise +date of his death is unknown. + +Sim was a young man of high promise. Early wedded to the muse, he was +selected as the original editor of the "Harp of Renfrewshire." He +published a small volume of poems and songs. His songs are somewhat +imitative, but are remarkable for sweetness of expression, and are +pervaded by genial sentiment. + + + + +NAE MAIR WE 'LL MEET. + +AIR--_"We 'll meet beside the dusky glen."_ + + + Nae mair we 'll meet again, my love, by yon burn side-- + Nae mair we 'll wander through the grove, by yon burn side-- + Ne'er again the mavis lay will we hail at close o' day, + Nor ne'er again we 'll stray down by yon burn side. + + Yet mem'ry oft will fondly brood on yon burn side, + O'er haunts which we sae saft hae trod, by yon burn side; + Still the walk wi' me thou 'lt share, though thy foot can never mair + Bend to earth the gowan fair, down by yon burn side. + + Now far removed from every care, 'boon yon burn side, + Thou bloom'st, my love, an angel fair, 'boon yon burn side; + And if angels pity know, sure the tear for me will flow, + Who must linger here below, down by yon burn side. + + + + +BONNIE PEGGY.[46] + +AIR--_"Bonnie lassie, O."_ + + + Oh, we aft hae met at e'en, bonnie Peggy, O! + On the banks of Cart sae green, bonnie Peggy, O! + Where the waters smoothly rin, + Far aneath the roarin' linn, + Far frae busy strife and din, bonnie Peggy, O! + When the lately crimson west, bonnie Peggy, O! + In her darker robe was dress'd, bonnie Peggy, O! + And a sky of azure blue, + Deck'd with stars of golden hue, + Rose majestic to the view, bonnie Peggy, O! + When the sound of flute or horn, bonnie Peggy, O! + On the gale of ev'ning borne, bonnie Peggy, O! + We have heard in echoes die, + While the wave that rippled by, + Sung a soft and sweet reply, bonnie Peggy, O! + + Then how happy would we rove, bonnie Peggy, O! + Whilst thou, blushing, own'd thy love, bonnie Peggy, O! + Whilst thy quickly throbbing breast + To my beating heart I press'd, + Ne'er was mortal half so blest, bonnie Peggy, O! + Now, alas! these scenes are o'er, bonnie Peggy, O! + Now, alas! we meet no more, bonnie Peggy, O! + Oh! never again, I ween, + Will we meet at summer e'en + On the banks of Cart sae green, bonnie Peggy, O! + Yet had'st thou been true to me, bonnie Peggy, O! + As I still hae been to thee, bonnie Peggy, O! + Then with bosom, oh, how light, + Had I hail'd the coming night, + And yon evening star so bright, bonnie Peggy, O! + + +[46] This song is much in the strain of the popular song of "Kelvin +Grove," which, it may here be remarked, has often been erroneously +ascribed to Sim. It was contributed to the "Harp of Renfrewshire," then +under his editorial care, by his townsman, class-fellow, and +professional brother, Mr Thomas Lyle, surgeon, Glasgow, and was +published in that work (p. 144) by Mr John Murdoch, the successor of Sim +in the editorship, with a number of alterations by that gentleman. Of +these alterations Mr Lyle complained to Mr Sim, and received a letter +from him attributing them to Mr Murdoch. On the completion of the work, +Sim was mentioned in the index as the author of the song--by the poet +Motherwell, the third and last editor, who, not unnaturally, assigned to +the original editor those songs which appeared anonymously in the +earlier portion of the volume. The song being afterwards published with +music by Mr Purdie, musicseller in Edinburgh, Mr Lyle was induced to +adopt measures for establishing his title to the authorship. In the +absence of the original MS., the claim was sufficiently made out by the +production of Mr Sim's letter on the subject of the alterations. (See +Memoir of Mr Lyle, _postea_.) + + + + +NOW, MARY, NOW THE STRUGGLE 'S O'ER.[47] + +_Gaelic Air._ + + + Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er-- + The war of pride and love; + And, Mary, now we meet no more, + Unless we meet above. + + Too well thou know'st how much I loved! + Thou knew'st my hopes how fair! + But all these hopes are blighted now, + They point but to despair. + + Thus doom'd to ceaseless, hopeless love, + I haste to India's shore; + For here how can I longer stay, + And call thee mine no more? + + Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er; + And though I still must love, + Yet, Mary, here we meet no more, + Oh, may we meet above! + + +[47] This song was addressed to a young lady to whom the author was +attached, and who had agreed to marry him on an improvement in his +worldly circumstances. A desire speedily to gain her hand is said to +have been the cause of his proceeding to the West Indies. The prediction +in the song was sadly realised. + + + + +WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. + + +William Motherwell was born in High Street, Glasgow, on the 13th October +1797. For thirteen generations, his paternal ancestors were owners of +the small property of Muirsmill, on the banks of the Carron, +Stirlingshire. His father, who bore the same Christian name, carried on +the business of an ironmonger in Glasgow. His mother, whose maiden name +was Elizabeth Barnet, was the daughter of a prosperous farmer in the +parish of Auchterarder, Perthshire, from whom she inherited a +considerable fortune. Of a family of six, William was the third son. His +parents removed to Edinburgh early in the century; and in April 1805, he +became a pupil of Mr William Lennie, a successful private teacher in +Crichton Street. In October 1808, he entered the High-school of +Edinburgh; but was soon after placed at the Grammar-school of Paisley, +being entrusted to the care of an uncle in that place. In his fifteenth +year, he became clerk in the office of the Sheriff-clerk of Paisley, and +in this situation afforded evidence of talent by the facility with which +he deciphered the more ancient documents. With the view of obtaining a +more extended acquaintance with classical literature, he attended the +Latin and Greek classes in the University of Glasgow, during the session +of 1818-19, and had the good fortune soon thereafter to receive the +appointment of Sheriff-clerk-depute of the county of Renfrew. + +From his boyhood fond of literature, Motherwell devoted his spare hours +to reading and composition. He evinced poetical talent so early as his +fourteenth year, when he produced the first draught of his beautiful +ballad of "Jeanie Morrison." Many of his earlier sketches, both in prose +and verse, were inconsiderately distributed among his friends. In 1818, +he made some contributions in verse to the "Visitor," a small work +published at Greenock; and in the following year became the third and +last editor of the "Harp of Renfrewshire," an esteemed collection of +songs, to which he supplied an interesting introductory essay and many +valuable notes. Pursuing his researches on the subject of Scottish song +and ballad, he appeared in 1827 as the editor of an interesting quarto +volume, entitled "Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern,"--a work which +considerably extended his reputation, and secured him the friendly +correspondence of Sir Walter Scott. In 1828, he originated the _Paisley +Magazine_, which was conducted by him during its continuance of one +year; it contains several of his best poetical compositions, and a copy +is now extremely rare. During the same year, he was appointed editor of +the _Paisley Advertiser_, a Conservative newspaper; and this office he +exchanged, in January 1830, for the editorship of the _Glasgow Courier_, +a more influential journal in the same political interests. + +On his removal to Glasgow, Motherwell rapidly extended the circle of his +literary friends, and began to exercise no unimportant influence as a +public journalist. To _The Day_, a periodical published in the city in +1832, he contributed many poetical pieces with some prose sketches; and +about the same time furnished a preface of some length to a volume of +Scottish Proverbs, edited by his ingenious friend, Andrew Henderson. +Towards the close of 1832, he collected his best poetical compositions +into a small volume, with the title of "Poems, Narrative and Lyrical." +In 1835, he became the coadjutor of the Ettrick Shepherd in annotating +an edition of Burns' Works, published by Messrs Fullarton of Glasgow; +but his death took place before the completion of this undertaking. He +died of apoplexy, after a few hours' illness, on the 1st of November +1835, at the early age of thirty-eight. His remains were interred in the +Necropolis, where an elegant monument, with a bust by Fillans, has been +erected to his memory. + +Motherwell was of short stature, but was well-formed. His head was large +and forehead ample, but his features were somewhat coarse; his +cheek-bones were prominent, and his eyes small, sunk in his head, and +surmounted by thick eye-lashes. In society he was reserved and often +taciturn, but was free and communicative among his personal friends. He +was not a little superstitious, and a firm believer in the reality of +spectral illusions. Desultory in some of his literary occupations, he +was laborious in pruning and perfecting his poetical compositions. His +claims as a poet are not inconsiderable; "Jeanie Morrison" is +unsurpassed in graceful simplicity and feeling, and though he had not +written another line, it had afforded him a title to rank among the +greater minstrels of his country. Eminent pathos and earnestness are his +characteristics as a song-writer. The translations of Scandinavian +ballads which he has produced are perhaps the most vigorous and +successful efforts of the kind which have appeared in the language. An +excellent edition of his poetical works, with a memoir by Dr M'Conechy, +was published after his death by Mr David Robertson of Glasgow. + + + + +JEANIE MORRISON.[48] + + + I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, + Through mony a weary way, + But never, never can forget + The luve o' life's young day! + The fire that 's blawn on Beltane e'en, + May weel be black gin Yule; + But blacker fa' awaits the heart + Where first fond luve grows cule. + + O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, + The thochts o' bygane years + Still fling their shadows owre my path, + And blind my een wi' tears; + They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears; + And sair and sick I pine, + As memory idly summons up + The blithe blinks o' langsyne. + + 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, + 'Twas then we twa did part; + Sweet time--sad time! twa bairns at schule, + Twa bairns, and but ae heart! + 'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink, + To leir ilk ither lear; + And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, + Remember'd evermair. + + I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet, + When sitting on that bink, + Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, + What our wee heads could think. + When baith bent doun owre ae braid page, + Wi' ae buik on our knee, + Thy lips were on thy lesson--but + My lesson was in thee. + + Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, + How cheeks brent red wi' shame, + Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said + We cleek'd thegither hame? + And mind ye o' the Saturdays + (The schule then skailt at noon) + When we ran aff to speel the braes-- + The broomy braes o' June? + + My head rins round and round about, + My heart flows like a sea, + As ane by ane the thoughts rush back + O' schule-time and o' thee. + Oh, mornin' life! oh, mornin' luve! + Oh, lichtsome days and lang, + When hinnied hopes around our hearts, + Like simmer blossoms sprang! + + Oh, mind ye, luve, how aft we left + The deavin', dinsome toun, + To wander by the green burnside, + And hear its waters croon? + The simmer leaves hung owre our heads, + The flowers burst round our feet, + And in the gloamin o' the wood, + The throssil whusslit sweet. + + The throssil whusslit in the wood, + The burn sang to the trees, + And we, with nature's heart in tune, + Concerted harmonies; + And on the knowe abune the burn, + For hours thegither sat + In the silentness o' joy, till baith + Wi' very gladness grat. + + Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison, + Tears trickled doun your cheek, + Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane + Had ony power to speak! + That was a time, a blessed time, + When hearts were fresh and young, + When freely gush'd all feelings forth, + Unsyllabled--unsung! + + I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, + Gin I hae been to thee + As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, + As ye hae been to me! + Oh, tell me gin their music fills + Thine heart, as it does mine; + Oh, say gin e'er your heart grows grit + Wi' dreamings o' langsyne? + + I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, + I 've borne a weary lot; + But in my wanderings, far or near, + Ye never were forgot. + The fount that first burst frae this heart, + Still travels on its way; + And channels deeper as it rins, + The luve o' life's young day. + + Oh, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, + Since we were sinder'd young, + I 've never seen your face, nor heard + The music o' your tongue; + But I could hug all wretchedness, + And happy could I die, + Did I but ken your heart still dream'd + O' bygane days and me! + + +[48] The heroine of this song, Miss Jane Morrison, now Mrs Murdoch, +still survives. Her father, Mr Ebenezer Morrison, was a respectable +brewer and corn-merchant in Alloa. In the autumn of 1807, when in her +seventh year, she became a pupil of Mr Lennie, and for several months +occupied the same class-room with young Motherwell. Of the flame which +she had excited in the susceptible heart of her boy-lover, she was +totally unconscious. Mr Lennie, however, in a statement published by the +editor of Motherwell's poems, refers to the strong impression which she +made on the young poet; he describes her as "a pretty girl, and of good +capacity." "Her hair," he adds, "was of a lightish brown, approaching to +fair; her eyes were dark, and had a sweet and gentle expression; her +temper was mild, and her manners unassuming." In 1823, Miss Morrison +became the wife of Mr John Murdoch, commission-agent in Glasgow, who +died in 1829. She has since resided in different places, but has now +(Whitsunday 1856) fixed her abode in the vicinity of Stirling. She never +met the poet in after-life, and has only an imperfect recollection of +his appearance as a boy. The ballad of "Jeanie Morrison" had been +published for several years before she became aware that she was the +heroine. It remains to be added, somewhat in justification of the poet's +juvenile passion, that Mrs Murdoch is a person of the most gentle and +amiable manners, and retains, in a very remarkable degree, that personal +beauty for which she was celebrated in youth. + + + + +WEARIE'S WELL. + + + In a saft simmer gloamin', + In yon dowie dell, + It was there we twa first met, + By Wearie's cauld well. + We sat on the broom bank, + And look'd in the burn, + But sidelang we look'd on + Ilk ither in turn. + + The corncraik was chirming + His sad eerie cry, + And the wee stars were dreaming + Their path through the sky; + The burn babbled freely + Its love to ilk flower, + But we heard and we saw nought + In that blessed hour. + + We heard and we saw nought, + Above or around; + We felt that our luve lived, + And loathed idle sound. + I gazed on your sweet face + Till tears fill'd my e'e, + And they drapt on your wee loof-- + A warld's wealth to me. + + Now the winter snaw 's fa'ing + On bare holm and lea, + And the cauld wind is strippin' + Ilk leaf aff the tree. + But the snaw fa's not faster, + Nor leaf disna part + Sae sune frae the bough, as + Faith fades in your heart. + + You 've waled out anither + Your bridegroom to be; + But can his heart luve sae + As mine luvit thee? + Ye 'll get biggings and mailins, + And mony braw claes; + But they a' winna buy back + The peace o' past days. + + Fareweel, and for ever, + My first luve and last; + May thy joys be to come-- + Mine live in the past. + In sorrow and sadness + This hour fa's on me; + But light, as thy luve, may + It fleet over thee! + + + + +WAE BE TO THE ORDERS. + + + Oh! wae be to the orders that march'd my luve awa', + And wae be to the cruel cause that gars my tears down fa', + Oh! wae be to the bluidy wars in Hie Germanie, + For they hae ta'en my luve, and left a broken heart to me. + + The drums beat in the mornin', afore the screich o' day, + And the wee, wee fifes play'd loud and shrill, while yet the morn was gray; + The bonnie flags were a' unfurl'd, a gallant sight to see, + But waes me for my sodger lad that march'd to Germanie. + + Oh! lang, lang is the travel to the bonnie Pier o' Leith, + Oh! dreich it is to gang on foot wi' the snaw drift in the teeth! + And oh, the cauld wind froze the tear that gather'd in my e'e, + When I gaed there to see my luve embark for Germanie. + + I look'd owre the braid blue sea, sae lang as could be seen + A wee bit sail upon the ship that my sodger lad was in; + But the wind was blawin' sair an' snell, and the ship sail'd speedilie, + And the waves and cruel wars hae twinn'd my winsome luve frae me. + + I never think o' dancin', and I downa try to sing, + But a' the day I speir what news kind neibour bodies bring; + I sometimes knit a stocking, if knittin' it may be, + Syne for every loop that I cast on, I 'm sure to let doun three. + + My father says I 'm in a pet, my mither jeers at me, + And bans me for a dautit wean, in dorts for aye to be; + But little weet they o' the cause that drumles sae my e'e, + Oh! they hae nae winsome love like mine, in the wars o' Germanie. + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT WIND. + + + Mournfully, oh, mournfully + This midnight wind doth sigh, + Like some sweet plaintive melody + Of ages long gone by: + It speaks a tale of other years-- + Of hopes that bloom'd to die-- + Of sunny smiles that set in tears, + And loves that mouldering lie. + + Mournfully, oh, mournfully + This midnight wind doth moan; + It stirs some chord of memory, + In each dull heavy tone: + The voices of the much-loved dead + Seem floating thereupon-- + All, all my fond heart cherished, + Ere death hath made it lone. + + Mournfully, oh, mournfully + This midnight wind doth swell, + With its quaint pensive minstrelsy, + Hope's passionate farewell. + To the dreamy joys of early years, + Ere yet grief's canker fell + On the heart's bloom--ay, well may tears + Start at that parting knell! + + + + +HE IS GONE! HE IS GONE! + + + He is gone! he is gone! + Like the leaf from the tree, + Or the down that is blown + By the wind o'er the lea. + He is fled--the light-hearted! + Yet a tear must have started + To his eye when he parted + From love-stricken me! + + He is fled! he is fled! + Like a gallant so free-- + Plumed cap on his head, + And sharp sword by his knee; + While his gay feathers flutter'd, + Surely something he mutter'd-- + He at least must have utter'd + A farewell to me! + + He 's away! he 's away! + To far lands o'er the sea, + And long is the day + Ere home he can be; + But where'er his steed prances + Amid thronging lances, + Sure he 'll think of the glances + That love stole from me! + + He is gone! he is gone! + Like the leaf from the tree, + But his heart is of stone + If it ne'er dream of me; + For I dream of him ever-- + His buff-coat and beaver, + And long sword, oh! never + Are absent from me! + + + + +DAVID MACBETH MOIR. + + +David Macbeth Moir was born at Musselburgh on the 5th January 1798. His +elementary education was conducted at a private seminary and the +Grammar-school of that town. He subsequently attended the medical +classes in the University of Edinburgh, and in his eighteenth year +obtained a surgeon's diploma. In partnership with Dr Brown, a +respectable physician of long standing, he entered on medical practice +in his native place. He wrote good poetry in his fifteenth year, and +about the same age contributed some prose essays to the _Cheap +Magazine_, a small periodical published in Haddington. In 1816 he +published a poem entitled "The Bombardment of Algiers." For a succession +of years after its commencement in 1817, he wrote numerous articles for +_Constable's Edinburgh Magazine_. Soon after the establishment of +_Blackwood's Magazine_, he became one of its more conspicuous +contributors; and his poetical contributions, which were generally +subscribed by his literary _nom de guerre_, the Greek letter Delta +([Greek: Delta]), long continued a source of much interest to the +readers of that periodical. In 1824 he published a collection of his +poetical pieces, under the title of "Legend of Genevieve, with other +Tales and Poems." "The Autobiography of Mansie Wauch," originally +supplied in a series of chapters to _Blackwood_, and afterwards +published in a separate form, much increased his reputation as an +author. In 1831 appeared his "Outlines of the Ancient History of +Medicine;" a work which was followed, in 1832, by a pamphlet entitled, +"Practical Observations on Malignant Cholera;" and a further +publication, with the title, "Proofs of the Contagion of Malignant +Cholera." A third volume of poems from his pen, entitled "Domestic +Verses," was published in 1843. In the early part of 1851 he delivered, +at the Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh, a course of six lectures +on the "Poetical Literature of the Past Half-century," which, afterwards +published in an elegant volume by the Messrs Blackwood, commanded a +large share of public attention. In a state of somewhat impaired health, +he proceeded to Dumfries on the 1st day of July 1851, hoping to derive +benefit from a change of scene and climate. But his end was approaching; +he died at Dumfries on the 6th of the same month, having reached only +his 53d year. His remains were interred, at a public funeral, in the +burying-ground of Musselburgh, where a monument has been erected to his +memory. Indefatigable in the discharge of his professional duties, Moir +regularly devoted a portion of his time to the gratification of his +literary tastes. A pleasant prose writer, he will be remembered for his +inimitable drollery in the adventures of "Mansie Wauch." As a poet, his +style is perspicuous and simple; and his characteristics are tenderness, +dignity, and grace. He is occasionally humorous, but he excels in the +plaintive and elegiac. Much of his poetry breathes the odour of a +genuine piety. He was personally of an agreeable presence. Tall in +stature, his countenance, which was of sanguine hue, wore a serious +aspect, unless kindled up by the recital of some humorous tale. His +mode of utterance was singularly pleasing, and his dispositions were +pervaded by a generous benignity. He loved society, but experienced his +chief happiness in the social intercourse of his own family circle. He +had married in 1829; and his amiable widow, with eight children, still +survive. A collected edition of his best poems, in two duodecimo +volumes, has been published since his death, by the Messrs Blackwood, +under the editorial superintendence of Thomas Aird, who has prefixed an +interesting memoir. + + + + +CASA WAPPY.[49] + + + And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, + Our fond, dear boy-- + The realms where sorrow dare not come, + Where life is joy? + Pure at thy death as at thy birth, + Thy spirit caught no taint from earth, + Even by its bliss we mete our dearth, + Casa Wappy! + + Despair was in our last farewell, + As closed thine eye; + Tears of our anguish may not tell + When thou didst die; + Words may not paint our grief for thee, + Sighs are but bubbles on the sea + Of our unfathom'd agony, + Casa Wappy! + + Thou wert a vision of delight + To bless us given; + Beauty embodied to our sight, + A type of heaven. + So dear to us thou wert, thou art + Even less thine own self than a part + Of mine and of thy mother's heart, + Casa Wappy! + + Thy bright, brief day knew no decline-- + 'Twas cloudless joy; + Sunrise and night alone were thine, + Beloved boy! + This morn beheld thee blithe and gay; + That found thee prostrate in decay; + And ere a third shone, clay was clay, + Casa Wappy! + + Gem of our hearth, our household pride, + Earth's undefiled, + Could love have saved, thou hadst not died, + Our dear, sweet child! + Humbly we bow to fate's decree; + Yet had we hoped that time should see + Thee mourn for us, not us for thee, + Casa Wappy! + + Do what I may, go where I will, + Thou meet'st my sight; + There dost thou glide before me still, + A form of light. + I feel thy breath upon my cheek, + I see thee smile, I hear thee speak, + Till, oh! my heart is like to break, + Casa Wappy! + + * * * * * + + The nursery shews thy pictured wall, + Thy bat, thy bow, + Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball; + But where art thou? + A corner holds thine empty chair; + Thy playthings, idly scatter'd there, + But speak to us of our despair, + Casa Wappy! + + * * * * * + + We mourn for thee when blind, blank night + The chamber fills; + We pine for thee when morn's first light + Reddens the hills; + The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea-- + All--to the wallflower and wild pea-- + Are changed--we saw the world through thee, + Casa Wappy! + + * * * * * + + Snows muffled earth when thou didst go, + In life's spring-bloom, + Down to the appointed house below-- + The silent tomb. + But now the green leaves of the tree, + The cuckoo, and "the busy bee," + Return, but with them bring not thee, + Casa Wappy! + + 'Tis so! but can it be--(while flowers + Revive again)-- + Man's doom in death--that we and ours + For aye remain? + Oh! can it be that o'er the grave + The grass, renew'd, should yearly wave, + Yet God forget our child to save? + Casa Wappy! + + It cannot be; for were it so + Thus man could die, + Life were a mockery--thought were woe, + And truth a lie-- + Heaven were a coinage of the brain-- + Religion frenzy--virtue vain, + And all our hopes to meet again, + Casa Wappy! + + Then be to us, O dear, lost child! + With beam of love, + A star--death's uncongenial wild-- + Smiling above! + Soon, soon thy little feet have trod + The skyward path, the seraph's road, + That led thee back from man to God, + Casa Wappy! + + Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair, + Fond, fairest boy, + That heaven is God's, and thou art there + With him in joy! + There past are death and all its woes, + There beauty's stream for ever flows, + And pleasure's day no sunset knows, + Casa Wappy! + + Farewell, then--for a while farewell, + Pride of my heart! + It cannot be that long we dwell + Thus torn apart-- + Time's shadows like the shuttle flee; + And dark howe'er life's night may be, + Beyond the grave I 'll meet with thee, + Casa Wappy! + + +[49] This touching elegiac poem (which is not unsuitable for music) was +written by Mr Moir on the death of his favourite child, Charles +Bell--familiarly called by him "Casa Wappy"--who died in February 1838, +at the age of four and a half years. + + + + +FAREWELL, OUR FATHERS' LAND. + + + Farewell, our fathers' land, + Valley and fountain! + Farewell, old Scotland's strand, + Forest and mountain! + Then hush the drum and hush the flute, + And be the stirring bagpipe mute-- + Such sounds may not with sorrow suit-- + And fare thee well, Lochaber! + + This plume and plaid no more will see, + Nor philabeg, nor dirk at knee, + Nor even the broadswords which Dundee + Bade flash at Killiecrankie. + Farewell, our fathers' land, &c. + + Now when of yore, on bank and brae, + Our loyal clansmen marshall'd gay; + Far downward scowls Bennevis gray, + On sheep-walks spreading lonely. + Farewell, our fathers' land, &c. + + For now we cross the stormy sea, + Ah! never more to look on thee, + Nor on thy dun deer, bounding free, + From Etive glens to Morven. + Farewell, our fathers' land, &c. + + Thy mountain air no more we 'll breathe; + The household sword shall eat the sheath, + While rave the wild winds o'er the heath + Where our gray sires are sleeping. + Then farewell, our fathers' land, &c. + + + + +HEIGH-HO! + + + A pretty young maiden sat on the grass-- + Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- + And by a blithe young shepherd did pass, + In the summer morning so early. + Said he, "My lass, will you go with me, + My cot to keep and my bride to be; + Sorrow and want shall never touch thee, + And I will love you rarely?" + + "O! no, no, no!" the maiden said-- + Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- + And bashfully turn'd aside her head, + On that summer morning so early. + "My mother is old, my mother is frail, + Our cottage it lies in yon green dale; + I dare not list to any such tale, + For I love my kind mother rarely." + + The shepherd took her lily-white hand-- + Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- + And on her beauty did gazing stand, + On that summer morning so early. + "Thy mother I ask thee not to leave + Alone in her frail old age to grieve; + But my home can hold us all, believe-- + Will that not please thee fairly?" + + "O! no, no, no! I am all too young"-- + Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!-- + "I dare not list to a young man's tongue, + On a summer morning so early." + But the shepherd to gain her heart was bent; + Oft she strove to go, but she never went; + And at length she fondly blush'd consent-- + Heaven blesses true lovers so fairly. + + + + +ROBERT FRASER. + + +Robert Fraser was born in the village of Pathhead, Fifeshire, on the +24th of June 1798. Receiving a respectable education at the various +schools of the place, he became apprenticed in his fourteenth year to a +wine-merchant in Kirkcaldy, with whom he continued during a period of +four years. In 1819 he commenced business with a partner as an +ironmonger in Kirkcaldy, and for a considerable time was prosperous in +merchandise. His spare hours were devoted to literature, more especially +to classical learning and the acquisition of the modern languages. He +was latterly familiar with all the languages of Europe. He contributed +both in prose and verse to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_, and other +periodicals. A series of misfortunes led to his renouncing business, and +in 1838 he accepted the editorship of the _Fife Herald_ newspaper, when +he removed his residence to Cupar-Fife. He died at Cupar, after a +lingering illness, on the 22d May 1839. His "Poetical Remains," with a +memoir from the pen of the poet Vedder, were published a few months +after his decease. Though not entitled to a high rank, his poetry is +pervaded by gracefulness, and some of his lyrics evince considerable +power. + + + + +OH, I LO'ED MY LASSIE WEEL. + + + Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel, + How weel I canna tell; + Lang, lang ere ithers trow'd, + Lang ere I wist mysel'. + At the school amang the lave, + If I wrestled or I ran, + I cared na' for the prize, + If she saw me when I wan. + + Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel, + When thae gleesome days were gane; + 'Mang a' the bonnie an' the gude, + To match her saw I nane. + Though the cauld warl' o'er me cam, + Wi' its cumber an' its toil, + My day-tide dool was a' forgot, + In her blithe e'enin' smile. + + Oh, I lo'ed, nor lo'ed in vain; + An' though mony cam to woo, + Wha to won her wad been fain, + Yet to me she aye was true. + She grat wi' very joy + When our waddin' day was set; + An' though twal' gude years sinsyne hae fled, + She 's my darling lassie yet. + + + + +JAMES HISLOP. + + +James Hislop, a short-lived poet of considerable promise, was born of +humble parents in the parish of Kirkconnel, Dumfriesshire, in July 1798. +Under the care of his grandfather, a country weaver, and a man of piety +and worth, he taught himself to read. When little more than a child, he +became a cow-herd on the farm of Dalblair, in the neighbourhood of his +birth-place. About the age of thirteen, he obtained a year's schooling, +which was nearly the whole amount of his regular education. He had +already read many books on the hillside. In his fourteenth year, he +became a shepherd and tended his first flock at Boghead, parish of +Auchinleck, Ayrshire, in the immediate vicinity of Airsmoss, the scene +of the skirmish, in 1680, between a body of the soldiers of Charles II. +and a small party of Covenanters, when their minister, the famous +Richard Cameron, was slain. The traditions which still floated among the +peasantry around the tombstone of this indomitable pastor of the +persecuted Presbyterians, essentially fostered in his mind the love of +poetry; and he afterwards turned them to account in his poem of "The +Cameronian's Dream." Some years having passed at this place, he removed +to Corsebank, on the stream Crawick, and afterwards to Carcoe, in the +neighbourhood of Sanquhar. Instead of a course of indiscriminate +reading, he now followed a system of regular study; and ere his +twentieth year, was not only a respectable classical scholar, but +tolerably conversant with some of the modern languages and the exact +sciences. He opened an evening school for the instruction of his humble +pastoral associates; and about the close of 1819, was induced to remove +to Greenock, there to make the attempt of earning a livelihood by +teaching. In October of the same year, he began to contribute verses to +the _Edinburgh Magazine_, which excited no inconsiderable attention, and +especially called forth the kindly criticisms of the amiable editor, the +Rev. Mr Morehead. Visiting Edinburgh, he was introduced by this +gentleman to Mr Jeffrey and the Rev. Mr Alison, who had both been +interested by his poetry. + +The Greenock school adventure was unfortunate, and the poet returned to +the pastoral scenes of Carcoe. At this period he composed "The +Cameronian's Dream," which appeared in the _Edinburgh Magazine_ for +February 1821, and attracted much attention. He now commenced teaching +in Edinburgh; but soon obtained, through the recommendation of Mr +Jeffrey, the appointment of schoolmaster in the "Doris" frigate, about +to sail for South America. At sea, he continued to apply himself to +mental improvement; and on his return from a three years' cruise along +the coasts of the Western world, he published, in the pages of the +_Edinburgh Magazine_, a series of papers, under the title of "Letters +from South America," describing the scenes which he had surveyed. In +1825 he proceeded to London, and there formed the acquaintance of Allan +Cunningham, Joanna Baillie, and J. G. Lockhart. For some time, he +reported to one of the London newspapers; but this employment proving +uncongenial, was speedily abandoned. The fidelity with which he had +reported a sermon of the famous Edward Irving, gained him the personal +acquaintance of that extraordinary individual, who presented him with +some tokens of his regard. In 1826, he was appointed teacher of an +extensive free school in the neighbourhood of London--an office which, +at the end of a year, he exchanged for that of schoolmaster on board the +"Tweed" man-of-war, ordered to the Mediterranean and the Cape of Good +Hope. While the vessel was cruising off the Cape de Verd islands, +Hislop, along with the midshipmen, made a visit of pleasure to the +island of St Jago. Sleeping a night on shore, they were all seized with +fever, which, in the case of six of the party, including poor Hislop, +proved fatal. After lingering for twelve days, he died on the 4th +December 1827, in his twenty-ninth year. + +Of a clear head, a warm heart, and exemplary steadiness of character, +Hislop was much beloved; and a wide circle of hopeful friends deeply +lamented his premature decease. By Allan Cunningham, his genius has been +described as "elegant rather than vigorous, sweet and graceful rather +than lofty, although he was occasionally lofty, too." As the author of +"The Cameronian's Dream," he is entitled to a place among the bards of +his country. + + + + +THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM. + + + In a dream of the night, I was wafted away + To the muirlands of mist where the martyrs lay; + Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen + Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green. + + 'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, + When the minister's home was the mountain and wood, + And in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion, + All bloody and torn, 'mong the heather was lying. + + 'Twas morning, and summer's young sun from the east + Lay in lovely repose on the green mountain's breast; + On Wardlaw and Cairntable, the clear shining dew + Glisten'd sheen 'mong the heath-bells and mountain-flowers blue. + + And far up in heaven, in a white sunny cloud, + The song of the lark was melodious and loud; + And in Glenmuir's wild solitudes, lengthen'd and deep, + Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep. + + And Wellwood's sweet valley breathed music and gladness, + The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness; + Its daughters were happy to hail the returning, + And drink the delights of July's sweet morning. + + But, ah! there were hearts cherish'd far other feelings-- + Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings-- + And drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow, + For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow. + + 'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying, + Conceal'd 'mong the mist where the heath-fowl were crying; + For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering, + And their bridle-reins rung through the thin misty covering. + + Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheath'd, + But the vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreathed; + With eyes raised to heaven, in calm resignation, + They sung their last song to the God of salvation. + + The hills with the sweet mournful music were ringing, + The curlew and plover in concert were singing; + But the melody died 'midst derision and laughter, + As the host of ungodly rush'd on to the slaughter. + + Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded, + Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded; + Their dark eyes flash'd lightning, as, proud and unbending, + They stood like the rock which the thunder was rending. + + The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming, + The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming, + The heavens grew black, and the thunder was rolling, + As in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling. + + When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended, + A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; + Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness, + And its burning wheels turn'd upon axles of brightness. + + A seraph unfolded its door, bright and shining, + All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining; + And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation, + Have mounted the chariot and steeds of salvation. + + On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding; + Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding; + Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye-- + A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory! + + + + +HOW SWEET THE DEWY BELL IS SPREAD. + + + How sweet the dewy bell is spread + Where Spango's mossy streams are lavin' + The heathery locks o' deepenin' red, + Around the mountain brow aye wavin'! + Here, on the sunny mountain side, + Dear lassie, we 'll lie down thegither; + Where Nature spreads luve's crimson bed, + Among the bonnie bloomin' heather. + + Lang hae I wish'd, my lovely maid, + Amang thae fragrant wilds to lead ye; + And now, aneath my tartan plaid, + How blest I lie wi' you aside me! + And art thou happy--dearest, speak-- + Wi' me aneath the tartan plaidie? + Yes; that dear glance, sae saft and meek, + Resigns thee to thy shepherd laddie. + + The saftness o' the gentle dove, + Its eyes in dying sweetness closin', + Is like thae languid eyes o' love, + Sae fondly on my heart reposin'. + When simmer suns the flowers expand, + In a' their silken beauties shinin', + They 're no sae saft as thy white hand, + Upon my love-warm cheek reclinin'. + + While thus, aneath my tartan plaid, + Sae warmly to my lips I press ye; + That hinnied bloom o' dewy red + Is nocht like thy sweet lips, dear lassie! + Reclined on love's soft crimson bed, + Our hearts sae fondly lock'd thegither; + Thus o'er my cheek thy ringlets spread, + How happy, happy 'mang the heather! + + + + +ROBERT GILFILLAN. + + +A respectable contributor to the Caledonian minstrelsy, Robert Gilfillan +was born in Dunfermline on the 7th July 1798. His parents were in humble +circumstances; and owing to the infirmities of his father, he was +required, while a mere youth, to engage in manual labour for the support +of the family. He found a solace to his toils in the gratification of a +turn for verse-making, which he inherited from his mother. In his +thirteenth year, he entered on an apprenticeship to a cooper in Leith; +and at the age of twenty, became a grocer's assistant in his native +town. From his twenty-third till his thirty-ninth year, he acted as +clerk to a wine-merchant in Leith. In 1837, he was preferred to the +office of Collector of Poor's-rates in Leith, and continued to hold this +appointment till his death. This event took place on the 4th December +1850, in his fifty-second year. + +A man of amiable and social dispositions, Gilfillan was much cherished +among the wits of the capital. A volume of lyrics from his pen passed +through two editions; and several of his songs have been set to music, +and have attained a well-merited popularity. His style is remarkable for +graceful simplicity. + + + + +MANOR BRAES. + +TUNE--_"Logan Water."_ + + + Where Manor stream rins blithe an' clear, + And Castlehill's white wa's appear, + I spent ae day, aboon a' days, + By Manor stream, 'mang Manor braes. + The purple heath was just in bloom, + And bonnie waved the upland broom, + The flocks on flowery braes lay still, + Or, heedless, wander'd at their will. + + 'Twas there, 'mid Nature's calm repose, + Where Manor clearest, saftest flows, + I met a maiden fair to see, + Wi' modest look and bashfu' e'e; + Her beauty to the mind did bring + A morn where summer blends wi' spring, + So bright, so pure, so calm, so fair, + 'Twas bliss to look--to linger there! + + Ilk word cam frae her bosom warm, + Wi' love to win and sense to charm, + So much of nature, nought of art, + She 'll live enthroned within my heart! + Aboon her head the laverock sang, + And 'neath her feet the wild-flowers sprang; + Oh, let me dwell, where beauty strays, + By Manor stream an' Manor braes. + + I speir'd gif ane sae young an' fair + Knew aught of love, wi' a' its care? + She said her heart frae love was free, + But aye she blush'd wi' downcast e'e. + The parting cam, as partings come, + Wi' looks that speak, though tongues be dumb; + Yet I 'll return, ere many days, + To live an' love 'mang Manor braes. + + + + +FARE THEE WELL. + +TUNE--_"Roy's Wife."_ + + + Fare thee well, for I must leave thee; + But, oh, let not our parting grieve thee; + Happier days may yet be mine, + At least I wish them thine--believe me! + + We part--but by those dew-drops clear, + My love for thee will last for ever; + I leave thee--but thy image dear, + Thy tender smiles, will leave me never. + Fare thee well, &c. + + Oh! dry those pearly tears that flow-- + One farewell smile before we sever; + The only balm for parting woe + Is--fondly hope 'tis not for ever. + Fare thee well, &c. + + Though dark and dreary lowers the night, + Calm and serene may be the morrow; + The cup of pleasure ne'er shone bright, + Without some mingling drops of sorrow! + Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, + But, oh, let not our parting grieve thee; + Happier days may yet be mine, + At least I wish them thine--believe me! + + + + +THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER. + + + 'Tis the first rose of summer that opes to my view, + With its bright crimson bosom all bathed in the dew; + It bows to its green leaves with pride from its throne-- + 'Tis the queen of the valley, and reigneth alone. + + Oh! why, lovely stranger! thus early in bloom, + Art thou here to assure us that summer is come? + The primrose and harebell appear with the spring, + But tidings of summer the young roses bring. + + Thou fair gift of nature (I welcome the boon), + Was 't the lark of the morning that 'woke thee so soon? + Yet I weep, thou sweet floweret! for soon, from the sky, + The lark shall repose where thy leaves wither'd lie. + + Oh! if beauty could save thee, thou ne'er wouldst decay, + But, alas! soon thou 'lt perish and wither away; + And thy kindred may blossom, and blossom as fair-- + Yet I 'll mourn, lonely rosebud! when thou art not there. + + + + +THE EXILE'S SONG. + +TUNE--_"My ain Countrie."_ + + + Oh! why left I my hame, + Why did I cross the deep? + Oh! why left I the land + Where my forefathers sleep? + I sigh for Scotia's shore, + And I gaze across the sea; + But I canna get a blink + O' my ain countrie! + + The palm-tree waveth high, + And fair the myrtle springs, + And to the Indian maid + The bulbul sweetly sings; + But I dinna see the broom + Wi' its tassels on the lea, + Nor hear the lintie's sang + O' my ain countrie! + + Oh! here no Sabbath bell + Awakes the Sabbath morn, + Nor song of reapers heard + Amang the yellow corn; + For the tyrant's voice is here, + And the wail of slaverie, + But the sun of freedom shines + In my ain countrie! + + There 's a hope for every woe, + And a balm for every pain; + But the first joys o' our heart + Come never back again. + There 's a track upon the deep, + And a path across the sea, + But the weary ne'er return + To their ain countrie! + + + + +THE HAPPY DAYS O' YOUTH. + + + Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by, + And age is coming on, wi' its bleak winter sky; + An' whar shall we shelter frae its storms when they blaw, + When the gladsome days o' youth are flown awa'? + + They said that wisdom cam wi' manhood's riper years, + But naething did they tell o' its sorrows an' tears; + Oh! I 'd gie a' the wit, gif ony wit be mine, + For ae sunny morning o' bonnie langsyne. + + I canna dow but sigh, I canna dow but mourn, + For the blithe happy days that never can return; + When joy was in the heart, an' love was on the tongue, + An' mirth on ilka face, for ilka face was young. + + Oh! the bonnie weaving broom, whaur aften we did meet, + Wi' its yellow flowers that fell like gowd 'mang our feet; + The bird would stop its sang, but only for a wee, + As we gaed by its nest, 'neath its ain birk-tree. + + Oh! the sunny days o' youth, they couldna aye remain-- + There was ower meikle joy and ower little pain; + Sae fareweel, happy days! an' fareweel, youthfu' glee! + The young may court your smiles, but ye 're gane frae me. + + + + +'TIS SAIR TO DREAM. + + + 'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, + That waking we sall never see; + Yet oh! how kindly was the smile + My laddie in my sleep gave me! + I thought we sat beside the burn + That wimples down the flowery glen, + Where, in our early days o' love, + We met that ne'er sall meet again. + + The simmer sun sank 'neath the wave, + And gladden'd wi' his parting ray + The woodland wild and valley green, + Fast fading into gloamin' gray. + He talk'd of days o' future joy, + And yet my heart was haflins sair; + For when his eye it beam'd on me, + A withering death-like glance was there! + + I thought him dead, and then I thought + That life was young and love was free; + For o'er our heads the mavis sang, + And hameward hied the janty bee! + We pledged our love and plighted troth, + But cauld, cauld was the kiss he gave; + When, starting from my dream, I found + His troth was plighted to the grave! + + I canna weep, for hope is fled, + And nought would do but silent mourn, + Were 't no for dreams that should na come, + To whisper back my love's return. + 'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, + That waking we sall never see; + Yet, oh! how kindly was the smile + My laddie in my sleep gave me! + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +WILLIAM ROSS. + + +William Ross, the Bard of Gairloch, and the Burns of the Gaelic +Highlands, was born at Broadford, in the island of Skye, in 1762. He +received his school education at Forres, whither his parents removed +during his youth, and obtained his training as a poet among the wilds of +Highland scenery, which he visited with his father, who followed the +calling of a pedlar. Acquiring a knowledge of the classics and of +general learning, he was found qualified for the situation of parish +school-master of Gairloch. He died at Gairloch in 1790, at the early age +of twenty-eight. Ross celebrated the praises of whisky (_uisg-bea_) in +several lyrics, which continue popular among the Gael; but the chief +theme of his inspiration was "Mary Ross," a fair Hebridean, whose +coldness and ultimate desertion are understood to have proved fatal to +the too susceptible poet. + + + + +THE HIGHLAND MAY. + + +I. + + Let the maids of the Lowlands + Vaunt their silks and their Hollands, + In the garb of the Highlands + Oh give me my dear! + Such a figure for grace! + For the Loves such a face! + And for lightness the pace + That the grass shall not stir. + * * * * * + + +II. + + Lips of cherry confine + Teeth of ivory shine, + And with blushes combine + To keep us in thrall. + Thy converse exceeding + All eloquent pleading, + Thy voice never needing + To rival the fall + Of the music of art,-- + Steal their way to the heart, + And resistless impart + Their enchantment to all. + + +III. + + When _Beltane_ is over, + And summer joys hover, + With thee a glad rover + I 'll wander along, + Where the harp-strings of nature + Are strung by each creature, + And the sleep shall be sweeter + That lulls to their song, + There, bounding together, + On the lawn of the heather, + And free from the tether, + The heifers shall throng. + + +IV. + + There shall pasture the ewes, + There the spotted goats browse, + And the kids shall arouse + In their madness of play; + They shall butt, they shall fight, + They shall emulate flight, + They shall break with delight + O'er the mountains away. + And there shall my Mary + With her faithful one tarry, + And never be weary + In the hollows to stray. + + +V. + + While a concert shall cheer us, + For the bushes are near us; + And the birds shall not fear us, + We 'll harbour so still. + + * * * * * + + Strains the mavis his throat, + Lends the cuckoo her note, + And the world is forgot + By the side of the hill. + + + + +THE CELT AND THE STRANGER. + + + The dawn it is breaking; but lonesome and eerie + Is the hour of my waking, afar from the glen.[50] + Alas! that I ever came a wanderer hither, + Where the tongue of the stranger is racking my brain! + + Cleft in twain is my heart, all my pleasure betraying; + The half is behind, but the better is straying + The shade of the hills and the copses away in, + And the truant I call to the Lowlands in vain. + + I know why it wanders,--it is to be treading + Where long I frequented the haunts of my dear, + The meadow so dewy, the glades so o'erspreading, + With the gowans to lean on, the mavis to cheer. + + It is to be tending where heifers are wending, + And the birds, with the music of love, are contending; + And rapture, its passion to innocence lending, + Is a dance in my soul, and a song in my ear. + + +[50] This song was written in Edinburgh. + + + + +CORMAC'S CURE. + + The following is a portion of the poet's "Lament for + his Lost Love," on her departure to England with her + husband. Cormac, an Irish harper, was long entertained + in his professional character by Macleod of Lewis; and + had the temerity to make love to the chief's daughter. + On the discovery, and its apprehended consequences to + his safety, he is said to have formed the desperate + resolution of slaying the father, and carrying away the + lady. His hand was stayed, as he raised the deadly + weapon, by the sudden appearance of Macleod's son; who, + with rare and commendable temper, advised him to look + for a love among the hundred maidens of his own degree + who were possessed of equal charms. With the same + uncommon self-command, poor Cormac formed the + resolution of drowning his love in the swell of his own + music. Ross applies the story to his own case. + + Thus sung the minstrel Cormac, his anguish to beguile, + And laid his hand upon his harp, and struck the strings the while-- + "Since they have taught my lady fair on her poet's gifts to frown, + In deeper swellings of the lay, I 'll learn my love to drown." + + When Colin Cormac's guilty grasp was closing with the spear, + Rush'd in the chieftain's heir, and cried, "What frenzied mood is here! + Sure many a May of ruby ray, as blushful on the brow, + As rosy on the lip, is there--then, why so frantic thou?" + + The heart-struck minstrel heard the word; and though his flame, uncured, + Still fired his soul, in haste the shores of danger he abjured: + But aye he rung his harp, though now it knew another strain, + And loud arose its warblings as the sounding of the main. + + Yes! 'twas an organ peal that soar'd the vocal lift along, + As chorus'd to the high-strung harp his words of mightier song, + Lest, hapless chance! should rise, above the swelling of the tide, + A remnant of the ambitious love that sought a noble bride. + + But I, alas! no language find, of Sassenach or Gael, + Nor note of music in the land, my cureless woe to quail. + And art thou gone, without a word, without a kindly look + Of smiling comfort, on the bard whose life thy beauty shook? + + Not so it fared with Cormac; for thus the tale is told, + That never, to the last, he brook'd desertion's bitter cold. + His comrades sorrow'd round him; his dear vouchsafed a kiss-- + He almost thought he heard her sigh, "_Come back again to bliss!_" + + + + +THE LAST LAY OF LOVE. + + This was composed when Ross was dying, and probably + when he was aware of his approaching end. He died of + consumption, precipitated by the espousals of his + mistress to another lover. + + + Reft the charm of the social shell + By the touch of the sorrowful mood; + And already the worm, in her cell, + Is preparing the birth of her brood. + + She blanches the hue of my cheek, + And exposes my desperate love; + Nor needs it that death should bespeak + The hurt no remeid can remove. + + The step, 'twas a pleasure to trace, + Even that has withdrawn from the scene; + And, now, not a breeze can displace + A leaf from its summit of green + + So prostrate and fallen to lie, + So far from the branch where it hung, + As, in dust and in helplessness, I, + From the hope to which passion had clung. + + Yet, benison bide! where thy choice + Deems its bliss and its treasure secure, + May the months in thy blessings rejoice, + While their rise and their wane shall endure! + + For me, a poor warrior, in blood + By thy arrow-shot steep'd, I am prone, + The glow of ambition subdued, + The weapons of rivalry gone. + + Yet, cruel to mock me, the base + Who scoff at the name of the bard, + To scorn the degree of my race, + Their toil and their travail, is hard. + + Since one, a bold yeoman ne'er drew + A furrow unstraight or unpaid; + And the other, to righteousness true, + Hung even the scales of his trade. + + And I--ah! they should not compel + To waken the theme of my praise; + I can boast over hundreds, to tell + Of a chief in the conflict of lays. + + And now it is over--the heart + That bounded, the hearing that thrill'd, + In the song-fight shall never take part, + And weakness gives warning to yield. + + As the discord that raves 'neath the cloud + That is raised by the dash of the spray + When waters are battling aloud, + Bewilderment bears me away. + + And to measure the song in its charm, + Or to handle the viol with skill, + Or beauty with carols to warm, + Gone for ever, the power and the will. + + No never, no never, ascend + To the mountain-pass glories, shall I, + In the cheer of the chase to unbend; + Enough, it is left but to die. + + And yet, shall I go to my rest, + Where the dead of my brothers repair-- + To the hall of the bards, not unblest, + That their worthies before me are there? + + + + +LACHLAN MACVURICH. + + +This bard, known by his territorial designation of "Strathmassie," lived +during nearly eighty years of the last century, and died towards its +close. His proper patronymic was Macpherson. He was a favourite tenant +of the chief of Cluny, and continued to enjoy the benefit of his lease +of a large farm in Badenoch, after the misfortunes of the family, and +forfeiture of their estate. He was very intimate with his clansman, +James Macpherson, who has identified his own fame so immortally with +that of Ossian. Lachlan had the reputation of being his Gaelic tutor, +and was certainly his fellow-traveller during the preparation of his +work. In the specimens of his poetical talents which are preserved, +"Strathmassie" evinces the command of good Gaelic, though there is +nothing to indicate his power of being at all serviceable to his +namesake in that fabrication of imagery, legends, and sentiments, which, +in the opinion of many, constitutes all that we have in the name of +Ossian. + + + + +THE EXILE OF CLUNY. + + The brave chief of Cluny, after lingering long on the + heights of Benalder, where he entertained his + unfortunate prince during some of the last days of the + adventurer's wandering, at length took shipping for + France, amidst the tears and regrets of a clan that + loved him with the fondest devotion. "Strathmassie" + seems to have caught, in the following verses, some + characteristic traits of his chief, in whom peaceful + dispositions were remarkably blended with the highest + courage in warfare. + + + Oh, many a true Highlander, many a liegeman, + Is blank on the roll of the brave in our land; + And bare as its heath is the dark mountain region, + Of its own and its prince's defenders unmann'd. + The hound's death abhorr'd, some have died by the cord, + And the axe with the best of our blood is defiled, + And e'en to the visions of hope unrestored, + Some have gone from among us, for ever exiled. + + He is gone from among us, our chieftain of Cluny; + At the back of the steel, a more valiant ne'er stood; + Our father, our champion, bemoan we, bemoan we! + In battle, the brilliant; in friendship, the good. + When the sea shut him from us, then the cross of our trial + Was hung on the mast and was swung in the wind: + "Woe the worth we have sepulchred!" now is the cry all; + "Save the shade of a memory, is nothing behind." + + What symbols may match our brave chief's animation? + When his wrath was awake, 'twas a furnace in glow; + As a surge on the rock struck his bold indignation, + As the breach to the wall was his arm to the foe. + So the tempest comes down, when it lends in its fury + To the frown of its darkness the rattling of hail; + So rushes the land-flood in turmoil and hurry, + So bickers the hill-flame when fed by the gale. + + Yet gentle as Peace was the flower of his race, + Rare was shade on his face, as dismay in his heart; + The brawl and the scuffle he deem'd a disgrace, + But the hand to the brand was as ready to start. + Who could grapple with him in firmness of limb + And sureness of sinew? and--for the stout blow-- + 'Twas the scythe to the swathe in the meadows of death, + Where numbers were levell'd as fast and as low. + + Ever loyal to reason, we 've seen him appeasing + With a wave of one hand the confusion of strife; + With the other unsheathing his sword, and, unbreathing, + Following on for the right in the havoc of life. + To the wants of the helpless, the wail of the weak, + His hand aye was open, his arm was aye strong; + And under yon sun, not a tongue can bespeak + His word or his deed that was blemish'd with wrong. + + + + +JAMES M'LAGGAN. + + +James M'Laggan was the son of a small farmer at Ballechin, in the parish +of Logierait, Perthshire, where he was born in 1728. Educated at the +University of St Andrews, he received license as a probationer of the +Established Church. Through the influence of the Duke of Atholl, he was +appointed to the Chapel of Ease, at Amulree, in Perthshire, and +subsequently to the chaplainship of the 42d Regiment, his commission to +the latter office bearing date the 15th of June 1764. His predecessor in +the chaplainship was Dr Adam Ferguson, author of the "History of the +Roman Republic," who was also a native of the parish of Logierait. + +Than Mr M'Laggan, few could have been better qualified for the duties of +chaplain to a Highland regiment. He was intimately conversant with the +language, character, and partialities of the Gael, and was possessed of +much military ardour, as well as Christian devotedness. He accompanied +the regiment to America, and was present in several skirmishes during +the War of Independence. Anecdotes are still recounted of the humour and +spirit with which he maintained an influence over the minds of his +flock; and Stewart, in his "History of the Highlands," has described him +as having essentially contributed to form the character of the Highland +soldier, then in the novitiate of his loyalty and efficiency in the +national service. In 1776, while stationed with his regiment in Glasgow, +he had the freedom of the city conferred on him by the corporation. +After discharging the duties of military chaplain during a period of +twenty-four years, he was in 1788 presented by the Duke of Atholl to the +parish of Blair-Athole, Perthshire. He died in 1805, in the +seventy-seventh year of his age. + +A pious and exemplary clergyman, Mr M'Laggan is still kindly remembered +in the scene of his parochial ministrations. An accomplished Gaelic +scholar, and with a strong admiration of the poetry of the Gael, he +recovered, from the recitation of many aged persons, large portions of +the poetry of Ossian, prior to the publication of the collections of +Macpherson.[51] He composed some spirited Gaelic lyrics during the +period of his connexion with the army, but the greater portion of his +poetry still remains in MS. A collection of Gaelic songs under his +editorial superintendence was published anonymously. + +Mr M'Laggan was of fair and ruddy complexion, and was under the middle +stature. He was fond of humour, and his dispositions were singularly +benevolent. In youth, he was remarkable for his skill in athletic +exercises. He married a daughter of the Rev. James Stewart, minister of +Killin, the originator of the translation of the Scriptures into the +Gaelic language. Of a family of four sons and three daughters, one son +and two daughters still survive; his eldest son, the Rev. James +M'Laggan, D.D., was successively minister of the parishes of +Auchtergaven and Kinfauns, in Perthshire, and ultimately Free Church +Professor of Divinity in Aberdeen. + + +[51] Macpherson afterwards consulted Mr M'Laggan's "Collection of +Ossianic Remains" (see report on Ossian, App. 153). + + + + +SONG OF THE ROYAL HIGHLAND REGIMENT. + + + For success, a prayer, with a farewell, bear + To the warriors dear of the muir and the valley-- + The lads that convene in their plaiding of green, + With the curtal coat, and the sweeping _eil-e_. + In their belts array'd, where the dark blue blade + Is hung, with the dirk at the side; + When the sword is at large, and uplifted the targe, + Ha! not a foe the boys will abide. + + The followers in peril of Ian the Earl, + The race of the wight of hand; + Sink the eyes of the foe, of the friend's mounts the glow, + When the Murdoch's high blood takes command. + With Loudon to lead ye, the wise and the steady, + The daring in fight and the glorious, + Like the lightning ye 'll rush, with the sword's bright flash, + And return to your mountains victorious. + + Oh, sons of the Lion! your watch is the wild-lands, + The garb of the Highlands is mingled with blue, + Though the target and bosses are bright in the Highlands, + The axe in your hands might be blunted well, too. + Then forward--and see ye be huntsmen true, + And, as erst the red deer felling, + So fell ye the Gaul, and so strike ye all + The tribes in the backwoods dwelling. + + Where ocean is roaring, let top-sails be towering, + And sails to the motion of helm be flying; + Though high as the mountain, or smooth as the fountain, + Or fierce as the boiling floods angrily crying, + Though the tide with a stroke be assailing the rock; + Oh, once let the pibroch's wild signal be heard, + Then the waves will come bending in dimples befriending, + And beckoning the friends of their country on board. + The ocean-tide 's swelling, its fury is quelling, + In salute of thunder proclaiming your due; + And, methinks, that the hum of a welcome is come, + And is warbling the Jorram to you. + + When your levy is landed, oh, bright as the pearls + Shall the strangers who welcome you, gladly and greeting + Speak beautiful thoughts; aye, the beautiful girls + From their eyes shall the tears o'er the ruby be meeting, + And encounter ye, praying, from the storm and the slaying, + "From the stranger, the enemy, save us, oh save! + From rapine and plunder, oh tear us asunder,-- + Our noble defenders are ever the brave!" + + "If the fondest ye of true lovers be," + So cries each trembling beauty, + "Be bold in the fight, and give transport's delight + To your friends and the fair, by your duty." + "Oh, yes!" shall the beautiful hastily cry; + "Oh, yes!" in a word, shall the valiant reply; + "By our womanly faith we pledge you for both, + For where'er we contract, and where'er we betroth, + We vow with the daring to die!" + + Faithful to trust is the lion-like host + Whom the dawn of their youth doth inure + To hunger's worst ire, and to action's bold fire, + And to ranging the wastes of the moor. + Accustom'd so well to each enterprise snell, + Be the chase or the warfare their quarry; + Aye ever they fight the best, for the right + To the strike of the swords, when they hurry. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_Ahin'_, behind. + +_Auld-farrant_, sagacious, cunning. + +_Baudrons_, a cat. + +_Beltane_, the 1st of May. + +_Bield_, shelter. + +_Bink_, a bank of earth. + +_Birk_, birch. + +_Blae_, blue. + +_Blaud_, a flat piece of anything, to slap. + +_Blinket_, looked kindly. + +_Bonnie_, beautiful. + +_Burnie_, a small rivulet. + +_Byke_, a bee-hive. + +_Cannily_, gently, dexterously. + +_Cauldrife_, coldish. + +_Chanter_, the drone of a bagpipe. + +_Cleugh_, a cliff. + +_Clutch_, seize. + +_Coble_, a fishing-boat. + +_Couthilie_, kindly. + +_Crack_, to converse. + +_Cuiff_, a blockhead. + +_Daffin'_, diversion. + +_Dautit_, fondled, caressed. + +_Dighted_, wiped. + +_Doited_, very stupid. + +_Donnart_, stupified. + +_Dow_, wither. + +_Dowie_, sad, worn with grief. + +_Dree_, suffer, endure. + +_Dreich_, tedious. + +_Dunt_, a knock. + +_Eerie_, dreading things supernatural. + +_Fashious_, troublesome. + +_Fause_, false. + +_Ferlies_, wonders. + +_Flate_, scolded. + +_Flow_, a small quantity. + +_Gar_, compel. + +_Gauds_, trinkets. + +_Gawkie_, a thoughtless person. + +_Gif_, if. + +_Gilphie_, a half-grown person, a romping lad. + +_Glaiks_, foolish talk. + +_Gowd_, gold. + +_Gree_, agree. + +_Greet_, weep. + +_Haddin_, a farmer's stock. + +_Haffit-links_, a necklace. + +_Haflins_, nearly half, partly. + +_Haps_, outer garments. + +_Haud_, hold. + +_Hinnied_, honied. + +_Hodden_, a coarse kind of cloth. + +_Hummel_, humble. + +_Kame_, comb. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Kilt_, to truss up the clothes. + +_Kye_, cattle. + +_Laigh_, low. + +_Leal_, loyal, true. + +_Lear_, learning. + +_Lick_, wipe, beat. + +_Lift_, the sky. + +_Litheless_, listless. + +_Loonie_, a little fellow. + +_Loupin'_, leaping. + +_Losh_, an exclamation of surprise. + +_Lowne_, warm. + +_Maen_, moan, complain. + +_Mailin_, a tax, a rent. + +_Maw_, to mow, the stomach. + +_Meikle_, much. + +_Mim_, prim. + +_Mirk_, dark. + +_Muter_, multure, ground corn. + +_Neivefu'_, a handful. + +_Newfangled_, newfashioned. + +_Nit_, a nut. + +_Owre_, over. + +_Pow_, the head. + +_Pree_, to taste, to kiss. + +_Puirtith_, poverty. + +_Racket_, stretched. + +_Scaur_, to scare, a wound. + +_Scoured_, burnished, ran. + +_Scunner'd_, disgusted. + +_Shiel_, a temporary cottage or hut. + +_Siccan_, such. + +_Siching_, sighing. + +_Skailt_, emptied, scattered. + +_Souch_, the sighing of the wind, the breathing of a tune. + +_Speer'd_, inquired. + +_Steer_, stir. + +_Syne_, then, since. + +_Tauld_, told. + +_Tentie_, heedful, cautious. + +_Tentin'_, leading. + +_Tint_, lost. + +_Trantlooms_, odds and ends. + +_Wauken_, awaken. + +_Waukrife_, watchful, sleepless. + +_Waunert_, wandered. + +_Wean_, a child. + +_Wee_, little. + +_Weel-faur'd_, well-favoured. + +_Weir_, war, to herd. + +_Whusslit_, whistled. + +_Wooster-trystes_, wool-markets. + +_Yird_, earth, soil. + + +END OF VOL. III. + + +EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY. + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. IV. + + +CAMPBELL + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +Henry Scott Riddell. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL IV. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +MDCCCLVII. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +FRANCIS BENNOCH, ESQ., F.S.A., + +ONE OF THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING SCOTTISH SONG-WRITERS, +AND THE MUNIFICENT PATRON OF MEN OF LETTERS, + +THIS FOURTH VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS DEDICATED, + +WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ESTEEM, + +BY + +HIS VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +THE INFLUENCE OF BURNS + +ON + +SCOTTISH POETRY AND SONG: + +An Essay. + +BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +It is exceedingly difficult to settle the exact place of, as well as to +compute the varied influences wielded by, a great original genius. Every +such mind borrows so much from his age and from the past, as well as +communicates so much from his own native stores, that it is difficult to +determine whether he be more the creature or the creator of his period. +But, ere determining the influence exerted by Burns on Scottish song and +poetry, it is necessary first to inquire what he owed to his +predecessors in the art, as well as to the general Scottish atmosphere +of thought, feeling, scenery and manners. + +First of all, Burns felt, in common with his _forbears_ in the genealogy +of Scottish song, the inspiring influences breathing from our +mountain-land, and from the peculiar habits and customs of a "people +dwelling alone, and not reckoned among the nations." He was not born in +a district peculiarly distinguished for romantic beauty--we mean, in +comparison with some other regions of Scotland. The whole course of the +Ayr, as Currie remarks, is beautiful; and beautiful exceedingly the Brig +of Doon, especially as it now shines through the magic of the Master's +poetry. But it yields to many other parts of Scotland, some of which +Burns indeed afterwards saw, although his matured genius was not much +profited by the sight. Ayrshire--even with the peaks of Arran bounding +the view seaward--cannot vie with the scenery around Edinburgh; with +Stirling--its links and blue mountains; with "Gowrie's Carse, beloved of +Ceres, and Clydesdale to Pomona dear;" with Straths Tay and Earn, with +their two fine rivers flowing from finer lakes, through corn-fields, +woods, and rocks, to melt into each other's arms in music, near the fair +city of Perth; with the wilder and stormier courses of the Spey, the +Findhorn, and the Dee; with the romantic and song-consecrated precincts +of the Border; with the "bonnie hills o' Gallowa" and Dumfriesshire; or +with that transcendent mountain region stretching up along Lochs Linnhe, +Etive, and Leven--between the wild, torn ridges of Morven and +Appin--uniting Ben Cruachan to Ben Nevis, and including in its sweep the +lonely and magnificent Glencoe--a region unparalleled in wide Britain +for its quantity and variety of desolate grandeur, where every shape is +bold, every shape blasted, but all blasted at such different angles as +to produce endless diversity, and yet where the whole seems twisted into +a certain terrible harmony; not to speak of the glorious isles + + "Placed far amid the melancholy main," + +Iona, which, being interpreted, means the "Island of the Waves," the +rocky cradle of Scotland's Christianity; Staffa with grass growing above +the unspeakable grandeur which lurks in the cathedral-cave below, and +cows peacefully feeding over the tumultuous surge which forms the organ +of the eternal service; and Skye, with its Loch Coriskin, piercing like +a bright arrow the black breast of the shaggy hills of Cuchullin. Burns +had around him only the features of ordinary Scottish scenery, but from +these he drank in no common draught of inspiration; and how admirably +has he reproduced such simple objects as the "burn stealing under the +lang yellow broom," and the "milk-white thorn that scents the evening +gale," the "burnie wimplin' in its glen," and the + + "Rough bur-thistle spreadin' wide + Amang the bearded bear." + +These objects constituted the poetry of his own fields; they were linked +with his own joys, loves, memories, and sorrows, and these he felt +impelled to enshrine in song. It may, indeed, be doubted if his cast of +mind would have led him to sympathise with bold and savage scenery. In +proof of this, we remember that, although he often had seen the gigantic +ridges of Arran looming through the purple evening air, or with the +"morning suddenly spread" upon their summer summits, or with premature +snow tinging their autumnal tops, he never once alludes to them, so far +as we remember, either in his poetry or prose; and that although he +spent a part of his youth on the wild smuggling coast of Carrick, he has +borrowed little of his imagery from the sea--none, we think, except the +two lines in the "Vision"-- + + "I saw thee seek the sounding shore, + Delighted with the dashing roar." + +His descriptions are almost all of inland scenery. Yet, that there was a +strong sense of the sublime in his mind is manifest from the lines +succeeding the above-- + + "And when the North his fleecy store + Drove through the sky, + I saw grim Nature's visage hoar + Struck thy young eye;" + +as well as from the delight he expresses in walking beside a planting in +a windy day, and listening to the blast howling through the trees and +raving over the plain. Perhaps his mind was most alive to the sublimity +of _motion_, of agitation, of tumultuous energy, as exhibited in a +snow-storm, or in the "torrent rapture" of winds and waters, because +they seemed to sympathise with his own tempestuous passions, even as the +fierce Zanga, in the "Revenge," during a storm, exclaims--- + + "I like this rocking of the battlements. + Rage on, ye winds; burst clouds, and waters roar! + You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, + And suit the gloomy habit of my soul." + +Probably Burns felt little admiration of the calm, colossal grandeur of +mountain-scenery, where there are indeed vestiges of convulsion and +agony, but where age has softened the storm into stillness, and where +the memory of former strife and upheaving only serves to deepen the +feeling of repose--vestiges which, like the wrinkles on the stern brow +of the Corsair, + + "Speak of passion, but of passion past." + +With these records of bygone "majestic pains," on the other hand, the +genius of Milton and Wordsworth seemed made to sympathise; and the +former is never greater than standing on Niphates Mount with Satan, or +upon the "hill of Paradise the highest" with Michael, or upon the +"Specular Mount" with the Tempter and the Saviour; and the latter is +always most himself beside Skiddaw or Helvellyn. Byron professes vast +admiration for Lochnagar and the Alps; but the former is seen through +the enchanting medium of distance and childish memory; and among the +latter, his rhapsodies on Mont Blanc, and the cold "thrones of eternity" +around him, are nothing to his pictures of torrents, cataracts, +thunderstorms; in short, of all objects where unrest--the leading +feeling in _his_ bosom--constitutes the principal element in _their_ +grandeur. It is curious, by the way, how few good descriptions there +exist in poetry of views _from_ mountains. Milton has, indeed, some +incomparable ones, but all imaginary--such, at least, as no actual +mountain on earth can command; but, in other poets, we at this moment +remember no good one. They seem always looking up _to_, not down from, +mountains. Wordsworth has given us, for example, no description of the +view from Skiddaw; and there does not exist, in any Scottish poetical +author, a first-rate picture of the view either from Ben Lomond, +Schehallion, Ben Cruachan, or Ben Nevis. + +After all, Burns was more influenced by some other characteristics of +Scotland than he was by its scenery. There was, first, its romantic +history. _That_ had not then been separated, as it has since been, from +the mists of fable, but lay exactly in that twilight point of view best +adapted for arousing the imagination. To the eye of Burns, as it glared +back into the past, the history of his country seemed intensely +poetical--including the line of early kings who pass over the stage of +Boece' and Buchanan's story as their brethren over the magic glass of +Macbeth's witches--equally fantastic and equally false--the dark +tragedy of that terrible thane of Glammis and Cawdor--the deeds of +Wallace and Bruce--the battle of Flodden--and the sad fate of Queen +Mary; and from most of these themes he drew an inspiration which could +scarcely have been conceived to reside even in them. On Wallace, Bruce, +and Queen Mary, his mind seems to have brooded with peculiar +intensity--on the two former, because they were patriots; and on the +latter, because she was a beautiful woman; and his allusions to them +rank with the finest parts in his or any poetry. He seemed especially +adapted to be the poet-laureate of Wallace--a modern edition, somewhat +improved, of the broad, brawny, ragged bard who actually, it is +probable, attended in the train of Scotland's patriot hero, and whose +constant occupation it was to change the gold of his achievements into +the silver of song. Scottish manners, too, as well as history, exerted a +powerful influence on Scotland's peasant-poet. They were then far more +peculiar than now, and had only been faintly or partially represented by +previous poets. Thus, the christening of the _wean_, with all its +ceremony and all its mirth--Hallowe'en, with its "rude awe and +laughter"--the "Rockin'"--the "Brooze"--the Bridal--and a hundred other +intensely Scottish and very old customs, were all ripe and ready for the +poet, and many of them he has treated, accordingly, with consummate +felicity and genius. It seems almost as if the _final cause_ of their +long-continued existence were connected with the appearance, in due +time, of one who was to extract their finest essence, and to embalm them +for ever in his own form of ideal representation. + +Burns, too, doubtless derived much from previous poets. This is a common +case, as we have before hinted, with even the most original. Had not +Shakspeare and Milton been "celestial thieves," their writings would +have been far less rich and brilliant than they are; although, had they +not possessed true originality, they would not have taken their present +lofty position in the world of letters. So, to say that Burns was much +indebted to his predecessors, and that he often imitated Ramsay and +Fergusson, and borrowed liberally from the old ballads, is by no means +to derogate from his genius. If he took, he gave with interest. The most +commonplace songs, after they had, as he said, "got a brushing" from his +hands, assumed a totally different aspect. Each ballad was merely a +piece of canvas, on which he inscribed his inimitable paintings. +Sometimes even by a single word he proclaimed the presence of the +master-poet, and by a single stroke exalted a daub into a picture. His +imitations of Ramsay and Fergusson far surpass the originals, and remind +you of Landseer's dogs, which seem better than the models from which he +drew. When a king accepts a fashion from a subject, he glorifies it, and +renders it the rage. It was in this royal style that Burns treated the +inferior writers who had gone before him; and although he highly admired +and warmly praised them, he must have felt a secret sense of his own +vast superiority. + +We come now shortly to speak of the influence he has exerted on Scottish +poetry. This was manifold. In the first place, a number were encouraged +by his success to collect and publish their poems, although few of them +possessed much merit; and he complained that some were a wretched +"spawn" of mediocrity, which the sunshine of his fame had warmed and +brought forth prematurely. Lapraik, for instance, was induced by the +praise of Burns to print an edition of his poems, which turned out a +total failure. There was only one good piece in it all, and _that_ was +pilfered from an old magazine. Secondly, Burns exerted an inspiring +influence on some men of real genius, who, we verily believe, would, but +for Burns, have never written, or, at least, written so well--such as +Alexander Wilson, Tannahill, Macneil, Hogg, and the numerous members of +the "Whistle-Binkie" school. In all these writers we trace the influence +of the large "lingering star" of the genius of Burns. "Wattie and Meg," +by Wilson, when it first appeared anonymously, was attributed to Burns. +Tannahill is, in much of his poetry, an echo of Burns, although in +song-writing he is a real original. Macneil was roused by Burns' praises +of whisky to give a _per contra_, in his "Scotland's Scaith; or, the +History of Will and Jean." And although the most of Hogg's poetry is +entirely original, we find the influence of Burns distinctly marked in +some of his songs--such as the "Kye come Hame." + +But there is a wider and more important light in which to regard the +influence of our great national Bard. He first fully revealed the +interest and the beauty which lie in the simpler forms of Scottish +scenery, he darted light upon the peculiarities of Scottish manners, and +he opened the warm heart of his native land. Scotland, previous to +Burns' poetry, was a spring shut up and a fountain sealed. + + "She lay like some unkenned-of isle + Ayont New Holland." + +The glories of her lakes, her glens, her streams, her mountains, the +hardy courage, the burning patriotism, the trusty attachments, the +loves, the games, the superstitions, and the devotion of her +inhabitants, were all unknown and unsuspected as themes for song till +Burns took them up, and less added glory than shewed the glory that was +in them, and shewed also that they opened up a field nearly +inexhaustible. Writers of a very high order were thus attracted to +Scotland, not merely as their native country, but as a theme for poetry; +and, while disdaining to imitate Burns' poetry slavishly, and some of +them not writing in verse at all, they found in Scottish subjects ample +scope for the exercise of their genius; and in some measure to his +influence we may attribute the fictions of Mrs Hamilton and Miss +Ferrier, Scott's poems and novels, Galt's, Lockhart's, Wilson's, +Delta's, and Aird's tales and poetry, and much of the poetry of +Campbell, who, although he never writes in Scotch, has embalmed, in his +"Lochiel's Warning," "Glenara," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," some +interesting subjects connected with Scotland, and has, in "Gertrude of +Wyoming," and in the "Pilgrim of Glencoe," made striking allusions to +Scottish scenery. That the progress of civilisation, apart from Burns, +would have ultimately directed the attention of cultivated men to a +country so peculiar and poetical as Scotland cannot be doubted; but the +rise of Burns hastened the result, as being itself a main element in +propelling civilisation and diffusing genuine taste. His dazzling +success, too, excited emulation in the breasts of our men of genius, as +well as tended to exalt in their eyes a country which had produced such +a stalwart and gifted son. We may, indeed, apply to the feeling of pride +which animates Scotchmen, and particularly Scotchmen in other lands, at +the thought of Burns being their countryman, the famous lines of +Dryden-- + + "Men met each other with erected look, + The steps were higher that they took; + Each to congratulate his friends made haste, + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd." + +The poor man, says Wilson, as he speaks of Burns, always holds up his +head and regards you with an elated look. Scotland has become more +venerable, more beautiful, more glorious in the eyes of her children, +and a fitter theme for poetry, since the feet of Burns rested on her +fields, and since his ardent eyes glowed with enthusiasm as he saw her +scenery, and as he sung her praise; while to many in foreign parts she +is chiefly interesting as being (what a portion of her has long been +called) the Land of Burns. + +The real successors of Burns, it is thus manifest, were not Tannahill or +Macneil, but Sir Walter Scott, Campbell, Aird, Delta, Galt, Allan +Cunningham, and Professor Wilson. To all of these, Burns, along with +Nature, united in teaching the lessons of simplicity, of brawny +strength, of clear common sense, and of the propriety of staying at home +instead of gadding abroad in search of inspiration. All of these have +been, like Burns, more or less intensely Scottish in their subjects and +in their spirit. + +That Burns' errors as a man have exerted a pernicious influence on many +since, is, we fear, undeniable. He had been taught, by the lives of the +"wits," to consider aberration, eccentricity, and "devil-may-careism" as +prime badges of genius, and he proceeded accordingly to astonish the +natives, many of whom, in their turn, set themselves to copy his faults. +But when we subtract some half-dozen pieces, either coarse in language +or equivocal in purpose, the influence of his poetry may be considered +good. (We of course say nothing here of the volume called the "Merry +Muses," still extant to disgrace his memory.) It is doubtful if his +"Willie brew'd a peck o' Maut" ever made a drunkard, but it is certain +that his "Cottar's Saturday Night" has converted sinners, edified the +godly, and made some erect family altars. It has been worth a thousand +homilies. And, taking his songs as a whole, they have done much to stir +the flames of pure love, of patriotism, of genuine sentiment, and of a +taste for the beauties of nature. And it is remarkable that all his +followers and imitators have, almost without exception, avoided his +faults while emulating his beauties; and there is not a sentence in +Scott, or Campbell, or Aird, or Delta, and not many in Wilson or Galt, +that can be charged with indelicacy, or even coarseness. So that, on the +whole, we may assert that, whatever evil he did by the example of his +life, he has done very little--but, on the contrary, much good, both +artistically and morally, by the influence of his poetry. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL, 1 + The wild glen sae green, 49 + Scotia's thistle, 50 + The land of gallant hearts, 51 + The yellow locks o' Charlie, 52 + We 'll meet yet again, 53 + Our ain native land, 54 + The Grecian war-song, 56 + Flora's lament, 57 + When the glen all is still, 58 + Scotland yet, 58 + The minstrel's grave, 60 + My own land and loved one, 61 + The bower of the wild, 62 + The crook and plaid, 63 + The minstrel's bower, 65 + When the star of the morning, 66 + Though all fair was that bosom, 67 + Would that I were where wild-woods wave, 68 + O tell me what sound, 69 + Our Mary, 70 + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS, 73 + Sweet bard of Ettrick's Glen, 75 + Young Jamie, 76 + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, 77 + Heard ye the bagpipe? 78 + Bruce's address, 79 + Removed from vain fashion, 80 + When shall we meet again? 81 + +JAMES KING, 83 + The lake is at rest, 85 + Life 's like the dew, 86 + +ISOBEL PAGAN, 88 + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 89 + +JOHN MITCHELL, 90 + Beauty, 91 + To the evening star, 92 + O waft me to the fairy clime, 92 + The love-sick maid, 93 + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON, 95 + The maid who wove, 96 + A sigh and a smile, 97 + +JOHN GOLDIE, 98 + And can thy bosom, 100 + Sweet 's the dew, 101 + +ROBERT POLLOK, 103 + The African maid, 105 + +J. C. DENOVAN, 106 + Oh! Dermot, dear loved one, 107 + +JOHN IMLAH, 108 + Kathleen, 109 + Hielan' heather, 110 + Farewell to Scotland, 111 + The rose of Seaton Vale, 112 + Katherine and Donald, 113 + Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a', 114 + The gathering, 115 + Mary, 116 + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, 117 + +JOHN TWEEDIE, 120 + Saw ye my Annie? 121 + +THOMAS ATKINSON, 122 + Mary Shearer, 124 + +WILLIAM GARDINER, 126 + Oh! Scotland's hills for me, 127 + +ROBERT HOGG, 129 + Queen of fairy's song, 131 + When autumn comes, 132 + Bonnie Peggie, O! 133 + A wish burst, 133 + I love the merry moonlight, 135 + Oh, what are the chains of love made of? 136 + +JOHN WRIGHT, 137 + An autumnal cloud, 139 + The maiden fair, 140 + The old blighted thorn, 141 + The wrecked mariner, 141 + +JOSEPH GRANT, 143 + The blackbird's hymn is sweet, 145 + Love's adieu, 146 + +DUGALD MOORE, 147 + Rise, my love, 149 + Julia, 150 + Lucy's grave, 152 + The forgotten brave, 153 + The first ship, 154 + Weep not, 155 + To the Clyde, 156 + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON, 158 + The Araby maid, 160 + The maiden's vow, 160 + I love the sea, 162 + +GEORGE ALLAN, 163 + Is your war-pipe asleep? 166 + I will think of thee yet, 167 + Lassie, dear lassie, 168 + When I look far down on the valley below me, 169 + I will wake my harp when the shades of even, 170 + +THOMAS BRYDSON, 172 + All lovely and bright, 173 + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY, 174 + She died in beauty, 177 + The Scottish blue bells, 177 + +ROBERT MILLER, 179 + Where are they? 179 + Lay of the hopeless, 180 + +ALEXANDER HUME, 182 + My wee, wee wife, 187 + O, poverty! 187 + Nanny, 188 + My Bessie, 189 + Menie Hay, 190 + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, 192 + Oh! years hae come, 193 + My mountain hame, 194 + +THOMAS SMIBERT, 195 + The Scottish widow's lament, 197 + The hero of St. John D'Acre, 199 + Oh! bonnie are the howes, 200 + Oh! say na you maun gang awa, 201 + +JOHN BETHUNE, 203 + Withered flowers, 207 + A spring song, 208 + +ALLAN STEWART, 211 + The sea boy, 212 + Menie Lorn, 213 + The young soldier, 214 + The land I love, 215 + +ROBERT L. MALONE, 216 + The thistle of Scotland, 217 + Hame is aye hamely, 218 + +PETER STILL, 220 + Jeanie's lament, 221 + Ye needna be courtin' at me, 222 + The bucket for me, 223 + +ROBERT NICOLL, 225 + Ordé Braes, 228 + The Muir o' Gorse and Broom, 229 + The bonnie Hieland hills, 230 + The bonnie rowan bush, 231 + Bonnie Bessie Lee, 233 + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING, 235 + The wild rose blooms, 236 + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE, 237 + The Wells o' Wearie, 239 + +ALEXANDER LAING, 241 + Ae happy hour, 243 + Lass gin ye wad lo'e me, 244 + Lass of Logie, 245 + My ain wife, 246 + The maid o' Montrose, 247 + Jean of Aberdeen, 249 + The hopeless exile, 250 + Glen-na-H'Albyn, 250 + +ALEXANDER CARLILE, 252 + Wha 's at the window, 253 + My brothers are the stately trees, 254 + The Vale of Killean, 255 + +JOHN NEVAY, 257 + The emigrant's love-letter, 259 + +THOMAS LYLE, 261 + Kelvin Grove, 264 + The trysting hour, 265 + Harvest song, 266 + +JAMES HOME, 267 + Mary Steel, 268 + Oh, hast thou forgotten? 269 + The maid of my heart, 270 + Song of the emigrant, 271 + This lassie o' mine, 272 + +JAMES TELFER, 273 + Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? 273 + I maun gae over the sea, 275 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + PAGE + +EVAN MACLACHLAN, 279 + A melody of love, 281 + The mavis of the clan, 282 + +JOHN BROWN, 286 + The sisters of Dunolly, 287 + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D., 289 + Luineag--a love carol, 290 + +ANGUS FLETCHER, 292 + The Clachan of Glendaruel, 292 + The lassie of the glen, 294 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 295 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL. + + +Henry Scott Riddell, one of the most powerful and pleasing of the living +national song-writers, was born on the 23d September 1798, at Sorbie, in +the Vale of Ewes--a valley remarkable for its pastoral beauty, lying in +the south-east of Dumfriesshire. His father was a shepherd, well +acquainted with the duties of his profession, and a man of strong though +uneducated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr +Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become +able to traverse both _burn_ and _brae_, hill and glen, I frequently +returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity. +We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms +'_an out-bye herding_,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called +Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this +remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors, +ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter +Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly.... +Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was +one whom I have good reason to remember--the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I +forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become +older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of +heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and +pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men +naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise +few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of +recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural +roof--the shepherd's _bien_ and happy home. This was about the time when +Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the +circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in +his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read +them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these +meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to +make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore +the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to +deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and +self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own +attractions, and can subsist on its own resources. + +"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border +ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and +careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung +twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his +family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk, +and there for one year occupied a farm belonging to Thomas Beattie, Esq. +of Muckledale, and who, when my father was in Ewes, had been his +friend. My employment here was, along with a younger brother, to tend +the cows. In the winter season we entered the Corrie school, but had +only attended a short while when we both took fever, and our attendance +was not resumed. At Langshawburn, my father for several winters hired a +person into his house, who taught his family and that of a neighbouring +shepherd. In consequence of our distance from any place of regular +education, I had also been boarded at several schools--at Devington in +Eskdale, Roberton on Borthwick Water, and Newmill on the Teviot, at each +of which, however, I only remained a short time, making, I suppose, such +progress as do other boys who love the football better than the +spelling-book. + +"At the Whitsunday term my father relinquished his farm, and returned to +his former employment in the Forest of Ettrick, under Mr Scott of +Deloraine, to whom he had been a shepherd in his younger days. With this +family, indeed, and that of Mr Borthwick, then of Sorbie, and late of +Hopesrigg, all his years since he could wear the plaid were passed, with +the exception of the one just mentioned. It was at Deloraine that I +commenced the shepherd's life in good earnest. Through the friendly +partiality of our employer, I was made principal shepherd at an age +considerably younger than it is usual for most others to be intrusted +with so extensive a _hirsel_[1] as was committed to my care. I had by +this time, however, served what might be regarded as a regular +apprenticeship to the employment, which almost all sons of shepherds do, +whether they adhere to herding sheep in after-life or not. Seasons and +emergencies not seldom occur when the aid which the little boy can lend +often proves not much less availing than that of the grown-up man. +Education in this line consequently commences early. A knowledge of the +habits, together with the proper treatment of sheep, and therefore of +pastoral affairs in general, 'grows with the growth' of the individual, +and becomes, as it were, a portion of his nature. I had thus assisted my +father more or less all along; and when a little older, though still a +mere boy, I went for a year to a friend at Glencotha, in Holmswater, as +assistant shepherd or lamb-herd. Another year in the same capacity I was +with a shepherd in Wester Buccleuch. It was at Glencotha that I first +made a sustained attempt to compose in rhyme. When in Wester Buccleuch +my life was much more lonely, and became more tinged with thoughts and +feelings of a romantic cast. Owing to the nature of the stock kept on +the farm, it was my destiny day after day to be out among the mountains +during the whole summer season from early morn till the fall of even. +But the long summer days, whether clear or cloudy, never seemed long to +me--I never wearied among the wilds. My flocks being _hirsled_, as it is +expressed, required vigilance: but, if this was judiciously maintained, +the task was for the most part an easy and pleasant one. I know not if +it be worth while to mention that the hills and glens on which my charge +pastured at this period formed a portion of what in ancient times was +termed the Forest of Rankleburn. The names of places in the district, +though there were no other more intelligible traditions, might serve to +shew that it is a range of country to which both kings and nobles had +resorted. If from morning to night I was away far from the homes of +living men, I was not so in regard to those of the dead. Where a lesser +stream from the wild uplands comes down and meets the Rankleburn, a +church or chapel once stood, surrounded, like most other consecrated +places of the kind, by a burial-ground. There tradition says that five +dukes, some say kings, lie buried under a marble stone. I had heard that +Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, had, a number of years previously, made a +pilgrimage to this place, for the purpose of discovering the sepulchres +of the great and nearly forgotten dead, but without success. This, +however, tended, in my estimation, to confirm the truth of the +tradition; and having enough of time and opportunity, I made many a +toilsome effort of a similar nature, with the same result. With hills +around, wild and rarely trodden, and the ceaseless yet ever-varying +tinkling of its streams, together with the mysterious echoes which the +least stir seemed to awaken, the place was not only lonely, but also +creative of strange apprehensions, even in the hours of open day. It is +strange that the heart will fear the dead, which, perhaps, never feared +the living. Though I could muster and maintain courage to dig +perseveringly among the dust of the long-departed when the sun shone in +the sky, yet when the shadow of night was coming, or had come down upon +the earth, the scene was sacredly secure from all inroad on my part: and +to make the matter sufficiently intelligible, I may further mention +that, some years afterwards, when I took a fancy one evening to travel +eight miles to meet some friends in a shepherd's lone muirland dwelling, +I made the way somewhat longer for the sake of evading the impressive +loneliness of this locality. I had no belief that I should meet accusing +spirits of the dead; but I disliked to be troubled in waging war with +those _eery_ feelings which are the offspring of superstitious +associations. + +"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could get a book which +was not already threadbare. I had a few chisels, and files, and other +tools, with which I took pleasure in constructing, of wood or bone, +pieces of mechanism; and I kept a diary in which I wrote many minute and +trivial matters, as well, no doubt as I then thought, many a sage +observation. In this, likewise, I wrote rude rhymes on local +occurrences. But I have anticipated a little. On returning home from +Glencotha, and two years before I went to Buccleuch, a younger brother +and I had still another round at herding cattle, which pastured in a +park near by my father's cottage. Our part was to protect a meadow which +formed a portion of it; and the task being easy to protect that for +which the cattle did not much care, nor yet could skaithe greatly though +they should trespass upon it, we were far too idle not to enter upon and +prosecute many a wayward and unprofitable ploy. Our predilections for +taming wild birds--the wilder by nature the better--seemed boundless; +and our family of hawks, and owls, and ravens was too large not to cost +us much toil, anxiety, and even sorrow. We fished in the Ettrick and the +lesser streams. These last suited our way of it best, since we generally +fished with staves and plough-spades--thus far, at least, honourably +giving the objects of our pursuit a fair chance of escape. When the hay +had been won, we went to Ettrick school, at which we continued +throughout the winter, travelling to and from it daily, though it lay at +the distance of five miles. This we, in good weather, accomplished +conveniently enough; but it proved occasionally a serious and toilsome +task through wind and rain, or keen frost and deep snow, when winter +days and the mountain blasts came on. + +"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the +Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an _out-bye herding_, under the same +employer. In the winter season either I or some other of the family +assisted him; but so often as the weather was fine, we went to a school +instituted by a farmer in the neighbourhood for behoof of his own +family. When by and by I went to herd the _hirsel_ which my father +formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and +was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another _hirsel_ +lying contiguous, and which my elder brother herded, was for the summer +season of the year added to mine, so that this already large was made +larger; but exempted as I was from attending to aught else but my flock, +I had pleasant days, for I loved the wilds among which it had become +alike my destiny and duty to walk at will, and 'view the sheep thrive +bonnie.' The hills of Ettrick are generally wild and green, and those of +them on which I daily wandered, musing much and writing often, were as +high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality +arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the +most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy +thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him. +Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of +bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the +ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On +the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the +majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul, +that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so +vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always +enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake-- + + "'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain + Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign, + In numbers fearless all as unconfined, + And wild as wailings of the desert wind.' + +"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains, +and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results +of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog--his constant +companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would +little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to +pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the +loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the +while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I +came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at +any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow +these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an +epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:-- + + "'My early years were pass'd far on + The hills of Ettrick wild and lone; + Through summer sheen and winter shade + Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd. + In bold enthusiastic glee + I sung rude strains of minstrelsy, + Which mingling with died o'er the dale, + Unheeded as the plover's wail. + Oft where the waving rushes shed + A shelter frail around my head, + Weening, though not through hopes of fame, + To fix on these more lasting claim, + I'd there secure in rustic scroll + The wayward fancies of the soul. + Even where yon lofty rocks arise, + Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies, + Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath + The colder cone of drifted wreath, + I noted them afar from ken, + Till ink would freeze within the pen; + So deep the spell which bound the heart + Unto the bard's undying art-- + So rapt the charm that still beguiled + The minstrel of the mountains wild.' + +"The ancients had a maxim--'Revenge is sweet.' In rural, as well as in +other life, there are things said and done which are more or less +ungenerous. These, if at any time they came my way, I repelled as best I +might. But I did not stop here; whether such matters, when occurring, +might concern myself as an individual or not, I took it upon me, as if I +had been a 'learned judge,' to write satires upon such persons as I knew +or conceived to have spoken or acted in aught contrary to good manners. +These squibs were written through the impulse of offended feeling, or +the stirrings of that injudicious spirit which sometimes prompts a man +to exercise a power merely because he possesses it. They were still, +after all, only as things of private experiment, and not intended ever +to go forth to the world--though it happened otherwise. I usually +carried a lot of these writings in my hat, and by and by, unlike most +other young authors, I got a publisher unsought for. This was the wind, +which, on a wild day, swept my hat from my head, and tattering its +contents asunder from their fold, sent them away over hill and dale like +a flock of wild fowl. I recovered some where they had halted in bieldy +places; others of them went further, and fell into other hands, and +particularly into those of a neighbour, who, a short while previously, +had played an unmanly part relating to a sheep and the march which ran +between us. He found his unworthy proceeding boldly discussed, in an +epistle which, I daresay, no other carrier would ever have conveyed to +him but the unblushing mountain blast. He complained to others, whom he +found more or less involved in his own predicament, and the thing went +disagreeably abroad. My master, through good taste and feeling, was +vexed, as I understood, that I should have done anything that gave +ground for accusation, though he did not mention the subject to myself; +but my father, some days after the mischief had commenced, came to me +upon the hill, and not in very good humour, disapproved of my imprudent +conduct. As for the consequences of this untoward event, it proved the +mean of revealing what I had hitherto concealed--procuring for me a sort +of local popularity little to be envied. I made the best improvement of +it, as I then thought, that lay in my power--by writing a satire upon +myself. + +"I continued shepherd at Deloraine two years, and then went in the same +capacity to the late Mr Knox of Todrigg; and if at the former place I +had been well and happy, here I was still more so. His son William, the +poet of 'The Lonely Hearth,' paid me much friendly attention. He +commended my verses, and augured my success as one of the song-writers +of my native land. In those days, I did not write with the most remote +view to publication. My aim did not extend beyond the gratification of +hearing my mountain strains sung by lad or lass, as time and place might +favour. And when, in the dewy gloaming of a summer eve, returning home +from the hill, and 'the kye were in the loan,' I did hear this much, I +thought, no doubt, that + + "'The swell and fall of these wild tones + Were worth the pomp of a thousand thrones.' + +"William Crozier, author of 'The Cottage Muse,' was also my neighbour +and friend at Todrigg, during the summer part of the year; and even at +this hour I feel delight in recalling to memory the happy harmony of +thought and feeling that blended with and enhanced the genial sunshine +of those departed days. I rejoice to dwell upon those remote and +rarely-trodden pastoral solitudes, among which my lot in the early years +of life was so continually cast; few may well conceive how distinctly I +can recall them. Memory, which seems often to constitute the mind +itself, more, perhaps, than any other faculty, can set them so brightly +before me, as if they were painted on a dark midnight sky with brushes +dipped in the essence of living light. To appreciate thoroughly the +grandeur of the mountain solitudes, it is necessary to have dwelt among +the scenes, and to have looked upon them at every season of the +ever-changing year. They are fresh with solemn beauty, when bathed in +the deep dews of a summer morning; or in autumn, if you have attained to +the border of the mystery which has overhung your path, and therefore to +a station high enough for the survey, all that meets the eye shall be as +a dream of poetry itself. The deep folds of white vapour fill up glen +and hollow, till the summit of the mountains, near and far away--far as +sight itself can penetrate--are only seen tinged with the early radiance +of the sun, the whole so combined as to appear a limitless plain of +variegated marble, peaceful as heaven, and solemnly serene as eternity. +What Winter writes with his frozen finger I need not state. When the +venerable old man, Gladstanes, perished among the stormy blasts of these +wilds, I was one of about threescore of men who for three days traversed +them in search of the dead. Then was the scenery of the mountains +impressive, much beyond what can well be spoken. The bridal that loses +the bride through some wayward freak of the fair may be sad enough; so +also the train, in its dark array, that conveys the familiar friend to +the chamber where the light of nature cannot come. But in this latter +case, the hearts that still beat, necessarily know that their part is +resignation, and suspense and anxiety mingle not in the mood of the +living, as it relates to the dead; but otherwise is it with those who +seem already constituting the funeral train of one who should have +been--yet who is not there to be buried. + + "'The feeling is nameless that makes us unglad, + And a strange, wild dismayment it brings; + Which yet hath no match in the solemn and sad + Desolation of men and of things. + + * * * * * + + "'The hill-foxes howl'd round the wanderer's way, + When his aim and his pathway were lost; + And effort has then oft too much of dismay + To pay well the toil it may cost. + If fate has its privilege, death has its power, + And is fearful where'er it may fall, + But worse it may seem 'mong the blasts of the moor, + Where all that approaches portends to devour, + Nor fixes till first it appal. + + "'No mercy obtains in the tempests that rave, + By the sky-frozen elements fed, + And there comes no hand that is willing to save, + And soothe, till the spirit be fled; + But the storms round the thrones of the wilderness break + O'er the frail in the solitude cast, + And howl in their strength and impatience to take + Their course to commix with the roar of the lake + Where it flings forth its foam on the blast. + + "'Lo! 'neath where the heath hangs so dark o'er yon peak, + Another of Adam lay lone, + Where the bield could not shelter the weary and weak, + By the strife of the tempest o'erthrown. + No raven had fed, and the hill-fox had fled, + If there he had yet come abroad, + And the stillness reign'd deep o'er his cold moorland bed, + Which came down in the power of the sleep of the dead + When the spirit return'd to its God.' + + * * * * * + +These are a few out of many more lines written on this subject, which at +the time was so deeply interesting to mind and heart." + +Mr Riddell here states that his poetical style of composition about this +period underwent a considerable change. He laid aside his wayward wit +for serious sentiment, an improvement which he ascribes to his +admiration of the elegant strains of his friend, young Knox. + +"My fortune in life," he proceeds, "had not placed me within the reach +of a library, and I had read almost none; and although I had attempted +to write, I merely followed the course which instinct pointed out. Need +I state further, that if in these days I employed my mind and pen among +the mountains as much as possible, my thoughts also often continued to +pursue the same practice, even when among others, by the 'farmer's +ingle.' I retired to rest when others retired, but if not outworn by +matters of extra toil, the ardour of thought, through love of the poet's +undying art, would, night after night for many hours, debar the inroads +of sleep. The number of schools which I have particularised as having +attended may occasion some surprise at the deficiency of my scholarship. +For this, various reasons are assignable, all of which, however, hinge +upon these two formidable obstacles--the inconveniency of local +position, and the thoughtless inattention of youth. In remote country +places, long and rough ways, conjoined not unfrequently with wild +weather, require that children, before they can enter school, be pretty +well grown up; consequently, they quit it the sooner. They are often +useful at home in the summer season, or circumstances may destine them +to hire away. Among these inconveniences, one serious drawback is, that +the little education they do get is rarely obtained continuously, and +regular progress is interrupted. Much of what has been gained is lost +during the intervals of non-attendance, and every new return to the book +is little else than a new beginning. So was it with me. At the time when +my father hired a teacher into his house, it was for what is termed the +winter quarter, and I was then somewhat too young to be tied down to the +regular routine of school discipline; and if older when boarded away, +the other obstruction to salutary progress began to operate grievously +against me. I acquired bit by bit the common education--reading, +writing, and arithmetic. So far as I remember, grammar was not much +taught at any of these schools, and the spelling of words was very +nearly as little attended to as the meaning which they are appointed to +convey was explained or sought after. + +"But the non-understanding of words is less to be marvelled at than that +a man should not understand himself. At this hour I cannot conceive how +I should have been so recklessly careless about learning and books when +at school, and yet so soon after leaving it seriously inclined towards +them. I see little else for it than to suppose that boys who are bred +where they have no companions are prone to make the most of +companionship when once attained to. And then, in regard to books, as of +these I rarely got more than what might serve as a whet to the appetite, +I might have the desire of those whose longings after what they would +obtain are increased by the difficulties which interpose between them +and the possession. One book which in school I sometimes got a glance +of, I would have given anything to possess: this was a small volume +entitled, 'The Three Hundred Animals.' + +"I cannot forbear mentioning that, when at Deloraine, I was greatly +advantaged by an old woman, called Mary Hogg, whose cottage stood on an +isolated corner of the lands on which my flock pastured. Her husband had +been a shepherd, who, many years previous to this period, perished in a +snow-storm. In her youth she had opportunities of reading history, and +other literature, and she did not only remember well what she had read, +but could give a distinct and interesting account of it. In going my +wonted rounds, few days there were on which I did not call and listen to +her intelligent conversation. She was a singularly good woman--a sincere +Christian; and the books which she lent me were generally of a religious +kind, such as the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the 'Holy War;' but here I +also discovered a romance, the first which I had ever seen. It was +printed in the Gothic letter, and entitled 'Prissimus, the Renowned +Prince of Bohemia.' Particular scenes and characters in 'Ivanhoe' +reminded me strikingly of those which I had formerly met with in this +old book of black print. And I must mention that few books interested me +more than 'Bailey's Dictionary.' Day after day I bore it to the +mountains, and I have an impression that it was a more comprehensive +edition of the work than I have ever since been able to meet with. + +"At Todrigg my reading was extended; and having begun more correctly to +appreciate what I did read, the intention which I had sometimes +entertained gathered strength: this was to make an effort to obtain a +regular education. The consideration of the inadequacy of my means had +hitherto bridled my ambition; but having herded as a regular shepherd +nearly three years, during which I had no occasion to spend much of my +income, my prospects behoved to be a little more favourable. It was in +this year that the severest trial which had yet crossed my path had to +be sustained. The death of my father overthrew my happier mood; at the +same time, instead of subduing my secret aim, the event rather +strengthened my determination. My portion of my father's worldly effects +added something considerable to my own gainings; and, resigning my +situation, I bade farewell to the crook and plaid. I went to Biggar, in +Clydesdale, where I knew the schoolmaster was an approved classical +scholar. Besides, my Glencotha reminiscences tended to render me partial +to this part of the world, and in the village I had friends with whom I +could suitably reside. The better to insure attention to what I was +undertaking, I judged it best to attend school during the usual hours. A +learner was already there as old in years, and nearly as stout in form, +as myself, so that I escaped from the wonderment which usually attaches +to singularity much more comfortably than I anticipated. There were also +two others in the school, who had formerly gone a considerable way in +the path of classic lore, and had turned aside, but who, now repenting +of their apostasy, returned to their former faith. These were likewise +well grown up, and I may state that they are now both eminent as +scholars and public men. The individual first mentioned and I sat in the +master's desk, which he rarely, if ever, occupied himself; and although +we were diligent upon the whole, yet occasionally our industry and +conduct as learners were far from deserving approbation. To me the +confinement was frequently irksome and oppressive, especially when the +days were bright with the beauty of sunshine. There were ways, woods, +and even wilds, not far apart from the village, which seemed eternally +wooing the step to retirement, and the mind to solitary contemplation. +Some verses written in this school have been preserved, which will +convey an idea of the cast of feeling which produced them:-- + + "Discontented and uncheery, + Of this noise and learning weary, + Half my mind, to madness driven, + Woos the lore by nature given; + 'Mong fair fields and flowing fountains, + Lonely glens and lofty mountains, + Charm'd with nature's wildest grandeur, + Lately wont was I to wander, + Wheresoever fancy led me, + Came no barrier to impede me; + Still from early morn till even, + In the light of earth and heaven, + Musing on whatever graces, + Livelier scenes or lonelier places, + Till a nameless pleasure found me + Living, like a dream, around me,-- + How, then, may I be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented! + + "'Still, oh! still 'twere lovelier rather + To be roaming through the heather; + And where flow'd the stream so glassy, + 'Mong its flowers and margins mossy, + Where the flocks at noon their path on + Came to feed by birk and hawthorn; + Or upon the mountain lofty, + Seated where the wind blew softly, + With my faithful friend beside me, + And my plaid from sun to hide me, + And the volume oped before me, + I would trace the minstrel's story, + Or mine own wild harp awaken, + 'Mid the deep green glens of braken, + Free and fearlessly revealing + All the soul of native feeling. + + "''Stead of that eternal humming, + To the ear for ever coming-- + Humming of these thoughtless beings, + In their restless pranks and pleaings; + And the sore-provoked preceptor + Roaring, "Silence!"--O'er each quarter + Silence comes, as o'er the valley, + Where all rioted so gaily, + When the sudden bursting thunder + Overpowers with awe and wonder-- + Till again begins the fuss-- + 'Master, Jock's aye nippin' us!' + I could hear the fountains flowing, + Where the light hill-breeze was blowing, + And the wild-wing'd plover wailing, + Round the brow of heaven sailing; + Bleating flocks and skylarks singing, + Echo still to echo ringing-- + Sounds still, still so wont to waken + That no note of them is taken, + Yet which seem to lend assistance + To the blessing of existence. + + "'Who shall trow thee wise or witty, + Lore of "the Eternal City," + Or derive delight and pleasure + From the blood-stain'd deeds of Cæsar, + Thus bewildering his senses + 'Mong these cases, moods, and tenses? + Still the wrong-placed words arranging, + Ever in their finals changing; + Out and in with hic and hockings, + Like a loom for working stockings. + Latin lords and Grecian heroes-- + Oh, ye gods, in mercy spare us! + How may mortals be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented!' + +"My teacher, the late Richard Scott, was an accurate classical scholar, +which perhaps accounts for his being, unlike some others of his +profession, free from pedantry. He was kind-hearted and somewhat +disposed to indolence, loving more to converse with one of my years than +to instruct him in languages. He had seen a good deal of the world and +its ways, and I learned much from him besides Greek and Latin. We were +great friends and companions, and rarely separate when both of us were +unengaged otherwise. + +"I bore aloof from making many acquaintances; yet, ere long, I became +pretty extensively acquainted with the people of the place. It went +abroad that I was a bard from the mountains, and the rumour affixed to +me a popularity which I did not enjoy. A party of young men in the +village had prepared themselves to act 'the Douglas Tragedy,' and wished +a song, which was to be sung between this and the farce. The air was of +their own fixing, and which, in itself, was wild and beautiful; but, +unfortunately, like many others of our national airs possessed of these +qualities, it was of a measure such as rendered it difficult to write +words for. Since precluded from introducing poetic sentiment, I +substituted a dramatic plot, and being well sung by alternate voices, +the song was well received, and so my fame was enhanced. + +"It was about this time that I wrote 'The Crook and Plaid'--not by +request, but with the intention of supplanting a song, I think of +English origin, called 'The Plough-boy,' and of a somewhat questionable +character. 'The Crook and Plaid' accomplished the end intended, and soon +became popular throughout the land. So soon as I got a glimpse of the +Roman language, I began to make satisfactory progress in its +acquisition. But I daily wrote more or less in my old way--now also +embracing in my attempts prose as well as verse. I wrote a Border +Romance. This was more strongly than correctly expressed. Hogg, who took +the trouble of reading it, gave me his opinion, by saying that there +were more rawness and more genius in it than in any work he had seen. +It, sometime afterwards, had also the honour of being read--for I never +offered it for publication--by one who felt much interest in the +characters and plot--Professor Wilson's lady--who, alas! went too early +to where he himself also now is; lost, though not to fond recollection, +yet to love and life below. I contributed some papers to the _Clydesdale +Magazine_, and I sent a sort of poetic tale to the editor, telling him +to do with it whatever he might think proper. He published it +anonymously, and it was sold about Clydesdale. + +"My intention had been to qualify myself for the University, and, +perhaps in regard to Latin and Greek acquirements, I might have +proceeded thither earlier than I ventured to do; but having now made +myself master of my more immediate tasks, I took more liberty. A +gentleman, who, on coming home after having made his fortune abroad, +took up his residence at Biggar. I had, in these days, an aversion to +coming into contact with rich strangers, and although he lived with a +family which I was accustomed to visit, I bore aloof from being +introduced to him. But he came to me one day on the hill of +Bizzie-berry, and frankly told me that he wished to be acquainted with +me, and therefore had taken the liberty of introducing himself. I found +excuse for not dining with him on that day, but not so the next, nor for +many days afterwards. He was intellectual--and his intelligence was only +surpassed by his generosity. He gave me to understand that his horse was +as much at my service as his own; and one learned, by and by, to keep +all wishes and wants as much out of view as possible, in case that they +should be attended to when you yourself had forgotten them. When he +began to rally me about my limited knowledge of the world, I knew that +some excursion was in contemplation. We, on one occasion, rode down the +Clyde, finding out, so far as we might, all things, both natural and +artificial, worthy of being seen; and when at Greenock, he was anxious +that we should have gone into the Highlands, but I resisted; for +although not so much as a shade of the expenses was allowed to fall on +me, I felt only the more ashamed of the extent of them. + +"I had become acquainted with a number of people whom I delighted to +visit occasionally; one family in particular, who lived amid the beauty +of 'the wild glen sae green.' The song now widely known by this name I +wrote for a member of this delightful family, who at that time herded +one of the _hirsels_ of his father's flocks on 'the heathy hill.' With +the greater number of persons in the district possessing literary tastes +I became more or less intimate. The schoolmasters I found friendly and +obliging; one of these, in particular (now holding a higher office in +the same locality), I often visited. His high poetic taste convinced me +more and more of the value of mental culture, and tended to subdue me +from those more rugged modes of expression in which I took a pride in +conveying my conceptions. With this interesting friend I sometimes took +excursions into rural regions more or less remote, and once we journeyed +to the south, when I had the pleasure of introducing him to the Ettrick +Shepherd. But of my acquaintances, I valued few more than my modest and +poetic friend, the late James Brown of Symington.[2] Though humble in +station, he was high in virtuous worth. His mind, imbued with and +regulated by sound religious and moral principle, was as ingenious and +powerful as his heart was 'leal, warm, and kind.' + +"Entering the University of Edinburgh, I took for the first session the +Greek and Latin classes. Attending them regularly, I performed the +incumbent exercises much after the manner that others did--only, as I +have always understood it to be a rare thing with the late Mr Dunbar, +the Greek Professor, to give much praise to anything in the shape of +poetry, I may mention that marked merit was ascribed to me in his class +for a poetical translation of one of the odes of Anacreon. I had laid +the translation on his desk, in an anonymous state, one day before the +assembling of the class. He read it and praised it, expressing at the +same time his anxiety to know who was the translator; but the translator +having intended not to acknowledge it, kept quiet. He returned to it, +and praising it anew, expressed still more earnestly his desire to know +the author; and so I made myself known, as all _great unknowns_ I think, +with the exception of Junius, are sooner or later destined to do. + +"Of the philosophical classes, those that I liked best were the Logic +and Moral Philosophy--particularly the latter. I have often thought that +it is desirable, could it be possibly found practicable, to have all the +teachers of the higher departments of education not merely of high +scholastic acquirements, but of acknowledged genius. Youth reveres +genius, and delights to be influenced by it; heart and spirit are kept +awake and refreshed by it, and everything connected with its +forthgivings is rendered doubly memorable. It fixes, in a certain sense, +the limit of expectation, and the prevailing sentiment is--we are under +the tuition of the highest among those on earth who teach; if we do not +profit here, we may not hope to do so elsewhere. These remarks I make +with a particular reference to the late Professor Wilson, under the +influence of whose genius and generous warmth of heart many have felt as +I was wont to feel. If it brings hope and gladness to love and esteem +the living, it also yields a satisfaction, though mingled with regret, +to venerate the dead; and now that he is no more, I cannot forbear +recording how he treated a man from the mountains who possessed no +previous claim upon his attention. I had no introduction to him, but he +said that he had heard of me, and would accept of no fee for his class +when I joined it; at least he would not do so, he said, till I should be +able to inform him whether or not I had been pleased with his lectures. +But it proved all the same in this respect at the close as it was at the +commencement of the session. He invited me frequently to his house as a +friend, when other friends were to meet him there, besides requesting me +to come and see him and his family whenever I could make it convenient. +He said that his servant John was very perverse, and would be sure to +drive me by like all others, if he possibly could; so he gave me a +watchword, which he thought John, perverse as he was, would not venture +to resist. I thus became possessed of a privilege of which I did not +fail to avail myself frequently--a privilege which might well have been +gratifying to such as were much less enthusiastic with regard to +literary men and things than I was. To share in the conversation of +those possessed of high literary taste and talent, and, above all, of +poetic genius, is the highest enjoyment afforded by society; and if it +be thus gratifying, it is almost unnecessary to add that it is also +advantageous in no ordinary degree, if, indeed, properly appreciated +and improved. Any one who ever met the late Professor in the midst of +his own happy family, constituted as it was when I had this pleasure, +was not likely soon to forget a scene wherein so much genius, kindness, +loveliness, and worth were blended. If the world does not think with a +deep and undying regret of what once adorned it, and it has now lost, +through the intervention of those shadows which no morning but the +eternal one can remove, I am one, at least, who in this respect cannot +follow its example. + +"Edinburgh, with its 'palaces and towers,' and its many crowded ways, +was at first strangely new to me, being as different, in almost all +respects, to what I had been accustomed as it might seem possible for +contrariety to make earthly things. Though I had friends in it, and +therefore was not solitary, yet its tendency, like that of the noisy and +restless sea, was to render me melancholy. Some features which the +congregated condition of mankind exhibited penetrated my heart with +something like actual dismay. I had seen nothing of the sort, nor yet +even so much as a semblance of it, and therefore I had no idea that +there existed such a miserable shred of degradation, for example, as a +cinder-woman--desolate and dirty as her employment--bowed down--a shadow +among shadows--busily prone, beneath the sheety night sky, to find out +and fasten upon the crumb, whose pilgrimage certainly had not improved +it since falling from the rich man's table. Compassion, though not +naturally so, becomes painful when entertained towards those whom we +believe labouring under suffering which we fain would but cannot +alleviate. + +"I had enough of curiosity for wishing to see all those things which +others spoke of, and characterised as worthy of being seen; but I +contented myself meanwhile with a survey of the city's external +attributes. In a week or two, however, my friend A. F. Harrower, +formerly mentioned, having come into town from Clydesdale, took pleasure +in finding out whatever could interest or gratify me, and of conveying +me thither. With very few exceptions, every forenoon he called at my +lodgings, leaving a note requesting me to meet him at some specified +time and place. I sometimes sent apologies, and at other times went +personally to apologise; but neither of these methods answered well. +Through his persevering attentions towards me, I met with much agreeable +society, and saw much above as well as somewhat below the earth, which I +might never otherwise have seen. In illustration of the latter fact, I +may state that, having gone to London, he returned with two Englishmen, +when he invited me to assist them in exploring the battle-field of +Pinkie. We terminated our excursion by descending one of Sir John Hope's +coal-pits. These humorous and frank English associates amused themselves +by bantering my friend and myself about the chastisement which Scotland +received from the sister kingdom at Pinkie. As did the young rustic +countryman--or, at least, was admonished to do--so did I. When going +away to reside in England, he asked his father if he had any advice to +give him. 'Nane, Jock, nane but this,' he said; 'dinna forget to avenge +the battle o' Pinkie on them.' Ere I slept I wrote, in support of our +native land, the song--'Ours is the land of gallant hearts;' and thus, +in my own way, 'avenged the battle of Pinkie.' + +"One of two other friends with whom I delighted to associate was R. B., +an early school companion, who, having left the mountains earlier than I +did, had now been a number of years in Edinburgh. Of excellent head and +generous heart, he loved the wild, green, and deep solitudes of nature. +The other--G. M'D.--was of powerful and bold intellect, and remarkable +for a retentive memory. Each of us, partial to those regions where +nature strives to maintain her own undisturbed dominion, on all holidays +hied away from the city, to the woodland and mountainous haunts, or the +loneliness of the least frequented shores of the sea. The spirit of our +philosophy varied much--sometimes profound and solemn, and sometimes +humorous; but still we philosophised, wandering on. They were members of +a literary society which met once a week, and which I joined. My +propensity to study character and note its varieties was here afforded a +field opening close upon me; but I was also much profited by performing +my part in carrying forward the business of the institution. During all +the sessions that I attended the University, but especially as these +advanced toward their termination, I entered into society beyond that +which might be regarded as professionally literary. I had an idea then, +as I still have, that, in every process of improvement, care should be +taken that one department of our nature is not cultivated to the neglect +of another. There are two departments--the intellectual and the +moral;--the one implying all that is rational, the other comprising +whatever pertains to feeling and passion, or, more simply, there are the +head and the heart; and if the intellect is to be cultivated, the heart +is not to be allowed to run into wild waste, nor to sink into systematic +apathy. Lore-lighted pages and unremitting abstract studies will make a +man learned; but knowledge is not wisdom; and to know much is not so +desirable, because it is not so beneficial, either to ourselves or +others, as to understand, through the more generous and active +sympathies of our nature, how the information which we possess may be +best applied to useful purposes. This we shall not well know, if the +head be allowed or encouraged to leave the heart behind. If we forget +society it will forget us, and, through this estrangement, a sympathetic +knowledge of human nature may be lost. Thus, in the haunts of seclusion +and solitary thought our acquirements may only prove availing to +ourselves as matters of self-gratification. The benevolent affections, +which ought not merely to be allowed, but taught to expand, may thus not +only be permitted but encouraged to contract, and the exercise of that +studious ingenuity, which perhaps leads the world to admire the +achievements of learning, thus deceive us into a state of existence +little better than cold selfishness itself. Sir Isaac Newton, who soared +so high and travelled so far on the wing of abstract thought, gathering +light from the stars that he might convey it in intelligible shape to +the world, seems to have thought, high as the employment was, that it +was not good, either for the heart or mind of man, to be always away +from that intercourse with humanity and its affairs which is calculated +to awaken and sustain the sympathies of life; and therefore turned to +the contemplation of Him who was _meek and lowly_. And no countenance +has been afforded to monks and hermits who retired from the world, +though it even was to spend their lives in meditation and prayer; for +Heaven had warned man, at an early date, not to withhold the +compassionate feelings of the heart, and the helping-hand, from any in +whom he recognised the attributes of a common nature, saying to him, +'See that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh.' + +"My last year's attendance at the College Philosophical Classes was at +St Andrews. I had a craving to acquaint myself with a city noted in +story, and I could not, under the canopy of my native sky, have planted +the step among scenes more closely interwoven with past national +transactions, or fraught with more interesting associations. In +attending the Natural Philosophy Class, not being proficient in +mathematic lore, I derived less advantage than had otherwise been the +case with me. Yet I did not sit wholly in the shade, notwithstanding +that the light which shone upon me did not come from that which Campbell +says yielded 'the lyre of Heaven another string.' A man almost always +finds some excuse for deficiency; and I have one involving a philosophy +which I think few will be disposed to do otherwise than acquiesce +in--namely, that it is a happy arrangement in the creation and history +of man, that all minds are not so constituted as to have the same +predilections, or to follow the same bent. Considering that I had +started at a rather late hour of life to travel in the paths of +learning, and having so many things, interesting and important, to +attend to by the way, it was perhaps less remarkable that I should be +one who 'neither kenn'd nor cared' much about lines that had no breadth, +and points which were without either breadth or length, than that I +should have felt gratified to find on my arrival some of my simple +strains sung in a city famed for its scientific acquirements. + +"The ruins which intermingle with the scenery and happy homes of St +Andrews, like gray hairs among those of another hue, rendered venerable +the general aspect of the place. But I did not feel only the city +interesting, but the whole of Fifeshire. By excursions made on the +monthly holidays then as well as subsequently, when in after-years I +returned to visit friends in the royal realm, I acquainted myself with a +goodly number of those haunts and scenes which history and tradition +have rendered attractive. A land, however, or any department of it, +whatever may be its other advantages, is most to be valued in respect of +the intelligence or worth of its inhabitants. And if so, then I am proud +to aver that in Fife I came to possess many intelligent and excellent +friends. Many of these have gone to another land--'the land o' the +leal,' leaving the places which now know them no more, the more +regretfully endeared to recollection. Of those friends who survive, I +cannot forbear an especial mention of one, who is now a professor in the +college in which he was then only a student. A man cannot be truly great +unless he also be good, and I do not alone value him on the colder and +statelier eminence of high intellectual powers and scientific +acquirements, but also, if not much rather, for his generous worth and +his benevolent feeling. My friend is one in whom these qualities are +combined, and as I sincerely think, I will likewise freely say, that +those will assuredly find a time, sooner or later, greatly to rejoice, +whose fate has been so favourable as to place them under the range and +influence of his tuition. + +"I studied at St Andrews College under the late Dr Jackson, who was an +eminent philosopher and friendly man; also under Mr Duncan, of the +Mathematical Chair, whom I regarded as a personification of unworldly +simplicity, clothed in high and pure thought; and I regularly attended, +though not enrolled as a regular student, the Moral Philosophy Class of +Dr Chalmers. Returning to Edinburgh and its university, I became +acquainted, through my friend and countryman, Robert Hogg, with R. A. +Smith, who was desirous that I should assist him with the works in which +he was engaged, particularly 'The Irish Minstrel,' and 'Select +Melodies.' Smith was a man of modest worth and superior intelligence; +peculiarly delicate in his taste and feeling in everything pertaining to +lyric poetry as well as music; his criticisms were strict, and, as some +thought, unnecessarily minute. Diffident and retiring, he was not got +acquainted with at once, but when he gave his confidence, he was found a +pleasant companion and warm-hearted friend. If, as he had sought my +acquaintance, I might have expected more frankness on our meeting, I +soon became convinced that his shyer cast arose alone from excess of +modesty, combined with a remarkable sensitiveness of feeling. Proudly +honourable, he seemed more susceptible of the influences of all sorts +that affect life than any man I ever knew; and, indeed, a little +acquaintance with him was only required to shew that his harp was strung +too delicately for standing long the tear and wear of this world. He had +done much for Scottish melody, both by fixing the old airs in as pure a +state as possible, and by adding to the vast number of these national +treasures some exquisite airs of his own. For a number of the airs in +the works just mentioned, but particularly in the 'Select Melodies,' he +had experienced difficulty in procuring suitable words, owing chiefly to +the crampness of the measures--a serious drawback which appears to +pervade, more or less, the sweetest melodies of other nations as well as +those of our own. A number of these I supplied as well as I could. + +"About this time the native taste for Scottish song in city society +seemed nearly, if not altogether lost, and a kind of songs, such as +'I've been roaming,' 'I'd be a butterfly,' 'Buy a broom,' 'Cherry-ripe,' +&c. (in which if the head contrived to find a meaning, it was still such +as the heart could understand nothing about), seemed alone to be +popular, and to prevail. R. A. Smith disliked this state of things, but, +perhaps, few more so than Mr P. M'Leod, who gave a most splendid +evidence of his taste in his 'Original National Melodies.' Both Smith +and M'Leod were very particular about the quality of the poetry which +they honoured with their music. M'Leod was especially careful in this +respect. He loved the lay of lofty and undaunted feeling as well as of +love and friendship; for his genius is of a manly tone, and has a bold +and liberal flow. And popular as some of the effusions in his work have +become, such as 'Oh! why left I my hame?' and 'Scotland yet!' many +others of them, I am convinced, will yet be popular likewise. When the +intelligence of due appreciation draws towards them, it will take them +up and delight to fling them upon the breezes that blow over the hills +and glens, and among the haunts and homes of the isle of unconquerable +men. To Mr M'Leod's 'National Melodies' I contributed a number of songs. +In the composition of these I found it desirable to lay aside, in some +considerable degree, my pastoral phraseology, for, as conveyed in such +productions, I observed that city society cared little about rural +scenery and sentiment. It was different with my kind and gifted friend +Professor Wilson. He was wont to say that he would not have given the +education, as he was pleased to term it, which I had received afar in +the green bosom of mountain solitude, and among the haunts and homes of +the shepherd--meaning the thing as applicable to poetry--for all that he +had received at colleges. Wilson had introduced my song, 'When the glen +all is still,' into the _Noctes_, and La Sapio composed music for it; +and not only was it sung in Drury-lane, but published in a sheet as the +production of a real shepherd; yet it did not become popular in city +life. In the country it had been popular previous to this, where it is +so still, and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it. + +"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the +'Songs of the Ark,'[3] were published by Blackwood. These, as published, +are not what they were at first, and were intended only to be short +songs of a sacred nature, unconnected by intervening narrative, for +which R. A. Smith wished to compose music. Unfortunately, his other +manifold engagements never permitted him to carry his intention into +practice; and seeing no likelihood of any decrease of these engagements, +I gave scope to my thoughts on the subject, and the work became what it +now is. But I ought to mention that this was not my first poetic +publication in palpable shape. Some years previously I published +stanzas, or a monody, on the death of Lord Byron. I had all along +thought much, and with something like mysterious awe, upon the eccentric +temperament, character and history of that great poet, and the tidings +which told the event of his demise impressed me deeply. Being in the +country, and remote from those who could exchange thoughts with me on +the occurrence, I resorted to writing. That which I advanced was much +mixed up with the result, if I may not say of former experience, yet of +former reflection, for I had entertained many conjectures concerning +what this powerful personage would or might yet do; and, indeed, his +wilful waywardness, together with the misery which he represented as +continually haunting him, constituted an impressive advertisement to the +world, and served to keep human attention awake towards him. + +"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write +rapidly: likely, too, they will write with energy, because not only the +head but also the heart is engaged. 'The Monody,' which is of a goodly +length, I finished in a few days; and though I felt a desire of having +it published, yet it lay over for a time, till, being in Edinburgh, a +friend shewed it to Dr Robert Anderson. I had been well satisfied with +the result, had the production accomplished nothing more than procured +me, as it did, the friendly acquaintance of this excellent, venerable +man. He knew more of the minutiæ of literature, together with the +character and habits of the literary men of his day, and of other days +also, than any I had then or have since met with; and he seemed to take +great pleasure in communicating his knowledge to others. He thought well +of 'The Monody,' and warmly advised me to publish it. It was published +accordingly by Mr John Anderson, bookseller, North Bridge, Edinburgh. + +"Some of the reviewers, in regard to the 'Songs of the Ark,' seemed to +think that a sufficiency of eastern scenery did not obtain in them. +Doubtless this was correct; but I remark, that if my object in the +undertaking had been to delineate scenery, I would not have turned my +attention to the East, the scenes of which I never saw. Human nature +being radically the same everywhere, a man, through the sympathies of +that nature, can know to a certain extent what are likely to be the +thoughts and feelings of his fellow-kind in any particular +circumstances--therefore he has data upon which he can venture to give a +representation of them; but it is very different from this in regard to +topographical phenomena. It was therefore not the natural, but, if I may +so call it, the moral scenery in which I was interested, more +particularly since the whole scene of nature here below was, shortly +after the period at which the poem commences, to become a blank of +desolate uniformity, as overwhelmed beneath a waste of waters. + +"At the risk of incurring the charge of vanity, I would venture to +adduce one or two of the favourable opinions entertained in regard to +some of the miscellaneous pieces which went to make up the volume of the +'Songs of the Ark.' Of the piece entitled 'Apathy,' Allan Cunningham +thus wrote:--'Although sufficiently distressful, it is a very bold and +original poem, such as few men, except Byron, would have conceived or +could have written.' Motherwell said of the 'Sea-gray Man,' that it was +'the best of all modern ballads.' This ballad, shortly after I had +composed it, I repeated to the Ettrick Shepherd walking on the banks of +the Yarrow, and he was fully more pleased with it than with anything of +mine I had made him acquainted with. He was wont to call me his +'assistant and successor;' and although this was done humorously, it yet +seemed to furnish him with a privilege on which he proceeded to approve +or disapprove very frankly, that in either case I might profit by his +remarks. He was pleased especially with the half mysterious way in which +I contrived to get quit of the poor old man at last. This, indeed, was a +contrivance; but the idea of the rest of the ballad was taken from an +old man, who had once been a sailor, and who was wont to come to my +mother's, in the rounds which he took in pursuit of charity at regular +periods of the year, so that we called him her pensioner. + +"The summer vacations of college years I passed in the country, +sometimes residing with my mother, and eldest brother, at a small farm +which he had taken at the foot of the Lammermuir hills, in East-Lothian, +called Brookside, and sometimes, when I wished a variety, with another +brother, at Dryden, in Selkirkshire. At both places I had enough of +time, not only for study, but also for what I may call amusement. The +latter consisted in various literary projects which I entered upon, but +particularly those of a poetic kind, and the writing of letters to +friends with whom I regularly, and I may say also copiously +corresponded; for in these we did not merely express immediate thoughts +and feelings of a more personal nature, but remarked with vigorous +frankness upon many standard affairs of this scene of things. To this +general rule of the manner of my life at this time, however, I must +mention an exception. A college companion and I, thinking to advantage +ourselves, and perhaps others, took a school at Fisherrow. The +speculation in the end, as to money matters, served us nothing. It was +easier to get scholars than to get much if anything for teaching them. +Yet neither was the former, in some respects, so easy as might have been +expected. The offspring of man, in that locality, may be regarded as in +some measure amphibious. Boys and girls equally, if not already in the +sea, were, like young turtles, sure to be pointing towards it with an +instinct too intense to err. I never met, indeed, with a race of beings +believed, or even suspected to be rational, that, provided immediate +impulses and inclinations could be gratified, cared so thoroughly little +for consequences. On warm summer days, when we caused the school door to +stand open, it is not easy to say how much of intense interest this +simple circumstance drew towards it. The squint of the unsettled eye was +on the door, out at which the heart and all its inheritance was off and +away long previously, and the more than ordinarily propitious moment for +the limbs following was only as yet not arrived. When that moment came, +off went one, followed by another; and down the narrow and dark lanes +of sooty houses. As well might the steps have proposed to pursue meteors +playing at hide-and-seek among the clouds of a midnight sky that the +tempest was troubling. Nevertheless, Colin Bell, who by virtue of his +ceaseless stir in the exercise of his heathen-god-like abilities, had +constituted himself captain of the detective band, would be up and at +hand immediately, and would say 'Master--sir, Young an' me will bring +them, sir, if ye'll let's.' It was just as good to 'let' as to hinder, +for, for others to be out thus, and he in, seemed to be an advantage +gained over Colin to which he could never be rightly reconciled. He was +bold and frank, and full of expedients in cases of emergency; especially +he appeared capable of rendering more reasons for an error in his +conduct than one could well have imagined could have been rendered for +anything done in life below. Another drawback in the case was, that one +could never be very seriously angry with him. If more real than +pretended at any time, his broad bright eye and bluff face, +magnificently lifted up, like the sun on frost-work, melted down +displeasure and threatened to betray all the policy depending on it; for +in the main never a bit of ill heart had Colin, though doubtlessly he +had in him, deeply established, a trim of rebellion against education +that seemed ever on the alert, and which repulsed even its portended +approach with a vigour resembling the electric energy of the torpedo. + +"As we did not much like this place, we did not remain long in it. I had +meanwhile, however, resources which brought relief. Those friends whose +society I most enjoyed occasionally paid us a visit from Edinburgh; and +in leisure hours I haunted the banks of the Esk, which, with wood, and +especially with wild-roses, are very beautiful around the church of +Inveresk. This beauty was heightened by contrast--for I have ever hated +the scenery of, and the effect produced by, sunny days and dirty +streets. Nor do the scenes where mankind congregate to create bustle, +'dirdum and deray,' often fail of making me more or less melancholy. In +the week of the Musselburgh Races, I only went out one day to toss about +for a few hours in the complicated and unmeaning crowd. I insert the +protest which I entered against it on my return:-- + + "'What boots this turmoil + Of uproar and folly-- + That renders the smile + Of creation unholy? + If that which we love + Is life's best assistant, + The thought still must rove + To the dear and the distant. + Would, then, that I were + 'Mid nature's wild grandeur-- + From this folly afar, + As I wont was to wander; + Where the pale cloudlets fly, + By the soft breezes driven, + And the mountains on high + Kiss the azure of heaven. + Where down the deep glen + The rivulet is rolling, + And few, few of men + Through the solitudes strolling. + Oh! bliss I could reap, + When day was returning; + O'er the wild-flowers asleep, + 'Mong the dews of the morning; + And there were it joy, + When the shades of the gloaming, + With the night's lullaby, + O'er the world were coming-- + To roam through the brake, + In the paths long forsaken; + My hill-harp retake, + And its warblings awaken. + The heart is in pain, + And the mind is in sadness-- + And when comes, oh! when, + The return of its gladness? + The forest shall fade + At the winter's returning, + And the voice of the shade + Shall be sorrow and mourning. + Man's vigour shall fail + As his locks shall grow hoary, + And where is the tale + Of his youth and his glory? + My life is a dream-- + My fate darkly furl'd; + I a hermit would seem + 'Mid the crowd of the world. + Oh! let me be free + Of these scenes that encumber, + And enjoy what may be + Of my days yet to number!' + +"I have dwelt at the greater length on these matters, trivial though +they be, in consequence of my non-intention of tracing minutely the +steps and stages of my probationary career. These, with me, I suppose, +were much like what they are and have been with others. My acquaintance +was a little extended with those that inhabit the land, and in some +cases a closer intimacy than mere acquaintance took place, and more +lasting friendships were formed. + +"My brother having taken a farm near Teviothead, I left Brookside, and +as all the members of the family were wont to account that in which my +mother lived their home, it of course was mine. But, notwithstanding +that the change brought me almost to the very border of the vale of my +nativity, I regretted to leave Brookside. It was a beautiful and +interesting place, and the remembrance of it is like what Ossian says of +joys that are past--'sweet and mournful to the soul.' I loved the place, +was partial to the peacefulness of its retirement, its solitude, and the +intelligence of its society. I was near the laird's library, and I had a +garden in the glen. The latter was formed that I might gather home to +it, when in musing moods among the mountains, the wild-flowers, in order +to their cultivation, and my having something more of a possessory right +over them. It formed a contrast to the scenery around, and lured to +relaxation. Occasionally 'the lovely of the land' brought, with +industrious delight, plants and flowers, that they might have a share in +adorning it. Even when I was from home it was, upon the whole, well +attended to; for although, according to taste or caprice, changes were +made, yet I readily forgave the annoyances that might attend alteration, +and especially those by the hands that sometimes printed me pleasing +compliments on the clay with the little stones lifted from the walks. If +the things which I have written and given to the world, or may yet give, +continue to be cared for, these details may not be wholly without use, +inasmuch as they will serve to explain frequent allusions which might +otherwise seem introduced at capricious random, or made without a +meaning. + +"Shortly after becoming a probationer, I came to reside in this +district, and, not long after, the preacher who officiated in the +preaching-station here died. The people connected with it wished me to +become his successor, which, after some difficulties on their part had +been surmounted, I became. I had other views at the time which were +promising and important; but as there had been untoward disturbances in +the place, owing to the lack of defined rights and privileges, I had it +in my power to become a peacemaker, and, besides, I felt it my duty to +comply with a call which was both cordial and unanimous. I now laid +wholly aside those things which pertain to the pursuits of romantic +literature, and devoted myself to the performance of incumbent duties. +In consequence of no house having been provided for the preacher, and no +one to be obtained but at a very inconvenient distance, I was in this +respect very inconveniently situated. Travelling nine miles to the scene +of my official duties, it was frequently my hap to preach in a very +uncomfortable condition, when, indeed, the wet would be pouring from my +arms on the Bible before me, and oozing over my shoes when the foot was +stirred on the pulpit floor. But, by and by, the Duke of Buccleuch built +a dwelling-house for me, the same which I still occupy." + +To the ministerial charge of the then preaching station of Teviothead Mr +Riddell was about to receive ordination, at the united solicitation of +his hearers, when he was suddenly visited with severe affliction. Unable +to discharge pulpit duty for a period of years, the pastoral +superintendence of the district was devolved on another; and on his +recovery, with commendable forbearance, he did not seek to interfere +with the new ecclesiastical arrangement. This procedure was generously +approved of by the Duke of Buccleuch, who conferred upon him the right +to occupy the manse cottage, along with a grant of land, and a small +annuity. + +Mr Riddell's autobiography proceeds:--"In the hope of soon obtaining a +permanent and comfortable settlement at Teviothead, I had ventured to +make my own, by marriage, her who had in heart been mine through all my +college years, and who for my sake had, in the course of these, rejected +wealth and high standing in life. The heart that, for the sake of leal +faith and love, could despise wealth and its concomitants, and brave the +risk of embracing comparative poverty, even at its best estate, was not +one likely overmuch to fear that poverty when it appeared, nor flinch +with an altered tone from the position which it had adopted, when it +actually came. This, much rather, fell to my part. It preyed upon my +mind too deeply not to prove injurious in its effects; and it did this +all the more, that the voice of love, true to its own law, had the words +of hope and consolation in it, but never those of complaint. It appeared +the _acmé_ of the severity of fate itself to have lived to be the mean +of placing a heart and mind so rich in disinterested affection on so +wild and waste a scene of trial. + +"From an experience of fourteen years, in which there were changes in +almost all things except in the affection which bound two hearts in one, +before the hands were united, it might be expected that I should give +some eminent admonitions concerning the imprudence of men, and +particularly of students, allowing their hearts to become interested in, +and the remembrance of their minds more fraught with the rich beauty of +auburn ringlets than in the untoward confusion, for example, of +irregular Greek verbs; yet I much fear that admonition would be of no +use. If their fate be woven of a texture similar to that of mine, how +can they help it? A man may have an idea that to cling to the shelter +which he has found, and indulge in the sleep that has overtaken him amid +the stormy blasts of the waste mountains, may be little else than +opening for himself the gates of death, yet the toils of the way through +which he has already passed may also have rendered him incapable of +resisting the dangerous rest and repose of his immediate accommodation. +In regard to my own love affairs, I, throughout all these long years +which I have specified, might well have adopted, as the motto of both +mind and heart, these lines-- + + "'Oh, poortith cauld and restless love, + Ye wreck my peace between ye.' + +I had, as has already been hinted, a rival, who, if not so devotedly +attached as I, nevertheless was by far too much so for any one who is +destined to love without encouragement. He was as rich in proportion as +I was poor. The gifts of love, called the gifts of friendship, which he +contrived to bestow were costly; mine, as fashioned forth by a higher +hand than that of art, might be equally rich and beautiful in the main, +yet wild-flowers, though yellow as the gold, and though wrapped in +rhymes, are light ware when weighed against the solid material. He, in +personal appearance, manners, and generosity of heart, was one with whom +it was impossible to be acquainted and not to esteem; and another +feature of this affair was, that we were friends, and almost constant +companions for some years. When in the country I had to be with him as +continually as possible; and when I went to the city, it was his wont to +follow me. Here, then, was a web strangely woven by the fingers of a +wayward fate. Feelings were brought into daily exercise which might seem +the least compatible with being brought into contact and maintained in +harmony. And these things, which are strictly true, if set forth in the +contrivances of romance might, or in all likelihood would, be pronounced +unnatural or overstrained. The worth and truth of the heart to which +these fond anxieties related left me no ground to fear for losing that +regard which I valued as 'light and life' itself; but in another way +there reached me a matchless misery, and which haunted me almost as +constantly as my own shadow when the sun shone. Considering the dark +uncertainty of my future prospects in life, that regard I felt it +fearful almost beyond measure even to seek to retain, incurring the +responsibility of marring the fortune of one whom nevertheless I could +not bear the thought of another than myself having the bliss of +rendering blessed. If selfishness be thus seen to exist even in love +itself, I would fain hope that it is of an elevated and peculiar kind, +and not that which grovels, dragging downwards, and therefore justly +deserving of the name. I am the more anxious in regard to this on +account of its being in my own case felt so deeply. It maintained its +ground with more or less firmness at all times, and ultimately +triumphed, in despite of all efforts made to the contrary over the +suggestions of prudence and even the sterner reasonings of the sense of +justice. In times of sadness and melancholy, which, like the preacher's +days of darkness, were many, when hope scarcely lit the gloom of the +heart on which it sat though the band of love was about its brow, I +busied myself in endeavouring to form resolutions to resign my +pretensions to the warmer regard of her who was the object of all this +serious solicitude; but neither she herself, nor time and place seemed, +so far as I could see, disposed in the least to aid me in these efforts +of self-control and denial; and, indeed, even at best, I much suspect +that the resolutions of lovers in such cases are only like the little +dams which the rivulet forms in itself by the frail material of stray +grass-piles, and wild-rose leaves, easily overturned by the next slight +impulse that the wave receives. In a ballad called 'Lanazine,' written +somewhat in the old irregular style, sentiments relating to this matter, +a little--and only a little--disguised, are set forth. The following is +a portion of these records, written from time to time for the sake of +preserving to the memory what might once be deeply interesting to the +heart:-- + + "'O who may love with warm true heart, + And then from love refrain? + Who say 'tis fit we now should part + And never meet again? + + "'The heart once broken bleeds no more, + And a deep sound sleep it hath, + Where the stir of pain ne'er travels o'er + The solitude of death. + + "'The moon is set, and the star is gone, + And the cure, though cruel, cures, + But the heart left lone must sorrow on, + While the tie of life endures. + + "'He had nor gold nor land, and trow'd + Himself unworthy all, + And sternly in his soul had vow'd + His fond love to recall. + + "'For her he loved he would not wrong, + Since fate would ne'er agree, + And went to part with a sore, sore heart, + In the bower of the greenwood tree. + + "'The dews were deep, and the leaves were green, + And the eve was soft and still; + But strife may reach the vale I ween, + Though no blasts be on the hill. + + "'The leaves were green, and the dews were deep, + And the foot was light upon + The grass and flowers, round the bower asleep; + But parting there could be none. + + "'He spoke the word with a struggle hard, + And the fair one forward sprung, + Nor ever wist, till like one too blest, + Her arms were round him flung. + + "'For the fair one whom he'd woo'd before, + While the chill night breezes sigh'd, + Could wot not why she loved him more + Than ere she thus was tried. + + "'A red--not weak--came o'er her cheek, + And she turn'd away anon; + But since nor he nor she could speak, + Still parting there could be none. + + "'I could have lived alone for thee,' + He said; 'So lived could I,' + She answer'd, while it seem'd as she + Had wish'd even then to die. + + "'For pale, pale grew her cheek I ween, + While his arms, around her thrown, + Left space no plea to come between, + So parting there could be none. + + "'She cool'd his brow with the heart's own drop, + While the brain seem'd burning there, + And her whisper reach'd the realm of hope + Through the darkness of despair. + + "'She bade his soul be still and free, + In the light of love to live, + And soothed it with the sympathy + Which a woman's heart can give. + + "'And it seem'd more than all before + E'er given to mortal man, + The radiance came, and with it bore + The angel of the dawn. + + "'For ever since Eve her love-bower would weave, + As the first of all her line, + No one on earth had had more of worth + Than the lovely Lanazine. + + "'And if Fortune's frown would o'er him come down, + Less marvel it may be, + Since he woo'd all while to make his own + A lovelier far than she.' + + * * * * * + +"Notwithstanding the ever-living solicitude and sad suffering +constituting the keen and trying experience of many years, as arising in +consequence of this attachment and untoward circumstances, it has +brought more than a sufficient compensation; and were it possible, and +the choice given, I would assuredly follow the same course, and suffer +it all over again, rather than be without 'that treasure of departed +sorrow' that is even now at my right hand as I write these lines. + +"'The Christian Politician'[4] was published during the time of my +indisposition. This work I had written at leisure hours, with the hopes +of its being beneficial to the people placed under my care, by giving +them a general and connected view of the principles and philosophical +bearing of the Christian religion. In exhorting them privately, I +discovered that many of them understood that religion better in itself, +than they appeared to comprehend the manner in which it stood in +connexion with the surrounding circumstances of this life. In other +words, they were acquainted with doctrines and principles whose +application and use, whether in regard to thought, or feeling, or daily +practice, they did not so clearly recognise. To remedy this state of +things, I wrote 'The Christian Politician' in a style as simple as the +subjects treated of in it would well admit of, giving it a +conversational cast, instead of systematic arrangement, that it might +be the less forbidding to those for whom it was principally intended. +Being published, however, at the time when, through my indisposition, I +could take no interest in it, it was sent forth in a somewhat more +costly shape than rightly suited the original design; and although +extensively introduced and well received, it was in society of a higher +order than that which it was its object chiefly to benefit. + +"My latest publication is a volume of 'Poems and Songs,'[5] published by +Messrs Sutherland and Knox of Edinburgh. 'The Cottagers of Glendale,' +the 'Lay of Life,' and some others of the compositions in this volume, +were written during the period of my convalescence; the songs are, for +the greater part, the production of 'the days of other years.' Many of +the latter had been already sung in every district of the kingdom, but +had been much corrupted in the course of oral transmission. These +wanderers of the hill-harp are now secured in a permanent form." + +To this autobiographical sketch it remains to be added, that Mr Riddell +is possessed of nearly all the qualities of a great master of the +Scottish lyre. He has viewed the national character where it is to be +seen in its most unsophisticated aspects, and in circumstances the most +favourable to its development. He has lived, too, among scenes the best +calculated to foster the poetic temperament. "He has got," wrote +Professor Wilson, "a poet's education: he has lived the greater part of +his days amidst pastoral scenes, and tended sheep among the green and +beautiful solitudes of nature." Sufficiently imaginative, he does not, +like his minstrel predecessor the Ettrick Shepherd, soar into the +regions of the supernatural, or roam among the scenes of the viewless +world. He sings of the mountain wilds and picturesque valleys of +Caledonia, and of the simple joys and habits of rural or pastoral life. +His style is essentially lyrical, and his songs are altogether true to +nature. Several of his songs, such as "Scotland Yet," "The Wild Glen sae +Green," "The Land of Gallant Hearts," and "The Crook and Plaid," will +find admirers while Scottish lyric poetry is read or sung. + +In 1855, Mr Riddell executed a translation of the Gospel of Matthew into +the Scottish language by command of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, a +performance of which only a limited number of copies have been printed +under the Prince's auspices. At present, he is engaged in preparing a +romance connected with Border history. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] A flock of sheep. + +[2] See Minstrel, vol. iii. p. 186. + +[3] "Songs of the Ark, with other Poems." Edin. 1831. 8vo. + +[4] "The Christian Politician, or the Right Way of Thinking." Edinburgh, +1844, 8vo. This work, now nearly out of print, we would especially +commend to the favourable attention of the Religious Tract Society.--ED. + +[5] "Poems, Songs, and Miscellaneous Pieces." Edinburgh, 1847, 12mo. + + + + +THE WILD GLEN SAE GREEN. + +AIR--_"The Posy, or Roslin Castle."_ + + + When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lying a' at rest, + And the gloamin' spreads its mantle gray o'er the world's dewy breast, + I'll take my plaid and hasten through yon woody dell unseen, + And meet my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + I'll meet her by the trysting-tree, that's stannin' a' alane, + Where I hae carved her name upon yon little moss gray stane, + There I will fauld her to my breast, and be mair bless'd I ween + Than a' that are aneath the sky, in the wild glen sae green. + + Her head reclined upon this heart, in simple bliss I'll share + The pure, pure kiss o' tender love that owns nae earthly care, + And spirits hovering o'er us shall bless the heartfelt scene, + While I woo my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + My fauldin' plaid shall shield her frae the gloamin's chilly gale; + The star o' eve shall mark our joy, but shall not tell our tale-- + Our simple tale o' tender love--that tauld sae oft has been + To my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + It may be sweet at morning hour, or at the noon o' day, + To meet wi' those that we lo'e weel in grove or garden gay; + But the sweetest bliss o' mortal life is at the hour o' e'en, + Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + O! I could wander earth a' o'er, nor care for aught o' bliss, + If I might share, at my return, a joy sae pure as this; + And I could spurn a' earthly wealth--a palace and a queen, + For my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green! + + + + +SCOTIA'S THISTLE. + + + Scotia's thistle guards the grave, + Where repose her dauntless brave; + Never yet the foot of slave + Has trode the wilds of Scotia. + Free from tyrant's dark control-- + Free as waves of ocean roll-- + Free as thoughts of minstrel's soul, + Still roam the sons of Scotia. + + Scotia's hills of hoary hue, + Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue, + Watering with its dearest dew + The heathy locks of Scotia. + Down each green-wood skirted vale, + Guardian spirits, lingering, hail + Many a minstrel's melting tale, + As told of ancient Scotia. + + When the shades of eve invest + Nature's dew-bespangled breast, + How supremely man is blest + In the glens of Scotia! + There no dark alarms convey + Aught to chase life's charms away; + There they live, and live for aye, + Round the homes of Scotia. + + Wake, my hill harp! wildly wake! + Sound by lee and lonely lake, + Never shall this heart forsake + The bonnie wilds of Scotia. + Others o'er the ocean's foam + Far to other lands may roam, + But for ever be my home + Beneath the sky of Scotia! + + + + +THE LAND OF GALLANT HEARTS. + + + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of lovely forms, + The island of the mountain-harp, + The torrents and the storms; + The land that blooms with freeman's tread, + And withers with the slave's, + Where far and deep the green woods spread, + And wild the thistle waves. + + Ere ever Ossian's lofty voice + Had told of Fingal's fame, + Ere ever from their native clime + The Roman eagles came, + Our land had given heroes birth, + That durst the boldest brave, + And taught above tyrannic dust, + The thistle tufts to wave. + + What need we say how Wallace fought, + And how his foemen fell? + Or how on glorious Bannockburn + The work went wild and well? + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of honour'd graves, + Whose wreath of fame shall ne'er depart + While yet the thistle waves. + + + + +THE YELLOW LOCKS O' CHARLIE. + + + The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens, + Wi' martial steps are bounding, + And loud and lang, the wilds amang, + The war pipe's strains are sounding; + The sky and stream reflect the gleam + Of broadswords glancing rarely, + To guard till death the hills of heath + Against the foes o' Charlie. + + Then let on high the banners fly, + And hearts and hands rise prouder, + And wake amain the warlike strain + Still louder, and still louder; + For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn + O'er Appin's mountains early, + Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + While banners wave aboon the brave + Our foemen vainly gather, + And swear to claim, by deeds o' fame, + Our hills and glens o' heather. + For seas shall swell to wild and fell, + And crown green Appin fairly, + Ere hearts so steel'd to foemen yield + The rights o' royal Charlie. + + Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, + And let the mountains hoary + Re-echo round the warlike sound + That speaks of Highland glory. + For strains sublime, through future time, + Shall tell the tale unsparely, + How Scotland's crown was placed aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + + + +WE'LL MEET YET AGAIN. + + + We'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us + The sky shall be bright, and the bower shall be green, + And the visions of life shall be lovely before us + As the sunshine of summer that sleeps o'er the scene. + The woodlands are sad when the green leaves are fading, + And sorrow is deep when the dearest must part, + But for each darker woe that our spirit is shading + A joy yet more bright shall return to the heart. + + We'll meet yet again, when the pain, disconcerting + The peace of our minds in a moment like this, + Shall melt into nought, like the tears of our parting, + Or live but in mem'ry to heighten our bliss. + We have loved in the hours when a hope scarce could find us; + We've loved when our hearts were the lightest of all, + And the same tender tie that has bound still shall bind us, + When the dark chain of fate shall have ceased to enthral. + + We'll meet yet again, when the spirit of gladness + Shall breathe o'er the valley, and brighten its flowers, + And the lone hearts of those who have long been in sadness + Shall gather delight from the transport of ours; + Yes, thine are the charms, love, that never can perish, + And thine is the star that my guide still shall be, + Alluring the hope in this soul that shall cherish + Its life's dearest treasures, to share them with thee. + + + + +OUR AIN NATIVE LAND. + + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + There's a charm in the words that we a' understand, + That flings o'er the bosom the power of a spell, + And makes us love mair what we a' love so well. + The heart may have feelings it canna conceal, + As the mind has the thoughts that nae words can reveal, + But alike he the feelings and thought can command + Who names but the name o' our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Though bleak be its mountains and rugged its strand, + The waves aye seem bless'd, dancing wild o'er the sea, + When woke by the winds from the hills o' the free. + Our sky oft is dark, and our storms loud and cauld, + But where are the hearts that sic worth can unfauld + As those that unite, and uniting expand, + When they hear but the name o' our ain native land? + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + To hear of her famed ones let none e'er demand, + For the hours o' a' time far too little would prove + To name but the names that we honour and love. + The bard lives in light, though his heart it be still, + And the cairn of the warrior stands gray on the hill, + And songster and sage can alike still command + A garland of fame from our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Her wild woods are glorious, her waterfalls grand, + And her songs still proclaim, as they ring through the glen, + The charms of her maids and the worth of her men. + Her thistle shall cease in the breezes to wave, + And the floweret to bloom on the patriot's grave, + Ere we cease to defend, with our heart and our hand, + The freedom and faith of our ain native land. + + + + +THE GRECIAN WAR SONG. + + + On! on to the fields, where of old + The laurels of freedom were won; + Let us think, as the banners of Greece we unfold, + Of the brave in the pages of glory enroll'd, + And the deeds by our forefathers done! + O yet, if there's aught that is dear, + Let bravery's arm be its shield; + Let love of our country give power to each spear, + And beauty's pale cheek dry its long-gather'd tear + In the light of the weapons we wield. + Awake then to glory, that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + Rear! rear the proud trophies once more, + Where Persia's hosts were o'erthrown; + Let the song of our triumph arise on our shore, + Till the mountains give back the far sounds, as of yore, + To the fields where our foemen lie strewn! + Oh ne'er shall our bold efforts cease + Till the garlands of freedom shall wave + In breezes, which, fraught with the tidings of peace, + Shall wander o'er all the fair islands of Greece, + And cool not the lip of a slave; + Awake then to glory! that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + + + +FLORA'S LAMENT. + + + More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, + Dismantled of all the gay hues that they wore; + For lost is my hope since the Prince of the Highlands + 'Mong these, his wild mountains, can meet me no more. + Ah! Charlie, how wrung was this heart when it found thee + Forlorn, and the die of thy destiny cast; + Thy Flora was firm 'mid the perils around thee, + But where were the brave of the land that had own'd thee, + That she--only she--should be true to the last? + + The step's in the bark on the dark heaving waters, + That now should have been on the floor of a throne; + And, alas for auld Scotland, her sons and her daughters! + Thy wish was their welfare, thy cause was their own. + But 'lorn may we sigh where the hill-winds awaken, + And weep in the glen where the cataracts foam, + And sleep where the dew-drops are deep on the bracken; + Thy foot has the land of thy fathers forsaken, + And more--never more will it yield thee a home. + + Oh! yet when afar, in the land of the stranger, + If e'er on thy spirit remembrance may be + Of her who was true in these moments of danger, + Reprove not the heart that still lives but for thee. + The night-shrouded flower from the dawning shall borrow + A ray, all the glow of its charms to renew, + But Charlie, ah! Charlie, no ray to thy Flora + Can dawn from thy coming to chase the dark sorrow + Which death, in thine absence, alone can subdue. + + + + +WHEN THE GLEN ALL IS STILL. + +AIR--_"Cold Frosty Morning."_ + + + When the glen all is still, save the stream of the fountain, + When the shepherd has ceased o'er the dark heath to roam, + And the wail of the plover awakes on the mountain, + Inviting her mate to return to his home-- + Oh! meet me, Eliza, adown by the wild-wood, + Where the wild daisies sleep 'mong the low-lying dew, + And our bliss shall be sweet as the visions of childhood, + And pure as the fair star, in heaven's deep blue. + + Thy locks shall be braided in drops of the gloaming, + And fann'd by the far-travell'd breeze of the lawn; + The spirits of heaven shall know of thy coming, + And watch o'er our joy till the hour of the dawn. + No woes shall we know of dark fortune's decreeing, + Of the past and the future my dreams may not be, + For the light of thine eye seems the home of my being, + And my soul's fondest thoughts shall be gather'd to thee. + + + + +SCOTLAND YET.[6] + + + Gae, bring my guid auld harp ance mair,-- + Gae, bring it free and fast,-- + For I maun sing another sang + Ere a' my glee be past; + And trow ye as I sing, my lads, + The burden o't shall be + Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The heath waves wild upon her hills, + And foaming frae the fells, + Her fountains sing o' freedom still, + As they dance down the dells; + And weel I lo'e the land, my lads, + That's girded by the sea; + Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The thistle wags upon the fields + Where Wallace bore his blade, + That gave her foemen's dearest bluid + To dye her auld gray plaid; + And looking to the lift, my lads, + He sang this doughty glee-- + Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies, + Where freedom's voice ne'er rang; + Gie me the hills where Ossian lies, + And Coila's minstrel sang; + For I've nae skill o' lands, my lads, + That ken nae to be free; + Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] This song, set to music by Mr Peter M'Leod, was published in a +separate form, and the profits, which amounted to a considerable sum, +given for the purpose of placing a parapet and railing around the +monument of Burns on the Calton Hill, Edinburgh. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S GRAVE. + + + I sat in the vale, 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, + And the gloom of my bosom seem'd deep as their shade, + For remembrance was fraught with the far-travell'd story, + That told where the dust of the minstrel was laid: + I saw not his harp on the wild boughs above me, + I heard not its anthems the mountains among; + But the flow'rets that bloom'd on his grave were more lovely + Than others would seem to the earth that belong. + + "Sleep on," said my soul, "in the depths of thy slumber + Sleep on, gentle bard! till the shades pass away; + For the lips of the living the ages shall number + That steal o'er thy heart in its couch of decay: + Oh! thou wert beloved from the dawn of thy childhood, + Beloved till the last of thy suffering was seen, + Beloved now that o'er thee is waving the wild-wood, + And the worm only living where rapture hath been. + + "Till the footsteps of time are their travel forsaking, + No form shall descend, and no dawning shall come, + To break the repose that thy ashes are taking, + And call them to life from their chamber of gloom: + Yet sleep, gentle bard! for, though silent for ever, + Thy harp in the hall of the chieftain is hung; + No time from the mem'ry of mankind shall sever + The tales that it told, and the strains that it sung." + + + + +OUR OWN LAND AND LOVED ONE. + +AIR--_"Buccleuch Gathering."_ + + + No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread + O'er the land that gave birth to the first breath we drew-- + Such radiance but lives in the eye of the maid + That is dear to our heart--to our heart ever true. + + With her--yes, with her that this spirit has bless'd, + 'Neath my dear native sky let my home only be; + And the valley of flowers, and the heath-covered waste, + Shall alike have a spell of enchantment for me. + + Let her eye pour its light o'er the joy of my heart, + Or mingle its beam with the gloom of my woe, + And each shadow of care from the soul shall depart, + Save of care that on her it is bliss to bestow. + + My thought shall not travel to sun-lighted isles, + Nor my heart own a wish for the wealth they may claim, + But live and be bless'd in rewarding her smiles + With the song of the harp that shall hallow her name. + + The anthems of music delightful may roll, + Or eloquence flow as the waves of the sea, + But the sounds that enchantment can shed o'er the soul + Are--the lass that we love, and the land that is free! + + + + +THE BOWER OF THE WILD. + + + I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, + Afar from the din and the dwellings of men; + Where still I might linger in many a dream, + And mingle my strains wi' the voice o' the stream. + From the cave and the cliff, where the hill foxes roam, + Where the earn has his nest and the raven his home, + I brought the young flower-buds ere yet they had smiled, + And taught them to bloom round my bower of the wild. + + But the fair maidens came, from yon vale far away, + And sought my lone grotto still day after day, + And soon were the stems of their fair blossoms shorn + That the flowers of the bard might their ringlets adorn. + Full fair were they all, but the maiden most fair + Would still have no flower till I pull'd it with care; + And gentle, and simple, and modest, and mild, + She stole my lone heart in the bower of the wild. + + The summer is past, and the maidens are gone, + And this heart, like my grotto, is wither'd and lone, + And yet, with the winter, I'll cease not to mourn, + Unless, with the blossoms, these fair ones return. + Oh! had they ne'er come, or had ne'er gone away, + I sing in my sorrow still day after day. + The scene seems a desert--the charm is exiled, + And woe to my blooms and my bower of the wild! + + + + +THE CROOK AND PLAID. + +AIR--_"The Ploughman."_ + + + I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, + Though he should own that tender love, that's only felt by few; + For he that has this bosom a' to fondest love betray'd, + Is the faithfu' shepherd laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true to his lassie--he's aye true to his lassie, + Who wears the crook and plaid. + + At morn he climbs the mountains wild his fleecy flocks to view, + While o'er him sweet the laverock sings, new sprung frae 'mang the dew; + His doggie frolics roun' and roun', and may not weel be stay'd, + Sae blithe it is the laddie wi' that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + At noon he leans him down upon the high and heathy fell, + And views his flocks, beneath him a', fair feeding in the dell; + And there he sings the sangs o' love, the sweetest ever made; + O! how happy is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + He pu's the bells o' heather red, and the lily-flowers sae meek, + Ca's the lily like my bosom, and the heath-bell like my cheek; + His words are sweet and tender, as the dews frae heaven shed; + And weel I love to list the lad who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + When the dews begin to fauld the flowers, and the gloamin' shades draw on, + When the star comes stealing through the sky, and the kye are on the loan, + He whistles through the glen sae sweet, the heart is lighter made + To ken the laddie hameward hies who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + Beneath the spreading hawthorn gray, that's growing in the glen, + He meets me in the gloamin' aye, when nane on earth can ken, + To woo and vow, and there I trow, whatever may be said, + He kens aye unco weel the way to row me in his plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + The youth o' mony riches may to his fair one ride, + And woo across the table cauld his madam-titled bride; + But I'll gang to the hawthorn gray, where cheek to cheek is laid, + Oh! nae wooers like the laddie that rows me in his plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + To own the truth o' tender love what heart wad no comply, + Since love gives purer happiness than aught aneath the sky? + If love be in the bosom, then the heart is ne'er afraid; + And through life I'll love the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S BOWER. + +AIR--_"Bonnie Mary Hay."_ + + + Oh, lassie! if thou'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, + I'll weave the wilds amang a bonnie bower for thee; + I'll weave a bonnie bower o' the birks and willows green, + And to my heart thou'lt be what nae other e'er has been. + + When the dew is on the flower, and the starlight on the lea, + In the bonnie green-wood bower I'll wake my harp to thee; + I'll wake my hill-harp's strain, and the echoes o' the dell + Shall restore the tales again that its notes o' love shall tell. + + Oh, lassie! thou art fair as the morning's early beam, + As the image of a flower reflected frae the stream; + There's kindness in thy heart, and there's language in thine e'e, + But ah! its looks impart nae sweet tale o' love to me! + + Oh, lassie! wert thou mine I wad love thee wi' such love + As the lips can ne'er define, and the cold can never prove; + In the bower by yonder stream our happy home should be, + And our life a blissful dream, while I lived alone for thee. + + When I am far away my thoughts on thee shall rest, + Allured, as by a ray, frae the dwellings o' the blest; + For beneath the clouds o' dew, where'er my path may be, + Oh! a maiden fair as thou, I again shall never see! + + + + +WHEN THE STAR OF THE MORNING. + + + When the star of the morning is set, + And the heavens are beauteous and blue, + And the bells of the heather are wet + With the drops of the deep-lying dew; + 'Mong the flocks on the mountains that lie, + 'Twas blithesome and blissful to be, + When these all my thoughts would employ; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When noontide displays all its powers, + And the flocks to the valley return, + To lie and to feed 'mong the flowers + That bloom on the banks of the burn; + O sweet, sweet it was to recline + 'Neath the shade of yon hoar hawthorn-tree, + And think on the charge that was mine; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When Gloaming stole down from the rocks, + With her fingers of shadowy light, + And the dews of the eve in her locks, + To spread down a couch for the night; + 'Twas sweet through yon green birks to stray, + That border the brook and the lea; + But now, 'tis a wearisome way, + Unless it were travell'd with thee. + + All lovely and pure as thou art, + And generous of thought and of will, + Oh Mary! speak thou to this heart, + And bid its wild beating be still; + I'd give all the ewes in the fold-- + I'd give all the lambs on the lea, + By night or by day to behold + One look of true kindness from thee. + + + + +THOUGH ALL FAIR WAS THAT BOSOM. + + + Though all fair was that bosom, heaving white, + While hung this fond spirit o'er thee; + And though that eye, with beauty's light, + Still bedimm'd every eye before thee; + Oh! charms there were still more divine, + When woke that melting voice of thine, + The charms that caught this soul of mine, + And taught it to adore thee. + + Then died the woes of the heart away + With the thoughts of joys departed; + For my soul seem'd but to live in thy lay, + While it told of the faithful-hearted. + Methought how sweet it were to be + Far in some wild green glen with thee; + From all of life and of longing free, + Save what pure love imparted. + + Oh! I could stray where the drops of dew + Never fell on the desert round me, + And dwell where the fair flowers never grew + If the hymns of thy voice still found me. + Thy smile itself could the soul invest + With all that here makes mortals bless'd; + While every thought thy lips express'd + In deeper love still bound me. + + + + +WOULD THAT I WERE WHERE WILD WOODS WAVE. + + + Would that I were where wild woods wave + Aboon the beds where sleep the brave; + And where the streams o' Scotia lave + Her hills and glens o' grandeur! + + Where freedom reigns, and friendship dwells, + Bright as the sun upon the fells, + When autumn brings the heather-bells + In all their native splendour. + The thistle wi' the hawthorn joins, + The birks mix wi' the mountain pines, + And heart with dauntless heart combines + For ever to defend her. + Then would I were, &c. + + There roam the kind, and live the leal, + By lofty ha' and lowly shiel; + And she for whom the heart must feel + A kindness still mair tender. + Fair, where the light hill breezes blaw, + The wild-flowers bloom by glen and shaw; + But she is fairer than them a', + Wherever she may wander. + Then would I were, &c. + + Still, far or near, by wild or wood, + I'll love the generous, wise, and good; + But she shall share the dearest mood + That Heaven to life may render. + What boots it then thus on to stir, + And still from love's enjoyment err, + When I to Scotland and to her + Must all this heart surrender. + Then would I were, &c. + + + + +OH! TELL ME WHAT SOUND. + +AIR--_"Paddy's Resource."_ + + + Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear-- + The sound that can most o'er our being prevail? + 'Tis the sweet melting voice of the maid we love dear, + When chanting the songs of her own native vale. + More thrilling is this than the tone of the gale, + Awakening the wind-harp's wild wandering lore; + More sweet than the songster that sings in the dale, + When the strains of the rest of the warblers are o'er. + + Oh! tell me what light, of the earth or the sky, + Can the deepest delight to the spirit impart? + 'Tis the bright beaming radiance that lives in the eye + Of the maid that affection has bound to the heart. + More charming is this than the glory of art, + More lovely than rays from yon heavens above; + It heightens each joy, as it soothes every smart, + Enchanting our souls with the magic of love. + + Oh! tell me what drop is most melting and meek + That aught 'neath the azure of heaven can share? + 'Tis the tear-drop that falls o'er the dear maiden's cheek + When she breathes o'er her lover her sigh and her prayer! + More tender is this--more celestial and fair-- + Than the dew-drop that springs from the chamber of morn; + A balm that still softens the ranklings of care, + And heals every wound that the bosom hath borne. + + + + +OUR MARY.[7] + + + Our Mary liket weel to stray + Where clear the burn was rowin', + And trouth she was, though I say sae, + As fair as ought ere made o' clay, + And pure as ony gowan. + + And happy, too, as ony lark + The clud might ever carry; + She shunn'd the ill, and sought the good, + E'en mair than weel was understood; + And a' fouk liket Mary. + + But she fell sick wi' some decay, + When she was but eleven; + And as she pined frae day to day, + We grudged to see her gaun away, + Though she was gaun to Heaven. + + There's fears for them that's far awa', + And fykes for them are flitting, + But fears and cares, baith grit and sma', + We, by and by, o'er-pit them a'; + But death there's nae o'er-pitting. + + And nature's bands are hard to break, + When thus they maun be broken; + And e'en the form we loved to see, + We canna lang, dear though it be, + Preserve it as a token. + + But Mary had a gentle heart-- + Heaven did as gently free her; + Yet lang afore she reach'd that part, + Dear sir, it wad hae made ye start + Had ye been there to see her. + + Sae changed, and yet sae sweet and fair, + And growing meek and meeker, + Wi' her lang locks o' yellow hair, + She wore a little angel's air, + Ere angels cam to seek her. + + And when she couldna stray out by, + The wee wild-flowers to gather; + She oft her household plays wad try, + To hide her illness frae our eye, + Lest she should grieve us farther. + + But ilka thing we said or did, + Aye pleased the sweet wee creature; + Indeed ye wad hae thought she had + A something in her made her glad + Ayont the course o' nature. + + For though disease, beyont remeed, + Was in her frame indented, + Yet aye the mair as she grew ill, + She grew and grew the lovelier still, + And mair and mair contented. + + But death's cauld hour cam' on at last, + As it to a' is comin'; + And may it be, whene'er it fa's, + Nae waur to others than it was + To Mary, sweet wee woman! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] This exquisite lay forms a portion of "The Cottagers of Glendale," +Mr Riddell's longest ballad poem. + + + + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS. + + +The writer of spirited and elegant poetry, Mrs Margaret Maxwell Inglis +was the youngest daughter of Alexander Murray, a medical practitioner, +who latterly accepted a small government situation in the town of +Sanquhar, Dumfriesshire. She was born at Sanquhar on the 27th October +1774, and at an early age became the wife of a Mr Finlay, who held a +subordinate post in the navy. On the death of her husband, which took +place in the West Indies, she resided with the other members of her +family in Dumfries; and in 1803, she married Mr John Inglis, only son of +John Inglis, D.D., minister of Kirkmabreck, in Galloway. By the death of +Mr Inglis in 1826, she became dependent, with three children by her +second marriage, on a small annuity arising from an appointment which +her late husband had held in the Excise. She relieved the sadness of her +widowhood by a course of extensive reading, and of composition both in +prose and verse. In 1838 she published, at the solicitation of friends, +a duodecimo volume, entitled "Miscellaneous Collection of Poems, chiefly +Scriptural Pieces." Of the compositions in this volume, there are +several of very superior merit, while the whole are marked by a vein of +elegant fancy. + +Mrs Inglis died in Edinburgh on the 21st December 1843. Eminently gifted +as a musician, she could boast of having been complimented by the poet +Burns on the grace with which she had, in his presence, sung his own +songs. Of retiring and unobtrusive habits, she mixed sparingly in +general society; but among her intimate friends, she was held in +estimation for the extent of her information and the unclouded +cheerfulness of her disposition. She has left some MSS. of poems and +songs, from which we have been privileged to make selections for the +present work. + + + + +SWEET BARD OF ETTRICK'S GLEN.[8] + +AIR--_"Banks of the Devon."_ + + + Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen! + Where art thou wandering? + Miss'd is thy foot on the mountain and lea. + Why round yon craggy rocks + Wander thy heedless flocks, + While lambies are list'ning and bleating for thee? + Cold as the mountain stream, + Pale as the moonlight beam, + Still is thy bosom, and closed is thine e'e. + Wild may the tempest's wave + Sweep o'er thy lonely grave; + Thou art deaf to the storm--it is harmless to thee. + + Like a meteor's brief light, + Like the breath of the morning, + Thy life's dream hath pass'd as a shadow gone by; + Till thy soft numbers stealing + O'er mem'ry's warm feeling, + Each line is embalm'd with a tear or a sigh. + Sweet was thy melody, + Rich as the rose's dye, + Shedding its odours o'er sorrow or glee; + Love laugh'd on golden wing, + Pleasure's hand touch'd the string, + All taught the strain to sing, Shepherd, by thee. + + Cold on Benlomond's brow + Flickers the drifted snow, + While down its sides the wild cataracts foam; + Winter's mad winds may sweep + Fierce o'er each glen and steep, + Thy rest is unbroken, and peaceful thy home. + And when on dewy wing + Comes the sweet bird of spring, + Chanting its notes on the bush or the tree; + The Bird of the Wilderness, + Low in the waving grass, + Shall, cow'ring, sing sadly its farewell to thee. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] This song was composed by Mrs Inglis, in honour of the Ettrick +Shepherd, shortly after the period of his death. + + + + +YOUNG JAMIE.[9] + +AIR--_"Drummond Castle."_ + + + Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, + Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain, + But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour, + Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e. + O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny, + The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony, + But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e, + And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie. + + Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie, + Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean, + Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see + The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary, + And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary, + And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree, + Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + + Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn, + Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin, + He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see; + Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow, + And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow; + Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see, + But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Printed for the first time. + + + + +CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE. + +AIR--_"Tullymet."_ + + + Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, + And bonnets blue and white cockades, + Put on their shields, unsheathe their blades, + And conquest fell begin; + And let the word be Scotland's heir: + And when their swords can do nae mair, + Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair + Let Hieland lasses spin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather; + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Draw yer dirk and rin. + + Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light, + And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might, + And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight, + And Ruthven light and trim-- + Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack + Laid Cressingham upon his back, + Garr'd Edward gather up his pack, + And ply his spurs and rin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, &c. + + + + +HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE? + + + Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners + That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie; + Saw ye the broadswords, the shields and the tartan hose, + Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie? + Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid, + Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie; + Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil, + Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie? + + Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up, + Kenn'd ye the nobles that revell'd sae rarely; + Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald, + Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? + But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden, + Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly; + Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing, + That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie. + + Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless, + Pillows his head on the heather sae barely; + Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light, + Borne down by lawless might--gallant Prince Charlie? + Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear, + Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly; + But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart-- + Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie? + + + + +BRUCE'S ADDRESS. + + + When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, + And the tyrant's proud banners insultingly wave, + And the slogan of battle from beauty's fond arms + Roused the war-crested chieftain, his country to save; + The sunbeam that rose on our mountain-clad warriors, + And reflected their shields in the green rippling wave, + In its course saw the slain on the fields of their fathers, + And shed its last ray on their cold bloody graves. + + O'er those green beds of honour our war-song prepare, + And the red sword of vengeance triumphantly wave, + While the ghosts of the slain cry aloud--Do not spare, + Lead to victory and freedom, or die with the brave; + For the high soul of freedom no tyrant can fetter, + Like the unshackled billows our proud shores that lave; + Though oppressed, he will watch o'er the home of his fathers, + And rest his wan cheek on the tomb of the brave. + + To arms, then! to arms! Let the battle-cry rise, + Like the raven's hoarse croak, through their ranks let it sound; + Set their knell on the wing of each arrow that flies, + Till the shouts of the free shake the mountains around; + Let the cold-blooded, faint-hearted changeling now tremble, + For the war-shock shall reach to his dark-centered cave, + While the laurels that twine round the brows of the victors + Shall with rev'rence be strew'd o'er the tombs of the brave. + + + + +REMOVED FROM VAIN FASHION. + + + Removed from vain fashion, + From title's proud ken, + In a straw-cover'd cottage, + Deep hid in yon glen, + There dwells a sweet flow'ret, + Pure, lovely, and fair, + Though rear'd, like the snowdrop, + 'Midst hardships' chill air. + + No soft voice of kindred, + Or parent she knows-- + In the desert she blooms, + Like the sweet mountain rose, + Like the little stray'd lammie + That bleats on the lea; + She's soft, kind, and gentle, + And dear, dear to me. + + Though the rich dews of fortune + Ne'er water'd this stem, + Nor one fostering sunbeam + Matured the rich gem-- + Oh! give me that pure bosom, + Her lot let me share, + I'll laugh at distinction, + And smile away care. + + + + +WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN? + + + When shall we meet again, + Meet ne'er to sever? + When shall Peace wreath her chain + Round us for ever? + When shall our hearts repose, + Safe from each breath that blows, + In this dark world of woes? + Never! oh, never! + + Fate's unrelenting hand + Long may divide us, + Yet in one holy land + One God shall guide us. + Then, on that happy shore, + Care ne'er shall reach us more, + Earth's vain delusions o'er, + Angels beside us. + + There, where no storms can chill, + False friends deceive us, + Where, with protracted thrill, + Hope cannot grieve us; + There with the pure in heart, + Far from fate's venom'd dart, + There shall we meet to part + Never! oh, never! + + + + +JAMES KING. + + +James King was born in Paisley in 1776. His paternal ancestors, for a +course of centuries, were farmers in the vicinity of Gleniffer Braes. +Having been only one year at school, he was, at the age of eight, +required to assist his father in his trade of muslin-weaving. Joining a +circulating library, he soon acquired an acquaintance with books; he +early wrote verses, and became the intimate associate of Tannahill, who +has honourably mentioned him in one of his poetical epistles. In his +fifteenth year he enlisted in a fencible regiment, which was afterwards +stationed at Inverness. On its being disembodied in 1798, he returned to +the loom at Paisley, where he continued till 1803, when he became a +recruit in the Renfrewshire county militia. He accompanied this regiment +to Margate, Deal, Dover, Portsmouth, and London, and subsequently to +Leith, the French prisoners' depôt at Penicuick, and the Castle of +Edinburgh. At Edinburgh his poetical talents recommended him to some +attention from Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick Shepherd, and several +others of the poets of the capital. + +Accused of exciting disaffection, and promoting an attempt made by a +portion of his comrades to resist lawful authority while the regiment +was stationed at Perth, King, though wholly innocent of the charge, +fearing the vengeance of the adjutant, who was hostile to him, contrived +to effect his escape. By a circuitous route, so as to elude the +vigilance of parties sent to apprehend him, he reached the district of +Galloway, where he obtained employment as a shepherd and agricultural +labourer. He subsequently wrought as a weaver at Crieff till 1815, when, +on his regiment being disembodied, he was honourably acquitted from the +charge preferred against him, and granted his discharge. He now settled +as a muslin-weaver, first at Glasgow, and afterwards at Paisley and +Charleston. He died at Charleston, near Paisley, on the 27th September +1849, in his seventy-third year. + +Of vigorous intellect, lively fancy, and a keen appreciation of the +humorous, King was much esteemed among persons of a rank superior to his +own. His mind was of a fine devotional cast, and his poetical +compositions are distinguished by earnestness of expression and +sentiment. + + + + +THE LAKE IS AT REST. + + + The lake is at rest, love, + The sun's on its breast, love, + How bright is its water, how pleasant to see; + Its verdant banks shewing + The richest flowers blowing, + A picture of bliss and an emblem of thee! + + Then, O fairest maiden! + When earth is array'd in + The beauties of heaven o'er mountain and lea, + Let me still delight in + The glories that brighten, + For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee. + + But, Anna, why redden? + I would not, fair maiden, + My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray; + The traitor, the demon, + That could deceive woman, + His soul's all unfit for the glories of day. + + Believe me then, fairest, + To me thou art dearest; + And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree, + With flower blooming mountains, + And crystalline fountains, + I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee. + + + + +LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW. + +AIR--_"Scott's Boat Song."_ + + + No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley, + Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell, + Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily, + That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale. + At length from the hill I heard, + Plaintively wild, a bard, + Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow; + "Remember what Morard says, + Morard of many days, + Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain, + Sad is the song that the bugle-horns sing; + Though lovely the standard it waves o'er the mangled slain, + Widows' sighs stretching its broad gilded wing. + Hard are the laws that bind + Poor foolish man and blind; + But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow, + Thy cheeks with health's roses spread, + Till time clothes with snow thy head, + Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Wouldst thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary, + Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom; + Innocence leads to the summit of glory, + Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb. + The tyrant, whose hands are red, + Trembles alone in bed; + But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow, + No horror fiends haunt his rest, + Hope fills his placid breast, + Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe." + + Ceased the soft voice, for gray mist was descending, + Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill, + The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending, + Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill, + Yet still from the hoary bard, + Methought the sweet song I heard, + Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe; + And oft as I pass along, + Chimes in mine ear his song, + "Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe." + + + + +ISOBEL PAGAN. + + +The author of a sweet pastoral lyric, which has been praised both by +Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham, Isobel Pagan claims a biographical +notice. She was born in the parish of New Cumnock, Ayrshire, about the +year 1741. Deserted by her relations in youth, and possessing only an +imperfect education, she was led into a course of irregularities which +an early moral training would have probably prevented. She was lame and +singularly ill-favoured, but her manners were spirited and amusing. Her +chief employment was the composition of verses, and these she sung as a +mode of subsistence. She published, in 1805, a volume of doggerel +rhymes, and was in the habit of satirising in verse those who had +offended her. Her one happy effort in song-making has preserved her +name. She lived chiefly in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk. She died on +the 3d November 1821, in her eightieth year, and her remains were +interred in the churchyard of Muirkirk. A tombstone marks her grave. + + + + +CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.[10] + + + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, + Ca' them where the heather grows, + Ca' them where the burnie rows, + My bonnie dearie. + + As I gaed down the water-side, + There I met my shepherd lad, + He row'd me sweetly in his plaid, + An' he ca'd me his dearie. + + "Will ye gang down the water-side, + And see the waves sae sweetly glide + Beneath the hazels spreading wide? + The moon it shines fu' clearly. + + "Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet, + Cauf-leather shoon to thy white feet, + And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep, + And ye shall be my dearie." + + "If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, + I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad, + And ye may row me in your plaid, + And I shall be your dearie." + + "While water wimples to the sea, + While day blinks in the lift sae hie, + Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e, + Ye shall be my dearie." + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Of this song a new version was composed by Burns, the original +chorus being retained. Burns' version commences--"Hark the mavis' +evening sang." + + + + +JOHN MITCHELL. + + +John Mitchell, the Paisley bard, died in that place on the 12th August +1856, in his seventieth year. He was born at Paisley in 1786. The labour +of weaving he early sought to relieve by the composition of verses. He +contributed pieces, both in prose and verse, to the _Moral and Literary +Observer_, a small Paisley periodical of the year 1823, and of which he +was the publisher. In 1838, he appeared as the author of "A Night on the +Banks of the Doon, and other Poems," a volume which was followed in 1840 +by "The Wee Steeple's Ghaist, and other Poems and Songs," the latter +being dedicated to Professor Wilson. In the year 1840, he likewise +produced, jointly with a Mr Dickie, the "Philosophy of Witchcraft," a +work which, published by Messrs Oliver and Boyd, was well received. His +next publication appeared in 1845, with the title, "One Hundred Original +Songs." His last work, "My Gray Goose Quill, and other Poems and Songs," +was published in 1852. + +Mitchell employed himself latterly in forwarding the sale of his +publications, and succeeded by this course in securing a comfortable +maintenance. He wrote verses with much readiness, and occasionally with +considerable power. His songs, which we have selected for the present +work, are distinguished by graceful simplicity and elegant pathos. Had +Mitchell written less, and more carefully, he had reached a higher niche +in the Temple of National Song. His manners were eccentric, and he was +not unconscious of his poetical endowments. + + + + +BEAUTY. + + + What wakes the Poet's lyre? + 'Tis Beauty; + What kindles his poetic fire? + 'Tis Beauty; + What makes him seek, at evening's hour, + The lonely glen, the leafy bower, + When dew hangs on each little flower? + Oh! it is Beauty. + + What melts the soldier's soul? + 'Tis Beauty; + What can his love of fame control? + 'Tis Beauty; + For oft, amid the battle's rage, + Some lovely vision will engage + His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage: + Such power has Beauty. + + What tames the savage mood? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives a polish to the rude? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives the peasant's lowly state + A charm which wealth cannot create, + And on the good alone will wait? + 'Tis faithful Beauty. + + Then let our favourite toast + Be Beauty; + Is it not king and peasant's boast? + Yes, Beauty; + Then let us guard with tender care + The gentle, th' inspiring fair, + And Love will a diviner air + Impart to Beauty. + + + + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + + Star of descending Night! + Lovely and fair, + Robed in thy mellow light, + Subtle and rare; + Whence are thy silvery beams, + That o'er lone ocean gleams, + And in our crystal streams + Dip their bright hair? + + Far in yon liquid sky, + Where streamers play + And the red lightnings fly, + Hold'st thou thy way; + Clouds may envelop thee, + Winds rave o'er land and sea, + O'er them thy march is free + As thine own ray. + + + + +OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME. + + + Oh! waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home; + There will I wander by the streams + Where Song and Dance combine, + Around my rosy waking dreams + Ecstatic joys to twine. + + On Music's swell my thoughts will soar + Above created things, + And revel on the boundless shore + Of rapt imaginings. + The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken + My fancy will explore, + And seek, far from the haunts of men, + The Poet's mystic lore. + + Love will add gladness to the scene, + And strew my path with flowers; + And Joy with Innocence will lean + Amid my rosy bowers. + Then waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home. + + + + +THE LOVE-SICK MAID. + + + The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, + Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid? + Can the doctor cure her woe + When she will not let him know + Why the tears incessant flow + From the love-sick maid? + + The flaunting day, the flaunting day, + She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day! + For she sits and pines alone, + And will comfort take from none; + Nay, the very colour's gone + From the love-sick maid. + + The secret 's out, the secret 's out, + A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out! + For she finds at e'ening's hour, + In a rosy woodland bower, + Charms worth a prince's dower + To a love-sick maid. + + + + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON. + + +Alexander Jamieson was born in the village of Dalmellington, Ayrshire, +on the 29th January 1789. After a course of study at the University of +Edinburgh, he obtained licence as a medical practitioner. In 1819, he +settled as a surgeon and apothecary in the town of Alloa. A skilful +mechanician, he constructed a small printing-press for his own use; he +was likewise ardently devoted to the study of botany. He composed verses +with remarkable facility, many of which he contributed to the _Stirling +Journal_ newspaper. His death was peculiarly melancholy: he had formed +one of a pic-nic party, on a fine summer day, to the summit of +Bencleugh, one of the Ochils, and descending by a shorter route to visit +a patient at Tillicoultry, he missed his footing, and was precipitated +about two hundred feet into one of the ravines. He was early next +morning discovered by a shepherd, but only survived a few hours +afterwards. His death took place on the 26th July 1826. Possessed of +varied talents, and excellent dispositions, Jamieson was deeply +regretted by his friends. He left a widow, who died lately in +Dunfermline. His songs, of which two specimens are adduced, afford +evidence of power. + + + + +THE MAID WHO WOVE.[11] + +_"Russian Air."_ + + + The maid who wove the rosy wreath + With every flower--hath wrought a spell, + And though her chaplets fragrance breathe + And balmy sweets--I know full well, + 'Neath every bud, or blossom gay, + There lurks a chain--Love's tyranny. + + Though round her ruby lips, enshrin'd, + Sits stillness, soft as evening skies-- + Though crimson'd cheek you seldom find, + Or glances from her downcast eyes-- + There lurks, unseen, a world of charms, + Which ne'er betray young Love's alarms. + + O trust not to her silent tongue; + Her settled calm, or absent smile; + Nor dream that nymph, so fair and young, + May not enchain in Love's soft guile; + For where Love is--or what's Love's spell-- + No mortal knows--no tongue can tell. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] This song was addressed by Mr Jamieson to Miss Jane Morrison of +Alloa, the heroine of Motherwell's popular ballad of "Jeanie Morrison," +and who had thus the singular good fortune to be celebrated by two +different poets. For some account of Miss Morrison, now Mrs Murdoch, see +vol. iii. p. 233. + + + + +A SIGH AND A SMILE. + +WELSH AIR--_"Sir William Watkin Wynne."_ + + + From Beauty's soft lip, like the balm of its roses, + Or breath of the morning, a sigh took its flight; + Nor far had it stray'd forth, when Pity proposes + The wanderer should lodge in this bosom a night. + + But scarce had the guest, in that peaceful seclusion, + His lodging secured, when a conflict arose, + Each feeling was changed, every thought was delusion, + Nor longer my breast knew the calm of repose. + + They say that young Love is a rosy-cheek'd bowyer, + At random the shafts from his silken string fly, + But surely the urchin of peace is destroyer, + Whose arrows are dipp'd in the balm of a sigh. + + O yes! for he whisper'd, "To Beauty's shrine hie thee; + There worship to Cupid, and wait yet awhile; + A cure she can give, with the balm can supply thee, + The wound from a sigh can be cured by a smile." + + + + +JOHN GOLDIE. + + +A short-lived poet and song-writer of some promise, John Goldie was born +at Ayr on the 22d December 1798. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, was a respectable shipmaster. Obtaining an ample education at the +academy of his native town, he became, in his fifteenth year, assistant +to a grocer in Paisley; he subsequently held a similar situation in a +stoneware and china shop in Glasgow. In 1821 he opened, on his own +account, a stoneware establishment at Ayr; but proving unfortunate in +business, he abandoned the concerns of trade. From his boyhood being +devoted to literature he now resolved on its cultivation as a means of +support. Already known as an occasional contributor, both in prose and +verse, to the public press, he received the appointment of assistant +editor of the _Ayr Courier_, and shortly after obtained the entire +literary superintendence of that journal. In 1821, he published a +pamphlet of respectable verses; and in the following year appeared as +the author of a duodecimo volume of "Poems and Songs," which he +inscribed to the Ettrick Shepherd. Of the compositions in the latter +publication, the greater portion, he intimates in the preface, "were +composed at an early age, chiefly betwixt the years of sixteen and +twenty;" and as the production of a very young man, the volume is +altogether creditable to his genius and taste. + +Deprived of the editorship of the _Courier_, in consequence of a change +in the proprietary, Goldie proceeded to London, in the hope of forming +a connexion with some of the leading newspapers in the metropolis. +Unsuccessful in this effort, he formed the project of publishing _The +London Scotsman_, a newspaper to be chiefly devoted to the consideration +of Scottish affairs. Lacking that encouragement necessary to the +ultimate success of this adventure, he abandoned the scheme after the +third publication, and in very reduced circumstances returned to +Scotland. He now projected the _Paisley Advertiser_, of which the first +number appeared on the 9th October 1824. The editorship of this +newspaper he retained till his death, which took place suddenly on the +27th February 1826, in his twenty-eighth year. + +Of a vigorous intellect, and possessed of a correct literary taste, +Goldie afforded excellent promise of eminence as a journalist. As a poet +and song-writer, a rich vein of humour pervades certain of his +compositions, while others are marked by a plaintive tenderness. Of +sociable and generous dispositions, he was much esteemed by a circle of +admiring friends. His personal appearance was pleasing, and his +countenance wore the aspect of intelligence. + + + + +AND CAN THY BOSOM? + +AIR--_"Loudon's Bonnie Woods and Braes."_ + + + And can thy bosom bear the thought + To part frae love and me, laddie? + Are all those plighted vows forgot, + Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie? + Canst thou forget the midnight hour, + When in yon love-inspiring bower, + You vow'd by every heavenly power + You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie? + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin' ye part wi' me, laddie. + + Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek, + Aft praised my sparkling e'e, laddie, + Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek, + But love and live wi' me, laddie. + But soon those cheeks will lose their red, + Those eyes in endless sleep be hid, + And 'neath the turf the heart be laid + That beats for love and thee, laddie. + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin ye part frae me, laddie. + + You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair, + Where rarer beauties shine, laddie, + But, oh! the heart can never bear + A love sae true as mine, laddie. + But when that heart is laid at rest-- + That heart that lo'ed ye last and best-- + Oh! then the pangs that rend thy breast + Will sharper be than mine, laddie. + Broken vows will vex and grieve me, + Till a broken heart relieve me-- + Yet its latest thought, believe me, + Will be love an' thine, laddie. + + + + +SWEET'S THE DEW. + + + Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June + And lily fair to see, Annie, + But there's ne'er a flower that blooms + Is half so fair as thee, Annie. + Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine + The opening rose its beauties tine, + Thy lips the rubies far outshine, + Love sparkles in thine e'e, Annie. + + The snaw that decks yon mountain top + Nae purer is than thee, Annie; + The haughty mien and pridefu' look + Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie. + And in thy sweet angelic face + Triumphant beams each modest grace; + And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace + A form sae bright as thine, Annie. + + Wha could behold thy rosy cheek + And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie; + What heart could view thy smiling looks, + And plot to do thee wrang, Annie? + Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave, + My heart, my soul, wi' thee I'll leave, + And never, till I cease to breathe, + I'll cease to think on thee, Annie. + + + + +ROBERT POLLOK. + + +Robert Pollok, author of the immortal poem, "The Course of Time," was +the son of a small farmer in the parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, +where he was born on the 19th October 1798. With a short interval of +employment in the workshop of a cabinetmaker, he was engaged till his +seventeenth year in services about his father's farm. Resolving to +prepare for the ministry in the Secession Church, he took lessons in +classical learning at the parish school of Fenwick, Ayrshire, and in +twelve months fitted himself for the university. He attended the +literary and philosophical classes in Glasgow College, during five +sessions, and subsequently studied in the Divinity Hall of the United +Secession Church. He wrote verses in his boyhood, in his eighteenth year +composed a poetical essay, and afterwards produced respectable +translations from the Classics as college exercises. His great poem, +"The Course of Time," was commenced in December 1824, and finished +within the space of nineteen months. On the 24th March 1827, the poem +was published by Mr Blackwood; and on the 2d of the following May the +author received his license as a probationer. The extraordinary success +of his poem had excited strong anticipations in respect of his +professional career, but these were destined to disappointment. Pollok +only preached four times. His constitution, originally robust, had +suffered from over exertion in boyhood, and more recently from a course +of sedulous application in preparing for license, and in the production +of his poem. To recruit his wasted strength, a change of climate was +necessary, and that of Italy was recommended. The afflicted poet only +reached Southampton, where he died a few weeks after his arrival, on the +18th September 1827. In Millbrook churchyard, near Southampton, where +his remains were interred, a monument has been erected to his memory. + +Besides his remarkable poem, Pollok published three short tales relative +to the sufferings of the Covenanters. He had projected a large work +respecting the influences which Christianity had exercised upon +literature. Since his death, several short poetical pieces from his pen +have, along with a memoir, been published by his brother. In person he +was of the ordinary height, and of symmetrical form. His complexion was +pale brown; his features small, and his eyes dark and piercing. "He +was," writes Mr Gabriel Neil, who enjoyed his friendship, "of plain +simple manners, with a well-cultivated mind; he loved debate, and took +pleasure in good-humoured controversy." The copyright of "The Course of +Time" continues to produce emolument to the family. + + + + +THE AFRICAN MAID. + + + On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, + Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste, + All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, + Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste. + + A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide, + And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave; + Ah! well might she gaze--in the ship's hollow side, + Moan'd her Zoopah in chains--in the chains of a slave. + + Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep, + Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail, + Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep; + Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:-- + + "O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe? + Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too! + Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow + To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view? + + * * * * * + + "Great Spirit! why slumber'd the wrath of thy clouds, + When the savage white men dragg'd my Zoopah away? + Why linger'd the panther far back in his woods? + Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey? + + "Ah cruel white monsters! plague poison their breath, + And sleep never visit the place of their bed! + On their children and wives, on their life and their death, + Abide still the curse of an African maid!" + + + + +J. C. DENOVAN. + + +J. C. Denovan was born at Edinburgh in 1798. Early evincing a +predilection for a seafaring life, he was enabled to enter a sloop of +war, with the honorary rank of a midshipman. After accomplishing a +single voyage, he was necessitated, by the death of his father, to +abandon his nautical occupation, and to seek a livelihood in Edinburgh. +He now became, in his sixteenth year, apprentice to a grocer; and he +subsequently established himself as a coffee-roaster in the capital. He +died in 1827. Of amiable dispositions, he was an agreeable and +unassuming member of society. He courted the Muse to interest his hours +of leisure, and his poetical aspirations received the encouragement of +Sir Walter Scott and other men of letters. + + + + +OH DERMOT, DEAR LOVED ONE! + + + Thou hast left me, dear Dermot! to cross the wide seas, + And thy Norah lives grieving in sadness forlorn, + She laments and looks back on the past happy days + When thy presence had left her no object to mourn + Those days that are past, + Too joyous to last, + A pang leaves behind them, 'tis Heaven's decree; + No joy now is mine, + In sadness I pine, + Till Dermot, dear Dermot, returns back to me. + + O Dermot, dear Dermot! why, why didst thou leave + The girl who holds thee so dear in her heart? + Oh! couldst thou hold a thought that would cause her to grieve, + Or think for one moment from Norah to part? + Couldst thou reconcile + To leave this dear isle, + In a far unknown country, where dangers there be? + Oh! for thy dear sake + This poor heart will break, + If thou, dear beloved one, return not to me. + + In silence I 'll weep till my Dermot doth come, + Alone will I wander by moon, noon, and night, + Still praying of Heaven to send him safe home + To her who 'll embrace him with joy and delight. + Then come, like a dove, + To thy faithful love, + Whose heart will entwine thee, fond, joyous, and free; + From danger's alarms + Speed to her open arms, + O Dermot, dear loved one! return back to me. + + + + +JOHN IMLAH. + + +John Imlah, one of the sweetest and most patriotic of Scottish +song-writers, was born in North Street, Aberdeen, about the close of the +year 1799. His progenitors were farmers in the parish of Fyvie, but his +father followed the profession of an innkeeper. Of seven sons, born in +succession to his parents, the poet was the youngest. On completing an +ordinary education at the grammar-school, he was apprenticed to a +pianoforte maker in Aberdeen. Excelling as a piano-tuner he, in this +capacity, sought employment in London, and was fortunate in procuring an +engagement from the Messrs Broadwood. For the first six months of the +year he performed the duties of a tuner in the metropolis, and during +the remaining six months prosecuted his vocation in Scotland. Attached +to his native country, he took delight in celebrating her strains. He +composed songs from his boyhood. In 1827, he published "May Flowers," a +duodecimo volume of lyrics, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, which he +followed by a second volume of "Poems and Songs" in 1841. He contributed +to Macleod's "National Melodies" and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. +On the 9th January 1846, his death took place at Jamaica, whither he had +gone on a visit to one of his brothers. + +Imlah was a person of amiable dispositions and agreeable manners. Of his +numerous lyrics, each is distinguished by a rich fancy, and several of +his songs will maintain a lasting place in the national minstrelsy. + + + + +KATHLEEN. + +AIR--_"The Humours of Glen."_ + + + O distant but dear is that sweet island, wherein + My hopes with my Kathleen and kindred abide; + And far though I wander from thee, emerald Erin! + No space can the links of my love-chain divide. + Fairest spot of the earth! brightest gem of the ocean! + How oft have I waken'd my wild harp in thee! + While, with eye of expression, and heart of emotion, + Listen'd, Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + The bloom of the moss-rose, the blush of the morning, + The soft cheek of Kathleen discloses their dye; + What ruby can rival the lip of mavourneen? + What sight-dazzling diamond can equal her eye? + Her silken hair vies with the sunbeam in brightness, + And white is her brow as the surf of the sea; + Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness, + Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom! + As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed, + Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom, + Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed; + While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on, + That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea; + And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon + And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + + + +HIELAN' HEATHER. + +AIR--_"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."_ + + + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Dear to me, an' aye shall be, + The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather! + + The moss-muir black an' mountain blue, + Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather; + The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue, + Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing, + Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather; + While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring, + Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel, + Young lads and lasses trip thegither; + The native Norlan rant and reel + Amang the halesome Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin, + Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather; + How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair + The purple bells o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range, + My fancy fondly travels thither; + Nae countrie charms, nae customs change + My feelings frae the Hielan' heather! + Hey, for the Hielan' heather! + + + + +FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Kinloch."_ + + + Loved land of my kindred, farewell--and for ever! + Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart; + When fated with each fond endearment to sever, + And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart! + Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish, + Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget, + Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish + The dearest regard and the deepest regret. + + Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested! + Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sight; + Your peaks are the king-eagle's thrones--where have rested + The snow-falls of ages--eternally white. + Ah! never again shall the falls of your fountains + Their wild murmur'd music awake on mine ear; + No more the lake's lustre, that mirrors your mountains, + I'll pore on with pleasure--deep, lonely, yet dear. + + Yet--yet Caledonia! when slumber comes o'er me, + Oh! oft will I dream of thee, far, far, away; + But vain are the visions that rapture restore me, + To waken and weep at the dawn of the day. + Ere gone the last glimpse, faint and far o'er the ocean, + Where yet my heart dwells--where it ever shall dwell, + While tongue, sigh and tear, speak my spirit's emotion, + My country--my kindred--farewell, oh farewell! + + + + +THE ROSE OF SEATON VALE. + + + A bonnie Rose bloom'd wild and fair, + As sweet a bud I trow + As ever breathed the morning air, + Or drank the evening dew. + A Zephyr loved the blushing flower, + With sigh and fond love tale; + It woo'd within its briery bower + The rose of Seaton Vale. + + With wakening kiss the Zephyr press'd + This bud at morning light; + At noon it fann'd its glowing breast, + And nestled there at night. + But other flowers sprung up thereby, + And lured the roving gale; + The Zephyr left to droop and die + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + A matchless maiden dwelt by Don, + Loved by as fair a youth; + Long had their young hearts throbb'd as one + Wi' tenderness and truth. + Thy warmest tear, soft Pity, pour-- + For Ellen's type and tale + Are in that sweet, ill-fated flower, + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + + + +KATHERINE AND DONALD. + + + Young Donald dearer loved than life + The proud Dunallan's daughter; + But, barr'd by feudal hate and strife, + In vain he loved and sought her. + She loved the Lord of Garry's glen, + The chieftain of Clanronald; + A thousand plaided Highlandmen + Clasp'd the claymore for Donald. + + On Scotland rush'd the Danish hordes, + Dunallan met his foemen; + Beneath him bared ten thousand swords + Of vassal, serf, and yeomen. + The fray was fierce--and at its height + Was seen a visor'd stranger, + With red lance foremost in the fight, + Unfearing Dane and danger. + + "Be praised--brave knight! thy steel hath striven + The sharpest in the slaughter; + Crave what thou wilt of me--though even + My fair--my darling daughter!" + He lifts the visor from his face-- + The chieftain of Clanronald! + And foes enclasp in friends' embrace, + Dunallan and young Donald. + + Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee-- + The feast-cup glads Glengarry; + The joy that should for ever be + When mutual lovers marry. + The shout and shell the revellers raise, + Dunallan and Clanronald; + And minstrel measures pour to praise + Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald! + + + + +GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'. + + + Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'! + Since it is sae that I maun gang; + Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah! + To gang again as wearie lang. + Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang + That I sae sune sou'd haste awa'; + But since it's sae that I maun gae, + Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'! + + This night I ween we've had the heart + To gar auld Time tak' to his feet; + That makes us a' fu' laith to part, + But aye mair fain again to meet! + To dree the winter's drift and weet + For sic a night is nocht ava, + For hours the sweetest o' the sweet; + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen, + In younker revels fidgin' fain; + Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been, + Like daffin hizzies, young again! + To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain + We've deftly danced the time awa': + We met in mirth--we part wi' pain, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + My nimble gray neighs at the yett, + My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw; + I've clapt the spur upon my buit, + The guid braid bonnet on my brow! + Then night is wearing late I trow-- + My hame lies mony a mile awa'; + The mair's my need to mount and go, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + + + +THE GATHERING.[12] + + + Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman, + Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early; + Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen, + Belt on your broad claymores--fight for Prince Charlie; + Down from the mountain steep, + Up from the valley deep, + Out from the clachan, the bothie, and shieling, + Bugle and battle-drum + Bid chief and vassal come, + Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing. + + Men of the mountains--descendants of heroes! + Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers; + Say, shall the Southern--the Sassenach fear us + When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers? + Too long on the trophied walls + Of your ancestral halls, + Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin; + Seize then, ye mountain Macs, + Buckler and battle-axe, + Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin! + + When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward? + When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal? + Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart, + Follow your leader--the rightful--the royal! + Chief of Clanronald, + Donald Macdonald! + Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon! + Rouse every kilted clan, + Rouse every loyal man, + Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[12] A MS. copy of this song had been sent by the author to the Ettrick +Shepherd. Having been found among the Shepherd's papers after his +decease, it was regarded as his own composition, and has consequently +been included in the posthumous edition of his songs, published by the +Messrs Blackie. The song appears in Imlah's "May Flowers," published in +1827. + + + + +MARY. + +AIR--_"The Dawtie."_ + + There lives a young lassie + Far down yon lang glen, + How I lo'e that lassie + There's nae ane can ken! + Oh! a saint's faith may vary, + But faithfu' I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + And Mary lo'es me. + + Red, red as the rowan + Her smiling wee mou, + An' white as the gowan + Her breast and her brow; + Wi' the foot o' a fairy + She links o'er the lea-- + Oh! weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me. + + Where yon tall forest timmer, + An' lowly broom bower, + To the sunshine o' simmer, + Spread verdure an' flower; + There, when night clouds the cary, + Beside her I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me! + + + + +OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.[13] + + + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay, + By Border Nith, and Highland Spey, + But dearer far to me than they + The braes o' Bennachie. + + When blade and blossoms sprout in spring, + And bid the burdies wag the wing, + They blithely bob, and soar, and sing + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + When simmer cleeds the varied scene + Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green, + I fain would be where aft I've been + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn, + And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn, + 'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill + O'er icy burn and sheeted hill, + The ingle neuk is gleesome still + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + Though few to welcome me remain, + Though a' I loved be dead and gane, + I'll back, though I should live alane, + To the foot o' Bennachie. + + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[13] The chorus of this song, which is said to have been originally +connected with a plaintive Jacobite ditty, now lost, has suggested +several modern songs similar in manner and sentiment. Imlah composed two +songs with this chorus. The earlier of these compositions appears in the +"May Flowers." It is evidently founded upon a rumour, which prevailed in +Aberdeenshire during the first quarter of the century, to the effect, +that a Scottish officer, serving in Egypt, had been much affected on +hearing a soldier's wife _crooning_ to herself the original words of the +air. We have inserted in the text Imlah's second version, as being +somewhat smoother in versification. It is the only song which we have +transcribed from his volume, published in 1841. But the most popular +words which have been attached to the air and chorus were the +composition of a student in one of the colleges of Aberdeen, nearly +thirty years since, who is now an able and accomplished clergyman of the +Scottish Church. Having received the chorus and heard the air from a +comrade, he immediately composed the following verses, here printed from +the author's MS.:-- + + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins, + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + At the back o' Bennachie! + + I wish I were where Gadie rins, + 'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins, + Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins + At the back o' Bennachie; + + To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang, + To wander birks and braes amang, + Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang, + At the back o' Bennachie. + + How mony a day, in blithe spring-time, + How mony a day, in summer's prime, + I wil'd awa' my careless time + On the heights o' Bennachie. + + Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife, + And walth is won wi' grief and strife-- + Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life + At the back o' Bennachie. + + Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht, + When baith our hearts were young and licht, + We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht + Wi' speeches fond and free. + + Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins + At the back o' Bennachie. + +"The air," communicates the reverend author of this song, "is +undoubtedly old, from its resemblance to several Gaelic and Irish airs. +'Cuir's chiste moir me,' and several others, might be thought to have +been originally the same _in the first part_. The second part of the air +is, I think, modern." The Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, +in Aberdeenshire. + + + + +JOHN TWEEDIE. + + +John Tweedie was born in the year 1800, in the vicinity of Peebles, +where his father was a shepherd. Obtaining a classical education, he +proceeded to the University of Edinburgh, to prosecute his studies for +the Established Church. By acting as a tutor during the summer months, +he was enabled to support himself at the university, and after the usual +curriculum, he was licensed as a probationer. Though possessed of +popular talents as a preacher, he was not successful in obtaining a +living in the Church. During his probationary career, he was employed as +a tutor in the family of the minister of Newbattle, assisted in the +parish of Eddleston, and ultimately became missionary at Stockbridge, +Edinburgh. He died at Linkfieldhall, Musselburgh, on the 29th February +1844. Tweedie was a person of amiable dispositions and unaffected piety; +he did not much cultivate his gifts as a poet, but the following song +from his pen, to the old air, "Saw ye my Maggie," has received a +considerable measure of popularity.[14] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] In the "Cottagers of Glendale," Mr H. S. Riddell alludes to two of +Tweedie's brothers, who perished among the snow in the manner described +in that poem. The present memoir is prepared from materials chiefly +supplied by Mr Riddell. + + + + +SAW YE MY ANNIE? + + + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Wading 'mang the dew? + My Annie walks as light + As shadow in the night + Or downy cloudlet light + Alang the fields o' blue. + + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + That we may ken her be? + She's fair as nature's flush, + Blithe as dawning's blush, + And gentle as the hush + When e'ening faulds her e'e. + + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Bounding o'er the lea. + Lammies play before her, + Birdies whistle o'er her, + I mysell adore her, + In heavenly ecstasy. + + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Speed, speed, like winged day. + My Annie's rosy cheek + Smiled fair as morning's streak, + We felt, but couldna speak, + 'Neath love's enraptured sway. + + + + +THOMAS ATKINSON. + + +Thomas Atkinson, a respectable writer of prose and verse, was born at +Glasgow about the year 1800. Having completed an apprenticeship to Mr +Turnbull, bookseller, Trongate, he entered into copartnership with Mr +David Robertson, subsequently King's publisher in the city. Of active +business habits, he conducted, along with his partner, an extensive +bookselling trade, yet found leisure for the pursuits of elegant +literature. At an early age he published "The Sextuple Alliance," a +series of poems on the subject of Napoleon Bonaparte, which afforded +considerable promise, and received the commendation of Sir Walter Scott. +In 1827, he published "The Ant," a work in two volumes, one of which +consists of entirely original, and the other of selected matter. "The +Chameleon," a publication of the nature of an annual, commenced in 1831, +and extended to three octavo volumes. Of this work, a _melange_ of prose +and poetry, the contents for the greater part were of his own +composition. The last volume appeared in September 1833, shortly before +his death. + +Deeply interested in the public affairs, Atkinson was distinguished as a +public speaker. At the general election, subsequent to the passing of +the Reform Bill, he was invited to become a candidate in the liberal +interest for the parliamentary representation of the Stirling burghs, in +opposition to Lord Dalmeny, who was returned. Naturally of a sound +constitution, the exertions of his political canvass superinduced an +illness, which terminated in pulmonary consumption. During a voyage he +had undertaken to Barbadoes for the recovery of his health, he died at +sea on the 10th October 1833. His remains, placed in an oaken coffin, +which he had taken along with him, were buried in the deep. He +bequeathed a sum, to be applied, after accumulation, in erecting a +building in Glasgow for scientific purposes. A monument to his memory +has been erected in the Glasgow Necropolis. The following stanzas were +composed by the dying poet at the outset of his voyage, and less than +three weeks prior to his decease; they are dated the "River Mersey," +21st September 1833:-- + + I could not, as I gazed my last--there was on me a spell, + In all its simple agony--breathe that lone word--"Farewell," + Which hath no hope that clings to it, the closer as it dies, + In song alone 'twould pass the lips that loved the dear disguise. + + I go across a bluer wave than now girds round my bark, + As forth the dove went trembling--but to my Father's ark + Shall I return? I may not ask my doubting heart, but yet + To hope and wish in one--how hard the lesson to forget. + + * * * * * + + But drooping head and feeble limbs--and, oh! a beating heart, + Remind the vow'd to sing no more of all his weary part; + Yet, with a voice that trembles as the sounds unloose the spell, + In this, his last and rudest lay, he now can breathe--"Farewell." + +In the "Chameleon" several of Mr Atkinson's songs are set to music, but, +with the exception of "Mary Shearer," none of them are likely to obtain +popularity. + + + + +MARY SHEARER. + + + She's aff and awa', like the lang summer-day, + And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary; + The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae, + But lang for blithe Mary fu' mony may weary. + For mair hearts than mine + Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer; + But nane mair will pine + For the sweet Mary Shearer! + + She cam' wi' the spring, just like ane o' its flowers, + And the blue-bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither; + The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours, + But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither. + Their sweet breath is fled-- + Her kind looks still endear her; + For the heart maun be dead + That forgets Mary Shearer! + + Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung; + An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover; + Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue, + Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover. + Oh! he maun be bless'd + Wha's allow'd to be near her; + For the fairest and best + O' her kind 's Mary Shearer! + + But farewell Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven, + My country and kin,--since I 've sae lov'd the stranger; + Whare she 's been maun be either a pine or a heaven-- + Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger. + Though I try to forget, + In my heart still I 'll wear her, + For mine may be yet-- + Name and a'--Mary Shearer! + + + + +WILLIAM GARDINER. + + +William Gardiner, the author of "Scotland's Hills," was born at Perth +about the year 1800. He established himself as a bookseller in +Cupar-Fife. During a period of residence in Dundee, in acquiring a +knowledge of his trade, he formed the acquaintance of the poet Vedder. +With the assistance of this gifted individual, he composed his popular +song of "Scotland's Hills." Introduced at a theatre in Dundee, it was +received with marked approbation. It was first printed, in January 1829, +in the _Fife Herald_ newspaper, with a humorous preface by Vedder, and +was afterwards copied into the _Edinburgh Literary Gazette_. It has +since found a place in many of the collections of Scottish song, and has +three different times been set to music. + +Gardiner was unfortunate as a bookseller, and ultimately obtained +employment in the publishing office of the _Fife Herald_. He died at +Perth on the 4th July 1845. Some years before his death, he published a +volume of original and selected compositions, under the title of +"Gardiner's Miscellany." He was a person of amiable dispositions; and to +other good qualities of a personal character, added considerable skill +in music. + + + + +O SCOTLAND'S HILLS FOR ME![15] + + + O these are not my country's hills, + Though they seem bright and fair; + Though flow'rets deck their verdant sides, + The heather blooms not there. + Let me behold the mountain steep, + And wild deer roaming free-- + The heathy glen, the ravine deep-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The rose, through all this garden-land, + May shed its rich perfume, + But I would rather wander 'mong + My country's bonnie broom. + There sings the shepherd on the hill, + The ploughman on the lea; + There lives my blithesome mountain maid, + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The throstle and the nightingale + May warble sweeter strains + Than thrills at lovely gloaming hour + O'er Scotland's daisied plains; + Give me the merle's mellow note, + The linnet's liquid lay; + The laverocks on the roseate cloud-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + And I would rather roam beneath + Thy scowling winter skies, + Than listlessly attune my lyre + Where sun-bright flowers arise. + The baron's hall, the peasant's cot + Protect alike the free; + The tyrant dies who breathes thine air; + O Scotland's hills for me! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] At the request of one Roger, a music-master in Edinburgh, who had +obtained a copy of the first two stanzas, a third was added by Mr Robert +Chambers, and in this form the song appears in some of the collections. +Mr Chambers's stanza proceeds thus:-- + + In southern climes the radiant sun + A brighter light displays; + But I love best his milder beams + That shine on Scotland's braes. + Then dear, romantic native land + If e'er I roam from thee, + I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay; + O Scotland's hills for me! + + + + + +ROBERT HOGG. + + +Robert Hogg was born in the parish of Stobo, about the close of the +century. His father was William Hogg, eldest brother of the Ettrick +Shepherd. William Hogg was also a shepherd, a sensible, well-conducted +man, and possessed of considerable literary talent. Receiving a +classical education at the grammar-school of Peebles, Robert proceeded +to the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying for the +Church. Abandoning his original views, he became corrector of the press, +or reader in the printing-office of Messrs Ballantyne. John Wilson, the +future vocalist, was his yoke-fellow in office. His official duties were +arduous, but he contrived to find leisure for contributing, both in +prose and verse, to the periodicals. His literary talents attracted the +favourable notice of Mr J. G. Lockhart, who, on being appointed, in +1825, to conduct the _Quarterly Review_, secured his services as +secretary or literary assistant. He therefore proceeded to London, but +as it was found there was not sufficient occasion for his services in +his new appointment, he returned in a few months to the duties of his +former situation. For a short period he acted as amanuensis to Sir +Walter Scott, while the "Life of Napoleon" was in progress. According to +his own account,[16] this must have been no relief from his ordinary +toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost +evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When _Chambers's +Edinburgh Journal_ was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former +schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of assistant +editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this +office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give +satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor, +both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular +periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to +give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peeblesshire, where he +died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child. + +Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of +humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of +heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary +periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish +Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, entitled +"The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle +in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are +transcribed from a small periodical, entitled "The Rainbow," published +at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Album, in +the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by +his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's +poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of +Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression, +but they are defective in startling originality and power.[17] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[16] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott." + +[17] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert Chambers for +many of the particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG. + + + Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me, + Over the holme so green, over the lea, + Over the corrie, and down by the lake, + Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake, + Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea: + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill; + Come at the dead of night when all is still; + Come over mountain steep, come over brae, + Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray; + Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae, + Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray, + Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben, + Or by the braken howe far down the glen, + Or by the river side; where'er ye be, + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night, + Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light, + To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven, + And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven, + Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + + + +WHEN AUTUMN COMES. + + + When autumn comes an' heather bells + Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells, + An' corn that waves on lowland dales + Is yellow ripe appearing; + + Bonnie lassie will ye gang + Shear wi' me the hale day lang; + An' love will mak' us eithly bang + The weary toil o' shearing? + + An' if the lasses should envy, + Or say we love, then you an' I + Will pass ilk ither slyly by, + As if we werena caring. + + But aye I wi' my heuk will whang + The thistles, if in prickles strang + Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang, + When we gang to the shearing. + + An' aye we'll haud our rig afore, + An' ply to hae the shearing o'er, + Syne you will soon forget you bore + Your neighbours' jibes and jeering. + + For then, my lassie, we'll be wed, + When we hae proof o' ither had, + An' nae mair need to mind what's said + When we're thegither shearing. + + + + +BONNIE PEGGIE, O! + + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O! + When the siller burn rins clear, + When the rose blooms on the brier, + An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O! + + I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O! + You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O! + My heart's been sick and sair, + But it shall be sae nae mair, + I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O! + + You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O! + An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O! + Let the world gae as it will, + Be it weel or be it ill, + Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O! + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O! + Nae mair my love is cross'd, + Sorrow's sairest pang is past, + I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O! + + + + +A WISH BURST. + + + Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea, + With the winds and waves for guides, + From all the wants of Nature free + And all her ties besides. + Beyond where footstep ever trode + Would I hold my onward way, + As wild as the waves on which I rode, + And fearless too as they. + + The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep + Were music to mine ear; + I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep + Close round me without fear. + When winter storms burst from the cloud + And trouble the ocean's breast, + I'd joy me in their roaring loud, + And mid their war find rest. + + By islands fair in the ocean placed, + With waves all murmuring round, + My wayward course should still be traced, + And still no home be found. + When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide, + And men look out to sea, + My bark in silence by should glide, + Their wonder and awe to be. + + When sultry summer suns prevail, + And rest on the parching land, + The cool sea breeze would I inhale, + O'er the ocean breathing bland. + A restless sprite, that likes delight, + In calm and tempest found, + 'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea + For ever and aye to bound. + + + + +I LOVE THE MERRY MOONLIGHT.[18] + + + I love the merry moonlight, + So wooingly it dances, + At midnight hours, round leaves and flowers, + On which the fresh dew glances. + + I love the merry moonlight, + On lake and pool so brightly + It pours its beams, and in the stream's + Rough current leaps so lightly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + It ever shines so cheerily + When night clouds flit, that, but for it, + Would cast a shade so drearily. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For when it gleams so mildly + The passions rest that rule the breast + At other times so wildly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For 'neath it I can borrow + Such blissful dreams, that this world seems + Without a sin or sorrow. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[18] Printed from the author's MS., in the possession of Mr H. S. +Riddell. + + + + +OH, WHAT ARE THE CHAINS OF LOVE MADE OF?[19] + + + Oh, what are the chains of Love made of, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man? + + Can you twist a rope of beams of the sun, + Or have you power to seize, + And round your hand, like threads of silk, + Wind up the wandering breeze? + + Can you collect the morning dew + And, with the greatest pains, + Beat every drop into a link, + And of these links make chains? + + More fleeting in their nature still, + And less substantial are + Than sunbeam, breeze, and drop of dew, + Smile, sigh, and tear--by far. + + And yet of these Love's chains are made, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[19] Printed for the first time from the original MS. + + + + +JOHN WRIGHT. + + +A son of genius and of misfortune, John Wright was born on the 1st +September 1805, at the farm-house of Auchincloigh, in the parish of +Sorn, Ayrshire. From his mother, a woman of much originality and +shrewdness, he inherited a strong inclination towards intellectual +culture. His school education was circumscribed, but he experienced +delight in improving his mind, by solitary musings amidst the amenities +of the vicinity of Galston, a village to which his father had removed. +At the age of seven, he began to assist his father in his occupation of +a coal driver; and in his thirteenth year he was apprenticed to the +loom. His master supplied him with books, which he perused with avidity, +and he took an active part in the weekly meetings of apprentices for +mutual literary improvement; but his chief happiness was still +experienced in lonely rambles amidst the interesting scenes of the +neighbourhood, which, often celebrated by the poets, were especially +calculated to foment his own rapidly developing fancy. He fell in love, +was accepted, and ultimately cast off--incidents which afforded him +opportunities of celebrating the charms, and deploring the inconstancy +of the fair. He composed a poem, of fifteen hundred lines, entitled +"Mahomet, or the Hegira," and performed the extraordinary mental effort +of retaining the whole on his memory, at the period being unable to +write. "The Retrospect," a poem of more matured power, was announced in +1824. At the recommendation of friends, having proceeded to Edinburgh to +seek the counsel of men of letters, he submitted the MS. of his poem to +Professor Wilson, Dr M'Crie, Mr Glassford Bell, and others, who +severally expressed their approval, and commended a publication. "The +Retrospect," accordingly, appeared with a numerous list of subscribers, +and was well received by the press. The poet now removed to Cambuslang, +near Glasgow, where he continued to prosecute his occupation of weaving. +He entered into the married state by espousing Margaret Chalmers, a +young woman of respectable connexions and considerable literary tastes. +The desire of obtaining funds to afford change of climate to his wife, +who was suffering from impaired health, induced him to propose a second +edition of his poems, to be published by subscription. During the course +of his canvass, he unfortunately contracted those habits of intemperance +which have proved the bane of so many of the sons of genius. Returning +to the loom at Cambuslang, he began to exchange the pleasures of the +family hearth for the boisterous excitement of the tavern. He separated +from his wife and children, and became the victim of dissipation. In +1853, some of his literary friends published the whole of his poetical +works in a duodecimo volume, in the hope of procuring the means of +extricating him from his painful condition. The attempt did not succeed. +He died in an hospital in Glasgow, of fever, contracted by intemperance. +As a poet, he was possessed of a rich fancy, with strong descriptive +powers. His "Retrospect" abounds with beautiful passages; and some of +his shorter poems and songs are destined to survive. + + + + +AN AUTUMNAL CLOUD. + + + Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, + Soaring to heaven with the eagle so proud, + Floating o'er the sky + Like a spirit, to descry + Each bright realm,--and, when I die, + May it be my shroud! + + I would skim afar o'er ocean, and drink of bliss my fill, + O'er the thunders of Ni'gara and cataracts of Nile,-- + With rising rainbows wreathed, + In mist and darkness sheathed, + Where nought but spirits breathed + Around me the while. + + Above the mighty Alps (o'er the tempest's angry god + Careering on the avalanche) should be my bless'd abode. + There, where Nature lowers more wild + Than her most uncultured child, + Revels beauty--as one smiled + O'er life's darkest mood. + + Our aerial flight should be where eye hath never been, + O'er the stormy Polar deep, where the icy Alps are seen, + Where Death sits, crested high, + As he would invade the sky, + Whilst the living valleys lie + In their beautiful green! + + Spirit of the peaceful autumnal eve! + Child of enchantment! behind thee leave + Thy semblance mantled o'er me; + Too full thy tide of glory + For Fancy to restore thee, + Or Memory give! + + + + +THE MAIDEN FAIR. + + + The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, + The greenwood o'er the mossy stream, + That roll'd in rapture's wildest mood, + And flutter'd in the fairy beam. + Through light clouds flash'd the fitful gleam + O'er hill and dell,--all Nature lay + Wrapp'd in enchantment, like the dream + Of her that charm'd my homeward way! + + Long had I mark'd thee, maiden fair! + And drunk of bliss from thy dark eye, + And still, to feed my fond despair, + Bless'd thy approach, and, passing by, + I turn'd me round to gaze and sigh, + In worship wild, and wish'd thee mine, + On that fair breast to live and die, + O'er-power'd with transport so divine! + + Still sacred be that hour to love, + And dear the season of its birth, + And fair the glade, and green the grove, + Its bowers ne'er droop in wintry dearth + Of melody and woodland mirth!-- + The hour, the spot, so dear to me! + That wean'd my soul from all on earth, + To be for ever bless'd in thee. + + + + +THE OLD BLIGHTED THORN. + + + All night, by the pathway that crosses the moor, + I waited on Mary, I linger'd till morn, + Yet thought her not false--she had ever been true + To her tryst by the old blighted thorn. + + I had heard of Love lighting to darken the heart, + Fickle, fleeting as wind and the dews of the morn; + Such were not my fears, though I sigh'd all night long, + And wept 'neath the old blighted thorn. + + The snows, that were deep, had awaken'd my dread, + I mark'd as footprints far below by the burn; + I sped to the valley--I found her deep sunk, + On her way to the old blighted thorn! + + I whisper'd, "My Mary!"--she spoke not: I caught + Her hand, press'd her pale cheek--'twas icy and cold; + Then sunk on her bosom--its throbbings were o'er-- + Nor knew how I quitted my hold. + + + + +THE WRECKED MARINER. + + + Stay, proud bird of the shore! + Carry my last breath with thee to the cliff, + Where waits our shatter'd skiff-- + One that shall mark nor it nor lover more. + + Fan with thy plumage bright + Her heaving heart to rest, as thou dost mine; + And, gently to divine + The tearful tale, flap out her beacon-light. + + Again swoop out to sea, + With lone and lingering wail--then lay thy head, + As thou thyself wert dead, + Upon her breast, that she may weep for me. + + Now let her bid false Hope + For ever hide her beam, nor trust again + The peace-bereaving strain-- + Life has, but still far hence, choice flowers to crop. + + Oh! bid not her repine, + And deem my loss too bitter to be borne, + Yet all of passion scorn + But the mild, deep'ning memory of mine. + + Thou art away, sweet wind! + Bear the last trickling tear-drop on thy wing, + And o'er her bosom fling + The love-fraught pearly shower till rest it find! + + + + +JOSEPH GRANT. + + +Joseph Grant, a short-lived poet and prose writer, was born on the farm +of Affrusk, parish of Banchory-Ternan, Kincardineshire, on the 26th of +May 1805. He was instructed in the ordinary branches at the parish +school, and employed as a youth in desultory labour about his father's +farm. From boyhood he cherished a passionate love for reading, and was +no less ardent in his admiration of the picturesque and beautiful in +nature. So early as his fourteenth year he composed verses of some +merit. In 1828, he published "Juvenile Lays," a collection of poems and +songs; and in 1830, "Kincardineshire Traditions"--a small volume of +ballads--both of which obtained a favourable reception. Desirous of +emanating from the retirement of his native parish, he accepted, in +1831, the situation of assistant to a shop-keeper in Stonehaven, and +soon afterwards proceeded to Dundee, where he was employed in the office +of the _Dundee Guardian_ newspaper, and subsequently as clerk to a +respectable writer. + +Grant furnished a series of tales and sketches for _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_. In 1834, he published a second small volume of "Poems and +Songs;" and subsequently, in the same year, committed to the press a +prose work, entitled "Tales of the Glens," which he did not, however, +survive to publish. After an illness of fifteen weeks, of a pulmonary +complaint, he died on the 14th April 1835, in his thirtieth year. His +remains were interred in the churchyard of Strachan, Kincardineshire, +where a tombstone, inscribed with some elegiac verses, has been erected +to his memory. The "Tales of the Glens" were published shortly after his +decease, under the editorial care of the late Mr James M'Cosh, of +Dundee, editor of the _Northern Warder_ newspaper; and, in 1836, an +edition of his collected works was published at Edinburgh, with a +biographical preface by the poet Nicol. + +Of a fine genius, a gentle and amiable nature, and pure Christian +sentiments, Grant afforded eminent promise, with a prolonged career, of +becoming an ornament to literature. Cut down in the bloom of youth, his +elegy has been recorded by the Brechin poet, Alexander Laing-- + + "A kinder, warmer heart than his + Was ne'er to minstrel given; + And kinder, holier sympathies + Ne'er sought their native heaven." + + + + +THE BLACKBIRD'S HYMN IS SWEET. + + + The blackbird's hymn is sweet + At fall of gloaming, + When slow, o'er grove and hill, + Night's shades are coming; + But there is a sound that far + More deeply moves us-- + The low sweet voice of her + Who truly loves us. + + Fair is the evening star + Rising in glory, + O'er the dark hill's brow, + Where mists are hoary; + But the star whose rays + The heart falls nearest, + Is the love-speaking eye + Of our heart's dearest. + + Oh, lonely, lonely is + The human bosom, + That ne'er has nursed the sweets + Of young Love's blossom! + The loveliest breast is like + A starless morning, + When clouds frown dark and cold, + And storms are forming. + + + + +LOVE'S ADIEU. + + + The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, + Blinks over the dark green sea, + An' the moon 's creepin' down to the hill-tap, + Richt dim and drowsilie. + An' the music o' the mornin' + Is murmurin' alang the air; + Yet still my dowie heart lingers + To catch one sweet throb mair. + + We've been as blest, Eliza, + As children o' earth can be, + Though my fondest wish has been knit by + The bonds of povertie; + An' through life's misty sojourn, + That still may be our fa', + But hearts that are link'd for ever + Ha'e strength to bear it a'. + + The cot by the mutterin' burnie, + Its wee bit garden an' field, + May ha'e mair o' the blessin's o' Heaven + Than lichts o' the lordliest bield; + There 's many a young brow braided + Wi' jewels o' far-off isles, + But woe may be drinkin' the heart-springs, + While we see nought but smiles. + + But adieu, my ain Eliza! + Where'er my wanderin's be, + Undyin' remembrance will make thee + The star o' my destinie; + An' well I ken, thou loved one, + That aye, till I return, + Thou 'lt treasure pure faith in thy bosom, + Like a gem in a gowden urn. + + + + +DUGALD MOORE. + + +A poet of remarkable ingenuity and power, Dugald Moore was born in +Stockwell Street, Glasgow, in 1805. His father, who was a private +soldier in one of the Highland regiments, died early in life, leaving +his mother in circumstances of poverty. From his mother's private +tuition, he received the whole amount of his juvenile education. When a +child he was sent to serve as a tobacco-boy for a small pittance of +wages, and as a youth was received into the copper-printing branch of +the establishment of Messrs James Lumsden and Son, booksellers, Queen +Street. He very early began to write verses, and some of his +compositions having attracted the notice of Mr Lumsden, senior, that +benevolent gentleman afforded him every encouragement in the prosecution +of his literary tastes. Through Mr Lumsden's personal exertions in +procuring subscribers, he was enabled to lay before the public in 1829 a +volume of poems entitled "The African, a Tale, and other Poems." Of this +work a second edition was required in the following year, when he +likewise gave to the world a second volume, with the title "Scenes from +the Flood; the Tenth Plague, and other Poems." "The Bridal Night, and +other Poems," a volume somewhat larger than its predecessors, appeared +from his pen in 1831. The profits of these publications enabled him to +commence on his own account as a bookseller and stationer in the city. +His shop, No. 96 Queen Street, became the rendezvous of men of letters, +and many of the influential families gave its occupant the benefit of +their custom. + +In 1833, Moore published "The Bard of the North, a series of Poetical +Tales, illustrative of Highland Scenery and Character;" in 1835, "The +Hour of Retribution, and other Poems;" and in 1839, "The Devoted One, +and other Poems." He died unmarried, after a brief illness, on the 2d +January 1841, in his thirty-sixth year, leaving a competency for the +support of his aged mother. Buried in the Necropolis of the city, a +massive monument, surmounted by a bust, has been raised by his personal +friends in tribute to his memory. Though slightly known to fame, Moore +is entitled to rank among the most gifted of the modern national poets. +Possessed of a vigorous conception, a lofty fancy, intense energy of +feeling, and remarkable powers of versification, his poetry is +everywhere impressed with the most decided indications of genius. He has +chosen the grandest subjects, which he has adorned with the richest +illustration, and an imagery copious and sublime. Had he occupied his +Muse with themes less exalted, he might have enjoyed a wider temporary +popularity; as it is, his poems will find admirers in future times. + + + + +RISE, MY LOVE. + + + Rise, my love! the moon, unclouded, + Wanders o'er the dark blue sea; + Sleep the tyrant's eye has shrouded, + Hynda comes to set thee free! + Leave those vaults of pain and sorrow, + On the long and dreaming deep; + A bower will greet us ere to-morrow, + Where our eyes may cease to weep. + + Oh! some little isle of gladness, + Smiling in the waters clear, + Where the dreary tone of sadness + Never smote the lonely ear-- + Soon will greet us, and deliver + Souls so true, to freedom's plan; + Death may sunder us, but never + Tyrant's threats, nor fetters can. + + Then our lute's exulting numbers, + Unrestrain'd will wander on, + While the night has seal'd in slumbers, + Fair creation, all her own. + And we'll wed, while music stealeth + Through the starry fields above, + While each bounding spirit feeleth + All the luxury of love. + + Then we'll scorn oppression's minions, + All the despot's bolts and powers; + While Time wreathes his heavy pinions + With love's brightest passion-flowers. + Rise, then! let us fly together, + Now the moon laughs on the sea; + East or west, I care not whither, + When with love and liberty! + + + + +JULIA. + + + Born where the glorious star-lights trace + In mountain snows their silver face, + Where Nature, vast and rude, + Looks as if by her God design'd + To fill the bright eternal mind, + With her fair magnitude. + + Hers was a face, to which was given + Less portion of the earth than heaven, + As if each trait had stole + Its hue from Nature's shapes of light; + As if stars, flowers, and all things bright + Had join'd to form her soul. + + Her heart was young--she loved to breathe + The air which spins the mountain's wreath, + To wander o'er the wild, + To list the music of the deep, + To see the round stars on it sleep, + For she was Nature's child! + + Nursed where the soul imbibes the print + Of freedom--where nought comes to taint, + Or its warm feelings quell: + She felt love o'er her spirit driven, + Such as the angels felt in heaven, + Before they sinn'd and fell. + + Her mind was tutor'd from its birth, + From all that's beautiful on earth-- + Lights which cannot expire-- + From all their glory, she had caught + A lustre, till each sense seem'd fraught + With heaven's celestial fire. + + The desert streams familiar grown, + The stars had language of their own, + The hills contain'd a voice + With which she could converse, and bring + A charm from each insensate thing, + Which bade her soul rejoice. + + She had the feeling and the fire, + That fortune's stormiest blast could tire, + Though delicate and young; + Her bosom was not formed to bend-- + Adversity, that firmest friend, + Had all its fibres strung. + + Such was my love--she scorn'd to hide + A passion which she deem'd a pride! + Oft have we sat and view'd + The beauteous stars walk through the night, + And Cynthia lift her sceptre bright, + To curb old Ocean's mood. + + She'd clasp me as if ne'er to part, + That I might feel her beating heart-- + Might read her living eye; + Then pause! I've felt the pure tide roll + Through every vein, which to my soul, + Said--Nature could not lie. + + + + +LUCY'S GRAVE. + + + My spirit could its vigil hold + For ever at this silent spot; + But, ah! the heart within is cold, + The sleeper heeds me not: + The fairy scenes of love and youth, + The smiles of hope, the tales of truth, + By her are all forgot: + Her spirit with my bliss is fled-- + I only weep above the dead! + + I need not view the grassy swell, + Nor stone escutcheon'd fair; + I need no monument to tell + That thou art lying there: + I feel within, a world like this, + A fearful blank in all my bliss-- + An agonized despair, + Which paints the earth in cheerful bloom, + But tells me, thou art in the tomb! + + I knew Death's fatal power, alas + Could doom man's hopes to pine, + But thought that many a year would pass + Before he scatter'd mine! + Too soon he quench'd our morning rays, + Brief were our loves of early days-- + Brief as those bolts that shine + With beautiful yet transient form, + Round the dark fringes of the storm! + + I little thought, when first we met, + A few short months would see + Thy sun, before its noontide, set + In dark eternity! + While love was beaming from thy face, + A lover's eye but ill could trace + Aught that obscured its ray; + So calm its pain thy bosom bore, + I thought not death was at its core! + + The silver moon is shining now + Upon thy lonely bed, + Pale as thine own unblemish'd brow, + Cold as thy virgin head; + She seems to breathe of many a day + Now shrouded with thee in the clay, + Of visions that have fled, + When we beneath her holy flame, + Dream'd over hopes that never came! + + Hark! 'tis the solemn midnight bell, + It mars the hallow'd scene; + And must we bid again--farewell! + Must life still intervene? + Its charms are vain! my heart is laid + E'en with thine own, celestial maid! + A few short days have been + An age of pain--a few may be + A welcome passport, love! to thee. + + + + +THE FORGOTTEN BRAVE. + + + 'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, + As the patriot sons of the mountain should die, + With the mail on each bosom, the sword in each hand, + On the heath of the desert they lie. + Like their own mountain eagles they rush'd to the fight, + Like the oaks of their deserts they braved its rude blast; + Their blades in the morning look'd dazzling and bright, + But red when the battle was past. + + They rush'd on, exulting in honour, and met + The foes of their country in battle array; + But the sun of their glory in darkness hath set, + And the flowers of the forest are faded away! + Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep, + No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near, + To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep, + Or drop o'er their ashes a tear. + + + + +THE FIRST SHIP. + + + The sky in beauty arch'd + The wide and weltering flood, + While the winds in triumph march'd + Through their pathless solitude-- + Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest, + That like space in darkness slept, + When his watch old Silence kept, + Ere the earliest planet leapt + From its breast. + + A speck is on the deeps, + Like a spirit in her flight; + How beautiful she keeps + Her stately path in light! + She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee-- + The sun has on her smiled, + And the waves, no longer wild, + Sing in glory round that child + Of the sea. + + 'Twas at the set of sun + That she tilted o'er the flood, + Moving like God alone + O'er the glorious solitude-- + The billows crouch around her as her slaves. + How exulting are her crew-- + Each sight to them is new, + As they sweep along the blue + Of the waves! + + Fair herald of the fleets + That yet shall cross the wave, + Till the earth with ocean meets + One universal grave, + What armaments shall follow thee in joy! + Linking each distant land + With trade's harmonious band, + Or bearing havoc's brand + To destroy! + + + + +WEEP NOT. + + + Though this wild brain is aching, + Spill not thy tears with mine; + Come to my heart, though breaking, + Its firmest half is thine. + Thou wert not made for sorrow, + Then do not weep with me; + There is a lovely morrow, + That yet will dawn on thee. + + When I am all forgotten-- + When in the grave I lie-- + When the heart that loved thee 's broken, + And closed the sparkling eye; + Love's sunshine still will cheer thee, + Unsullied, pure, and deep; + For the God who 's ever near thee, + Will never see thee weep. + + + + +TO THE CLYDE. + + + When cities of old days + But meet the savage gaze, + Stream of my early ways + Thou wilt roll. + Though fleets forsake thy breast, + And millions sink to rest-- + Of the bright and glorious west + Still the soul. + + When the porch and stately arch, + Which now so proudly perch + O'er thy billows, on their march + To the sea, + Are but ashes in the shower; + Still the jocund summer hour, + From his cloud will weave a bower + Over thee. + + When the voice of human power + Has ceased in mart and bower, + Still the broom and mountain flower + Will thee bless. + And the mists that love to stray + O'er the Highlands, far away, + Will come down their deserts gray + To thy kiss. + + And the stranger, brown with toil, + From the far Atlantic soil, + Like the pilgrim of the Nile, + Yet may come + To search the solemn heaps + That moulder by thy deeps, + Where desolation sleeps, + Ever dumb. + + Though fetters yet should clank + O'er the gay and princely rank + Of cities on thy bank, + All sublime; + Still thou wilt wander on, + Till eternity has gone, + And broke the dial stone + Of old Time. + + + + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON. + + +The author of the deservedly popular words and air of "The Araby Maid," +Thomas Gordon Torry Anderson was the youngest son of Patrick Torry, +D.D., titular bishop of St Andrews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane. His mother, +Jane Young, was the daughter of Dr William Young, of Fawsyde, +Kincardineshire. Born at Peterhead on the 9th July 1805, he received his +elementary education at the parish school of that place. He subsequently +prosecuted his studies in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and the +University of Edinburgh. In 1827, he received holy orders, and was +admitted to the incumbency of St John's Episcopal Church, Portobello. He +subsequently became assistant in St George's Episcopal Church, +Edinburgh, and was latterly promoted to the pastorate of St Paul's +Episcopal Church, Dundee. + +Devoted to the important duties of the clerical office, Mr Torry +Anderson experienced congenial recreation in the cultivation of music +and song, and in the occasional composition of both. He composed, in +1833, the words and air of "The Araby Maid," which speedily obtained a +wide popularity. The music and words of the songs, entitled "The +Maiden's Vow," and "I Love the Sea," were composed in 1837 and 1854, +respectively. To a work, entitled "Poetical Illustrations of the +Achievements of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions in Arms," +published in 1852, he extensively contributed. During the summer of +1855, he fell into bad health, and was obliged to resign his incumbency. +He afterwards resided on his estate of Fawsyde, to which he had +succeeded, in 1850, on the death of his uncle, Dr Young. He died at +Aberdeen on the 20th of June 1856, in his fifty-first year. He was three +times married--first, in 1828, to Mrs Gaskin Anderson of Tushielaw, +whose name he adopted to suit the requirements of an entail; secondly, +he espoused, in 1838, Elizabeth Jane, daughter of Dr Thomas Sutter, +R.N.; and lastly, Mrs Hill, widow of Mr William Hill, R.N., whom he +married in 1854. He has left a widow and six children. + + + + +THE ARABY MAID. + + + Away on the wings of the wind she flies, + Like a thing of life and light-- + And she bounds beneath the eastern skies, + And the beauty of eastern night. + + Why so fast flies the bark through the ocean's foam, + Why wings it so speedy a flight? + 'Tis an Araby maid who hath left her home, + To fly with her Christian knight. + + She hath left her sire and her native land, + The land which from childhood she trode, + And hath sworn, by the pledge of her beautiful hand, + To worship the Christian's God. + + Then away, away, oh swift be thy flight, + It were death one moment's delay; + For behind there is many a blade glancing bright-- + Then away--away--away! + + They are safe in the land where love is divine, + In the land of the free and the brave-- + They have knelt at the foot of the holy shrine, + Nought can sever them now but the grave. + + + + +THE MAIDEN'S VOW. + + + The maid is at the altar kneeling, + Hark the chant is loudly pealing-- + Now it dies away! + + Her prayers are said at the holy shrine, + No other thought but thought divine + Doth her sad bosom fill. + + The world to her is nothing now, + For she hath ta'en a solemn vow + To do her father's will. + + But why hath one so fair, so young, + The joys of life thus from her flung-- + Why hath she ta'en the veil? + + Her lover fell where the brave should fall, + Amidst the fight, when the trumpet's call + Proclaim'd the victory. + + He fought, he fell, a hero brave-- + And though he fill a lowly grave, + His name can never die. + + The victory's news to the maiden came-- + They loudly breathed her lover's name, + Who for his country fell. + + But vain the loudest trumpet tone + Of fame to her, when he was gone + To whom the praise was given! + + Her sun of life had set in gloom-- + Its joys were withered in his tomb-- + She vow'd herself to Heaven. + + + + +I LOVE THE SEA. + + + I love the sea, I love the sea, + My childhood's home, my manhood's rest, + My cradle in my infancy-- + The only bosom I have press'd. + I cannot breathe upon the land, + Its manners are as bonds to me, + Till on the deck again I stand, + I cannot feel that I am free. + + Then tell me not of stormy graves-- + Though winds be high, there let them roar; + I 'd rather perish on the waves + Than pine by inches on the shore. + I ask no willow where I lie, + My mourner let the mermaid be, + My only knell the sea-bird's cry, + My winding-sheet the boundless sea! + + + + +GEORGE ALLAN. + + +George Allan was the youngest son of John Allan, farmer at Paradykes, +near Edinburgh, where he was born on the 2d February 1806. Ere he had +completed his fourteenth year, he became an orphan by the death of both +his parents. Intending to prosecute his studies as a lawyer, he served +an apprenticeship in the office of a Writer to the Signet. He became a +member of that honourable body, but almost immediately relinquished +legal pursuits, and proceeded to London, resolved to commence the career +of a man of letters. In the metropolis his literary aspirations were +encouraged by Allan Cunningham and Mr and Mrs S. C. Hall. In 1829, he +accepted an appointment in Jamaica; but, his health suffering from the +climate of the West Indies, he returned in the following year. Shortly +after his arrival in Britain, he was fortunate in obtaining the +editorship of the _Dumfries Journal_, a respectable Conservative +newspaper. This he conducted with distinguished ability and success for +three years, when certain new arrangements, consequent on a change in +the proprietary, rendered his services unnecessary. A letter of Allan +Cunningham, congratulating him on his appointment as a newspaper editor, +is worthy of quotation, from its shrewd and sagacious counsels:-- + + "Study to fill your paper," writes Cunningham, "with + such agreeable and diversified matter as will allure + readers; correct intelligence, sprightly and elegant + paragraphs, remarks on men and manners at once free + and generous; and local intelligence pertaining to the + district, such as please men of the Nith in a far land. + These are the staple commodity of a newspaper, and + these you can easily have. A few literary paragraphs + you can easily scatter about; these attract + booksellers, and booksellers will give advertisements + where they find their works are noticed. Above all + things, write cautiously concerning all localities; if + you praise much, a hundred will grumble; if you are + severe, one only may complain, but twenty will shake + the head. You will have friends on one side of the + water desiring one thing, friends on the other side + desiring the reverse, and in seeking to please one you + vex ten. An honest heart, a clear head, and a good + conscience, will enable you to get well through all." + +On terminating his connexion with the _Dumfries Journal_, Allan +proceeded to Edinburgh, where he was immediately employed by the Messrs +Chambers as a literary assistant. In a letter addressed to a friend, +about this period, he thus expresses himself regarding his enterprising +employers:-- + + "They are never idle. Their very recreations are made conducive + to their business, and they go through their labours with a + spirit and cheerfulness, which shew how consonant these are with + their dispositions." "Mr Robert Chambers," he adds, "is the most + mild, unassuming, kind-hearted man I ever knew, and is perfectly + uneasy if he thinks there is any one uncomfortable about him. The + interest which he has shewn in my welfare has been beyond + everything I ever experienced, and the friendly yet delicate way + in which he is every other day asking me if I am all comfortable + at home, and bidding me apply to him when I am in want of + anything, equally puzzles me to understand or express due thanks + for." + +Besides contributing many interesting articles to _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_, and furnishing numerous communications to the _Scotsman_ +newspaper, Allan wrote a "Life of Sir Walter Scott," in an octavo +volume, which commanded a wide sale, and was much commended by the +public press. In preparing that elegant work, the "Original National +Melodies of Scotland," the ingenious editor, Mr Peter M'Leod, was +favoured by him with several songs, which he set forth in that +publication, with suitable music. In 1834, some of his relatives +succeeded, by political influence, in obtaining for him a subordinate +situation in the Stamp Office,--one which at once afforded him a certain +subsistence, and did not necessarily preclude the exercise of his +literary talents. But a constitutional weakness of the nervous system +did not permit of his long enjoying the smiles of fortune. He died +suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th August 1835, in his +thirtieth year. In October 1831, he had espoused Mrs Mary Hill, a widow, +eldest daughter of Mr William Pagan, of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan +Cunningham, who, with one of their two sons, still survives. Allan was a +man of singularly gentle and amiable dispositions, a pleasant companion, +and devoted friend. In person he was tall and rather thin, with a +handsome, intelligent countenance. An enthusiast in the concerns of +literature, it is to be feared that he cut short his career by +overstrained application. His verses are animated and vigorous, and are +largely imbued with the national spirit.[20] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] We are indebted to William Pagan, Esq. of Clayton, author of "Road +Reform," for much of the information contained in this memoir. Mr Pagan +kindly procured for our use the whole of Mr Allan's papers and MSS. + + + + +IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?[21] + + + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman? + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever? + Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer, + Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair, + To give back our wrongs to the giver? + To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone, + Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on, + With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them, + And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them; + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen, + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + + +II.--(M'CRIMMAN.) + + Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom + As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now, + But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom, + And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow; + Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer, + And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there, + But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never-- + Never! Never! Never! + + +III.--(CLANSMEN.) + + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crimman? + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not? + If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know + That the soul of M'Crimman ne'er quail'd when a foe + Bared his blade in the land he had won not! + Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind, + And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the wind, + There our broad pennon flies, and the keen steeds are prancing, + 'Mid the startling war-cries, and the war-weapons glancing, + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen; + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[21] In Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," this song is attributed to +the Rev. George Allan, D.D. It is also inserted among the songs of the +Ettrick Shepherd, published by the Messrs Blackie. The latter blunder is +accounted for by the fact that a copy of the song, which was sent to the +Shepherd by Mr H. S. Riddell, as a specimen of Mr Allan's poetical +talents, had been found among his papers subsequent to his decease. This +song, with the two immediately following, appeared in M'Leod's "National +Melodies," but they are here transcribed from the author's MSS. + + + + +I WILL THINK OF THEE YET. + + + I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, + In the land of the stranger, deserted and lone, + Though the flowers of this earth are all wither'd to me, + And the hopes which once bloom'd in my bosom are gone, + I will think of thee yet, and the vision of night + Will oft bring thine image again to my sight, + And the tokens will be, as the dream passes by, + A sigh from the heart and a tear from the eye. + + I will think of thee yet, though misfortune fall chill + O'er my path, as yon storm-cloud that lours on the lea, + And I'll deem that this life is worth cherishing still, + While I know that one heart still beats warmly for me. + Yes! Grief and Despair may encompass me round, + 'Till not e'en the shadow of peace can be found; + But mine anguish will cease when my thoughts turn to you + And the wild mountain land which my infancy knew. + + I will think of thee; oh! if I e'er can forget + The love that grew warm as all others grew cold, + 'Twill but be when the sun of my reason hath set, + Or memory fled from her care-haunted hold; + But while life and its woes to bear on is my doom, + Shall my love, like a flower in the wilderness, bloom; + And thine still shall be, as so long it hath been, + A light to my soul when no other is seen. + + + + +LASSIE, DEAR LASSIE. + + + Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, + And the brier-bush is sweet whar the burnie is rowin', + But the best buds of Nature may blaw till they weary, + Ere they match the sweet e'e or the cheek o' my dearie! + + I wander alane, when the gray gloamin' closes, + And the lift is spread out like a garden o' roses; + But there 's nought which the earth or the sky can discover + Sae fair as thysell to thy fond-hearted lover! + + The snaw-flake is pure frae the clud when it 's shaken, + And melts into dew ere it fa's on the bracken, + Oh sae pure is the heart I hae won to my keepin'! + But warm as the sun-blink that thaw'd it to weepin'! + + Then come to my arms, and the bosom thou 'rt pressing + Will tell by its throbs a' there's joy in confessing, + For my lips could repeat it a thousand times over, + And the tale still seem new to thy fond-hearted lover. + + + + +WHEN I LOOK FAR DOWN ON THE VALLEY BELOW ME.[22] + + + When I look far down on the valley below me, + Where lowly the lot of the cottager's cast, + While the hues of the evening seem ling'ring to shew me + How calmly the sun of this life may be pass'd, + How oft have I wish'd that kind Heaven had granted + My hours in such spot to have peacefully run, + Where, if pleasures were few, they were all that I wanted, + And Contentment 's a blessing which wealth never won. + + I have mingled with mankind, and far I have wander'd, + Have shared all the joys youth so madly pursues; + I have been where the bounties of Nature were squander'd + Till man became thankless and learn'd to refuse! + Yet _there_ I still found that man's innocence perish'd, + As the senses might sway or the passions command; + That the scenes where alone the soul's treasures were cherish'd, + Were the peaceful abodes of my own native land. + + Then why should I leave this dear vale of my choice + And the friends of my bosom, so faithful and true, + To mix in the great world, whose jarring and noise + Must make my soul cheerless though sorrows were few? + Ah! too sweet would this life of probation be render'd, + Our feelings ebb back from Eternity's strand, + And the hopes of Elysium in vain would be tender'd, + Could we have all we wish'd in our dear native land. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[22] Printed, for the first time, from the author's MS. + + + + +I WILL WAKE MY HARP WHEN THE SHADES OF EVEN.[23] + + + I will wake my harp when the shades of even + Are closing around the dying day, + When thoughts that wear the hues of Heaven + Are weaning my heart from the world away; + And my strain will tell of a land and home + Which my wand'ring steps have left behind, + Where the hearts that throb and the feet that roam + Are free as the breath of their mountain wind. + + I will wake my harp when the star of Vesper + Hath open'd its eye on the peaceful earth, + When not a leaf is heard to whisper + That a dew-drop falls, or a breeze hath birth. + And you, dear friends of my youthful years, + Will oft be the theme of my lonely lay, + And a smile for the past will gild the tears + That tell how my heart is far away. + + I will wake my harp when the moon is holding + Her star-tent court in the midnight sky, + When the spirits of love, their wings unfolding, + Bring down sweet dreams to each fond one's eye. + And well may I hail that blissful hour, + For my spirit will then, from its thrall set free, + Return to my own lov'd maiden's bower, + And gather each sigh that she breathes for me. + + Thus, still when those pensive hours are bringing + The feelings and thoughts which no lips can tell, + I will charm each cloud from my soul by singing + Of all I have left and lov'd so well. + Oh! Fate may smile, and Sorrow may cease, + But the dearest hope we on earth can gain + Is to come, after long sad years, in peace, + And be join'd with the friends of our love, again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[23] Printed for the first time. + + + + +THOMAS BRYDSON. + + +Thomas Brydson was born in Glasgow in 1806. On completing the usual +course of study at the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, he became +a licentiate of the Established Church. He assisted in the Middle +Church, Greenock, and in the parish of Kilmalcolm, Renfrewshire, and +was, in 1839, ordained minister of Levern Chapel, near Paisley. In 1842, +he was translated to the full charge of Kilmalcolm, where he continued +to minister with much acceptance till his death, which took place +suddenly on the 28th January 1855. + +A man of fine fancy and correct taste, Mr Brydson was, in early life, +much devoted to poetical composition. In 1829, he published a duodecimo +volume of "Poems;" and a more matured collection of his poetical pieces +in 1832, under the title of "Pictures of the Past." He contributed, in +prose and verse, to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_; the _Republic of +Letters_, a Glasgow publication; and some of the London annuals. Though +fond of correspondence with his literary friends, and abundantly +hospitable, he latterly avoided general society, and, in a great +measure, confined himself to his secluded parish of Kilmalcolm. Among +his parishioners he was highly esteemed for the unction and fervour +which distinguished his public ministrations, as well as for the +gentleness of his manners and the generosity of his heart. Of domestic +animals he was devotedly fond. He took delight in pastoral scenery, and +in solitary musings among the hills. His poetry is pervaded by elegance +of sentiment and no inconsiderable vigour of expression. + + + + +ALL LOVELY AND BRIGHT. + + + All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, + Seem the days when I wander'd with you, + Like the green isles that swell in this far distant clime, + On the deeps that are trackless and blue. + + And now, while the torrent is loud on the hill, + And the howl of the forest is drear, + I think of the lapse of our own native rill-- + I think of thy voice with a tear. + + The light of my taper is fading away, + It hovers, and trembles, and dies; + The far-coming morn on her sea-paths is gray, + But sleep will not come to mine eyes. + + Yet why should I ponder, or why should I grieve + O'er the joys that my childhood has known? + We may meet, when the dew-flowers are fragrant at eve, + As we met in the days that are gone. + + + + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY. + + +Though a native of Ireland, Charles Doyne Sillery has some claim to +enrolment among the minstrels of Caledonia. His mother was a +Scotchwoman, and he was himself brought up and educated in Edinburgh. He +was born at Athlone, in Ireland, on the 2d of March 1807. His father, +who bore the same Christian and middle names, was a captain of the Royal +Artillery.[24] He distinguished himself in the engagements of Talavera +on the 27th and 28th of July 1809; but from his fatigues died soon +after. His mother, Catherine Fyfe, was the youngest daughter of Mr +Barclay Fyfe, merchant in Leith. She subsequently became the wife of +James Watson, Esq., now of Tontley Hall, Berkshire. + +Of lively and playful dispositions, Sillery did not derive much +advantage from scholastic training. His favourite themes were poetry and +music, and these he assiduously cultivated, much to the prejudice of +other important studies. At a subsequent period he devoted himself with +ardour to his improvement in general knowledge. He read extensively, and +became conversant with the ancient and some of the modern languages. +Disappointed in obtaining a commission in the Royal Artillery, on which +he had calculated, he proceeded to India as midshipman in a merchant +vessel. Conceiving a dislike to a seafaring life, after a single voyage, +he entered on the study of medicine in the University of Edinburgh. From +early youth he composed verses. In 1829, while only in his twenty-second +year, he published, by subscription, a poem, in nine cantos, entitled +"Vallery; or, the Citadel of the Lake." This production, which refers to +the times of Chivalry, was well received; and, in the following year, +the author ventured on the publication of a second poem, in two books, +entitled "Eldred of Erin." In the latter composition, which is pervaded +by devotional sentiment, the poet details some of his personal +experiences. In 1834 he published, in a small duodecimo volume, "The +Exiles of Chamouni; a Drama," a production which received only a limited +circulation. About the same period, he became a contributor of verses to +the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. He ultimately undertook the editorial +superintendence of a religious periodical. + +Delicate in constitution, and of a highly nervous temperament, Sillery +found the study of medicine somewhat uncongenial, and had formed the +intention of qualifying himself for the Church. He calculated on early +ecclesiastical preferment through the favour of Her Majesty Queen +Adelaide, to whom he had been presented, and who had evinced some +interest on his behalf. But his prospects were soon clouded by the slow +but certain progress of an insidious malady. He was seized with +pulmonary consumption, and died at Edinburgh on the 16th May 1836, in +his twenty-ninth year. + +Of sprightly and winning manners, Sillery was much cherished in the +literary circles of the capital. He was of the ordinary height, and of +an extremely slender figure; and his eye, remarkably keen and piercing, +was singularly indicative of power. Poetry, in its every department, he +cherished with the devotion of an enthusiast; and though sufficiently +modest on the subject of his own poetical merits, he took delight in +singing his own songs. Interested in the history of the Middle Ages, he +had designed to publish an "Account of Ancient Chivalry." Latterly, his +views were more concentrated on the subject of religion. Shortly before +his death, he composed a "Discourse on the Sufferings of Christ," the +proof-sheets of which he corrected on his deathbed. As a poet, with more +advanced years, he would have obtained a distinguished place. With +occasional defects, the poem of "Vallery" is possessed of much boldness +of imagery, and force and elegance of expression. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[24] Captain Doyne Sillery was born in Drogheda, Ireland, of which place +his father was mayor during the Rebellion of 1798, and where he +possessed considerable property. He was descended from one of the most +ancient and illustrious families in France, of which the representative +took refuge in England during the infamous persecution of the +Protestants in the sixteenth century. On the reduction of priestly power +in Ireland by Cromwell, the family settled in that portion of the United +Kingdom. The family name was originally Brulart. Nicolas Brulart, +Marquis de Sillery, Lord de Pinsieux, de Marinis, and de Berny, acquired +much reputation from the many commissions in which he served in France. +(See "L'Histoire Généalogique et Chronologique des Chanceliers de +France," tom. vi. p. 524). On the maternal side Captain Sillery was +lineally descended from Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, the famous +chancellor. + + + + +SHE DIED IN BEAUTY. + + + She died in beauty! like a rose + Blown from its parent stem; + She died in beauty! like a pearl + Dropp'd from some diadem. + + She died in beauty! like a lay + Along a moonlit lake; + She died in beauty! like the song + Of birds amid the brake. + + She died in beauty! like the snow + On flowers dissolved away; + She died in beauty! like a star + Lost on the brow of day. + + She _lives_ in glory! like night's gems + Set round the silver moon; + She lives in glory! like the sun + Amid the blue of June! + + + + +THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS. + + + Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, + His pastures of perfume, and rose-cover'd dells; + While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain, + For brave is the chieftain your prowess who quells, + And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain, + That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming, + And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells, + And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming + On blue-bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue-bells. + + Awake! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather, + Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells-- + Come forth with your chorus, all chanting together-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + + + +ROBERT MILLER. + + +Robert Miller, the author of the two following songs, was a native of +Glasgow, and was educated for the legal profession. He contributed +verses to the periodicals, but did not venture on any separate +publication. He died at Glasgow, in September 1834, at the early age of +twenty-four. His "Lay of the Hopeless" was written within a few days of +his decease. + + + + +WHERE ARE THEY? + + + The loved of early days! + Where are they?--where? + Not on the shining braes, + The mountains bare;-- + Not where the regal streams + Their foam-bells cast-- + Where childhood's time of dreams + And sunshine pass'd. + + Some in the mart, and some + In stately halls, + With the ancestral gloom + Of ancient walls; + Some where the tempest sweeps + The desert waves; + Some where the myrtle weeps + On Roman graves. + + And pale young faces gleam + With solemn eyes; + Like a remember'd dream + The dead arise; + In the red track of war + The restless sweep; + In sunlit graves afar + The loved ones sleep. + + The braes are dight with flowers, + The mountain streams + Foam past me in the showers + Of sunny gleams; + But the light hearts that cast + A glory there, + In the rejoicing past, + Where are they?--where? + + + + +LAY OF THE HOPELESS. + + + Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now + O'er the restless and weary wave, + Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough + O'er the calm of my early grave-- + And my heart with its pulses of fire and life, + Oh! would it were still as stone. + I am weary, weary, of all the strife, + And the selfish world I 've known. + + I 've drunk up bliss from a mantling cup, + When youth and joy were mine; + But the cold black dregs are floating up, + Instead of the laughing wine; + And life hath lost its loveliness, + And youth hath spent its hour, + And pleasure palls like bitterness, + And hope hath not a flower. + + And love! was it not a glorious eye + That smiled on my early dream? + It is closed for aye, where the long weeds sigh, + In the churchyard by the stream: + And fame--oh! mine were gorgeous hopes + Of a flashing and young renown: + But early, early the flower-leaf drops + From the withering seed-cup down. + + And beauty! have I not worshipp'd all + Her shining creations well? + The rock--the wood--the waterfall, + Where light or where love might dwell. + But over all, and on my heart, + The mildew hath fallen sadly, + I have no spirit, I have no part + In the earth that smiles so gladly! + + I only sigh for a quiet bright spot + In the churchyard by the stream, + Whereon the morning sunbeams float, + And the stars at midnight dream; + Where only Nature's sounds may wake + The sacred and silent air, + And only her beautiful things may break + Through the long grass gathering there. + + + + +ALEXANDER HUME. + + +Alexander Hume was born at Kelso on the 1st of February 1809. His +father, Walter Hume, occupied a respectable position as a retail trader +in that town. Of the early history of our author little has been +ascertained. His first teacher was Mr Ballantyne of Kelso, a man +somewhat celebrated in his vocation. To his early preceptor's kindness +of heart, Hume frequently referred with tears. While under Mr +Ballantyne's scholastic superintendence, his love of nature first became +apparent. After school hours it was his delight to wander by the banks +of the Tweed, or reclining on its brink, to listen to the music of its +waters. From circumstances into which we need not inquire, his family +was induced to remove from Kelso to London. The position they occupied +we have not learned; but young Hume is remembered as being a quick, +intelligent, and most affectionate boy, eager, industrious, +self-reliant, and with an occasional dash of independence that made him +both feared and loved. He might have been persuaded to adopt almost any +view, but an attempt at coercion only excited a spirit of antagonism. To +use an old and familiar phrase, "he might break, but he would not bend." + +About this period (1822 or 1823), when irritated by those who had +authority over him, he suddenly disappeared from home, and allied +himself to a company of strolling players, with whom he associated for +several months. He had an exquisite natural voice, and sung the melting +melodies of Scotland in a manner seldom equalled. With the itinerant +manager he was a favourite, because he was fit for anything--tragedy, +comedy, farce, a hornpipe, and, if need be, a comic song, in which +making faces at the audience was an indispensable accomplishment. His +greatest hit, we are told, was in the absurdly extravagant song, "I am +such a Beautiful Boy;" when he used to say that in singing one verse, he +opened his mouth so wide that he had difficulty in closing it; but it +appears he had neither difficulty nor reluctance in closing his +engagement. Getting tired of his new profession, and disgusted with his +associates, poorly clad and badly fed, he slipped away when his +companions were fast asleep, and returned to London. Here, weary and +footsore, he presented himself to a relative, who received him kindly, +and placed him in a position where by industry he might provide for his +necessities. + +In 1827, he obtained a situation with Forbes & Co. of Mark Lane, the +highly respectable agents for Berwick & Co. of Edinburgh, the celebrated +brewers of Scotch ale. His position being one of considerable +responsibility, he was obliged to find security in the sum of £500, +which he obtained from the relative who had always stood his friend. But +such was his probity and general good conduct, that his employers +cancelled the security, and returned the bond as a mark of their +appreciation of his integrity and worth. + +About this period it was that he first gave utterance to his feelings in +verse. Impulsive and impassioned naturally, his first strong attachment +roused the deepest feelings of the man, and awoke the dormant passion of +the poet. The non-success of his first wooing only made his song the +more vehement for a while, but as no flame can burn intensely for ever, +his love became more subdued, and his song gradually assumed that +touching pathos which has ever characterised the best lyrics of +Scotland. + +Some time between the years 1830 and 1833, he became a member of the +Literary and Scientific Institution, Aldersgate Street, where he made +the acquaintance of many kindred spirits, young men of the same standing +as himself, chiefly occupied in the banks, offices, and warehouses of +the city of London. There they had classes established for the study of +history, for the discussion of philosophical and literary subjects, and +for the practice of elocution. The recitations of the several members +awoke the embers that smouldered in his heart from the time he had left +the stage. His early experience had made him acquainted with the manner +in which the voice ought to be modulated to make the utterance +effective; and although he seldom ventured to recite, he was always a +fair critic and a deeply interested auditor. The young ambition of a few +had led them to aspire to authorship, and they established a monthly +magazine. Although the several articles were not of the highest order, +they were, nevertheless, quite equal to the average periodical writings +of the day. In this magazine it is believed that Hume published his +first song. It had been sent in the ordinary way, signed _Daft Wattie_, +and the editor, not appreciating the northern dialect in which it was +written, had tossed it aside. Shortly afterwards, one of the managers on +turning over the rejected papers was attracted by the verses, read them, +and was charmed. He placed them back in the editor's box, certifying +them as fit for publication by writing across them, + + "Musical as is Apollo's lute," + +to which he signed his name, William Raine. This circumstance soon led +to an intimate acquaintance with Mr Raine, who was a man of considerable +original power, excellent education, and of a social and right manly +nature. This new acquaintance coloured the whole of Hume's future life. +They became fast friends, and were inseparable. The imagination of Hume +was restrained by the acute judgment and critical ability of Mr Raine. +When Hume published his first volume of "Songs," it would perhaps be +difficult to determine whether their great success and general +popularity resulted from the poet whose name they bore, or from the +friend who weighed and suggested corrections in almost every song, until +they finally came before the public in a collected form. The volume was +dedicated to Allan Cunningham, and in the preface he says: "I composed +them by no rules excepting those which my own observation and feelings +formed; I knew no other. As I thought and felt, so have I written. Of +all poetical compositions, songs, especially those of the affections, +should be natural, warm gushes of feeling--brief, simple, and condensed. +As soon as they have left the singer's lips, they should be fast around +the hearer's heart." + +In 1837, Hume married Miss Scott, a lady well calculated to attract the +eye and win the heart of a poet. He remained connected with the house of +Berwick & Co. until 1840, when, to recover his health, which had been +failing for some time, he was advised to visit America, where he +travelled for several months. On his return to England, he entered into +an engagement with the Messrs Lane of Cork, then the most eminent +brewers in the south of Ireland. To this work he devoted himself with +great energy, and was duly rewarded for his labour by almost immediate +success. The article he sold became exceedingly popular in the +metropolis; nor was he disappointed in the hope of realising +considerable pecuniary advantages. + +For several years he had written very little. The necessity to make +provision for a rapidly increasing family, and the ambition to take a +high position in the business he had chosen, occupied his every hour, +and became with him a passion as strong as had ever moved him in works +of the imagination. + +In 1847 there were slight indications of a return of the complaint from +which he had suffered in 1840, and he again crossed the Atlantic. +Although he returned considerably improved in health, he was by no means +well. Fortunately he had secured the services of a Mr Macdonald as an +assistant in his business, whose exertions in his interest were +unremitting. Mr Hume's health gradually declined, and ultimately +incapacitated him for the performance of any commercial duty. In May +1851 he died at Northampton, leaving a widow and six children. + +As a song writer, Hume is entitled to an honourable place among those +authors whose writings have been technically called "the Untutored Muse +of Scotland." His style is eminently graceful, and a deep and genuine +pathos pervades his compositions. We confidently predict that some of +his lyrics are destined to obtain a lasting popularity. In 1845, a +complete edition of his "Songs and Poems" was published at London in a +thin octavo volume. + + + + +MY WEE, WEE WIFE. + +AIR--_"The Boatie Rows."_ + + + My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, + My bonnie bairnies three; + Oh! happy is the husband's lot, + Wi' bairnies on his knee. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three; + How bright is day how sweet is life! + When love lights up the e'e. + + The king o'er me may wear a crown, + Have millions bow the knee, + But lacks he love to share his throne, + How poor a king is he! + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + Let kings ha'e thrones, 'mang warld's strife, + Your hearts are thrones to me. + + I 've felt oppression's galling chain, + I 've shed the tear o' care, + But feeling aye lost a' its pain, + When my wee wife was near. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + The chains we wear are sweet to bear, + How sad could we go free! + + + + +O POVERTY! + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + Eliza was a bonnie lass, and oh! she lo'ed me weel, + Sic love as canna find a tongue, but only hearts can feel; + But I was poor, her faither doure, he wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I went unto her mother, and I argued and I fleech'd, + I spak o' love and honesty, and mair and mair beseech'd; + But she was deaf to a' my grief, she wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I next went to her brother, and I painted a' my pain, + I told him o' our plighted troth, but it was a' in vain; + Though he was deep in love himsel', nae feeling he'd for me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + Oh! wealth it makes the fool a sage, the knave an honest man, + And canker'd gray locks young again, if he has gear and lan'; + To age maun beauty ope her arms, though wi' a tearfu' e'e; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + But wait a wee, oh! love is slee, and winna be said nay, + It breaks a' chains, except its ain, but it will ha'e its way; + In spite o' fate we took the gate, now happy as can be; + O poverty! O poverty! we're wed in spite o' thee. + + + + +NANNY. + +AIR--_"Fee him, Father."_ + + + There 's mony a flower beside the rose, + And sweets beside the honey; + But laws maun change ere life disclose + A flower or sweet like Nanny. + Her e'e is like the summer sun, + When clouds can no conceal it, + Ye 're blind if it ye look upon, + Oh! mad if ere ye feel it. + + I 've mony bonnie lassies seen, + Baith blithesome, kind, an' canny; + But oh! the day has never been + I 've seen another Nanny! + She 's like the mavis in her sang, + Amang the brakens bloomin', + Her lips ope to an angel's tongue, + But kiss her, oh! she's woman. + + + + +MY BESSIE. + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + My Bessie, oh! but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, + Oh! do they no remember ye o' mony happy hours, + When on this green and gentle hill we aften met to play, + An' ye were like the morning sun, an' life a nightless day? + + The gowans blossom'd bonnilie, I 'd pu' them from the stem, + An' rin in noisy blithesomeness to thee, my Bess, wi' them, + To place them in thy lily breast, for ae sweet smile on me, + I saw nae mair the gowans then, then saw I only thee. + + Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew, + An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you; + How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck, + An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak! + + We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays, + An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes; + But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet, + Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet. + + Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth, + In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth? + The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree, + Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me! + + + + +MENIE HAY. + +AIR--_"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."_ + + + A wee bird sits upon a spray, + And aye it sings o' Menie Hay, + The burthen o' its cheery lay + Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay! + Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + There 's not a bonnie flower in May + Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay." + + A light in yonder window 's seen, + And wi' it seen is Menie Hay; + Wha gazes on the dewy green, + Where sits the bird upon the spray? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + At sic a time, in sic a way, + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + + "What seek ye there, my daughter dear? + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + "Dear mother, but the stars sae clear + Around the bonnie Milky Way." + "Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + Ye something see ye daurna say, + Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!" + + The window 's shut, the light is gane, + And wi' it gane is Menie Hay; + But wha is seen upon the green, + Kissing sweetly Menie Hay? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + For ane sae young ye ken the way, + And far from blate, O Menie Hay!" + + "Gae scour the country, hill and dale; + Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay? + Search ilka nook, in town or vale, + For my daughter, Menie Hay." + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay, + O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay." + + + + +I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL. + + + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, + Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale; + But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me-- + The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee. + + The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom-- + The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom; + But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea, + Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand, + When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand; + The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free, + Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun, + I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone; + Ye smiled in look, but no in heart--your heart was no for me; + Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + + + +OH! YEARS HAE COME. + + + Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane, + Sin' first I sought the warld alane, + Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + But oh! behold the present gloom, + My early friends are in the tomb, + And nourish now the heather bloom + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + My father's name, my father's lot, + Is now a tale that 's heeded not, + Or sang unsung, if no forgot + On the hills o' Caledonia. + O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane-- + A' swept away, like snaw lang gane; + Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high, + The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by, + Like some sad heart maist grutten dry + On the hills o' Caledonia. + The wee birds sing no frae the tree, + The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea, + As if the kind things pitied me + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + But friends can live, though cold they lie, + An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh, + When we forget them, then they die + On the hills o' Caledonia. + An' howsoever changed the scene, + While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green, + Still green to my auld heart an' e'en + Are the hills o' Caledonia. + + + + +MY MOUNTAIN HAME. + +AIR--_"Gala Water."_ + + My mountain hame, my mountain hame! + My kind, my independent mother; + While thought and feeling rule my frame, + Can I forget the mountain heather? + Scotland dear! + + I love to hear your daughters dear + The simple tale in song revealing, + Whene'er your music greets my ear + My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling-- + Scotland dear! + + Though I to other lands may gae, + Should Fortune's smile attend me thither, + I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may, + And look again on the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + When I maun die, oh! I would lie + Where life and me first met together; + That my cauld clay, through its decay, + Might bloom again in the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + + + +THOMAS SMIBERT. + + +A poet and indefatigable prose-writer, Thomas Smibert was born in +Peebles on the 8th February 1810. Of his native town his father held for +a period the office of chief magistrate. With a view of qualifying +himself for the medical profession, he became apprentice to an +apothecary, and afterwards attended the literary and medical classes in +the University of Edinburgh. Obtaining licence as a surgeon, he +commenced practice in the village of Inverleithen, situated within six +miles of his native town. He was induced to adopt this sphere of +professional labour from an affection which he had formed for a young +lady in the vicinity, who, however, did not recompense his devotedness, +but accepted the hand of a more prosperous rival. Disappointed in love, +and with a practice scarcely yielding emolument sufficient to pay the +annual rent of his apothecary's store, he left Inverleithen after the +lapse of a year, and returned to Peebles. He now began to turn his +attention to literature, and was fortunate in procuring congenial +employment from the Messrs Chambers, as a contributor to their popular +_Journal_. Of this periodical he soon attained the position of +sub-editor; and in evidence of the indefatigable nature of his services +in this literary connexion, it is worthy of record that, during the +period intervening between 1837 and 1842, he contributed to the +_Journal_ no fewer than five hundred essays, one hundred tales, and +about fifty biographical sketches. Within the same period he edited a +new edition of Paley's "Natural Theology," with scientific notes, and +wrote extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, entitled +"Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the +sub-editorship of the _Scotsman_ newspaper. The bequest of a relative +afterwards enabled him to relinquish stated literary occupation, but he +continued to exhibit to the world pleasing evidences of his learning and +industry. He became a frequent contributor to _Hogg's Instructor_, an +Edinburgh weekly periodical; produced a work on "Greek History;" and +collated a "Rhyming Dictionary." A large, magnificently illustrated +volume, the "Clans of the Highlands of Scotland," was his most ambitious +and successful effort as a prose-writer. His poetical compositions, +which were scattered among a number of the periodicals, he was induced +to collect and publish in a volume, with the title, "Io Anche! Poems +chiefly Lyrical;" Edinburgh, 1851, 12mo. An historical play from his +pen, entitled "Condé's Wife," founded on the love of Henri Quatre for +Marguerite de Montmorency, whom the young Prince of Condé had wedded, +was produced in 1842 by Mr Murray in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, and +during a run of nine nights was received with applause. + +Smibert died at Edinburgh on the 16th January 1854, in his forty-fourth +year. With pleasing manners, he was possessed of kindly dispositions, +and was much cherished for his intelligent and interesting conversation. +In person he was strong built, and his complexion was fair and ruddy. He +was not undesirous of reputation both as a poet and prose-writer, and +has recorded his regret that he had devoted so much time to evanescent +periodical literature. His poetry is replete with patriotic sentiment, +and his strain is forcible and occasionally brilliant. His songs +indicate a fine fancy and deep pathos. + + + + +THE SCOTTISH WIDOW'S LAMENT. + + + Afore the Lammas tide + Had dun'd the birken-tree, + In a' our water side + Nae wife was bless'd like me. + A kind gudeman, and twa + Sweet bairns were 'round me here, + But they're a' ta'en awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Sair trouble cam' our gate, + And made me, when it cam', + A bird without a mate, + A ewe without a lamb. + Our hay was yet to maw, + And our corn was to shear, + When they a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I downa look a-field, + For aye I trow I see + The form that was a bield + To my wee bairns and me; + But wind, and weet, and snaw, + They never mair can fear, + Sin' they a' got the ca' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Aft on the hill at e'ens, + I see him 'mang the ferns-- + The lover o' my teens, + The faither o' my bairns; + For there his plaid I saw, + As gloamin' aye drew near, + But my a's now awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Our bonnie rigs theirsel', + Reca' my waes to mind; + Our puir dumb beasties tell + O' a' that I hae tyned; + For wha our wheat will saw, + And wha our sheep will shear, + Sin' my a' gaed awa' + In the fa' o' the year? + + My hearth is growing cauld, + And will be caulder still, + And sair, sair in the fauld + Will be the winter's chill; + For peats were yet to ca', + Our sheep they were to smear, + When my a' passed awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I ettle whiles to spin, + But wee, wee patterin' feet + Come rinnin' out and in, + And then I just maun greet; + I ken it 's fancy a', + And faster rows the tear, + That my a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Be kind, O Heaven abune! + To ane sae wae and lane, + And tak' her hamewards sune + In pity o' her maen. + Lang ere the March winds blaw, + May she, far far frae here, + Meet them a' that's awa + Sin' the fa' o' the year! + + + + +THE HERO OF ST JOHN D'ACRE.[25] + + + Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing + The banner of England is spread to the breeze, + And loud is the cheering that hails the uprearing + Of glory's loved emblem, the pride of the seas. + No tempest shall daunt her, + No victor-foe taunt her, + What manhood can do in her cause shall be done-- + Britannia's best seaman, + The boast of her freemen, + Will conquer or die by his colours and gun. + + On Acre's proud turrets an ensign is flying, + Which stout hearts are banded till death to uphold; + And bold is their crying, and fierce their defying, + When trench'd in their ramparts, unconquer'd of old. + But lo! in the offing, + To punish their scoffing, + Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done; + No danger can stay him, + No foeman dismay him, + He conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled, + Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone; + The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled, + And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John. + But Napier now tenders + To Acre's defenders + The aid of a friend when the combat is won; + For mercy's sweet blossom + Blooms fresh in his bosom, + Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + "All hail to the hero!" his country is calling, + And "hail to his comrades!" the faithful and brave, + They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling, + But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave. + And long may the ocean, + In calm and commotion, + Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won, + And when foes would wound us + May Napier be round us, + To conquer or die by their colours and gun! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[25] Admiral Sir Charles Napier. + + + + +OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES. + + + Oh! bonnie are the howes + And sunny are the knowes + That feed the kye and yowes + Where my life's morn dawn'd; + And brightly glance the rills + That spring amang the hills + And ca' the merry mills + In my ain dear land. + + But now I canna see + The lammies on the lea, + Nor hear the heather bee + On this far, far strand. + I see nae father's ha', + Nae burnie's waterfa', + But wander far awa' + Frae my ain dear land. + + My heart was free and light, + My ingle burning bright, + When ruin cam' by night + Through a foe's fell hand. + I left my native air, + I gaed to come nae mair; + And now I sorrow sair + For my ain dear land. + + But blithely will I bide + Whate'er may yet betide + When ane is by my side + On this far, far strand. + My Jean will soon be here + This waefu' heart to cheer, + And dry the fa'ing tear + For my ain dear land. + + + + +OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'. + + + Oh! say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + The dreaded hour that parts us twa + Of peace and hope will reave me. + + When you to distant shores are gane + How could I bear to tarry, + Where ilka tree and ilka stane + Would mind me o' my Mary? + + I couldna wander near yon woods + That saw us oft caressing, + And on our heads let fa' their buds + In earnest o' their blessing. + + Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd + Its half-o'erspreading heather, + And how we lo'ed the least the best + That made us creep thegither. + + I couldna bide, when you are gane, + My ain, my winsome dearie, + I couldna stay to pine my lane-- + I live but when I 'm near ye. + + Then say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + For ah! the hour that parts us twa + Of life itself will reave me. + + + + +JOHN BETHUNE. + + +The younger of two remarkable brothers, whose names are justly entitled +to remembrance, John Bethune, was born at the Mount, in the parish of +Monimail, Fifeshire, during the summer of 1810. The poverty of his +parents did not permit his attendance at a public school; he was taught +reading by his mother, and writing and arithmetic by his brother +Alexander,[26] who was considerably his senior. After some years' +employment as a cow-herd, he was necessitated, in his twelfth year, to +break stones on the turnpike-road. At the recommendation of a comrade, +he apprenticed himself, early in 1824, to a weaver in a neighbouring +village. In his new profession he rapidly acquired dexterity, so that, +at the end of one year, he could earn the respectable weekly wages of +fifteen shillings. Desirous of assisting his aged parents, he now +purchased a loom and settled as a weaver on his own account, with his +elder brother as his apprentice. A period of mercantile embarrassments +which followed, severely affecting the manufacturing classes, pressed +heavily on the subject of this notice; his earnings became reduced to +six shillings weekly, and he was obliged to exchange the labours of the +shuttle for those of the implements of husbandry. During the period of +his apprenticeship, his thoughts had been turned to poetical +composition, but it was subsequent to the commercial disasters of 1825 +that he began earnestly to direct his attention towards the concerns of +literature. Successive periods of bad health unfitting him for continued +labour in the fields, were improved by extensive reading and +composition. Before he had completed his nineteenth year he had produced +upwards of twenty poetical compositions, each of considerable length, +and the whole replete with power, both of sentiment and expression. Till +considerably afterwards, however, his literary productions were only +known to his brother Alexander, or at furthest to his parents. "Up to +the latter part of 1835," writes his brother in a biographical sketch, +"the whole of his writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had +been a crime punishable by law. There being but one apartment in the +house, it was his custom to write by the fire, with an old copy-book, +upon which his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through life, +was his only writing-desk. On the table, which was within reach, an old +newspaper was kept constantly lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any +one were heard approaching the door, copy-book, pens, and ink-stand +were thrust under this covering, and before the visitor came in, he had, +in general, a book in his hand, and appeared to have been reading." + +For a number of years Bethune had wrought as a day-labourer in the +grounds of Inchrye, in the vicinity of his birthplace. On the death of +the overseer on that property he was appointed his successor, entering +on the duties at the term of Martinmas 1835, his brother accompanying +him as his assistant. The appointment yielded £26 yearly, with the right +of a cow's pasturage--emoluments which considerably exceeded the average +of his previous earnings. To the duties of his new situation he applied +himself with his wonted industry, still continuing to dedicate only his +evenings and the intervals of toil to literary occupation. But his +comparative prosperity was of short duration. During the summer +following his appointment at Inchrye the estate changed owners, and the +new proprietor dispensed with his services at the next term. In another +year the landlord required the little cottage at Lochend, occupied by +his parents. Undaunted by these reverses, John Bethune and his brother +summoned stout courage; they erected a cottage at Mount Pleasant, near +Newburgh, the walls being mostly reared by their own hands. The future +career of Bethune was chiefly occupied in literary composition. He +became a contributor to the _Scottish Christian Herald_, _Wilson's Tales +of the Borders_, and other serial publications. In 1838 appeared "Tales +and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," the mutual production of the +poet and his brother--a work which, published in Edinburgh, was well +received. A work on "Practical Economy," on which the brothers had +bestowed much pains, and which had received the favourable opinion of +persons of literary eminence, was published in May 1839, but failed to +attract general interest. This unhappy result deeply affected the health +of the poet, whose constitution had already been much shattered by +repeated attacks of illness. He was seized with a complaint which proved +the harbinger of pulmonary consumption. He died at Mount Pleasant on the +1st September 1839, in his thirtieth year. + +With a more lengthened career, John Bethune would have attained a high +reputation, both as an interesting poet and an elegant prose-writer. His +genius was versatile and brilliant; of human nature, in all its +important aspects, he possessed an intuitive perception, and he was +practically familiar with the character and habits of the sons of +industry. His tales are touching and simple; his verses lofty and +contemplative. In sentiment eminently devotional, his life was a model +of genuine piety. His Poems, prefaced by an interesting Memoir, were +published by his surviving brother in 1840; and from the profits of a +second edition, published in the following year, a monument has been +erected over his grave in the churchyard of Abdie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[26] Alexander Bethune, the elder brother of the poet, and his constant +companion and coadjutor in literary work, was born at Upper Rankeillor, +in the parish of Monimail, in July 1804. His education was limited to a +few months' attendance at a subscription school in his sixth year, with +occasional lessons from his parents. Like his younger brother, he +followed the occupation of a labourer, frequently working in the quarry +or breaking stones on the public road. Early contracting a taste for +literature, his leisure hours were devoted to reading and composition. +In 1835, several of his productions appeared in _Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal_. "Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," a volume by +the brothers, of which the greater portion was written by Alexander, was +published in 1838; their joint-treatise on "Practical Economy" in the +year following. In 1843, Alexander published a small volume of tales, +entitled "The Scottish Peasant's Fireside," which was favourably +received. During the same year he was offered the editorship of the +_Dumfries Standard_ newspaper, with a salary of £100 a-year, but he was +unable to accept the appointment from impaired health. He died at Mount +Pleasant, near Newburgh, on the 13th June 1843, and his remains were +interred in his brother's grave in Abdie churchyard. An interesting +volume of his Memoirs, "embracing Selections from his Correspondence and +Literary Memoirs," was published in 1845 by Mr William M'Combie. + + + + +WITHER'D FLOWERS. + + + Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets! + Your day of glory's past; + But your latest smile was loveliest, + For we knew it was your last. + No more the sweet aroma + Of your golden cups shall rise, + To scent the morning's stilly breath, + Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs. + + Ye were the sweetest offerings + Which Friendship could bestow-- + A token of devoted love + In pleasure or in woe! + Ye graced the head of infancy, + By soft affection twined + Into a fairy coronal + Its sunny brows to bind. + + * * * * * + + But ah! a dreary blast hath blown + Athwart you in your bloom, + And, pale and sickly, now your leaves + The hues of death assume. + We mourn your vanish'd loveliness, + Ye sweet departed flowers; + For ah! the fate which blighted you + An emblem is of ours. + + * * * * * + And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth, + We wither and depart, + And leave behind, to mourn our loss, + Full many an aching heart; + Yet when the winter of the grave + Is past, we hope to rise, + Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness, + To blossom in the skies. + + + + +A SPRING SONG. + + + There is a concert in the trees, + There is a concert on the hill, + There 's melody in every breeze, + And music in the murmuring rill. + The shower is past, the winds are still, + The fields are green, the flow'rets spring, + The birds, and bees, and beetles fill + The air with harmony, and fling + The rosied moisture of the leaves + In frolic flight from wing to wing, + Fretting the spider as he weaves + His airy web from bough to bough; + In vain the little artist grieves + Their joy in his destruction now. + + Alas! that, in a scene so fair, + The meanest being e'er should feel + The gloomy shadow of despair + Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal. + But in a world where woe is real, + Each rank in life, and every day, + Must pain and suffering reveal, + And wretched mourners in decay-- + When nations smile o'er battles won, + When banners wave and streamers play, + The lonely mother mourns her son + Left lifeless on the bloody clay; + And the poor widow, all undone, + Sees the wild revel with dismay. + + Even in the happiest scenes of earth, + When swell'd the bridal-song on high, + When every voice was tuned to mirth, + And joy was shot from eye to eye, + I 've heard a sadly-stifled sigh; + And, 'mid the garlands rich and fair, + I 've seen a cheek, which once could vie + In beauty with the fairest there, + Grown deadly pale, although a smile + Was worn above to cloak despair. + Poor maid! it was a hapless wile + Of long-conceal'd and hopeless love + To hide a heart, which broke the while + With pangs no lighter heart could prove. + + The joyous spring and summer gay + With perfumed gifts together meet, + And from the rosy lips of May + Breathe music soft and odours sweet; + And still my eyes delay my feet + To gaze upon the earth and heaven, + And hear the happy birds repeat + Their anthems to the coming even; + Yet is my pleasure incomplete; + I grieve to think how few are given + To feel the pleasures I possess, + While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven, + Must pine in utter loneliness, + Or be to desperation driven. + + Oh! could we find some happy land, + Some Eden of the deep blue sea, + By gentle breezes only fann'd, + Upon whose soil, from sorrow free, + Grew only pure felicity! + Who would not brave the stormiest main + Within that blissful isle to be, + Exempt from sight or sense of pain? + There is a land we cannot see, + Whose joys no pen can e'er portray; + And yet, so narrow is the road, + From it our spirits ever stray-- + Shed light upon that path, O God! + And lead us in the appointed way. + + There only joy shall be complete, + More high than mortal thoughts can reach, + For there the just and good shall meet, + Pure in affection, thought, and speech; + No jealousy shall make a breach, + Nor pain their pleasure e'er alloy; + There sunny streams of gladness stretch, + And there the very air is joy. + There shall the faithful, who relied + On faithless love till life would cloy, + And those who sorrow'd till they died + O'er earthly pain and earthly woe, + See Pleasure, like a whelming tide, + From an unbounded ocean flow. + + + + +ALLAN STEWART. + + +Allan Stewart, a short-lived poet of no inconsiderable merit, was born +in the village of Houston, Renfrewshire, on the 30th January 1812. His +father prosecuted the humble vocation of a sawyer. Deprived of his +mother in early life, the loss was in some degree repaired by the kind +attentions of his maternal aunt, Martha Muir, whose letters on religious +subjects have been published. Receiving an ordinary education at school, +he followed the trade of a weaver in Paisley. His leisure hours were +employed in reading, and in the composition of verses. He died of typhus +fever, at Paisley, on the 12th November 1837, in his twenty-sixth year. +His "Poetical Remains" were published in 1838, in a thin duodecimo +volume, with a well-written biographical sketch from the pen of his +friend, Mr Charles Fleming. + +Stewart was a person of modest demeanour, and of a thoughtful and +somewhat melancholy cast. His verses are generally of a superior order; +his songs abound in sweetness of expression and elegance of sentiment. + + + + +THE SEA-BOY. + +AIR--_"The Soldier's Tear."_ + + + The storm grew faint as daylight tinged + The lofty billows' crest; + And love-lit hopes, with fears yet fringed, + Danced in the sea-boy's breast. + And perch'd aloft, he cheer'ly sung + To the billows' less'ning roar-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + And O what joy beam'd in his eye, + When, o'er the dusky foam, + He saw, beneath the northern sky, + The hills that mark'd his home! + His heart with double ardour strung, + He sung this ditty o'er-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + Now towers and trees rise on his sight, + And many a dear-loved spot; + And, smiling o'er the blue waves bright, + He saw young Ellen's cot. + The scenes on which his memory hung + A cheerful aspect wore; + He then, with joyous feeling, sung, + "I 'll see her yet once more!" + + The land they near'd, and on the beach + Stood many a female form; + But ah! his eye it could not reach + His hope in many a storm. + He through the spray impatient sprung, + And gain'd the wish'd-for shore; + But Ellen, so fair, so sweet, and young, + Was gone for evermore! + + + + +MENIE LORN. + + + While beaus and belles parade the streets + On summer gloamings gay, + And barter'd smiles and borrow'd sweets, + And all such vain display; + My walks are where the bean-field's breath + On evening's breeze is borne, + With her, the angel of my heart-- + My lovely Menie Lorn. + + Love's ambuscades her auburn hair, + Love's throne her azure eye, + Where peerless charms and virtues rare + In blended beauty lie. + The rose is fair at break of day, + And sweet the blushing thorn, + But sweeter, fairer far than they, + The smile of Menie Lorn. + + O tell me not of olive groves, + Where gold and gems abound; + Of deep blue eyes and maiden loves, + With every virtue crown'd. + I ask no other ray of joy + Life's desert to adorn, + Than that sweet bliss, which ne'er can cloy-- + The love of Menie Lorn. + + + + +THE YOUNG SOLDIER. + +AIR--_"The Banks of the Devon."_ + + + O say not o' war the young soldier is weary, + Ye wha in battle ha'e witness'd his flame; + Remember his daring when danger was near ye, + Forgive ye the sigh that he heaves for his hame. + Past perils he heeds not, nor dangers yet coming, + Frae dark-brooding terror his young heart is free; + But it pants for the place whar in youth he was roaming; + He turns to the north wi' the tear in his e'e. + + 'Tis remembrance that saftens what war never daunted, + 'Tis the hame o' his birth that gives birth to the tear; + The warm fondled hopes his first love had implanted, + He langs now to reap in his Jeanie sae dear. + An' aften he thinks on the bonnie clear burnie, + Whar oft in love's fondness they daff'd their young day; + Nae tear then was shedded, for short was the journey + 'Tween Jeanie's broom bower and the blaeberry brae. + + An' weel does he mind o' that morning, when dressing, + In green Highland garb, to cross the wide sea; + His auld mither grat when she gi'ed him her blessing-- + 'Twas a' that the puir body then had to gi'e. + The black downy plume on his bonnie cheek babbit, + As he stood at the door an' shook hands wi' them a'; + But sair was his heart, an' sair Jeanie sabbit, + Whan down the burn-side she convoy'd him awa'. + + Now high-headed Alps an' dark seas divide them, + Wilds ne'er imagined in love's early dream; + Their Alps then the knowes, whare the lambs lay beside them, + Their seas then the hazel an' saugh-shaded stream. + An' wha couldna sigh when memory 's revealing + The scenes that surrounded our life's early hame? + The hero whose heart is cauld to that feeling + His nature is harsh, and not worthy the name. + + + + +THE LAND I LOVE. + + + The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, + Is the land of the plaid and bonnet blue, + Of the gallant heart, the firm and true, + The land of the hardy thistle. + + Isle of the freeborn, honour'd and blest, + Isle of beauty, in innocence dress'd, + The loveliest star on ocean's breast + Is the land of the hardy thistle. + + Fair are those isles of Indian bloom, + Whose flowers perpetual breathe perfume; + But dearer far are the braes o' broom + Where blooms the hardy thistle. + + No luscious fig-tree blossoms there, + No slaves the scented shrubb'ry rear; + Her sons are free as the mountain air + That shakes the hardy thistle. + + Lovely 's the tint o' an eastern sky, + And lovely the lands that 'neath it lie; + But I wish to live, and I wish to die + In the land of the hardy thistle! + + + + +ROBERT L. MALONE. + + +Robert L. Malone was a native of Anstruther, in Fife, where he was born +in 1812. His father was a captain in the navy, and afterwards was +employed in the Coast Guard. He ultimately settled at Rothesay, in Bute. +Receiving a common school education, Robert entered the navy in his +fourteenth year. He served on board the gun-brig _Marshall_, which +attended the Fisheries department in the west; next in the Mediterranean +ocean; and latterly in South America. Compelled, from impaired health, +to renounce the seafaring life, after a service of ten years, he +returned to his family at Rothesay, but afterwards settled in the town +of Greenock. In 1845, he became a clerk in the Long-room of the Customs +at Greenock, an appointment which he retained till nigh the period of +his death. A lover of poetry from his youth, he solaced the hours of +sickness by the composition of verses. He published, in 1845, a +duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled, "The Sailor's Dream, and other +Poems," a work which was well received. His death took place at Greenock +on the 6th of July 1850, in his thirty-eighth year. Of modest and +retiring dispositions, Malone was unambitious of distinction as a poet. +His style is bold and animated, and some of his pieces evince +considerable power. + + + + +THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Humours o' Glen."_ + + + Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, + And green be thy emblem, thou gem of the sea, + The greenest, the sweetest, the fairest of flowers, + Is the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + Far lovelier flowers glow, the woodlands adorning, + And breathing perfume over moorland and lea, + But there breathes not a bud on the freshness of morning + Like the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + What scenes o' langsyne even thy name can awaken, + Thou badge of the fearless, the fair, and the free, + And the tenderest chords of the spirit are shaken; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for thee! + + Still'd be my harp, and forgotten its numbers, + And cold as the grave my affections must be, + Ere thy name fail to waken my soul from her slumbers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + On the fields of their fame, while proud laurels she gathers, + Caledonia plants, wi' the tear in her e'e, + Thy soft downy seeds on the graves of our fathers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + + + +HAME IS AYE HAMELY. + +AIR--_"Love's Young Dream."_ + + + Oh! hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, + An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Though ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + There 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + There 's gowd in gowpens got, they say, on India's sunny strand, + Then wha would bear to linger here in this bleak, barren land? + I 'll hie me ower the heaving wave, and win myself a name, + And in a palace or a grave forget my Hieland hame. + + 'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream, + And Fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream; + His good sword won him wealth and power and long and loud acclaim, + But could not banish from his thoughts his dear-loved mountain hame. + + No! The peasant's heart within the peer beat true to nature still, + For on his vision oft would rise the cottage on the hill; + And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game, + As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame. + + Oh! in the Brahmin, mild and gray, his father's face he saw; + He thought upon his mother's tears the day he gaed awa'; + And her he loved--his Hieland girl--there 's magic in the name-- + They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame. + + He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands, + And where his father's cottage stood a stately palace stands; + And with his grandchild on his knee--the old man's heart on flame-- + 'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts of hame. + + Oh! hame is aye hamely, dear, though poor at times it be, + Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + But there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + + + +PETER STILL. + + +Peter Still was born in the parish of Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, on the +1st day of January 1814. At the time of his birth his father rented a +farm, but, being unfortunate, he was compelled to seek the support of +his family by manual labour. With a limited education at the +parish-school of Longside, whither his parents had removed, the subject +of this memoir was sent, in his eleventh year, to tend cattle. When +somewhat older, he found employment as a farm-servant; but having +married in his twentieth year, he afterwards followed the more +precarious occupation of a day-labourer. Of a delicate constitution, he +suffered much from impaired health, being frequently, for months +together, confined to the sick-chamber. During the periods of +convalescence from illness, he composed verses, which he gave to the +world in three separate publications. His last work--"The Cottar's +Sunday, and other Poems"--appeared in 1845, in a handsome duodecimo +volume. He closed a life of much privation and suffering at Peterhead, +on the 21st March 1848. + +Of sound religious principles and devoted Christian feeling, Still +meekly submitted to the bitterness of his lot in life. He was fortunate +in arresting the attention of some, who occasionally administered to his +wants, and contributed, by their patronage, to the increase of his +reputation. His verses are largely pervaded with poetical fervour and +religious sentiment, while his songs are generally true to nature. In +person he was tall and slender, of a long thin countenance, large dark +blue eyes, and curling black hair. + + + + +JEANIE'S LAMENT. + +AIR--_"Lord Gregory."_ + + + I never thocht to thole the waes + It 's been my lot to dree; + I never thocht to sigh sae sad + Whan first I sigh'd for thee. + I thocht your heart was like mine ain, + As true as true could be; + I couldna think there was a stain + In ane sae dear to me. + + Whan first amang the dewy flowers, + Aside yon siller stream, + My lowin' heart was press'd to yours, + Nae purer did they seem; + Nae purer seem'd the draps o' dew, + The flowers on whilk they hung, + Than seem'd the heart I felt in you + As to that heart I clung. + + But I was young an' thochtless then, + An' easy to beguile; + My mither's warnin's had nae weight + 'Bout man's deceitfu' smile. + But noo, alas! whan she is dead, + I 've shed the sad, saut tear, + And hung my heavy, heavy head + Aboon my father's bier! + + They saw their earthly hope betray'd, + They saw their Jeanie fade; + They couldna thole the heavy stroke, + An' baith are lowly laid! + Oh, Jamie! but thy name again + Shall ne'er be breathed by me, + For, speechless through yon gow'ny glen, + I 'll wander till I die. + + + + +YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME. + +AIR--_"John Todd."_ + + + "Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me; + Ye 're threescore an' three, an' ye 're blin' o' an e'e, + Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me. + + "Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man, + Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be; + Ye 're auld an' ye 're cauld, an' ye 're blin' an' ye 're bald, + An' ye 're nae for a lassie like me, auld man, + Ye 're nae for a lassie like me." + + "Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass, + Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee; + I 've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd, + An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, + A heart that lo'es nane but thee. + + "I 'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass, + I 'll busk you as braw as a queen; + I 've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what 's mair, + I 'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass, + Only twa score an' fifteen." + + "Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man, + Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear; + There 's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain, + An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man, + To me he shall ever be dear. + + "Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair, auld man, + Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair; + There 's a something in love that your gowd canna move-- + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare, auld man, + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare." + + + + +THE BUCKET FOR ME. + + + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + Awa' wi' your bickers o' barley bree; + Though good ye may think it, I 'll never mair drink it-- + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + There 's health in the bucket, there 's wealth in the bucket, + There 's mair i' the bucket than mony can see; + An' aye whan I leuk in 't, I find there 's a beuk in 't + That teaches the essence o' wisdom to me. + + Whan whisky I swiggit, my wifie aye beggit, + An' aft did she sit wi' the tear in her e'e; + But noo--wad you think it?--whan water I drink it + Right blithesome she smiles on the bucket an' me. + The bucket 's a treasure nae mortal can measure, + It 's happit my wee bits o' bairnies an' me; + An' noo roun' my ingle, whare sorrows did mingle, + I 've pleasure, an' plenty, an' glances o' glee. + + The bucket 's the bicker that keeps a man sicker, + The bucket 's a shield an' a buckler to me; + In pool or in gutter nae langer I 'll splutter, + But walk like a freeman wha feels he is free. + + Ye drunkards, be wise noo, an' alter your choice noo-- + Come cling to the bucket, an' prosper like me; + Ye 'll find it is better to swig "caller water," + Than groan in a gutter without a bawbee! + + + + +ROBERT NICOLL. + + +One of the most gifted and hopeful of modern Scottish song writers, +Robert Nicoll, was born at Little Tulliebeltane, in the parish of +Auchtergaven, Perthshire, on the 7th January 1814. Of a family of nine +children, he was the second son. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, rented a farm at the period of his birth and for five years +afterwards, when, involved in an affair of cautionary, he was reduced to +the condition of an agricultural labourer. Young Nicoll received the +rudiments of his education from his mother, a woman of superior +shrewdness and information; subsequently to his seventh year he tended +cattle in the summer months, to procure the means of attending the +parish school during the other portion of the year. From his childhood +fond of reading, books were his constant companions--in the field, on +the highway, and during the intervals of leisure in his father's +cottage. In his thirteenth year, he wrote verses and became the +correspondent of a newspaper. Apprenticed to a grocer and wine-merchant +in Perth, and occupied in business from seven o'clock morning till nine +o'clock evening, he prosecuted mental culture by abridging the usual +hours of rest. At the age of nineteen he communicated a tale to +_Johnstone's Magazine_, an Edinburgh periodical, which was inserted, and +attracted towards him the notice of Mr Johnstone, the ingenious +proprietor. By this gentleman he was introduced, during a visit he made +to the capital, to some men of letters, who subsequently evinced a warm +interest in his career. + +In 1834, Nicoll opened a small circulating library in Dundee, occupying +his spare time in reading and composition, and likewise taking part in +public meetings convened for the support of Radical or extreme liberal +opinions. To the liberal journals of the town he became a frequent +contributor both in prose and verse, and in 1835 appeared as the author +of a volume of "Poems and Lyrics." This publication was highly esteemed +by his friends, and most favourably received by the press. Abandoning +business in Dundee, which had never been prosperous, he meditated +proceeding as a literary adventurer to London, but was induced by Mr +Tait, his friendly publisher, and some other well-wishers, to remain in +Edinburgh till a suitable opening should occur. In the summer of 1836 he +was appointed editor of the _Leeds Times_ newspaper, with a salary of +£100. The politics of this journal were Radical, and to the exposition +and advocacy of these opinions he devoted himself with equal ardour and +success. But the unremitting labour of conducting a public journal soon +began materially to undermine the energies of a constitution which, +never robust, had been already impaired by a course of untiring literary +occupation. The excitement of a political contest at Leeds, during a +general parliamentary election, completed the physical prostration of +the poet; he removed from Leeds to Knaresborough, and from thence to +Laverock Bank, near Edinburgh, the residence of his friend Mr Johnstone. +His case was hopeless; after lingering a short period in a state of +entire prostration, he departed this life in December 1837, in his +twenty-fourth year. His remains, attended by a numerous assemblage, were +consigned to the churchyard of North Leith. + +Possessed of strong poetical genius, Robert Nicoll has attained a +conspicuous and honoured niche in the temple of the national minstrelsy. +Several of his songs, especially "Bonnie Bessie Lee" and "Ordé Braes," +have obtained an equal popularity with the best songs of Burns. Since +the period of his death, four different editions of his "Poems" have +been called for. The work has latterly been published by the Messrs +Blackie of Glasgow in a handsome form, prefaced by an interesting +memoir. Nicoll's strain is eminently smooth and simple; and, though many +of his lyrics published after his decease had not the benefit of his +revision, he never falls into mediocrity. Of extensive sympathies, he +portrays the loves, hopes, and fears of the human heart; while he +depicts nature only in her loveliness. His sentiments breathe a devoted +and simple piety, the index of an unblemished life. In person Nicoll was +rather above the middle height, with a slight stoop. His countenance, +which was of a sanguine complexion, was thoughtful and pleasing; his +eyes were of a deep blue, and his hair dark brown. In society he was +modest and unobtrusive, but was firm and uncompromising in the +maintenance of his opinions. His political views were founded on the +belief that the industrial classes had suffered oppression from the +aristocracy. The solace of his hours of leisure were the songs and music +of his country. He married shortly prior to his decease, but was not +long survived by his widow. A monument to his memory, towards which +nearly £100 has lately been subscribed, is about to be erected on the +Ordé Braes, in his native parish. + + + + +ORDÉ BRAES. + + + There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, + Nae ither spot sae fair; + Nae ither faces look sae kind + As the smilin' faces there. + An' I ha'e sat by mony streams, + Ha'e travell'd mony ways; + But the fairest spot on the earth to me + Is on bonnie Ordé Braes. + + An ell-lang wee thing then I ran + Wi' the ither neeber bairns, + To pu' the hazel's shining nuts, + An' to wander 'mang the ferns; + An' to feast on the bramble-berries brown, + An' gather the glossy slaes, + By the burnie's side, an' aye sinsyne + I ha'e loved sweet Ordé Braes. + + The memories o' my father's hame, + An' its kindly dwellers a', + O' the friends I loved wi' a young heart's love + Ere care that heart could thraw, + Are twined wi' the stanes o' the silver burn, + An' its fairy crooks an' bays, + That onward sang 'neath the gowden broom + Upon bonnie Ordé Braes. + + Aince in a day there were happy hames + By the bonnie Ordé's side: + Nane ken how meikle peace an' love + In a straw-roof'd cot can bide. + But thae hames are gane, an' the hand o' time + The roofless wa's doth raze; + Laneness an' sweetness hand in hand + Gang ower the Ordé Braes. + + Oh! an' the sun were shinin' now, + An', oh! an' I were there, + Wi' twa three friends o' auld langsyne, + My wanderin' joy to share. + For though on the hearth o' my bairnhood's hame + The flock o' the hills doth graze, + Some kind hearts live to love me yet + Upon bonnie Ordé Braes. + + + + +THE MUIR O' GORSE AND BROOM. + + + I winna bide in your castle ha's, + Nor yet in your lofty towers; + My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame, + An' sick o' your darksome bowers; + An' oh! I wish I were far awa' + Frae their grandeur an' their gloom, + Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale, + That blaws fu' kindly there, + An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell + That wave on the muirland bare; + An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees, + An' the little lochs that toom + Their gushing burns to the distant sea + O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Oh! if I had a dwallin' there, + Biggit laigh by a burnie's side, + Where ae aik tree, in the summer time, + Wi' its leaves that hame might hide; + Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day, + As blithe as a young bridegroom; + For dearer than palaces to me + Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom! + + In a lanely cot on a muirland wild, + My mither nurtured me; + O' the meek wild-flowers I playmates made, + An' my hame wi' the wandering bee. + An', oh! if I were far awa' + Frae your grandeur an' your gloom, + Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale, + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + + + +THE BONNIE HIELAND HILLS. + + + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms, + Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes; + But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills + As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair; + But o' riches or beauty we mak na our care; + Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills + Our hearts to the burstin'--our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are, + Though born in the midst o' the elements' war; + O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills, + As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand, + To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand; + A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills, + That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills; + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + + + +THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH. + + + The bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen, + Where the burnie clear doth gush + In yon lane glen; + My head is white and auld, + An' my bluid is thin an' cauld; + But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + My Jeanie first I met + In yon lane glen, + When the grass wi' dew was wet + In yon lane glen; + The moon was shining sweet, + An' our hearts wi' love did beat, + By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Oh! she promised to be mine, + In yon lane glen; + Her heart she did resign, + In yon lane glen; + An' mony a happy day + Did o'er us pass away, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Sax bonnie bairns had we + In yon lane glen-- + Lads an' lassies young an' spree, + In yon lane glen; + An' a blither family + Than ours there cou'dna be, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Now my auld wife's gane awa' + Frae yon lane glen, + An' though summer sweet doth fa' + On yon lane glen-- + To me its beauty's gane, + For, alake! I sit alane + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + + + +BONNIE BESSIE LEE. + + + Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, + And mirth round her ripe lip was aye dancing slee; + And light was the footfa', and winsome the wiles, + O' the flower o' the parochin, our ain Bessie Lee! + Wi' the bairns she would rin, and the school laddies paik, + And o'er the broomy braes like a fairy would flee, + Till auld hearts grew young again wi' love for her sake-- + There was life in the blithe blink o' bonnie Bessie Lee! + + She grat wi' the waefu', and laughed wi' the glad, + And light as the wind 'mang the dancers was she; + And a tongue that could jeer, too, the little limmer had, + Whilk keepit aye her ain side for bonnie Bessie Lee! + She could sing like the lintwhite that sports 'mang the whins, + An' sweet was her note as the bloom to the bee-- + It has aft thrilled my heart whaur our wee burnie rins, + Where a' thing grew fairer wi' bonnie Bessie Lee.[27] + + And she whiles had a sweetheart, and sometimes had twa, + A limmer o' a lassie; but atween you and me, + Her warm wee bit heartie she ne'er threw awa', + Though mony a ane had sought it frae bonnie Bessie Lee. + But ten years had gane since I gazed on her last-- + For ten years had parted my auld hame and me-- + And I said to mysel', as her mither's door I passed, + Will I ever get anither kiss frae bonnie Bessie Lee? + + But Time changes a' thing--the ill-natured loon! + Were it ever sae rightly, he 'll no let it be; + And I rubbit at my e'en, and I thought I would swoon, + How the carle had come roun' about our ain Bessie Lee! + The wee laughing lassie was a gudewife grown auld, + Twa weans at her apron, and ane on her knee, + She was douce too, and wise-like--and wisdom's sae cauld; + I would rather hae the ither ane than this Bessie Lee. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[27] The last four lines of this stanza are not the production of +Nicoll, but have been contributed for the present work by Mr Alexander +Wilson, of Perth. The insertion of the lines prevents the occurrence of +a half stanza, which has hitherto interfered with the singing of this +popular song. + + + + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING. + + +Archibald Stirling Irving was born in Edinburgh on the 18th of December +1816. His father, John Irving, Writer to the Signet, was the intimate +early friend of Sir Walter Scott, and is "the prosperous gentleman" +referred to in the general Introduction to the Waverley Novels. Having a +delicate constitution, young Irving was unable to follow any regular +profession, but devoted himself, when health permitted, to the concerns +of literature. He made himself abundantly familiar with the Latin +classics, and became intimately conversant with the more distinguished +British poets. Possessed of a remarkably retentive memory, he could +repeat some of the longest poems in the language. Receiving a handsome +annuity from his father, he resided in various of the more interesting +localities of Scottish scenery, some of which he celebrated in verse. He +published anonymously, in 1841, a small volume of "Original Songs," of +which the song selected for the present work may be regarded as a +favourable specimen. He died at Newmills, near Ardrossan, on the 20th +September 1851, in his thirty-fifth year. Some time before his death, he +exclusively devoted himself to serious reflection and Scriptural +reading. He married in October 1850, and his widow still survives. + + + + +THE WILD-ROSE BLOOMS. + +TUNE--_"Caledonia."_ + + + The wild-rose blooms in Drummond woods, + The trees are blossom'd fair, + The lake is smiling to the sun, + And Mary wand'ring there. + The powers that watch'd o'er Mary's birth + Did nature's charms despoil; + They stole for her the rose's blush, + The sweet lake's dimpled smile. + + The lily for her breast they took, + Nut-brown her locks appear; + But when they came to make her eyes, + They robb'd the starry sphere. + But cruel sure was their design, + Or mad-like their device-- + For while they filled her eyes with fire, + They made her heart of ice. + + + + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE.[28] + + +Alexander Abernethy Ritchie, author of "The Wells o' Wearie," was born +in the Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1816. In early youth he evinced a lively +appreciation of the humorous and the pathetic, and exhibited remarkable +artistic talent, sketching from nature with fidelity and ease. His +parents being in humble circumstances, he was apprenticed as a +house-painter, and soon became distinguished for his skill in the +decorative branch of his profession. On the expiry of his +apprenticeship, he cultivated painting in a higher department of the +art, and his pictures held a highly respectable place at the annual +exhibitions of the Scottish Academy. Among his pictures which became +favourites may be mentioned the "Wee Raggit Laddie," "The Old Church +Road," "The Gaberlunzie," "Tak' your Auld Cloak about ye," and "The +Captive Truant." His illustrations of his friend, Mr James Ballantine's +works, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet" and "The Miller of Deanhaugh," and of +some other popular works, evince a lively fancy and keen appreciation of +character. He executed a number of water-colour sketches of the more +picturesque and interesting lanes and alleys of Edinburgh; and +contributed to the _Illustrated London News_ representations of +remarkable events as they occurred in the Scottish capital. He died +suddenly at St John's Hill, Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1850, in the +thirty-fourth year of his age. Ritchie was possessed of a vast fund of +humour, and was especially esteemed for the simplicity of his manners +and his kindly dispositions. He excelled in reading poetry, whether +dramatic or descriptive, and sung his own songs with intense feeling. He +lived with his aged mother, whom he regarded with dutiful affection, and +who survives to lament his loss. Shortly before his death he composed +the following hymn, which has been set to appropriate music:-- + + Father of blissfulness, + Grant me a resting-place + Now my sad spirit is longing for rest. + Lord, I beseech Thee, + Deign Thou to teach me + Which path to heaven is surest and best: + Lonely and dreary, + Laden and weary, + Oh! for a home in the land of the blest! + + Father of holiness, + Look on my lowliness; + From this sad bondage, O Lord, set me free; + Grant that, 'mid love and peace, + Sorrow and sin may cease, + While in the Saviour my trust it shall be. + When Death's sleep comes o'er me, + On waking--before me + The portals of glory all open I 'll see. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[28] We are indebted to Mr James Ballantine, of Edinburgh, for the +particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +THE WELLS O' WEARIE. + +AIR--_"Bonnie House o' Airlie."_ + + + Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, + And mak's her look young and cheerie; + Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve, + There 's nought in the world to fear ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + Oh, the sun winna blink in thy bonnie blue e'en, + Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie, + For I 'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green + By the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + But, Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower + At your form in the water sae clearly, + Or the fairy will change you into a wee, wee flower, + And you 'll grow by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Yestreen as I wander'd there a' alane, + I felt unco douf and drearie, + For wanting my Mary, a' around me was but pain + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + Let fortune or fame their minions deceive, + Let fate look gruesome and eerie; + True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve, + When we meet by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Then gang wi' me, my bonnie Mary Grieve, + Nae danger will daur to come near ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave, + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + + + +ALEXANDER LAING. + + +One of the simplest and most popular of the living national +song-writers, Alexander Laing, was born at Brechin on the 14th May 1787. +His father, James Laing, was an agricultural labourer. With the +exception of two winters' schooling, he was wholly self-taught. Sent to +tend cattle so early as his eighth year, he regularly carried books and +writing-materials with him to the fields. His books were procured by the +careful accumulation of the halfpence bestowed on him by the admirers of +his juvenile tastes. In his sixteenth year, he entered on the business +of a flax-dresser, in his native town--an occupation in which he was +employed for a period of fourteen years. He afterwards engaged in +mercantile concerns, and has latterly retired from business. He now +resides at Upper Tenements, Brechin, in the enjoyment of a well-earned +competency. + +Mr Laing early wrote verses. In 1819, several songs from his pen +appeared in the "Harp of Caledonia"--a respectable collection of +minstrelsy, edited by John Struthers. He subsequently became a +contributor to the "Harp of Renfrewshire" and the "Scottish Minstrel," +edited by R. A. Smith. His lyrics likewise adorn the pages of +Robertson's "Whistle Binkie" and the "Book of Scottish Song." He +published, in 1846, a collected edition of his poems and songs, in a +duodecimo volume, under the designation of "Wayside Flowers." A second +edition appeared in 1850. He has been an occasional contributor to the +local journals; furnished a number of anecdotes for the "Laird of +Logan," a humorous publication of the west of Scotland; and has compiled +some useful elementary works for the use of Sabbath-schools. His lyrics +are uniformly pervaded by graceful simplicity, and the chief themes of +his inspiration are love and patriotism. Than his song entitled "My Ain +Wife," we do not know a lay more beautifully simple. His "Hopeless +Exile" is the perfection of tenderness. + + + + +AE HAPPY HOUR. + +AIR--_"The Cock Laird."_ + + + The dark gray o' gloamin', + The lone leafy shaw, + The coo o' the cushat, + The scent o' the haw; + The brae o' the burnie, + A' bloomin' in flower, + An' twa' faithfu' lovers, + Make ae happy hour. + + A kind winsome wifie, + A clean canty hame, + An' smilin' sweet babies + To lisp the dear name; + Wi' plenty o' labour, + An' health to endure, + Make time to row round aye + The ae happy hour. + + Ye lost to affection, + Whom avarice can move + To woo an' to marry + For a' thing but love; + Awa' wi' your sorrows, + Awa' wi' your store, + Ye ken na the pleasure + O' ae happy hour. + + + + +LASS, GIN YE WAD LO'E ME. + +AIR--_"Lass, gin I come near you."_ + + + "Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Ye'se be ladye o' my ha', + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me. + A canty but, a cosie ben, + Weel plenish'd ye may trow me; + A brisk, a blithe, a kind gudeman-- + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!" + + "Walth, there 's little doubt ye ha'e, + An' bidin' bein an' easy; + But brisk an' blithe ye canna be, + An' you sae auld an' crazy. + Wad marriage mak' you young again? + Wad woman's love renew you? + Awa', ye silly doitet man, + I canna, winna lo'e you!" + + "Witless hizzie, e'en 's you like, + The ne'er a doit I 'm carin'; + But men maun be the first to speak, + An' wanters maun be speerin'. + Yet, lassie, I ha'e lo'ed you lang, + An' now I'm come to woo you; + I 'm no sae auld as clashes gang, + I think you 'd better lo'e me." + + "Doitet bodie! auld or young, + Ye needna langer tarry, + Gin ane be loutin' o'er a rung, + He 's no for me to marry. + Gae hame an' ance bethink yoursel' + How ye wad come to woo me, + An' mind me i' your latter-will, + Bodie, gin ye lo'e me!" + + + + +LASS OF LOGIE. + +AIR--_"Lass of Arranteenie."_ + + + I 've seen the smiling summer flower + Amang the braes of Yarrow; + I 've heard the raving winter wind + Amang the hills of Barra; + I 've wander'd Scotland o'er and o'er, + Frae Teviot to Strathbogie; + But the bonniest lass that I ha'e seen + Is bonnie Jean of Logie. + + Her lips were like the heather bloom, + In meekest dewy morning; + Her cheeks were like the ruddy leaf, + The bloomy brier adorning; + Her brow was like the milky flower + That blossoms in the bogie; + And love was laughing in her een-- + The bonnie lass of Logie. + + I said, "My lassie, come wi' me, + My hand, my hame are ready; + I ha'e a lairdship of my ain, + And ye shall be my ladye. + I 've ilka thing baith out and in, + To make you blithe and vogie;" + She hung her head and sweetly smiled-- + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + But she has smiled, and fate has frown'd, + And wrung my heart with sorrow; + The bonnie lass sae dear to me + Can never be my marrow. + For, ah! she loves another lad-- + The ploughman wi' his cogie; + Yet happy, happy may she be, + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + + + +MY AIN WIFE. + +AIR--_"John Anderson, my Jo."_ + + + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see; + For, Oh! my dainty ain wife, + She 's aye sae dear to me. + A bonnier yet I 've never seen, + A better canna be; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Though beauty is a fadin' flower, + As fadin' as it 's fair, + It looks fu' well in ony wife, + An' mine has a' her share. + She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass-- + She 's bonnie aye to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Oh, couthy is my ingle-cheek, + An' cheery is my Jean; + I never see her angry look, + Nor hear her word on ane. + She 's gude wi' a' the neebours roun', + An' aye gude wi' me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + But Oh, her looks sae kindly, + They melt my heart outright, + When ower the baby at her breast + She hangs wi' fond delight. + She looks intill its bonnie face, + An' syne looks to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + + + +THE MAID O' MONTROSE. + +AIR--_"O tell me the Way for to Woo."_ + + + O sweet is the calm dewy gloaming, + When saftly by Rossie-wood brae, + The merle an' mavis are hymning + The e'en o' the lang summer's day! + An' sweet are the moments when o'er the blue ocean, + The full moon arising in majesty glows; + An' I, breathing o'er ilka tender emotion, + Wi' my lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + The fopling sae fine an' sae airy, + Sae fondly in love wi' himsel', + Is proud wi' his ilka new dearie, + To shine at the fair an' the ball; + But gie me the grove where the broom's yellow blossom + Waves o'er the white lily an' red smiling rose, + An' ae bonnie lassie to lean on my bosom-- + My ain lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O what is the haill warld's treasure, + Gane nane o' its pleasures we prove? + An' where can we taste o' true pleasure, + Gin no wi' the lassie we love? + O sweet are the smiles an' the dimples o' beauty, + Where lurking the loves an' the graces repose; + An' sweet is the form an' the air o' the pretty, + But sweeter is Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though few are sae bonnie as thee; + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though handsome as woman can be. + The rose bloom is gane when the chill autumn's low'ring; + The aik's stately form when the wild winter blows; + But the charms o' the mind are the ties mair enduring-- + These bind me to Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + + + +JEAN OF ABERDEEN. + +AIR--_"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."_ + + + Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, + On stately Dee's wild woody knowes; + Ye 've seen the op'ning lily fair, + In streamy Don's gay broomy howes: + An' ilka bonnie flower that grows, + Amang their banks and braes sae green-- + These borrow a' their finest hues + Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Ye 've seen the dew-ey'd bloomy haw, + When morning gilds the welkin high; + Ye 've heard the breeze o' summer blaw, + When e'ening steals alang the sky. + But brighter far is Jeanie's eye, + When we 're amang the braes alane, + An' softer is the bosom-sigh + Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Though I had a' the valleys gay, + Around the airy Bennochie; + An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray + Amang the lofty hills o' Dee; + While Mem'ry lifts her melting ee, + An' Hope unfolds her fairy scene, + My heart wi' them I'd freely gie + To lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + + + +THE HOPELESS EXILE. + +AIR--_"Alas! for Poor Teddy Macshane."_ + + + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Where the mountain is steep, + Where the valley is deep, + Where the waves of the Ohio foam; + Where no cheering smile + His woes may beguile-- + Oh! there has the exile his home. + + Oh! when will the exile return? + Oh! when will the exile return? + When our hearts heave no sigh, + When our tears shall be dry, + When Erin no longer shall mourn; + When his name we disown, + When his mem'ry is gone-- + Oh! then will the exile return! + + + + +GLEN-NA-H'ALBYN.[29] + +AIR--_"O rest thee, my Darling."_ + + + On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, + The boat 's on the shallow, the ship on the lake; + Ah! now in a moment my country I leave; + The next I am far away--far on the wave! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + + I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief, + And to build up his House was the aim of my life; + And now in his greatness he turns me away, + When my strength is decay'd and my locks worn gray. + Oh! fare thee well! + + Farewell the gray stones of my ancestors' graves, + I go to my place 'neath the foam of the waves; + Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore, + Where none of my fathers were gathered before! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[29] "Glen-na-h'Albyn, or Glen-more-na-h'Albyn, the great Glen of +Caledonia, is a name applied to the valley which runs in a direction +from north-east to south-west, the whole breadth of the kingdom, from +the Moray Firth at Inverness to the Sound of Mull below Fort-William, +and is almost filled with lakes." + + + + +ALEXANDER CARLILE. + + +Alexander Carlile was born at Paisley in the year 1788. His progenitors +are said to have been remarkable for their acquaintance with the arts, +and relish for elegant literature. His eldest brother, the late Dr +Carlile of Dublin attained much eminence as a profound thinker and an +accomplished theologian. Having received a liberal education, first at +the grammar-school of Paisley, and afterwards in the University of +Glasgow, the subject of this sketch settled as a manufacturer in his +native town. Apart from the avocations of business, much of his time has +been devoted to the concerns of literature; he has contributed to the +more esteemed periodicals, and composed verses for several works on the +national minstrelsy. At an early period he composed the spirited and +popular song, beginning "Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?" which has +since obtained a place in all the collections. His only separate +publication, a duodecimo volume of "Poems," appeared in 1855, and has +been favourably received. Mr Carlile is much devoted to the interests of +his native town, and has sedulously endeavoured to promote the moral and +social welfare of his fellow-townsmen. His unobtrusive worth and elegant +accomplishments have endeared him to a wide circle of friends. His +latter poetical compositions have been largely pervaded by religious +sentiment. + + + + +WHA'S AT THE WINDOW?[30] + + + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Wha but blithe Jamie Glen, + He 's come sax miles and ten, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa, awa, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa. + + He has plighted his troth, and a', and a', + Leal love to gi'e, and a', and a', + And sae has she dune, + By a' that 's abune, + For he lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a', 'bune a', + He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a'. + + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + But the bride's modest e'e, + And warm cheek are to me + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a', + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a'. + + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha', + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha'; + There 's quaffing and laughing, + There 's dancing and daffing, + And the bride's father 's blithest of a', of a', + The bride's father 's blithest of a'. + + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + That my heart is sae eerie + When a' the lave 's cheerie, + But it 's just that she 'll aye be awa, awa, + It 's just that she 'll aye be awa. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[30] The title of this song seems to have been suggested by that of a +ballad recovered by Cromek, and published in his "Remains of Nithsdale +and Galloway Song," p. 219. The first line of the old ballad runs thus: +"Oh, who is this under my window."--ED. + + + + +MY BROTHERS ARE THE STATELY TREES. + + + My brothers are the stately trees + That in the forests grow; + The simple flowers my sisters are, + That on the green bank blow. + With them, with them, I am a child + Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild. + + The daisy, with its tear of joy, + Gay greets me as I stray; + How sweet a voice of welcome comes + From every trembling spray! + How light, how bright, the golden-wing'd hours + I spend among those songs and flowers! + + I love the Spirit of the Wind, + His varied tones I know; + His voice of soothing majesty, + Of love and sobbing woe; + Whate'er his varied theme may be, + With his my spirit mingles free. + + I love to tread the grass-green path, + Far up the winding stream; + For there in nature's loneliness, + The day is one bright dream. + And still the pilgrim waters tell + Of wanderings wild by wood and dell. + + Or up the mountain's brow I toil + Beneath a wid'ning sky, + Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide, + Crowding the wondering eye. + Then, then, my soul on eagle's wings, + To cloudless regions upwards springs! + + The stars--the stars! I know each one, + With all its soul of love, + They beckon me to come and live + In their tearless homes above; + And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers, + And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers. + + + + +THE VALE OF KILLEAN. + + + O yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet + As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; + So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green, + 'Mid Scotia's dark mountains--the Vale of Killean. + + The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam, + The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home, + That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close, + Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose. + + How solemn the broad hills that curtain around + This sanctuary of nature, 'mid a wilderness found, + Whose echoes low whisper, "Bid the world farewell, + And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell!" + + Then build me a cot by that lake's verdant shore, + 'Mid the world's wild turmoil I 'll mingle no more, + And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear, + Of man's crimes and his follies, no more shall I hear. + + Young Morn, as on tiptoe he ushers the day, + Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray; + And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart + To the soul her own meekness--a rich glow to the heart. + + The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest, + As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast; + And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise, + Like the mist from the mountain to blend with the skies. + + + + +JOHN NEVAY. + + +John Nevay, the bard of Forfar, was born in that town on the 28th of +January 1792. He was educated at the schools of his native place, and +considerably improved himself in classical learning, at an early age, +under the tuition of Mr James Clarke, sometime master of the Burgh +School, and the friend and correspondent of Burns. Fond of solitary +rambles in the country, he began, while a mere youth, to portray in +verse his impressions of the scenery which he was in the habit of +surveying. He celebrated the green fields, the lochs and mountains near +the scene of his nativity, and was rewarded with the approving smiles of +the family circle. Acquiring facility in the production of verses, he +was at length induced to venture on a publication. In 1818 he gave to +the world a "Pamphlet of Rhymes," which, obtaining a ready sale, induced +him to publish a second small collection of verses in 1821. After an +interval devoted to mental improvement, he appeared, in 1834, as the +author of "The Peasant, a Poem in Nine Cantos, with other Poems," in one +volume, 12mo. In the following year he published "The Child of Nature, +and other Poems," in a thin duodecimo volume. In 1853 he printed, by +subscription, a third volume, entitled "Rosaline's Dream, in Four Duans, +and other Poems," which was accompanied with an introductory essay by +the Rev. George Gilfillan. His latest production--"The Fountain of the +Rock, a Poem"--appeared in a pamphlet form, in 1855. He has repeatedly +written prose tales for the periodicals, and has contributed verses to +_Blackwood's Magazine_ and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. + +From the labour of a long career of honourable industry, John Nevay is +now enjoying the pleasures of retirement. He continues to compose verses +with undiminished ardour, and has several MS. poems ready for the press. +He has also prepared a lengthened autobiography. As a poet, his +prevailing themes are the picturesque objects of nature. His lyrical +pieces somewhat lack simplicity. His best production--"The Emigrant's +Love-letter"--will maintain a place in the national minstrelsy. It was +composed during the same week with Motherwell's "Jeanie Morrison," which +it so peculiarly resembles both in expression and sentiment. + + + + +THE EMIGRANT'S LOVE-LETTER. + + + My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been + A century to me; + I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard + Thy voice's melodie. + The mony hardships I ha'e tholed + Sin' I left Larocklea, + I maun na tell, for it would bring + The saut tear in thine e'e. + + But I ha'e news, an' happy news, + To tell unto my love-- + What I ha'e won, to me mair dear + That it my heart can prove. + Its thochts unchanged, still it is true, + An' surely sae is thine; + Thou never, never canst forget + That twa waur ane langsyne. + + The simmer sun blinks on the tarn, + An' on the primrose brae, + Where we, in days o' innocence, + Waur wont to daff an' play; + An' I amang the mossy springs + Wade for the hinny blooms-- + To thee the rush tiara wove, + Bedeck'd wi' lily plumes. + + When on the ferny knowe we sat, + A happy, happy pair-- + Thy comely cheek laid on my knee, + I plaited thy gowden hair. + Oh! then I felt the holiest thocht + That e'er enter'd my mind-- + It, Mary, was to be to thee + For ever true an' kind. + + Though fair the flowers that bloom around + My dwallin' owre the sea-- + Though bricht the streams, an' green the bowers, + They are na _sae_ to me. + I hear the bulbul's mellow leed + Upo' the gorgeous paum-- + The sweet cheep o' the feather'd bee + Amang the fields o' baum. + + But there are nae auld Scotland's burds, + Sae dear to childhood's days-- + The laverock, lintie, shulf, an' yyoite, + That taught us luve's sweet lays. + Gin' thou e'er wauk'st alane to think + On him that's owre the sea, + Their cheerfu' saft luve-lilts will tell + My heart's luve-thochts to thee. + + Lat joy be in thy leal, true heart, + An' bricht smile in thine e'e-- + The bonnie bark is in the bay, + I 'm coming hame to thee; + I 'm coming hame to thee, Mary, + Wi' mony a pearl fine, + An' I will lay them in thy lap, + For the kiss o' sweet langsyne. + + + + +THOMAS LYLE. + + +Thomas Lyle, author of the highly popular song, "Kelvin Grove," is a +native of Paisley. Attending the philosophical and medical classes in +the University of Glasgow, he obtained the diploma of surgeon in the +year 1816. He commenced medical practice in Glasgow, where he remained +till 1826, when he removed to the parish of Airth in Stirlingshire. The +latter locality afforded him abundant opportunities for prosecuting his +favourite study of botany; and he frequently proceeded at early dawn to +great distances in quest of curious or rare plants, so as to gratify his +peculiar tastes without interfering with the duties of his profession, +or the conveniences of his patients. At an earlier period of life, +having cherished a love for the ancient national music, he was in the +habit of collecting and noting such of the older airs as were rapidly +passing into oblivion. He was particularly struck with one of these +airs, which he deemed worthy of more suitable words than those to which +it was commonly sung.[31] At this period he often resorted, in his +botanical rambles, to the wooded and sequestered banks of the Kelvin, +about two miles north-west of Glasgow;[32] and in consequence, he was +led to compose for his favourite tune the words of his beautiful song, +"Kelvin Grove." "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was now in the course of +being published, in sixpence numbers, under the editorship of his +college friend and professional brother, John Sim, and to this work he +contributed his new song. In a future number of the work, the song +appeared without his name, as was requested, but with some unauthorised +alterations. Of these he complained to Mr Sim, who laid the blame on Mr +John Murdoch, who had succeeded him in the editorship, and Mr Lyle did +not further prosecute inquiry on the subject. On the retirement of Mr +Murdoch, the editorship of "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was intrusted to +the poet Motherwell, who incautiously ascribed the song to Mr Sim in the +index of the work. Sim died in the West Indies before this period;[33] +and, in the belief that the song had been composed by him, Mr Purdie, +music-seller in Edinburgh, made purchase of the copyright from his +representatives, and published the words, with music arranged for the +piano by Robert Archibald Smith. Mr Lyle now asserted his title to the +authorship, and on Mr Sim's letter regarding the alterations being +submitted to Messrs Motherwell and Smith, a decision in favour of his +claim was pronounced by these gentlemen. Mr Lyle was shortly after +invited by Mr Smith to contribute songs for the "Irish Minstrel," one of +his numerous musical publications. + +In 1827 Mr Lyle published the results of his researches into the song +literature of his country, in a duodecimo volume, entitled "Ancient +Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition, Manuscripts, and scarce +Works, with Biographical and Illustrative Notices." Of this work, the +more interesting portion consists of "Miscellaneous Poems, by Sir +William Mure, Knight of Rowallan," together with several songs of +various merit by the editor. + +Having acted as medical practitioner at Airth during the period of +twenty-eight years, Mr Lyle, in the close of 1853, returned to Glasgow, +where he soon found himself actively employed by the medical boards of +the city during the prevalence of the Asiatic Cholera. At the present +time he is one of the city district surgeons. A man of the most retiring +dispositions, he has hitherto avoided public reputation, and has written +verses, as he has studied botany, solely for his amusement. He will, +however, be remembered as the writer of some exquisitely sweet and +simple lyrics. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[31] The former words to this air commenced, "Oh, the shearing's no for +you, bonnie lassie, O!" + +[32] The wooded scenery of the Kelvin will in a few years be included +within the boundaries of the city, which has already extended within a +very limited space of the "grove" celebrated in the song. + +[33] See vol. iii., p. 226. + + + + +KELVIN GROVE. + + + Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O! + Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the rose in all her pride, + Paints the hollow dingle side, + Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O! + + Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O! + To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the glens rebound the call + Of the roaring water's fall, + Through the mountains rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O! + + O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O! + When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O! + There the May pink's crimson plume + Throws a soft but sweet perfume + Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O! + + Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O! + As the smile of fortune 's thine, bonnie lassie, O! + Yet with fortune on my side, + I could stay thy father's pride, + And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O! + + But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O! + On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O! + Ere yon golden orb of day + Wake the warblers on the spray, + From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O! + + Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O! + And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O! + To the river winding clear, + To the fragrant-scented breer, + Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O! + + When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O! + Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O! + Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear + Of thy lover on his bier, + To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O! + + + + +THE TRYSTING HOUR. + + + The night-wind's Eolian breezes, + Chase melody over the grove, + The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses, + Float rosy the woodlands above; + Then tarry no longer, my true love, + The stars hang their lamps in the sky, + 'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love, + When each bloom has a tear in its eye. + + So stilly the evening is closing, + Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall, + Eolian whispers reposing + Breathe softly, I hear my love call; + Yes, the light fairy step of my true love + The night breeze is wafting to me; + Over heathbell and violet blue, love, + Perfuming the shadowy lea. + + + + +HARVEST SONG.[34] + + + The harvest morning breaks + Breathing balm, and the lawn + Through the mist in rosy streaks + Gilds the dawn, + While fairy troops descend, + With the rolling clouds that bend + O'er the forest as they wend + Fast away, when the day + Chases cloudy wreaths away + From the land. + + The harvest breezes swell, + And the song pours along, + From the reapers in the dell, + Joyous throng! + The tiny gleaners come, + Picking up their harvest home, + As they o'er the stubble roam, + Dancing here, sporting there, + All the balmy sunny air + Is full of song. + + The harvest evening falls, + While each flower round the bower, + Breathing odour, now recalls + The lover's hour. + The moon enthroned in blue + Lights the rippling lake anew, + And the wailing owls' whoo! whoo! + From the glen again, again, + Wakes the stillness of the scene + On my adieu. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[34] Contributed by Mr Lyle to the present work. + + + + +JAMES HOME. + + +James Home, the author of "Mary Steel," and other popular songs, was +born, early in the century, on the farm of Hollybush, about a mile south +of Galashiels. During a period of about thirty years, he has been +engaged in the humble capacity of a dry-stone mason in Peeblesshire. He +resides in the hamlet of Rachan Mill in that county, where, in addition +to his ordinary employment, he holds the office of postmaster. + +Home has not ventured on a publication, and latterly has abandoned the +composition of verses. In youth he was, writes a correspondent, "an +enthusiast in love, music, and poetry." A number of his songs and +poetical pieces, which he had addressed to friends, have long been +popular in the south of Scotland. His song entitled "This Lassie o' +Mine" has enjoyed an uncommon measure of general favour. His +compositions are replete with pathos; he has skilfully told the lover's +tale; and has most truthfully depicted the joys and sorrows, hopes and +fears of human life. Some of his best pieces appear in the "Unknown +Poets" of Mr Alexander Campbell,--a work which only reached a single +number. Of mild dispositions, modest manners, and industrious habits, +Home is much respected in private life. Of a somewhat sanguine +complexion, his countenance betokens superior intellectual power. He +enjoys the comfort of a suitable partner in life, and is a respected +office-bearer of the Free Church congregation at Broughton. + + + + +MARY STEEL. + + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the lark begins to sing, + And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts + Are welcoming the spring: + When the merle and the blackbird build their nest + In the bushy forest tree, + And a' things under the sky seem blest, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the simmer spreads her flowers, + And the lily blooms and the ivy twines + In beauty round the bowers; + When the cushat coos in the leafy wood, + And the lambs sport o'er the lea, + And every heart 's in its happiest mood, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When har'st blithe days begin, + And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field, + The foremost rig to win; + When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld, + Where light-hair'd lasses be, + And mony a tale o' love is tauld, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the winter winds rave high, + And the tempest wild is pourin' doun + Frae the dark and troubled sky: + When a hopeless wail is heard on land, + And shrieks frae the roaring sea, + And the wreck o' nature seems at hand, + My thoughts shall be o' thee! + + + + +OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN? + + + Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade, + And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary? + Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made, + When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary? + + Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget, + The hours we have spent together? + Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet + Shine on as brightly as ever! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss, + So fraught with the heart's full feeling? + As we clung to each other in the last embrace, + The soul of love revealing! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot, + Where the farewell word was spoken? + Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot, + The vow and the promise broken? + + Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one; + Though other arms caress thee, + Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain, + And a smoother tongue should bless thee:-- + + Yet never again on thy warm young cheek + Will breathe a soul more warm than mine, + And never again will a lover speak + Of love more pure to thine. + + + + +THE MAID OF MY HEART. + +AIR--_"The Last Rose of Summer."_ + + + When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, + The only beloved of my bosom is nigh, + I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + When around and above us there 's nought to be seen, + But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green, + And all is at rest in the glen and the hill, + Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill. + + Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd, + Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd; + Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + + + +SONG OF THE EMIGRANT. + + + Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, + Where the maiden's step is light and free; + Where the shepherd's pipe, and the hunter's horn, + Awake the joys of the rosy morn. + + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the lake, + That tells how the foamy billows break; + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the wood, + That tells of dreary solitude. + + But, oh! when it comes from the mountain fells, + Where the Spirit of Song and Freedom dwells, + Where in youth's warm day I woke that strain + I ne'er in this world can wake again. + + The warm blood leaps in its wonted course, + And fresh tears gush from their briny source, + As if I had hail'd in the passing wind + The all I have loved and left behind. + + + + +THIS LASSIE O' MINE.[35] + +TUNE--_"Wattie's Ramble."_ + + + O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine? + Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine? + Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e? + Sure naebody e'er was sae happy as me. + + It 's no that she dances sae light on the green, + It 's no the simplicity marked in her mien-- + But, O! it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e + That keeps me aye happy as happy can be. + + To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees, + When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees; + To breathe out the soul in a saft melting kiss-- + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + + I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy, + When friends circle round, and nought to annoy; + I have felt every joy which illumines the breast + When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd. + + But, O! there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm + In life's early day, when the bosom is warm, + When soul meets with soul in a saft melting kiss, + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[35] This song was formerly introduced in this work (vol. ii. p. 70) as +the composition of the Ettrick Shepherd. The error is not ours; we found +the song in the latest or posthumous edition of the Shepherd's songs, p. +201 (Blackie, Glasgow), and we had no reason to suspect the +authenticity. We have since ascertained that a copy of the song, having +been handed to the Shepherd by the late Mr Peter Roger, of Peebles, +Hogg, with the view of directing attention to the real author, +introduced it shortly after in his _Noctes Bengerianæ_, in the +"Edinburgh Literary Journal" (vol. i. p. 258). Being included in this +periodical paper, the editor of his posthumous works had assumed that +the song was the Shepherd's own composition. So much for uncertainty as +to the authorship of our best songs! + + + + +JAMES TELFER. + + +James Telfer, an ingenious prose writer and respectable poet, was born +about the commencement of the century, near the source of the river Jed, +in the parish of Southdean, and county of Roxburgh. Passionate in his +admiration of Hogg's "Queen's Wake," he early essayed imitations of some +of the more remarkable portions of that poem. In 1824 he published at +Jedburgh a volume of "Border Ballads and Miscellaneous Poems," which he +inscribed to the Bard of Ettrick. "Barbara Gray," an interesting prose +tale, appeared from his pen in 1835, printed at Newcastle. A collected +edition of his best productions in prose and verse was published at +London in 1852, with the title of "Tales and Sketches." He has long been +a contributor to the provincial journals. + +Some of Mr Telfer's ballads are respectable specimens of this class of +compositions; and his tales in prose are written with much vigour, the +narrative of "Barbara Gray" being especially interesting. For many years +he has taught an adventure school at Saughtree, Liddisdale; and with +emoluments not much beyond twenty pounds a-year, he has contrived to +support a family. He has long maintained a literary correspondence with +his ingenious friend, Mr Robert White of Newcastle; and his letters, +some of which we have seen, abound with curious and interesting +speculations. + + + + +OH, WILL YE WALK THE WOOD WI' ME?[36] + + + "Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? + Oh, will ye walk the green? + Or will ye sit within mine arms, + My ain kind Jean?" + + "It 's I 'll not walk the wood wi' thee, + Nor yet will I the green; + And as for sitting in your arms, + It 's what I dinna mean." + + "Oh! slighted love is ill to thole, + And weel may I compleen; + But since that better mayna be, + I e'en maun thol 't for Jean." + + "Gang up to May o' Mistycleugh, + Ye saw her late yestreen; + Ye'll find in her a lightsome love + Ye winna find in Jean." + + "Wi' bonny May o' Mistycleugh + I carena to be seen; + Her lightsome love I'd freely gie + For half a blink frae Jean." + + "Gang down to Madge o' Miryfaulds, + I ken for her ye green; + Wi' her ye 'll get a purse o' gowd-- + Ye 'll naething get wi' Jean." + + "For doity Madge o' Miryfaulds + I dinna care a preen; + The purse o' gowd I weel could want, + If I could hae my Jean." + + "Oh, yes! I 'll walk the wood wi' thee; + Oh, yes! I 'll walk the green; + But first ye 'll meet me at the kirk, + And mak' me aye your Jean." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[36] Portions of the first and second verses of this song are fragments +of an older ditty.--_Note by the Author._ + + + + +I MAUN GAE OVER THE SEA. + + + "Sweet summer now is by, + And cauld winter is nigh, + The wan leaves they fa' frae the tree; + The hills are white wi' snaw, + And the frosty winds blaw, + And I maun gie over the sea, Mary, + And I maun gie over the sea. + + "But winter will gang by, + And summer come wi' joy, + And Nature again will be free; + And wooers you will find, + And mair ye 'll never mind + The laddie that 's over the sea, Mary, + The laddie that 's over the sea." + + "Oh, Willie, since it 's sae, + My heart is very wae + To leave a' my friends and countrie; + But wi' thee I will gang, + Though the way it be lang, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea, Willie, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea." + + "The way is vera far, + And terrible is war, + And great are the hardships to dree; + And if I should be slain, + Or a prisoner ta'en, + My jewel, what would come o' thee, Mary? + My jewel, what would come o' thee? + + "Sae at hame ye maun bide, + And should it sae betide + That a bride to another ye be, + For ane that lo'ed ye dear + Ye 'll whiles drap a tear; + I 'll aften do the same for thee, Mary, + I 'll aften do the same for thee." + + The rowan tear down fell, + Her bosom wasna well, + For she sabbit most wofullie; + "Oure the yirth I wad gang, + And never count it lang, + But I fear ye carena for me, Willie, + But I fear ye carena for me." + + Nae langer could he thole, + She tore his vera soul, + He dighted her bonnie blue e'e; + "Oh, what was it you said, + Oh my ain loving maid? + I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary, + I 'll never love a woman but thee!" + + The fae is forced to yield, + And freedom has the field; + "Away I will ne'er gang frae thee; + Only death shall us part, + Keep sic thoughts frae my heart, + But never shall part us the sea, Mary, + But never shall part us the sea." + + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +EVAN MACLACHLAN. + + +One of the most learned of the modern Gaelic song-writers, Evan +Maclachlan, was born in 1775, in a small hut called Torracaltuin, in the +district of Lochaber. After struggling with many difficulties in +obtaining the means of education, he qualified himself for the duties of +an itinerating tutor. In this capacity it was his good fortune to live +in the families of the substantial tenantry of the district, two of +whom, the farmers at Clunes and Glen Pean, were led to evince an +especial interest in his welfare. The localities of those early patrons +he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry, +supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was +fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's +College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he +gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the +celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years, +the office of librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected +master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on +the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he +devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease, +the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society, +under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief +amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of +Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has +been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed +from the following specimens in English verse. + + + + +A MELODY OF LOVE. + + The first stanza of this song was the composition of a + lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic, + and afterwards produced the following version of the + whole in English. + + + Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, + Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore: + Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail, + Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale. + + As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow, + The locks of my fair one redundantly flow; + Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display + When they glitter with dew on the morning of May. + + As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove, + Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love: + Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays, + Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze. + + The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn, + Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn: + But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain, + When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain. + + When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers, + While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers, + Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove, + And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love. + + + + +THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN. + + These verses are allegorical. In the character of a + song-bird the bard relates the circumstances of his + nativity, the simple habits of his progenitors, and his + own rural tastes and recreations from infancy, giving + the first place to the delights of melody. He proceeds + to give an account of his flight to a strange but + hospitable region, where he continued to sing his songs + among the birds, the flocks, the streams, and + cultivated fields of the land of his sojourn. This + piece is founded upon a common usage of the Gaelic + bards, several of whom assume the allegorical character + of the "Mavis" of their own clan. Thus we have the + Mavis of Clan-ranald by Mac-Vaistir-Allister--of + Macdonald (of Sleat) by Mac Codrum--of Macleod, and + many others. + + + Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, + And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely; + No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak, + No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek. + I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared + For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared: + Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn, + And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn; + Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care, + And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air. + + When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's[37] silver stream + Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam, + The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd, + As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd. + But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I + Among the glades of Cluaran[38] must imp my wings and fly; + Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove, + Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove. + + By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day, + Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray, + The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure, + And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure? + With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd, + Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd, + While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir, + That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire. + O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars + The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars + A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill + Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill. + + The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad, + It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd, + Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads + (A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads. + Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather, + Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither; + Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side + Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride. + + Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son-- + I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run, + I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece, + Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze. + The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well, + Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell! + The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far, + As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star! + I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see + The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea. + + Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine, + The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine; + And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell, + With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well. + + * * * * * + + And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade + That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd; + The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather, + Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together; + For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken; + 'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[37] The stream that flows through Glen Pean. + +[38] The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained for many +years of his tutor life. + + + + +THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.[39] + + + + +JOHN BROWN. + + +One of the bards of Cowal is believed to have been born in the parish of +Inverchaolain about 1750; his family name was Brun or Broun, as +distinguished from the Lowland Brown, which he assumed. He first +appeared as a poet by the publication, at Perth, in 1786, of a small +volume of Gaelic poetry, dedicated to the Duke of Montrose. The +subsequent portion of his career seems to have been chiefly occupied in +genealogical researches. In 1792 he completed, in two large sheets, his +"Historical and Genealogical Tree of the Royal Family of Scotland;" of +which the second edition bears the date 1811. This was followed by +similar genealogical trees of the illustrious family of Graham, of the +noble house of Elphinstone, and other families. In these productions he +uniformly styles himself, "Genealogist to his R. H. the Prince of Wales, +for Scotland." Brown died at Edinburgh in the beginning of the year +1821. He had formed a respectable connexion by marriage, under +circumstances which he has commemorated in the annexed specimen of his +poetry, but his latter years were somewhat clouded by misfortune. He is +remembered as a solicitor for subscriptions to his genealogical +publications. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[39] Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith of Clyde, +and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine. + + + + +THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY. + + The poet had paid his addresses to one of the sisters, + but without the consent of her relatives, who + ultimately induced her to wed another. After a lapse of + time the bard transferred his affection to another + daughter of the same distinguished family, and being + successful, was compensated for his former trials. + + + The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night, + And the stars were attired in the glory of light, + And the hope of the lover was shining as day, + When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away. + + Away she has gone at the touch of the helm, + And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm-- + But, would that his strength as his purpose was true, + At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew! + + Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time, + The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime, + And the _Brunach_[40] would joy, in the succour they gave, + To win him a bride, or to win him a grave. + + My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found, + Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound; + In the flush of my health and my penniless youth, + I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth. + + Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken + The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking; + A sister is salving a sister's annoy, + And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy. + + A bride worth the princesses England is rearing, + Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing; + If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before, + In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more. + + The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild + That in friendship or charity never beguiled, + She is mine--to Dunduala[41] that traces her stem, + As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them, + Though Donald[42] the gracious be head of her line, + And "our exiled and dear"[43] in her pedigree shine. + + Then hearken, ye men of the country I love! + Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love, + Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly, + May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[40] Brunach--The Brown, viz., the poet himself. + +[41] The Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the Scoto-Irish kings +who reigned in Dunstaffnage. + +[42] Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings. + +[43] Prince Charles Edward. + + + + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D. + + +The Rev. Dr Stewart was born at Appin, Argyllshire, in 1751. His mother +was a daughter of Edmonstone of Cambuswallace, the representative of an +old and distinguished family in the counties of Perth and Stirling; and +his father was brother of Stewart of Invernachoil, who was actively +engaged in the cause of Prince Charles Edward, and has been +distinguished in the romance of Waverley as the Baron of Bradwardine. +This daring Argyllshire chief, whom Scott represents as being fed in the +cave by "Davie Gellatly," was actually tended in such a place of +concealment by his own daughter, a child about ten years old. + +On receiving license, Dr Stewart soon attained popularity as a preacher. +In 1779, being in his twenty-eighth year, he was ordained to the +pastoral charge of the parish of Strachur, Argyllshire. He died in the +manse of Strachur on the 24th of May 1826, in the seventy-fifth year of +his age, and the forty-seventh of his ministry. A tombstone was erected +to his memory in the parochial burying-ground, by the members of the +kirk-session. Possessed of superior talents, a vast fund of humour, and +a delightful store of traditional information, he was much cherished by +a wide circle of admiring friends. Faithful in the discharge of the +public duties of his office, he was distinguished among his parishioners +for his private amenities and acts of benevolence. He was the author +only of one song, but this has attained much favour among the Gael. + + + + +LUINEAG--A LOVE CAROL. + + + No homeward scene near me, + No comrade to cheer me, + I cling to my dearie, + And sigh till I marry. + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Ra-ill O, + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Was ever a May like my fairy? + + My youth with the stranger,[44] + Next on mountains a ranger, + I pass'd--but no change, here, + Will sever from Mary. + + What ringlets discover + Their gloss thy brows over-- + Forget thee! thy lover, + Ah, first shall they bury. + + Thy aspect of kindness, + Thy graces they bind us, + And, like Feili,[45] remind us + Of a heaven undreary. + + Than the treasures of Spain + I would toil more to gain + Thy love--but my pain, + Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary! + + When the shell is o'erflowing, + And its dew-drops are glowing, + No, never, thy snow on + A slander shall tarry. + + When viols are playing, + And dancers are Maying, + My eyes may be straying, + But my soul is with Mary. + + That white hand of thine + Might I take into mine, + Could I ever repine, + Or from tenderness vary? + + No, never! no, never! + My troth on 't for ever, + Lip to lip, I 'd deliver + My being to Mary. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[44] Invernahyle removed with his family to Edinburgh, and became very +intimate with the father of Sir Walter Scott. He seems to have made a +great impression on the future poet. + +[45] Festivals, saint-days. + + + + +ANGUS FLETCHER. + + +Angus Fletcher was born at Coirinti, a wild and romantic spot on the +west bank of Loch Eck, in June 1776. His education was chiefly conducted +at the parish school of Kilmodan, Glendaruel. From Glendaruel he went to +Bute, in 1791, where he was variously employed till May 1804, when he +was elected schoolmaster of Dunoon, his native parish. His death took +place at Dunoon in 1852. The first of the two following songs was +contributed anonymously to the _Weekly Journal_ newspaper, whence it was +transferred by Turner into his Gaelic collection. It soon became popular +in the Highlands, and the authorship came to be assigned to different +individuals. Fletcher afterwards announced himself as the author, and +completely established his claim. He was the author of various metrical +compositions both in Gaelic and English. + + + + +THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL. + + + Thy wily eyes, my darling, + Thy graces bright, my jewel, + Have grieved me since our parting + At the kirk of Glendaruel. + + 'Twas to the Kirkton wending + Bright eyes encounter'd duty, + And mavis' notes were blending + With the rosy cheeks of beauty. + + Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist, + Her arms, her instep queenly; + And her sweet parting lips are graced + With rows of ivory inly. + + When busy tongues are railing, + Lown is her word unsaucy, + And with modest grace unfailing + She trips it o'er the causey. + + Should royalty prefer me, + Preferment none I crave, + But to live a shepherd near thee, + On the howes of Corrichnaive. + + Would fortune crown my wishes-- + The shealing of the hill, + With my darling, and the rushes + To couch on, were my will. + + I hear, but not instruction, + Though faithful lips are pleading-- + I read thy eyes' perfection, + On their dew of mildness feeding. + + My hand is swiftly scrolling, + In the courts of reverend men;[46] + But, ah! my restless soul in + Is triumphing my Jean. + + I fear, I fear their frowning-- + But though they chased me over + Where Holland's flats[47] are drowning, + I 'll live and die thy lover. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[46] The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and clerk-depute +of presbytery. + +[47] The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the Duke of +York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword. + + + + +THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN. + + Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author. + + + Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes, + By a burnie's dimplit linn, + I told my love with artless blushes + To the lassie o' the glen. + + Oh! the birken bank sae grassy, + Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn; + Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie + Living in yon rashy glen! + + Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy + Shall be aye my fav'rite theme, + For on thy banks my Highland lassie + First confess'd a mutual flame. + + What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us, + In some sweet wee bow'ry den! + Or fondly stray amang the rashes, + Wi' the lassie o' the glen! + + And though I wander now unhappy, + Far frae scenes we haunted then, + I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy, + Nor the lassie o' the glen. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_Aboon_, above. + +_Aumry_, a store-place. + +_Baum_, balm. + +_Beuk_, book. + +_Bicker_, a drinking vessel. + +_Burnie_, a small stream. + +_Caller_, cool. + +_Cled_, clad. + +_Clud_, cloud. + +_Couthy_, frank. + +_Daffin'_, merry-making. + +_Dighted_, wiped. + +_Doit_, a small coin. + +_Doitet_, dotard. + +_Douf_, sad. + +_Dree_, endure. + +_Dwine_, dwindle. + +_Fauld_, fold. + +_Fleechit_, cajoled. + +_Fykes_, troubles, anxieties. + +_Gaed_, went. + +_Gar_, compel. + +_Gate_, way. + +_Glour_, look earnestly. + +_Grannie_, grandmother. + +_Grat_, wept. + +_Grit_, great. + +_Haill_, whole. + +_Haud_, hold, keep. + +_Heuk_, reaping-hook. + +_Hie_, high. + +_Hinny_, honey. + +_Hizzie_, _Hussy_, a thoughtless girl. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Knows_, knolls, hillocks. + +_Laith_, loth. + +_Lift_, firmament. + +_Lowin'_, burning. + +_Minnie_, mother. + +_Parochin'_, parish. + +_Pu'_, pull. + +_Roos'd_, praised. + +_Sabbit_, sobbed. + +_Scour_, search. + +_Slee_, sly. + +_Speerin'_, inquiring. + +_Swiggit_, swallowed. + +_Syne_, then. + +_Thole_, endure. + +_Toom_, empty. + +_Troth_, truth, vow. + +_Trow_, believe. + +_Tyne_, lose. + +_Unco_, uncommon. + +_Wag_, shake. + +_Waur_, worse. + +_Ween_, guess. + +_Yirth_, earth. + +_Yowes_, ewes. + + +END OF VOL. IV. + +BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. V. + + +Alexd^{r}. Maclagan. + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Ever faithfully yours, + +F. Bennoch.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL V. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +MDCCCLVII. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +ALEXANDER BAILLIE COCHRANE, + +ESQ. OF LAMINGTON. + + +SIR, + +I inscribe to you the present volume of "THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL," +not to express approval of your political sentiments, nor to court your +patronage as a man of rank. Political science has occupied only a +limited share of my attention, and I have hitherto conducted my peculiar +studies without the favour of the great. My dedication is prompted on +these twofold grounds:--Bearing in your veins the blood of Scotland's +Illustrious Defender, you were one of the first of your order to join in +the proposal of rearing a National Monument to his memory; and while +some doubted the expediency of the course, and others stood aside +fearing a failure, you did not hesitate boldly to come forward as a +public advocate of the enterprise. Yourself a man of letters, you were +among the foremost who took an interest in the establishment of the +Scottish Literary Institute, of which you are now the President--a +society having for its main object the relief, in circumstances of +virtuous indigence, of those men of genius and learning who have +contributed by the pen to perpetuate among our countrymen that spirit of +intelligence and love of freedom which, by his sword, Sir William +Wallace first taught Scotsmen how to vindicate and maintain. + +I have the honour to be, + Sir, + Your very obedient, humble servant, + CHARLES ROGERS. + +_STIRLING, June 1857._ + + + + +SCOTTISH LYRICS AND SCOTTISH LIFE. + +BY JAMES DODDS. + + +Judging from a comparison of extant remains, and other means of +information now available, it may be doubted whether any country has +equalled Scotland in the number of its lyrics. By the term _lyrics_, I +mean specifically poetical compositions, meant and suitable to be sung, +with the musical measures to which they have been wedded. I include +under the term, both the compositions themselves, and their music. The +Scottish ballads are numerous, the Scottish songs all but numberless, +and the Scottish tunes an inexhaustible fountain of melody. + + "And now 'twas like all instruments, + Now like a lonely flute; + And now it is an angel's song, + That makes the heavens be mute." + +Look at the vast collections of them which have been published, and the +additions which are ever making, either from some newly-discovered +manuscript, or from oral tradition in some out-of-the-way part of the +country. The numbers, too, which have been preserved, seem to be +exceeded by the numbers that have unfortunately been lost. Who has not +in his ears the hum of many lyrics heard by him in his childhood--from +mother, or nurse, or some old crooning dame at the fireside--which are +to be found in no collection, and which are now to himself but like a +distant, unformed sound? All our collectors, whilst smiling in triumph +over the pearls which they have brought up and borne to the shore, +lament the multitude of precious things irrecoverably buried in the +depths of oblivion. Where, for instance, amid the similar wreck which +has befallen so many others, are now the ancient words pouring forth the +dirge over the "Flowers of the Forest," or those describing the tragic +horrors on the "Braes of Yarrow," or those celebrating the wondrous +attractions of the "Braw Lads o' Gala Water"? We have but the two first +lines--the touching key-note of a lover's grief, in an old song, which +has been most tamely rendered in Ramsay's version--these two lines +being-- + + "Alas! that I came o'er the moor, + And left my love behind me." + +Only one verse has floated down of an old song, which breathes the very +soul of a lover's restless longings:-- + + "Aye wakin', O! + Wakin' aye an' eerie; + Sleep I canna get + For thinkin' on my dearie; + Aye wakin', O!" + +Does it not at once pique and disappoint the fancy, that these two +graceful verses are all that remain of a song, where, doubtless, they +were once but two fair blossoms in a large and variegated posy:-- + + "Within my garden gay + The rose and lily grew; + But the pride of my garden is wither'd away, + And it 's a' grown o'er wi' rue. + + "Farewell, ye fading flowers! + And farewell, bonnie Jean! + But the flower that is now trodden under foot, + In time it may bloom again." + +Nay--passing from the tender to the grotesque--would it not have been +agreeable to hear something more than two lines from the lips of a lover +so stout-hearted, yet so ardent, in his own rough, blunt way, as he who +has thus commenced his song:-- + + "I wish my love were in a mire, + That I might pull her out again;" + +or to know something more of the details of that extraordinary parish, +of which one surviving verse draws the following sombre picture:-- + + "Oh! what a parish!--eh! what a parish! + Oh! what a parish is that o' Dunkel': + They 've hang'd the minister, droon'd the precentor; + They 've pu'd doon the steeple, and drunk the kirk-bell." + +The Scottish lyrics, lying all about, thus countless and scattered-- + + "Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks + In Vallambrosa"-- + +are not like those which mark and adorn the literature of many other +countries, the euphonisms of a meretricious court, or the rhymed musings +of philosophers, or conceits from Pagan mythology, or the glancing +epigrams of men of wit and of the world, or mere hunting choruses and +Bacchanalian catches of a rude squirearchy. They are the ballads, songs, +and tunes of the people. In their own language, but that language +glittering from the hidden well of poesy--in ideas which they at once +recognise as their own, because photographed from nature--these lyrics +embody the loves and thoughts of the people, the themes on which they +delight to dwell, even their passions and prejudices; and vibrate in +their memories, quickening the pulses of life, knitting them to the Old +Land, and shedding a poetic glow over all the commonplaces of existence +and occupation. It is the faithful popular memory, more than anything +else, which has been the ark to save the ancient lyrics of Scotland. Not +only so, but there is reason to believe that our national lyrics have, +generally speaking, been creations of the men, and sometimes of the +women, of the people. They are the people's, by the title of origin, no +less than by the feeling of sympathy. + +This, of course, is clear, as regards the great masters of the lyre who +have appeared within the period of known authorship--Ramsay, Burns, +Tannahill, Hogg, and Cunningham. The authors of the older lyrics--I mean +both compositions and tunes--are, with few exceptions, absolutely +unknown; but were there room here for discussion, it might be shewn that +all the probabilities lead up, principally, to the ancient order of +Minstrels, who from very early times were nearly as much organised and +privileged and honoured in Scotland, as ever were the troubadours in +Provence and Italy. Ellis, in the Introduction to his "Specimens of +Early English Metrical Romances," alluding to Scott's publication of +"Sir Tristrem," remarks--"He has shewn, by a reference to ancient +charters, that the Scottish minstrels of this early period enjoyed all +the privileges and distinctions possessed by the Norman trouveurs, whom +they nearly rivalled in the arts of narration, and over whom they +possessed one manifest advantage, in their familiar acquaintance with +the usual scenes of chivalry." These minstrels, like the majority of +poetic singers, were no doubt sons of the people--bold, aspiring, and +genius-lit--bursting strong from their mother earth, with all her sap +and force and fruitfulness about them. Amongst the last of the professed +minstrels was one Burn, who wonned on the Borders as late as the +commencement of the eighteenth century, and who, in his pleasant, +chirping ditty of "Leader Haughs and Yarrow," takes to himself this very +title of _Minstrel_. + + "But Minstrel Burn cannot assuage + His grief while life endureth, + To see the changes of this age, + That fleeting time procureth. + For many a place stands in hard case, + Where blythe folk kenn'd nae sorrow, + With Homes that dwelt on Leader-side, + And Scotts that dwelt on Yarrow." + +Of this minstrel Burn there is a quaint little personal reminiscence. An +aged person at Earlstoun many years ago related, that there used to be a +portrait of the minstrel in Thirlestane Castle, near Lauder, +"representing him as a douce old man, _leading a cow by a straw-rope_." +The master of the "gay science" gradually slipping down from the clouds, +and settling quietly and doucely on the plain hard ground of ordinary +life and business! Let all pale-faced and sharp-chinned youths, who are +spasmodic poets, or who are in danger of becoming such, keep steadily +before them the picture of minstrel Burn, "leading a cow by a +straw-rope"--and go and do likewise. + +But as trees and flowers can only grow and come to perfection in soils +by nature appropriate to them, so it is manifest that all this rich and +fertile growth of lyrics, of minstrelsy and music, could only spring up +amongst a people most impressionable and joyous. I speak of the Lowland +population, and especially of the Borderers, with whose habits, manners +and customs, alone I am personally acquainted; and the lingering traces +of whose old forms of life--so gay, kindly, and suggestive--I saw some +thirty years ago, just before they sank under the mammonism, +commonplace, critical apery, and cold material self-seeking, which have +hitherto been the plague of the present generation. We have become more +practical and knowing than our forefathers, but not so wise. We are now +a "fast people;" but we miss the true goal of life--that is, _sober +happiness_. Fast to smattering; fast to outward, isolated show; fast to +bankruptcy; fast to suicide; fast to some finalé of enormous and +dreadful infamy. Bah! rather the plain, honest, homely life of our +grandfathers-- + + "Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, + Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; + Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life, + They kept the noiseless tenor of their way." + +Or rather (for every age has its own type, and old forms of life cannot +be stereotyped and reproduced), let us have a philosophic and Christian +combination of modern adventure and "gold-digging" with old-fashioned +balance of mind, and neighbourliness, and open-heartedness, and thankful +enjoyment. + +Our Scottish race have been--yes, and notwithstanding modern changes, +still are--a joyous people--a people full of what I shall term _a lyric +joyousness_. I say they still are--as may be found any day up the +Ettricks, and Yarrows, and Galas--up any of our Border glens and dales. +The Borderers continue to merit the tribute paid to them in the odd but +expressive lines of Wordsworth:-- + + "The _pleasant men of Tiviotdale_, + Fast by the river Tweed." + +From time immemorial they have been enthusiastic lovers of song and +music, and have been thoroughly imbued with their influences. Bishop +Leslie, a contemporary of the state of manners which he describes, has +recorded of them, upwards of two centuries ago--"That they take extreme +delight in their music, and in their ballads, which are composed amongst +themselves, celebrating the deeds of their ancestors, or the valour and +success of their predatory expeditions;" which latter, it must be +remembered, were esteemed, in those days, not only not criminal, but +just, honourable, and heroic. What a gush of mirth overflows in king +James' poem of "Peebles to the Play," descriptive of the Beltane or +May-day festival, four hundred years ago! at Peebles, a charming +pastoral town in the upper district of the vale of the Tweed:-- + + "At Beltane, when ilk body bouns + To Peebles to the play, + To hear the singin' and the soun's, + The solace, sooth to say. + By firth and forest forth they wound, + They graithit them full gay: + God wot what they would do that stound, + For it was their feast-day, + They said, + Of Peebles to the play! + + * * * * * + + "Hop, Calye, and Cardronow + Gatherit out thick-fald, + With, _Hey and How and Rumbelow!_ + The young folk were full bald. + The bagpipe blew, and they out threw + Out of the towns untald: + Lord! sic ane shout was them amang, + When they were owre the wald, + There west + Of Peebles to the play!" + +Thirty years ago, the same joyousness prevailed in a thousand forms--in +hospitality, in festivity, in merry customs, in an exquisite social +sense, in the culture of the humorous and the imaginative, in +impressibility to every touch of noble and useful enthusiasm. It would +be easy to dilate upon the causes which seem to have produced this +choice joyous spirit in so unexpected a region as the far, bleak North: +but that would be a lengthened subject; and we must content ourselves at +present with the fact. And, instead of branching out into general vague +illustrations of what I mean by this lyric joyousness, I shall +_localise_ it, and embody the meaning in a sketch, light and imperfect +it must be, of a real place and a real life--such as mine own eyes +witnessed when a boy--and in the fond resuscitation of which, amidst the +usual struggles and anxieties allotted to middle age, memory and feeling +now find one of their most soothing exercises. + +Let me transport the reader in imagination to the Vale of the Tweed, +that classic region--the Arcadia of Scotland, the haunt of the Muses, +the theme of so many a song, the scene of so many a romantic legend. And +there, where that most crystalline of rivers has attained the fulness of +its beauty and splendour--just before it meets and mingles in gentle +union with its scarce less beauteous sister, "sweet Teviot"--on one of +those finely swelling eminences which everywhere crown its banks, rise +the battlements of Fleurs Castle, which has long been the seat of the +Roxburghe family. It is a peerless situation; the great princely +mansion, ever gleaming on the eye of the traveller, at whatever point he +may be, in the wide surrounding landscape. It comes boldly out from the +very heart of an almost endless wood--old, wild, and luxuriant; having +no forester but nature--spreading right, left, and behind, away and +away, till lost in the far horizon. Down a short space in front, a green +undulating haugh between, roll the waters of the Tweed, with a bright +clear radiance to which the brightest burnished silver is but as dimness +and dross. On its opposite bank is a green huge mound--all that now +remains of the mighty old Roxburgh Castle, aforetime the military key of +Scotland, and within whose once towering precincts oft assembled the +royalty, and chivalry, and beauty of both kingdoms. At a little distance +to the east of Fleurs, the neat quaint abbey-town of Kelso, with its +magnificent bridge, nestles amid greenery, close to the river. And afar +to the south, the eye, tired at last with so vast a prospect, and with +such richness and variety of scenery, rests itself on the cloud-capt +range of the Cheviots, in amplitude and grandeur not unmeet to sentinel +the two ancient and famous lands. + +Upwards of thirty years ago, the ducal coronet of Roxburghe was worn by +a nobleman who was then known, and is still remembered on Tweedside, as +the "Good Duke James." The history of his life, were there any one now +to tell it correctly, would be replete with interest. I cannot pretend +to authentic knowledge of it; but I know the outline as I heard it when +a child--as it used to be recited, like a minstrel's tale, by the +gray-haired cottager sitting at his door of a summer evening, or by some +faithful old servant of the castle, on a winter's night, over his flagon +of ale, at the rousing hall-fire. And from all I have ever learned +since, I judge that these country stories in the main were accurate. + +He was not by birth a _Ker_--the family name of the house of +Roxburghe--descended of the awful "Habbie Ker" in Queen Mary's troublous +time, the Taille-Bois of the Borders, the Ogre-Baron of tradition, whose +name is still whispered by the peasant with a kind of _eeriness_, as if +he might start from his old den at Cessford, and pounce upon the rash +speaker. Duke James was an Innes of the "north countrie;" Banff or +Cromarty. He was some eight years of age in the dismal '45. Though his +father was Hanoverian, the "Butcher" Cumberland shewed him but little +favour in the course of his merciless ravages after Culloden. A troop of +dragoons lived at free quarters on his estate; and one of them, in mere +wanton cruelty, fired at the boy when standing at his father's door, and +the ball grazed his face. Seventy years afterwards, when he was duke, +the Ettrick Shepherd happened to dine at Fleurs. He was then collecting +his "Jacobite Relics," and the Duke asked him what was his latest +ballad? The Shepherd answered, it was a version of "Highland Laddie." He +sang it. On coming to the verse, + + "Ken ye the news I hae to tell, + Bonnie Laddie, Highland Laddie, + Cumberland's awa' to hell, + Bonnie Laddie, Highland Laddie!" + +the Duke burst into one of his ringing laughs--the fine, deep _Ho, ho!_ +that would drown all our effeminate modern gigglings, the sound of which +lingers amongst the memories of my boyhood. "He well deserves it--he +well deserves it--the wretch! Ho, ho!"--and he shouted with laughter, +and threw himself into all the rough unceremonious humour of the ballad, +finishing off by relating his own dire experience of the doings of +Cumberland and his dragoons in the north. It seems he entered into the +army, and served in the American war. After retiring, I believe he took +up his residence in England--Devonshire, I think; his name at this time +was Sir James Norcliffe Innes. During the once-belauded "good old +times" of George III. he distinguished himself by holding and manfully +avowing opinions which were then branded as Jacobinism; and he was an +intimate friend, and I have heard an active supporter of the virtuous +and patriotic Major Cartwright. About the beginning of the present +century, the direct line of the Roxburghe Kers having failed, a +competition arose amongst a host of claimants, for the estate and +honours of that ancient House. After a most protracted and severe +litigation, which forms one of the _Causés Celebrés_ in the law-books of +Scotland, Sir James Norcliffe Innes was preferred. When approaching +fourscore, he was installed Duke of Roxburghe, and put on a coronet at +an age, long before which most part of mankind have put on their +shrouds. He put it on--ay, and for many years wore it stout and +stark--nobly, loftily, sweetly--with a dignity, simplicity, +large-heartedness, and munificence, the remembrance of which somehow +always brings to my mind that majestic line of Shakspeare, containing, +after all, only a name and title, yet sounding as the embodiment of +whatever is great and heroic in human character-- + + "Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster!" + +I see him before me, as he lives in the recollections of childhood--as +he lives and seems to speak in Raeburn's inimitable portrait at Fleurs. +What a perfect mould of man! scarce one mark of old age in that face--no +sign of weakness or decay in that frame, which has weathered eighty +winters. He was over the middle size; straight, firm, strong built, and +compact, with the air of native lordliness and command. His countenance +was peculiarly beautiful, full and rounded as if young; fresh-coloured; +and beaming with health, spirit, and vivacity. Its almost womanly +sweetness was chastened and redeemed by the massiveness of the head, the +deep penetrating eye, and an aspect of uncommon elevation and nobleness. +Till the last, he was the very personification of the old _Dux_--the +Duke of Chivalry--the foremost leader and commander of the people. But +instead of chained mail and helmet, he was to be seen every day walking +about amongst his people in hoddin-gray coat, nankeen breeches, white +vest, and rumpled white hat--plain, easy, manly, and unaffected in all +things. + +Beyond the honour of an occasional pinch of the ears, or that kind, +homely greeting which in passing he bestowed on all of us, young and +old, I did not and could not know him personally. But, from those who +did, I have always heard the highest estimate of his character, +intellectually and morally. He possessed extensive information; but +rather that of a man who had moved much about, and observed much, than +from book-lore. His understanding was of the most masculine order--in +all his views and judgments, distinguished by clearness, decision, and +energy. But his great mental characteristic seems to have been +_wisdom_--that fine, just inward sense of things, which, like poetry, is +born in a man, not acquired--the result, generally, as in his case, of +an innate power, combined with large, varied, and calming experience. +Like most men of this stamp, he had both a keen sense of the humorous, +and a racy talent for it; abounded in sententious, remarkable sayings; +and had a dash of playfulness and eccentricity which gave a zest to his +many solid excellences. The physician who attended his deathbed, often +expressed regret that he had not kept a memorandum of his many striking +observations during the short period of his illness. His character, +morally, may be summed up in its two polar qualities--justice the most +austere, generosity the most tender and boundless. Interwoven through +his whole dispositions and actions was a strong, vehement temperament, +which infused into all he said and did a vivid intensity, which would +sometimes degenerate into sallies of passion, but which, upon the whole, +raised and exalted his character to the true heroic dimensions. His +factor, a respectable Edinburgh burgess, a gunsmith by trade, whom he +had selected for no aptitude but from the freak of the name (Innes), +could not always appreciate his schemes of improvement on the estate, +which really were not based on economic considerations, but were meant +to afford large means of employment to the people. In consequence, the +duke, though he respected him greatly, would sometimes be ruffled, and +blurt out a harsh thing at his expense. Walking with him one day in the +fields, he was explaining with the most animated eloquence, where he +intended to make some drains. "But," interrupted the burgess-factor, +only thinking of the balance-sheet, "you will spend a great deal of +money." "Yes," retorted the old nobleman, with ineffable contempt; "you +have guessed my object: I _will_ spend a great deal of money." Then, +turning quick on his heel, "You know more about the barrel of an old gun +than about drains." After one of those sallies, the factor, who resided +a few miles from Fleurs, and had swallowed and forgotten the bitter +dose, was preparing, about twelve o'clock at night, to go to bed, when +there was a sharp, sudden ring at the door-bell. It was a messenger from +the duke, with a letter, in which he stated, that, in reflecting on the +incidents of the day before retiring to rest, he felt remorse for the +taunt which he had uttered; that it was the ebullition of the moment, +but cruel and unkind; and that he could not sleep until he had received +forgiveness. It may be conceived in what ardent terms the factor +replied, and with what redoubled attachment he regarded and served such +a master! This was no exceptional blink of goodness. It was only a +specimen of his habit of justice, even against himself--of his +magnanimity and generous candour--changeless as the sun. + +During the just, benignant sway of the "good Duke James," perhaps Fleurs +was the happiest place of all Scotland to live in;--not a happier could +be in the wide world. To have been born and brought up there, and in +one's childhood to have had such a taste of the "golden age," I have +always esteemed the sweetest privilege of life. No one can become +utterly sour, no one can lose faith and hope in humanity, who was +nurtured on the milk and honey of Fleurs, under "good Duke James." +Poetry and enthusiasm must spring eternal in his breast. This is no +illusion from the fancies of boyhood. Ask the old peasant of +Tweedside--a mature, hardy man then--and he will tell, with a glow on +his cheek, and a tear, due to remembrance, in his eye, "Ah! the Fleurs +was a braw place under auld Duke Jemmy!" Nature, industry, peace, mirth, +love, a kindred soul between duke and people, seemed to breathe in every +gale there, and sing in the matins and vespers of every bird. There the +_lyric joyousness_, characteristic of the Scottish people when allowed +freely to develop, expanded itself to the utmost of its power and +fervour. Fleurs was like the "Ida Vale" of Spenser:-- + + "In Ida vale, (who knows not Ida vale?) + When harmless Troy yet felt not Grecian spite, + An hundred shepherds wonn'd; and in the dale, + While their fair flocks the three-leaved pastures bite, + The shepherd boys, with hundred sportings light, + Gave wings unto the time's too speedy haste." + +In our old, picturesque Saxon form of speech, the husband was the +"_bread-winner_." Duke James was emphatically the "_bread-giver_." To +furnish employment, to diffuse comfort and happiness amongst the +employed, was the all-absorbing object of his life. Anything that would +have ministered to his own luxury and glorification was but little +heeded. There might be pleasure-grounds more ornamental than his, walks +more trim, conservatories more gaudily replenished with exotics, +chambers more resplendent with costly furniture and pictures by the +great masters, equipage more gay and dashing--in all that belonged to +the _personnel_, he was plain and moderate; but where was there ever +such planting of forests, or cutting of timber, or building of this and +the other structure--all kinds of heavy works, employing hundreds of +hands? On many of the high labour-festivals which signalised the +calendar at Fleurs, upwards of _three hundred people_, all earning their +livelihood under his patriarchal sway, would dine together in the court, +and dance together on the velvet lawn in front of his castle. At six +o'clock on a mild summer evening, what a spectacle, to see Fleurs gate +thrown wide open, and troop after troop of labourers _debouche_!--not +worn-out, fagged, and sullen, but marching with alacrity and +cheerfulness--the younger lilting a merry song, the older and more +careful carrying home fagots of wood, gathered at their resting hours, +to supply the fire for their cheap evening meal. And all had some story +to tell of the _Duke_!--some little trait of kindness, or some of those +drolleries in which he would occasionally indulge, but ever without loss +of dignity. He used to walk for hours together beside my grandfather +whilst holding the plough--a wise and holy man, an Abraham amongst the +people--and converse with him as brother with brother, especially on the +incidents of his own life, and on matters of religion. On his coming +forward, my grandfather would take off his hat; but the duke would stop +him, and say, "Keep on your hat, James. It 's all very well to teach the +young fellows manners, but there 's no ceremony between you and me; we +are equals--two plain old men." His servants, of whatever degree, dined +together in the common hall; but some of the more aspiring "ambitioned" +(as the Yankees say) a separate table. One of them, who was supposed to +be rather a favourite, was deputed to break the project to the duke, and +obtain his consent at some propitious moment. Thinking he had him one +day in a most accommodating temper, he cautiously hinted the scheme, and +gradually waxed bolder, and disclosed all particulars, as the duke +seemed to listen with tacit approval. "Well, well," answered the duke, +carelessly, "all my servants are alike to me. You may dine at one table, +or at twenty, if you can so arrange it. But whatever the number"--here +his voice rose ominously, and his eye flashed with anger--"you, sirrah, +shall dine at the lowest!" The great question of the "tables" was +crushed. Sometimes--after the fashion of Haroun al Raschid, though not +in disguise--he would steal down quietly and unperceived, through the +out-of-the-way holes and corners of the immense castle, to see with his +own eyes what the inhabitants of the remoter regions were about. Some +dry joke, or some act of benevolence, according to circumstances, was +sure to be the result. As he was one day poking through the passages, he +suddenly encountered an enormously big, fat servant-woman, engaged in +cleaning a stair. She was steaming with perspiration. Eyeing her +curiously for a moment, "Ho, ho!" he cried (his usual introductory +exclamation), "do _you_ bake the bread?" The woman, staring in +astonishment, and, fortunately for her own self-complacency, not +understanding the point of the strange question, replied, "No, your +grace, that is not my department; I am in the laundry, and my business +is"--"Oh, never mind," said the duke, with the look of one greatly +relieved, "I am perfectly satisfied so you don't bake the bread." A +decayed gentleman, who had found harbourage at Fleurs, was staying +rather longer than convenient. It was in the depth of winter, and the +ground was covered with snow. The duke, who was an early riser in all +seasons, had been out for his morning walk; and on his return proceeded +to the gentleman's room, who was still in bed. "You lazy lie-a-bed!" +exclaimed the duke, "there 's a snow-ball for you--and there 's +another--and there 's another," and suiting the action to the word, he +discharged into the bed upon him a shower of white-looking balls; but +they happened to be, not snow-balls, but pound-notes squeezed into the +shape--report said, twenty in number. The gentleman took the practical +but benevolent hint, and departed, carrying with him the snow-balls, not +melted. In his more serious mood, he, one Sabbath, met a girl returning +from church, and inquired what church she had been attending. He then +walked with her a long time, discoursing upon the slight shades of +difference amongst the various religious denominations, and concluded, +"I shall not see it, but I believe that, in course of time, there will +be only one sheepfold under the one Shepherd." + +Labour at Fleurs was a twin to mirth. We were always having festivities. +The duke was ingenious in devising reasons for them. Because he was +Scotch by origin, he celebrated all the peculiar Scottish festivals; +because he was English by residence, he celebrated all the peculiar +English festivals; because in his youth the "Old Style" of computing the +year was still used, he first of all held Old Year's Day, and New Year's +Day, and Twelfth Night, according to the new style, and then repeated +the observance all over again, according to the old style. And there was +a constant succession, the whole year through, of birth-days, and the +commemoration of public holidays and rejoicings. + + "It was a merry place in days of yore." + +Suppose summer shining in all its pride, and that labour is to enjoy one +of its highest festivals at Fleurs. All work ceases at noon; and by two, +the people, dressed in holiday attire, muster at the trysting-spot, and +march in a body to the castle, preceded by Tam Anderson, the duke's +piper, a grave, old-fashioned man, in livery of green coat and black +velvet breeches--a fossil specimen he of what the Border minstrel once +was, when his art was in its prime. As Tam drones away on his bagpipe +"Lumps o' Puddin'," and "Brose and Butter," they take their places at +three long tables, covering a large court. Three hundred workpeople and +their families are there; for the duke sternly forbids any but his own +people to be present. It is in vain for me, whose knowledge of cookery +never extended beyond the Edinburgh student's fare of mince collops and +Prestonpans beer, to attempt a description of this monster-feast--the +mountains of beef and dumplings, the wilderness of pasties and tarts, +the orchardfuls of fruit, the oceans of strong ale--the very fragments +of which would have been enough to carry a garrison through a +twelvemonth's siege. After having "satiated themselves with eating and +drinking," like the large-stomached heroes of the antique world, they +had an hour's interval for sauntering, that healthy digestion might have +time to arrange and stow away the immense load which the vessel had just +taken in. Again, however, they marshalled to the piper's warning note, +playing, "Fy, let us a' to the bridal!" and this time marched to the +spacious, smooth, and beautiful lawn in front of the castle, where +_Givan's Band_ awaited their arrival, and the dance speedily began. The +merriment now swelled to ecstacy; lads and lasses leaped through and +through, as on the wings of zephyrs; a hundred couples bounding at once +on the green sward; the old folks chiming in the chorus of universal +laughter, and snapping their fingers to the dances in which they had no +longer the strength and nimbleness to join; the youngsters getting up +mimic reels in sly corners; and the music seeming to stir into delight +the branches of the great elms which festooned this ball-room of nature. +But was there not something awanting to complete the unity of the scene? +Where was the presiding divinity? + + " ... _Deus_ nobis hæc otia fecit, + Namque erit ille mihi semper deus." + +Oh, for an hour past he has been watching the rustic carnival from +yonder portico, with his gracious duchess (much his junior), his true +help-meet in everything good, courteous, and benevolent! At length he +descends into the circle, with a smile to all, a word of recognition to +this one, a light airy jest at the expense of that one, and a responsive +_hooch_ to the wild, whirling dancers. As he advances, all the pretty +girls draw themselves up to catch his eye, and to have the honour of his +hand in the dance. He strolls about, peering gently, until, in some +obscure corner, he espies a young, shy, modest damsel, the lowliest +there, whom no one is noticing, a lowly worker in the back kitchen, or +even in the fields. Her he selects--blushing with surprise and a tumult +of nameless emotions--to be Queen of the festival; he pats her on the +shoulders, whispers paternal-gallant things in her ear, and calling +lustily for "Tullochgorum" from the fiddlers, leads her gracefully +through the dance, himself--though upwards of eighty--throwing some +steps of the Highland Fling, snapping his fingers, and _hooching_ in +unison with the impassioned throng of youths around him--those young +stately plants who have grown up under the dew and shelter of his benign +protection. When the dance is finished, kissing her on the cheek, he +leads his little simple partner back to her seat, and leaves her in a +delicious vision of the good old duke, who had distinguished her, +sitting solitary and unnoticed, above all her companions, and placed the +coronal upon her brow, queen of the festival. As he returns slowly to +the castle, there is an involuntary pause in the merry-making. The +musicians lay down their bows, the youths stop short in the mazes of the +Bacchic dance, the spectators stand up uncovered, the subtle electric +chain of love and loyalty passes between duke and people, and a grand +universal "hurrah!" rings through the welkin--the outburst of gratitude, +reverence, and joy. It is touching, solemn, sublime, this pause and +outburst of feeling in the midst of the wild festal scene. Not a maiden +there but loves him as she would a father; not a stalwart hind but, if +need were, would die in defence of his old chief. "When the ear hears +him, then it blesses him; and when the eye sees him, it gives witness to +him; because he delivers the poor that cry, and the fatherless, and him +that has none to help him. The blessing of him that is ready to perish +comes upon him; and he causes the widow's heart to sing for joy. He puts +on righteousness, and it clothes him; his judgment is as a robe and a +diadem." + +But eighty-six years are a heavy load on the shoulders even of a giant. +The grasshopper at length becomes a burden to the strongest and most +cheerful. News came from the Castle that our old duke was unwell, was +confined to his room, then to his bed. One morning--I remember it as if +yesterday--as I was walking through the court-yard with one of the +farm-servants, the butler looked from a window above, shook his head +mournfully, folded his arms across his breast, and bent his eyes towards +the ground. We read his meaning at a glance,--"The good Duke James was +dead!" For days and days the people gave way to a deep, even a +passionate grief, as if each had lost a beloved father, and was left to +all the loneliness and privation of an orphan's lot. The body, or rather +the coffin which enclosed it, was laid out in state; and they were +allowed to take a last farewell of their chief. His valet, a favourite +servant, stood at the head, with his handkerchief almost constantly over +his eyes, scarcely able to hide his tears. The chamber was dimly +lighted, and filled with all the emblems of woe--in this case no +mimicry. All walked round, slowly and solemnly--the ancients of the +hamlet, the stalwart peasantry, and the women leading the children by +the hand--all gazing intently on the spot where the dead lay, as if even +yet to catch a glimpse of that piercing eye and benignant smile. The +silence was profound, awful, but for a throbbing under-hum as of stifled +breath, broken ever and anon by a sharp sob--the "hysterica passio," the +"climbing sorrow," which even reverence and self-restraint could no +longer keep down. The day of the funeral arrived. His remains were to +be borne about twelve miles off, to Bowden, under the shadow of the +three-peaked Eildons, for there the ancient vault is where lie "the race +of the house of Roxburghe." The long, long line of mourning carriages I +well remember; but these only spoke the general respect and commonplace +regret of the neighbourhood, which are incident to such an occasion. His +_people_ in their hundreds--these were his mourners! The younger and +stronger of them, in one way or other, accompanied the death procession +to the last resting-place. The women of the place, leading the children, +went down, all weeping as they went, to a bend in the Tweed, where there +would be a last view of the funeral train. There it was!--darkly +marching on the opposite bank, winding round the mouldering hillock +which was once Roxburgh Castle, and finally disappearing--disappearing +for ever!--behind that pine-covered height! As the last of the train +floated and melted away from the horizon, we all sunk to the ground at +once, as if struck by some instantaneous current; and such a wail rose +that day as Tweed never heard; whilst an echoing voice seemed to cry +along his banks, and into the depth of his forests--"The last of the +Patriarch-Dukes has departed!" + +One instance is worth a thousand dissertations. And the above thin +water-colour sketch of a _real popular life_, though presenting only one +or two out of an endless variety of its phases, will give a more +distinct conception than a volume of fanciful generalities could, of +what I mean by the lyric joyousness of the Scottish people; and is, +besides, a sincere, though mean and unworthy tribute to the virtues of a +true patriarchal nobleman, about the last of the race, whose name, if +the world were not too apt to forget its most excellent ones, would be +eternised in the memory of mankind. + +It is from this soil--this sensitive and fervid national temperament--that +there has sprung up such a harvest of ballads, and songs, and +heart-moving, soul-breathing melodies. Hence the hearty old habits and +curious suggestive customs of the people: the hospitality, exuberant as +Abraham's, who sat in the tent-door bidding welcome even to the passing +traveller; the merry-meetings and "rockings" in the evening, where each +had to contribute his or her song or tale, and at the same time ply some +piece of work; the delight in their native dances, furious and whirling +as those of the Bacchantes; the "Guisarding" of the boys at Christmas, +relic of old-world plays, when the bloody melodrama finished off into +the pious benediction-- + + "God bless the master of the house, + The mistress also, + And all the pretty babies + That round the table go;" + +the "first foot," on New Year's morning, when none must enter a house +empty-handed; the "Hogmanay," or first Monday of the new year, when the +whole boys and girls invaded the country-side, and levied from the +peaceful inhabitants black-mail of cakes, and cheese, and ha'pence-- + + "Get up, gudewife! and shake your feathers, + Dinna think that we are beggars; + We are bairns come out to play, + Rise up and gie 's our Hogmanay!"-- + +the "Halloween," whose rites of semi-diablerie have been immortalised by +Burns; and the "Kirn," or Harvest Home, the wind-up of the season, the +epitome of the lyric joyousness of the whole year. Hence it is that +under an exterior, to strangers so reserved, austere, and frigid, they +all cherish some romantic thought, or feeling, or dream: they are all +inly imbued with an enthusiasm which surmounts every obstacle, and burns +the deeper and faster the more it is repressed. Every one of us, calling +up the history of our own little circle of cottage mates and +schoolfellows, could recount numerous pregnant examples of this national +characteristic. And hence, also, after wandering the wide world, and +buffeting in all the whirlpools of life, cautiously waiting chances, +cannily slipping in when the door opens, and struggling for distinction +or wealth in all kinds of adventure, and under the breath of every +clime--there are few, indeed, of our people, when twilight begins to +gather over their path, but turn towards the light that comes from their +old homes; and would fain pass a serene and meditative old age by the +burnside where they "paidled" in their youth, and lay down their bones +beside their fathers in the kirkyard of yon calm sequestered glen. Scott +went down to the nether springs of the national character when he made +his "Last Minstrel" sing-- + + "By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, + Though none should guide my feeble way; + Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break, + Although it chill my wither'd cheek; + Still lay my head by Teviot stone!" + +Times have changed, it is true, even within the comparatively short +space which has elapsed since the death of the Good Duke James of +Roxburghe. Or rather, he was the last lingering representative of an +age, of ideas, of a state of manners--lovely, but transitional--which +had even then vanished, except the parting ray that fell on that one +glistening spot. It was the transition from Mediæval Clanship to Modern +Individualism--from that form of society where thousands clustered +devotedly round the banner of one, their half-worshipped chief, to the +present fashion, where it is, "Every man for himself, and God for us +all!" Yet the period of transition was a golden age. It was a golden +age--I know it, for I lived in it. There was the old patriarchy--the +feeling, undefinable to those who have not experienced the same state of +life, as if gods walked upon earth; and with this patriarchal, +overshadowing, protecting sway, derived from the old, there was blended +the modern recognition of the rights and dignity of man--the humblest +man--as an individual. Thrown, as we all now are, into the modern +anarchy, hurly-burly, and caricaturism, when fathers are "old +governors," and dukes are served solely for their wages and pickings, +like Mr Prog, the sausage-vendor, and the gentle look of respect and +courtesy has been exchanged for the puppy's stare through a +quizzing-glass; is it not something to have lived in the more reverent +primitive state, to have tasted its early vernal freshness, and basked +in its sunshine of loyal homage, and beautiful and stately repose? + +Yet far be it from me to croak as the "laudator temporis acti." Past, +present, and future--all are divine--all are parts of a celestial +scheme--none to be scorned, all to be loved and improved. But the past +is under the sod; the future is behind the clouds; the present alone has +its foot upon the green sward. In a higher sense than the epicure's, it +is "_our own_." Let us, then, appreciate, exalt, and enjoy it. There are +good and glorious signs in our present, amid much that is of earth +earthy, and of self selfish. If man has become more isolated, more +rigidly defined, and has been stript of most of his old pictorial +haloes--he is also beginning to display a plain, honest, equal, +fraternal yearning and sympathy, man to man. Our hard material age shews +the buddings of a poetry of its own. Streams shall gush from the rock. +If there were, in the days of loyal Clanhood, joyousness, and generous +susceptibility, festive reliefs to labour, and reverence for greatness; +why should not this be so even more, under the influence of common +Brotherhood? "Charity never faileth!" Everything dies but charity and +joy. Even in the general conflagration, these will be exhaled from +earth, only to burst forth afresh in heaven--"a pure river of water of +life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God." + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE +FRANCIS BENNOCH, 1 + Truth and honour, 7 + Our ship, 8 + Auld Peter Macgowan, 10 + The flower of Keir, 11 + Constancy, 12 + My bonnie wee wifie, 13 + The bonnie bird, 14 + Come when the dawn, 15 + Good-morrow, 16 + Oh, wae's my life, 17 + Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, 18 + Bessie, 20 + Courtship, 21 + Together, 22 + Florence Nightingale, 23 + +JOSEPH MACGREGOR, 25 + Laddie, oh! leave me, 25 + How blythely the pipe, 26 + +WILLIAM DUNBAR, D.D., 28 + The maid of Islay, 29 + +WILLIAM JERDAN, 30 + The wee bird's song, 32 + What makes this hour? 33 + +ALEXANDER BALD, 34 + The lily of the vale, 35 + How sweet are the blushes of morn, 35 + +GEORGE WILSON, 37 + Mild as the morning, 37 + The beacons blazed, 38 + The rendezvous, 40 + +JOHN YOUNGER, 42 + Ilka blade o' grass gets its ain drap o' dew, 43 + The month of June, 44 + +JOHN BURTT, 46 + O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs, 47 + O! lassie I lo'e dearest, 47 + +CHARLES JAMES FINLAYSON, 49 + The bard strikes his harp, 50 + Ph[oe]bus, wi' gowden crest, 51 + Oh, my love 's bonnie, 52 + +WILLIAM DOBIE, 54 + The dreary reign of winter's past, 55 + +ROBERT HENDRY, M.D., 57 + Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie, 58 + +HEW AINSLIE, 60 + The hameward sang, 61 + Dowie in the hint o' hairst, 62 + On wi' the tartan, 63 + The rover o' Lochryan, 64 + The last look o' hame, 65 + The lads an' the land far awa', 66 + My bonnie wee Bell, 67 + +WILLIAM THOMSON, 68 + The maiden to her reaping-hook, 68 + +ALEXANDER SMART, 71 + When the bee has left the blossom, 73 + Oh, leave me not, 74 + Never despair, 75 + +JOHN DUNLOP, 77 + The year that 's awa', 78 + Oh, dinna ask me, 78 + Love flies the haunts of pomp and power, 79 + War, 80 + +WILLIAM BLAIR, 82 + The Highland maid, 82 + The Neapolitan war-song, 84 + +ARCHIBALD MACKAY, 85 + Our auld Scots sangs, 85 + My laddie lies low, 87 + Jouk and let the jaw gae by, 88 + Victorious be again, boys, 89 + +WILLIAM AIR FOSTER, 91 + Fareweel to Scotia, 91 + The falcon's flight, 92 + The salmon run, 94 + +CHARLES MARSHALL, 97 + The blessing on the wark, 98 + Jewel of a lad, 99 + Twilight joys, 100 + +WILLIAM WILSON, 102 + Oh, blessing on her starlike een, 102 + Oh! blessing on thee, land, 104 + The faithless, 105 + My soul is ever with thee, 106 + Auld Johnny Graham, 107 + Jean Linn, 108 + Bonnie Mary, 109 + +MRS MARY MACARTHUR, 111 + The missionary, 111 + +JOHN RAMSAY, 114 + Farewell to Craufurdland, 114 + +JAMES PARKER, 116 + The mariner's song, 116 + Her lip is o' the rose's hue, 117 + +JOHN HUNTER, 119 + The bower o' Clyde, 119 + Mary, 122 + In distant years, 123 + +ROBERT CHAMBERS, 124 + Young Randal, 126 + The ladye that I love, 127 + Thou gentle and kind one, 128 + Lament for the old Highland warriors, 129 + +THOMAS AIRD, 131 + The swallow, 132 + Genius, 133 + +ROBERT WHITE, 136 + My native land, 137 + A shepherd's life, 138 + Her I love best, 140 + The knight's return, 141 + The bonnie Redesdale lassie, 143 + The mountaineer's death, 144 + +WILLIAM CAMERON, 146 + Sweet Jessie o' the dell, 146 + Meet me on the gowan lea, 147 + Morag's fairy glen, 148 + Oh! dinna cross the burn, Willie, 150 + +ALEXANDER TAIT, 151 + E'ening's dewy hour, 151 + +CHARLES FLEMING, 153 + Watty M'Neil, 153 + +WILLIAM FERGUSON, 155 + I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, 155 + Wooing song, 156 + I'm wandering wide, 158 + +THOMAS DICK, 160 + How early I woo'd thee, 160 + +HUGH MILLER, 161 + Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go, 166 + Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze, 167 + +ALEXANDER MACANSH, 171 + The mother and child, 172 + Change, 173 + The tomb of the Bruce, 174 + +JAMES PRINGLE, 176 + The ploughman, 176 + +WILLIAM ANDERSON, 178 + Woodland song, 180 + The wells o' Weary, 181 + I'm naebody noo, 182 + I canna sleep, 183 + +WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D., 185 + 'Tis sweet wi' blythesome heart to stray, 186 + Oh, sweet is the blossom, 187 + +THOMAS WATSON, 189 + The squire o' low degree, 189 + +JAMES MACDONALD, 192 + Bonnie Aggie Lang, 193 + The pride o' the glen, 194 + Mary, 196 + +JAMES BALLANTINE, 198 + Naebody's bairn, 200 + Castles in the air, 201 + Ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew, 202 + Wifie, come hame, 203 + The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest, 204 + Creep afore ye gang, 205 + Ae guid turn deserves anither, 205 + The nameless lassie, 206 + Bonnie Bonaly, 207 + Saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, 208 + The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win, 209 + The widow, 209 + +MISS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY, 211 + Craig Elachie, 212 + +JOHN FINLAY, 215 + The noble Scottish game, 216 + The merry bowling-green, 218 + +THOMAS TOD STODDART, 220 + Angling song, 221 + Let ither anglers, 222 + The British oak, 223 + Peace in war, 224 + +ALEXANDER MACLAGAN, 226 + Curling song, 229 + The auld meal mill, 230 + The thistle, 232 + The Scotch blue bell, 233 + The rockin', 235 + The widow, 237 + The Highland plaid, 238 + The flower o' Glencoe, 239 + +MRS JANE C. SIMPSON, 241 + Gentleness, 242 + He loved her for her merry eye, 244 + Life and death, 245 + Good-night, 246 + +ANDREW PARK, 248 + Hurrah for the Highlands, 249 + Old Scotland, I love thee! 250 + Flowers of summer, 251 + Home of my fathers, 252 + What ails my heart? 253 + Away to the Highlands, 254 + I'm away, 255 + There is a bonnie, blushing flower, 256 + The maid of Glencoe, 257 + +MARION PAUL AIRD, 258 + The fa' o' the leaf, 258 + The auld kirkyard, 260 + Far, far away, 261 + +WILLIAM SINCLAIR, 263 + The royal Breadalbane oak, 264 + Evening, 265 + Mary, 266 + Absence, 267 + Is not the earth, 269 + Oh! love the soldier's daughter dear! 270 + The battle of Stirling, 272 + +WILLIAM MILLER, 274 + Ye cowe a', 274 + +ALEXANDER HUME, 276 + My ain dear Nell, 276 + The pairtin', 278 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + + PAGE + +JOHN MACDONALD, D.D., 281 + The missionary of St Kilda, 282 + +DUNCAN KENNEDY, 284 + The return of peace, 285 + +ALLAN M'DOUGALL, 287 + The song of the carline, 288 + +KENNETH MACKENZIE, 290 + The song of the kilt, 290 + +JOHN CAMPBELL, 292 + The storm blast, 293 + +JAMES M'GREGOR, D.D., 294 + Light in the Highlands, 295 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +FRANCIS BENNOCH.[1] + + +Francis Bennoch, the son of a farmer on the property of the Duke of +Buccleuch, and of a mother whose family have been tenants on the same +estate for nearly two hundred years, was born at Drumcrool, in the +parish of Durrisdeer, and county of Dumfries, on the 25th June 1812. At +the age of sixteen, in February 1828, he arrived in London, and entered +a house of business in the city. During the nine ensuing years, he +assiduously pursued his avocation, and strove to make himself master of +the elements and practice of trade. In 1837 he commenced on his own +responsibility, and every succeeding year has advanced him in mercantile +prosperity and position. Now, at the head of the firm of Bennoch, +Twentyman, & Rigg, wholesale traders and manufacturers, there is no name +in the city more universally respected. + +In the corporate body of the city of London Mr Bennoch for some years +took a prominent part as a citizen, a common councilman, and lastly as +the deputy of a ward. An independent man and a reformer of abuses, he +has so managed his opposition to measures, and even to men, as to win +the warm approval of his own friends, and the respect of the leaders of +all parties. His plans for bridging the Thames may be referred to in +proof of his patriotic devotedness to improvement. + +Influenced in his youth by the genius of the locality in which he was +born, to which the Ayrshire Ploughman had left a legacy of immortal +song, succeeded by Allan Cunningham, and a number of distinguished +followers, it was not, however, till he had been two years a denizen of +the metropolis that Mr Bennoch's Scottish feeling sought to vent itself +in verse. The love of country is as inherent and vehement in the +children of the North as in the Swiss mountaineers; wheresoever they +wander from it, their hearts yearn towards the fatherland-- + + "Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, + Land of the mountain and the flood, + Land of their sires"-- + +with the same cherished and enduring affection which excites in the +_Rans des Vaches_ so overpowering a sympathy. And the pastoral is +perhaps even more replete with the poetical elements than the "stern and +wild." It is amid such scenes as the Doon, the Tweed, the Teviot, the +Ettrick, the Gala, and the Nith adorn, that the jaded senses are prone +to seek recreation, and the spirit, tired with work or worn with cares, +flees rejoicingly from the world to the repose of its first breathing +and time-sweetened, boyish delights. Thus we find young Bennoch, amid +the clatter of the great city, turning to the quiet of his native valley +to sing the charms of the Nith, where he + + "Had paidlet i' the burn, + And pu'd the gowans fine." + +It was in the _Dumfries Courier_ that his first poetic essay found its +way to print. That journal was then edited by the veteran M'Diarmid, +himself an honour to the literature of Scotland, and no mean judge of +its poetry. A cheer from such a quarter was worth the winning, and our +aspirant fairly won it, by the five stanzas of which the following is +the last:-- + + "The flowers may fade upon your banks, + The breckan on the brae, + But, oh! the love I ha'e for thee + Shall never pass away. + Though age may wrinkle this smooth brow, + And youth be like a dream, + Still, still my voice to heaven shall rise + For blessings on your stream!" + +But banks and braes, and straths and streams, and woods and waves, +though very dear to memory, merely come up to the painted beauties of +descriptive verse. They must be warmed through + + "The dearest theme + That ever waked the poet's dream," + +and love must fill the vision, before the soul can soar above the +delicious but inanimate charms of earth, into the glowing region of +human feeling and passion. + + "In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; + In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; + In halls, in gay attire is seen; + In hamlets, dances on the green. + Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, + And man below, and saints above: + For love is heaven, and heaven is love!" + +Nor was this essential inspiration wanting in the breast of the young +bard. The climate of Caledonia is cold, but that the hearts of her sons +are susceptible of tropic warmth is shewn by a large proportion of her +lyric treasures. Heroism, pathos, satire, and a peculiar quaint humour, +present little more than an equal division, and the attributes of the +wholly embodied Scottish muse attest the truth of the remark on the +characteristic heat and fire which pervade her population, and excite +them to daring in war and ardour in gentler pursuits. Thus Bennoch sung +his Mary, Jessie, Bessie, Isabel, and other belles, but above all his +Margaret:-- + + "The moon is shining, Margaret, + Serenely bright above, + And, like my dearest Margaret, + Her every look is love! + The trees are waving, Margaret, + And balmy is the air, + Where flowers are breathing, Margaret, + Come, let us wander there. + + * * * * * + + Yes! there 's a hand, dear Margaret, + A heart it gives to thee; + When heaven is false, my Margaret, + Then I may faithless be." + +In the volume whence the preceding quotations are taken (second edition, +1843), the principal poem is "The Storm," in which occur many passages +of singular vigour, and slighter touches of genuine poetry. Thus-- + + "The sea, by day so smooth and bright, + Is far more lovely seen by night, + When o'er old Ocean's wrinkled brow, + The night has hung her silver bow, + And stars in myriads ope their eyes + To guide the footsteps of the wise, + And in the deep reflected lie, + Till Ocean seems a second sky; + And ships, like wing'd aerial cars, + Are voyaging among the stars." + +This is-- + + "Ere winter comes with icy chain, + And clanks his fetters o'er the ground." + +The impersonation of Winter himself is very striking-- + + "Loud, loud were the shouts of his boisterous mirth, + As he scatter'd dismay o'er the smiling earth; + The clouds were rent as the storm was driven; + He howl'd and laugh'd in the face of heaven." + +The temperament and inclination cherished by the love of song, naturally +seek the companionship of similar tastes and congenial enjoyments. Thus, +in the midst of the turmoil and distractions of orders and sales, +invoices and shipments, Mr Bennoch has always found leisure to pay his +court to literature, and cultivate the society of those whose talents +adorn it. Conjoined with this, a skilful appreciation of works of art +has led him to intimate relations with many of the leading artists of +our time. The interesting Biography of Haydon affords a glimpse at the +character of some of these relations. Wherever disappointed and however +distressed, poor Haydon "claimed kindred here, and had his claim +allowed." To his mercantile friend in Wood Street he never applied in +vain. To a very considerable extent his troubles were solaced, his +difficulties surmounted, his dark despair changed to golden hope, and +the threat of the gaol brightened into another free effort of genius to +redeem itself from the thralls of law and grinding oppression. Had his +generous friend not been absent from England at the fatal time, it is +very probable that the dreadful catastrophe would have been averted; but +he only landed from the continent to receive the shocking intelligence +that all was over. Friendship could but shed the unavailing tear, but it +did not forget or neglect the dear family interests for which (in some +measure) the despairing sacrifice was made. It is to be hoped that such +an unhappy event has been somewhat compensated by the social intercourse +with talent ever hospitably cherished, not only in his pleasant home in +Blackheath Park, but amid the precious hours that could be snatched from +most active engagements in Wood Street. At either, authors and artists +are constantly met; and the brief snatches alluded to are often so +heartily occupied as to rival, if not surpass, the slower motions of the +more prolonged entertainments. Both may boast of "the feast of reason +and the flow of soul," and a crowning increase to these enjoyments is +derived from the circumstance, that Mr Bennoch's connexions with the +Continent, and more especially with the United States, contribute very +frequently to engraft upon these "re-unions" a variety of eminent +foreigners and intellectual citizens of America. It is a trite saying, +that few men can be good or useful abroad who are not happy at home. Mr +Bennoch has been fortunate in wedded life. She who is the theme of many +of his sweetest and most touching verses, is a woman whom a poet may +love and a wise man consult; in whom the sociable gentleman finds an +ever cheerful companion, and the husband a loving and devoted friend. + +Among the latest of Mr Bennoch's movements in literary affairs, may be +mentioned his services on behalf of the late estimable Mary Russell +Mitford. Through his intervention the public was gratified by the issue +of "Atherton," and other tales, and also by a collected edition of her +dramatic works, which she dedicated to him as an earnest of her +affectionate regard. + +Mr Bennoch is a member of the Society of Arts, the Royal Society of +Antiquaries, the Royal Society of Literature, and the Scottish Literary +Institute. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The present Memoir has been prepared at our request by the veteran +William Jerdan, late of the _Literary Gazette_. + + + + +TRUTH AND HONOUR. + + + If wealth thou art wooing, or title, or fame, + There is that in the doing brings honour or shame; + There is something in running life's perilous race, + Will stamp thee as worthy, or brand thee as base. + Oh, then, be a man--and, whatever betide, + Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + If a king--be thy kingship right royally shewn, + And trust to thy subjects to shelter thy throne; + Rely not on weapons or armies of might, + But on that which endureth,--laws loving and right. + Though a king, be a man--and, whatever betide, + Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + If a noble--remember, though ancient thy blood, + The heart truly noble is that which is good; + Should a stain of dishonour encrimson thy brow, + Thou art slave to the peasant that sweats at the plough. + Be noble as man--and, whatever betide, + Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + If lover or husband--be faithful and kind, + For doubting is death to the sensitive mind; + Love's exquisite passion a breath may destroy; + The sower in faith, reapeth harvests of joy. + Love dignifies man--and, whatever betide, + Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + If a father--be firm, yet forgiving, and prove + How the child honours him who rebuketh with love. + If rich, or if poor, or whate'er thou may'st be, + Remember the truthful alone are the free. + Erect in thy manhood, whatever betide, + Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + Then, though sickness may come, or misfortunes may fall, + There is that in thy bosom surviveth them all; + Truth, honour, love, friendship, no tempests can pale, + They are beacons of light in adversity's gale. + Oh, the manlike is godlike--no ill shall betide + While truth 's thy companion, and honour thy guide. + + + + +OUR SHIP.[2] + + + A song, a song, brave hearts, a song, + To the ship in which we ride, + Which bears us along right gallantly, + Defying the mutinous tide. + Away, away, by night and day, + Propelled by steam and wind, + The watery waste before her lies, + And a flaming wake behind. + Then a ho and a hip to the gallant ship + That carries us o'er the sea, + Through storm and foam, to a western home + The home of the brave and free. + + With a fearless bound to the depths profound, + She rushes with proud disdain, + While pale lips tell the fears that swell, + Lest she never should rise again. + With a courser's pride she paws the tide, + Unbridled by bit I trow, + While the churlish sea she dashes with glee + In a cataract from her prow. + Then a ho and a hip, &c. + + She bears not on board a lawless horde, + Piratic in thought or deed, + Yet the sword they would draw in defence of law, + In the nation's hour of need. + Professors and poets, and merchant men + Whose voyagings never cease; + From shore to shore, the wide world o'er, + Their bonds are the bonds of peace. + Then a ho and a hip, &c. + + She boasts the brave, the dutiful, + The aged and the young, + And woman bright and beautiful, + And childhood's prattling tongue. + With a dip and a rise, like a bird she flies, + And we fear not the storm or squall; + For faithful officers rule the helm, + And heaven protects us all. + Then a ho and a hip to the gallant ship + That carries us o'er the sea, + Through storm and foam, to a western home, + The home of the brave and free. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] Composed on board the steamship Niagara, on her voyage to New York, +in August 1849. + + + + +AULD PETER MACGOWAN. + +AIR--_'The Brisk Young Lad.'_ + + + Auld Peter MacGowan cam down the craft, + An' rubbit his han's an' fidged an' laugh't; + O little thought he o' his wrinkled chaft, + When he wanted me to lo'e; + He patted my brow an' smooth'd my chin, + He praised my e'en an' sleek white skin, + Syne fain wad kiss; but the laugh within + Came rattlin' out, I trew. + O sirs, but he was a canty carle, + Wi' rings o' gowd, an' a brooch o' pearl, + An' aye he spoke o' his frien' the Earl, + And thought he would conquer lo'e. + + He boasted o' gear an' acres wide, + O' his bawsand youd that I should ride + When I was made his bonny wee bride, + Returning lo'e for lo'e; + That I a lady to kirk should gang, + Ha'e writ my virtues in a sang; + But I snapp'd my thumb, and said, "gae hang, + Gin that's the best ye can do." + O sirs, but he was a silly auld man, + Nae mair he spak' o' his gear an' lan'; + An' through the town like lightning ran, + The tale o' auld Peter's lo'e. + + An' sae the auld carle spiel'd up the craft, + And raved and stamp'd like ane gane daft, + Till tears trickled owre his burning chaft, + Sin' he couldna win my lo'e. + "Far better be single," the folk a' said, + "Than a warming pan in an auld man's bed;" + He will be cunning wha gars me wed, + Wi' ane that I never can lo'e; + Na, na! he maun be a fine young lad, + A canty lad, an' a dainty lad; + Oh, he maun be a spirited lad, + Wha thinks to win my lo'e. + + + + +THE FLOWER OF KEIR. + + + O what care I where love was born; + I know where oft he lingers, + Till night's black curtain 's drawn aside, + By morning's rosy fingers. + If you would know, come, follow me, + O'er mountain, moss, and river, + To where the Nith and Scar agree + To flow as one for ever. + + Pass Kirk-o'-Keir and Clover lea, + Through loanings red with roses; + But pause beside the spreading tree, + That Fanny's bower encloses. + There, knitting in her shady grove, + Sits Fanny singing gaily; + Unwitting of the chains of love, + She 's forging for us daily. + + Like light that brings the blossom forth, + And sets the corn a-growing, + Melts icy mountains in the north, + And sets the streams a-flowing; + So Fanny's eyes, so bright and wise, + Shed loving rays to cheer us, + Her absence gives us wintry skies, + 'Tis summer when she 's near us! + + O, saw ye ever such a face, + To waken love and wonder; + A brow with such an arch of grace, + And blue eyes shining under! + Her snaring smiles, sweet nature's wiles, + Are equall'd not by many; + Her look it charms, her love it warms, + The flower of Keir is Fanny. + + + + +CONSTANCY. + + + Oh! I have traversed lands afar, + O'er mountains high, and prairies green; + Still above me like a star, + Serene and bright thy love has been; + Still above me like a star, + To gladden, guide, and keep me free + From every ill. Oh, life were chill, + Apart, my love, apart from thee. + + Other eyes might beam as bright, + And other cheeks as rosy be; + Other arms as pure and white, + And other lips as sweet to pree; + But ruddy lips, or beaming eyes, + However fond and fair to see, + I could not, would not love or prize + Apart, my love, apart from thee. + + Other friendships I have known, + Friendships dear, and pure, and kind; + Liking soon to friendship grown, + Love is friendship's ore refined. + Oh, what is life, with love denied? + A scentless flower, a leafless tree; + My song with love,--my love with pride, + Are full,--my love, are full of thee. + + + + +MY BONNIE WEE WIFIE. + + + My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee, + To leave thee sae lanely, and far frae me; + Come night and come morning, I 'll soon be returning; + Then, oh, my dear wifie, how happy we 'll be! + Oh, cauld is the night, and the way dreigh and dreary, + The snaw 's drifting blindly o'er moorland an' lea; + All nature looks eerie. How can she be cheery, + Since weel she maun ken I am parted frae thee? + + Oh, wae is the lammie, that 's lost its dear mammy, + An' waefu' the bird that sits chirping alane; + The plaints they are making, their wee bit hearts breaking, + Are throbbings o' pleasure compared wi' my pain. + The sun to the simmer, the bark to the timmer, + The sense to the soul, an' the light to the e'e, + The bud to the blossom, sae thou 'rt to my bosom; + Oh, wae 's my heart, wifie, when parted frae thee. + + There 's nae guid availing in weeping or wailing, + Should friendship be failing wi' fortune's decay; + Love in our hearts glowing, its riches bestowing, + Bequeaths us a treasure life takes not away. + Let nae anxious feeling creep o'er thy heart, stealing + The bloom frae thy cheek when thou 'rt thinking of me; + Come night and come morning, I 'll then be returning; + Nae mair, cozie wifie, we parted shall be. + + + + +THE BONNIE BIRD. + + + Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird? + Oh, where wiled ye that winsome fairy? + I fear me it was where nae truth was heard, + And far frae the shrine o' guid St Mary. + + I didna snare the bonnie, bonnie bird, + Nor try ony wiles wi' the winsome fairy, + But won her young heart where the angels heard, + In the bowery glen of Inverary. + + And what want ye wi' sic a bonnie bird? + I fear me its plumes ye will ruffle sairly; + Or bring it low down to the lane kirkyard, + Where blossoms o' grace are planted early. + + As life I love my bonnie, bonnie bird, + Its plumage shall never be ruffled sairly; + To the day o' doom I will keep my word, + An' cherish my bonnie bird late an' early. + + Oh, whence rings out that merry, merry peal? + The laugh and the sang are cherish'd rarely; + It is--it is the bonny, bonny bird, + Wi' twa sma' voices a' piping early. + + For he didna snare that bonny, bonny bird, + Nor did he beguile the winsome fairy, + He had made her his ain, where the angels heard, + At the holy shrine o' the blest St Mary. + + + + +COME WHEN THE DAWN. + + + Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking, + Gold on the mountain-tops, mist on the plain, + Come when the clamorous birds are awaking + Man unto duty and pleasure again; + Bright let your spirits be, + Breathing sweet liberty, + Drinking the rapture that gladdens the brain. + + High o'er the swelling hills shepherds are climbing, + Down in the meadows the mowers are seen, + Haymakers singing, and village bells chiming; + Lasses and lads lightly trip o'er the green, + Flying, pursuing, + Toying, and wooing-- + Nature is now as she ever has been. + + Then when the toils of the day are all over, + Gathered, delighted, set round in a ring-- + Youth, with its mirthfulness--age, with its cheerfulness, + Brimful of happiness, cheerily sing, + "Bright may our spirits be-- + Happy and ever free. + Blest are the joys that from innocence spring." + + + + +GOOD MORROW.[3] + + + Good morrow, good morrow! warm, rosy, and bright, + Glow the clouds in the east, laughing heralds of light; + Whilst still as the glorious colours decay, + Full gushes of music seem tracking their way. + Hark! hark! + Is it the sheep-bell among the ling, + Or the early milkmaid carolling? + Hark! hark! + Or is it the lark, + As he bids the sun good-morrow?-- + Good-morrow; + Though every day brings sorrow. + + The daylight is dying, the night drawing near, + The workers are silent; yet ringing and clear, + From the leafiest tree in the shady bowers, + Comes melody falling in silvery showers. + Hark! hark! + Is it the musical chime on the hill, + That sweetly ringeth when all is still? + Hark! hark! + Oh, sweeter than lark, + Is the nightingale's song of sorrow, + Of sorrow; + But pleasure will come to-morrow. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] One of the stanzas of this song is the composition of the late Mary +Russell Mitford and appears in her tale of Atherton. The other stanza +was composed by Mr Bennoch, at the urgent request of his much loved +friend. + + + + +OH, WAE'S MY LIFE. + + + Oh, wae's my life, and sad my heart, + The saut tears fill my e'e, Willie, + Nae hope can bloom this side the tomb, + Since ye hae gane frae me, Willie. + O' warl's gear I couldna' boast, + But now I'm poor indeed, Willie; + The last fond hope I leant upon, + Has fail'd me in my need, Willie. + + For wealth or fame ye've left your Jean, + Forgat your plighted vow, Willie; + Can honours proud dispel the cloud, + That darkens on your brow, Willie? + Oh, was I then a thing sae mean, + For nought but beauty prized, Willie; + Caress'd a'e day, then flung away, + A fading flower despised, Willie? + + Sin' love has fled, and hope is dead, + Soon my poor heart maun break, Willie; + As your ain life, oh, guard your wife-- + I 'll love her for your sake, Willie. + Through my despair, oh, mony a prayer, + Will rise for her and ye, Willie; + That ye may prove to her, in love, + Mair faithfu' than to me, Willie. + + + + +HEY, MY BONNIE WEE LASSIE. + + + Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, + Blythe and cheerie wee lassie, + Will ye wed a canty carle, + Bonnie, bonnie wee lassie? + + I ha'e sheep, an' I ha'e kye, + I ha'e wheat, an' I ha'e rye, + An' heaps o' siller, lass, forbye, + That ye shall spen' wi' me, lassie! + Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, + Blythe and cheerie wee lassie, + Will ye wed a canty carle, + Bonnie, bonnie wee lassie? + + Ye shall dress in damask fine, + My goud and gear shall a' be thine, + And I to ye be ever kin'. + Say,--will ye marry me, lassie? + Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, + Blythe and cheerie wee lassie, + Will ye wed a canty carle, + Bonnie, smiling wee lassie? + + Gae hame, auld man, an' darn your hose, + Fill up your lanky sides wi' brose, + An' at the ingle warm your nose; + But come na courtin' me, carle. + Oh, ye tottering auld carle, + Silly, clavering auld carle, + The hawk an' doo shall pair, I trew, + Before I pair wi' ye, carle! + + Your heart is cauld an' hard as stanes, + Ye ha'e nae marrow in your banes, + An' siller canna buy the brains + That pleasure gie to me, carle! + Oh, ye tottering auld carle, + Silly, clavering auld carle, + The hound an' hare may seek ae lair, + But I'll no sleep wi' ye, carle. + + I winna share your gowd wi' ye, + Your withering heart, an' watery e'e; + In death I'd sooner shrouded be + Than wedded to ye, auld carle! + Oh, ye tottering auld carle, + Silly, clavering auld carle, + When roses blaw on leafs o' snaw, + I'll bloom upon your breast, carle. + + But there's a lad, an' I'm his ain, + May heaven blessings on him rain! + Though plackless, he is unco fain, + And he's the man for me, carle! + Oh, youth an' age can ne'er agree; + Though rich, you're no the man for me. + Gae hame, auld carle, prepare to dee; + Pray heaven to be your bride, carle. + + + + +BESSIE. + + + Oh, mony a year has come and gane, + An' mony a weary day, + Sin' frae my hame, my mountain hame, + I first was lured away, + To wander over unco lands, + Far, far ayont the sea; + But no to find a land like this, + The hame o' Bess an' me! + + I've traversed mony a dreary land, + Across the braid, braid sea; + But, oh, my native mountain hame, + My thochts were aye wi' thee. + As certain as the sun wad rise, + And set ahint the sea, + Sae constant, Bessie, were my prayers, + At morn an' nicht for thee; + + When I return'd unto my hame, + The hills were clad wi' snow; + Though they look'd cold and cheerless, love, + My heart was in a glow. + Though keen the wintry north wind blew, + Like summer 'twas to me; + For, Bess, my frame was warm wi' love, + Of country, kindred, thee! + + Nae flower e'er hail'd wi' sweeter smiles + Returning sunny beams, + Than I then hailed my native hame, + Its mountains, woods, and streams. + Now we are met, my bonnie Bess, + We never mair will part; + Although to a' we seem as twa, + We only hae ae heart! + + We 'll be sae loving a' the nicht, + Sae happy a' the day, + That though our bodies time may change, + Our love shall ne'er decay: + As gently as yon lovely stream + Declining years shall run, + An' life shall pass frae our auld clay, + As snow melts 'neath the sun. + + + + +COURTSHIP. + + + Yestreen on Cample's bonnie flood + The summer moon was shining; + While on a bank in Chrichope wood + Two lovers were reclining: + They spak' o' youth, an' hoary age, + O' time how swiftly fleeting, + Of ilka thing, in sooth, but ane,-- + The reason of their meeting! + + When Willie thoucht his heart was firm, + An' might declare its feeling, + A glance frae Bessy's starry een + Sent a' his senses reeling; + For aye when he essay'd to speak, + An' she prepared to hear him, + The thought in crimson dyed his cheek, + But words would no come near him! + + 'Tis ever thus that love is taught + By his divinest teacher; + He silent adoration seeks, + But shuns the prosy preacher. + Now read me right, ye gentle anes, + Nor deem my lesson hollow; + The deepest river silent rins, + The babbling brook is shallow. + + + + +TOGETHER. + + + Together, dearest, we have play'd, + As girl and boy together; + Through storm and calm, in sun and shade, + In spring and wintry weather. + Oh! every pang that stinging came + But made our love the dearer; + If danger lower'd--'twas all the same, + We only clung the nearer. + + In riper years, when all the world + Lay bathed in light before us, + And life in rainbow hues unfurl'd + Its glowing banner o'er us, + Amid the beauty storms would rise + And flowers collapsing wither, + While open friends turned hidden foes-- + Yet were we blest together. + + But now the battle's fought and won, + And care with life is flying, + While, setting slowly like the sun, + Ambition's fires are dying. + We gather hope with fading strength, + And go, we know not whither, + Contented if in death at last + We sleep in peace together. + + + + +FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. + + + With lofty song we love to cheer + The hearts of daring men; + Applauded thus, they gladly hear + The trumpet's call again. + But now we sing of lowly deeds + Devoted to the brave, + Where she, who stems the wound that bleeds, + A hero's life may save: + And heroes saved exulting tell + How well her voice they knew; + How sorrow near it could not dwell, + But spread its wings and flew. + + 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! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[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._ + + + + +JOSEPH MACGREGOR. + + +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. + + + + +LADDIE, OH! LEAVE ME. + + + 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. + + "There 's nae ither saft e'e that fills me wi' pleasure, + There 's nae ither rose-lip has half o' its treasure, + There 's nae ither bower, love, shall ever receive me, + Till death break this fond heart--oh! then I maun leave thee;" + Leave thee, leave thee, &c. + + The tears o'er her cheeks ran like dew frae red roses; + What hope to the lover one tear-drop discloses! + I kiss'd them, and blest her--at last to relieve me + She yielded her hand, and sigh'd, "Oh! never leave me;" + Leave me, leave me, &c. + + + + +HOW BLYTHELY THE PIPE. + +AIR--_"Kinloch of Kinloch."_ + + + How blythely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding, + At morn when the clans to the merry dance hied; + And gay were the love-knots, o'er hearts fondly bounding, + When Ronald woo'd Flora, and made her his bride. + But war's banner streaming soon changed their fond dreaming-- + The battle-cry echoed, around and above + Broad claymores were glancing, and war-steeds were prancing; + Up, Ronald! to arms for home and your love. + + All was hush'd o'er the hill, where love linger'd despairing, + With her bride-maids still deck'd in their gay festal gear! + And she wept as she saw them fresh garlands preparing, + Which might laurel Love's brow, or be strew'd o'er his bier! + But cheer thee, fond maiden--each wild breeze is laden + With victory's slogan, through mountain and grove; + Where death streams were gushing, and war-steeds were rushing, + Lord Ronald has conquer'd for home and for love! + + + + +WILLIAM DUNBAR, D.D. + + +A native of Dumfries, William Dunbar, received his elementary education +in that town. Having studied at the University of Edinburgh, he was in +1805 licensed as a probationer of the Established Church. During the +vacations of his theological curriculum, and the earlier portion of his +probationary career, he resided chiefly in the Hebrides. At this period +he composed the popular song, entitled, "The Maid of Islay," the heroine +being a Miss Campbell of the island of Islay. In several collections the +song has been erroneously ascribed to Joseph Train. Mr Dunbar was, in +May 1807, ordained to the parish of Applegarth, Dumfriesshire. Long +reputed as one of the most successful cultivators of the honey-bee, Dr +Dunbar was, in 1840, invited to prepare a treatise on the subject for +the entomological series of the "Naturalist's Library." His observations +were published, without his name, in a volume of the series, with the +title, "The Natural History of Bees, comprehending the uses and +economical management of the British and Foreign Honey-Bee; together +with the known wild species. Illustrated by thirty-six plates, coloured +from nature, with portrait and memoir of Huber." The publication has +been pronounced useful to the practical apiarian and a valuable +contribution to the natural history of the honey-bee. + +In the fiftieth year of his pastorate, Dr Dunbar enjoys the veneration +of a flock, of whom the majority have been reared under his ministerial +superintendence. + + + + +THE MAID OF ISLAY. + + + Rising o'er the heaving billow, + Evening gilds the ocean's swell, + While with thee, on grassy pillow, + Solitude! I love to dwell. + Lonely to the sea-breeze blowing, + Oft I chant my love-lorn strain, + To the streamlet sweetly flowing, + Murmur oft a lover's pain. + + 'Twas for her, the Maid of Islay, + Time flew o'er me wing'd with joy; + 'Twas for her, the cheering smile aye + Beam'd with rapture in my eye. + Not the tempest raving round me, + Lightning's flash or thunder's roll; + Not the ocean's rage could wound me, + While her image fill'd my soul. + + Farewell, days of purest pleasure, + Long your loss my heart shall mourn! + Farewell, hours of bliss the measure, + Bliss that never can return! + Cheerless o'er the wild heath wand'ring, + Cheerless o'er the wave-worn shore, + On the past with sadness pond'ring, + Hope's fair visions charm no more. + + + + +WILLIAM JERDAN. + + +The well known editor of the _Literary Gazette_, William Jerdan, was +born at Kelso, Roxburghshire, on the 16th April 1782. The third son and +seventh child of John Jerdan, a small land proprietor and baron-bailie +under the Duke of Roxburghe, his paternal progenitors owned extensive +possessions in the south-east of Scotland. His mother, Agnes Stuart, a +woman of superior intelligence, claimed descent from the Royal House of +Stuart. Educated at the parochial school of his native town, young +Jerdan entered a lawyer's office, with a view to the legal profession. +Towards literary pursuits his attention was directed through the kindly +intercourse of the Rev. Dr Rutherford, author of the "View of Ancient +History," who then assisted the minister of Kelso, and subsequently +became incumbent of Muirkirk. In 1801 he proceeded to London, where he +was employed as clerk in a mercantile establishment. Returning to +Scotland, he entered the office of a Writer to the Signet; but in 1804 +he resumed his connexion with the metropolis. Suffering from impaired +health, he was taken under the care of a maternal uncle, surgeon of the +_Gladiator_ guard-ship. On the recommendation of this relative, he +served as a seaman for a few months preceding February 1806. A third +time seeking the literary world of London, he became reporter to the +_Aurora_, a morning paper, of temporary duration. In January 1807, he +joined the _Pilot_, an evening paper. Subsequently, he was one of the +conductors of the _Morning Post_ and a reporter for the _British +Press_. Purchasing the copyright of the _Satirist_, he for a short time +edited that journal. In May 1813, he became conductor of _The Sun_, an +appointment which he retained during a period of four years, but was led +to relinquish from an untoward dispute with the publisher. He now +entered on the editorship of the _Literary Gazette_, which he conducted +till 1850, and with which his name will continue to be associated. + +During a period of nearly half a century, Mr Jerdan has occupied a +prominent position in connexion with literature and politics. He was the +first person who seized Bellingham, the murderer of Percival, in the +lobby of the House of Commons. With Mr Canning he was on terms of +intimacy. In 1821 he aided in establishing the Royal Society of +Literature. He was one of the founders of the Melodist's Club, for the +promotion of harmony, and of the Garrick Club, for the patronage of the +drama. In the affairs of the Royal Literary Fund he has manifested a +deep interest. In 1830 he originated, in concert with other literary +individuals, the _Foreign Literary Gazette_, of which he became +joint-editor. About the same period, he wrote the biographical portion +of Fisher's "National Portrait Gallery." In 1852-3 appeared his +"Autobiography," in four volumes; a work containing many curious details +respecting persons of eminence. In 1852 Mr Jerdan's services to +literature were acknowledged by a pension of £100 on the Civil List, and +about the same time he received a handsome pecuniary testimonial from +his literary friends. + + + + +THE WEE BIRD'S SONG.[6] + + + I heard a wee bird singing, + In my chamber as I lay; + The casement open swinging, + As morning woke the day. + And the boughs around were twining, + The bright sun through them shining, + And I had long been pining, + For my Willie far away-- + When I heard the wee bird singing. + + He heard the wee bird singing, + For its notes were wondrous clear; + As if wedding bells were ringing, + Melodious to the ear. + And still it rang that wee bird's song; + Just like the bells--dong-ding, ding-dong; + While my heart beat so quick and strong-- + It felt that he was near! + And he heard the wee bird singing. + + We heard the wee bird singing, + After brief time had flown; + The true bells had been ringing, + And Willie was my own. + And oft I tell him, jesting, playing, + I knew what the wee bird was saying, + That morn, when he, no longer straying, + Flew back to me alone. + And we love the wee bird singing. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] Here first published. + + + + +WHAT MAKES THIS HOUR? + + + What makes this hour a day to me? + What makes this day a year? + My own love promised we should meet-- + But my own love is not here! + Ah! did she feel half what I feel, + Her tryst she ne'er would break; + She ne'er would lift this heart to hope, + Then leave this heart to ache; + And make the hour a day to me, + And make the day a year; + The hour she promised we should meet-- + But my own love is not here. + + Alas! can she inconstant prove? + Does sickness force her stay? + Or is it fate, or failing love, + That keeps my love away, + To make the hour a day to me, + And make the day a year? + The hour and day we should have met-- + But my own love is not here. + + + + +ALEXANDER BALD. + + +Alexander Bald was born at Alloa, on the 9th June 1783. His father, who +bore the same Christian name, was a native of Culross, where he was +originally employed in superintending the coal works in that vicinity, +under the late Earl of Dundonald. He subsequently became agent for the +collieries of John Francis Erskine, afterwards Earl of Mar. A book of +arithmetical tables and calculations from his pen, entitled, "The +Corn-dealer's Assistant," was long recognised as an almost indispensable +guide for tenant farmers. + +The subject of this notice was early devoted to literary pursuits. Along +with his friend, Mr John Grieve, the future patron of the Ettrick +Shepherd, he made a visit to the forest bard, attracted by the merit of +his compositions, long prior to his public recognition as a poet. He +established a literary association in his native town, entitled, "The +Shakspeare Club;" which, at its annual celebrations, was graced by the +presence of men of genius and learning. To the _Scots' Magazine_ he +became a poetical contributor early in the century. A man of elegant +tastes and Christian worth, Mr Bald was a cherished associate of the +more distinguished literary Scotsmen of the past generation. During the +period of half a century, he has conducted business in his native town +as a timber merchant and brick manufacturer. His brother, Mr Robert +Bald, is the distinguished mining engineer. + + + + +THE LILY OF THE VALE.[7] + +TUNE--_'Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon.'_ + + + The lily of the vale is sweet, + And sweeter still the op'ning rose, + But sweeter far my Mary is + Than any blooming flower that blows. + Whilst spring her fragrant blossoms spreads, + I'll wander oft by Mary's side; + And whisper saft the tender tale, + By Forth, sweet Forth's meandering tide. + + There will we walk at early dawn, + Ere yet the sun begins to shine; + At eve oft, too, the lawn we'll tread, + And mark that splendid orb's decline. + The fairest, choicest flowers I'll crop, + To deck my lovely Mary's hair; + And while I live, I vow and swear, + She'll be my chief--my only care. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] This song was originally Published in the _Scots' Magazine_ for +October 1806. In the "Book of Scottish Song," it has been attributed to +Allan Ramsay. + + + + +HOW SWEET ARE THE BLUSHES OF MORN. + + + How sweet are the blushes of morn, + And sweet is the gay blossom'd grove; + The linnet chants sweet from the thorn, + But sweeter's the smile of my love. + + Awhile, my dear Mary, farewell, + Since fate has decreed we should part; + Thine image shall still with me dwell, + Though absent, you'll reign in my heart. + + But by winding Devon's green bowers, + At eve's dewy hour as I rove, + I'll grieve for the pride of her flowers, + And the pride of her maidens, my love. + + The music shall cease in the grove, + Thine absence the linnet shall mourn; + But the lark, in strains bearing love, + Soft warbling, shall greet thy return. + + + + +GEORGE WILSON. + + +George Wilson was born on the 20th June 1784, in the parish of +Libberton, and county of Lanark. Deprived of both his parents early in +life, he was brought to the house of his paternal uncle, who rented a +sheep-farm in the vicinity of Peebles. At the burgh school of that place +he received an ordinary education, and in his thirteenth year hired +himself as a cow-herd. Passing through the various stages of rural +employment at Tweedside, he resolved to adopt a trade, and in his +eighteenth year became apprenticed to his maternal uncle, a cabinetmaker +in Edinburgh. On fulfilling his indenture, he accepted employment as a +journeyman cabinetmaker; he subsequently conducted business on his own +account. In 1831 he removed from Edinburgh to the village of +Corstorphine, in the vicinity; where he continues to reside. He +published "The Laverock," a volume of poems and songs, in 1829. The +following lyrics from his pen evince no inconsiderable vigour, and seem +worthy of preservation. + + + + +MILD AS THE MORNING. + +AIR--_'Bonnie Dundee.'_ + + + Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty, + Young Mary, all lovely, had come from afar, + With tear-streaming eyes, and a grief-burden'd bosom, + To view with sad horror the carnage of war. + She sought her brave brother with sighing and sorrow; + Her loud lamentations she pour'd out in vain; + The hero had fallen, with kinsmen surrounded, + And deep he lay buried 'mong heaps of the slain. + + "Oh! Donald, my brother, in death art thou sleeping? + Or groan'st thou in chains of some barbarous foe? + Are none of thy kindred in life now remaining, + To tell a sad tale of destruction and woe?" + A hero who struggled in death's cold embraces, + Whose bosom, deep gash'd, was all clotted with gore-- + "Alas! Lady Mary, the mighty M'Donald, + Will lead his brave heroes to battle no more." + + She turn'd, and she gazed all around, much confounded; + The tidings of sorrow sunk deep in her heart; + She saw her brave kinsman laid low, deadly wounded, + He wanted that succour, she could not impart-- + "Oh! Murdoch, my kinsman," with hands raised to heaven, + "Thy strength, bloom, and beauty, alas! all are o'er; + And oh, my brave brother, my brave gallant brother, + Lies sleeping beside thee, to waken no more." + + + + +THE BEACONS BLAZED. + +AIR--_'Cope sent a letter frae Dunbar.'_ + + + The beacons blazed, the banners flew, + The war-pipes loud their pibrochs blew, + The trusty clans their claymores drew, + To shield their Royal Charlie. + + Come a' ye chiefs, bring a' your clans, + Frae a' your mountains, muirs, and glens, + Bring a' your spears, swords, dirks, and guns, + To shield and save Prince Charlie. + + They, like their fathers, bold and brave, + Came at a call, wi' dirk and glaive; + Of danger fearless, sworn to save + Or fa' for Royal Charlie. + + Famed Scotia's chiefs, intrepid still, + Led forth their tribes frae strath and hill, + And boldly dared, wi' right guid will, + To shield their Royal Charlie. + + The forests and the rocks replied + To shouts which rung both far and wide: + Our prince is come, his people's pride-- + Oh, welcome hame, Prince Charlie! + + Thee, Scotia's rightful prince we own; + We'll die, or seat thee on the throne, + Where many a Scottish king has shone; + The sires o' Royal Charlie. + + No faithful Scot now makes a pause; + Plain truth and justice plead thy cause; + Each fearlessly his weapon draws, + To shield and save Prince Charlie. + + Now, lead us on against thy foes; + Thy rightful claim all Europe knows; + We'll scatter death with all our blows, + To shield and save Prince Charlie. + + Now, chiefs and clans, your faith display, + By deathless deeds in battle day, + To stretch them pale on beds of clay, + The foes of Royal Charlie. + + + + +THE RENDEZVOUS. + + + Warlike chieftains now assembled, + Fame your daring deeds shall tell, + Fiercest foes have fear'd and trembled, + When you raised your warlike yell. + Bards shall sing when battle rages, + Scotia's sons shall victors be; + Bards shall sing in after ages, + Caledonians aye were free. + + Blest be every bold avenger, + Cheer'd the heart that fears no wound; + Dreadful in the day of danger + Be each chieftain ever found. + + Let the hills our swords have shielded, + Ring to every hero's praise; + And the tribes who never yielded, + Their immortal trophies raise. + + Heroes brave, be ever ready, + At your king and country's call; + When your dauntless chiefs shall lead you, + Let the foe that dares you fall. + + Let the harp to strains resounding, + Ring to cheer the dauntless brave; + Let the brave like roes come bounding + On to glory or a grave. + + Let your laurels never-fading, + Gleam like your unconquer'd glaive; + Where your thistle springs triumphant, + There let freedom's banner wave. + + + + +JOHN YOUNGER. + + +John Younger, the shoemaker of St Boswells, and author of the Prize +Essay on the Sabbath, has some claim to enrolment among the minstrels of +his country. He was born on the 5th July 1785, at Longnewton village, in +the parish of Ancrum, and county of Roxburgh. So early as his ninth +year, he began to work at his father's trade of a shoemaker. In 1810 he +married, and commenced shoemaking in the village of St Boswells, where +he has continued to reside. Expert in his original profession, he has +long been reputed for his skill in dressing hooks for Tweed angling; the +latter qualification producing some addition to his emoluments. He holds +the office of village postmaster. + +A man of superior intellect and varied information, John Younger enjoys +the respect of a wide circle of friends. His cottage is the resort of +anglers of every rank; and among his correspondents he enumerates the +most noted characters of the age. Letter writing is his favourite mode +of recreation, and he has preserved copies of his letters in several +interesting volumes. He has published a poetical _brochure_ with the +title, "Thoughts as they Rise;" also a "Treatise on River Angling." His +Prize Essay on the Sabbath, entitled, "The Light of the Week," was +published in 1849, and has commanded a wide circulation. Of his lyrical +effusions we have selected the following from his MS. collection. + + + + +ILKA BLADE O' GRASS GETS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW. + + + Oh, dinna be sae sair cast down, + My ain sweet bairnies dear, + Whatever storms in life may blaw, + Take nae sic heart o' fear. + Though life's been aye a checker'd scene + Since Eve's first apple grew, + Nae blade o' grass has been forgot + O' its ain drap o' dew. + + The bonnie flowers o' Paradise, + And a' that 's bloom'd sinsyne, + By bank an' brae an' lover's bower, + Adown the course o' time, + Or 'neath the gardener's fostering hand,-- + Their annual bloom renew, + Ilk blade o' grass has had as weel + Its ain sweet drap o' dew. + + The oaks and cedars of the earth + May toss their arms in air, + Or bend beneath the sweeping blast + That strips the forest bare; + The flower enfolds while storms o'erpass, + Till sunshine spreads anew, + And sips, as does ilk blade o' grass, + Its lucent drap o' dew. + + The great may loll in world's wealth + And a' the pomp o' state, + While labour, bent wi' eident cares, + Maun toil baith ear and late. + The poor may gae to bed distrest, + With nae relief in view, + And rising, like ilk blade o' grass, + Shine wi' the pearl o' dew. + + Oh, what a gentle hand is His + That cleeds the lilies fair, + And o' the meanest thing in life + Takes mair than mother's care! + Can ye no put your trust in Him, + With heart resign'd and true, + Wha ne'er forgets to gie the grass, + Ilk blade its drap o' dew. + + + + +THE MONTH OF JUNE. + + + O June, ye spring the loveliest flowers + That a' our seasons yield; + Ye deck sae flush the greenwood bowers, + The garden, and the field; + The pathway verge by hedge and tree, + So fresh, so green, and gay, + Where every lovely blue flower's e'e + Is opening to the day. + + The river banks and craggy peaks + In wilding blossoms drest; + With ivy o'er their jutting nooks + Ye screen the ouzel's nest; + From precipice, abrupt and bold, + Your tendrils flaunt in air, + With craw-flowers dangling living gold + Ye tuft the steep brown scaur. + + Your foliage shades the wild bird's nest + From every prying e'e, + With fairy fingers ye invest + In woven flowers the lea; + Around the lover's blissful hour + Ye draw your leafy screen, + And shade those in your rosy bower, + Who love to muse unseen. + + + + +JOHN BURTT. + + +John Burtt was born about the year 1790, at Knockmarloch, in the parish +of Riccarton, and county of Ayr. With a limited school education, he was +apprenticed to a weaver in Kilmarnock; but at the loom he much improved +himself in general scholarship, especially in classical learning. In his +sixteenth year he was decoyed into a ship of war at Greenock, and +compelled to serve on board. Effecting his escape, after an arduous +servitude of five years, he resumed the loom at Kilmarnock. He +subsequently taught an adventure school, first in Kilmarnock, and +afterwards at Paisley. The irksome labours of sea-faring life he had +sought to relieve by the composition of verses; and these in 1816 he +published, under the title of "Horæ Poeticæ; or, the Recreations of a +Leisure Hour." In 1817 he emigrated to the United States, where his +career has been prosperous. Having studied theology at Princeton +College, New Jersey, he became a licentiate of the Presbyterian Church, +and was appointed to a ministerial charge at Salem. In 1831 he removed +to Philadelphia, where he edited a periodical entitled the +_Presbyterian_. Admitted in 1833 to a Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati, +he there edited the _Standard_, a religious newspaper. In August 1835, +he was promoted to a chair in the Theological Seminary of that place. + + + + +O'ER THE MIST-SHROUDED CLIFFS.[8] + +AIR--_'Banks of the Devon.'_ + + + O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying, + Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave; + What woes wring my heart while intently surveying + The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave? + Ye foam-crested billows, allow me to wail, + Ere ye toss me afar from my loved native shore; + Where the flower which bloom'd sweetest in Coila's green vale, + The pride of my bosom--my Mary 's no more. + + No more by the banks of the streamlet we 'll wander, + And smile at the moon's rimpled face in the wave; + No more shall my arms cling with fondness around her, + For the dew-drops of morning fall cold on her grave. + No more shall the soft thrill of love warm my breast-- + I haste with the storm to a far distant shore, + Where, unknown, unlamented, my ashes shall rest, + And joy shall revisit my bosom no more. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] This song has been erroneously assigned to Burns. + + + + +O! LASSIE, I LO'E DEAREST! + + + O! lassie, I lo'e dearest! + Mair fair to me than fairest, + Mair rare to me than rarest, + How sweet to think o' thee. + When blythe the blue e'ed dawnin' + Steals saftly o'er the lawnin', + And furls night's sable awnin', + I love to think o' thee. + + An' while the honey'd dew-drap + Still trembles at the flower-tap, + The fairest bud I pu't up, + An' kiss'd for sake o' thee. + An' when by stream or fountain, + In glen, or on the mountain, + The lingering moments counting, + I pause an' think o' thee. + + When the sun's red rays are streamin', + Warm on the meadow beamin', + Or o'er the loch wild gleamin', + My heart is fu' o' thee. + An' tardy-footed gloamin', + Out o'er the hills slow comin', + Still finds me lanely roamin', + And thinkin' still o' thee. + + When soughs the distant billow, + An' night blasts shake the willow, + Stretch'd on my lanely pillow, + My dreams are a' o' thee. + Then think when frien's caress thee, + Oh, think when cares distress thee, + Oh, think when pleasures bless thee, + O' him that thinks o' thee. + + + + +CHARLES JAMES FINLAYSON. + + +Charles James Finlayson was born on the 27th August 1790, in the parish +of Larbert, and county of Stirling. Owing to the death of his father +during his childhood, and the poverty of the family, he was never at +school. While a cow-herd to a farmer, he taught himself letters in the +fields. With a fine ear for music and an excellent voice, he took +delight in singing such scraps of old ballads as he had learned from the +cottage matrons. The small gratuities which he procured for holding the +horses of the farmers at the annual Falkirk _trysts_, put him in +possession of all the printed ballad literature which that town could +supply. In his eleventh year he entered, in a humble capacity, the +Carron Iron Works; where he had some opportunity of improving himself in +scholarship, and gratifying his taste for books. He travelled from +Carron to Glasgow, a distance of twenty-three miles, to procure a copy +of Ossian. Improving his musical predilections, he was found qualified, +while still a young man, to officiate as precentor, or leader of the +psalmody, in the church of his native parish. Resigning this +appointment, and his situation in the Carron Works, he for some time +taught church music in the neighbouring towns. On an invitation from the +Kirk-session and congregation, he became precentor in the Old Kirk, +Edinburgh; and in this office gained the active friendship of the +respected clergyman, Dr Macknight. + +Having attained a scientific acquaintance with the theory and practice +of his art, Mr Finlayson resigned his appointment in the capital, and +proceeded to the provinces as an instructor in vocal music. He visited +the principal towns in the east and southern districts of Scotland, and +was generally successful. During his professional visit to Dumfries in +1820, he became one of the founders of the Burns' Club in that town. +After a short absence in Canada, he settled in Kircudbright as a wine +and spirit merchant. In 1832 he was appointed to the office of +postmaster. Having retired from business a few years since, he enjoys +the fruits of a well-earned competency. He has contributed songs to +Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," and other collections. His song +beginning "Oh, my love 's bonnie!" has been translated into German, and +published with music at Leipsic. + + + + +THE BARD STRIKES HIS HARP. + + + The bard strikes his harp, the wild woods among, + And echo repeats to the breezes his strain; + Enraptured, the small birds around his seat throng, + And the lambkins, delighted, stand mute on the plain. + He sings of the pleasures his young bosom knew, + When beauty inspired him, and love was the theme; + While his harp, ever faithful, awakes them anew, + And a tear dims his eye as he breathes the loved name. + + The hearths that bade welcome, the tongues that gave praise, + Are now cold to his sorrows, and mute to his wail! + E'en the oak, his sole shelter, rude winter decays, + And the wild flowers he sung are laid scentless and pale. + Too oft thus in misery, the minstrel must pine; + Neglected by those whom his song wont to cheer, + They think not, alas! as they view his decline, + That his heart still can feel, and his eye shed a tear. + + Yet sweet are the pleasures that spring from his woes, + And which souls that are songless can never enjoy; + They know not his joy, for each sweet strain that flows + Twines a wreath round his name time can never destroy. + Sing on, then, sweet bard! though thus lonely ye stray, + Yet ages unborn, thy name shall revere; + While the names that neglect thee have melted away, + As the snowflakes which fall in the stream disappear. + + + + +PH[OE]BUS, WI' GOWDEN CREST. + + + Ph[oe]bus, wi' gowden crest, leaves ocean's heaving breast + An' frae the purple east smiles on the day; + Laverocks wi' blythesome strain, mount frae the dewy plain, + Greenwood and rocky glen echo their lay; + Wild flowers, wi' op'ning blooms, woo ilka breeze that comes, + Scattering their rich perfumes over the lea; + But summer's varied dye, lark's song, and breezes' sigh, + Only bring sorrow and sadness to me. + + Blighted, like autumn's leaf, ilk joy is changed to grief-- + Day smiles around, but no pleasure can gie; + Night on his sable wings, sweet rest to nature brings-- + Sleep to the weary, but waukin' to me. + Aften has warldly care wrung my sad bosom sair; + Hope's visions fled me, an' friendship's untrue; + But a' the ills o' fate never could thus create + Anguish like parting, dear Annie, frae you. + + Farewell, those beaming eyes, stars in life's wintry skies-- + Aft has adversity fled frae your ray; + Farewell, that angel smile, stranger to woman's wile, + That ever could beguile sorrow away; + Farewell, ilk happy scene, wild wood, an' valley green, + Where time, on rapture's wing, over us flew; + Farewell, that peace of heart, thou only could'st impart-- + Farewell, dear Annie--a long, long adieu! + + + + +OH, MY LOVE'S BONNIE. + + + Oh! my love's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie; + Oh! my love's bonnie and dear to me; + The smile o' her face, and her e'e's witchin' grace, + Are mair than the wealth o' this warld can gie. + + Her voice is as sweet as the blackbird at gloamin', + When echo repeats her soft notes to the ear, + And lovely and fresh as the wild roses blooming, + That dip in the stream o' the Carron so clear. + + But poortith 's a foe to the peace o' this bosom, + That glows sae devoutly, dear lassie, for thee; + Alas! that e'er poortith should blight love's young blossom, + When riches nae lasting contentment can gie. + + Yet hope's cheerfu' sun shall aboon my head hover, + And guide a lone wanderer, when far frae thee; + For ne'er, till it sets, will I prove a false lover, + Or think o' anither, dear lassie, but thee. + + + + +WILLIAM DOBIE. + + +An accomplished antiquary, and writer of verses, William Dobie was born +in 1790, in the village of Beith, Ayrshire. Educated at the parish +school, he was in his thirteenth year apprenticed to a mechanical +profession. At the close of his apprenticeship, he commenced business in +his native district. In 1822, the munificence of a wealthy relative +enabled him to retire from his occupation, which had proved unsuitable +to his tastes. For several years he resided in London. He subsequently +made a tour through Britain, and visited the Continent. His +"Perambulations in Kintyre," a manuscript volume, is frequently quoted +by Mr Cosmo Innes, in his "Origines Parochiales Scotiæ," a valuable work +printed for the Bannatyne Club. In 1840 he prepared a history of the +parish of Kilbirnie, for the "New Statistical Account." He afterwards +published an account of the church and churchyard of Kilbirnie, in an +interesting pamphlet. Recently Mr Dobie has superintended the erection +of a monument to Sir William Wallace, on Barnweil Hill, near Kilmarnock, +which has been reared at the entire cost of William Patrick, Esq., of +Roughwood. The greater number of the many spirited inscriptions on the +monument are the composition of Mr Dobie. + + + + +THE DREARY REIGN OF WINTER 'S PAST. + +AIR--_'Loch Errochside.'_ + + + The dreary reign of Winter 's past, + The frost, the snow, the surly blast, + To polar hills are scouring fast; + For balmy Spring 's returning. + Adown Glen-Garnock's lonely vale, + The torrent's voice has ceased to wail; + But soft low notes, borne on the gale, + Dispel dull gloom and mourning. + + With toil and long fatigue depress'd, + Exhausted nature sunk oppress'd, + Till waken'd from her slumbering rest, + By balmy Spring returning. + Now in flower'd vesture, green and gay, + Lovelier each succeeding day; + Soon from her face shall pass away, + Each trace of Winter's mourning. + + Lo, at her mild benign command, + Life rouses up on every hand; + While bursts of joy o'er all the land, + Hail balmy Spring returning. + E'en murmuring stream and raving linn, + And solemn wood in softened din, + All join great Nature's praise to hymn, + That fled is Winter's mourning. + + While all on earth, and in the skies, + In transports fervently rejoice, + Shall man refuse to raise his voice, + And welcome Spring returning? + If such ingrates exist below, + They ne'er can feel the sacred glow, + That Nature and the Muse bestow, + To cheer the gloom of mourning. + + + + +ROBERT HENDRY, M.D. + + +A man of unobtrusive literary merit, and no inconsiderable poetical +ability, Robert Hendry was born at Paisley on the 7th October 1791. +Descended from a respectable family in Morayshire, his paternal +great-grandfather fixed his residence in Glasgow. His grandfather, after +serving as a lieutenant under the Duke of Cumberland in Holland, quitted +the army, and settled as a silk manufacturer in Paisley. Under the name +of "The Hollander," this gentleman had the distinction of being +lampooned by Alexander Wilson, during the days of his hot youth, prior +to his embarkation for America. Of his two sons, the elder removed to +London, where he became senior Alderman, and died on the eve of his +nomination as Lord Mayor. + +The grandson of "The Hollander," by his second son, the subject of this +memoir, was, in his twelfth year, apprenticed to his maternal uncle, a +medical practitioner. On the completion of a course of philosophical and +medical study at the University of Glasgow, he obtained his diploma, and +settled as a surgeon in his native town. Amidst due attention to his +professional duties, he became ardently devoted to literary pursuits. +Besides conducting several local periodicals, he contributed to some of +the more important serials. During the year 1826, which proved so +disastrous to the manufacturing interests in Paisley, he devised a +scheme for the relief of the unemployed, and his services were +appropriately acknowledged by the magistrates. He afterwards sought the +general improvement of the burgh, and among many other fiscal and +sanitary reforms, succeeded in introducing into the place a supply of +excellent water. Declining the provostship offered him by the Town +Council, he retired a few years since to the village of Helensburgh, +where he continues to reside. + +Dr Hendry was an intimate acquaintance of Tannahill; and afterwards +ranked among his friends the poet Motherwell and Robert Archibald Smith. +He has at various time contributed verses to the periodicals. Latterly +his attention has been more especially directed to scientific pursuits. + + + + +OH, LET NA GANG YON BONNIE LASSIE. + + + Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie + Cam' to see you a' yestreen; + A winning gate 's about that lassie, + Something mair than meets the een. + Had she na baked the Christmas pasty, + Think ye it had been sae fine? + Or yet the biscuit sae delicious + That we crumpit to the wine? + + Her ringlets are the gift o' nature, + Flowing gracefu' o'er her brow; + The turn, the hue o' ilka feature, + Form, and colour, nature drew. + She 's meikle sought, and meikle thought o', + Lang unwedded canna be; + Wi' kindness court the comely creature, + Cast the glaumrie o'er her e'e. + + Have ye an ear can be delighted? + Like a seraph she can sing, + Wi' charming grace and witching manner, + Thrilling o'er the music string. + Her tell the tale that moves to pity, + But wi' heart and feeling speak; + Then watch the turn o' ilka feature, + Kiss the tear that weets her cheek. + + She sooms na aye in silk or satin, + Flaunting like a modern belle; + Her robe and plaid 's the simple tartan, + Sweet and modest like hersel'. + The shapely robe adorns her person + That her eident hand wad sew; + The plaid sae graceful flung around her, + 'Twas her tastefu' manner threw. + + She 'll mak' a thrifty loving woman + To a kind weel-doing man, + Forby a tender-hearted mother-- + Win the lassie if ye can. + For weel she 's worth your heart and treasure; + May your bridal day be near-- + Then half a score o' bairns hereafter-- + May ye live a hunder year. + + + + +HEW AINSLIE. + + +Hew Ainslie was born on the 5th April 1792, at Bargeny Mains, in the +parish of Dailly, and county of Ayr. Receiving the rudiments of +education from a private teacher in his father's house, he entered the +parish school of Ballantrae in his tenth year, and afterwards became a +pupil in the academy of Ayr. A period of bad health induced him to +forego the regular prosecution of learning, and, having quitted the +academy, he accepted employment as an assistant landscape gardener on +the estate of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton. At the age of sixteen he +entered the writing chambers of a legal gentleman in Glasgow, but the +confinement of the office proving uncongenial, he took a hasty +departure, throwing himself on the protection of some relatives at +Roslin, near Edinburgh. His father's family soon after removed to +Roslin, and through the kindly interest of Mr Thomas Thomson, +Deputy-Clerk Register, he procured a clerkship in the General Register +House, Edinburgh. For some months he acted as amanuensis to Professor +Dugald Stewart, in transcribing his last work for the press. + +Having entered into the married state, and finding the salary of his +office in the Register House unequal to the comfortable maintenance of +his family, he resolved to emigrate to the United States, in the hope of +bettering his circumstances. Arriving at New York in July 1822, he made +purchase of a farm in that State, and there resided the three following +years. He next made a trial of the Social System of Robert Owen, at New +Harmony, but abandoned the project at the close of a year. In 1827 he +entered into partnership with Messrs Price & Wood, brewers, in +Cincinnati, and set up a branch of the establishment at Louisville. +Removing to New Albany, Indiana, he there built a large brewery for a +joint-stock company, and in 1832 erected in that place similar premises +on his own account. The former was ruined by the great Ohio flood of +1832, and the latter perished by fire in 1834. He has since followed the +occupation of superintending the erection of mills and factories; and +has latterly fixed his abode in Jersey, a suburb of New York. + +Early imbued with the love of song, Mr Ainslie composed verses when a +youth on the mountains of Carrick. A visit to his native country in 1820 +revived the ardour of his muse; and shortly before his departure to +America, he published the whole of his rhyming effusions in a duodecimo +volume, with the title, "Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns." A second +volume from his pen, entitled, "Scottish Songs, Ballads, and Poems," was +in 1855 published at New York. + + + + +THE HAMEWARD SANG. + + + Each whirl of the wheel, + Each step brings me nearer + The hame of my youth-- + Every object grows dearer. + Thae hills and thae huts, + And thae trees on that green, + Losh! they glower in my face + Like some kindly auld frien'. + + E'en the brutes they look social, + As gif they would crack; + And the sang o' the birds + Seems to welcome me back. + Oh, dear to our hearts + Is the hand that first fed us, + And dear is the land + And the cottage that bred us. + + And dear are the comrades + With whom we once sported, + And dearer the maiden + Whose love we first courted. + Joy's image may perish, + E'en grief die away; + But the scenes of our youth + Are recorded for aye. + + + + +DOWIE IN THE HINT O' HAIRST. + + + Its dowie in the hint o' hairst, + At the wa'-gang o' the swallow, + When the wind grows cauld, and the burns grow bauld, + And the wuds are hingin' yellow; + But oh, its dowier far to see + The wa-gang o' her the heart gangs wi', + The dead-set o' a shinin' e'e-- + That darkens the weary warld on thee. + + There was mickle love atween us twa-- + Oh, twa could ne'er be fonder; + And the thing on yird was never made, + That could hae gart us sunder. + But the way of heaven's aboon a' ken, + And we maun bear what it likes to sen'-- + It's comfort, though, to weary men, + That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'. + + There's mony things that come and gae, + Just kent, and just forgotten; + And the flowers that busk a bonnie brae, + Gin anither year lie rotten. + But the last look o' that lovely e'e, + And the dying grip she gae to me, + They're settled like eternitie-- + Oh, Mary! that I were wi' thee. + + + + +ON WI' THE TARTAN. + + + Can you lo'e, my dear lassie, + The hills wild and free; + Whar' the sang o' the shepherd + Gars a' ring wi' glee? + Or the steep rocky glens, + Where the wild falcons bide? + Then on wi' the tartan, + And, fy, let us ride! + + Can ye lo'e the knowes, lassie, + That ne'er war in rigs? + Or the bonnie loune lee, + Where the sweet robin bigs? + Or the sang o' the lintie, + Whan wooin' his bride? + Then on wi' the tartan, + And, fy, let us ride! + + Can ye lo'e the burn, lassie, + That loups amang linns? + Or the bonnie green howmes, + Where it cannilie rins, + Wi' a cantie bit housie, + Sae snug by its side? + Then on wi' the tartan, + And, fy, let us ride! + + + + +THE ROVER O' LOCHRYAN. + + + The Rover o' Lochryan, he's gane, + Wi' his merry men sae brave; + Their hearts are o' the steel, an' a better keel + Ne'er bowl'd owre the back o' a wave. + Its no when the loch lies dead in his trough + When naething disturbs it ava; + But the rack and the ride o' the restless tide, + Or the splash o' the gray sea-maw. + + Its no when the yawl an' the light skiffs crawl + Owre the breast o' the siller sea; + That I look to the west for the bark I lo'e best, + An' the rover that's dear to me, + But when that the clud lays its cheek to the flud, + An' the sea lays its shouther to the shore; + When the win' sings high, and the sea-whaup's cry, + As they rise frae the whitening roar. + + Its then that I look to the thickening rook, + An' watch by the midnight tide; + I ken the wind brings my rover hame, + An' the sea that he glories to ride. + Oh, merry he sits 'mang his jovial crew, + Wi' the helm heft in his hand, + An' he sings aloud to his boys in blue, + As his e'e's upon Galloway's land: + + "Unstent and slack each reef an' tack, + Gae her sail, boys, while it may sit; + She has roar'd through a heavier sea afore, + An' she'll roar through a heavier yet. + When landsmen sleep, or wake an' creep, + In the tempest's angry moan, + We dash through the drift, and sing to the lift + O' the wave that heaves us on." + + + + +THE LAST LOOK O' HAME. + + + Bare was our burn brae, + December's blast had blawn, + The last flower was dead, + An' the brown leaf had fa'n: + It was dark in the deep glen, + Hoary was our hill; + An' the win' frae the cauld north, + Cam' heavy and chill: + + When I said fare-ye-weel, + To my kith and my kin; + My barque it lay ahead, + An' my cot-house ahin'; + I had nought left to tine, + I'd a wide warl' to try; + But my heart it wadna lift, + An' my e'e it wadna dry. + + I look'd lang at the ha', + Through the mist o' my tears, + Where the kind lassie lived, + I had run wi' for years; + E'en the glens where we sat, + Wi' their broom-covered knowes, + Took a haud on this heart + That I ne'er can unloose. + + I hae wander'd sin' syne, + By gay temples and towers, + Where the ungather'd spice + Scents the breeze in their bowers; + Oh! sic scenes I could leave + Without pain or regret; + But the last look o' hame + I ne'er can forget. + + + + +THE LADS AN' THE LAND FAR AWA'. + +AIR--_'My ain fireside.'_ + + + When I think on the lads an' the land I hae left, + An' how love has been lifted, an' friendship been reft; + How the hinnie o' hope has been jumbled wi' ga', + Then I sigh for the lads an' the land far awa'. + + When I think on the days o' delight we hae seen, + When the flame o' the spirit would spark in the e'en; + Then I say, as in sorrow I think on ye a', + Where will I find hearts like the hearts far awa? + + When I think on the nights we hae spent hand in hand, + Wi' mirth for our sowther, and friendship our band, + This world gets dark; but ilk night has a daw', + And I yet may rejoice in the land far awa'! + + + + +MY BONNIE WEE BELL. + + + My bonnie wee Bell was a mitherless bairn, + Her aunty was sour, an' her uncle was stern; + While her cousin was aft in a cankersome mood; + But that hinder'd na Bell growing bonnie and gude. + + When we ran to the schule, I was aye by her han', + To wyse off the busses, or help owre a stran'; + An' as aulder we grew, a' the neighbours could tell + Hoo my liking grew wi' thee, my bonnie wee Bell. + + Thy cousin gangs dinkit, thy cousin gangs drest, + In her silks and her satins, the brawest and best; + But the gloss o' a cheek, the glint o' an e'e, + Are jewels frae heaven, nae tocher can gie. + + Some goud, an' some siller, my auld gutcher left, + An' in houses an' mailins I'll soon be infeft; + I've a vow in the heaven, I've an aith wi' thysel', + I'll make room in this world for thee, bonnie Bell. + + + + +WILLIAM THOMSON. + + +William Thomson was born in 1797, in the village of Kennoway, Fifeshire. +He has constantly resided in his native place. After obtaining an +ordinary education at the parish school, he engaged in the business of a +manufacturer. Relinquishing this occupation, he became a grocer and +general merchant; and since 1824, he has held the office of Postmaster. +He composed verses at an early period. In 1825, some of his verses +appeared in the _Paisley Advertiser_, and the favour with which they +were received induced him to offer some poetical compositions to the +_Fife Herald_, a newspaper which had just been established in the +capital of his native county. Under the signature of _Theta_, he has +since been a regular contributor of verses to that journal. He has +likewise contributed articles in prose and poetry to other newspapers +and some of the periodicals. + + + + +THE MAIDEN TO HER REAPING HOOK. + + + The soldier waves the shining sword, the shepherd boy his crook, + The boatman plies the splashing oar, but well I love the hook. + When swift I haste at sunny morn, unto the spreading plain, + And view before me, like a sea, the fields of golden grain, + And listen to the cheerful sound of harvest's echoing horn, + Or join the merry reaper band, that gather in the corn; + How sweet the friendly welcoming, how gladsome every look, + Ere we begin, with busy hands, to wield the Reaping Hook. + + My Reaping Hook! my Reaping Hook! I love thee better far, + Than glancing spear and temper'd sword, bright instruments of war; + As thee I grasp with willing hand, and feel a reaper's glee, + When, waving in the rustling breeze, the ripen'd field I see; + Or listen to the harmless jest, the bandsman's cheerful song, + The hearty laugh, the rustic mirth, while mingling 'mid the throng; + With joy I see the well-fill'd sheaf, and mark each rising stook, + As thee I ply with agile arm, my trusty Reaping Hook! + + They tell of glorious battle-fields, strew'd thick with heaps of slain! + Alas! the triumphs of the sword bring only grief and pain; + But thou, my shining Reaping Hook, the symbol art of peace, + And fill'st a thousand families with smiles and happiness; + While conquering warrior's burning brand, amid his gory path, + The emblem is of pain and woe, of man's destructive wrath. + Soon therefore may the spear give place unto the shepherd's crook, + And the conqueror's flaming sword be turn'd into a Reaping Hook! + + + + +ALEXANDER SMART. + + +Alexander Smart was born at Montrose on the 26th April 1798. His father +was a respectable shoemaker in the place. A portion of his school +education was conducted under the care of one Norval, a teacher in the +Montrose Academy, whose mode of infusing knowledge he has not unjustly +satirised in his poem, entitled "Recollections of Auld Lang Syne." +Norval was a model among the tyrant pedagogues of the past; and as an +illustration of Scottish school life fifty years since, we present our +author's reminiscences of the despot. "Gruesome in visage and deformed +in body, his mind reflected the grim and tortuous aspects of his person. +The recollection of his monstrous cruelties,--his cruel flagellations,--is +still unaccountably depressing. One day of horrors I shall never cease +to remember. Every Saturday he caused the pupils to repeat a prayer +which he had composed for their use; and in hearing which he stood over +each with a paper ruler, ready, in the event of omission of word or +phrase, to strike down the unfortunate offender, who all the while +drooped tremblingly before him. On one of these days of extorted prayer, +I was found at fault in my grammar lesson, and the offence was deemed +worthy of peculiar castigation. The school was dismissed at the usual +time, but, along with a few other boys who were to become witnesses of +my punishment and disgrace, I was detained in the class-room, and +dragged to the presence of the tyrant. Despite of his every effort, I +resisted being bound to the bench, and flogged after the fashion of the +times. So the punishment was commuted into 'palmies.' Horrible +commutation! Sixty lashes with leather thongs on my right hand, +inflicted with all the severity of a tyrant's wrath, made me scream in +the anguish of desperation. My pitiless tormentor, unmoved by the sight +of my hand sorely lacerated, and swollen to twice its natural size, +threatened to cut out my tongue if I continued to complain; and so +saying, laid hold on a pair of scissors, and inflicted a deep cut on my +lip. The horrors of the day fortunately emancipated me from the further +control of the despot." + +At another seminary Smart completed his education. He was now +apprenticed to a watchmaker in his native town, his hours of leisure +being sedulously devoted to the perusal of the more distinguished +British poets. It was his delight to repeat his favourite passages in +solitary rambles on the sea beach. In 1819, on the completion of his +apprenticeship, he proceeded to Edinburgh, where, during a period of six +months, he wrought at his trade. But the sedentary life of a watchmaker +proving injurious to his health, he was led to seek employment in a +printing-office. Soon after, he became editor, printer, and publisher of +the _Montrose Chronicle_, a newspaper which was originated in his native +town, but which proved unsuccessful. He thereafter held an appointment +in the office of the _Dundee Courier_. Returning to Edinburgh, he +accepted employment as a pressman in a respectable printing-office, and +afterwards attained the position of press overseer in one of the most +important printing establishments of the city. + +In his twentieth year Smart adventured on the composition of verses, but +being dissatisfied with his efforts, he consigned them to oblivion. He +subsequently renewed his invocation of the Muse, and in 1834 published +a small duodecimo volume of poems and songs, entitled "Rambling Rhymes." +This publication attracted considerable attention, and secured for the +author the personal favour of Lord Jeffrey. He also received the +commendation of Thomas Campbell, Charles Dickens, Thomas Babington +Macaulay, Charles Mackay, and other literary and poetical celebrities. A +new and enlarged edition of his volume appeared in 1845, and was +dedicated by permission to Lord Jeffrey. + +Smart was one of the principal contributors to "Whistle Binkie." At +different periods he has composed excellent prose essays and sketches, +some of which have appeared in _Hogg's Instructor_. Those papers +entitled "Burns and his Ancestors," "Leaves from an Autobiography," and +"Scenes from the Life of a Sufferer," may be especially enumerated. Of a +peculiarly nervous temperament, he has more than once experienced the +miseries of mental aberration. Latterly he has completely recovered his +health, and living in Edinburgh with his wife and family, he divides his +time between the mechanical labours of the printing-office and the more +congenial pursuits of literature. + + + + +WHEN THE BEE HAS LEFT THE BLOSSOM. + + + When the bee has left the blossom, + And the lark has closed his lay, + And the daisy folds its bosom + In the dews of gloaming gray; + When the virgin rose is bending, + Wet with evening's pensive tear, + And the purple light is blending + With the soft moon rising clear; + + Meet me then, my own true maiden, + Where the wild flowers shed their bloom + And the air with fragrance laden, + Breathes around a rich perfume. + With my true love as I wander, + Captive led by beauty's power, + Thoughts and feelings sweet and tender + Hallow that delightful hour. + + Give ambition dreams of glory, + Give the poet laurell'd fame, + Let renown in song and story + Consecrate the hero's name; + Give the great their pomp and pleasure, + Give the courtier place and power; + Give to me my bosom's treasure, + And the lonely gloaming hour. + + + + +OH, LEAVE ME NOT. + + + Oh, leave me not! the evening hour, + So soft, so still, is all our own; + The dew descends on tree and flower, + They breathe their sweets for thee alone. + Oh, go not yet! the evening star, + The rising moon, all bid thee stay; + And dying echoes, faint and far, + Invite our lingering steps to stray. + + Far from the city's noisy din, + Beneath the pale moon's trembling light, + That lip to press, those smiles to win, + Will lend a rapture to the night. + Let fortune fling her favours free + To whom she will, I'll ne'er repine: + Oh, what is all the world to me, + While thus I clasp and call thee mine! + + + + +NEVER DESPAIR. + + + Never despair! when the dark cloud is lowering, + The sun, though obscured, never ceases to shine; + Above the black tempest his radiance is pouring + While faithless and faint-hearted mortals repine. + The journey of life has its lights and its shadows, + And Heaven in its wisdom to each sends a share; + Though rough be the road, yet with reason to guide us, + And courage to conquer, we'll never despair! + + Never despair! when with troubles contending, + Make labour and patience a sword and a shield, + And win brighter laurels, with courage unbending, + Than ever were gained on the blood-tainted field. + As gay as the lark in the beam of the morning, + When young hearts spring upward to do and to dare, + The bright star of promise their future adorning, + Will light them along, and they'll never despair! + + The oak in the tempest grows strong by resistance, + The arm at the anvil gains muscular power, + And firm self-reliance, that seeks no assistance, + Goes onward, rejoicing, through sunshine and shower; + For life is a struggle, to try and to prove us, + And true hearts grow stronger by labour and care, + While Hope, like a seraph, still whispers above us,-- + Look upward and onward, and never despair! + + + + +JOHN DUNLOP. + + +The author of some popular songs, and of four volumes of MS. poetry, +John Dunlop is entitled to a place in the catalogue of Caledonian +lyrists. The younger son of Colin Dunlop of Carmyle, he was born in +November 1755, in the mansion of the paternal estate, in the parish of +Old Monkland, and county of Lanark. Commencing his career as a merchant +in Glasgow, he was in 1796 elevated to the Lord Provostship of the city. +He afterwards accepted the office of Collector of Customs at +Borrowstounness, and subsequently occupied the post of Collector at +Port-Glasgow. His death took place at Port-Glasgow, in October 1820. + +Possessed of fine poetic tastes and an elegant fancy, Dunlop composed +verses on every variety of theme, with facility and power. His MS. +volumes, which have been kindly submitted to our inspection by a +descendant, and from which we have made some extracts, contain numerous +poetical compositions worthy of being presented to the public. A vein of +humour pervades the majority of his verses; in the elegiac strain he is +eminently plaintive. He is remembered as a man of excellent dispositions +and eminent social qualities: he sung with grace the songs of his +country, and delighted in humorous conversation. His elder brother was +proprietor of Garnkirk, and his son, who bore the same Christian name, +became Sheriff of Renfrewshire. The latter is entitled to remembrance as +the author of "The History of Fiction." + + + + +THE YEAR THAT'S AWA'. + + + Here's to the year that's awa'! + We will drink it in strong and in sma'; + And here's to ilk bonnie young lassie we lo'ed, + While swift flew the year that's awa'. + And here's to ilk, &c. + + Here's to the sodger who bled, + And the sailor who bravely did fa'; + Their fame is alive, though their spirits are fled + On the wings of the year that's awa'. + Their fame is alive, &c. + + Here's to the friends we can trust + When the storms of adversity blaw; + May they live in our song, and be nearest our hearts, + Nor depart like the year that's awa'. + May they live, &c. + + + + +OH, DINNA ASK ME. + +TUNE--_'Comin' through the rye.'_ + + + Oh, dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee; + Troth, I daurna tell: + Dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye; + Ask it o' yoursel'. + + Oh, dinna look sae sair at me, + For weel ye ken me true; + Oh, gin ye look sae sair at me, + I daurna look at you. + + When ye gang to yon braw, braw town, + And bonnie lassies see, + Oh, dinna, Jamie, look at them, + Lest you should mind na me. + + For I could never bide the lass + That ye'd lo'e mair than me; + And oh, I'm sure, my heart would break, + Gin ye'd prove false to me. + + + + +LOVE FLIES THE HAUNTS OF POMP AND POWER[9] + + + Love flies the haunts of pomp and power, + To find the calm retreat; + Loathing he leaves the velvet couch, + To seek the moss-grown seat. + + Splendid attire and gilded crowns + Can ne'er with love accord; + But russet robes, and rosy wreathes, + His purest joys afford. + + From pride, from business, and from care, + His greatest sorrows flow; + When these usurp the heart of man, + That heart he ne'er can know. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] This lyric and the following are printed from the author's MSS. + + + + +WAR. + +TUNE--_'Where they go, where they go.'_ + + + For twenty years and more, + Bloody war, + Bloody war; + For twenty years and more, + Bloody war. + For twenty years and more + We heard the cannons roar + To swell the tide of gore, + Bloody war! + + A tyrant on a throne + We have seen, + We have seen; + A tyrant on a throne + Who thought the earth his own, + But now is hardly known + To have been. + + Who rung the loud alarm + To be free, + To be free? + Who rung the loud alarm + To be free? + 'Twas Britain broke the charm, + And with her red right arm + She rung the loud alarm + To be free. + + The battle van she led + Of the brave, + Of the brave; + The battle van she led + Of the brave; + The battle van she led, + Till tyranny lay dead, + And glory crown'd the head + Of the brave. + + Give honour to the brave + Where they lie, + Where they lie; + Give honour to the brave + Where they lie; + Give honour to the brave, + And sacred be the grave, + On land or in the wave, + Where they lie. + + + + +WILLIAM BLAIR. + + +William Blair, author of "The Highland Maid," was, in the year 1800, +born at Dunfermline. The son of respectable parents of the industrial +class, he received an ordinary education at the burgh school. +Apprenticed to the loom, he became known as a writer of verses; and +having attracted the notice of an officer's lady, then resident in the +place, he was at her expense sent to the grammar school. Having made +some progress in classical learning, he was recommended for educational +employment in Dollar Academy; but no suitable situation being vacant at +the period of his application, he was led to despair of emanating from +the humble condition of his birth. A settled melancholy was afterwards +succeeded by symptoms of permanent imbecility. For a number of years +Blair has been an inmate of the Dunfermline poor house. + + + + +THE HIGHLAND MAID. + + + Again the laverock seeks the sky, + And warbles, dimly seen; + And summer views, wi' sunny joy, + Her gowany robe o' green. + But ah! the summer's blithe return, + In flowery pride array'd, + Nae mair can cheer this heart forlorn, + Or charm the Highland Maid. + + My true love fell by Charlie's side, + Wi' mony a clansman dear; + That fatal day--oh, wae betide + The cruel Southron's spear! + His bonnet blue is fallen now, + And bluidy is the plaid, + That aften on the mountain's brow, + Has wrapt his Highland Maid. + + My father's shieling on the hill + Is dowie now and sad; + The breezes whisper round me still, + I 've lost my Highland lad. + Upon Culloden's fatal heath, + He spake o' me, they said, + And falter'd, wi' his dying breath, + "Adieu, my Highland Maid!" + + The weary nicht for rest I seek, + The langsome day I mourn; + The smile upon my wither'd cheek + Can never mair return. + But soon beneath the sod I 'll lie, + In yonder lonely glade; + And, haply, ilka passer by + Will mourn the Highland Maid. + + + + +THE NEAPOLITAN WAR SONG.[10] + +TUNE--_"Brian the Brave."_ + + + Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield, + Soon, soon will emblazon your plain; + But, ah! may the arm of the brave be your shield, + And the song of the victory your strain. + Remember the fetters and chains that are wove, + And fated by slavery's decree, + Are not like the fetters of union and love, + That bind and encircle the free. + + Though rich be your fields, they will blight in their bloom, + With the glow of the patriot's fires; + And the sun that now gladdens, shall sink into gloom, + And grow dark when your freedom expires. + Be yours, then, the triumph to brave ones that 's meet, + And your country, with laurels in store, + Each weary and toil-worn warrior will greet + When the tumult of battle is o'er. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Here printed for the first time. + + + + +ARCHIBALD MACKAY. + + +Archibald Mackay was born at Kilmarnock in 1801. Receiving a common +school education, he was apprenticed to a handloom weaver. Abandoning +the loom, he subsequently acquired a knowledge of bookbinding, and has +continued to prosecute that trade. From his youth devoted to the Muse, +he produced in 1828 a metrical tale, entitled "Drouthy Tam," which, +passing through numerous editions, brought a local reputation to the +writer. In 1830 he published a small volume of poems, and in 1832 a +little work in prose and verse, entitled "Recreations of Leisure Hours." +In 1848 appeared from his pen a "History of Kilmarnock," in a +well-written octavo volume. A collection of his best songs was published +in 1855, under the title of "Ingleside Lilts." Mackay has contributed +extensively to the local journals, and has established a circulating +library for the benefit of his fellow-townsmen. + + + + +OUR AULD SCOTS SANGS. + +AIR--_"Traveller's Return."_ + + + Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs, + The mournfu' and the gay; + They charm'd me by a mither's knee, + In bairnhood's happy day: + And even yet, though owre my pow + The snaws of age are flung, + The bluid loups joyfu' in my veins + Whene'er I hear them sung. + + They bring the fond smile to the cheek, + Or tear-drap to the e'e; + They bring to mind auld cronies kind, + Wha sung them aft wi' glee. + We seem again to hear the voice + Of mony a lang-lost frien'; + We seem again to grip the hand + That lang in dust has been. + + And, oh, how true our auld Scots sangs + When nature they portray! + We think we hear the wee bit burn + Gaun bickering doun the brae; + We see the spot, though far awa', + Where first life's breath we drew, + And a' the gowden scenes of youth + Seem rising to the view. + + And dear I lo'e the wild war strains + Our langsyne minstrels sung-- + They rouse wi' patriotic fires + The hearts of auld and young; + And even the dowie dirge that wails + Some brave but ruin'd band, + Inspires us wi' a warmer love + For hame and fatherland. + + Yes, leese me on our auld Scots sangs-- + The sangs of love and glee, + The sangs that tell of glorious deeds + That made auld Scotland free. + What though they sprung frae simple bards, + Wha kent nae rules of art? + They ever, ever yield a charm + That lingers round the heart. + + + + +MY LADDIE LIES LOW. + + + Alas! how true the boding voice + That whisper'd aft to me, + "Thy bonnie lad will ne'er return + To Scotland or to thee!" + Oh! true it spoke, though hope the while + Shed forth its brightest beam; + For low in death my laddie lies + By Alma's bloody stream. + + I heard the village bells proclaim + That glorious deeds were done; + I heard wi' joy the gladsome shout, + "The field, the field is won!" + And I thought my lad, wi' glory crown'd, + Might come to me again; + But vain the thought! cold, cold he lies + On Alma's gory plain. + + Oh! woe to him whose thirst for power + Has roll'd the bolts of war, + And made my laddie bleed and die + Frae hame and friends afar. + Alas! his form I ne'er shall see, + Except in fancy's dream; + For low he lies, where brave he fought, + By Alma's bloody stream. + + + + +JOUK AND LET THE JAW GAE BY. + +AIR--_"Jockie's Gray Breeks."_ + + + Oh! say not life is ever drear, + For midst its scenes of toil and care + There 's aye some joy the heart to cheer-- + There 's aye some spot that 's green and fair. + To gain that spot the aim be ours, + For nocht we 'll get unless we try; + And when misfortune round us lours, + We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by. + + The wee bit flow'ret in the glen + Maun bend beneath the surly blast; + The birdie seeks some leafy den, + And shelters till the storm is past: + The "owrie sheep," when winds blaw snell, + To some lowne spot for refuge hie; + And sae, frae ills we canna quell, + We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by. + + Yet there are ills we a' should brave-- + The ills that man on man would throw; + For oh! he 's but a thowless slave, + That patient bears Oppression's woe. + But if 'tis but the taunts of pride, + Of envy's tongue that would annoy, + 'Tis nobler far to turn aside, + And jouk and let the jaw gae by. + + In worldly gear we may be bare, + We may hae mony a dreary hour; + But never, never nurse despair, + For ilka ane maun taste the sour: + Even kings themsels, wi' a' their power, + Wi' a' their pomp and honours high, + 'Neath adverse blasts are forced to cower, + And jouk to let the jaw gae by. + + But mark this truth--the ills that blight + Are aft the fruits that folly brings; + Then shun the wrong, pursue the right-- + Frae this the truest pleasure springs; + And fret not though dark clouds should spread + At times across life's troubled sky; + Sweet sunshine will the gloom succeed-- + Sae jouk and let the jaw gae by. + + + + +VICTORIOUS BE AGAIN, BOYS. + + + Hurrah! hurrah! we 've glory won, + And brighter blazes freedom's sun; + But daring deeds must yet be done + To curb Oppression's reign, boys. + Like wintry clouds in masses roll'd, + Our foes are thick'ning on the wold; + Then up! then up! be firm--be bold-- + Victorious be again, boys. + + The hearts--the blessings of the brave-- + Of those who scorn the name of slave, + Are with you on the ocean's wave, + And on the battle-plain, boys: + Then rouse ye, rouse ye, every one, + And gird your brightest armour on; + Complete the work so well begun-- + Victorious be again, boys! + + Though red with gore your path may be, + It leads to glorious liberty; + Remember, God is with the free, + The brave He will sustain, boys: + The tyrant fears the coming fight, + He fears the power of Truth and Right; + Then up! then up! in all your might-- + Victorious be again, boys. + + + + +WILLIAM AIR FOSTER. + + +The author of some spirited effusions in Scottish verse, William Air +Foster, was born at Coldstream on the 16th June 1801. He has followed +the occupation of a bootmaker, first in his native town, and latterly in +Glasgow. Devoted to the Border sports, in which he was formerly an +active performer, he has celebrated them in animated verse. To "Whistle +Binkie" he has contributed a number of sporting and angling songs, and +he has composed some volumes of poetry which are still in manuscript. + + + + +FAREWEEL TO SCOTIA. + + + Fareweel to ilk hill whar the red heather grows, + To ilk bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows, + To the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din, + To the graves o' my sires, and the hearths o' my kin. + + Fareweel to ilk strath an' the lav'rock's sweet sang-- + For trifles grow dear whan we 've kenn'd them sae lang; + Round the wanderer's heart a bright halo they shed, + A dream o' the past, when a' other's hae fled. + + The young hearts may kythe, though they 're forced far away, + But its dool to the spirit when haffets are gray; + The saplin transplanted may flourish a tree, + Whar the hardy auld aik wad but wither and dee. + + They tell me I gang whar the tropic suns shine + Owre landscapes as lovely and fragrant as thine; + For the objects sae dear that the heart had entwined + Turn eerisome hame-thoughts, and sicken the mind. + + No, my spirit shall stray whar the red heather grows! + In the bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows, + 'Neath the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din, + 'Mang the graves o' my sires, round the hearths o' my kin. + + + + +THE FALCON'S FLIGHT. + +AIR--_"There 's nae luck about the house."_ + + + I sing of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove, + With the spaniel at my side and the falcon on my glove; + For the noble bird which graced my hand I feel my spirit swell, + Array'd in all her hunting-gear--hood, jessy, leash, and bell. + + I have watch'd her through the moult, till her castings all were pure, + And have steep'd and clean'd each gorge ere 'twas fix'd upon the lure; + While now to field or forest glade I can my falcon bring + Without a pile of feather wrong, on body, breast, or wing. + + When drawn the leash, and slipt the hood, her eye beams black and bright, + And from my hand the gallant bird is cast upon her flight; + Away she darts, on pinions free, above the mountains far, + Until in less'ning size she seems no bigger than a star. + + Away, away, in farthest flight I feel no fear or dread, + When a whistle or a whoop brings her tow'ring o'er my head; + While poised on moveless wing, from her voice a murmur swells, + To speak her presence near, above the chiming from her bells. + + 'Tis Rover's bark--halloo! see the broad-wing'd heron rise, + And soaring round my falcon queen, above her quarry flies, + With outstretch'd neck the wary game shoots for the covert nigh; + But o'er him for a settled stoop my hawk is tow'ring high. + + My falcon 's tow'ring o'er him with an eye of fire and pride, + Her pinions strong, with one short pull, are gather'd to her side, + When like a stone from off the sling, or bolt from out the bow, + In meteor flight, with sudden dart, she stoops upon her foe. + + The vanquish'd and the vanquisher sink rolling round and round, + With wounded wing the quarried game falls heavy on the ground. + Away, away, my falcon fair has spread her buoyant wings, + While on the ear her silver voice as clear as metal rings. + + Though high her soar, and far her flight, my whoop has struck her ear, + And reclaiming for the lure, o'er my head she sallies near. + No other sport like falconry can make the bosom glow, + When flying at the stately game, or raking at the crow. + + Who mews a hawk must nurse her as a mother would her child, + And soothe the wayward spirit of a thing so fierce and wild; + Must woo her like a bride, while with love his bosom swells + For the noble bird that bears the hood, the jessy, leash, and bells. + + + + +THE SALMON RUN. + +AIR--_"The brave old Oak."_ + + + Oh! away to the Tweed, + To the beautiful Tweed, + My much-loved native stream; + Where the fish from his hold, + 'Neath some cataract bold, + Starts up like a quivering gleam. + + From his iron-bound keep, + Far down in the deep, + He holds on his sovereign sway; + Or darts like a lance, + Or the meteor's glance, + Afar on his bright-wing'd prey. + + As he roves through the tide, + Then his clear glitt'ring side + Is burnish'd with silver and gold; + And the sweep of his flight + Seems a rainbow of light, + As again he sinks down in his hold. + + With a soft western breeze, + That just thrills through the trees, + And ripples the beautiful bay; + Throw the fly for a lure-- + That 's a rise! strike him sure-- + A clean fish--with a burst he 's away. + + Hark! the ravel line sweel, + From the fast-whirring reel, + With a music that gladdens the ear; + And the thrill of delight, + In that glorious fight, + To the heart of the angler is dear. + + Hold him tight--for the leap; + Where the waters are deep, + Give out line in the far steady run; + Reel up quick, if he tire, + Though the wheel be on fire, + For in earnest to work he 's begun. + + Aroused up at length, + How he rolls in his strength, + And springs with a quivering bound; + Then away with a dash, + Like the lightning's flash, + Far o'er the smooth pebbly ground. + + Though he strain on the thread, + Down the stream with his head, + That burst from the run makes him cool; + Then spring out for the land, + On the rod change the hand, + And draw down for the deepening pool. + + Mark the gleam of his side, + As he shoots through the tide! + Are the dyes of the dolphin more fair? + Fatigue now begins, + For his quivering fins + On the shallows are spread in despair. + + + + +CHARLES MARSHALL. + + +The Rev. Charles Marshall, author of "Homely Words and Songs for Working +Men and Women," is a native of Paisley. In early life he was engaged in +mercantile concerns. At the University of Glasgow he studied for two +sessions, and in 1826 completed a philosophical curriculum at the +University of Edinburgh. In the following year he was chosen governor of +John Watson's Institution, Edinburgh, where he remained for thirteen +years. During that time the directors of the institution expressed their +approbation of his services by large pecuniary donations, and by +increasing his official emoluments. In addition to these expressions of +liberality, they afforded him permission to attend the Divinity Hall. In +1840, on the completion of his theological studies, he was licensed as a +probationer of the Established Church. In 1841 he accepted a call to the +North Extension Church, Dunfermline. At the Disruption in 1843, he +adhered to the Free Church. He continues to labour as minister of the +Free North Church, Dunfermline. + +To the moral and religious reformation of the industrial classes, as +well as the improvement of their physical condition, Mr Marshall has +long been earnestly devoted. In 1853 he published a small volume of +prose and poetry, addressed to industrial females, with the title, "Lays +and Lectures to Scotia's Daughters of Industry." This work rapidly +passed through various editions. In 1856 he appeared as the author of a +similar publication, entitled "Homely Words and Songs for Working Men +and Women," to which his former work has been added as a second part. +For terse and homely counsels, and vigorous and manly sentiments, +adapted to the peculiar feelings and condition of the Scottish +peasantry, these _brochures_ are without a parallel. Mr Marshall +proposes to add to the series two other parts, addressed to "Husbands +and Fathers," and to "Young Men." + + + + +THE BLESSING ON THE WARK. + + + I like to spring in the morning bricht, + Before the mill bell rings; + When waukening blithe in gowden licht, + My joyfu' spirit sings. + + I like to hear, when the pearly tear + Gems morning's floweret cup, + The trumpet summons of chanticleer + Pipe "drowsy mortals up." + + I tread as lightly as silent puss, + While a' the household sleep; + And gird me to clean and redd the house + Before the bairnies cheep. + + I like to dress and mak me clean + As ony winsome bride; + And think na shame, though my face be seen, + At morn or eventide. + + I like to handle, before I rin, + The word o' truth and love; + And seek, or the daily wark begin, + Gude counsel from above. + + Then skipping wi' lichtsome heart, I hie + To earn my bit o' bread; + The wark spins on, and the time rins by, + Wi' pleasant, blessed speed. + + + + +JEWEL OF A LAD. + +AIR--_"Fye, gae rub her owre wi' strae."_ + + + As sunshine to the flowers in May, + As wild flowers to the hinny bee, + As fragrant scent o' new mown hay, + So my true love is sweet to me. + + As costly jewels to the bride, + As beauty to the bridegroom's e'e-- + To sailors, as fair wind and tide, + So my true love is dear to me. + + As rain-draps to the thirsty earth, + As waters to the willow-tree, + As mother's joy at baby's birth, + So my true love is dear to me. + + Though owning neither wealth nor lan', + He 's ane o' Heaven's pedigree; + His love to God, his love to man, + His goodness makes him dear to me. + + The lass that weds a warly fool + May laugh, and sing, and dance a wee; + But earthly love soon waxes cool, + And foolish fancies turn ajee. + + My laddie's heart is fu' o' grace, + His loving e'e blinks bonnily, + A heavenly licht illumes his face; + Nae wonder though he 's dear to me. + + + + +TWILIGHT JOYS. + + + Musing, we sat in our garden bower, + In the balmy month of June, + Enjoying the pensive gloamin' hour + When our daily task was done. + + We spake of the friends of our early days, + Some living, some dead and gane, + And fancy skimm'd o'er the flow'ry braes + Of our morning life again. + + A bless'd, a lightsome hour was that, + And joyful were we to see + The sunny face of ilk bonnie brat, + So full of frolicsome glee. + + They ran, they row'd, they warsl'd, they fell, + Whiles whirl'd in a fairy ring-- + Our hearts ran o'er like a gushing well, + And we bless'd each happy thing. + + In our wee dwelling the lamp of love, + Trimm'd daily by faith and prayer, + Flings light on earth, on heaven above, + Sheds glory everywhere. + + This golden lamp shines clear and bright, + When the world looks dark and doure, + It brightens our morning, noon, and night, + And gladdens our gloamin' hour. + + + + +WILLIAM WILSON. + + +William Wilson was born on the 25th December 1801, in the village of +Crieff, Perthshire. His parents being of the industrial class and in +indigent circumstances, he was early devoted to a life of manual labour. +While employed in a factory at Dundee, some of his poetical compositions +were brought under the notice of Mrs Grant, of Laggan, who interested +herself in his behalf, and enabled him to begin business as a coal +merchant. He married early in life, and continued after marriage to +write as ardent poetry about his wife as he had done before marriage. On +her death, he married a lady of respectable connexions in the county of +Roxburgh. In December 1833, he emigrated to America, and has since been +in business as a publisher at Poughkeepsie, in the state of New York. He +has repeatedly delivered lectures to scientific institutions, and is +well known to the higher class of literary men in America. Many of his +earlier poems were contributed to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_; and +he has published several of his own and other songs, with music of his +own composition. + + + + +O BLESSING ON HER STARLIKE E'EN. + + + O blessing on her starlike e'en, + Wi' their glance o' love divine; + And blessing on the red, red lip, + Was press'd yestreen to mine! + + Her braided locks that waved sae light, + As she danced through the lofty ha', + Were like the cluds on the brow o' night, + Or the wing o' the hoodie craw. + + O mony a jimp an' gentle dame, + In jewell'd pomp was there; + But she was first among them a', + In peerless beauty rare! + + Her bosom is a holy shrine, + Unstain'd by mortal sin, + An' spotless as the snaw-white foam, + On the breast o' the siller linn. + + Her voice--hae ye heard the goudspink's note, + By bowery glen or brake? + Or listen'd ye e'er to the mermaid's lay, + By sea or mountain lake? + + Hae ye dreamt ye heard, i' the bowers o' heaven, + The angel's melodie? + Or fancied ye listen'd the sang o' the spheres + As they swung on their path on hie? + + Far sweeter to me was her lay o' love, + At the gloamin' hour yestreen; + An', oh! were I king o' the warld wide, + I would mak' that maiden my queen. + + + + +OH! BLESSING ON THEE, LAND. + + + Oh! blessing on thee, land + Of love and minstrel song; + For Freedom found a dwelling-place + Thy mountain cliffs among! + And still she loves to roam + Among thy heath-clad hills; + And blend her wild-wood harp's sweet strain + With the voice of mountain rills. + + Her song is on the gale, + Her step upon the wold; + And morning diamonds brightly gem + Her braided locks of gold. + Far up the pine-wood glen, + Her sylph-like form is seen, + By hunter in the hazy dawn, + Or wandering bard at e'en. + + My own dear native home, + The birthplace of the brave, + O never may thy soil be trod + By tyrant or by slave! + Then, blessing on thee, land + Of love and minstrel song; + For Freedom found a dwelling-place, + Thy mountain cliffs among! + + + + +THE FAITHLESS. + + + We part,--yet wherefore should I weep, + From faithless thing like thee to sever? + Or let one tear mine eyelids steep, + While thus I cast thee off for ever? + I loved thee--need I say how well? + Few, few have ever loved so dearly; + As many a sleepless hour can tell, + And many a vow breath'd too sincerely. + + But late, beneath its jetty lash, + I loved to mark thy blue eyes' splendour, + Which wont, all witchingly, to flash + On me its light so soft and tender; + Now, from that glance I turn away, + As if its thrilling gaze could wound me; + Though not, as once, in love's young day, + When thoughtless passion's fetters bound me. + + The dimpling smile, with sweetness fraught, + The bosom, 'mid its snow, upheaving; + Who, that had seen them, could have thought + That things so fair could be deceiving? + The moon, the sky, the wave, the wind, + In all their fitful moods of changing, + Are nought to wavering woman's mind, + For ever shifting, ever ranging! + + Farewell! I'd rather launch my bark + Upon the angry ocean billow, + 'Mid wintry winds, and tempests dark, + Than make thy faithless breast my pillow. + Thy broken vow now cannot bind, + Thy streaming tears no more can move me, + And thus I turn from thee, to find + A heart that may more truly love me. + + + + +MY SOUL IS EVER WITH THEE. + + + My soul is ever with thee, + My thoughts are ever with thee, + As the flower to the sun, as the lamb to the lea, + So turns my fond spirit to thee. + + 'Mid the cares of the lingering day, + When troubles around me be, + Fond Fancy for aye will be flitting away-- + Away, my beloved, to thee. + + When the night-pall darkly spread + O'er shadows, tower, and tree, + Then the visions of my restless bed + Are all, my beloved, of thee. + + When I greet the morning beams, + When the midnight star I see, + Alone--in crowded halls--my dreams-- + My dreams are for ever of thee. + + As spring to the leafless spray, + As calm to the surging sea, + To the weary, rest--to the watcher, day-- + So art thou, loved Mary, to me. + + + + +AULD JOHNNY GRAHAM. + + + Dear Aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham? + The carle sae pawkie an' slee! + He wants a bit wifie to tend his bein hame, + An' the body has ettled at me. + + Wi' bonnet sae vaunty, an owerlay sae clean, + An' ribbon that waved 'boon his bree, + He cam' doun the cleugh at the gloamin' yestreen, + An' rappit, an' soon speert for me. + + I bade him come ben whare my minny sae thrang + Was birlin' her wheel eidentlie, + An', foul fa' the carle, he was na' that lang, + Ere he tauld out his errand to me. + + "Hech, Tibby, lass! a' yon braid acres o' land, + Wi' ripe craps that wave bonnilie, + An' meikle mair gear shall be at yer command, + Gin' ye will look kindly on me. + + "Yon herd o' fat owsen that rout i' the glen, + Sax naigies that nibble the lea; + The kye i' the sheugh, and the sheep i' the pen, + I'se gie a', dear Tibby, to thee. + + "An', lassie, I've goupins o' gowd in a stockin', + An' pearlin's wad dazzle yer e'e; + A mettl'd, but canny young yaud, for the yokin', + When ye wad gae jauntin' wi' me. + + "I 'll hap ye, and fend ye, and busk ye, and tend ye, + And mak' ye the licht o' my e'e; + I 'll comfort and cheer ye, and daut ye and dear ye, + As couthy as couthy can be. + + "I 've lo'ed ye, dear lassie, since first, a bit bairn, + Ye ran up the knowe to meet me; + An' deckit my bonnet wi' blue bells an' fern, + Wi' meikle glad laughin' an' glee. + + "An' noo woman grown, an' mensefu', an' fair, + An' gracefu' as gracefu' can be-- + Will ye tak' an' auld carle wha ne'er had a care + For woman, dear Tibby, but thee?" + + Sae, Aunty, ye see I 'm a' in a swither, + What answer the bodie to gie-- + But aften I wish he wad tak' my auld mither, + And let puir young Tibby abee. + + + + +JEAN LINN. + + + Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo! + Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie! + The days that hae been, may be yet again seen, + Sae look na sae lightly on me, ma doo! + Sae look na' sae lightly on me! + + Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray, Jean Linn! + Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray! + Yer gutcher an mine wad thocht themsels fine, + In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May, bonnie May-- + In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May. + + Ye mind when we won in Whinglen, Jean Linn-- + Ye mind when we won in Whinglen, + Your daddy, douce carle, was cotter to mine, + An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then, Jean Linn, + An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then. + + Oh, then ye were a' thing to me, Jean Linn, + Oh, then ye were a' thing to me! + An' the moments scour'd by, like birds through the sky, + When tentin' the owsen wi' thee, Jean Linn, + When tentin' the owsen wi' thee. + + I twined ye a bower by the burn, Jean Linn, + I twined ye a bower by the burn, + But dreamt na that hour, as we sat in that bower, + That fortune wad tak' sic a turn, Jean Linn. + That fortune wad tak' sic a turn. + + Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw, Jean Linn! + Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw! + Yer daddy's a laird, mine 's i' the kirkyard, + An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law, Jean Linn, + An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law. + + + + +BONNIE MARY. + + + When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, + I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down; + I 'll row my apron up, an' I 'll leave the reeky town, + And meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down. + + By the burnie there 's a bower, we will gently lean us there, + An' forget in ither's arms every earthly care, + For the chiefest o' my joys, in this weary mortal roun', + Is the burnside wi' Mary when the sun gaes down. + When the sun gaes down, &c. + + There the ruin'd castle tower on the distant steep appears, + Like a hoary auld warrior faded with years; + An' the burnie stealing by wi' a fairy silver soun', + Will soothe us wi' its music when the sun gaes down. + When the sun gaes down, &c. + + The burnside is sweet when the dew is on the flower, + But 'tis like a little heaven at the trystin' hour; + And with pity I would look on the king who wears the crown, + When wi' thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down. + When the sun gaes down, &c. + + When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, + I 'll meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down; + Come in thy petticoatie, and thy little drugget gown, + And I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down. + + + + +MRS MARY MACARTHUR. + + +Mrs Mary Waugh, the widow of Mr James Macarthur, merchant, Glasgow, +published in 1842 a duodecimo volume of verses, with the title, "The +Necropolis, and other Poems." One of the compositions in that +publication, entitled "The Missionary," is inserted in the present work, +as being worthy of a place among the productions of the national Muse. +In early life Mrs Macarthur lived in the south of Scotland; she has for +many years been resident in Glasgow. + + + + +THE MISSIONARY. + + + He left his native land, and, far away + Across the waters sought a world unknown, + Though well he knew that he in vain might stray + In search of one so lovely as his own. + + He left his home, around whose humble hearth + His parents, kindred, all he valued, smil'd-- + Friends who had known and loved him from his birth, + And who still loved him as a fav'rite child. + + He left the scenes by youthful hopes endear'd, + The woods, the streams, that sooth'd his infant ear; + The plants, the trees that he himself had rear'd, + And every charm to love and fancy dear. + + All these he left, with sad but willing heart, + Though unallur'd by honours, wealth, or fame; + In them not even his wishes claim'd a part, + And the world knew not of his very name. + + Canst thou not guess what taught his steps to stray? + 'Twas love, but not such love as worldlings own, + That often smiles its sweetest to betray, + And stabs the breast that offered it a throne! + + 'Twas love to God, and love to all mankind! + His Master bade the obedient servant go, + And try if he in distant realms could find + Some who His name and saving grace would know. + + 'Twas this that nerved him when he saw the tears + His aged mother at their parting shed; + 'Twas this that taught her how to calm her fears, + And beg a heavenly blessing on his head. + + 'Twas this that made his father calmly bear + A godly sorrow, deep, but undismay'd, + And bade him humbly ask of God in prayer, + His virtuous son to counsel, guide, and aid. + + And when he rose to bless, and wish him well, + And bent a head with age and sorrow gray-- + E'en when he breath'd a fond and last farewell, + Half sad, half joyful, dashed his tears away. + + "And go," he said, "though I with mortal eyes + Shall ne'er behold thy filial reverence more; + But when from earth to heaven our spirits rise, + The Hand that gave him shall my child restore. + + "I bid thee go, though human tears will steal + From eyes that see the course thou hast to run; + And God forgive me if I wrongly feel, + Like Abraham call'd to sacrifice his son!" + + And he is gone, with ardent steps he prest + Across the hills to where the vessel lay, + And soon I ween upon the ocean's breast + They saw the white sails bearing him away. + + And did he go unfriended, poor, alone? + Did none of those who, in a favour'd land + The shelter of the gospel tree had known, + Desire to see its peaceful shade expand? + + 'Tis not for me to answer questions here-- + Let ev'ry heart its own responses give, + And those to whom their fellow-men are dear, + Bestow the bread by which their souls may live! + + + + +JOHN RAMSAY. + + +The author of "Woodnotes of a Wanderer," John Ramsay, was born at +Kilmarnock in 1802. With a limited school education, he was early +apprenticed in a carpet manufactory in his native place. He afterwards +traded for some years as a retail grocer. During his connexion with the +carpet factory, he composed some spirited verses, which were inserted in +the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_; and having subsequently suffered +misfortune in business, he resolved to repair his losses by publishing a +collected edition of his poetical writings, and personally pushing the +sale. For the long period of fifteen years, he travelled over the +country, vending his volume of "Woodnotes." This creditable enterprise +has been rewarded by his appointment to the agency of a benevolent +society in Edinburgh. + + + + +FAREWELL TO CRAUFURDLAND. + + + Thou dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way, + By foliage oft hid from the bright eye of day, + I 've view'd thee with pleasure, but now must with pain, + Farewell! for I never may see you again. + + Ye woods, whence fond fancy a spirit would bring, + That trimm'd the bright pinions of thought's hallow'd wing, + Your beauties will gladden some happier swain; + Farewell! for I never may see you again. + + I 've roam'd you, unknown to care's life-sapping sigh, + When prospects seem'd fair and my young hopes were high; + These prospects were false, and those hopes have proved vain; + Farewell! for I never may see you again. + + Soon distance shall bid my reft heart undergo + Those pangs that alone the poor exile can know-- + Away! like a craven why should I complain? + Farewell! for I never may see you again. + + + + +JAMES PARKER. + + +James Parker, author of a duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled "Poems of +Past Years," was born in Glasgow, and originally followed the trade of a +master baker. He now holds a respectable appointment in the navy. He has +contributed verses to the periodicals. + + + + +THE MARINER'S SONG. + + + Oh merrily and gallantly + We sweep across the seas, + Like the wild ocean birds which ply + Their pinions on the breeze; + We quail not at the tempest's voice + When the billow dashes o'er us, + Firm as a rock, we bear the shock, + And join its dreadful chorus. + + Across the foaming surge we glide + With bosoms true and brave, + It is our home--our throne of pride-- + It soon may be our grave; + Yet fearlessly we rush to meet + The foe that comes before us; + The fight begun, we man the gun, + And join its thundering chorus. + + Our lives may be as fierce and free + As the waves o'er which we roam, + But let not landsmen think that we + Forget our native home; + And when the winds shall waft us back + To the shores from which they bore us, + Amid the throng of mirth and song, + We'll join the jovial chorus. + + + + +HER LIP IS O' THE ROSE'S HUE. + + + Her lip is o' the rose's hue, + Like links o' goud her hair, + Her e'e is o' the azure blue, + An' love beams ever there; + Her step is like the mountain goat's + That climbs the stately Ben, + Her voice sweet as the mavis' notes + That haunt her native glen. + + There is a sweet wee hazel bower + Where woodbine blossoms twine, + There Jeanie, ae auspicious hour, + Consented to be mine; + An' there we meet whene'er we hae + An idle hour to spen', + An' Jeanie ne'er has rued the day + She met me in the glen. + + Oh bricht, bricht are the evenin' beams, + An' sweet the pearly dew, + An' lovely is the star that gleams + In gloamin's dusky brow; + But brichter, sweeter, lovelier far, + Aboon a' human ken, + Is my sweet pearl--my lovely star-- + My Jeanie o' the glen. + + + + +JOHN HUNTER. + + +The following compositions are, with permission, transcribed from a +small volume of juvenile poems, with the title "Miscellanies, by N. R.," +which was printed many years ago, for private circulation only, by Mr +John Hunter, now auditor of the Court of Session. + + + + +THE BOWER O' CLYDE. + + + On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame, + Ane dame of wondrous courtesie, + An' bonny was the kindly flame + That stremit frae her saft blue e'e. + + Her saft blue e'e, 'mid the hinney dew, + That meltit to its tender licht, + Was bonnier far than the purest starre + That sails thro' the dark blue hevin at nicht. + + If ony culd luke and safely see + Her dimplit cheek, and her bonny red mou, + Nor seek to sip the dew frae her lip, + A lifeless lump was he, I trow. + + But it wuld haif saften'd the dullest wicht, + If ae moment that wicht might see + Her bonny breast o' the purest snaw, + That heavit wi' luve sae tenderlie. + + An' dear, dear was this bonny dame, + Dear, dear was she to me, + An' my heart was tane, an' my sense was gane, + At ae blink o' her bonny blue e'e. + + An' sair an' saft I pleadit my luve, + Tho' still she hardly wuld seem to hear, + An' wuld cauldly blame the words o' flame + That I breathit so warmly in her ear. + + Yet aye as she turn'd her frae my look, + Thair was kindness beamit in her e'e, + An' aye as she drew back her lily han', + I faund that it tremblit tenderlie. + + But the time sune cam, the waesome time, + When I maun awa frae my dear, + An' oh! that thocht, how aften it brocht + The deep-heavit sigh an' the cauld bitter tear! + + Then socht I my luve, her cauld heart to muve, + Wi' my tears, an' my sighs, an' my prayers, + An' I gaed by her side doun the banks o' the Clyde, + An' the hours stal awa unawares. + + 'Twas a still summer nicht, at the fa'ing o' licht, + At the gloamin's saft an' schadowie hour, + An' we wander'd alane till the daylicht was gane, + An' we cam' to a sweet simmer bour. + + The mune was up i' the clear blue skye, + The mune an' her single wee starre, + The winds gaed gently whisperin' bye, + Thair was stillness near an' farre. + + Alane we sat i' the green summer bour, + I tauld her a' that was kind and dear, + An' she did na blame the words o' flame + That I breathit sae warmly in her ear. + + She listenit to the luve-sang warm, + Her breast it throbbit and heavit high; + She culd hear nae mair, but her gentill arm + She lean't upon mine, wi' a tender sigh. + + Then warmly I prest wi' my burning lips, + Ae kiss on her bonny red mow, + An' aften I prest her form to my breast, + An' fondly an' warmly I vowit to be true. + + An' oh! that hour, that hallowit hour, + My fond heart will never forget; + Though drear is the dule I haif suffer'd sin syne, + That hour gars my heart beat warmly yet. + + The parting time cam, an' the parting time past, + An' it past nae without the saut tear, + An' awa' to anither an' farre awa' land + I gaed, an' I left my ain dear. + + I gaed, an' though ither and brichter maids + Wuld smile wi' fond luve i' their e'e, + I but thocht o' the sweet green hour by the Clyde, + An' that thocht was enough for me. + + + + +MARY. + + + Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek + Is on my breast reclining, + And while these arms around thy form + Are fondly thus entwining; + It seems as if no earthly power + Our beating hearts could sever, + And that in ecstasy of bliss + We thus could hang for ever! + + Yet ah! too well, too well we know, + The fiat fate hath spoken-- + The spell that bound our souls in one, + The world's cold breath hath broken. + The hours--the days--whose heavenly light + Hath beam'd in beauty o'er us, + When Love his sunshine shed around, + And strew'd his flowers before us, + + Must now be but as golden dreams, + Whose loveliness hath perish'd; + Wild dreams of hope, in human hearts + Too heavenly to be cherish'd. + Yet, oh! where'er our lot is cast, + The love that once hath bound us-- + The thought that looks to days long past, + Will breathe a halo round us. + + + + +IN DISTANT YEARS. + + + In distant years! when other arms + Around thy form are prest, + Oh! heave one fond regretful sigh + For him thy love once blest! + Oh! drop one tear from that dark eye, + That was his guiding light, + And cast the same deep tender glance, + That thrills his soul to-night. + + And oh! believe, though dark his fate, + And devious his career, + The music of that gentle voice + Will tremble in his ear; + And breathing o'er his troubled soul, + Storm-tost and tempest riven, + Will still fierce passion's wild control, + And win him back to Heaven. + + + + +ROBERT CHAMBERS. + + +Robert Chambers, well known for his connexion with the publishing house +of W. & R. Chambers, Edinburgh, and as the author of several meritorious +works of a national character, was born in 1802 at Peebles, where his +parents occupied a respectable position. Robert was the second of a +family of six children, his elder brother William being about two years +his senior. In consequence of misfortunes in business, James Chambers, +the father of these youths, found it desirable to remove to Edinburgh +with his family in 1813. While still in childhood Robert manifested a +remarkable aptitude for learning, as well as a taste for music and +poetry--a taste inherited from his father, who was a good performer on +several instruments, and possessed a taste for both literature and +science. Before completing his twelfth year, he had passed through a +complete classical course at the grammar school of his native burgh, had +perused no small portion of the books within his reach including those +of a circulating library, and mastered much of the general information +contained in a copy of the "Encyclopædia Britannica," of which his +father possessed a copy of the then latest edition. Left very much to +their own resources, William became an apprentice to a bookseller in +1814; and Robert, at the age of sixteen, threw himself on the world, as +a dealer in old books, a step in accordance with his natural tastes, and +which proved fortunate. How the two lads struggled on obscurely, but +always improving their circumstances; how they were cheered onward by +the counsels of their widowed mother; how they finally went into +partnership for the purpose of prosecuting literary undertakings--need +not here be detailed. Robert, in 1822-3, began to write the "Traditions +of Edinburgh," which first brought him prominently into notice. This +amusing work was followed by the "Popular Rhymes of Scotland." Next came +his "Picture of Scotland," an interesting topographical work in two +volumes; "Histories of the Scottish Rebellions;" three volumes of +"Scottish Ballads and Songs;" and "Biography of Distinguished Scotsmen," +in four volumes. Besides various popular works, he produced, for private +circulation, a volume of poetical pieces, distinguished for their fine +taste and feeling. William having started _Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_ +in February 1832, Robert became an efficient coadjutor, and mainly +helped to give the work its extensive popularity. In the more early +volumes, in particular, there appear many admirable essays, humorous and +pathetic, from his pen. Besides these professional avocations, Mr Robert +Chambers takes part in the proceedings of the scientific and other +learned bodies in Edinburgh. Among his latest detached works is a +volume, of a geological character, on the "Ancient Sea Margins of +Scotland;" also, "Tracings of Iceland," the result of a visit to that +interesting island in the summer of 1855. Living respected in Edinburgh, +in the bosom of his family, and essentially a self-made man, Mr Robert +Chambers is peculiarly distinguished for his kindly disposition and +unobtrusive manners--for his enlightened love of country, and diligence +in professional labours, uniting, in a singularly happy manner, the man +of refined literary taste with the man of business and the useful +citizen. + + + + +YOUNG RANDAL. + +TUNE--_'There grows a bonnie brier bush.'_ + + + Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa', + Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa', + 'Twas in the sixteen hundred year o' grace and thritty-twa, + That Randal, the laird's youngest son, gaed awa'. + + It was to seek his fortune in the High Germanie, + To fecht the foreign loons in the High Germanie, + That he left his father's tower o' sweet Willanslee, + And monie mae friends in the North Countrie. + + He left his mother in her bower, his father in the ha', + His brother at the outer yett, but and his sisters twa', + And his bonnie cousin Jean, that look'd owre the castle wa', + And, mair than a' the lave, loot the tears down fa'. + + "Oh, whan will ye be back," sae kindly did she speir, + "Oh, whan will ye be back, my hinny and my dear?" + "Whenever I can win eneuch o' Spanish gear, + To dress ye out in pearlins and silks, my dear." + + Oh, Randal's hair was coal-black when he gaed awa'-- + Oh, Randal's cheeks were roses red when he gaed awa', + And in his bonnie e'e, a spark glintit high, + Like the merrie, merrie look in the morning sky. + + Oh, Randal was an altert man whan he came hame-- + A sair altert man was he when he came hame; + Wi' a ribbon at his breast, and a Sir at his name-- + And gray, gray cheeks did Randal come hame. + + He lichtit at the outer yett, and rispit with the ring, + And down came a ladye to see him come in, + And after the ladye came bairns feifteen: + "Can this muckle wife be my true love Jean?" + + "Whatna stoure carl is this," quo' the dame, + "Sae gruff and sae grand, and sae feckless and sae lame?" + "Oh, tell me, fair madam, are ye bonnie Jeanie Graham?" + "In troth," quo' the ladye, "sweet sir, the very same." + + He turned him about wi' a waefu' e'e, + And a heart as sair as sair could be; + He lap on his horse, and awa' did wildly flee, + And never mair came back to sweet Willanslee. + + Oh, dule on the poortith o' this countrie, + And dule on the wars o' the High Germanie, + And dule on the love that forgetfu' can be, + For they 've wreck'd the bravest heart in this hale countrie. + + + + +THE LADYE THAT I LOVE. + + + Were I a doughty cavalier + On fire for high-born dame, + With sword and lance I would not fear + To win a warrior's fame. + But since no more stern deeds of blood + The gentle fair may move, + I 'll woo in softer better mood + The ladye that I love. + + For helmet bright with steel and gold, + And plumes that flout the sky, + I 'll wear a soul of hardier mould, + And thoughts that sweep as high. + For scarf athwart my corslet cast, + With her fair name y-wove; + I 'll have her pictured in my breast, + The ladye that I love. + + No crested steed through battle throng + Shall bear me bravely on, + But pride shall make my spirit strong, + Where honours may be won. + Amidst the great of mind and heart, + My prowess I will prove, + And thus I 'll win, by gentler art, + The ladye that I love. + + + + +THOU GENTLE AND KIND ONE. + + + Thou gentle and kind one, + Who com'st o'er my dreams, + Like the gales of the west, + Or the music of streams; + Oh, softest and dearest, + Can that time e'er be, + When I could be forgetful + Or scornful of thee? + + No! my soul might be dark, + Like a landscape in shade, + And for thee not the half + Of its love be display'd, + But one ray of thy kindness + Would banish my pain, + And soon kiss every feature + To brightness again. + + And if, in contending + With men and the world, + My eye might be fierce, + Or my brow might be curl'd; + That brow on thy bosom + All smooth'd would recline, + And that eye melt in kindness + When turn'd upon thine. + + If faithful in sorrow, + More faithful in joy-- + Thou shouldst find that no change + Could affection destroy; + All profit, all pleasure, + As nothing would be, + And each triumph despised + Unpartaken by thee. + + + + +LAMENT FOR THE OLD HIGHLAND WARRIORS. + + + Oh, where are the pretty men of yore? + Oh, where are the brave men gone? + Oh, where are the heroes of the north? + Each under his own gray stone. + Oh, where now the broad bright claymore? + Oh, where are the trews and plaid? + Oh, where now the merry Highland heart? + In silence for ever laid. + Och on a rie, och on a rie, + Och on a rie, all are gone; + Och on a rie, the heroes of yore, + Each under his own gray stone. + + The chiefs that were foremost of old, + Macdonald and brave Lochiel, + The Gordon, the Murray, and the Graham, + With their clansmen true as steel; + Who follow'd and fought with Montrose, + Glencairn, and bold Dundee; + Who to Charlie gave their swords and their all, + And would aye rather fa' than flee. + Och on a rie, &c. + + The hills that our brave fathers trod + Are now to the stranger a store; + The voice of the pipe and the bard + Shall awaken never more. + Such things it is sad to think on-- + They come like the mist by day-- + And I wish I had less in this world to leave, + And be with them that are away. + Och on a rie, &c. + + + + +THOMAS AIRD. + + +Thomas Aird, one of the most distinguished of the living Scottish poets, +was born in the parish of Bowden, Roxburghshire, in 1802. He received +the rudiments of his education at Bowden and Melrose parish schools; and +went through a course of literary and philosophical study at the +University of Edinburgh. In 1827 he published a little treatise, +entitled "Religious Characteristics." After a residence of some years in +Edinburgh, in the course of which he contributed occasionally to +_Blackwood's Magazine_, and other periodicals, he was, in 1835, on the +recommendation of his steadfast friend Professor Wilson, appointed +editor of the _Dumfries Herald_, a conservative journal newly started in +Dumfries. The paper has prospered under his management, and he is editor +still. In 1845 he published "The Old Bachelor in the Old Scottish +Village," a collection of tales and sketches of Scottish scenery, +character, and life. In 1848 he collected and published his poems. In +1852 he wrote a memoir of his friend, David Macbeth Moir (the well-known +"Delta" of _Blackwood's Magazine_), and prefixed it to an edition of +Moir's poems, which he edited for behoof of the poet's family, under the +generous instructions of the Messrs Blackwood. In 1856 a new edition of +Mr Aird's poems appeared, with many fresh pieces, and the old carefully +revised; Messrs Blackwood being the publishers. + + + + +THE SWALLOW. + + + The little comer 's coming, the comer o'er the sea, + The comer of the summer, all the sunny days to be; + How pleasant, through the pleasant sleep, thy early twitter heard-- + Oh, swallow by the lattice! glad days be thy reward! + + Thine be sweet morning, with the bee that 's out for honey-dew, + And glowing be the noontide, for the grasshopper and you; + And mellow shine, o'er days' decline, the sun to light thee home-- + What can molest thy airy nest? Sleep till the morrow come. + + The river blue, that lapses through the valley, hears thee sing, + And murmurs much beneath the touch of thy light-dipping wing; + The thunder-cloud, over us bow'd, in deeper gloom is seen, + When quick relieved it glances to thy bosom's silvery sheen. + + The silent power that brings thee back, with leading-strings of love, + To haunts where first the summer sun fell on thee from above, + Shall bind thee more to come aye to the music of our leaves, + For here thy young, where thou hast sprung, shall glad thee in our eaves. + + + + +GENIUS. + + + Eye of the brain and heart, + O Genius, inner sight, + Wonders from thee familiar start, + In thy decisive light. + Wide and deep the eye must go, + The process of our world to know. + Old mountains grated to the sea, + Sow the young seed of isles to be. + States dissolve, that Nature's plan + May bear the broadening type of man. + Passes ne'er the Past away; + Child of the ages springs to-day. + Life, death, and life! but circling change, + Still working to a higher range! + Make thee all science, Genius, clear + Our world; all Muses, grace and cheer. + And may the ideal thou hast shewn, + With joy peculiar be thine own; + For thee the starry belts of time, + The inner laws, the heavenly chime; + Thine storm and rack--the forests crack, + The sea gives up her secrets hoary; + And Beauty thine, on loom divine, + Weaving the rainbow's woof of glory. + + Power of the civic heart, + More than a power to know, + Genius, incarnated in Art, + By thee the nations grow. + Lawgiver thine, and priest, and sage, + Lit up the Oriental age. + Persuasive groves, and musical, + Of love the illumined mountains all. + Eagles and rods, and axes clear, + Forum and amphitheatre; + These in thy plastic forming hand, + Forth leapt to life the classic Land. + Old and new, the worlds of light, + Who bridged the gulf of Middle Night? + See the purple passage rise, + Many arch'd of centuries; + Genius built it long and vast, + And o'er it social knowledge pass'd. + Far in the glad transmitted flame, + Shinar, knit to Britain, came; + Their state by thee our fathers free, + O Genius, founded deep and wide, + Majestic towers the fabric ours, + And awes the world from side to side. + + Mart of the ties of blood, + Mart of the souls of men! + O Christ! to see thy Brotherhood + Bought to be sold again, + Front of hell, to trade therein. + Genius face the giant sin; + Shafts of thought, truth-headed clear, + Temper'd all in Pity's tear, + Every point and every tip, + In the blood of Jesus dip; + Pierce till the monster reel and cry, + Pierce him till he fall and die. + Yet cease not, rest not, onward quell, + Power divine and terrible! + See where yon bastion'd Midnight stands, + On half the sunken central lands; + Shoot! let thy arrow heads of flame + Sing as they pierce the blot of shame, + Till all the dark economies + Become the light of blessed skies. + For this, above in wondering love, + To Genius shall it first be given, + To trace the lines of past designs, + All confluent to the finish'd Heaven. + + + + +ROBERT WHITE. + + +Robert White, an indefatigable antiquary, and pleasing writer of lyric +poetry, is a native of Roxburghshire. His youth and early manhood were +spent at Otterburn, in Redesdale, where his father rented a farm. +Possessed of an ardent love of reading, he early became familiar with +the English poets, and himself tried metrical composition. While still a +young man, he ranked among the poetical contributors to the _Newcastle +Magazine_. In 1825 he accepted a situation as clerk to a respectable +tradesman in Newcastle, which he retained upwards of twenty years. +Latterly he has occupied a post of respectable emolument, and with +sufficient leisure for the improvement of his literary tastes. + +Besides contributing both in prose and verse to the local journals, and +some of the periodicals, Mr White is the author of several publications. +In 1829 appeared from his pen "The Tynemouth Nun," an elegantly +versified tale; in 1853, "The Wind," a poem; and in 1856, "England," a +poem. He has contributed songs to "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of +Scottish Song." At present he has in the press a "History of the Battle +of Otterburn," prepared from original sources of information. + + + + +MY NATIVE LAND. + + + Fair Scotland! dear as life to me + Are thy majestic hills; + And sweet as purest melody + The music of thy rills. + The wildest cairn, the darkest dell, + Within thy rocky strand, + Possess o'er me a living spell-- + Thou art my native land. + + Loved country, when I muse upon + Thy dauntless men of old, + Whose swords in battle foremost shone-- + Thy Wallace brave and bold; + And Bruce who, for our liberty, + Did England's sway withstand; + I glory I was born in thee, + Mine own ennobled land! + + Nor less thy martyrs I revere, + Who spent their latest breath + To seal the cause they held so dear, + And conquer'd even in death. + Their graves evince, o'er hill and plain, + No bigot's stern command + Shall mould the faith thy sons maintain, + My dear devoted land. + + And thou hast ties around my heart, + Attraction deeper still-- + The gifted poet's sacred art, + The minstrel's matchless skill. + Yea; every scene that Burns and Scott + Have touch'd with magic hand + Is in my sight a hallow'd spot, + Mine own distinguish'd land! + + Oh! when I wander'd far from thee, + I saw thee in my dreams; + I mark'd thy forests waving free, + I heard thy rushing streams. + Thy mighty dead in life came forth, + I knew the honour'd band; + We spoke of thee--thy fame--thy worth-- + My high exalted land! + + Now if the lonely home be mine + In which my fathers dwelt, + And I can worship at the shrine + Where they in fervour knelt; + No glare of wealth, or honour high, + Shall lure me from thy strand; + Oh, I would yield my parting sigh + In thee, my native land! + + + + +A SHEPHERD'S LIFE. + + + Eliza fair, the mirth of May + Resounds from glen and tree; + Yet thy mild voice, I need not say, + Is dearer far to me. + And while I thus a garland cull, + To grace that brow of thine, + My cup of pure delight is full-- + A shepherd's life be mine! + + Believe me, maid, the means of wealth, + Howe'er profuse they be, + Produce not pleasure that in health + Is shared by you and me! + 'Tis when elate with thoughts of joy + We find a heart like thine, + That objects grateful glad the eye-- + A shepherd's life be mine! + + O mark, Eliza, how the flowers + Around us sweetly spring; + And list how in these woodland bowers + The birds with rapture sing; + Behold that vale whose streamlet clear + Flows on in waving line; + Can Paradise more bright appear? + A shepherd's life be mine! + + Now, dearest, not the morning bright, + That dawns o'er hill and lea, + Nor eve, with all its golden light, + Can charm me without thee. + To feel the magic of thy smile-- + To catch that glance of thine-- + To talk to thee of love the while, + A shepherd's life be mine! + + + + +HER I LOVE BEST. + + + Thou morn full of beauty + That chases the night, + And wakens all Nature + With gladness and light, + When warbles the linnet + Aloof from its nest, + O scatter thy fragrance + Round her I love best! + + Ye hills, dark and lofty, + That near her ascend, + If she in her pastime + Across thee shall wend, + Let every lone pathway + In wild flowers be drest, + To welcome the footsteps + Of her I love best! + + Thou sun, proudly sailing + O'er depths of the sky, + Dispensing beneath thee + Profusion and joy, + Until in thy splendour + Thou sink'st to the west, + Oh, gaze not too boldly + On her I love best! + + Ye wild roving breezes, + I charge you, forbear + To wantonly tangle + The braids of her hair; + Breathe not o'er her rudely, + Nor sigh on her breast, + Nor kiss you the sweet lip + Of her I love best! + + Thou evening, that gently + Steals after the day, + To robe with thy shadow + The landscape in gray, + O fan with soft pinion + My dearest to rest! + And calm be the slumber + Of her I love best! + + Ye angels of goodness, + That shield us from ill, + The purest of pleasures + Awarding us still, + As near her you hover, + Oh, hear my request! + Pour blessings unnumber'd + On her I love best! + + + + +THE KNIGHT'S RETURN. + + + Fair Ellen, here again I stand-- + All dangers now are o'er; + No sigh to reach my native land + Shall rend my bosom more. + Ah! oft, beyond the heaving main, + I mourn'd at Fate's decree; + I wish'd but to be back again + To Scotland and to thee. + + O Ellen, how I prized thy love + In foreign lands afar! + Upon my helm I bore thy glove + Through thickest ranks of war: + And as a pledge, in battle-field, + Recall'd thy charms to me; + I breath'd a prayer behind my shield + For Scotland and for thee. + + I scarce can tell how eagerly + My eyes were hither cast, + When, faintly rising o'er the sea, + These hills appear'd at last. + My very breast, as on the shore + I bounded light and free, + Declared by throbs the love I bore + To Scotland and to thee. + + Oh, long, long has the doom been mine + In other climes to roam; + Yet have I seen no form like thine, + No sweeter spot than home; + Nor ask'd I e'er another heart + To feel alone for me: + O Ellen, never more I'll part + From Scotland and from thee! + + + + +THE BONNIE REDESDALE LASSIE. + + + The breath o' spring is gratefu', + As mild it sweeps alang, + Awakening bud an' blossom + The broomy braes amang, + And wafting notes o' gladness + Frae ilka bower and tree; + Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie + Is sweeter still to me. + + How bright is summer's beauty! + When, smilin' far an' near, + The wildest spots o' nature + Their gayest livery wear; + And yellow cups an' daisies + Are spread on ilka lea; + But the bonnie Redesdale lassie + Mair charming is to me. + + Oh! sweet is mellow autumn! + When, wide oure a' the plain, + Slow waves in rustlin' motion + The heavy-headed grain; + Or in the sunshine glancin', + And rowin' like the sea; + Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie + Is dearer far to me! + + As heaven itsel', her bosom + Is free o' fraud or guile; + What hope o' future pleasure + Is centred in her smile! + I wadna lose for kingdoms + The love-glance o' her e'e; + Oh! the bonnie Redesdale lassie + Is life and a' to me! + + + + +THE MOUNTAINEER'S DEATH. + + + I pray for you, of your courtesy, before we further move, + Let me look back and see the place that I so dearly love. + I am not old in years, yet still, where'er I chanced to roam, + The strongest impulse of my heart was ever link'd with home: + There saw I first the light of heaven--there, by a mother's knee, + In time of infancy and youth, her love supported me: + All that I prize on earth is now my aching sight before, + And glen and brae, and moorland gray, I'll witness never more. + + Beneath yon trees, that o'er the cot their deep'ning shadows fling, + My father first reveal'd to me the exile of our king; + Upon yon seat beside the door he gave to me his sword, + With charge to draw it only for our just and rightful lord. + And I remember when I went, unfriended and alone, + Amidst a world I never loved--ay! yonder is the stone + At which my mother, bending low, for me did heaven implore-- + Stone, seat and tree are dear to me--I'll see them never more! + + Yon hawthorn bower beside the burn I never shall forget; + Ah! there my dear departed maid and I in rapture met: + What tender aspirations we breathed for other's weal! + How glow'd our hearts with sympathy which none but lovers feel! + And when above our hapless Prince the milk-white flag was flung, + While hamlet, mountain, rock, and glen with martial music rung, + We parted there; from her embrace myself I wildly tore; + Our hopes were vain--I came again, but found her never more. + + Oh! thank you for your gentleness--now stay one minute still; + There is a lone and quiet spot on yonder rising hill; + I mark it, and the sight revives emotions strong and deep-- + There, lowly laid, my parents in the dust together sleep. + And must I in a land afar from home and kindred lie? + Forbid it, heaven! and hear my prayer--'tis better now to die! + My limbs grow faint--I fain would rest--my eyes are darkening o'er; + Slow flags my breath; now, this is death--adieu, for evermore! + + + + +WILLIAM CAMERON. + + +William Cameron was born on the 3d December 1801, in the parish of +Dunipace, and county of Stirling. His father was employed successively +in woollen factories at Dumfries, Dalmellington, and Dunipace. He +subsequently became proprietor of woollen manufactories at Slamannan, +Stirlingshire, and at Blackburn and Torphichen, in the county of +Linlithgow. While receiving an education with a view to the ministry, +the death of his father in 1819 was attended with an alteration in his +prospects, and he was induced to accept the appointment of schoolmaster +at the village of Armadale, parish of Bathgate. In 1836 he resigned this +situation, and removed to Glasgow, where he has since prosperously +engaged in mercantile concerns. Of the various lyrics which have +proceeded from his pen, "Jessie o' the Dell" is an especial favourite. +The greater number of his songs, arranged with music, appear in the +"Lyric Gems of Scotland," a respectable collection of minstrelsy +published in Glasgow. + + + + +SWEET JESSIE O' THE DELL. + + + O bright the beaming queen o' night + Shines in yon flow'ry vale, + And softly sheds her silver light + O'er mountain, path, and dale. + Short is the way, when light 's the heart + That 's bound in love's soft spell; + Sae I 'll awa' to Armadale, + To Jessie o' the Dell, + To Jessie o' the Dell, + Sweet Jessie o' the Dell; + The bonnie lass o' Armadale, + Sweet Jessie o' the Dell. + + We 've pu'd the primrose on the braes + Beside my Jessie's cot, + We 've gather'd nuts, we 've gather'd slaes, + In that sweet rural spot. + The wee short hours danced merrily, + Like lambkins on the fell; + As if they join'd in joy wi' me + And Jessie o' the Dell. + + There's nane to me wi' her can vie, + I 'll love her till I dee; + For she's sae sweet and bonnie aye, + And kind as kind can be. + This night in mutual kind embrace, + Oh, wha our joys may tell; + Then I 'll awa' to Armadale, + To Jessie o' the Dell. + + + + +MEET ME ON THE GOWAN LEA. + + + Meet me on the gowan lea, + Bonnie Mary, sweetest Mary; + Meet me on the gowan lea, + My ain, my artless Mary. + + Before the sun sink in the west, + And nature a' hae gane to rest, + There to my fond, my faithful breast, + Oh, let me clasp my Mary. + Meet me on the gowan lea, + Bonnie Mary, sweetest Mary; + Meet me on the gowan lea, + My ain, my artless Mary. + + The gladsome lark o'er moor and fell, + The lintie in the bosky dell, + Nae blyther than your bonnie sel', + My ain, my artless Mary. + Meet me, &c. + + We 'll join our love notes to the breeze + That sighs in whispers through the trees, + And a' that twa fond hearts can please + Will be our sang, dear Mary. + Meet me, &c. + + There ye shall sing the sun to rest, + While to my faithfu' bosom prest; + Then wha sae happy, wha sae blest, + As me and my dear Mary. + Meet me, &c. + + + + +MORAG'S FAIRY GLEN. + + + Ye ken whar yon wee burnie, love, + Rins roarin' to the sea, + And tumbles o'er it's rocky bed, + Like spirit wild and free. + The mellow mavis tunes his lay, + The blackbird swells his note, + And little robin sweetly sings + Above the woody grot. + There meet me, love, by a' unseen, + Beside yon mossy den, + Oh, meet me, love, at dewy eve, + In Morag's fairy glen; + Oh, meet me, love, at dewy eve, + In Morag's fairy glen. + + Come when the sun, in robes of gold, + Sinks o'er yon hills to rest, + An' fragrance floating in the breeze + Comes frae the dewy west. + And I will pu' a garland gay, + To deck thy brow sae fair; + For many a woodbine cover'd glade + An' sweet wild flower is there. + + There 's music in the wild cascade, + There 's love amang the trees, + There 's beauty in ilk bank and brae, + An' balm upon the breeze; + There 's a' of nature and of art, + That maistly weel could be; + An' oh, my love, when thou art there, + There 's bliss in store for me. + + + + +OH! DINNA CROSS THE BURN, WILLIE. + + + Oh! dinna cross the burn, Willie, + Dinna cross the burn, + For big 's the spate, and loud it roars; + Oh, dinna cross the burn. + Your folks a' ken you 're here the nicht, + And sair they wad you blame; + Sae bide wi' me till mornin' licht-- + Indeed, you 're no gaun hame. + The thunder-storm howls in the glen, + The burn is rising fast; + Bide only twa-three hours, and then + The storm 'll a' be past. + Oh, dinna cross, &c. + + Then bide, dear Willie, here the nicht, + Oh, bide till mornin' here; + My faither, he 'll see a' things richt, + And ye 'll hae nocht to fear. + See, dark 's the lift, no moon is there, + The rains in torrents pour; + And see the lightning's dreadful glare, + Hear how the thunders roar! + Oh, dinna cross, &c. + + Away he rode, no kind words could + His mad resolve o'erturn; + He plunged into the foaming flood, + But never cross'd the burn! + And now though ten long years have pass'd + Since that wild storm blew by-- + Oh! still the maniac hears the blast, + And still her crazy cry, + Oh, dinna cross, &c. + + + + +ALEXANDER TAIT. + + +Alexander Tait is a native of Peebles. Abandoning in 1829 the occupation +of a cotton-weaver, he has since been engaged in the work of tuition. He +has taught successively in the parishes of Lasswade, Tweedsmuir, Meggat, +Pennycuick, Yarrow, and Peebles. To the public journals, both in prose +and verse, he has been an extensive contributor. + + + + +E'ENING'S DEWY HOUR. + +AIR--_'Roslin Castle.'_ + + + When rosy day, far in the west, has vanish'd frae the scene, + And gloamin' spreads her mantle gray owre lake and mountain green; + When yet the darklin' shades o' mirk but haflens seem to lower, + How dear to love and beauty is the e'ening's dewy hour! + + When down the burnie's wimpling course, amid the hazel shade, + The robin chants his vesper sang, the cushat seeks the glade; + When bats their drowsy vigils wheel round eldrich tree and tower, + Be 't mine to meet the lass I lo'e at e'ening's dewy hour! + + When owre the flower-bespangled sward the flocks have ceased to stray, + And maukin steals across the lawn beneath the twilight gray; + Then, oh! how dear, frae men apart, in glen or woodland bower, + To meet the lass we dearly lo'e at e'ening's dewy hour! + + The ruddy morn has charms enow, when, from the glowin' sky, + The sun on rival beauties smiles wi' gladness in his eye; + But, oh! the softer shaded scene has magic in its power, + Which cheers the youthful lover's heart at e'ening's dewy hour! + + + + +CHARLES FLEMING. + + +A handloom weaver in Paisley, of which place he is a native, Charles +Fleming has, from early youth, devoted his leisure hours to the pursuits +of elegant literature. He has long been a contributor to the public +journals. + + + + +WATTY M'NEIL. + + + When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades, + Whar silken hose shine, and glitter cockades, + In the low-thatched cot mair pleasure I feel + To discourse wi' the aul'-farint Watty M'Neil. + + The gentles may hoot, and slip by his door; + His mien it is simple, his haudin' is poor: + Aft fashion encircles a heart no sae leal-- + Far, far will ye ride for a Watty M'Neil. + + His welcome is touching, yet nought o' the faun-- + A warmth is express'd in the shake o' his han'; + His cog and his bed, or ought in his biel, + The lonely will share frae kind Watty M'Neil. + + He kens a' 'bout Scotland, its friends and its foes, + How Leslie did triumph o'er gallant Montrose; + And the Covenant's banner ower Philiphaugh's fiel' + Waved glorious--'twas noble, says Watty M'Neil. + + Then gang and see Watty ere laid in the mools, + He 's a help to the wise folk, a lesson to fools; + Contentment and innocence mingle sae weel + Mid the braw lyart haffits o' Watty M'Neil. + + + + +WILLIAM FERGUSON. + + +The author of several esteemed and popular songs, William Ferguson, +follows the avocation of a master plumber in Nicolson Street, Edinburgh. +Born within the shadow of the Pentlands, near the scene of Ramsay's +"Gentle Shepherd," he has written verses from his youth. He has +contributed copiously to "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of Scottish +Song." + + + + +I 'LL TEND THY BOWER, MY BONNIE MAY. + + + I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, + In spring time o' the year; + When saft'ning winds begin to woo + The primrose to appear; + When daffodils begin to dance, + And streams again flow free; + And little birds are heard to pipe, + On the sprouting forest tree. + + I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, + When summer days are lang, + When nature's heart is big wi' joy, + Her voice laden wi' sang; + When shepherds pipe on sunny braes, + And flocks roam at their will, + And auld and young, in cot an' ha', + O' pleasure drink their fill. + + I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, + When autumn's yellow fields, + That wave like seas o' gowd, before + The glancin' sickle yields; + When ilka bough is bent wi' fruit-- + A glorious sight to see!-- + And showers o' leaves, red, rustling, sweep + Out owre the withering lea. + + I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, + When, through the naked trees, + Cauld, shivering on the bare hill-side, + Sweeps wild the frosty breeze; + When tempests roar, and billows rise, + Till nature quakes wi' fear, + And on the land, and on the sea, + Wild winter rules the year. + + + + +WOOING SONG. + + + The spring comes back to woo the earth, + Wi' a' a lover's speed; + The wee birds woo their lovin' mates, + Around our very head! + But I 've nae skill in lover-craft-- + For till I met wi' you, + I never sought a maiden's love, + I never tried to woo. + + I 've gazed on many a comely face, + And thought it sweet an' fair; + But wi' the face the charm would flee, + And never move me mair. + But miles away, your bonnie face + Is ever in my view, + Wi' a' its charms, half wilin' me, + Half daurin' me to woo. + + At hame, a-field, you 're a' my theme; + I doat my time away; + I dream o'er a' your charms by night, + And worship them by day. + But when they glad my langin' e'en, + As they are gladden'd now, + My courage flees like frighted bird; + I daurna mint to woo. + + My head thus lying on your lap, + Your hand aneath my cheek; + Love stounds my bosom through and through, + But yet I canna speak. + My coward heart wi' happiness, + Wi' bliss is brimin' fu'; + But, oh! its fu'ness mars my tongue, + I haena power to woo. + + I prize your smile, as husbandman + The summer's opening bloom, + And could you frown, I dread it mair, + Than he the autumn's gloom. + My life hangs on that sweet, sweet lip, + On that calm, sunny brow; + And, oh! my dead hangs on them baith, + Unless you let me woo. + + Oh! lift me to your bosom, then, + Lay your warm cheek to mine; + And let me round that lovesome waist + My arms enraptured twine; + That I may breathe my very soul, + In ae lang lovin' vow; + And a' the while in whispers low, + You 'll learn me, love, to woo! + + + + +I 'M WANDERING WIDE. + + + I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, + But yet my heart 's at hame, + Fu' cozie by my ain fire-cheek, + Beside my winsome dame. + The weary winds howl lang an' loud; + But 'mid their howling drear, + Words sweeter far than honey blabs + Fa' saftly on my ear. + + I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, + I 'm wand'ring wide an' far; + But love, to guide me back again, + Lights up a kindly star. + The lift glooms black aboon my head, + Nae friendly blink I see; + But let it gloom--twa bonnie e'en + Glance bright to gladden me. + + I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, + I 'm wand'ring wide and late, + And ridgy wreaths afore me rise, + As if to bar my gate; + Around me swirls the sleety drift, + The frost bites dour an' keen; + But breathings warm, frae lovin' lips, + Come ilka gust atween. + + I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, + I 'm wand'ring wide an' wild, + Alang a steep and eerie track, + Where hills on hills are piled; + The torrent roars in wrath below, + The tempest roars aboon; + But fancy broods on brighter scenes, + And soughs a cheerin' tune. + + I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, + I 'm wand'ring wide my lane, + And mony a langsome, lanesome mile, + I 'll measure e'er it 's gane; + But lanesome roads or langsome miles, + Can never daunton me, + When I think on the welcome warm + That waits me, love, frae thee. + + + + +THOMAS DICK. + + +A native of Paisley, Thomas Dick was originally engaged as a weaver in +that town. He afterwards became a bookseller, and has since been +employed in teaching and other avocations. He is the author of a number +of songs which appear in "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of Scottish +Song;" and also of several tales which have been published separately, +and in various periodicals. + + + + +HOW EARLY I WOO'D THEE. + +AIR--_'Neil Gow's Lament for his Brother.'_ + + + How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee; + How sweet was thy voice, how enchanting thy smile; + The joy 'twas to see thee, the bliss to be wi' thee, + I mind, but to feel now their power to beguile. + I gazed on thy beauty, and a' things about thee, + Seem'd too fair for earth, as I bent at thy shrine; + But fortune and fashion, mair powerfu' than passion, + Could alter the bosom that seem'd sae divine! + + Anither may praise thee, may fondle and fraize thee; + And win thee wi' words, when his heart's far awa'; + But, oh, when sincerest, when warmest, and dearest, + His vows--will my truth be forgot by thee a'? + 'Midst pleasure and splendour thy fancy may wander, + But moments o' solitude ilk ane maun dree; + Then feeling will find thee, and mem'ry remind thee, + O' him wha through life gaes heart-broken for thee. + + + + +HUGH MILLER. + + +The celebrated geologist, and editor of the _Witness_ newspaper, Hugh +Miller, was born at Cromarty on the 10th October 1802. In his fifth year +he had the misfortune to lose his father, who, being the captain of a +small trading vessel, perished in a storm at sea. His widowed mother was +aided by two industrious unmarried brothers in providing for her family, +consisting of two daughters, and the subject of this Memoir. With a +rudimentary training in a private school, taught by a female, he became +a pupil in the grammar school. Perceiving his strong aptitude for +learning, and vigorous native talent, his maternal uncles strongly urged +him to study for one of the liberal professions; but, diffident of +success in more ambitious walks, he resolved to follow the steps of his +progenitors in a life of manual labour. In his sixteenth year he +apprenticed himself to a stone-mason. The profession thus chosen proved +the pathway to his future eminence; for it was while engaged as an +operative stone-hewer in the old red sandstone quarries of Cromarty, +that he achieved those discoveries in that formation which fixed a new +epoch in geological science. Poetical composition in evening hours +relieved the toils of labour, and varied the routine of geological +inquiry. In the prosecution of an ornamental branch of his +profession--that of cutting and lettering grave-stones--he in 1828 +proceeded to Inverness. Obtaining the friendship of Mr Robert +Carruthers, the ingenious editor of the _Inverness Courier_, the columns +of that journal were adorned by his poetical contributions. In 1829 +these were issued from the _Courier_ office, in a duodecimo volume, with +the title, "Poems Written in the Leisure Hours of a Journeyman Mason." +By the press the work was received with general favour; and the author, +in evidence that his powers as a prose-writer were not inferior to his +efforts as a poet, soon re-appeared in the columns of the _Courier_, as +the contributor of various letters on the Northern Fisheries. These +letters proved so attractive that their republication in the form of a +pamphlet was forthwith demanded. + +The merits of the Cromarty stone-mason began to attract some general +attention. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, who had an occasional residence in +Morayshire, afforded him patronage; and the venerable Principal Baird of +Edinburgh, to whom he was introduced, recommended him to quit the +mallet, and seek literary employment in the capital. Such gratifying +encouragement and friendly counsel, though not immediately acted upon, +were not without advantage in stimulating his enterprise. Before +relinquishing, however, a craft at which he could at least earn a +sufficiency for his immediate wants, he resolved to test his +capabilities as a writer by a further literary attempt. + +Cromarty and its vicinity abounded in legends of curious interest, +respecting the times of religious persecutions, and of the rebellions in +the cause of the Stuarts, and these Miller had carefully stored up from +the recitations of the aged. The pen of Scott had imparted a deep +interest to the traditions of other localities; and it seemed not +unlikely that the legends of Cromarty, well told, would attract some +share of attention. Success attended this further adventure, +proportioned to its unquestionable merit--the "Scenes and Legends of the +North of Scotland," which emanated from the publishing house of the +Messrs Black of Edinburgh, confirmed and widely extended the reputation +of the author. + +From handling the workman's tools, a sudden transition to the constant +use of the pen of the _litterateur_ is, under the most favourable +circumstances, not to be desired. It was the lot of Hugh Miller to +engage in an intermediate employment, and to acquire, in a manner +peculiarly appropriate, that knowledge of business, and acquaintance +with the transactions of life, which are so necessary to those who, +through the medium of the press, seek to direct public opinion. Shortly +after the publication of his "Scenes and Legends," a branch of the +Commercial Bank was opened at Cromarty, and the accountantship was +offered to him by the agent. Entering on the duties, after a short +preliminary training in the Bank's offices at Edinburgh and Linlithgow, +he subsequently added to his domestic comfort by uniting himself in +marriage with Miss Lydia Fraser, a young lady of literary tastes, to +whom he had for some time borne an attachment. His official emoluments +amounted to nearly a hundred pounds a-year; these were considerably +augmented by his contributing legendary tales for _The Tales of the +Border_, and writing occasional articles to _Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal_. The _veto_ controversy was now extensively agitating the +Established Church, and, having long supported the popular view, he at +length resolved to come forward more conspicuously as the advocate of +what he strongly regarded as the rights of the people. He embodied his +sentiments in the shape of a letter to Lord Brougham, and, having +transmitted his MS. to Mr Robert Paul, the manager of the Commercial +Bank, it was by that gentleman submitted to Dr Candlish. Perceiving the +consummate ability of the writer, that able divine not only urged the +publication of his letter, but recommended his immediate nomination as +the editor of the _Witness_ newspaper, which had just been projected by +some of the Edinburgh clergy. The offer of the editorship was +accordingly made, and, being accepted, the first number of the newspaper +was, early in 1840, issued under his superintendence. + +As a controversial writer, and the able exponent of his peculiar views +of ecclesiastical polity, Hugh Miller at once attained a first rank +among contemporary editors. Many persons who were unconcerned about the +Scottish Church question, or by whom his sentiments on that subject were +disapproved, could not withhold an expressed admiration of the singular +power with which his views were supported, and of the classic style in +which they were conveyed. For some years prior to undertaking the +editorship, he had devoted much of his spare time to the preparation of +a geological work; and he now, in the columns of his newspaper, in a +series of chapters, presented to the public that valuable contribution +to geological science, since so well known as his work on "The Old Red +Sandstone." To the scientific world, by opening up the fossil treasures +of a formation hitherto understood to be peculiarly destitute of organic +remains, this publication claimed an especial interest, which was +enhanced by the elegance of the diction. His subsequent publications +fully sustained his fame. A work on the physical and social aspects of +the sister kingdom, entitled "First Impressions of England and its +People," was followed by "The Footprints of the Creator," the latter +being a powerful reply to the work entitled "Vestiges of the Natural +History of Creation." In 1854 he published a most interesting narrative +of his early struggles and experiences, with the title, "My Schools and +Schoolmasters." "The Testimony of the Rocks," a work on which he +bestowed intense labour, and which may be regarded as his masterpiece, +was published in March 1857, about three months subsequent to his +demise; but all the sheets had undergone his final revision. + +For some years his health had been declining; in early manhood he +suffered severely from a pulmonary affection, known as the "mason's +disease," and he never thoroughly recovered. A singular apprehension of +personal danger, inconsistent with the general manliness of his +character, induced him for many years never to go abroad without +fire-arms. He studied with pertinacious constancy, seldom enjoying the +salutary relaxations of society. He complained latterly that his sleep +was distracted by unpleasant dreams, while he was otherwise a prey to +painful delusions. The eye of affection discovered that the system had +been overtaxed; but eminent medical counsel deemed that cessation from +literary toil would produce an effectual cure. The case was much more +serious; a noble intellect was on the very brink of ruin. On the night +of the 24th December 1856, he retired to rest sooner than was his usual, +as the physician had prescribed. With redoubled vehemence he had +experienced the distractions of disordered reason; he rose in a frenzy +from his bed, and, having written a short affectionate letter to his +wife, pointed his revolver pistol to his breast. He fired in the region +of the heart, and his death must have been instantaneous. The melancholy +event took place in his residence of Shrub Mount, Portobello, and his +remains now rest in the Grange Cemetery, Edinburgh. As a geologist it is +not our province to pronounce his eulogy; he was one of the most elegant +and powerful prose-writers of the century, and he has some claims, as +the following specimens attest, to a place among the national poets. + + + + +SISTER JEANIE, HASTE, WE 'LL GO.[11] + + + Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go + To where the white-starr'd gowans grow, + Wi' the puddock-flower, o' gowden hue, + The snawdrap white, and the bonnie vi'let blue. + + Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go + To where the blossom'd lilacs grow, + To where the pine-tree, dark an' high, + Is pointing its tap at the cloudless sky. + + Jeanie, mony a merry lay + Is sung in the young-leaved woods to-day; + Flits on light wing the dragon-flee, + And hums on the flowerie the big red bee. + + Down the burnie wirks its way + Aneath the bending birken spray, + An' wimples roun' the green moss-stane, + An' mourns, I kenna why, wi' a ceaseless mane. + + Jeanie, come! thy days o' play + Wi' autumn tide shall pass away; + Sune shall these scenes, in darkness cast, + Be ravaged wild by the wild winter blast. + + Though to thee a spring shall rise, + An' scenes as fair salute thine eyes; + An' though, through many a cloudless day, + My winsome Jean shall be heartsome and gay; + + He wha grasps thy little hand + Nae langer at thy side shall stand, + Nor o'er the flower-besprinkled brae + Lead thee the lounnest an' the bonniest way. + + Dost thou see yon yard sae green, + Speckled wi' mony a mossy stane? + A few short weeks o' pain shall fly, + An' asleep in that bed shall thy puir brother lie. + + Then thy mither's tears awhile + May chide thy joy an' damp thy smile; + But soon ilk grief shall wear awa', + And I 'll be forgotten by ane an' by a'. + + Dinna think the thought is sad; + Life vex'd me aft, but this maks glad; + When cauld my heart and closed my e'e, + Bonnie shall the dreams o' my slumbers be. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] These verses were composed when the author was suffering from a +severe pulmonary complaint which he feared would bring him to an early +grave. They were addressed to his sister, a girl of five years, who at +this period was his companion in his walks. + + + + +OH, SOFTLY SIGHS THE WESTLIN' BREEZE. + + + Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze + Through floweries pearl'd wi' dew; + An' brightly lemes the gowden sky, + That skirts the mountain blue. + An' sweet the birken trees amang, + Swells many a blithesome lay; + An' loud the bratlin burnie's voice + Comes soundin' up the brae. + + But, ah! nae mair the sweets o' spring + Can glad my wearied e'e; + Nae mair the summer's op'ning bloom + Gies ought o' joy to me. + Dark, dark to me the pearly flowers, + An' sad the mavis sang, + An' little heart hae I to roam + These leafy groves amang. + + She 's gane! she 's gane! the loveliest maid! + An' wae o'erpress'd I pine; + The grass waves o'er my Myra's grave! + Ah! ance I ca'd her mine. + What ither choice does fate afford, + Than just to mourn and dee, + Sin' gane the star that cheer'd my sky, + The beam that bless'd my e'e? + + At gloamin' hour alang the burn, + Alane she lo'ed to stray, + To pu' the rose o' crimson bloom, + An' haw-flower purple gray. + Their siller leaves the willows waved + As pass'd that maiden by; + An' sweeter burst the burdies' sang + Frae poplar straight an' high. + + Fu' aften have I watch'd at e'en + These birken trees amang, + To bless the bonnie face that turn'd + To where the mavis sang; + An' aft I 've cross'd that grassy path, + To catch my Myra's e'e; + Oh, soon this winding dell became + A blissful haunt to me. + + Nae mair a wasting form within, + A wretched heart I bore; + Nae mair unkent, unloved, and lone, + The warl' I wander'd o'er. + Not then like now my life was wae, + Not then this heart repined, + Nor aught of coming ill I thought, + Nor sigh'd to look behind. + + Cheer'd by gay hope's enliv'ning ray, + An' warm'd wi' minstrel fire, + Th' expected meed that maiden's smile, + I strung my rustic lyre. + That lyre a pitying Muse had given + To me, for, wrought wi' toil, + She bade, wi' its simple tones, + The weary hours beguile. + + Lang had it been my secret pride, + Though nane its strains might hear; + For ne'er till then trembled its chords + To woo a list'ning ear. + The forest echoes to its voice + Fu' sad, had aft complain'd, + Whan, mingling wi' its wayward strain, + Murmur'd the midnight wind. + + Harsh were its tones, yet Myra praised + The wild and artless strain; + In pride I strung my lyre anew, + An' waked its chords again. + The sound was sad, the sparkling tear + Arose in Myra's e'e, + An' mair I lo'ed that artless drap, + Than a' the warl' could gie. + + To wean the heart frae warldly grief, + Frae warldly moil an' care, + Could maiden smile a lovelier smile, + Or drap a tend'rer tear? + But now she 's gane,--dark, dark an' drear, + Her lang, lang sleep maun be; + But, ah! mair drear the years o' life + That still remain to me! + + Whan o'er the raging ocean wave + The gloom o' night is spread, + If lemes the twinkling beacon-light, + The sailor's heart is glad; + In hope he steers, but, 'mid the storm, + If sinks the waning ray, + Dees a' that hope, an' fails his saul, + O'erpress'd wi' loads o' wae. + + + + +ALEXANDER MACANSH. + + +The author of "The Social Curse, and other Poems," Alexander Macansh, +was born at Dunfermline in 1803. At the age of eleven apprenticed to a +flaxdresser, he followed this occupation during a period of thirty-eight +years, of which the greater portion was spent in Harribrae factory, in +his native town. During the intervals of his occupation, which demanded +his attention about fourteen hours daily, he contrived to become +familiar with British and continental authors, and with the more +esteemed Latin classics. He likewise formed an intimate acquaintance +with mathematical science. Of decided poetical tastes, he contributed +verses to _Tait's Magazine_, the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_, and the +_Scotsman_ newspaper. In 1850, he published, by subscription, his volume +of poems, entitled "The Social Curse, and other Poems," which has +secured him a local reputation. Continuing to reside in Dunfermline, he +has, for several years, possessed a literary connexion with some of the +provincial newspapers, and has delivered lectures on science to the +district institutions. To Mr Joseph Paton, of Dunfermline, so well known +for his antiquarian pursuits, he has been indebted for generous support +and kindly encouragement. Mr Macansh labours under severe physical +debility. + + + + +THE MOTHER AND CHILD. + + + The mother, with her blooming child, + Sat by the river pool, + Deep in whose waters lay the sky, + So stilly beautiful. + She held her babe aloft, to see + Its infant image look + Up joyous, laughing, leaping from + The bosom of the brook. + + And as it gazed upon the stream, + The wondering infant smiled, + And stretched its little hands, and tried + To clasp the shadow'd child, + Which, in that silent underwold, + With eager gesture strove + To meet it with a brother-kiss, + A brother-clasp of love. + + Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child, + ('Twas thus the mother sung;) + The shrew, Experience, has not yet + With envious gesture flung + Aside the enchanted veil which hides + Life's pale and dreary look; + An angel lurks in every stream, + A heaven in every brook. + + Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child, + Ere drop the tears of woe + Upon that mirror, scattering all + Those glorious shapes, and show + A fleeting shadow, which thou think'st + An angel, breathing, living-- + A shallow pebbly brook which thou + Hast fondly deem'd a heaven. + + + + +CHANGE. + + + Change! change! the mournful story + Of all that 's been before; + The wrecks of perish'd glory + Bestrewing every shore: + The shatter'd tower and palace, + In every vale and glen, + In broken language tell us + Of the fleeting power of men. + + Change! change! the plough is sweeping + O'er some scene of household mirth, + The sickle hand is reaping + O'er some ancient rural hearth-- + Where the mother and the daughter + In the evenings used to spin, + And where little feet went patter, + Full often out and in. + + Change! change! for all things human, + Thrones, powers of amplest wing, + Have their flight, and fall in common + With the meanest mortal thing-- + With beauty, love, and passion, + With all of earthly trust, + With life's tiniest wavelet dashing, + Curling, breaking into dust. + + Where arose in marble grandeur + The wall'd cities of the past, + The sullen winds now wander + O'er a ruin-mounded waste. + Low lies each lofty column; + The owl in silence wings + O'er floors, where, slow and solemn, + Paced the sandal'd feet of kings. + + Still change! Go thou and view it, + All desolately sunk, + The circle of the Druid, + The cloister of the monk; + The abbey boled and squalid, + With its bush-maned, staggering wall; + Ask by whom these were unhallow'd-- + Change, change hath done it all. + + + + +THE TOMB OF THE BRUCE. + + + Yon old temple pile, where the moon dimly flashes + O'er gray roof, tall window, sloped buttress, and base, + O'erarches the ashes, the now silent ashes, + Of the noblest, the bravest, of Scotia's race. + How hallow'd yon spot where a hero is lying, + Embalm'd in the holiness worship bedews, + The lamb watching over the sleep of the lion, + Religion enthroned on the tomb of the Bruce! + + Far other and fiercer the moments that crown'd him, + Than those that now creep o'er yon old temple pile, + And sterner the music that storm'd around him, + Than the anthem that peals through the long-sounding aisle, + When his bugle's fierce tones with the war-hum was blending, + And, with claymores engirdled, and banners all loose, + His rough-footed warriors, to battle descending, + Peal'd up to the heavens the war-cry of Bruce. + + I hear him again, with deep voice proclaiming-- + Let our country be free, or with freedom expire; + I see him again, with his great sword o'erflaming + The plume-nodding field, like a banner of fire. + Still onward it blazes, that red constellation, + In its passage no pause, to its flashing no truce: + Oh, the pillar of glory that led forth our nation + From shackles and chains, was the sword of the Bruce. + + But now he is sleeping in darkness; the thunder + Of battle to him is now silent and o'er, + And the sword, that, like threads, sever'd shackles asunder, + Shall gleam in the vanguard of Scotland no more. + Yet, oh, though his banner for ever be furled, + Though his great sword be rusted and red with disuse, + Can freemen, when tyrants would handcuff the world-- + Can freemen be mute at the Tomb of the Bruce? + + + + +JAMES PRINGLE. + + +James Pringle was born in the parish of Collessie, Fifeshire, on the +11th December 1803. At the parochial school of Kettle having received an +ordinary education, he was in his seventeenth year apprenticed to a +mill-wright. For many years he has prosecuted this occupation in the +district of his nativity. His present residence is in the Den of +Lindores, in the parish of Abdie. From his youth he has cherished an +enthusiastic love of poetry, and composed verses. In 1853, he published +a duodecimo volume, entitled "Poems and Songs on Various Subjects." + + + + +THE PLOUGHMAN. + + + Blithe be the mind of the ploughman, + Unruffled by passion or guile; + And fair be the face of the woman + Who blesses his love with a smile. + + His clothing, though russet and homely, + With royalty's robe may compare; + His cottage, though simple, is comely, + For peace and contentment are there. + + Let monarchs exult in their splendour, + When courtiers obsequiously bow; + But are not their greatness and grandeur + Sustain'd by the toils of the plough? + + The soldier may glory discover + In havock which warfare hath made; + For the shout of his fame rises over + The vanquish'd, the bleeding, the dead. + + Though pride, in her trappings so dainty, + May sneer with contemptuous air; + Fertility, pleasure, and plenty, + Still follow the track of the share. + + And long may the heart of the ploughman + In virtue and vigour beat high; + His calling, though simple and common, + Our wants and our comforts supply. + + + + +WILLIAM ANDERSON. + + +William Anderson, an accomplished biographical and genealogical writer, +and author of "Landscape Lyrics," a volume of descriptive poetry, was +born at Edinburgh on the 10th December 1805. His father, James Anderson, +supervisor of Excise at Oban, Argyleshire, died there in 1812. His +mother was the daughter of John Williams, author of "The Mineral +Kingdom," a work much valued by geologists. His brother, Mr John +Anderson, surgeon, Royal Lanarkshire Militia, was the author of the +"Historical and Genealogical Memoirs of the House of Hamilton." + +Mr Anderson received his education at Edinburgh, and in 1820 was +apprenticed to a merchant in Leith; but not liking the employment, he +was afterwards placed in the office of a writer in Edinburgh, with the +view of studying the law. Having a strong bent towards literature, he +began to write poetry, and in 1828 became a regular contributor to the +press. In 1830 he published a volume of poems designated, "Poetical +Aspirations," and soon after issued a thin volume of prose and verse, +entitled, "Odd Sketches." Proceeding to London in 1831, he formed the +acquaintance of Maginn, Allan Cunningham, and other eminent men of +letters. Towards the close of that year he joined the _Aberdeen +Journal_, and in 1835 edited for a short time the _Advertiser_, another +newspaper published in that city. He returned to London in 1836, and +resided there for several years, contributing to different periodicals. +His "Landscape Lyrics" appeared in 1839, in a quarto volume. In 1840 he +commenced writing the lives of distinguished Scotsmen, and the result of +his researches appeared in 1842, in a valuable work, entitled, "The +Popular Scottish Biography." Previous to the appearance of this volume, +he published at London, "The Gift for All Seasons," an annual, which +contained contributions from Campbell, Sheridan Knowles, the Countess of +Blessington, Miss Pardoe, and other writers of reputation. In 1842 he +returned to Scotland, to edit _The Western Watchman_, a weekly journal +published at Ayr. In 1844 he became connected with the _Witness_ +newspaper; but in the following year removed to Glasgow, to assist in +the establishment of the first Scottish daily newspaper. With that +journal, the _Daily Mail_, he continued two years, till severe nocturnal +labour much affecting his health, obliged him temporarily to abandon +literary pursuits. He has been a contributor to _Tait's Magazine_, and +was intrusted with the literary superintendence of Major De Renzy's +"Poetical Illustrations and Achievements of the Duke of Wellington," a +work to which he contributed several poems. He has edited Lord Byron's +works, in two octavo volumes, with numerous notes, and a copious Memoir +of the poet. Besides a number of smaller works, he is the editor of five +volumes, forming a series, entitled, "Treasury of Discovery, Enterprise, +and Adventure;" "Treasury of the Animal World;" "Treasury of Ceremonies, +Manners, and Customs;" "Treasury of Nature, Science, and Art;" and +"Treasury of History and Biography." "The Young Voyager," a poem +descriptive of the search after Franklin, with illustrations, intended +for children, appeared in 1855. He contributed the greater number of the +biographical notices of Scotsmen inserted in "The Men of the Time" for +1856. A large and important national work, devoted to the biography, +history, and antiquities of Scotland, has engaged his attention for some +years, and is in a forward state for publication. + +As a writer of verses, Mr Anderson is possessed of considerable power of +fancy, and a correct taste. His song, beginning "I'm naebody noo," has +been translated into the German language. + + + + +WOODLAND SONG. + + + Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me, + Will you go to the woodlands with me-- + When the sun 's on the hill, and all nature is still, + Save the sound of the far dashing sea? + + For I love to lie lone on the hill, on the hill, + I love to lie lone on the hill, + When earth, sea, and sky, in loveliness vie, + And all nature around me is still. + + Then my fancy is ever awake, awake, + My fancy is never asleep; + Like a bird on the wing, like a swan on the lake, + Like a ship far away on the deep. + + And I love 'neath the green boughs to lie, to lie; + I love 'neath the green boughs to lie; + And see far above, like the smiling of love, + A glimpse now and then of the sky. + + When the hum of the forest I hear, I hear, + When the hum of the forest I hear,-- + 'Tis solitude's prayer, pure devotion is there, + And its breathings I ever revere. + + I kneel myself down on the sod, the sod, + I kneel myself down on the sod, + 'Mong the flowers and wild heath, and an orison breathe + In lowliness up to my God. + + Then peace doth descend on my mind, my mind, + Then peace doth descend on my mind; + And I gain greater scope to my spirit and hope, + For both then become more refined. + + Oh! whatever my fate chance to be, to be, + My spirit shall never repine, + If a stroll on the hill, if a glimpse of the sea, + If the hum of the forest be mine. + + + + +THE WELLS O' WEARY. + + + Down in the valley lone, + Far in the wild wood, + Bubble forth springs, each one + Weeping like childhood; + Bright on their rushy banks, + Like joys among sadness, + Little flowers bloom in ranks-- + Glimpses of gladness. + + Sweet 'tis to wander forth, + Like pilgrims at even; + Lifting our souls from earth + To fix them on Heaven; + Then in our transport deep, + This world forsaking: + Sleeping as angels sleep, + Mortals awaking! + + + + +I 'M NAEBODY NOO. + + + I 'm naebody noo; though in days that are gane, + When I 'd hooses, and lands, and gear o' my ain, + Ther war' mony to flatter, and mony to praise-- + And wha but mysel' was sae prood in those days! + + Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang, + Wha laugh'd at my joke, and applauded my sang, + Though the tane had nae point, and the tither nae glee; + But, of coorse, they war' grand when comin' frae me! + + Whan I 'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack, + Ther war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak'; + But whanever the water grew scant at the well, + I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'! + + Whan I 'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer; + And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer; + I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast, + In the feasting o' those who came only to feast. + + The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie, + I thoucht a' the time was intended for me; + But whanever the end o' my money they saw, + Their friendship, like it, also flicker'd awa'. + + My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near, + Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear; + I 'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that 's true, + But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I 'm naebody noo. + + + + +I CANNA SLEEP. + + + I canna sleep a wink, lassie, + When I gang to bed at night, + But still o' thee I think, lassie, + Till morning sheds its light. + I lie an' think o' thee, lassie, + And I toss frae side to side, + Like a vessel on the sea, lassie, + When stormy is the tide. + + My heart is no my ain, lassie, + It winna bide wi' me; + Like a birdie it has gane, lassie, + To nestle saft wi' thee. + I canna lure it back, lassie, + Sae keep it to yoursel'; + But oh! it sune will break, lassie, + If you dinna use it well. + + Where the treasure is, they say, lassie, + The spirit lingers there; + An' mine has fled away, lassie-- + You needna ask me where. + I marvel oft if rest, lassie, + On my eyes and heart would bide, + If I thy troth possess'd, lassie, + And thou wert at my side. + + + + +WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D. + + +An accomplished theologian and historical writer, William Hetherington +was born on the Galloway side of the valley of the Nith, about the year +1805. With an average education at the parish school, he entered the +University of Edinburgh, where he speedily acquired distinction. Amidst +studies of a severer nature, he found relaxation in the composition of +verses, celebrating the national manners and the interesting scenes of +his nativity. These appeared in 1829, in a duodecimo volume, entitled, +"Twelve Dramatic Sketches, founded on the Pastoral Poetry of Scotland." +Having obtained licence as a probationer of the Established Church, he +was in 1836 ordained to the ministerial charge of the parish of +Torphichen in the Presbytery of Linlithgow. He joined the Free Church in +1843, and was afterwards translated to St Andrews. In 1848 he became +minister of Free St Paul's Church, Edinburgh. + +Besides his poetical work, Dr Hetherington has published, "The Fulness +of Time," "History of the Church of Scotland," "The Minister's Family," +and several separate lectures on different subjects. He was, during the +first four years of its existence, editor of the _Free Church Magazine_. +Formerly a frequent contributor to the more esteemed religious +periodicals, he has latterly written chiefly for the _British and +Foreign Evangelical Review_. + + + + +'TIS SWEET WI' BLITHESOME HEART TO STRAY. + + + 'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray, + In the blushing dawn o' infant day; + But sweeter than dewy morn can be, + Is an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee; + An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee, + An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee; + The half o' my life I 'd gladly gie + For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee. + + The garish sun has sunk to rest; + The star o' gloaming gilds the west; + The gentle moon comes smiling on, + And her veil o'er the silent earth is thrown: + Then come, sweet maid, oh, come wi' me! + The whispering night-breeze calls on thee; + Oh, come and roam o'er the lily lea, + An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' me. + + For wealth let warldlings cark and moil, + Let pride for empty honours toil, + I 'd a' their wealth and honours gie + For ae sweet hour, dear maid, wi' thee. + An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee, + An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee; + Earth's stores and titles a' I 'd gie + For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee. + + + + +O SWEET IS THE BLOSSOM. + + + O sweet is the blossom o' the hawthorn tree, + The bonnie milky blossom o' the hawthorn tree, + When the saft westlin wind, as it wanders o'er the lea, + Comes laden wi' the breath o' the hawthorn tree. + + Lovely is the rose in the dewy month o' June, + An' the lily gently bending beneath the sunny noon; + But dewy rose nor lily fair is half sae sweet to me, + As the bonnie milky blossom o' the hawthorn tree. + + Oh, blithe at fair an' market fu' aften I hae been, + An' wi' a crony frank an' leal, some happy hours I 've seen; + But the happiest hours I ere enjoy'd, were shared, my love, wi' thee, + In the gloaming 'neath the bonnie, bonnie hawthorn tree. + + Sweetly sang the blackbird, low in the woody glen, + And fragrance sweet spread on the gale, light o'er the dewy plain; + But thy saft voice an' sighing breath were sweeter far to me, + While whispering o' love beneath the hawthorn tree. + + Old Time may wave his dusky wing, an' Chance may cast his die, + And the rainbow hues of flatterin' Hope may darken in the sky; + Gay Summer pass, an' Winter stalk stern o'er the frozen lea, + Nor leaf, nor milky blossom deck the hawthorn tree: + + But still'd maun be the pulse that wakes this glowing heart o' mine, + For me nae mair the spring maun bud, nor summer blossoms shine, + An' low maun be my hame, sweet maid, ere I be false to thee, + Or forget the vows I breathed beneath the hawthorn tree. + + + + +THOMAS WATSON. + + +Thomas Watson, author of "The Rhymer's Family," a small volume of poems, +published in 1847, was born at Arbroath about the year 1807. He some +time wrought as a weaver, but has latterly adopted the trade of a +house-painter. He continues to reside in his native place. + + + + +THE SQUIRE O' LOW DEGREE. + + + My luve 's a flower in garden fair, + Her beauty charms the sicht o' men; + And I 'm a weed upon the wolde, + For nane reck how I fare or fen'. + She blooms in beild o' castle wa', + I bide the blast o' povertie; + My covert looks are treasures stown-- + Sae how culd my luve think o' me? + + My luve is like the dawn o' day, + She wears a veil o' woven mist; + And hoary cranreuch deftly flower'd, + Lies paling on her maiden breast; + Her kirtle at her jimpy waist, + Has studs o' gowd to clasp it wi' + She decks her hair wi' pearlis rare-- + And how culd my luve think o' me? + + My cloak is o' the Friesland gray, + My doublet o' the gay Walloon, + I wear the spurs o' siller sheen, + And yet I am a landless loon; + I ride a steed o' Flanders breed, + I beare a sword upon my theigh, + And that is a' my graith and gear-- + Sae how culd my luve think o' me? + + My luve's rose lips breathe sweet perfume, + Twa pearlie raws pure faire atween, + The happie dimples dent her cheeks, + And diamonds low in her dark e'en; + Her haire is o' the gowden licht, + But dark the fringes o' her bree; + Her smile wuld warm cauld winter's heart-- + But how culd my luve think o' me? + + My luve is tended like a queen, + She sits among her maidens fair; + There 's ane to send, and ane to sew, + And ane to kame her gowden hair; + The lutestrings luve her fingers sma', + Her lips are steept in melodie; + My heart is fu'--my e'en rin ower-- + Oh, how culd my luve think o' me? + + My luve she sits her palfrey white, + Mair fair to see than makar's dream + O' faery queen on moonbeam bricht, + Or mermaid on the saut sea faem. + A belted knicht is by her side, + I 'm but a squire o' low degree; + A baron halds her bridle-rein-- + And how culd my luve think o' me? + + But I will don the pilgrim's weeds, + And boune me till the Holy Land, + A' for the sake o' my dear luve, + To keep unstain'd my heart and hand. + And when this world is gane to wreck, + Wi' a' its pride and vanitie, + Within the blessed bouris o' heaven, + We then may meet--my luve and me. + + + + +JAMES MACDONALD. + + +A respectable writer of lyric poetry, James Macdonald was born in +September 1807, in the parish of Fintry, and county of Stirling. His +father was employed in the cotton factory of Culcruich. Of unwonted +juvenile precocity, he attracted the attention of two paternal uncles, +whose circumstances enabled them to provide him with a liberal +education. Acquiring the rudiments of learning at Culcruich, he +afterwards studied at the grammar school of Stirling, and proceeded, in +1822, to the university of Glasgow. Intended by his relations for the +ministry of the Established Church, he attended the Divinity Hall during +three sessions. Preferring secular employment, he now abandoned the +study of theology, and occupied himself in educational pursuits. After +teaching in several boarding establishments, he became corrector of the +press in the printing-office of Messrs Blackie of Glasgow. Having +suffered on account of bad health, he was induced to accept the +appointment of Free Church schoolmaster at Blairgowrie. His health +continuing to decline, he removed to the salubrious village of Catrine, +in Ayrshire: he died there on the 27th May 1848. Macdonald was a devoted +teacher of Sabbath schools; and his only separate publications are two +collections of hymns for their use. + + + + +BONNIE AGGIE LANG. + + + Or ere we part, my heart leaps hie to sing ae bonnie sang, + Aboot my ain sweet lady-love, my darling Aggie Lang; + It is na that her cheeks are like the blooming damask rose, + It is na that her brow is white as stainless Alpine snows, + It is na that her locks are black as ony raven's wing, + Nor is 't her e'e o' winning glee that mak's me fondly sing. + + But, oh! her heart, a bonnie well, that gushes fresh an' free + O' maiden love, and happiness, and a' that sweet can be; + Though saft the sang o' simmer winds, the warbling o' the stream, + The carolling o' joyous birds, the murmur o' a dream, + I 'd rather hear a'e gentle word frae Aggie's angel tongue, + For weel I ken her heart is mine--the fountain whar it sprung. + + Yestreen I met her in a glen about the gloamin' hour; + The moon was risen o'er the trees, the dew begemm'd ilk flower, + The weary wind was hush'd asleep, an' no a sough cam' nigh, + E'en frae the waukrife stream that ran in silver glintin' by; + I press'd her milk-white han' in mine--she smiled as angels smile, + But ah! frae me her tale o' love this warld manna wile. + + I saw the silver light o' heaven fa' on her bonnie brow, + An' glitter on the honey-blabs upon her cherry mou'; + I saw the lily moonbeams steal the redness o' the rose, + An' sleep upon her downy cheek in beautiful repose. + The moon rose high, the stream gaed by, but aye she smiled on me, + An' what she wadna breathe in words she tauld it wi' here e'e. + + I 've sat within a palace hall amid the grand an' gay, + I 've listen'd to the carnival o' merry birds in May, + I 've been in joyous companies, the wale o' mirth an' glee, + An' danced in nature's fairy bowers by mountain, lake, and lea; + But never has this heart o' mine career'd in purer pride, + As in that moonlit glen an' bower, wi' Aggie by my side. + + + + +THE PRIDE O' THE GLEN. + + + Oh, bonnie 's the lily that blooms in the valley, + And fair is the cherry that grows on the tree; + The primrose smiles sweet as it welcomes the simmer, + And modest 's the wee gowan's love-talking e'e; + Mair dear to my heart is that lown cosy dingle, + Whar late i' the gloamin', by the lanely "Ha' den," + I met with the fairest ere bounded in beauty, + By the banks o' the Endrick, the pride o' the glen. + + She 's pure as the spring cloud that smiles in the welkin, + An blithe as the lambkin that sports on the lea; + Her heart is a fount rinnin' owre wi' affection, + And a warld o' feeling is the love o' her e'e. + The prince may be proud o' his vast hoarded treasures, + The heir o' his grandeur and high pedigree; + They kenna the happiness dwalt in my bosom, + When alane wi' the angel o' luve and o' le. + + I 've seen the day dawn in a shower-drappin' goud, + The grass spread wi' dew, like a wide siller sea; + The clouds shinin' bricht in a deep amber licht, + And the earth blushin' back to the glad lift on hie. + I 've dream'd o' a palace wi' gem-spangled ha's, + And proud wa's a' glitterin' in rich diamond sheen + Wi' towers shinin' fair, through the rose-tinted air, + And domes o' rare pearls and rubies atween. + + I 've sat in a garden, 'mid earth's gayest flowers, + A' gaudily shawin' their beauteous dyes, + And breathin' in calm the air's fragrant balm, + Like angels asleep on the plains o' the skies; + Yet the garden, and palace, and day's rosy dawning, + Though in bless'd morning dreams they should aft come again, + Can ne'er be sae sweet as the bonnie young lassie, + That bloom'd by the Endrick, the pride of the glen. + + The exile, in sleep, haunts the land o' his fathers, + The captive's ae dream is his hour to be free; + The weary heart langs for the morning rays comin', + The oppress'd, for his sabbath o' sweet liberty. + But my life's only hope, my heart's only prayer, + Is the day that I 'll ca' the young lassie my ain; + Though a' should forsake me, wi' her I 'll be happy, + On the banks o' the Endrick, the pride o' the glen. + + + + +MARY. + + + The winter's cauld and cheerless blast + May rob the feckless tree, Mary, + And lay the young flowers in the dust, + Whar' ance they bloom'd in glee, Mary. + It canna chill my bosom's hopes-- + It canna alter thee, Mary; + The summer o' thy winsome face + Is aye the same to me, Mary. + + The gloom o' life, its cruel strife, + May wear me fast awa', Mary; + An' lea'e me like a cauld, cauld corpse, + Amang the drifting snaw, Mary. + Yet 'mid the drift, wert thou but nigh, + I 'd fauld my weary e'e, Mary; + And deem the wild and raging storm, + A laverock's sang o' glee, Mary. + + My heart can lie in ruin's dust, + And fortune's winter dree, Mary; + While o'er it shines the diamond ray, + That glances frae thine e'e, Mary. + The rending pangs and waes o' life, + The dreary din o' care, Mary, + I 'll welcome, gin they lea'e but thee, + My lanely lot to share, Mary. + + As o'er yon hill the evening star + Is wilin' day awa', Mary; + Sae sweet and fair art thou to me, + At life's sad gloamin' fa', Mary. + It gars me greet wi' vera joy, + Whene'er I think on thee, Mary, + That sic a heart sae true as thine, + Should e'er ha'e cared for me, Mary. + + + + +JAMES BALLANTINE. + + +James Ballantine, one of the most successful of living Scottish song +writers, was born in 1808 at the West Port of Edinburgh. Of this +locality, now considerably changed in its character, but still endeared +to him by the associations of his boyhood, he has given a graphic +description in a poem, in which he records some of the cherished +recollections of the days when amid its "howffs," and "laigh" +half-doored shops he "gat schulin' and sport." He lost his father, who +was a brewer, when he was only ten years old, and, being the youngest of +the family, which consisted of three daughters and himself, his early +training devolved upon his mother, who contrived to obtain for her +children the advantage of an ordinary education. James Ballantine must, +however, be considered as a self-taught man. Beyond the training which +he received in early life, he owes his present position to his own +indefatigable exertions. + +By his father's death, the poet was necessitated, while yet a mere boy, +to exert himself for his own support and the assistance of the family. +He was, accordingly, apprenticed to a house-painter in the city, and +very soon attained to considerable proficiency in his trade. On growing +up to manhood, he made strenuous exertions to obtain the educational +advantages which were not within his reach at an earlier period of life, +and about his twentieth year he attended the University of Edinburgh for +the study of anatomy, with a view to his professional improvement. At a +subsequent period he turned his attention to the art of painting on +glass, and he has long been well-known as one of the most distinguished +of British artists in that department. At the period Mr Ballantine began +his career as a glass-painter, the art had greatly degenerated in +character; and the position to which it has of late years attained is +chiefly owing to his good taste and archæological researches. When the +designs and specimens of glass-painting for the windows of the House of +Lords were publicly competed for, the Royal Commissioners of the Fine +Arts adjudged those produced by Mr Ballantine as the best which were +exhibited, and the execution of the work was intrusted to him. A few +years ago he published a work on stained glass, which has been +translated and published in Germany, where it retains its popularity. Mr +Ballantine has thus never allowed his literary pursuits to interfere +with the exercise of his chosen avocations; "he has," in the words of +Lord Cockburn, "made the business feed the Muses, and the Muses grace +the business." + +Although Mr Ballantine began at a very early age to woo the Muse, some +of his most popular pieces having been produced about his sixteenth +year, he made his first appearance in print in the pages of "Whistle +Binkie." In 1843 his well-known work, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet," was +published in monthly numbers, illustrated by the late Alexander Ritchie. +This production was enriched with some of his best lyrics. His second +work, "The Miller of Deanhaugh," likewise contains a number of songs and +ballads. In 1856 Messrs Constable & Co., of Edinburgh, published an +edition of his poems, including many of those which had been previously +given to the world. This volume contains the happiest effusions of his +genius, and will procure him a prominent place in his country's +literature. Mr Ballantine is the poet of the affections, a lover of the +beautiful and tender among the humbler walks of life, and an exponent of +the lessons to be drawn from familiar customs, common sayings, and +simple character. + + + + +NAEBODY'S BAIRN. + + + She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn, + She had mickle to thole, she had mickle to learn, + Afore a kind word or kind look she could earn, + For naebody cared about Naebody's bairn. + + Though faither or mither ne'er own'd her ava, + Though rear'd by the fremmit for fee unco sma', + She grew in the shade like a young lady-fern, + For Nature was bounteous to Naebody's bairn. + + Though toited by some, and though lightlied by mair, + She never compleened, though her young heart was sair, + And warm virgin tears that might melted cauld airn + Whiles glist in the blue e'e o' Naebody's bairn. + + Though nane cheer'd her childhood, an' nane hail'd her birth, + Heaven sent her an angel to gladden the earth; + And when the earth doom'd her in laigh nook to dern, + Heaven couldna but tak again Naebody's bairn. + + She cam smiling sweetly as young mornin' daw, + Like lown simmer gloamin' she faded awa, + And lo! how serenely that lone e'ening starn + Shines on the greensward that haps Naebody's bairn! + + + + +CASTLES IN THE AIR. + + + The bonnie, bonnie bairn sits pokin' in the ase, + Glowerin' in the fire wi' his wee round face; + Laughin' at the fuffin low--what sees he there? + Ha! the young dreamer 's biggin' castles in the air! + + His wee chubby face, an' his towzy curly pow, + Are laughin' an noddin' to the dancin' lowe, + He 'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair, + Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air. + + He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon, + He sees little sodgers puin' them a' doun; + Warlds whomlin' up an' doun, blazin' wi' a flare, + Losh! how he loups, as they glimmer in the air. + + For a' sae sage he looks, what can the laddie ken? + He 's thinkin' upon naething, like mony mighty men, + A wee thing mak's us think, a sma' thing mak's us stare,-- + There are mair folks than him biggin' castles in the air. + + Sic a night in winter may weel mak' him cauld; + His chin upon his buffy hand will soon mak' him auld; + His brow is brent sae braid, oh, pray that Daddy Care + Wad let the wean alane wi' his castles in the air. + + He 'll glower at the fire, an' he 'll keek at the light; + But mony sparkling stars are swallow'd up by night; + Aulder e'en than his are glamour'd by a glare, + Hearts are broken--heads are turn'd--wi' castles in the air. + + + + +ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW. + + + Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, + An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil mind, + Though press'd an' hemm'd on every side, hae faith an' ye 'll win through, + For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. + + Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye 've been, + Grief lies deep-hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae your e'en, + Believe it for the best, and trow there 's good in store for you, + For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. + + In lang, lang days o' simmer when the clear and cludless sky + Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry, + The genial night, wi balmy breath, gaurs verdure spring anew, + An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. + + Sae lest 'mid fortune's sunshine we should feel ower proud an' hie, + An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's e'e, + Some wee dark cluds o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or hoo, + But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. + + + + +WIFIE, COME HAME. + + + Wifie, come hame, + My couthie wee dame! + Oh, but ye 're far awa, + Wifie, come hame! + Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy broo, + Come wi' the lown star o' love in thine e'e, + Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou', + A' glist wi' balm, like the dew on the lea. + Come wi' the gowd tassels fringin' thy hair, + Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee, + Come wi' thy wee step, and wifie-like air, + Oh, quickly come, and shed blessings on me! + + Wifie, come hame, + My couthie wee dame! + Oh, my heart wearies sair, + Wifie, come hame! + Come wi' our love pledge, our dear little dawtie, + Clasping my neck round, an' clamb'rin' my knee; + Come let me nestle and press the wee pettie, + Gazing on ilka sweet feature o' thee. + Oh, but the house is a cauld hame without ye, + Lanely and eerie 's the life that I dree; + Oh, come awa', an' I 'll dance round about ye, + Ye 'll ne'er again win frae my arms till I dee. + + + + +THE BIRDIE SURE TO SING IS AYE THE GORBEL O' THE NEST. + + + Oh, dinna look ye pridefu' doon on a' aneath your ken, + For he wha seems the farthest but aft wins the farthest ben; + And whiles the doubie o' the school tak's lead o' a' the rest, + The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. + + The cauld gray misty morn aft brings a sultry sunny day, + The trees wha's buds are latest are the langest to decay; + The heart sair tried wi' sorrow aye endures the sternest test-- + The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. + + The wee, wee stern that glints in heaven, may be a lowin' sun, + Though like a speck o' light, scarce seen amid the welkin dun; + The humblest sodger on the field may win the warrior's crest-- + The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. + + Then dinna be impatient wi' your bairnie when he 's slow, + And dinna scorn the humble, though the world deem them low; + The hindmost and the feeblest aft become the first and best-- + The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest. + + + + +CREEP AFORE YE GANG. + + + Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang; + Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld grannie's sang; + Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang, + Creep awa', my bairnie--creep afore ye gang. + + Creep awa', my bairnie, ye 're ower young to learn + To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn; + Better creepin' cannie, as fa'in' wi' a bang, + Duntin' a' your wee brow--creep afore ye gang. + + Ye 'll creep, an' ye 'll hotch, an' ye 'll nod to your mither, + Watchin' ilka stap o' your wee donsy brither; + Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang, + An' ye 'll be a braw cheil' yet--creep afore ye gang. + + The wee burdie fa's when it tries ower soon to flee; + Folks are sure to tumble when they climb ower hie; + They wha dinna walk right are sure to come to wrang-- + Creep awa', my bairnie--creep afore ye gang. + + + + +AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER. + + + Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great, + The puirest bodie is still your brither; + The king may come in the cadger's gate-- + Ae gude turn deserves anither. + + The hale o' us rise frae the same cauld clay, + Ae hour we bloom, ae hour we wither; + Let ilk help ither to climb the brae-- + Ae gude turn deserves anither. + + The highest among us are unco wee, + Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither; + Hoard na, man, what ye get sae free!-- + Ae gude turn deserves anither. + + Life is a weary journey alane, + Blithe 's the road when we wend wi' ither; + Mutual gi'ing is mutual gain-- + Ae gude turn deserves anither. + + + + +THE NAMELESS LASSIE. + + + There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name, + There 's nane may ken the humble cot my lassie ca's her hame; + Yet though my lassie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree, + Her heart is warm, her thochts are pure, and, oh! she 's dear to me. + + She 's gentle as she 's bonnie, an' she 's modest as she 's fair, + Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they 're rare; + While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea-- + For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be! + + Whene'er she shews her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw, + An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a'; + But when wi' ither's sorrows touch'd, the tear starts to her e'e, + Oh! that 's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me. + + Within my soul her form 's enshrined, her heart is a' my ain, + An' richer prize or purer bliss nae mortal e'er can gain; + The darkest paths o' life I tread wi' steps o' bounding glee, + Cheer'd onward by the love that lichts my nameless lassie's e'e. + + + + +BONNIE BONALY. + + + Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream, + Murmurs and sobs like a child in a dream; + Falling where silver light gleams on its breast, + Gliding through nooks where the dark shadows rest, + Flooding with music its own tiny valley, + Dances in gladness the stream o' Bonaly. + + Proudly Bonaly's gray-brow'd castle towers, + Bounded by mountains, and bedded in flowers; + Here hangs the blue bell, and there waves the broom; + Nurtured by art, rarest garden sweets bloom; + Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally, + Playing amang the green knolls o' Bonaly. + + Pentland's high hills raise their heather-crown'd crest, + Peerless Edina expands her white breast, + Beauty and grandeur are blent in the scene, + Bonnie Bonaly lies smiling between; + Nature and Art, like fair twins, wander gaily; + Friendship and love dwell in bonnie Bonaly. + + + + +SAFT IS THE BLINK O' THINE E'E, LASSIE. + + + Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, + Saft is the blink o' thine e'e; + An' a bonnie wee sun glimmers in its blue orb, + As kindly it glints upon me. + + The ringlets that twine round thy brow, lassie, + Are gowden, as gowden may be; + Like the wee curly cluds that play round the sun, + When he 's just going to drap in the sea. + + Thou hast a bonnie wee mou', lassie, + As sweet as a body may pree; + And fondly I 'll pree that wee hinny mou', + E'en though thou shouldst frown upon me. + + Thou hast a lily-white hand, lassie, + As fair as a body may see; + An' saft is the touch o' that wee genty hand, + At e'en when thou partest wi' me. + + Thy thoughts are sae haly and pure, lassie, + Thy heart is sae kind and sae free; + My bosom is flooded wi' sunshine an' joy, + Wi' ilka blithe blink o' thine e'e. + + + + +THE MAIR THAT YE WORK, AYE THE MAIR WILL YE WIN. + + + Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on, + Be eident, be eident, bricht day will be gone; + To stand idle by is a profitless sin: + The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. + + The earth gathers fragrance while nursing the flower, + The wave waxes stronger while feeding the shower, + The stream gains in speed as it sweeps o'er the linn: + The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. + + There 's nought got by idling, there 's nought got for nought, + Health, wealth, and contentment, by labour are bought; + In raising yoursel', ye may help up your kin: + The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. + + Let every man aim in his heart to excel, + Let every man ettle to fend for himsel'; + Aye nourish ye stern independence within: + The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. + + + + +THE WIDOW. + + + The widow is feckless, the widow 's alane, + Yet nae ane e'er hears the puir widow complain; + For, ah! there 's a Friend that the world wots na o', + Wha brightens her ken, and wha lightens her wo. + + She looks a' around her, and what sees she there + But quarrels and cavils, but sorrow and care? + She looks in within, and she feels in her breast + A dawning o' glory, a foretaste o' rest. + + The hope o' hereafter her lane bosom cheers, + She langs sair to meet him wha left her in tears; + And life's flickerin' licht, as it wanes fast awa', + But fades to gie place to a far brichter daw. + + The God o' high heaven is her comfort and guide, + When earthly friends leave her, He stands by her side; + He soothes a' her sorrows, an' hushes her fears, + An' fountains o' joy rise frae well-springs o' tears. + + Then, oh! shew the widow the smile on your face, + She 's aft puir in gear, but she 's aft rich in grace; + Be kind to the widow, her Friend is on high, + You 'll meet wi' the widow again in the sky. + + + + +MRS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY. + + +The accomplished author of some poetical works, Mrs Eliza A. H. Ogilvy, +is the daughter of Abercromby Dick, Esq., who for many years held an +appointment in the civil service of the Honourable East India Company. +Her childhood was passed in Scotland, under the care of her paternal +uncle, Sir Robert Dick of Tullymett, who, at the head of his division, +fell at the battle of Sobraon. After a period of residence in India, to +which she had gone in early youth, she returned to Britain. In 1843, she +was united in marriage to David Ogilvy, Esq., a cadet of the old +Scottish family of Inverquharity. Several years of her married life have +been spent in Italy; at present she resides with her husband and +children at Sydenham, Kent. "A Book of Scottish Minstrelsy," being a +series of ballads founded on legendary tales of the Scottish Highlands, +appeared from her pen in 1846, and was well received by the press. She +has since published "Traditions of Tuscany," and "Poems of Ten Years." + + + + +CRAIG ELACHIE. + + + Blue are the hills above the Spey, + The rocks are red that line his way; + Green is the strath his waters lave, + And fresh the turf upon the grave + Where sleep my sire and sisters three, + Where none are left to mourn for me: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + The roofs that shelter'd me and mine + Hold strangers of a Sassenach line; + Our hamlet thresholds ne'er can shew + The friendly forms of long ago; + The rooks upon the old yew-tree + Would e'en have stranger notes to me: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + The cattle feeding on the hills, + We tended once o'er moors and rills, + Like us have gone; the silly sheep + Now fleck the brown sides of the steep, + And southern eyes their watchers be, + And Gael and Sassenach ne'er agree: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Where are the elders of our glen, + Wise arbiters for meaner men? + Where are the sportsmen, keen of eye, + Who track'd the roe against the sky; + The quick of hand, of spirit free? + Pass'd, like a harper's melody: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Where are the maidens of our vale, + Those fair, frank daughters of the Gael? + Changed are they all, and changed the wife, + Who dared, for love, the Indian's life; + The little child she bore to me + Sunk in the vast Atlantic sea: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Bare are the moors of broad Strathspey, + Shaggy the western forests gray; + Wild is the corri's autumn roar, + Wilder the floods of this far shore; + Dark are the crags of rushing Dee, + Darker the shades of Tennessee: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Great rock, by which the Grant hath sworn, + Since first amid the mountains born; + Great rock, whose sterile granite heart + Knows not, like us, misfortune's smart, + The river sporting at thy knee, + On thy stern brow no change can see: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Stand fast on thine own Scottish ground, + By Scottish mountains flank'd around, + Though we uprooted, cast away + From the warm bosom of Strathspey, + Flung pining by this western sea, + The exile's hopeless lot must dree: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Yet strong as thou the Grant shall rise, + Cleft from his clansmen's sympathies; + In these grim wastes new homes we 'll rear, + New scenes shall wear old names so dear; + And while our axes fell the tree, + Resound old Scotia's minstrelsy: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + Here can no treacherous chief betray + For sordid gain our new Strathspey; + No fearful king, no statesmen pale, + Wrench the strong claymore from the Gael. + With arm'd wrist and kilted knee, + No prairie Indian half so free: + Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie! + + + + +JOHN FINLAY. + + +John Finlay was born at Glasgow in 1808, and is one of the partners in +the respectable firm of R. G. Finlay & Co., manufacturers in that city. +Amidst due attention to the active prosecution of business, he has long +been keenly devoted to the principal national games--curling, angling, +bowling, quoiting, and archery--in all of which he has frequently +carried off prizes at the various competitions throughout the country. +To impart humorous sociality to the friendly meetings of the different +societies of which he is a member, Mr Finlay was led to become a +song-writer. There is scarcely a characteristic of any of his favourite +games which he has not celebrated in racy verse. Some of his songs have +obtained celebrity in certain counties where the national sports are +peculiarly cultivated. + + + + +THE NOBLE SCOTTISH GAME. + +AIR--_"Castles in the Air."_ + + + The King is on the throne wi' his sceptre an' his croon, + The elements o' cauld are the courtiers staunin' roun'; + He lifts his icy haun', an' he speaks wi' awe profound, + He chills the balmy air, and he binds the yielding ground; + He calms the raging winds when they moan and loudly rave, + He stops the rinnin' stream, and he stills the dancin' wave; + He calls the curlers on to the field of hope and fame, + An' the spreading lake resounds wi' the noble Scottish game! + + The hedges an' the trees are a' hung wi' pearls braw, + An' the rinks are glancing clear 'mang the heaps o' shinin' snaw; + The wee birds in the blast are a' tremblin' wi' the cauld; + The sheep are lyin' close in the safely guarded fauld; + The farmer leaves the plough, an' the weaver leaves the loom, + Auld age gangs totterin' by wi' the youth in manhood's bloom; + The miseries o' life are a' banish'd far frae hame, + When the curlers meet to play at the brave old Scottish game! + + It makes the auld folk young, an' the crimson tide to flow, + It gars the pale face shine wi' a fresh and ruddy glow; + The rich forget their state and the charms o' wealth and power, + When the bosom swells wi' joy in the bright triumphant hour. + The wise may laugh an' sneer, and the unco guid may gloom + At the happy, happy man, wi' his curlin' stanes and broom; + The melody to charm is the sport we love to name, + Ah! there 's music in the stanes, at the rare old Scottish game! + + The warm and glowin' clime will subdue the manly form; + The curler's happy hame is the land o' mist an' storm, + Where the dreary winter reigns wi' a wide extended sway, + An' the heathy moors are clad in a robe o' white array, + Till the gentle breath o' spring blaws the icy fields awa', + To woo the springin' flowers, and to melt the frozen snaw. + When the curlin' days are o'er, a' the joys o' life are tame-- + There 's naething warms the heart like the noble Scottish game! + + + + +THE MERRY BOWLING-GREEN. + +AIR--_"Castles in the Air."_ + + + The gloomy days are gone + With the blasts o' winter keen; + The flowers are blooming fair, + And the trees are budding green; + The lark is in the sky, + With his music ringing loud, + Raining notes of joy + From the sunny Summer cloud-- + Springing at the dawn + With the blushing light of day, + And quivering with delight + In the morning's golden ray; + But there 's rapture dearer far + In the warm and social power + Of the merry bowling-green, + In the happy evening hour! + + The lights and shades of life, + Like an April day, are seen, + 'Mid the melting sunny showers, + On the lively bowling-green. + The Spring and Autumn meet + When the old and young are there, + And mirth and wisdom chase + From the heart the thoughts of care. + When the creaking wheels of life + Are revolving weak and slow, + And the dashing tide of hope + May be ebbing dark and low, + The sons of wealth and toil + Feel the sweet and soothing power + Of the merry bowling-green, + In the charming leisure hour! + + The streams of life run on + Till they fall into the sea; + And the flowers are left behind, + With their fragrance on the lea. + The circling flight of time + Will soon make the young folk old; + And pleasure dances on + Till the springs of life grow cold. + We 'll taste the joys of life + As the hours are gliding fast, + And learn to live and love + From the follies of the past; + And remember with delight, + When misfortunes intervene, + The happy days we 've spent + On the merry bowling-green. + + + + +THOMAS TOD STODDART. + + +Thomas Tod Stoddart, well-known through his ingenious works on angling, +was born on the 14th February 1810 in Argyle Square, Edinburgh. In the +chamber of his birth Dr Robertson is said to have written the "History +of Scotland." His father, a rear-admiral in the navy, shared in several +distinguished services: he was present at Lord Howe's victory at the +landing in Egypt; at the battles of the Nile and Copenhagen, and in many +desperate encounters between Russia and Sweden. Young Stoddart was +educated at a Moravian establishment at Fairfield, near Manchester, and +subsequently passed through a course of philosophy and law in the +University of Edinburgh. Early devoted to verse-making, he composed a +tragedy in his ninth year; and at the age of sixteen was the successful +competitor in Professor Wilson's class, for a poem on "Idolatry." He was +an early contributor to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. + +Mr Stoddart studied for the Bar, and passed advocate in 1833. Finding +the legal profession uncongenial, he soon relinquished it; and entering +upon the married state in 1836, he has since resided at Kelso. For many +years he has divided his time between the pursuits of literature, and +the recreation of angling. In 1831, he published "The Deathwake, or +Lunacy, a Poem;" in 1834, "The Art of Angling;" in 1836, "Angling +Reminiscences;" in 1839, "Songs and Poems;" and in 1844, "Abel +Massinger; or the Aëronaut, a Romance." The second of these +publications has been remodelled, and under the title of "The Angler's +Companion," has exhausted several impressions, and continues in general +favour. The volume of "Songs" having been sold out, a new edition, along +with a tragedy, entitled "The Crown Jewel," and "The Aëronaut," both +still in MS., may be expected. Living at Kelso, Mr Stoddart has every +opportunity of prosecuting his favourite pastime in the Tweed, and +enjoying scenery calculated to foster the poetic temperament. + + + + +ANGLING SONG. + + + Bring the rod, the line, the reel! + Bring, oh, bring the osier creel! + Bring me flies of fifty kinds, + Bring me showers, and clouds, and winds, + All things right and tight, + All things well and proper, + Trailer red and bright, + Dark and wily dropper; + Casts of midges bring, + Made of plover hackle, + With a gaudy wing, + And a cobweb tackle. + + Lead me where the river flows, + Shew me where the alder grows, + Reel and rushes, moss and mead, + To them lead me--quickly lead, + Where the roving trout + Watches round an eddy, + With his eager snout + Pointed up and ready, + Till a careless fly, + On the surface wheeling, + Tempts him, rising sly + From his safe concealing. + + There, as with a pleasant friend, + I the happy hours will spend, + Urging on the subtle hook, + O'er the dark and chancy nook, + With a hand expert + Every motion swaying, + And on the alert + When the trout are playing; + Bring me rod and reel, + Flies of every feather, + Bring the osier creel, + Send me glorious weather! + + + + +LET ITHER ANGLERS. + + + Let ither anglers choose their ain, + An' ither waters tak' the lead; + O' Hieland streams we covet nane, + But gie to us the bonnie Tweed! + An' gie to us the cheerfu' burn + That steals into its valley fair-- + The streamlets that at ilka turn, + Sae saftly meet an' mingle there. + + The lanesome Tala and the Lyne, + An' Manor wi' its mountain rills, + An' Etterick, whose waters twine + Wi' Yarrow, frae the forest hills; + An' Gala, too, an' Teviot bright, + An' mony a stream o' playfu' speed; + Their kindred valleys a' unite + Amang the braes o' bonnie Tweed. + + There 's no a hole abune the Crook, + Nor stane nor gentle swirl aneath, + Nor drumlie rill, nor fairy brook, + That daunders through the flowrie heath, + But ye may fin' a subtle troot, + A' gleamin' ower wi' starn an' bead, + An' mony a sawmon sooms aboot, + Below the bields o' bonnie Tweed. + + Frae Holylee to Clovenford, + A chancier bit ye canna hae, + So gin ye tak' an' angler's word, + Ye 'd through the whins an' ower the brae, + An' work awa' wi' cunnin' hand + Yer birzy hackles black and reid; + The saft sough o' a slender wand + Is meetest music for the Tweed! + + + + +THE BRITISH OAK. + + + The oak is Britain's pride! + The lordliest of trees, + The glory of her forest side, + The guardian of her seas! + Its hundred arms are brandish'd wide, + To brave the wintry breeze. + + Our hearts shall never quail + Below the servile yoke, + Long as our seamen trim the sail, + And wake the battle smoke-- + Long as they stem the stormy gale, + On planks of British oak! + + Then in its native mead, + The golden acorn lay; + And watch with care the bursting seed, + And guard the tender spray; + England will bless us for the deed, + In some far future day! + + Oh! plant the acorn tree + Upon each Briton's grave; + So shall our island ever be, + The island of the brave-- + The mother-nurse of liberty, + And empress o'er the wave! + + + + +PEACE IN WAR. + + + Peace be upon their banners! + When our war-ships leave the bay-- + When the anchor is weigh'd, + And the gales + Fill the sails, + As they stray-- + When the signals are made, + And the anchor is weigh'd, + And the shores of England fade + Fast away! + + Peace be upon their banners, + As they cross the stormy main! + May they no aggressors prove, + But unite, + Britain's right + To maintain; + And, unconquer'd, as they move, + May they no aggressors prove; + But to guard the land we love, + Come again! + + Long flourish England's commerce! + May her navies ever glide, + With concord in their lead, + Ranging free + Every sea, + Far and wide; + And at their country's need, + With thunders in their lead, + May the ocean eagles speed + To her side! + + + + +ALEXANDER MACLAGAN.[12] + + +Alexander Maclagan was born at Bridgend, Perth, on the 3d of April 1811. +His father, Thomas Maclagan, was bred to farming, but early abandoning +this occupation, he settled in Perth as a manufacturer. Unfortunate in +business, he removed to Edinburgh, with a young family of three +children; the subject of the present memoir being the eldest. Catherine +Stuart, the poet's mother, was descended from the Stuarts of +Breadalbane, a family of considerable rank in that district. At the +period of his father's removal to Edinburgh, Alexander was only in his +fifth year. Not more successful in his pursuits in Edinburgh, where +three additional children were born to him, Thomas Maclagan was unable +to bestow upon his son Alexander the liberal education which his strong +natural capacity demanded; but acquiring the common rudiments of +knowledge at several schools in the Old Town, he was at the early age of +ten years taken thence, and placed in a jeweller's shop, where he +remained two years. Being naturally strong, and now of an age to +undertake more laborious employment, his father, rather against the +son's inclinations, bound him apprentice to a plumber in Edinburgh, with +whom he served six years. About this time he produced many excellent +drawings, which received the approbation of the managers of the +Edinburgh School of Design, but the arduous duties of his occupation +precluded the possibility of his following his natural bent. His +leisure time was chiefly devoted to the cultivation of literature. So +early as his thirteenth year he entered the Edinburgh Mechanics' Library +as a member; and from this early age he dates his taste for poetry. + +In 1829, while yet an apprentice, Maclagan became connected with the +_Edinburgh Literary Journal_, edited by Mr Glassford Bell. As a +contributor to that publication, he was introduced to the Ettrick +Shepherd, Professor Wilson, William Tennant, and William Motherwell, who +severally commended his verses. On the expiry of his apprenticeship he +worked for some time as a journeyman plumber. He was married in his +eighteenth year; and he has three surviving children. In 1831, he +commenced on his own account, in a shop at the head of the Mound, +Edinburgh; but finding he had inadequate capital, he proceeded to London +in quest of employment in some managing department of his trade. In the +metropolis he was well received by Allan Cunningham, and was, through +his recommendation, offered an appointment under Mr Cubitt, the well +known builder. A strike among Mr Cubitt's workmen unfortunately +interfered with the completion of the arrangement, and the poet, much +disappointed, returned to Edinburgh. He now accepted an engagement as +manager of a plumbery establishment in Dunfermline, where he continued +two years. He afterwards devoted himself to literary and educational +pursuits. + +In 1841, Maclagan published a collected edition of his poems, which +immediately attracted the favourable notice of Lord Jeffrey. He invited +the poet to his residence, and on many occasions proved his benefactor. +On the publication, in 1849, of another volume, entitled, "Sketches from +Nature, and other Poems," the critic wrote to the poet in these words, +"I can remember when the appearance of such a work would have produced a +great sensation, and secured to its author both distinction and more +solid advantages." Among the last written of Lord Jeffrey's letters, was +one addressed to Mr Maclagan in regard to the second edition of his +Poems. Shortly after his patron's death, the poet found a new friend in +Lord Cockburn, who procured for him a junior clerkship in the office of +the Inland Revenue, Edinburgh. This situation proved, however, most +uncongenial; he found himself unsuited to the practice of lengthened +arithmetical summations, and he resigned his post under the promise of +being transferred to another department, more suitable to his habits. In +1851 he was, by a number of his admirers, entertained at a public dinner +in the hall attached to Burns' Cottage, and more lately he received a +similar compliment in his native town. Considerate attentions have been +shewn him by the Duchess of Sutherland, the Duke of Argyle, the Rev. Dr +Guthrie, and other distinguished individuals. In the autumn of 1856 he +had conferred on him by the Queen a small Civil List pension. + +Mr Maclagan's latest publication, entitled, "Ragged and Industrial +School Rhymes," appeared in 1854, and has well sustained his reputation. +Imbued with a keen perception of the beautiful and pleasing, alike in +the natural and moral world, his poetry is marked by refinement of +thought, elegance of expression, and an earnest devotedness. In social +life he delights to depict the praises of virtue. The lover's tale he +has told with singular simplicity and tenderness. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[12] To Mr Disseret of Edinburgh we are indebted for the particulars of +Mr Maclagan's personal history. + + + + +CURLING SONG. + + + Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame, + A health to a' that love the name; + Hurrah for Scotland's darling game, + The pastime o' the free, boys. + While head, an' heart, an' arm are strang, + We 'll a' join in a patriot's sang, + And sing its praises loud and lang-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + Hurrah, hurrah, for Scotland's fame, + A health to a' that love the name; + Hurrah for Scotland's darling game; + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + Gie hunter chaps their break-neck hours, + Their slaughtering guns amang the muirs; + Let wily fisher prove his powers + At the flinging o' the flee, boys. + But let us pledge ilk hardy chiel, + Wha's hand is sure, wha's heart is leal, + Wha's glory 's on a brave bonspiel-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + In ancient days--fame tells the fact-- + That Scotland's heroes werena slack + The heads o' stubborn foes to crack, + And mak' the feckless flee, boys. + Wi' brave hearts, beating true and warm, + They aften tried the curlin' charm + To cheer the heart and nerve the arm-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + May love and friendship crown our cheer + Wi' a' the joys to curlers dear; + We hae this nicht some heroes here, + We aye are blythe to see, boys. + A' brithers brave are they, I ween, + May fickle Fortune, slippery queen, + Aye keep their ice baith clear and clean-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + May health an' strength their toils reward, + And should misfortune's gales blow hard, + Our task will be to plant a guard + Or guide them to the tee, boys. + Here 's three times three for curlin' scenes, + Here 's three times three for curlin' freen's, + Here 's three times three for beef an' greens-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + A' ye that love auld Scotland's name, + A' ye that love auld Scotland's fame, + A' ye that love auld Scotland's game, + A glorious sicht to see, boys-- + Up, brothers, up, drive care awa'; + Up, brothers, up, ne'er think o' thaw; + Up, brothers, up, and sing hurrah-- + The roarin' rink for me, boys. + + + + +THE AULD MEAL MILL. + + + The auld meal mill--oh, the auld meal mill, + Like a dream o' my schule-days, it haunts me still; + Like the sun's simmer blink on the face o' a hill, + Stands the love o' my boyhood, the auld meal mill. + + The stream frae the mountain, rock-ribbit and brown, + Like a peal o' loud laughter, comes rattlin' down; + Tak' my word for 't, my friend, 'tis na puny rill + That ca's the big wheel o' the auld meal mill. + + When flashin' and dashin' the paddles flee round, + The miller's blythe whistle aye blends wi' the sound; + The spray, like the bricht draps whilk rainbows distil, + Fa' in showers o' red gowd round the auld meal mill. + + The wild Hielan' heather grows thick on its thack, + The ivy and apple-tree creep up its back; + The lightning-wing'd swallow, wi' Nature's ain skill, + Builds its nest 'neath the eaves o' the auld meal mill. + + Keep your e'e on the watch-dog, for Cæsar kens weel + When the wild gipsy laddies are tryin' to steal; + But he lies like a lamb, and licks wi' good will + The hard, horny hand that brings grist to the mill. + + There are mony queer jokes 'bout the auld meal mill-- + They are noo sober folks 'bout the auld meal mill-- + But ance it was said that a het Hielan' still + Was aften at wark near the auld meal mill. + + When the plough 's at its rest, the sheep i' the fauld, + Sic' gatherin's are there, baith o' young folk and auld; + The herd blaws his horn, richt bauldly and shrill, + A' to bring doon his clan to the auld meal mill. + + Then sic jumpin' o'er barrows, o'er hedges and harrows, + The men o' the mill can scarce fin' their marrows; + Their lang-barrell'd guns wad an armory fill-- + There 's some capital shots near the auld meal mill. + + At blithe penny-weddin' or christ'nin' a wee ane, + Sic' ribbons, sic' ringlets, sic feather's are fleein'; + Sic' laughin', sic' daffin', sic dancin', until + The laft near comes doon o' the auld meal mill. + + I hae listen'd to music--ilk varying tone, + Frae the harp's deein' fa' to the bagpipe's drone; + But nane stirs my heart wi' sae happy a thrill + As the sound o' the wheel o' the auld meal mill. + + Success to the mill and the merry mill-wheel! + Lang, lang may it grind aye the wee bairnies' meal! + Bless the miller--wha often, wi' heart and good-will, + Fills the widow's toom pock at the auld meal mill. + + The auld meal mill--oh, the auld meal mill, + Like a dream o' my schule days it haunts me still; + Like the sun's summer blink on the face o' a hill, + Stands the love o' my boyhood, the auld meal mill. + + + + +THE THISTLE. + + + Hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle, + The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me! + A fig for the flowers, in your lady-built bowers-- + The strong-bearded, weel-guarded thistle for me! + + 'Tis the flower the proud eagle greets in its flight, + When he shadows the stars with the wings of his might; + 'Tis the flower that laughs at the storm as it blows, + For the stronger the tempest, the greener it grows! + Hurrah for the thistle, &c. + + Round the love-lighted hames o' our ain native land-- + On the bonneted brow, on the hilt of the brand-- + On the face o' the shield, 'mid the shouts o' the free, + May the thistle be seen where the thistle should be! + Hurrah for the thistle, &c. + + Hale hearts we hae yet to bleed in its cause; + Bold harps we hae yet to sound its applause; + How, then, can it fade, when sic chiels an' sic cheer, + And sae mony braw sprouts o' the thistle are here? + Then hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle, + The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me! + A fig for the flowers in your lady-built bowers-- + The strong-bearded, well-guarded thistle for me! + + + + +THE SCOTCH BLUE BELL. + + + The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell, + The dear blue-bell for me! + Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell + For a' the flowers I see. + + I lo'e thee weel, thou Scotch blue-bell, + I hail thee, floweret fair; + Whether thou bloom'st in lanely dell, + Or wavest mid mountain air-- + Blithe springing frae our bare, rough rocks, + Or fountain's flowery brink: + Where, fleet as wind, in thirsty flocks, + The deer descend to drink. + The Scotch blue-bell, &c. + + Sweet flower! thou deck'st the sacred nook + Beside love's trystin' tree; + I see thee bend to kiss the brook, + That kindly kisseth thee. + 'Mang my love's locks ye 're aften seen, + Blithe noddin' o'er her brow, + Meet marrows to her lovely een + O' deep endearin' blue! + The Scotch blue-bell, &c. + + When e'enin's gowden curtains hing + O'er moor and mountain gray, + Methinks I hear the blue-bells ring + A dirge to deein' day; + But when the licht o' mornin' wakes + The young dew-drooket flowers, + I hear amid their merry peals, + The mirth o' bridal hours! + The Scotch blue-bell, &c. + + How oft wi' rapture hae I stray'd, + The mountain's heather crest, + There aft wi' thee hae I array'd + My Mary's maiden breast; + Oft tremblin' mark'd amang thy bells, + Her bosom fa' and rise, + Like snawy cloud that sinks and swells, + 'Neath summer's deep blue skies. + The Scotch blue-bell, &c. + + Oh! weel ye guess when morning daws, + I seek the blue-bell grot; + An' weel ye guess, when e'enin' fa's + Sae sweet, I leave it not; + An' when upon my tremblin' breast, + Reclines my maiden fair, + Thou know'st full well that I am blest, + And free frae ilka care. + + The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell, + The dear blue-bell for me! + Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell, + For a' the flowers I see. + + + + +THE ROCKIN'. + + + The ingle cheek is bleezin' bricht, + The croozie sheds a cheerfu' licht, + An' happy hearts are here the nicht, + To haud a rantin' rockin'! + + There 's laughin' Lizzie, free o' care; + There 's Mary, wi' the modest air; + An' Kitty, wi' the gowden hair, + Will a' be at the rockin'. + + There 's Bessie, wi' her spinnin' wheel; + There 's Jeanie Deans, wha sings sae weel; + An' Meg, sae daft about a reel, + Will a' be at the rockin'. + + The ploughman, brave as Wallace wicht; + The weaver, wi' his wit sae bricht; + The vulcan, wi' his arm o' micht, + Will a' be at the rockin'. + + The shepherd, wi' his eagle e'e, + Kindly heart an' rattlin' glee; + The wonder-workin' dominie, + Will a' be at the rockin'. + + The miller, wi' his mealy mou', + Wha kens sae weel the way to woo-- + His faither's pipes frae Waterloo + He 'll bring to cheer our rockin'. + + The souter, wi' his bristly chin, + Frae whilk the lasses screechin' rin; + The curly-headed whupper-in, + Will a' be at the rockin'. + + There 's merry jokes to cheer the auld, + There 's love an' joy to warm the cauld, + There 's sangs o' weir to fire the bauld; + Sae prove our merry rockin'. + + The tales they tell, the sangs they sing, + Will gar the auld clay biggin' ring, + And some will dance the Highland fling, + Right blithely at the rockin'. + + Wi' wit, an' love, an' fun, an' fire, + Fond friendship will each soul inspire, + An' mirth will get her heart's desire + O' rantin', at the rockin'. + + When sair foredung wi' crabbit care, + When days come dark whilk promised fair, + To cheer the gloom, just come an' share + The pleasures o' our rockin'. + + + + +THE WIDOW. + + + Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain, + Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain; + Though the heart o' this warld 's as hard as a stane, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain. + + Though totterin' noo, like her auld crazy biel, + Her step ance the lichtest on hairst-rig or reel; + Though sighs tak' the place o' the heart-cheerin' strain, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Though humble her biggin', and scanty her store, + The beggar ne'er yet went unserved frae her door; + Though she aft lifts the lid o' her girnel in vain, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Though thin, thin her locks, noo like hill-drifted snaw, + Ance sae glossy and black, like the wing o' the craw; + Though grief frae her mild cheek the red rose has ta'en, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + The sang o' the lark finds the Widow asteer, + The birr o' her wheel starts the nicht's dreamy ear; + The tears o'er the tow-tap will whiles fa' like rain, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Ye may hear in her speech, ye may see in her claes, + That auld Widow Miller has seen better days, + Ere her auld Robin dee'd, sae fond an' sae fain'-- + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Oh, sad was the hour when the brave Forty-twa, + Wi' their wild-sounding pipes, march'd her callant awa'; + Though she schules, feeds, an' cleeds his wee orphan wean, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Ye wild wintry winds, ye blaw surly and sair, + On the heart that is sad, on the wa's that are bare; + When care counts the links o' life's heavy chain, + The poor heart is hopeless that winna complain. + + The Sabbath-day comes, and the Widow is seen, + I' the aisle o' the auld kirk, baith tidy and clean; + Though she aft sits for hours on the mossy grave-stane, + Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + An' then when she turns frae the grave's lanely sod, + To breathe out her soul in the ear of her God, + What she utters to Him is no kent to ane, + But there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain! + + Ye wealthy an' wise in this fair world o' ours, + When your fields wave wi' gowd, your gardens wi' flowers; + When ye bind up the sheaves, leave out a few grains, + To the heart-broken Widow wha never complains. + + + + +THE HIGHLAND PLAID. + + + What though ye hae nor kith nor kin', + An' few to tak' your part, love; + A happy hame ye'll ever fin' + Within my glowing heart, love. + So! while I breathe the breath o' life, + Misfortune ne'er shall steer ye; + My Highland Plaid is warm an' wide-- + Creep closer, my wee dearie! + + The thunder loud, the burstin' cloud, + May speak o' ghaists an' witches, + An' spunkie lichts may lead puir wichts + Through bogs an' droonin' ditches; + There's no ae imp in a' the host + This nicht will daur come near ye; + My Highland Plaid is warm an' wide-- + Creep closer, my wee dearie! + + Why do you heave sic heavy sighs, + Why do ye sab sae sair, love? + Altho' beneath my rustic plaid + An earl's star I wear love, + I woo'd ye as a shepherd youth, + And as a queen revere thee; + My Highland plaid is warm an' wide-- + Creep closer, my wee deerie! + + + + +THE FLOWER O' GLENCOE. + + + Oh! dear to my heart are my heather-clad mountains, + An' the echoes that burst from their caverns below, + The wild woods that darken the face of their fountains-- + The haunts of the wild deer an' fleet-footed roe; + But dearer to me is the bower o' green bushes + That flowers the green bank where the Tay gladly gushes, + For there, all in tears, an' deep crimson'd wi' blushes, + I won the young heart o' the Flower o' Glencoe. + + Contented I lived in my canty auld biggin', + 'Till Britain grew wud wi' the threats o' a foe; + Then I drew my claymore frae the heather-clad riggin', + My forefathers wielded some cent'ries ago. + An' though Mary kent weel that my heart was nae ranger, + Yet the thoughts o' my wa'-gaun, the dread an' the danger + O' famine and death in the land o' the stranger, + Drave the bloom frae the cheek o' the Flower o' Glencoe. + + But success crown'd our toils--ye hae a' heard the story, + How we beat the proud French, an' their eagles laid low-- + I've walth o' war's wounds, an' a share o' its glory, + An' the love o' auld Scotland wherever I go. + Come, now fill the wine cup! let love tell the measure; + Toast the maid of your heart, an' I'll pledge you with pleasure; + Then a bumper I claim to my heart's dearest treasure-- + The fair-bosom'd, warm-hearted Flower o' Glencoe. + + + + +MRS JANE C. SIMPSON. + + +Jane Cross Bell, better known by her assumed name of "Gertrude," is the +daughter of the late James Bell, Esq., Advocate, and was born in +Glasgow. Her first effusions, written in early youth, were published in +the _Greenock Advertiser_, while her father for a short time resided in +that town, as assessor to the Magistrates. To the pages of the +_Edinburgh Literary Journal_ she afterwards contributed numerous +poetical compositions, and subsequently various articles in prose and +verse to the _Scottish Christian Herald_, then under the able editorship +of the Rev. Dr Gardner. In 1836, "Gertrude" published a small volume of +tales and sketches, entitled, "The Piety of Daily Life;" and, in 1838, a +duodecimo volume of lyric poetry, named, "April Hours." Her latest work, +"Woman's History," appeared in 1848. + +In July 1837, Miss Bell was married to her cousin, Mr J. B. Simpson, and +has since resided chiefly in Glasgow. Amidst numerous domestic +avocations in which she has latterly been involved, Mrs Simpson +continues to devote a considerable portion of her time to literary +pursuits. She is at present engaged in a poetical work of a more +ambitious description than any she has yet offered to the public. + + + + +GENTLENESS. + + + Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me, + 'Tis this has bound my soul so long, so tenderly, to thee; + The gentle heart, like jewel bright, beneath the ocean blue, + In every look and tone of thine, still shining sweetly through! + + What though the crowd with wonder bow, before great genius' fire, + And wit, with lightning flash, commands to reverence and admire; + 'Tis gentleness alone that gains the tribute of our love, + And falls upon the ear, like dew on flowers, from heaven above! + + Ah! many a day has pass'd since then, yet I remember well, + Once from my lips an angry thought, in hasty accents fell; + A word of wrath I utter'd, in a light and wayward mood-- + Of wrath to thee, my earliest friend, the noble and the good! + + No answering words were given for mine, but, calm and bright as now, + Thy speaking eyes a moment dwelt upon my ruffled brow, + And then a sweet, forgiving smile came o'er thy pensive face, + And thy hand was softly tender'd me, with melancholy grace. + + An instant mute and motionless, before thee did I stand, + And gazed upon thy placid mien, thy smile, thy proffer'd hand-- + Ah! ne'er could angel, sent to walk this earth of sinful men, + Look lovelier in his robes of light, than thou to me wert then! + + I long'd to weep--I strove to speak--no words came from my tongue, + Then silently to thy embrace, I wildly, fondly sprung; + The sting of guilt, like lightning, struck to my awaken'd mind; + I could have borne to meet thy wrath--'twas death to see thee kind! + + 'Tis ever thus! when anger wins but anger in return, + A trifle grows a thing of weight, and fast the fire will burn; + But when reproachful words are still in mild forgiveness past, + The proudest soul will own his fault, and melt in tears at last! + O Gentleness! thy gentleness, so beautiful to me! + It will ever bind my heart in love and tenderness to thee; + I bless thee for all high-born thoughts, that fill that breast of thine, + But most, I bless thee for that gift of gentleness divine! + + + + +HE LOVED HER FOR HER MERRY EYE. + + + He loved her for her merry eye, + That, like the vesper star, + In evening's blue and deepening sky, + Shed light and joy afar! + + He loved her for her golden hair, + That o'er her shoulders hung; + He loved her for her happy voice, + The music of her tongue. + + He loved her for her airy form + Of animated grace; + He loved her for the light of soul, + That brighten'd in her face. + + He loved her for her simple heart, + A shrine of gentle things; + He loved her for her sunny hopes, + Her gay imaginings. + + But not for him that bosom beat, + Or glanced that merry eye, + Beneath whose diamond light he felt + It would be heaven to die. + + He never told her of his love, + He breathed no prayer--no vow; + But sat in silence by her side, + And gazed upon her brow. + + And when, at length, she pass'd away, + Another's smiling bride, + He made his home 'mid ocean's waves-- + He died upon its tide. + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH. + + + To live in cities--and to join + The loud and busy throng, + Who press with mad and giddy haste, + In pleasure's chase along; + To yield the soul to fashion's rules, + Ambition's varied strife; + Borne like a leaf upon the stream-- + Oh! no--this is not life! + + To pass the calm and pleasant hours, + By wild wood, hill, and grove, + And find a heaven in solitude, + With one we deeply love; + To know the wealth of happiness, + That each to each can give, + And feel no power can sever us-- + Ah! this it is to live! + + It is not death, when on the couch + Of sickness we are laid, + With all our spirit wasted, + And the bloom of youth decay'd; + To feel the shadow dim our eyes, + And pant for failing breath; + Then break at length life's feeble hain-- + Oh, no! this is not death! + + To part from one beneath whose smiles + We long were used to dwell, + To hear the lips we love pronounce + A passionate farewell; + To catch the last _too_ tender glance + Of an adoring eye, + And weep in solitude of heart-- + Ah! this it is to die! + + + + +GOOD NIGHT. + + + Good night! the silver stars are clear, + On evening's placid brow; + We have been long together, love-- + We must part now. + + Good night! I never can forget + This long bright summer day, + We pass'd among the woods and streams, + Far, far away! + + Good night! we have had happy smiles, + Fond dreams, and wishes true, + And holier thoughts and communings, + And weeping too. + + Good night! perchance I ne'er may spend + Again so sweet a time, + Alone with Nature and with thee, + In my life's prime! + + Good night! yet e'er we sever, love, + Take thou this faded flower, + And lay it next thy heart, against + Our meeting hour. + + Good night! the silver stars are clear, + Thy homeward way to light; + Remember this long summer day-- + Good night! good night! + + + + +ANDREW PARK. + + +The author of numerous poetical works, Andrew Park was born at Renfrew, +on the 7th March 1811. After an ordinary education at the parish school, +he attended during two sessions the University of Glasgow. In his +fifteenth year he entered a commission warehouse in Paisley, and while +resident in that town, published his first poem, entitled the "Vision of +Mankind." About the age of twenty he went to Glasgow, as salesman in a +hat manufactory; and shortly after, he commenced business on his own +account. At this period he published several additional volumes of +poems. His business falling off in consequence of a visitation of +cholera in the city, he disposed of his stock and proceeded to London, +to follow the career of a man of letters. After some years' residence in +the metropolis, he returned to Glasgow in 1841; and having purchased the +stock of the poet Dugald Moore, recently deceased, he became a +bookseller in Ingram Street. The speculation proved unfortunate, and he +finally retired from the concerns of business. He has since lived +principally in Glasgow, but occasionally in London. In 1856 he visited +Egypt and other Eastern countries, and the following year published a +narrative of his travels in a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Egypt and the +East." + +Of the twelve volumes of poems which Mr Park has given to the public, +that entitled "Silent Love" has been the most popular. It has appeared +in a handsome form, with illustrations by J. Noel Paton, R.S.A. In one +of his poems, entitled "Veritas," published in 1849, he has supplied a +narrative of the principal events of his life up to that period. Of his +numerous songs, several have obtained a wide popularity. The whole of +his poetical works were published in 1854, by Bogue of London, in a +handsome volume, royal octavo. + + + + +HURRAH FOR THE HIGHLANDS. + + + Hurrah for the Highlands! the stern Scottish Highlands, + The home of the clansmen, the brave and the free; + Where the clouds love to rest, on the mountain's rough breast + Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea. + + 'Tis there where the cataract sings to the breeze, + As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light; + And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas, + In his fleet tiny bark, through the perilous night. + + 'Tis the land of deep shadow, of sunshine, and shower, + Where the hurricane revels in madness on high; + For there it has might that can war with its power, + In the wild dizzy cliffs that are cleaving the sky. + + I have trod merry England, and dwelt on its charms; + I have wander'd through Erin, that gem of the sea; + But the Highlands alone the true Scottish heart warms-- + Her heather is blooming, her eagles are free! + + + + +OLD SCOTLAND, I LOVE THEE! + + + Old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me + Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea; + Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar, + Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war! + + Thy cloud-cover'd hills that look up from the seas, + Wave sternly their wild woods aloft in the breeze; + Where flies the bold eagle in freedom on high, + Through regions of cloud in its wild native sky! + For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me + Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea; + Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar, + Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war! + + O name not the land where the olive-tree grows, + Nor the land of the shamrock, nor land of the rose; + But shew me the thistle that waves its proud head, + O'er heroes whose blood for their country was shed. + For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me + Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea; + Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar, + Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war! + + Then tell me of bards and of warriors bold, + Who wielded their brands in the battles of old, + Who conquer'd and died for their loved native land, + With its maidens so fair, and its mountains so grand! + For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me + Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea; + Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar, + Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war! + + + + +FLOWERS OF SUMMER. + + + Flowers of summer, sweetly springing, + Deck the dewy lap of earth; + Birds of love are fondly singing + In their gay and jocund mirth: + Streams are pouring from their fountains, + Echoing through each rugged dell; + Heather bells adorn the mountains, + Bid the city, love! farewell. + + See the boughs are rich in blossom, + Through each sunlit, silent grove; + Cast all sorrow from thy bosom-- + Freedom is the soul of love! + Let us o'er the valleys wander, + Nor a frown within us dwell, + And in joy see Nature's grandeur-- + Bid the city, love! farewell. + + Morning's sun shall then invite us + By the ever sparkling streams; + Evening's fall again delight us + With its crimson-coloured beams. + Flowers of summer sweetly springing, + Deck the dewy lap of earth; + Birds of love are loudly singing, + In their gay and jocund mirth. + + + + +HOME OF MY FATHERS. + + + Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur, + In joy or in sorrow, my heart turns to thee; + In visions of night o'er thy loved scenes I wander, + And dwell with those friends that are dearest to me! + I see thy blue hills, where the thunders are leaping, + Where springs the loud cascade to caverns below; + The clouds round their summits their dark watch are keeping, + Thy ravines are streak'd with the purest of snow. + Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- + Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee! + + Warm are thy hearts, though thy breezes be chilly; + Rosy thy maidens, and artless and gay! + Cradled on high lie thy lakes pure and stilly, + Surrounded by mountains gigantic and gray! + Thy stern thistle still shoots aloft in its glory, + And sheds its bright dew tears o'er old heroes' graves, + Thy rudely rear'd cairns echo many a story, + Of those who fell bravely, who scorn'd to be slaves! + Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- + Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee! + + Land of the pibroch, the plaid, and the heather, + The lake and the mountain, the streamlet and glen, + The green thoughts of youth do not easily wither, + But dwell on thy charms, and thy bravest of men! + Both genius and love have in raptures hung o'er thee, + And wafted thy name in sweet sounds o'er the sea-- + Till nations afar have bent low to adore thee, + Home of my fathers! my heart turns to thee! + Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- + Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee! + + + + +WHAT AILS MY HEART? + + + What ails my heart--what dims my e'e? + What maks you seem sae wae, Jamie? + Ye werena aye sae cauld to me; + Ye ance were blythe and gay, Jamie. + I 'm wae to see you, like a flower + Kill'd by the winter's snaw, Jamie, + Droop farer down frae hour to hour, + An' waste sae fast awa, Jamie. + + I 'm sure your Jeanie's kind and true, + She loves nae ane but thee, Jamie; + She ne'er has gien thee cause to rue; + If sae--ye still are free, Jamie. + I winna tak your hand and heart, + If there is ane mair dear, Jamie; + I 'd sooner far for ever part + With thee--though wi' a tear, Jamie. + + Then tell me your doubts and your fears, + Keep naething hid frae me, Jamie; + Are ye afraid o' coming years, + O' darker days to me, Jamie? + I 'll share your grief, I 'll share your joy, + They 'll come alike to me, Jamie; + Misfortune's hand may all destroy, + Except my love for thee, Jamie. + + + + +AWAY TO THE HIGHLANDS. + + + Away to the Highlands, where Lomond is flowing, + Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie, + And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing, + And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky! + Though scenes of the fairest are Windsor adorning, + Though England's proud structures enrapture the view; + Yet Nature's wild grandeur, all artifice scorning, + Is seen 'mong our mountains so bonnie and blue. + Then away to the hills where Loch Lomond is flowing, + Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie, + And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing, + And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky! + + Benlomond is seen in his monarch-like glory, + His foot in the sea and his head in the sky; + His broad lofty brow is majestic and hoary, + And round him, and round him the elements fly. + The winds are his music, the clouds are his clothing, + The sun is his shield, as he wheels blazing by; + When once on his summit you 'd think you were soaring + 'Mong bright beaming stars, they are rolling so nigh! + Then away to the hills where Loch Lomond is flowing, + Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie, + And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing, + And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky! + + + + +I 'M AWAY. + + + I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild, + With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child! + Afar o'er the mountains, afar o'er the stream, + To revel in joy 'mid the glad summer beam. + I leave care behind me, I throw to the wind + All sorrows allied to the earth-plodding mind; + The music of birds and the murmur of rills, + Shall be my companions o'er Scotia's loved hills. + How lucent each lake, and how lovely each dell! + Who would not be happy, at home let him dwell; + I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild, + With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child! + + Oh, land of my fathers! Oh, home of my birth! + No spot seems so blest on the round rolling earth! + Thy wild woods so green, and thy mountains so high, + Seem homes of enchantment half hid in the sky! + Thy steep winding passes, where warriors have trod, + Which minstrels of yore often made their abode-- + Where Ossian and Fingal rehearsed runic tales, + That echo'd aloft o'er the furze cover'd dales. + How lucent each lake, and how lovely each dell! + Who would not be happy, at home let him dwell; + I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild, + With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child! + + + + +THERE IS A BONNIE, BLUSHING FLOWER. + + + There is a bonnie, blushing flower-- + But ah! I darena breathe the name; + I fain would steal it frae its bower, + Though a' should think me sair to blame. + It smiles sae sweet amang the rest, + Like brightest star where ither's shine; + Fain would I place it in my breast, + And make this bonnie blossom mine. + + At morn, at sunny noon, whene'er + I see this fair, this fav'rite flower, + My heart beats high with wish sincere, + To wile it frae its bonnie bower! + But oh! I fear to own its charms, + Or tear it frae its parent stem; + For should it wither in mine arms, + What would revive my bonnie gem? + + Awa', ye coward thoughts, awa'-- + That flower can never fade with me, + That frae the wintry winds that blaw + Round each neglected bud is free! + No, it shall only bloom more fair, + When cherished and adored by me; + And a' my joy, and a' my care, + This bonnie, blushing flower shall be! + + + + +THE MAID OF GLENCOE. + +TUNE--_"Come under my plaidie."_ + + + Once more in the Highlands I wander alone, + Where the thistle and heather are bonnie and blown; + By mountain and streamlet, by cavern and glen, + Where echo repeats the sweet wood-notes again. + Give courtiers their gay-gilded halls and their grandeur, + Give misers their gold, all the bliss they can know; + But let me meet Flora, while pensive I wander-- + Fair Flora, dear Flora! the maid of Glencoe! + + Oh, first when we met, being handsome and gay, + I felt she had stole my affections away; + The mavis sang loud on the sweet hawthorn tree, + But her voice was more sweet and endearing to me. + The sun spread his rays of bright gold o'er the fountain, + The hours glided by without languor or woe, + As we pull'd the sweet flowers from the steep rocky mountains-- + My blessings attend thee, sweet maid of Glencoe! + + The glen is more rugged, the scene more sublime, + Now hallow'd by love, and by absence, and time! + And fondly resemble the thoughts of my heart, + Untouch'd by the cold soothing fingers of art. + And lo! as I gaze on the charms of my childhood, + Where bright in the heath-bell the dew-drops still glow, + A fairy-like form ushers forth from the wild wood-- + 'Tis Flora, fair Flora! the maid of Glencoe. + + + + +MARION PAUL AIRD. + + +The accomplished and amiable author of "Heart Histories" and other +poems, Marion Paul Aird, is a native of Glasgow. Her paternal ancestors +were respectable yeomen in the Carrick district of Ayrshire. Her mother, +a niece of Hamilton Paul, formerly noticed,[13] was descended from a +race of opulent landowners in the district of Cunningham. In her youth, +Miss Aird had her abode in a romantic cottage at Govan Hill, in the +vicinity of Glasgow. For a number of years she has resided in +Kilmarnock. She early studied the British poets, and herself wrote +verses. In 1846 she published a duodecimo volume of poems and lyrics, +entitled "The Home of the Heart, and other Poems;" this was followed in +1853 by a volume of prose and verse, under the title of "Heart +Histories." She has two new volumes of poetry ready for the press. Her +poetry is largely pervaded by religious fervour and devoted earnestness. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[13] See vol. ii., p. 120. + + + + +THE FA' O' THE LEAF. + + + 'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawin', + The wee birds, a' sangless, are dowie and wae; + The green leaf is sear, an' the brown leaf is fa'in', + Wan Nature lamentin' o'er simmer's decay. + + Noo drumlie an' dark row the siller-like waters, + No a gowden-e'ed gowan on a' the green lea; + Her snell breath, wi' anger, in darkness noo scatters + The wee flowers, that danced to the sang o' the bee. + + The green leaves o' simmer sing hopefu' an' cheerie, + When bonnie they smile in the sun's gowden ray; + But dowie when sear leaves in autumn winds eerie + Sigh, "Life, love, and beauty, as flowers ye decay." + + How waefu' the heart, where young hopes that gather, + Like spring-flowers in simmer, "are a' wede awa';" + An' the rose-bloom o' beauty, e'er autumn winds wither, + Like green leaves unfaded, lie cauld in the snaw: + + But waefu' to see, as a naked tree lanely, + Man shake like a wan leaf in poortith's cauld blast; + The last o' his kin, sighin', "Autumn is gane by," + An' the wrinkles o' eild tell "his simmer is past." + + The fire that 's blawn out, ance mair may be lighted, + An' a wee spark o' hope in the cauld heart may burn; + An' the "morning star" break on the traveller benighted, + An' day, wi' its fresh gushing glories, return: + + But dool, dool the fa', when shakes the clay shielin', + An' the last keek o' day sets for ever in night! + When no ae wee star through the dark clud is stealin', + Through the cauld wave o' death, his dark spirit to light. + + The spring flowers o' life, a' sae blythesome and bonnie, + Though wither'd and torn frae the heart far awa', + An' the flower we thought fadeless, the fairest o' onie, + May spring up again whar nae freezin' winds blaw. + + Kin' spring 'll woo back the green "bud to the timmer," + Its heart burst in blossom 'neath simmer's warm breath; + But when shall the warm blush o' life's faded simmer + Bring back the rose-bloom frae the winter o' death? + + How kin' should the heart be, aye warm an' forgi'en, + When sune, like a leaf, we maun a' fade awa'; + When life's winter day as a shadow is fleein'-- + But simmer aye shines whar nae autumn leaves fa'! + + + + +THE AULD KIRK-YARD. + + + Calm sleep the village dead + In the auld kirk-yard; + But softly, slowly tread + In the auld kirk-yard; + For the weary, weary rest, + Wi' the green turf on their breast, + And the ashes o' the blest + Flower the auld kirk-yard. + + Oh! many a tale it hath, + The auld kirk-yard, + Of life's crooked thorny path + To the auld kirk-yard. + But mortality's thick gloom + Clouds the sunny world's bloom, + Veils the mystery of doom, + In the auld kirk-yard. + + A thousand memories spring + In the auld kirk-yard, + Though time's death-brooding wing + Shade the auld kirk-yard. + The light of many a hearth, + Its music and its mirth, + Sleep in the deep dark earth + Of the auld kirk-yard. + + Nae dreams disturb their sleep + In the auld kirk-yard; + They hear nae kindred weep + In the auld kirk-yard. + The sire, with silver hair, + The mother's heart of care, + The young, the gay, the fair, + Crowd the auld kirk-yard. + + So live that ye may lie + In the auld kirk-yard, + Wi' a passport to the sky + Frae the auld kirk-yard; + That when thy sand is run, + And life's weary warfare done, + Ye may sing o' victory won + Where there 's nae kirk-yard. + + + + +FAR, FAR AWAY. + +TUNE--_"Long, long ago."_ + + + Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly + Far, far away; far, far away; + Where not a cloud ever darkens the sky, + Far, far away; far, far away; + Fadeless the flowers in yon Eden that blow, + Green, green the bowers where the still waters flow, + Hearts, like their garments, are pure as the snow, + Far, far away; far away. + + There never trembles a sigh of regret, + Far, far away; far, far away; + Stars of the morning in glory ne'er set, + Far, far away; far, far away; + There I from sorrow for ever would rest, + Leaning in joy on Immanuel's breast; + Tears never fall in the homes of the blest, + Far, far away; far away. + + Friends, there united in glory, ne'er part, + Far, far away; far, far away; + One is their temple, their home, and their heart, + Far, far away; far, far away; + The river of crystal, the city of gold, + The portals of pearl, such glory unfold, + Thought cannot image, and tongue hath not told, + Far, far away; far away. + + List! what yon harpers on golden harps play; + Come, come away; come, come away; + Falling and frail is your cottage of clay; + Come, come away; come, come away: + Come to these mansions, there 's room yet for you, + Dwell with the Friend ever faithful and true; + Sing ye the song, ever old, ever new; + Come, come away; come away. + + + + +WILLIAM SINCLAIR. + + +A pleasing lyric poet, William Sinclair, was born at Edinburgh in 1811. +His father was a trader in the city. Receiving an ordinary education, he +became in his fourteenth year apprentice to a bookseller in Frederick +Street. A large circulating library connected with the establishment +enabled him to gratify an ardent love of reading, and brought him into +contact with persons of strong literary tastes. Quitting the business of +bookseller, he proceeded to Dundee, as clerk in a lawyer's office. He +afterwards accepted a situation in the Customs at Liverpool. His +official services were subsequently transferred to Leith, where he had +the privilege of associating with the poets Moir, Gilfillan, and Vedder. + +Early devoted to song-writing, Mr Sinclair, while the bookseller's +apprentice, contributed verses to the newspapers and popular +periodicals. Some of his poetical compositions have appeared in +_Blackwood's Magazine_. The poet Robert Nicoll submitted the first +edition of his poems to his revision. In 1843 he published an octavo +volume of poems and songs, with the title "Poems of the Fancy and the +Affections." To Major de Renzy's "Poetical Illustrations of the +Achievements of the Duke of Wellington," published in 1852, he was a +conspicuous contributor. Several of his songs have been set to music. Mr +Sinclair has latterly resided in Stirling, where he holds the situation +of reporter to one of the local journals. + + + + +THE ROYAL BREADALBANE OAK. + + + Thy queenly hand, Victoria, + By the mountain and the rock, + Hath planted 'midst the Highland hills + A Royal British Oak; + Oh, thou guardian of the free! + Oh, thou mistress of the sea! + Trebly dear shall be the ties + That shall bind us to thy name, + Ere this Royal Oak shall rise + To thy fame, to thy fame! + + The oak hath scatter'd terror + O'er our foemen from our ships, + They have given the voice of England's fame + In thunders from their lips; + 'Twill be mirror'd in the rills! + It shall wave among the hills! + And the rallying cry shall wake + Nigh the planted of thy hand, + That the loud acclaim may break + O'er the land, o'er the land! + + While it waves unto the tempest, + It shall call thy name to mind, + And the "Gathering" 'mong the hills shall be + Like the rushing of the wind! + Arise! ye Gaels, arise! + Let the echoes ring your cries, + By our mountain's rocky throne, + By Victoria's name adored-- + We shall reap her enemies down + With the sword, with the sword! + + Oh, dear among the mountains + Shall thy kindly blessing be; + Though rough may be our mien we bear + A loyal heart to thee! + 'Neath its widely spreading shade + Shall the gentle Highland maid + Teach the youths, who stand around, + Like brave slips from Freedom's tree, + That thrice sacred is the ground + Unto thee, unto thee! + + In the bosom of the Highlands + Thou hast left a glorious pledge, + To the honour of our native land, + In every coming age: + By thy royal voice that spoke + On the soil where springs the oak-- + By the freedom of the land + That can never bear a slave-- + The Breadalbane Oak shall stand + With the brave, with the brave! + + + + +EVENING. + + + Oh, how I love the evening hour, + Its calm and tranquil sky, + When the parting sun from a sea of gold + Is passing silently; + And the western clouds--bright robes of heaven-- + Rest gently on the breast of even! + + How calm, how gorgeous, and how pure, + How peaceful and serene! + There is a promise and a hope + Enthroned o'er all the scene; + While, blushing, with resplendent pride, + The bright sun lingers on the tide. + + The zephyrs on the waveless sea + Are wrapt in silent sleep, + And there is not a breath to wake + The slumbers of the deep-- + Peace sits on her imperial throne, + And sounds of sadness there are none! + + Methinks I hear in distance harps + By heavenly seraphs strung, + And in the concave of the sky + The holy vespers sung! + Oh, thou great Source of light and power, + We bless thee for the evening hour! + + + + +MARY. + + + If there 's a word that whispers love + In gentlest tones to hearts of woe, + If there 's a name more prized above, + And loved with deeper love below, + 'Tis Mary. + + If there 's a healing sound beneath + To soothe the heart in sorrow's hour, + If there 's a name that angels breathe + In silence with a deeper power, + 'Tis Mary. + + It softly hangs on many a tongue + In ladies' bower and sacred fane, + The sweetest name by poets sung-- + The high and consecrated strain-- + Is Mary. + + And Scotia's Bard--life's holiest dream + Was his, the silent heavens above, + When on the Bible o'er the stream + He vowed his early vows of love + To Mary. + + Oh, with the sweet repose of even, + By forest lone, by fragrant lea, + And by thy beauties all, Loch Leven, + How dear shall the remembrance be + Of Mary! + + Scotland and Mary are entwined + With blooming wreath of fadeless green, + And printed on the undying mind; + For, oh! her fair, though fated Queen, + Was Mary. + + By the lone forest and the lea, + When smiles the thoughtful evening star, + Though other names may dearer be, + The sweetest, gentlest, loveliest far, + Is Mary. + + + + +ABSENCE. + + + The fields, the streams, the skies are fair, + There 's freshness in the balmy air, + A grandeur crowns thine ancient woods, + And pleasure fills thy solitudes, + And sweets are strewn where'er we rove-- + But thou art not the land we love. + + How glorious, from the eastern heaven, + The fulness of the dawn is given! + How fair on ocean's glowing breast + Sleeps the soft twilight of the west! + All radiant are thy stars above-- + But thou art not the land we love. + + Fair flowers, that kiss the morning beam, + Hang their bright tresses o'er the stream; + From morn to noon, from noon to even, + Sweet songsters lift soft airs to heaven, + From field and forest, vale and grove-- + But thou art not the land we love. + + To high and free imaginings + Thy master minstrels swept the strings, + The brave thy sons to triumph led, + Thy turf enshrouds the glorious dead, + And Liberty thy chaplet wove-- + But thou art not the land we love. + + From the far bosom of the sea + A flood of brightness rests on thee, + And stately to the bending skies + Thy temples, domes, and turrets rise: + Thy heavens--how fair they smile above! + But thou art not the land we love. + + Oh, for the bleak, the rocky strand, + The mountains of our native land! + Oh, for the torrents, wild, and free, + And their rejoicing minstrelsy! + The heath below, the blue above, + The altars of the land we love! + + + + +IS NOT THE EARTH. + + + Is not the earth a burial place + Where countless millions sleep, + The entrance to the abode of death, + Where waiting mourners weep, + And myriads at his silent gates + A constant vigil keep? + + The sculptor lifts his chisel, and + The final stroke is come, + But, dull as the marble lip he hews, + His stiffened lip is dumb; + Though the Spoiler hath cast a holier work, + He hath called to a holier home! + + The soldier bends his gleaming steel, + He counts his laurels o'er, + And speaks of the wreaths he yet may win + On many a foreign shore; + But his Master declares with a sterner voice, + He shall break a lance no more! + + The mariner braved the deluge long, + He bow'd to the sweeping blast, + And smiled when the frowning heavens above + Were the deepest overcast; + He hath perish'd beneath a smiling sky-- + He hath laid him down at last. + + Far in the sea's mysterious depths + The lowly dead are laid, + Hath not the ocean's dreadful voice + Their burial service said? + Have not the quiring tempests rung + The dirges of the dead? + + The vales of our native land are strewn + With a thousand pleasant things; + The uplands rejoicing in the light + Of the morning's flashing wings; + Even there are the martyrs' rugged cairns-- + The resting-place of kings! + + And man outpours his heart to heaven, + And "chants his holiest hymn," + But anon his frame is still and cold, + And his sparkling eyes are dim-- + And who can tell but the home of death + Is a happier home to him? + + + + +OH, LOVE THE SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER DEAR![14] + + + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear-- + He fell on Balaklava's plain, + Yet ere he found a soldier's bier + He blest his beauteous child again; + Though o'er the Light Brigade like rain, + War's deadly lightning swiftly fell, + On--on the squadron charged amain + Amidst that storm of shot and shell! + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, + A jewel in his heart was she, + Whose noble form disdain'd the storm, + And, Freedom, fought and died for thee! + + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear-- + Even like a knight of old romance, + Brave Cardigan, disdaining fear, + Heard but the bugle sound--advance! + And paler droops the flower of France, + And brighter glows proud England's rose, + As charge they on with sabre-glance, + And thunders thickening as they close! + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c. + + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, + And be thy grateful kindness shewn; + And still her father's name revere, + For, oh, 'tis dearer than her own; + And tell his deeds in battle done, + And how he fearless faced the foe, + And urged the snorting war-horse on + With death above, around, below! + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c. + + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, + Who lowly bends at sorrow's shrine; + Her father's glorious deeds appear, + And laurels round her brow entwine; + In that full eye, that seems divine, + Her sire's commanding ardour glows; + His blood, that flow'd for thee and thine, + Within his daughter's bosom flows! + Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, + A jewel in his heart was she, + Whose noble form disdain'd the storm, + And, Freedom, fought and died for thee! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] This song, and the following, have been contributed by Mr Sinclair +to the present work. + + + + +THE BATTLE OF STIRLING. + + + To Scotland's ancient realm + Proud Edward's armies came, + To sap our freedom, and o'erwhelm + Our martial force in shame: + "It shall not be!" brave Wallace cried; + "It shall not be!" his chiefs replied; + "By the name our fathers gave her, + Our steel shall drink the crimson stream, + We 'll all her dearest rights redeem-- + Our own broadswords shall save her!" + + With hopes of triumph flush'd, + The squadrons hurried o'er + Thy bridge, Kildean, and heaving rush'd + Like wild waves to the shore: + "They come--they come!" was the gallant cry; + "They come--they come!" was the loud reply; + "O strength, thou gracious Giver! + By Love and Freedom's stainless faith, + We 'll dare the darkest night of death-- + We 'll drive them back for ever!" + + All o'er the waving broom, + In chivalry and grace, + Shone England's radiant spear and plume, + By Stirling's rocky base: + And, stretching far beneath the view, + Proud Cressingham! thy banners flew, + When, like a torrent rushing, + O God! from right and left the flame + Of Scottish swords like lightning came, + Great Edward's legions crushing! + + High praise, ye gallant band, + Who, in the face of day, + With a daring heart and a fearless hand, + Have cast your chains away! + The foemen fell on every side-- + In crimson hues the Forth was dyed-- + Bedew'd with blood the heather, + While cries triumphal shook the air-- + "Thus shall they do, thus shall they dare, + Wherever Scotsmen gather!" + + Though years like shadows fleet + O'er the dial-stone of Time, + Thy pulse, O Freedom! still shall beat + With the throb of manhood's prime! + Still shall the valour, love, and truth, + That shone on Scotland's early youth, + From Scotland ne'er dissever; + The Shamrock, Rose, and Thistle stern + Shall wave around her Wallace cairn, + And bless the brave for ever! + + + + +WILLIAM MILLER. + + +The writer of Nursery Songs in "Whistle Binkie," William Miller, was +born at Parkhead, Glasgow, about the year 1812. He follows the +profession of a cabinet-turner in his native city. "Ye cowe a'," which +we subjoin, amply entitles him to a place among the minstrels of his +country. + + + + +YE COWE A'. + +AIR--_"Comin' through the rye."_ + + + I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade + And a' that fondest heart can feel, or tongue can tell, I said; + But nae reply my lassie gied--I blamed the waterfa'; + Its deavin' soun' her voice might droun'. "Oh, it cowes a'! + Oh, it cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, it cowes a'! + I wonder how the birds can woo--oh, it cowes a'!" + + I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's solemn grove, + Where silence in her dewy bowers hush'd a' sounds but o' love; + Still frae my earnest looks an' vows she turn'd her head awa'; + Nae cheerin' word the silence heard. "Oh, this cowes a'! + Oh, this cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, this cowes a'!" + To woo I 'll try anither way--for this cowes a'!" + + I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to where the moonlight fell, + Upon a bank o' bloomin' flowers, beside the pear-tree well; + Say, modest moon, did I do wrang to clasp her waist sae sma', + And steal ae kiss o' honey'd bliss? "Oh, ye cowe a'! + Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'! + Ye might hae speer'd a body's leave--oh, ye cowe a'!" + + "I 'll to the clerk," quo' I, "sweet lass; on Sunday we 'll be cried, + And frae your father's house, next day, ye 'll gang a dear-lo'ed bride." + Quo' she, "I 'd need anither week to mak a gown mair braw;" + "The gown ye hae, we 'll mak it do!" "Oh, ye cowe a'! + Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'! + But wilfu' folk maun hae their way--oh, ye cowe a'!" + + + + +ALEXANDER HUME. + + +Alexander Hume was born at Edinburgh on the 17th February 1811. He is +employed as a journeyman cabinetmaker in that city. As a musical +composer he has attained considerable eminence. The following popular +songs from his pen are published with music of his own composition. + + + + +MY AIN DEAR NELL. + + + Oh, bonnie Nelly Brown, I will sing a song to thee; + Though oceans wide between us row, ye 'll aye be dear to me; + Though mony a year 's gane o'er my head since, down in Linton's dell, + I took my last fond look o' thee, my ain dear Nell. + Oh, tell me, Nelly Brown, do you mind our youthfu' days, + When we ran about the burnie's side, or speel'd the gow'ny braes; + When I pu'd the crawpea's blossom, an' the bloomin' heather-bell, + To twine them round thy bonnie brow, my ain dear Nell! + + How often, Nelly Brown, hae we wander'd o'er the lea, + Where grow the brier, the yellow bloom, an' flowery hawthorn-tree; + Or sported 'mang the leafy woods, till nicht's lang shadows fell-- + Oh, we ne'er had thoughts o' partin' then, my ain dear Nell! + And in winter, Nelly Brown, when the nichts were lang an' drear, + We would creep down by the ingle side, some fairy tale to hear; + We cared nae for the snawy drift, or nippin' frost sae snell, + For we lived but for each other then, my ain dear Nell! + + They tell me, Nelly Brown, that your bonnie raven hair + Is snaw-white now, an' that your brow, sae cloudless ance an' fair, + Looks care-worn now, and unco sad; but I heed na what they tell, + For I ne'er can think you 're changed to me, my ain dear Nell! + Ance mair then, Nelly Brown, I hae sung o' love and thee, + Though oceans wide between us row, ye 're aye the same to me, + As when I sigh'd my last farewell in Linton's flowery dell-- + Oh, I ne'er can tine my love for thee, my ain dear Nell! + + + + +THE PAIRTIN'. + + + Mary, dearest maid, I leave thee, + Hame, and frien's, and country dear; + Oh! ne'er let our pairtin' grieve thee, + Happier days may soon be here. + See yon bark, sae proudly bounding, + Soon shall bear me o'er the sea, + Hark! the trumpet loudly sounding + Calls me far frae love and thee. + + Summer flowers shall cease to blossom; + Streams run backward frae the sea; + Cauld in death maun be this bosom, + Ere it cease to throb for thee. + Fare-thee-weel! may every blessin', + Shed by Heaven, around thee fa'; + Ae last time thy loved form pressin'-- + Think o' me when far awa'. + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +JOHN MACDONALD, D.D. + + +The Rev. John Macdonald, D.D., one of the most popular of Gaelic +preachers, was born in 1778. He was ordained minister of the Gaelic +Church, Edinburgh, in 1806, and was afterwards translated to the parish +of Urquhart, in Ross-shire. While at Urquhart, he began a career of +remarkable ministerial success; though it was as a missionary, or +visitor of other Highland districts, that he established his +professional fame. His powerful voice is said to have reached and moved +thousands of auditors assembled in the open air. A long-expected volume +of Gaelic poetry, consisting chiefly of elegies, hymns, and sacred +lyrics, appeared from his pen in 1848. Dr Macdonald died in 1849. At the +Disruption in 1843, he had joined the Free Church. + + + + +THE MISSIONARY OF ST KILDA. + + The descriptive portion of a sacred lyric composed by Dr Macdonald + on the occasion of his first visit to St Kilda, often called "_The + Hirt_" or "_Hirta_," after the Gaelic. His missionary enterprise was + blessed, we believe, with remarkable success. + + + I see, I see the Hirta, the land of my desire, + And the missionary spirit within me is on fire; + But needs it all--for, bristling from the bosom of the sea, + Those giant crags are menacing, but welcome rude to me; + The eye withdraws in horror from yon mountains rude and bare, + Where flag of green nor tree displays, nor blushes flow'ret fair. + And how shall bark so frail as mine that beetling beach come near, + Where rages betwixt cliff and surf the battle-din of fear? + It seems as, like a rocking hull, that Island of the main + Were shaken from its basement, and creaking with the strain! + But the siege of waters nought prevails 'gainst giant Hirt the grim, + Save his face to furrow with some scars, or his brow with mist to dim. + Oh, needs a welcome to that shore, for well my thought might say, + 'Twere better than that brow to face that I were leagues away. + But no, not so! what fears should daunt,--for what welcomes e'er outran + The welcome that I bring with me, my call from God and man? + Nor vain my trust! my helmsman, He who sent me, now is steering, + And, by His power, the wave-worn craft the shore in calm is nearing, + And scarce my foot was on the beach when two hundred echoes spake + Their welcome, and a hundred hands flew forth my hand to take. + And he, believe me, has his best protection by his side + Who bears the call of God and man, from the reef, the crag, the tide; + And, for welcome on the shore, give me the flashing eyes that glow'd, + When I told the men of Hirt the news I brought them from their God! + + + + +DUNCAN KENNEDY. + + +Duncan Kennedy was born about the year 1758. His father was gardener to +Mr M'Lachlan of Kilanahanach, in the parish of Glassary, Argyleshire. In +his youth he enjoyed the advantage of attending the parish school, which +was then conducted by an able classical scholar. At an early age he was +qualified to become an instructor of youth in a remote part of his +native parish, and there he had frequent opportunities of becoming +acquainted with "Iain Bàn Maor" the Gaelic poet, and enjoyed the +privilege of listening to the eminent Daniel Campbell and other pious +ministers in the surrounding parishes. He was promoted to the parish +school of Kilmelford about the year 1784, and soon thereafter published +his collection of "Hymns and Spiritual Songs." During his summer +vacations he travelled over the districts of Kintyre, Argyle, and Lorn, +in search of legends concerning the Fingalians, and was successful in +collecting a mass of information, which in Gaelic verse he styled "Sean +dana." The MS. of his researches he intrusted to the perusal of a +neighbouring clergyman, from whom he was never able to recover it, a +circumstance which led him afterwards to inveigh against the clerical +order. From Kilmelford parish school, Kennedy in 1790 removed to +Glasgow, where he was engaged, first as an accountant, and afterwards in +mercantile pursuits. At one period he realised about £10,000, but he was +latterly unfortunate and indigent. During his old age he was allowed a +small pension from "The Glasgow Merchants' Home." Several years +subsequent to 1830 he resided at Ardrisaig in Argyleshire. His death +took place at Glasgow in 1836. He has left a MS. ready for publication, +entitled "The Ark of Ancient Knowledge." His volume of hymns has passed +into a second edition. + + + + +THE RETURN OF PEACE. + + + With a breezy burst of singing + Blow we out the flames of rage! + Europe's peace, through Europe ringing, + Is, of peace, our lifetime pledge. + Faldar, aldar, aldar, ari, + Faldar, aldar, aldar, e'; + Faldar, aldar, aldar, ari, + Faldar, ari, faldar, e'. + + Every musket to the guard-house, + And its lead to furlough send-- + To the tilling of the meadows + Every gallant bayonet bend. + + See, a lusty fleet is steering + Homewards, to the shore of peace; + And brave hearts, a host, are nearing + To the expectant dear's embrace. + + See the kilted Highlander + As from Egypt's battles come-- + Westlander and Norlander, + Eager for the sight of home. + + Seven years orphan'd of their fathers, + Shelterless and sad no more, + Quite a little army gathers, + Shouting welcomes from the shore. + + All the echoes are in motion, + All the sheilings ring with glee, + Since, of peace, the paths of ocean + Give the news a passage free. + + The birds the dash of oars was scaring-- + Hush'd their note, but soon they raise, + To their wonted branch repairing, + Sweetest numbers on the sprays. + + Seem the woods to dance a measure, + Nodding as the notes inspire-- + And their branches, as with pleasure, + Add their music to the choir. + + Of the streamlet, every murmur + Sweetly swells the song of peace, + Chanting, with each vocal charmer, + Joys that bloom and wars that cease. + + + + +ALLAN M'DOUGALL. + + +Allan M'Dougall was born about the year 1750, in the district of +Glencoe, Argyleshire. While employed as a tailor's apprentice, he had +the misfortune to lose his eyesight; he afterwards earned his +subsistence as a violinist. About the year 1790 he removed to +Inverlochy, in the vicinity of Fort-William. Composing verses in the +vernacular Gaelic, he contrived, by vending them, to add considerably to +his finances. In preparing for publication a small volume of poetry, he +was aided by the poet Evan Maclachlan,[15] who then was employed in the +vicinity as a tutor. Latterly, M'Dougall became family bard to Colonel +Ronaldson Macdonell of Glengarry, who provided for him on his estate. +His death took place in 1829. Shortly before this event, he republished +his volume, adding several of his later compositions. His poetry is +popular in the Highlands. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] See Minstrel, Vol. iv. p. 279. + + + + +THE SONG OF THE CARLINE. + + + O hi, O hu, she 's sad for scolding, + O hi, O hu, she 's too mad for holding, + O hi, O hu, her arms I 'm cold in, + And but a poor wittol to see. + + If I go to fair, or feast, or waddin', + The crone's in the sulks, for she 'd fain be gaddin', + A wink to the girls sets her soul a-maddin', + She 's a shame and sorrow to me. + If I stop at the hostel to buy me a gill, + Or with a good fellow a moment sit still, + Her fist it is clench'd, and is ready to kill, + And the talk of the clachan are we. + + She 's ailing for ever--my welcome is small, + If I bring for her nonsense no cordial at all; + Contention and strife, in the but and the hall, + Are ready to greet my return. + Oh, did he come to us, our bondage to sever, + I would cry, Be on Death benedictions for ever, + I would jump it so high, and I 'd jig it so clever-- + Short while would suffice me to mourn. + + It was not her face, or dress, or riches, + It was not a heart pierced through with stitches-- + 'Twas the glamour of more than a hundred witches + That brought me a bargain like Janet. + O when, in the spring I return from the plough, + And fain at the ingle would bask at its low, + Her bauchle is off, and I 'm sure of a blow, + Or a kick, if her foot is within it. + + No thrift she is plying, no cakes she is dressing, + No babe of her bosom in fondness caressing; + Be up she, or down she, she 's ever distressing + The core of my heart with her bother. + For a groat, for a groat with goodwill I would sell her, + As the bark of the oak is the tan of her leather, + And a bushel of coals would avail but to chill her, + For a hag can you shew such another? + + No tooth in her head, and a squint in her eye, + At the dusk of the day, when her choler is high, + The bairns, nay, the team I 've unhalter'd, they fly, + And leave the reception for me. + O hi, O hu, she 's sad for scolding, + O hi, O hu, she 's too mad for holding, + O hi, O hu, her arms I 'm cold in, + And but a poor wittol to see! + + + + +KENNETH MACKENZIE. + + +Kenneth Mackenzie was born in 1758, at Caisteal Leanir, near Inverness. +By his parents, who were possessed of considerable means, he was well +educated at the best schools in his native district. He became a seaman +in his seventeenth year; and while on board composed verses as a relief +to labour, and for the entertainment of his shipmates. In 1789 he +quitted the seafaring life, and commenced to itinerate for subscribers +to enable him to publish his poems. Through the influence of the Earl of +Buchan, to whom he was recommended by his talents, he procured an +officer's commission in the 78th Highland Regiment. He latterly accepted +the situation of Postmaster in a provincial town in Ireland. The date of +his death is unknown, but he is understood to have attained an advanced +age. His habits were exemplary, and he was largely imbued with feelings +of hospitality. + + + + +THE SONG OF THE KILT. + + + My darling is the philabeg, + With scarlet hosen for the leg, + And the spotted curtal coat so trig, + And the head blue-bonneted. + + The wimpled kilt be mine to wear, + Confusion take the breechen gear, + My limbs be fetterless and bare, + And not like Saxon donnot-led.[16] + + Oh, well I love the _eididh_[17] free, + When it sends me bounding on the lea, + Or up the brae so merrily, + There's ne'er a darg that wonnet speed. + + Give me the plaid, and on the hill + I 'll watch my turn, a se'ennight's spell, + And not a shiver from the chill + Shall pierce my trusty coverlet. + + And for the tartan's lively flame, + In glen or clachan 'tis the same, + Alike it pleases lass and dame-- + Unmatched its glories ever yet. + + Be mine in Highland graith array'd, + With weapon trim the glens to tread, + And rise a stag of foremost head, + Then let him tent my culiver. + + And when I marshal to the feast, + With deer-skin belt around my waist, + And in its fold a dirk embraced, + Then Roland match shall Oliver. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[16] Hen-pecked (Sc.), from _donned_, silly woman. + +[17] Highland garb. + + + + +JOHN CAMPBELL. + + +John Campbell (Ian Bàn), overseer on the estate of Shirvain, Argyleshire, +was born about the year 1705, in the parish of Glassary, in the same +county. He was entirely uneducated in youth, and never attained any +knowledge of the English language. Becoming intimately acquainted with +the Scriptures in his vernacular language, he paraphrased many passages +in harmonious verse; but, with the exception of fifteen hymns or sacred +lays which were recovered from his recitation by the poet Duncan +Kennedy, the whole have perished. The hymns of John Campbell retain much +popularity among the Gael. + + + + +THE STORM BLAST. + + + Oh, say not 'tis the March wind! 'tis a fiercer blast that drives + The clouds along the heavens, 'tis a feller sweep that rives + The image of the sun from man; a scowling tempest hurls + Our world into a chaos, and still it whirls and whirls. + It is the Boreal blast of sin, else all were meek and calm, + And Creation would be singing still its old primeval psalm. + Woe for the leaf of human life! it flutters in the sere, + And what avails its dance in air, with dust and down-come near? + That airy dance, what signifies the madness that inspires? + The king, the clown, alike is borne along, alike expires. + Come let us try another weird--the tempest let us chain; + A bridle for the passions ho! for giant pride a rein! + Thus quelleth grace the master-craft that was the cause of all + The ruin that befell us in the whirlwind of the Fall. + + + + +JAMES M'GREGOR, D.D. + + +The Rev. James Macgregor, D.D., Presbyterian minister at Nova Scotia, +was born in 1762, in the vicinity of Comrie, Perthshire. He entered on +ministerial duty in Nova Scotia shortly after becoming a probationer, +and continued in this important sphere of clerical labour to the close +of his life. He died at Pictou on the 1st of March 1830, in his 68th +year. Dr Macgregor composed excellent sacred verses in Gaelic. His +general scholarship and attainments were publicly acknowledged by his +receiving the degree of Doctor of Divinity from the University of +Glasgow. + + + + +LIGHT IN THE HIGHLANDS.[18] + + + Of learning long a scantling was the portion of the Gael, + Untaught by calculation's art their loss or gain to unveil, + Though well was seen the Saxon's power their interest to betray; + But now, to knowledge thanks, the Gael are letter-wise as they. + + Well fare the benefactors who have raised us from the ground, + Even as were raised from brutal dust our countrymen around; + Now ignorance shall furl her wing, and while our hopes aspire, + To all her native darkness she must in despair retire. + Each nook will have its scholar craft, and high in learning's scale + Will mount the inspirations of the language of the Gael. + + * * * * * + + Yes! now the trusty Highlander aloft shall raise his head, + As large as is his native worth, his wealthy arts shall spread; + Inventions crowd to save him from the poor man's bitter doom, + And well-taught skill, to grace with comfort's ray his humblest home. + No more o'er weakness shall exult the mighty and the proud-- + No more in nakedness shall 'plain his lot the wretch aloud. + + O, sure are coming nigh our hills the auspices foretold, + When he shall fail to vaunt his power who chain'd our sires of old, + In iron bands who held them fast, but now he droops with fear; + Delusion's age is past, and strife avows the smile, the tear, + That sympathy or fondness ask,--and the sad world is fain + To welcome its return to love and innocence again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[18] Composed on hearing of the late Principal Baird's successful +expedition to the Highlands, for the purpose of establishing the General +Assembly's Schools. + + +END OF VOL. V. + + +EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY. + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. VI. + + +PAISLEY +Birth Place of Tannahill, Alexander Wilson, John Wilson, &c. + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: [Handwritten: Ever yours truly, + +Chas. Mackay.]] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL VI. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +MDCCCLVII. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +CHARLES BAILLIE, ESQ., + +SHERIFF OF STIRLINGSHIRE, + +CONVENER OF THE ACTING COMMITTEE FOR REARING + +A NATIONAL MONUMENT + +TO THE + +ILLUSTRIOUS DEFENDER OF SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE, + +THIS SIXTH VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS DEDICATED, + +WITH SENTIMENTS OF THE HIGHEST RESPECT AND ESTEEM, + +BY + +HIS VERY OBEDIENT FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTION, xi + +OBSERVATIONS ON SCOTTISH SONG. BY HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL, xx + +CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D., 1 + Love aweary of the world, 8 + The lover's second thoughts on world weariness, 9 + A candid wooing, 11 + Procrastinations, 12 + Remembrances of nature, 13 + Believe, if you can, 15 + Oh, the happy time departed, 17 + Come back! come back! 17 + Tears, 18 + Cheer, boys, cheer, 20 + Mourn for the mighty dead, 21 + A plain man's philosophy, 22 + The secrets of the hawthorn, 24 + A cry from the deep waters, 25 + The return home, 26 + The men of the North, 28 + The lover's dream of the wind, 29 + +ARCHIBALD CRAWFORD, 31 + Bonnie Mary Hay, 33 + Scotland, I have no home but thee, 33 + +GEORGE DONALD, 35 + The spring time o' life, 36 + The scarlet rose-bush, 37 + +HENRY GLASSFORD BELL, 39 + My life is one long thought of thee, 40 + Why is my spirit sad? 41 + Geordie Young, 42 + My fairy Ellen, 44 + A bachelor's complaint, 45 + +WILLIAM BENNET, 47 + Blest be the hour of night, 48 + The rose of beauty, 49 + I 'll think on thee, love, 50 + There 's music in a mother's voice, 51 + The brig of Allan, 52 + +GEORGE OUTRAM, 54 + Charge on a bond of annuity, 55 + +HENRY INGLIS, 59 + Weep away, 59 + +JAMES MANSON, 61 + Ocean, 61 + The hunter's daughter, 63 + An invitation, 63 + Cupid and the rose-bud, 64 + Robin Goodheart's carol, 65 + +JAMES HEDDERWICK, 67 + My bark at sea, 68 + Sorrow and song, 69 + The land for me, 70 + The emigrants, 72 + First grief, 73 + The linnet, 76 + +WILLIAM BROCKIE, 78 + Ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair, 78 + +ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN, 80 + The lang winter e'en, 80 + +THOMAS YOUNG, 81 + Antoinette; or, The Falls, 81 + +ROBERT WILSON, 84 + Away, away, my gallant bark, 84 + Love, 85 + +EDWARD POLIN, 87 + A good old song, 88 + +ALEXANDER BUCHANAN, 89 + I wander'd alane, 89 + Katie Blair, 91 + +DAVID TAYLOR, 92 + My ain gudeman, 92 + +ROBERT CATHCART, 94 + Mary, 94 + +WILLIAM JAMIE, 96 + Auld Scotia's sangs, 96 + +JOHN CRAWFORD, 98 + My auld wifie Jean, 102 + The land o' the bonnet and plaid, 103 + Sing on, fairy Devon, 104 + Ann o' Cornylee, 105 + My Mary dear, 106 + The waes o' eild, 107 + +JOHN STUART BLACKIE, 109 + Song of Ben Cruachan, 115 + The braes of Mar, 117 + My loves, 118 + Liking and loving, 120 + +WILLIAM STIRLING, M.P., 121 + Ruth, 122 + Shallum, 126 + +THOMAS C. LATTO, 127 + The kiss ahint the door, 128 + The widow's ae bit lassie, 129 + The yellow hair'd laddie, 130 + Tell me, dear, 131 + +WILLIAM CADENHEAD, 133 + Do you know what the birds are singing, 134 + An hour with an old love, 135 + +ALLAN GIBSON, 137 + The lane auld man, 138 + The wanderer's return, 139 + +THOMAS ELLIOTT, 141 + Up with the dawn, 142 + Clyde boat song, 143 + Dimples and a', 144 + Bubbles on the blast, 145 + A serenade, 146 + A song of little things, 147 + My ain mountain land, 148 + When I come hame at e'en, 149 + +WILLIAM LOGAN, 151 + Jeanie Gow, 151 + +JAMES LITTLE, 153 + Our native hills again, 154 + Here 's a health to Scotia's shore, 155 + The days when we were young, 156 + Lizzy Frew, 158 + +COLIN RAE BROWN, 159 + Charlie 's comin', 160 + The widow's daughter, 161 + +ROBERT LEIGHTON, 163 + My muckle meal-pock, 163 + +JAMES HENDERSON, 165 + The wanderer's deathbed, 165 + The song of Time, 167 + The Highland hills, 168 + My native land, 169 + +JAMES MACLARDY, 171 + The sunny days are come, my love, 172 + Oh, my love was fair, 173 + +ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON, 176 + Day dream, 177 + Fair as a star of light, 179 + Nature musical, 180 + +ISABELLA CRAIG, 182 + Our Helen, 182 + Going out and coming in, 184 + My Mary an' me, 185 + A song of summer, 186 + +ROBERT DUTHIE, 187 + Song of the old rover, 187 + Boatman's song, 189 + Lisette, 190 + +ALEXANDER STEPHEN WILSON, 192 + Things must mend, 193 + The wee blink that shines in a tear, 194 + Flowers of my own loved clime, 195 + +JAMES MACFARLAN, 196 + Isabelle, 197 + Household gods, 198 + Poor companions, 199 + +WILLIAM B. C. RIDDELL, 201 + Lament of Wallace, 202 + Oh! what is in this flaunting town, 203 + +MARGARET CRAWFORD, 205 + My native land, 206 + The emigrant's farewell, 207 + The stream of life, 207 + Day-dreams of other years, 209 + Affection's faith, 211 + +GEORGE DONALD, JUN., 212 + Our ain green shaw, 212 + Eliza, 213 + +JOHN JEFFREY, 215 + War-cry of the Roman insurrectionists, 216 + +PATRICK SCOTT, 218 + The exile, 218 + +JOHN BATHURST DICKSON, 220 + The American flag, 221 + +EVAN M'COLL, 222 + The hills of the heather, 223 + +JAMES D. BURNS, 224 + Rise, little star, 224 + Though long the wanderer may depart, 225 + +GEORGE HENDERSON, 227 + I canna leave my native land, 228 + +HORATIUS BONAR, D.D., 229 + The meeting-place, 230 + Trust not these seas again, 233 + +JOHN HALLIDAY, 234 + The auld kirk bell, 234 + The auld aik-tree, 236 + +JAMES DODDS, 238 + Trial and death of Robert Baillie of Jervieswoode, 239 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + +DUNCAN MACFARLAN, 249 + The beauty of the shieling, 250 + +JOHN MUNRO, 251 + The Highland welcome, 252 + +JOHN MACDONALD, JUN., 254 + Mary, the fair of Glensmole, 254 + +EVAN M'COLL, 256 + The child of promise, 256 + +INDEX, 257 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +As if pointing to a condition of primeval happiness, Poetry has been the +first language of nations. The Lyric Muse has especially chosen the land +of natural sublimity, of mountain and of flood; and such scenes she has +only abandoned when the inhabitants have sacrificed their national +liberties. Edward I., who massacred the Minstrels of Wales, might have +spared the butchery, as their strains were likely to fall unheeded on +the ears of their subjugated countrymen. The martial music of Ireland is +a matter of tradition; on the first step of the invader the genius of +chivalric song and melody departed from Erin. Scotland retains her +independence, and those strains which are known in northern Europe as +the most inspiriting and delightful, are recognised as the native +minstrelsy of Caledonia. The origin of Scottish song and melody is as +difficult of settlement as is the era or the genuineness of Ossian. +There probably were songs and music in Scotland in ages long prior to +the period of written history. Preserved and transmitted through many +generations of men, stern and defiant as the mountains amidst which it +was produced, the Minstrelsy of the North has, in the course of +centuries, continued steadily to increase alike in aspiration of +sentiment and harmony of numbers. + +The spirit of the national lyre seems to have been aroused during the +war of independence,[1] and the ardour of the strain has not since +diminished. The metrical chronicler, Wyntoun, has preserved a stanza, +lamenting the calamitous death of Alexander III., an event which proved +the commencement of the national struggle. + + "Quhen Alysandyr oure kyng wes dede, + That Scotland led in luve and le, + Away wes sons of ale and brede, + Of wyne and wax, of gamyn and gle: + Oure gold wes changyd into lede. + Cryst, borne in-to virgynyté + Succour Scotland and remede, + That stad is in perplexyté." + +The antiquity of these lines has been questioned, and it must be +admitted that the strain is somewhat too dolorous for the times. Stung +as they were by the perfidious dealings of their own nobility, and the +ruthless oppression of a neighbouring monarch, the Minstrels sought +every opportunity of astirring the patriotic feelings of their +countrymen, while they despised the efforts of the enemy, and +anticipated in enraptured pæans their defeat. At the siege of Berwick in +1296, when Edward I. began his first expedition against Scotland, the +Scottish Minstrels ridiculed the attempt of the English monarch to +capture the place in some lines which have been preserved. The ballad of +"Gude Wallace" has been ascribed to this age; and if scarcely bearing +the impress of such antiquity, it may have had its prototype in another +of similar strain. Many songs, according to the elder Scottish +historians, were composed and sung among the common people both in +celebration of Wallace and King Robert Bruce. + +The battle of Bannockburn was an event peculiarly adapted for the +strains of the native lyre. The following Bardic numbers commemorating +the victory have been preserved by Fabyan, the English chronicler:-- + + "Maydens of Englande, + Sore may ye morne, + For your lemmans, ye + Haue lost at Bannockysburne. + With heue-a-lowe, + What weneth the king of England, + So soon to have won Scotland? + Wyth rumbylowe." + +Rhymes in similar pasquinade against the south were composed on the +occasion of the nuptials of the young Prince, David Bruce, with the +daughter of Edward II., which were entered into as a mean of cementing +the alliance between the two kingdoms. + +After the oblivion of a century, the Scottish Muse experienced a revival +on the return, in 1424, of James I. from his English captivity to occupy +the throne. Of strong native genius, and possessed of all the learning +which could be obtained at the period, this chivalric sovereign was +especially distinguished for his skill in music and poetry. By Tassoni, +the Italian writer, he has been designated a composer of sacred music, +and the inventor of a new kind of music of a plaintive character. His +poetical works which are extant--"The King's Quair," and "Peblis to the +Play"--abound not only in traits of lively humour, but in singular +gracefulness. To his pen "Christ's Kirk on the Green" may also be +ascribed. The native minstrelsy was fostered and promoted by many of his +royal successors. James III., a lover of the arts and sciences, +delighted in the society of Roger, a musician; James IV. gave frequent +grants to Henry the Minstrel, cherished the poet Dunbar, and himself +wrote verses; James V. composed "The Gaberlunzie Man" and "The Jollie +Beggar," ballads which are still sung; Queen Mary loved music, and wrote +verses in French; and James VI., the last occupant of the Scottish +throne, sought reputation as a writer both of Latin and English poetry. +Under the patronage of the Royal House of Stewart, epic and lyric poetry +flourished in Scotland. The poetical chroniclers Barbour, Henry the +Minstrel, and Wyntoun, are familiar names, as are likewise the poets +Henryson, Dunbar, Gavin Douglas, and Sir David Lyndsay. But the authors +of the songs of the people have been forgotten. In a droll poem entitled +"Cockelby's Sow," ascribed to the reign of James I., is enumerated a +considerable catalogue of contemporary lyrics. In the prologue to Gavin +Douglas' translation of the Æneid of Virgil, written not later than +1513, and in the celebrated "Complaynt of Scotland," published in 1549, +further catalogues of the popular songs have been preserved. + +The poetic gift had an influence upon the Reformation both of a +favourable and an unfavourable character. By exposing the vices of the +Popish clergy, Sir David Lyndsay and the Earl of Glencairn essentially +tended to promote the interests of the new faith; while, on the event of +the Reformation being accomplished, the degraded condition of the Muse +was calculated to undo the beneficial results of the ecclesiastical +change. The Church early attempted to remedy the evil by sanctioning the +replacement of profane ditties with words of religious import. Of this +nature the most conspicuous effort was Wedderburne's "Book of Godly and +Spiritual Ballads," a work more calculated to provoke merriment than to +excite any other feeling. + +On the union of the Crowns a new era arose in the history of the +Scottish Muse. The national spirit abated, and the poets rejoiced to +write in the language of their southern neighbours. In the time of +Barbour, the Scottish and English languages were almost the same; they +were now widely dissimilar, and the Scottish poets, by writing English +verse, required to translate their sentiments into a new tongue. Their +poetry thus became more the expression of the head than the utterance of +the heart. The national bards of this period, the Earl of Stirling, Sir +Robert Aytoun, and Drummond of Hawthornden, have, amidst much elegant +versification, left no impression on the popular mind. Other poets of +that and the succeeding age imitated Buchanan, by writing in Latin +verse. Though a considerable portion of our elder popular songs may be +fairly ascribed to the seventeenth century, the names of only a few of +the writers have been preserved. The more conspicuous song writers of +this century are Francis Semple, Lord Yester, Lady Grizzel Baillie, and +Lady Wardlaw. + +The taste for national song was much on the wane, when it was restored +by the successful efforts of Allan Ramsay. He revived the elder ballads +in his "Evergreen," and introduced contemporary poets in his "Tea Table +Miscellany." The latter obtained a place on the tea table of every lady +of quality, and soon became eminently popular. Among the more +conspicuous promoters of Scottish song, about the middle of last +century, were Mrs Alison Cockburn, Miss Jane Elliot of Minto, Sir +Gilbert Elliot, Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, Dr Austin, Dr Alexander +Geddes, Alexander Ross, James Tytler, and the Rev. Dr Blacklock. The +poet Robert Fergusson, though peculiarly fond of music, did not write +songs. Scottish song reached its climax on the appearance of Robert +Burns, whose genius burst forth meteor-like amidst circumstances the +most untoward. He so struck the chord of the Scottish lyre, that its +vibrations were felt in every bosom. The songs of Caledonia, under the +influence of his matchless power, became celebrated throughout the +world. He purified the elder minstrelsy, and by a few gentle, but +effective touches, completely renovated its fading aspects. "He could +glide like dew," writes Allan Cunningham, "into the fading bloom of +departing song, and refresh it into beauty and fragrance." Contemporary +with Burns, being only seven years his junior, though upwards of half a +century later in becoming known, Carolina Oliphant, afterwards Baroness +Nairn, proved a noble coadjutor and successor to the rustic bard in +renovating the national minstrelsy. Possessing a fine musical ear, she +adapted her lyrics with singular success to the precise sentiments of +the older airs, and in this happy manner was enabled rapidly to +supersede many ribald and vulgar ditties, which, associated with +stirring and inspiring music, had long maintained a noxious popularity +among the peasantry. Of Burns' immediate contemporaries, the more +conspicuous were, John Skinner, Hector Macneill, John Mayne, and Richard +Gall. Grave as a pastor, Skinner revelled in drollery as a versifier; +Macneill loved sweetness and simplicity; Mayne, with a perception of the +ludicrous, was plaintive and sentimental; Gall was patriotic and +graceful. + +Sir Walter Scott, the great poet of the past half century, if his +literary qualifications had not been so varied, had obtained renown as a +writer of Scottish songs; he was thoroughly imbued with the martial +spirit of the old times, and keenly alive to those touches of nature +which give point and force to the productions of the national lyre. +Joanna Baillie sung effectively the joys of rustic social life, and +gained admission to the cottage hearth. Lady Anne Barnard aroused the +nation to admiration by one plaintive lay. Allan Cunningham wrote the +Scottish ballad in the peculiar rhythm and with the power of the older +minstrels. Alike in mirth and tenderness, Sir Alexander Boswell was +exquisitely happy. Tannahill gave forth strains of bewitching sweetness; +Hogg, whose ballads abound with supernatural imagery, evinced in song +the utmost pastoral simplicity; Motherwell was a master of the +plaintive; Robert Nicoll rejoiced in rural loves. Among living +song-writers, Charles Mackay holds the first place in general +estimation--his songs glow with patriotic sentiment, and are redolent in +beauties; in pastoral scenes, Henry Scott Riddell is without a +competitor; James Ballantine and Francis Bennoch have wedded to +heart-stirring strains those maxims which conduce to virtue. The +Scottish Harp vibrates to sentiments of chivalric nationality in the +hands of Alexander Maclagan, Andrew Park, Robert White, and William +Sinclair. Eminent lyrical simplicity is depicted in the strains of +Alexander Laing, James Home, Archibald Mackay, John Crawford, and Thomas +C. Latto. The best ballad writers introduced in the present work are +Robert Chambers, John S. Blackie, William Stirling, M.P., Mrs Ogilvy, +and James Dodds.[2] Amply sustained is the national reputation in female +lyric poets, by the compositions of Mrs Simpson, Marion Paul Aird, +Isabella Craig, and Margaret Crawford. The national sports are +celebrated with stirring effect by Thomas T. Stoddart, William A. +Foster, and John Finlay. Sacred poetry is admirably represented by such +lyrical writers as Horatius Bonar, D.D., and James D. Burns. Many +thrilling verses, suitable for music, though not strictly claiming the +character of lyrics, have been produced by Thomas Aird, so distinguished +in the higher walks of Poetry, Henry Glassford Bell, James Hedderwick, +Andrew J. Symington, and James Macfarlan. + +Of the collections of the elder Scottish Minstrelsy, the best catalogue +is supplied by Mr David Laing in the latest edition of Johnson's Musical +Museum. Of the modern collections we would honourably mention, "The Harp +of Caledonia," edited by John Struthers (3 vols. 12mo); "The Songs of +Scotland, Ancient and Modern" (4 vols. 8vo), edited by Allan Cunningham; +"The Scottish Songs" (2 vols. 12mo), edited by Robert Chambers; and, +"The Book of Scottish Song," edited by Alexander Whitelaw. Most of these +works contain original songs, but the amplest collections of these are +M'Leod's "Original National Melodies," and the several small volumes of +"Whistle Binkie."[3] The more esteemed modern collections with music are +"The Scottish Minstrel," edited by R. A. Smith[4] (6 vols. 8vo); "The +Songs of Scotland, adapted to their appropriate Melodies arranged with +Pianoforte Accompaniments," edited by G. F. Graham, Edinburgh: 1848 (3 +vols. royal 8vo); "The Select Songs of Scotland, with Melodies, &c." +Glasgow: W. Hamilton, 1855 (1 vol. 4to); "The Lyric Gems of Scotland, a +Collection of Scottish Songs, Original and Selected, with Music," +Glasgow: 1856 (12mo). Of district collections of Minstrelsy, "The Harp +of Renfrewshire," published in 1820, under the editorship of Motherwell, +and "The Contemporaries of Burns," containing interesting biographical +sketches and specimens of the Ayrshire bards, claim special +commendation. + +The present collection proceeds on the plan not hitherto attempted in +this country, of presenting memoirs of the song writers in connexion +with their compositions, thus making the reader acquainted with the +condition of every writer, and with the circumstances in which his +minstrelsy was given forth. In this manner, too, many popular songs, of +which the origin was generally unknown, have been permanently connected +with the names of their authors. In the preparation of the work, +especially in procuring materials for the memoirs and biographical +notices, the editor has been much occupied during a period of four +years. The translations from the Gaelic Minstrelsy have been supplied, +with scarcely an exception, by a gentleman, a native of the Highlands, +who is well qualified to excel in various departments of literature. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Thomas of Ercildoune, better known as the Rhymer, lived in the reign +of Alexander III. No lyric of his composition has been preserved. + +[2] The ballads of Professor Aytoun, it is hardly necessary to remark, +would have been an ornament to any age. + +[3] The publisher of this meritorious little work, Mr David Robertson of +Glasgow, was a native of Port of Menteith, Perthshire; he died at +Glasgow on the 6th of October 1854. Mr Robertson maintained an extensive +correspondence with the humbler bards, and succeeded in recovering many +interesting lyrics, which would otherwise have perished. He was also +reputed as the publisher of the facetious collection of anecdotes which +appeared under the title of the "Laird of Logan." + +[4] Robert Archibald Smith, so justly celebrated in connexion with the +modern history of Scottish Music, was born at Reading, Berkshire, on the +16th November 1780. In his twentieth year he settled in Paisley, where +he formed the acquaintance of Tannahill, whose best songs he +subsequently set to music. In 1823, he became precentor in St George's +Church, Edinburgh, on the recommendation of its celebrated pastor, the +late Dr Andrew Thomson. His numerous musical works continue to be held +in high estimation. His death took place at Edinburgh on the 3d January +1829. + + + + +OBSERVATIONS ON SCOTTISH SONG: + +WITH + +REMARKS ON THE GENIUS + +OF + +LADY NAIRN, THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD, AND ROBERT TANNAHILL. + +BY HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL. + + +Songs are the household literature of the Scottish people; they are +especially so as regards the rural portion of the population. Till of +late years, when collections of song have become numerous, and can be +procured at a limited price, a considerable trade was carried on by +itinerant venders of halfpenny ballads. Children who were distant from +school, learned to read on these; and the aged experienced satisfaction +in listening to words and sentiments familiar to them from boyhood. That +the Scots, a thoughtful and earnest people, should have evinced such a +deep interest in minstrelsy, is explained in the observation of Mr +Carlyle, that "serious nations--all nations that can still listen to the +mandates of Nature--have prized song and music as the highest." Deep +feeling, like powerful thought, seeks and finds relief in expression; +the wisdom of Divine benevolence has so arranged, that what brings +relief to one, generally affords peace or pleasure to another. And, +further, where there is a susceptibility, a capacity of enjoyment, there +will be efforts made in order to its gratification. The human heart +loves the things of romance, and in the exercise of its native +privilege, delights to feel. Scottish song has been written in harmony +with nature, scenery, and circumstances; and fledged in its own +melodies, which seem no less the outpouring of native sensibility, has +borne itself onward from generation to generation. + +Respecting these airs or melodies, a few remarks may be offered. The +genius of our mountain land, as if prompted alike by thought and +feeling, has in these wrought a spell of matchless power--a fascination, +which, reaching the hearts both of old and young, maintains an +imperishable sway over them. One has said,-- + + "'Tis not alone the scenes of glen and hill, + And haunts and homes beside the murmuring rill; + Nor all the varied beauties of the year, + That so can Scotland to our hearts endear-- + The merry both and melancholy strain, + Their power assert, and o'er the spirit reign; + Indebted more to nature than to art, + They reach the ear to fascinate the heart; + And waken hope that, animating, cheers, + Or bathe our being in the flow of tears." + +Native, as well as foreign writers, assert that King James the First was +the inventor of a new kind of music, which they further characterise as +being sweet and plaintive. These terms certainly indicate the leading +features of Scottish music. There is something not only of wild +sweetness, but touches of pathos even in its merriest measures. Though +termed a new kind of music, however, it was not new. The king took up +the key-note of the human heart--the primitive scale, or what has been +defined the scale of nature, and produced some of those wild and +plaintive strains which we now call Scottish melodies. His poetry was +descriptive of, and adapted to the feelings, customs, and manners of his +countrymen; and he followed, doubtless, the same course in the music +which he composed. By his skill and education, he rendered his +compositions more regular and palpable, than those songs and their airs +which had been framed and sung by the sad-hearted swain on the hill, or +the love-lorn maiden in the green wood. + +Not in music only, but in the words of song, some of the Scottish kings +had such a share as to stamp the art and practice of song-writing with +royal sanction. Thus encouraged, the native minstrelsy was fostered by +the whole community, receiving accessions from succeeding generations. A +people who, along with their heroic leader, possessed sufficient courage +to face, with such appalling odds, the foe at Bannockburn--who, at an +after date, fought at Flodden against both their better wit and will, +rather than gainsay their king--and who, in more recent times, protected +him whom they regarded as their rightful prince, at the risk of life and +fortune, were not likely to fail in advancing what royalty had loved, +especially when it was deemed so essential to their happiness. The +poetic spirit entered in and arose out of the heart of the people. The +song and air produced in the court, represented the sentiment of the +cottage. It is still the same. Rights and privileges have been lost, +manners and customs have changed, but song, the forthgiving of the +heart, does not on the heart quit its claim. + +Within the modern period, the harp of Caledonia gives forth similar +utterances in the hands of Lady Nairn, the Ettrick Shepherd, and Robert +Tannahill. Different in station and occupations--even in motives to +composition--these three great lyrists were each deeply influenced by +that peculiar acquaintance with Scottish feeling which, brilliantly +illustrated by their genius, has deeply impressed their names on the +national heart. + +Lady Nairn, highly born and educated, delighted to sympathise with the +people. If among these she found the forthgivings of human nature less +sophisticated, the principles upon which she proceeded impelled her to +write for the humbler classes of society, and the result has been that +she has written for all. In every class human nature is essentially the +same; and though hearts may have wandered far from the primitive truths +which belong to the life and character of mankind in common, they may +yet be brought back by that which tells winningly upon them--by that +which awakens native feeling and early associations. There is much of +this kind of efficiency in song, when song is what it ought to be. If, +when the true standard is adhered to by those who exercise their powers +in producing it, and who have been born and bred in circumstances of +life so different, it can establish a unity of sentiment--it must +necessarily effect, in a greater or less degree, the same thing among +those who learn and sing the lays which they produce. And, indeed, it +would seem a truth that, by the congenial influences of song, the hearts +of a nation are more united--more willing to be subdued into +acquiescence and equality, than by any other merely human +instrumentality. + +If, in Scotland till of late years, writing for fortune was rather than +otherwise regarded as disreputable, writing for fame was never so +accounted. But even than for fame Lady Nairn had a higher motive. She +knew that the minstrels of ruder times had composed, and, through the +aid of the national melodies, transmitted to posterity strains ill +fitted to promote the interests of sound morality, yet that the love of +these sweet and wild airs made the people tenacious of the words to +which they were wedded. Her principal, if not her sole object, was to +disjoin these, and to supplant the impurer strains. Doubtless that +capacity of genius, which enabled her to write as she has done, might, +as an inherent stimulus, urge her to seek gratification in the exercise +of it; but, even in this case, the virtue of her main motive underwent +no diminution. She was well aware how deeply the Scottish heart imbibed +the sentiments of song, so that these became a portion of its nature, or +of the principles upon which the individuals acted, however +unconsciously, amid the intercourse of life. Lessons could thus be +taught, which could not, perhaps, be communicated with the same effect +by any other means. This pleasing agency of education in the school of +moral refinement Lady Nairn has exercised with genial tact and great +beauty; and, liberally as she bestowed benefactions on her fellow-kind +in many other respects, it may be said no gifts conferred could bear in +their beneficial effects a comparison to the songs which she has +written. Her strains thrilled along the chords of a common nature, +beguiling ruder thought into a more tender and generous tone, and +lifting up the lower towards the loftier feeling. If feeling constitutes +the nursery of much that is desirable in national character, it is no +less true that well assorted and confirmed nationality will always prove +the most trustworthy and lasting safeguard of freedom. It is the +combination of heart--the universal unity of sentiment--which renders a +people powerful in the preservation of right and privilege, home and +hearth; and few things of merely human origin will serve more thoroughly +to promote such unity, than the songs of a song-loving people. The +continual tendency of these is to imbue all with the same sentiment, and +to awaken, and keep awake, those sympathies which lead mankind to a +knowledge of themselves individually, and of one another in general, +thus preventing the different grades of society from diverging into +undue extremes of distinction. Nor ought the observation to be omitted, +that if a lady of high standing in society, of genius, refined taste and +feeling, and withal of singular purity of heart, could write songs that +the inhabitants of her native land could so warmly appreciate as by +their singing to render them popular, it would evince no inconsiderable +worth in that people that she could so sympathise and so identify +herself with them. + +From the position and circumstances of Lady Nairn, those of the Ettrick +Shepherd were entirely different. Hogg was one of the people. To write +songs calculated to be popular, he needed only to embody forth in poetic +shape what he felt and understood from the actual experiences of life +amid the scenes and circumstances in which he had been born and bred; +his compeers, forming that class of society in which it has been thought +the nature of man wears least disguise, were his first patrons. He +required, therefore, less than Lady Nairn the exercise of that sympathy +by which we place ourselves in the circumstances of others, and know how +in these, others think and feel. His poetic effusions were homely and +graphic, both in their sprightful humour and more tender sentiment. They +were sung by the shepherd on the hill, and the maiden at the hay-field, +or when the _kye cam' hame_ at "the farmer's ingle," and in the _bien_ +cottage of the _but_ and _ben_, where at eventide the rustics delighted +to meet. As experience gave him increased command over the hill harp, +his ambition to produce strains of greater beauty and refinement also +increased. By and by his minstrel numbers manifested a vigour and +perfection which rendered them the admiration of persons of higher rank, +and more competent powers of judgment. + +If, with the very simple and seemingly insignificant weapon of Scottish +song, the Baroness Nairn "stooped," the Shepherd stood up "to conquer." +Both adhered to the dictates of nature, and in both cases the result was +the same; nor could the most marked inconveniences which circumstances +imposed hinder that result. A time comes when false things shew their +futility, and things depending upon truth assert their supremacy. The +difference between the authoress and the author lay in those external +circumstances of station and position which could not long, much less +always, be of avail. Their minds were directed by a power of nature to +do essentially the same thing; the difference only being that each did +it in her and his own way. We may suppose that while Lady Nairn in her +baronial hall wrote-- + + "Bonnie Charlie 's now awa', + Safely ower the friendly main, + Mony a heart will break in twa + Should he ne'er come back again;" + +the Ettrick Shepherd seated on "a moss-gray stane," or a heather-bush, +and substituting his knee for his writing desk, might be furnishing +forth for the world's entertainment the lament, commencing-- + + "Far over yon hills of the heather sae green, + And down by the corrie that sings to the sea, + The bonnie young Flora sat sighing alane, + Wi' the dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e." + +Or when the lady was producing "The land o' the leal," a lay which has +reached and sunk so deeply into all hearts, the Shepherd might be +singing among the wild mountains the affecting and popular ditty, the +truth of which touched his own heart so powerfully, of "The moon was a' +waning," or saying to the skylark-- + + "Bird of the wilderness, + Blithesome and cumberless, + Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea; + Emblem of happiness, + Blest is thy dwelling-place, + Oh! to abide in the desert with thee!" + +Tannahill has likewise written a number of songs which have been +deservedly admired, loved, and sung. Allan Cunningham used to say, that +if he could only succeed in writing two songs which the inhabitants of +his native land would continue to sing, he would account it sufficient +fame. Tannahill has accomplished this, and much more. In temperament, as +well as circumstances, he differed widely both from Lady Nairn and the +Ettrick Shepherd. Amiable and good in all her ways, Lady Nairn's career +appears to have been lovely and alluring as the serene summer eve; the +Shepherd was rich as autumn, in the enjoyment of life itself, and all +that life could bring; but Tannahill's nature was cloudy, sensitive, and +uncertain as the April day. Lady Nairn, ambitious of doing good and +promoting happiness, dwelt, in heart at least, "among her own people," +giving and receiving alike those charms of unbroken delight which spring +from the kindness of the kind, and fearing nothing so much as public +notoriety. Hogg loved fame, yet took no pains to secure it. Fame, +nevertheless, reached him; but when found, it was with him a possession +much resembling the child's toy. His heart to the last appeared too +deeply imbued with the unsuspicious simplicity and carelessness of the +boy to have much concern about it. On this point Tannahill was morbidly +sensitive; his was an unfortunate cast of temperament, which, deepening +more and more, surrounded him with imaginary evils, and rendered life +insupportable. Lady Nairn was too modest not to be distrustful of the +extent of her genius, and presumed only to exercise it in composing +words to favourite melodies. The genius of Tannahill was more +circumscribed, and he was consequently more timid and painstaking. Hogg, +ambitious of originality, was bold and reckless. He had the power of +assuming many distinct varieties of style, his mind, taking the tone of +the subject entered upon, as easily as the musician passes from one note +to another. In education, Tannahill had the advantage over the Shepherd, +but in nothing else. The Shepherd's occupation was much more calculated +to inspire him with the feelings, and more fitted in everything to urge +to the cultivation of poetry, than the employment at which Tannahill was +doomed to labour. The beauty and grandeur of nature, solemn and sublime, +surround the path of him who tends the flocks. Though occasionally +called upon to face the blast, and wrestle with the storm, he still +experiences a charm. But when the broad earth is green below, and the +wide bending sky blue above, the voice of nature in the sounding of +streams, the song of birds, and the bleating of sheep differ widely from +what the susceptible and poetic mind is destined to experience amidst +the clanking din of shuttles in the dingy, narrow workshop of the +handloom weaver. Here the breath of the light hill breeze cannot come; +the form is bowed down, and the cheek is pale. Life, however buoyant and +aspiring at first, necessarily ere long becomes saddened and subdued. To +poor Tannahill it became a burden--more than he could bear. Yet it was +among these circumstances that he contrived to compose those chaste and +beautiful songs which have delighted, and still continue to delight, the +hearts of so many. Though not marked with much that can be termed +strikingly original, this, instead of militating against them, may have +told in their favour. Wayward conceits, fanciful thoughts and +expressions in songs, are like the hectic hue on the cheek of the +unhealthy; it may appear to give a surpassing beauty, but it is a beauty +which forebodes decay. "Oh, are ye sleeping, Maggie?" may be regarded as +the most original of Tannahill's songs. It is more ardent in tone, and +in every respect more poetic, than his other lyrics. The imagery is not +only striking, but true to nature, though in maintaining the simple and +tender, it does more than approach the sublime. His style is uniformly +distinguished by a chaste simplicity, and well sustained power. + +In these observations, we have pointed to that affinity of mind which +unites in sentiment those possessing it, in spite of worldly +distinctions. And song, too, we have found, is a prevalent and +far-pervading agency, which become the mean of binding together a +nation's population on the ground of that which is true to nature. It, +therefore, does so in a manner more congenial and pleasurable than most +other ties which bind; those of interest and necessity may be stronger, +indeed, but these ties being much more selfish, are also, in most +instances, much less harmonious. Song-writing is the highest attribute +of poetic genius. The epic poet has to do with the exercise of energies, +which produce deeds that are decided, together with the operation of +passions and feelings which are borne into excess. These are more easily +depicted than the gentler sentiments and feelings, together with the +lights and shades of national character which constitute the materials +of song. Nor will strains which set forth the actions of mankind as +operating in excess, ever be so popular as simple song. Though +communities are liable to periods of excitement, this is not their +natural condition. Songs founded upon such, may be popular while the +excitement lasts, but not much longer. Philosophers and inquiring +individuals may revert to and dwell upon them, but the generality of the +people will renounce them. Those who linger over them, will do so +through a disposition to ascertain the causes which gave them birth, and +how far these were natural in the circumstances. He who sings, feels +that the same ardour cannot be re-awakened; and the sentiments which the +poet has expressed become as things that are false and foolish. + +Nearly all the poems of Burns proceed on the same principles upon which +popular song proceeds. He approved himself considerably original and +singularly interesting, by taking up and saying, in the language best +suited for the purpose, what his countrymen had either already, to one +extent or other, thought and felt, or were, at his suggestion, fully +prepared to think and feel. It is thus that song becomes the truest +history of a people; they, properly speaking, have rarely any other +historian than the poet. History, in its stateliness, does not deign to +dwell upon their habits, their customs and manners, and, therefore, +cannot unfold their usual modes of thinking and feeling; it only notices +those more anomalous emergencies when the ebullitions of high passion +and excitement prevail; and such not being the natural condition of any +people, a true representation of their real character is not given. If +song equally tends to strengthen the bonds of nationality, it is also +that from which the true cast of a land's inhabitants can be gathered. +From habits and training, together with the native shades of peculiar +character, there is in human nature great variety; so, consequently, is +there also in song, for perhaps it might be difficult to fix upon one of +these peculiarities, whether of outward manner or inward disposition, +which song has not taken up and illustrated in its own way. Every song, +of course, has an aim or leading sentiment pervading it. It either tells +a tale calculated to interest human nature and revive feeling, or sets +forth a sentiment which human nature entertains, so that it shall be +turned to better account. This involves the field which song has it in +its power to cultivate and improve. But neither the pure moralist, nor +the accomplished critic, must expect a very great deal to be done on +this field at once. The song-writer has difficulties to contend with, +both in regard to those by whom he would have his songs sung, and the +airs to which he writes them. If in the latter case he would willingly +substitute classical and sounding language for monosyllables and +contracted words, the measures which the air require will not allow him; +and should he suddenly lift up and bear high the standard of moral +refinement, those who should attend may fail to appreciate the movement, +and refuse to follow him. If he can contrive, therefore, to interest and +entertain with what is at least harmless, it is much, considering how +wide a field even one popular song occupies, and how many of an +undesirable kind it may meanwhile displace and eventually supersede. The +tide of evil communications cannot be barred back at once, and song +remedy the evil which song in its impurer state has done. Nor is the +critic, who weighs these disadvantages, likely to pronounce a very +decided judgment upon the superiority and inferiority of songs, whether +in general or individually. + +Few of the different classes of society may view them in the same light, +and estimate them on the same grounds that he does. If he _thinks_, the +people _feel_; and they overturn his decisions by the songs which they +adopt and render popular. It is by no means so much the correct beauty +of the composition, as the suitableness of the sentiment, which insures +their patronage. Few of the songs of Burns are so correctly and +elegantly composed as "The lass of Ballochmyle;" yet few of his songs +have been more rarely sung. + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.[5] + + +Our first volume contained the portrait of Sir Walter Scott; our sixth +and concluding volume is adorned by the portrait of Charles Mackay. In +these distinguished men there is not only a strong mental similarity, +but also a striking physical resemblance. Those who are curious in such +matters will do well to compare the two portraits. The one was the most +prolific and popular writer at the commencement of the century; the +other is the most prolific and popular song-writer of the present day. +Wherever the English language is heard and patriotic songs are sung, +Charles Mackay will be present in his verse. He rejoices in his English +songs; but Scotland claims him as a son. + +Charles Mackay is of ancient and honourable extraction. His paternal +ancestors were the Mackays of Strathnaver, in Sutherlandshire; while, on +the mother's side, he is descended from the Roses of Kilravock, near +Inverness, for many centuries the proprietors of one of the most +interesting feudal strongholds in the Highlands. The Mrs Rose of +Kilravock, whose name appears in the "Correspondence" of Burns, was +Charles Mackay's maternal grandmother. + +He was born at Perth in 1814; but his early years were spent in London, +his parents having removed to the metropolis during his infancy. There +he received the rudiments of an education which was completed in the +schools of Belgium and Germany. His relation, General Mackay, intended +that he should adopt the military profession; but family arrangements +and other circumstances prevented the fulfilment of that intention. + +The poetical faculty cannot be acquired; it must be born with a man, +growing with his growth, and strengthening with his strength, until +developed by the first great impulse that agitates his being, and +generally that is love. There are versifiers innumerable who are not +poets, but there are no poets whose hearts remain unstirred by the +exciting passion of irrepressible love, when song becomes the written +testimony of the inner life. Whether it was so with Charles Mackay we +have not ascertained, nor have we cared to inquire. His love-songs, +however, are exquisitely touching, and among the purest compositions in +the language. Certain it is that the poetical power was early +manifested; for we find that, in 1836, he gave his first poems to the +public. The unpretending volume attracted the attention of John Black, +who was then the distinguished editor of the _Morning Chronicle_. Ever +ready to recognise genius wherever it could be found, and always +prepared to lend a hand to lift into light the unobtrusive author who +laboured in the shade, he offered young Mackay a place on the paper, +which was accepted, and filled with such ability that he was rapidly +promoted to the responsible position of sub-editor. He soon became one +of the marked men of the time in connexion with the press; and, in 1844, +he undertook the editorship of the _Glasgow Argus_, a journal devoted to +the advocacy of advanced liberal opinions. + +This paper he conducted for three years, and returned to London, where +he received the appointment of editor of the _Illustrated London News_, +a situation which, considering the peculiar character of the paper, he +fills with consummate tact. Some of the great organs of public opinion +may thunder forth embittered denunciations, others, in the silkiest +tone, will admonish so gently that they half approve the misconduct of +people in power if their birth happens to have been sufficiently +elevated. The distinguishing characteristics of the political articles +written by Charles Mackay are their manly and thoroughly independent +spirit, avoiding alike fulsome adulation and indiscriminate abuse. His +censure and his praise are always governed by strictest impartiality. +Whether he condemns or whether he applauds he secures the respect even +of those from whom he differs the most. It is no small merit to possess +such a power in the conflict and strife of politics. We happen to know a +circumstance which speaks volumes on this subject. The peculiarities of +the press of England were being discussed in the presence of a foreign +nobleman, of high rank and political influence, who expressed himself to +this effect:--"Some of your newspapers are _feared_, some simply +tolerated, some detested, and some merit our contempt, but the +_Illustrated London News_ is respected. It is admitted everywhere, it is +read everywhere; and, although it is sometimes severe, its very severity +is appreciated, because it is the expression of earnest conviction and +sterling good sense; the result is, that it has, on the Continent, a +wider influence than any paper published in England." + +Mackay's works have been numerous and various. Without presuming to be +perfectly accurate, we shall attempt a list of his several publications. +His first, as we have already stated, was a small volume of "Poems," +published in 1836. This was followed by the "Hope of the World," a poem, +in heroic verse, published in 1839. Soon afterwards appeared "The Thames +and its Tributaries," a most suggestive, agreeable, and gossiping book. +In 1841 appeared his "Popular Delusions," a work of considerable merit; +and next came, in 1842, his romance of "Longbeard, Lord of London," so +well conceived and cleverly executed, that an archæologist of +considerable pretensions mistook it for a genuine historical record of +the place on which it was written. His next work, and up till that +period his noblest poem, "The Salamandrine, or Love and Immortality," +appeared in 1843. As there is no hesitation in his thought, there is no +vagueness in his language; it is terse, clear, and direct in every +utterance. An enemy to spasms in every form, he abhors the Spasmodic +School of Poets. If the true poet be the seer--the far seer into +futurity--he should see his way clear before him. He should write +because he has a thought to utter, and ought to utter it in the clearest +and the fittest language, and this is the principle which manifestly +governs the compositions of Charles Mackay. The "Salamandrine" lifted +his works high in the poetic scale, and permanently fixed him, not only +in the ranks, but marked him as a leader of the host of eminent British +poets. His residence in Scotland enabled him to visit many places famous +in Scottish history. The results were his "Legends of the Isles," +published in 1845 and his "Voices from the Mountains" in 1846. A few +months before the publication of the last named volume, the University +of Glasgow conferred upon him the degree of LL.D. + +When the London _Daily News_ was started, he contributed some stirring +lyrics, under the title of "Voices from the Crowd." They arrested the +attention of the public, and tended greatly to popularise and establish +the reputation of that journal. In 1847 appeared his "Town Lyrics," a +series of ballads which harrowed the soul by laying bare many of the +secret miseries of the town. In 1850 was published his exquisite poem of +"Egeria," probably the most refined and artistic of all his productions; +and in 1856 he gave to the world "The Lump of Gold," and "Under Green +Leaves," two volumes of charming poetry; the first tracing the evils +that flow from unrestrained cupidity; the second the delights of the +country, under every circumstance that can or does occur. Latterly he +has composed some popular airs, set to his own lyrics; thus giving to +the melody he has conceived the immortality of his verse. With the late +Sir Henry Bishop he was associated in re-arranging a hundred of the +choicest old English melodies. The music has been re-arranged; and many +a lovely air, inadmissible to cultivated society from its being +associated with vulgar or debasing words, has been re-admitted to the +social circle, and is fast floating into public favour in union with the +words composed by Mackay. + +Here we stop. This is not the time, nor is it the place, to discuss, +with any great elaboration, the merits or peculiarities of Charles +Mackay as an author. We have to do with him as the most successful of +song-writers. Two of his songs, perhaps not among his best, have +obtained a world-wide popularity. His "Good Time Coming," and his +"Cheer, Boys, Cheer," have been ground to death by barrel-organs, but +only to experience a resurrection to immortality. On the wide sea, amid +the desert, across the prairies, in burning India, in far Australia, and +along the frozen steppes of Russia are floating those imperishable airs +suggested by the "Lyrics" whose names they bear. The soldier and the +sailor, conscious of impending danger, think of beloved ones at home; +unconsciously they hum a melody, and comfort is restored. The emigrant, +forced by various circumstances to leave his native land, where, instead +of inheriting food and raiment, he had experienced hunger, nakedness, +and cold, endeavours to express his feelings, and is discovered crooning +over the tune that correctly interprets his emotions, and thrills his +heart with gladness. The poet's song has become incorporated with the +poor man's nature. You may see that it fills his eyes with tears; but +they are not of sorrow. His cheek is flushed with hope, and a radiant +expectation, founded on experience, which seems to illuminate and gild +his future destiny. Marvellous, indeed, are the influences of a true +song; and while they are rare, they are by fashion rarely appreciated. +In it are embodied the best thoughts in the best language. By it the +best of every class in every clime are swayed. In it they find +expression for sensations, which, but for the poet, might have slumbered +unexpressed till the day of doom. + +Whether we think of Charles Mackay as a journalist, as a novelist, as a +poet, or as a musician, he wins our admiration in all. Possessing, as he +does in a high degree, a fine imagination, allied to the kindliest +feelings springing from a sensitive and considerate heart, he is beloved +by his friends, and cares little for the vulgar admiration of the +crowd. The pomp, and circumstance, and self-exaltation, so current +now-a-days, he utterly despises. But the kindliness, the glowing +sympathies of a few kindred spirits gladden him and make him happy. +Though modest and retiring in his disposition, he has no shamefacedness. +His conversation is like his verse; there is neither tinsel nor glitter, +but genuine, solid stuff. Something that bears examination; something +you can take up and handle; something to brood over and reflect upon; +something that wins its way by its truthfulness, and compels you to +accept it as a principle; something that sticks close, and springs up in +the future a very fountain of pure and unadulterated joy; from all this +it will be inferred that no man can remain long in his company without +feeling that he is not only a wiser, but a better man for the privilege +enjoyed. He is still in the prime of life and the maturity of his +intellect. May we not, in concluding this slight notice of his life and +character, express a hope which we know to be a general one--that he may +yet live to write many more poems and many more songs, as good or better +than those which he has already given to the world? + +FOOTNOTES: + +[5] The present Memoir has been prepared, at our request, by Francis +Bennoch, Esq. + + + + +LOVE AWEARY OF THE WORLD. + + + Oh! my love is very lovely, + In her mind all beauties dwell; + She, robed in living splendour, + Grace and modesty attend her, + And I love her more than well. + But I 'm weary, weary, weary, + To despair my soul is hurl'd; + I am weary, weary, weary, + I am weary of the world! + + She is kind to all about her, + For her heart is pity's throne; + She has smiles for all men's gladness, + She has tears for every sadness, + She is hard to me alone. + And I 'm weary, weary, weary, + From a love-lit summit hurl'd; + I am weary, weary, weary, + I am weary of the world! + + When my words are words of wisdom + All her spirit I can move, + At my wit her eyes will glisten, + But she flies and will not listen + If I dare to speak of love. + Oh! I 'm weary, weary, weary, + By a storm of passions whirl'd; + I am weary, weary, weary, + I am weary of the world! + + True, that there are others fairer-- + Fairer?--No, that cannot be-- + Yet some maids of equal beauty, + High in soul and firm in duty, + May have kinder hearts than she. + Why, by heart, so weary, weary, + To and fro by passion whirl'd?-- + Why so weary, weary, weary, + Why so weary of the world? + + Were my love but passing fancy, + To another I might turn; + But I 'm doom'd to love unduly + One who will not answer truly, + And who freezes when I burn. + And I 'm weary, weary, weary, + To despair my soul is hurl'd; + I am weary, weary, weary, + I am weary of the world! + + + + +THE LOVER'S SECOND THOUGHTS ON WORLD WEARINESS. + + + Heart! take courage! 'tis not worthy + For a woman's scorn to pine, + If her cold indifference wound thee, + There are remedies around thee + For such malady as thine. + Be no longer weary, weary, + From thy love-lit summits hurl'd; + Be no longer weary, weary, + Weary, weary of the world! + + If thou must be loved by woman, + Seek again--the world is wide; + It is full of loving creatures, + Fair in form, and mind, and features-- + Choose among them for thy bride. + Be no longer weary, weary, + To and fro by passion whirl'd; + Be no longer weary, weary, + Weary, weary of the world! + + Or if Love should lose thy favour, + Try the paths of honest fame, + Climb Parnassus' summit hoary, + Carve thy way by deeds of glory, + Write on History's page thy name. + Be no longer weary, weary, + To the depth of sorrow hurl'd; + Be no longer weary, weary, + Weary, weary of the world! + + Or if these shall fail to move thee, + Be the phantoms unpursued, + Try a charm that will not fail thee + When old age and grief assail thee-- + Try the charm of doing good. + Be no longer weak and weary, + By the storms of passion whirl'd; + Be no longer weary, weary, + Weary, weary of the world! + + Love is fleeting and uncertain, + And can bate where it adored, + Chase of glory wears the spirit, + Fame not always follows merit, + Goodness is its own reward. + Be no longer weary, weary, + From thine happy summit hurl'd; + Be no longer weary, weary, + Weary, weary of the world! + + + + +A CANDID WOOING. + + + I cannot give thee all my heart, + Lady, lady, + My faith and country claim a part, + My sweet lady; + But yet I 'll pledge thee word of mine + That all the rest is truly thine;-- + The raving passion of a boy, + Warm though it be, will quickly cloy-- + Confide thou rather in the man + Who vows to love thee all he can, + My sweet lady. + + Affection, founded on respect, + Lady, lady, + Can never dwindle to neglect, + My sweet lady; + And, while thy gentle virtues live, + Such is the love that I will give. + The torrent leaves its channel dry, + The brook runs on incessantly; + The storm of passion lasts a day, + But deep, true love endures alway, + My sweet lady. + + Accept then a divided heart, + Lady, lady, + _Faith_, _Friendship_, _Honour_, each have part, + My sweet lady. + While at one altar we adore, + _Faith_ shall but make us love the more; + And _Friendship_, true to all beside, + Will ne'er be fickle to a bride; + And _Honour_, based on manly truth, + Shall love in age as well as youth, + My sweet lady. + + + + +PROCRASTINATIONS. + + + If Fortune with a smiling face + Strew roses on our way, + When shall we stoop to pick them up? + To-day, my love, to-day. + But should she frown with face of care, + And talk of coming sorrow, + When shall we grieve--if grieve we must? + To-morrow, love, to-morrow. + + If those who 've wrong'd us own their faults + And kindly pity pray, + When shall we listen and forgive? + To-day, my love, to-day. + But if stern Justice urge rebuke, + And warmth from memory borrow, + When shall we chide--if chide we dare? + To-morrow, love, to-morrow. + + If those to whom we owe a debt + Are harm'd unless we pay, + When shall we struggle to be just? + To-day, my love, to-day. + But if our debtor fail our hope, + And plead his ruin thorough, + When shall we weigh his breach of faith? + To-morrow, love, to-morrow. + + If Love, estranged, should once again + His genial smile display, + When shall we kiss his proffer'd lips? + To-day, my love, to-day, + But, if he would indulge regret, + Or dwell with bygone sorrow, + When shall we weep--if weep we must? + To-morrow, love, to-morrow. + + For virtuous acts and harmless joys + The minutes will not stay; + We 've always time to welcome them + To-day, my love, to-day. + But care, resentment, angry words, + And unavailing sorrow + Come far too soon, if they appear + To-morrow, love, to-morrow. + + + + +REMEMBRANCES OF NATURE. + + + I remember the time, thou roaring sea, + When thy voice was the voice of Infinity-- + A joy, and a dread, and a mystery. + + I remember the time, ye young May flowers, + When your odours and hues in the fields and bowers + Fell on my soul as on grass the showers. + + I remember the time, thou blustering wind, + When thy voice in the woods, to my youthful mind, + Seem'd the sigh of the earth for human kind. + + I remember the time, ye suns and stars, + When ye raised my soul from its mortal bars + And bore it through heaven on your golden cars. + + And has it then vanish'd, that happy time? + Are the winds, and the seas, and the stars sublime + Deaf to thy soul in its manly prime? + + Ah, no! ah, no! amid sorrow and pain, + When the world and its facts oppress my brain, + In the world of spirit I rove--I reign. + + I feel a deep and a pure delight + In the luxuries of sound and sight-- + In the opening day, in the closing night. + + The voices of youth go with me still, + Through the field and the wood, o'er the plain and the hill, + In the roar of the sea, in the laugh of the rill. + + Every flower is a lover of mine, + Every star is a friend divine: + For me they blossom, for me they shine. + + To give me joy the oceans roll, + They breathe their secrets to my soul, + With me they sing, with me condole. + + Man cannot harm me if he would, + I have such friends for my every mood + In the overflowing solitude. + + Fate cannot touch me: nothing can stir + To put disunion or hate of her + 'Twixt Nature and her worshipper. + + Sing to me, flowers! preach to me, skies! + Ye landscapes, glitter in mine eyes! + Whisper, ye deeps, your mysteries! + + Sigh to me, wind! ye forests, nod! + Speak to me ever, thou flowery sod! + Ye are mine--all mine--in the peace of God. + + + + +BELIEVE IF YOU CAN. + +_Music by the Author._ + + + Hope cannot cheat us, + Or Fancy betray; + Tempests ne'er scatter + The blossoms of May; + The wild winds are constant, + By method and plan; + Oh! believe me, believe me, + Believe if you can! + + Young Love, who shews us + His midsummer light, + Spreads the same halo + O'er Winter's dark night; + And Fame never dazzles + To lure and trepan; + Oh! believe me, believe me, + Believe if you can! + + Friends of the sunshine + Endure in the storm; + Never they promise + And fail to perform. + And the night ever ends + As the morning began; + Oh! believe me, believe me, + Believe if you can! + + Words softly spoken + No guile ever bore; + Peaches ne'er harbour + A worm at the core; + And the ground never slipp'd + Under high-reaching man; + Oh! believe me, believe me, + Believe if you can! + + Seas undeceitful, + Calm smiling at morn, + Wreck not ere midnight + The sailor forlorn. + And gold makes a bridge + Every evil to span; + Oh! believe me, believe me, + Believe if you can. + + + + +OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED! + +_Air by Sir H. R. Bishop._ + + + Oh, the happy time departed! + In its smile the world was fair; + We believed in all men's goodness; + Joy and hope were gems to wear; + Angel visitants were with us, + There was music in the air. + + Oh, the happy time departed! + Change came o'er it all too soon; + In a cold and drear November + Died the leafy wealth of June; + Winter kill'd our summer roses; + Discord marr'd a heavenly tune. + + Let them pass--the days departed-- + What befell may ne'er befall; + Why should we with vain lamenting + Seek a shadow to recall? + Great the sorrows we have suffer'd-- + Hope is greater than them all. + + + + +COME BACK! COME BACK! + + + Come back! come back! thou youthful Time, + When joy and innocence were ours, + When life was in its vernal prime, + And redolent of sweets and flowers. + Come back--and let us roam once more, + Free-hearted, through life's pleasant ways, + And gather garlands as of yore-- + Come back--come back--ye happy days! + + Come back! come back!--'twas pleasant then + To cherish faith in love and truth, + For nothing in dispraise of men + Had sour'd the temper of our youth. + Come back--and let us still believe + The gorgeous dream romance displays, + Nor trust the tale that men deceive-- + Come back--come back--ye happy days! + + Come back!--oh, freshness of the past, + When every face seem'd fair and kind, + When sunward every eye was cast, + And all the shadows fell behind. + Come back--'twill come; true hearts can turn + Their own Decembers into Mays; + The secret be it ours to learn-- + Come back--come back--ye happy days! + + + + +TEARS. + +_Music by Sir H. R. Bishop._ + + + O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, + Ye are welcome to my heart--thawing, thawing, like the snow; + I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snowdrops spring, + And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing. + + O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run; + Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun; + The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall, + And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all. + + O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek, + I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak. + Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free, + And know that I am human by the light of sympathy. + + O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain; + The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again; + Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning sand, + It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land. + + There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my heart, + And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart. + Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago-- + O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow. + + + + +CHEER, BOYS! CHEER! + + + Cheer, boys! cheer! no more of idle sorrow; + Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way! + Hope points before, and shews the bright to-morrow-- + Let us forget the darkness of to-day! + So farewell, England! much as we may love thee, + We 'll dry the tears that we have shed before; + Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune? + So farewell, England! farewell evermore! + Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England! + Cheer, boys! cheer! the willing strong right hand; + Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's work for honest labour, + Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land! + + Cheer, boys! cheer! the steady breeze is blowing, + To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast; + The world shall follow in the track we 're going, + The star of empire glitters in the west. + Here we had toil and little to reward it, + But there shall plenty smile upon our pain; + And ours shall be the mountain and the forest, + And boundless prairies, ripe with golden grain. + Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England! + Cheer, boys! cheer! united heart and hand! + Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's wealth for honest labour, + Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land! + + + + +MOURN FOR THE MIGHTY DEAD. + +_Music by Sir H. R. Bishop._ + + + Mourn for the mighty dead, + Mourn for the spirit fled, + Mourn for the lofty head-- + Low in the grave. + Tears such as nations weep + Hallow the hero's sleep; + Calm be his rest, and deep-- + Arthur the brave! + + Nobly his work was done; + England's most glorious son, + True-hearted Wellington, + Shield of our laws. + Ever in peril's night + Heaven send such arm of might-- + Guardian of truth and right-- + Raised in their cause! + + Dried be the tears that fall; + Love bears the warrior's pall, + Fame shall his deeds recall-- + Britain's right hand! + Bright shall his memory be! + Star of supremacy! + Banner of victory! + Pride of our land. + + + + +A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY. + +_Music by the Author._ + + + I 've a guinea I can spend, + I 've a wife, and I 've a friend, + And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown; + I 've a cottage of my own, + With the ivy overgrown, + And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown; + I can sit at my door + By my shady sycamore, + Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown; + So come and drain a glass + In my arbour as you pass, + And I 'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John Brown. + + I love the song of birds, + And the children's early words, + And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown; + And I hate a false pretence, + And the want of common sense, + And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown; + I love the meadow flowers, + And the brier in the bowers, + And I love an open face without guile, John Brown; + And I hate a selfish knave, + And a proud, contented slave, + And a lout who 'd rather borrow than he 'd toil, John Brown. + + I love a simple song + That awakes emotions strong, + And the word of hope that raises him who faints, John Brown; + And I hate the constant whine + Of the foolish who repine, + And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; + But ever when I hate, + If I seek my garden gate, + And survey the world around me, and above, John Brown, + The hatred flies my mind, + And I sigh for human kind, + And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown. + + So, if you like my ways, + And the comfort of my days, + I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown; + I never scorn my health, + Nor sell my soul for wealth, + Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John Brown; + I 've parted with my pride, + And I take the sunny side, + For I 've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown; + I keep a conscience clear, + I 've a hundred pounds a-year, + And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown. + + + + +THE SECRETS OF THE HAWTHORN. + +_Music by the Author._ + + + No one knows what silent secrets + Quiver from thy tender leaves; + No one knows what thoughts between us + Pass in dewy moonlight eves. + Roving memories and fancies, + Travellers upon Thought's deep sea, + Haunt the gay time of our May-time, + O thou snow-white hawthorn-tree! + + Lovely was she, bright as sunlight, + Pure and kind, and good and fair, + When she laugh'd the ringing music + Rippled through the summer air. + "If you love me--shake the blossoms!" + Thus I said, too bold and free; + Down they came in showers of beauty, + Thou beloved hawthorn-tree! + + Sitting on the grass, the maiden + Vow'd the vow to love me well; + Vow'd the vow; and oh! how truly, + No one but myself can tell. + Widely spreads the smiling woodland, + Elm and beech are fair to see; + But thy charms they cannot equal, + O thou happy hawthorn-tree! + + + + +A CRY FROM THE DEEP WATERS. + + + From the deep and troubled waters + Comes the cry; + Wild are the waves around me-- + Dark the sky: + There is no hand to pluck me + From the sad death I die. + + To one small plank, that fails me, + Clinging low, + I am dash'd by angry billows + To and fro; + I hear death-anthems ringing + In all the winds that blow. + + A cry of suffering gushes + From my lips + As I behold the distant + White-sail'd ships + O'er the white waters gleaming + Where the horizon dips. + + They pass; they are too lofty + And remote, + They cannot see the spaces + Where I float. + The last hope dies within me, + With the gasping in my throat. + + Through dim cloud-vistas looking, + I can see + The new moon's crescent sailing + Pallidly: + And one star coldly shining + Upon my misery. + + There are no sounds in nature + But my moan, + The shriek of the wild petrel + All alone, + And roar of waves exulting + To make my flesh their own. + + Billow with billow rages, + Tempest trod; + Strength fails me; coldness gathers + On this clod; + From the deep and troubled waters + I cry to _Thee_, my God! + + + + +THE RETURN HOME. + + + The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds, + And our keel flies as fast as the shadow of clouds; + The land is in sight, on the verge of the sky, + And the ripple of waters flows pleasantly by,-- + And faintly stealing, + Booming, pealing, + Chime from the city the echoing bells; + And louder, clearer, + Softer, nearer, + Ringing sweet welcome the melody swells; + And it 's home! and it 's home! all our sorrows are past-- + We are home in the land of our fathers at last. + + How oft with a pleasure akin to a pain, + In fancy we roam'd through thy pathways again, + Through the mead, through the lane, through the grove, through the corn, + And heard the lark singing its hymn to the morn; + And 'mid the wild wood, + Dear to childhood, + Gather'd the berries that grew by the way; + But all our gladness + Died in sadness, + Fading like dreams in the dawning of day;-- + But we 're home! we are home! all our sorrows are past-- + We are home in the land of our fathers at last. + + We loved thee before, but we 'll cherish thee now + With a deeper emotion than words can avow; + Wherever in absence our feet might delay, + We had never a joy like the joy of to-day; + And home returning, + Fondly yearning, + Faces of welcome seem crowding the shore-- + England! England! + Beautiful England! + Peace be around thee, and joy evermore! + And it 's home! and it 's home! all our sorrows are past-- + We are home in the land of our fathers at last. + + + + +THE MEN OF THE NORTH. + + + Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud + Of its gay gaudy hues and its sky without cloud; + Mild as its breezes, the beautiful West + May smile like the valleys that dimple its breast; + The South may rejoice in the vine and the palm, + In its groves, where the midnight is sleepy with balm: + Fair though they be, + There 's an isle in the sea, + The home of the brave and the boast of the free! + Hear it, ye lands! let the shout echo forth-- + The lords of the world are the Men of the North! + + Cold though our seasons, and dull though our skies, + There 's a might in our arms and a fire in our eyes; + Dauntless and patient, to dare and to do-- + Our watchword is "Duty," our maxim is "Through!" + Winter and storm only nerve us the more, + And chill not the heart, if they creep through the door: + Strong shall we be + In our isle of the sea, + The home of the brave and the boast of the free! + Firm as the rocks when the storm flashes forth, + We 'll stand in our courage--the Men of the North! + + Sunbeams that ripen the olive and vine, + In the face of the slave and the coward may shine; + Roses may blossom where Freedom decays, + And crime be a growth of the Sun's brightest rays. + Scant though the harvest we reap from the soil, + Yet Virtue and Health are the children of Toil: + Proud let us be + Of our isle of the sea, + The home of the brave and the boast of the free! + Men with true hearts--let our fame echo forth-- + Oh, these are the fruit that we grow in the North! + + + + +THE LOVER'S DREAM OF THE WIND. + + + I dream'd thou wert a fairy harp + Untouch'd by mortal hand, + And I the voiceless, sweet west wind, + A roamer through the land. + I touch'd, I kiss'd thy trembling strings, + And lo! my common air, + Throbb'd with emotion caught from thee, + And turn'd to music rare. + + I dream'd thou wert a rose in bloom, + And I the gale of spring, + That sought the odours of thy breath, + And bore them on my wing. + No poorer thou, but richer I-- + So rich, that far at sea, + The grateful mariners were glad, + And bless'd both thee and me. + + I dream'd thou wert the evening star, + And I a lake at rest, + That saw thine image all the night + Reflected on my breast. + Too far!--too far!--come dwell on Earth! + Be Harp and Rose of May;-- + I need thy music in my heart, + Thy fragrance on my way. + + + + +ARCHIBALD CRAWFORD. + + +Archibald Crawford, a writer of prose and poetry of considerable merit, +was born at Ayr in 1785. In his ninth year, left an orphan, he was +placed under the care of a brother-in-law, a baker in London. With no +greater advantages than the somewhat limited school education then given +to the sons of burgesses of small provincial towns, his ardent love of +literature and powerful memory enabled him to become conversant with the +works of the more distinguished British authors, as well as the best +translations of the classics. At the expiry of eight years he returned +to Ayr, and soon after entered the employment of Charles Hay, Esq., of +Edinburgh, in whose service he continued during a course of years. In +honour of a daughter of this gentleman, who had shewn him much kindness +during a severe attack of fever, he composed his song of "Bonnie Mary +Hay," which, subsequently set to music by R. A. Smith, has become +extremely popular. He was afterwards in the employment of General Hay of +Rannes, with whom he remained several years. At the close of that period +he was offered by his employer an ensigncy in the service of the +Honourable East India Company, which, however, he respectfully declined. +In 1810 he opened a grocery establishment in his native town; but, with +less aptitude for business than literature, he lost the greater part of +the capital he had embarked in trade. He afterwards exchanged this +business for that of auctioneer and general merchant. + +The literary inclinations of his youth had been assiduously followed up, +and his employers, sympathising with his tastes, gave him every +opportunity, by the use of their libraries, of indulging his favourite +studies. With the exception of some fugitive pieces, he did not however +seek distinction as an author till 1819, when a satirical poem, entitled +"St James's in an uproar," appeared anonymously from his pen. This +composition intended to support the extreme political opinions then in +vogue, exposed to ridicule some leading persons in the district, and was +attended with the temporary apprehension and menaced prosecution of the +printer. To the columns of the _Ayr and Wigtonshire Courier_ he now +began to contribute a series of sketches, founded on traditions in the +West of Scotland; and these, in 1824, he collected into a volume, with +the title, "Tales of a Grandmother," which was published by +subscription. In the following year the tales, with some additions, were +published, in two duodecimo volumes, by Constable and Co.; but the +subsequent insolvency of the publishing firm deprived the author of the +profits of the sale. Crawford, along with two literary coadjutors, next +started a weekly serial at Ayr, entitled _The Correspondent_, but the +publication, in the course of a few months, was abandoned. A similar +periodical, under the designation of _The Gaberlunzie_, appeared under +his management in 1827, and extended to sixteen numbers. He latterly +contributed articles in prose and verse to the _Ayr Advertiser_, a +weekly newspaper published in that town. His death took place at Ayr on +the 6th January 1843, in his 58th year. Much esteemed for his hearty, +social nature, with a ready and pungent wit, and much dramatic power as +a relater of legendary narrative, he was possessed of strong +intellectual capacities, and considerable taste as a poet. His second +son, Mr William Crawford, has attained distinction as an artist. + + + + +BONNIE MARY HAY. + + + Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet, + For thy eye is the slae, thy hair is the jet; + The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek; + O! bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet. + + Bonnie Mary Hay, will you gang wi' me, + When the sun 's in the west, to the hawthorn-tree; + To the hawthorn-tree, in the bonnie berry-den, + And I 'll tell you, Mary, how I lo'e you then? + + Bonnie Mary Hay, it 's haliday to me, + When thou art couthie, kind, and free; + There 's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky, + My bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh. + + Bonnie Mary Hay, thou maunna say me nay, + But come to the bower, by the hawthorn brae; + But come to the bower, and I 'll tell you a' what 's true, + How, Mary, I can ne'er lo'e ane but you. + + + + +SCOTLAND, I HAVE NO HOME BUT THEE! + + + Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains, + Are famous in story--the birth-place of song; + Thy daughters the fairest, the sweetest, the rarest, + Well may thy pilgrims long for their home. + Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer shore, + The grave of my fathers! the land of the free! + Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace; + Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee! + + Glow on, ye southern skies, where fruits wear richer dyes + To pamper the bigot, assassin, and slave; + Scotland, to thee I 'll twine, with all thy varied clime, + For the fruits that thou bearest are true hearts and brave. + Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer shore, + The grave of my fathers! the land of the free! + Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace; + Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee! + + + + +GEORGE DONALD. + + +George Donald was born at Glasgow on the 19th January 1800. His parents +being in circumstances of indigence, he was sent to labour in a factory +so early as his eighth year. A limited attendance at school he +supplemented by devoting his intervals of toil to self-instruction. He +began to contribute verses to the public journals in his eighteenth +year, and soon after composed a series of poems, entitled "Lays of the +Covenanters," which appeared in one of the Glasgow newspapers. Of +extreme political opinions, he upheld his peculiar views in a series of +satirical compositions both in prose and verse, which, by leading +dissolute persons to seek his society, proved the commencement of a most +unfortunate career. Habits of irregularity were contracted; he ceased to +engage in the duties of his calling: and leaving his wife and family of +young children without any means of support, he became a reckless +wanderer. He afterwards emigrated to the United States, but at the +expiry of sixteen months re-appeared in Glasgow. He now became steady; +and joining the Total Abstinence Society, advocated the cause of +sobriety in a number of temperance songs. Renouncing his pledge, he soon +returned to his former habits. He proceeded to Ireland, where he +supported himself as a public reciter of popular Scottish ballads. He +contributed to the _Banner of Ulster_ a narrative of his experiences in +America; and published at Belfast, in a separate volume, his "Lays of +the Covenanters," two abridged editions of which were subsequently +printed and circulated in Glasgow. Returning to his native city, he was +fortunate in receiving the kindly patronage of Dr John Smith of the +_Examiner_ newspaper, who paid him a stipulated salary as a contributor. +After a period of illness, his death took place at the village of +Thornliebank, near Glasgow, on the 7th December 1851. In "The Songs for +the Nursery," an interesting little work published by Mr David Robertson +of Glasgow in 1846, ten pieces are from his pen. A poem which he +composed in his latter years entitled "The Progress of Society, in five +books," is still in MS. Amidst all his failings Donald maintained a +sense of religion. Evincing a sincere regret for the errors of his life, +he died in Christian hope. + + + + +THE SPRING TIME O' LIFE. + +AIR--_"O wat ye wha I met yestreen?"_ + + + The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths, + And spreads the mead wi' fragrant flowers, + While furthy autumn plenty breathes, + And blessings in abundance showers. + E'en winter, wi' its frost and snaw, + Brings meikle still the heart to cheer, + But there's a season worth them a', + And that's the spring-time o' the year. + + In spring the farmer ploughs the field + That yet will wave wi' yellow corn, + In spring the birdie bigs its bield + In foggy bank or budding thorn; + The burn and brae, the hill and dell, + A song of hope are heard to sing, + And summer, autumn, winter, tell, + Wi' joy or grief, the work o' spring. + + Now, youth 's the spring-time o' your life, + When seed is sown wi' care and toil, + And hopes are high, and fears are rife, + Lest weeds should rise the braird to spoil. + I 've sown the seed, my bairnies dear, + By precept and example baith, + And may the hand that guides us here + Preserve it frae the spoiler's skaith! + + But soon the time may come when you + Shall miss a mother's tender care, + A sinfu' world to wander through, + Wi' a' its stormy strife to share; + Then mind my words, whare'er ye gang, + Let fortune smile or thrawart be, + Ne'er let the tempter lead ye wrang-- + If sae ye live, ye'll happy dee. + + + + +THE SCARLET ROSE-BUSH. + +AIR--_"There grows a bonnie brier bush."_ + + + Come see my scarlet rose-bush + My father gied to me, + That's growing in our window-sill + Sae fresh and bonnilie; + I wadna gie my rose-bush + For a' the flowers I see, + Nor for a pouchfu' o' red gowd, + Sae dear it is to me. + + I set it in the best o' mould + Ta'en frae the moudie's hill, + And covered a' the yird wi' moss + I gather'd on the hill; + I saw the blue-bell blooming, + And the gowan wat wi' dew, + But my heart was on my rose-bush set, + I left them where they grew. + + I water 't ilka morning + Wi' meikle pride and care, + And no a wither'd leaf I leave + Upon its branches fair; + Twa sprouts are rising frae the root, + And four are on the stem, + Three rosebuds and six roses blawn-- + 'Tis just a perfect gem! + + Come, see my bonnie, blooming bush + My father gied to me, + Wi' roses to the very top, + And branches like a tree. + It grows upon our window-sill, + I watch it tentilie; + O! I wadna gie my dear rose-bush + For a' the flowers I see. + + + + +HENRY GLASSFORD BELL. + + +Henry Glassford Bell is the son of James Bell, Esq., advocate. His +mother was the daughter of the Rev. John Hamilton, minister of Cathcart. +He was born at Glasgow, but his early life was spent chiefly in +Edinburgh, whither his parents removed in his sixth year. Having studied +at the University of Edinburgh, he passed advocate in 1832. Prior to his +commencing the study of law, he much devoted himself to literary +pursuits. In 1828 he published, in "Constable's Miscellany," a "Life of +Mary, Queen of Scots," in two volumes, of which work several editions +have since appeared. About the same time he established the _Edinburgh +Literary Journal_, which he conducted for several years with much +acceptance to the public. His other publications are, "My Old +Portfolio," a volume of miscellaneous prose and verse, and "Summer and +Winter Hours," a volume of lyric poems and songs. Both these works are +out of print. Mr Bell has contributed to the principal periodicals, and +associated with the leading literary men of his time. Since 1839 he has +resided in Glasgow, holding the appointment of a Sheriff-substitute of +Lanarkshire. + + + + +MY LIFE IS ONE LONG THOUGHT OF THEE. + + + Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone, + Remember days of bliss gone by? + Wilt thou, beside thy native Rhone, + E'er for our distant streamlets sigh? + Beneath thy own glad sun and sky, + Ah! Leila, wilt thou think of me? + She blush'd, and murmur'd in reply, + "My life is one long thought of thee." + + Sweet girl! I would not have it so; + My destiny must not be thine, + For wildly as the wild waves flow, + Will pass this fleeting life of mine. + "And let thy fate be weal or woe, + My thoughts," she smiling said, "are free; + And well the watchful angels know + My life is one long thought of thee." + + Then, Leila, may thy thoughts and prayers + Be with me in my hour of need, + When round me throng the cold world's cares, + And all my heart's fresh sorrows bleed! + "Why, dearest, nurse so dark a creed? + For full of joy thy years shall be; + And mine shall share the blissful meed, + For life is one long thought of thee." + + + + +WHY IS MY SPIRIT SAD? + + + Why is my spirit sad? + Because 'tis parting, each succeeding year, + With something that it used to hold more dear + Than aught that now remains; + Because the past, like a receding sail, + Flits into dimness, and the lonely gale + O'er vacant waters reigns! + + Why is my spirit sad? + Because no more within my soul there dwell + Thoughts fresh as flowers that fill the mountain dell + With innocent delight; + Because I am aweary of the strife + That with hot fever taints the springs of life, + Making the day seem night! + + Why is my spirit sad? + Alas! ye did not know the lost, the dead, + Who loved with me of yore green paths to tread-- + The paths of young romance; + Ye never stood with us 'neath summer skies, + Nor saw the glad light of their tender eyes-- + The Eden of their glance. + + Why is my spirit sad? + Have not the beautiful been ta'en away-- + Are not the noble-hearted turn'd to clay-- + Wither'd in root and stem? + I see that others, in whose looks are lit + The radiant joys of youth, are round me yet, + But not--but not like them! + + I would not be less sad; + My days of mirth are past; droops o'er my brow + The sheaf of care in sickly paleness now; + The present is around me; + Would that the future were both come and gone, + And that I lay where, 'neath a nameless stone, + Crush'd feelings could not wound me! + + + + +GEORDIE YOUNG. + + + I 'll no walk by the kirk, mother, + I 'll no walk by the manse; + I aye meet wi' the minister, + Wha looks at me askance. + + What ails ye at the minister?-- + A douce and sober lad; + I trow it is na every day + That siclike can be had. + + I dinna like his smooth-kaim'd hair, + Nor yet his pawkie face; + I dinna like a preacher, mother, + But in a preaching place. + + Then ye 'll gang down by Holylee-- + Ye needna look sae scared-- + For wha kens but at Holylee + Ye 'll aiblins meet the Laird? + + I canna bide the Laird, mother, + He says sic things to me; + Ae half he says wi' wily words, + And ae half wi' his e'e. + + Awa! awa! ye glaikit thing! + It 's a' that Geordie Young; + The Laird has no an e'e like him, + Nor the minister a tongue! + + He 's fleech'd ye out o' a' ye hae, + For nane but him ye care; + But love can ne'er be lasting, bairn, + That aye gangs cauld and bare. + + The faithfu' heart will aye, mother, + Put trust in ane above, + And how can folks gang bare, mother, + Wrapp'd in the faulds o' love? + + Weel, lassie, walk ye by the burn, + And walk ye slow and sly; + My certie! weel ye ken the gate + That Geordie Young comes by! + + His plighted troth is mine, mother, + And lang afore the spring + I 'll loose my silken snood, mother, + And wear the gowden ring. + + + + +MY FAIRY ELLEN. + + + Beautiful moon! wilt thou tell me where + Thou lovest most to be softly gleaming? + Is it on some rich bank of flowers + Where 'neath each blossom a fay lies dreaming? + Or is it on yonder silver lake + Where the fish in green and gold are sparkling? + Or is it among those ancient trees + Where the tremulous shadows move soft and darkling? + Oh, no! said the moon, with a playful smile, + The best of my beams are for ever dwelling + In the exquisite eyes, so deeply blue, + And the eloquent glance of the fairy Ellen. + + Gentlest of zephyrs! pray tell me how + Thou lovest to spend a serene May morning, + When dew-drops are twinkling on every bough, + And violets wild each glade adorning? + Is it in kissing the glittering stream, + O'er its pebbly channel so gaily rippling? + Is it in sipping the nectar that lies + In the bells of the flowers--an innocent tippling? + Oh no! said the zephyr, and softly sigh'd, + His voice with a musical melody swelling, + All the mornings of May 'mong the ringlets I play + That dance on the brow of the fairy Ellen. + + White little lily! pray tell me when + Thy happiest moments the fates allow thee? + Thou seemest a favourite with bees and men, + And all the boys and butterflies know thee; + Is it at dawn or at sunset hour + That pleasantest fancies are o'er thee stealing? + One would think thee a poet, to judge by thy looks, + Or at least a pale-faced man of feeling? + Oh no! said the lily, and slightly blush'd, + My highest ambition 's to be sweet smelling, + To live in the sight, and to die on the breast + Of the fairest of beings, the fairy Ellen. + + Oh! would that I were the moon myself, + Or a balmy zephyr, fresh fragrance breathing; + Or a white-crown'd lily, my slight green stem + Slily around that dear neck wreathing! + Worlds would I give to bask in those eyes, + Stars, if I had them, for one of those tresses, + My heart and my soul, and my body to boot, + For merely the smallest of all her kisses! + And if she would love me, oh heaven and earth! + I would not be Jove, the cloud-compelling, + Though he offer'd me Juno and Venus both + In exchange for one smile of my fairy Ellen! + + + + +A BACHELOR'S COMPLAINT. + + + They 're stepping off, the friends I knew, + They 're going one by one; + They 're taking wives to tame their lives, + Their jovial days are done; + I can't get one old crony now + To join me in a spree; + They've all grown grave, domestic men, + They look askance on me. + + I hate to see them sober'd down, + The merry boys and true, + I hate to hear them sneering now + At pictures fancy drew; + I care not for their married cheer, + Their puddings and their soups, + And middle-aged relations round, + In formidable groups. + + And though their wife perchance may have + A comely sort of face, + And at the table's upper end + Conduct herself with grace, + I hate the prim reserve that reigns, + The caution and the state, + I hate to see my friend grow vain + Of furniture and plate. + + Oh, give me back the days again, + When we have wander'd free, + And stole the dew from every flower, + The fruit from every tree; + The friends I loved they will not come, + They've all deserted me; + They sit at home and toast their toes, + Look stupid and sip tea. + + Alas! alas! for years gone by, + And for the friends I've lost; + When no warm feeling of the heart + Was chill'd by early frost. + If these be Hymen's vaunted joys, + I'd have him shun my door, + Unless he quench his torch, and live + Henceforth a bachelor. + + + + +WILLIAM BENNET. + + +William Bennet was born on the 29th September, 1802, in the parish of +Glencairn, and county of Dumfries. He first wrote verses while +apprenticed to a mechanic in a neighbouring parish. In his nineteenth +year he published a volume of poems, which excited some attention, and +led to his connexion with the newspaper press. He became a regular +contributor to the _Dumfries Courier_, edited by the ingenious John +M'Diarmid; and in 1825 and the following year conducted the _Dumfries +Magazine_, in which appeared many interesting articles from his pen. In +December 1826, he became editor of the _Glasgow Free Press_, which +supported the liberal cause during the whole of the Reform Bill +struggle. Along with Sir Daniel Sandford, he afterwards withdrew from +the Whig party, and established the _Glasgow Constitutional_, the +editorship of which he resigned in 1836. In 1832-3, he published a +periodical, entitled, "Bennet's Glasgow Magazine." Continuing to write +verses, he afterwards published a poetical volume, with the title, +"Songs of Solitude." His other separate works are, "Pictures of Scottish +Scenes and Character," in three volumes; "Sketches of the Isle of Man;" +and "The Chief of Glen-Orchay," a poem in five cantos, illustrative of +Highland manners and mythology in the middle ages. + +Mr Bennet, subsequent to leaving Glasgow, resided successively in +Ireland, and London. He afterwards lived several years in Galloway, and +has latterly fixed his abode at Greenmount, near Burntisland. He is +understood to be engaged in a new translation of the Scriptures. + + + + +BLEST BE THE HOUR OF NIGHT. + + + Blest be the hour of night, + When, his toils over, + The swain, with a heart so light, + Meets with his lover! + Sweet the moon gilds their path, + Arm in arm straying; + Clouds never rise in wrath, + Chiding their staying. + + Gently they whisper low: + Unseen beside them, + Good angels watch, that no + Ill may betide them. + Silence is everywhere, + Save when the sighing + Is heard, of the breeze's fall, + Fitfully dying. + + How the maid's bosom glows, + While her swain 's telling + The love, that 's been long, she knows, + In his heart swelling! + How, when his arms are thrown + Tenderly round her, + Fears she, in words to own + What he hath found her! + + When the first peep of dawn + Warns them of parting, + And from each dewy lawn + Blythe birds are starting, + Fondly she hears her swain + Vow, though they sever, + Soon they shall meet again, + Mated for ever. + + + + +THE ROSE OF BEAUTY. + + + Amang the breezy heights and howes + Where winds the Milk[6] sae clearly, + A Rose o' beauty sweetly grows, + A Rose I lo'e most dearly. + + Wi' spring's saft rain and simmer's sun + How blooms my Rose divinely! + And lang ere blaws the winter wun', + This breast shall nurse it kin'ly. + + May heaven's dew aye freshly weet + My Rose at ilka gloamin', + And oh, may nae unhallow'd feet + Be near it ever roamin'! + + I soon shall buy a snug wee cot, + And hae my Rose brought thither; + And then, in that lowne sunny spot, + We'll bloom and fade thegither. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] A beautiful sylvan stream, falling from the uplands into the Annan, +between Ecclefechan and Lockerbie. + + + + +I 'LL THINK ON THEE, LOVE. + + + I 'll think on thee, Love, when thy bark + Hath borne thee far across the deep; + And, as the sky is bright or dark, + 'Twill be my fate to smile or weep; + For oh, when winds and waters keep + In trust so dear a charge as thee, + My anxious fears can never sleep + Till thou again art safe with me! + + I 'll think on thee, Love, when each hour + Of twilight comes, with pensive mood, + And silence, like a spell of power, + Rests, in its depth, on field and wood; + And as the mingling shadows brood + Still closer o'er the lonely sea, + Here, on the beach where first we woo'd, + I 'll pour to heaven my prayers for thee. + + Then haply on the breeze's wing, + That to me steals across the wave, + Some angel's voice may answer bring + That list'ning heaven consents to save. + And oh, the further boon I crave + Perchance may also granted be, + That thou, return'd, no more shalt brave + The wanderer's perils on the sea! + + + + +THERE 'S MUSIC IN A MOTHER'S VOICE. + + + There 's music in a mother's voice, + More sweet than breezes sighing; + There 's kindness in a mother's glance, + Too pure for ever dying. + + There 's love within a mother's breast, + So deep, 'tis still o'erflowing, + And for her own a tender care, + That 's ever, ever growing. + + And when a mother kneels to heaven, + And for her child is praying, + Oh, who shall half the fervour tell + That burns in all she 's saying! + + A mother, when she, like a star, + Sets into heaven before us, + From that bright home of love, all pure, + Still minds and watches o'er us. + + + + +THE BRIG OF ALLAN. + + + Come, memory, paint, though far away, + The wimpling stream, the broomy brae, + The upland wood, the hill-top gray, + Whereon the sky seems fallin'; + Paint me each cheery, glist'ning row + Of shelter'd cots, the woods below, + Where Airthrie's healing waters flow + By bonny Brig of Allan. + + Paint yonder Grampian heights sublime, + The Roman eagles could not climb, + And Stirling, crown'd in after time + With Royalty's proud dwallin'; + These, with the Ochils, sentry keep, + Where Forth, that fain in view would sleep, + Tries, from his Links, oft back to peep + At bonny Brig of Allan. + + Oh, lovely, when the rising sun + Greets Stirling towers, so steep and dun, + And silver Forth's calm breast upon + The golden beams are fallin'! + Then, trotting down to join his flood, + Through rocky steeps, besprent with wood, + How bright, in morning's joyous mood, + Appears the stream of Allan! + + Upon its banks how sweet to stray, + With rod and line, the livelong day, + Or trace each rural charm, away + From cark of every callin'! + There dove-like, o'er my path would brood + The spirit pure of solitude; + For native each rapt, genial mood + Is to the beauteous Allan. + + Oh, witching as its scenes, and bright + As is its cloudless summer light, + Be still its maids, the soul's delight + Of every truthful callan'! + Be health around it ever spread, + To light the eye, to lift the head, + And joy on every heart be shed + That beats by Brig of Allan! + + + + +GEORGE OUTRAM. + + +The author of "Legal Lyrics," a small volume of humorous songs, printed +for private circulation, George Outram, was born in the vicinity of +Glasgow in 1805. His father, a native of England, was partner and +manager in the Clyde Iron Works. In 1827 he was called to the Scottish +bar, and practised for some years as an advocate. To the character of an +orator he made no pretensions, but he evinced great ability as a chamber +counsel. He accepted, in 1837, the editorship of the _Glasgow Herald_, +and continued the principal conductor of this journal till the period of +his death. He died at Rosemore, on the shores of the Holy Loch, on the +16th September 1856, in his fifty-first year. His remains were interred +in Warriston Cemetery, Edinburgh. + +Of most retiring disposition, Mr Outram confined his intercourse to a +limited circle of friends, by whom he was esteemed for his genial worth +and interesting conversation. By the late Lord Cockburn he was +especially beloved. He has left in MS. several interesting songs, which +are likely to be published by his executors. His cousin-german, General +Sir James Outram, is well known for his military services in India. + + + + +CHARGE ON A BOND OF ANNUITY.[7] + +AIR--_"Duncan Davidson."_ + + + I gaed to spend a week in Fife, + An unco week it proved to be, + For there I met a waesome wife, + Lamenting her viduity. + Her grief brak' out sae fierce and fell, + I thought her heart wad burst the shell; + And, I was sae left to mysel, + I sell't her an annuity. + + The bargain lookit fair eneugh, + She just was turned o' saxty-three; + I couldna guess'd she 'd prove sae teugh + By human ingenuity. + But years have come, and years have gane, + And there she 's yet as stieve 's a stane; + The auld wife 's growing young again + Since she got her annuity. + + She 's crined awa to bane an' skin, + But that it seems is nought to me; + She 's like to live, although she 's in + The last stage o' tenuity. + She munches wi' her wizen'd gums, + An' stumps about on legs o' thrums, + But comes--as sure as Christmas comes-- + To ca' for her annuity. + + She jokes her joke, an' cracks her crack, + As spunkie as a growin' flea; + An' there she sits upon my back + A livin' perpetuity. + She hurkles by her ingle side, + An' toasts an' tans her wrinkled hide; + Lord kens how lang she yet may bide + To ca' for her annuity. + + I read the tables drawn wi' care + For an Insurance Company; + Her chance o' life was stated there + Wi' perfect perspicuity. + But tables here, or tables there, + She 's lived ten years beyond her share; + An 's like to live a dozen mair + To ca' for her annuity. + + I gat the loon that drew the deed, + We spell'd it ower richt carefully; + In vain he yerk'd his souple head + To find an ambiguity. + It 's dated, tested, a' complete; + The proper stamp, nae word delete; + And diligence, as on decreet, + May pass for her annuity. + + * * * * * + + I thought that grief might gar her quit, + Her only son was lost at sea; + But aff her wits behuved to flit + An' leave her in fatuity. + She threeps, an' threeps he 's livin' yet + For a' the tellin' she can get; + But catch the doited wife forget + To ca' for her annuity. + + If there 's a sough o' cholera + Or typhus, wha sae gleg as she! + She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a', + In siccan superfluity! + She doesna need--she's fever proof-- + The pest walked o'er her very roof; + She tauld me sae, and then her loof + Held out for her annuity. + + Ae day she fell, her arm she brak, + A compound fracture as could be; + Nae leech the cure wad undertak, + Whate'er was the gratuity. + It 's cured! she handles 't like a flail, + It does as weel in bits as hale; + But I 'm a broken man mysel' + Wi' her and her annuity. + + Her broozled flesh and broken banes + Are weel as flesh and banes can be, + She beats the taeds that live in stanes + An' fatten in vacuity! + They die when they 're exposed to air, + They canna thole the atmosphere; + But her! expose her onywhere, + She lives for her annuity. + + * * * * * + + The water-drap wears out the rock + As this eternal jade wears me; + I could withstand the single shock, + But not the continuity. + It 's pay me here, an' pay me there, + An' pay me, pay me evermair; + I 'll gang demented wi' despair; + I 'm _charged_ for her annuity. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] This facetious composition, in the original form, extends to +considerably greater length. + + + + +HENRY INGLIS. + + +Henry Inglis is the son of William Inglis, Esq. of Glaspin, W.S., and +was born in Edinburgh on the 6th November 1806. His early years were +spent at Middleton, his father's residence in Linlithgowshire. +Completing with distinction the usual course of classical study at the +High School of Edinburgh, he entered the University of that city. At the +close of a philosophical curriculum, he devoted himself to legal +pursuits, and became a writer to the Signet. In 1851 he published +"Marican, and other Poems," in one volume octavo. Another poetical work, +entitled "The Briar of Threave," appeared from his pen in 1855. Mr +Inglis is at present engaged with pieces illustrative of the history of +the Covenant, which may afterwards be offered to the public. + +The representative of the old Border family of Inglis of Branxholme, Mr +Inglis is great-grandson of the celebrated Colonel Gardiner, who fell on +the field of Preston in 1745. + + + + +WEEP AWAY. + + + Weep away, heart, weep away! + Let no muleteer + Be afraid + To weep; for a brave heart may + Lament for a dear, + Fickle maid. + + The lofty sky weeps in cloud, + The earth weeps in dews + From its core; + The diamond brooks weep aloud, + The flowers change the hues + Which they wore. + + The grass mourns in the sunbeam, + In gums weep the trees + And in dye; + And if mourn meadow and stream-- + Inanimate these-- + May not I? + + The wood-pigeon mourns his mate, + The caged birds bewail + Freedom gone; + Shall not man mourn over fate? + Dumb sorrow assail + Him alone? + + Then weep on, heart, weep away! + Let no muleteer + Be afraid + To weep; for a brave heart may + Lament for a dear, + Fickle maid. + + + + +JAMES MANSON. + + +James Manson, one of the conductors of the _Glasgow Herald_, has +composed a number of lyrics, some of which have been set to music. Mr +Manson was born in the parish of Kilwinning, Ayrshire, about the year +1812. He was bred to a laborious handicraft occupation, at which he +wrought industriously during a course of years. + + + + +OCEAN. + +_Set to Music by H. Lambeth._ + + +ON SHORE--CALM. + + Summer Ocean, + Placid Ocean, + Soft and sweet thy lullaby; + Shadows lightly, + Sunbeams brightly, + Flicker o'er thee noiselessly. + + Resting gently on thy bosom, + Snowy sea-gulls preen thy wings, + While perfumed sighs, from many a blossom, + Float around the strain the skylark sings. + + Love's emotion, + Summer Ocean, + Like thy self, 'neath cloudless skies, + Glances brightly, + Dances lightly + Till the fond illusion flies. + + +AT SEA--STORM. + + Winter Ocean, + Furious Ocean, + Fierce and loud thy choral lay: + Storm-clouds soaring, + Whirlwinds roaring + O'er thy breast in madness play. + + Homeless petrels shriek their omen + Harshly 'mid thy billows' roar; + Fleshless bones of shipwreck'd seamen + Dash against thy rock-ribb'd shore. + + War's commotion, + Winter Ocean, + Like thyself, when tempest driven, + By passion hurl'd, + Would wreck the world, + And mock the wrath-scowling heaven. + + + + +THE HUNTER'S DAUGHTER. + +_Set to Music by Herr Kücken._ + + + When loud the horn is sounding + Along the distant hills, + Then would I rove, ne'er weary, + The Hunter's Daughter near me, + By flowery margin'd rills. + + 'Mid stately pines embosom'd + There stands the Hunter's cot, + From which this maiden daily + At morning peeps so gaily, + Contented with her lot. + + This Hunter and his Daughter + Make everything their prey; + He slays the wild roe bounding, + Her eyes young hearts are wounding-- + No shafts so sure as they! + + + + +AN INVITATION. + +_Music arranged by Julius Siligmann._ + + + The skylark sings his matin lay, + The waking flowers at dawning day, + With perfumed breath, sigh, Come! come! come! + Oh, haste, Love, come with me, + To the wild wood come with me. + Hark, the wing'd warblers singing, + Come with me; + Beauteous flowers, their perfume flinging, + Wait for thee! + + The sunlight sleeps upon the lea, + And sparkles o'er the murmuring sea, + The wanton wind sighs, Come! come! come! + Oh, haste, Love, come with me, + To the wild wood come with me-- + Come and gather luscious berries, + Come with me; + Clustering grapes and melting cherries + Wait for thee! + + My bird of love, my beauteous flower, + Come, reign the queen of yonder bower, + 'Tis True-love whispers, Come! come! come! + Oh, haste, then, come with me, + To the wild wood come with me. + Life's first fairest hours are fleeting-- + Come with me; + Hope, and Joy, and Love's fond greeting + Wait for thee! + + + + +CUPID AND THE ROSE-BUD. + +_Set to Music by H. Lambeth._ + + + Young Love once woo'd a budding Rose, + (_Sing hey down ho, the bleak winds blow._) + With fond delight his bosom glows, + (_How softly fall the flakes of snow._) + Love watch'd the flower whose ruby tips + Peep'd coyly forth, like pouting lips, + Then nearer to the Rose he trips; + (_The stately oak will soon lie low._) + + Young Love was fond and bashful too, + (_Sing hey down ho, the sea rolls aye._) + He sigh'd and knew not what to do; + (_Life like an arrow flies away._) + Then whispering low his cherish'd wish, + The Rose-bud trembled on her bush, + While redder grew her maiden blush; + (_Ruddy eve forecasts the brightest day._) + + To pull this Rose young Love then tried; + (_'Tis sweet to hear the skylark sing._) + Her blush of hope she strove to hide; + (_Joy soars aloft on painted wing._) + Love press'd the Rose-bud to his breast, + He felt the thorn, but well he guess'd + Such "Nay" meant "Yea," 'twas fond Love's jest; + (_'Tis honey soothes the bee's fell sting._) + + + + +ROBIN GOODHEART'S CAROL. + +TUNE--_"The Brave Old Oak."_ + + + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright, + And joyous songs abound; + Our log burns high, but it glows less bright + Than the eyes which sparkle round. + The merry laugh, and the jocund tale, + And the kiss 'neath the mistletoe, + Make care fly as fast as the blustering gale + That wreaths the new fallen snow. + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright, + And joyous thoughts abound; + The log burns high, but it glows less bright + Than the eyes which sparkle round. + + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! see the old grandsire + Forgets his weight of years; + He laughs with the young, and a fitful fire + Beams through his unbidden tears. + With tremulous tenor he joins the strain-- + The song of his manhood's prime; + For his thoughts grow young, and he laughs again, + While his aged head nods time. + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! &c. + + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! and the infant's heart + Beats high with a new delight, + And youths and maidens, with guileless art, + Make merry the livelong night. + The time flies on with gladsome cheer, + And welcomes pass around-- + 'Tis the warmest night of all the year, + Though winter hath chain'd the ground. + 'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! &c. + + + + +JAMES HEDDERWICK. + + +James Hedderwick, proprietor and editor of the _Glasgow Citizen_, was +born at Glasgow on the 18th January 1814. His father, who bore the same +Christian name, was latterly Queen's printer in that city. At an early +age the subject of this sketch was put to the printing business in his +father's office. His tastes, however, being more literary than +mechanical, he gradually became dissatisfied with his position, and +occupied his leisure hours by contributing, in prose and verse, to +sundry periodicals. In his sixteenth year he spent some time in London, +in the course of which he attended the Rhetoric class of the London +University, and carried off the first prize. When little more than +twenty years of age, he obtained the situation of sub-editor of the +_Scotsman_ newspaper. He now applied himself assiduously to political +writing, but continued, at the same time, to seek recreation in those +lighter departments of literature which were more in accordance with his +personal tastes. Several of his poetical pieces, contributed to the +_Scotsman_, were copied into _Chambers' Edinburgh Journal_, and have +since frequently appeared in different periodicals. One of these, +entitled "First Grief," was lately quoted in terms of approbation by a +writer in _Fraser's Magazine_. Others have found their way, in an +anonymous shape, into a London publication entitled "Beautiful Poetry." +In 1842 Mr Hedderwick returned to his native city, and started the +_Glasgow Citizen_--a weekly newspaper which continues to maintain an +honourable position. Previous to leaving Edinburgh he was entertained at +a public dinner, attended by men of letters and other leading +individuals. The drudgery of newspaper life has left Mr Hedderwick +little leisure for contributions to polite literature. While in +Edinburgh, however, he wrote one number of "Wilson's Tales of the +Border," and has since contributed occasionally to other works. In 1844 +he published a small collection of poems, but in too costly a form for +general circulation. + + + + +MY BARK AT SEA. + + + Away, away, like a child at play, + Like a living ocean-child, + Through the feathery spray she cleaves her way + To the billows' music wild; + The sea is her wide-spread pleasure ground, + And the waves around her leap, + As with joyous bound, to their mystic sound, + She dances o'er the deep! + + Sometimes at rest, on the water's breast, + She lies with folded wing, + But now, wind-chased and wave-caress'd, + She moves a joyous thing! + And away she flies all gleaming bright, + While a wave in lofty pride, + Like a gallant knight, in plumage white, + Is bounding by her side! + + For her glorious path the sea she hath, + And she wanders bold and free, + And the tempest's breath and the billows' wrath + Are her mighty minstrelsy! + A queen the crested waves among, + A light and graceful form, + She sweeps along, to the wild-winds' song, + Like the genius of the storm! + + + + +SORROW AND SONG. + + + Weep not over poet's wrong, + Mourn not his mischances; + Sorrow is the source of song, + And of gentle fancies. + + Rills o'er rocky beds are borne + Ere they gush in whiteness; + Pebbles are wave-chafed and worn + Ere they shew their brightness. + + Sweetest gleam the morning flowers + When in tears they waken; + Earth enjoys refreshing showers + When the boughs are shaken. + + Ceylon's glistening pearls are sought + In its deepest waters; + From the darkest mines are brought + Gems for beauty's daughters. + + Through the rent and shiver'd rock + Limpid water breaketh; + 'Tis but when the chords are struck + That their music waketh. + + Flowers, by heedless footstep press'd, + All their sweets surrender; + Gold must brook the fiery test + Ere it shew its splendour. + + When the twilight, cold and damp, + Gloom and silence bringeth, + Then the glow-worm lights its lamp, + And the night-bird singeth. + + Stars come forth when Night her shroud + Draws as Daylight fainteth; + Only on the tearful cloud + God his rainbow painteth. + + Weep not, then, o'er poet's wrong, + Mourn not his mischances; + Sorrow is the source of song + And of gentle fancies. + + + + +THE LAND FOR ME. + + + I 've been upon the moonlit deep + When the wind had died away, + And like an Ocean-god asleep + The bark majestic lay; + But lovelier is the varied scene, + The hill, the lake, the tree, + When bathed in light of Midnight's Queen; + The land! the land! for me. + + The glancing waves I 've glided o'er + When gently blew the breeze; + But sweeter was the distant shore, + The zephyr 'mong the trees. + The murmur of the mountain rill, + The blossoms waving free, + The song of birds on every hill; + The land! the land! for me. + + The billows I have been among + When they roll'd in mountains dark, + And Night her blackest curtain hung + Around our heaving bark; + But give me, when the storm is fierce, + My home and fireside glee, + Where winds may howl, but dare not pierce; + The land! the land! for me. + + And when around the lightning flash'd + I 've been upon the deep, + And to the gulf beneath I 've dash'd + Adown the liquid steep; + But now that I am safe on shore, + There let me ever be; + The sea let others wander o'er; + The land! the land! for me. + + + + +THE EMIGRANTS. + + + The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary, + And eerie the face of the fast-falling night, + But closing the shutters, we made ourselves cheery + With gas-light and fire-light, and young faces bright. + + When, hark! came a chorus of wailing and anguish! + We ran to the door and look'd out through the dark; + Till gazing, at length we began to distinguish + The slow-moving masts of an ocean-bound bark. + + Alas! 'twas the emigrants leaving the river, + Their homes in the city, their haunts in the dell; + From kindred and friends they had parted for ever, + But their voices still blended in cries of farewell. + + We saw not the eyes that their last looks were taking; + We heard but the shouts that were meant to be cheers, + But which told of the aching of hearts that were breaking, + A past of delight and a future of tears. + + And long as we listen'd, in lulls of the night breeze, + On our ears the sad shouting in faint music fell, + Till methought it seem'd lost in the roll of the white seas, + And the rocks and the winds only echoed farewell. + + More bright was our home-hearth, more bright and more cosy, + As we shut out the night and its darkness once more; + But pale were the cheeks, that so radiant and rosy, + Were flush'd with delight a few moments before. + + So I told how the morning, all lovely and tender, + Sweet dew on the hills, and soft light on the sea, + Would follow the exiles and float with its splendour, + To gild the far land where their homes were to be. + + In the eyes of my children were gladness and gleaming, + Their little prayer utter'd, how calm was their sleep! + But I in my dreaming could hear the wind screaming, + And fancy I heard hoarse replies from the deep. + + And often, when slumber had cool'd my brow's fever, + A dream-utter'd shriek of despair broke the spell; + 'Twas the voice of the emigrants leaving the river, + And startling the night with their cries of farewell. + + + + +FIRST GRIEF. + + + They tell me first and early love + Outlives all after dreams; + But the memory of a first great grief + To me more lasting seems; + The grief that marks our dawning youth + To memory ever clings, + And o'er the path of future years + A lengthen'd shadow flings. + + Oh, oft my mind recalls the hour + When to my father's home + Death came--an uninvited guest-- + From his dwelling in the tomb! + I had not seen his face before, + I shudder'd at the sight, + And I shudder still to think upon + The anguish of that night! + + A youthful brow and ruddy cheek + Became all cold and wan; + An eye grew dim in which the light + Of radiant fancy shone. + Cold was the cheek, and cold the brow, + The eye was fix'd and dim; + And one there mourn'd a brother dead + Who would have died for him! + + I know not if 'twas summer then, + I know not if 'twas spring, + But if the birds sang on the trees + I did not hear them sing! + If flowers came forth to deck the earth + Their bloom I did not see; + I look'd upon one wither'd flower, + And none else bloom'd for me! + + A sad and silent time it was + Within that house of woe, + All eyes were dull and overcast, + And every voice was low! + And from each cheek at intervals + The blood appear'd to start, + As if recall'd in sudden haste + To aid the sinking heart! + + Softly we trod, as if afraid + To mar the sleeper's sleep, + And stole last looks of his pale face + For memory to keep! + With him the agony was o'er, + And now the pain was ours, + As thoughts of his sweet childhood rose + Like odour from dead flowers! + + And when at last he was borne afar + From the world's weary strife, + How oft in thought did we again + Live o'er his little life! + His every look--his every word-- + His very voice's tone-- + Came back to us like things whose worth + Is only prized when gone! + + The grief has pass'd with years away + And joy has been my lot; + But the one is oft remember'd, + And the other soon forgot. + The gayest hours trip lightest by, + And leave the faintest trace; + But the deep, deep track that sorrow wears + Time never can efface! + + + + +THE LINNET. + + + Tuck, tuck, feer--from the green and growing leaves; + Ic, ic, ic--from the little song-bird's throat; + How the silver chorus weaves in the sun and 'neath the eaves, + While from dewy clover fields comes the lowing of the beeves, + And the summer in the heavens is afloat! + + Wye, wye, chir--'tis the little linnet sings; + Weet, weet, weet--how his pipy treble trills! + In his bill and on his wings what a joy the linnet brings, + As over all the sunny earth his merry lay he flings, + Giving gladness to the music of the rills! + + Ic, ic, ir--from a happy heart unbound; + Lug, lug, jee--from the dawn till close of day! + There is rapture in the sound as it fills the sunshine round, + Till the ploughman's careless whistle, and the shepherd's pipe are drown'd, + And the mower sings unheeded 'mong the hay! + + Jug, jug, joey--oh, how sweet the linnet's theme! + Peu, peu, poy--is he wooing all the while? + Does he dream he is in heaven, and is telling now his dream, + To soothe the heart of pretty girl basking by the stream, + Or waiting for her lover at the stile? + + Pipe, pipe, chow--will the linnet never weary? + Bel bel, tyr--is he pouring forth his vows? + The maiden lone and dreary may feel her heart grow cheery, + Yet none may know the linnet's bliss except his own sweet dearie, + With her little household nestled 'mong the boughs! + + + + +WILLIAM BROCKIE. + + +William Brockie was born in the parish of Smailholm, Roxburghshire. He +entered on the world of letters by the publication of a small +periodical, entitled _The Galashiels Weekly Journal_. He subsequently +edited _The Border Watch_, a newspaper originated at Kelso on behalf of +the Free Church. This concern proving unfortunate, he obtained, after a +short residence at Prestonkirk, East Lothian, the editorship of the +_Shields Gazette_. Compelled to relinquish editorial labour from +impaired health, Mr Brockie has latterly established a private academy +at South Shields, and has qualified himself to impart instruction in +fourteen different languages. Besides a number of pamphlets on a variety +of subjects, he has published a "History of South Shields," and a poem, +entitled, "The Dusk and the Dawn." + + + + +YE 'LL NEVER GANG BACK TO YER MITHER NAE MAIR. + + + What ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain? + I 've gien ye my word, and I 'll gie ye 't again. + There 's naething to fear ye--be lichtsome and cheerie; + I 'll never forsake ye, nor leave ye yer lane. + We 're sune to be married--I needna say mair; + Our love will be leal, though our livin' be bare; + In a house o' our ain we 'll be cantie and fain, + An' ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair. + + We needna be troubled ere trouble be sprung; + The warld 's afore us--we 're puir, but we 're young; + An' fate will be kind if we 're willint in mind-- + Sae keep up yer heart, lass, and dinna be dung. + Folk a' hae their troubles, and we 'll get our share, + But we 'll warsle out through them, and scorn to despair; + Sae cheer up yer heart, for we never shall part, + An' ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair. + + While we live for each other, our lot will be blest; + An' though freens sud forget us, they 'll never be miss'd; + We 'll sit down at e'en by the ingle sae bien, + An' the cares o' the world 'ill a' be dismiss'd. + A couple that strive to be honest and fair + May be rich without siller, and guid without lear; + Be gentle and true, an' yese never need rue, + Nor sigh to win back to yer mither nae mair. + + + + +ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN. + + +Alexander M'Lachlan, author of the following song was born at Pinshall, +in the parish of St Ninians, Stirlingshire. He has resided, since 1825, +at Muirside in the vicinity of his native place. + + + + +THE LANG WINTER E'EN. + + + Sweet summer 's awa, wi' her verdure sae fair; + The ance bonny woodlands are leafless an' bare; + To the cot wee robin returns for a screen + Frae the cauld stormy blast o' the lang winter e'en. + + But charms there are still, though nature has nane, + When the hard rackin' toils o' the day by are gane, + Then round the fireside social hearts do convene, + And pleasantly pass the lang winter e'en. + + O' warldly wealth I hae got little share, + Yet riches and wealth breed but sorrow and care; + Just gi'e me an hour wi' some auld honest frien', + To crack o'er youth's joys in the lang winter e'en. + + The thochts o' our youth are lichtsome and dear, + Like the strains o' the lute they fa' saft on the ear, + But chiefly the bliss I ha'e shared wi' my Jean + In some love-screenin' shade on a lang winter e'en. + + + + +THOMAS YOUNG. + + +The author of "The Four Pilgrims, or, Life's Mission; and other Poems," +a volume of respectable poetry, published at Dundee in 1849, Thomas +Young, was born at Tulliebeltane, in the parish of Auchtergaven, +Perthshire, in 1815. Receiving an ordinary school education, he +accepted, in his twentieth year, a situation in the office of the +_Dundee Advertiser_, where he continued till 1851, when a change +occurred in the proprietorship. He now proceeded to New York, where he +remained about eighteen months. Disappointed in obtaining a suitable +appointment, he sailed for Australia; but the vessel being unable to +proceed further than Rio de Janeiro, he there procured a situation, with +an annual salary of £300. The climate of Rio proving unfavourable, he +afterwards sailed to Australia, where he readily found occupation at +Mount Alexander. He has been successful at the gold diggings. + + + + +ANTOINETTE; OR, THE FALLS. + + + By Niagara's flood + Antoinette stood, + And watch'd the wild waves rush on, + As they leapt below + Into vapoury snow, + Or fell into flakes of foam. + + The sun's last beams + Fell in golden gleams + On water and wave-girt isle, + And in tinge all fair + Dipp'd the girl's bright hair + And heighten'd her happy smile. + + Away--away! + In wild ecstasy + She threads the abyss's brink, + Where waters--black-- + Of the cataract + Into drifted snow-waves sink. + + A father's eye + Looketh anxiously + On the freaks of his favour'd child, + Till her spirit appals + His soul, and he calls + "Antoinette" in accents wild. + + A bolder heart + Loves the girl's free sport, + And he grasps her by the gown, + Then tosseth her high + In the twilight sky-- + But, heavens! she falleth down! + + She sinks in the wave; + He swimmeth to save! + Oh, never was mortal arm + More manfully braced, + As it grasps her slim waist, + And struggles in frantic alarm! + + In vain does he strike-- + The fresh waves break, + And the doom'd ones are downward borne! + Yet the swimmer's eye + Seemeth still to defy + The might of the merciless storm. + + More loud than before + Is the cataract's roar, + And the furrow'd wave is bright + With many a pearl + From the shining swirl + Of the water's lucid light. + + And down below + Is the woolly snow + Of Niagara's wrathful bed, + But the lip of the bold + Hath never told + The secrets that there lie hid. + + A strong arm, press'd + Round a maiden's waist + On the doleful morrow is seen, + And her oozy hair + Laves his forehead bare + With the waft of the wavy stream. + + + + +ROBERT WILSON. + + +Robert Wilson was born in the parish of Carnbee, and county of Fife. He +practised for some time as a surgeon in St Andrews. He has contributed +many pieces of descriptive verse to the periodicals. In 1856, a +duodecimo volume of "Poems" from his pen was published at Boston, U.S. +His other publications are a small volume on "The Social Condition of +France," "Lectures on the Game Laws," and several _brochures_ on +subjects of a socio-political nature. He has latterly resided at +Aberdour, Fifeshire. + + + + +AWAY, AWAY, MY GALLANT BARK. + + + Away, away, my gallant bark! + The waves are white and high; + And fast the long becalmèd clouds + Are sailing in the sky. + The merry breeze which wafts them on, + And chafes the billow's spray, + Will urge thee in thy watery flight: + My gallant bark, away! + + Now, like the sea-bird's snowy plumes, + Are spread thy wingèd sails, + To soar above the mountain waves, + And scoop their glassy vales; + And, like the bird, thou 'lt calmly rest, + Thy azure journey o'er, + The shadow of thy folded wings + Upon the sunny shore. + + Away, away, my gallant bark! + Across the billow's foam; + I leave awhile, for ocean's strife, + The quiet haunts of home; + The green fields of my fatherland + For many a stormy bay; + The blazing hearth for beacon-light: + My gallant bark, away! + + + + +LOVE. + + + What fond, delicious ecstasy does early love impart! + Resistless, as a spring-tide sea, it flows into the heart, + Pervading with its living wave the bosom's inmost core, + That thrills with many a gentle hope it never felt before. + + And o'er the stripling's glowing heart, extending far and wide, + Through passion's troubled realm does Love with angel sway preside; + And smiles are shed that cast a light o'er many a future year, + And whispers soft are conjured up of lips that are not near. + + With promises of fairyland this daylight world teems, + And sleep comes with forgetfulness or fraught with lovely dreams; + And there is magic in the touch, and music in the sigh, + And, far more eloquent than speech, a language in the eye. + + And hope the constant bosom cheers with prospects ever new; + But if the favour'd one prove false, oh! who can then be true? + Our fond illusions disappear, like slumber's shadowy train, + And we ne'er recall those vanish'd hopes, nor feel that love again. + + + + +EDWARD POLIN. + + +A writer of prose and poetry, Edward Polin was born at Paisley on the +29th December 1816. He originally followed the business of a +pattern-setter in his native town. Fond of literary pursuits, he +extensively contributed to the local journals. He subsequently became +sub-editor of the _Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle_. In 1843 he accepted the +editorship of the _Newcastle Courant_--a situation which, proving +unsuitable, he retained only a few months. Resolved to adventure on the +literary field of London, he sailed from Newcastle in August 1843. The +vessel being at anchor off Yarmouth, he obtained leave from the captain +to bathe. He had left the vessel only a few yards, when his hands were +observed to fall into the water. One of the seamen promptly descended +with a rope, and he was speedily raised upon the deck. Every effort to +restore animation however proved fruitless. This closing event of a +hopeful career took place on the 22d August 1843, when the poet had +attained only his 27th year. His remains were interred in St George's +churchyard, Cripplegate, London. + +A young man of no inconsiderable genius, Polin afforded indication of +speedily attaining a literary reputation. By those to whom he was +intimately known his premature death was deeply lamented. Many of his +MS. compositions are in the hands of friends, who may yet give them to +the world. + + + + +A GOOD OLD SONG. + + + I have wander'd afar, 'neath stranger skies, + And have revell'd amid their flowers; + I have lived in the light of Italian eyes, + And dream'd in Italian bowers, + While the wondrous strains of their sunny clime + Have been trill'd to enchant mine ears, + But, oh, how I longed for the song and the time + When my heart could respond with its tears. + Then sing me a song, a good old song-- + Not the foreign, the learn'd, the grand-- + But a simple song, a good old song + Of my own dear fatherland. + + I have heard, with the great, and the proud, and the gay + All, all they would have me adore + Of that music divine that, enraptured, they say + Can be equall'd on earth never more. + And it may be their numbers indeed are divine, + Though they move not my heart through mine ears, + But a ballad old of the dear "langsyne" + Can alone claim my tribute of tears. + + I have come from a far and a foreign clime + To mine own loved haunts once more, + With a yearning for all of my childhood's time + And the dear home-sounds of yore; + And here, if there yet be love for me, + Oh, away with those stranger lays, + And now let my only welcome be + An old song of my boyhood's days. + + + + +ALEXANDER BUCHANAN. + + +Alexander Buchanan was the son of a maltster at Bucklyvie, +Stirlingshire, where he was born in 1817. He attended a school in +Glasgow, but was chiefly self-taught. In his youth he composed verses, +and continued to produce respectable poetry. For a period he carried on +business as a draper in Cowcaddens, Glasgow. Retiring from merchandise, +he fixed his residence in the village of Govan. His death took place on +the 8th February 1852, in his thirty-fifth year. Buchanan has been +celebrated, with other local bards, in a small Glasgow publication, +entitled, "Lays of St Mungo." Numerous poems from his pen remain in MS. +in the possession of his widow, who continues to reside at Govan. + + + + +I WANDER'D ALANE. + +AIR--_"Lucy's Flittin'."_ + + + I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin', + The dun clouds o' nicht were a' wearin' awa'; + The sun rose in glory, the gray hills adornin', + A' glintin like gowd were their tappits o' snaw; + Adown by my side row'd the rock-bedded Kelvin, + While nature aroun' was beginnin' to green, + An' auld cottar bodies their yardies were delvin', + Kennin' thrift in the morn brocht pleasure at e'en. + + I leant me against an auld mossy-clad palin', + An' noo an' then dichted a tear frae my e'e, + I look'd on the bodies, an' envied their toilin'-- + Though lowly their lot, they seem'd happy by me; + I thought on my riches, yet feckless the treasure, + I tried to forget, but the labour was vain; + My wifie an' bairn were a' my life's pleasure, + An' they to the grave baith thegither had gane. + + The thochts o' her love had awaken'd my sorrow, + The laugh o' my bairnie cam' back on mine ears, + An', piercing my heart wi' the force o' an arrow, + It open'd anew the saft channel o' tears. + I grat an' I sabb'd till I thocht life wad lea' me, + An' happy I then could hae parted wi' life-- + For naething on earth sic enjoyment could gie me + As the glee o' my bairn an' smile o' my wife. + + Oh, weary the day was when they were ta'en frae me, + Leavin' me lane, the last leaf on the tree; + Nae comfort the cauld look o' strangers can gie me-- + I 'm wae, and they a' look as waefu' on me. + I wander me aften to break melancholy, + On ilk thing that 's leevin' the maxim I see, + Not walth to the weary 's like peace to the lowly; + Sae, burden'd wi' grief, I maun gang till I die. + + + + +KATIE BLAIR.[8] + + + I 've met wi' mony maidens fair + In kintras far awa, + I 've met wi' mony here at hame, + Baith bonny dames an' braw; + But nane e'er had the power to charm + My love into a snare + Till ance I saw the witchin' e'e + An' smile o' Katie Blair. + + She wons by Kelvin's bonnie banks, + Whar' thick the greenwoods grow, + Whar' waters loupin' drouk the leaves + While merrily they row. + They drouk the lily an' the rose, + An' mony flowerets fair, + Yet they ne'er kiss a flower sae sweet + As winsome Katie Blair. + + She is a queen owre a' the flowers + O' garden an' o' lea-- + Her ae sweet smile mair cheering is + Than a' their balms to me. + As licht to morn she's a' to me, + My bosom's only care; + An' worthy o' the truest love + Is winsome Katie Blair. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] Printed from the Author's MS. + + + + +DAVID TAYLOR. + + +David Taylor was born, in April 1817, in the parish of Dollar, and +county of Clackmannan. In early life his parents, having removed to the +village of St Ninians, near Stirling, he was there apprenticed to a +tartan manufacturer. He has continued to reside at St Ninians, and has +been chiefly employed as a tartan weaver. He has written numerous poems +and lyrics, and composed music to some of the more popular songs. +Latterly he has occupied himself as a teacher of vocal music. + + + + +MY AIN GUDEMAN. + + + O dear, dear to me + Is my ain gudeman, + For kindly, frank, an' free + Is my ain gudeman. + An' though thretty years ha'e fled, + An' five sin' we were wed, + Nae bitter words I 've had + Wi' my ain gudeman. + + I 've had seven bonnie bairns + To my ain gudeman, + An' I 've nursed them i' their turns + For my ain gudeman; + An' ane did early dee, + But the lave frae skaith are free, + An' a blessin' they 're to me + An' my ain gudeman. + + I cheerie clamb the hill + Wi' my ain gudeman; + An', if it 's Heaven's will, + Wi' my ain gudeman, + In life's calm afternoon, + I wad toddle cannie doun, + Syne at the foot sleep soun' + Wi' my ain gudeman. + + + + +ROBERT CATHCART. + + +Robert Cathcart was born in 1817, and follows the occupation of a weaver +in Paisley. Besides a number of fugitive pieces of some merit, he +published, in 1842, a small collection of verses entitled, "The Early +Blossom." + + + + +MARY + + + Sweet 's the gloamin's dusky gloom, + Spreadin' owre the lea, Mary; + Sweeter far thy love in bloom, + Whilk blaws alane for me, Mary. + When the woods in silence sleep, + And is hid in dusk the steep, + When the flowers in sorrow weep + I 'll sigh and smile wi' thee, Mary. + + When love plays in rosy beams + Roun' the hawthorn-tree, Mary, + Then thine e'e a language gleams + Whilk tells o' love for me, Mary. + When thy sigh blends wi' my smile, + Silence reigns o'er us the while, + Then my heart, 'mid flutt'ring toil, + Tells thy love's bloom'd for me, Mary. + + When our hands are join'd in love, + Ne'er to part again, Mary, + Till death ance mair his arrows prove + And tak us for his ain, Mary; + Then our joys are crown'd wi' bliss! + In a hallow'd hour like this, + We in rapture join to kiss + And taste o' heaven again, Mary. + + + + +WILLIAM JAMIE. + + +William Jamie was born on the 25th December 1818, in the parish of +Marykirk, Kincardineshire. He received his education at the parish +school of Maryculter, Aberdeenshire, whither his father removed during +his boyhood. After working for some time with his father as a +blacksmith, he engaged for several years in the work of tuition. From +early manhood a writer of verses, he published, in 1844, at +Laurencekirk, a small volume of poems, entitled, "The Muse of the +Mearns," which passed through two editions. Of his various subsequent +publications may be enumerated, "The Emigrant's Family, and other +Poems;" "The Musings of a Wanderer," and a prose tale, entitled, "The +Jacobite's Son." Since 1851 he has resided at Pollockshaws, in the +vicinity of Glasgow. On the sale of his poetical works he is wholly +dependent for subsistence. + + + + +AULD SCOTIA'S SANGS. + + + Although the lays o' ither lands + Ha'e mony an artfu' air, + They want the stirrin' melody + An auld man lo'es to hear. + Auld Scotia's sangs hae winnin' charms + Which maks the bosom fain; + And to her sons, that 's far awa', + Wi' thochts o' hame again. + + Sweet bygane scenes, and native charms, + They fondly bring to min' + The trystin'-tree and bonny lass, + Wi a' love's dreams langsyne. + Oh! lilt me owre some tender strain, + For weel I lo'e to hear-- + Be 't bonny "Broom o' Cowdenknowes," + And "Bush aboon Traquair." + + Or "Banks and braes o' bonny Doon," + Whaur Robin tuned his lyre; + And "Roslin Castle's" ruined wa's-- + Oh! sing, and I'll admire! + For I hae heard auld Scotia's sangs + Sung owre and owre wi' glee; + And the mair I hear their artless strains + They dearer grow to me. + + Enchanting strains again they bring, + Fond memory glints alang + To humble bards wha woke the lyre, + And wove the patriot's sang. + Oh! leeze me on our ain auld sangs, + The sangs o' youth and glee; + They tell o' Bruce and glorious deeds, + Which made our country free. + + + + +JOHN CRAWFORD. + + +A poet possessing, in an eminent degree, the lyrical simplicity and +power of the Bard of Coila, John Crawford was, in the year 1816, born at +Greenock, in the same apartment which, thirty years before, had +witnessed the death of Burns' "Highland Mary," his mother's cousin. With +only a few months' attendance at school, he was, in boyhood, thrown on +his own resources for support. Selecting the profession of a +house-painter, he left Greenock in his eighteenth year, and has since +prosecuted his vocation in the town of Alloa. Of strong native genius, +he early made himself acquainted with general literature, while he has +sought recreation in the composition of verses. In 1850 he published a +small duodecimo volume of lyrics, entitled, "Doric Lays; being snatches +of Song and Ballad." This little work was much commended by Lord +Jeffrey, and received the strong approbation of the late amiable Miss +Mitford. "There is," wrote the latter to a correspondent, "an +originality in his writings very rare in a follower of Burns.... This is +the true thing--a flower springing from the soil, not merely cut and +stuck into the earth. Will you tell Mr Crawford how much pleasure he has +given to a poor invalid?" + +Crawford is an occasional contributor to the public journals. He is at +present preparing an historical and descriptive work, to be entitled, +"Memorials of the Town and Parish of Alloa." The following poetical +epistle in tribute to his genius is from the pen of Mr Scott Riddell. + + The days, when write wad minstrel men + To ane anither thus, are gone, + And days ha'e come upon us when + Bards praise nae anthems but their own: + But I will love the fashion old + While breath frae heaven this breast can draw, + And joy when I my tale have told + Anent the Bard of Alloa. + + Thou, Crawford, sung hast mony a lay. + Far mair through nature's power than art's, + Pouring them frae thine ain, that they + Might reach and gladden other hearts; + Therefore our hearts shall honour thee, + And say't alike in cot and ha'-- + Sublime thro' pure simplicity + Is he--the Bard of Alloa. + + Though far o'er earth these lays shall roam, + And make to mankind their appeal; + 'Tis not because they 'll lack a home, + While Scottish hearts, as wont, can feel: + The swains shall sing them on the hill, + The maidens in the greenwood-shaw, + And mothers bless, wi' warm guid-will, + The gifted Bard of Alloa. + + E'en weans, wi' their shauchled shoon, + And clouted hose, and pinafores, + Will lilt, methinks, these lays, sae soon + As they can staucher 'boot the doors: + Sae shall they sing anent themsells + To nature true, as its ain law; + For minstrel nane on earth excels + In this the Bard of Alloa. + + Fresh as the moorland's early dews, + And glowing as the woodland rose, + Of hearts, his thought gives forth the hues, + As richly bright as heaven's ain bow 's-- + With me, my native land, rejoice, + And let the bard thy bosom thaw, + As Spring's sweet breathing comes the voice + Of him wha sings frae Alloa. + + Then rest thee, Crawford, on the lawn, + And thus, if song thy soul shall sway, + I'll bless thee, while thy toil-worn han' + Pu's for itsel' a flower or twa; + 'Tis idle--gowd-gear hearts will say-- + But maist for whilk will tear-drops fa' + When death has come, and flowers shall bloom + Aboon the Bard of Alloa? + + Oh, sing, ye bards, to nature true, + And glory shall your brows adorn, + And else than this, by none or few, + The poet's wreath will long be worn. + Cauld fa' the notes o' him wha sings + O' scenes whilk man yet never saw-- + Pour then, frae nature's ain heart-strings, + Your strains like him of Alloa. + + Possess maun he a poet's heart, + And he maun ha'e a poet's mind + Wha deftly plays the generous part + That warms the cauld, and charms the kind. + Nor scorn, ye frozen anes, the powers + Whilk hinder other hearts to fa' + Into a sordid sink--like yours-- + But bless the Bard of Alloa. + + Ah! little ye may trow or ken + The mony cares, and waes, and toils, + 'Mang hearts and hames o' lowly men + Whilk nought save poetry beguiles; + It lifts fu' mony fortune 'boon, + When she begins her face to thraw, + That ne'er sae sweet a harp could tune + As his that sounds frae Alloa. + + And as for me, ere this I'd lain + Where mark'd my head a mossy stane, + Had it not made the joys my ain + When a' life's other joys were gane. + If 'mang the mountains lone and gray, + Unknown, my early joys I sung, + When cares and woes wad life belay, + How could my harp away be flung? + + The dearest power in life below, + Is life's ain native power of song, + As he alone can truly know, + To whom it truly may belong. + Lighten'd hath it fu' mony a step, + And lessen'd hath it mony a hill, + And lighted up the rays o' hope, + Ay, and it up shall light them still. + + Lo! avarice cauld can gowd secure, + Ambition win the wreath o' fame, + Wealth gies reputed wit and power, + And crowns wi' joy the owner's aim. + But be my meed the generous heart, + For nought can charm this heart o' mine, + Like those who own the undying art + That gies a claim to Ossian's line. + + Hale be thy heart, dear Crawford--hale + Be every heart belonging thee,-- + The day whan fortune gies ye kale + Out through the reek, may ye ne'er see. + Ilk son o' song is dear to me; + And though thy face I never saw, + I'll honour till the day I dee + The gifted Bard o' Alloa. + + + + +MY AULD WIFIE JEAN. + +AIR--_"There 'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."_ + + + My couthie auld wifie, aye blythsome to see, + As years slip awa' aye the dearer to me; + For ferlies o' fashion I carena ae preen + When I cleek to the kirk wi' my auld wifie Jean. + + The thoughts o' the past are aye pleasin' to me, + And mair sae when love lights my auld wifie's e'e; + For then I can speak o' the days I ha'e seen + When care found nae hame i' the heart o' my Jean. + + A hantle we've borne since that moment o' bliss, + Frae thy lips, breathin' balm, when I stole the first kiss, + When I read a response to my vows in thy e'en. + An, blushin', I prest to my bosom my Jean. + + Like a rose set in snaw was the bloom on thy cheek, + Thy hair, wi' its silken snood, glossy and sleek, + When the Laird o' Drumlochie, sae lithless and lean, + Wad ha'e gane a lang mile for ae glisk o' my Jean. + + Thy mither was dead, and thy faither was fain + That the lang-luggit lairdie wad ca' thee his ain; + But auld age and frailty could ne'er gang atween + The vows I had niffer'd wi' bonnie young Jean. + + I canna weel work, an' ye 're weary an' worn, + The gudes and the ills lang o' life we ha'e borne; + But we ha'e a hame, an' we 're cozie and bein, + And the thrift I've to thank o' my auld wifie Jean. + + Baith beddin' an' cleadin' o' a' kind ha'e we, + A sowp for the needy we 've aye had to gie, + A bite and a drap for baith fremit an' frien', + Was aye the warst wish o' my auld wifie Jean. + + The puir beildless body has scugg'd the cauld blast, + 'Yont our hallan he 's houft till the gurl gaed past, + An' a bite aff our board, aye sae tidy an' clean, + He 's gat wi' gudewill frae my auld wifie Jean. + + Our hopes we ha'e set where our bairnies ha'e gaen; + Though lyart we've grown since they frae us were ta'en; + The thoughts o' them yet brings the tears to our e'en, + And aft I 've to comfort my auld wifie Jean. + + The paughty and proud ha'e been laid i' the dust, + Since the first hairst I shore, since the first clod I cuist; + And soon we'll lie laigh; but aboon we 've a Frien', + And bright days are comin' for me an' my Jean. + + + + +THE LAND O' THE BONNET AND PLAID. + + + Hurra! for the land o' the broom-cover'd brae, + The land o' the rowan, the haw, and the slae; + Where waves the blue harebell in dingle and glade-- + The land o' the pibroch, the bonnet, and plaid. + + Hurra! for the hills o' the cromlech and cairn, + Where blossoms the thistle by hillocks o' fern; + There Freedom in triumph an altar has made + For holiest rites in the land o' the plaid. + + A coronal wreath, where the wild flowers bloom, + To garnish the martyr and patriot's tomb: + Shall their names ever perish--their fame ever fade + Who ennobled the land o' the bonnet and plaid? + + Oh, hame o' my bairnhood, ye hills o' my love! + The haunt o' the freeman for aye may ye prove; + And honour'd forever be matron and maid + In the land o' the heather, the bonnet, and plaid. + + Hurra! for the land o' the deer and the rae, + O' the gowany glen and the bracken-clad brae, + Where blooms our ain thistle, in sunshine and shade-- + Dear badge o' the land o' the bonnet and plaid. + + + + +SING ON, FAIRY DEVON.[9] + + + Sing on, fairy Devon, + 'Mong gardens and bowers, + Where love's feast lies spread + In an Eden o' flowers. + What visions o' beauty + My mind has possess'd, + In thy gowany dell + Where a seraph might rest. + + Sing on, lovely river, + To hillock and tree + A lay o' the loves + O' my Jessie and me; + For nae angel lightin', + A posie to pu', + Can match the fair form + O' the lassie I lo'e. + + Sweet river, dear river, + Sing on in your glee, + In thy pure breast the mind + O' my Jessie I see. + How aft ha'e I wander'd, + As gray gloamin' fell, + Rare dreamin's o' heaven + My lassie to tell. + + Sing on, lovely Devon, + The sang that ye sung + When earth in her beauty + Frae night's bosom sprung, + For lanesome and eerie + This warld aye would be + Did clouds ever fa' + Atween Jessie and me. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Written for the present work. + + + + +ANN O' CORNYLEE. + +GAELIC AIR--_"Soraiadh slan do'un Ailleagan."_ + + + I 'll twine a gowany garland + Wi' lilies frae the spring; + The fairest flowers by Clutha's side + In a' their bloom I 'll bring. + I 'll wreath a flowery wreath to shade + My lassie's scornfu' e'e-- + For oh, I canna bide the frown + O' Ann o' Cornylee. + + Nae gilded ha', nae downie bed + My lowly lot maun cheer, + A sheilin' on the banks o' Gryfe + Is a' my worldly gear; + A lanely cot, wi' moss o'ergrown, + Is a' I ha'e to gie; + A leal heart, sinking 'neath the scorn + O' Ann o' Cornylee. + + The linty 'mang the yellow broom, + The laverock in the lift + Ha'e never sang the waes o' love + O' hope and joy bereft; + Nor has the mavis ever sang + The ills I ha'e to dree, + For lovin' o' a paughty maid, + Fair Ann o' Cornylee. + + + + +MY MARY DEAR.[10] + +TUNE--_"Annie Laurie."_ + + + The gloamin' star was showerin' + Its siller glories doun, + And nestled in its mossy lair + The lintie sleepit soun'; + The lintie sleepit soun', + And the starnies sparklet clear, + When on a gowany bank I sat + Aside my Mary dear. + + The burnie wanders eerie + Roun' rock and ruin'd tower, + By mony a fairy hillock + And mony a lanely bower; + Roun' mony a lanely bower, + Love's tender tale to hear, + Where I in whisper'd vows ha'e woo'd + And won my Mary dear. + + Oh, hallow'd hours o' happiness + Frae me for ever ta'en! + Wi' summer's flowery loveliness + Ye come na back again! + Ye come na back again, + The waefu' heart to cheer, + For lang the greedy grave has closed + Aboon my Mary dear. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Written for the present work. + + + + +THE WAES O' EILD. + +(_For an old Gaelic air._) + + + The cranreuch 's on my heid, + The mist 's now on my een, + A lanesome life I lead, + I'm no what I ha'e been. + Ther 're runkles on my broo, + Ther 're furrows on my cheek, + My wither'd heart fills fu' + Whan o' bygane days I speak. + For I 'm weary, + I 'm weary, + I 'm weary o' care-- + Whare my bairnies ha'e gane, + Oh, let me gang there. + + I ance was fu' o' glee, + And wha was then sae gay, + Whan dreamin' life wad be + But ae lang simmer day? + My feet, like lichtnin', flew + Roun' pleasure's dizzy ring, + They gimply staucher noo + Aneath a feckless thing. + For I 'm weary, + I 'm weary, + I 'm weary o' care-- + Whare my first luve lies cauld, + Oh, let me lie there. + + The ourie breath o' eild + Has blown ilk frien' frae me; + They comena near my beild + I ha'e dauted on my knee; + They hand awa their heids, + My frailties no to see; + My blessing on them, ane and a'-- + I 've naething else to gie. + For I 'm weary, + I 'm weary, + I 'm weary and worn-- + To the friens o' my youth + I maun soon, soon return. + + + + +JOHN STUART BLACKIE.[11] + + +John Stuart Blackie, Professor of Greek in the University of Edinburgh, +was born at Glasgow in the year 1809. His father, who had originally +come from Kelso, removed from Glasgow to Aberdeen, as agent for the +Commercial Bank in that city, while his son was still very young. At the +grammar school of Aberdeen, then under the rectorship of Dr Melvin, the +boy began his classical education, and subsequently, according to the +ridiculous Scottish custom, the folly of which he has done his best to +expose, he became, in his twelfth year, a student in Marischal College. +He was a student of arts for five years in Aberdeen and Edinburgh--and +then he attended theological classes for three years. In 1829 he +proceeded to the Continent, and studied at Gottingen and Berlin, where +he mastered the German language, and dived deep into the treasures of +German literature. From Germany he went to Rome, where he spent fifteen +months, devoting himself to the Italian language and literature, and to +the study of archæology. His first publication testifies to his success +in both studies. It is entitled, "Osservazioni sopra un antico +sarcophago." It was written in Italian, and published in the _Annali del +Instituto Archæologico, Roma_, 1831. + +Mr Blackie had given up the idea of entering the Church, and on his +return to Scotland he studied law, and passed advocate in 1834. The +study of law was never very congenial to him, and the practice of the +profession was still less so. Accordingly, at this period he occupied +himself with literary work, principally writing for Reviews. It was at +this time that his translation of "Faust" appeared. It is entitled, +"Faust: a Tragedy, by J. W. Goethe. Translated into English Verse, with +Notes, and Preliminary Remarks, by John S. Blackie, Fellow of the +Society for Archæological Correspondence, Rome." Mr Blackie had taken +upon him a very difficult task in attempting to translate the great work +of the great German, and we need not wonder that he did not succeed +entirely. We believe, with Mr Lewes, that the perfect accomplishment of +this task is impossible, and that Goethe's work is fully intelligible +only to the German scholar. But, at the same time, Mr Blackie fully +succeeded in the aim which he set before him. He says in the preface, +"The great principle on which the excellence of a poetical translation +depends, seems to be, that it should not be a mere _transposing_, but a +_re-casting_, of the original. On this principle, it has been my first +and chief endeavour to make my translation spirited--to seize, if +possible, the very soul and living power of the German, rather than to +give a careful and anxious transcription of every individual line, or +every minute expression." If this is what a translator should do, there +can be no question that the "Faust" of Blackie is all that can be +desired--full of spirit and life, harmonious from beginning to end, and +reading exactly like an original. The best proof of its success is that +Mr Lewes, in his biography of Goethe, prefers it, as a whole, to any of +the other poetical translations of Goethe. The preliminary remarks are +very characteristic, written with that intense enthusiasm which still +animates all his writings. The notes at the end are full of curious +information regarding the witchcraft and astrology of the Middle Ages, +gathered with assiduous labour from the stores of the Advocates' +Library. + +The translation of "Faust" established Mr Blackie's reputation as a +German scholar; and, for some time after this, he was chiefly occupied +in reviewing German books for the _Foreign Quarterly Review_. He was +also a contributor to _Blackwood_, _Tait_, and the _Westminster Review_. +The subjects on which he principally wrote were poetry, history or +religion; and among his articles may be mentioned a genial one on +Uhland, a deeply earnest article on Jung Stillung, whose life he seems +to have studied very thoroughly, and several on the later campaigns of +Napoleon. To this last subject he then gave very great attention, as +almost every German and English book on the subject that appeared is +reviewed by him; and the article which describes Napoleon's Leipzig +campaign is one of the clearest military monographs that has been +written. During this time, Mr Blackie was still pursuing his Latin and +Greek studies; and one article, on a classical subject, deserves +especial notice. It is a thorough criticism of all the dramas of +Euripides, in which he takes a view of the dramatist exactly the reverse +of that maintained by Walter Savage Landor--asserting that he was a +bungler in the tragic art, and far too much addicted to foisting his +stupid moralisings into his plays. Another article in the _Westminster_, +on the Prussian Constitution, is worthy of remark for its thoroughness. +The whole machinery of the Prussian bureaucracy is explained in a way +very satisfactory to an English reader. + +In 1841, Mr Blackie was appointed Professor of Humanity in Marischal +College, Aberdeen--a post which he held for eleven years. To this new +labour he gave himself with all his heart, and was eminently +successful. The Aberdeen students were remarkable for their accurate +knowledge of the grammatical forms and syntax of Latin, acquired under +the careful training of Dr Melvin; but their reading, both classical and +general, was restricted, and they were wanting in literary impulses. +Professor Blackie strove to supply both deficiencies. He took his +students over a great deal of ground, opening up to them the beauties of +the authors read, and laying the foundation of higher criticism. Then he +formed a class-library, delivered lectures on Roman literature in all +its stages, and introduced the study of general history. From this +period dates the incessant activity which he has displayed in +educational, and especially University reform. At the time he commenced +his work, the subject was a very disagreeable one to Scottish ears, and +he had to bear the apathy not only of his fellow-countrymen, but also of +his fellow-professors. He has never, however, bated a jot of heart, and +he is now beginning to reap his reward. Several of the reforms which he +advocated at the commencement of his agitation, and which were at first +met with something approaching to contempt, have been adopted, and he +has lived to see entrance examinations introduced into several +Universities, and the test abolished. Many of the other reforms which he +then proposed are on a fair way to accomplishment, and the subject is no +longer treated with that indifference which met his early appeals. His +principal publications on this subject are: 1. An appeal to the Scottish +people on the improvement of their scholastic and academical +institutions; 2. A plea for the liberties of the Scottish Universities; +3. University reform; with a letter to Professor Pillans. + +Mr Blackie delivered public lectures on education in Edinburgh, +Glasgow, and Aberdeen, and wrote various articles on it in the +newspapers. He gave himself also to the study of the philosophy of +education. His most noteworthy contributions in this direction are, his +review of Beneche's masterly work on education, in the _Foreign +Quarterly_, and two lectures "On the Studying and Teaching of +Languages." + +During the whole of this period, his main strength was devoted to Latin +and Greek philology. Some of the results of this labour were published +in the _Classical Museum_. One of the contributions to that journal was +published separately--"On the Rhythmical Declamation of the Ancients." +It is a clear exposition of the principles of accentuation, drawing +accurately the distinction between accent and quantity, and between the +accents of common talk and the musical accents that occur in poetry. It +is the best monograph on the subject, of which we know. Another article, +"On Prometheus," clears Æschylus from the charge of impiety, because he +appears to make Zeus act tyrannically towards Prometheus in the +"Prometheus Vinctus." He also gave the results of some of his classical +studies, in lectures in Edinburgh and Glasgow on Roman history and Greek +literature. The principal works on which he was engaged at this time +were translations of Horace and Æschylus. Translations of several odes +of Horace have appeared in various publications. The translation of all +the dramas of Æschylus appeared in 1850. It was dedicated to the +Chevalier Bunsen and Edward Gerhard, Royal Archæologist, "the friends of +his youth, and the directors of his early studies." This work is now +universally admitted to be the best complete translation of Æschylus in +English. + +In 1852 he was elected to the chair of Greek in Edinburgh University. +In that position he has carried on the same agitation in behalf of +educational and university reform, which characterised his stay in +Aberdeen. His last _brochure_ on the subject is a letter to the Town +Council of Edinburgh "On the Advancement of Learning in Scotland." +Having made this matter a work of his life, he takes every opportunity +to urge it, and, notwithstanding that he has got many gratuitous +rebuffs, continues on his way cheerily, now delivering a lecture or +speech on the subject, now writing letters in reply to this or that +assailant, and now giving a more complete exposition of his views in the +_North British Review_. + +His first publication after his election to the Greek professorship was +"The Pronunciation of Greek; Accent and Quantity. A Philological +Inquiry:" 1852. In this work he sought to shew what authority there is +for the modern Greek pronunciation of Greek, advocating a return, in the +reading of prose, to that pronunciation of Greek which was the only one +known in Europe anterior to the time of Erasmus. This method is +consistently carried out in the Greek classes. In 1853 he travelled in +Greece, living in Athens for two months and a-half, and acquiring a +fluent use of the living Greek language. On his return, he gave the +results of his journey in various articles, especially in one in the +_North British_ on Modern Greek Literature, and in another in the +_Westminster_ on Greece. He also expressed some of them in an +introductory lecture "On the Living Language of Greece." Since that time +he has written principally in _Blackwood_ and the _North British_, +discussing subjects of general literature, and introducing any new +German book which he considers of especial interest. Among his papers +may be mentioned his reviews, in the _North British_, of his friend +Bunsen's "Signs of the Times," and of Perthos' Life. His articles more +especially relating to his own department are Æschylus and Homer, in the +_Encyclopædia Britannica_, an article on accents in the _Cambridge +Philological_, and an essay on Plato in the "Edinburgh Essays." + +In 1857 was published the work which brings him into the list of +Scottish poets--"Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece, with other Poems." +The Lays and Legends are the work of the scholar, who, believing verse +to be the proper vehicle for an exposition of these beautiful myths, +gives them that form, instead of writing learned dissertations about +them. The miscellaneous poems shew more of the inner man than any of his +other works--deep religious feeling, great simplicity, earnestness, and +manliness, confidence in the goodness of men, and delight in everything +that is pure, beautiful, and honest, with thorough detestation of all +falsehood. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] The present Memoir has been contributed by James Donaldson, Esq., +Edinburgh. + + + + +SONG OF BEN CRUACHAN. + + + Ben Cruachan is king of the mountains + That gird in the lovely Loch Awe; + Loch Etive is fed from his fountains, + By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe. + With his peak so high + He cleaves the sky + That smiles on his old gray crown, + While the mantle green, + On his shoulders seen, + In many a fold flows down. + + He looks to the north, and he renders + A greeting to Nevis Ben; + And Nevis, in white snowy splendours, + Gives Cruachan greeting again. + O'er dread Glencoe + The greeting doth go + And where Etive winds fair in the glen; + And he hears the call + In his steep north wall, + "God bless thee, old Cruachan Ben." + + When the north winds their forces muster, + And ruin rides high on the storm, + All calm, in the midst of their bluster, + He stands with his forehead enorm. + When block on block, + With thundering shock, + Comes hurtled confusedly down, + No whit recks he, + But laughs to shake free + The dust from his old gray crown. + + And while torrents on torrents are pouring + Down his sides with a wild, savage glee, + And when louder the loud Awe is roaring, + And the soft lake swells to a sea, + He smiles through the storm, + And his heart grows warm + As he thinks how his streams feed the plains + And the brave old Ben + Grows young again, + And swells with his lusty veins. + + For Cruachan is king of the mountains + That gird in the lovely Loch Awe; + Loch Etive is fed from his fountains, + By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe. + Ere Adam was made + He rear'd his head + Sublime o'er the green winding glen; + And when flame wraps the sphere, + O'er earth's ashes shall peer + The peak of the old granite Ben. + + + + +THE BRAES OF MAR. + + + Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar, + From you my feet must travel far, + Thou high-peak'd steep-cliff'd Loch-na-Gar, + Farewell, farewell for ever! + Thou lone green glen where I was born, + Where free I stray'd in life's bright morn. + From thee my heart is rudely torn, + And I shall see thee never! + + The braes of Mar with heather glow, + The healthful breezes o'er them blow, + The gushing torrents from them flow, + That swell the rolling river. + Strong hills that nursed the brave and free, + On banks of clear, swift-rushing Dee, + My widow'd eyne no more shall see + Your birchen bowers for ever! + + Farewell thou broad and bare Muicdhui + Ye stout old pines of lone Glen Lui, + Thou forest wide of Ballochbuie, + Farewell, farewell for ever! + In you the rich may stalk the deer, + Thou 'lt know the tread of prince and peer; + But oh, the poor man's heart is drear + To part from you for ever! + + May God forgive our haughty lords, + For whom our fathers drew their swords; + No tear for us their pride affords, + No bond of love they sever. + Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar, + From bleak Ben Aon to Loch-na-Gar-- + The friendless poor is banished far + From your green glens for ever! + + + + +MY LOVES. + + + Name the leaves on all the trees, + Name the waves on all the seas, + Name the notes of all the groves-- + Thus thou namest all my loves. + + I do love the dark, the fair, + Golden ringlets, raven hair, + Eye that swims in sunny light, + Glance that shoots like lightning bright. + + I do love the stately dame + And the sportive girl the same; + Every changeful phase between + Blooming cheek and brow serene. + + I do love the young, the old, + Maiden modest, virgin bold, + Tiny beauties, and the tall-- + Earth has room enough for all. + + Which is better--who can say?-- + Lucy grave or Mary gay? + She who half her charms conceals? + She who sparkles while she feels? + + Why should I confine my love? + Nature bids us freely rove; + God hath scatter'd wide the fair, + Blooms and beauties everywhere. + + Paris was a pedant fool, + Meting beauty by a rule: + Pallas? Juno? Venus?--he + Should have chosen all the three. + + I am wise, life's every bliss + Thankful tasting; and a kiss + Is a sweet thing, I declare, + From a dark maid or a fair. + + + + +LIKING AND LOVING. + + + Liking is a little boy + Dreaming of a sea employ, + Sitting by the stream, with joy + Paper frigates sailing: + Love 's an earnest-hearted man, + Champion of beauty's clan, + Fighting bravely in the van, + Pushing and prevailing. + + Liking hovers round and round, + Capers with a nimble bound, + Plants his foot on easy ground, + Through the glass to view it: + Love shoots sudden glance for glance, + Spurs the steed, and rests the lance, + With a brisk and bold advance, + Sworn to die or do it. + + Liking 's ever on the wing, + From new blooms new sweets to bring; + Nibbling aye, the nimble thing + From the hook is free still: + Love 's a tar of British blue, + Let mad winds their maddest do, + To his haven carded true, + As I am to thee still. + + + + +WILLIAM STIRLING, M.P. + + +William Stirling of Keir, parliamentary representative of the county of +Perth, was born on the 8th March 1818, in the mansion of Kenmure, in the +vicinity of Glasgow. The only son of the late Archibald Stirling of +Keir, his paternal ancestors, for a course of centuries, have been +extensive landowners in the counties of Lanark and Perth. The +representative of the house, Sir George Stirling, was a conspicuous +supporter of the famous Marquis of Montrose. On the side of his mother, +who was a daughter of Sir John Maxwell, Bart., of Polloc, he is +descended from a family who adhered to the Covenant and the Revolution +of 1688. + +Mr Stirling took the degrees of B.A. and M.A. at Trinity College, +Cambridge. To literary pursuits ardently devoted from his youth, he +afforded the first indication of his peculiar tastes in a small poetical +_brochure_. "The Songs of the Holy Land," composed chiefly during a +visit to Palestine, were printed for private circulation in 1846, but +were published with considerable additions in a handsome octavo volume +in 1848. Two specimens of these sacred lays are inserted in the present +work with the author's permission. + +During a residence in Spain, Mr Stirling was led to direct his attention +to the state of the Fine Arts in that country; and in 1848 he produced a +work of much research and learning, entitled "Annals of the Artists of +Spain," in three volumes octavo. In 1852 appeared "The Cloister Life of +the Emperor Charles V.," which has already passed through several +editions, and has largely increased the reputation of the writer. His +latest publication, "Velasquez and his Works" was published in 1855. + +In 1852 Mr Stirling was elected, without opposition, member of +Parliament for the county of Perth, and was again returned at the +general election in April 1857. Recently he has evinced a deep interest +in the literary improvement of the industrial population, by delivering +lectures to the district Mechanics' Institutions. + + + + +RUTH. + + + The golden smile of morning + On the hills of Moab play'd, + When at the city's western gate + Their steps three women stay'd. + One laden was with years and care, + A gray and faded dame, + Of Judah's ancient lineage, + And Naomi her name; + And two were daughters of the land, + Fair Orpah and sweet Ruth, + Their faces wearing still the bloom, + Their eyes the light of youth; + But all were childless widows, + And garb'd in weeds of woe, + And their hearts were full of sorrow, + And fast their tears did flow. + + For the Lord God from Naomi + Her spouse and sons had taken, + And she and these that were their wives, + Are widow'd and forsaken; + And wish or hope her bosom knows + None other but to die, + And lay her bones in Bethlehem, + Where all her kindred lie. + So gives she now upon the way + To Jordan's western waters + Her farewell kisses and her tears + Unto her weeping daughters: + "Sweet daughters mine, now turn again + Unto your homes," she said, + "And for the love ye bear to me, + The love ye bear the dead, + The Lord with you deal kindly, + And give you joy and rest + And send to each a faithful mate + To cheer her widow'd breast." + + Then long and loud their weeping was, + And sore was their lament, + And Orpah kiss'd sad Naomi, + And back to Moab went; + But gentle Ruth to Naomi + Did cleave with close embrace, + And earnest spoke, with loving eyes + Up-gazing in her face-- + "Entreat me not to leave thee, + Nor sever from thy side, + For where thou goest I will go, + Where thou bidest I will bide, + Thy people still my people, + And thy God my God shall be, + And where thou diest I will die, + And make my grave with thee." + + So Naomi, not loath, was won + Unto her gentle will; + And thence, with faces westward set, + They fared o'er plain and hill; + The Lord their staff, till Bethlehem + Rose fair upon their sight, + A rock-built town with towery crown, + In evening's purple light, + Midst slopes in vine and olive clad, + And spread along the brook, + White fields, with barley waving, + That woo'd the reaper's hook. + + * * * * * + + Now for the sunny harvest field + Sweet Ruth her mother leaves, + And goes a-gleaning after + The maids that bind the sheaves. + And the great lord of the harvest + Is of her husband's race, + And looks upon the lonely one + With gentleness and grace; + And he loves her for the brightness + And freshness of her youth, + And for her unforgetting love, + Her firm enduring truth-- + The love and truth that guided Ruth + The border mountains o'er, + Where her people and her own land + She left for evermore. + + So he took her to his home and heart, + And years of soft repose + Did recompense her patient faith, + Her meekly-suffer'd woes; + And she became the noblest dame + Of palmy Palestine, + And the stranger was the mother + Of that grand and glorious line + Whence sprang our royal David, + In the tide of generations, + The anointed king of Israel, + The terror of the nations: + Of whose pure seed hath God decreed + Messiah shall be born, + When the day-spring from on high shall light + The golden lands of morn; + Then heathen tongues shall tell the tale + Of tenderness and truth-- + Of the gentle deed of Boaz + And the tender love of Ruth. + + + + +SHALLUM. + + + Oh, waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him + Who finds with his fathers the grave of his rest; + Sweet slumber is his, who at night-fall hath thrown him + Near bosoms that waking did love him the best. + + But sorely bewail him, the weary world-ranger, + Shall ne'er to the home of his people return; + His weeping worn eyes must be closed by the stranger, + No tear of true sorrow shall hallow his urn. + + And mourn for the monarch that went out of Zion, + King Shallum, the son of Josiah the Just; + For he the cold bed of the captive shall die on, + Afar from his land, nor return to its dust. + + + + +THOMAS C. LATTO. + + +A song-writer of considerable popularity, Thomas C. Latto was born in +1818, in the parish of Kingsbarns, Fifeshire. Instructed in the +elementary branches at the parochial seminary, he entered, in his +fourteenth year, the United College of St Andrews. Having studied during +five sessions at this University, he was in 1838 admitted into the +writing-chambers of Mr John Hunter, W.S., Edinburgh, now Auditor of the +Court of Session. He subsequently became advocate's clerk to Mr William +E. Aytoun, Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh. After a +period of employment as a Parliament House clerk, he accepted the +situation of managing clerk to a writer in Dundee. In 1852 he entered +into business as a commission-agent in Glasgow. Subsequently emigrating +to the United States, he has for some years been engaged in mercantile +concerns at New York. + +Latto first became known as a song-writer in the pages of +"Whistle-binkie." In 1845 he edited a poem, entitled "The Minister's +Kail-yard," which, with a number of lyrics of his own composition, +appeared in a duodecimo volume. To the "Book of Scottish Song" he made +several esteemed contributions. Verses from his pen have appeared in +_Blackwood's_ and _Tait's Magazines_. + + + + +THE KISS AHINT THE DOOR. + +TUNE--_"There 's nae Luck about the House."_ + + + There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss, + Whiles mair than in a score; + But wae betak' the stouin smack + I took ahint the door. + + O laddie, whisht! for sic a fricht + I ne'er was in afore; + Fou brawly did my mither hear + The kiss ahint the door. + The wa's are thick--ye needna fear; + But, gin they jeer and mock, + I 'll swear it was a startit cork, + Or wyte the rusty lock. + There 's meikle bliss, &c. + + We stappit ben, while Maggie's face + Was like a lowin' coal; + An' as for me, I could hae crept + Into a mouse's hole. + The mither look't--saffs how she look't!-- + Thae mithers are a bore, + An' gleg as ony cat to hear + A kiss ahint the door. + Their 's meikle bliss, &c. + + The douce gudeman, tho' he was there, + As weel micht been in Rome, + For by the fire he puff'd his pipe, + An' never fash'd his thumb; + But, titterin' in a corner, stood + The gawky sisters four-- + A winter's nicht for me they micht + Hae stood ahint the door. + There 's meikle bliss, &c. + + "How daur ye tak' sic freedoms here?" + The bauld gudewife began; + Wi' that a foursome yell got up-- + I to my heels and ran. + A besom whiskit by my lug, + An' dishclouts half-a-score: + Catch me again, tho' fidgin' fain, + At kissin 'hint the door. + There 's meikle bliss, &c. + + + + +THE WIDOW'S AE BIT LASSIE. + +TUNE--_"My only Jo and Dearie, O!"_ + + + Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen + On Kenly banks sae grassy, O! + Wha cam' to bless my waitin' een?-- + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + She brak' my gloamin' dream sae sweet, + Just whaur the wimplin' burnies meet; + The smother'd laugh--I flew to greet + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + + They glintit slee--the moon and she-- + The widow's ae bit lassie, O!-- + On tremblin' stream an' tremblin' me: + She is a dear wee lassie, O! + How rapture's pulse was beating fast + As Mary to my heart I claspt! + Oh, bliss divine--owre sweet to last-- + I 've kiss'd the dear bit lassie, O! + + She nestled close, like croodlin' doo-- + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + My cheek to hers, syne mou' to mou'-- + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + Unto my breast again, again, + I prest her guileless heart sae fain; + Sae blest were baith--now she 's my ain, + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + + Ye powers aboon, wha made her mine-- + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + My heart wad break gin I should tyne + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + Our hearth shall glad the angels' sight; + The lamp o' love shall lowe sae bright + On me and her, my soul's delight, + The widow's ae bit lassie, O! + + + + +THE YELLOW-HAIRED LADDIE. + + + The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe, + The clansmen are arming to rush on the foe; + Gay banners are streaming as forth pours the clan, + The yellow-haired laddie is first in the van. + + The pibroch is kindling each heart to the war, + The Cameron's slogan is heard from afar; + They close for the struggle where many shall fall, + But the yellow-haired laddie is foremost of all. + + He towers like a wave in the fierce rolling tide, + No kinsman of Evan's may stand by his side; + The Camerons gather around him alone-- + He heeds not the danger, and fear is unknown. + + The plumes of his bonnet are seen through the fight-- + A beacon for valour, which fires at the sight; + But he sees not yon claymore--ah! traitorous thrust! + The plumes and the bonnet are laid in the dust. + + The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe-- + The clansmen approach--they have vanquish'd the foe; + But sudden the cheeks of the maidens are pale, + For the sound of the coronach comes on the gale. + + The maidens are weeping in rocky Glencoe, + From warriors' eyelids the bitter drops flow; + They come--but, oh! where is their chieftain so dear? + The yellow-haired laddie is low on the bier. + + The maidens are wailing in rocky Glencoe-- + There 's gloom in the valley, at sunrise 'twill go; + But no sun can the gloom from their hearts chase away-- + The yellow-haired laddie lies cauld in the clay. + + + + +TELL ME, DEAR. + +AIR--_"Loudon's bonnie Woods and Braes."_ + + + Tell me dear! in mercy speak, + Has Heaven heard my prayer, lassie? + Faint the rose is on thy cheek, + But still the rose is there, lassie! + Away, away each dark foreboding, + Heavy days with anguish clouding, + Youthfu' love in sorrow shrouding, + Heaven could ne'er allow, lassie! + Day and night I've tended thee, + Watching, love, thy changing e'e; + Dearest gift that Heaven could gi'e, + Say thou 'rt happy now, lassie! + + Willie, lay thy cheek to mine-- + Kiss me, oh! my ain laddie! + Never mair may lip o' thine + Press where it hath lain, laddie! + Hark! I hear the angels calling, + Heavenly strains are round me falling, + But the stroke--thy soul appalling-- + 'Tis my only pain, laddie! + Yet the love I bear to thee + Shall follow where I soon maun be; + I 'll tell how gude thou wert to me-- + We part to meet again, laddie! + + Lay thine arm beneath my head-- + Grieve na sae for me, laddie! + I'll thole the doom that lays me dead, + But no a tear frae thee, laddie! + Aft where yon dark tree is spreading, + When the sun's last beam is shedding, + Where no earthly foot is treading, + By my grave thou 'lt be, laddie! + Though my sleep be wi' the dead, + Frae on high my soul shall speed, + And hover nightly round thy head, + Although thou wilt na see, laddie. + + + + +WILLIAM CADENHEAD. + + +William Cadenhead was born at Aberdeen on the 6th April 1819. With a +limited education at school, he was put to employment in a factory in +his ninth year. His leisure hours were devoted to mental culture, and +ramblings in the country. The perusal of Beattie's _Minstrel_ inspired +him with the love of poetry, and at an early age his compositions in +verse were admitted in the Poet's Corner of the _Aberdeen Herald_. In +1819 he published a small poetical work, entitled "The Prophecy," which, +affording decided evidence of power, established his local reputation. +Having contributed verses for some years to several periodicals and the +local journals, he published a collection of these in 1853, with the +title, "Flights of Fancy, and Lays of Bon-Accord." "The New Book of +Bon-Accord," a guide-book to his native town on an original plan, +appeared from his pen in 1856. For three years he has held a comfortable +and congenial appointment as confidential clerk to a merchant in his +native city. He continues to contribute verses to the periodicals. + + + + +DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE BIRDS ARE SINGING? + + + Do you know what the birds are singing? + Can you tell their sweet refrains, + When the green arch'd woods are ringing + With a thousand swelling strains? + To the sad they sing of sadness, + To the blythe, of mirth and glee, + And to me, in my fond love's gladness, + They sing alone of thee! + They sing alone of thee, love, + Of thee, through the whole day long, + And each its own dear charm extols, + And each with its own sweet song! + + Do you know what the soft winds whisper + When they sigh through blooming trees-- + When each bough is a choral lisper + Of the woodland melodies? + To some they seem to be grieving + For the summer's short-lived glee; + But to me they are always weaving + Sweet songs in praise of thee! + Sweet songs in praise of thee, love, + And telling the flowers below, + How far thy charms outshine them all, + Though brightly their soft leaves glow! + + Do you know what the streamlet trilleth + As it glides or leaps along, + While the cool green nook it filleth + With the gushes of its song? + Do you think it sings its dreaming + Of its distant home, the sea? + Oh, no, but the voice of its streaming + Is still of thee, of thee! + Is still of thee, of thee, love, + Till echoes and woodland fays-- + Yea, Nature all is eloquent + And vocal in thy praise. + + + + +AN HOUR WITH AN OLD LOVE. + + + Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie, + As I 've look'd in days gane by, + When you gae me kiss for kiss, Jeanie, + And answer'd sigh for sigh; + When in our youth's first flame, Jeanie, + Although poor and lane together, + We had wealth in our ain love, Jeanie, + And were a' to ane anither! + + Oh, blessin's on thy lips, Jeanie, + They ance were dear to me, + As the honey-savour'd blossoms + To the nectar-hunting bee! + It kens whar dwalls the banquets + O' the sweetest dewy wine-- + And as the chosen flower to it, + Sae were thy lips to mine. + + I see thy very thochts, Jeanie, + Deep in thy clear blue e'e, + As ye 'll see the silver fishes flash, + When ye sail the midnicht sea; + And ye needna close the lids, Jeanie, + Though the thochts they are nae mine, + For I see there 's nae repentant ane, + That they ance were sae langsyne. + + Oh, lat me hear thy voice, Jeanie-- + Ay, that 's the very chime, + Whase silver echoes haunted me + Through a' my youthfu' prime. + Speak on! thy gentle words, Jeanie, + Awake a blessed train + Of memories that I thocht had slept + To never wake again! + + God's blessin's on your heart, Jeanie, + And your face sae angel fair! + May the ane be never pierced wi' grief, + Nor the ither blanch'd wi' care; + And he wha has your love, Jeanie, + May he be dear to thee, + As I may aiblins ance have been-- + And as thou 'rt still to me! + + + + +ALLAN GIBSON. + + +A poet of sentiment and moral feeling, Allan Gibson was removed from the +scene at the threshold of a promising career. He was born at Paisley on +the 2d October 1820. In his boyhood he devoted himself to the perusal of +works of history and romance; and he acquired a familiarity with the +more distinguished British poets. It was his delight to stray amidst +rural scenes, and to imbibe inspiration among the solitudes of nature. +His verses were composed at such periods. They are prefaced by prose +reflections, and abound in delicate colouring and gentle pathos. Several +detached specimens of his prose writing are elegant and masterly. He +followed an industrial occupation, but was unfortunate in business. +After an illness of two years, he died on the 9th August 1849, at the +early age of twenty-nine. He was possessed of much general talent; was +fond of society, fluent in conversation, and eloquent as a public +speaker. His habits were sober and retiring. He left a widow and four +children. A thin 8vo volume of his "Literary Remains" was published in +1850, for the benefit of his family. + + + + +THE LANE AULD MAN. + + + He sorrowfu' sat by the ingle cheek, + Its hearth was cauld to his weary feet, + For a' were gane, an' nae mair would meet + By the side o' the lane auld man. + + To the wreck o' his hopes fond memory clung + When flowers o' his heart on his hearthstane sprung; + But death's cauld hand had cruelly wrung + The heart o' the lane auld man. + + A leafless tree in life's wintry blast, + He stood alane o' his kin the last, + For ane by ane frae his side they pass'd, + An' left him a lane auld man. + + His bonnie bairns, o' his heart the prize, + Wi' their bounding step and sunny eyes, + Hae left his hearth for hame in the skies; + Alack for the lane auld man! + + The weel lo'ed form o' his ain auld wife, + Wha sooth'd the cares o' a lang bleak life, + Has gane to rest wi' her weans frae strife, + An' heeds na her lane auld man. + + Owre the turf on their breast he lo'ed to weep, + And sair he lang'd wi' the lost to meet, + Till death did close, in his ain calm sleep, + The een o' the lane auld man. + + Whar yew-trees bend owre the dark kirk-yard, + An' gowans peep frae the lang green-sward, + The moss-clad stanes o' the cauld grave guard + The last o' the lane auld man. + + + + +THE WANDERER'S RETURN. + + + Shadows of glory the twilight is parting, + The day-star is seeking its home in the west, + The herd from the field to the fold is departing, + As, Lochwinnoch, sad on thy summits I rest. + And far o'er the scene, while the evening is veiling + Thy waters that spread their still breast on the lea, + On his broad truant wing the lone heron is sailing, + To rest with his mate by the rock on the sea. + + But, houseless and homeless, around thee I wander, + The faces are gone I have panted to see, + And cold is the hearth to the feet of the stranger, + Which once had a seat in its circle for me. + Here youth's golden hours of my being were number'd, + When joy in my bosom was breathing its lay; + If care on the light of my happiness linger'd, + Hope hasted the heartless intruder away. + + Then sweetly the brow of the beaming-eyed future + Was smiling my welcome to life's rosy way, + And fondly I sigh'd in her Eden to meet her, + And bask in the bowers where her happiness lay. + While fancy on light airy pinion was mounting, + I strain'd my young vision in rapture to see + The land of my dreams, with its love-mirror'd fountains, + And breath'd in the balm of the south's sunny sea. + + Then, far on the track of ambition, I follow'd + The footsteps of fortune through perilous climes, + And trod the bright scenes which my childhood had hallow'd + But found not the charms which fond fancy enshrines. + The gold I have won, can it purchase the treasure + Of hearts' warm affections left bleeding behind, + Restore me the ties which are parted for ever, + And gild the dark gloom of my desolate mind? + + The gold I have won! but, unblest and beguiling, + It came like the sun when unclouded and gay; + Its light on the cold face of winter is smiling, + But cheers not the earth with the warmth of its ray. + Again fare-thee-well, for the heart-broken rover + Now bids thee a long and a lasting adieu; + Yet o'er thee the dreams of my spirit will hover, + And burn as it broods on life's dismal review. + + + + +THOMAS ELLIOTT. + + +The author of a small volume of very meritorious poems and lyrics, +Thomas Elliott is descended from a branch of the old Border family of +that name, which settled in the north of Ireland subsequent to the +Revolution. His father was a shoemaker at Bally-ho-bridge, a hamlet in +county Fermanagh, province of Ulster, where the poet was born on the 22d +December 1820. Entering school at the age of five years, he was not +removed till he had acquired a considerable acquaintance with the +ordinary branches of popular education. In his fifteenth year he +apprenticed himself to his father. The family removed to Belfast in +1836, and there he had opportunities of occupying his leisure hours in +extensive and varied reading. After a few years of somewhat desultory +employment, he visited Glasgow in 1847, and there, following his +original trade, he has continued to reside. + +Elliott assigns the commencement of his poetical efforts to the year +1842, when he was led to satirise a pedagogue teacher of music, who had +given him offence. His poetical volume, entitled "Doric Lays and Attic +Chimes," appeared in 1856, and has been well received. Several of his +lyrics have been published with music in "The Lyric Gems of Scotland," a +collection of songs published at Glasgow. + + + + +UP WITH THE DAWN. + + + Up with the dawn, ye sons of toil, + And bare the brawny arm, + To drive the harness'd team afield, + And till the fruitful farm; + To dig the mine for hidden wealth, + Or make the woods to ring + With swinging axe and sturdy stroke, + To fell the forest king. + + With ocean car and iron steed + Traverse the land and sea, + And spread our commerce round the globe + As winds that wander free. + Subdue the earth, and conquer fate, + Outspeed the flight of time; + Old earth is rich, and man is young, + Nor near his jocund prime. + + Work, and the clouds of care will fly, + Pale want will pass away; + Work, and the leprosy of crime + And tyrants must decay. + Leave the dead ages in their urns; + The present time be ours, + To grapple bravely with our lot, + And strew our path with flowers. + + + + +CLYDE BOAT SONG. + +_Music by A. Hume._ + + + Leave the city's busy throng-- + Dip the oar, and wake the song, + While on Cathkin Braes the moon + Rises with a star aboon: + Hark! the boom of evening bells + Trembles through the dewy dells. + Row, lads, row; row, lads, row, + While the golden eventide + Lingers o'er the vale of Clyde, + Row, lads, row; row, lads, row, + O'er the tide, up the Clyde, + Row, lads, row. + + Life 's a river, deep and old, + Stemm'd by rowers, brave and bold; + Now in shadow, then in light, + Onward aye, a thing of might; + Sons of Albyn's ancient land, + Row with strong and steady hand, + Row, lads, row; row, lads, row; + Gaily row, and cheery sing, + Till the woodland echoes ring; + Row, lads, row; row lads, row, + O'er the tide, up the Clyde, + Row, lads, row. + + Hammers on the anvil rest, + Dews upon the gowan's breast; + Young hearts heave with tender thought, + Low winds sigh, with odours fraught, + Stars bedeck the blue above, + Earth is full of joy and love; + Row, lads, row; row, lads, row; + Let your oars in concert beat + Merry time, like dancers' feet; + Row, lads, row; row, lads, row, + With the tide, down the Clyde, + Row, lads, row. + + + + +DIMPLES AND A'. + + + I love a sweet lassie, mair gentle and true + Than ony young, wood-loving, wild cushie doo; + Her cheeks they are dimpled, her jimp waist is sma', + She says she 's my ain lassie, dimples and a'-- + Dimples and a', dimples and a'-- + That bonnie wee lass wi' her dimples and a'. + + Her brown wavy hair has a dark gowden tinge, + Her bonnie black e'e has a long jetty fringe, + Her footstep is light as the thistle doun's fa', + Her wee hand is lily-white, dimpled and a'-- + Dimpled and a', dimpled and a'-- + And I ken it 's my ain hand, dimples and a'. + + I 'll wed my dear lassie, and gie her my name, + I 'll get a bit housie, and bring my love hame; + When winter is eerie, and stormy winds blaw, + She 'll mak' me fu' cheerie wi' dimples and a'-- + Dimples and a', dimples and a'-- + My ain bonnie wifie, wi' her dimples and a'. + + When the day's wark is done, and stars blink above, + I 'll rest in her smile, and be bless'd wi' her love; + She 'll sing a' the cares o' this world awa' + Frae our cosie ingle, wi' dimples and a'. + Dimples and a', dimples and a'-- + Our ain cosie ingle, wi' dimples and a'. + + + + +BUBBLES ON THE BLAST. + + + A wee bit laddie sits wi' a bowl upon his knees, + And from a cutty pipe 's puffing bubbles on the breeze; + Oh, meikle is the mirth of the weans on our stair, + To see the bubbles sail like balloons alang the air. + Some burst before they rise, others mount the gentle wind, + And leave the little band in their dizzy joy behind; + And such are human pomp and ambition at the last-- + The wonder of an hour, like thae bubbles on the blast. + + How breathless is the watch of that merry little throng, + To mark the shining globes as they float in pride along! + 'Tis thus life's bubbles come, ever flashing from afar-- + Now a revolution, and again a woeful war; + A hero or a bard, in their glory or their might; + A bonnie bird of song, or a nightingale of light; + Or yellow golden age, with its speculations vast-- + All wonders of an hour, like the bubbles on the blast. + + Shout on, ye little folk, for your sport is quite as sage + As that of older men, e'en the leaders of the age; + This world 's a sapple bowl, and our life a pipe of clay-- + Its brightest dreams and hopes are but bubbles blown away. + We 've had our bubbles too; some were dear and tender things, + That left us sad and lone as they fled on rapid wings; + And others yet may rise from the future, like the past, + The wonder of an hour, as the bubbles on the blast. + + + + +A SERENADE. + + + The shadows of evening fall silent around, + The rose with a cor'net of dewdrops is crown'd; + While weary I wander in sorrow's eclipse, + With your love at my heart, your name on my lips; + Your name on my lips, like a melody rare-- + Then come, for I 'm lonely in shady Kenmair. + + The birds by the river sing plaintive and low, + They seem to be breathing a burden of woe; + They seem to be asking, why am I alone? + And why do you tarry, or where are you gone? + The flowers are sighing sweet breath on the air, + And stars watch thy coming to shady Kenmair. + + The gush of the fountain, the roll of the tide, + Recall your sweet image again to my side-- + Your low mellow voice, like the tones of a flute; + Your slight yielding form, and small fairy foot; + Your neck like the marble, dark flowing your hair, + And brow like the snowdrop of shady Kenmair. + + Come love, to the bank where the violets blow, + Beside the calm waters that slumber below, + While the brier and beech, the hazel and broom, + Fling down from their branches a flood of perfume; + Oh! what is the world, with its splendours or care, + When you are beside me in shady Kenmair! + + + + +A SONG OF LITTLE THINGS. + + + I 'm a very little man, + And I earn a little wage, + And I have a little wife, + In a little hermitage, + Up a quiet little stair, + Where the creeping ivy clings; + In a mansion near the stars + Is my home of little things. + + I 've two bonnie little bairns, + Full of prattle and of glee, + And our little dwelling rings + With their laughter, wild and free. + Of the greenwoods, all the day, + I 've a little bird that sings; + It reminds me of my youth, + And the age of little things. + + I 've no money in the funds, + And no steamers on the sea; + But my busy little hands + Are a treasure unto me. + I can work, and I can sing, + With a joy unknown to kings; + While peace and plenty smile + On my bonnie little things. + + And when my work is done, + In my cosie ingle nook, + With my little ones around, + I can read a little book. + And I thank my lucky stars + For whatever fortune brings; + I 'm richer than a lord-- + I 'm content with little things. + + + + +MY AIN MOUNTAIN LAND. + + + Oh! wae 's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame, + It tint me my love, and it wiled me frae hame, + Syne dwindled awa' like a neivefu' o' sand, + And left me to mourn for my ain mountain land. + + I long for the glens, and the brown heather fells, + The green birken shades, where the wild lintie dwells, + The dash o' the deep, on the gray rocky strand, + That gird the blue hills o' my ain mountain land. + + I dream o' the dells where the clear burnies flow, + The bonnie green knowes where the wee gowans grow; + But I wake frae my sleep like a being that 's bann'd, + And shed a saut tear for my ain mountain land. + + I ken there 's a lass that looks out on the sea, + Wi' tears in the een that are watchin' for me; + Lang, lang she may wait for the clasp o' my hand, + Or the fa' o' my foot in my ain mountain land. + + + + +WHEN I COME HAME AT E'EN. + + + Give me the hour when bells are rung, + And dinsome wheels are still, + When engines rest, and toilers leave + The workshop, forge, and mill; + With smiling lip, and gladsome e'e, + My gudewife welcomes me; + Our bairnies clap their wee white hands, + And speel upon my knee. + When I come hame at e'en, + When I come hame at e'en, + How dear to me the bairnies' glee, + When I come hame at e'en. + + Our lowly bield is neat and clean, + And bright the ingle's glow, + The table 's spread with halesome fare, + The teapot simmers low. + How sweet to toil for joys like these + With strong and eydent hand, + To nurture noble hearts to love, + And guard our fatherland. + When I come hame at e'en, &c. + + Let revellers sing of wassail bowls, + Their wines and barley bree; + My ain wee house and winsome wife + Are dearer far to me. + To crack with her of joys to come, + Of days departed long, + When she was like a wee wild rose, + And I a bird of song. + When I come hame at e'en, + When I come hame at e'en, + How dear to me these memories + When I come hame at e'en. + + + + +WILLIAM LOGAN. + + +William Logan, author of the song "Jeanie Gow," was born on the 18th +February 1821, in the village of Kilbirnie, and county of Ayr. Intended +by his parents for one of the liberal professions, he had the benefit of +a superior school education. For a number of years he has held a +respectable appointment in connexion with a linen-thread manufactory in +his native place. + + + + +JEANIE GOW. + + + Ye hameless glens and waving woods, + Where Garnock winds alang, + How aft, in youth's unclouded morn, + Your wilds I 've roved amang. + There ha'e I heard the wanton birds + Sing blythe on every bough, + There first I met, and woo'd the heart + O' bonnie Jeanie Gow. + + Dear Jeanie then was fair and young, + And bloom'd as sweet a flower + As ever deck'd the garden gay + Or lonely wild wood bower. + The warbling lark at early dawn, + The lamb on mountain brow, + Had ne'er a purer, lighter heart + Than bonnie Jeanie Gow. + + Her faither's lowly, clay-built cot + Rose by Glengarnock side, + And Jeanie was his only stay, + His darling and his pride. + Aft ha'e I left the dinsome town, + To which I ne'er could bow, + And stray'd amang the ferny knowes + Wi' bonnie Jeanie Gow. + + But, ah! these fondly treasured joys + Were soon wi' gloom o'ercast, + For Jeanie dear was torn awa' + By death's untimely blast. + Ye woods, ye wilds, and warbling birds, + Ye canna cheer me now, + Sin' a' my glee and cherish'd hopes + Ha'e gane wi' Jeanie Gow. + + + + +JAMES LITTLE. + + +James Little was born at Glasgow, on the 24th May 1821. His father, a +respectable shoemaker, was a claimant, through his maternal grandmother, +of the title and estates of the last Marquis of Annandale. With a very +limited elementary education, the subject of this notice, at an early +age, was called on to work with his father; but soon afterwards he +enlisted as a private soldier. After eight years of military life, +chiefly passed in North America and the West Indies, he purchased his +discharge, and resumed shoemaking in his native city. In 1852 he +proceeded to the United States, but subsequently returned to Glasgow. In +1856 he published a small duodecimo volume of meritorious verses, with +the title, "Sparks from Nature's Fire." Several songs from his pen have +been published, with music, in the "Lyric Gems of Scotland." + + + + +OUR NATIVE HILLS AGAIN. + + + Oh, swiftly bounds our gallant bark + Across the ocean drear, + While manly cheeks are pale wi' grief, + And wet wi' sorrow's tear. + The flowers that spring upon the Clyde + Will bloom for us in vain; + Nae mair wi' lightsome step we 'll climb + Our native hills again. + + Amang their glens our fathers sleep, + Where mony a thistle waves; + And roses fair and gowans meek + Bloom owre their lowly graves. + But we maun dree a sadder fate + Far owre the stormy main; + We lang may look, but never see + Our native hills again. + + Yet, 'mid the forests o' the west, + When starnies light the sky, + We'll gather round the ingle's side, + And sing o' days gane by; + And sunny blinks o' joy will come + To soothe us when alane, + And aft, in nightly dreams, we'll climb + Our native hills again. + + + + +HERE 'S A HEALTH TO SCOTIA'S SHORE. + +_Music by Alexander Hume._ + + + Sing not to me of sunny shores + Or verdant climes where olives bloom, + Where, still and calm, the river pours + Its flood, 'mid groves of rich perfume; + Give me the land where torrents flash, + Where loud the angry cat'racts roar, + As wildly on their course they dash-- + Then here's a health to Scotia's shore. + + Sing not to me of sunny isles, + Though there eternal summers reign, + Where many a dark-eyed maiden smiles, + And gaudy flow'rets deck the plain; + Give me the land of mountains steep, + Where wild and free the eagles soar, + The dizzy crags, where tempests sweep-- + Then here's a health to Scotia's shore. + + Sing not to me of sunny lands, + For there full often tyrants sway + Who climb to power with blood-stain'd hands, + While crouching, trembling slaves obey; + Give me the land unconquer'd still, + Though often tried in days of yore, + Where freedom reigns from plain to hill-- + Then here's a health to Scotia's shore. + + + + +THE DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. + + + The happy days of yore! + Will they ever come again, + To shed a gleam of joy on us, + And win the heart from pain? + Or will they only come in dreams, + When nicht's black curtain 's hung? + Yet even then 'tis sweet to mind + The days when we were young. + + Fond mem'ry, wi' its mystic power, + Brings early scenes to view-- + Again we roam among the hills, + Sae wat wi' morning dew-- + Again we climb the broomy knowes, + And sing wi' prattlin' tongue, + For we had nae cares to fash us + In the days when we were young. + + How aft, when we were callants, + Hae we sought the ocean's shore, + And launch'd wi' glee our tiny boats, + And heard the billows roar? + And aft amang the glancin' waves + In daring sport we 've sprung, + And swam till we were wearied, + In the days when we were young. + + In winter, round the ingle side, + We 've read wi' kindling e'e, + How Wallace Wight, and Bruce the Bold, + Aft made the southrons flee; + Or listen'd to some bonnie sang, + By bonnie lassie sung: + Oh! love and happiness were ours, + In days when we were young. + + Oh! his maun be a waefu' heart + That has nae sunny gleams + Of by-gane joys in early days, + Though it be but in dreams: + Wha thinks nae o' his mither's arms, + Sae aft around him flung, + To shield him safe frae earthly harms, + In days when he was young: + + Wha thinks nae o' his sisters fair, + That toddled out and in, + And ran about the braes wi' him, + And play'd wi' meikle din; + And his maun be a barren heart, + Where love has never sprung, + Wha thinks nae o' the days gane by + The days when he was young. + + + + +LIZZIE FREW. + + + 'Twas a balmy summer gloamin', + When the sun had gane to rest, + And his gowden beams were glintin' + Owre the hills far in the west; + And upon the snawy gowan + Saftly fell the pearly dew, + When I met my heart's best treasure, + Gentle, winsome Lizzy Frew. + + Light she tripp'd amang the bracken, + While her glossy waving hair + Play'd around her gentle bosom, + Dancing in the summer air. + Love laugh'd in her een sae paukie, + Smiles play'd round her rosy mou', + And my heart was led a captive + By the charms o' Lizzie Frew. + + Thochts o' her can mak' me cheerie, + As I toil the lee-lang day; + And at nicht, though e'er sae wearie, + Gladly out wi' her I stray. + I ask nae for a greater pleasure, + Than to ken her heart is true-- + I ask nae for a greater treasure, + Than my gentle Lizzie Frew. + + + + +COLIN RAE BROWN. + + +The son of a respectable shipowner and captain in the merchant service, +Colin Rae Brown was born at Greenock on the 19th of December 1821. +Having completed his education in Glasgow, whither the family removed in +1829, he entered a mercantile warehouse. In 1842, he formed a connexion +with the publishing house of Messrs Murray and Sons, Glasgow, and +undertook the management of a branch of the business at Greenock. On the +establishment in Glasgow of the _North British Daily Mail_, he accepted +an offer by the proprietor to become the publisher of that newspaper. +When the _Mail_ passed into the hands of other proprietors, Mr Brown +established, in conjunction with a partner, the Fine Art Gallery in St +Vincent Street, with which he continues to be connected. In 1848 he +published a volume of lyrics, which was well received; a second poetical +work from his pen, which appeared in 1855, with the title, "Lays and +Lyrics," has met with similar success. A number of songs from both +volumes have been published separately with music. On the abolition of +the stamp-duty on newspapers in 1855, Mr Brown originated the _Bulletin_ +and _Workman_, a daily and a weekly newspaper, both published in +Glasgow. + + + + +CHARLIE 'S COMIN'. + + + Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea, + Soon, he 'll set the country free + From those that bear the rule and gree + In bonnie Caledonia! + + Gentle breezes, softly blow, + We burn until we meet the foe, + And strike the bold decisive blow + For king and Caledonia! + + Noble hearts are beating high, + All will fight, none basely fly, + For if they conquer not, they 'll die + For ancient Caledonia! + + Oh, that Charlie were but here! + The base usurper then might fear-- + As loud the din fell on his ear + Of joy in Caledonia! + + Heard ye not that distant hum? + And now the pipe, and now the drum, + Proclaim the news that Charlie 's come + To gladden Caledonia! + + Tyrants, tremble, Charlie 's here! + Now, indeed, ye 've cause to fear; + Hielan' hearts be of good cheer, + And on for Caledonia! + + + + +THE WIDOW'S DAUGHTER. + + + Why gaze on that pale face, + Childless one, childless one? + Why seek this lonely place? + She hath gone, she hath gone. + + Thy daughter is not here, + Widow'd one, widow'd one-- + Nay, wipe away that tear, + She hath won, she hath won! + + Her home is far away, + She 's at rest, she 's at rest, + In everlasting day, + With the blest, with the blest. + + No pains, no sorrows there, + All are past, all are past; + That sigh summ'd up her care, + 'Twas her last, 'twas her last. + + 'Tis not her there you see, + Sister dear, sister dear; + That earth holds nought for thee, + Draw not near, draw not near. + + The place is cold and dark, + Haste away, haste away; + Corruption is at work-- + Soulless clay! soulless clay! + + The lamp hath ceased to burn, + Quench'd the flame, quench'd the flame; + Let dust to dust return, + Whence it came, whence it came. + + To thy chamber, sister dear; + There to God, there to God, + Bend humble and sincere, + 'Neath His rod, 'neath His rod. + + Prayer heals the broken heart-- + He is kind, He is kind; + Each bruised and bleeding part + He will bind, He will bind. + + Weep not for her that 's gone-- + Time will fly, time will fly-- + Thou 'lt meet thy cherish'd one + 'Yond the sky! 'yond the sky! + + + + +ROBERT LEIGHTON. + + +Robert Leighton, author of "Rhymes and Poems by Robin," a duodecimo +volume of verses, published in 1855, was born at Dundee in 1822. He has +been chiefly employed in mercantile concerns. The following lyric, which +has attained some popularity, was one of his earliest poetical efforts, +being composed in his sixteenth year. + + + + +MY MUCKLE MEAL POCK. + + + There 's some can be happy and bide whar they are, + There 's ithers ne'er happy unless they gang far; + But aft do I think I 'm an easy auld stock, + While I 'm joggin' about wi' my muckle meal pock. + + Though noo I be auld, abune four score and aucht, + Though my pow it be bauld and my craig be na straucht, + Yet frae mornin' till e'en--aye as steady 's a rock-- + I gang joggin' about wi' my muckle meal pock. + + Just our ain parish roond, and nae mair I gang through, + And when at the end I begin it anew; + There isna' a door but wad blythely unlock, + To welcome me ben wi' my muckle meal pock. + + There isna' a hoose but I micht mak' my hame, + There isna' an auld wife wad think me to blame, + Though I open'd the door without gieing a knock, + And cam' ben to the fire wi' my muckle meal pock. + + As ony newspaper they say I 'm as gweed, + And better, say some, for they hinna to read; + The lads and the lasses around me a' flock, + And there 's no ane forgets that I hae a meal pock. + + The gudeman he speaks about corn and lan', + "Hoo 's the markets," says he, "are they risen or fa'en? + Or is this snawie weather the roads like to chock?" + But the gudewife aye spiers for my muckle meal pock. + + To be usefu' to her I haud sticks on the fire, + Or whan to the milkin' she gangs to the byre, + She 'll gie me a hand o' the cradle to rock, + And for that she 's aye gude to my muckle meal pock. + + Though my friends a' be gane whar I yet hae to gang, + And o' followin' them noo I canna be lang, + Yet while I am here I will lauch and I 'll joke, + For I 'll aye find a friend in my muckle meal pock. + + + + +JAMES HENDERSON. + + +A poet of much elegance and power, James Henderson was born on the 2d +November 1824, on the banks of the river Carron, in the village of Denny +and county of Stirling. In his tenth year, he proceeded to Glasgow, +where he was employed in mercantile concerns. Strongly influenced by +sentiments of patriotism, and deeply imbued with the love of nature in +its ever varying aspects, he found relaxation from business in the +composition of verses. In 1848 he published a thin octavo volume, +entitled "Glimpses of the Beautiful, and other Poems," which was much +commended by the periodical and newspaper press. Having proceeded to +India in 1849, he became a commission agent in Calcutta. He visited +Britain in 1852, but returned to India the same year. Having permanently +returned from the East in 1855, he has since settled in Glasgow as an +East India merchant. + + + + +THE WANDERER'S DEATHBED. + + + Afar from the home where his youthful prime + And his happy hours were pass'd, + On the distant shore of a foreign clime + The wanderer breathed his last. + And they dug his grave where the wild flowers wave, + By the brooklet's glassy brim; + And the song-bird there wakes its morning prayer, + And the dirge of its evening hymn. + + He left the land of his childhood fair, + With hope in his glowing breast, + With visions bright as the summer's light, + And dreams by his fancy blest. + But death look'd down with a chilling frown + As he stood on that distant shore, + And he leant his head on the stranger's bed, + Till the last sad pang was o'er. + + Strange faces, fill'd with a soulless look, + O'er the wanderer's deathbed hung; + And the words were cold as the wintry wold, + That fell from each heedless tongue. + Nor mournful sigh, nor tearful eye + The solace of pity gave, + While the moments pass'd till he breathed his last, + To sleep in the silent grave. + + Afar from the home where his youthful prime + And his happy hours were pass'd, + On the distant shore of a foreign clime + The wanderer breathed his last. + And they dug his grave where the wild flowers wave, + By the brooklet's glassy brim; + And the song-bird there wakes its morning prayer, + And the dirge of its evening hymn. + + + + +THE SONG OF TIME. + + + I fleet along, and the empires fall, + And the nations pass away, + Like visions bright of the dreamy night, + That die with the dawning day. + The lordly tower, and the battled wall, + The hall, and the holy fane, + In ruin lie while I wander by, + Nor rise from their wreck again. + + I light the rays of the orient blaze, + The glow of the radiant noon; + I wing my flight with the sapphire night, + And glide with the gentle moon. + O'er earth I roam, and the bright expanse + Where the proud bark bounds away; + And I join the stars in their choral dance + Round the golden orb of day. + + I fleet along, and the empires fall, + And the nations pass away, + Like visions bright of the dreamy night, + That die with the dawning day. + The sceptre sinks in the regal hall, + And still'd is the monarch's tread, + The mighty stoop as the meanest droop, + And sleep with the nameless dead. + + + + +THE HIGHLAND HILLS. + + + The Highland hills! there are songs of mirth, + And joy, and love on the gladsome earth; + For Spring, in her queenly robes, hath smiled + In the forest glade and the woodland wild. + Then come with me from the haunts of men + To the glassy lake in the mountain glen, + Where sunshine sleeps on the dancing rills + That chainless leap from the Highland hills. + + The Highland hills! when the sparkling rays + Of the silver dews greet the orient blaze, + When noon comes forth with her gorgeous glow, + While the fountains leap and the rivers flow, + Thou wilt roam with me where the waterfalls + Bid echo wake in the rocky halls, + Till the grandeur wild to thy heart instils + A deep delight 'mid the Highland hills. + + The Highland hills! when the noonday smiles + On the slumbering lakes and their fairy isles, + We 'll clamber high where the heather waves + By the warrior's cairn and the foemen's graves; + And I 'll sing to thee, in "the bright day's prime," + Of the days of old and of ancient time, + And thy heart, unknown to the care that chills, + Shall gladly joy in the Highland hills. + + The Highland hills! in the twilight dim + To their heath-clad crests shall thy footsteps climb, + And there shalt thou gaze o'er the ocean far, + Till the beacon blaze of the evening star, + And the lamp of night, with its virgin beams, + Look down on the deep and the shining streams, + Till beauty's spell on thy spirit thrills + With joy and love in the Highland hills. + + + + +MY NATIVE LAND. + + + Sublime is Scotia's mountain land, + And beautiful and wild; + By tyranny's unhallow'd hand + Unsullied, undefiled. + The free and fearless are her sons, + The good and brave her sires; + And, oh! her every spirit glows + With freedom's festal fires! + + When dark oppression far and wide + Its gory deluge spread, + While nations, ere they pass'd away, + For hope and vengeance bled, + She from her rocky bulwarks high + The banner'd eagle hurl'd, + And trampled on triumphant Rome, + The empress of the world. + + She gave the Danish wolf a grave + Deep in her darkest glens, + And chased the vaunting Norman hound + Back to his lowland dens; + And though the craven Saxon strove + Her regal lord to be, + Her hills were homes to nurse the brave, + The fetterless, and free. + + Peace to the spirits of the dead, + The noble, and the brave; + Peace to the mighty who have bled + Our Fatherland to save! + We revel in the pure delight + Of deeds achieved by them, + To crown their worth and valour bright + With glory's diadem. + + + + +JAMES MACLARDY. + + +The writer of several good songs, James Maclardy was born in Glasgow on +the 22d August 1824. His father, who afterwards removed to Paisley, was +a journeyman shoemaker in humble circumstances. With the scanty +rudiments of education, young Maclardy was early cast upon the world. +For a course of years he led a sort of rambling life, repeatedly +betaking himself to the occupation of a pedlar, and sometimes being +dependent for subsistence on his skill as a ballad singer. Adopting his +father's profession, he became more fortunate, and now took delight in +improving himself in learning, and especially in perusing the works of +the poets. After practising his craft in various localities, he has +latterly settled in Glasgow, where he holds a situation of respectable +emolument. + + + + +THE SUNNY DAYS ARE COME, MY LOVE. + + + The sunny days are come, my love, + The gowan 's on the lea, + And fragrant flow'rs wi' hiney'd lips, + Invite the early bee; + The scented winds are whisp'ring by, + The lav'rock 's on the wing, + The lintie on the dewy spray + Gars glen and woodland ring. + + The sunny days are come, my love, + The primrose decks the brae, + The vi'let in its rainbow robe + Bends to the noontide ray; + The cuckoo in her trackless bower + Has waken'd from her dream; + The shadows o' the new-born leaves + Are waving in the stream. + + The sunny days are come, my love, + The swallow skims the lake, + As o'er its glassy bosom clear + The insect cloudlets shake. + The heart of nature throbs with joy + At love and beauty's sway; + The meanest creeping thing of earth + Shares in her ecstasy. + + Then come wi' me my bonny Bell, + And rove Gleniffer o'er, + And ye shall lend a brighter tint + To sunshine and to flower; + And ye shall tell the heart ye 've won + A blessing or a wae-- + Awake a summer in my breast, + Or bid hope's flowers decay. + + For spring may spread her mantle green, + O'er mountain, dell, and lea, + And summer burst in every hue + Wi' smiles and melody, + To me the sun were beamless, love, + And scentless ilka flower, + Gin ye were no this heart's bright sun, + Its music and its bower. + + + + +OH, MY LOVE WAS FAIR. + + + Oh, my love was fair as the siller clud + That sleeps in the smile o' dawn; + An' her een were bricht as the crystal bells + That spangle the blossom'd lawn: + An' warm as the sun was her kind, kind heart, + That glow'd 'neath a faemy sea; + But I fear'd, by the tones o' her sweet, sweet voice, + That my love was nae for me. + + Oh, my love was gay as the summer time, + When the earth is bricht an' gled, + An' fresh as the spring when the young buds blaw, + In their sparkling pearl-draps cled: + An' her hair was like chains o' the sunset sheen + That hangs 'tween the lift an' sea; + But I fear'd, by the licht that halo'd her face, + That my love was nae for me. + + Oh, my love was sweet as the violet flower + That waves by the moss-grown stane, + An' her lips were rich as the rowans red + That hang in forest lane; + An' her broo was a dreamy hill o' licht, + That struck ane dumb to see; + But I fear'd, by signs that canna be named, + That my love was nae for me. + + Oh, my love was mild as the autumn gale + That fans the temples o' toil, + An' the sweets o' a thousand summers cam' + On her breath an' sunny smile: + An' spotless she gaed on the tainted earth, + O' a mortal blemish free, + While my heart forgot, in its feast o' joy, + That my love was nae for me. + + Oh, my love was leal, an' my cup o' bliss + Was reaming to the brim, + When, ae gloaming chill, to her sacred bower + Cam' a grisly carl fu' grim, + Wha dash'd the cup frae my raptured lips + Wi' a wild, unearthly glee; + Sae the ghaistly thought was then confirm'd, + That my love was nae for me. + + Oh, my love was young, an' the grim auld carl + Held her fast in his cauld embrace, + An' suck'd the red frae her hiney'd mou', + An' the blush frae her peachy face: + He stifled the sound o' her charm'd throat, + An' quench'd the fires o' her e'e; + But fairer she blooms in her heavenly bower, + For my love was nae for me. + + Sae I tyned my love an' I tyned my heart, + An' I tyned baith wealth an' fame; + Syne I turn'd a sad, weary minstrel wicht, + Wi' the cauld warld for my hame. + Yet my minstrelsy 's but a lanely lay, + My wealth my aumous fee; + Oh, wad that I were wi' the grim auld carl, + For this warld is nae for me. + + + + +ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON. + + +The author of "Harebell Chimes," a volume of interesting verses, Andrew +James Symington, was born at Paisley, on the 27th of July 1825. His +father was a scion of the noble house of Douglas, and his mother claimed +descent from the old Highland family of Macalister. On the completion of +his education at the grammar school, the subject of this sketch entered +the warehouse of his father, who carried on business as a muslin +manufacturer. By the death of his father in 1841, he succeeded, along +with an elder brother, to the full management of the concern. In 1848 +the establishment was removed from Paisley to Glasgow, where it +continues to be prosperously carried on. + +Eminently devoted to literary and artistic studies, Mr Symington has +cultivated the personal intercourse of artists and men of letters. He +has contributed to some of the leading periodicals. His volume of +"Harebell Chimes," published in 1849, contains poetry of a high order; +it was especially commended by the late Samuel Rogers, with whom the +author had the privilege of corresponding. In 1855, a small volume +entitled "Genivieve, and other Poems," was printed by Mr Symington for +circulation among his friends. + + + + +DAY DREAM. + + + Close by the marge of Leman's lake, + Upon a thymy plot, + In blissful rev'rie, half awake, + Earth's follies all forgot, + I conjured up a faery isle + Where sorrow enter'd not, + Withouten shade of sin or guile-- + A lovely Eden spot. + + With trellis'd vines, in cool arcade, + And leaves of tender green, + All trembling in the light and shade, + As sunbeams glanced between: + The mossy turf, bespangled gay + With fragrant flowery sheen-- + Bell, primrose, pink, and showers of May-- + The fairest ever seen. + + Near where a crystal river ran + Into the rich, warm light, + A domèd palace fair began + To rise in marble white. + 'Twas fill'd, as if by amulet, + With mirrors dazzling bright-- + With antique vase and statuette, + A palace of delight. + + And "Mignon" in a snow-white dress, + With circlet on her hair, + Appear'd in all her loveliness, + Like angel standing there. + She struck the cithern in her hand, + And sang with 'witching air + Her own sweet song, "Know'st thou the land?" + To music wild and rare. + + It died away--the palace changed, + Dream-like, into a bower! + Around, the soft-eyed dun-deer ranged, + Secure from hunter's power. + Wild thyme and eye-bright tinged the ground, + With daisy, starry flower, + While crimson flower-bells cluster'd round + The rose-twined faery bower. + + Therein "Undine," lovely sprite! + Sat gazing on sunrise, + And sang of "morning, clear and bright"-- + The tears came in her eyes: + She look'd upon the lovely isle, + And now up to the skies, + Then in a silv'ry misty veil + She vanish'd from mine eyes. + + A music, as of forest trees + Bent 'neath the storm-blast's sway, + Rose swelling--dying in the breeze, + A strange, wild lullaby. + The islet with its flowery turf + Then waxèd dim and gray; + I look'd--no islet gemm'd the surf-- + The dream had fled away. + + + + +FAIR AS A STAR OF LIGHT. + + + Fair as a star of light, + Like diamond gleaming bright, + Through darkness of the night, + Is my love to me. + As bell of lily white, + In streamlet mirror'd bright, + All quiv'ring with delight, + Is my love to me-- + My love to me. + + A flowing magic thrill + Which floodeth heart and will + With gushes musical, + Is my love to me. + Bright as the trancèd dream, + Which flitteth in a gleam, + Before morn's golden beam, + Is my love to me-- + My love to me. + + Like living crystal well, + In cool and shady dell, + Unto the parch'd gazelle, + Is my love to me. + And dearer than things fair, + However rich and rare, + In earth, or sea, or air, + Is my love to me-- + My love to me. + + + + +NATURE MUSICAL. + + + There is music in the storm, love, + When the tempest rages high; + It whispers in the summer breeze + A soft, sweet lullaby. + There is music in the night, + When the joyous nightingale, + Clear warbling, filleth with his song + The hillside and the vale. + Then sing, sing, sing, + For music breathes in everything. + + There is music by the shore, love, + When foaming billows dash; + It echoes in the thunder peal, + When vivid lightnings flash. + There is music by the shore, + In the stilly noon of night, + When the murmurs of the ocean fade + In the clear moonlight. + + There is music in the soul, love, + When it hears the gushing swell, + Which, like a dream intensely soft, + Peals from the lily-bell. + There is music--music deep + In the soul that looks on high, + When myriad sparkling stars sing out + Their pure sphere harmony. + + There is music in the glance, love, + Which speaketh from the heart, + Of a sympathy in souls + That never more would part. + There is music in the note + Of the cooing turtle-dove; + There is music in the voice + Of dear ones whom we love. + + There is music everywhere, love, + To the pure of spirit given; + And sweetest music heard on earth + But whispers that of heaven. + Oh, all is music there-- + 'Tis the language of the sky-- + Sweet hallelujahs there resound + Eternal harmony. + Then sing, sing, sing, + For music breathes in everything. + + + + +ISABELLA CRAIG. + + +Isabella Craig is a native of Edinburgh, where she has continued to +reside. Her educational advantages were limited. To the columns of the +_Scotsman_ newspaper she has for several years contributed verses. In +1856 she published a collection of her poetical compositions, in a +duodecimo volume, with the title, "Poems by Isa." She contributes to the +periodicals. + + + + +OUR HELEN. + + + Is our Helen very fair? + If you only knew her + You would doubt it not, howe'er + Stranger eyes may view her. + We who see her day by day + Through our household moving, + Whether she be fair or nay + Cannot see for loving. + + O'er our gentle Helen's face + No rich hues are bright'ning, + And no smiles of feignèd grace + From her lips are light'ning; + She hath quiet, smiling eyes, + Fair hair simply braided, + All as mild as evening skies + Ere sunlight hath faded. + + Our kind, thoughtful Helen loves + Our approving praises, + But her eye that never roves + Shrinks from other gazes. + She, so late within her home + But a child caressing, + Now a woman hath become, + Ministering, blessing. + + All her duty, all her bliss, + In her home she findeth, + Nor too narrow deemeth this-- + Lowly things she mindeth; + Yet when deeper cares distress, + She is our adviser; + Reason's rules she needeth less, + For her heart is wiser. + + For the sorrows of the poor + Her kind spirit bleedeth, + And, because so good and pure, + For the erring pleadeth. + Is our Helen very fair? + If you only knew her + You would doubt it not, howe'er + Stranger eyes may view her. + + + + +GOING OUT AND COMING IN. + + + In that home was joy and sorrow + Where an infant first drew breath, + While an aged sire was drawing + Near unto the gate of death. + His feeble pulse was failing, + And his eye was growing dim; + He was standing on the threshold + When they brought the babe to him. + + While to murmur forth a blessing + On the little one he tried, + In his trembling arms he raised it, + Press'd it to his lips and died. + An awful darkness resteth + On the path they both begin, + Who thus met upon the threshold, + Going out and coming in. + + Going out unto the triumph, + Coming in unto the fight-- + Coming in unto the darkness, + Going out unto the light; + Although the shadow deepen'd + In the moment of eclipse, + When he pass'd through the dread portal + With the blessing on his lips. + + And to him who bravely conquers, + As he conquer'd in the strife, + Life is but the way of dying-- + Death is but the gate of life; + Yet awful darkness resteth + On the path we all begin, + Where we meet upon the threshold, + Going out and coming in. + + + + +MY MARY AN' ME. + + + We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd, + We loved our first love, an' our hearts never stray'd; + When I got my young lassie her first vow to gie, + We promised to wait for each ither a wee. + + My mother was widow'd when we should hae wed, + An' the nicht when we stood roun' my father's death-bed, + He charged me a husband and father to be, + While my young orphan sisters clung weepin' to me. + + I kent nae, my Mary, what high heart was thine, + Nor how brightly thy love in a dark hour wad shine, + Till in doubt and in sorrow, ye whisper'd to me, + "Win the blessing o' Heaven for thy Mary and thee." + + An' years hae flown by deeply laden wi' care, + But Mary has help'd me their burden to bear, + She gave me my shield in misfortune and wrong, + 'Twas she that aye bade me be steadfast and strong. + + Her meek an' quiet spirit is aye smooth as now, + Her saft shinin' hair meekly shades her white brow, + A few silver threads 'mang its dark faulds I see, + They tell me how lang she has waited on me. + + Her cheek has grown paler, for she too maun toil, + Her sma' hands are thinner, less mirthfu' her smile; + She aft speaks o' heaven, and if she should dee, + She tells me that there she 'll be waitin' on me. + + + + +A SONG OF SUMMER. + + + I will sing a song of summer, + Of bright summer as it dwells, + Amid leaves and flowers and sunshine, + In lone haunts and grassy dells. + Lo! the hill encircled valley + Is like an emerald cup, + To its inmost depths all glowing, + With sunlight brimming up. + Here I 'd dream away the day time, + And let happy thoughts have birth, + And forget there 's aught but glory, + Aught but beauty on the earth. + + Not a speck of cloud is floating + In the deep blue overhead, + 'Neath the trees the daisied verdure + Like a broider'd couch is spread. + The rustling leaves are dancing + With the light wind's music stirr'd, + And in gushes through the stillness + Comes the song of woodland bird. + Here I 'd dream away the day-time, + And let gentlest thoughts have birth, + And forget there 's aught but gladness, + Aught but peace upon the earth. + + + + +ROBERT DUTHIE. + + +The writer of some spirited lyrics, Robert Duthie was born in Stonehaven +on the 2d of February 1826. Having obtained an ordinary elementary +education, he was apprenticed, in his fourteenth year, to his father, +who followed the baking business. He afterwards taught a private school +in his native town; but, on the death of his father, in 1848, he resumed +his original profession, with the view of supporting his mother and the +younger members of the family. Devoting his leisure hours to literature +and poetry, he is a frequent contributor to the provincial journals; and +some of his lyrical productions promise to secure him a more extended +reputation. + + + + +SONG OF THE OLD ROVER. + + + I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves, + And the tempest around me is swelling; + The winds have come forth from their ice-ribb'd caves, + And the waves from their rocky dwelling; + But my trim-built bark + O'er the waters dark + Bounds lightly along, + And the mermaid lists to my echoing song. + Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to lave + In the briny spray of the wild sea wave! + + I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the foaming deep, + And the storm-bird above me is screaming; + While forth from the cloud where the thunders sleep + The lightning is fearfully gleaming; + But onward I dash, + For the fitful flash + Illumes me along, + And the thunders chorus my echoing song. + Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to brave + The dangers that frown on the wild sea wave! + + I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat where my well-served shot + Lays the war-dogs bleeding around me; + But ne'er do I yield on the tentless field + Till the wreath of the victor hath crown'd me; + Then I, a true child + Of the ocean wild, + With a tuneful tongue + Bear away with my prize and my conquering song. + Hurrah! hurrah! shot and storm, let them rave-- + I 'm at home, dashing on through the wild sea wave! + + I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on my ocean home-- + The home of the hurrying billow; + But the time is at hand when no longer I 'll roam, + But in peace lay me down on its pillow: + The petrel will scream + My requiem hymn, + And the thunders prolong + The deep-chorus'd note of my last echo'd song, + As I sink to repose in my rock-bound grave + That is down in the depths of the wild sea wave. + + + + +BOATMAN'S SONG. + + + Hurrah! hurrah! for the boundless sea, + The home of the rover, the bold and free; + Land hath its charms, but those be mine, + To row my boat through the sparkling brine-- + To lave in the pearls that kiss the prow + Of the bounding thing as we onward go-- + To nerve the arm and bend the oar, + Bearing away from the vacant shore. + Pull away, pull away o'er the glassy sea-- + 'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me; + Land hath its charms, but no charms like thine: + Hurrah! let us dash through the sparkling brine. + + Gloomily creeping the mists appear + In denser shade on the mountains drear; + And the twilight steals o'er the stilly deep, + By the zephyrs hush'd to its evening sleep; + Nor a ripple uprears a whiten'd crest, + To wrinkle the blue of its placid breast; + But all is still, save the lisping waves + Washing the shells in the distant caves. + Pull away, pull away o'er the sleeping sea-- + 'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me-- + 'Tis the home of my heart where I 'd ever rove! + Hurrah! hurrah! for the home I love. + + Oh, I love the sound of the tempest's roar, + And I love the splash of the bending oar, + Playing amid the phosphoric fire, + Seen as the eddying sparks retire. + 'Tis a fairy home, and I love to roam + Through its sleeping calm or its lashing foam. + The land hath its charms, but the sea hath more; + Then away let us row from the vacant shore. + Pull away, pull away o'er the mighty sea-- + 'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me; + 'Tis the home of the rover, the bold and free: + Hurrah! hurrah! for the boundless sea. + + + + +LISETTE. + + + When we meet again, Lisette, + Let the sun be sunk to rest + Beneath the glowing wavelets + Of the widely spreading west; + Let half the world be hush'd + In the drowsiness of sleep, + And howlets scream the music + Of the revels that they keep. + + Let the gentle lady-moon, + With her coldly drooping beams, + Be dancing in the ripple + Of the ever-laughing streams, + Where the little elves disport + In the stilly noon of night, + And lave their limbs of ether + In the mellow flood of light. + + When we meet again, Lisette, + Let it be in yonder pile, + Beneath the massy fretting + Of its darkly-shaded aisle, + Where, through the crumbling arches + The quaint old carvings loom, + And saint and seraph keep their watch + O'er many an ancient tomb. + + + + +ALEXANDER STEPHEN WILSON. + + +Alexander Stephen Wilson was born on the 4th April 1826, in the parish +of Rayne, Aberdeenshire. His father, who rented a farm, having been +killed by a fall from his horse, the subject of this sketch was brought +up from infancy under the care of his maternal grandfather. In his +boyhood he attended school during winter, and in summer was employed as +a cow-herd. At the age of fifteen he was apprenticed to a land-surveyor, +with whom he served five years. With a native turn for versifying, he +early invoked the muse, and contributed poetry to the public journals. +At the close of his apprenticeship, he established a debating club among +the young men in the district of Rayne, and subsequently adventured on +the publication of a monthly periodical. The latter, entitled _The Rural +Echo_, was almost wholly occupied with the ingenious projector's own +compositions, both in prose and poetry, and commanded a wide +circulation. Devoted to metaphysical inquiries, Mr Wilson has latterly +turned his attention to that department of study. He has likewise been +ardent in the pursuit of physical science. An ingenious treatise from +his pen on the nature of light, published in 1855, attracted no +inconsiderable notice, and is strongly indicative of original power. He +has latterly resided in Perth, holding the appointment of assistant +civil engineer. + + + + +THINGS MUST MEND. + + + The gloom of dark despondency + At times will cloud the breast; + Hope's eagle eye may shaded be, + 'Mid fortune's fears oppress'd; + But while we nurse an honest aim + We shall not break nor bend, + For when things are at the worst + They must mend. + + The gentle heart by hardship crush'd + Will sing amid its tears, + And though its voice awhile be hush'd, + 'Tis tuned for coming years; + A light from out the future shines + With hope's tear-drops to blend, + And when things are at the worst + They must mend. + + Amid life's danger and despair + Still let our deeds be true, + For nought but what is right and fair + Can heal our hopeless view. + The beautiful will soothe us, like + The sunshine of a friend, + And when things are at the worst + They must mend. + + Oh, never leave life's morning dream, + 'Tis whisper'd down from heaven, + But trace its maze, though sorrow seem + The sole reward that 's given; + The joy is there, or not on earth, + Which with our souls may blend, + And when things are at the worst + They must mend. + + + + +THE WEE BLINK THAT SHINES IN A TEAR. + + + Life's pleasure seems sadness and care, + When dark is the bosom that feels, + Yet mingled wi' shades o' despair + Is the ray which our sorrow reveals; + Though darkly at times flows the stream, + It rows till its waters are clear-- + And Hope shields a bud in our life's darkest dream + Like the wee blink that shines in a tear. + + Afar in the wilderness blooms + The flower that spreads beauty around, + And Nature smiles sweet on our tombs + And softens with balm every wound. + Oh, call not our life sad nor vain, + Wi' its joys that can ever endear, + There 's a sweet ray of pleasure star deep in each pain, + Like the wee blink that shines in a tear. + + Sweet smiles the last hope in our woe + And fair is the lone desert isle; + Young Flora peeps gay from the snow; + And dearest in grief is a smile; + The dew-drop is bright with a star; + Age glows when young memories appear; + But a symbol to hope that is sweeter by far + Is the wee blink that shines in a tear. + + + + +FLOWERS OF MY OWN LOVED CLIME. + + + Ye have cross'd o'er the wave from the glades where I roved, + When my wild heart was careless and free, + But now far away from the zephyrs ye loved, + Ye are bloomless and wither'd like me. + Yet sweet is the perfume that 's breathed from your leaves, + Like songs of the dear olden time; + Ye come with the memory that glads while it grieves, + Sweet flowers of my own loved clime! + + Oh, strange are the dreams ye awake in my breast + Of the home and the friends that were mine, + In the days when I feel that my bosom was blest, + Nor deem'd it should ever repine. + I gaze on your leaves where loved eyes have been, + And the spell brings the dear olden time + When I roved where ye bloom'd in yon valley so green, + Sweet flowers of my own loved clime! + + Deep down in my heart, where the world cannot see, + I treasure a life all my own, + And that land, sweet flowers, shall ope for thee, + For like thine half its beauty hath flown. + I 'll live o'er the raptures of young years again, + And snatch back the dear olden time, + When I gaze on your blossoms, in pleasure or pain, + Sweet flowers of my own loved clime! + + + + +JAMES MACFARLAN. + + +A poet of singular merit, under circumstances in the highest degree +unfavourable to intellectual culture, James Macfarlan was born in +Glasgow on the 9th April 1832. His father, who follows the occupation of +a pedlar, caused him to become, from an early age, the companion of his +wanderings. A few months' attendance at educational seminaries in +Glasgow and Greenock constituted his entire scholastic education; but an +intense ardour in the pursuit of letters supplied the lack of a more +methodical training. At the age of twenty-two, he produced a volume of +poems which attracted much attention, and called forth the warmest +encomiums from the press. This was followed by two smaller publications +of verses, with the titles, "City Songs, and other Poetical Pieces," and +"The Lyrics of Life." A little poetical _brochure_, entitled, "The +Wanderer of the West," is his latest production. + +Macfarlan was for some time in the employment of the directors of the +Glasgow Athenæum. Latterly, he has held a situation in connexion with +the _Bulletin_, a daily journal published in Glasgow. + + + + +ISABELLE. + + + Oh, beautiful and bright thou art! + Oh, beautiful and bright! + Thy voice is music of the heart-- + Thy looks are rarest light! + What time the silver dawn of dreams + Lights up the dark of sleep, + As yon pale moon lights up the heaven + With beauty clear and deep, + I see thee in the ebbing stars, + I hear quaint voices swell, + And dim and phantom winds that come + And whisper, Isabelle. + + Oh, beautiful and bright thou art! + Oh, beautiful and bright! + Thy beauty hangeth o'er my heart, + Like rich star-crowded night. + As moonbeams silver on the wave + Of some night-sadden'd river, + So on my lonesome life thy love + Would lie in light for ever. + Yet wander on--oh, wander on, + Cold river, to the sea, + And, weary life, _thy_ ocean gain-- + Undream'd eternity. + + In vain the cruel curse of earth + Hath torn our lives apart; + The man-made barriers of gold + Weigh down the humble heart. + Oh, hadst thou been a village maid-- + A simple wayside flower-- + With nought to boast, save honest worth, + And beauty all thy dower! + Such might have been--such _should_ have been, + But other lot befell; + I am the lowly son of toil, + And thou proud Isabelle. + + It ever seems to me that love + Should level all degrees; + Pure honour, and a stainless heart + Are Nature's heraldries. + No scutcheon needs a noble soul + (Alas! how thinks the age?); + He is not poor who freedom hath + For his broad heritage. + Then welcome sternest teacher, Toil; + Vain dreams of youth, farewell; + The future hath its duty's prize-- + The past, its Isabelle. + + + + +HOUSEHOLD GODS. + + + Built on Time's uneven sand, + Hope's fair fabric soon is shatter'd; + Bowers adorn'd by Fancy's hand + Torn in wandering leaves are scatter'd. + Perish'd, perish'd, lost and perish'd, + Old affections fondly cherish'd. + + All our blossoms wither soon, + While we dream the flower will strengthen, + And across life's summer noon + Death's dark shadow seems to lengthen. + In that mighty shadow perish'd + All we liv'd for, all we cherish'd. + + Dear ones loved are lost in night; + O'er the world we wander lonely, + And the heart of all youth's light + Holds one fading sunbeam only. + Old affections vainly cherish'd, + All except the memory perish'd. + + + + +POOR COMPANIONS. + + + Look up, old friend! why hang thy head? + The world is all before us. + Earth's wealth of flowers is at our feet, + Heaven's wealth of worlds is o'er us. + Spring leans to us across the sea + With affluent caressing, + And autumn yet shall crown our toil + With many a fruitful blessing. + Then why should we despair in spring, + Who braved out wintry weather? + Let monarchs rule, but we shall sing + And journey on together. + + You mourn that we are born so poor-- + I would not change our treasure + For all the thorn-concealing flowers + That strew the path of pleasure. + God only searches for the soul, + Nor heeds the outward building; + Believe me, friend, a noble heart + Requires no aid of gilding. + Then never let us pine in spring, + We 've braved out wintry weather, + We yet may touch a sweeter string + When toiling on together. + + What though our blood be tinged with mud, + My lord's is simply purer; + 'Twill scarce flow sixty years, nor make + His seat in heaven surer. + But should the noble deign to speak, + We 'll hail him as a brother, + And trace respective pedigrees + To Eve, our common mother. + Then why should we despair in spring, + Who braved out wintry weather? + Let monarchs rule, while we shall sing, + And journey on together. + + + + +WILLIAM B. C. RIDDELL. + + +A youth of remarkable promise, William Brown Clark Riddell, was the +youngest son of Mr Henry Scott Riddell.[12] He was born at Flexhouse, +near Hawick, Roxburghshire, on the 16th December 1835. In his seventh +year he was admitted a pupil in John Watson's Institution, Edinburgh, +where he remained till 1850, when, procuring a bursary from the +governors of Heriot's Hospital, he entered the University of Edinburgh. +During three sessions he prosecuted his studies with extraordinary +ardour and success. On the commencement of a fourth session he was +seized with an illness which completely prostrated his physical, and +occasionally enfeebled his mental, energies. After a period of +suffering, patiently borne, he died in his father's cottage, Teviothead, +on the 20th July 1856, in his twenty-first year. + +Of an intellect singularly precocious, William Riddell, so early as the +age of seven, composed in correct and interesting prose, and produced in +his eighth year some vigorous poetry. With a highly retentive memory he +retained the results of an extended course of reading, begun almost in +childhood. Conversant with general history, he was familiar with the +various systems of philosophy. To an accurate knowledge of the Latin and +Greek classics, he added a correct acquaintance with many of the modern +languages. He found consolation on his deathbed, by perusing the +Scriptures in the original tongues. He died in fervent hope, and with +Christian resignation. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[12] See "Minstrel," vol. iv. p. 1. + + + + +LAMENT OF WALLACE.[13] + + + No more by thy margin, dark Carron, + Shall Wallace in solitude, wander, + When tranquil the moon shines afar on + Thy heart-stirring wildness and grandeur. + For lost are to me + Thy beauties for ever, + Since fallen in thee + Lie the faithful and free, + To waken, ah, never! + + And I, thus defeated, must suffer + My country's reproach; yet, forsaken, + A home to me nature may offer + Among her green forests of braken. + But home who can find + For heart-rending sorrow? + The wound who can bind + When thus pierced is the mind + By fate's ruthless arrow? + + 'Tis death that alone ever frees us + Of woes too profound to be spoken, + And nought but the grave ever eases + The pangs of a heart that is broken. + Then, oh! that my blood + In Carron's dark water + Had mix'd with the flood + Of the warriors' shed + 'Mid torrents of slaughter. + + For woe to the day when desponding + I read in thine aspect the story + Of those that were slain when defending + Their homes and their mountains of glory. + And curst be the guile + Of treacherous knavery + That throws o'er our isle + In its tyranny vile + The mantle of slavery. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[13] Composed in the author's fourteenth year. + + + + +OH! WHAT IS IN THIS FLAUNTING TOWN?[14] + + + Oh! what is in this flaunting town + That pleasure can impart, + When native hills and native glens + Are imaged on the heart, + And fancy hears the ceaseless roar + Of cataracts sublime, + Where I have paused and ponder'd o'er + The awful works of time? + + What, what is all the city din? + What all the bustling crowd + That throngs these ways from morn to night + Array'd in trappings proud? + While fancy's eye still sees the scenes + Around my mountain home, + Oh! what 's to me yon turret high. + And what yon splendid dome? + + Ah! what except a mockery vain + Of nature free as fair, + That dazzles rather than delights + The eye that meets its glare? + Then bear me to the heathy hills + Where I so loved to stray, + There let me rove with footsteps free + And sing the rural lay. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] Composed at the age of fifteen. + + + + +MARGARET CRAWFORD. + + +The author of "Rustic Lays," an interesting volume of lyric poetry, +Margaret Crawford was born on the 4th February 1833, at Gilmerton, in +the parish of Liberton, Mid-Lothian. With limited opportunities of +attending school, she was chiefly indebted for her elementary training +to occasional instructions communicated by her mother. Her father, an +operative gardener, removed in 1842 to Torwoodlee, Roxburghshire. It was +while living there, under her parents' roof, that, so early as her +thirteenth year, she first essayed to write verses. Through the +beneficence of Mrs Meiklam of Torwoodlee, whose husband her father +served, she was taught dress-making. She subsequently accepted the +situation of nurse-maid at Craignish Castle, Argyllshire. In 1852, her +parents removed to the village of Stow, in the upper district of +Mid-Lothian. An inmate of their humble cottage, she has for some years +been employed as a dress-maker. Her "Rustic Lays" appeared in 1855, in +an elegant little volume. Of its contents she thus remarks in the +preface: "Many of these pieces were composed by the authoress on the +banks of the Gala, whose sweet, soft music, mingling with the melodies +of the woodland, has often charmed her into forgetfulness of the rough +realities of life. Others were composed at the fireside, in her father's +cottage, at the hours of the _gloamin'_, when, after the bustle of the +day had ceased, the clouds and cares of the present were chased away by +the bright dreams of the past, and the happy hopes of the future, till +she found that her musings had twined themselves into numbers, and +assumed the form in which they now appear." + + + + +MY NATIVE LAND. + + + My native land! my native land! + Where liberty shall firmly stand, + Where men are brave in heart and hand, + In ancient Caledonia! + How dear to me those gurgling rills + That wander free amang the hills! + How sweet to me the sang that fills + The groves o' Caledonia! + + They tell me o' a distant isle + Where summer suns for ever smile; + But frae my heart they 'll never wile + My love for Caledonia! + And what are a' their flowery plains, + If fill'd with weeping slav'ry's chains? + Nae foot o' slavery ever stains + My native Caledonia! + + Though cauld 's the sun that shed's his rays + O'er Scotland's bonnie woods and braes, + Oh, let me spend my latest days + In ancient Caledonia! + My native land! my native land! + Where liberty shall firmly stand, + Where men are brave in heart and hand-- + True sons of Caledonia! + + + + +THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL. + + + Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness-- + Far from my dear native country I roam; + Fondly I cling to the bright scenes of gladness + That shone o'er my heart in my dear happy home. + + Far from the home of my childhood I wander, + Far from the friends I may never meet more; + Oft on those visions of bliss I shall ponder-- + Visions that memory alone can restore. + + Friends of my youth I shall love you for ever-- + Closer and firmer ye twine round my heart; + Though now the wide sea our lot may dissever, + Affection and friendship can never depart. + + Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness-- + Dear to my heart thou shalt ever remain! + Oh, when shall I gaze on those bright scenes of gladness? + When shall I visit my country again? + + + + +THE STREAM OF LIFE. + + + Down by a crystal stream + Musing I stray'd, + As 'neath the summer beam + Lightly it play'd, + Winding by field and fen, + Mountain and meadow, then + Stealing through wood and glen, + Soft'ning the shade. + + Thus, then, methought, is life; + Onward it flows-- + Now mingling peace with strife, + Toil with repose-- + Now sparkling joyously + Under the glare of day, + Drinking each sunny ray, + Purely it flows. + + Now gliding peacefully, + Calm and serene, + Smoothly it takes its way, + Softly I ween + Murmur its waters past-- + Oh, will that stillness last? + See, rocks are nearing fast, + Changing the scene. + + Wildly it dashes now, + Loudly it roars, + Over the craggy brow + Fiercely it pours. + All in commotion lost, + Wave over wave is toss'd; + Spray, white as winter's frost, + Up from it soars. + + Yet where the conflict 's worst + Brightest it gleams; + Rays long in silence nursed + Shoot forth in streams: + Beauties before unknown + Out from its breast are thrown; + Light, like a golden zone, + Brilliantly beams. + + Thus in the Christian's breast + Pure faith may lie, + Hid in the day of rest + Deep from the eye; + But when life's shadows lower + Faith lights the darkest hour, + Driving, by heavenly power, + Gloom from the sky. + + + + +DAY-DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS. + + + There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, + And time long, long departed, like the present still appears; + And I revel in the sunshine of those happy, happy hours, + When the sky of youth was cloudless, and its path was strewn with flowers. + + O those days of dreamy sweetness! O those visions of delight! + Weaving garlands for the future, making all of earth too bright; + They come creeping through my memory like messengers of peace, + Telling tales of bygone blessings, bidding present sorrows cease. + + Long-lost friends are gath'ring round me, smiling faces, gentle forms, + All unconscious of earth's struggles, all unmindful of its storms-- + Beaming radiantly and beautiful, as in the days of youth, + When friendship was no mockery, when every thought was truth. + + Joy, illuming every bosom, made fair nature fairer still-- + Mirth sported on each summer breeze, and sung in every rill; + Beauty gleaming all around us, bright as dreams of fairy land-- + Oh, faded now that lustre, scatter'd far that happy band! + + Now deeply traced with sorrow is the once unclouded brow, + And eyes that sparkled joyously are dim with weeping now; + We are tasting life in earnest--all its vain illusions gone-- + And the stars that glisten'd o'er our path are falling one by one. + + Some are sleeping with their kindred--summer blossoms o'er them wave; + Some, lonely and unfriended, with the stranger found a grave; + While others now are wand'ring on a far and foreign shore, + And that happy, loving company shall meet--ah! never more. + + But afar in mem'ry's garden, like a consecrated spot, + The heart's first hopes are hidden, and can never be forgot; + And the light that cheer'd us onward, in our airy early days-- + Oft we linger in the distance to look back upon its rays. + + Old Time, with hand relentless, may shed ruins o'er the earth, + May strew our path with sorrow, make a desert of our hearth-- + Change may blight our fairest blossoms, shroud our clearest light in gloom; + But the flow'ry fields of early years shall never lose their bloom. + + + + +AFFECTION'S FAITH. + + + Away on the breast of the ocean, + Far away o'er the billowy brine, + 'Mid the strife of the boiling commotion, + Where the storm and the tempest combine, + Roams my heart, of its wand'ring ne'er weary; + While Hope, with her heavenly smile, + Cheers the bosom that else would be dreary, + And points me to blessings the while. + + Of the far-hidden future still dreaming, + On the wild wings of fancy I fly, + And the star of affection, bright beaming, + Is piercing the gloom of our sky; + And my home is away o'er the ocean, + Afar o'er the wide swelling sea, + Where a heart, in its purest devotion, + Is breathing fond blessings on me. + + + + +GEORGE DONALD, JUN. + +George Donald the younger was born on the 1st of March 1826, at +Thornliebank, near Glasgow. His father, George Donald the elder, is +noticed in an earlier part of the present volume. Sent to labour in a +calico print-work in his tenth year, his education was chiefly obtained +at evening schools, and afterwards by self-application during the +intervals of toil. In his seventeenth year he became apprenticed to a +pattern-designer, and having fulfilled his indenture, he has since +prosecuted this occupation. From his youth a writer of verses, he has +contributed poetical compositions to the Glasgow _Examiner_ and +_Citizen_ newspapers. + + + + +OUR AIN GREEN SHAW. + + They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear, + Whar rivers row ower gowden sands, and flower unfading blaw, + But, oh! nae joys o' nature to me are half sae dear + As the flow'rets springing wild in our ain green shaw. + + They speak o' gilded palaces, o' lords and leddies fair, + And scenes that charm the weary heart in cities far awa'; + But nane o' a' their gaudy shows and pleasures can compare + Wi' the happiness that dwells in our ain green shaw. + + Oh weel I lo'e when summer comes wi' sunny days an' glee, + And brings to gladden ilka heart her rural pleasures a', + When on the thorn the mavis sings and gowans deck the lea,-- + Oh, then nae spot 's sae bonnie as our ain green shaw. + + While Heaven supplies each simple want and leaves me still my cot, + I'll bear through life a cheerfu' heart whatever may befa', + Nor envy ither's joys, but aye be happy wi' my lot + When wand'ring in the e'enin' through our ain green shaw. + + + + +ELIZA. + + + In her chamber, vigil keeping, + Fair Eliza sitteth weeping, + Weeping for her lover slain: + Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden, + Once a joyous-hearted maiden + Till her William cross'd the main. + + Fatal day that saw them parted! + For it left her lonely-hearted-- + Her so full of joy before-- + Brought to her the thought of sadness, + Clouding her young spirit's gladness, + That she ne'er might see him more! + + Sad Eliza, no blest morrow + Will dispel thy secret sorrow, + Bring thine own true love again. + Mournful is thy William's story: + On the field of martial glory, + Fighting bravely, he was slain! + + Now the silent stars above her + Seem to tell her of her lover, + For each night, with pensive gaze + On the blue vault shining o'er her, + Sits Eliza, while before her + Fleet the scenes of other days. + + Thus her lonely vigil keeping, + Fair Eliza sitteth weeping, + Weeping for her lover slain: + Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden, + Once a joyous-hearted maiden + Till her William cross'd the main. + + + + +JOHN JEFFREY. + + +The author of "Lays of the Revolutions," John Jeffrey, was born on the +29th March 1822, at the manse of Girthon, in the stewartry of +Kirkcudbright. His maternal granduncle was the celebrated Dr Thomas +Brown of Edinburgh. From his father, who was parish minister of Girthon, +and a man of accomplished learning, he received an education sufficient +to qualify him for entering, in 1836, the University of Edinburgh. In +1844 he became a licentiate of the Free Church, and after declining +several calls, accepted, in 1846, the charge of the Free Church +congregation at Douglas, Lanarkshire. Mr Jeffrey was early devoted to +poetical studies. In his eighteenth year he printed, for private +circulation, a small volume of poems, entitled "Hymns of a Neophyte." In +1849 appeared his "Lays of the Revolutions," a work which, vindicating +in powerful verse the cause of oppressed European nationalities, was +received with much favour by the public. To several of the leading +periodicals Mr Jeffrey has contributed spirited articles in support of +liberal politics. A pamphlet from his pen, on the decay of traditional +influence in Parliament, entitled "The Fall of the Great Factions," has +obtained considerable circulation. More recently he has devoted himself +to the study of the modern languages, and to inquiries in ethnological +science. + + + + +WAR-CRY OF THE ROMAN INSURRECTIONISTS. + + + Rise, Romans, rise at last, + Craft's kingdom now is past; + Brook no delay! + Lombard blades long ago, + Swifter than whirlwinds blow, + Swept from Milan the foe: + Why should we stay? + + Rise, then, for fatherland; + In rock-like phalanx stand, + Cowards no more. + Rise in colossal might, + Rise till the storm of fight + Wrap us in lurid light + Where cannons roar! + + In this great dawn of time, + In this great death of crime, + Quit us like men; + By our deeds, by our words, + By our songs, by our swords-- + Use all against the hordes, + Sabre or pen! + + More than fame, duty calls, + Trumpet-tongued from the walls + Girding great Rome; + Battle for truth and faith, + Battle lest hostile scathe + Crush us, or fetters swathe + Free hearth and home! + + Hark! how God's thunders roll, + Booming from pole to pole + Of the wide world! + "Old lies are crush'd for aye, + Now truths assume their sway, + Bright shines the flag of day + O'er night unfurl'd!" + + Tower, then, the barricades! + Flash forth the lightning blades! + Romans, awake! + Storm as the tempests burst, + Down with the brood accursed! + Sparks long in silence nursed + Etna-like break; + And that volcano's thirst + Seas cannot slake! + + + + +PATRICK SCOTT. + + +The author of several meritorious poetical works, Patrick Scott was born +at Macao in China, but is eminently of Scottish descent. His father, +Helenus Scott, M.D., a cadet of the ducal house of Buccleuch, was a +distinguished member of the Medical Board of Bombay, of which he was +some time president. Receiving an elementary education at the +Charterhouse, London, the subject of this notice entered, in his +sixteenth year, the East India College at Haileybury. At the age of +eighteen he proceeded to India, to occupy a civil appointment at Bombay. +In 1845, after eleven years' service, he returned to Britain in impaired +health, and he has since resided chiefly in London. + +Mr Scott first appeared as an author in 1851, by the publication of +"Lelio, and other Poems," a volume which was received with warm +encomiums by the press. In 1853, he published "Love in the Moon: a +Poem," which was followed in the same year by "Thomas á Becket, and +other Poems." His latest poetical publication appeared in 1854, under +the title of "A Poet's Children." + + + + +THE EXILE. + + + With drooping heart he turn'd away + To seek a distant clime, + Where friends were kind, and life was gay, + In early boyhood's time. + And still with years and seas between, + To one fond hope he clung-- + To see once more, as he had seen, + The home he loved when young. + + His youthful brow was touch'd with thought, + And life had lost its morn, + When glad again the wanderer sought + The soil where he was born. + Alas! that long expected shore + Denied the wonted joy, + And the man felt not, as of yore + Had felt the happier boy. + + For formal friends scarce grasp'd his hand-- + The friends he knew of old; + What cared he for a sunny land, + If human hearts were cold? + Again he cast his alter'd lot + 'Mid alien tribes to roam; + And fail'd to find another spot + So foreign as his home. + + His heavy grief no bosom shared, + No eye would weep his fall; + What matter if _his_ life were spared, + Who lived unloved by all! + And when had ceased his earthly toil + Upon that distant shore, + His bones were gather'd to the soil-- + His heart had died before. + + + + +JOHN BATHURST DICKSON. + + +An able theologian and accomplished writer of verses, John Bathurst +Dickson was born on the 25th December 1823, in the town of Kelso, +Roxburghshire. His father was a respectable writer or attorney in that +place. Having studied at the University of Edinburgh, and passed through +a theological curriculum at the New College of that city, he became, in +1851, a licentiate of the Free Church. In June 1852, he was ordained to +the ministerial charge of the Free High Church, Paisley. + +During the period of his attendance at college, Mr Dickson was an +extensive contributor to _Tait's Magazine_, and different religious +periodicals. In 1855, he published "Theodoxia; or, Glory to God an +Evidence for the Truth of Christianity;" and in 1857 appeared from his +pen "The Temple Lamp," a periodical publication. He has written verses +on a variety of topics. His song, "The American Flag," has been widely +published in the United States. + + + + +THE AMERICAN FLAG. + + + Float forth, thou flag of the free; + Flash far over land and sea, + Proud ensign of Liberty-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + The blue of the heavens is thine, + The stars on thy canvas shine; + Thy heraldry tells thee divine-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + Thy white proclaims thee unstain'd, + Thy crimson thy love unfeign'd + To man, by despots enchain'd-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + Under thy God-given light + Our fathers went forth to fight + 'Gainst sceptred wrong for the right-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + The Lion of England no more + 'Gainst thy proud Eagle shall roar: + Peace strideth from shore to shore-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + Float forth, thou flag of the free-- + Flash far over land and sea, + Till the world shout, Liberty-- + Hail, hail to thee! + + + + +EVAN M'COLL. + + +A writer both of English and Gaelic songs, Evan M'Coll was born in 1808, +at Kenmore, Lochfineside, Argyllshire. His father, Dugald M'Coll, +followed an industrial occupation, but contrived to afford his son a +somewhat liberal education. The leisure hours of the youthful poet were +ardently devoted to literary culture. In 1837, he became a contributor +of Gaelic poetry to a Glasgow periodical, and his compositions began to +excite an interest in the Highlands. Two influential Highland gentlemen +secured him an appointment in the Customs at Liverpool. He subsequently +emigrated to America, and is now resident at Kingston. + +Besides many fugitive pieces, Mr M'Coll has published a volume of +lyrics, entitled "The Mountain Minstrel," and a volume of Gaelic poetry. +A specimen of his Gaelic minstrelsy will be found among the translations +at the end of the present volume. + + + + +THE HILLS OF THE HEATHER. + + + Give the swains of Italia + 'Mong myrtles to rove, + Give the proud, sullen Spaniard + His bright orange grove; + Give gold-sanded streams + To the sons of Chili, + But, oh! give the hills + Of the heather to me. + + The hills where the hunter + Oft soundeth his horn, + Where sweetest the skylark + Awakens the morn; + The gray cliff, the blue lake, + The stream's dashing glee, + Endear the red hills + Of the heather to me. + + There Health, rosy virgin, + For ever doth dwell; + There Love fondly whispers + To Beauty his tale; + There Freedom's own darling! + The Gael, lives free, + Then, oh! give the hills + Of the heather to me. + + + + +JAMES D. BURNS. + + +One of the most interesting sacred poets of the present age, James D. +Burns, was born at Edinburgh on the 18th February 1823. A pupil of +Heriot's Hospital, he became a student in the University of Edinburgh, +where he took the degree of Master of Arts, and completed, with marked +distinction, a course of theology. Receiving license as a probationer of +the Free Church, he was in 1845 ordained to the ministry at Dunblane. +Having resigned his charge from bad health in 1848, he proceeded to +Madeira, where he undertook the pastoral superintendence of a +Presbyterian congregation. He subsequently travelled in Spain and Italy. +In 1854 he published "The Vision of Prophecy, and other Poems," a +collection of his poetical compositions, of which the greater number are +of a scriptural or sacred character. Mr Burns is now minister of a +Presbyterian church at Hampstead, Middlesex. + + + + +RISE, LITTLE STAR! + + + Rise, little star! + O'er the dusky hill,-- + See the bright course open + Thou hast to fulfil. + + Climb, little star! + Higher still and higher. + With a silent swiftness + And a pulse of fire. + + Stand, little star! + On the peak of heaven; + But for one brief moment + Is the triumph given. + + Sink, little star! + Yet make heaven bright, + Even while thou art sinking, + With thy gentle light. + + Set, little star! + Gladly fade and die, + With the blush of morning + Coming up the sky. + + Each little star + Crieth, Life, O man! + Should have one clear purpose + Shining round its span. + + + + +THOUGH LONG THE WANDERER MAY DEPART. + + + Though long the wanderer may depart, + And far his footsteps roam, + He clasps the closer to his heart + The image of his home. + To that loved land, where'er he goes, + His tend'rest thoughts are cast, + And dearer still through absence grows + The memory of the past. + + Though nature on another shore + Her softest smile may wear, + The vales, the hills, he loved before + To him are far more fair. + The heavens that met his childhood's eye, + All clouded though they be, + Seem brighter than the sunniest sky + Of climes beyond the sea. + + So Faith, a stranger on the earth, + Still turns its eye above; + The child of an immortal birth + Seeks more than mortal love. + The scenes of earth, though very fair, + Want home's endearing spell; + And all his heart and hope are where + His God and Saviour dwell. + + He may behold them dimly here, + And see them as not nigh, + But all he loves will yet appear + Unclouded to his eye. + To that fair city, now so far, + Rejoicing he will come, + A better light than Bethlehem's star + Guides every wanderer home. + + + + +GEORGE HENDERSON. + + +George Henderson was born on the 5th May 1800, in the parish of Bunkle +and county of Berwick. With a rudimentary education obtained at +different schools, he entered, in his nineteenth year, the University of +Edinburgh. After the close of his second session, he temporarily +abandoned literary pursuits. Resolving to adopt the medical profession, +he subsequently resumed attendance at the University. In 1829 he +obtained his diploma from the Royal College of Surgeons. He has since +engaged in medical practice in the village of Chirnside, Berwickshire. + +By the cultivation of polite literature, Mr Henderson has experienced +relaxation from the active duties of his profession. In 1856 he +published a volume of curious researches, entitled "The Popular Rhymes, +&c., of the County of Berwick." He is understood to be preparing for the +press a volume of his poetical compositions, to be entitled "Lays and +Legends of the Merse." + + + + +I CANNA LEAVE MY NATIVE LAND. + + + I canna leave my native land, + I canna sail the sea; + The trees around my cottage stand, + The gowans deck the lea; + The primrose blooms beside the burn, + The wild flower on the brae; + To leave them a' my heart wad mourn, + I canna gang away. + + The dew-draps gem the clover leaves, + The laverock sings aboon, + The blae-berry bush wi' spring revives, + And it will blossom soon; + I canna leave the bonnie brae + Where waves the new-sprung fern, + Where oft I 've pass'd the summer's day, + And look'd upon the burn. + + I canna leave the green-croft well, + Its waters cool and clear, + For oft its pleasant murmurs dwell + Like music in mine ear; + The elder bush, the garden bower, + Where robin sings sae sweet, + The auld gray dike, the bee-house tower, + The cosie garden seat. + + + + +HORATIUS BONAR, D.D. + + +One of the most esteemed of living Scottish theological writers, +Horatius Bonar, is likewise favourably known as a sacred lyric poet. He +is a native of Edinburgh, where his father, the late James Bonar, Esq., +a man of eminent piety and accomplished scholarship, held the office of +a Solicitor of Excise. His ancestors for several successive generations +were ministers of the Church of Scotland. He was educated at the High +School and the University of his native city. After engaging for some +time in missionary labour at Leith, he was ordained to the ministry at +Kelso in November 1837, and has since prosecuted his pastoral duties in +that place. His first literary efforts appeared in the shape of +religious tracts, now published in a volume under the title of "The +Kelso Tracts." He next published the work by which he has become most +widely known, "The Night of Weeping," which was followed by other two +works of the same series, "The Morning of Joy," and "The Eternal Day." +Of his subsequent publications, the more conspicuous are, "Prophetical +Landmarks," "The Coming and the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus," "A Stranger +Here," "Man; his Religion and his World," "The Story of Grace," "The +Blood of the Cross," and "The Desert of Sinai, or Notes of a Tour from +Cairo to Beersheba." Dr Bonar was for many years editor of the +_Presbyterian Review_; he now edits _The Quarterly Journal of Prophecy_. +The following spiritual songs, well adapted for music, are from his +volume entitled "Hymns of Faith and Hope." + + + + +THE MEETING PLACE. + + + Where the faded flower shall freshen, + Freshen never more to fade; + Where the shaded sky shall brighten, + Brighten never more to shade: + Where the sun-blaze never scorches, + Where the star-beams cease to chill; + Where no tempest stirs the echoes + Of the wood, or wave, or hill: + Where the morn shall wake in gladness, + And the noon the joy prolong, + Where the daylight dies in fragrance, + 'Mid the burst of holy song: + Brother, we shall meet and rest + 'Mid the holy and the blest! + + Where no shadow shall bewilder, + Where life's vain parade is o'er, + Where the sleep of sin is broken, + And the dreamer dreams no more; + Where the bond is never sever'd, + Partings, claspings, sob and moan, + Midnight waking, twilight weeping, + Heavy noontide, all are done: + Where the child has found its mother, + Where the mother finds the child, + Where dear families are gather'd + That were scatter'd on the wild: + Brother, we shall meet and rest + 'Mid the holy and the blest! + + Where the hidden wound is healèd, + Where the blighted life re-blooms, + Where the smitten heart the freshness + Of its buoyant youth resumes; + Where the love that here we lavish + On the withering leaves of time, + Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on + In an ever spring-bright clime: + Where we find the joy of loving, + As we never loved before, + Loving on, unchill'd, unhinder'd, + Loving once and evermore: + Brother, we shall meet and rest + 'Mid the holy and the blest! + + Where a blasted world shall brighten + Underneath a bluer sphere, + And a softer, gentler sunshine, + Shed its healing splendour here; + Where earth's barren vales shall blossom, + Putting on their robe of green, + And a purer, fairer Eden, + Be where only wastes have been: + Where a king in kingly glory, + Such as earth has never known, + Shall assume the righteous sceptre, + Claim and wear the holy crown: + Brother, we shall meet and rest + 'Mid the holy and the blest! + + + + +TRUST NOT THESE SEAS AGAIN. + + + Trust not these seas again, + Though smooth and fair; + Trust not these waves again, + Shipwreck is there. + + Trust not these stars again, + Though bright and fair; + Trust not these skies again, + Tempest is there. + + Trust not that breeze again, + Gentle and fair; + Trust not these clouds again, + Lightning is there. + + Trust not that isle again, + Flower-crown'd and fair; + Trust not its rocks again, + Earthquake is there. + + Trust not these flowers again, + Fragrant and fair; + Trust not that rose again, + Blighting is there. + + Trust not that earth again, + Verdant and fair; + Trust not its fields again, + Winter is there. + + Trust not these hopes again, + Sunny and fair; + Trust not that smile again, + Peril is there. + + Trust not this world again, + Smiling and fair; + Trust not its sweets again, + Wormwood is there; + + Trust not its love again, + Sparkling and fair; + Trust not its joy again, + Sorrow is there. + + + + +JOHN HALLIDAY. + + +A song-writer of merit, John Halliday was born on the 18th July 1821, at +Hawickshielsgate, near Hawick, Roxburghshire. His father was an +agricultural labourer; and, with an ordinary education at school, he +was, at an early age, engaged as an assistant shepherd to a tenant +farmer in his native district. Inheriting from his mother a taste for +the elder Scottish ballad, he devoted his leisure hours to reading such +scraps of songs as he could manage to procure. In his thirteenth year he +essayed to compose verses, and at the age of twenty became a contributor +of poetical stanzas to the provincial journals. Encouraged by a numerous +list of subscribers, he published, in 1847, "The Rustic Bard," a +duodecimo volume of poems and songs. After being several years resident +at Hopekirk, Roxburghshire, he removed in 1854 to Bridge of Allan, where +he is well employed as a florist and landscape gardener. + + + + +THE AULD KIRK BELL. + + + In a howm, by a burn, where the brown birks grow, + And the green ferns nod when the wild winds blow, + Stands the roofless kirk in the auld kirkyard, + Where the gowans earliest gem the swaird; + And the gray, gray moss on ilk cauld through stane + Shrouds in oblivion the lang, lang gane-- + Where the ance warm heart is a cauld, cauld clod, + And the beauteous and brave give a green to the sod-- + On a time-worn tower, where the dim owls dwell, + Tuneless and torn, hangs the auld kirk bell. + + On the auld kirk floor is the damp night dew, + Where warm words flow'd in a worship true; + Is the sugh o' the breeze, and the hum o' the bee + As it wings and sings in its taintless glee + Through the nettles tall to the thistles red, + Where they roughly wave o'er each deep, dark bed; + And it plies its task on the wa'-flowers tall, + Which bloom in the choir and wave on the wall; + Then, soaring away with a sweep and a swell, + It covers its combs in the auld kirk bell. + + By the crumbling base of the auld kirk tower + Is the broad-leaved dock and the bright brae flower; + And the adders hiss o'er the lime-bound stones, + And playfully writhe round mouldering bones: + The bat clingeth close to the binewood's root, + Where its gnarlèd boughs up the belfry shoot, + As, hiding the handworks of ruthless time, + It garlands in grandeur and green sublime + The hoary height, where the rust sae fell + Bends, as with a burden, the auld kirk bell. + + Oh, red is the rust, and a ruin is come + To the auld kirk bell--ance and ever it 's dumb; + On the brink of the past 'tis awaiting a doom, + For a wauf o' the wind may awaken its tomb, + As, bearing its fragments, all dust-like, away, + To blend with water, the wood and the clay, + Till lost 'mid the changes of manners and men; + Then ne'er ane will think, nor ere ane will ken, + That a joyfu' jowl and a waefu' knell, + As it swung, had been rung by the auld kirk bell. + + + + +THE AULD AIK-TREE. + + + Oh, we hae been amang the bowers that winter didna bare, + And we hae daunder'd in the howes where flowers were ever fair, + And lain aneath as lofty trees as eye did ever see, + Yet ne'er could lo'e them as we lo'e the auld aik-tree. + + It 's no because its boughs are busk'd in any byous green, + For simmer sairs it little now--it's no what it has been, + Sin' ilka wauf o' win' that blaws dings dauds o't on the lea, + And bairnies bear their burdens frae the auld aik-tree. + + It 's no because the gowans bright grow bonnie by its ruit, + For we hae seen them blum as braw in mony a ither bit; + Nor yet because the mavis sings his mellow morning glee + Sae sweetly frae the branches o' the auld aik-tree. + + But there 's a kindly feeling found and foster'd in the heart, + Which bears the thought a backward stream to lifetime's early part, + And ties us to ilk morning scene o' love and laughing glee + We 've seen, and kenn'd, and join'd aneath the auld aik-tree. + + For we hae play'd aneath its shade a chuffie-cheekit bairn, + Unkennin' o', uncarin' for, cauld care or crosses stern, + And ran around it at the ba' when we frae schule wan free; + Then wha daur say we sudna lo'e the auld aik-tree? + + We 've speel'd upon its foggie stem and dern'd amang its green, + To catch the pyet in her nest amidst the grays o' e'en; + And watch'd the gooldie bringin' doon to big her hame sae wee + Atween the cosie forkings o' the auld aik-tree. + + And we hae tint and ta'en a heart when gloamin's shadows threw + Out o'er the glen her misty gray in kindly drippin' dew, + And felt the tear o' anguish fa' in torrents frae our e'e, + When pairting frae that loved ane 'neath the auld aik-tree. + + Our hame we left wi' hopefu' heart and mony a warm fareweel, + And gowd and gear we gain'd awa; but oh, the freen's sae leal! + Where are they? where my childhood's hearth + --those hearts sae kind and free,-- + When a' is unco groun save the auld aik-tree? + + + + +JAMES DODDS. + + +A man of elegant and varied accomplishments, and one of the most +eloquent public-speakers of the age, James Dodds was born in 1815, in +the county of Roxburgh. He was at first intended by some influential +friends for the Church, and proceeded through part of the College +curriculum, but some changes occurring, he ultimately devoted himself to +the study of law. Probably his ambition was for the Bar; but overruling +circumstances led him, about twelve years ago, to enter on the +profession of parliamentary solicitor in London, in which he has met +with much success. + +From his youth a devoted student, he has, amidst the exigencies of +business, sedulously kept up his literary pursuits. He has produced no +independent work, but has largely contributed, both in prose and verse, +to the periodicals. Among these contributions, a series of poems, +chiefly ballads on incidents connected with the times of the Covenant, +which appeared in several of the Edinburgh magazines, about thirteen +years since, attracted much attention. One of these lays we have +transferred to the present work. Mr Dodds has lately prepared a series +of lectures on the fifty years' struggle of the Covenanters, which will +probably be presented to the public. He has evinced a deep interest in +the cause of raising a national monument to Sir William Wallace, and +has, under the auspices of the Central Committee, addressed public +meetings on the subject in many of the principal towns. + + + + +TRIAL AND DEATH OF ROBERT BAILLIE OF JERVIESWOODE. + + + 'Twas when December's dark'ning scowl the face of heaven o'ercast, + And vile men high in place were more unpitying than the blast, + Before their grim tribunal's front, firm and undaunted stood + That patriot chief of high renown, the noble Jervieswoode. + + The hand of death is on him press'd--the seal of death is there! + Oh, the savage of the wilderness those weak old limbs would spare! + Frail, frail his step, and bent his frame, and ye may plainly trace + The shadow of death's wing upon his pale and sunken face. + These twenty long and dreary months in the dungeon he hath lain, + Long days of sickness, weary nights of languishing and pain; + For whom no gale hath breathed its balm, no sun hath bless'd the year, + No friendly hand to smooth his couch, nor friendly voice to cheer; + His lady in their lonely hall doth mournful vigils keep, + And where he sat and where he walk'd his children watch and weep. + + Yet o'er his weakness and decay an ancient grandeur falls, + Like the majesty that lingers round some mould'ring palace walls; + The light of calm and noble thoughts is bright within his eye, + And, purged of earthly taint, his soul prepares to mount on high. + Nor is he left alone--a sister faithful to him clung + With woman's heart, with home-born love, with angel look and tongue; + There in that Golgotha she sits, so tender, so benign-- + Fair as the moon's sweet glimpses through the cloudy tempest shine. + + The court is met, the assize are set: the robes of state look brave, + Yet the proudest and the lordliest there is but a tyrant's slave-- + Blood-hirelings they who earn their pay by foul and treach'rous deeds-- + For swift and fell the hound must be whom the hunter richly feeds. + What though no act of wrong e'er stain'd the fame of Jervieswoode, + Shall it protect him in those times that he is wise and good? + So wise--so good--so loved of all, though weak and worn with care, + Though death comes fast he is the last whom Antichrist would spare! + For his the bold and freeborn mind, the wisdom of a sage, + The glow of youth still cherish'd in the sober breast of age; + The soul of chivalry is his, and honour pure from stain-- + A heart that beats for liberty, and spurns each galling chain, + Whether entwined by hands that bear the crozier or the sword; + For he would see all nations free in Christ who is their Lord. + + And once, with England's patriot band, by tyrant power oppress'd, + He had dream'd of free and happy homes in the forests of the west-- + To breathe the uncorrupted air, to tread the fresh green sod, + And where the broad Savannah rolls in peace to worship God! + These are his crimes! the treason this for which he now is tried; + But though the forms of law are kept all justice is denied. + Woe! that a land so favour'd once should witness such disgrace! + Shame! that a land so powerful yet should brook a scene so base! + + Unroll your parchments black with lies--shut fast your coward doors-- + And brand the aged chief with crimes his generous heart abhors: + When truth avails not, well you know how to supply the lack + With secret tales and with wild words extorted by the rack! + There is an hour for every power--an hour of darkness this! + Spur on, ye slaves of Antichrist! or ye the goal may miss! + + His strength, increasing with his need, he raises bold and high, + And fixes on Mackenzie[15] a clear and searching eye: + "How canst thou thus, my lord, 'gainst me such accusations bring, + That I have been a man of strife in plots against the king? + I hate the way of violence--the anarchist I spurn; + Who scatters firebrands little knows where they may fall and burn. + In my degree I have been bold to guard the nation's right, + And keep alive within these realms the lamp of Gospel light: + But in my gloomy dungeon laid, didst thou not visit me, + And solemnly avow that I from wicked plots was free? + How canst thou, then, unto my charge such grievous actions lay, + And all thou hast so solemn said as solemnly unsay?" + + The whole assembled multitude full on Mackenzie turn'd, + That even his harden'd countenance with shame and anger burn'd: + "True, Jervieswoode, I told thee so, as my own private view-- + Here I discharge the functions which to the crown are due." + "If thou hast a conscience for thyself, and another for this place, + I leave thee to the God of heaven and His all pardoning grace! + My lords, I add no more--proceed--right well I know my doom: + Death hath no terrors for my soul--the grave it hath no gloom!" + + 'Tis one from old Saint Giles! The blasts of midnight shake the hall, + Hoarse sounding like a demon's voice, which the stoutest hearts appal! + His doom is utter'd!--"Twelve hours hence thy traitorous head shall fall, + And for a terror be exposed upon the city wall; + Thy limbs shall quarter'd be, and hung, all mutilate and bare, + At Jedburgh, and Lanark town, at Glasgow, and at Ayr; + That all good subjects thence may learn obedience to the State, + Their duty to our gracious king, and bloody treason's fate." + A horror seizes every breast--a stifled cry of dread: + "Who sheds the blood of innocence, the blood on his own head!" + That pack'd and perjured jury shrink in conscience-struck dismay, + And wish their hands as clear of guilt as they were yesterday. + Mackenzie's cold and flinty face is quivering like a leaf, + Whilst with quick and throbbing finger he turns o'er and o'er his brief; + And the misnamed judges vainly try their rankling thoughts to hide + Beneath an outward painted mask of loftiness and pride. + Even she, the sweet heroic one! aye watchful at his side, + Whose courage ne'er hath blanch'd as yet, though sorely, sharply tried-- + Even she is crush'd beneath the weight of this last and deadly blow, + And sinks upon her brother's neck, o'erwhelm'd in speechless woe. + + He, he alone, is calm of soul! Powers of no mortal birth + Are gently loosening every tie that links him to the earth; + And inward faith gives outward force--strong is his deep dark eye-- + And his brow and lip are beautiful as in the days gone by. + Meekly he rises to depart, but pauses for a space, + And looks upon his cowering foes with calm and saintly grace: + "The time is short, the sentence sharp--your malice I forgive; + For God hath made me fit to die, as ye, my lords, to live!" + + And meekly he departs! his toils, his work, and warfare done-- + And his martyr chariot waits him, and his triumphs are begun! + + And twelve hours thence, upon the block, his reverend head did fall, + And for a terror was exposed upon the city wall; + His limbs were quarter'd, and were hung, all mutilate and bare, + At Jedburgh, and Lanark town, at Glasgow, and at Ayr: + And thus through all broad Scotland these martyr'd relics go, + Like a fiery cross to rouse the land to the tyrant's overthrow! + + The ancient halls of Jervieswoode are desolate and gray, + And its ancient oaks and lime trees are sinking in decay; + These are of things that perish, and their place soon knows them not, + But a glory from the past illumes this consecrated spot. + To him who braves the martyr's death is deathless honour given, + For the faith that breeds heroic deeds is dear to earth and heaven; + And through all succeeding ages, amongst the wise and good, + Enshrined shall be the memory of the noble Jervieswoode. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, the King's Advocate. + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +DUNCAN MACFARLAN. + + +Duncan Macfarlan was a native of Rannoch, in Perthshire. He was born in +1750, and became, early in life, chaplain to one of the Highland +regiments. He was subsequently admitted to the pastoral charge of the +Gaelic Church, Perth. He executed some of the translations of Ossianic +remains published by H. & J. M'Callum in 1816, under the auspices of the +Highland Society of London. He died about the year 1834. Our translator +remembers him as a venerable old gentleman, of polished manners and +intelligent conversation. The following specimen of his poetical +compositions is, in the original, extremely popular among the Gael. + + + + +THE BEAUTY OF THE SHIELING. + + + My beauty of the shieling, + Thy graceful air, like arrow-shaft, + A fiery flame concealing, + Has left me to the marrow chaf'd. + So winsome is thy smiling, + Thy love-craft so beguiling, + It binds me like the wilding, + And I yield, in dule and sorrow left. + + Thy brown locks rank'd in order, + So spiral, rich, and clustering! + Thy face, of flowers a border, + 'Neath feather'd eyebrows mustering! + Two drops of dewy splendour + Those lids of beauty under! + And that kiss--a fragrant wonder, + As fruits of India Western! + + + + +JOHN MUNRO. + + +John Munro was born in 1791, in the parish of Criech, Sutherlandshire. +His father was superintendent of a manufacturing establishment. On the +premature death of her husband, his mother proceeded to Glasgow, where +the family were enabled to obtain a suitable education. In 1827, the +poet commenced business as an accountant. The hours of relaxation from +business he sedulously devoted to the concerns of literature, especially +poetry. He produced some religious tracts, and composed verses, chiefly +of a devotional character. He died in 1837, and his remains were +consigned to the Necropolis of the city. Admiring friends reared an +appropriate monument over his grave. + + + + +THE HIGHLAND WELCOME. + + + "My dearest, wilt thou follow, + And mount with me the billow? + Wilt thou with me pass o'er the sea + To the land of hill and hollow?" + + "No, Highlandman! I leave not + My kindred for another, + Nor go with thee across the sea + From the children of my mother. + + "No, Highlandman! I will not fly + My own beloved border; + For poortith dwells and famine pales + In your Highlands of disorder. + + "I will not wed a Gael-- + His house is but a shieling; + Oh, best unborn, than all forlorn + Mid your crags to have my dwelling!" + + "The house I call mine own house, + A better was not born in; + And land and sea will smile on thee, + In the Highlands of thy scorning. + + "I do not boast the wheaten wealth + Of our glens and hills, my dearie! + But enow is health, and grass is wealth, + In the land of mead and dairy. + + "I 've store of kine, my darling, + Nor any lilting sweeter + Thine ear can know, than is their low, + And the music of the bleater. + + "I have no ship on ocean + With merchant treasure sailing; + But my tight boat, and trusty net, + Whole loads of fish are trailing. + + "And, for dress, is none, my beauty, + Than the tartan plaiding warmer, + For its colours bright, oh, what delight + To see them deck my charmer! + + "And ne'er was Highland welcome + More hearty than thy greeting, + Each day, the rein, and courteous swain, + Thy pleasure will be meeting. + + "And thou shalt wear the healthy hue + That give the Highland breezes, + And not a bird but will be heard + To sing the song that pleases. + + "No summer morn is blyther, + With all its burst of glory, + Than the heaving breast, that, uncaress'd, + Pined--shall, caress'd, adore thee." + + "Stay, Highlander! my heart, my hand, + My vow and all I render, + A Highland lay has won the day, + And I will hie me yonder." + + + + +JOHN MACDONALD, JUN. + + +John Macdonald, author of the following song, is described in +"Mackenzie's Collection" as having rented the farm of Scoraig, +Lochbroom, and subsequently fixed his residence in the island of Lewis. +The present translation is from the pen of Mr D. Macpherson of London. + + + + +MARY, THE FAIR OF GLENSMOLE. + + + Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, + Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dells, + Sweet the snowy blossom of the thorny tree, + Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me. + + Sweet, oh, sweet! with Mary o'er the wilds to stray, + When Glensmole is dress'd in all the pride of May; + And, when weary roving through the greenwood glade, + Softly to recline beneath the birken shade. + Sweet the rising mountains, &c. + + There to fix my gaze in raptures of delight, + On her eyes of truth, of love, of life, of light; + On her bosom, purer than the silver tide, + Fairer than the _cana_ on the mountain side. + Sweet the rising mountains, &c. + + What were all the sounds contrived by tuneful men, + To the warbling wild notes of the sylvan glen? + Here the merry lark ascends on dewy wing, + There the mellow mavis and the blackbird sing. + Sweet the rising mountains, &c. + + What were all the splendour of the proud and great, + To the simple pleasures of our green retreat? + From the crystal spring fresh vigour we inhale, + Rosy health does court us on the mountain gale. + Sweet the rising mountains, &c. + + Were I offer'd all the wealth that Albion yields, + All her lofty mountains and her fruitful fields, + With the countless riches of her subject seas, + I would scorn the change for blisses such as these! + Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, + Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dells, + Sweet the snowy blossom of the thorny tree, + Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me. + + + + +EVAN M'COLL.[16] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[16] For Biographical Sketch, see p. 222. + + + + +THE CHILD OF PROMISE. + + + She died--as die the roses + On the ruddy clouds of dawn, + When the envious sun discloses + His flame, and morning 's gone. + + She died--like waves of sun-glow + Fast by the shadows chased: + She died--like heaven's rainbow + By gushing showers effaced. + + She died--like flakes appearing + On the shore beside the sea; + Thy snow as bright! but, nearing, + The ground-swell broke on thee. + + She died--as dies the glory + Of music's sweetest swell: + She died--as dies the story + When the best is still to tell. + + She died--as dies moon-beaming + When scowls the rayless wave: + She died--like sweetest dreaming, + That hastens to its grave. + + She died--and died she early: + Heaven wearied for its own. + As the dipping sun, my Mary, + Thy morning ray went down! + + + + +INDEX + +TO THE + +FIRST LINES OF THE SONGS. + + +A bonnie rose bloom'd wild and fair, vol. iv., 112. + +Adieu--a long and last adieu, vol. iii., 207. + +Adieu, lovely summer, I see thee declining, vol. i., 273. + +Adieu, romantic banks of Clyde, vol. iii., 30. + +Adieu, ye streams that smoothly glide, vol. i., 42. + +Adieu, ye wither'd flow'rets, vol. iv., 207. + +Admiring nature's simple charms, vol. ii., 239. + +Ah! do not bid me wake the lute, vol. ii., 283. + +Adown the burnie's flowery bank, vol. ii., 227. + +Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed out, vol. i., 118. + +Ae morn of May, when fields were gay, vol. iii., 31. + +Ah! faded is that lovely bloom, vol. ii., 276. + +Afar from the home where his youthful prime, vol. vi., 165. + +Afore the Lammas tide, vol. iv., 197. + +Afore the muircock begin to craw, vol. ii., 67. + +Again the laverock seeks the sky, vol. v., 82. + +Ages, ages have departed, vol. i., 258. + +A health to Caberfae, vol. i., 357. + +Alake for the lassie! she's no right at a', vol. ii., 317. + +A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen, vol. ii., 184. + +Alas! how true the boding voice, vol. v., 87. + +Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, vol. i., 300. + +Ah! little did my mother think, vol. i., 234. + +A lively young lass had a wee pickle tow, vol. i., 142. + +All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, vol. iv., 173. + +All night, by the pathway that crosses the muir, vol. iv., 141. + +Alone to the banks of the dark rolling Danube, vol. ii., 264. + +Along by Levern stream so clear, vol. ii., 201. + +Although the lays o' ither lands, vol. vi., 96. + +Amang the birks sae blithe an' gay, vol. ii., 227. + +Amang the breezy heights and howes, vol. vi., 49. + +Ah! Mary, sweetest maid, farewell, vol. ii., 211. + +And can thy bosom bear the thought, vol. iv., 100. + +And dost thou speak sincere, my love, vol. ii., 116. + +And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, vol. iii., 245. + +Ah no! I cannot say farewell, vol. iii., 79. + +Ah, Peggie, since thou 'rt gane away, vol. ii., 72. + +A pretty young maiden sat on the grass, vol. iii., 251. + +Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange, vol. ii., 216. + +As clear is Luther's wave, I ween, vol. iii., 224. + +As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave, vol. i., 326. + +As lockfasted in slumber's arms, vol. i., 330. + +As o'er the Highland hills I hied, vol. i., 37. + +A song, a song, brave hearts, a song, vol. v., 8. + +As sunshine to the flowers in May, vol. v., 99. + +At hame or afield, I 'm cheerless and lone, vol. iii., 124. + +Ah! the wound of my breast sinks my heart to the dust, vol. ii., 343. + +At waking so early, vol. i., 311. + +At Willie's weddin' on the green, vol. ii., 210. + +Auld Peter MacGowan cam' down the craft, vol. v., 10. + +Awake, thou first of creatures, indignant in their frown, vol. iii., 123. + +Away, away, like a child at play, vol. vi., 68. + +Away, away, my gallant bark, vol. vi., 84. + +Away on the breast of the ocean, vol. vi., 211. + +Away on the wings of the wind she flies, vol. iv., 160. + +Away to the Highlands, where Lomond is flowing, vol. v., 254. + +A weary lot is thine, fair maid, vol. i., 300. + +A wee bird cam' to our ha' door, vol. iii., 128. + +A wee bird sits upon a spray, vol. iv., 190. + +A wee bit laddie sits wi' a bowl upon his knees, vol. vi., 145. + +A wet sheet and a flowing sea, vol. iii., 15. + +A young gudewife is in my house, vol. i., 141. + + +Bare was our burn brae, vol. v., 65. + +Beautiful moon, wilt thou tell me where, vol. vi., 44. + +Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on, vol. v., 209. + +Behave yoursel' before folk, vol. iii., 74. + +Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, vol. ii., 108. + +Ben Cruachan is king of the mountains, vol. vi., 115. + +Beneath a hill, 'mang birken bushes, vol. iv., 294. + +Bird of the wilderness, vol. i., 52. + +Blaw saftly, ye breezes, ye streams, smoothly murmur, vol. i., 243. + +Blest be the hour of night, vol. vi., 48. + +Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, vol. ii., 171. + +Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, vol. iii., 140. + +Blithe be the mind of the ploughman, vol. v., 176. + +Blithe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O, vol. ii., 148. + +Blithe young Bess to Jean did say, vol. ii., 82. + +Blue are the hills above the Spey, vol. v., 212. + +Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, vol. iv., 233. + +Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream, vol. v., 207. + +Bonnie Charlie 's now awa, vol. i., 218. + +Bonnie Clouden, as ye wander, vol. ii., 230. + +Bonnie lassie, blithesome lassie, vol. ii., 188. + +Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet, vol. vi., 33. + +Born where the glorious starlights trace, vol. iv., 150. + +Bring the rod, the line, the reel, vol. v., 221. + +Brither Jamie cam' west wi' a braw burn trout, vol. ii., 109. + +Built on Time's uneven sand, vol. vi., 198. + +By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep, vol. i., 110. + +By Niagara's flood, vol. vi., 81. + +By the lone Mankayana's margin gray, vol. iii., 107. + +By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 'neath the moon's chilly beam, vol. i., 212. + + +Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock, vol. ii., 53. + +Calm sleep the village dead, vol. v., 260. + +Cam' ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg, vol. ii., 51. + +Can my dearest Henry leave me, vol. iii., 41. + +Can ought be constant as the sun, vol. ii., 249. + +Can ye lo'e, my dear lassie, vol. v., 63. + +Ca' the yowes to the knowes, vol. iv., 89. + +Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south, vol. i., 119. + +Change! change! the mournful story, vol. v., 173. + +Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea, vol. vi., 160. + +Chaunt me no more thy roundelay, vol. ii., 174. + +Cheer, boys, cheer! no more of idle sorrow, vol. vi., 20. + +Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, vol. iv., 282. + +Close by the marge of Leman's Lake, vol. vi., 177. + +Come all ye jolly shepherds, vol. ii., 55. + +Come awa', come awa', vol. iii., 109. + +Come awa', hie awa', vol. ii., 171. + +Come back, come back, thou youthful time, vol. vi., 17. + +Come gie us a sang, Montgomery cried, vol. i., 11. + +Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow, vol. iii., 19. + +Come, memory, paint, though far away, vol. vi., 52. + +Come o'er the stream, Charlie, vol. ii., 59. + +Come see my scarlet rose-bush, vol. vi., 37. + +Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, vol. ii., 306. + +Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa', vol. i., 89. + +Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking, vol. v., 15. + +Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, vol. v., 202. + +Could we but look beyond our sphere, vol. iii., 199. + +Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang, vol. v., 205. + +Culloden, on thy swarthy brow, vol. iii., 46. + + +Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, vol. i., 179. + +Dear aunty, I've been lang your care, vol. ii., 95. + +Dear aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham, vol. v., 107. + +Dearest love believe me, vol. iii., 110. + +Dear to my heart as life's warm stream, vol. i., 44. + +Does grief appeal to you, ye leal, vol. ii., 341. + +Down by a crystal stream, vol. vi., 207. + +Down in the valley lone, vol. v., 181. + +Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery, vol. v., 25. + +Do you know what the birds are singing? vol. vi., 134. + + +Each whirl of the wheel, vol. v., 61. + +Easy is my pillow press'd, vol. ii., 349. + +Eliza fair, the mirth of May, vol. v., 138. + +Eliza was a bonnie lass, and, oh! she lo'ed me weel, vol. iv., 187. + +Ere eild wi' his blatters had warsled me doun, vol. ii., 246. + +Ere foreign fashions crossed the Tweed, vol. iii., 189. + +Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., 165. + +Eye of the brain and heart, vol. v., 133. + + +Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease, vol. i., 269. + +Fair are the fleecy flocks that feed, vol. ii., 128. + +Fair as a star of light, vol. vi., 179. + +Fair Ellen, here again I stand, vol. v., 141. + +Fair modest flower of matchless worth, vol. i., 157. + +Fair Scotland, dear as life to me, vol. v., 137. + +Fare-thee-weel, for I must leave thee, vol. iii., 263. + +Fare-thee-weel, my bonnie lassie, vol. iii., 225. + +Fareweel, O! fareweel, vol. i., 238. + +Fareweel to ilk hill whar the red heather grows, vol. v., 91. + +Fareweel, ye fields and meadows green, vol. i., 121. + +Farewell, and though my steps depart, vol. iii., 116. + +Farewell, our father's land, vol. iii., 249. + +Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar, vol. vi., 117. + +Farewell, ye streams sae dear to me, vol. ii., 232. + +Far lone amang the Highland hills, vol. ii., 139. + +Far over yon hills of the heather sae green, vol. ii., 50. + +Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud, vol. vi., 28. + +Fife, an' a' the land about it, vol. ii., 112. + +Float forth, thou flag of the free, vol. vi., 221. + +Flowers of summer sweetly springing, vol. v., 251. + +Flow saftly thou stream through the wild spangled valley, vol. iii., 243. + +For mony lang year I hae heard frae my granny, vol. ii., 250. + +For success a prayer with a farewell bear, vol. iii., 284. + +For twenty years and more, vol. v., 80. + +From beauty's soft lips, like the balm of its roses, vol. iv., 97. + +From the climes of the sun all war-worn and weary, vol. ii., 220. + +From the deep and troubled waters, vol. vi., 25. + +From the village of Leslie with a heart full of glee, vol. i., 182. + +Fy, let us a' to the wedding, vol. i., 136. + + +Gae bring my guid auld harp ance mair, vol. iv., 58. + +Gane were but the winter cauld, vol. iii., 12. + +Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iv., 133. + +Give me the hour when bells are rung, vol. vi., 149. + +Give the swains of Italia, vol. vi., 223. + +Glad tidings for the Highlands, vol. ii., 335. + +Gloomy winter's now awa', vol. ii., 145. + +Good morrow, good morrow, warm, rosy, and bright, vol. v., 16. + +Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', vol. ii., 214. + +Good night, the silver stars are clear, vol. v., 246. + +Go to Berwick, Johnnie, vol. i., 121. + +Go to him then if thou canst go, vol. ii., 300. + +Grim winter was howlin' owre muir and owre mountain, vol. iii., 55. + +Guid night and joy be wi' ye a', vol. iv., 114. + + +Had I the wings of a dove I would fly, vol. v., 261. + +Hae ye been in the north, bonnie lassie, vol. ii., 308. + +Hail to the chief who in triumph advances, vol. i., 295. + +Hark, hark, the skylark singing, vol. ii., 202. + +Hark, the martial drums resound, vol. ii., 164. + +Haste all ye fairy elves hither to me, vol. iv., 131. + +Heard ye the bagpipe or saw ye the banners, vol. iv., 78. + +Heart, take courage, 'tis not worthy, vol. vi., 9. + +Heaven speed the righteous sword, vol. i., 254. + +Hech, what a change hae we now in this toun, vol. ii., 215. + +Hech, hey, the mirth that was there, vol. i., 205. + +He left his native land, and far away, vol. v., 111. + +He loved her for her merry eyes, vol. v., 244. + +Here 's to them, to them that are gane, vol. i., 237. + +Her eyes were red with weeping, vol. iii., 136. + +Here we go upon the tide, vol. ii., 69. + +Here 's to the year that 's awa', vol. v., 78. + +Her hair was like the Cromla mist, vol. ii., 177. + +Her lip is o' the rose's hue, vol. v., 117. + +Hersell pe auchty years and twa, vol. ii., 71. + +He 's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod, vol. i., 216. + +He is gone, he is gone, vol. iii., 240. + +He 's gone on the mountain, vol. i., 299. + +He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, vol. i., 202. + +He 's no more on the green hill, he has left the wide forest, vol. i., 272. + +He sorrowfu' sat by the ingle cheek, vol. vi., 138. + +He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, vol. i., 211. + +Hey for the Hielan' heather, vol. iv., 110. + +Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, vol. v., 18. + +Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur, vol. iii., 136. + +Hope cannot cheat us, vol. vi., 15. + +How blest were the days o' langsyne, when a laddie, vol. iii., 39. + +How blithely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding, vol. v., 26. + +How brightly beams the bonnie moon, vol. iii., 73. + +How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee, vol. v., 160. + +How eerily, how drearily, how eerily to pine, vol. iii., 137. + +How happy a life does the parson possess, vol. i., 28. + +How happy lives the peasant by his ain fireside, vol. iii., 78. + +How often death art waking, vol. i., 321. + +How pleasant, how pleasant to wander away, vol. ii., 274. + +How sweet are Leven's silver streams, vol. iii., 36. + +How sweet are the blushes of morn, vol. v., 35. + +How sweet is the scene at the waking of morning, vol. ii., 243. + +How sweet the dewy bell is spread, vol. iii., 259. + +How sweet thy modest light to view, vol. ii., 196. + +Hurra! for the land o' the broom-cover'd brae, vol. vi., 103. + +Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame, vol. v., 229. + +Hurrah for the Highlands, the brave Scottish Highlands, vol. v., 249. + +Hurrah for the Thistle, the brave Scottish Thistle, vol. v., 232. + +Hurrah, hurrah for the boundless sea, vol. vi., 189. + +Hurrah, hurrah, we 've glory won, vol. v., 89. + +Hush, ye songsters, day is done, vol. iii., 159. + + +I ask no lordling's titled name, vol. ii., 166. + +I canna leave my native land, vol. vi., 228. + +I canna sleep a wink, lassie, vol. v., 183. + +I cannot give thee all my heart, vol. vi., 11. + +I dream'd thou wert a fairy harp, vol. vi., 29. + +If Fortune with a smiling face, vol. vi., 12. + +I fleet along, and the empires fall, vol. vi., 167. + +I fly from the fold since my passion's despair, vol. i., 316. + +I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, vol. iv., 62. + +If there 's a word that whispers love, vol. v., 266. + +If wealth thou art wooing, or title, or fame, vol. v., 7. + +I gaed to spend a week in Fife, vol. vi., 55. + +I hae naebody noo, I hae naebody noo, vol. ii., 77. + +I have wander'd afar, 'neath stranger skies, vol. vi., 88. + +I heard a wee bird singing, vol. v., 32. + +I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts amang, vol. iii., 61. + +I lately lived in quiet ease, vol. ii., 62. + +I like to spring in the morning bricht, vol. v., 98. + +I 'll no be had for naething, vol. i., 230. + +I 'll no walk by the kirk, mother, vol. vi., 42. + +I 'll sing of yon glen of red heather, vol. ii., 74. + +I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, vol. v., 155. + +I 'll think on thee, Love, when thy bark, vol. vi., 50. + +I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, vol. iv., 268. + +I 'll twine a gowany garland, vol. vi., 105. + +I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, vol. i., 90. + +I love a sweet lassie, mair gentle and true, vol. vi., 144. + +I love the free ridge of the mountain, vol. iii., 108. + +I love the merry moonlight, vol. iv., 135. + +I love the sea, I love the sea, vol. iv., 162. + +I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves, vol. vi., 187. + +I mark'd her look of agony, vol. iii., 167. + +I 'm a very little man, vol. vi., 147. + +I 'm away, I 'm away like a thing that is wild, vol. v., 255. + +I 'm naebody noo, though in days that are gane, vol. v., 182. + +I 'm now a guid farmer, I 've acres o' land, vol. i., 263. + +I 'm wand'rin' wide this wintry night, vol. v., 158. + +I 'm wearin' awa', John, vol. i., 196. + +I met four chaps yon birks amang, vol. ii., 208. + +In a dream of the night I was wafted away, vol. iii., 257. + +In a howm, by a burn, where the brown birks grow, vol. vi., 234. + +In all its rich wildness her home she is leaving, vol. i., 200. + +In a saft simmer gloamin', vol. iii., 236. + +In distant years when other arms, vol. v., 123. + +I neither got promise of siller nor land, vol. iii., 147. + +I never thocht to thole the waes, vol. iv., 221. + +In her chamber, vigil keeping, vol. vi., 213. + +In life's gay morn, when hopes beat high, vol. iii., 42. + +In that home was joy and sorrow, vol. vi., 184. + +In the morning of life, when its sunny smile, vol. iii., 200. + +I pray for you of your courtesy, before we further move, vol. v., 144. + +I remember the time, thou roaring sea, vol. vi., 13. + +Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye, vol. i., 318. + +I sat in the vale 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, vol. iv., 60. + +I saw my true love first on the banks of queenly Tay, vol. iii., 121. + +I see, I see the Hirta, the land of my desire, vol. v., 282. + +I see the wretch of high degree, vol. i., 315. + +Is not the earth a burial-place, vol. v., 269. + +I sing of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove, vol. v., 92. + +Is our Helen very fair, vol. vi., 182. + +Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman, vol. iv., 166. + +It fell on a morning when we were thrang, vol. i., 146. + +It has long been my fate to be thought in the wrong, vol. i., 22. + +It 's dowie in the hint o' hairst, vol. v., 62. + +It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, vol. iii., 13. + +It was an English ladye bright, vol. i., 289. + +I 've listened to the midnight wind, vol. iii., 203. + +I 've a guinea I can spend, vol. vi., 22. + +I 've been upon the moonlit deep, vol. vi., 70. + +I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, vol. ii., 296. + +I 've met wi' mony maidens fair, vol. vi., 91. + +I 've no sheep on the mountain nor boat on the lake, vol. i., 132. + +I 've rocked me on the giddy mast, vol. iii., 20. + +I 've seen the lily of the wold, vol. iii., 48. + +I 've seen the smiling summer flower, vol. iv., 245. + +I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, vol. iii., 233. + +I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, vol. iv., 192. + +I wadna gi'e my ain wife, vol. iv., 246. + +I walk'd by mysel' owre the sweet braes o' Yarrow, vol. iii., 86. + +I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin', vol. vi., 89. + +I warn you, fair maidens, to wail and to sigh, vol. ii., 197. + +I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade, vol. v., 274. + +I will sing a song of summer, vol. vi., 186. + +I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, vol. iv., 167. + +I will wake my harp when the shades of even, vol. iv., 170. + +I winna bide in your castle ha's, vol. iv., 229. + +I winna gang back to my minny again, vol. ii., 248. + +I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, vol. iv., 63. + +I wish I were where Helen lies, vol. i., 111. + + +Jenny's heart was frank and free, vol. i., 114. + +John Anderson, my jo, John, vol. i., 155. + +Joy of my earliest days, vol. i., 203. + + +Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, vol. ii., 141. + + +Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom, vol. iii., 167. + +Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness, vol. vi., 207. + +Lane on the winding Earn there stands, vol. i., 223. + +Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, vol. iv., 224. + +Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, vol. iv., 168. + +Lassie wi' the gowden hair, vol. i., 87. + +Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair, vol. i., 123. + +Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie, vol. vi., 135. + +Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, vol. iv., 76. + +Leave the city's busy throng, vol. vi., 143. + +Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, vol. iv., 77. + +Let ither anglers choose their ain, vol. v., 222. + +Let the maids of the Lowlands, vol. iii., 272. + +Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, vol. iv., 177. + +Let us go, lassie, go, vol. ii., 143. + +Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O, vol. iv., 264. + +Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre, vol. iii., 146. + +Life's pleasure seems sadness and care, vol. vi., 194. + +Liking is a little boy, vol. vi., 120. + +Listen to me, as when ye heard our father, vol. iii., 183. + +Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale, vol. ii., 75. + +Look up, old friend, why hang thy head, vol. vi., 199. + +Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower, vol. ii., 181. + +Loudon's bonnie woods and braes, vol. ii., 137. + +Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green, vol. iii., 188. + +Love flies the haunts of pomp and power, vol. v., 79. + +Love is timid, love is shy, vol. iii., 196. + +Loved land of my kindred, farewell, and for ever, vol. iv., 111. + +Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping, vol. iii., 76. + +Lowland lassie, wilt thou go, vol. ii., 151. + + +'Mang a' the lasses young and braw, vol. iii., 214. + +Meet me on the gowan lea, vol. v., 147. + +Meg muckin' at Geordie's byre, vol. i., 244. + +Men of England, who inherit, vol. ii., 268. + +Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty, vol. v., 37. + +More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, vol. iv., 57. + +Mourn for the mighty dead, vol. vi., 21. + +Mournfully, oh, mournfully, vol. iii., 239. + +Musing, we sat in our garden bower, vol. v., 100. + +My beauty dark, my glossy bright, vol. ii., 347. + +My beauty of the shieling, vol. vi., 250. + +My Bessie, oh, but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, vol. iv., 189. + +My bonnie wee Bell was a mitherless bairn, vol. v., 67. + +My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee, vol. v., 13. + +My brothers are the stately trees, vol. iv., 254. + +My brown dairy, brown dairy, vol. ii., 327. + +My couthie auld wife, aye blithsome to see, vol. vi., 102. + +My darling is the philabeg, vol. v., 290. + +My dearest, wilt thou follow, vol. vi., 252. + +My dear little lassie, why, what 's the matter? vol. i., 246. + +My hawk is tired of perch and hood, vol. i., 298. + +My lassie is lovely, as May-day adorning, vol. iii., 48. + +My love, come let us wander, vol. iii., 197. + +My love 's in Germanie, send him hame, send him hame, vol. i., 95. + +My luve 's a flower in garden fair, vol. v., 189. + +My mother bids me bind my hair, vol. i., 41. + +My mountain hame, my mountain hame, vol. iv., 194. + +My name it is Donald M'Donald, vol. ii., 48. + +My native land, my native land, vol. vi., 206. + +My soul is ever with thee, vol. v., 106. + +My spirit could its vigil hold, vol. iv., 152. + +My tortured bosom long shall feel, vol. iii., 141. + +My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, vol. iv., 187. + +My wife 's a winsome wee thing, vol. ii., 299. + +My young heart's luve! twal' years hae been, vol. iv., 259. + +My young, my fair, my fair-haired Mary, vol. i., 335. + + +Nae mair we 'll meet again, my love, by yon burn-side, vol. iii., 227. + +Name the leaves on all the trees, vol. vi., 118. + +Never despair! when the dark cloud is lowering, vol. v., 75. + +Night turns to day, vol. i., 255. + +No homeward scene near me, vol. iv., 290. + +No more by thy margin, dark Carron, vol. vi., 202. + +No one knows what silent secrets, vol. vi., 24. + +No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread, vol. iv., 61. + +No sound was heard o'er the broom-covered valley, vol. iv., 86. + +Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, vol. iv., 281. + +Now bank and brae are clad in green, vol. ii., 245. + +Now, Jenny lass, my bonnie bird, vol. ii., 92. + +Now, Mary, now, the struggle 's o'er, vol. iii., 229. + +Now rests the red sun in his caves of the ocean, vol. ii., 254. + +Now simmer decks the field wi' flowers, vol. ii., 304. + +Now smiling summer's balmy breeze, vol. ii., 229. + +Now summer shines with gaudy pride, vol. ii., 116. + +Now the beams of May morn, vol. iii., 149. + +Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea, vol. iii., 177. + +Now winter wi' his cloudy brow, vol. ii., 147. + +Now winter's wind sweeps o'er the mountains, vol. i., 165. + + +Oh! are ye sleeping, Maggie, vol. ii., 156. + +Oh! away to the Tweed, vol. v., 94. + +Oh, beautiful and bright thou art, vol. vi., 197. + +Oh, blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft, vol. i., 124. + +Oh, blessing on her star-like e'en, vol. v., 102. + +Oh! blessing on thee, land, vol. v., 104. + +Oh, bonnie are the howes, vol. iv., 200. + +Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen-tree, vol. ii., 240. + +Oh, bonnie Nelly Brown, I will sing a song to thee, vol. v., 276. + +Oh, bonnie 's the lily that blooms in the valley, vol. v., 194. + +Oh, brave Caledonians, my brothers, my friends, vol. iii., 114. + +Oh, bright the beaming queen o' night, vol. v., 146. + +Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, vol. i., 221. + +Oh, Charlie is my darling, vol. iii., 53. + +Oh, come my bonnie bark, vol. iii., 16. + +Oh, come with me for the queen of night, vol. iii., 59. + +October winds wi' biting breath, vol. ii., 203. + +O dear, dear to me, vol. vi., 92. + +Oh! dear to my heart are my heather-clad mountains, vol. v., 239. + +Oh! dear were the joys that are past, vol. iii., 62. + +Oh, dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee, vol. v., 78. + +Oh, dinna be sae sair cast down, vol. v., 43. + +Oh, dinna cross the burn, Willie, vol. v., 150. + +Oh, dinna look ye pridefu' doon on a' beneath your ken, vol. v., 204. + +Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee, vol. i., 96. + +Oh, distant, but dear, is that sweet island wherein, vol. ii., 109. + +O'er mountain and valley, vol. iii., 169. + +O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying, vol. v., 47. + +Of learning long a scantling was the portion of the Gael, vol. v., 295. + +Of Nelson and the north, vol. ii., 265. + +Of streams that down the valley run, vol. ii., 129. + +Oh, gentle sleep wilt thou lay thy head, vol. iii., 90. + +Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, vol. iv., 117. + +Oh, grand bounds the deer o'er the mountain, vol. i., 55. + +Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen, vol. vi., 129. + +Oh, hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, vol. iv., 218. + +Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk-tree's shade, vol. iv., 269. + +Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo! vol. v., 108. + +Oh, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, vol. ii., 263. + +O hi', O hu', she 's sad for scolding, vol. v., 288. + +Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha', vol. iii., 125. + +Oh, how I love the evening hour, vol. v., 265. + +Oh! I have traversed lands afar, vol. v., 12. + +Oh! I lo'ed my lassie weel, vol. iii., 253. + +O June, ye spring the loveliest flowers, vol. v., 44. + +Oh, lady, twine no wreath for me, vol. i., 302. + +Oh, lassie! I lo'e dearest, vol. v., 47. + +Oh, lassie! if thou 'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, vol. iv., 65. + +Oh, lassie! wilt thou gang wi' me, vol. iii., 65. + +Oh, lassie! wilt thou go? vol. ii., 287. + +Old Scotland, I love thee, thou 'rt dearer to me, vol. v., 250. + +Oh, leave me not! the evening hour, vol. v., 74. + +Oh, leeze me on the bonnie lass, vol. ii., 178. + +Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie, vol. v., 58. + +Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, vol. v., 270. + +Oh, many a true Highlander, many a liegeman, vol. iii., 280. + +Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek, vol. v., 122. + +Oh, merrily and gallantly, vol. v., 116. + +Oh, mind ye the ewe-bughts, Marion, vol. i., 56. + +Oh, mony a turn of woe and weal, vol. i., 347. + +Oh, mony a year has come and gane, vol. v., 20. + +Oh, my lassie, our joy to complete again, vol. ii., 54. + +Oh, my love, leave me not, vol. i., 106. + +Oh! my love 's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie, vol. v., 52. + +Oh! my love is very lovely, vol. vi., 8. + +Oh, my love was fair as the siller clud, vol. vi., 173. + +Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing, vol. iv., 199. + +Once more in the Highlands I wander alone, vol. v., 257. + +Oh, neighbours! what had I to do for to marry? vol. i., 139. + +On, on to the fields where of old, vol. iv., 56. + +On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame, vol. v., 119. + +On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, vol. ii., 173. + +On the greensward lay William in anguish extended, vol. ii., 163. + +On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, vol. iv., 250. + +On the banks o' the burn, while I pensively wander, vol. ii., 316. + +On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, vol. iv., 105. + +On this unfrequented plain, vol. ii., 294. + +O our childhood's once delightful hours, vol. iii., 198. + +Or ere we part, my heart leaps hie to sing ae bonnie sang, vol. v., 193. + +Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, vol. v., 208. + +Oh, sarely may I rue the day, vol. ii., 58. + +Oh, sair I feel the witching power, vol. iii., 192. + +Oh, saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, vol. i., 82. + +Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. ii., 70. + +Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. iv., 271. + +Oh! say na you maun gang awa, vol. iv., 201. + +Oh! say not life is ever drear, vol. v., 88. + +Oh! say not o' war the young soldier is weary, vol. iv., 214. + +Oh! say not 'tis the March wind, 'tis a fiercer blast that drives, vol. v., 293. + +Oh! say not, my love, with that mortified air, vol. i., 305. + +Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze, vol. v., 167. + +Oh, some will tune their mournful strain, vol. i., 232. + +Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain, vol. iii., 134. + +O sweet is the blossom o' the hawthorn-tree, vol. v., 187. + +O sweet is the calm, dewy gloamin', vol. iv., 247. + +Oh, sweet were the hours, vol. iii., 94. + +Oh, swiftly bounds our gallant bark, vol. vi., 154. + +O tell me, bonnie young lassie, vol. i., 85. + +Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear, vol. iv., 69. + +Oh, that I were the shaw in, vol. ii., 329. + +Oh, the auld house, the auld house! vol. i., 224. + +Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, vol. iv., 230. + +Oh, the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet, vol. ii., 19. + +Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by, vol. iii., 266. + +Oh! the happy time departed, vol. vi., 17. + +Oh! the sunny peaches glow, vol. iii., 150. + +O these are not my country's hills, vol. iv., 127. + +Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie, blue sea, vol. iv., 133. + +Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, vol. iv., 270. + +Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me, vol. v., 242. + +Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain, vol. v., 237. + +Our ain native land, our ain native land, vol. iv., 54. + +Oh, tuneful voice, I still deplore, vol. i., 44. + +Our Mary liket weel to stray, vol. iv., 70. + +Our minstrels a', frae south to north, vol. iii., 95. + +Our native land, our native vale, vol. iii., 106. + +Ours is the land of gallant hearts, vol. iv., 51. + +Oh, wae be to the orders that march'd my love awa, vol. iii., 238. + +Oh! wae's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame, vol. vi., 148. + +Oh, wae 's my life, and sad my heart, vol. v., 17. + +Oh, waft me to the fairy clime, vol. iv., 92. + +Oh! waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him, vol. vi., 126. + +Oh, we aft hae met at e'en, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iii., 227. + +Oh, weel's me on my ain man, vol. i., 204. + +Oh, weel befa' the maiden gay, vol. ii., 64. + +Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs, vol. v., 85. + +Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved, vol. iii., 201. + +Oh! we hae been amang the bowers that winter didna bare, vol. vi., 236. + +Oh, wha 's at the window, wha, wha, wha? vol. iv., 253. + +Oh, what are the chains of love made of, vol. iv., 136. + +Oh, what care I where Love was born, vol. v., 11. + +Oh! what is in this flaunting town, vol. vi., 203. + +Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth, vol. i., 254. + +Oh, where are the pretty men of yore, vol. v., 129. + +Oh, where has the exile his home, vol. iv., 250. + +Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird, vol. v., 14. + +Oh, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone, vol. i., 104. + +Oh! why left I my hame, vol. iii., 264. + +O! why should old age so much wound us, vol. i., 20. + +Oh! will ye go to yon burn-side, vol. iii., 68. + +Oh! will ye walk the wood wi' me, vol. iv., 273. + +Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, vol. iv., 139. + +Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now, vol. iv., 180. + +Oh! years hae come an' years hae gane, vol. iv., 193. + +Oh, yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet, vol. iv., 255. + +O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, vol. vi., 18. + +Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, vol. i., 290. + + +Peace be upon their banners, vol. v., 224. + +Phoebus, wi' gowden crest, leaves ocean's heaving breast, vol. v., 51. + +Preserve us a' what shall we do, vol. ii., 99. + +Put off, put off, and row with speed, vol. ii., 179. + + +Quoth Rab to Kate, My sonsy clear, vol. ii., 94. + + +Raise high the battle-song, vol. iii., 131. + +Red gleams the sun on yon hill tap, vol. i., 55. + +Reft the charm of the social shell, vol. iii., 276. + +Removed from vain fashion, vol. iv., 80. + +Returning Spring, with gladsome ray, vol. i., 169. + +Rise, little star, vol. vi., 224. + +Rise, my love! the moon unclouded, vol. iv., 149. + +Rise, rise, Lowland and Highlandman, vol. iv., 115. + +Rise, Romans, rise at last, vol. vi., 216. + +Rising o'er the heaving billow, vol. v., 29. + +Robin is my ain gudeman, vol. i., 205. + +Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, vol. i., 52. + + +Saw ye Johnnie comin', quo' she, vol. i., 145. + +Saw ye my Annie, vol. iv., 121. + +Saw ye nae my Peggie, vol. i., 208. + +Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone, vol. vi., 40. + +Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., 251. + +Scotia's thistle guards the grave, vol. iv., 50. + +Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains, vol. vi., 33. + +See the moon o'er cloudless Jura, vol. iii., 196. + +See the winter clouds around, vol. ii., 87. + +Send a horse to the water, ye 'll no mak him drink, vol. i., 219. + +Shadows of glory, the twilight is parting, vol. vi., 139. + +Shall I leave thee, thou land to my infancy dear, vol. iii., 99. + +She died, as die the roses, vol. vi., 256. + +She died in beauty, like a rose, vol. iv., 177. + +She 's aff and awa, like the lang simmer day, vol. iv., 124. + +She 's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, vol. iii., 9. + +She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green, vol. iii., 116. + +She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn, vol. v., 200. + +Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay, vol. i., 352. + +Sing a' ye bards wi' loud acclaim, vol. iii., 139. + +Sing not to me of sunny shores, vol. vi., 155. + +Sing on, fairy Devon, vol. vi., 104. + +Sing on, thou little bird, vol. ii., 286. + +Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go, vol. v., 166. + +Soldier, rest! thy warfare 's o'er, vol. i., 294. + +Songs of my native land, vol. i., 220. + +Star of descending night, vol. iv., 92. + +Stay, proud bird of the shore, vol. iv., 141. + +St Leonard's hill was lightsome land, vol. i., 228. + +Sublime is Scotia's mountain land, vol. vi., 169. + +Summer ocean, vol. vi., 61. + +Surrounded wi' bent and wi' heather, vol. i., 265. + +Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen, vol. iv., 75. + +Sweet 's the gloamin's dusky gloom, vol. vi., 94. + +Sweet 's the dew-deck'd rose in June, vol. iv., 101. + +Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, vol. iv., 239. + +Sweet summer now is by, vol. iv., 275. + +Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, vol. vi., 254. + + +Talk not of temples--there is one, vol. iii., 152. + +Taste life's glad moments, vol. ii., 212. + +Tell me, Jessie, tell me why? vol. i., 122. + +Tell me, dear! in mercy speak, vol. vi., 131. + +The auld meal mill, oh! the auld meal mill, vol. v., 230. + +The bard strikes his harp the wild valleys among, vol. ii., 249. + +The bard strikes his harp the wild woods among, vol. v., 50. + +The beacons blazed, the banners flew, vol. v., 38. + +The best o' joys maun hae an end, vol. i., 209. + +The blackbird's hymn is sweet, vol. iv., 145. + +The bonnie, bonnie bairn, sits pokin' in the ase, vol. v., 201. + +The bonnie rowan bush, vol. iv., 231. + +The bonniest lass in a' the warld, vol. i., 201. + +The breath o' spring is gratefu', vol. v., 143. + +The bride she is winsome and bonnie, vol. i., 148. + +The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me, vol. iv., 223. + +The cantie spring scarce reared her head, vol. iii., 52. + +The cranreuch's on my head, vol. vi., 107. + +The dark gray o' gloamin', vol. iv., 243. + +The dawn is breaking, but lonesome and eerie, vol. iii., 274. + +The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary, vol. vi., 72. + +The dreary reign of winter's past, vol. v., 55. + +The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, vol. iv., 146. + +The fairies are dancing, how nimbly they bound, vol. ii., 273. + +The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds, vol. vi., 26. + +The fields, the streams, the skies, are fair, vol. v., 267. + +The gathering clans 'mong Scotia's glens, vol. iv., 52. + +The gloamin' star was showerin', vol. vi., 106. + +The gloom of dark despondency, vol. vi., 193. + +The gloomy days are gone, vol. v., 218. + +The golden smile of morning, vol. vi., 122. + +The gowan glitters on the sward, vol. i., 143. + +The happy days of yore, vol. vi., 156. + +The harvest morn breaks, vol. iv., 266. + +The hawk whoops on high, and keen, keen from yon cliff, vol. i., 168. + +The heath this night must be my bed, vol. i., 297. + +The Highland hills, there are songs of mirth, vol. vi., 168. + +The ingle cheek is bleezin' bricht, vol. v., 235. + +Their nest was in the leafy bush, vol. i., 206. + +The king is on his throne, wi' his sceptre an' his croon, vol. v., 216. + +The laird o' Cockpen, he 's proud and he 's great, vol. i., 198. + +The lake is at rest, love, vol. iv., 85. + +The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, vol. iv., 215. + +The lark has left the evening cloud, vol. iii., 10. + +The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin', vol. iii., 221. + +The lily of the vale is sweet, vol. v., 35. + +The little comer 's coming, the comer o'er the sea, vol. v., 132. + +The loved of early days, vol. iv., 179. + +The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, vol. iv., 93. + +The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe, vol. vi., 130. + +The maid is at the altar kneeling, vol. iv., 160. + +The maid who wove the rosy wreath, vol. iv., 96. + +The midges dance aboon the burn, vol. ii., 149. + +The mitherless lammie ne'er miss'd its ain mammie, vol. i., 231. + +The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, vol. iv., 140. + +The moon shone in fits, vol. ii., 221. + +The moon was a waning, vol. ii., 78. + +The mother with her blooming child, vol. v., 172. + +The music of the night, vol. iii., 217. + +The music o' the year is hush'd, vol. ii., 161. + +The neighbours a' they wonder how, vol. ii., 293. + +The night winds Eolian breezes, vol. iv., 265. + +The noble otter hill, vol. i., 337. + +The oak is Britain's pride, vol. v., 223. + +The parting kiss, the soft embrace, vol. iii., 90. + +The primrose is bonnie in spring, vol. iii., 174. + +There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, vol. vi., 209. + +There grew in bonnie Scotland, vol. ii., 186. + +There grows a bonnie brier-bush in our kail-yard, vol. i., 215. + +There is a bonnie blushing flower, vol. v., 256. + +There is a concert in the trees, vol. iv., 208. + +There is a pang for every heart, vol. iii., 148. + +There is music in the storm, love, vol. vi., 180. + +There lived a lass in Inverness, vol. iii., 14. + +There lives a lassie i' the braes, vol. i., 24. + +There lives a young lassie, vol. iv., 116. + +There 's a thrill of emotion, half painful, half sweet, vol. iii., 222. + +There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., 48. + +There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., 210. + +There 's high and low, there 's rich and poor, vol. i., 194. + +There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss, vol. vi., 128. + +There 's mony a flower beside the rose, vol. iv., 188. + +There 's music in the flowing tide, there 's music in the air, vol. ii., 275. + +There 's music in a mother's voice, vol. vi., 51. + +There 's nae covenant noo, lassie, vol. ii., 187. + +There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, vol. iv., 228. + +There 's nae love like early love, vol. iii., 185. + +There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name, vol. v., 206. + +There 's some can be happy and bide whar they are, vol. vi., 163. + +There was a musician wha play'd a good stick, vol. i., 271. + +The rosebud blushing to the morn, vol. ii., 105. + +The Rover o' Lochryan, he 's gane, vol. v., 64. + +The Scotch blue bell, vol. v., 233. + +The season comes when first we met, vol. i., 43. + +The sea, the deep, deep sea, vol. iii., 218. + +The shadows of evening fall silent around, vol. vi., 146. + +The sky in beauty arch'd, vol. iv., 154. + +The skylark sings his matin lay, vol. vi., 63. + +The soldier waves the shining sword, the shepherd-boy his crook; vol. v., 68. + +The spring comes back to woo the earth, vol. v., 156. + +The storm grew faint as daylight tinged, vol. iv., 212. + +The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths, vol. vi., 36. + +The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw, vol. ii., 175. + +The sun-down had mantled Ben Nevis with night vol. iv., 287. + +The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow, vol. iii., 129. + +The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, vol. ii., 136. + +The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, vol. ii., 176. + +The sun is sunk, the day is done, vol. i., 133. + +The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, vol. i., 41. + +The sunny days are come, my love, vol. vi., 172. + +The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander, vol. ii., 305. + +The tears I shed must ever fall, vol. i., 168. + +The tempest is raging, vol. iii., 151. + +The troops were all embarked on board, vol. i., 115. + +The weary sun 's gane down the west, vol. ii., 154. + +The widow is feckless, the widow 's alane, vol. v., 200. + +The wild rose blooms in Drummond woods, vol. iv., 236. + +The women are a' gane wud, vol. i., 227. + +The year is wearing to an end, vol. ii., 79. + +They 're stepping off, the friends I knew, vol. vi., 45. + +They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, vol. iii., 122. + +They tell me first and early love, vol. vi., 73. + +They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear, vol. vi., 212. + +Thou bonnie wood o' Craigie Lee, vol. ii., 153. + +Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, vol. iii., 164. + +Thou dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way, vol. v., 114. + +Thou gentle and kind one, vol. v., 128. + +Thou hast left me, dear Dermot, to cross the wide sea, vol. iv., 107. + +Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, vol. iii., 17. + +Though all fair was that bosom heaving white, vol. iv., 67. + +Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, vol. iv., 217. + +Though long the wanderer may depart, vol. vi., 225. + +Though richer swains thy love pursue, vol. i., 134. + +Though siller Tweed rin o'er the Lea, vol. ii., 104. + +Though the winter of age wreathes her snow on his head, vol. ii., 117. + +Though this wild brain is aching, vol. iv., 155. + +Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I lo'e thee weel, vol. ii., 167. + +Thou morn full of beauty, vol. v., 140. + +Through Crockstoun Castle's lanely wa's, vol. ii., 144. + +Thus sang the minstrel Cormack, his anguish to beguile, vol. iii., 275. + +Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, vol. ii., 244. + +Thy queenly hand, Victoria, vol. v., 264. + +Thy wily eyes, my darling, vol. iv., 292. + +'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, vol. iv., 153. + +'Tis haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean, vol. ii., 150. + +'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, vol. iii., 60. + +'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, vol. iii., 266. + +'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray, vol. v., 186. + +'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawing, vol. v., 258. + +'Tis the first rose o' summer that opes to my view, vol. iii., 264. + +'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright, vol. vi., 65. + +Together, dearest, we have play'd, vol. v., 22. + +To live in cities, and to join, vol. v., 245. + +Touch once more a sober measure, vol. iii., 178. + +To Scotland's ancient realm, vol. v., 272. + +To wander lang in foreign lands, vol. iii., 210. + +True love is water'd aye wi' tears, vol. i., 233. + +Trust not these seas again, vol. vi., 232. + +Tuck, tuck, feer--from the green and growing leaves, vol. vi., 76. + +'Twas a balmy summer gloamin', vol. vi., 158. + +'Twas on a Monday morning, vol. ii., 61. + +'Twas on a simmer afternoon, vol. i., 213. + +'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, vol. i., 72. + +'Twas when December's dark'ning scowl the face of heaven o'ercast, + vol. vi., 239. + +'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in', vol. ii., 314. + + +Up with the dawn, ye sons of toil, vol. vi., 142. + + +Waken, lords and ladies gay, vol. i., 304. + +Walkin' out ae mornin' early, vol. iii., 24. + +Warlike chieftains now assembled, vol. v., 40. + +Weep away, heart, weep away, vol. vi., 59. + +Weep not over poet's wrong, vol. vi., 69. + +Welcome, pretty little stranger, vol. i., 257. + +We 'll meet beside the dusky glen on yon burn-side, vol. ii., 140. + +We 'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us, vol. iv., 53. + +We part, yet wherefore should I weep, vol. v., 105. + +Were I a doughty cavalier, vol. v., 127. + +Were I but able to rehearse, vol. i., 17. + +We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd, vol. vi., 185. + +Wha 'll buy caller herrin', vol. i., 195. + +Whan Jamie first woo'd me he was but a youth, vol. iii., 25. + +Whare hae ye been a' day, vol. i., 83. + +What ails my heart--what dims my e'e? vol. v., 253. + +What ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain? vol. vi., 78. + +What are the flowers of Scotland, vol. ii., 66. + +What fond, delicious ecstasy does early love impart, vol. vi., 85. + +What makes this hour a day to me? vol. v., 33. + +What though ye hae nor kith nor kin, vol. v., 238. + +What 's this vain world to me, vol. i., 236. + +What wakes the poet's lyre, vol. iv., 91. + +When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame, vol. iii., 123. + +When autumn comes and heather bells, vol. iv., 132. + +When Charlie to the Highlands came, vol. ii., 180. + +When cities of old days, vol. iv., 156. + +When first I cam' to be a man, vol. i., 13. + +When fops and fools together prate, vol. i., 31. + +When friendship, love, and truth abound, vol. i., 253. + +When hope lies dead within the heart, vol. i., 45. + +When I began the world first, vol. i., 33. + +When I look far down on the valley below me, vol. iv., 169. + +When I think on the lads and the land I hae left, vol. v., 66. + +When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie, vol. ii., 307. + +When I was a miller in Fife, vol. iii., 92. + +When Katie was scarce out nineteen, vol. i., 157. + +When loud the horn is sounding, vol. vi., 63. + +When merry hearts were gay, vol. i., 92. + +When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lyin' a' at rest, vol. iv., 49. + +When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades, vol. v., 153. + +When rosy day far in the west has vanish'd frae the scene, vol. v., 151. + +When sets the sun o'er Lomond's height, vol. ii., 183. + +When shall we meet again, vol. iv., 81. + +When the bee has left the blossom, vol. v., 73. + +When the fair one and the dear one, vol. ii., 190. + +When the glen all is still save the stream of the fountain, vol. iv., 58. + +When the lark is in the air, vol. iii., 158. + +When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, vol. iv., 270. + +When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, vol. iv., 79. + +When the sheep are in the fauld, vol. i., 64. + +When the star of the morning is set, vol. iv., 66. + +When the sun gaes down, vol. v., 109. + +When thy smile was still clouded, vol. ii., 282. + +When we meet again, Lisette, vol. vi., 190. + +When white was my owrelay, vol. i., 134. + +When winter winds forget to blaw, vol. i., 268. + +Where Manor's stream rins blithe an' clear, vol. iii., 262. + +Where shall the lover rest, vol. i., 292. + +Where the faded flower shall freshen, vol. vi., 230. + +Where windin' Tarf, by broomy knowes, vol. iii., 67. + +While beaux and belles parade the street, vol. iv., 213. + +While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, vol. i., 303. + +Why does the day whose date is brief, vol. iii., 202. + +Why gaze on that pale face, vol. vi., 161. + +Why is my spirit sad, vol. vi., 41. + +Why tarries my love, vol. i., 68. + +Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an a', vol. i., 226. + +Wifie, come hame, vol. v., 203. + +Wi' heart sincere I love thee, Bell, vol. iii., 54. + +Will ye gang o'er the lea rig, vol. i., 202. + +Will ye go to the Highlands, my Mary, vol. iii., 66. + +Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me, vol. v., 180. + +Winter's cauld and cheerless blast, vol. v., 196. + +With a breezy burst of singing, vol. v., 285. + +With drooping heart he turn'd away, vol. vi., 218. + +Within the towers of ancient Glammis, vol. ii., 88. + +With laughter swimming in thine eye, vol. iii., 88. + +With lofty song we love to cheer, vol. v., 23. + +Would that I were where wild woods wave, vol. iv., 68. + +Would you be young again? vol. i., 235. + + +Ye briery bields, where roses blaw, vol. ii., 231. + +Ye daisied glens and briery braes, vol. iii., 208. + +Ye dark, rugged rocks that recline o'er the deep, vol. i., 179. + +Ye hameless glens and waving woods, vol. vi., 151. + +Ye have cross'd o'er the wave from the glades where I roved, vol. vi., 195. + +Ye ken whaur yon wee burnie, love, vol. v., 148. + +Ye mariners of England, vol. ii., 262. + +Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great, vol. v., 205. + +Ye needna be courtin' at me, auld man, vol. iv., 222. + +Yes, the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted, vol. ii., 281. + +Yestreen, as I strayed on the banks o' the Clyde, vol. iii., 187. + +Yestreen, on Cample's bonnie flood, vol. v., 21. + +Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin', vol. ii., 96. + +Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, vol. iv., 249. + +Yon old temple pile, where the moon dimly flashes, vol. v., 174. + +Young Donald, dearer loved than life, vol. iv., 113. + +Young Love once woo'd a budding rose, vol. vi., 64 + +Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa, vol. v., 126. + +Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield, vol. v., 84. + +You 've surely heard of famous Neil, vol. ii., 86. + + + + +INDEX OF AUTHORS + + +Affleck, James, vol. iii., 38. + +Ainslie, Hew, vol. v., 60. + +Aird, Marion Paul, vol. v., 258. + +Aird, Thomas, vol. v., 131. + +Allan, George, vol. iv., 163. + +Allan, Robert, vol. ii., 169. + +Anderson, Rev. J. G. Torry, vol. iv., 158. + +Anderson, William, vol. v., 178. + +Atkinson, Thomas, vol. iv., 122. + + +Baillie, Joanna, vol. i., 126. + +Bald, Alexander, vol. v., 34. + +Balfour, Alexander, vol. ii., 101. + +Ballantine, James, vol. v., 198. + +Barnard, Lady Ann, vol. i., 58. + +Bell, Henry Glassford, vol. vi., 39. + +Bennet, William, vol. vi., 47. + +Bennoch, Francis, vol. v., 1. + +Bethune, Alexander, vol. iv., 203. + +Bethune, John, vol. iv., 203. + +Blackie, John Stuart, vol. vi., 109. + +Blair, William, vol. v., 82. + +Bonar, Horatius, D.D., vol. vi., 229. + +Boswell, Sir Alex., Bart., vol. ii., 204. + +Brockie, William, vol. vi., 78. + +Brown, Colin Rae, vol. vi., 159. + +Brown, James, vol. iii., 186. + +Brown, John, vol. iv., 286. + +Brown, Thomas., M.D., vol. ii., 278. + +Brydson, Thomas, vol. iv., 172. + +Buchanan, Alexander, vol. vi., 89. + +Buchanan, Dugald, vol. i., 322. + +Buchan, Peter, vol. iii., 162. + +Burns, James D., vol. vi., 224. + +Burtt, John, vol. v., 46. + + +Cadenhead, William, vol. vi., 133. + +Cameron, William, senr., vol. i., 35. + +Cameron, William, junr., vol. v., 146. + +Campbell, Alexander, vol. i., 161. + +Campbell, John, vol. v., 292. + +Campbell, Thomas, vol. ii., 255. + +Carlile, Alexander, vol. iv., 252. + +Cathcart, Robert, vol. vi., 94. + +Chalmers, William, vol. ii., 285. + +Chambers, Robert, vol. v., 124. + +Conolly, Erskine, vol. iii., 220. + +Couper, Robert, M.D., vol. i., 53. + +Craig, Isabella, vol. vi., 182. + +Crawford, Archibald, vol. vi., 31. + +Crawford, John, vol. vi., 98. + +Crawford, Margaret, vol. vi., 205. + +Cunningham, Allan, vol. iii., 1. + +Cunningham, Thomas Mounsey, vol. ii., 223. + + +Davidson, Robert, vol. iii., 206. + +Denovan, J. C., vol. iv., 106. + +Dick, Thomas, vol. v., 160. + +Dickson, John Bathurst, vol. vi., 220. + +Dobie, William, vol. v., 54. + +Dodds, James, vol. vi., 238. + +Donald, George, sen., vol. vi., 35. + +Donald, George, jun., vol. vi., 212. + +Douglas, Alexander, vol. ii., 110. + +Drummond, David, vol. iii., 34. + +Dudgeon, William, vol. i., 151. + +Dunbar, William, D.D., vol. v., 28. + +Duncan, Henry, D.D., vol. ii., 156. + +Dunlop, John, vol. v., 77. + +Duthie, Robert, vol. vi., 187. + + +Elliott, Thomas, vol. vi., 141. + + +Ferguson, William, vol. v., 155. + +Finlay, John, senr., vol. iii., 57. + +Finlay, John, junr., vol. v., 215. + +Finlay, William, vol. iii., 166. + +Finlayson, Charles James, vol. v., 49. + +Fleming, Charles, vol. v., 153. + +Fletcher, Angus, vol. iv., 292. + +Foster, William Air, vol. v., 91. + +Fraser, Robert, vol. iii., 252. + + +Gall, Richard, vol. ii., 241. + +Gardiner, William, vol. iv., 126. + +Gibson, Allan, vol. vi., 137. + +Gilfillan, Robert, vol. iii., 261. + +Gillespie, William, vol. ii., 218. + +Glen, William, vol. iii., 126. + +Goldie, John, vol. iv., 98. + +Gordon, Alexander, Duke of, vol. i., 46. + +Grant, Joseph, vol. iv., 143. + +Grant, Mrs, of Carron, vol. i., 50. + +Grant, Mrs, of Laggan, vol. i., 99. + +Gray, Charles, vol. iii., 50. + +Grieve, John, vol. iii., 43. + + +Halliday, John, vol. vi., 234. + +Hamilton, John, vol. i., 117. + +Hedderwick, James, vol. vi., 67. + +Henderson, George, vol. vi., 227. + +Henderson, James, vol. vi., 165. + +Hendry, Robert, M.D., vol. v., 57. + +Hetherington, William, D.D., LL.D., vol. v., 185. + +Hislop, James, vol. iii., 254. + +Hogg, James, vol. ii., 1. + +Hogg, Robert, vol. iv., 129. + +Home, James, vol. iv., 267. + +Hume, Alexander, sen., vol. iv., 182. + +Hume, Alexander, jun., vol. v., 276. + +Hunter, Mrs John, vol. i., 39. + +Hunter, John, vol. v., 119. + + +Imlah, John, vol. iv., 108. + +Inglis, Henry, vol. vi., 59. + +Inglis, Mrs Margaret M., vol. iv., 73. + +Irving, Archibald Stirling, vol. iv., 235. + + +Jamieson, Alexander, vol. iv., 95. + +Jamieson, Robert, vol. ii., 288. + +Jamie, William, vol. vi., 96. + +Jeffrey, John, vol. vi., 215. + +Jerdan, William, vol. v., 30. + + +Kennedy, Duncan, vol. v., 284. + +King, James, vol. iv., 83. + +Knox, William, vol. iii., 112. + + +Laidlaw, William, vol. ii., 310. + +Laing, Alexander, vol. iv., 241. + +Latto, Thomas C., vol. vi., 127. + +Leighton, Robert, vol. vi., 163. + +Lewis, Stuart, vol. iii., 27. + +Leyden, John, M.D., vol. ii., 191. + +Little, James, vol. vi., 153. + +Lochore, Robert, vol. ii., 91. + +Lockhart, John Gibson, vol. iii., 171. + +Logan, William, vol. vi., 151. + +Lyle, Thomas, vol. iv., 261. + +Lyon, Mrs Agnes, vol. ii., 84. + + +Macansh, Alexander, vol. v., 171. + +Macarthur, Mrs Mary, vol. v., 111. + +Mackay, Charles, LL.D., vol. vi., 1. + +M'Coll, Evan, vol. vi., 222. + +M'Diarmid, John, vol. iii., 155. + +Macdonald, Alexander, vol. ii., 321. + +Macdonald, James, vol. v., 192. + +Macdonald, John, sen., vol. v., 281. + +Macdonald, John, jun., vol. vi., 254. + +M'Dougall, Allan, vol. v., 287. + +Macfarlan, Duncan, vol. vi., 249. + +Macfarlan, James, vol. vi., 196. + +Macgregor, James, D.D., vol. v., 294. + +Macgregor, Joseph, vol. v., 25. + +Macindoe, George, vol. ii., 106. + +Macintyre, Duncan, vol. i., 334. + +Mackay, Archibald, vol. v., 85. + +Mackay, Robert, sen., vol. i., 309. + +Mackay, Robert, jun., vol. ii., 349. + +Mackenzie, Kenneth, vol. v., 290. + +M'Lachlan, Alexander, vol. vi., 80. + +M'Lachlan, Evan, vol. iv., 279. + +Maclagan, Alexander, vol. v., 226. + +Maclagan, James, vol. iii., 282. + +Maclardy, James, vol. vi., 171. + +M'Laren, William, vol. ii., 114. + +Macleod, Norman, vol. i., 355. + +Macneill, Hector, vol. i., 73. + +Macodrum, John, vol. i., 351. + +Macvurich, Lachlan, vol. iii., 279. + +Malcolm, John, vol. iii., 215. + +Malone, Robert L., vol. iv., 216. + +Manson, James, vol. vi., 61. + +Marshall, Charles, vol. v., 97. + +Mathers, Thomas, vol. iii., 184. + +Mayne, John, vol. i., 107. + +Menzies, George, vol. iii., 223. + +Mercer, Andrew, vol. ii., 189. + +Miller, Hugh, vol. v., 161. + +Miller, Robert, vol. iv., 179. + +Miller, William, vol. v., 274. + +Mitchell, John, vol. iv., 90. + +Moir, David Macbeth, vol. iii., 24. + +Montgomery, James, vol. i., 247. + +Moore, Dugald, vol. iv., 147. + +Morrison, John, vol. ii., 346. + +Motherwell, William, vol. iii., 230. + +Muirhead, James, D.D., vol. ii., 81. + +Munro, John, vol. vi., 251. + + +Nairn, Carolina, Baroness, vol. i., 184. + +Nevay, John, vol. iv., 257. + +Nicholson, William, vol. iii., 63. + +Nicol, James, vol. i., 24. + +Nicoll, Robert, vol. iv., 225. + + +Ogilvy, Mrs Eliza H., vol. v., 211. + +Outram, George, vol. vi., 54. + + +Pagan, Isobel, vol. iv., 88. + +Park, Andrew, vol. v., 248. + +Part, William, vol. iii., 97. + +Parker, James, vol. v., 116. + +Paul, Hamilton, vol. ii., 120. + +Picken, Ebenezer, vol. iii., 22. + +Polin, Edward, vol. vi., 87. + +Pollok, Robert, vol. iv., 103. + +Pringle, James, vol. v., 176. + +Pringle, Thomas, vol. iii., 102. + + +Ramsay, John, vol. v., 114. + +Reid, William, vol. i., 153. + +Richardson, Mrs E. G., vol. ii., 255. + +Riddell, Henry Scott, vol. iv., 7. + +Riddell, William B. C., vol. vi., 201. + +Ritchie, Alexander A., vol. iv., 237. + +Robertson, John, vol. ii., 98. + +Rodger, Alexander, vol. iii., 71. + +Roger, Peter, vol. iii., 212. + +Ross, William, vol. iii., 271. + + +Scadlock, James, vol. ii., 199. + +Scott, Andrew, vol. i., 260. + +Scott, George, vol. ii., 253. + +Scott, Patrick, vol. vi., 218. + +Scott, Sir Walter, vol. i., 275. + +Sillery, Charles Doyne, vol. iv., 174. + +Sim, John, vol. iii., 226. + +Simpson, Mrs Jane C, vol. v., 241. + +Sinclair, William, vol. v., 263. + +Skinner, John, vol. i., 1. + +Smart, Alexander, vol. v., 71. + +Smibert, Thomas, vol. iv., 195. + +Stewart, Allan, vol. iv., 211. + +Stewart, Charles, D.D., vol. iv., 289. + +Stewart, Mrs Dugald, vol. i., 167. + +Still, Peter, vol. iv., 220. + +Stirling, William, M.P., vol. vi., 121. + +Stirrat, James, vol. iii., 40. + +Stoddart, Thomas Tod, vol. v., 220. + +Struthers, John, vol. ii., 235. + +Stuart, John Roy, vol. ii., 340. + +Symington, Andrew James, vol. vi., 176. + + +Tait, Alexander, vol. v., 151. + +Tait, John, vol. i., 70. + +Tannahill, Robert, vol. ii., 131. + +Taylor, David, vol. vi., 92. + +Telfer, James, vol. iv., 273. + +Thomson, William, vol. v., 68. + +Train, Joseph, vol. ii., 288. + +Tweedie, John, vol. iv., 120. + + +Vedder, David, vol. iii., 143. + + +Watson, Thomas, vol. v., 189. + +Watson, Walter, vol. ii., 302. + +Webster, David, vol. iii., 91. + +Weir, Daniel, vol. iii., 194. + +White, Robert, vol. v., 136. + +Wilson, Alexander, vol. i., 172. + +Wilson, Alexander Stephen, vol. vi., 192. + +Wilson, George, vol. v., 37. + +Wilson, John, vol. iii., 81. + +Wilson, Robert, vol. vi., 84. + +Wilson, William, vol. v., 102. + +Wright, John, vol. iv., 137. + + +Young, Thomas, vol. vi., 81. + +Younger, John, vol. v., 42. + + +THE END. + + +EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes +I-VI., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + +***** This file should be named 22515-8.txt or 22515-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/5/1/22515/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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